My real life: exposed

It is high time that I made a public confession: the real reason my attitude toward New York has improved so dramatically is not, actually, because of the warmer weather, though that definitely helps. It will not surprise most of you in the least to discover that my rekindled love for this city springs from my love for my church. No, not the one I live in, that would be too simple. Instead of simply going downstairs to worship, I trek halfway across Manhattan to the church of St. Luke in the Fields - and believe me when I tell you that it is worth the trip. 

To put it briefly (because I've been known to ramble on endlessly about the virtues of this parish that has so graciously adopted me), St. Luke's has everything I ever wanted in a home church: transcendent liturgy, a professional choir (and a congregation that sings with more enthusiasm than any place I've ever been, I kid you not), absolutely top-notch preaching, a passion for social justice, a welcoming and unbelievably vibrant congregation, and a deep-seated commitment to full inclusiveness, in every sense of the word. Most notably, it is the only religious institution I have ever been in where sexuality is a total non-issue. 2/3 of the full-time clergy are partnered gays and lesbians, but I didn't discover that until my third visit - it's not that anyone is closeted; it's that the entire community has established such a degree of shared trust that discussing any one person's sexual orientation simply isn't relevant. St. Luke's isn't "the gay church;" it's a church with a lot of LGBT members. And a lot of straight ones too. For someone who hails from a place where homosexuality and the church don't quite know what to make of each other, that climate of full inclusion is completely mind-blowing. 

Needless to say, I've been hooked. Over the past few months, I've become more and more involved (leaving me less and less time for things like blogging, for which I do apologize) - with the 20s30s group, with one of the outreach programs (which merits a separate post), and with the team of acolytes. Equally needless to say, I'm particularly enthralled by acolyting - not only does it fulfill my long-unsatisfied desire to wear vestments, it's also been by far the best way of actually getting to know people in the parish. After only a few Sundays of parading around ceremoniously with a cross or a candlestick, I now know enough people that I cannot extricate myself from coffee hour conversations in fewer than 45 minutes (and that's if I'm lucky). Believe me when I say it's amazing. I love my roommates, but I've been craving interactions with people with whom I don't share a bathroom, and it's been wonderful to get to know some real New Yorkers who - believe it or not - rival me in my passion for church. 

In all those ramblings, I forgot to mention one other amazing thing that St. Luke's has: a bell. Like, a real bell. In a real tower. Rung by real people. Those of you who followed aixpeditions will no doubt remember that the one surefire way to my heart is by leading me to pealing church bells. Turns out the even surerfire way to my heart is to let me ring the bells, which I got to do during the Easter Vigil last night - thereby checking off one of the key items on my "Things to do before I die" list. It was seriously one of the most amazing experiences of my life. You know that scene right after the wedding in The Sound of Music, where there's a short clip of a bell-ringer, flying up and down as he holds on to the end of the rope for dear life? That was what it was like. Only this bell was so big, it took two of us (both wearing cassock and surplices, which is hardly ideal bell-ringing attire) to ring it - meaning that we continually crashed into each other in midair for the full ten minutes we were at it. Ringing bells is hard work. I'd call it a cross between jumping up and down while holding a hugely heavy barbell and doing pull-ups. If there is a muscle in my body that isn't sore from that undertaking, I have yet to find it. 

But it was SO worth it. I honestly thought I was going to die of joy when I was told I could have the privilege of ringing the bell (after I had begged them to let me do it and convinced a quorum of bicep-measuring acolytes that I was buff enough). I thought I was going to die of joy again as I soared through the air while ringing out the Easter Alleluia. I'm pretty amazed I'm still alive :)

I know I don't blog for a particularly churchy audience, and I've intentionally kept my content pretty secular. But given what a huge part of my life St. Luke's has become, I feel like I'm giving you a woefully inadequate picture of what my life in New York is like if I don't write about it at least once. So: welcome to my real life! And a very happy Easter to you all!