Presbyterian for a Day
I have very little experience w/ Christianity outside of the Catholicism in which I was raised (which is not necessarily, as I discovered a few years back when I tried to go back to the Catholic church, Catholicism as it exists today.)
For those who don't know the story, I grew up during early Post Vatican II Catholicism in the late sixties, early seventies, when we sang "Let It Be" at folk masses, boycotted grapes and lettuce with Cesar Chavez, confessions consisted of "rap sessions" with hippie priests who were secretly studying zen buddhism, and the Bible translation of choice was "The Good News Bible" -- the one written in '60s vernacular with little postmodern caveman drawings in the margins. ("And Jesus said. . . .Like, wow, man.")
It was a shock for me to discover that this is not the way Catholicism has been practiced for most of its 2000 year history, ok? Apparently thesixties/seventies Catholicism was some sort of anomaly which Rome shut down right quick once it got wind of it, but me growing up smack dab in the middle of that timeframe never realized that things aren't supposed to be this loosey-goosey.
Anyway, even during the era of permissive catholicism which spawned joanofarq, no self-respecting Catholic would even THINK of attending a Protestant Church. Ever. In fact, I was in my mid-thirties before I learned that it's no longer PC to call Protestants, Protestants. I'm supposed to call them "Christians". (even though they're not "real" Christians).
Whatever. In any event, I may have attended a non-Catholic Christian church once or twice, but honestly I really don't remember, possibly from the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder which likely ensued. (I did go to synagogue a few times with my Jewish boyfriends, which was WAY more acceptable in Catholic terms than being caught in, say, a LUTHERAN church).
Until today. I was forced to go to a Presbyterian Easter service because my daughter was dancing as part of the liturgy -- and getting paid to do so (her ballet teacher is dating the music director of the Presbyterian Church). My daughter was in this purely for the money, I assure you.
OK, two things wrong with this picture so far (1) DANCING GIRLS during Mass? This we did NOT do even during the sixties (2) Laypeople getting PAID to participate in liturgy? This we did not do, either. Brattina earned sixty fucking dollars today to dance for four minutes. (H said, "That's nine hundred dollars an hour.") Maybe the Presbyterians are richer than the Vatican, I don't know.
Wait, it gets better. The sermon was in POWERPOINT. So were the lyrics to the hymns. (Like "follow the bouncing ball" during the singalongs at silent movies.)
Oh, yeah, and people brought their BREAKFAST in from the SOCIAL HALL to EAT during the SERVICE.
H, (who despite his calm zen monastic exterior has never been able to erase from his psyche twelve yrs. of Pre-Vatican II Catholic School and was an altar boy during the very Highest of High Latin Masses; having to prostrate himself face down on the altar during Good Friday and who still hides behind the couch in terror when our kids watch "The Exorcist" and tells them to stop laughing at it, because "you shouldn't mess with things you don't know about," and so forth) nearly spontaneously combusted. He expected Linda Blair to appear, head spinning round and round, in the middle of the bagels and cream cheese. Even the most radical hippie priest would have called it bad form to chomp on your bacon and eggs while the Eucharist is being consecrated.
And the grand finale? Wait. Just wait.
THE EASTER BUNNY (well, an adult dressed in an Easter Bunny costume) CAME BURSTING THROUGH THE SANCTUARY DOORS AT THE END OF THE SERVICE AND EMBRACED THE MINISTER.
THEN ALL THELITTLE KIDS FOLLOWED THE EASTER BUNNY OUTSIDE TO HAVE AN EASTER EGG HUNT IN THE CHURCHYARD.
Hello? Any Catholics out there? Can you explain to the rest of LiveJournal that this is just. . . so wrong.
I had to call my mother (also a pre Vatican II Catholic, she still talks about not being allowed to talk between noon and three on Good Friday) on the cell immediately afterwards.
She asked the inevitable question: "Does Santa Claus come to the Christmas Eve service? I am so there."
Even my daughter, whose theological and denominational knowledge is at best. . .confused . . . said to me, "Mom, that Easter Bunny thing was CREEPY."
: : : shudder: : : :
I'm waiting, you know, for the McDonald's drive thru window to be installed in the parking lot, just in case nobody knew, this is an informal, come as you are church. (I mean, WHY BOTHER? Church is SUPPOSED to be an ordeal . . . if you make it just like sitting in your living room, what's the FUCKING POINT? I can EAT and DO POWERPOINT and WATCH MY DAUGHTER DANCE, in my living room. I don't neead no stinking Protestant Church!)
I'm so traumatized I'm blogging about this at 1:15 am on a worknight. It was worse than one of those nightmares where everything is discursive and doesn't make sense, but you know it's a "bad" dream; not a "good" dream, right. . . .
