Reflections: Coming Home

May  28, 2012
The Rev. Marguerite Alley

Coming Home

I came across my to-do list from May of 1998 while cleaning out some files at home the other day. I was deep in the throes of planning my Ordination liturgy during May of 98. On the list were things like “call printer about recycled paper”, “talk with Jeff about music” “check with ECW about reception”. I was suddenly flooded with memories of what a fabulous day that was. Friends from my childhood, from Chanco, from college and from the churches I had attended had all come to join the celebration. I imagine more than one of them thought “thank God she has finally figured out what she wants to be when she grows up”! It is hard to believe that was 14 years ago! Each year I tell myself that I am going to mark the occasion of my ordination by doing something intentional to remind myself of the vows I took that day. But each year, the date slips past me, and days, weeks and sometimes even months go by before I remember the anniversary of my ordination! Since May and June are the months when we typically celebrate graduations, it is possible I was doing that instead of remembering my ordination. It is possible that I was reminding folks of the importance of fatherhood instead of thinking fondly of that day. It is possible I was just not “present” and was worried about exams or concerts, or stuff here at the church or whether or not I would get the grass cut before it rained….or any other of a host things that distract me from being intentional about the ways I have been blessed in the years since my ordination.

As a deacon, I answered a very specific call in my ministry. When I was ordained, it was to care for people living with AIDS and HIV. At the time, I expected to spend the rest of my life in and around hospice nurses, hospitals and social workers. My life has changed pretty significantly since that day. Most of the people I cared for are dead now. The support groups I started and ran for so long have ceased meeting and I now find myself working in the field in which I started my “working life” with the church….formation.

Jesus preached often on the themes of “finding life” and losing “losing life” and “finding life once more”. (Mark 8:34)  This doesn’t mean that you actually have to die in order to experience what Jesus is talking about…but you do have let go of who you thought you were, or were going to be, or have become. Try as I might to explain it with the best metaphors and analogies, it must be experienced before one can really understand it from the inside.

About 30 years ago I became very frustrated with the church. I felt it was filled with hypocrites, busybodies, and know-it-alls. So, I left. My self-imposed exile lasted about 3 months. Not very long to most people, but for me it seemed like a lifetime! I was living in Illinois, taking cello lessons from the retired principal cellist of the Cincinnati Orchestra and working at an egg processing plant. (More on that in another post!) I was disappointed in the church. I had made the church out to be some kind of “land of Oz” sort of institution where everyone agreed on things, everyone treated each other with kindness and respect, and where everyone was there for the same reason…..to worship. I was bitterly disappointed when as a student I was licensed as a chalice in the local parish, and had someone get up and move to another position so as to not receive the cup from me….a woman. I was angry when 11 women ordained in the church were told that their ordinations “didn’t count” because they were women. I was hurt when the church I attended in my college town did not minister to me in days and weeks following the death of my father. In short I was bitter, disappointed and angry at the church, and so I left. I was determined I could live without “them”. Interestingly enough, I discovered quite the opposite. I was even more miserable without them! Without that community of support (however fickle), without that time together in reflection and communion each week, I felt as if I had been cut loose and was left adrift in a big open sea, with no sight of land or rescue.

Eventually, I found my way back. Strangely enough, it was through the door I originally entered! I went to church for the first time as a teen having been invited to attend a youth group function. I came back the same way when a friend from my youth group days invited me to help with their youth group. When I walked in the door to the church it was as if my heart “unclenched” for the first time in months and I could breathe again. It felt as comfortable as old shoes, faded jeans or whatever metaphor you want to use. Of course I had to endure the string of questions… “Where have you been”, “why did you stop coming” and so forth. At first I was uncomfortable sharing that because I was afraid people would think I was talking about them, and be offended. But I as told my story as best I could, I discovered many folks had the same experience. Their words of wisdom included, people are people, humans are not perfect, the church is made up of people who are broken and so forth. All of these sentiments did little to help me “forgive” the church. It was not until someone asked me “what did you do to help them see you differently”? that I realized that I was really more in need of forgiveness than any of “those” people. I realized that I had judged, condemned and bailed out on the very people who eventually support me in my ministry and stand for me at my ordination. I realized that in my rush to judgment, I missed the whole point of church. To come as we are, to be who we are, and to share where we are in our journey.

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