My apologies to my Irish friends, but I couldn’t think of anything half as appropriate for a title.
Today was the Unity Easter Sunday service, and, heaven help us, we had Phil Jones there again. He’s giving another workshop tomorrow night, so I am beyond thrilled. Last year I both met him and the didgeridoo, and it was such an incredible experience. I made sure to tell him how much I enjoyed the workshop he gave from last year, and how pleased I was to see him again.
I was reading about last year’s Unity Easter Service, and I realized how much I’ve changed since then.
In some humorously surprising ways, actually. Reverend Dave read the Matthew version, and one of the first things that hit me was that the first person Christ appeared to was a woman. Mary Magdalene, actually. Not an “apostle” but a woman. Not really important for me personally, I don’t think, but with all this feminine awareness I have about me now, I thought it appropriate that I noticed it.
I’ll refrain from going all Sojourner Truth right about now and her opinion of men’s place with Christ, and get on to what I was really talking about.
Unity uses the cross as a metaphysical symbol: the horizontal bar to “cross out” negativity (anything which keeps us from God) and the vertical one being a “crossing over” into higher consciousness.
Last year I wasn’t down with that. This year, I’m not either, I don’t think, but it’s a linguistic matter, and not a theoretical one.
They talk about resurrection; they talk about the miracle of rebirth and the majesty of divine union. But I’ve noticed that people sort of skip over the death part, and I think that’s a mistake. One cannot happen without the other. And this “crossing out,” I think, is a soft-synonym for the word “death.” I can understand thing reasoning behind it, but I think that there is a big difference between
crossing out and completely remov___ .
And I know that I won’t be at this Unity church for long — too many things moving, I will probably be moving. I have made other commitments which keep me from actually joining their membership, and that actually created a gulf between myself and others that I hadn’t anticipated.
While I’ve found that, for the most part, people have been extremely supportive of me in so many areas of my life, there is that little bit of hurt they feel that you aren’t doing things their way. Of course, I may be reading it wrong, but I’ve notice that the support changes, or the receptivity changes, or the availability changes. Like when I stopped going to OA but wanted to explore the steps and keep my sponsor. I don’t even remember the last time I saw her in a sponsor-sponsee setting. Or when, while I was still debating whether to declare myself as Baha’i, I told another friend that I could not in good conscience join membership of the church. I could certainly help support the church; I’d take advantage of the lessons and classes and what not until I found an environment which better suited my needs, but I could not, in good conscience, become an actual member of the church.
Which is strange, in a way. Next Sunday I’ll be speaking about how Unity principles changed my life. To a congregation, no less. It’s their first Membership Sunday, one in which they induct the church’s new members as part of their new incorporation. And the first speaker of their very first Membership Drive won’t be a member. Hmm.
But there’s a difference, now, a slight wall or something. But for the first time in longer than I can remember, I’m okay with it.
And it feels damn good.