It’s Sunday morning. I had my coffee, it’s just grey outside, too early for Red’s (do they open on Sunday?), too early for most things after a kitchen party.
So I’m wandering around on a rather quiet morning and notice a small but steady stream of people walking towards something. To where? I’ll follow in my stealth photographer’s mode, trying not to let my cameras hit against each other too loudly and give my surveillance away. Why look, they must be god-fearing folks as they’re all going to church. Some turn around and see me. So much for being unobtrusive.
So, hi-ho, hi-ho, I guess it’s off to church I go. A little church never hurt anyone, right? I follow them in and sit in the back as appropriate for a camera-toting reprobate such as myself. I did say it was grey outside. It was even greyer inside. This was looking like one of the older chapters of the Canadian AARP. It appears the younger Rameans have other things to do on Sunday morning. Like recovering from kitchen parties maybe?
It was a large, beautiful, old church, the kind one might find in fishing villages anywhere. But because of the lack of fishing and the loss of population, it was operating on a much smaller budget. In the winter, when I was there, they would close the main floor with the sanctuary in order to save money on heat. Consequently, they worshiped on a ground level meeting room. It was pretty standard Anglican fare. Nothing terribly unfamiliar, but none of the awe-inspiring trappings usually associated with a lot of churches. Come to think of it, it reminded me of many of the churches I’d seen in New England – plain, austere, and somewhat spartan.
The church members, being Newfoundlanders (obviously!), were all friendly but somewhat reserved. Q: Who comes to church with cameras on them? A: I do. That’s not exactly what people expect to find when they go their house of worship. (God is watching and he sent me to get proof!)
I stayed around a bit after the service and spoke with some members as well of the minister. She was a very busy woman. On alternating Sundays, she preached at the Catholic Church elsewhere on the island. I hope she never got her liturgy confused – might upset some of the folk, you know.
Like other times while in Newfoundland you would meet the same person again, I would run into her again, but elsewhere. It is a small world, but Ramea makes it even smaller.