I was in church for the first time in more than five years last Sunday. I’ve nothing against church or churches; it’s just that I retired from the Shepherdstown Presbyterian Church, July 1, 2017, after 42 years and simply fell out of the habit.
(It helps if you’re paid to go!)
Last Sunday I thought I was only going into a church building. But, alas, I ended up trapped in a church service.
I should have seen it coming.
My granddaughters are in the middle school jazz band. They told us they’d be performing at St. Agnes Catholic Church at 4:00 p.m. on Sunday, November 20. I thought it an odd venue for a school concert.
I should have connected the dots.
4:00. Sunday. Before Thanksgiving. A church.
DUH.
It was the Shepherdstown Ministerial Association’s Community Thanksgiving Service, which I helped reorganize 40 years ago.
Attendance at the Thanksgiving service had been dwindling. I suggested we invite the elementary school chorus and middle school jazz band. That would boost attendance and make the service more festive, less churchy.
And it did. The church was full. The band played a prelude and a postlude. The chorus sang. Alas, unsuspecting parents and grandparents were trapped in a church service.
And that’s the very service that entrapped me last Sunday.
The church was packed. Paula and I couldn’t find a place to sit until a young woman with long blonde hair and hoop earrings motioned us to sit next to her. Turns out I knew her.
Roberta had once been Bobby. I officiated his wedding to Barbara a few years before I retired. I baptized their children.
I first met Bobby when some friends referred him to me for counseling. His wife of only two months had abruptly announced that she was a lesbian and instantly left the marriage and Bobby behind. Bobby was devastated.
Over the years we met again and again as he worked to overcome anger, grief, and depression. Bobby was a troubled soul on a rocky journey. And then he met Barbara. A ray of sunshine.
Bobby fell in love. Barbara helped him mend. They married. Four years later Bobby came out as Roberta.
I sat next to Roberta at the Thanksgiving service. We sang “All Are Welcome in This Place.” She put her arm around me. I put mine around her.
I miss church.
(Sometimes.)
* * *
Note: Bobby/Roberta and Barbara are not their actual names. But St. Agnes is the actual name of the host church in this story and Roberta was actually wearing hoop earrings.
My favorite part of your sermon each week was when you would read a few lines of scripture and then say, “well, that’s enough of that…” and started to talk about our journey in this amazing but at times difficult Creation. It opened the doors of the church and welcomed Life in. Thank you for the feeling of being in the heart of the Universe rather than trapped in church, for being at the table rather than at the window looking in. Most times. We are all human.
“… fell out of the habit.” A fitting pun for the morphing story that follows! But it is the gist of this story that bids me respond. And it is a story of genuine Love. And kind of a meant-to-be miracle. In whatever form, death of the old self followed by transformative rebirth is the ultimate Christmas story. Blessings be to Roberta and Barbara — and our own Sojourner here, the happy Mouse. Thank you.
A great and positive take on “what goes around comes around”! You sowed a lot of healthy seeds.
I used to occasionally come to church with Claire when you were still “preaching.” The first time I accompanied her I think it had been 30-plus years since I had darkened the door of a religious institution. I commented on this fact while exiting after the service, as we shook hands at the front door. You chuckled and commented, “Well, lightening didn’t strike the church.” Evidently, St. Agnes wasn’t instantaneously struck either. Nothing happened. No high, destructive wind, no swarm of grasshoppers. After all, The Devil’s Gift was in the building. This is the remedy we need for our ailing and lost world–not specifically church–but sitting together as a community and contemplating something other than ourselves, and caring for one another.
Amen to Michael’s post. You said a lot of reflective quotes that still linger in my heart and many hearts: “Life is hard but grace abounds,” and from Hafiz: “keep holding hands, the terrain around here is too difficult to let go.”
Agree with all of the above! Thanks Be for the beautiful wildness of creation you helped us see, enjoy, and revere!
Great story. You described unconditional love, the greatest gift we can give anyone. You loved someone through their very difficult internal struggle and it came back to you. Religion is a poor substitute or representation of a spiritual relationship with Divine Love.
You actually fell for your own plan (populating the thanksgiving service with parents and grandparents by employing the middle school band)!!! Omg I love this so much. And this story. Beautiful!
I can see & feel your love; your discomfort; your experiences. I was reminded of the times my own personal growth experiences (as I learned to know & love myself) caused pain to others… and came to love & forgive myself thru the kindnesses and acceptance of others like you. Thank you💖& keep shining & sharing
Yes! Amen to all the comments from everyone! You are still preaching but this time without all of the shackles and constraints of the church – the liturgy, the church yearly cycle of scripture readings, the language and buzz words and most of all, the requirement to be an example of holiness. You always managed to slip over the edges of these requirements in one way or another, but still…they were there. The word ‘holiness’ has just connected me to the memory of Garrison Keeler’s radio show and his story of the Lake Wobegon children’s Christmas pageant wherein the sheep were named, Shirley, Goodness and Mercy. But I digress…I am so grateful that you’ve continued to write and share your wonderful views of life in this unbelievable world.
Brother David Steindl-Rast said, “The greatest gift one can give is thanksgiving. In giving gifts, we give what we can spare, but in giving thanks, we give ourselves.” I am grateful for the many good seeds you have spread over the years, including this story.
“Girls will be boys and boys will be girls
It’s a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world.”
–The Kinks “Lola”