The Blood of. . . . a Dangerous Slip? Sober Living in the World of Church

Why am I writing about my adventures with alcohol in the World of Church? Thank my beloved gal pal and sister in Christ, Fran Rossi Szpylczyn. 

Over on Facebook, Fran managed to generate comments on my post about GF Eucharist. Among them a well-meaning suggestion from someone about receiving only from the cup as a work-around to wheat-laced hosts. 

Uh, no.

Offering wine as the only option for Communion screws with people in recovery. Intinction ("what's the harm of a little dipping?") also screws with people in recovery. 

Even if you really truly believe that wine has really and truly substantially turned into the Sacred Precious Blood of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ during the consecration, offering wine Sacred Precious Blood screws with people in recovery, especially those not in recovery long enough to know that even a whiff of blood wine could trigger a slip or full-blown bender. It also screws with those in recovery long enough to know all this.

(Thank me for not going on about church folk who should be in recovery. Legion.)

In the World of Church there's a universal code for "I'm not receiving the cup." It's standing with your arms crossed across your chest. Sometimes the instruction to do this appears in the bulletin or worship booklet; sometimes it's announced by the celebrant. In any event, it's universally recognized across denominations as meaning, "Go ahead and bless me but don't hand me the cup." 

Universally recognized. Except when it isn't. I, of course, have a personal story about this.

At the time I'd already put together well over ten years of continuous recovery. I'd even published a book with Hazelden about Twelve-Step recovery. While there was no way I'd receive from the cup, I wasn't unilaterally opposed to serving from it as a eucharistic minister. 

On mornings when I really didn't need to be smelling wine -- especially the cheap stuff bought in bulk by the parish -- I'd quietly ask the celebrant or deacon to let me distribute the host. A couple of times I turned to the EMOC next to me and say, "Please may we swap?" Never a problem.

So imagine my utter disgust with the 40-something priest who kept offering me the cup. This guy just couldn't or wouldn't get with the program -- pun intended. 

Father Passive Aggressive would offer me the cup even after I reminded him not to. He'd offer it to me even as I stood at the altar with my arms crossed. He'd offer it to me even if I stood, arms crossed, one marble step down from other eucharistic ministers. He kept offering it to me until the bright Sunday morning when I finally hissed through clenched teeth, "Get. That. Thing. Away. From. Me." 

Protestants get this right by offering grape juice as an option, although I don't receive that either, mostly because Crest Whitestrips are pricey.

And yes, I receive Communion at Protestant churches. As someone raised Jewish and baptized, I consider my sacred right and privilege to receive anywhere, everywhere, and anytime  Repeat after me: "We believe in one baptism for the forgiveness of sins....We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic church."

Last but certainly not least, buy my book. I'm sure you know someone in the World of Church who needs to sober up from something. Relative to that, stay tuned for my forthcoming post about binge-watching stuff on Netflix.

Friday (Final) Stop on the Blog Tour for Getting #Married

Whew, it's Friday! And this week's virtual book tour has featured interviews all over the blogosphere. Today's interview about Getting #Married: Using Social Media to Celebrate the Sacred is on the New Media Project's blog. You can read it here.

Another set of great and different questions, including one about what benefits I'd hoped to gain by using social media so extensively. But my favorite question from these folks was this: "Did you use social media on your honeymoon, too?"

Read the interview to find out my answer!

Getting tired of the shameless self-promotion of my new book? Hang in there! Back to regular blogging -- whatever the h-e-double hockey stix that is -- next week. Just be grateful I'm not an NPR station bombarding you with pleas for money every 15 minutes!

Wedding: Ring Thing

Did I want an engagement ring? No, I absolutely did not. Waste of money. Outward visible sign of impending servitude. Am I referring to this engagement for this marriage? No, I am not.

