Mukilteo Musings

Separation of Church and State: I do not think religion should be a part of our political process in this nation. Frankly, it is unconstituional and contrary to one of the reasons our country had its birth. I heard yesterday that there are bumper stickers for this election claiming, "You can either be a Christian or a Democrat! What choice will you make?" I am outraged at such a statement--completely outraged. People of all faiths should be "allowed" to be members of either political party--this was the vision of our Founding Fathers. The Republican Party does not have a monopoly on Christianity. I print here an article I wrote for my church newsletter a year ago.

Lessons from Canterbury Cathedral

Our family took a pilgrimage of sorts to England. We visited Whitstable, Herne Bay and Canterbury. My grandparents were born and grew up in the area and actually met as children in the Blean Workhouse (think Oliver Twist) in Herne Bay. As a young man, at the turn of the century, my grandfather escaped his dismal life and embarked on an adventure to America—ending up on Stevens Pass near Everett, Washington where my grandmother joined him 8 years later. Eventually, they settled in Montana. My grandparents left me with the legacy of the Anglican faith. The purpose of the England visit was to reveal the historical roots of my family and faith to my children, Lucas and Kaley.

Along the same road as the workhouse only a few miles from Canterbury we found St. Martin’s-in-Herne, an ancient church where my grandmother was confirmed as a child. It is said a church has been on this site since the 7th century. In the crumbling graveyard, we discovered one of my family names on a tombstone. A lovely woman invited us to walk around inside. As I stood facing the altar, I pondered with a smile my childhood trips to church with my grandmother. My English Grandma would never do the sign of the cross explaining that it was too "Roman Catholic". As a result, my family still does not.

St. Martin's-in-Herne


The last day of our trip was a Sunday. We had already explored Canterbury Cathedral as tourists but Lucas suggested we attend a service—the 11 AM sung Eucharist. We pulled out our nicest clothes—skirts and long pants—I was concerned about what we should wear. Men in dressy suits directed us to the seating for the service. People were seated in the choir area facing one another as was the boys choir. We were seated in small folding chairs on either side of the aisle near the altar. The folding chair sections were also facing each other rather than forward.

Across from us in the front row on the other side sat what appeared to be a homeless man. His appearance was unkempt with ripped clothes and a backpack; he had long dark dreadlocks; and my assumption was that he had an odor about him. The man in a dark suit next to him and the nicely dressed woman on the other side looked slightly disturbed. I admit that I was uncomfortable; will this scraggly young man interfere with my worship in this special place on the last day of our vacation?! What would he do? Immediately, he began to chat with the man and woman on either side and they continued to look uneasy.

The service began and throughout the entire Eucharist, one could not help but watch the man. He sang louder than everyone; he knew the entire service and every prayer without the book; he loudly recited an older version of the Lord’s Prayer which was not identical to what was printed in our booklet. In the folding chairs, there was no place for us to kneel during the Eucharistic Prayer so we stayed quietly seated, but not the "Man"! He kneeled out in the aisle in front of everybody on the hard surface alone. He kneeled and prayed oblivious to the eyes upon him. Emphatically, he would do the sign of the cross.

While seated following communion, I asked my children what they thought. Each of them had a big smile; Dave, my husband, was laughing; the "Man" inspired joy. He was cool. "He is Jesus!", they said. The "Man" received Communion and left before the recessional. His exit was remarkable. He stepped out in the aisle in front of everyone and faced the altar. He genuflected and made the sign of the cross with gusto. The "Man" slipped out and we never saw him again.
Frankly, I do not remember much about the Dean’s sermon except his accent was upper class and the "Man’s" was not, but I catch myself thinking about that Sunday, July 20, 2003 frequently.

The "Man" has been the topic of family dinner converstion; I couldn’t have planned a better lesson for my teen-agers. After all, the "Man" knew the service better than they did. An impression I have of Jesus is that He was sent to shake up established religion, to keep us on God’s track, and to make people uncomfortable; He is still doing it. It is God’s decision who is welcome in our church services and I cannot think of any person God would exclude. I cannot think of any person Jesus would not embrace. We may feel uncomfortable about the people behind us in church or in front of us. But, we cannot know anyone else’s heart, mind, struggles or motivations. We cannot judge because one just never knows, the person across the aisle might be Jesus.