He Got Me

We have a new minister in our church. I had never met him but I have the best reporter (my mother) on the case. Some people, like the husband, have serious issues with organized religion. Others, like me, tend to float in and out. I am comfortable in many churches.

I love The Garden. It's a service that is so casual you will get nervous. People are eating donuts and drinking coffee during the message. Video clips involve movies and music videos. They bring in speakers. It may not be your cup of tea but it makes me think.

On Good Friday and other days that I feel the need to go to church, I often go to the BIG Methodist church near my home. I know many people in the congregation and I feel comfortable there.

Sometimes I just stop in a random church. I need to be in a sanctuary and say a prayer. I did this a lot while the oldies were with us.

Thanks to the Pasadena gang of my childhood and then my college experiences, I am quite comfortable in the Catholic church. Good thing since my goddaughters and their parents are Catholic.

I am Methodist but I do love the rituals of Catholicism.

My on-the-scene reporter informed me that our new minister has instructed the congregation to say, "Thanks Be To God" after the bible reading portion of the service. That's something most Methodist congregations don't do.

He got me. I went to church this morning to meet my new minister. I'm pretty excited because I found him to be charming, funny, smart and someone I could talk to. Expectations run high with a new minister and I understand this is a tricky position. I've had the blessing of some really great ministers (& priests.)

Dr. Ken Crossman who answered my endless and annoying questions, kept me on his prayer list and performed a blessing of marriage ceremony when the husband and I married. He was also my uncle so he couldn't escape me.

Dr. Charles Ballard who baptized me, helped me through confirmation, counseled me, and performed the service at my first wedding. My mother still makes divinity (Ironic!) for them.

Rev. Gwen Roberts who could simultaneously laugh, cry and inspire. There's a fire in her that lit me up. I'm very grateful the Baby went through confirmation classes with her.

I have a good feeling about Pastor Cameron.

Second Opinions

Anger is not a bad thing. Sometimes it spurs you into action.

You know, anger is an alternate of scared. It's the same emotion, just spun in a different direction.

My doctor (saint-in-training) welcomes second opinions. He often refers us to someone else with additional expertise in a particular area. Depending what ailment was plaguing the oldies, he would make sure we saw the right person.

My computer guy welcomes another opinion. Houseboy does not get offended if I call in someone else for a tree problem. When Dr. Gwen was my minister, she often encouraged me to talk to another minister for guidance.

People who are secure do not get offended when someone requests a second opinion. If my attorney didn't feel comfortable with a second opinion, I'd get mighty suspicious.

I'm pushy and often overstep my boundaries. If I love you, you need to accept this about me. I'm forcing someone I love to get a second opinion. When I hear, "Well, I don't want to offend Dr. So and So...." I want to scream.

Instead, I make the appointment anyway. They can get mad at me later.

Last Rites

The husband authorized the hospice chaplain/priest to give the mother-in-law last rites. This was done a few hours before she died.

She and Hangdog raised their four boys as Catholic. They attended parochial schools. Then, after they were grown, she got a little irritated with the Catholic church and they joined the Presbyterian church. (Not a big stretch.)

I am a Methodist. I have been baptized and confirmed in the Methodist church but I am not quite the member I should be. I'm working on it.

We can debate forever ... should churches pay taxes? Do they provide solace or hope or both? Does the fellowship outweigh the constant issues?

Here's what I know. I lost my mother-in-law yesterday. I do not know our minister well because I have been default in making that a priority. But I know him well enough that he was one of the first calls I made. I don't need him to preside over a service. I don't need him to visit an oldie. I wanted to hear his voice and connect with my church. I wanted to say a prayer and have someone on the phone who could guide me through it.

Going to Church

I grew up going to church on Sunday. Dr. Charles Ballard is one of the most influential people in my life. He inspired us and he led us. I adored him in my childhood and I adore him now. He's semi-retired but he still fills in for clergy on vacation or whatever. My heart swells to twice its size when I see him standing at the pulpit.

I am Methodist. But I consider myself quasi-Catholic. A lot of the neighborhood was Catholic and I would sometimes go to church with them. I learned the rituals. (Once I went to college, I also liked option of Friday night mass at 5:00 so the rest of your weekend was free.) The priest in my college days was not rigid. He knew I was toying with converting to Catholicism so he allowed me to take Communion and to go to confession. He allowed me to explore my faith.

When my goddaughters were born, I was there. They are Catholic. There was some question about my qualifications as a godmother because I was technically not a practicing Catholic. Again, a nice priest saw the intent and the love. He took a leap of faith. I hope I've lived up to it.

The husband has had some crummy experiences with organized religion. He was raised Catholic, attended parochial schools, etc. When the daughter was an infant, he and his wife wanted her baptized in the Catholic church. The priest in their parish proceeded to bargain with them and would only agree to baptize her if they agreed to attend mass every Sunday. (In my world, that's blackmail.) This did not sit well with Big Daddy and as the story goes, he asked the man to leave their home. He is only willing to step into a Catholic church for the funeral of a friend or a ritual for one of my goddaughters. Even the oldies got a little perturbed with the church and converted to Episcopalian.

I occasionally agree with him. Sometimes organized religion seems about power, money and control. Sometimes it gets a little corrupt. Sometimes it provides hope for the hopeless. Maybe they could find it elsewhere; maybe not.

Yet, I was emphatic that the baby have some religious training. If he's going to turn away from it, I want him to have some basic principles to understand what he's turning away from. He spent many years in church youth groups, attending church-sponsored trips and participating in church activities. He went through confirmation classes and made great friends. He'll stray but there's not a doubt in my mind that when the chips are down, he'll remember the lessons learned.

I belong to a little church. It's filled with people I love. We've changed ministers a few times. Rev. Harry told a story once about a man who commented to him, "I don't need to attend church. I can pray anywhere -- even on the golf course." Rev. Harry responded, "But do you?"

Then we got Dr. Gwen. A little (almost country-like) church and they send us a middle-aged, African American woman. Well, people about fell out of the pews. As my dad used to tell her, she had a little Baptist going in her. She could ratchet it up. Sometimes she broke into song. Often, she broke into to tears. She was the most inspiring and down-to-earth minister I've ever known -- except Uncle Ken. We have a new minister now and I feel guilty that I don't know him very well.

I go to other churches. I have a huge and majestic Methodist church very close to my home. I know many people there and I attend many times a year. They have an offshoot service, held in a local theater. The service is casual and everything is contemporary with live, upbeat music, video clips, etc. I like to attend a few times a year. They have guest speakers so I go to hear my favorites.

Here's what I do know. I love sitting in my church, in the pew beside my parents, with aunts and uncles surrounding. I love greeting fellow parishioners and asking about their families, their health and their lives. I love holding hands with my mother and singing "Shalom (Peace) to You." I love watching my dad as a greeter. I love kneeling at the altar beside my father. I'm not only saying my own prayers: I'm praying that all others will be answered also.

Sometimes I get busy with travel, work, etc. Sometimes I just want to sleep in. I'm not quite as dedicated to regular church-going as I should be but it's still my church. The fellowship is what does it for me.