I dunno

I'm thinking of turning this "blog" into a journal. I have become disenchanted with the world, and so I am trying not to participate in the social media part of it much. I am surprised at how much social media has become a part of my life. If you had asked me a mere five years ago if this would happen, I would have laughed. But now, it's the first thing I do in the morning and almost the last thing I do at night. Frankly, it's not good for me. I think it has taught me to live my life "online" rather than in real life. I've always been one of those people with an internal dialog. Now, much of that dialog is geared toward how I will present it online. Even photographs are taken with the thought that they will posted and commented on by me and by others. I've always craved praise and recognition. I didn't receive much as a child, and I think that has set me up to seek it as an adult. No one gets much recognition, unless they happen to be famous. This means that I just need to get over it--but I struggle. Anyway, maybe I'll be back, and maybe I won't.

I spoke yesterday about my religious history--primarily about institutions, and some beliefs, but today, I'd like to talk about practices. Unlike many practitioners of Western religious, I am a big believer in practice over dogma. I have a strong healthy relationship with God, and that relationship grows and blooms, but doesn't really waver. This relationship seems really different from the relationship that I perceive that others have with God. Maybe more on this later. But first I want to talk about the little things that keep me close to God.

I also like to spend a lot of time outdoors--especially at the beach or in the woods. I feel that gardening is a form of care taking the earth.

I also care for animals and adopt strays whenever possible. I feel that it's my particular duty to care for them, especially when they are alone and afraid. I would like to work in an animal shelter, but cannot because I know that I would take them all home.

I also like to make things. I think that this act of creation is spiritual.

I pray. I meditate. I read.

