That One Time I Cried in Church

(Disclaimer: This article details only one time I cried in church.  I cry frequently in church.  I’m a big baby.)

 Before I explain myself, here’s a few family updates:

·         We had a busy but relaxing summer.  We stayed on campus at Nashotah, which was quiet since the seniors moved out and many other students were traveling for the summer.  TJ finished his first year in seminary with all A’s (yay!!!).  He chose to take a week-long summer course in July, and worked on campus with the maintenance department painting the apartment buildings.  He also worked at Camp Webb, which is a diocese-wide youth summer camp near Lake Geneva WI, and spent some time at New Camaldoli Hermitage in Big Sur, CA.  He will be writing on his summer experiences soon!

 

·         My summer hours at the studio were scaled back considerably, so I had lots of time to spend with TJ and Jason over the last few months.  We still have so much to explore in our new home, so we took advantage of the beautiful summer weather and visited several beaches nearby:

 

We took a few trips to MO, and also spent a few days in Minneapolis, MN in early July:

 (who do you think had more fun at the Lego store?)

 

·         Jason has grown and changed so much this semester.  TJ and I are always remarking on how he’s suddenly gotten bigger and smarter.  He’s also developing a really hilarious personality, which constantly keeps us entertained.

 

 As I mentioned, we took a family trip to Minneapolis this summer (once I found out that the Mall of America was only a quick 5 hour drive from us, I requested demanded that we make a trip).  Neither of us had been there before, and we had so much fun discovering a new city together. 

While we were there, TJ mentioned that he would like to visit St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral in downtown Minneapolis.  We pulled up to a beautiful, large building set on a hill overlooking the city.  TJ quickly disappeared into the cathedral bookstore, staffed by two sweet women who were more than happy to help him dig through their inventory to find a certain book he was looking for.  I wandered out to the lobby of the cathedral and passed a woman wearing a colorful skirt, plain shirt, and clerical collar.  Behind the glass windows of the office, I could see a cluster of young people deep in discussion.  Different flyers decorated the window, advertising everything from the next cathedral-wide chili cook-off to the block party the cathedral was hosting after the city’s gay pride parade.  Down the hall, there was a wall with photographs of the entire cathedral staff – a mix of men and women, young and old, ordained and lay. 

One of the ladies from the bookstore wanted to make sure we saw the beautiful cathedral sanctuary.  She led us up the stairs and through an expansive art gallery, which displayed religious and secular art.  We entered the sanctuary near the front altar, and she walked us to the center aisle as she pointed out the stained glass, the sculptures, the chapels, and the nods to the Minnesotan Native American culture.  As she left the room so we could look around, I couldn’t help but notice how silent the huge, towering space was.  We were alone, but it didn’t feel like it.  And – of course – I started crying. 

 

 (sanctuary at St. Mark's Cathedral)

The Episcopal church is so new to me.  I still have so much to learn and experience.  But in the cathedral that day, I was struck by what felt like the crashing together of so many different things into this one beautiful thing.  Maybe people who grew up in the Episcopal church aren’t fazed by women walking around in collars, or the casual mention of one’s sexual orientation, or the high regard for secular art, etc.  Watching all of these things exist together so easily in this holy space was incredible.  To me, this was church.  This was my faith.  This was something I had been searching for for a long time. 

It’s so easy to go through the motions when it comes to our faith.  It’s so easy to belong to a tradition where everything is comfortable and we don’t feel challenged or moved.  In this new phase of life, I find myself discovering so many new things about the church – and I actually want to learn more.  God has challenged me to move outside of the black-and-white comfort zone, and explore a wider picture of His church.  In the cathedral that day, I began to see that picture take shape.  And I can’t wait to discover more.

 As we took one last look and began to leave, I didn’t notice someone else slip in near the altar and sit behind the organ.  We were only a few steps down the hall when we heard the massive, loud organ come to life.  Be Thou My Vision.  One of my favorites.  I turned around and went back to the sanctuary, standing right next to the wall that housed the organ pipes.  It was so loud and so beautiful.  And I cried again.