Why Don't People Take Their Coats Off In Church?

Last winter I noticed something when I went to church.

I noticed it because I became acutely aware of people looking at me.

It happened when I arrived and entered my pew.  I'd walk in to my favorite spot on the pew (don't we all have that?!)  and would take off  my gloves and hat, my backpack or bag, then unwrap my scarf and fold it, then, finally, my coat, being careful to fold it just right so that it sat on the pew next to me.

It was my usual pattern. Until one day, as I was going through the motions, I noticed that everyone around me was watching me.  I thought maybe I was being loud.  But I knew I was very careful to not intrude upon the stillness of the space.  In fact, when I'd purchased a new winter coat that year, I'd intentionally avoided one with a shell that was loud and made lots of 'rustly' noise.

But as I looked around at my fellow parishoners, I suddenly became very self-conscious to the fact that I was one of but a few people who had taken their coat off.  In fact, at communion time, I observed that less than 20% of us had taken our coats off even when coming up for communion.

Why?

I suppose there are some common sense reasons:

• theft
• takes up space in the pew
• temperature of the church

Yet the building was fairly warm and nothing a sweater couldn't handle.  And in all my years at the Parish I'd never heard of a coat being stolen.  Yes, my coat did take up another seat in the pew (had their been someone who wanted to sit next to me), but you can always sit on your coat, so...?

Keeping your coat on in Church makes you seem like you're on your way somewhere else.  I can't imagine keeping my coat on in church, and yet, I think that's where my Protestant roots influence me to this day.  In the Methodist Church, which I attended during my elementary school years, there were coat racks in the church hall, where you left your coat during services.  It's also where you returned after services, to join other congregants for coffee and fellowship.  Catholics don't seem to have a big tradition of that - certainly not in my Parish.

For me, church is home.  When I go, I want to sit down with God, my fellow parishioners, and spend an hour in song and prayer and reflection and communion.  I want to stay and be comfortable.  I want to be present mind, body and spirit.  Keeping my coat on would feel like I had one foot out the door and on the way to the next activity.

So I'll keep taking my coat off in church.  And perhaps those who chose not to will wonder why.

Ayeka - where are you?

As the Jewish Holidays draw near, I reflect on Rabbi Klienbaum's drash @CBST from a couple of years ago.

Simply put, she challenged us to look into God's question to Adam: "ayeka?" - "where are you?"

Marc Gellman (Where Are You, Adam? http://www.firstthings.com/article/1996/05/003-where-are-you-adam) writes that in this season of Ayeka we are asked to:

• render a spiritual accounting not of our careers, but of our compassion;
• not of our wealth, but of our wisdom;
• not of our gains, but of our gifts;
• not of our physical fitness, but of the fitness of our souls.

Where am I?  Where are you?

L'shanah tovah tikatevu

Transitions: Back to Work!

After a long break, I began a new full-time job this week.  Although I maintained a lot of structure and schedule to life while I was home, the transition has required everything from figuring out the wardrobe (it's NYC, so black is it), the shoes, the bag to carry, where the Metrocard is, which trains to take, when to leave the house, etc.

I'd forgotten how exciting it could be to work in Manhattan, particularly work in a very active part of the island.  The last job kept me in the Wall Street / Broadway canyons. While it could get busy and had its share of tourists, it never quite felt exciting.

The Chrysler Building
from 41st Street

Now I'm on 42nd Street:  a block from the Chrysler Building, two blocks from Grand Central Station, 3 (in the opposite direction) from the U.N. Friday afternoon, a huge parade of protesters made its way down 42nd Street, past our building...drums, chants, whistles, and lots of literature being passed on.  Did you know that "There are 200 million fewer Chinese Communists"?  Busy, busy, busy.  True NYC hustle 'n bustle.  LOVE IT!

I found myself channeling "Sweetness" (aka Walter Payton) as I dodged, wove, hustled, twisted, and broke through the crowds to make my way across town to the office.  I've discovered the banks, drug stores, salad bars, restaurants, gardens/outdoor plaza's, and a sundry stores and markets, all within a few blocks.

In the mornings, I've explored a variety of ways getting to the office, working to find the most efficient pathway.  So far I have it down to 50 minutes, door-to-door, but know I can shave a few more minutes off of that time.  In the evenings, I explored the plethora of pedestrian tunnels and underground passages to make my way to any number of train choices.  That'll come in handy on bad weather days and days I just don't want to deal with above ground crowds.

I will definitely miss the routine of the last few month:  Mass in the morning, job hunting, volunteer work, long walks in the afternoon, cooking dinner.  But right now, I'm welcoming the routine of the new job.  It's a welcomed transition.

Faith Grows Old With Us

The Communal Penance Service was tonight.

