The Life of the World to Come

I have always been so immersed in a church community I can't imagine life without it.

That's not true. As far as that goes, college was a bust. I was lonely and yearned to know people who weren't my own age. Though I later served as a campus minister, I certainly wasn't involved in the student center while a student. I wanted to know people who were my elders. That's always been one of the greatest things about church for me.

From Mrs. Purden's cookies to the world's warmest smile on Bill Barth's face each Sunday, St. Mark's gave me a home church in which I was raised by generations of Episcopalians, not just my parents. Ironically (because she was the world's most fabulous clergy spouse) I always wanted most to be like Marie Calcote (ironic because I too am now a clergy spouse... though decidedly not the world's most fabulous). I knew people well who weren't kids, who had already "been there" and "done that" and who weren't my flesh and blood family. Church family is a very powerful thing.

Without a church (or synagogue, or mosque) how would someone know people in other age groups? Perhaps they don't. What a loss. I'm not talking about religion right now - I'm talking about relationships. What a true loss to not have friends in other life stages.

Many... most? of the people I hold dearest in my current parish are considerably older than I am. They are the ones who welcomed me into my church home with loving and open arms. They are the ones who offer me the wisdom of having survived. When I show up on a Sunday looking tired and haggard, they smile knowingly and laugh saying things like, "Yep. I remember those days. It will get better." When I have news to share of successes, they never wonder self consciously if I am passive aggressively competing with them (peers, I never am, I don't care). They just celebrate my successes with me. And their stories are fabulous. Stories about raising their own children, most of whom were born before I was. Stories about falling in love and getting married in a whirlwind of weeks. Stories about staying married through the thick and thin. Stories about losing loved ones and pain and moving and new jobs and hardships. There is most definitely a wisdom that comes with age.

A friend (who is not yet an old man) is dying right now and I'm at a loss for words. Well, am I ever truly at a loss for words? There are many things to say about his character (upstanding), his love for his family (endless), his love for God (inspiring)... all of that... but for me, when he was still able to attend church, he was the person who shared with me a similar love of learning. I knew that each Sunday we would stop and talk. Like most people we would inquire as to one another's families and all that jazz, but the heart of our friendship, the real meat of why we "click" is that we have the same passion for learning. We would fly through all of the niceties of conversation and then one of us would excitedly say to the other, "Guess what I learned about?!" or ask one another a question about the other's studied topic and then the conversation would really take off. I've missed seeing him these last few months. I didn't realize how accustomed I'd grown to our... nope... that's not true at all. I have actually cherished that friendship since day one. 

And I have meanwhile heard news of another (much older) friend's medical diagnosis. They too are someone who I make a point to sit by when the seat next to them is empty. I heard of this yesterday and won't blog more about it. Suffice to say, I'll miss this person as well.

Since Chris became a priest he has done an insane amount of funerals. It wasn't until now, in this parish, in this family, that they really started taking their toll on me. "But wait!" I want to cry out "These are my friends! my family!" Our last church was huge. And I worked for another church. I never knew, or really knew, any of the people whose funerals Chris was presiding.

To be honest... I much prefer this. Because the richness of friendship far exceeds the hardship. The beauty of knowing each other, the joy of learning from one another, the love we share with one another in friendship - all of that truly outweighs the heaviness of death.

And with great hope, we look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.