Churches

Here's an unusual occurrence - I went to Mass today. Truth be told my brothers and I were raised Catholic and as such we spent our youth going to Sunday Mass and attending Catholic school. After school we were told horror stories by the older kids about what happened to people who dared to touch the holy Host. Back then getting a communion host stuck to the roof of your mouth was cause for alarm, being petrified that you might unthinkingly and reflexively try to pry it off with your finger - and then die before confessing this terrible sin was pretty spooky stuff - yep, nothing like scaring the crap out of kids to keep them in line. 

Even at a young age I never could truly buy into - or maybe I give myself too much credit, maybe I just wasn’t paying attention - the stories being told. Mary and her husband Joseph  - interesting story that - a bit more complicated than we were ever given to believe. Joseph doesn’t get nearly enough credit for his forbearance and his love and protection of his step-child. I don’t remember the priest giving any rousing sermons about the fact that Jesus was a rebel, or focusing on the most basic aspect of his personality that he was in the end just a good guy, a kind man,  I don’t recall the church encouraging us children to question and to embrace being different - as Jesus was. 

I was a dreamer given to spending my time in church gazing at the stained glass windows - the brilliant cobalt blues, deep greens, the textured browns of the gowns of Mary, Jesus and their saintly friends. The traditional medieval architecture was another distraction.Checking out the kinds of hats  the women were wearing especially at Easter was something to do. To make the time pass more quickly we counted the number of children lined up for Communion from individual families just to see who had the most. Our kind and gentle family doctor had a whopping 17 children while we, the Armstrong’s were a bit of a disappointment being on the low end with only 4. All these things were welcome diversions before feeling that enormous sense of relief once Mass was over and you could run home to get on with the business of just being a kid.  

But what I did love most were the rituals both from church and school- the tartan school uniforms, brand new beanie caps, school book covers made of brown paper bags, the smell of incense during the Stations of the Cross, the altar decorated at Christmas with laurels of pine (another lovely smell) and live poinsettias, the ash cross we wore so proudly on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday refusing to wash off until the next day, or picking your own confirmation name.  

Maybe I was a little dodgy on the actual belief scale but I do think rituals have provided a comfort and a touchstone to go back to. Nowadays I say Hail Mary's when I need to get a grip on some stress or other in my life. Still one of my favorite things to do is to go to my childhood church when no one is around just to sit in the quiet and breathe in the smells from my childhood….. fixated on the light illuminating their burnished windows.

I make a habit of going to churches when in other cities.  The photos of stained glass windows are from United Methodist Church in St. Petersburg Florida.