The Church in Wales experience.

It's Easter morning, and I've decided that I will give the Church in Wales around the corner another chance. I feel a little apprehensive because the first time I came here was less than inspiring to say the least. However, I remind myself that I have come for God, not for the rest of the congregation and walk through the doors once more. The atmosphere hits me like a sub-Arctic blast. Despite the Easter sun and the spring-like air outside, I can see my breath on the cold air when I breathe; even my coat doesn't protect me against the chill. My heart sinks faintly as I get jammed behind a group of people discussing their 'seat reservations' (there will be a Baptism during the service) but I manage to circumnavigate them and flash a smile at the usher and say hello, reaching for the order of service in his hand. To my consternation, he not only doesn't return my greeting, he fails to even acknowledge my presence other than to turn away from me and pick up another order of service that's sitting in a pile on the side. Apparently, I am not allowed to have the one he's holding...
The pre-service is atmosphere is as icy as the temperature and as I look at the glorious stained glass, I remind myself once again, that I am not here for the congregation. It is just as well that I have reached this conclusion since I am finding the pre-service chatter rather inane, although if I am entirely honest with myself, I would find it less so, were I participating. I cast a few glances around the church, several people walk past me as I am sat right at the aisle (always handy should a quick getaway become necessary) but none of them even so much as nod at me. I do not know why I am surprised since this is exactly what I experienced the last time I was here, and the reason I had not come back until this point but somehow, it still manages to irk me. Eventually, the service begins and although I've experienced a fairly extensive variety of worship during my life, I find this one a bit... odd. We begin with a prelude at the organ which is nice, but it flows seamlessly into the opening hymn. Just as well I know it. My mind wanders as I do my best to belt out the Easter classic since the rest of the congregation seems barely to be managing a murmur, and I find myself wondering what kind of message this sends out to potential new members. What if today had been the first time I had ever walked into a church? How would I have had any idea at all what was going on? This feeling only deepens as we continue with the sung liturgy. I have absolutely no issue with sung liturgy - in fact, I like it. But there is no score provided and I don't know the tune. I am lost. The rest of the congregation knows what they are doing, and I do not. Despite having been a church-goer since I was 6 years old, I am somehow on the outside of an exclusive club. I consider again how inaccessible this style of worship is. Perhaps this congregation actively discourages new-comers. Just as well that I have no desire to be a part of a club that does not want me...
We move on; the sermon is about Star Wars - it's actually quite good if a bit on the short side, nothing to really get my teeth into, however, the priest looks animated and interested in his topic which is great because last time I was here, he looked so bored by his own message that I worried he would fall asleep right over his notes. There is a Baptism. I had been looking around for a baby and bemused that I hadn't seen one and I am quite surprised indeed to discover that this is an Adult Baptism. Not one with immersion, just a jug of water over the head, but still. This means that at least one new person has found a home here... interesting, I muse to myself, I wonder how... After we have joined in with the Baptismal vows as a confirmation of our own, the priest says that as a symbol of the covenant we have made with God, that we, too, will share in the Holy Water and he will sprinkle us. This is excellent, I think to myself. How very sacred and Holy and fitting for an Easter Sunday. I have never experienced this but I am an instant convert, I think all Baptisms should include it immediately, and start composing an email to Pastor Barry, telling him about it, too. It's just the kind of thing he would love to include at TUC, especially because they don't do immersion either. I look down at the words on my service sheet and grimace as I see the hymn we are expected to sing at this point. It's an 80s whine, but that's ok, it's not the hymn that's important. I try to think about God and the covenant and what I have promised when repeating the vows. The priest gets a jug of the water he has blessed and a stick of some sort, it looks vaguely like a branch of Christmas tree but I am not close enough to see. It might have been nice to know if it had some sort of significance... He walks around the congregation dipping the branch into the water and flicking it. The congregation begin to shriek and giggle like small children as the cold water hits them. I grind my teeth - how VERY immature. Why can we not share in this moment and appreciate it for what it is? Focus, like adults, on the meaning of why we are here...?
I shake my head and feel disappointed when the water misses me completely. There is something very mysterious about holy water. I have always liked the idea of it.
There is more of the sung liturgy, including a Psalm, once again, I have no idea what the tune is, but at least the cantor sings it before we have to and it's not like it's Mozart - I pick this one up fairly quickly.
We have communion but I am really confused because there are no ushers moving up the church indicating to each row when to start moving toward the altar. Why not? Is everyone supposed to magically know when they should go...? I suppose they are. But yet again, I find myself thinking of a person who may have no idea what is going on... from the way this service is conducted, they never would... I kneel and accept the Eucharist, taking a moment to focus before I return to my seat, after I have let the other people in the row in, I sit quietly and try to meditate. Unfortunately, the women in the row behind me decide that now is a good time to have a conversation. Do they not know that I, and everyone else probably, can actually hear every word they are saying? Why on earth do they think this is an appropriate time to be talking at all? This is the most sacred of ceremonies and one I am absolutely humourless about. It must be done properly and with respect. It really makes me grind my teeth that other people are so inconsiderate and when one of them manages to drop a packet of mints all over the floor which causes an outburst of stifled giggles - I am hard pushed not to stand up and start ranting. One of them comments that the mints look like Ecstasy, I really want to turn around and ask how they know. I wouldn't know an 'E' if it slapped me in the face.
There are other good moments during the service, the children are extremely well-behaved and I think somewhat snidely to myself that their parents should take lessons from them... The priest blesses the children's Easter gardens, which I think is lovely, and the ladies in the congregation are given a small bunch of daffodils to take home which is another nice touch and certainly cheered me up. All in all though, I still can't see myself making a home here. I just wouldn't fit in.
As soon as the service is over, one of the women behind me turns to her ?friend? and says "Let's go!" really loudly and I actually do find myself shaking my head. I don't think I'll bother even trying to go and have a cup of tea, I'd probably not manage to find it or something but I get stuck behind a woman having a chat with the priest on the way out and having finally managed to get past her, I find a minuscule chocolate egg pressed into my hand with a 'Happy Easter' Ah yes. Of course, the true meaning of Easter. Chocolate. I go home for a cup of tea and join the Ship of Fools as a Mystery Worshipper...