Thanksgiving, Part II. Intervention.

I rested my head in my hands and wished with all my might that I could disappear.  The words my uncle had just said echoed in my mind “We hear that you’ve decided to leave the LORD.”  

I felt extremely undignified for a conversation such as this; donned in sweats, face make-up free, hair in a goofy, bedtime bun.  Teresa and I had just had a wonderful evening meeting with a cousin of mine at Colorado’s gem of a piano bar, The Golden Bee.  Fortunately, I’d only had one martini, and had eaten plenty of the complimentary crackers, because if there was ever a time to be sober, this was it.  

“Is that true, Tricia?” 

We’d returned to my aunt and uncle’s house, where my parents, Teresa, and I were staying at around 11.  It felt to me like midnight because of the time change, and I was exhausted after driving 8 hours that day (which ended up being surprisingly free of confrontation from my parents- no overt words about my beliefs).  We entered their huge house, which loomed in darkness, and said to each other “I guess everyone’s in bed.”  As we felt our way up the stairs, passing the high-ceilinged living room where earlier that evening, we had all sat with our wine (Uncle W__ with his Scotch, neat) listening to my aunt and uncle’s vinyl’s play through their extremely expensive and high quality audio system.  That evening, everyone had been so cordial and enjoyable.  As we passed the living room, out of the shadows, we heard my uncle’s baritone voice say “Hey girls!”  We both jumped!  Then, looked over to where the disembodied voice had come from, we saw my aunt and uncle, wearing only their robes and reclining in their comfortable leather chairs, icy glasses containing Polish potato vodka within arm’s reach.

 “Oh wow!  Hi, W__.”  He could tell we were shaken and said “Sorry to scare you!  Did you have a good time?  Did you drink a yard?”  The Bee is known for its “yards”, yard tall glasses filled with the brew of your choice.  “Oh no!!  I could never!”  “What?  No yard?  Did you at least have a few drinks?”  “Well, one.”  “One?  And you said you had a good time!  Impossible!”  “Uhh, I guess we’re not as wild as you are.”  “Ha!”  “Okay… I’m pretty tired and cold.  I’m going to get ready for bed,” I said as I started up the stairs.  They kept Teresa down a few more seconds as I dreamily thought of getting a good night’s sleep.  

A minute later, my face was washed, I was in my PJs, and Teresa said, “They want us to come back down and talk.”  They are almost 70 years old.  I’ve always just been a kid to them.  It boggled me that they wanted to have a late night, adult chat with me, but I figured if they had beckoned, I had better go.  

“Thanks for coming back down, girls.”  The set-up was so weird.  There they were, looking so in control, reclining in the shadows, drinks in hand.  There we were, two young ladies wearing pajamas, sitting on the couch right by the weakly glimmering kitchen light so our faces could be seen, but theirs could not.  Then, as unexpectedly as ever, the words poured out of his mouth “We hear that you’ve decided to leave the LORD.”  My aunt chimed in “Is that true, Tricia?”

I laughed to ease the tension, leaned back, stole a glance at Teresa as if to say “Is this really happening?”, then managed to speak.  “This is really personal.  I wish my parents hadn’t said anything to you about it.”  But it was what it was.  They knew, and they wanted to save me.  

My uncle dominated the conversation.  He told me about all of the signs of the time, his certainty that the LORD will return very soon.  He told me exactly how it would all play out, the future.  His ideas mirrored those in the Left Behind series.  Israel, wars, earthquakes, an Antichrist, the rapture, 7 years of torment for everyone left, “but the children born then would be automatically saved,” then the end to this earth.  “And you want to be sure that you are one of the one’s making it in the Rapture.  You do not want to be down here when the torment is taking place.”  They were evangelizing to me, in a really weird way.  And not only were their methods strange, it was also strange that I was in an evangelism conversation, on the opposite side.  I wondered why they were trying to convert me when I had already grown up Christian and heard everything they were telling me. 

In addition to sensationalist doctrine on the End Times, there were some accusations.  My aunt said, “But, Tricia, we thought you already made this decision.  We thought you had a real relationship with Jesus.”  There were warnings about what could happen to me if I really walked away.  Then some bashing evolution.  There was a moment when my aunt said to Teresa “You’ve been awfully quiet.  What do you think of this?”  (Like someone who only just met these highly opinionated people would be honest about her thoughts!  She had a truth omitting answer: I'm a pastor's daughter [true, but telling?  Still, they accepted it, even asking her to try and steer me in the right direction])  They even warned me about joining “the Arab religion” (really???).  Occasionally, they asked me questions, provided me with gates to enter this “conversation” (it was more like a sermon). 

I had so many things I wanted to say, but I knew that no matter how kind and rational my defensive argument, I could not “win” this battle.  Still, I summoned up the strength and tranquility that I wasn’t feeling and proceed to defend myself.  I explained to them that, yes, I had been a real, very believing Christian.  I’d read my Bible daily, I thought I may one day be a missionary in a faraway country, I lived differently than so many people my age.  I wondered what I needed to do to prove that I hadn’t lived my life up to now as a fake Christian!  But then I explained about the people I’ve read about online or in books who have been to seminary and become pastors, preached before a congregation for years, then have admitted to themselves that they just could not believe and walking away.  