That scenario, hauled out of the memory banks, is from my first marriage. That would be the marriage I had while also teaching Sociology of the Family, Women and Men in Society, Sexuality and Society, and Social Theory in a Sociology department, as well as a fine course on Rabble Rousing 101 over at Women's Studies. Ah, fond memories of stomping up 6th Avenue (NYC), fist-in-air, chanting, "Two, four, six, eight...smash the family, church and state."

If God could throw a holy lung laughing, God is throwing a holy lung laughing as I now prepare to marry an Episcopal priest. And wear an engagement ring that was once his mother's.

Oh wait...it gets even more preciously ironic. I was moved to tears when Dan asked if I would "be okay with" wearing his mother's engagement ring.

Now, lest you think I've gone completely off the rails, I will mention that I did take the engagement ring to my jeweler to have the stone lowered ("it's too prongy") and sized. By the 21st century, I realized that I could retain several cherished political views and have a diamond ring. Another revelation: I could buy my own diamond ring, which is exactly what I did to celebrate my 50th birthday and at five year intervals thereafter.

Sometimes I stack my engagement ring on top of the other bling, but often I do not. I like looking at it solo on my left ring finger and not because it's so pretty -- which it certainly is -- but because of what it symbolizes.

It's 2011 and at this point in my life, this engagement ring serves as an outward visible sign of our commitment to enter into the sacrament of holy matrimony. No shortage of mystery and miracle in my life, that's for sure.

Wedding: Marriage Prep Begins

We begin our first of six marriage prep sessions this Wednesday and I think I'd rather be playing pinochle with the ladies. Despite my enthusiastic burbling about the psych-spiritual value of this pre-marital inquiry, I have a list of topics that are none of the church's beeswax. 

Like what? NYBW, either.

It's stuff I'll be discussing with my fiancé, @RevWeb who, before he became an Episcopal priest, was a quasi-normal human being. Just the other day I said, "You know I'm not the least bit impressed with the fact that you're a priest, right?"  He got a big delighted and relieved grin on this face, thus underscoring yet another reason I love this guy.

RevWeb thinks we'll be talking about our individual and shared theology of marriage during these sessions. Really? Uh...okay, but haven't we already discussed that entre nous? We have to trot it out for ecclesial review?

Fine.

May as well go completely public with mine:

1. Hierarchy of Attention: God, me, you.  Unless I stay focused on God, there ain't no "me" worth marrying. Unless I stay true to me, I cannot fully love, honor, and cherish you.
2. Keep the Miracle at Cana Reversed: No matter what the circumstances, commit to drinking filthy foot-washing water if necessary. Marriage cannot thrive if anyone is drunk on wine or other alcoholic potables.
3. Micah 6:8: Act justly, love tenderly and walk humbly with God.

Can hardly wait to discuss the liturgy. I understand that's on the agenda for the sixth and final session. Maybe we'll get to fast forward  sooner rather than later?

Wedding: Pre-Cana Chazerai

In the Roman Catholic church, the process of discussing everything that should have been discussed way long before picking a wedding date is traditionally called the pre-Cana program. Some parishes call it the marriage preparation program; so does the Episcopal church (Canon 18). It's mandatory. Never mind that we've both been previously married and are members of AARP, @RevWeb and I will have to do this.

Normally, I go ape-crazy when up against mandatory requirements, but am willing to go along with this one. Over at Greg Kandra's blog, The Deacon's Bench, I recently explained why in a comment on his post about pre-Cana classes for older couples. Ever the Seeker, I welcome opportunities for greater awareness. Remember, I'm the one who found the Catholic marriage annulment process helpful and healing. Weird, I know.

Still, I confess to being a bit apprehensive about what we might be asked to discuss. I hope it's not stuff that's so irrelevant to our lives as to be über-absurd (e.g., family planning). 

Me? I'm interested in discussing possible points of conflict and confusion that might have an impact* on marital bliss. 

