Today, I was officially received into the Episcopal church, along with three Catholic women from the congregation who'd been around about the same amount of time as I have - one for a few months longer, two for a few months less. Because it was the Bishop's visit (the only time folks can be received into the church, essentially, is by a bishop), we had two candle-bearers; because reasons I don't know, I was one of them. It was, for the most part, a pretty normal service; we bore the candles up the center aisle, my partner forgot to blow hers out (this is why she wants me doing this job more often), the bishop carried a long crook and wore a mitre, because reasons I don't know. I don't remember much about the last bishop's visit, last year - I'd only joined the church a few months prior, and was still learning the liturgy. Anyway. He preached a sermon, discussing the meeting of the House of Bishops in Taiwan, and linking up the various lessons. We were off-beat and uneven, carrying the candles for the gospel procession. It didn't matter - I think we notice that far more than anyone watching.
It threw me, slightly, that we were presented as "These four baptized Christians," for some reason - partly because it was followed by a renewal of our Baptismal covenant. I've said this one before, at... well, at Baptisms, twice. But when I was baptized, I did not say it; nor did anyone else. I remember it well. I was asked a question - something, probably, along the lines of "Do you believe in God? Will you obey Him and serve His will?" I remember something about asking if I understood what this meant. I said yes, but I did not. I'm still not sure I do, but that's not what this covenant asks. It's comforting, really. It doesn't ask us if we understand; it doesn't ask us to be perfect. It asks us to renounce evil. It asks us to live out the Love of God. And it asks those around us, our church family, to support us in that, which is a covenant that breaks my heart, a little. I have never felt so loved as I do here.
That's really what strikes me about this church - the idea of family. It comes home a lot harder after the events of the summer. I am a fucked up person, a person who has stumbled and fallen, a person who is weak in some ways that I cannot recover. I am an addict*; the terms that come to mind, from the neo-Puritan mindset, are things like "filth," and "sin," and so on. That's a truth I cannot hide from. But... it doesn't change some things. God loves me no less for my weakness; my church family loves me no less for my sins. My soul is not refused at the door, nor my heart at the altar, because I am not perfect; that is, in some ways, what being the body of Christ means. We're covered, essentially, in something far greater than ourselves, and given the grace, as we are able, to live into that.
(After that service, there was the Blessing of the Animals, to celebrate St. Francis of Assisi's Day, in the park. So that was cool too.)
*More on that later, in some post when I'm feeling a bit stronger. That's partly why I haven't been blogging so much - I've been journaling instead.
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