Holy Thursday

Standing outside the church tonight, bundled up tightly against the cold and hunched over a service book, I finally began to appreciate church. It's been a long time coming for me but I am stubborn. As much as I've tried to like going to church it's just never been a place that I really enjoyed. It's boring and uncomfortable, mostly. In November I stopped attending church entirely when the judgement and criticism became too much for me to bear. Last week, following a conversation with a priest, I decided to begin attending again. The services leading up to Palm Sunday were surprisingly positive for me, and Palm Sunday was amazing. I felt happy to be attending church again, and the support I received reinforced that positive feeling. 

On Monday I spent 8 hours at the VA hospital. Tuesday, my husband and I attended Hours and Presanctified Liturgy in the morning and Bridegroom Matins in the evening. Wednesday: Hours and Presanctified Liturgy again. Each time, I was surprised by my own eagerness to be there, and to participate. I did bring a prayer rope with me, and I spent some time allowing myself to be distracted by the many adorable children in the church. But I didn't feel the urge to check the time, or wonder how much longer the service would take. When I left church each time, I felt reinforced by our decision to stay at STS and I believed that being there would be a positive experience for Holy Week and Bright Week.

When we were home between services Wednesday my husband received a call from the Bishop. He was told that he was not to attend STS for services with his family until after Bright Week because our presence in church makes some people uncomfortable. In a follow-up conversation with the Abbot of the monastery, I was denied permission to attend service Wednesday because "my place is with my husband." 

I did not attend service Wednesday evening. In thinking about what to do for Thursday, I considered attending STS. In a conversation with a friend, I mentioned that I was considering it. By this point, I had received many suggestions about other churches to attend, and invitations from friends to come to their parishes. But every time I tried to think about where to go, other than STS, I was filled with a crippling sadness. This morning I decided to stay home. I wasn't sure what the reaction would be if I went to church, but I didn't want to cause a scene. Over the course of the day I decided to attend the 12 Gospels service at STS. As I was getting ready to go, I received a call from a friend: the Abbot had been told that I was planning on coming and he said that if I was seen in church my husband would be expelled from school. 

Of course, with that news I couldn't go. So I sat and felt sorry for myself. I felt like I had been thrown into a pit of despair. I tried to find the service online to watch or listen to, but I realized that was a poor substitute. Especially when I live only a mile away from the real thing! I have never felt real sadness about not being able to attend a service before. I've felt sad that I wouldn't be able to see friends, or hear certain hymns. And I've felt guilt at not attending a service in the past. But now, for the first time, I felt like I was being kept from something that I could not live without. I had to go. 

I got dressed again, putting on an extra sweater, scarf, arm warmers, and warm socks, and ran out. I wouldn't be seen in the church, but I needed to be there. When I got there, a friend gave me a service book to use. I spent a few minutes walking around outside the church, trying to hear, until I remembered that one of the windows on the other side never really closes all the way. I went around to that side and found that by standing next to the window I could hear nearly everything. I felt like a beggar, happy to receive the crumbs from the feast! 

The service was long (3 hours). It was cold (35 degrees). When the sun went down, I struggled with using the light from my phone to light my service book so I could follow along. When the children inside made noises, it totally drowned out the service and I lost my place. But I was happy to be there. And I was a little angry at myself that I have always taken utterly for granted that the church will always be there - open and available to me. I hope and pray that I will never again take it for granted.