Take my life and let it be. . .

Today, I went into a church for the first time in 18 months. The last time I was in a church to worship was when I attended a service in Berkeley with the Bishop of California. I don’t remember the specific celebration, but it was after Ash Wednesday and there was great music and lots of candles – some kind of Lenten reflection. Afterwards, the Bishop gave a talk on his research around Ticht Nacht Han and his relationship with Martin Luther King, Jr. But, I digress.

My hosts at the AirBnB I’ve taken in Erhard, MN asked if I’d be interested in attending a confirmation service for one of their friends. It was to be held at a small Episcopal church in Fergus Falls. While the churches in California are still mostly closed and I’ve been ‘attending’ the Washington National Cathedral for the last 18 months, I thought that perhaps now is the time to reconnect with my church home. So, I agreed to attend.

Stepping into the small church was like taking a step back in time. Clearly a small local church, it had all the traditional trappings of an Episcopal parish. As is the custom, there was a box of tissues at the back, that I partook of quite liberally. I knew there was a very real risk that this would be an overwhelming experience and I wanted to be prepared. I was grateful for the fact I was not the only one wearing a face mask. That turned out to not only protect me from exposure to COVID, but to allow me to hide under the covering which hid most of my face.

The processional hymn was ‘Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee.’ I sang along and was determined not to think about my son figuring out how to play it on any instrument he could get his hands on as a child. I made it through without too much trouble, though I needed to focus on the very interesting ceiling fan in the transept at certain parts. The familiarity of Rite II allows you not to think too much as the words roll off the tongue and rote memory kicks in. Of course, the Minnesota accent of the reader helped to distract me as we went through Jeremiah and then parts of Psalm 139

You have searched me, Lord,
    and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
    you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
    you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
    you, Lord, know it completely.

The gospel was from Romans and then we had an inspiring sermon by the new Bishop of Minnesota based on the recent television series ‘Ted Lasso.’ It was a great drawing together of how Ted ends up in England where everyone is against him but persists to be successful by being a genuinely good man and dedicated coach, even though he knows nothing about football (having been an American football coach). While focusing on responding to his critics in a loving way, and devoted to building a strong community, he ultimately helps his dysfunctional English football club transform into a winning team. I enjoyed it and appreciated his style as well as the underlying message for the community at hand.

The confirmation and renewal of baptismal vows brought my mind back to St. Paul’s Cathedral in London and a memorable baptism service on Holy Saturday in 2014. Surprisingly, I made it through as we recommitted ourselves to a life in Christ by reciting the Nicene Creed responsively. So much of the service was familiar and I think that helped. I certainly appreciated the usual prayers, hymns, and structure of something that has been a part of my life for many, many years. And, fortunately for me, none of the hymns hit too close to home. They were familiar, but not emotionally connected (thank goodness, they didn’t include ‘Amazing Grace’ or ‘Come Thou Font of Every Blessing’). Though there were the usual hilarious phrasing that helped lighten my spirits (even if no one realized I was laughing while singing, under cover of my face mask).

After 18 months of praying for a spiritual communion, it felt strange to actually participate in that part of the service. While there was no communal cup, just the little plastic cups that I associate with the Methodist church, it was the symbolism that struck home – as always. After so many months of praying for a spiritual connection to the meaning of that part of the service, being able to actually receive communion in a church felt strange, but oddly familiar.

The hymn after communion brought home the message of the day. While it too could have pushed me over the edge, focusing on the artwork in the church and the organist allowed me to get it through it without any outwards signs of distress.

~~~

Take my voice and let me sing

Always, only, for my King.

Take my lips and let them be

Filled with messages from thee

~~~

And, just like that, it was over. We trooped down to the undercroft for a traditional Minnesota church lunch – your choice of little ham, egg salad or chicken salad sandwiches with fruit and veggies; and cake, always a cake to celebrate the occasion. There was a nice discussion with the Bishop that reminded me of how out of the loop I am with the Episcopal church these days, and certainly with the Diocese of Minnesota. The struggles of this little parish were familiar – how do you sustain a parish when the average age of the congregation is all well over 70 years old? The strong urge to maintain the familiar, traditional, certainty of the BoCP, but somehow to attract a younger generation so that the church doesn’t die with them is nothing new. This is something I’ve seen far too often over the past 30-odd years as I’ve moved across the country and even in the Scottish Episcopal Church and the mother church – CoE (Church of England, for those unfamiliar with the acronym). It’s sad to hear the same refrain – we want to grow and attract new members, but we want to keep our traditions and structure the same as it’s been for well over 100 years. The reality of not having enough money to hire a priest, but the desire to be a church. I used to be a part of this, but in the last 8 years, I’ve drifted further away from the inner workings of parish life. While I enjoy the warmth and comfort of worshipping at a Rite II church, my path has taken a different direction and I wonder whether I’ll ever return to this aspect of my Episcopal journey.

I don’t mean to imply that this wasn’t a meaningful and significant occasion for me. Returning to my church home for a service after such a long time away struck me deeply. While I enjoy my daily Morning Prayer and weekly Sunday services in the comfort of my living room with the priests from Washington National Cathedral, it is not the same as being an active part of a church community. It’s just going to take some time for me to sort out what direction I am going. I miss the comradery of a church community and the rhythm of church life that has been such a big part of my faith journey over the last 50-odd years. Yet, the pandemic has changed things significantly. I’ve gone 18 months without being a part of a local church community. While the churches in my current city remain shut, it’s not something I will have to deal with in the short term. However, longer term, I’ll need to decide whether or how I will return to regular communal worship. I view communal worship as a critical part of any faith journey since we are ultimately social beings. However, where and how this aspect returns to my personal life has yet to be seen.

In the meantime, I was blessed today to join a church community in welcoming a new member and recommitting myself to my life in Christ.