Like what? Oh, like whether "ecumenicism" is really a word or merely a post-2nd Vatican Council artifact.  Or, if Eucharist is always in its own category or might be legitimately discussed as part of liturgical theology. Or, whether General Tso's chicken is truly worth the subsequent bloat.  I don't think any Chinese food is ever worth the subsequent bloat.

* Note: "impact" not used as a verb.

Royal Wedding

Love this image by photographer Peter Macdiarmid/Getty Images which showed up on Vanity Fair by mid-morning. Love that bridesmaid Grace Van Cutsem (her real name) is not cropped out, as she has been in other versions of Macdiarmid's picture of Kate and William's first kiss.

I discovered this on Twitter where, in case you don't already know, I spend many of my waking hours and have darned good reasons for doing so. (See, e.g., @Virtual_Abbey and @HealthFaith).

Twitter is great for observing culture commentary emerging in real time. There was lots relative to the #RoyalWedding.*  Much was delightfully snarky but there was a lot of earnestly appalled and downright rude commentary from and among tweeps who consider themselves people of deep faith.

I get it. Really, I do. I get how the costly pomp of this royal wedding seems obscenely profligate considering the British economy, fights for liberation in the Middle East, and worldwide natural disasters of Biblical proportion.

But I also get the importance of celebrating joy and hope for new beginnings; of public sacraments; of pledges that invoke eternity while anchored in the corporeal.  These seem like fine things to observe, especially during this Easter season. Get it?

* The hashtag (#) is a tagging convention used in social media.

Does This Dress Make Me Look...Holy?

This morning's laugh-groan-laugh and h/t to A Concord Pastor Comments whose post about First Communion Dresses appeared on my screen before I'd yet eaten.

And thank God I'd not yet taken a sip of anything. It probably would've splattered onto my screen as I read about one British retailer's promise not to "...Sell The Same Dress To Another Child At The Same Mass" (capitalization in the original).

After zooming in on that solemn vow, I noticed the politically correct gender neutral language (i.e., "child") and amused myself briefly by pondering a slew of little boys dressed in drag before smacking myself upside the head. Then, I visited another site, swallowing several times while trying to digest this overwrought ad copy which reads, in part:

"Here is an ultimate gorgeous girlie First Communion dress with distinctive sheer swirly layered skirt that twist and twirls with movement that every little girl and parent will just fall in love with."

The sentence structure snagged my attention but not for long because I became quickly entranced by the word "girlie" and the notion that having a "distinctive sheer swirly layered skirt" might have anything to do with receiving -- and being nourished by -- first Eucharist. Concord Pastor, Fr. Austin Fleming, makes a similar observation.

I, however, offer this solution to the soul-shaking, identity-challenging problem of having a distinctive girlie dress on such a special blessed day: let them wear uniforms.

I'm thinking plaid, which would probably go well with the latest translation of the Roman Missal.

Meanwhile, here in Suburban Captivity. . .

Behold the glory across the street:

And what's happening
right in front of my hermitage:

Welcome to the We Plan, God Laughs Department

Did not plan to come home to this after
a glorious weekend away.
Nor did I plan to be moved by this.
Thanks a heap, God.

Now in Print: Why Is There a Menorah on the Altar? Jewish Roots of Christian Worship

In print at last! In print at last!
Thank God Almighty,
my new book is in print at last!

For a while, I thought I'd have a much better chance of seeing Jesus come again in glory, but a carton filled with printed copies of Why Is There a Menorah on the Altar? was at long last delivered by UPS earlier this week.

Of course, the snafus continue, latest one being Amazon.com's persistent belief that "this title has not yet been released." I've asked the publisher to look into it, as well as authorize (note ironic word use) the "Look in the Book" function. We'll see how long that takes, meanwhile I hope you will:

• order my book by clicking through to amazon.com from the Shelfari widget on this blog.

• post a favorable review directly on the amazon.com page for this book.

