In Communion With All The Saints

So I went to the local Anglican church today (on a Sunday!!) for the first time ever. It was a little…surprising to be sure, but also nice. Since I’m quite the liturgy freak (high liturgy! Higher!! HIGHER!!!!), I was a little confused and slightly dismayed by the free-for-all that went with certain parts of the service: some people standing, some sitting, etc. It makes it, for one thing, difficult to copy what people are doing. I’ll have to get used to this difference – I’ll try to see it as a break from regimentalism or something.

It’s such a pretty church…I had forgotten. I wonder how to tell if it’s reserving the Sacrament? Would they have a sanctuary light if they weren’t? There were a lot fewer people than I expected, which I think says a lot about my expectations.

It was so very different from my old, Roman Catholic parish. For one thing, congregants came and introduced themselves to me before the service started. Wow: so cool! Someone I know asked if I wanted to sit with her, but I said maybe next week; getting up and moving just draws more attention to yourself. Of course, as the only new person in a small church, drawing attention to myself is kind of unavoidable. Of course, I know how that can sometimes end: when I was going to my downtown Anglican church, every week this man asked me to stay for coffee but, when I finally did, only one person talked to me.

It’s difficult to come into a new congregation, because everyone already has their own little group, and you don’t: the dynamics of interaction have already been set. Since I come in as a single person with no children, it’s even more difficult because I don’t come with my own home-made posse. Plus, I can’t make friends with the parents of the kids who make friends with my kids. Oh, the troubles of adulthood!

;)

The priest also greeted me as I attempted to make my quick get-away. It was kind of surreal, and I felt disoriented, since he was genuinely nice and hugged me and everything (I was a little uncomfortable – read: a lot – being hugged by a strange man, but of course there’s no way he could have known that). And I stayed for coffee.

Clearly I had entered a parallel universe.

Firstly, I haven’t really stayed at a coffee hour after church since I got out of the hospital seven years ago and people started to avoid me, and of course I also began having difficulty eating in front of many people – but I digress. Well, I stayed once at the downtown church, but that was an aberration. I didn’t actually have coffee, so I guess that proves the parallel universes are connected to each other.

Secondly, it is still always very disconcerting when priests are nice to me in a purposeful, non-generic way. Recall that I had been going to the same Roman Catholic parish for, oh, say, twenty-five years. This is not the relationship I ever, ever had with the parish priest. Sometimes he would look through me as if I wasn’t there, which had become frequent toward the end. Sometimes he would put his arm around me and be proud of me. Sometimes he would run away when he saw me coming, which also had become frequent. Sometimes he would pray with me. Sometimes he would yell at me. The point is, our interaction was very unstable and, at my end anyway, passionately involved. I have never had neutral feelings about this man. Though, despite the rollercoaster ride which ultimately fell off the tracks, I still love him and always will. But, again, I digress.

The point is that he has never, ever made any effort to introduce himself to newcomers, to make them feel welcome, or attempt to lure them back. He did, of course, begin a series of sermons on sin, purgatory and damnation that coincided with the influx of new congregants whose children are preparing for first Communion. He has told people they can’t receive Eucharist. He has actually physically taken the Sacrament out of people’s hands because he’s decided they don’t look sufficiently sure of what they’re doing. He did refuse to baptize a baby because the parents don’t come to his church (duh: they live in Central America and are visiting) which the Roman Catholic priest across the street remedied. He did refuse to give ashes to the Confirmation class because he decided they wouldn’t understand it anyway, which is why he refused to give them the sacrament of Reconciliation last year. Welcoming and embracing of newcomers: no.

I do, in fact, deeply love and care for this man, whose seeming unraveling of health and sound thinking of late worries me.

So, it was truly, truly a parallel universe, leaving me feeling somewhat discombobulated, but also excited to see what happens next!

Oh, and it was a morning prayer service instead of a Mass: dodged a bullet there! *phew*