Shopping for the Spirit
I hate to admit it, but I don’t think I ever fully appreciated how hard it is to go to church.
I’ve been home in New York for exactly three Sundays, and today is the first one I’ve darkened the door of a house of worship. The other two Sundays, to be fair, were surrounded by holidays providing ample excuse for Sunday morning pajama-wearing.
But that’s not the real reason I didn’t go, church nerd that I am. I know this because I had planned to go to church last Sunday but I ended up sitting on the couch in a compromised emotional state because, well, I just couldn’t. This week: things would be different, I told myself. I engaged the help of friends to actually get me there. But seriously, it’s more of a process than you think.
Step One: find a church to attend.
Not surprisingly, I have a list of specific requirements which, as it turns out, eliminates most of the churches in Sunday morning traveling distance. Here are the must-haves (BTW, if you share some of these you should definitely visit Church Clarity, a helpful resource. I had two churches on my list of potentials who I found out, thanks to Church Clarity, do not affirm LGBTQ++ people. They were immediately removed.):
Not crazy
No standing for 45 minutes singing bad praise music
Thoughtful liturgy
Interracial
Jesus-y
Women in leadership
LGBTQ++ affirming
Other items on my wishlist, which I know I couldn't really assess until I get there:
Worship is well-planned and tightly executed
The sermon does not suck
The people there actually seem to know and like each other
Finally, a church was identified.
Step 2: Actually go.
So today I finally went. The church I chose was a church in my neighborhood, and while the pastor was not preaching this Sunday (totally normal for this time of year), I thought I could effectively assess the other items on my list.
Worship began with a sparse crowd in the pews (also normal), and no one spoke to me and my friends as we waited for worship to start. That’s ok, typical. (But if I were the pastor, I would make sure…. Stop it, Amy.)
But seriously the hard, uncomfortable pews were definitely not welcoming. Why have I never considered this? Also, the bulletin was large and contained several inserts, which is a thing that almost made the official list for me.
NO BULLETIN INSERTS. This is a strict rule of Jesus, but it seems that a lot of people don’t know it.
I realized then that I’d turned into a bitchy problem-finder rather than a thoughtful participant. I finally recalibrated.
The pews filled as start time approached, and it eventually felt like I was sitting in a crowd.
It was clear as day that the people there liked each other, though the insert advertising parish elections sent a chill through me.
I didn’t get to hear a sermon on this Epiphany Sunday, but there was a three-king procession involving a lot of cute children. And all of the things a professional church leader would notice were attended to: no typos in the bulletin; all the candles were lit; the readers had obviously practiced.
I think perhaps the lesson from this Sunday has less to do with the work of congregations in my neighborhood and more to do with me: remembering why community is important; taking risks to engage it; learning to learn from others.
Wish me luck!