Growing Up Episcopalian

Or "cradle" as they say

I have to laugh at this photo taken for the church directory. 1. Church directory? What a time. 2. We’re all wearing collars? Stereotypical uppity Episcopalian family.

The reactions I get when I say that I’m a “Cradle Episcopalian” are quite interesting. The Episcopal church is home to a lot of converts from many denominations, so reactions vary from impressed to neutral to jealous. I didn’t exactly choose to be raised in the Episcopal church, so these reactions should really be directed towards my parents. Thanks Mom and Dad!

For those who aren’t familiar with the term, “Cradle Episcopalian” just means that I grew up in the Episcopal Church. (If we want to get technical, I was baptized Presbyterian as an infant, but my family started attending an Episcopal church when I was in pre-K, so I think that still counts.)

When asked what it was like to be a child in this church, I often just say that I didn’t know anything different. I wasn’t paying attention to the beauty of the liturgy or the nuances of theology. I was mostly complaining about standing up then sitting down then standing up again. But isn’t that beautiful too? I didn’t recognize that I was growing up in a uniquely faithful community that cared for one another, because that’s just what was in the water.

As an adult looking backwards, I feel extremely blessed. Slowly, imperceptibly, the rhythms and people of the Episcopal church very much shaped who I am today.

In today’s newsletter, I wanted to reflect on what it was like to be a child in my small town Episcopal church, and lessons learned that were undetectable (at least to me) until adulthood.

I had the great honor of playing Mary not once but twice in the children’s pagaent. Where is my Academy Award?

Pros and Cons of Being an Episcopal Kid

Let’s start with the Negatives:

• We had a small youth program, especially in middle school and high school. If we had 5 high schoolers in Sunday school, it was a good week. Some years were better than others, but I wouldn’t describe our program as strong. Many high schoolers (myself included) started attending the local nondenominational or Catholic events since they were bigger and cooler and funner. The sad part is that if we had all just attended our own church, we probably would have had more than 5 people each Sunday. Unfortunately, I think this is still quite common in small Episcopal churches across the country today.

• Services could be borrrrriiiiinnnggggg. Sure, liturgy is cool. But to an 8 year old? It’s just a lot of standing, listening to adults, saying words without understanding them, and asking Mom to scratch my back to pass the time.

The Positives (that I noticed as a kid):

• We didn’t grow up with extended family living nearby, but I never wanted for community. We had more uncles and grandmas and big sisters and mentors than I could count. I grew up with a plethora of old people as my friends, and it really grounded me. I still remember whose jokes I thought were funniest, who was my favorite usher, who would ask me about my piano lessons at coffee hour. I learned how to converse with adults and how to have adults for friends, and my heart bursts thinking about all of the love and support I experienced over the years. In my humble opinion, intergenerational relationships are one of the best reasons to join a church and get involved.

• Choir (duh!). Kate and I have recorded a whole episode about our affinity for choir and how music shapes faith, so I won’t belabor this point. But as a musically-inclined child, I absolutely loved the experience of singing in the choir, learning to chant psalms, and taking an active part in the service.

• Vestment changes, seasonal hymns (“I Sing a Song of the Saints of God”), annual random church traditions (church softball team?) and festive holidays (Shrove Tuesday pancakes)... I grew to love the excitement of the liturgical seasons as a kid. I honestly felt bad for my friends who didn’t get to light the Advent candles every December or carry palms every spring.

• I could ask big questions, and I got real answers. Adults weren’t afraid to respond, “I don’t know.” It is natural for young children to be inquisitive about faith as they grow up, and I wasn’t scared to doubt publicly. I never felt shame for being curious or skeptical.

The Positives (that I took for granted and only now appreciate as an adult):

• Liturgy shaped my brain. It’s still shaping my brain. Like waves gently lapping on a rock, it smooths my edges, it softens me, it teaches me to let go and to listen. As a child, I took great pride in my precise memorization of the Nicene Creed. As an adult, I realize that recited prayer takes root in your heart and isn’t easily forgotten.

• Our family was deeply involved at our church, so we witnessed rectors come and go. Even when leadership changed (and as a result, service choices were tweaked or annual events were adjusted), my family stayed. I learned that church isn’t about the individual at the front, and it’s not even really about which individuals are in the pews. The church presses on. Through scandal, through challenges, through rainstorms and summertime attendance drops, through vestry elections and renovations, the church remains. In the Episcopal church, I learned stability.

• I was trusted to be an adult. I was an active, participating member of the Body of Christ. We weren’t shoved away in a kids room until the grown-ups were done. I served as an acolyte, took communion, and recited the prayers with everyone else. Today, when I hear a child fuss in church, I smile. Whether or not they know it, that child is participating in worship in the same way we all are— kind of distracted, kind of sleepy, but worshiping next to our brothers and sisters in Christ.

While I love faithfully reading religious books for my Benedictine Group, I have found that reading fiction can also teach me a lot about life here on Earth. The novels in this list gave me hope for humanity. They all share striking themes of community and connection— in other words: what it’s all about! I cried reading most of them.

• A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman (I cried on a plane)

• Iona Iverson’s Rules for Commuting by Clare Pooley (whimsical and hopeful)

• The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd (a rite of passage)

• Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus (I cried by the pool)

• Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir (I cried reading science fiction??)

“May the road rise to meet you

May the wind be always at your back

May the sun shine warm upon your face

The rains fall soft on your fields

And until we meet again

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.”

- Traditional Irish Blessing

We recently attended a friend’s wedding where they sang this song, and it brought tears to my eyes. What a beautiful, simple, sentimental way of wishing someone well as they journey on through life.

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