So I’m still feeling sort of creepy about saying why I don’t currently go to church, because I fear it came off as if I was denigrating church-goers or was a lazy-ass yuppie, and I’m neither. So I’ll write briefly about times when church worked for me (and I worked for church).
When I was seventeen-years-old, I went to Smith, and attended the Unitarian Society of Northampton and Florence in Northampton regularly on Sunday mornings for two years while in school. The minister was Victoria Safford. Now of the four reasons I mentioned yesterday for not going to church, some of those were still issues, but played out differently:
1. Church was important to me. I’m not sure why it was important to me, but I felt absolutely compelled to go to church. I loved Victoria’s sermons, felt something always shift within me, and felt lighter afterward as if the world had broadened before me. I can remember specific phrases she used that moved me (and it’s almost two decades later). This was a time in my life when it was important to see women in their late twenties and early thirties as role models for work in ministry (and academia) and life in general beyond Smith and Victoria certainly served that role as did Carol Zaleski, a religion professor at Smith.
2. The time of day still sucked. When I attended church, I used to miss brunch at Smith, which was the biggest and most elaborate meal of the week, and more importantly, included in my meal plan and already paid for. So it was essentially giving up a $15 meal with my friends, and having to eat elsewhere at a time in my life when I earned money scrubbing toilets. But I did it.
3. I seemed to matter more. I don’t think Victoria had any idea who I was, but she still greeted everyone as they entered and left the church. Other parishioners were really friendly to me and there were other people within my demographic in the church. I suppose that’s because Northampton is partially a college-town, and it wasn’t unusual for students to attend services. But I had the distinct sensation of mattering, and my intellectual and emotional needs for stimulation and connection were met.
4. I didn’t see petty dysfunctional shit. Now I was 17 when I started attending, and 19 when I transferred from Smith, so it’s possible there was tons of petty dysfunctional shit that I didn’t know about. But I also worked in the RE program, and was always treated well and respectfully as I was when I attended church.
I think it’s important to note here that even though I attended regularly, I was not a member. Now why wasn’t I a member during one of the best church experiences of my life? Two reasons: 1. No one ever asked me to join. 2. When I saw membership materials, the idea of having to scrub more toilets to give more money (other than the money I had to pay for my missing meal, and what I was giving in the offering) was probably too much for me.
I’m going to write more about other times church worked for me next week.
February 29th, 2008 at 10:13 am
What an excellent idea. I hadn’t thought to reflect on when church worked for me. Now I have, and it comes down to three times:
In grade school, we went to Mass two mornings a week. The homilies were geared toward our ages, so there was something for us to hear. I was also an altar boy, which I enjoyed quite a bit. I liked being involved. And, each grade took turns planning the Mass, and I loved that. You read all the scripture, derive a theme, and then pick the music and compose a little introduction. That was too cool for school. I seriously considered the priesthood based on that.
In my Jesuit high school, there was an optional weekly Mass. Freshman year I always skipped it, but the remaining three years I went pretty regularly. I could have lumped this in with grade school, but the difference here is that I choose to go. In grade school, I had to go. Extracurricular activities usually involved a group Mass. So, during musical rehearsals, we’d have Mass before we rehearsed. Those were good.
I didn’t go to a Catholic college, so going to Mass was way off my radar. Years later, I started attending on Sundays near my house, but also weekday afternoons after work. The big crowds on Sundays didn’t work for me. The sparsely attended weekday Mass did.
So, I guess I need one of two things to make it work for me: a small group of peers, or a degree of privacy. The big public show of Sunday Mass does not work for me, and therefore I don’t do it. Maybe being involved in the service, like I was in grade school, would make Sundays work for me. But that might involve getting mixed up with crazies. That worries me a little.
February 29th, 2008 at 11:59 am
FYI - I never got the impression you were a lazy yuppie or had contempt for church goers. Then again … I read your blog about ten times a day, and I probably wouldn’t if I was inclined to think either of those things about you. Some people who read that post may not have read any of your other posts. And this post is informative, too.
February 29th, 2008 at 3:29 pm
Wait–you had to pay to be a member? Like synagogue? I’m confused.
February 29th, 2008 at 8:28 pm
JC, you remind me of my husband’s positive experiences as an altar boy. He LOVED that.
h sofia, but I AM a lazy yuppie.
GhostGirl, one of the expectations of membership is pledging. I’m not entirely sure on the wording here, and it varies church to church, but there are financial obligations to membership (and you also get to vote).
March 1st, 2008 at 6:11 pm
Indeed, and one of the reason I committed to being an official Quaker is that since we are unprogrammed, the costs of upkeep are minimal. Our service has no minister, since we believe in the ministry of every Friend, we have no choir because there was a historic belief until the beginning of the 20th century that music was indicative of vanity and pride, with no music comes no singing of hymns or singing at all, instead what we have is silence and the compulsion to speak when God moves us to do so.
Unprogrammed worship to me is the most appealing element, not because it gives me my own private soapbox, but that the focus is on the individual who is speaking, not the non-existent offering, not the non-existent sermon, not the non-existent hymns, not the non-existent statement of faith.
But not all Quakers believe in this way. Some Quakers have services very similar to most other Protestant denominations.
No one asked me to join either, but I took it upon myself because I suppose I’m just a joiner at heart.
Back to your post. I think this proves that people do matter, particularly in a congregation setting, and keeping our members is often just as simple as properly tending our flock.
March 3rd, 2008 at 1:20 pm
Hmm; if you’re a lazy yuppie then maybe I didn’t notice because I am, too.
Wow. Your blog teaches me so much. about myself.