Everything about worship today was off kilter.  We were celebrating Jesus’s transfiguration when the disciples saw him bathed in light and fell to the ground in fear. Jesus responded by telling them to get up and not be afraid. We usually celebrate this day before Lent but a February blizzard intervened and we were celebrating today in the midst of Eastertide.

Three jazz musicians (drums, trumpet, organ/piano), including one who came from Montreal via Amherst, MA, arriving 10 minutes before the service started, led the way. We followed a different order of worship created with my support by another clergy person with whom I was co-leading the service.

People  began arriving early, long before the Montreal pianist–people I didn’t know.  There were old friends and strangers.  We ran out of bulletins.  Off-kilter.

Once the musicians started to play,  the sanctuary fell uncharacteristically silent.  They found their rhythm in the room–playing together and with us as they responded to each other and the mood they found in the sanctuary.

Swept up by the music, I skipped a hymn which we sang later and did the pastoral prayer after the offering instead of before as planned.   I literally didn’t know what would happen next.  We swayed and clapped to “And When the Saints Go Marching In.”  We shared concerns for those who were sick and grief for those who had died and prayed to God; nothing off-kilter about that.

After the service, someone shared that they didn’t like the music at first; it made them uncomfortable until they realized that discomfort may have been the point.  A few people left with new insights about their lives,  insights that tend to happen when we are a little off-kilter.

For harmony, dissonance, strangers, surprises, improvisation, community, musicians, and jazz, I am grateful. For all those times when being off-kilter brings signs of rebirth and hope, I give thanks.