I didn't understand a single word. I sat toward the back with my two sisters, equally ignorant but smiling, while the pastor made announcements, engaged with the congregation, while they sang songs we didn’t know. We were there to hear my brother give a sermon.

In the dimly lit chapel a young boy reached over, and with two fingers, held down the eyelids of his younger brother for prayer. Helpful.

In Western services, we are often asked to greet one another on Sunday mornings. Everyone, including me, generally makes a 360 degree turn from where they stand--sticking out their hand to anyone it will reach. We smile, shake and move on. We don’t really move out of our tiny spaces.

At the greeting segment of yesterday’s service every individual rose out of their seats and came over to welcome us. I was hugged. My hand was grasped tightly. I was kissed. I was approached from every angle. The waft of individuals made the seemingly small congregation seem as though it swelled and I almost felt overwhelmed. After we were introduced as newcomers, a young girl sat next to me.

“Do you understand a little?”

I shook my head. She seemed surprised, (considering it is, after all, Los Angeles) and began to interpret small elements of the service for me.

I like attending services where I don’t understand the language or much of what is going on. They remind me of what someone who has never stepped inside of a church, or who has no understanding of liturgy, or who feels ostracized by a language they don’t understand, might feel like around religious people. I become more sensitive to strange phrases that get adopted into church vocabulary but have obscure meanings or, for some reason, seem to clang against the senses.

I truly don’t know most of what went on during those two hours yesterday. What I do know is that I was hugged and greeted and that I received smiles and well-wishes and Bienvenidos….though in my ignorance I repeated back “Bienvenido”, as if it meant hello instead of “welcome”. What I do know, is that I was welcomed in a way I would like to emulate. Not just on Sunday mornings, but in my daily life.