Finding a New Religion

One of Leta’s favorite places to go when she is home from school is our Episcopalian Church, St Martins in-The-Fields in Chestnut Hill. Leta was baptized here in 1999 when she was two years old. From the time we moved to Philadelphia, St Martins became an important place for Leta and our family. We would take all the kids to the 10am children’s service that was cleverly designed to last only 20 minutes; it was less formal, and the sermon and songs were always predictably the same.

“What is the Gospel, kids?”
“Good News”
And what does the Gospel mean?
“That God loves us”

There was never a variance and the congregation of pre-schoolers always knew the right answer. And even though the service was meant for younger kids, Leta continued going until she was about 10 years old. I secretly never wanted her to out-grow it, as that would mean getting up earlier for the 9am hour long service and having to navigate a more adult and perhaps less forgiving crowd. But still today, Leta always looks forward to church. When I tell her we are going, she rushes to my closet to pull out my dress and then insists that I find her a pretty party dress too. Her entrance into the church is always with flourish. She pushes the heavy doors open with gusto, lifts both her arms above her head to heaven, and announces her arrival with a high pitched, “Dahhhhhh.” She presents as if she is The Queen of England, announcing her arrival at court. Some in the congregation, may be thinking, “Oh God, here comes trouble”, but most, I believe, are incredibly accepting of Leta if not a bit amused by a break from convention. And then, with the refracted light from the stained glass windows shining down on Leta, I feel the love of God. And the song that Leta adores begins to play:

“I see….. the light ……of God….. in you,
the love of Christ, come shining through,
and I am blessed to be with you,
Oh Holy child of God……”

At this point, Leta would confidently march down the aisle and find a seat in a pew close to the front, gesturing her hands to her eyes,(seeing the light of God), to her heart, (the love of Christ) and then raising her arms to the heavens again, (the Holy child of God.) I am forever grateful to the community at St Martins for their unwavering patience and 100% unconditional acceptance of my little girl. Without a doubt, Leta is nosier, wigglier and more unruly than any other child in attendance, and yet no one ever lets on that she is disruptive. And we have tested our congregation’s acceptance on numerous occasions. For example; Leta has grabbed the tithing out of the dish, walked up and held hands with the minister as he delievered his sermon, and blown out the candles on the offering table, just because. But my greatest moment of mortification came one day as Leta watched the communal bread be carried down to the front of the church. And instead of waiting patiently for our turn in line for the sacrament, Leta, always hungry, saw a dining opportunity and grabbed the loaf of bread from the silver tray just as it passed our pew. Like a seasoned football linebacker, she tackled the bread to the ground, one arm holding it tight the other hand quickly stuffing large bites of dough into her mouth. Like a pro, she knew instinctively that she only had seconds to succeed. A gluttonous moment to witness for even the most forgiving in the congregation. There was nothing for me to do at this point, but pick Leta up off the ground, pull the bread from her mouth, and stick it back on the tray. My face was red with embarrassment, but no one said a word. The service went on and everyone took communion that day from Leta’s football.

Having Leta in my life has made me question my faith, but also made me a journeyman in understanding not only my faith but other faiths around me. I was baptized in an Episcopalian church, St John’s, directly across from The White House, in Washington, D.C. in 1963. But I never got the sense that my parents were anything more than “Cocktail Christians”. It was always important to them that we get up early to attend church, in our Sunday best, white gloves and all, but I don’t ever remember having meaningful discussions with either of my parents about the actual sermons or the reason we performed this weekly ritual in the first place. Instead, my parent’s focus was always on “The Who’s Who” that attended the 9am service each Sunday. I grew up saying polite hellos to Supreme Court Justices, Congressman and Senators who seemlessly intermingled with my parent’s old guard ,”Inside the Beltway,” social set of self-important doyennes and their husbands. I equated religion with power and influence. And as I grew up I had a pretty cynical take on the ritual of church based religion. Spirituality had never seemed the emphasis.

When we moved to Philadelphia, we joined St Martin’s-in-the-Field in Chestnut Hill. And we baptized all four of our children in this church. But still it seemed like a riutalistic rite of passage for my kids, rather than a conscious spirtual decision. We loved St Martin’s and developed a tremendous sense of community there, but it didn’t satisfy all my spiritual needs. At times it felt very social; it mattered how you dressed your kids and it was a bit of a scene on Easter or Christmas when the holiday congregation showed up. In contrast, we had bought our house in Mt Airy, the next neighborhood over, where we were considered outsiders by being WASPY Episcopalians in a predominately Jewish neighborhood. These neighbors, I am sure, thought we had wrongly taken a left hand-turn by landing so far from our Chestnut Hill milieu. But in fact, this was the exact right place for us to be. And it was the place that my spiritual journey began. Mt Airy thrives on diversity and embraces differences; a refreshing change from Washington D.C. And with Leta in our fold, my family was the definition of different. And even though I was completely ignorant of the Jewish traditions; I asked my neighbors what gelfite was, prounouncing it “Jell-fight” and I wished all my Jewish neighbors a “Merry Christmas” each year, they tolerated my ignorance and embraced my little girl. It was the first time that I was surrounded by friends and neighbors that valued community for the sake of community and not because we were politically important or had influential jobs. I fell in love with Mt Airy and finally felt like I was home. My favorite aspect of the Jewish tradition was what I learned to be called “Mitzvah,” practicing acts of kindness or doing a good deed. I know that this is at the heart of the Christian religion as well, but it resonanted with me by seeing it played out by my Jewish neighbors and seeing them raise their kids with this as the core value system. I was raised with such a skewed value system, money and power, that I loved this tradition and wanted in.

And then we sent three of our kids to Germantown Friends School, which is the oldest Quaker School in America. And I fell in love with this sect of Christianity. The Quakers cut out the middlemen of church and believed in an individuals direct communion with a divine being. And that God exists within each of us. This felt right too. And in my search for divine guidance, I loved the simplicity of the Quaker school and the reflective aspect of Meeting For Worship. Again, no emphasis on money or power.

And then we discovered Camphill Special School for Leta, and I slowly learned about Rudolf Steiner, The Waldorf Movement and the philosophy of Anthroposophy. And I wanted in on that too. I knew there was something special about the people that worked at Camphill, but it has taken me years to understand WHY they are all so special. I have learned that at the heart of Anthroposophy is the emphasis on the development of the human soul and the belief in Reincarnation. At Camphill, the don’t see my daughter as limited by her mental retardation, they see her as a beautiful soul in one phase of her journey to enlightenment. They describe her as a musical instrument who in this life has a few broken strings. I love everything about this value system. Imagination, inspiration, intuition and the goodness of the individual soul are all celebrated in this world.

I’m not sure where I am going with this journey. I am still a Christian and want to raise my kids as such. But I think Leta is much more. If I believe in the teachings of Anthroposophy, Leta is further along in her spiritual journey than the rest of us. She has chosen a harder path in this life. Her vessel, her instrument, is broken. but her soul is strong and intact and sees the light of GOD in everyone. As I have said before, even with all her limitations, Leta is still my guide and teacher.

2 thoughts on “Finding a New Religion

  1. Mary says:

    I love reading about how Leta has served as you spiritual guide throughout your faith journey. She has the capacity for pure joy that we all wish we had! I love your writing, it’s personal but universal.

  2. Margo says:

    Lainey, this one made me cry. What I hope you realize is that by taking Leta to UA while you work out, or to GFS or church, you have given our community the incredible gift of allowing us to know Leta. My children and I have been graced by spending time with your family. Those wonderful times, with Leta fully in the mix, have made our lives so much richer. Thank you!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.