Thursday, October 07, 2004

What will become of us?

I don't know whether or not I can continue belonging to the Christian church. What's happening in the Anglican Communion is hitting too close to home these days; it's too difficult to invest your heart so deeply in something, and then to watch it all torn to pieces before your eyes.

I've been thinking seriously lately about converting to Catholicism. I want to be able to go to mass every day, and it's difficult to do this in the Episcopal Church. And the never-ending chaos in ECUSA is wearing on a person. I've been thinking, too, for awhile now, that Episcopalians are just too smart for their own good. They don't know how to do the simple thing - to enjoy life, to enjoy God and religious belief, to simply have faith. This is one source of the chaos, and it's why I sometimes feel alienated from the church as well. My experiences in A.A. have made things stark and plain to me: I've put my faith in a Power Greater Than Myself, and that's the end of it. If I want to stay alive, and to stay sane, I simply do this, without question.

But I can't be a Catholic, for reasons that Andrew Sullivan laid out so clearly. And for other reasons as well. I may at some point reconsider this, but for now I just can't go there. I just want to go to church to worship God, to receive the Sacrament, and to find some peace and comfort in this harsh world. I'm a religious person now, and I'm finding that ECUSA is not a strong anchor for me.

So, what, then? What will religion become? I've been writing some stories lately - near-future SF - trying to work out this question. I believe that religion still has a place; that it might, in fact, be more necessary than ever as human life goes more and more techno. But right now, I wonder if Christianity will be able to survive; I mean, if it can't deal with homosexuality - an utterly harmless thing, after all! - how will it cope with Futureworld?

I'm depressed, today, I know. Maybe I will feel differently tomorrow. I will go to St. Thomas this Sunday, or to Resurrection, and enjoy the music and the ritual and the incense and the colors and the prayers. Maybe I shouldn't think any further ahead than this. If I can continue this blog, and my religious life, I will. If not, not. That's how things go.

Right now, I think I'll just post the words to "The Holly and the Ivy," which we are singing later this year. They struck me as perfectly gorgeous, and a wonderful illustration of what Christianity can be, when it's showing its good face. It can make blessed the world, and the ordinary human life; it can shine pure light on them, making them sweet and holy and beautiful. It can show precisely why life is eminently worth living:

The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown
Of all the trees that are in the wood
The holly bears the crown

O the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The playing of the merry organ
Sweet singing of the choir


The holly bears a blossom
As white as lily flower
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To be our sweet Saviour

O the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The playing of the merry organ
Sweet singing of the choir


The holly bears a berry
As red as any blood
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To do poor sinners good

O the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The playing of the merry organ
Sweet singing of the choir


The holly bears a prickle
As sharp as any thorn;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
On Christmas Day in the morn.

O the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The playing of the merry organ
Sweet singing of the choir


The holly bears a bark
As bitter as any gall;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to redeem us all.

O the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The playing of the merry organ
Sweet singing of the choir


The holly and the ivy
Now both are full well grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.

O the rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The playing of the merry organ
Sweet singing of the choir




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