The Journey

No. Ugh! No! Nooooooo. It's raining. It's kind of icy. It's sooooo cold. Moo. Blarg. Noooooo. I'm not going. I don't wanna. I don't want to freaking go to church. Church is booooooring. This church thing is stupid. I want Chinese food. I want a coke and Chinese food. I smell like campfire. So stinky. Man, now I have to take a shower. Ugh. My life is so hard.


After a very late night of drinking, fire watching and stranger meeting, I woke up bursting with life and energy ready to continue my incredible exploration of organized religion. Brimming with anticipation, I forced myself to shower, made a feeble attempt at concealing my dark circles with make-up and like a zombie grunting and moaning threw on something colorful and comfortable. This was a special morning, so I decided to make myself an extra special breakfast of cold taco meat and lots and lots of water. Hooray! It's time for church!

Due to yucky weather and the knowledge that I would most likely be somewhat "tired" this Sunday I planned to attend a neighborhood church just down the street called The Journey. I parked on the street about two blocks away from the church and me and my red hooded raincoat and rainbow rainboots got to take a little stroll. My grouchy mood lifted within seconds of my rain walk. There is something magical about walking in a certain kind of rain. It reminded me of living in London and all the rain soaked adventures I had there. Now here I am in St. Louis getting ready to have another.

The service before mine (I went to the 11:30am service for obvious reasons) was just getting out. The sidewalk was crowded with people, making it feel even more like London. As I lifted my head, I noticed a few strange things. All the people were young. Like early 20's young. Also, a significant portion of them were Asian. And EVERYONE was carrying a Bible. This sounds bad, but I felt scared. I'm not sure why, but the band of young Asians marching through the rain holding tight to their Bibles totally freaked me out. What is this church?

The Journey is one of those non-denominational church places that doesn't have pews or large paintings of Jesus at the last supper. Instead, they have chairs and a funky modern symbolic backdrop (various old windows hanging from the ceiling), an updated neutral color scheme, giant TV screens and a coffee bar. It's a "franchise" church. Meaning they have various locations offering the same/similar sermon at whichever one you choose. They have about 7 different services to choose from including Saturday and Sunday evening services.

The other churches I attended were mostly filled with old people and there wasn't any diversity. Remember at the other churches how I kind of stood out? Yeah, not here. Facial piercing - check. Tattoos - check. Colorful funky outfit - check. Plastic glasses (which I had way before they were cool) - check. Oh yes, here I looked just like everyone else. The Journey was like a rainbow of young people. Asians, Hispanics, African Americans and Caucasians all mingling together in youthful Christian harmony. The median age of the congregation couldn't have been over 25. I felt proud to be a resident of the racially and ethnically diverse South City St. Louis. Then I felt ashamed of my reaction to the large group of Christian Asians and decided I needed to set aside some time to figure out what that prejudice/fear is all about.

The lights dimmed. The show/service was starting. Cue the band. Everybody stood. A very talented and ridiculously attractive black man lead the congregation in, "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee." I was ecstatic. Not because of the cute boy, but because I freaking love contemporary Christian worship songs. That's right. I said it. I'm not ashamed. I'll say it again. I don't care. I freaking love contemporary Christian worship songs! My legs started bouncing. My hips started swaying. My eyes brightened. My lips burst into song. See, I grew up with these tunes. These were the songs of my childhood. They are old friends. I have great memories of singing "Lean On Me" and doing all the ridiculous motions with my bestest friends in the whole world - my church friends. So I sang. Loudly and joyfully. People were looking at me because I looked like I was on fire for Jesus, but really I was just enjoying some nostalgia. It's the same way I feel when I watch The Muppets. It was awesome. I wish there had been more singing.

