Lately, as per usual, I've been doing some thinking, some reflecting, and some soul-searching. And a few things are coming to a head as a result. Before I get into all of that, I want to do what I promised a couple of weeks ago, and I want to respond to the comments that I received as a result of the last blog post, and I want to elaborate on a few things that I feel have become unclear.
Re: Qwerty Faith
I got a few comments on that post, and I really have taken them in with an open heart and a trust that those of you who commented have done so with the best intentions possible. And I thank you for those comments, concerns, questions, etc. Therefore, I want to address you (and the rest of you dear readers) about the broader issue of LGBT Christianity.
It's a cop-out to post a link, but I really do urge everyone to click here and read what someone more studied and articulate than I has to say. What it boils down to, and what the main take-home is, is that homosexuality in the form of committed relationships between two consenting adults is not forbidden in the Bible. The argument is that the prohibitions on such activities in the Old Testament were based around rape as a form of aggression/dominance over outsiders (Sodom and Gomorrah), and sexual practices related to worship of pagan gods and goddesses in their temples. The prohibitions reiterated by Paul were, then, based upon the premise of being holy and wholly set apart from the idols and their cult practices (temple prostitution, orgies, and the like).
I do encourage you all to read the blog that is linked above, though, because it goes into depth and enters into a broader explanation of how the issue is understood and what it means in this framework.
Among the comments are two points that I want to address specifically, because I think they get to the heart of the debate. One is why gay sin is so much circumvented in order for everyone to basically feel better about himself. The other point is that perhaps the heterosexual relationship is a more perfect way to understand the love of another and the community that God wants for God's children.
The first point, I think, is something that is a deeper than it first seems. Yes, everyone wants to feel like his or her way of life is a good one. No one wants to live in a state of constant dread, guilt, fear, or self-doubt. Obviously. But at the same time, this conflicts with the very real view that many hold which states that homosexuality is something that is wrong in its core. And that view is founded in a much larger system of belief which has its merits and is not something to be taken lightly. If I'm gay, and if the Bible is being face-value literal about the abomination of my lifestyle, then something's got to give. I cannot be happy if my sexuality and my spirituality are constantly at odds.
Something does have to give, but not completely. I don't think of my life as a compromise. I see the ways in which I've changed as an evolution. I've learned that Christian love is about just that, love. Jesus himself boiled down the Law to Love God, Love Others. And while I don't mean to dumb down the intricacies involved in Christian theology, I think that Christ himself had a very good point. Imagine that.
In my movement into a liturgical tradition, one of the core values that strikes me is one of reconciliation. The Episcopal church prays every Sunday for other churches around the world, other churches within our own city. And these churches fall both within and without the Anglican communion. It is very common that during the Prayers of the People (which is a stunning act of solidarity and community) each week, we pray for the XYZ Baptist or Methodist or Catholic or Church of Christ congregation. It is also part of that core value system that the Anglican communion, though multi-faceted, takes the Nicene Creed seriously when we say "We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic church." The Episcopal church is in full communion with the Evangelical Lutheran Church, the Moravian Church, and the Old Catholic Church of the Union of Utrecht. There are continuing talks with the Presbyterian Church (PCUSA), as I understand it, that the communion may be expanded there, as well. The point, here, is that the love of Christ reaches beyond ourselves and beyond our own little stations. Reconciling differences is not doing away with them. They exist for reasons aplenty. But learning from differences and embracing the diversity that they entail is often a powerful way to learn about others and ultimately oneself.
That being said (and I realize it was tangential), I think that the overwhelming issue at stake here is that love overcomes barriers we have thought insurmountable. So, the greater issue is not about feeling better. It's about loving beyond what we personally understand. Most, if not all, gay people have wished, prayed, and begged to be straight. But it isn't something that is chosen. So, with that in mind, loving God and loving others is what comes next for those who are Christian. And finding a place to do that, a framework in which to work, and a community of support for the ministry that may be had is of the utmost importance.
