Tuesday, April 05, 2005
AOTGA - Act 1 Cont'd (last bit)
I couldn't wait to get out of there. I thought the rector had gone mad. But after I got outside all I could think was that I had been a bad sport. I didn't have to believe it. I didn't have to be interested. But he was obviously sincere, and if I had been kind I would have humored him in this strange little idiosyncrasy.
I knew what he wanted. He had made it clear, and I had been coldly uncooperative. He wanted me to ask him to speak in this new "language" he had somehow acquired. He wanted to show me that it wasn't wild, peculiar, or emotional. And that's exactly what I thought it was. When I look back upon it I don't know why I had that impression of the experience, because prior to hearing about the Bakers in Monterey Park I did not have the vaguest idea that anyone in the world claimed to speak in other languages given by the Holy Spirit. I knew there was a religious group with the name Pentecostal, but they were called "Holy Rollers" and I thought they rolled. No one had ever told me they speak in tongues.
So I was going to be a good sport. I telephoned the rector and told him I would like to hear him speak in the "language." He cleared his throat and I hastily said, "Not over the telephone -- I'll come to the office." So I made an appointment to hear the rector of a staid, respectable Episcopal Church speak in tongues. How far out could it get? Farther.
When I arrived at the church I discovered the rector was involved with an emergency and I would have to wait. So I chatted with the church administrator about this unusual happening. She said that since Father had built St. Mark's from a congregation of 200 to a congregation of 2600, this proved that speaking in tongues was of the devil. I didn't quite follow her reasoning and the devil hadn't been included in my curriculum, but I decided that just in case she was right I had better go into church and pray for protection before I saw the minister. An acquaintance of mine was in the chapel, and he asked me why I was there at that time of day. I told him I had come to hear the rector speak in tongues. He said, "You shouldn't just hear it; you should receive it."
This was a new thought altogether. What had all of this to do with me? What had it to do with this man? I asked him what he knew about the whole thing and he confided that he spoke in tongues. I was shaken. This was a serious Anglo-Catholic layman speaking. It was getting too close for comfort. From somewhere he produced the autobiography of St Theresa of Avila and showed me what obviously referred to St Theresa, herself, speaking in a language unknown to her and yet known to God. I considered St Theresa to have been everything I would like to be -- wonderfully spiritual and at the same time amazingly practical. I had once read a biography of her and upon reaching the final sentence of the work, had been delighted to discover that my birthday fell upon "her" day. I secretly considered her as "belonging" to me. And now this man had just told me that my heroine had spoken in tongues! While I recovered from the shock, the layman marked a church Bible with the passages pertaining to glossolalia (speaking in languages unknown to the speaker), handed it to me, and departed, leaving me to my confused thoughts.
I prayed. I read the passages. I prayed. I arrived at so many different ideas regarding the experience that I couldn't catalog them. There appeared to be a link between receiving the Holy Spirit in some special way and speaking in tongues. I was sure I had received the Holy Spirit in a special way at the imposition of the hands of the bishop, in confirmation. They said that I had. And don't ask about that experience because it hadn't lived up to its advance billing and when recalling it I had always felt uncomfortable.
From reading the places in the Bible that the layman had marked, I decided that in the early years of the Church people received the gift of the Holy Spirit and then spoke in tongues. I amended this to myself: "That was then. This is now. It doesn't happen that way anymore." But as I continued to read, I failed to find any time limits attached to any of the manifestations of the Holy Spirit. Rather, there were positive statements such as, "These signs shall follow them that believe," and speaking in tongues was one of the signs mentioned. Most confusing.
I finally shelved it all with the conclusion that I didn't really care what the Bible said on the subject. If my Church believed that speaking in other tongues by the Holy Spirit was for now, I would have heard about it. Since I had not, this proved the Church did not, and I wasn't having any, thank you. The administrator appeared and beckoned to me. I went in to see Father Bennett.
The Reverend Dennis J. Bennett was a quiet, mild-looking clergyman who had been born in London. About the last thing anyone would have accused him of was emotionalism. He didn't appear to have changed.
He began to tell me of the difference in himself since he had received the gift of the Holy Spirit. He said that he had a new peace in the middle of trying situations; that he had a deeper concern for the people of the parish; that Holy Communion was more meaningful for him. I thought to myself, "You surely needed all that, but I already have everything." I ostentatiously looked at my watch and said, "I have to go now: would you please speak in that language?"
He said, "If you like," and quietly and calmly spoke several sentences in tongues. While he spoke he looked quite normal and his eyes were wide open. It certainly didn't appear to be an emotional type of thing. But something happened to me while he was speaking. It was very strange and I didn't tell him about it -- I felt pretty silly. When he spoke it was as though electricity surged through me -- from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet. I tried to puzzle it out, outwardly looking as stiff and Anglican as possible. I couldn't figure it; it couldn't have anything to do with that language.