Money. Money. Money. (I heart ABBA) Tithing came up several times throughout the service. There were advertisements for the church's 3 month tithing challenge on the TV screens and on flyers in the lobby. One of the pastors (there are several) got up and said there was a money back guarantee on your tithes. Seriously. Give 10% of your income to the church for 3 full months with an open and joyful heart and God will do amazing things in your life OR your money back. I'm not kidding. But I guess I kind of understand. Coffee bars don't pay for themselves, right? It was the idea that you had to give money to God through the church and then God would do wonderful things for your in return that didn't sit well with me. Hmmm...God's blessings are for sale?

A very charismatic pastor got up and said a few words about today's lesson/sermon - "Freedom from Self-Centerednesss". Then this man stepped off stage and a preacher on a video came up on the television screens hanging above the sanctuary. No one was being filmed on stage, because no one was on stage. It was a prerecorded video. I went to church and watched a video sermon.

I was so distracted by this whole video sermon concept that I barely listened to a single thing the preacher was saying. It was mostly globodyglook. It sounded a lot like the teacher from Peanuts cartoons. Wah wah wah wah Jesus. Wah wah wah wah community. He was one of those contemporary pastors with a funky haircut and stylish jeans that were, oh, maybe just a wee bit too tight. He did a lot of those common preachery things like breaking down words to their greek/latin roots, using large hand gestures and repeating key things for emphasis.

Example: (spoken normally) Jesus said, "Go out into the world." (Pause)  (with gusto) JESUS said, "GO! OUT! into the WORLD! (whispered seriousness) Go out into the world. That's. What. Jesus. Said.

I did tune in to a few things. He talked about how Christianity is the only religion that fosters a community with God. There was a brief "bashing" of other religions. Then we broke down this whole notion of community and what God really wants from us. Turns out it's the basics - don't covet or be envious, don't judge people, help people - even when it's hard, take care of yourself, etc. There was more stuff. I don't remember everything that went into being a good community for God. I only remember thinking "Yep, I'm awesome at that. Nailed it" after every thing he said. Then I reflected on how much I really liked the black sparkly nail polish I was rocking that Sunday. I usually hate nail polish, so it was a special moment. Clearly, the sermon didn't speak to me. Maybe because it was just a video.

Communion Time!

A real life non-video pastor got up and talked about The Last Supper - what it means and why they honor the ritual. I do not partake in communion, because I don't believe in Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. End of story. I've never felt weird about it. I've had 14 years of attending Christmas Eve services with my family to get used to saying "no thank you". It's just not my deal and I'm cool with that. I kind of feel the same way about Jesus that I do cocaine. I'm sure it makes you feel great. It's looks like you are having an amazing time dancing around and sweating. You know, it's just not for me. I'm cool man. I'm just going to be over here chilling. You do what you gotta do, but don't guilt me or make me feel bad because I don't feel like snorting your cocaine. Back off friend.

"Followers of Christ, please celebrate communion with us
by breaking off the bread and dipping it in the cup"

The pastor gave a rather odd spiel about those of us who should not partake in the communion. "You know what's in your heart. Don't just follow the crowd. If you are not right with Jesus this is a good time to sit and reflect (on your sin). We are always here to talk with you after service." The TV screen advised you how to properly execute communion and the path your section of the church was to follow. The believers walked their specified path and received their bread dipped in juice then passed by the godless souls who remained seated in sin. Several sitters were crying or bowing their heads. I don't care for this method of bringing people to Jesus. It felt like public shaming, although I wasn't ashamed. I did however want some wine. Real bad like. Luckily, my local grocery store serves everyone, even non-believers.

I don't know. I had several thoughts about God and Jesus and Jesus being a man but also God and maybe how that was really meant to be a message to us that God is part of man and cannot be seperated, but instead we turned it into THIS ONE GUY JESUS was man and God and he should be worshiped for all eternity and if you don't worship him you will starve in the bread and wine free gallows of hell. Then I thought - So many people believe in Jesus. How can so many people be wrong? Then I thought about Lance Armstrong and how lots of people thought that guy was some kind of God blessed miracle and he turned out to be a lying prick. Then my brain was tired and required rest.

I'm burning out on this Jesus stuff. Time for something different....

