Dateline, July 10th, 2022

I wake up early. Maybe a little too early. I don my Sunday best (or at least the best of the clothes I was able to fit into my two suitcases upon my trip to Europe) and head out the door.

It’s a short tram ride from Holešovice to St. Clement Anglican Church, and that’s exactly where I’m headed. I board the tram, and as we cross over the Vltava River, I see a young man and a young woman engaged in the act of physical fornication on a bench in Lannova Park. Something tells me that I won’t see this people in Church today.

I step off the tram and am greeted by the sight of Beer Spa Beerland. Something tells me that I won’t see any of these patrons at the Sunday service either. It’s a short, one block walk from Beerland to the church. Once I arrive, I see that the sermon doesn’t start for another half hour. I take a short walk through the neighborhood, and it’s quiet. Most people are still sleeping off their night of Saturday debauchery. The weather is nice and cool, and the morning sun shines brightly from above.

Finally, it’s time. I walk into the church, and survey the surroundings. It’s a spartan interior, true to the reformist visions of the anti-Papist Protestants from centuries ago. There isn’t even a crucifix.

I sit down at a pew in the back, I turn the hymn book to the appropriate page. Once I see the words, I realize that this sermon is entirely in Czech. Oops! The English language sermon doesn’t start until 10:30. However, I hear the sounds of the organ pipes flood the church’s interior. I rise to start singing, then realize that everyone else is still seated, so I sit back down. Apparently, it’s the opposite procedure of how Americans sing their hymns. Czech’s sit while singing in Church, Americans stand.

We finish singing, and everyone else stands up, so I stand up. This process repeats itself. There’s a reading from the Old Testament, a hymn, the New Testament, a hymn, and then the Gospel. Then the sermon starts, and from what little Czech I do know, I understand this gist. I hear the words človek, zviřat, medvěd, and Ukraine. From his words and his body language, I understand the pastor is making a passioned plea for Peace in Ukraine. When the sermon is over, the congregation applauds, I applaud with them. We sing a final hymn, and shake hands with the pastor before exiting back into the rest of the world.

Now I have half an hour before the English sermon starts. I stop for an espresso and a chocolate-covered calorie bomb at a nearby pastry shop. It’s delicious. I sip my espresso slowly, and before I know it, half an hour has passed and it’s time to return to St. Clement’s. I take my same spot a pew in the rear of the church, sit down, and when the music starts, I’m ready to sing . . . Or at least I thought I was. This time, everybody stands, like we do in America. So I stand, open the hymn book, and realize that I don’t have an English hymn book. The woman seated next to me sees my predicament. And with a baby in one hand, she deftly spins around, takes an extra hymn book from one of the parishioners, opens it to the correct page, and hands it to me with a smile. Talk about a miracle!

The service continues much in the Episcopal tradition to which I am accustomed. We get down on our knees and prayer for everyone–even our enemies. We wish peace to our neighbors. We take communion. And when the service is over, we exit back to the rest of the world.

It’s almost noon when I walk out, and the sun’s heat is starting to become oppressive. I’m already sweating in my long-sleeved shirt and slacks, so I head back to my Holešovice flat to change into a t-shirt and shorts. I spend about an hour practicing Czech on duolingo, humbled by how little I could understand from the Czech sermon. Then I sleep for a few hours. Apparently, I’d awoken up so early in hopes to make it to the early morning sermon, that my body had rebelled against me by mid-day.

In the evening, it’s still hot. I read the news and see that Holešovice is quite literally the hottest neighborhood in Prague, according to data collected by the International Space Station. Source:

https://www.expats.cz/czech-news/article/this-prague-neighborhood-is-literally-the-hottest-in-the-city

My body can’t stand the heat, and my mind tells me to head back to Letná park, where cool breezes whip over the hills of western Prague, where trees will shield me from the summer sun, and I can enjoy a nice pivo or two amongst good company.

Tomorrow is a new day . . .