Yesterday was a rather strange day. I spent a lot of time going places and eating in the car. I'm playing hookey this morning, listening to Sara Masen and writing.
Much to our surprise, my husband and I found ourselves in possession of two tickets to "Heaven's Rehearsal" in downtown Toronto. You can get the idea here.
Which made us two of, we're guessing, around 30,000 people converging on the Dome last night to attend what must be Canada's biggest 'worship' gathering.
As you may have guessed if you know me, I came away with a very mixed set of emotions.
To get to the Dome, we had to walk several blocks along Front Street, in a growing stream, through the phalanxes of scalpers hawking tickets to the hockey game that was also on last night.
As we walked past one group, we heard one of the scalpers ask another, "What's on at the Dome tonight? People keep asking me." Marketing department take note.
Which prompted the yuppie woman walking behind me to ask her man, "Isn't it great that all of these people are going to Heaven's Rehearsal and not to the hockey game?"
Um... I guess. Yes and no.
We turned a corner and climbed a set of stairs that took us to the Dome's entry level. About half a block away, I could see a man standing in the middle of the wide walk. He was grey haired and wild, doing a full body dance to the music in his head, feet shuffling, head nodding and shaking. He called out to the people walking by, "Any change, spare change, any change..." There was an old coat and a knapsack on the ground in front of him as he faced into the oncoming crowd holding out a ratty green baseball cap in one hand. The other held a sign, backwards. But it could be read because the blue marker had bled through the paper and become smudged over time, probably from being wet, held out in the rain or put down on damp ground.
HOMELESS SLEEPING ON THE STREET PLEASE HELP
The reason I could see him so well through the crowd of Christians on their way to worship is that they were parting like the Red Sea as they got closer and giving a wide berth of space. A concrete teardrop. I didn't see a single coin dropped in the hat.
For the next 3 hours, the HR people put on, all in all, a very good program. They knew their audience and chose good songs and imagery. The dancers did a wonderful job as did the singers and musicians.
The culture groups, mostly dancers, were worth the price of admission on their own, especially the group from New Zealand who performed a piece of storytelling that I won't forget. They danced and chanted and cried the story of the crucifixion and resurrection in a fearless and gritty way with such raw emotion that it left the yijits in the row behind me giggling.
There were dozens of flag bearers from countries around the world, many wearing costumes. Although, my favourite was the guy with "Puerto Rico" hand-written on his plain white shirt. He looked like he was having fun.
The person who looked like he was working the hardest - the choir director
Not working the hardest - the security guard
Would rather be somewhere else - dude in the Linkin Park t-shirt
Best moment of the evening - leaning against a newspaper box on Front Street, eating a hot dog with my husband on the way back to the car.
I could nit pick a number of things, I suppose.
Whoever was directing the cameras for the jumbotron seemed to be completely missing the point most of the time. A word of video advice - if you have a choice between a joyful, windmilling hip hop dance troupe, some of whom are spinning on their heads, and a guy playing the trumpet - well, upside-down wins every time.
There were a few moments that were over-sentimentalized or just inappropriate. Like the 'tribute' to martyrs, a clunky triad of statistics and goo and an overwrought Il Divo type of quartet that gave no sense of what it means to be impoverished, tortured or killed for your faithfulness to Jesus.
And like the "Marriage of the Lamb" pas de deux. A request - if you're going to tell the story, use the idiom in which it was written. It's not Cinderella. Please and Thank YOU!
But I couldn't help thinking. About the guy on the sidewalk.
About the toonie I'd kept.
I'd look around the Dome and think, "If everyone of us gave him a penny... OK, dumb. He wouldn't be able to carry it." But I'd wonder whether even 10% of the people in the room had given him a dollar. Or even a quarter. Or a dime.
And when it was over, I couldn't help but notice that we'd all left there, probably encouraged, definitely entertained, but completely unchallenged. Unreminded of what it means to be the church in the world. Unspurred to live like the spotless bride we're called to be. To live like the Bridegroom lived when he was walking around.
My husband and I left, as it turned out, through a door on the opposite side of the Dome's circle to where we'd entered. We had to walk north and then east around the building to get back to the top of those stairs. I looked over my shoulder to see if he was still there, but he wasn't.
I walked away haunted by one thing.
At the beginning of the concert, we'd been shown a video about creation and Heaven. About how God had created both and we enjoy both and that someday we'll leave this world and go to the next. And there was a count down.
"Are you ready? 10 - 9 - 8 Are you ready? 7 - 6 Are you ready? 5 - 4 - 3 ARE YOU READY? 2 - 1... "
And I thought No, I'm not ready. I've still got this stupid toonie in my pocket.
r
Much to our surprise, my husband and I found ourselves in possession of two tickets to "Heaven's Rehearsal" in downtown Toronto. You can get the idea here.
