Back again

My very Protestant tradition never emphasized giving up anything for Lent. I never dreamed that this year for Lent I would give up both my health and organized religion.

That's the way it worked out.

I got sick just after Ash Wednesday, and Holy Saturday was the first day I remember getting out of bed and feeling pretty OK. A few aches and pains, and a lingering cough, but in general I'm about 99% back to normal in health. The main lingering problems are that 40 days of near-total inactivity have taken their toll on my muscle tone and strength. I look like a little old man. Now I need to do a self-enforced physical therapy regimen.

Ash Wednesday was also my last day at St. Matthew's. Just after that, I decided I had finally had it and submitted my "I'm outta here" letter. Of course, it couldn't be that neat and pretty: Ever since then, for several hours a week, I've been involved in church business, unwinding my many involvements with the church. But in general I'm done. For the duration (largely because of health and depression) I simply had nothing to do with organized religion. All during this time, Daniel Orr, the priest of the church in Shelby, has been sending very welcome emails asking about my health and welfare. I don't think he was trying to recruit me; his interest in my well-being seemed very genuine. The result, though, was that the first time I pulled myself together to get to church was Easter, when I ended up in Shelby.

Sick day

Today (Monday) I finally took a sick day. My sister said, "You never do that!" True, but I had a pretty good fever on Sunday, so I cancelled. Today it's mainly aches and a cough. Hope I'm back together by Wednesday.

Today, with some distance on the thing, I began pondering the teaching ministry of St. Matthew's. Adult Sunday School never happened. I suggested it several times, but the response was that (a) everyone is over 80 and it's asking a lot just to get them to church by 10, and (b) many of them are out of here like a bullet out of a gun with the last hymn, and besides, you couldn't do a lesson after coffee hour! I have noticed, though, that Lenten evening lessons were well received, so it's not a universal allergy.

There's been a children's Sunday school, off and on, for years, but apparently the focus is entirely on getting them up to speed on the Sunday liturgy.

One result is a real biblical illiteracy. I remember when someone handed a Bible to a Vestry member and asked her to read something from Mark. She was totally lost. Had no idea where to find it.

I think this is the fruit of Bishop Spong. If one believes the Bible is a bunch of foolishness, why make it a centerpiece of the church's teaching?

So why did I stay? Well for one thing, there is Bible spread all through the morning liturgy; it's not like Grace Fellowship, where the Bible reading was "my favorite three verses that I read a couple of weeks ago anyhow." For another, in spite of Kay's personal attacks, I did get three or four chances a year to preach or teach. I really did think I could improve things, though my preaching was almost always on "Morning Prayers" days when only 18 people would show up.

Slogging along

Yesterday, I quickly read over a couple of years of personal journal entries. I'm amazed at the similarities I find, especially in springtime (mid-March and slightly later) entries:

• The weather sucks. It's grey, rainy/snowy/icy and I don't feel like going anywhere.
• I'm sick.
• Teaching a bunch of low-skills students who do not give a hoot about the subject is frustrating.
• I'm lonely.

Can't do much about the weather. I'm not sure what to say about the sick part, though some of it is certainly related to emotions. (My nurse/practitioner thinks SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder, might be worth looking into.)

Lonely is an ongoing problem, not too likely to go away, but I'm going to push myself to take myself out on dates, etc. (especially after the current health problem calms down).

Obsessing over wrongs. I tend to do that, licking old wounds. Sometimes it has to be done. Doing it now. But eventually I need to stop—perhaps to be forceable about it because it's an addiction.

Boring students, bored teacher. My 8:00 class yesterday was sort of an illustration. This gang never has been great at attendance, but when 8 came around there were three. A few more drifted in. I think the real key here is:

1. Don't take it personally. Some of these kids are in their last two months of college and they know it.
2. Do some content that I think is fun and interesting. Some of the students will come along. The rest are lost anyhow.

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One interesting discovery was that, after a particularly strong public rebuke from the priest, I was asking myself whether I should simply leave the parish.