Say what you will about the Episcopal church, but I've found that there is love there. For God, for others, for the naked and the poor and the hungry, for the wealthy and the happy, the searching, the hurting, and even for the LGBTQ among us. If ever we needed a holy communion, it is certain that it must be one that welcomes those who wish to taste the divine.
It's clear I'll have to create a second post for the other main point of this. Another day, dear readers. Another cup of coffee. Another soapbox from which to pontificate and wrestle.
T
Friday, May 27, 2011
This Blog is Not Dead
There are a couple of posts in the pipelines that are just yet to be completed.
Things to look forward to:
-A secular wedding and why rituals are important
-A continued discussion of queer faith
-"Blowin' in the Wind" and how Bob is right
-Energies, spirits, and juju all around us
So, stay hip, y'all. I'll be writing more when the mood strikes.
T
Things to look forward to:
-A secular wedding and why rituals are important
-A continued discussion of queer faith
-"Blowin' in the Wind" and how Bob is right
-Energies, spirits, and juju all around us
So, stay hip, y'all. I'll be writing more when the mood strikes.
T
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Qwerty Faith
I'm learning a few things through this year of post-graduation mindless work. One of them is that queer faith is not oxymoronic. Obviously that's been a struggle to realize, but the idea that something is out there beyond me? That's something I can accept. And as such, I want to live like I believe it.
Actions are more precious than words, though, and I often find myself lacking in the area of loving my neighbor as myself. Sometimes my neighbor is being a petulant child. And more often still, I find myself not loving God with my whole heart. Rather, I get caught up in the rising price of gas and the way that I can't seem to get all my work done, and how I need to change the sheets or give the dog a bath.
We are truly sorry
And we humbly repent.
So, with that said, I've come across something that piqued my interest in things spiritual. Some LGBTQ alumni from Harding University (a conservative Church of Christ school not too far from where I live)have published an e-zine, The State of the Gay. It exposes their experiences at HU and their challenges of faith and sexuality.
And that brings me to the question: Why do we even have discussions of "Queer Faith?" As though my religious perspective is going to fall one way or another because of my sexual orientation. I've never heard of a panel discussion (much less a splintered communion) over the theology of cigarette smoking. Most denominations of Christianity have an official stance, but I've never heard of it being enforced. The pastor of the Baptist church I used to go to here in Conway is a smoker (or has quit since I stopped attending). But a public outcry? That would be beyond bizarre. Some people smoke. Others hate it. But they would probably all agree that such a matter is personal and not worth the fuss a big debate and witch-hunt would cause.
And yet it does. Because to some the variety of sexuality is seen as a gift that God gives each person-- to love people intimately, each in his or her own way. To others, the debate is premised upon the "natural" ideal of opposites making a single unit. A man for a woman and a woman for a man. The end.
But why is that so? And why does it affect faith?
Many see the Bible as proscribing heterosex in order to 1.) provide intimacy 2.) create a basis for childbearing/family structure. But some people never have solid, life-long relationships, hetero or homo. And, as anyone who has ever had bad sex knows, physical intimacy is not a mere insertion of tab A into slot B. Furthermore, many couples do not have children because of personal preference or for biological reasons. Are singletons and DINK couples also in the "them" category into which homosexuals are so often lumped? Not that I know of.
I don't want to go into the debates about scripture interpretation. There are a handful of verses in the Bible that are used to condemn same-sex sex. Well thought-out arguments have been made either way on them. Amazon.com has pages of theology, scholarship, and opinion for sale on this very issue.
My real assertion is that there is a place for the love of Christ that we as Christians all espouse. And that love is not to the exclusion of people different from us. In fact, I think that the very uneasiness that many (all?) feel when encountering something that is different is something that can be embraced for its own worth. Perhaps your faith and mine look different. Most likely they do. But I believe that God has placed me on my journey of faith in order to love God and love my neighbors. And that should be the core.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen
T
Actions are more precious than words, though, and I often find myself lacking in the area of loving my neighbor as myself. Sometimes my neighbor is being a petulant child. And more often still, I find myself not loving God with my whole heart. Rather, I get caught up in the rising price of gas and the way that I can't seem to get all my work done, and how I need to change the sheets or give the dog a bath.
