Laura's God Tour 2004

Warning: Religious material in this entry is not meant to offend. If you want to correct any information that I may have, please e-mail me and I will make the modifications.

Phew! Now that that's out of the way...a few months ago, my older brother Paul sent me to a website with a 'test' called the "Belief-O-Matic" where you answer 20 questions about religious beliefs. In the end, it basically tells you what religion you are according to your answers. I found this to be quite funny but extremely revealing! Here were my top 5 results:

1. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (100%)
2. Orthodox Quaker (84%)
3. Unitarian Universalism (80%)
4. Liberal Quakers (80%)
5. Mainline to Conservative Christian/Protestant (69%)

Note that my actual religion is not listed! My score for Roman Catholicism was a measly 52% (the same percentage as my Eastern Orthodox score!) This is QUITE intriguing but no surprise to me because at this point in my life I feel that I share most of the same beliefs as Protestants or at least liberals and let's face it, there are very few liberal-minded Catholics.

So. I've decided to go on a bit of a Church Tour this fall. My plan is to hit up a lot of religious services and compare! Worthy of note: I am not looking to convert. This is an exploration of faith. I am not bashing Catholicism and I am certainly not looking for a replacement. I'm just extremely interested in other communities that share my beliefs and cater to my views on Christ. (I do not have anything against attending a service that is non-Christian. But I have attended Jewish services many times and feel that at this point in my exploration, I'm going to stick to Protestant and Catholic churches.)

So. Today was Sunday! And the first stop on LAURA'S GOD TOUR '04 was Williamsville United Methodist Church. It was appealing for many reasons: I had never attended a Methodist celebration before, it is within 5 minutes walking distance from my apartment, services began at 10 am which is, in my humble opinion the BEST time for mass.

WOW. Methodists are such happy folks! A man greeted me in the main lobby (is it called a vestibule in every Church? Or just Catholic? I'll stick to lobby...) with a HI MY NAME IS DAVE sticker on his sweater. He asked me if I'd ever been before (No Dave!) and where I like to sit in Church (in the middle/back!). He advised me to keep to the middle as the very back pews have very little leg room! (Um. What?) I slipped into a pew that was empty except for a very old man at the opposite end. There were beautiful stained glass windows surrounding me. Gorgeous. Love it.

Today was "RALLY DAY" for the Williamsville United Methodist Church (WUMC) and a sort of celebration to welcome families back for fall worship. (Mom says Methodists take the summer off. This seemed like a judgmental comment until it was confirmed by my very own Methodist/Republican that I've come to know and love.) For the "WELCOME BACK" mass, there were red balloons tied to every pew and during the procession, a man waved a white paper dove back and forth on a stick. Not gonna lie, thought that was cool.

It gets better. The Reverend's name...is GAIL. She is a CHICK!!!!!!!!! Her co-pastor is named Daryl. DARYL IS A FEMALE. This church is run by BABES!!!!!! Babes in robes!!! Sweet. Reverend Gail only won MORE brownie points with me when she used FINDING NEMO as the center of her sermon on finding our way home. Wow. Incredible.

Worthy of note: Methodists (and I've heard Protestants in general) actually like to sing. Unlike the bored mumbling of Catholics, Methodists jump RIGHT IN. Everyone participates in responses and as soon as the music starts, they go nuts! Hymnals open up and they sing ALL THE VERSES! Also: the music is not painfully slow but pretty upbeat! I recognized "GATHER US IN" and that was the only song I knew. The others were pretty nice though. The choir sat behind the altar in really loud red robes. They didn't really sway too much or get into it but they sounded great and they smiled a lot which is different from the choir at my church. Instead of looking pained and sinful, the choir looked pretty proud and excited.

So. I sat through mass and sang and smiled and listened to a summary of FINDING NEMO and a woman on the altar who posed serious questions on community and finding a place to fit in and what exactly constitutes a home? Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, they announced at the end of mass that there is an ICE CREAM SOCIAL after church.

WHAT?!!!!!!!!!!!!

Disney movies, chicks giving the sermon and FREE ICE CREAM?! Holy cow. At this point, I realized that the Methodists have thrown away the idea of "how to get to heaven" and have instead re-created heaven right in front of me. Priceless.

My one "problem" (and I use that word loosely) with mass today was the lack of communion. I listened to the readings, the sermons, the songs and then before I knew it, we stood up to leave and eat ice cream! But I thought--where's the host!? Where's the wine!? Isn't someone going to remember the Last Supper!? I was so confused and thought for a second that maybe since it was WELCOME BACK RALLY DAY that the poor Methodists had gotten so excited that they forgot about it. I got home and called my secret Methodist source and he said that they usually only celebrate the Eucharist once a month, usually the first Sunday.

Hmmm. Well this just made me very confused. I then decided to research how Methodists feel about communion in general. Up until today, I thought that one of the main differences between Catholics and Protestants was in the celebration of the Eucharist. I thought that Catholics believe that the bread and wine actually BECOME Jesus while Protestants take it as a symbol. Wouldn't you know I was WRONG!???????????? (I know. Weird.)