• encourage adult faith formation folks in your church to use my book as foundation for discussions about Judaism's enduring legacy. I wrote this book for Christians who worship at "high liturgy" churches.
  

• contact me directly (as someone already has) with your personal concerns about the ecumenical turn my work and life seem to be taking.
  

And now, I think I'll go sit on my front stoop to wait for Jesus and Elijah.

Messy Messiah, Fragments of Faith?

Had I been reading the newspaper on Christmas Day, I surely would have zeroed in on the New York Times article titled, "Bread of Life, Baked in Rhode Island."

But I wasn't reading the paper.

I was reading Isaiah (52:7-10) and Hebrews (1:1-6) from the ambo, trying not to fall asleep on my feet at key liturgical moments and then, staggering home to collapse on the couch.

Only direct experience ever seems to permeate the wall of thought around my consciousness. And so, I believe this year's felt sense of being an exhausted heap of protoplasm is a yet another message from God about my true vocation.

Days later I was awake enough to read about the company supplying 80% of the communion bread used by Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran and Southern Baptist churches in this country. It is, notes the NYT, "a seemingly recession-proof business." That's certainly one way to look at it. Clergy seem to view the Cavanagh Company's product line in different terms.

I've been thinking about this glowing endorsement from an Episcopal priest: "It doesn't crumb, and I don't like fragments of our Lord scattering all over the floor." God only knows what this priest's bishop said after that quote was published.

After pondering the image of Jesus as Mess rather than Messiah, I've come around to thinking that we could probably benefit from having fragments of our Lord scattered more liberally -- more messily -- throughout our lives. Yes, I realize that "all over the floor" seems sacrilegious. And yet in my experience, people tend to look down rather than up; why not meet them there?

Seeing Christ in everyone, maybe...

I can explain the loud explosion followed by the sound of a moist splat this morning at approximately 11:00 AM Eastern Time. That was the sound of my brain exploding out of my skull when I read what John L. Allen reported from the Synod of Bishops in Rome.

The pressure started to build as I read Bishop Salvatore Fisichella's comments about Christianity being a "religion of the Word" as opposed to a "religion of the Book." And then, instead of switching screens to feed my virtual goldfish, I kept reading down to the very last bullet point wherein Bishop Filippo Santoro of Brazil is reported as having raised the "issue" of Extraordinary Ministers of the Eucharist. Here's what he has to say about us:

"by themselves, and in themselves, [they] do not arouse an encounter with Christ, [but rather] can end up exacerbating the bureaucratization of the church."

Oh really? So much for seeing Christ in one another. I guess this means holding and distributing the Eucharist doesn't count either. Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison.

Catholic Karaoke

Having arrived at the 12:10 Mass as the opening antiphon is ending, I slide into the nearest pew instead of scanning the church. I'll have more to say about church seating maneuvers in another post. This post is about the octogenarian seated in front of me. Feature this: The senior citizen seated in front of me is lip-syncing the entire liturgy.

I notice this especially after the Liturgy of the Word is completed and the Liturgy of the Eucharist begins. Yep, no doubt about it. She is not praying the Rosary. She is lip-syncing the entire liturgy. Entire. Liturgy. All the words. In order. Along with the septuagenarian priest.

Try as I might, I cannot place my thoughts elsewhere. I think, "Good thing you're not getting captured on hidden video in the Archdiocese of St. Louis."

So at this point during Mass, as is often the case for many Catholics except I write about it, I'm struggling to pay attention. But hey, at least I am not getting all distracted by screaming infants. No, I am getting all distracted by thoughts about Church history, in part because I'm currently reading Women in Christianity by Hans Küng. I figure I'll get back in line -- so to speak -- when it's time to receive Communion.

It's time to receive Communion. I go up. She stays put and I think, "Wow! Are you excommunicating yourself for lip-syncing the consecration?" I'm dying to ask her -- an idiom I don't at all mind using given my belief in the Risen Lord. Instead, I decide to mind my own beeswax, especially on this feast day for the patron saint of beekeepers.

