maundy maundy

Tonight I'm delighted to be participating in the annual Maundy Thursday reading of Dante's Inferno at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on Manhattan's Upper West Side. Last year I was a last-minute replacement for one of the scheduled readers; this year I was invited to be part of the regular program under the auspices of poet in residence Marilyn Nelson.

It was particularly cool for me last year because I had just joined an Episcopal church and was soon to be confirmed--so in addition to the wonderful literary history of this institution, it was also "my" cathedral!

The three-hour reading starts at 9pm and covers fifteen out of the thirty-four cantos. I've been assigned the second half of Canto XXI, which will occur sometime between 10 and 11 pm. If you're inclined to stop by, know that you're not required to stay for the whole three hours....judging by my observations from last year, attendees sneak in and out as the spirit moves them.

Today is also, of course, April Fool's, and I've had a fun gmail exchange just now with my friend Greg who works for The Company Currently Known as Topeka. He said in their Chelsea offices they had fake "surveillance cameras" in the restrooms and (uncracked and thus inedible) coconuts in the cafeteria's fruit baskets. What a bunch of kooks!

It's also the birthday of my wonderful father. Happy Birthday, Daddy!

confirmation

I was eleven, a very fragile age. I didn't feel well-liked in school. I ended up being home-schooled the second half of my sixth grade year because I didn't want to deal with the other kids. My family was going to a Missouri Synod Lutheran church in Fairborn, a 25-minute drive away. Those mornings, slightly carsick--little breakfast, curving roads, smoke from Dad's Lucky Strikes.

I was in confirmation class. I remember the booklet--an illustration of Martin Luther on the cover. I don't remember what I learned, or how far I got. All I know is our family left the church before I could finish. I'm sure Dad had his reasons--I have only a vague sense of a difference of opinion with the pastor. But the result was, I was never confirmed. I could not take communion, according to our tradition.

The first time I went to Saint Bart's, I knew from reading their website that I would be welcome at the Eucharist--they only ask that you be baptized in a Christian church--but I was nervous. Luckily, a friend was with me, a lifelong Canadian Anglican who showed me how to hold my hands for the wafer and took a sip of wine before me, kissed my cheek when we exchanged the peace. It was New Year's Eve and a very small group congregated in the chapel while the main sanctuary was being set up for a festive concert. The priest spoke with a southern accent about his memories of Christmas, and his associations with the passage that tells us "Mary kept these things and pondered them in her heart." It was my first communion.

Today, I will be officially confirmed--go up front, speak the words, receive a blessing from the Bishop. I'm nervous, excited, probably no less so than I would have been at twelve. It feels strange to be doing this at my age, although I will be in the company of many other adults, all of us settling on this particular spiritual home. But it feels very good, finishing what I started over three decades ago, becoming an adult in the faith, belonging somewhere at last.

church!

I've gone and done it. Saint Nobody is officially a member of Saint Bart's--a wonderful Episcopal church in midtown Manhattan. I'd been looking at the Episcopal church for a few years and found myself drawn to the Anglican tradition--the church of John Donne, George Herbert, and Auden, and C. S. Lewis--what's not to like?

I attended for the first time on New Year's Eve (with a little help from a friend), and have gone regularly since then. I got to know my way around a bit thanks to a four-week membership class taught by the Vicar, Buddy Stallings, and an orientation session given by the Rector, Bill Tully, and the Rev. Lynn Sanders, who is in charge of shepherding new members.

I brought the kids for the first time last Sunday, which was a challenge, but manageable thanks to the very caring people there. They had a special ceremony for new members during the 11 o'clock Choral Eucharist service. I feel very welcomed and am looking forward to finding out how I can contribute my time and energy to St. Bart's many good works.

church!

I've gone and done it. Saint Nobody is a member of Saint Bart's--a wonderful Episcopal church in midtown Manhattan. I'd been looking at the Episcopal church for a few years and found myself drawn to the Anglican tradition--the church of John Donne, George Herbert, and Auden, and C. S. Lewis--what's not to like?

I attended for the first time on New Year's Eve (with a little help from a friend), and have gone regularly since then. I got to know my way around a bit thanks to a four-week membership class taught by the Vicar, Buddy Stallings, and an orientation session given by the Rector, Bill Tully, and the Rev. Lynn Sanders, who is in charge of shepherding new members.

I brought the kids for the first time last Sunday, which was a challenge, but manageable thanks to the very caring people there. They had a special ceremony for new members during the 11 o'clock Choral Eucharist service. I feel very welcomed and am looking forward to finding out how I can contribute my time and energy to St. Bart's many good works.