My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Trying to Explain Church
James wants to know why Church has to be so elaborate, why religious belief cannot be at least as vital with less ceremony. It is a reasonable question and I was left having to rely on tradition as an explanation and community worship as our reason for being there. I was satisfied with neither aspect of my explanation, and I was wondering later why I was there. I think it is like so much of what I do. It is looking for a link to a different time and hopefully a bridge that will link it to now. It is hoping for the vitality I thought was there. It is that tradition or continuity that brings me, sometimes reluctantly, to Church, though I wonder was it there even when I had thought it was, or wished it might be. It is not yet just a habit. Hopefully it will not become just that since that would not be reason enough to stay.
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