Episcopalian Reprieve

I didn't make it to any church last week because... well, I just didn't that's why. I chose the Episcopalians this week after a very interesting and funny talk with my roommate about Catholics v. Episcopals. I'm not entirely sure I was able to make out the difference, but I became fixated on receiving a blessing from either. I was entirely sure that I did NOT want communion (I'm baptized Catholic, I can totally receive), but because the idea of placing my mouth on the same chalice as 300 other eager cannibals (the whole body/blood of Christ thing) gives me the eeby-jeebies. As my friend pointed out, Jesus WANTS us to eat and drink him, but I feel pretty weird about that inside. So with my greedy heart set on being blessed without hassle, I chose the Episcopalians.

The church itself was beautiful and very old. There was stained glass, but no dying or bloody Jesus' (this is not the place for you if that's what you're in to). I chose this particular church because I went to a Women of Faith panel a few weeks ago and the female Minister of this church was part of the panel and she really impressed with me with her intelligence and tolerance. Ironic that I went today. Turns out it was her last service here in Baton Rouge as she is moving to Kentucky (of all places). Her first few words hit me! I'm noticing a trend with that. You'll see what I mean.

I've been having a hard time with prayer, right? I don't feel like I'm doing it right. My prayers are stupid, I stutter, I don't know what to call Him, and on and on and on and on. WELL... the message she had for me was this: that first of all, you don't get a report card on your prayers! Wow! I'm not sure if she has the authority to notify me of this, but it sure felt good to hear. She said, simply, there's no A or B or C prayer. All you have to do is be open enough to accept the answer, even if it's new and drastically different than the way you thought it should be. She said it's probably not a good idea to go in with a list of exactly what you want and when. I'm in no danger of this. I've never even given Santa a list of things I wanted. Seriously, demanding gifts of a stranger is tacky whether you've been naughty OR nice. Really, my only prayer is to help me feel like I'm not alone. I think it's pretty simple, but God is taking his sweet time. It's ok though.

The calm hour of peaceful happy I feel in church (except that one church with the cleavage rock band) is better than I'm able to feel any other way in my life. And surely there must be something driving me to try strange, new churches week after week? I'd like to believe there is, but maybe it's just plain boredom or even my adventurous spirit. Who knows? As for the blessing, by the time it was time to receive that or the cannibalistic body and blood of Christ, I was far too humbled. I started to realize how much I'm blessed already. Blessings are defined as a special favor, mercy, or benefit. I have so many of these that I never asked or thanked God for that I felt like a fool for choosing a church solely on the basis of receiving an extra, intangible one. It's funny, but losing my dad and my life the way I knew it showed me how incredibly... blessed... I am for having my wonderful and amazing sisters, my mom, my beautiful friends, my pain in the ass but lovable students, and the opportunity to feel all the love, hate, beauty, anguish, joy, turmoil, anger, solice, solitude and host of other feelings I get to feel that are either lovely and/or agonizing all in one breath. So, no. I didn't stand in line to get blessed by the nice lady minister.

Back to the Episcopalians, I even got to witness baptism at this church. I found it strange, though, that infants are called upon to promise that they'll shun the temptations of the world and follow Jesus. I understand that people standing in for you can take the vow on your infant behalf, but that is a weighty and near impossible task to take on. I was probably a pretty sweet baby, but I feel sorry for the fools who vowed that I'd walk in the "way of the light." Some days I feel I can barely walk at all. Hmmm... infant baptism. I'll have to ponder that this week. Until then, I'll continue practicing my clumsy yet adequate prayers.