I explained how I had had doubts all of my college years, doubts that had kept me from evangelizing to others, doubts that kept me from feeling like a good Christian, doubts that ate away at my self-esteem.  This break from religion was a long time coming.  I told them that I was not trying to walk away from the LORD, I was only trying to tackle questions that have gnawed at me for years.  Trying to view and process them objectively while still considering yourself a Christian does not work.  You are biased.  The only way to get a balanced view of truth is to detach yourself from belief systems and look at multiple perspectives.  I explained that, if after much research and thought processing, I realize that the Christian beliefs are really true, then I will come back to them with a faith stronger than ever before.  I don’t think God would be mad at me for doing what I needed to do to renew and strengthen my faith.

But, to refute their End Times words, which made up a large percentage of what he said, I said, “Honestly, a return to Christianity would have to be motivated by reasoning and authentic belief, not fear.”  I didn’t even begin to tackle his unsubstantiated claims about evolution, or try to tell him how rude it is to refer a religion that millions of non-Arab people adhere to as “the Arab religion.”  Mostly, I kept things to myself, and wished for this session to come to a close.

Finally, about 45 minutes after Teresa and I had blissfully come in from the cold night, the sermon ended.  I told them that I appreciated what I realized was well-intended, but that I was very tired and did not want to discuss my beliefs any longer.  They were able to respect that, and after some slightly awkward hugs and “Love you’s”, we left our places in the cold, dim living room and returned to our chambers.  My head was reeling for about another 30 minutes with disbelief over what had just happened.  I wondered if once Teresa and I had left for The Bee earlier that night, my parents had shared what was happening with me to them.  I imagined them discussing it in that chilly living room very worriedly, my parents lamenting the loss of a sheep, my aunt and uncle vowing to help them bring me back.  It made me sick to think about.  As I lay in bed trying to quiet my mind, I couldn’t help but realize that until (that is, if I ever do this) I come back to Christianity, my family and friends will pray for me, mourn for my loss, and think that I made a terrible mistake when I decided to leave the LORD, as W__ put it.  

But as you all should know, it's not something you decide.  You can only believe what makes sense to you.  I don't feel bad for doing what I need to do to get to beliefs that I can actually believe.  I just hope that whatever I end up believing doesn't alienate me from my family and friends, or lead to many more Come to Jesus talks.  They are tiring.

Grace Episcopal Cathedral

The Episcopal church that I went to last Sunday is in a beautiful Gothic cathedral, very close to the beautiful Gothic style high school that I attended.  I've been to it a few times for things unrelated to church.  Every year, my high school choir did a Spring concert at Grace Cathedral.  The acoustics, the incredible organ, and the ambiance usually made for our best concert of the year.  Most recently, I attended the annual event that Grace hosts, Silents in the Cathedral, in which old spooky silent films are shown, right around Halloween.  Obviously, Grace is all for using its beautiful space as a gift to the community.  I was excited to learn more about what happens on Sunday mornings in this place I'd been to only on weekday evenings.

As I walked in, I realized that I hadn't been to church in a month!  I'm glad I did this project, but it's not always fun visiting a new church by yourself, especially when you don't believe a lot of what's being said during the sermon.  Still, I committed to this for a reason.  I was glad to be following through with my plan that morning.

The service reminded me of the Catholic service I attended a couple of months ago (you can read about that here) in its rigidity, its weekly Eucharist, and the formality of the service.  One thing that I liked about Grace even before I attended was the effort the staff members made to make visitors feel welcomed by providing a Get Acquainted document on their website with the hopes that it would make all of the rituals and processes a little less confusing and foreign.  Of course, I still fumbled through the service, failing at my attempt to look natural. 

The readings were all on the End Times: Isaiah 65 17-25, which paints a picture of what the redeemed kingdom will look like; Thessalonians 3:6-13, which exhorted the members of the young church to continue living their lives and not putting down everything to wait for Jesus to return, which many of them were doing; and Luke 21:5-19, in which Jesus warns his disciples of things that must happen before the end can come ("Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes...")  When I realized this sermon would be on the End Times, I braced myself (excitedly) for a much more liberal interpretation of End Times prophecies than I've heard at my church.

