Enduring the Episcopal Church

It all started when a friend of mine wanted to look for a church in the Los Angeles area. I haven't been a frequent church goer since high school, and before that hadn't gone much at all, so I was curious to see what it'd be like to go as an adult. I agreed that I'd start a search with her, and after discuss with my partner, who thought the idea a little bizarre but harmless and possibly fun, I warmed up to the idea. A date was set, a church chosen, and off we were.


We had both been raised Catholic, so we thought a good place to start was Episcopal. We were at church for different reasons, but something close to home seemed like a good place to start.
I, myself, give my self up to the idea that there is a God, and that God is in all things. I also believe that God is too big to be contained into one religion, and thus we have Christianity, Buddhism, Judaism, etc. I cannot bring myself to believe any religions basic beliefs to be wrong. Sometimes I think the Greek idea of multiple Gods seems logic, but the next day I am in love with the idea of karma. I try to fung shui the bedroom I share with Jeff, and I am looking out each and every day to gather my Qi. In a word, I am fluid with my beliefs.

In a church, I am looking, if at all, for somewhere I can sing along, enjoy the sermon regardless of religious belief, and I am looking for somewhere that anyone could walk in and feel welcome. And I do mean anyone. In LA, this is easier than other places.

Take, for example, week 1. St Thomas the Apostle. The church has a warm feeling from the moment K and I walked in. It was a familiar sight, smell, feel--glass windows, a vaulted ceiling, the ever-present smell of incense, and wooden pews that creeked if you moved a fraction of an inch. The church's choir was beautiful, but as the service went on I couldn't help feeling the dread that Catholicism brought me many Sundays before. As the collection basket went by, the same sinking feeling in my chest that had accompanied me as a child began to seep into my face, flushing it red. I felt helpless to the feeling that everyone was looking at me, judging me, wondering why I did not recite the Hail Mary (which I do know by heart) without looking down.

The service did, however, include a portion dedicated to new members of the church. That meant us. K and I stood, and were presented with a little welcome gift--a mug and an information packet. This made me feel good...and then guilty...and then suckered into visiting again.

By the sermon, I felt squirmish. But the sermon's message revived me. The Reverend (or Priest, or whatever his title was) made me feel at peace. It was funny, uplifting, and made me happy to be alive. Of course, I cannot for the life of me remember what it was about, and now that it's been a week and a day, it has slipped my memory.

After the sermon, and during the Peace, I was introduced to multiple people who all seemed very welcoming. We were embraced at the end by the clergy, who were eager to meet new members, and invited to coffee hour. As we had a date of our own, K and I had to leave, but as we walked away and discussed the church, decided we had both enjoyed the sermon, but were ready to try a new church the next week.

Now I have a new mug, although the guilt may keep me from using it. It was a disappointment, as well, that we did not keep our search until yesterday, for yesterday's service was St. Francis of Assisi Festival Sunday--which meant we were allowed to bring pets. I don't have one, but K's dog Max might have benefited from the event.