Black People Church

Did you know they had cars back in Jesus's time? Yes, The Bible says Jesus and the disciples were in one Accord.

Ha! Oh, church humor. (Thank you Ingrid.)

On the way to Morning Star Missionary Baptist Church we passed literally 15 other Missionary Baptist Churches. Vincietia, my dear friend and co-worker, explained that North City St. Louis has an abundance of three things: lounges, liquor stores and churches. She wasn't kidding. Driving down Martin Luther King Jr Boulevard went something like this - dilapidated building, packaged liquor store, vacant graffitied building, storefront church, lounge and then the cycle repeated.  Oh yes, St. Louis is among one of the many cities that honors Martin Luther King Jr's legacy with a famously impoverished, rundown and (at times) dangerous street. I love my city, but St. Louis is a rather segregated town. Some neighborhoods are more diverse than others. Still, when you look at racial maps of the city there are two areas that really stand out - West County (good schools, shopping malls, big houses) = lots of white people and North City (horrible schools, packaged liquor and church) = lots of black people.

"Oh, you're going to black church?" "They go crazy there." "People get filled with the spirit and drop on the floor." "There might be snakes." These were some comments I got when I told people of my upcoming church adventure. Hearing people's thoughts about various churches/religions has been a fascinating part of this process. I understand these comments though, and I don't judge. I grew up in Springfield, MO - the whitest city in the world. I'm a product of my raising, which I have to admit had subtle racist undertones. Mostly due to lack of exposure. I have no freaking clue what black people do at "black"church. Your guess is as good as mine.



 

I did have one expectation/dream/hope - I really wanted to see some little old ladies in colorful church hats. I was not disappointed. There weren't any snakes at Morning Star and no one "went crazy" or fell on the floor, but PRAISE BE TO GOD there were little old ladies in colorful church hats.

I was greeted with warm hellos and handshakes. People were chattering, telling "church jokes" and laughing. It was a friendly congregation. Everyone seemed to know each other. Vincietia grew up in this church. It's her family church. Her mother, sister and nephew were all in attendance. Families sat together in large groups.

Service started, but the chattering went on. In fact, it never stopped. Sometimes it even got louder. See, I grew up in a church where you didn't speak. When the choir sang an amazing song you honored it with your reverent silence. When the preacher said something that touched you greatly you gave a nod and nothing more. BUT NOT AT THIS CHURCH. Nope. At "black" church you get to express yourself freely. If you want to say "Amen" you just say it. If you want to clap, go fot it. Need to stand? Get on up girl! Want to get up and leave for a while? Just see your program for the asterisked times it's okay to leave (doors are opened and closed at different times during the service).

We sang songs. Not from a hymnal though. There were just songs and either you knew the words or you didn't. I didn't. There were announcements and concerns. We prayed. One time we all held hands and prayed. There was a recognition of visitors. I asked Vincietia if I HAD to stand. She said, "You don't have to stand, but everyone knows you're a visitor." True. I kinda stood out - either because I was looking fabulous in an cream and orange embroidered tea dress my father bought me in September that still fit even after the Christmas cookie binge (Can I get an amen?) or because I was the only white girl in the room.

It came time for the sermon. Um...it got kind of confusing. It started with a reading from Matthew 27 about the people being asked who they wanted released, Barabbas or Jesus, and how the people not only wanted Barabbas a thief and murderer released instead of Jesus the nice guy who fed them fish, but they also wanted Jesus to be crucified. Then the preacher talked about emotions getting the best of us. Then "choosing the right Jesus". Then about how God is good all the time. Then how God controls all the things and you don't. Then going to hell on a technicality. Then the upcoming return of Jesus. Then - How we're all born sinners. How we don't know how much time we have left. How getting high and drunk is awesome, but only for a while and then you are all sad and depressed without it, but if you get high on Jesus it lasts and lasts....

