Church has been iffy for me of late, even though I consider myself a regular churchgoer. For several reasons, some good, some not so much so, we have not gotten into the habit of physically going to church since quarantine, though I livestream the service almost every Sunday. Even that became iffy for a bit because the church had sound problems and listening intently became a strain. Now those problems are solved, and this morning I “attended.” A wonderful Sunday to be in church either physically or virtually.
The rituals
of the service were interjected between movements of Vivaldi’s Gloria, which
was, as our minister said jokingly, the best sermon he preached all year. It
filled the entire worship hour. As a violin drop-out (when I was seven my
parents recognized I had neither the ear nor the talent for it), I still am transported
by stringed music, and what Vivaldi does with strings is beyond glorious. The
choir out-sang themselves, and the entire experience was transforming. And
thought-provoking.
The
ministerial prayer focused on the terrible storms that have devastated many
states and the solace that God can bring, in churchgoer’s eyes, to the victims.
Once, a friend asked me how I could believe in a God who lets such devastation
happen (after a terrible tsunami), so I asked our then-minister how to respond,
and he said bluntly, “Shit happens.” But he went on to say that it is when shit
happens that God is there for us.
This
morning on Facebook, someone posted, “We can do nothing about these storms,”
and I wanted to shout “Oh, but we can. We can take climate control seriously.
We can pass the Build Back Better legislation. We can become caretakers of the
earth instead of exploiters.” Science has demonstrated that climate change has
intensified the severity and frequency of devastating storms. So it’s not simply
a matter of faith. There are practical steps we can and must take. Remember
when in Sunday school they talked about being God’s helpers? Not just for
little kids.
And
from there, of course, my happy little liberal mind went straight to politics,
and I mixed politics and religion. If God (insert the deity of your choice) is
our savior, he/she will not let the bad guys win. I know the world today is
full of skeptics, yet there is no reason I should feel naïve or apologetic
about saying, “I believe,” so here it is: I believe God will not let
insurrectionists and fascists and perverted religion take over our world again
as they tried to do in the Holocaust. That’s not to say we can sit back and
say, “God will take care of it.” We have a big, huge role to play (think God’s
helpers) but in the end, as we are taught, love will triumph. Not cruelty, nor
punishment, nor greed for wealth and power.
Meanwhile,
in Texas, it is clear that a whole lot of Texans despise our governor, lt. governor,
and attorney general. I’ve seen estimates that if all who are inclined to vote
blue turned out, we could defeat them despite voter suppression and
gerrymandering. But pundits, who supposedly know whereof they speak, say that Republicans
will retain control in Texas and retake the country in 2022. They cite the
pattern for mid-term elections, blah, blah, blah. I am tired of politics as it
always is. I want to see something unheard of and wonderful happen as people turn
out in droves to speak for equality, diversity, kindness, and, yes, love. We
simply must not dismiss what’s happening with a shrug and, “That’s politics.”
I don’t
often write about religion—it’s a purely personal thing for me. But this
morning’s service moved me in several ways. I’ll step down from my private pulpit
now.
On a
more ordinary note: we (Jordan and Christian and I) were expecting guests
tonight for a birthday happy hour, and we planned a wonderful charcuterie. Then
one of our guests reported in ill. A disappointment, but we had our own happy
hour—nice family time in front of their almost-decorated tree, lots of catching
up. Good food, but I’m going to scramble a couple of eggs in a bit. A
comfortable Sunday night.
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