Sundays in the City #2

I have refused to live locked in the orderly house of reasons and proofs.  The world I live in and believe in is wider than that.  And anyway, what’s wrong with Maybe? 

-Mary Oliver

A little more backstory for the curious….

As a lover of story, a seeker of truth and a grateful beneficent of a childhood church community that raised me, it is not surprising that I spent a lot of years reading, studying and eventually teaching the Bible.  As a skeptic with a decided bent toward inquiry, it’d also be fair to say I taught with more questions than answers and more than one redaction of my prior exegesis as I went along.

My husband says that scientists might be naturals in the process of spiritual discovery.  We learn early that hypotheses are ideas to be tested and results are less “absolutes” than they are incubators for the next “what if?”  We are admonished to protect the truth even if it comes at the cost of our previously held, even published, convictions. We are encouraged to pay attention to, rather than dismiss, the bewildering.  We do our best work in community and for outcomes that translate into actionable healing for others, while rarely generating personal privilege.

And we are taught that though “formula” is sometimes a good place to start, it can also be said that major breakthroughs often come at its expense.  In science, as in scripture, “Surprise!” remains a constant refrain.  A quick read through the advent of penicillin, the books of the Torah or the New Testament Gospels, (as well as any reading of former Archbishop NT Wright) will I think, back me up on this. 

Earnest wondering is a sacred trust not to be squandered in science or in faith. So when I woke one Sunday with an insisting series of questions on my mind around the church and its role in my city I decided to pay attention and to pray.  What followed was a leap of faith and a whole lot of driving as I set out to visit 52 churches over a years’ worth of Sundays in Los Angeles. 

Having taught a large interdenominational Bible Study class* over the better part of a decade, I’d been privileged to share in some remarkable conversations around the ways in which the respective churches of class members had at times befuddled and at times transformed them. It was becoming clearer to me that Bible Study and Church was a sort of Venn diagram for a lot of us with the scriptures as overlap.  One troubling facet of many one-on-one discussions involved my being able to discern someone’s spiritual background based not on what they believed, but on of what they were afraid or ashamed.  I also shared in the nearly unbearable grief of many for whom the religious community’s clichés had been decidedly upended.  I knew with certainty this was not the aim of any denomination or pastoral leadership, and yet, far too often it was so.  How was I also unwittingly facilitating some of the same, and how could I purpose and pray to do differently?  I’m not sure I came to do better, but I certainly came at every passage with more attention to the inherent mysteries of grace and loss and did my best to convey them.

By the time I began the 52 weeks, I had already stepped out of my teaching role. I was encouraged by a trusted friend to start with places of worship that I passed nearly every day.  It was such wisdom, in that buildings once known to me as little more than directional cues have since become sacred corners for me. Needs in my community and the folks set on addressing them as well as the occasional unsolicited parking lot chat with another became starting points for service and relationship.  I tried to know as little as possible before going and learn as much as possible after I’d visited.  I worshipped in traditional settings, with fledgling and long established home groups, in beachside circles and in mega-church auditoriums.   In a city of over ten million, it was possible to visit churches given to a wide array of worship styles and practices and though still, sadly often racially uniform, a hopeful number were reflective of the diversity that inhabits Los Angeles.

I once read that to become truly human is to develop critical thinking skills devoid of a critical spirit.  In this as in other areas of my life, that goal remains unrealized yet vigorously pursued. It has been my aim throughout this endeavor to maintain the posture of an eager observer neither offering advice nor voicing critique.  Not unlike a first time visitor to a foreign city, I arrived each week with plenty of personal baggage, the hope of discovery and faith that some of my finest teachers would come disguised as strangers.

*I was extended (as a lay-person) the gracious offering to teach an established class under the umbrella of an international, interdenominational Para-church organization.  The training and love extended to me by our administrative team and class members during those years is immeasurable and has informed and brightened every aspect of my life. Y’all know who you are…thank you.