We are truly sorry
And we humbly repent.
So, with that said, I've come across something that piqued my interest in things spiritual. Some LGBTQ alumni from Harding University (a conservative Church of Christ school not too far from where I live)have published an e-zine, The State of the Gay. It exposes their experiences at HU and their challenges of faith and sexuality.
And that brings me to the question: Why do we even have discussions of "Queer Faith?" As though my religious perspective is going to fall one way or another because of my sexual orientation. I've never heard of a panel discussion (much less a splintered communion) over the theology of cigarette smoking. Most denominations of Christianity have an official stance, but I've never heard of it being enforced. The pastor of the Baptist church I used to go to here in Conway is a smoker (or has quit since I stopped attending). But a public outcry? That would be beyond bizarre. Some people smoke. Others hate it. But they would probably all agree that such a matter is personal and not worth the fuss a big debate and witch-hunt would cause.
And yet it does. Because to some the variety of sexuality is seen as a gift that God gives each person-- to love people intimately, each in his or her own way. To others, the debate is premised upon the "natural" ideal of opposites making a single unit. A man for a woman and a woman for a man. The end.
But why is that so? And why does it affect faith?
Many see the Bible as proscribing heterosex in order to 1.) provide intimacy 2.) create a basis for childbearing/family structure. But some people never have solid, life-long relationships, hetero or homo. And, as anyone who has ever had bad sex knows, physical intimacy is not a mere insertion of tab A into slot B. Furthermore, many couples do not have children because of personal preference or for biological reasons. Are singletons and DINK couples also in the "them" category into which homosexuals are so often lumped? Not that I know of.
I don't want to go into the debates about scripture interpretation. There are a handful of verses in the Bible that are used to condemn same-sex sex. Well thought-out arguments have been made either way on them. Amazon.com has pages of theology, scholarship, and opinion for sale on this very issue.
My real assertion is that there is a place for the love of Christ that we as Christians all espouse. And that love is not to the exclusion of people different from us. In fact, I think that the very uneasiness that many (all?) feel when encountering something that is different is something that can be embraced for its own worth. Perhaps your faith and mine look different. Most likely they do. But I believe that God has placed me on my journey of faith in order to love God and love my neighbors. And that should be the core.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen
T
Monday, January 3, 2011
Mythticism
According to a feminist theologian I read a while back, theology is the art of telling stories about the divine and then listening to them. I've begun to see that religions are different methods of describing the Absolute. This would be considered a mythological approach. And this is, of course, heresy. Not the statement itself, but the implication of it.
According to this idea, no book or prayer or song or liturgy is more sacred than any other of the same kind. For example, a copy of the Gita vs the Torah vs the Quran vs the New Testament would be equal as far as their religious validity. This is not to say that all interpretations are equally good. Some lead to bigotry and hatred while others lead to sexual irresponsibility and others to self-harm. Many there are, however, that lead to peace. And some seem to lead nowhere at all.
These books and systems do present different mythologies that point to something beyond temporal human experience, and I'm calling that the Absolute. Mythologies give people that which is beyond them. There are larger-than-life characters along with miracles and symbolic stories and wise sayings. These things are good, and often they are resonantly truthful. It is important to remember, though that they are not all literal, and that one does not trump another. Rather, they need to be visualized within their context of place and time written, along with how they harmonize (or don't) with the other stories in their traditions. That is the essence of any organized religion. How does a group emphasize one thing over another and then act on it? Which parts of the text are most important? That's where diversity arises.
The examples that come to mind are the major splits in the religions of the Book: Judaism is split into Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform; Christianity is split into Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and Protestant; Islam is split into Sunni and Shia. These all use the same source material (per their tradition) but interpret in ways different enough to make unity unrealistic. I am imagining asking any serious observant of any of these faiths about the story of Adam and Eve. The gist would be the same, but the particular emphases would probably be pretty different. (Original sin, for example, would be a big thing to look for in the telling by each person.) The mythology, however, is central to all of these faiths. The way that it is told and listened to is the biggest way to understand the point of view of the sect telling it.
