This is a uniquely Mormon issue, from what I’ve seen. I have sung in lots of other churches, been a choir director for another congregation for several years, and attended meetings at many churches of many denominations. At all of these churches, the members come to the meeting and quietly sit in the sanctuary. They do not talk with their friends. They do not high-five each other (yes, I’ve seen this in our ward). They do not run around the chapel doing last-minute preparation for lessons. They don’t slap each other on the backs or call to someone across the room. They don’t laugh loudly or walk up and down the aisle shaking hands. They just sit and listen to the prelude music. Though I can’t know what’s in their minds, I assume they’re feeling the spirit of the Sabbath, meditating or getting in the mood for worship.

Why don’t we do the same? Are we naturally a more gregarious and social bunch? Do we love each other so much we’re overjoyed to see our friends? Are we starved for socialization that we use the ten minutes before the meeting? Are we simply rude? Do we have lousy organists whose music isn’t worth listening to? Is it because we’re irreverent and disrespectful? What’s up with this awful habit?

Whatever the reason, it seems a losing battle. I’ve been in meetings where the stake president or bishop has stood up and asked people to be quiet. There’s a hush … for about 45 seconds. My son attended a fireside where Elder Bednar finally stood and asked the congregation to be quiet – after two admonitions by the other general authority in attendance. I’ve been in meetings where the organist has made the organ quieter, or louder, or stopped altogether, to demand the audience’s attention. No deal.

I feel bad for organists who practice every week, only to provide religious elevator music. Our behavior seems particularly rude towards them. One time my husband, who’s an organist, played the theme song of Mickey Mouse, just to see if anybody would notice. Nobody did.

I also feel sorry for anybody who’s trying to prepare themselves for meaningful worship. The hand-shakers, back-slappers, and greeters will come welcome them, often loudly. Neighbors will sit down and chat with them, often loudly. A Sunday School or priesthood teacher may come and ask them to prepare a scripture or story for the lesson an hour or two later. And all of these episodes will be accompanied by the ever-present din of laughter, chitchat … and the occasional high-five.

This is our most significant gathering of the week, the time for our holiest ordinance. Is it too much to ask to enjoy a few moments of peace at the beginning of the meeting?

No, not THE Alamo.

Alamo, New Mexico. It’s a non-contiguous part of the Navajo Nation southwest of Albuquerque.

It started when my brother-in-law invited me to accompany him on a stake high council speaking assignment while I was in town for the week. Turns out he wanted another speaker! I said sure. It sounded like fun, except for the actual writing the talk part.

Just getting there involved leaving the interstate at a ranch exit and looking for some kind of highway sign. We saw a few bullet-hole pocked signs, all with numbers which didn’t match the map, so we asked one local approaching the freeway for directions. She spat out an, “Oh my G–! You want to go there?!” and directed us down the road a piece. Her directions not being that great, we had to choose between a dirt road which looked like it hadn’t been driven on since the Vietnam War and a slightly larger dirt road. We took the road more traveled, and it made all the difference.

An hour later, after washboarding all over the red clay road, passing cattle, horses, and the occasional car, we pulled into Alamo in the middle of a dust storm and parked at the Chapter House. We were greeted by a man who handed me and my brother-in-law brooms and asked us to sweep the dirt out of the hallways in preparation for the meeting.

The members walked in and greeted us. Most were dressed casually, with jeans, boots, and windbreakers over T-shirts or white shirts and bolo ties. They all seemed intent on being there. We put up chairs and assembled the sacrament table together, and shortly before the meeting, I was asked by one of the branch members if I would administer the sacrament as well. The music was provided by one of the Church’s hymn CD’s played on a small boom box set on a metal folding chair next to the presiding officer.

My talk was OK, my brother-in-law’s was better, and the sacrament itself was a short, sweet experience, where each small child huddled in the back of the hall eagerly grabbed a morsel of bread and assisted their siblings and friends with carefully extracting the water cups from the trays. Gospel Doctrine, taught from the Gospel Essentials text by my brother-in-law, was another chance to sense the infuence of God as he shared a sensitive and painful experience from his own life which helped one brother in the congregation who had been victim to a similar tragedy.

Church ended, with a potluck lunch eaten by the rest of the branch, while we made our way to the pickup for the long drive back to Albuquerque. As we approached the door, a senior missionary assigned to the branch warned us, “You’ve got a flat tire.”

“At least we’ve got a spare,” I thought. We soon found that both rear tires had been punctured by the rough road we had traveled. The formerly quiet Navajo branch members swung into action, faces which had been more or less somber during the church service broke out into smiles, and excited chatter erupted as the opportunity to serve arose. Two different “rescue parties” headed out in pickup trucks to fetch tire repair kits and compressors from far-flung homes on the reservation. We soon had two repaired tires and a few new friends.

And I have my first bolo tie in commemoration of the experience, to my wife’s chagrin!

Have you ever had a “different” worship experience?

Years ago, my wife and I skipped our ward meetings to attend Music and the Spoken Word and thoroughly enjoyed it. We made a date out of it by staying the night before in the old Inn at Temple Square. It was a fun experience eating breakfast Sunday morning in the hotel restaurant (Pavilions?) and walking across the street to the Tabernacle to listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir do what it does best. Every Sunday, even before General Conference, the Choir provides music to inspire and a spoken word to uplift.

I got to thinking recently about all of the times I’ve been to a sacrament meeting and the only inspiring thing was the sacrament itself. Maybe it’s just me, but here’s my idea: once a month, the LDS Church set aside a sacrament meeting where music predominates, with one short general uplifting sermon, modeled on Music and the Spoken Word. Think of all the benefits. Thousands of short, tasteful, Church-approved pre-written sermons to be drawn upon since the days of Richard L. Evans. One safe Sunday for missionaries to bring investigators to. One short sacrament meeting. The benefits could spill over into the other meetings of the day. With a shorter sacrament meeting time, say 40 minutes, the other meetings could last a little longer to delve into scriptural and other topics more heavily than normal. Or we could all go home early, refreshed, and inspired.

Again we leave you, from the shadow of the everlasting hills…: