Little Ones to Him Belong. I'm a Medium.
I've started attending church services again. I was a pretty faithful attendee up until my college years, when I only occasionally went to mass before driving to my job as a maintenance man at a clothing store. I stopped when I moved to the city, though once in a while I went to Holy Name Cathedral because I liked the building and the choir. Parking was a bitch though, so I stopped.
After that, I sometimes went with Mike to the Episcopalian Church of the Advent on Logan Boulevard, which is where we were married. Once, I attended mass at the Catholic church down the street, near the 90/94 highway overpass. Only once, because it was during that time period when revelations arose about serial sexual abuse performed by priests who were quietly moved from parish to parish rather than turned over to the police. During the homily, when the priest stated that, yes, it was regrettable that these men were "weak," but we needed to recognize that there were those who would use this information to attack the Church, I walked out in disgust. I tried another Catholic church in our new neighborhood, but elderly priests are the surest cure for insomnia. Pretty building though.
Somewhere in-between I became a church reviewer for the Chicago Journal. During this period I realized why the nuns warned us about the dangers of attending services in other, non-Catholic churches, synagogues, mosques, and basements. "You will become 'confused,'" they told us. If by "confused" they meant that you become aware that humans are purely nuts, and every religion believes they're the one true way, they were absolutely right. Even at their best, each service featured one guy up front saying, "We know what's what, and everyone else is wrong." and a dozen to a hundred people nodding in agreement that yes, yes, we know what's what, and everyone else is wrong, damn straight. And I'm not even touching on the ones who:
1. Thought cancer had a 100 percent survival rate if you prayed right.
2. Believed they had the right to dictate who gets to live on their magic dirt several thousand miles away.
3. Oh, I could go on, but I shan't.
I liked the Church of the Advent. The priest was a sharp guy named Fr. Graham. He had a degree from U of C and was no intellectual slouch. He was an excellent speaker, and he actually walked the Jesus walk, looking after the poor, sick, elderly, imprisoned, and the rest of the wretched refuse when he wasn't preaching. Episcopalians sit pretty well with me, in general. Their priests can marry, and they're one of the congregation, not mini-popes. They're not as liberal as some of the Methodists, but they're getting there. Some of them, anyway. You may have noticed that they've been schisming over the question of gay marriage. Fr. Graham himself officiated over two gay marriages (though I think they use the term "blessing ceremony"), which didn't sit well with one church-goer, but generally everyone else was fine with it.
The new church that I attend prides itself on being open to everyone (i.e., "liberal"), and that seems true so far. Mike and I stayed for coffee after yesterday's service. Surrounded by septuagenarians and the rector (A woman. A BROAD, FOR CHRISSAKES!!!), I was happy to hear them discuss the possibility of performing a "blessing ceremony" for two parishioners. I have to say, it's surprising and refreshing to hear women and men in their 70s saying they have no problem with two gay men getting hitched.
Still, while liberalism is a plus, I have to admit that I still like my churching to be churchly. This church has its feet in both worlds, yet fails to wear a clown nose. I can understand why some people want to attend houses of worship where there are raffles, singles mixers, and bounce houses between the second reading and the Gospel. Me, I like quietude, tradition, ceremony, and meditation, not a squishy touchy-feely carnival. Actually, I'd probably prefer a service where all you do is enter a pretty old church and sit for a spell while pondering where you've been, where you're going, and how you've been treating folks lately. This church comes close, so far. The 8 a.m. service at has no music either, which is a definite highlight if, like me, you're not a fan of flat, creaky renditions of "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God."
A big reason why I'm a church-goin' man again is Nate, my subsequent son. Mike and I are friendly with the immediate (older) neighbors, but I don't feel like we've really put down roots yet. We live there, but we're not active in the community. This worries me, because down the line I'd like Nate to have some sort of familiar social strata outside of occasional visits to/by our hipster buddies and their kids. We don't know the locals that well, and I'd like to know a few of the ones with kids before our lad has boots on the ground. Getting involved with this church seems like a wise step.
