Confession

I have a confession: I skipped church last Sunday to go sailing with my brother. The whole time I was out on the lake, feeling the wind in my hair, I tried to think of what I would write about church for my weekly blog post (having not attended, you understand). Each time I began, “It’s ok to miss church Sunday mornings occasionally because…”

Of course I emailed Patricia Sunday night explaining my absence, but noted I would make it to our Monday night meeting of the stewardship committee. That would be a gathering of Bob, Priscilla, Colin, Patricia and myself. The idea of the meeting was to go through all the families and individuals in the parish, and talk about each one’s contributions (not financial), so that we can thank them for helping to make us the community we are.

We went through each person, recounting services, laughing, recalling funny stories. Parishioners who did things like try to help prisoners in Guantanamo Bay. Or showed up on work days to clean the grounds. There were many people who showed up for Tuesday mornings, worked on the altar guild, as lectors, even baking the communion bread. Bridge club. Sunday School. Brought meals to people who were sick. Organized the Buckhead Christian Ministry food drive. Organized the Interfaith Hospitality Network.

When we got to the last third of the list, and Patricia had once again added with complete certainty and overt pleasure, “and also thank them for their faithfulness,” I suggested the list might go quicker if we only wrote notes to unfaithful parishioners. 

That last list was never made. But I was very much reminded tonight of how close our parish is and how much it matters the times that any of us are away. 

Still, the weather was beautiful on Sunday. And when I played hooky to sail with my brother, I learned about all kinds of poetic things like shrouds and tell tails and jibing and wenches.

By the time he dropped me off, we stood in front of the house saying good-bye after a long day, I realized I wanted to sail again. So I asked if he and his friends also sailed on Saturdays. (Of course, they do, sailing doesn’t only happen on Sunday mornings.)

“Good,” I said, “I’ll sail on Saturdays then. I can’t do Sundays anymore.” I miss church for enough natural causes (work travel and oversleeping), why add one that can so easily be avoided?