In each, Adam is a way to understand the point at which the Absolute intersects with humanity. And in the wake of scientific understanding, the validity of the Eden myth is no less important. If we understand Adam and Eve and the garden and the Fall, then we know something. And that something is what mythology is all about.
T
According to this idea, no book or prayer or song or liturgy is more sacred than any other of the same kind. For example, a copy of the Gita vs the Torah vs the Quran vs the New Testament would be equal as far as their religious validity. This is not to say that all interpretations are equally good. Some lead to bigotry and hatred while others lead to sexual irresponsibility and others to self-harm. Many there are, however, that lead to peace. And some seem to lead nowhere at all.
These books and systems do present different mythologies that point to something beyond temporal human experience, and I'm calling that the Absolute. Mythologies give people that which is beyond them. There are larger-than-life characters along with miracles and symbolic stories and wise sayings. These things are good, and often they are resonantly truthful. It is important to remember, though that they are not all literal, and that one does not trump another. Rather, they need to be visualized within their context of place and time written, along with how they harmonize (or don't) with the other stories in their traditions. That is the essence of any organized religion. How does a group emphasize one thing over another and then act on it? Which parts of the text are most important? That's where diversity arises.
The examples that come to mind are the major splits in the religions of the Book: Judaism is split into Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform; Christianity is split into Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and Protestant; Islam is split into Sunni and Shia. These all use the same source material (per their tradition) but interpret in ways different enough to make unity unrealistic. I am imagining asking any serious observant of any of these faiths about the story of Adam and Eve. The gist would be the same, but the particular emphases would probably be pretty different. (Original sin, for example, would be a big thing to look for in the telling by each person.) The mythology, however, is central to all of these faiths. The way that it is told and listened to is the biggest way to understand the point of view of the sect telling it.
In each, Adam is a way to understand the point at which the Absolute intersects with humanity. And in the wake of scientific understanding, the validity of the Eden myth is no less important. If we understand Adam and Eve and the garden and the Fall, then we know something. And that something is what mythology is all about.
T
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Evolving
One of the biggest problems I've had with theism is that I've been shown such astounding evidence for evolution of species by means of natural selection. Ironically, the best explanations of what that is really and what it means, were presented by a man who professes Christian faith, and who I am certain I should have asked more questions when I was under his tutelage. Nevertheless, the issue that is at hand has very little to do with biology and a whole lot to do with the world around us. Of course the questions begin with biology-- how did the Kingdoms split and from them emerged Phyla, and on and on. But the problem is that the answers to these questions are not readily answered with a "yes, but..." approach that leads into what we now know as the argument for Intelligent Design (and within that I'm including traditional Creationism, though I realize that there is a spectrum there).
But Intelligent Design would make more sense if there seemed any rhyme or reason or evidence of success to what and who and where we are. But there doesn't seem to be. I'm not trying to badger anyone or depreciate what it is to be human. Not at all. But I find that the problem with the natural selection (which is an awkward term, when you think about it) is that the underlying proposal is that there is no selection at all. Organisms are not progressing and becoming better. Rather, life is a craps shoot with no direction whatsoever. Whatever lives long enough to reproduce "wins" and whatever doesn't, doesn't.
The way that I'd always rationalized evolution and married it back into my Christian beliefs was by way of a very different, adulterated understanding of what it all meant. I would reason that if the Big Bang happened, and that's what the evidence points to, then it would have been used by God to bring forth the universe over time. And in the universe, then, God would have guided evolution until Man sprang forth from the other primates, and God would at that point have breathed "life" (and I took that to mean "soul") into mankind.
It doesn't seem that my rationalizations make much sense, though, in light of a better understanding of the scientific theory. I do not claim that I'm explaining it well, by the way. Just explaining what I took away from my experiences. (Do your own research, people! Ensatina salamanders are a good place to start.) But by looking at the nineteenth century and the worldviews that diverged from Darwin's publication onward, it becomes clear that one may not have one's cake and eat it, too.