After the dismissal (which she lip-syncs) she turns to me and asks, "Why weren't you the lector today?" I tell her I wasn't on the schedule and ask, "Why didn't you receive Communion?" She tells me why. By now our hands are clasped together. Christ is present. I decide not to ask her about the Catholic karaoke thing...just yet.

I Confess

I was given two "Our Fathers" and two "Hail Marys" for penance earlier today. That's right, I went to Confession today on sort of my own volition. I say "sort of" because it wasn't a Saturday afternoon, Lent is long over and it's not even close to Advent.

But something in the homily during today's noon Mass inspired me to ask the (visiting) priest if he had time to hear my Confession, so according to my calculations:

Something + Sort Of = Holy Spirit

At some point, I'll probably write about my latest Confession. It was interesting in the way it always is when I let the Holy Spirit call me to reconciliation. Right now I'm fixated on whether there's a statute of limitations on completing this penance.

Was I supposed to say these prayers before leaving church and driving over to DSW Shoe Warehouse where I finally found canvas Keds sneakers in my size? Was I supposed to complete them before watching episodes five through eight from the third season of "Desperate Housewives" while scarfing down sugar free chocolate pudding made with Lactaid milk? Well, I didn't.

I'm waiting for something to sort of reveal the right time and place. Veni, Sancte Spiritus.

Scenes From an Ordination

As grace and early arrival would have it, I happened to grab an aisle seat at this morning's Ordination. Not only that, but my friend ended up next to me when it was time for him and eight other ordinandi to hit the cathedral floor. With very little effort, I could have knelt down to whisper, "May the Lord bless you and keep you." I didn't, of course, opting instead to silently pray this and the rest of Numbers 6:24-26 before joining the ongoing chant.

It may be a while before we discuss what it was like for him to be prostrate for the five minutes it took to chant the Litany of Supplication. Fine by me. I'm still processing the experience of my second ordination. During the rites, I was aware of being distracted by my internal conversation. The abbreviated version went something like this:

Me: "So just because of that scripture passage Catholics think only men should be deacons?"

Me again: "Oh relax, you already get to do most of this stuff without promising to obey the bishop and all his successors."

Me again: "Good Lord, who chose that music?"

Me again: "Oh relax, it's supposed to be prayer not performance."

None of this intrapsychic hoo-hah stopped me from tearing up during the Laying on of Hands, smiling during the Vesting with Stole and Dalmatic, and hearing what the Bishop said while placing the Book of Gospels into the hands of each newly-vested deacon:

Receive the Gospel of Jesus Christ,
whose herald you have become.
Believe what you read,
teach what you believe, and
practice what you teach.

Me again: "See? This is something we're all called to do."

I know this is true. Still, I remain stuck in a continuous loop of wondering about what the church actually honors as ministry. And eating prodigious amounts of superb food after Mass hasn't made a dent in this deeper hunger.

I Confess...

Well, I've finally gotten around to reading, "Evangelicals' new twist on Lent," which appeared in The Washington Post on March 8 and notes a growing interest in "Confession" among evangelical Protestants.

Call me old-fashioned, but I like that the Prots call it "Confession." I've never understood why so many Catholics insist on calling it the "sacrament of Reconciliation" when, in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, "sacrament of Confession" is listed before "sacrament of Reconciliation" under the heading, "What is This Sacrament Called?" (CCC 1423-1424).

Even setting aside my legalism in this instance, the change in terminology eludes me. How can something be reconciled if it isn't first disclosed? How can something be disclosed if it's not first perceived? Is it that the word "confession" skeeves Catholic of a certain age? Is it that the word "reconciliation" seems so much more gentle and merciful?

I say we should call it "Confession" and thank Almighty God that it isn't called the "sacrament of Conscious Awareness Before Owning Our Cr@p." How many people would show up to celebrate that?