WHY GO TO CHURCH?

    I grew up in a family that thought going to church was akin to undergoing trial by drowning that witches endured in the 17th-century.  I can hear my dad saying, "Why go? Let's listen to some Bach quartets." He was brought up in the Episcopal church, was an altar boy, and then, "One day I just walked out of church. It didn't make any sense to me."

    This has been the experience for many of us, I believe, and some have left religion because they either felt abused by the patriarchy or were actually physically abused and have lived their lives as wounded survivors.

    I get this. I totally get this, having been sexually abused as a young girl by a neighbor, but not by a priest. I guess I could say, "thankfully." But here are some reasons why I think it a good idea to go to church, even if it makes you nervous and wobbly in your knees:

    1/ Life is hard.  Damn difficult. We have miscarriages. Parents die young. Spouses go out to buy a pack of cigarettes and never return, too cowardly to ask for a divorce face to face. (I know of 2 times this has happened.)  Kids grow up to be bounders, layabouts, or maybe addicted.  You get in a car accident and for the rest of your life your head is at at odd angle and you dream of penguins. I could go on.

    2/ At its best, church is a place where people welcome you in and say, "Hi, honey, I am so gad to see you. What is your name?" This is what we do at the Haydenville UCC.  I happen to like churches that press the flesh, give extravagant welcomes, exuberant hugs, high-fives, and possibly dancing in the aisle.  At the UCC church we go to (we also go to the Catholic Church but I am a bit angry at them right now for cancelling the Gay Men's Choir in So. Hadley) we have a time after the sermon called, "Joys & Concerns." Write your joys on cheery yellow paper or sad worries on doleful blue. You can also light a tiny candle and send up a prayer for someone.

    Recently I wrote on a yellow slip that all my blood work had come back marked fabulous, my ONCO doc didn't even want a CAT scan, and she remarked on how fit and healthy I seemed. People clapped and cheered, and let me tell you, that helped shave off some of the jagged edges from cancer and chemo.


    3/ When going through a tough time with a beloved one, I got so much support from my community: offers to help, pastoral counseling, the promise of meals, and more. I still sobbed into the food folks brought, but it made our trials less awful. It helped lighten my heart. If there was such goodness in the world, somehow we would survive.

    4/ Rituals support us in good times and bad.  There is something about the predictability of the order of worship (especially strong in Mass) that is comforting. At the UCC we have the famous welcome ("Whoever you are, wherever you are, you are welcome here!"); opening words; an anthem, the Offering, Scripture reading, Children's Church, a sermon, and response and more. (I may have gotten this wrong.)

     At the beginning of Mass we offer up our sins (Oh, Amazon) and the ways in which we have hurt God and our community "before we celebrate the sacred mysteries." Damn. Sacred. Mysteries. This sets you up for something wildly different than a trip to Walmart's to pick up disposable diapers or kitty litter. Each part of the Mass is like a song, grounding you in your life and the life of the world. You can sing it to yourself throughout the rest of the day, and it heartens you.

    When I leave Mass after the Eucharist (and yes, I do believe) and Dismissal, I feel as if God had just hugged me and whispered in my ear, "It's gonna be ok, honey."

    5/ You get to hear Scripture read every Sunday.  I love hearing the Word of God, whether it is in the UCC or at Mass. It centers me in my life, the way I see our Jack Russell circling round and round in her bed, settling with a sigh. I settle and breathe out, the holy words surrounding me like a nest. Besides, hearing Scripture will also: a/ help you in crossword puzzles; b/ give you a framework for the evil times we are living through; c/ lift up your soul; / plus it gives good phrases for disciplining children..."Lo, thou shalt be banished to thy room until thou hast repented."

    6/ It gives you a community.  We need to belong to one; we yearn for folks to sit next to, nudge, laugh with, ponder the message, and then at the end, go out to share food and coffee and chat.  All recent research has shown that loneliness is a killer, particularly for older folks. Church mitigates this.

 7/ It teaches you how to live and how to die.  I read once of a woman stopping at Riverside Church in NY City to listen to the service. She thought, "These people know how to die."  I hold to the many promises of life continuing, of how to settle into old age, of acceptance, and letting go. I am working on that, though I am somewhat cranky about aging.

     In an earlier blog, I spoke of my Catholic Tool Kit to keep on hand for life's emergencies. I heartily urge all of us make a Spiritual Tool Kit. I would put in: a faith community, works of service, charitable works & alms, prayers scribbled on tatty paper, a worn Bible, some Holy Water, a few Jolly Rogers, and a comforting shawl.

     Wherever you go, whoever you are, church can speak most deeply to your inner yearnings and your heart. It may take time to find the right one, but do it. I promise it will transform you and your life.