The Search
I’m looking for a few good men. And women. And, oh, a Casavant organ would be lovely.
I’m looking for a church.
When it comes to my church-going experience, here is the brief history of time. I grew up in the Unitarian church in Western Canada. They believe in a big tent God and making chocolate snowballs – the ones rolled in coconut – and kite flying. I was young. It’s really hard to remember more than that.
When we moved to Toronto, I went to an Anglican school. I liked what they had to say and I converted to Christianity when I was about 14. My faith did not follow me to university. I’m not sure why. Perhaps because there was no longer mandatory daily chapel and I was lazy. Plus, I was young and cocky and smart, and young, smart, cocky people don’t seem to need their faith quite as much,no? When it came time to get married, we hired a Unitarian minister because faith didn’t seem like a big thing in my life and Unitarians will marry you at the Prince Hotel where your reception is being held – so much more convenient for the guests…
In our first house, we lived across from a minister from the local Anglican church. I attended services a few times at a gorgeous church on Avenue Road. It was pretty and I’ve always loved the liturgy, but I failed to connect with the aging congregation. The few youngish people I’d seen when I’d walked by the church before attending a service were not, as I’d hoped, part of some weekday evening fellowship group – they were there for their AA meeting. The chain-smoking outside might have been a tip-off that they would not be passing the peace with me come Sunday morning but I’m slow to learn. Eventually, I stopped attending.
When my daughter was born, I went through a bout of postpartum depression that I won’t revisit here (I have written about it in my piece in the anthology, Between Interruptions.) I remember feeling both very close to and very apart from God during that time, and I thought about faith in a way I hadn’t in years. I had a desire to rejoin a church and have my daughter baptized. I thought I’d give the United Church a whirl. I found a church on St. Clair that I liked and was quite welcoming. Unfortunately, the congregation was tiny and the median age was about 87. Shortly after I’d worked the rummage sale and had my daughter baptized, the church closed down and went condo. I kid you not.
Then I joined a United Church in the well-heeled neighbourhood near where we were living. The church was filled with families who’d been attending since the arrival of the Ark on Plymouth Rock (isn’t that how the story goes?) and on Sunday mornings people seemed reluctant to slide down to make room in the family pew for an interloper. In spite of joining a weekday fellowship group and having my son baptized at the church, I felt a bit like there was no room at the inn. After a while I let it go in spite of the stained glass windows, pipe organ, and talented choir (in truth, I would have embraced the exclusivity if only they’d let me in!)
So for the last few years, I’ve been churchless. And I’ve been missing it. I want to be part of a faith community. I need to be part of a faith community. I need a place to go on Sundays to restore my soul.
I’m not sure where to start. I miss the Anglican BCP services and the hymn Jerusalem but I may be able to satiate this need by watching Chariots of Fire on DVD. I’m drawn to the growth and energy of some of the more evangelical churches and I like that they are not reserved or stuffy about their faith. However, it worries me that even though many of these churches allow guitars in the sanctuary and it all seems very relaxed, some of them seem to have quite rigid beliefs.
One group’s website that otherwise appealed outlined as one of the points in their nine-point statement of faith that they believe in “eternal glory for believers in heaven and everlasting punishment for unbelievers in hell.” The way it’s phrased, they seem to almost delight in the notion of eternal damnation for people who are not, well, them. Don’t get me wrong, I kind of like the idea of hell. It makes that forgiveness stuff so much more palatable if you think that your enemies just might get theirs in the end. But then I remember Anne Lamott’s quote, “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” Jesus spent most of his time on earth spreading a message of love and I think he makes it pretty clear in Matthew 22:37-40 that we are called to do the same. Given that most of us could spend until the end of our days and still not adequately share the love of God in the world, I’m not sure we really have all that much time to focus on who isn’t getting into heaven. Last time I checked, it wasn’t up to us.
So, I want a big tent, Christian church with well-defined views that are not too rigid. I’d like good music (traditional, modern and – every now and then – a bit of Coldplay.) A robust children’s program. Respect for the altar. Inclusiveness. A sense of reverence. Good bible study groups. A minister who actively wrestles with his faith and shares his struggles. A church where people believe God is strong enough to be questioned when bad things happen (I want to be able to rant like Jeremiah on occasion.) I’d like the people to be warm and down to earth. I don’t want to get the stink-eye because I’m divorced. I like candles and kneelers, but that may be a lot to ask, so maybe I can bring my own. Maybe the coffee could be good and they could serve decaf even though it’s morning. And if it could look like the Unitarian church in the Witches of Eastwick movie, well, that’d be just fine.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