Sidebar: During the middle of the sermon I needed a drink of water. I pulled out my water bottle to take a drink and Vincietia quickly stopped me and said, "Don't let anyone see that. You can't drink during the service. I'm so sorry, I should have told you." WHAT? Is this a thing? No water during service? Why? I thought about it for 5 minutes and then tuned back in to the preacher...

The preacher started talking about how he had a special relationship with God and how God tells him things that he doesn't tell the rest of us and that's why we need to come to church. Next up, going with the crowd/gossiping - both not good. Back to the story of Barabbas and Jesus and how they chose the wrong Jesus (Barabbas's first name was also Jesus, so confusing). Then about how it's good they chose the wrong Jesus and how great it all worked out in the end. Then His Eye Is On The Sparrow was recited briefly. Then the preacher called for people to accept Jesus and be "saved" citing once again how no one is promised a tomorrow.

After a total of two hours, service was over. I was confused, exhausted and needed a cigarette.

The sun was shinning and I decided to drive home down Sarah Street. I'd never been that far North on Sarah. The street was littered with mostly vacant buildings, which in my social work mind I reframed as Sarah Street is a street of great potential. The sermon stayed with me, mostly because I adamantly disagreed with most of what the preacher had to say. I don't believe in heaven or hell or sin or even Jesus as The Savior really, because I don't believe there is anything we need saving from. I believe in God. Well, kind of. In my own unique way. I thought about what the preacher said about God being good. I believe that, but I wrestle with it. If God is in control of all the things, then why does God let so much bad shit happen. That bothers me. Constantly.

Almost home and still on Sarah Street I saw two women sitting in their car having an argument. One of the women had the longest hair I'd ever seen. Seriously. It was flowing over the car seat and onto the floor. It was taking up most of the drivers seat she was sitting in. There was her face and then a giant cloud of hair all around her. I stopped in the middle of the intersection and just stared in disbelief. How on Earth does that woman have so much hair? How does someone go through life with so much hair? How does she eat ice cream? The two women stopped talking and gave me an odd glance. I drove on. Did I really see that? Am I hallucinating? Wait! Am I high on Jesus? Then I started giggling uncontrollably.

Oh God, you may or may not be "good", but you certainly have a good sense of humor. I bet you totally get a kick out of the thought of Jesus and all the disciples driving around in a Honda Accord.

I realised something after seeing that Mermaid lady - I have funny thoughts sometimes, no, often. The way I see the world is....well, funny. I always thought my humor was really a defense mechanism I honed from growing up morbidly obese, so I've always kind of hated it. But in that moment, laughing hysterically in my car, I realised my humor is just part of who I am. Part of who I believe God made me and something I actually kind of enjoy about myself. I'm telling you people, this church stuff is crazy. 3 visits to church and I'm already feeling better about myself. I highly recommend it.

Until next time...

Silent Waiting - The Religious Society Of Friends

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.  
                                                                                                                 Mother Teresa
                                                                                                                   

The sign read Please enter in silence. I knew this would be the expectation before I stepped through the door of The Religious Society of Friends building. I was greeted with a warm welcome and looks of surprise. A kind woman named Margaret asked if I understood about Quakers. Had I read anything? Did I know what to expect? I smiled sweetly and humbly stated I'd done some research and was prepared for the experience. Humility and a sweet smile will take you far in life. She explained that I could sit where I pleased and directed me through the door to the silent meeting space. Behind the door was a large open room with beige walls and long windows that provided a perfect view of several bare trees swaying gently in the cold winter wind. Two rows of pews were organized in a circle along with mismatched floral couches and wooden chairs. Colorful afghans rested over some of the seating. The whole place smelled like my Great Grandmother's house. I immediately felt at home.



 

About 25 people slowly trickled in, quietly removed their coats, settled into silence and waited. What my generation refers to as "Cosby sweaters" was the predominate fashion of the attendees who were mostly seniors age 70 and over. Dressed in a fuchsia floral crochet baby doll dress, Peter Pan collar, black cardigan, black tights and black patent leather buckle shoes I was hard to miss.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. After the service several people were eager to meet me. One women explained how Quakers handle business meetings. "We wait" she said. "Someone presents an issue, like fixing the air conditioner, and then we wait." Quakers, at least this group of Quakers, sit in silent expectant waiting of divine leadership. That's how they worship. That's how they make business decisions. No sermon. No hymnal. No arguing over the finances. They just wait.

