Most Beautiful Encounter

Had quit church-going, I thought forever. Could not abide the endless intellectual and political wanking about things so far removed from the object of worship, that it seemed an offense just going there.

Then, at Donna and Lawrence's invitation, I went to a very small, intimate Episcopal service on the Big Island and had one of the most beautiful church-going experiences of my life. There were thirty to forty in attendance at most, a few singers singing humble but heartfelt songs. The pastor, a woman my age, spoke walking among us, not standing over us. Her topic- just some musings about baptism and the kind of talkstory one might have after dinner with comfortable intimates. At no point did she feel the need to raise her voice or use rhetorical forms.

Commmunion was open, and for the first time EVER, there was a gluten-free host on the tray along with the wheat loaf. After the service, Donna and I walked the labyrinth, while Lawrence sampled the guitar of a choir member.

Then the sweetest moments of all- a truly I-thou conversation with two women completely absent the usual best-foot-forward coffee talk, and placing of oneself on the spectrum of Christian identities. One woman was there from Seattle with her husband, who had decided to spend his last days on the Big Island, for reasons that seem utterly obvious to me now. He has lung cancer. The other woman, a fellow celiac diet observer, had noticed that we shared the same bread preference.

I figure this was a call. I will answer it by venturing out to a small church in Tucson, bringing with me my Hawaii experience and leaving behind my pride and previous memories.