Purpose: to observe different church services while touring through Europe.
I am a Southern Baptist. I have been my entire life. My mother grew up Southern Baptist and she has a Southern Baptist preacher for a brother, my Uncle Alan. I’ll be honest and say I know very little about other religions; I also know very little about other denominations for that matter. So to say attending a few different church services while traveling throughout Europe was an eye-opening experience would be like saying the landing on the moon was just a quick flight there and back. I’ve experienced more differentiation of church services here than I have my entire life. This small town girl’s views have been changed entirely, and I can say that I’m better because of it.
Our journey began in Italy, Catholic central to say the least. And every monument or historical marker had some sort of Catholic meaning to it. This was partially because we saw around four or five churches while in Italy. I won’t deny it; I’ve always approached Catholicism with caution. It could be because I never fully understood their traditions, or services for that matter. All I could tell you before this trip is that they stand up, sit down, and kneel quite frequently. However, after visiting some of the most renown and pristine Cathedrals in the world, my appreciation for the Church has grown immensely. Every cathedral paints an intimate portrait of how Christianity and Catholicism is upheld within the Italian borders. These churches have withstood countless battles and turmoil throughout centuries, yet they still stand proudly as if beckoning those from miles around to dare tarnish their gorgeous structure. When entering the Vatican, my heart literally stopped for a millisecond at the shear architecture and artistic detail found on every wall, ceiling, and floor tile. No stone went unpolished or untouched within this great infrastructure. Tapestries, mosaics, and painting depicted countless imagery found between the pages of the Bible. The Crucifixion and Fall from Grace were popular stories to recreate I gathered when wafting from room to room. But all fell short in comparison when I reached the Sistine Chapel. It appeared as if God himself had painted His story upon the grandiose ceiling and adjacent walls. Colors as vivid as the day they were painted leapt out at me, grabbing my undivided attention as my eyes darted from space to space. Now, I had always considered Catholicism to be very “by the rules” and all about the celebration and obeying of traditions. But the only word to describe these paintings was passion: passion for the Lord, passion for art, passion for the telling of the great stories from the Word. No one, not even a cynic like me, could deny the intimacy that was blatantly shown between the artists, their work, and the Maker.
The Vatican could unarguably be considered the most famous chapel of all time. However, Italy proudly boasts several more cathedrals that come dangerously close to Vatican status. Between the shear immenseness of St. Peter’s Basilica in Florence, or the quiet boldness of St. Francis’s Cathedral in Assisi, I was immersed in such timeless Catholic culture that my appreciation delved much deeper than that of some tourist from the Southern United States. I lived, ate, and breathed the lifestyle of Italian Catholics. Their services appeared much less monotonous than I had originally perceived them. Instead of mindless chanting and droning, I heard tradition and rituals that have been in tact since the second century. It’s difficult to refute something that has literally withstood the test of time. The checklist I had started to accumulate in my head of all the “old churches” I had seen so far in Europe began to deteriorate as the importance of their history and grandeur took precedence.
Traveling onward to London was the next great journey Baylor in Great Britain began to tackle. This time, the planned guided walking tours were nowhere in sight, and we were up to our own devices to figure out this great city on our own accord. I began in the most romantic place I could think of, Westminster Abbey. Truly the vision of fairytale weddings and romances gone right, Westminster has proven itself to be THE church of the royal family. And why shouldn’t it? Being an Anglican Church means it is part of the Church of England. This also means it is a far cry from the Roman Catholic Churches of Italy. One could consider these two churches to be stepbrother and sister, with an ongoing battle of sibling rivalry that lasted for centuries. Now, however, the Anglican Church is mainly known for its choral music and immaculate choirs. Once inside Westminster, I felt like I was taken back to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge’s wedding. I was one of several thousands of Americans to wake up at four in the morning in order to watch Kate Middleton take her first few precious steps down the never-ending center aisle, walking towards her literal Prince Charming. The aisle was as grandiose as its portrayal on TV, as was the rest of Westminster. The vaulted ceiling created a sense of inadequacy as they towered above you with their intricate wooden arches and panels. As I took my place in the pew, a dreamlike state overtook me. It dawned on me that generations of royalty and wealth have sat in the exact seat in which I occupied. Chills ran up my arm as the choir began to sing. If I had to envision what the choirs of angels sounded like in heaven, the Westminster choirs came eerily close. It was an out of body experience. I also found it intriguing that the entire worship was sung or chanted. I have always been accustomed to singing worship for a portion of the service, but not the entire procession. Before I knew it, the service was over, and a sense of calm and surreal accompanied me out of the church. Although the differences between the Anglican Church and the Roman Catholic Church are stark, the passion behind every instance was the same. The passion in the Anglican Church was their music, rather than the art and imagery found in the Catholic Churches.
After leaving Westminster, I was on some sort of religious high. I could barely get enough of the different cultures and denominations Europe and England had to offer, so when I found out there was a Hillsong United located in London, I knew what my next “church” stop would be. Hillsong Church began in Australia and has since become a Pentecostal megachurch spreading across the several European countries, including Sweden, Ukraine, and Germany, as well as the UK and New York City in America. The unique thing about Hillsong London is that while it’s classified as a megachurch, the worship service doesn’t even take place within a sanctuary. Hillsong London meets every Sunday at 10:30 am, 3:30 pm, and 6 pm at the Dominion Theatre in the heart of London. When entering the theatre, I didn’t feel as though I was about to praise or worship whatsoever. The stage was set up like some sort of rock concert, and the band was about to perform at any moment. While there actually was a band in attendance, six worship leaders joined the stage as well and began one of the most mind-blowing experiences I have ever taken part of or witnessed. The term worship took on an entirely new meaning here: hands were held high, heads were bowed down, some people were jumping around excitedly, while others sat in prayerful silence. The atmosphere was thick, and it was laden with passionate praise. This service, surprisingly enough, was the one I could most relate to. I attend Vertical Ministries when back in Waco. Vertical is a praise and worship night geared specifically toward the students of Baylor. It has a similar feel and praise quality, but nothing of Hillsong’s magnitude. The preacher at Hillsong rose and began preaching a typical sermon, except in a heavy Australian accent. He concluded with a final prayer, and the worship band played while we exited the theater. Again, so much passion filled that room it was almost tangible.
The common thread between these entirely distinctive churches became blatantly evident upon each visitation. Regardless of what “denomination” their titles claim, the passion each church was consumed with was what clearly made them united in Christianity. It was comforting to realize that the passion Christians share through their unifying belief has transcended not only centuries, but also several divisions of the churches and disagreements that have lasted decades. This idea of commonality even among separate nations is almost mind blowing to a simple small town girl who has attended the same church her entire life. I realize that while I was merely a tourist visiting a foreign church for only an hour or so at a time, I still was able to grasp how high in regard these people uphold religion, more specifically Christianity. After a while, I no longer felt like I was a stranger in the back pew awkwardly observing a foreign church service. I was submerging myself in a lifestyle, even if only for a brief moment. I felt what these people felt and experienced their profession of faith for myself. While the history and culture is what makes most of these places famous, it is their legacy and tradition and values that give breath and life to each individual church. And that is passion we can all see and appreciate.
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