Sunday Morning at All Saints Chapel

This morning, in a reprise of the Sunday after Thanksgiving last year, I went to the 8 a.m. service at All Saints' Chapel, walking distance from the house we are renting on Tennessee Avenue.  

All Saints' Chapel is a beautiful, historic church on University Avenue in the middle of Sewanee's campus.  It's well over one hundred years old.  The stained glass windows are exquisite and provide a historical record of the Sewanee and the Episcopal Church.  There are historical markers - tablets, they're called - anchored to the wall of the Chapel in memory of various individuals with a connection to Sewanee.  Visiting All Saints' Chapel - especially for a church service - is a highlight of every trip to the Mountain for me.

I have a history with the Episcopal Church that predates my marriage to Jude, completion of the RCIA class, and eventual membership in the Catholic Church.

At some point in time in the late 1990's, I asked my mom if I had been baptized.  I assumed I had been, given that we attended the Methodist Church throughout my youth, although Tracy and Alice were more active than I was, to be sure.  To my surprise, my mom replied that she wasn't sure if I had been baptized or not.  I was mildly concerned because based on my very limited knowledge of general religious doctrine, being baptized was a prerequisite to being admitted into Heaven upon one's death.  

I had been attending St. Paul's Episcopal Church for a while and, truth be told, felt like for once in my life, I had found my church home.  Every Sunday morning when I attended the 7:30 a.m. service, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and certitude that I was where I was supposed to be.  I had never experienced that sense of belonging at a church before but it was very real to me, then and now, in my memories.  

The Rector, Bob Cowperthwaite, who served St. Paul's for 25 years before retiring to St. Augustine, Florida, in 2014, subsequently baptized me in the Episcopal Church after I took the necessary class over a period of months.  As I recall, my mom and my sister attended the service at St. Paul's where I was baptized and it meant a lot to me for them to be there to see it.

I was going through a difficult time in my life at that point in time, personally, and I relied a great deal on Father Bob's sermons on Sunday mornings for the spiritual sustenance to keep me going throughout the week.  The quiet fellowship of my fellow early rising Sunday morning parishioners was important to me, as well, not the least of which was a handshake and kind word from my law partner's grandmother, Brownie Puryear.  

I was newly single and Mark Puryear and I had left our jobs to start our law practice, so to say it was time of transition for me - personally and professionally - would be an understatement.  Still, throughout that challenging and difficult time in my life, St. Paul's and the Episcopal Church were there for me, something I can never forget.  

This morning, at All Saints' Chapel, a seminarian, AJ Boots ('24) - great name, isn't it? - delivered the sermon.  She was amazing.  Earnest, genuine, articulate, intelligent, and thoughtful.  All of those things and many more.  She was nervous - I was sitting close enough to see her hands shaking just a little bit - but that only added to the impact of her words on me.  

She talked about her studies at Seminary and, in particular, about dreading taking the choral class that was required of all seminarians because she always had been embarrassed about her singing voice.  Still, she completed the class and today, at the end of her sermon, she sang a bit of a hymn from her home parish in New Hampshire.  

It was beautiful, not because she has a classically trained singing voice.  It was beautiful because it was heartfelt and meaningful expression of her love of God and her love for all of us.  

I was blessed to be there, this morning, to hear AJ Boots' sermon and her voice lifted in song at All Saints' Chapel.