I was raised in the Catholic Church. Until about the age of twelve or so, I wanted to be a nun. Well, I wanted to be a journalist, but also a nun. Maybe I really wanted to be one of the martyrs in my book of saints. They had pretty pictures painted and exciting stories, and I certainly wanted some excitement in my life. After I made my confirmation, I became a lector at my church. I loved my priests and enjoyed working with them to interpret the Scripture with my voice. When I got married--by a justice of the peace in my parents' living room--I was told that I could no longer take communion (not by a priest, mind you) until I was married in a church. That ticked me off to no end, and I pretty much stopped going to church. My new lifestyle made it easy; my first husband is a musician, and we had a lot of late Saturday nights, making it just fine by me to stay in bed late on a Sunday.
Years later, though, my ex-husband and I felt the need to be a part of a church community again, he more than I, I think, and I participated in hopes that we could save our marriage that had fallen apart so suddenly and sadly. We separated, but both kept going to the same Episcopal Church. We knew the priest there socially, and we attended her Wednesday night "alternative" service, which included mediatations and prayers said out loud. I suffered mightily when my ex-husband--the wound of his asking me for a divorce wide open--prayed that the husband of the woman he claimed to love now (having, apparently, never really loved me) would understand their need to be together and accept the changes that were coming. Never mind that the woman never left her husband or even told him about her affair. My point is that this setting was painful, and I removed myself from it and started instead to go to the early morning Sunday service, which I knew F. would not attend.
At the same time, I had taken on a second job teaching at a prison and a third job adjuncting at the college where I was a grant writer. I was in the process of applying for MFA programs and preparing for the GREs. The priest at the church asked me to be involved in different activities, and when I would defer, she managed to persuade me. I was emotionally wiped. I had no rest, for I didn't sleep well for months at a time. Later, when I started to be away on weekends, the priest asked if I was dating. I told her about Neal, and she said that I should break up with him and wait for F. to come around. I asked if she had told him to stop dating, and she said that he needed to work through his pain.
What about mine? I grew increasingly disillusioned with the church (although I love the Book of Common Prayer with devotion), and looking back, I feel that I was abused by this church. At a time when I was fragile, overworked, and distressed, they demanded more and more from me. Could I have said no at any time? Of course. But I needed and wanted help and support, which I simply did not recieve.
Since that time, I have stayed away from churches. I understand the comfort they can bring and the joy, too, but I was hurt deeply and only just feel like I might someday find another church. I miss the celebrations of the holidays in their truest sense--the holy days. My spirituality and relationship with my higher power is strong; I don't need any church for that.
Lent is one of the times of year when I most miss Church--Catholic or Episcopalian. I like the discipline of the Lenten season. It is an excellent time to evaluate habits, to reflect on growth, to see what parts of me need improvement, and to embarck on those improvements and disciplines. Tonight I'll be busy grading papers, and in the little breaks I'll take, I want to consider what I want to do with my Lenten season this year. In the past, I've given up television, fast food, other habits that seem wasteful of time and energy. I'll do a little of that, but I want to remember what my childhood priest once told me: the Lenten Disciplines are not only about giving up our vices and luxuries, but also about implementing postive new habits, cultivating the goodness in ourselves.
I hope no one feels the need to comment on my attitude about churches. I feel a little vulnerable writing about spirituality and religion on my blog; I know what nice girls do and do not discuss in public, but I can't always be Miss Manners. With this post, I simply wanted to explore for myself how I'm feeling about Lent this year and where those feelings come from. I'd love you to share, if you observe Lent, how you approach it if you'd like.
In the meantime, enjoy those vices today, and savor the pancakes tomorrow!