So I found this info from this website. Catholics do indeed believe in transubstantiation. That is, during the liturgy, the bread and wine are changed into the Body and Blood of Christ. There is an actual CHANGE of SUBSTANCE and Catholics believe they are consuming the literal Christ. (Eastern Orthodox churches also believe in transubstantiation.) LUTHERANS believe in consubstantiation. This is the belief that the body and blood of Jesus Christ are mysteriously and supernaturally united with the bread and wine. Christ and the bread and wine co-exist but the substances do not change.

To further confuse things, Methodists and Presbyterians believe that the body and blood of Christ are received in a spiritual manner by faith (it is neither taken substantially, nor as a mere symbol). I'm not sure I understand this one. I think it means that communion is a spiritual experience but not to the extent that Lutherans believe and certainly not to the extent that Catholics believe. The website went on to say that the only branch that really believes that the Eucharist is a "symbol" is the Baptist faith. They use the celebration of the Eucharist as a commemoration of Jesus' death.

My didn't I get myself into some insane topics here. Ugh. The point of this whole rambling is that although the Methodist church was a wonderful experience, I felt very unfulfilled when I left due to the lack of Eucharist. (Troy points out that it's just because I like carbs and wine. Correct!) It was more than that. I just wanted to celebrate that. I wanted to receive it. And although I mused that my mother would have a lot to say when I got home, I was eager for her input. And wouldn't I know it when I called her later that afternoon and I told her about the lack of Eucharist she said "Didn't you feel empty?" And I did. Very much.

So while I really enjoy the idea of females giving sermons and FRIENDLY singing atmospheres, I think I will only return to WUMC on the Sundays where they do celebrate the Eucharist. I can definitely see myself going back into such a welcoming ice-cream-eating community. If any of you care to take the Belief-O-Matic test online, here is the link.

Best of luck to any of you out there who are like me, questioning, exploring and trying to find a faith all your own. Peace.

Three Flights Up

It's a little bit much but I wrote this today. A Descriptive Essay of sorts? Maybe I can use it for something in the future. Either way, it's a melodramatic glimpse into my psyche. WOOT WOOT. Ahem:

Today was the first glimpse I had of autumn. It seemed early but again I remind myself that for Western New York, fall is just in time. It's raining today and for the first time there is a chill that is keenly autumnal. I felt it today while driving in the car. I passed a branch of a tree and out on the limb, the edges of the leaves were already bits of auburn and gold. I was instantly excited and now the smell of apple pie seems so very close.

I've been taking a lot of quiet time lately. Sometimes I hate the fact that I have to drive off campus to get home--it seems easier for those who walk back to their dorms and on-campus apartments. But I don't have that option anymore and so when class is over, I get in my little silver Escort, turn to NPR on 88.7 and drive the almost exactly 14.5 minutes home. And it *is* home. A little bit.

I have to open three doors and walk up three flights to get here, but I get here. I hang my bag over the coat closet doorknob, I walk into the living room and flick on the lights. Sometimes at night, I open up the linen closet to make sure no one's crouching there, ready to pounce. Most of the time I'm okay. And I can sit at my desk and check my e-mail without turning around too many times to be sure no one's behind me.

The medicine cabinet in the bathroom is full of my various lotions and powders which firmly establish me as a pampering hog. The bathtub is clean (for now) and on the shelf against the wall are my shampoo and conditioner, all lined up. There's a random razor and some facial cleanser and of course, on the faucet, my yellow loofah limply hangs, still dripping from the morning's shower. The vanilla candle on the top of the toilet, the "Milk and Honey" handsoap on the sink, the powder blue bathrobe hanging behind the door, all these things owe their existence to me. I have claimed this space.

The television is on the floor because I need tools to set up the stand that I bought for it. Instead of calling friends for screwdrivers, I gave up immediately and the various bolts and pieces of metal scatter the carpeted floor of the living room. There are posters (finally!) on the walls and they are slices of me as well: Renoir's "Two Girls At The Piano", a few Will Rafuse caricatures in the hall and in the kitchen, my calendar of Paris, Marilyn Monroe in the bedroom and way too many Degas paintings to be legal. The bookshelf is stacked with my class necessities--a Shakespearean dictionary, Dance in Education--and also with leisure items, Michael Moore rantings and David Auburn's "Proof".

Ah yes, this is a dramatic liberal apartment!! But it is mine. And don't I love to own things? Down to the little white Wal-Mart toaster and my fridge full of too much cheese and V8. The cabinets are pretty bare and I think this is because there are simply too many for me to fill up! The ones that I do use are very nearly empty and contain just a few bowls, just a few plates, a colander, some tupperware. But the counters are clean and the dishwasher's brand new, though I have yet to even use it. There's something about suds in the sink that is strangely soothing.