T
But Intelligent Design would make more sense if there seemed any rhyme or reason or evidence of success to what and who and where we are. But there doesn't seem to be. I'm not trying to badger anyone or depreciate what it is to be human. Not at all. But I find that the problem with the natural selection (which is an awkward term, when you think about it) is that the underlying proposal is that there is no selection at all. Organisms are not progressing and becoming better. Rather, life is a craps shoot with no direction whatsoever. Whatever lives long enough to reproduce "wins" and whatever doesn't, doesn't.
The way that I'd always rationalized evolution and married it back into my Christian beliefs was by way of a very different, adulterated understanding of what it all meant. I would reason that if the Big Bang happened, and that's what the evidence points to, then it would have been used by God to bring forth the universe over time. And in the universe, then, God would have guided evolution until Man sprang forth from the other primates, and God would at that point have breathed "life" (and I took that to mean "soul") into mankind.
It doesn't seem that my rationalizations make much sense, though, in light of a better understanding of the scientific theory. I do not claim that I'm explaining it well, by the way. Just explaining what I took away from my experiences. (Do your own research, people! Ensatina salamanders are a good place to start.) But by looking at the nineteenth century and the worldviews that diverged from Darwin's publication onward, it becomes clear that one may not have one's cake and eat it, too.
T
Thursday, December 23, 2010
AA and pseudotheological alchemy
As a part of this process, I initially made a list of places and events to try to attend and systems to learn about. One that was brought to my attention was Alcoholics Anonymous. It seems like a really odd place to go in search of spiritual enlightenment, but then, so does a banyan tree.
I accompanied my housemate, Jon, as he needed to go to an AA meeting as part of his course work for the masters degree he is working on in community counseling. Addictions counseling is a big part of that, and so understanding AA is pretty useful. Anyway, on the way to Little Rock to the meeting at noon on a weekday, we discussed the origins of AA and the underlying principles. When we walked into the room, I was surprised to see a bunch of tables in rows in what reminded me of a fellowship hall in a church. People were sitting dispersed around the room at the tables and in chairs around the perimeter. A woman with frizzy blond hair and the pudge of middle age stood on a platform at the front of the room and called on people in a sort of popcorn style. They would respond with the prose repeated in so many movies, "Hi, I'm ___, and I'm an alcoholic." And that, of course, was answered with a chorus of "Hi, ___."
Things started to get interesting when the people on the journey of recovery started to talk, though. At the core of AA is the acceptance of a Higher Power, and that Higher Power may be God in the Christian sense or not, but it is really important that a Higher Power be envisioned and sought. As these people (working class, mostly African American) told their stories, it became clear why I had been brought to AA. This really was a spiritual group meeting. The attendees talked at length about how they had managed to destroy their lives through alcoholism. Lost jobs, lost loves, lost family members and opportunities.
The stories were oddly similar, and they tended to follow the pattern of "I started drinking around the age of X. It spiraled out of control and messed everything up. Then I realized that I have a problem and the only way to live is by submitting to the Higher Power and to trust him/her/it with how I live. I can't have a relationship with the Higher Power and keep drinking. This is how I'm staying sober."
As Jon and I left that meeting room, we didn't really talk until we had gone back downstairs and gotten into the car. A man came to try to sell us knock-off colognes as we were leaving. We were not interested, and we told him we'd ask for him next time we came around. In the car I turned to Jon and just kind of gaped. I had no idea that AA would be so... religious. I thought it would be like the movies and no one would so much talk about the Higher Power, but that it would be kind of a personal thing. Nope.
I remarked to Jon that it was like a religion without doctrine, if that's even possible. The Higher Power is never proscribed as far as I can see, and there isn't much said about anything outside of liquor consumption. But Jon pointed out that maybe that is the doctrine, and in some ways it very closely follows evangelical Christian patterns.
-I have become an alcoholic; that has ruined my life
-There is nothing I can do under my own power to change
-The Higher Power can change the corruption of alcohol and make life good again
-I can't have alcohol and the Higher Power
-I must turn to the Higher Power and my life will be restored
This is kind of a putting-out-the-fire system of theology. If you replace alcohol in the above steps, you have a very close approximation to the evangelical pattern of salvation.
