Worship - in and out of the sanctuary

After a leisurely breakfast (wouldn't it be nice if all Sundays began that way?), Donnie gives us a lift for the noon service at Back Free Church. It's a strikingly simple building in a rural area. Except for an occasional English word, the entire service is in Gaelic, the ancient folk language of the people.

The service purports to be directly from the Bible. The only musical instrument in the sanctuary is the human voice. There is no need for a worship bulletin. Here's the order:

• Psalm 95 (a few verses spoken, the whole psalm sung while seated)
• Prayer (about ten minutes long, for which we stand)
• Psalm 89 (sung)
  
• Deueronomy 32 ( the whole chapter read)
• Psalm (a brief portion sung)
  
• Sermon (about 35 minutes long in Gaelic; you can hear it by clicking here)
• Prayer (brief)
• Psalm (sung)
  
• Benediction (after which everybody leaves quickly in silence)

Culturally speaking, the congregation is quite conservative. Jamie is probably the only woman present who doesn't wear a hat. She is certainly the only woman in slacks. I wear my short-sleeved pastoral collar, which prompts the lady next to me to ask, "Oh, and might you be a visitor today?"

The Gaelic psalm singing is remarkable. It's great to meet Calum Martin, a music teacher who has worked hard to record these psalms. We chat briefly about his work with jazzer Willie Ruff, and I promise to be in touch by e-mail with questions.

Pastor Iain invites us to the manse for coffee at 5:00 pm. Our driver smiles when he hears this, and suggests that we borrow his car. "In fact," he says generously, "just keep it for a couple of days and enjoy the island."

Iain and his wife Anne are pleasant hosts, and we're able to stick around for the English service at 6. Iain is a fine and fiery preacher, and we enjoy his passion very much. The psalm singing is much tamer, and sounds like acapella hymn-singing.

After supper at one of the very few restaurants that is open in Stornoway, we decide to take advantage of our wheels and explore some local countryside. A beautiful sunset begins at around 9:15, and we decide to chase it for a while.

Driving westward across the moors, we stop to exchange greetings with a flock of sheep. This is a harsh and lonely landscape, given to much silence and the possiblility of severe weather. More than once, I ask out loud, "How do the psalms shape these people?" There is no immediate answer - just the howling of wind and an incredibly beautiful sky.

Glancing at the map, we realize we're not far from the Calanais Standing Stones, a set of 4000-year-old tall rocks that were intentionally planted on a seaside hill. These are curious markers left by an ancient people, as mysterious (and old) as Stonehenge. Just why they happen to be placed here is a question posed by documentaries on cable TV.

Arriving just as the sun lights up the sky in blue, purple, and creamsicle orange, I throw the car into park, leap out with camera in hand, and run up the rugged hill toward the stones. Jamie shouts behind me, "You'd better hurry!" and I'm glad that I do.

The evening sky gives us a gift which we can only touch through a series of photographs. A later conversation with a professional photographer confirms my hunch: you've gotta be a little wacky to shoot pictures of landscapes. It involves strange hours, unusual postures, and an attempt to see more deeply.

These stones have been here a long time. They've survived a lot of bad weather and are content to remain obscure. They are not easily explained, a bit eerie and odd. And they are waiting to be found. Glimpses of the Holy?