I'm always left feeling deeply touched and slightly surprised when I see older people participating: writing their confession on a slip of paper to take to the Priest, asking for absolution, then adding their paper to the communal urn where it will be burned at the end of the service.

I'm surprised because I believe older people have it all figured out and live life completely, divinely: well past the transgressions of youth.  I suppose that's what I want to believe.  I must admit, I've met one or two older people who don't fit that description - far from it!

Perhaps it's my hope that the years will leave me wiser and more certain, having made my mistakes early and not doomed to repeat any.  Wishful thinking, I suppose.

When I see older people making confession, my heart is touched.  I'm reminded that life is a process and we are never fully complete.  We must keep reaching out and asking forgiveness.  We must keep trying hard to live our lives as loving, faithful people.

Faith grows old with us.  How surprisingly touching.

I Should Have...Trusted God

And then it happens.  Something bad happens to someone we love.

We knew "something was wrong".  We saw it...or felt it...or supposed it.

But we set it aside, hoping for the best, assuming it was all "nothing".

And then the reality hits.  It is something.

It is bad news: It is...[fill in the blank]

And then we pile on the "should have's" -

I should have... known.

I should have made her/him __________.

I should have... asked.

I should have... pushed.

"Should have's" allow us to appoint guilt and ownership - to ourselves.  

"Should have's" allow us to take a situation and place it squarely in our control.  But it isn't.

For a long time I blamed myself for my mom dying.  And I did it again with my dad.

I should have...paid more attention.  I should have...said something.

But, over time, I've learned that when it comes to something bad happening to someone else - It's not ours to control.  

We waste time with guilt and "should have's".  With blame and control.

So, if something bad happens to someone you love - focus on the moment.

Focus on being present.  Regardless of what that means in terms of time on the clock or on the calendar.  Release the guilt and control.

When we stay in the present, in the moment...that is where we need to be.

God, the Universe, chose the path.  We have to walk it.

No "should have's".  Only present, in the moment.

How Loud Do Our Prayers Need To Be?

My church has a Sunday nite Mass during which we're invited to share our prayer intentions with the whole congregation during the Prayer of the Faithful.  For those non-Catholics, that means that in addition to the Priest reading off a list of prayer intentions, he takes the microphone and walks down the aisle and invites people to come out of the pews to share their own, personal intentions.

Over the weeks, I've noticed something.  When prayers are offered up for countries, conflicts, people and places far removed from our parish community, the people respond faithfully, but somewhat dispassionately, "Lord, hear our prayer".

But when one of our own prays for one of their own - a father/mother, aunt/uncle, sibling, cousin, best friend, neighbor - there is an infusion of energy and commitment to "Lord, hear our prayer".  Even if we personally do no know an individual offered up in prayer, our connection with the congregant sitting with us is enough to bring passion into our response.  Our voices get louder.  We stand up a bit taller.

So it got me wondering....Does it make a difference to God which prayers we say with more conviction?  What happens to the prayers we acknowledge out of obligation but whose issues, locations, politics seem far away from our own?  The ones to which we respond in almost hushed voice.

Are we loud enough when in comes to offering up poverty, war, terrorism, crime, natural disasters, famine, genocide...?

How can our prayers become as passionate about those issues, as they are about the ones closest to our own homes and hearts?

Life is Like an Ant Farm...or Maybe a Rabbit Hole

At least some days it feels like it - to me.  It's the experience of living in a tight, well-constructed little world in which I'm running hither and yon, only to end up in the same place I started.

But more than that, I often feel like I am doing it all at the amusement of God / Great Creator.  In fact, I feel pretty certain that the Ant Farm I live in actually sits on his desk, where S/He derives great pleasure from watching my frenzied little self.


This past month, however, I felt more like I fell down the rabbit hole.  Within a period of four weeks, multiple people from my past, the majority of whom I had not seen in over two years, suddenly reappeared.  Well...let me clarify that (since it sounds like Scotty beamed them all up in my living room one morning).

I've stayed in touch with many of these folks via phone, text and emails.  But it's been years since I've spent a couple of days with them sitting together in conversation, enjoying a meal together.

Thanks to a combination of holiday visits and a national conference, I had the opportunity to reacquaint myself with a number of people with whom I've known for many years.  It was disorienting...and embarrassing.

THEN                                                                                           NOW
=====                                                                                         + 30 lbs
Director in a Nat'l Organization                                         Unemployed
Leading                                                                                      Looking
$$$                                                                                                       -$
Confident                                                                                 Uncertain

Thank goodness for good people, though.  They didn't bat an eye and treated me like we'd just spent time together last week.  It made me miss them all the more when it came time to say goodbye.
Not to mention the fact that I'm back in the Ant Farm....