11 AM Sunday morning at the hosptial. I’ve been in the chapel since 10AM playing my own compositions and a few hymns on the piano. People trickle in to listen and be in the chapel, then head out, then come back in. About 10 minutes til 11, a Muslim staff member comes into the chapel. I’ve just finished getting the song books out of the chapel closet and placing them on the chairs. I sit in the front, being as a quiet as I can so he can have a quiet, quality prayer time, while I still welcome people into the chapel as they start to settle in for morning worship.
On the back table, A Koran sits atop a prayer rug and next to it, a Tanakh sits atop a prayer shawl. The hymnals on each seat resonate with the melodies sung by church mothers and fathers of old.
On any given Sunday, an array of people from an array of faiths cross the threshold of the hospital chapel. At this time and in this space, specifics are irrelevant as we join our human hearts together to affirm the G-d who made us, the G-d who heals us, the G-d who loves us, the G-d who listens
to our prayers
to our songs
to our sacred readings, meditations and benedictions.
Our G-d walks among us during worship weaving the thread of love through a beautiful multi-faith encounter.