I didn't have to wait long. Within 5 minutes of silent waiting I was blessed with a fast moving stream of thoughts. Oh so many thoughts. Did I leave the oven on? I'm thirsty. This is nice. Ooo...trees. Why do they have a piano? I should close my eyes. I wonder what all these people are thinking about. What should I be thinking about? Probably not this. What the hell am I going to write about sitting in silence? I should stop thinking about the blog and just focus on the experience. Quiet your mind Sarah. Come on. It's like yoga. Breathe. In with the good out with the bad.

Breathing really helped. Thanks yoga! My mind went quiet. My body was calm. I thought perhaps I should pray, but I'm not actually a big pray-er. To me, prayer has always felt like the grown up version of a letter to Santa. So, instead of praying I decided to focus on gratitude... How cool is it that there are places like this to go? FOR FREE. A quiet warm space where all are welcome, it's fantastic. I'm grateful for freedom of religion. Not everyone has this. Not everyone has most of what I have. Why am I so blessed? I have nice clothes. I've traveled the world. I can go to the grocery store and buy anything I want to anytime I want to. My family loves me even though I'm kind of weird. My friends love me too. I've even been in love with a person who loved me back! I'm really glad I was born with curly hair...

Suddenly a woman stood up and spoke briefly about how she felt we should honor Martin Luther King, Jr. Day - with service. She was experiencing brief divine leadership to speak. Then she sat back down and I closed my eyes and returned to gratitude.

...Nature. Hmm...I'm so grateful for all the beautiful trees, the sun, the stars, and the privilege of a life that affords me plenty of moments to stop and just appreciate all the beauty around me...

Another interruption. Service was ending. It's been an hour? Friends were invited to share "joys or concerns" so we could "lift them up in the light." I like that saying and I understood it without really knowing what it means. Joys and concerns were shared and then a handshake was given that started more handshaking and we were done. Well, almost. Since I was clearly a newcomer I was asked to say my name and a little bit about myself. "Hi, I'm Sarah and this is my first visit" is all that came out of my mouth. Luckily they accepted this answer.

Content. I felt so content in that space with those Friends. Not joyous. Not happy. Not sad. Not bored. Content. It felt good. It felt peaceful. I wouldn't mind returning to The Religious Society of Friends meeting again. I enjoyed this version of church where I wasn't expected to repeat words I didn't believe or songs I didn't quite understand. Nothing was required of me but silence. I waited in silence and found gratitude and peace. Not too shabby.

Then I went home and made chicken.

The First Visit

This Sunday morning started like every other Sunday morning - viewing the aptly named CBS show Sunday Morning. Charles Osgood in his infinite charm sweetly sang, "Life is worth living if once in a while you can look in that looking glass and smile." Today was going to be a good day. Charles Osgood just guaranteed it. Today I would start a new adventure. Today I would go to church.

Out of respect for the people who would be sitting near me, I took a shower. You're welcome members and visitors of First Unitarian Church of St. Louis. You're welcome. Dressed in polka dots and cowgirl boots (my version of a security blanket) I headed to church. I looked totally adorable.

I know nothing about Unitarians other than they're cool with the gays. Here's what I know (and by know I mean "here is what I surmise from my one time one hour visit") about Unitarians (more specifically Unitarian Universalists, thank you Emily) after attending their Sunday service:

1. Unitarians (UUs) freaking love gay people. They have a rainbow flag. Gayness came up at least 10 times during the service.  A gay man spoke about working for gay rights and asked people to give money to continue working for gay rights. When he was finished he received a standing ovation. Unitarians freaking love gays.

