Skipping Church

Honest, this not a bait-and-switch, I will talk about why I think a person who attends church sometimes should skip it. If you don't usually attend a house of worship (on Sunday), I encourage you to enjoy CBS Sunday Morning; it's a lovely show to watch over a leisurely brunch.

Going to church as a child meant Sunday School. My mother dropped us off, went home for an hour, then came back to get us. Neither of my parents attended church at that time, but they thought it best their children did, largely out of commitment to middleclass values I suppose (something about learn all the basic Christian stuff and then you will fit into our culture as we expect).

Leaving out the journey that got me there, I continue to attend church regularly as an adult. I have moved to three different states since my childhood and have sought out a parish home each time. There are plenty of Sundays I have lots to do or would rather goof around for the morning, but on most occasions I get myself into the shower, clean clothes, my car, and then a pew.

A secret of mine: when I meet someone who describes themselves as an atheist I often think to myself, "Wow, all those free Sundays."

I will refrain from saying much about why I do go other than to say that I find I benefit from the experience in the long run, I enjoy being part of a community of people (which improves my general well being), and I value the regular commitment to something bigger than myself (largely the same reasons others do things having nothing to do with organized religion). I go for other, deeper, theological reasons as well, but the list above captures the most me-centered components.

Why then, if I so value and enjoy going to church on Sundays (and other occasions), do I sometimes skip it? Outside of days when I'm traveling, ill, or finally get some good sleep (this meaning even more to me these days) that takes me through my alarm, I do sometimes skip church for the sake of skipping.

A Tale of Two Truancies

One Sunday, a dozen years ago or so I found myself rushing to get out the door and to church on time. Running nearly late is par for the course with me, but on this day, for reasons I cannot remember and don't really matter, I got stressed about it. I found myself aggravated at the hubbub of trying to get out the door; I became stressed at throwing myself together and worrying about how close I would cut it to being late; then I began to resent "having" to go. At that, turning the deadbolt to my apartment door, I stopped. "Why am I going?," I asked myself. It occurred to me I needed a break. In my insistence to be at church I had worked myself into a lather that became counter productive. Between whatever else was going in my life that day and the anxiety about getting out the door well groomed and on time I had gotten myself to bad place. It seemed the most beneficial experience that morning would be to sit down and put my feet up. Going to church had become a stresser, not exactly the goal of attending.

Another time, about six years ago, I attended the Great Vigil on Holy Saturday (the evening before Easter). For those not familiar, the service lasts about three hours and includes a number of readings and multiple sermons—it's not called the Great Vigil for nothing. The Great Vigil includes a celebration of Christ rising from the tomb (thus ending Lent and beginning Easter). The next morning, contemplating the crowds at church and having been the night before, I skipped Easter Sunday. The morning held out sun and blue skies, so I leashed my dog and took a walk with her. I enjoyed the morning air, felt a sense of relief from the business of the preceding week, and looked forward to a lunch with friends that afternoon. Not going made me happier and grateful for the day.

There are times I would like to stay home from church, but then I go, often being glad I did because of the benefits I find from going. I think it must be much like not wanting to exercise but doing it anyway and then finding you are rather glad you did. Sometimes though, for me, just staying home—giving myself permission to take a break—helps me avoid resenting church for impinging on my life rather than enhancing it. Often, after I missed for missing's sake, I look forward to the next Sunday.

Of course, the recurring theme here comes from my being frazzled, hardly a problem with church. True. The problem is me, and skipping church can be a helpful reset to return being glad to engage. I could go on those cranky days and try to force myself into a better mood, but sometimes, like a child's tantrum, I say you just let it play itself through.