As I was walking around today, doing various errands, and bumping into folks for some great chats (my hardware store and the post office visits turned into mini parties today) I wound my way past the church my family attended when I was growing up. It’s a gorgeous old structure, I wish I knew more about it’s architechture but I do not. In my experience, it has just been there since time immemorial. I have tried to go in a few times in the last few months and found the doors locked, something churches do a lot nowadays because of vandalism. I thought I’d try again today, and lo, one of the doors was unlocked. It was the first time I have set foot in that church for over 25 years. It took me back in time in ways I can not even express. I don’t find the Divine in churches moreseo than anywhere else, my belief is that it surounds me and lives in everything and everyone, but being there again flooded me with emotions and memories, all good, all sweet. My grandfather was a deacon at this church. My grandmother was one of those little old ladies who always made things to sell at the church bazaars every summer. My brothers and I were given first communion and confirmed there, and encouraged into confessing our transgressions there. (We said the typical things all kids do: “Bless me Father for I have sinned…..I fought with my brother yesterday….I cursed at my grandmother under my breath etc etc etc) It’s the same church that I went to midnight mass at Christmas time high as a kite on weed many times in my teen years, with my other Catholic friends. If you’ve never gone to midnight mass high, I highly (pun intended) recommend you try it at least once. Why, well, because it’s funny. Especially when the organ music is shaking the walls and you’re so high you’re convinced Gabriel is about to descend, grab you by the ear and throw you out the front door…...and you’re giggling so hard with your friends all the old ladies are tsk tsking you and shushing you, and your grandmother is batting you on the back of the head with the church bulletin. Despite the ridiculousness of confession though, I was never one of those kids who hated going to church; I don’t practice Catholicism anymore and haven’t for a long time, but it provided me with a strong spiritual foundation to stand on so that my own spiritual belief could evolve, blossom and sustain me.
I sat in the church all by myself. No one else was there today. It was so peaceful. At one point the sun shone thru on the right side of the building, easterly, and the pews were illuminated thru the stained glass on that side of the building. It was gorgeous, that play of light. I watched that for a while, until the sky clouded over again and the light faded, then I got up and walked the stations of the cross, not for religious purposes, but to look at the sculpture and at the stained glass windows. It had been so long since I’d been there I’d forgotten how magnificent the stained glasswork is in that church. Stunning, beautiful craftsmanship. My two favorites were always Gabriel talking to Mary and John baptising Jesus. There’s a new icon up near the altar now too, that wasn’t there when I was gowing up. Again, it’s a gorgeous piece of artwork, iconography. Stained glass is one of my favorite artforms. (Pics are not of that church, just some random google images.)
I also did something there today I’d not done in, well, over 25 years. I blessed myself with holy water, and why not. Every little bit of blessing we can bring into our lives only helps, eh?
And yes, I did pray while I was there. Not in a conventional way. In my own way. I talked to some of my dead, and sent love out to many, dead and alive. But I do that anyway, I don’t need a church for it.
All in all it was a great visit, and I know I’ll go back again. I’d like to meet the priest, just for curiosities sake. All of my life I have measured other men of the cloth by the two priests that were in that congregation when I was growing up, who were not only my priests, but very good friends of my family, almost like uncles. I adored them, and credit them in large part for being spiritually open minded, because though they were first and foremost Catholics, they never maligned or dismissed faith, belief systems and practices other than their own, and they never judged me when I stopped going to church. Bless them both.
And my Mom, and grandparents, for insisting the kids in the family have some spiritual training. Despite not following their path anymore, my own is a thing of beauty and sustains me on some very deep levels. I thank them for the introduction. They did the right thing.
