The Sunday of Love

Advent IV~ She's there just the same!

Deep beneath the surface
Of the cold, hard ground
I feel the stirring
Of the Sweetest Sound
Rises up through the trees
Calls the birds all around
‘Tis the Sunday, the Sunday of Love!

In the sanctuary
If they forget Her Name
Or strike Her image
She’s there just the same
In the peace lilies
And the candle’s bright flame
‘Tis the Sunday, the Sunday of Love!

‘Neath my own life’s surface
Stirs Her “Let it be”
Magnificat singing
That I might agree
Rising up through my soul
Justice sounds Her decree
‘Tis the Sunday, the Sunday of Love!

Yes, I do believe the Buddha approves this message. ;-)

I have had a tenuous relationship with church affiliation and attendance since feeling moved to step away from a parish that I called home and where I served for over a decade. In all honesty, the relationship has been intermittently tenuous all my life, but much more challenging as I have gotten older and have begun questioning more and more; and the Christian landscape in America has changed in ways that my soul cannot abide. But there's a part of me that since childhood has truly loved being in church. It probably goes back to the fact that within the context of a tumultuous home life in childhood, my little soul and body genuinely found sanctuary in the sacred space of the beautiful church that was affiliated with the Catholic school I attended in Baltimore. The Shrine of the Sacred Heart in the Village of Mt. Washington was, and is, a uniquely beautiful place, in terms of architecture and spirit. This is the church where I met and grew to love my Dearest Mother Mary and learned to pray the Rosary and recite the Magnificat. 
Sadly, although the parish is vibrant, morally healthy, and financially self sustaining, due to the effects of systemic injustice and harm and its financial ramifications in the diocese, Sacred Heart has been listed as one of Catholic churches being closed in Baltimore. This Christmas Day Mass is set to be the last service in that beautiful space where I made my First Holy Communion exactly 50 years ago. Although I understand how and why this is happening, it still saddens me deeply. It almost feels like the experience of my cancer surgery. Along with the actual cancer, which was relatively small, a comparatively large amount of healthy organs and tissue had to be removed. There's something about it that seems unjust, even though I understand the reason behind it. 
Another church that meant a great deal to me, the parish I mentioned where I attended and served until 2014, is presently undergoing a controversial construction project which has begun with the destruction of parts of a beloved historic building, which is also threatening the life of a magnificent tree on the property. Last weekend, two of my children and I walked past the church to get to a coffee shop, and were startled by the sight of the partly demolished church which had been an important part of our lives during difficult times. Though we haven't been a part of that community in more than a decade now, the building itself had been a dear friend to us, and it was upsetting to see that old friend in such a condition; knowing she will never be the same. It has felt strange to me in ways I can't quite explain to have two churches that meant so much to me simultaneously experiencing profound crisis. I know that ultimately "The Church" is made up of the people, but it's my experience that Sacred Spaces have a sort of soul of their own, saturated as they are with the deepest prayers, pains, and joys of thousands of people over time. All such places are haunted in the best possible ways. 

I am taking the long way 'round here, because that's how I roll...kindly bear with me. 

After leaving that beautiful historic church here in the town where I live, I began feeling that nagging tug in my heart to go to church somewhere. There was a little church close to where I lived at the time that I felt drawn to. The building was humble and inviting, with a stone Celtic cross in front and a lovely green hill behind. I decided to visit. The pastor seemed kind and I very much liked the physical space of the church and grounds. I was invited to sing at a few services, but I soon learned that it was definitely not for me. There was a hyper patriarchal tone that boggled my mind having just spent a total of about 20 years in the Episcopal church, which respects and ordains women. The only women allowed on the altar in this little church were the ones cleaning it. Other issues also became glaringly apparent. 
The last time I visited the church was on the fourth Sunday of Advent. 
Ah ha! She's finally getting to the point! 
 In spite of the lectionary that day featuring Mary's Magnificat, everything to do with Her was excluded in a way which felt intentional. It seemed that every possible sign of anything Feminine was eradicated. I felt disappointed and disturbed to be in a church where She was not welcome...even on The Sunday of Love...Her Sunday! Then, just as I was considering walking out, I felt Her Love, Her Courage, Her Justice, rising up from within me. Regardless of all the trouble these men had gone through to keep Her out, to silence Her, She was still there. Nevertheless She persisted! 
Today's poem was written in the car on the parking lot of the church immediately following that service. Thankfully, today I will be celebrating The Sunday of Love with a community where She and Her declaration of Justice are welcome. Maybe that is why I feel welcome at St. Mary's and can once again call a church, home. 

Deepest Blessings of Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love
 to You and All You Hold in Your Heart, 
~Cheryl Anne