Lately, or since I retired, I spend my Sunday mornings differently than I did for the first 67 years of my life. Haven’t been to church more than a handful of times since October 2021. I can’t say I miss it, yet there is a hole, still a yearning, maybe some guilt.
But whenever I get the urge to search for a worshiping community, it’s not long before I think about expectations, and the likelihood of hearing anything that I haven’t heard thousands of times already– familiar talking points, appeals to faith, the assurance that God is always with us… It’s all sounding like empty platitude anymore.
That, and we didn’t have alcohol in the house. We do now, and I partake on Tuesdays when we Zoom, and occasionally when I’m cooking a meal– a glass of white or red, like Julia Child used to do. Quite enjoyable.
3 Cents' 