a place for my soul to rest

In the past three years, I have moved as many times, crossing state or national borders each time. This last move was especially hard because I did not have a supportive faith community. My denomination does exist here, but it is not the same denomination I came from in the States. And most often I do not feel as if there is a place for me (a liberal, heretical, WOMAN pastor) here within my church.

This has caused much grief and sorrow as my denomination was one I CHOSE as an adult, one that allowed and encouraged me to bring my questions and my doubts, one that didn't require me to check my brain at the door, one that nurtured me and sustained me through my education and first decade of ministry. And now, I fear I may have to leave.

In many ways, the Unitarian Universalist Church would be an obvious fit for me. 1) On days when I profess a belief in god, I am more unitarian than trinitarian, and 2) If I consider the possibility of heaven, I would have to put myself into the universalist understanding of salvation. Unitarian? Check. Universalist? Check. And the UUs are so lefty and liberal. I love their commitment to social justice and to peace and the environment. And my Beloved is UU. So it should be a perfect fit. Except...

I am christian. At least, I am culturally christian. I may not take the stories in the christian scriptures to be literal truth, but they are my stories, the ones I grew up with, and the ones that resonate with metaphorical truth within my soul. Some of the christian stories I adore. And many I abhor. But they are the stories I know. I appreciate the sacred stories of other traditions, and I can find truth and meaning within them. But they are not my stories. They are not the ones which quiet the storms in my life or sing to my soul.

And I love christian liturgy, the hymns, the candles, the smells and bells, the familiar words, the stand-up-here-sit-down-there. There is a rhythm to it, and it matches the rhythm of my life. It's what I know.

When I visit the UU churches with Craig, I love the engaging conversations. I love the passionate commitment to serving on behalf of the others and the world. I love the diversity of thoughts, opinions, and perspectives (though not too diverse, not many conservative attend UU churches). But I miss the liturgy. And while the conversations are challenging and engaging, they are not engaging my stories.

What I really want is the intellectually rigorous sermons I heard preached in the churches of my denomination back in the States. What I want is to hear somebody wrestle with my stories, really wrestle with them: to explore the historical and cultural context in which the texts were written, to examine the original languages and see what might have been lost in translation, to ask whether there is meaning in these ancient texts for contemporary followers, and to empower listeners (i.e. me) to respond.

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From my apartment, I can see the steeples of two churches just blocks from where I love (when asked about my religious views, I should give this answer sometime). One of these churches is Robertson-Wesley United Church. Earlier this spring, I knew I wanted liturgy for the first Sunday of Lent, so walked down the block, through the park, and through an alleyway, and slipped into the pews for a wonderful reflection (by both ministers!) on the idea of "journey". In the bulletin, I saw an announcement for a bible study which I attended several times in cognito. I have worshipped there on several other occasions since.

I was initially disappointed on Pentecost (my favorite liturgical holiday) when instead of the Pentecost story, the minister began a series on, of all things, the doctrine of the trinity! But the sermon was fascinating - giving the history of the doctrine, acknowledging the lack of biblical support for the concept of a three-for-one, I mean three-in-one god. It was challenging, inspiring, uncomfortable, and I LOVED it. I may not be a trinitarian christian, but I can certainly appreciate how many people find meaning in understanding divine revelation in three different ways. I personally think the number three is limiting, but I get that others appreciate it. And this is pretty much what was said from the pulpit at Robertson-Wesley!!! "We don't need to chuck the whole thing out, but let's understand why people, why our tradition, thinks this is important, and you can decide for yourself if this is meaningful for you."

Yes, this is a place where my soul can rest. After these many years and many moves, this is what my soul is needing. And I think I may have found some companions for the journey.

in cognito

So I am going to a bible study at the church across the park from our place. I happened to visit the church a few Sundays back, on a day when I was too lazy to get up in time to make it across town to a church of my denomination, but not so lazy that I slept in. When I visited, I saw in the bulletin that they were starting a new study from the Living the Questions series, a series I have read about but hadn't had the opportunity to experience. So I decided to attend.