"Say something else," I requested. He knew what I meant and again said several sentences in the language which had been given by God. The same thing occurred. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. I knew God was in that room and I had come face to face with His power. I wasn't frightened, but I felt awed and rather excited and I knew I had to attend one of the meetings of the people who had received this strange gift. Dennis said I couldn't go because I hadn't "received." That was odd. I didn't know how, I didn't know I could, and I didn't know if I wanted to "receive." But I knew I was going to that prayer meeting. I did, and what a peculiar experience that was --
Click here for the Table of Contents
I knew what he wanted. He had made it clear, and I had been coldly uncooperative. He wanted me to ask him to speak in this new "language" he had somehow acquired. He wanted to show me that it wasn't wild, peculiar, or emotional. And that's exactly what I thought it was. When I look back upon it I don't know why I had that impression of the experience, because prior to hearing about the Bakers in Monterey Park I did not have the vaguest idea that anyone in the world claimed to speak in other languages given by the Holy Spirit. I knew there was a religious group with the name Pentecostal, but they were called "Holy Rollers" and I thought they rolled. No one had ever told me they speak in tongues.
So I was going to be a good sport. I telephoned the rector and told him I would like to hear him speak in the "language." He cleared his throat and I hastily said, "Not over the telephone -- I'll come to the office." So I made an appointment to hear the rector of a staid, respectable Episcopal Church speak in tongues. How far out could it get? Farther.
When I arrived at the church I discovered the rector was involved with an emergency and I would have to wait. So I chatted with the church administrator about this unusual happening. She said that since Father had built St. Mark's from a congregation of 200 to a congregation of 2600, this proved that speaking in tongues was of the devil. I didn't quite follow her reasoning and the devil hadn't been included in my curriculum, but I decided that just in case she was right I had better go into church and pray for protection before I saw the minister. An acquaintance of mine was in the chapel, and he asked me why I was there at that time of day. I told him I had come to hear the rector speak in tongues. He said, "You shouldn't just hear it; you should receive it."
This was a new thought altogether. What had all of this to do with me? What had it to do with this man? I asked him what he knew about the whole thing and he confided that he spoke in tongues. I was shaken. This was a serious Anglo-Catholic layman speaking. It was getting too close for comfort. From somewhere he produced the autobiography of St Theresa of Avila and showed me what obviously referred to St Theresa, herself, speaking in a language unknown to her and yet known to God. I considered St Theresa to have been everything I would like to be -- wonderfully spiritual and at the same time amazingly practical. I had once read a biography of her and upon reaching the final sentence of the work, had been delighted to discover that my birthday fell upon "her" day. I secretly considered her as "belonging" to me. And now this man had just told me that my heroine had spoken in tongues! While I recovered from the shock, the layman marked a church Bible with the passages pertaining to glossolalia (speaking in languages unknown to the speaker), handed it to me, and departed, leaving me to my confused thoughts.
I prayed. I read the passages. I prayed. I arrived at so many different ideas regarding the experience that I couldn't catalog them. There appeared to be a link between receiving the Holy Spirit in some special way and speaking in tongues. I was sure I had received the Holy Spirit in a special way at the imposition of the hands of the bishop, in confirmation. They said that I had. And don't ask about that experience because it hadn't lived up to its advance billing and when recalling it I had always felt uncomfortable.
From reading the places in the Bible that the layman had marked, I decided that in the early years of the Church people received the gift of the Holy Spirit and then spoke in tongues. I amended this to myself: "That was then. This is now. It doesn't happen that way anymore." But as I continued to read, I failed to find any time limits attached to any of the manifestations of the Holy Spirit. Rather, there were positive statements such as, "These signs shall follow them that believe," and speaking in tongues was one of the signs mentioned. Most confusing.
I finally shelved it all with the conclusion that I didn't really care what the Bible said on the subject. If my Church believed that speaking in other tongues by the Holy Spirit was for now, I would have heard about it. Since I had not, this proved the Church did not, and I wasn't having any, thank you. The administrator appeared and beckoned to me. I went in to see Father Bennett.
The Reverend Dennis J. Bennett was a quiet, mild-looking clergyman who had been born in London. About the last thing anyone would have accused him of was emotionalism. He didn't appear to have changed.
He began to tell me of the difference in himself since he had received the gift of the Holy Spirit. He said that he had a new peace in the middle of trying situations; that he had a deeper concern for the people of the parish; that Holy Communion was more meaningful for him. I thought to myself, "You surely needed all that, but I already have everything." I ostentatiously looked at my watch and said, "I have to go now: would you please speak in that language?"
He said, "If you like," and quietly and calmly spoke several sentences in tongues. While he spoke he looked quite normal and his eyes were wide open. It certainly didn't appear to be an emotional type of thing. But something happened to me while he was speaking. It was very strange and I didn't tell him about it -- I felt pretty silly. When he spoke it was as though electricity surged through me -- from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet. I tried to puzzle it out, outwardly looking as stiff and Anglican as possible. I couldn't figure it; it couldn't have anything to do with that language.
"Say something else," I requested. He knew what I meant and again said several sentences in the language which had been given by God. The same thing occurred. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. I knew God was in that room and I had come face to face with His power. I wasn't frightened, but I felt awed and rather excited and I knew I had to attend one of the meetings of the people who had received this strange gift. Dennis said I couldn't go because I hadn't "received." That was odd. I didn't know how, I didn't know I could, and I didn't know if I wanted to "receive." But I knew I was going to that prayer meeting. I did, and what a peculiar experience that was --
Click here for the Table of Contents
# posted by LeeSun @ 2:35 pm 
