slowly, quietly. . .

Sunday, 11 May 2008

. . . losing the will to live.

A morning of dire, drab hymns at church and an afternoon full of the tedium of Photoshopping photographs for the history book for church is enough to make me want to go to sleep and never wake up. Seriously, church was grim this morning. The hymns were dreadful. Justin and I couldn't look at each other because we'd just make faces and giggle like school children. The spirit of Pentecost missed our church today, I think. Or maybe we're just snobs.

At least the history book is nearly finished. I know I keep saying that, but it really is almost done. We (I say we, but actually Justin's the master of Photoshop - I just constructively criticise as he tries to ignore me) are almost finished touching up the photographs which just need to replace the filler images I had been using. If I weren't so tired of looking at it, I'd say it's looking really, really good. I hope to have it 99% done by the time I leave for the west coast on Friday, and if Justin works his magic while I'm away and manages to design the cover, we'll have it ready for final editing by next Monday. That will be quite a relief.

Today was the first time we have been at church since Easter, and we only went today because we needed to get some photos for the book. Our poor attendance at church is no longer about me needing space to reevaluate my understanding of God or feeling like it wasn't a safe place to express some of my uncertainty, anger or sadness. It's much more mundane than that now: Sunday is the only day we both take completely off of work, and spending half the day in church simply isn't how we'd like to spend that time. There are lots of reasons why that is - bad hymns are certainly part of it, but overall, I just don't feel like I'm worshiping when I'm there. I've reverted back to my child self who used to count the words that needed to be said before the service could end. It's lacking in energy, but more importantly, it's lacking in mystery. But the big question then, of course, is how to bring that sense of mystery back into the worship. Is it about the music? The form of liturgy? The translation used for the scripture readings? Or the physical surroundings? And what about when different people experience the mystery in different ways? Or does the fault partly lie with me?

I know that church can't always be what we want it to be. I know that some days I want the smells and bells and glorious music of a high church service. Other days that seems too much, and taking a long walk or gardening is a more 'productive' form of worship. And I know that part of the experience of church is about worshiping in community. This is a conversation I've had numerous times with my spiritual director, our rector and friends who work in churches, and there are no easy answers - particularly for a rural church. In the city, it's easier to pick and choose churches based on the community and style of worship, but in rural areas, that choice is limited, if there is a choice at all.

And I have to say that even though we haven't been present on Sundays, we feel more involved with church now than we ever have done in the past. We do hover on the periphery by attending the ethics debates, and we lead the book group. We also help with the quarterly newsletter; Justin will be doing the website; and I've been helping with this history book. But - and this is another reason why we haven't been attending very often - some Sundays I would really love to just go to church, participate in the service, chat to a couple of people at the end and then go home without someone coming up to me asking me to do something. My desire to go back to church has begun to return over the past few weeks, but I haven't been certain that we could go to our church and just be - just be part of the worshiping community without feeling like we're obligated to offer something. Sadly, I was proved right today.

I know that this is a complicated issue too. Our church, like many churches, is run on volunteers. I'm happy to help with the newsletter. This history book (which, I confess, is a paid job - but at 'charity' rates which will work out to less than minimum wage by the time I'm finished) has given me an opportunity to get to know some of the people at church a bit better, and I have - for the most part - enjoyed working on it. Also, learning InDesign more thoroughly is a great new practical skill. But. Sometimes it's hard to draw the line. Sometimes I struggle with the high levels of expectation - both of quantity and quality of work done for free. Sometimes it's hard to communicate that even though Justin and I both work from home, we actually have less free time than we would if we had 9-5 jobs. And because we don't have kids, we can offer more of ourselves to the church, right? (I'm still formulating a good response to that one. Right now sarcasm is winning out over politeness.)

As I said, this is nothing new for us. A lot of this we've discussed with our rector, and I have enough friends working in the church and read the blogs of other church people to know that for the most part the rectors are incredibly grateful for all the work done by their volunteers, and they're aware of the problems. We're certainly not going to be leaving our church, however frustrated I am with it just now (though we have decided to pop in to some of the other churches - of other denominations - in the area to have that experience of just being during the worship). We do genuinely like the people there, and no community is without its flaws. My complaints could be true of any number of churches, and I know that they are as much to do with me, my attitude and my inability to say no as anything. But sometimes it's all about balance, and it's finding that balance - and maintaining it - which is the real struggle. We're not there yet, and might not be for a while, but searching for it feels quite important just now.