This is my first, and who knows, perhaps my last post, to this blog. I am a supremely flakey person when it comes to journals/blogs. I have created this one today because I am, once again, on the road to a new expression of spirituality. I'm not having a crisis of faith; I'm having a crisis of church--it's so different.
Just a few words on my religious background, which are probably entirely unnecessary, since I'm undoubtedly the only person who will read this, and I am already familiar with my religious background.
I grew up outside of any religious tradition. I remember the first time I learned of an entity called "God." I'm not sure I've ever told anyone this story--so here goes. I was at the babysitters (today we'd call this "daycare" but then it was a screaming disorganized mass of forty or so various aged children watched over my an old lady named Mrs. Stevens) and it was before lunch. Someone suggested praying, and did so, mentioning God. I had no idea who God was. I was intrigued from that moment, and it's probably the fact that I learned this way that has always given me the desire to fill that hole--I have always wanted to grow up in a religious tradition the way I did not--any one really would do--perhaps more on that later.
Skip ahead to sixth grade. A new church opened in our neighborhood, and we started attending, as it was my father's childhood church. We had others in town, but none nearby. My father wouldn't consider going to any church but his own--he has a very parochial view of church/religion. This was the mainline Protestant Church of Christ (not the Latter Day Saints). Our family went fairly regularly for a few years, and I liked it fine, mostly. We studied a lot of the Old Testament and not much New Testament. It wasn't particularly charismatic, but it was fairly evangelical. There was no speaking in tongues, but it was acknowledged as a valid option, but mostly in the Bible, not on Sunday today. The church buildings were new and modern, and very unadorned--no crosses, or crucifixes, or scroll work. There was a tiny bit of block stained glass behind the pulpit. There was no organ or choir, and no vestments. We didn't celebrate the church calendar (including Christmas and Easter), nor did we engage in liturgy. Communion was grape juice and Saltines. I would describe it as a "typical" 1970s Protestant experience. I liked singing the most.
I also developed a fascination for Roman Catholicism at this time.
My parents quit going to church before I was old enough to get baptized, which was something I regretted for many years after that, though I did pass up a few attempts to get baptized later. I began to attend the same church again in high school along with a good friend and neighbor whose father was the song master (he chose appropriate songs for the pastor's sermon), and we rode the church bus, driving all over the area picking up kids to take to church. We tended to sing on the bus, which was fine with me. But it was at this time that I started to have issues with church. I was attending youth group, as well as Sunday School and the regular worship service. I was turned off by the hypocrisy that I saw in YG--kids would look all virtuous in group, but then go out behind the busses and make out--this bothered me. I think because I was now primed, I began to see other issues with church. I was especially bothered by the idea that only the people who went to our church were going to go to heaven--everyone else had to go to hell. That included my grandparents, who were the most important and most influential adults in my life (they still are). I quit going to church.
Now, I'm in college. I'm done with religion; maybe I'll consider Buddhism. I went to UC Santa Barbara (Little Berkeley)--so that should help explain my attitudes. I still believed in God, but really didn't want to. It was inconvenient to believe in God in the 1980s if you were a liberal, which I was. None of my friends were religious, and my boyfriend (current husband) was an avowed atheist. I was fairly lost spiritually, though was developing a Buddhist sensibility. Meanwhile, I was taking many courses in religion, which became one of my focus areas (along with history and language). Unsurprisingly, my area was Asia.
I moved to a large metropolitan area to take a job after graduate school. There a friend and former student, introduced me to Soka Gakkai, a branch of Nichiren Buddhism. There are many fine things about this sect of Buddhism, but it is not one I would have chosen myself if I'd gone shopping. It is chanting based, which I loved, and the people were really great. It was just trying to recover from a schism, and sadly spent most of its time and energy hating and bad mouthing the group it had broken off from. It also had some disturbing cult leanings. My friend went away to school about five years after I joined--I stuck around for about a year, but when I was ready, this gave me the opportunity to leave. I still miss New Year's meetings with hundreds of people all chanting together.
After that, I toyed with neo-paganism. I became spiritually lonely. I began to think that maybe I'd try a Christian church. I went to one Protestant service after 9/11 for comfort and solace, but the pastor just preached on sin. This made me remember why I'd quit church. I also toyed with Judaism, as my best friends are Jewish. I spent many happy Fridays have Shabbas dinner at their house, and often found myself humming the light blessing during the week at random times--I felt close to God. The only thing was, I didn't think I'd feel that at home in this tradition, which tends to be very focused on family and ancestors--and so far as I know, I have no Jewish ancestry. I also thought that I'd want Jesus to be part of things--harder to do with Judaism.
A few years later my husband bought me a lovely ecumenical Bible for my birthday. I decided that very Sunday to go to church. I chose Episcopalian. I have great admiration for the social stances of Episcopalianism, and I knew that I'd be getting a little bit of what I found fascinating about the Roman Catholic Church--you know what they say about the Episcopal Church: all the pomp of the RC Church, but half of the guilt." I choose well, as my very first day, I met the priest, he asked me when I wanted to be baptized--his program was right on with my mindset. I was baptized within the month,a and confirmed within the year. I loved it. I joined Altar Guild. I served on the Vestry. I advanced slides for our new contemporary service. I made the motion for our church to perform same sex marriages--it was one of the proudest moments of my life--still is.
However, things with the national Episcopal Church are not well. Anyone not living under a rock has seen the schism and the resulting acrimony and lawsuits. We retained our building, but lost 90% of our members--this happened shortly before I arrived. Two local churches had lost their buildings, and so were attending our church--this gave me the impression that our church was larger and more dynamic than it really was. I'd say our average Sunday attendance was 60-80 in a 200 occupancy room. When the Diocese repossessed the building, our attendance dropped by 25% or so--still a respectible 50-60. But the real attrition was yet to come. The median age at my church was about 65/70--I was easily the youngest person there aside from a handful of teens who attended a few times a year with their parents--mostly on holidays. When the older members started to die, and their families stopped attending after the funeral, we dropped membership rapidly. It's not so much that I minded only going to church with 20 people, but watching people I'd come to love die, and realizing that this was what was going to happen to my church as well, was very, very depressing.
As our numbers fell, the Diocese made the decision that we could no longer support a full-time priest, and so our beloved priest was made to retire. The Diocese didn't want us to have an interim priest, instead preferring that we depend on the occasional service priest that they sent. Our Senior Warden took things into his own hands, and hired us a part time priest. We then began the process to hire a new priest; I was on this committee. We did a lot of work to create questionnaires for the congregation to determine what kind of priest was needed, and were just about to given them out to the members, when the news came down from the Diocese that they were taking over the process. They also said at that time that they wanted us to fire our part time priest--we did not.
As fewer people attended, there were fewer people to keep up the duties of the church. We all tried to pitch in, but more important and helpful people felt the pressure and began to leave. If someone had to be gone for awhile, it became a serious burden to cover for them. I couldn't go to church without being asked to join yet another committee, or take on another responsibility.
Six months later, after the Diocesan survey (which they hired a private company to create and tabulate) they announced that our church and the sister church nearest us were to close due to lack of attendance. I felt at this point that the Diocese didn't have our best interests at heart, and that this was the final straw in a lot of other issues in which I felt that the Diocese had tried to undermine us. So, this really finished me off.
I felt unchurched. I talked to friends. I read a lot of books. I visited a few churches, and read some more. I haven't been back to the Episcopal Church. While I was feeling this way, the Anglican Communion suspended the American Church. I was angry enough about that, but then our new Bishop just said he was disappointed, but took a wait and see approach. I know that the Episcopal Church moves with the speed of glaciers, but I wanted action. I got none.
It's been almost a year to the day that I quit church--no Christmas, Easter, or Pentecost. I did go to another church (Episcopal) for Ash Wednesday, but it felt wrong. I went to a Lutheran Church but it looked just like my church--I was easily the youngest person there. Plus, they drank grape juice out of little plastic cups, and for some reason that just made me think of my church growing up. The music was nice.
I'm reading again, and have gotten interested in attending a Quaker Meeting. There is an unprogrammed meeting about 25 miles from me (lots of traffic though) that I plan to attend. I like the social work done by Quakers, and I've always been fascinated with them as well as Amish and Mennonites and other people who try to lead the simple life--it's a personal project of mine as well. Quakers are famously taciturn people, and I am not, but I feel I can learn something here. I have meditated before--though my practice waxes and wanes--it's waning now, but I'm working on it. It's a huge change from what I've been doing, but I'm attracted to the no creed stance--I never was very comfortable with the Nicene Creed, and the various other affirmations that I made in church--though I have been very proud to be an Episcopalian. I feel that God is just too big to define in the various ways that religion tries to do it. I'm intrigued to see how the Quakers address this and many other issues that I've been thinking about. I've named the blog Natterings kind of ironically I suppose, considering I'm hoping to talk a lot about Quakerism. To natter is to talk (incessantly) about inconsequential things. I do not think that religion/spirituality is inconsequential, but I strongly suspect that anything I'll have to say about it here will be.