Which made us two of, we're guessing, around 30,000 people converging on the Dome last night to attend what must be Canada's biggest 'worship' gathering.
As you may have guessed if you know me, I came away with a very mixed set of emotions.
To get to the Dome, we had to walk several blocks along Front Street, in a growing stream, through the phalanxes of scalpers hawking tickets to the hockey game that was also on last night.
As we walked past one group, we heard one of the scalpers ask another, "What's on at the Dome tonight? People keep asking me." Marketing department take note.
Which prompted the yuppie woman walking behind me to ask her man, "Isn't it great that all of these people are going to Heaven's Rehearsal and not to the hockey game?"
Um... I guess. Yes and no.
We turned a corner and climbed a set of stairs that took us to the Dome's entry level. About half a block away, I could see a man standing in the middle of the wide walk. He was grey haired and wild, doing a full body dance to the music in his head, feet shuffling, head nodding and shaking. He called out to the people walking by, "Any change, spare change, any change..." There was an old coat and a knapsack on the ground in front of him as he faced into the oncoming crowd holding out a ratty green baseball cap in one hand. The other held a sign, backwards. But it could be read because the blue marker had bled through the paper and become smudged over time, probably from being wet, held out in the rain or put down on damp ground.
HOMELESS SLEEPING ON THE STREET PLEASE HELP
The reason I could see him so well through the crowd of Christians on their way to worship is that they were parting like the Red Sea as they got closer and giving a wide berth of space. A concrete teardrop. I didn't see a single coin dropped in the hat.
So I rummaged in the bottom of my purse and came up with two toonies. As I walked by, I dropped one in his hat and put the other in my pocket. He thanked me and my husband and I went into the concert.
For the next 3 hours, the HR people put on, all in all, a very good program. They knew their audience and chose good songs and imagery. The dancers did a wonderful job as did the singers and musicians.
The culture groups, mostly dancers, were worth the price of admission on their own, especially the group from New Zealand who performed a piece of storytelling that I won't forget. They danced and chanted and cried the story of the crucifixion and resurrection in a fearless and gritty way with such raw emotion that it left the yijits in the row behind me giggling.
There were dozens of flag bearers from countries around the world, many wearing costumes. Although, my favourite was the guy with "Puerto Rico" hand-written on his plain white shirt. He looked like he was having fun.
The person who looked like he was working the hardest - the choir director
Not working the hardest - the security guard
Would rather be somewhere else - dude in the Linkin Park t-shirt
Best moment of the evening - leaning against a newspaper box on Front Street, eating a hot dog with my husband on the way back to the car.
I could nit pick a number of things, I suppose.
Whoever was directing the cameras for the jumbotron seemed to be completely missing the point most of the time. A word of video advice - if you have a choice between a joyful, windmilling hip hop dance troupe, some of whom are spinning on their heads, and a guy playing the trumpet - well, upside-down wins every time.
There were a few moments that were over-sentimentalized or just inappropriate. Like the 'tribute' to martyrs, a clunky triad of statistics and goo and an overwrought Il Divo type of quartet that gave no sense of what it means to be impoverished, tortured or killed for your faithfulness to Jesus.
And like the "Marriage of the Lamb" pas de deux. A request - if you're going to tell the story, use the idiom in which it was written. It's not Cinderella. Please and Thank YOU!
But I couldn't help thinking. About the guy on the sidewalk.
About the toonie I'd kept.
I'd look around the Dome and think, "If everyone of us gave him a penny... OK, dumb. He wouldn't be able to carry it." But I'd wonder whether even 10% of the people in the room had given him a dollar. Or even a quarter. Or a dime.
And when it was over, I couldn't help but notice that we'd all left there, probably encouraged, definitely entertained, but completely unchallenged. Unreminded of what it means to be the church in the world. Unspurred to live like the spotless bride we're called to be. To live like the Bridegroom lived when he was walking around.
My husband and I left, as it turned out, through a door on the opposite side of the Dome's circle to where we'd entered. We had to walk north and then east around the building to get back to the top of those stairs. I looked over my shoulder to see if he was still there, but he wasn't.
I walked away haunted by one thing.
At the beginning of the concert, we'd been shown a video about creation and Heaven. About how God had created both and we enjoy both and that someday we'll leave this world and go to the next. And there was a count down.
"Are you ready? 10 - 9 - 8 Are you ready? 7 - 6 Are you ready? 5 - 4 - 3 ARE YOU READY? 2 - 1... "
And I thought No, I'm not ready. I've still got this stupid toonie in my pocket.
r
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