My life-partner’s mother recently died of old age (99) and the church her mother had attended for many years were going to make an announcement of her passing at the Sunday service – so we went to attend.
It was a Unitarian church, I knew nothing about that particular faith, so my curiosity was peeked when I noticed a banner draped over the wall leading to the street with large letters declaring, Black lives Matter. “All life matters” I thought to myself, but kept quiet. Next I saw everyone was wearing masks. For reference this was in 2022 after the latest official pronouncement from the CDC that distancing and masks were generally not effective any more.
The inside the church was dimly lit with cathedral ceilings, an un-used pipe organ and a classic, raised wooden pulpit.
The minister unmasked herself only to speak, as did others, dutifully reattaching their masks after bearing their faces to speak. My partner – out of respect, I presume – put on a mask she had kept in a spare pocket, only to remove it when singing during the service. I believe I was the only naked face in a building.
The theme for the day was “Beliefs”. We were told that some beliefs were oppressive and some beliefs set us free. Wearing masks for no-good-reason was not mentioned as an oppressive belief, but questioning the goodness of one’s own country was instead addressed, as well as beliefs about “marginalized” communities and racism. We were warned of those who were out to dominate and oppress others – and encouraged to support several local LBTQ+ activist groups as well as invited to attend church group-meetings to learn about “historic, systemic racism”.
The answer to it all was Love – it was finally revealed from the pulpit. Love of family, friends, love for the environment, love of ourselves and acceptance of others (except – presumably – those in opposition to social justice) was the ticket forward.
During the entire service, God was never mentioned, nor hinted to as any source of creation, love or salvation. I felt like I was attending a Progressive political mixer. The only space God still occupied in this church was at the foot of the pulpit, where the words, “To the glory of God” had long ago been carved into the mantle.
I’m certain there were good, decent people trying to do the right thing in this Unitarian church, but my partner and I were happy to escape and join the tail end of another service down the street with happy faces, celebrating their connection to each other and yes, the Creator Him/Herself. I’ve never been a fan of most churches. Now I have more reason to.