2. Unitarian (UU) hymns are awful. They have no tune. The words are strange. There isn't much "feeling". The singing of the hymns was incredibly quiet and awkward.

3. Unitarians (UUs) really enjoy name tags. Upon entering I was asked to fill out a name tag.  I am emphatically anti-name tag and generally refuse to wear one, but the lady was standing over me so I filled out my name and smiled. Then I promptly shoved the badge in my purse and carried on. Most people at the service were wearing name tags. I'm such a rebel.

4. Unitarians (UUs) don't talk much about God or The Bible or Jesus in service. A few quotes from The Bible were given during the service, but they were proceeded with a warning, "I'm going to quote The Bible now" and then followed by laughter. They did talk about "the oneness with which we are all connected" and "interconnectivity".

5. Unitarians (UUs) seem pretty nice. There was handshaking and hello-ing and it all felt very warm and genuine.

I like to make general assumptions and grand generalizations. I know it's not fair. You can't sum up a church or a belief in one hour. These were just the things that stuck out to me. These were MY take-aways.

This particular Sunday was "Jazz Sunday". A lightbulb went off in my brain and I thought to myself while tapping my toes to the beat -  Holy crap! I bet there are all kinds of churches with great free live music on Sundays. I love music. I should bring wine next time. I should totally bring a thermos of wine and scope out churches with good live music. This version of church I could dig. Wine and music church.

As the music played I got lost in my thoughts. I realized what I would be doing with my next 51 Sundays. I would be at church. Yes, the inspiration to attend church began in a warehouse. BUT the decision to seek out a new church every week was realized with eyes closed and feet taping to fine jazz beats in the comfort and calm of of the First Unitarian Church of St. Louis.

I can't wait till Sunday. For this Sunday I shall be gathering with the friends...

Sarah Goes To Chuch: The Beginning

One night I found myself in a giant freezing cold warehouse with a complete stranger surrounded by anarchist graffiti and I thought to myself, "I'm going to start going to church."

I'm not sure why that thought popped into my head at that moment. True, I was slightly scared and felt out of my element, but that's exactly how I feel at church. In my opinion, anarchy is far less destructive than organized religion. Warehouses hold lots of cool things. Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet. Why church? The only thing I could come up with is I have become increasingly aware that I am searching for something and I didn't find it in that warehouse. Time to search elsewhere. Perhaps I'll find it hidden in a church. Though I doubt it.

So, that's what I'm doing. I'm going to church. A new church every week for a year. Give or take a few days where I'm either too tired/hungover/uninterested/preoccupied/lazy/whathaveyou. I'm going to try to keep such days to a minimum. I make no promises.

A little bit about me before we begin...
 
I grew up religious. Like, youth group president, true love waits pledging, witnessing to strangers, Jesusy Camp attending, morning prayer circle hand holding religious. I attended a Baptist church until I was about 16 and then realized church/Christianity/The Bible just weren't for me. Over the past 14 years I have created my own belief/idea structure out of various pieces of different religions,
things I've read and personal experiences. A spiritual melange that is ever changing. I love the word melange. It's fun to say. Melange.

Something else you should know about me before we go any further - I don't believe in proper punctuation of any kind. Fragments and run ons are two of my best friends.  I cannot spell. I misuse words all the time as well as make up some of my own. Much as I rejected organized religion, I reject organized English. I'll add 10 commas to a sentence for no reason other than I feel like it. This, drives, some, people, bonkers. If that's you stop reading immediately. I wish you the best. Take care.

Onward and Upward.

It is my goal to keep an open mind. Which may be hard, because I already have so many prejudices against organized religion, specifically Christianity. Most of my family identifies as Christian and I do not wish to disrespect them. With that said, I have no interest in sugar coating or hiding my thoughts about the churches I visit. I strive to be honest, thoughtful and again open minded.

I've already attended my first church (post to follow) and I have a list of 21 I'm excited to visit in the St. Louis Metro Area. I welcome your suggestions for places I should visit. I have 31 spots left to fill.

The journey begins...