Who knew?
T
I accompanied my housemate, Jon, as he needed to go to an AA meeting as part of his course work for the masters degree he is working on in community counseling. Addictions counseling is a big part of that, and so understanding AA is pretty useful. Anyway, on the way to Little Rock to the meeting at noon on a weekday, we discussed the origins of AA and the underlying principles. When we walked into the room, I was surprised to see a bunch of tables in rows in what reminded me of a fellowship hall in a church. People were sitting dispersed around the room at the tables and in chairs around the perimeter. A woman with frizzy blond hair and the pudge of middle age stood on a platform at the front of the room and called on people in a sort of popcorn style. They would respond with the prose repeated in so many movies, "Hi, I'm ___, and I'm an alcoholic." And that, of course, was answered with a chorus of "Hi, ___."
Things started to get interesting when the people on the journey of recovery started to talk, though. At the core of AA is the acceptance of a Higher Power, and that Higher Power may be God in the Christian sense or not, but it is really important that a Higher Power be envisioned and sought. As these people (working class, mostly African American) told their stories, it became clear why I had been brought to AA. This really was a spiritual group meeting. The attendees talked at length about how they had managed to destroy their lives through alcoholism. Lost jobs, lost loves, lost family members and opportunities.
The stories were oddly similar, and they tended to follow the pattern of "I started drinking around the age of X. It spiraled out of control and messed everything up. Then I realized that I have a problem and the only way to live is by submitting to the Higher Power and to trust him/her/it with how I live. I can't have a relationship with the Higher Power and keep drinking. This is how I'm staying sober."
As Jon and I left that meeting room, we didn't really talk until we had gone back downstairs and gotten into the car. A man came to try to sell us knock-off colognes as we were leaving. We were not interested, and we told him we'd ask for him next time we came around. In the car I turned to Jon and just kind of gaped. I had no idea that AA would be so... religious. I thought it would be like the movies and no one would so much talk about the Higher Power, but that it would be kind of a personal thing. Nope.
I remarked to Jon that it was like a religion without doctrine, if that's even possible. The Higher Power is never proscribed as far as I can see, and there isn't much said about anything outside of liquor consumption. But Jon pointed out that maybe that is the doctrine, and in some ways it very closely follows evangelical Christian patterns.
-I have become an alcoholic; that has ruined my life
-There is nothing I can do under my own power to change
-The Higher Power can change the corruption of alcohol and make life good again
-I can't have alcohol and the Higher Power
-I must turn to the Higher Power and my life will be restored
This is kind of a putting-out-the-fire system of theology. If you replace alcohol in the above steps, you have a very close approximation to the evangelical pattern of salvation.
Who knew?
T
Monday, November 15, 2010
Anglicanned
Yesterday I went back to the Episcopal church. And I did some thinking, some introspection, and some observation.
I sat behind a woman who I've noticed before at church. She reminds me of an elementary school teacher in her late 40's. She comes to church alone and goes through the service flawlessly and (at least from my perspective) seems to have a truly deep experience through the prayers and the Eucharist. I like watching her, because I like to imagine her growth in the church and how she must understand things better than I do.
What I realize, though, is that it is really easy to get lost in the proceedings of a high church service. I caught myself trying to make sure that my Book of Common Prayer was on the right page and that I would be able to not get lost. It isn't that it's that hard to follow. They give you a bulletin and announce the pages as they go. But I found myself caught in the keeping up, and not really experiencing the moments as they came and went.
This, I think, is the biggest experiential downfall of high church. One must have some grasp of how things will go. One needs to know the order of things and what is expected at each turn. And not just know them, but feel the progression and be able to respond to it without being preoccupied. I've had days like that, but for the most part, in the Episcopal church, I'm not really there. I cannot say that this is the fault of the church so much as a part of my lack of experience in it. That is to say that I am still learning and finding how it works in relation with what I know it is trying to accomplish.
