ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...
For me, autumn as always been about changes. I’ve always changed bed linens to different colour schemes and weight and I’ve changed window coverings to let in more light. My clothes get changed from linen and sandals to jackets and scarves and boots. I start watching my favourite horror films and discover new ones, too. (In truth, I already started this part in August.) I’ll read gothic stories. Poe is a favourite, af course. I’ll get my first and only pumpkin-spiced latte of the season. I’ll make my first batch of chili.
This fall, I’m beginning another much thought about change when I attend three informational classes on conversion to Judaism (Reformed). They begin a couple of weeks after Yom Kippur. I’ve been pondering this for sometime, but told no one except for a few chosen ones. No pun intended.
Since signing up for the series at a temple on the northside of Chicago, I have been bombarded with emails. It’s almost overwhelming. This morning, while lying in bed with a still-present headache, I had doubts.
But I have doubts about my Catholicism, too. So much doesn’t jive with what makes sense to me. And there are one or two glaring issues with the church as we all know.
Those issues are not what this is about. It’s about finding what fits, finding the right home, belonging. I don’t know how else to describe this need. I was baptised Catholic but confirmed in the Lutheran Church. Jason was baptised Catholic and when he was attending catechism classes I was attending Catechumenate classes. I was confirmed in the church shortly after Jason made his first communion. And a few months later stopped attending mass except occasionally and I never went to confession. THAT was always troubling to me. Not the fact that I never went to confession, but that it was required. Or should I say, strongly suggested. It is a sin not to go.
As some of you may know, I gave up on god after Jason died. I gave up on a lot. I almost gave up on myself. But my stubborn Swedishness (even if I’m less Swedish than I was led to believe… ha!) made sure I did not.
In New Orleans, at Saint Louis Cathedral, I found my god again. S/He’d been there all along, waiting patiently.
And now I’ve been lead to this point, to explore another aspect of my spiritual self. I have no idea where it may lead or where I’ll end up. The coming holidays will be unusual for sure. A church in my neighbourhood hosts Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services by an independent, non-denominational Jewish spiritual community, to which I’ve been invited.
Will it be a problem to decorate for both Hanukkah and Christmas ? As my Christmas boxes contain only secular things that shouldn’t be an issue. I found a beautiful menorah at an antique/resale shop and I hung a mezuzah at my front door. I spoke the prayer - in English. (I know I should have one at all doors, but I hope this is okay for now.)
Much to learn, even more to think about, and I sincerely hope no one takes issue with this. I don't know why anyone would, but I do know people are funny and strange and unpredictable at times.
Shalom, y’all.
This fall, I’m beginning another much thought about change when I attend three informational classes on conversion to Judaism (Reformed). They begin a couple of weeks after Yom Kippur. I’ve been pondering this for sometime, but told no one except for a few chosen ones. No pun intended.
Since signing up for the series at a temple on the northside of Chicago, I have been bombarded with emails. It’s almost overwhelming. This morning, while lying in bed with a still-present headache, I had doubts.
But I have doubts about my Catholicism, too. So much doesn’t jive with what makes sense to me. And there are one or two glaring issues with the church as we all know.
Those issues are not what this is about. It’s about finding what fits, finding the right home, belonging. I don’t know how else to describe this need. I was baptised Catholic but confirmed in the Lutheran Church. Jason was baptised Catholic and when he was attending catechism classes I was attending Catechumenate classes. I was confirmed in the church shortly after Jason made his first communion. And a few months later stopped attending mass except occasionally and I never went to confession. THAT was always troubling to me. Not the fact that I never went to confession, but that it was required. Or should I say, strongly suggested. It is a sin not to go.
As some of you may know, I gave up on god after Jason died. I gave up on a lot. I almost gave up on myself. But my stubborn Swedishness (even if I’m less Swedish than I was led to believe… ha!) made sure I did not.
In New Orleans, at Saint Louis Cathedral, I found my god again. S/He’d been there all along, waiting patiently.
And now I’ve been lead to this point, to explore another aspect of my spiritual self. I have no idea where it may lead or where I’ll end up. The coming holidays will be unusual for sure. A church in my neighbourhood hosts Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services by an independent, non-denominational Jewish spiritual community, to which I’ve been invited.
Will it be a problem to decorate for both Hanukkah and Christmas ? As my Christmas boxes contain only secular things that shouldn’t be an issue. I found a beautiful menorah at an antique/resale shop and I hung a mezuzah at my front door. I spoke the prayer - in English. (I know I should have one at all doors, but I hope this is okay for now.)
Much to learn, even more to think about, and I sincerely hope no one takes issue with this. I don't know why anyone would, but I do know people are funny and strange and unpredictable at times.
Shalom, y’all.
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| © Trish Korous | 2019 |
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| © Trish Korous | 2019 |
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