I called Nancy, the woman leading the study, whose number was listed in the bulletin, and she informed me that the class was not full and they would be delighted for me to attend.

"I want to ask you," she began, "have you ever done any bible studies before?"

"Oh, yes. I have."

"Oh, good. Well, are you familiar with the LTQ series?"

"Yes. That is what attracted me to the class in the first place."

"Oh, good, so you know how it works."

Actually, I didn't - exactly. But I really appreciate how Nancy wanted to make a newcomer feel welcomed. And I can understand what a baffling situation I put her in; it is not a usual occurrence to have a visitor to the church (this was only my second time to come - in eight months) want to attend a bible study. In my decade of church work that happened exactly zero times.

I assured Nancy that I wanted to come and that my level of interest was high and my ability to keep up with the class was adequate.

I did not tell her that I have a seminary degree nor that I am an ordained minister. I decided to go in cognito.

I went to engage in theological discussion with thinking people without having everyone in the room turn to me for answers. And I know that once I am out as a minister, I am doomed. I won't get to be a part of a community of questioners without people questioning me. So I kept silent about my education and vocation.

Which has not been so easy. I have so far avoided the "what do you do?" aspect of my story by telling what people really want to know: where the "y'all" is from (Texas) and what on earth brought me to Edmonton ("my partner is at the University"). And I have tried to stay quiet, to listen and to learn without adding my two cents here and there. But I am a loquacious gal, and despite vague attempts to dodge the professional question, my familiarity and grasp of the topics at hand have been evident. On Monday, our second class, Nancy called on me, "Now Rachel, this is obviously not new to you..." and continued asking me what I had gotten from the first session.

I replied that, yes, I had some previous exposure to the liberal theological ideas espoused in the series, so the thoughts weren't new or paradigm-shifting for me (anymore). And I continued to say that what I was taking from the course was the discourse around the room and the input, thoughts, and experiences shared by the people in the course. So another successful dodge.

I am enjoying the course. I really love the dialogue. And while it is somewhat exhausting to evade, I find it energizing to be able to be just "Rachel" and not "Rachel Rev", to ask questions in a circle without having to come up with answers, to let people teach me, and to learn what people really say when they think their ministers aren't listening.

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Interestingly, at one point last night, one gal asked if I was a professional musician because I wore socks with music notes on them. Actually, the socks prompted the question about my interest in music, to which I responded saying that I sing and accompany myself badly on piano and guitar. I never once mentioned that I have my undergraduate degree in vocal performance. So I am a bit surprised that my musical socks outed me as a trained musician while theological discourse has not outed me as a trained theologian. Perhaps I am not as learned as I had thought. :)

Steeps

Our neighborhood (or rather, our neighbourhood) is fantastic. We live in a part of Edmonton called Oliver, adjacent to downtown, and filled with stores, museums, galleries, restaurants, churches, and bus stops where we can catch a ride to any other part of the city. I love this neighbourhood.

One of my favorite places here is a delightful little tea house just blocks away. Steeps is an "urban tea house" with several locations in Western Canada, but the original is the one near us. Steeps is steps from the best yarn store around and our insurance agent. It's one of those places filled with eclectic, mismatched furniture, artwork by local artists, and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with hundreds of varieties of tea (three entire shelves dedicated to varieties of Earl Grey). Tea is served in a french press, and you must go to the sideboard to pick out which tea cup you'll drink from. While you're at the sideboard, you can pick up a scrabble board, or as we did, connect four.

On Friday nights, there is live music, of the mellow, coffee-house variety. Still recovering from my cold, I wasn't up for a wild night on the town. So Steeps was absolutely perfect. My Beloved and I played games, read the paper, talked, laughed, listened to a school teacher from Ft. McMurry sing, and drank delicious tea (mine was a fruity blend called "Creativity", and Craig chose one that smelled like a campfire).

I think this is the perfect beginning for a marvelous weekend.