I type now by the open windows and tonight I can hear the rain and feel the breeze. It isn't a cool summer breath but a chilly autumn draft. I shiver and yet I can't bring myself to close the window because I'm so in love with that scent. And I sit here and wonder why I bother opening windows when at times the chill becomes too great to bear.

Are we better off with the windows open? We are exposed, for certain, though I suppose if things get to be too overwhelming we could draw the blinds or hang up some curtains. But those are very weak barriers when your soul is involved. The sunlight still peaks through and the rain splatters on the edge of the sill. Sometimes all I want to do is shut all the windows and hide. I am safe in here, after all, three doors in, three flights up. No one can get to me. The house is old but the walls are solid. This is all me.

How frustrating then for me to open windows! I never learn. I open them one at a time, again and again and each time I hope that it will be a lasting summer breeze. Instead, I'm met with autumn chills and a cold feeling up the spine and into the chambers of the heart. Should I let my love be so naked when I'm so high off the ground? Should I open windows when I know it's cold outside? And why do I keep them open?

When do you know that it's time to close those gaps? When it snows? When it storms? When frosty fall is ruthlessly battled down by a darker, more frigid season? These questions go unanswered as I sit and I can hear the cars outside on Main Street, their tires whizzing by through the puddles and the muck in the road. I suppose weather is destined to change and seasons are doomed to evolve. Am I then too?

Do autumn chills always end in winter? And do you inevitably reach that point where it gets to be too much and you slam the window down and latch it shut? I wonder if there is a way to brace myself for the cold without that finality. I question if I can save myself the pain of the slam and wrenching of the latch against the world. I am struggling to snuggle deeper into the covers and even turn the heat up if I need to. I will keep that window open if only for the fact that to shut it would be the biggest heartbreak this third floor apartment has ever known. Peace.

What the flip is grandma doing at the dunes?!

This is going to be a very random post because it's going to be tons of things I've been meaning to say but haven't. *ahem*

1. NAPOLEON DYNAMITE is perhaps one of the best films ever made. It's hilarious, the acting is brilliant and it's rated PG. I urge you all to run before it leaves the theatres. I myself will be going back to check it out. And..." I caught you a delicious bass" so there.

2. Sometimes I do things without thinking. I think we are *all* guilty of this but probably me more than others. What starts out as a REALLY good idea occasionally turns out to be the worst thing I've ever done. Examples of this include the 6th grade, when I thought I could be a gymnast. I practiced my bar technique and my 100% amazing cartwheels every day in gym class. This culminated in my grand finale scissor kick on the balance beam. Well. *Off* the balance beam. I slipped and fell onto the hard gym floor, breaking my left wrist and right ankle in the process. This was something only *I* could manage according to my mother. She came to get me at the nurse's office, nearly crying with laughter at the sight of my left arm and right foot gauzed to VHS cases in makeshift splints, which were the only sturdy things the nurse could find. I make the term "troubled youth" take on a whole new meaning.

Although I've made huge mistakes, it seems that I'm getting better about making decisions. I thought by dating a Republican I was setting myself up for disaster. I've come to realize that it really isn't so bad, as long as we don't talk about anything important. I think this is a really valuable piece of relationship advice. Honestly though, I've gained a lot of insight into the military and I have a newfound respect for the years of service my father gave to this country. Also, I take pride in leaving my Michael Moore paraphernalia in plain sight, especially when I'm looking for a good yelling match about universal health care.

3. I live in the cutest town there ever was. My apartment is the cutest apartment there ever was. I regret very much that I can't post any pictures but my sister demanded that I send home the digital camera. (Oh please. Like it was my dad's or something and I stole it for over a year....um...) I was going to buy one myself but then I realized I actually have to pay rent now (mad props to the residence hall people for firing me, thank you, thank you very much) and I must give up the dream for now of digital gadgetry.

My neighborhood is wonderful, my apartment is lavish if by lavish you mean empty except for boxes and too many shoes. BUT I am officially living on my own! It took me two nights to get into bed and sleep there. (The previous two were spent with a pillow at the top of the stairs, weaving in and out of a light slumber due to the fact that I was convinced a serial rapist/kidnapper/Hitler-type was going to barge in at any second and torture me to death. That never happened and I was very tired, having only gotten 3 or 4 hours of sleep a night and so I eventually gave up and got into bed and have been resting rather peacefully ever since.) The glorious things about living alone include: taking up the entire bathroom cabinet (Laura loves toiletries!), cooking my own dinner every night, playing whatever music I want ANY TIME I WANT, and walking around in whatever clothes I desire at any point of the day.

4. That is all! My classes are great and since this is my LAST SEMESTER OF COLLEGE EVER I have to go do some homework. (Homework=writing about my posture for Mind/Body Integration and also printing out a RECIPE to memorize for Poetic Text. Wow. The life of a music theatre student is so hard. Tell me again why I'm not taking organic chemistry?) PEACE!