We joke a lot about the bats at John’s. Like the day we found bat, well, “excrement” on the rector’s chair. Lots of comments there. Or the time that a bat attended the 8:00 service and perched on the ramp to the side of the chapel. Keely noticed it and had the sexton escorted the fellow outside via broom and dustpan.
Most big, old churches have bats. At St John’s Minneapolis where I used to be deacon, we had a bath swoop down over the altar during a marriage service. Not exactly a great omen – or romantic visual. I think we told people it was a sparrow. The rector was terrified of bats and even ducked his head under the altar cloth once when one flew down for Communion. Yes, it was embarrassing.
On a recent drive to Pepin, we stopped at the tiny Episcopal church in Old Frontenac, a gem of a little village of picturesque cottages originally built for wealthy people wanting a summer respite from the Twin Cities.
Christ Church Frontenac was built in 1868. I’ve been there before – preached there once—and remember the lack of bathrooms as well as the hospitality of the community and the holiness of the sanctuary. Weekdays, the door is always open and you can go in anytime and walk around. The wood smells old and the altar is simple and bright with sunlight coming through a stained glass window. The grounds are utterly peaceful, quiet as the village itself. You don’t want to leave.
On last summer’s visit, I was noticed a large wooden cross on the grounds behind the church; it was covered with birdhouses! I remember thinking, “Now there’s a sermon!”
This summer, after doing a little research, however, I realized that these are not birdhouses but houses for bats! Well, that changes the imagery!
But not really—it’s still a lovely visualization of the love that is the Cross. Open to all creatures.
We meet that love again in this Sunday’s lessons where love knows no limits, as Moses’ mother, amidst threats of death for male babies, sets her infant afloat in a basket and shoves it down river. A parent daring to send their child into the unknown to save his life.
Or… today, across a country’s border… alone. Desperately hoping that Love will find the child, as it found Moses.
See you in church. There’s lots to talk about.
Barbara
