Sunday, April 5, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
Rising to Heaven
Many of my most intense encounters with the Divine have occurred during the liturgy of the Mass. I have always had a very emotional connection with liturgy, and experiencing it is the primary mode in which I worship God. I guess what I mean to say is that I pray to and feel a connection with God in the liturgy when I get caught up in it. I do have a personal preference for ‘high’ liturgy: for me, it’s a way of soaring above myself while simultaneously being caught up in the smallest details. I love ornate ritual, I love the care put into every gesture. I love it when it’s so completely separate from the everyday. It makes me so happy I want to burst; I feel content, overflowing, like I am where I’m supposed to be. Like I’ve fallen into place and everything has come together.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate a simpler liturgy: I enjoy the unadorned, too, so long as it’s carried out with decorum and care. The simple is beautiful. But it isn’t who I am.
And, when it comes right down to it, it isn’t who I desire to be.
A secret: liturgy is mainly why I go to church, it is how I choose a church, and it is how I feel I belong. I am not alone in this: it is with God that I try to discern my way. God will show me the way home, and will embrace me when I have reached it.
A confession: my changed experience of the liturgy was the impetus that finally spurred me out of the Latin-rite church. I had always had beliefs at variance with the church, but I remained because I still experienced God deeply during worship.
But God with His sword pierced my heart and called me out. I was reluctant to rely on my personal understanding too much. But, gradually, the sensations of liturgical praise began to leave me, and politics began to get in the way. Slowly, I was disentangled from the rituals I had passionately loved; slowly, I began to feel a distance from God.
The day that I went to church and participated in the Mass and felt absolutely nothing was the day I knew I had to leave.
I hope and I pray fervently that when I have discovered my liturgical home God will return my feeling to me, so that I can soar again, feel again, truly worship again. Love God again.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate a simpler liturgy: I enjoy the unadorned, too, so long as it’s carried out with decorum and care. The simple is beautiful. But it isn’t who I am.
And, when it comes right down to it, it isn’t who I desire to be.
A secret: liturgy is mainly why I go to church, it is how I choose a church, and it is how I feel I belong. I am not alone in this: it is with God that I try to discern my way. God will show me the way home, and will embrace me when I have reached it.
A confession: my changed experience of the liturgy was the impetus that finally spurred me out of the Latin-rite church. I had always had beliefs at variance with the church, but I remained because I still experienced God deeply during worship.
But God with His sword pierced my heart and called me out. I was reluctant to rely on my personal understanding too much. But, gradually, the sensations of liturgical praise began to leave me, and politics began to get in the way. Slowly, I was disentangled from the rituals I had passionately loved; slowly, I began to feel a distance from God.
The day that I went to church and participated in the Mass and felt absolutely nothing was the day I knew I had to leave.
I hope and I pray fervently that when I have discovered my liturgical home God will return my feeling to me, so that I can soar again, feel again, truly worship again. Love God again.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
One Small Step And A Giant Leap
The Evangelical Lutheran and the Anglican Church in Canada are in full communion with each other – of course, for me this is a completely revolutionary idea: that people might actually want others to receive their Eucharist. Welcome, but revolutionary. Anyway, I was fully aware of this. What I had not anticipated was that I would be receiving Eucharist in a non-Anglican service so soon. That was…unexpected.
I felt like I was in over my head. I mean, it took me months after not being Roman Catholic anymore to finally be in a place where I could participate in the Mass. And now, within the space of two weeks, I’ve received in two different churches. As we know, I don’t handle rapid change very well (any change, really), so figuring out what to do on the fly was challenging. Particularly since I was already nervous / panicking / scared.
This fear thing, I’m sure, will fade over time – or at least settle down to the low-level static fear I would periodically experience before. Instead of, you know, panic attacks.
Certainly, part of my nervousness derives from the fact that I’m interrupting an enduring pattern of not receiving Communion at all. Part of it is surely because I fear bringing condemnation down on myself. Perhaps often overlooked, by myself and others, is the fact that I’m going against two decades of ingrained teaching – ‘indoctrination’ if you will – by which I had always abided. I’m absolutely sure that what I’m doing is right, and that I’m doing it for true and right reasons. But the problem with having been a devout Roman Catholic is that, well, I was a devout Roman Catholic. A bit of an anarchist rebel, perhaps, but still observant of the law. Because I had consciously chosen to obey even rules with which I disagreed, the breaking of those rules still makes me kind of nervous.
Ah, well.
I learned about a new saint today: Frederick Denison Maurice. I like him; he was into social justice. And educating women. And unity. Awesome!
Oh, and I secured a copy of my baptismal record. *phew* Since I bypassed the priest (thank you Jesus for secretaries!), there wasn’t any fuss.
I felt like I was in over my head. I mean, it took me months after not being Roman Catholic anymore to finally be in a place where I could participate in the Mass. And now, within the space of two weeks, I’ve received in two different churches. As we know, I don’t handle rapid change very well (any change, really), so figuring out what to do on the fly was challenging. Particularly since I was already nervous / panicking / scared.
This fear thing, I’m sure, will fade over time – or at least settle down to the low-level static fear I would periodically experience before. Instead of, you know, panic attacks.
Certainly, part of my nervousness derives from the fact that I’m interrupting an enduring pattern of not receiving Communion at all. Part of it is surely because I fear bringing condemnation down on myself. Perhaps often overlooked, by myself and others, is the fact that I’m going against two decades of ingrained teaching – ‘indoctrination’ if you will – by which I had always abided. I’m absolutely sure that what I’m doing is right, and that I’m doing it for true and right reasons. But the problem with having been a devout Roman Catholic is that, well, I was a devout Roman Catholic. A bit of an anarchist rebel, perhaps, but still observant of the law. Because I had consciously chosen to obey even rules with which I disagreed, the breaking of those rules still makes me kind of nervous.
Ah, well.
I learned about a new saint today: Frederick Denison Maurice. I like him; he was into social justice. And educating women. And unity. Awesome!
Oh, and I secured a copy of my baptismal record. *phew* Since I bypassed the priest (thank you Jesus for secretaries!), there wasn’t any fuss.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)