Plus, I greatly appreciate that the rector incorporated bits from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in her sermon.
After that, I sometimes went with Mike to the Episcopalian Church of the Advent on Logan Boulevard, which is where we were married. Once, I attended mass at the Catholic church down the street, near the 90/94 highway overpass. Only once, because it was during that time period when revelations arose about serial sexual abuse performed by priests who were quietly moved from parish to parish rather than turned over to the police. During the homily, when the priest stated that, yes, it was regrettable that these men were "weak," but we needed to recognize that there were those who would use this information to attack the Church, I walked out in disgust. I tried another Catholic church in our new neighborhood, but elderly priests are the surest cure for insomnia. Pretty building though.
Somewhere in-between I became a church reviewer for the Chicago Journal. During this period I realized why the nuns warned us about the dangers of attending services in other, non-Catholic churches, synagogues, mosques, and basements. "You will become 'confused,'" they told us. If by "confused" they meant that you become aware that humans are purely nuts, and every religion believes they're the one true way, they were absolutely right. Even at their best, each service featured one guy up front saying, "We know what's what, and everyone else is wrong." and a dozen to a hundred people nodding in agreement that yes, yes, we know what's what, and everyone else is wrong, damn straight. And I'm not even touching on the ones who:
1. Thought cancer had a 100 percent survival rate if you prayed right.
2. Believed they had the right to dictate who gets to live on their magic dirt several thousand miles away.
3. Oh, I could go on, but I shan't.
I liked the Church of the Advent. The priest was a sharp guy named Fr. Graham. He had a degree from U of C and was no intellectual slouch. He was an excellent speaker, and he actually walked the Jesus walk, looking after the poor, sick, elderly, imprisoned, and the rest of the wretched refuse when he wasn't preaching. Episcopalians sit pretty well with me, in general. Their priests can marry, and they're one of the congregation, not mini-popes. They're not as liberal as some of the Methodists, but they're getting there. Some of them, anyway. You may have noticed that they've been schisming over the question of gay marriage. Fr. Graham himself officiated over two gay marriages (though I think they use the term "blessing ceremony"), which didn't sit well with one church-goer, but generally everyone else was fine with it.
The new church that I attend prides itself on being open to everyone (i.e., "liberal"), and that seems true so far. Mike and I stayed for coffee after yesterday's service. Surrounded by septuagenarians and the rector (A woman. A BROAD, FOR CHRISSAKES!!!), I was happy to hear them discuss the possibility of performing a "blessing ceremony" for two parishioners. I have to say, it's surprising and refreshing to hear women and men in their 70s saying they have no problem with two gay men getting hitched.
Still, while liberalism is a plus, I have to admit that I still like my churching to be churchly. This church has its feet in both worlds, yet fails to wear a clown nose. I can understand why some people want to attend houses of worship where there are raffles, singles mixers, and bounce houses between the second reading and the Gospel. Me, I like quietude, tradition, ceremony, and meditation, not a squishy touchy-feely carnival. Actually, I'd probably prefer a service where all you do is enter a pretty old church and sit for a spell while pondering where you've been, where you're going, and how you've been treating folks lately. This church comes close, so far. The 8 a.m. service at has no music either, which is a definite highlight if, like me, you're not a fan of flat, creaky renditions of "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God."
A big reason why I'm a church-goin' man again is Nate, my subsequent son. Mike and I are friendly with the immediate (older) neighbors, but I don't feel like we've really put down roots yet. We live there, but we're not active in the community. This worries me, because down the line I'd like Nate to have some sort of familiar social strata outside of occasional visits to/by our hipster buddies and their kids. We don't know the locals that well, and I'd like to know a few of the ones with kids before our lad has boots on the ground. Getting involved with this church seems like a wise step.
Plus, I greatly appreciate that the rector incorporated bits from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in her sermon.