Barbara Brown Taylor, an Episcopal priest and award winning preacher (yes…there are such awards) wrote a book a few years back called Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith
Though the following quote is long, it sets the stage for my thoughts:
…I have learned to prize holy ignorance more highly than religious certainty and to seek companions who have arrived at the same place. We are a motley crew, distinguished not only by our inability to explain ourselves to those who are more certain of their beliefs than we are but in many cases by our distance from the centers of faith communities as well. Like campers who have bonded over cook fires far from home, we remain grateful for the provisions that we have brought with us from those cupboards, but we also find them more delicious when we share them with one another under the stars.
This wilderness experience sets up a real dilemma for some of us, since we know how much we owe to the traditions that shaped us. We would not be who we are without them, and we continue to draw real sustenance from them, but insofar as those same traditions discourage us from being with one another, we cannot go home again. In one way or another, every one of us has gotten the message that God made us different that we might know one another, and that how we treat one another is the best expression of our beliefs.
- Prizing holy ignorance.
- How we treat one another is the best expression of our beliefs.
- Distinguished…by our inability to explain ourselves to those who more certain of their beliefs.
- We cannot go home again.
I do not want to return to religious certainty. In my movement from the patriarchal church I have stepped into realms and relationships (with others and the Divine) that have far surpassed anything I’d known or experienced prior. But I’ve also left much behind.
There are days when I miss hymns, communion, liturgy. Even more, there are days when I miss the surety of boundaried belief, of doctrine, of dos and don’ts, of language that rolled off my tongue and lodged in my heart, of God as Father.
Saying goodbye is hard, no matter how amazing and glorious the new “hello” might be.
I cannot go home again. I don’t want to. But that doesn’t mean I’m not homesick now and then.
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{ 22 comments… read them below or add one }
So poignant, Ronna! I still go to church but question things constantly. This left me out in left field until recently. Now I have a priest at our church who answers or tries, who carries on conversations about my doubt and my truth. It is different but it is good.
Nicki´s last [type] ..Nerves
Ronna, I don’t even know what to say. You are very much in my head and my heart and my soul with this post today. Like Nicki, I haven’t completely walked away, but in staying, I often feel like the dusty camper with the heavy backpack that all the clean and well-polished set look at with disdain. I love the part in the quote about realizing we are different in order to know one another. This knowing, this sharing communion of the bread and wine of our own making around the campfires, is what keeps me going. I too know the homesickness. It reminds me of this post I wrote last October after hearing a speaker talk about longing: http://theramblingpoet.blogspot.com/2009/11/honoring-longing.html I think we meet the divine in the very midst of the feeling of wishing for home.
Renae C´s last [type] ..July I Believe Challenge – Day 12 & 11- Fear & Family
Perfectly said. Right there with you. That last line says it well….and the one about certainty. I sort of like hanging out in this space of uncertainty, unconviction, unauthoritarian. The possibilities are endless and they are so cool. So glad to be past that whole authoritarian stage. It’s a heavy burden to be the “right” ones. I’ve thought about writing an I Believe blog, yet that changes on a daily basis right now, so it would be more of an I’m Currently Allowing My Mind to Examine the Possibility Of….blog.
Maybe for me it’s more nostalgia than homesickness. Sort of like the older people in our small town miss the hustle and bustle of the 1960′s around the town square. There are things I miss–singing A Capella mostly—, yet like you, I don’t want to go back. I don’t even really want to look back very much.
Nicki, Renae, and Angie: Thank you so much for your comments, but more, for being around the campfire with me – in the wilderness – and in the vast beauty of unrestrained faith. I appreciate you.
What I do miss:
Community. Sisterhood. Communion. Playing hymns. Studying theology. The feeling of sacred space in a sanctuary.
What I don’t miss:
Never completely being on the same page, even though we said the same words and expressed the same beliefs.
Not measuring up to the sisterhood. Ever.
The wrongheaded notions and practices that were the baggage of Communion.
The often-noxious lyrics of hymns, and their unmistakable purpose of hypnosis, manipulation, and propaganda.
Coming home from church gatherings worn out from herding and managing babies; from rushing to get everyone ready; from staying too long; just from being in a crowd—coming home and feeling as if I’d been beaten up from the inside.
All that block-headed, stubborn, blinders-on Certainty, my own included. My own especially.
Patriarchy. Haven’t had a chance to miss it. Still married to one. Oy.
The incessant burden of judging.
Long denim dresses. Burned the last one several years ago, hallelujah!
Where’s the like button? VERY, VERY well said.
Yes, Lori. Our lists would be nearly mirror-images of one another. So much beauty in the midst of such a mess. Like life. The challenge? To hold on to the beauty, the longing (as Renae speaks to), the desire, and even worship while simultaneously we let go of the harm, the misunderstanding, the agenda, the blindness, the judging – and of course, the denim dresses. ‘Never had one of those, but felt slightly nauseous at the thought/memory. ‘Appreciate you stating boldly, truth-fully what you have. ‘Appreciate you being here – as always.
This has me thinking very hard this morning! I doubt that I’m going to express my thoughts very well (not enough caffeine yet!)
Tho I didn’t grow up in the RC church (we occasionally attended others as a child), I chose it as an adult to try to fill a gap that I felt after my son was born. There were (still are) so many questions that I have. Most were unanswered until I gathered around this campfire over the past year. The gap is slowly being filled.
