My daughter, known here as LightGirl, is amazingly perceptive about other people. She is especially perceptive about me. She picks up on my cues when I think I have them deeply hidden. And they are hidden … from most people. But she can see them. She’ll look me straight in the eye and ask a quiet question that cuts straight to the bone. It never hurts, but it’s clean.
Yesterday, she walked in and asked, apropos of nothing, “Mom, are we ever going to start going to church again?” She looked a bit wistful. I asked if she had a particular church in mind. No. I asked if she missed church. Not really. “But,” she said, “I really think you miss it a lot.”
We got interrupted at that point. But I started thinking. Do I miss church? What do I miss? We haven’t attended a Sunday worship service since early March. What is church?
I think the thing I long for the most is communion or Eucharist. I know that there’s an Episcopal church right up the street that I could attend tomorrow and take Eucharist there. But that’s not the same. That’s akin to prostitution. I want to serve and be served the body and bread amongst a circle of community. Where the liturgy calls down Spirit among us and we wait upon It. I’m inherently greedy … and I want communion of heart and soul with God and with my friends. I want it all. That’s what I long for.