As my regular reader knows I was raised an an Episcopalian. In the small Episcopal church I attended as a youth the political became more important than the liturgy as the Vietnam War was won there and lost here. Even though my father stood us all up in the middle of another "baby killing" and "rapist" sermon and walked all eight of us down the aisle and out the door, never to return again, he and my mother still had hope.
The next year, as I entered the sixth grade, I was sent to Howe Military School (why is another story) which turned my life around in many ways and all to the good. Yes, it took two years of getting the most swats and detentions, but the slow turn to productivity and self discipline took place even as my mind fought it with every ounce of strength it had. Behind the scenes was Father Bowling. He changed my life.
Because of Father Bowling I studied long and hard in school and in his communion classes. They were rough, but he cajoled, gave support and punished us when we were woefully not doing as we should. Father Bowling understood the minds of boys just entering the "dirty" world of puberty and changed the change into something good and clean with his gentle, but firm direction. I can still remember the day I sat in a small room and was told I was now ready for confirmation. I exited the room and there stood Father Bowling with a big smile on his face. As we lounged on his lawn with his wife and children eating a celebratory meal I felt for the first time in my life that I had not just accomplished something, but something of import that was good.
Soon, I entered training to be an acolyte. Father Bowling was again right there beside us cajoling, supporting and guiding us along the path. The correct and respectful way to carry the cross at the head of processions (if you were lucky enough to be chosen), the best way to swing the incense (smells and bells!) and the timely ringing to Agnus Dei (Lamb of God) were under his watchful eye. The memory of the Corp singing "For All The Saints" still sends a chill down my spine. The Word of God was spoken each Sunday High Mass and Wednesday evening services in a dignified and glorious way. It was personal. It was the word of God.
After Howe I went to another private school, which was very elite and will remain unnamed, which was also Episcopal based, but tended to favor whatever had nothing to do with the Word of God. The congregation out did each other through hats, furs, expensive shoes and snooty attitudes. Not to be out done, the students wore blazers and ties with matching blue jean shirts and Top-Siders worn and scuffed to just the right amount of shabby chic. There was no true piety nor Glory. Most of us went to the gardens at the Greek amphitheater and smoked and told dirty jokes. My path downward was set and abetted by the church.
After years of fun filled drugs, alcohol and really great rock and roll I grew tired of the "life". My total failure as a husband and a father had caused my marriage to collapse. I was looking hard at myself and didn't like what I saw. An aging rock and roller standing there with a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other and the echoes of CBGB's music rattling around in a bruised brain is not only not pretty, it is also not productive in a way that sucks the life out of those you love. Time for a change.
I started putting my life back together and still felt I was torn between the different lives I had constructed or had fallen into. I started work in the DC area and applied myself hard. Once again I felt myself turning back to the good. My children stood with me which to this day is amazing and wonderful. One day I walked into work and saw her. She wore a dress that reminded me of my grandmother and had a smile that left me unable to speak, but once I did, I couldn't stop. I had found a partner who put me back together again.
I took her to an Episcopal church which was my first time back in many years. It felt hollow. I then took her to the crown jewel of the Episcopal Church, North America, the National Cathedral. I explained that my sisters had attended school there and I had been baptized there. She stared at the felt banners proclaiming God's love of everything the Bible speaks against and she ran her fingers over the plaques with the names of those that had donated a window or this or that and said, "Lets get outta here. I'm spooked and standing on top of an admiral. Need more?"
She, being Catholic, took me to a Catholic church. I liked it. Because of my past we couldn't get married in the Catholic Church so we got married in an Anglican church. Ironically we now attend a Catholic church bearing my name which I share with a saint. My sisters still joke that they are going to donate lightening rods to protect the building when I attend, just to be on the safe side. Even more ironical, I found out that my father had been raised Catholic, but had switched to Episcopal for my mother when they married. He referred to Jesuits, who had beaten an education into him, as God's Black Shirts. He never mentioned his religious upbringing. I later found my/his relatives buried in Holy Cross and St. Vincent's cemeteries. A long way from St. Albans and the National Cathedral. Religiously, my two lives finally dovetailed in an odd way only my family could accomplish.
I still miss the Episcopal Church. But then I read things like this:
The Hypocrisy of the Left
I was pleased to find an Episcopal church whose website focused on religion, not ObamaCare. I left a message for the priest that I was looking for a church that didn't press a political agenda because I wasn't a liberal.
I received an icy reply from the priest, the Reverend Lucy, who said with barely-contained disgust, "I don't think you should check us out."
Her response left me shaken and angry. I understand that leftists despise conservatives. I have seen that creepy look of pure hatred when I naïvely told a leftist friend about my political conversion.
But an Episcopal priest rejecting me during the holiest time of year? Isn't anything or anyone sacred?
In shunning me, the Reverend Lucy exposed not only her own hypocrisy, but the duplicity of the left itself. She unveiled the left's dirty little secret -- that their doctrines are as bogus as global warming.
I am not surprised. At all. But I still miss Father Bowling and the intellectual and spiritual sustenence he provided to all that sought them (and a few who didn't).
(click on Episcopal tag for previous postings)