Where's my rosary and emergency bottle of holy water? I need to exorcize, now, dammit.
For those who don't know the story, I grew up during early Post Vatican II Catholicism in the late sixties, early seventies, when we sang "Let It Be" at folk masses, boycotted grapes and lettuce with Cesar Chavez, confessions consisted of "rap sessions" with hippie priests who were secretly studying zen buddhism, and the Bible translation of choice was "The Good News Bible" -- the one written in '60s vernacular with little postmodern caveman drawings in the margins. ("And Jesus said. . . .Like, wow, man.")
It was a shock for me to discover that this is not the way Catholicism has been practiced for most of its 2000 year history, ok? Apparently thesixties/seventies Catholicism was some sort of anomaly which Rome shut down right quick once it got wind of it, but me growing up smack dab in the middle of that timeframe never realized that things aren't supposed to be this loosey-goosey.
Anyway, even during the era of permissive catholicism which spawned joanofarq, no self-respecting Catholic would even THINK of attending a Protestant Church. Ever. In fact, I was in my mid-thirties before I learned that it's no longer PC to call Protestants, Protestants. I'm supposed to call them "Christians". (even though they're not "real" Christians).
Whatever. In any event, I may have attended a non-Catholic Christian church once or twice, but honestly I really don't remember, possibly from the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder which likely ensued. (I did go to synagogue a few times with my Jewish boyfriends, which was WAY more acceptable in Catholic terms than being caught in, say, a LUTHERAN church).
Until today. I was forced to go to a Presbyterian Easter service because my daughter was dancing as part of the liturgy -- and getting paid to do so (her ballet teacher is dating the music director of the Presbyterian Church). My daughter was in this purely for the money, I assure you.
OK, two things wrong with this picture so far (1) DANCING GIRLS during Mass? This we did NOT do even during the sixties (2) Laypeople getting PAID to participate in liturgy? This we did not do, either. Brattina earned sixty fucking dollars today to dance for four minutes. (H said, "That's nine hundred dollars an hour.") Maybe the Presbyterians are richer than the Vatican, I don't know.
Wait, it gets better. The sermon was in POWERPOINT. So were the lyrics to the hymns. (Like "follow the bouncing ball" during the singalongs at silent movies.)
Oh, yeah, and people brought their BREAKFAST in from the SOCIAL HALL to EAT during the SERVICE.
H, (who despite his calm zen monastic exterior has never been able to erase from his psyche twelve yrs. of Pre-Vatican II Catholic School and was an altar boy during the very Highest of High Latin Masses; having to prostrate himself face down on the altar during Good Friday and who still hides behind the couch in terror when our kids watch "The Exorcist" and tells them to stop laughing at it, because "you shouldn't mess with things you don't know about," and so forth) nearly spontaneously combusted. He expected Linda Blair to appear, head spinning round and round, in the middle of the bagels and cream cheese. Even the most radical hippie priest would have called it bad form to chomp on your bacon and eggs while the Eucharist is being consecrated.
And the grand finale? Wait. Just wait.
THE EASTER BUNNY (well, an adult dressed in an Easter Bunny costume) CAME BURSTING THROUGH THE SANCTUARY DOORS AT THE END OF THE SERVICE AND EMBRACED THE MINISTER.
THEN ALL THELITTLE KIDS FOLLOWED THE EASTER BUNNY OUTSIDE TO HAVE AN EASTER EGG HUNT IN THE CHURCHYARD.
Hello? Any Catholics out there? Can you explain to the rest of LiveJournal that this is just. . . so wrong.
I had to call my mother (also a pre Vatican II Catholic, she still talks about not being allowed to talk between noon and three on Good Friday) on the cell immediately afterwards.
She asked the inevitable question: "Does Santa Claus come to the Christmas Eve service? I am so there."
Even my daughter, whose theological and denominational knowledge is at best. . .confused . . . said to me, "Mom, that Easter Bunny thing was CREEPY."
: : : shudder: : : :
I'm waiting, you know, for the McDonald's drive thru window to be installed in the parking lot, just in case nobody knew, this is an informal, come as you are church. (I mean, WHY BOTHER? Church is SUPPOSED to be an ordeal . . . if you make it just like sitting in your living room, what's the FUCKING POINT? I can EAT and DO POWERPOINT and WATCH MY DAUGHTER DANCE, in my living room. I don't neead no stinking Protestant Church!)
I'm so traumatized I'm blogging about this at 1:15 am on a worknight. It was worse than one of those nightmares where everything is discursive and doesn't make sense, but you know it's a "bad" dream; not a "good" dream, right. . . .
Where's my rosary and emergency bottle of holy water? I need to exorcize, now, dammit.