Time for sun, surf - and church?

By bike, on foot, and by car, the scrubbed and the sunburned came to church here one glorious Sunday morning recently - to the gingerbread-trimmed St. Peter's by the Sea Episcopal, to the screen-door simplicity of St. Agnes Chapel (Roman Catholic), and, come evening, to the nondenominational Union Chapel across the green. The next weekend, Beadle Memorial Presbyterian, barely distinguishable from the modest cottages flanking it, would also unshutter for the season.

In this tiny seaside resort, as elsewhere, there are few statistics on just how many vacationers worship each week. Many beachgoers ignore that familiar Sunday school directive against "taking a vacation from God." After all, who wants to slip away from a cozy bed, cool surf, or a leisurely breakfast? Who can resist the temptation to linger over the paper rather than dress presentably, corral the clan, find a service, and get there on time?

But with work a distant blur and daily burdens laid down, many find the pace of vacation perfect for spiritual renewal, say those who minister to the worshipers.

Vacation can foster a new openness to the message, says the Rev. Jan Rudinoff, recently retired after 30 years as rector of St. Michael and All Angels (Episcopal) in Kauai, Hawaii.

When people attend services in a new community, where the ritual is the same but the environment is different, "you may hear some things that you heard in your own [church or synagogue], but that you missed because you were thinking about the laundry," he says.

Many attendees come from a religion that mandates regular worship. "It's difficult for me - you want to sleep in," admits Andrew Gardner, a college junior from Drexel Hill, Pa., as he leaves St. Agnes.

"But it's also something you believe in," he adds. "During the week [after attending a service], I can apply what I've heard to my life."

Some come because of personal devotion or custom. "We just always go to church," says summer resident Rob List, as he leads his family into St. Peter's while the church bell tolls and the waves rush the nearby dunes.

Many relish the opportunity for connecting with kindred souls. Others use the vacation to try a new denomination. Some find themselves responding to the call of church bells or strains of a hymn.

For some there's an aesthetic appeal to a simple Scripture reading at seaside, or to a row of pew-like planks lined up under the pines. "It's just special," says Mr. List's mother, Betty, of the summertime mix of services and ministers, of the dark-paneled sanctuary with its handful of pews and tiny altar.

Many enjoy variations on familiar forms. Bill Paige, of Chicago, has seen cultural extremes at Catholic masses during his recent travels. "It was the shortest 'handshake of peace' I have ever experienced," he says of the Dutch version of a normally relaxed part of the mass.

At the other extreme were services he attended in Paraguay. "It was a very open, very celebratory culture contrasted with very educated, very reserved, well-to-do people."

Typically, those who are churchgoers at home tend to be so on vacation, says Mary Gautier of the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate at Georgetown University in Washington. She marvels at the willingness of believers to get off the beach, locate services, and get there. "It says something about their faith - that this is something valuable and worthwhile and important in their lives."

Jewish families often travel together to ensure having the minyan, or requisite number for prayer, says Bonni Kraus of the Auerbach Central Agency for Jewish Education of Greater Philadelphia. Some carry a torah for makeshift services or seek out a destination because they know services will be available there.

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