Okay, so maybe that's a little harsh. But sometimes...it seems like the church politic...the body as a whole...just doesn't want good things to happen. Sure, they mask that in "We don't like change" or "We've never done that before" but there is something more. It's like those people who insist on putting down people who are happy - like its their very goal to squash happiness wherever they roam. Now, I don't think the aim of the church is to make people unhappy, I just think that its too used to being unhappy that happiness - even hope - offends its somehow. And the reaction is apathy, parking lot gossip, pithy comments, etc. While the sails may begin puffed up heading into wild waters, excitement, the wind is quickly calmed and the ship goes back floating along languidly, like it always has - because that what is comfortable.
My dad (also a priest) has always said the job of a priest is fundamentally about death - helping ourselves and our parishioners die to themselves, that they might actually live to God - in Christ. But that goes against everything the world tells us to do. We should hold on to life...even if it is dull, life-less. I feel the very tug in myself - its why, when I should just keep my mouth shut, when I should let people be responsible for themselves, I blurt out something childish or stay up late wondering how I could have once again offended someone without even knowing it. But while the world calls us to hold on to ourSELVES, God calls us to give that very self up and give it to him. And that is so very painful and difficult because I like myself - often too much - and I don't really want to give what I know up for something that I cannot know before hand. I don't like the unknown - that's why death scares the crap out of me. But whether or not I like it...if I am to be faithful, it is what I must embrace. And while we speak of these things in church - we rarely act them out as the people of the church. We hold on to the life we know - even if it is life-less - simply because it is known. It is too big of a risk to reach out to the UNknown. Even if the unknown might give us new life. And such actions negate our spoken belief in the resurrection (or the possibility of such a reality). So, how can we possibly hope to reach out to a world that needs resurrection so badly, if we are not even willing to try it every once in a while. In a world that desperately needs authenticity, here we sit as the church, saying one thing and doing the complete opposite. No wonder we are dwindling.
When I was probably seven or eight, I used to love to go to the church's resale shop (the "New Life Shop") and play dress up, usually when the shop was closed. There were fabulous hats and long silk gloves and big fur coats that we would drape all over ourselves and pretend we were rich old ladies or detectives, etc. One day my sister and I decided to dress up as superheroes. I put on some great big boots, a pair of sunglasses and a ridiculous hat, but it wasn't quite right. I needed a cape. As we waded through the piles of donations, I found this great silky black negligee (of course, I had no idea what it was, except that it was PERFECT for a cape. The spaghetti straps tied perfectly around my neck, and it flowed just like a cape as I swooped around the room. I HAD to have that cape. I ran home and asked my mom if I could buy it with my allowance (it was probably no more than $1, as most things in the shop were around 25 cents). So, when the shop opened for business, I took my allowance and headed over to buy my 
"cape", hat, sunglasses, and boots. Well, it was just my luck that the most dower, prudish church-lady happened to be working that day. She was one of those people who had an opinion on everything. She didn't really like my mom because she wasn't what a priest's wife should be (too feminist, liberal, and god knows what else). She was sure that somehow my mom's ideas were corrupting my dad. So, when I laid my items on the counter, she told me I couldn't buy the cape. All I remember is the fact that she wouldn't let me have my cape. But my sister tells me she said, "I know you're just buying this for your mother. I won't let you do it." I ran home, crying, telling my mom that the lady wouldn't let me buy it. I don't know what happened, but somehow I ended up with the cape (probably my mom went over and bought it after the shop closed) - the picture to the right clearly shows me donning it proudly.
Thank God there was one person who appreciated creativity. When narrow-vision sought to squash the creative mind of a child, when personal feelings tried to interfere a possibility of joy, my mom did the right thing. And man…what a costume, eh?
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