I'm going to go off on a little tangent.  The End Times!!  I don't remember being terribly fixated on when Jesus would return before we moved here (though I remember sermons on it).  Sidenote to the sidenote: Brief church-going history for me [in order]: 6 years at a Presbyterian church, 2 years at a Four Square church, 3 years at a Vineyard church, 5 years at a Methodist church, then 7 years at the Bible church I have attended where I live now, plus summers at a Methodist or Congregational church with my gradma.  My parents weren't just indecisive; we moved a few times.  I'm guessing that the Four Square church talked a lot about Jesus' return, but it wasn't until we began going to the Bible church here when I was 15 that it became preached to me again and I began taking it in more. Basically, the church I'm at right now is very Biblical.  I love the pastor because he really works to remain true to the Bible- all of it, even those counter-cultural passages like the ones above.  I always trusted his teaching and I'm sure that he is sincere in his beliefs.  My apprehension about the idea of an Apocalypse has nothing to do with any cooky presentation or weird twist on Scripture.  I've just never longed for Jesus' return the way that my parents or some people I know do.  The idea of earthquakes, plagues, an antichrist, and even Jesus "rescuing" his followers from this world scared me.  Not to mention my abhorrence of the thought that all the believers would be rescued, but all of my nonchristian friends, no matter how lovely or gracious or helpful, would be tormented here on earth, then sent for more torment in hell.  I avoided learning about the End Times scripture partly because I figured my time was better spent trying to live for God in the here and now and let him worry about when he was going to fulfill his prophecies.  Then there's the Dispensationalists who search for signs that God is returning, or when signs are not showing up, force them in the hope that they will speed up God's return (i.e. supporting Israel no matter how unfair they are with Palestine because you believe that they are the ones who are vital to God's plan of returning- I read a book several years ago on this, Whose Land?  Whose Promise).  I haven't been able to really ignore End Times prophecy, however, because my parents (and some friends) are really into it.  My mom actually thought that Obama may have been the antichrist.  She's taken a 2 year Bible study on Revelation and  considers herself quite the expert, often saying things to me like "There really are so many signs right now that the End is near."  Then there's my dad, who pipes into discussions on future plans, even for things as mini as weekends away, with this comment "Well you never know for sure.  Jesus might return before then!"  And he's being dead serious.  So, with my notions of what Apocalypse sermons meant, I really wondered how this Episcopal pastor would tread on the waters of End Times scripture.

Indeed, it was different.  The preacher said "Excessive concern about the End Times is a distortion of God's word."  Whoa!  On the gospel passage, he said that many get excited and believe that Jesus is naming things that must happen before the Day of Judgment can come, but that he thinks they are taking it too literally.  He believes that when Jesus says "As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down," Jesus was encouraging the disciples (and us) to remember that all we see will turn to dust, but that we need to place value in the everlasting and do our best to live every day dwelling in the fruits of the Spirit, not fixated on when the End will come.  The preacher acknowledged that to live looking ahead, waiting impatiently for the End, and trying to be fully here and contributing to this world is impossible.  "We are called to serve God in this world, not to sit and look to the sky for signs."  He said this wonderfully un-dispensationalist (I'm sure there's a word for that) statement: "The future belongs to God, and that's all I really need to know."

There always seem to be some "I'm new here" blunders, and this Sunday was no exception.  During communion, I went forward, scanning the people who were getting Eucharised in front of me to try and see how it was done here, thinking "I should have read the pdf document more carefully!"  I remembered that you were supposed to place your right hand over your left to receive the wafer, and then you'd get to dip it into the goblet of wine... right?  Actually, you keep it in your hands like that and the guy in charge of the blood of Jesus will pick it up, dip it in the wine, then feed it to you.  It all happened so fast!  I realized as he was moving the half-soaked wafer from the gold goblet to my confusedly opened mouth that he was going for the tongue.  I moved my mouth to prepare for landing, but somehow my teeth got in the way and he bumped into them.  Then, I about bit his finger off, trying to move again.  He awkwardly said, "Sorry!" then I moved along.

Then, after the wafer was down and communion had ended, the congregation stood up and began doing what I thought was the greeting part of the sermon.  I thought it was a strange part of the service to be greeting (they'd not had a greeting portion earlier in the service), but I went along with it.  When someone behind me shook my hand and said something, I said "Good!  How are you?" then another hand was reaching towards me for a shake, this time the owner of the hand was more articulate.  "Peace."  Ohhhh, this was a congressional reminder that because we had been cleansed and forgiven, we now had peace.  I caught on after that :)  "Peace... peace... peace..."

Other notable things about this visit were the music and the aggressive style of making me feel welcome.  Because of those same acoustics that helped make my high school choir sound so heavenly, the music was stunning (and the choir talented).  I was given a hand out on a Grace Cathedral concert series.  It is nice of them to loan their majestic venue out to musicians, or really, the community.  Also, the level of "We've got to meet the new girl" here was comparable to the level at Antioch Missionary Baptist Church.  Both churches had one or two staff members eying congregants like hawks, making sure they noticed strangers.  Once a newbie was identified, after the service, the newbie was sure to get a firm hand shake, a welcome gift bag, a guided tour down toward the lobby area, then refreshments.  No newbie can opt out of any of those things, not with the skilled salesmen the churches have on staff.  Haha!  I will say, it made me feel welcomed, but maybe slightly guilty, since I will not be returning, at least not for a church service.