I do miss the gathering that I came to know and sometimes go to be “in the sanctuary”, but I’m relieved also because I’ve never felt “part of it”; always an outsider, a questioning eyebrow from others as I walked in. However, here, in spaces like this, I am “home”. The sanctuary, the warmth of the fire soothes my questions and eases my fear.
Thank you!
Shawna Cevraini´s last [type] ..Nearsighted
Different faith tradition, Shawna, but still so many heartbreaking similarities. The reality of being an outsider or experiencing a “questioning eyebrow” drives me nearly insane with frustration as it is so totally antithetical to what the church/religion/theology/spirituality is ultimately about: belonging, acceptance, and yes, “home.” I’m grateful for your honesty and awareness of both loss and desire. Both significant. Both part and parcel with life. Both calling us to deeper truth, authenticity, and hope.
It has been several years since I’ve been a part of any formal spiritual community (which consisted of Baptist and Pentecostal churches ages 0-20, pagan circles ages 21-25, and a tiny church for mystics in my early 30′s). All of these eventually disappointed me in significant ways and I’ve been unable to find anything suitable since, but I very much feel homesick.
I miss the experience of sharing the spiritual journey and celebrating our faith together. I miss creating sacred space and ritual practices with others.
And this is why I am considering starting my own spiritual community with those I know who share my hunger but who also have no home. Not a church. More like a study group with ritual. My vision is that we will craft our rituals together based on our common beliefs, teach each other about the spiritual practices and tools that work for us, and hold space for the unfolding of each other’s journeys. I’ve been sowing seeds with conversations and am drafting an invitation for the first meeting. We’ll see what happens.
April´s last [type] ..Needs
So beautiful, April. I’ve wondered about the same from time to time – creating/shaping/inviting community around faith and ritual. But I have my own hesitations, fears, and hang-ups about such, as well. I’d love to hear more about what you’re thinking of, how those conversations are going, how you envision inviting others in, etc. Fascinating. Meaningful. And yes, beautiful. Thanks for sharing this…
April, I like the idea of “a study group with ritual.” I had a study group that met at my house every week. We happened to choose Mondays to meet, so, in a feisty and silly sort of mood, I dubbed us “Second-Day Scholars.” That would be the 2DS group, in other words, which allowed me to say we were the “studious 2DS group” (“studious two-dee-ess group”). I was never able to talk them into ritual, however. Now if you and I were neighbors …. hmmm.
Bonnie Jacobs´s last [type] ..My newest books
Really liked this.
I often think I’m missing out. I many times wonder if my kids are missing out. And then I dip a toe in, feel like everyone is dressed one way, and we didn’t get the memo. Then I realize we can better practice our “faith” in the backyard, fishing a creek, or swinging at the park.
It’s such a thin line, Jesse, isn’t it? The feeling of missing out names that there is some ache, some gap, some hunger – for what, we often don’t know. And the practice of “faith” in the backyard names that we are right in the thick of beauty, life, and even the divine in the day-to-day moments of our lives. It’s this now-and-not-yet sort of space that can both frustrate and compel (sometimes in the very same moment).
Bottom line, for me at least, all things spiritual grounds themselves in relationship – in conversation – in “people” spaces that remind me that I’m already home and pique my hunger for even more. Whether in church or the backyard, that’s what I want…and sadly, too often, have not found in the former. I’m with ya’ in the latter, for sure!
Ronna,
This from your response – “all things spiritual grounds themselves in relationship – in conversation – in “people” spaces” – absolutely clicked with me. Clicked, as in sent chills.
That is an absolute truth.
Thank you.
Mmmm, I’m so glad, Jesse. Thanks for saying so.
I am always encouraged and emotionally uplifted when I read such sharing as this article Ronna; I too enjoyed church whenthere was not so much blasphamy goiong on in the walls of the church. I too love the old hymns and I grasp hold of the simple truths in God’s word that he shares with us, and I love the spirit within and the inner conncetion to something greater then HUMANNESS most days. I sure can relate to being homesick but as many have shared here in the posting I too will NOT go back and cannot go back “HOME”.
Be Blessed
Always
Barbarie
Thanks, Barbarie. ‘Appreciate your story in the midst of my own.
Ronna, I have reviewed two of Barbara Brown Taylor’s books:
Leaving Church: http://bonniesbooks.blogspot.com/2007/06/leaving-church-memoir-of-faith_26.html
and
An Altar in the World: http://bonniesbooks.blogspot.com/2009/09/altar-in-world-by-barbara-brown-taylor.html
Or you can read all the times I have mentioned her or quoted her:
http://bonniesbooks.blogspot.com/search?q=Barbara+Brown+Taylor
Bonnie Jacobs´s last [type] ..My newest books
Thanks, Bonnie. She is an incredible writer/preacher. I have a couple of her other books, as well; compilations of her sermons. She was one of the first woman preachers I heard who invited me into new and redemptive realms of both theology and a woman’s voice. Profound. Beautiful. Significant.
Ah Ronna. I’m reading Altar in the World right now by Ms. Taylor and finding it stunningly beautiful. It is on loan from the library but I will be buying it.I recommend to anyone who struggles with staying connected to their spirit. It is earthy, sensual, smart, funny and I’ve cried more than I can say.
Everything she writes is beautiful. I’ll look for this one, Kelly. Thanks for the recommendation! Earthy. Sensual. Smart. Funny. And tears? What could be better?
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