We receive Communion in a big circle during Easter season. A sprawling ellipsis in front of the sanctuary. Then, at the piano, Patrick will begin to play the Communion hymn, and voices sweetly join. I look over at Becky or at Alice or at William or at Tammy holding wee Brigid or at Sylvia or at Mark & Bill, and they're singing with such expressions of peace. How radically and really included I feel, and indeed am; how close to a loving God.

And I begin to weep tears of joy. It has been thus almost every week of this Easter season.


Something like terror, or the twinned micro-terrors of scruple and shame, would accompany my Roman Catholic communions; or, the despairing knowledge that within days or even hours I'd once again have fallen out of "the state of grace" ... according to the rules and regs. In 29 years of adult Catholic practice, I was never, never at ease. Never, never at home.

My current ecclesial allegiance, and loyalty to my particular Sunday community, is healing me on SO many levels.

Poetry by Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2024-05-13 at 12:41

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
My neighbor has a plaque on the wall which reads:


I'm not sure why she finds that comforting.

alarian The PoetBay support member heart!
after the height, the descent? light like a feather...the mass changes the lead into feather through a metamorphosis ? I agree it can be so much uplifting

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Roman Catholicism does seem to be a uniquely punitive faith. God's always got His eye on you, and He'll kick your ass if you step out of line.