Amy Sander Montanez is a writer, teacher, therapist, retreat leader, and spiritual director who attends Trinity Cathedral, Columbia. You can access an archive with her award-winning reflections on the diocesan Web site at www.edusc.org/News and learn more about Amy at her Web site, www.amysandermontanez.com.
In the Moment—One Pilgrim's Attempt to Be Present
By Amy Sander Montanez, D. Min.
When the veil is thin
This is a true story. The identifying information has been changed to
protect the people and church involved.
A small, struggling congregation rents space from another small
struggling congregation. The group that owns the building worships on
Sunday mornings and has a full-time minister, and the congregation that
rents the space worships on Sunday evenings so as not to be too much of
a distraction. Both congregations share another very part-time minister
who is mostly working for free. He is not ordained in either of the
denominations that he’s serving. They are, however, all in full
communion with each other. Because he serves both congregations, there
is some overlap in his ministry and that has resulted in dialogue about
worshipping together and perhaps even joining together. This would seem
the likely thing to do, practical, good use of resources, synergistic.
There has been an obstacle, however; the members of the evening church
are almost exclusively gay and lesbian.
Recently the part-time minister died in a fatal car accident. Both
congregations were traumatized by this death. They scrambled to come
together to have a meaningful funeral, and members of both congregations
rushed to be of support to the family of the deceased, a wife and
fourteen-year-old son. The higher ups in all three denominations came to
town to participate in the funeral. They jockeyed for positions and
debated dogma. How would they celebrate communion? Who would lead? How
would they vest? In the spirit of respect and ecumenism, they figured it
all out and came together. The church was packed to the rafters for the
funeral, and the family was grateful for the outpouring of support.
After the service was over, there was a covered-dish supper in the
parish hall. Members of both congregations mixed, sitting at table with
each other, crying together, telling stories about their dear friend and
pastor. At one of those tables was an older lady who usually sits in the
back of the church on Sunday mornings. She sits in the back because the
last few rows of pews are padded and that makes it easier on her aging
body. Her pew is full with her elderly friends. Next to her at the table
was a lovely-looking gentleman who worships with the evening
congregation. He is fun and outgoing with a contagious smile. He told
great stories about their now dead friend. He stopped for a moment in
the middle of one of the stories to comment on the chicken pot pie.
“This is the best pot pie I have ever tasted!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got
to find out who made it and get the recipe.”
“Well, young man, I made it. It’s my mother’s recipe; been around for
ages.”
“Do you give out recipes?” he inquired. “I’d love to make this for my
mother’s 70th birthday party. I’m throwing a big bash for her soon.”
“ If you come to church Sunday morning,” the woman said, slowing as she
says the word morning, “ I’ll give you the recipe.”
“I’ll be there!” he quipped.
“One ingredient a week!” she retorted, and the whole table erupted in
laughter.
In the sacred moments of life when the veil between heaven and earth is
thin, we recognize that we are all the same. We who are one body share
one bread and one cup. We all love. We all grieve. We laugh and we cry.
We celebrate our friends and families. We all bleed. Artificial
separations are just that. Artificial. Perhaps we need them to help us
feel safe.
We use separations as ways of defining ourselves by our
differences. “This is how I know myself. I am a white, heterosexual,
middle-class, mainline, liturgical Christian. This is how I interpret
Scripture. I feel safe when I am with others just like me.” It is the
human condition, I guess. And yet we are called to transcend our desire
for sameness and to put ourselves intentionally with people who are
different. We are called to feed the hungry, clothe the poor, and
befriend the needy. We are also told that when two or three gather, the
Spirit of our Living God is there as well. It doesn’t say two or three
just like me. It says two or three. When we break bread together, when
we grieve and worship and commune together, then we remember that we are
one. We remember that we are all but dust and to dust we shall return.
We remember that life is short and we do not have time to tarry.
Now is the time to love. Now is the time to join. Now is the time to
accept. Now is the time to change. Now. Now. Now.
©2010 Amy Sander Montanez, D. Min.