On Sunday, quite belatedly, I finally formally became an Episcopalian. Which will surprise different friends for quite different reasons.
For one thing, I’ve been an active parishioner in three Episcopal churches over the past 20 years, singing in the choir, teaching Sunday school, being a clergy spouse, etc.
For another thing, for 15 of those years I was also a public communications professional for the Unitarian Universalists, and had gone to seminary with the intention of becoming a UU minister. (Long-time UU friends, however, knew I was always on the King’s Chapel end of the UU spectrum. When my fiancée began thinking about becoming an Episcopal priest, I chose to support her rather than try to maintain a bi-religious family.)
For yet another thing, the LDS Church, which baptized me, still counts me as a member, even though I haven’t been to a Mormon ward — except for a wedding, funeral, or other family occasion — in more than 30 years.
So: practically I was already an Episcopalian, professionally I was a Unitarian, and officially-statistically I was a non-practicing Mormon. Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself!
My parish realized a lot of us hadn’t been “received” into the Episcopal Church, and thoughtfully invited us and set up a program to get us ready. On Sunday, Bishop Julia received me and a bunch of other adults among dozens of mostly teenaged confirmands. I’m grateful.
Why did I do it? My reasons may be wholly inadequate as explanation. In a nutshell, I was already at home, and for all its flaws the Episcopal approach to Christianity grounds and challenges me.
Every social phenomenon that’s important to me is flawed, contingent, and disappointing: my nation, the church, the academy, the music world, etc. But they are also renewable, beautiful, and empowering.
I choose to stay where I’ve been drawn not because it’s True vs. False or Complete vs. Partial, but because the practices and conundrums of the Episcopal Church speak to me: how to be rooted in ancient texts and traditions while taking modern challenges and needs seriously; how to balance order and democracy; how to be united (in prayer) while disagreeing about much.
These lines from Psalm 139 spoke to me during the service: “If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.” I’ve been to a few edges of the religious ocean, and appreciate God’s faithfulness.