I am late as usual. For as long as I can remember, there was always am early and a late meeting, 9am and 12. And every year the congregations sharing the hall would switch, letting the other sleep in for a few more hours. I foolishly figured that all Kingdom Halls worked this way. Not to off base a thought, I guess.

Go to any country and the witnesses are there, in the neat, formal dress of their homelands, praying as one on Sunday morning, studying the same literature in a language they have always known. There are tweaks here and there; the pictures across the front of the Watchtower reflecting the makeup of the region or occasional stories of locally based missionaries. But when traveling between the halls of Jehovah’s Witnesses, regardless of what you think of the doctrine, the unity of practice is both incredible and terrifying. No matter where my family had traveled through the years, walling into the hall always felt like home.

Sleeping in despite the urgancy of last week, I walked down a surprisingly residential street to a converted rowhome with big beds of purple flowers in front. I was immediately suspious of my timing. The front of the hall was quiet and cars where few. I walked up to the front door and saw what I thought may have been a self fulfilling prophesy. Public talk and watchtower study, 10:30 am. I missed the whole thing. I grabbed for the door, hearing a voice inside commenting on some sister’s comment during the question and answer session, and let go immediately. I was late; it wasn’t meant to be; I guess that was it.

I’ve moved twice a year for the last 5 years and in that time my personal items has grown and shrank often. Items come and go and I lost more then few things that should not have been lost. How do you lose two printers, and jigsaw and ironing board? Why did I get a jigsaw in the first place? Over all this time, though, I have always keep with me a little leather New World Translation, the standard bible for Jehovah’s Witnesses. Until recently it had gone pretty much unused. Still I could not find it in me to throw it way. This morning, though, in the bustle of getting ready to return to the hall, I couldn’t find it anywhere. Of all the days to be without a bible, I thought. I was running out of time and left for the hall without it.Walking away, I thought I could at least get a new bible. I had come all that way. Maybe I could just read a couple proverbs when I got home and call it a day. So backward I turned and up the stairs I went. I breathed deeply and opened the door.

The love in the room was incredible. Immediately, people gathered, asking where I was from, how long I had been in town and what my story was up to this point. Everywhere there where firm handshakes from men in suit and tie and soft hand holds from sisters in sundresses, bowing their heads slightly. I was amazed the diversity of the congregation. North Philadelphia, where I grew up, was a rooted black community, strong in church regardless of denomination. It was hard to imagine a Kingdom Hall not like that, after so much time. But here, in loose and friendly fellowship, every ethnic group mingled, laughed and smiled with full, bright smiles. It is a characteristic of San Francisco, I know. But to see it transplanted in a place I always felt deep down was so insular was a surprising thing.

Walking out of the hall, I felt my breath deepen. It was a new kind of air outside. I don’t know what the trip will lead to. But I know that I felt a peace there I was disconnected from for a long time. It’s good to know you can go back home again. What’s holding me back from returning for good? This, I thought, must be what pride is like.

[Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses - Sunset]

[1666 46th Ave]

[(415) 566-1500]
[Sundays 10:30]