As I was sitting in the pew and having already taken communion, I pulled a card out of the slot in front of me. It was neither a visitor card nor a "Doodle Card" as I had expected, but a card I'd never seen before. It was a bookmark sized piece of cardstock that had a list of prayers on it that I didn't know even existed. They were prayers for before worship, before communion, after communion, and after worship. (I'm probably forgetting one or two.) And the point of them is to make that bridge between the corporate worship and read prayers out of the BCP and the internal, personal spirit of the congregant. The prayers may be written ahead of time, which is not a bad thing per se, but they can become a robotic reading without internalization. This way, the church is not the only entity praying. I am praying.
That's the hardest part for me. It's hard for me to pray and read and respond at the same time. It's hard for me to put the requisite soul into my prayers as I'm reading them. But I'm learning. And now, since I have it, I'm praying as directed, for God to quiet my mind and focus my heart on worship.
As a final note, there is something that I highly appreciate in the Episcopal church. The confession of sins is a weekly thing. This is something that bothered me in the Baptist church. No one ever talked about sin as something personal, but as something "other" that needed to be confessed. There was no public confession. The other thing that I like about this tradition is that the confession is corporate.
The Deacon or Celebrant says
Let us confess our sins against God and our neighbor.
Silence may be kept.
Minister and People
Most merciful God,
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart;
we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
have mercy on us and forgive us;
that we may delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of your Name. Amen.
The Bishop, when present, or the Priest, stands and says
Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you all your sins
through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen you in all
goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep you in
eternal life. Amen.
T
I sat behind a woman who I've noticed before at church. She reminds me of an elementary school teacher in her late 40's. She comes to church alone and goes through the service flawlessly and (at least from my perspective) seems to have a truly deep experience through the prayers and the Eucharist. I like watching her, because I like to imagine her growth in the church and how she must understand things better than I do.
What I realize, though, is that it is really easy to get lost in the proceedings of a high church service. I caught myself trying to make sure that my Book of Common Prayer was on the right page and that I would be able to not get lost. It isn't that it's that hard to follow. They give you a bulletin and announce the pages as they go. But I found myself caught in the keeping up, and not really experiencing the moments as they came and went.
This, I think, is the biggest experiential downfall of high church. One must have some grasp of how things will go. One needs to know the order of things and what is expected at each turn. And not just know them, but feel the progression and be able to respond to it without being preoccupied. I've had days like that, but for the most part, in the Episcopal church, I'm not really there. I cannot say that this is the fault of the church so much as a part of my lack of experience in it. That is to say that I am still learning and finding how it works in relation with what I know it is trying to accomplish.
As I was sitting in the pew and having already taken communion, I pulled a card out of the slot in front of me. It was neither a visitor card nor a "Doodle Card" as I had expected, but a card I'd never seen before. It was a bookmark sized piece of cardstock that had a list of prayers on it that I didn't know even existed. They were prayers for before worship, before communion, after communion, and after worship. (I'm probably forgetting one or two.) And the point of them is to make that bridge between the corporate worship and read prayers out of the BCP and the internal, personal spirit of the congregant. The prayers may be written ahead of time, which is not a bad thing per se, but they can become a robotic reading without internalization. This way, the church is not the only entity praying. I am praying.
That's the hardest part for me. It's hard for me to pray and read and respond at the same time. It's hard for me to put the requisite soul into my prayers as I'm reading them. But I'm learning. And now, since I have it, I'm praying as directed, for God to quiet my mind and focus my heart on worship.
As a final note, there is something that I highly appreciate in the Episcopal church. The confession of sins is a weekly thing. This is something that bothered me in the Baptist church. No one ever talked about sin as something personal, but as something "other" that needed to be confessed. There was no public confession. The other thing that I like about this tradition is that the confession is corporate.
The Deacon or Celebrant says
Let us confess our sins against God and our neighbor.
Silence may be kept.
Minister and People
Most merciful God,
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart;
we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
have mercy on us and forgive us;
that we may delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of your Name. Amen.
The Bishop, when present, or the Priest, stands and says
Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you all your sins
through our Lord Jesus Christ, strengthen you in all
goodness, and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep you in
eternal life. Amen.
T
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