On Criticizing the Church

I guess I'm still in the phase of reverberating. I don't know if my exit from St. Matthew's is permanent, and I certainly don't know if I am permanently walking away from the whole Episcopal Church. I do notice, however, that the administrators of the Episcopalians on Facebook page have urged people to moderate their personal attacks. Kay's attacks on me aren't the only ones, but they were pretty strong. I'm not going to put this material on Facebook—too risky—but here is my estimate of a hierarchy of personal/corporate attack:

1. John Doe is an idiot. Definitely out of line, whether it's "he's an idiot" or "you're an idiot." The writer should face some sort of censure.
2. John Doe said/did stupid things. This one is borderline. If the "John Doe" is a local private person, definitely out of line, but what about public national figures? If Bishop Spong has published a book with which I disagree? I think the key here is to address issues, not personalities. Bishop Spong might be a fine person, but it's the content of the book that should be addressed.
3. My parish/diocese did stupid things. Again, out of line because it's often an appeal to get some sort of majority opinion to override the local decisions. If the Vestry decided that the Sanctuary Lamp should have a red glass and you wanted a blue one, complaining on Facebook isn't the right avenue.
4. I don't understand. (OK—maybe I will post this one.) I've gotten barbecued—repeatedly—for just not knowing stuff. Sixty-four years of Presbyterianism followed by eight years of Episcopalianism mean that I constantly run afoul of the old-time correctness police. But this is not a sign that I hate the church. Even education in a Protestant seminary did not prepare me to know that "Mass" is an appropriate term for the Sunday morning event, that "acolytes" are not necessarily pre-teen children (though all the pictures one finds of acolytes depict them this way), or that "sanctuary" is the wrong word for the big room where the congregation sits on pews and sings hymns. It's not a sign that I disrespect (or even hate) the church; it's a sign that when I write, I work from previous experience and often do not know that I must consult the Episcopalian Dictionary to clean up my act.

Pleurisy

Self-diagnosis with the Internet is always risky, but this one seems to work. I've had pain while breathing (right side only) for about a week and a half now, along with fever, weakness, and a general weariness. Diarrhea too. Finally looked it up. Most common cause is viral and they recommend bed rest, acetaminophen, and fluids. Well, that's what I've been doing, and the pills seem to help.

Yesterday I was totally off my feet, but today is a bit better. I never stay home from work. Maybe tomorrow I will make an exception. Been fighting this thing for nearly two weeks now, but it hit a climax (of course) the night before the fateful church confrontation. Feeling a bit better now.

Gotta fix this blog

Looking around, there's a LOT of housekeeping I need to do! I think I'll send links to one or two friends, and I want it to be up-to-date, at least with links and such.

Beginning Again Again Again

Wow. All the years that have passed. One of the most surprising things is that it is about eight years, almost to the day, since I began my journey in the Episcopal Church. And it is now about 24 hours since I ended it.

I'm certain that nobody will read this blog, so it can be a very personal journal—and that's why I'm not deleting any of the old files either.

Reason for the exit: Beginning about 15 months ago, the priest (aided sometimes by one of her closest colleagues) has been carrying on an increasing campaign of personal attack. The final week, I got hit three times, and for very minimal reasons. (She launched a "prophylactic" attack in a meeting because she wanted me to look up some numbers and she figured I needed a fire built under me; I did not instantly respond to a request for a computer password; and finally I mentioned on Facebook that I had suggested a way to save money, then gave up when I realized my idea was unworkable.)

Three odd fall-outs from all this:

1. I've never been truly happy with her content-free sermons; only yesterday in doing some research on our terrible history did I learn that she's a fan of Bishop Spong, the guy who thinks the Apostles' Creed and the Bible are a bunch of foolishness. Hmmm.
2. I'm wondering what will happen when they figure out that 10% of their pledge money just walked out the door.
3. My exit was accomplished with a strongly-worded hand-delivered typed letter that laid the blame squarely at her feet. Twenty-four hours have passed. Not a peep from her. Not a "we need to talk" or a "gosh I didn't realize you took it that way" or even a "how dare you?" Total silence.

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Now what? Allan Andersen (bless his heart) texted me to ask how I was doing. I told him we could talk after a while, and he accepted that. (We will need to anyhow because I've shoved the job of church treasurer into his lap.) My sister Melissa and my friend Paul in Colorado have been enormous sources of support and strength.

So now, for the time being, I'm going to lie low and do some healing, both emotional and physical. This has been a very difficult few weeks.