Today, I visited my 12th church in Boston in 18 months. I think I may have found the One for me.
I found street parking on the side of the church and walked in a side door, which led to the left side of the Nave, the North Transept, where I sat.
United Parish Brookline is an ecumenical congregation, affiliated with the American Baptist Churches, the United Methodist Church, and the United Church of Christ. It is open and affirming and uses gender-neutral language for God. The welcome was given by both pastors--a male and a female. These factors alone were enough to make me feel quite at home.
The music was excellent--all acoustic, with technically trained vocalists in the choir. The congregation engaged and friendly. They had children hand out flowers to newcomers. Children sat with their parents during the entire service--another thing I liked. The congregation was diverse--in my pew, I was sandwiched between white and black women.
I love liturgical services. They help me to experience God in congregation in an embodied--rather than a passive, consumeristic--way. I went to Yale Divinity School because I was tired of Evangelical church culture. And now I think I'm ready to identify with Mainline Protestantism not just in spirit--but also in the flesh.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Super Bowl Sunday
The smallest things can be the biggest indicators.
When I learned that the New England Patriots were going to the Super Bowl, I was not surprised and not interested.
But as soon as a friend told me that the Philadelphia Eagles was the other team, I got excited and decided to root for them.
It's no secret that I have not been happy in Boston--it's not you, baby, it's me--but the instinct (it wasn't even a decision) to root for the other team got me thinking about my relationships with other cities, and how it has worked out between me and others.
Philly is sentimental and sensitive--at least, according to this link that a friend sent me today--and thus much more suited to my INFP than stoic and traditional Boston. I did have an affection for the City of Brotherly Love. It just sort of exists, with its old buildings silently looking on as new issues unfold, and you can visit and enjoy it without being asked anything in return.
It's much quieter and sparser than New York, where bustling energy borders on chaos but is contained within the grid of the streets. New York welcomes ambition and creativity in the way stretches on for miles and never goes to sleep--and in its soaring skyscrapers. The blue sky is the limit.
Boston, by contrast, is older and more conservative. Ironically, that also means that it has newer skyscrapers than New York--they waited a few decades to make sure the towers didn't collapse in other cities before attempting building their own. It also has circular roads and one-ways, making driving confusing and walking quite indirect. Perhaps its citizens make up for this by being forthcoming and honest.
If there's anything I've learned about Bostonians, it is that they are reliable and trustworthy. Not a bad thing when one lives and works here, I suppose. But not something that makes them fun and exciting to be around. They are also quite unable to understand when someone expresses a dislike for their city. They lack the self-awareness of New Yorkers who love to hate their concrete jungle, and they have so much unconditional pride in their sports teams that it goes without saying who you should root for.
Well, this is my way of not conforming to Boston culture in a tangible way. I'm rooting for the Eagles, and of continuing to maintain my individuality in a city that collects and then colonizes those within its reach.
When I learned that the New England Patriots were going to the Super Bowl, I was not surprised and not interested.
But as soon as a friend told me that the Philadelphia Eagles was the other team, I got excited and decided to root for them.
It's no secret that I have not been happy in Boston--it's not you, baby, it's me--but the instinct (it wasn't even a decision) to root for the other team got me thinking about my relationships with other cities, and how it has worked out between me and others.
Philly is sentimental and sensitive--at least, according to this link that a friend sent me today--and thus much more suited to my INFP than stoic and traditional Boston. I did have an affection for the City of Brotherly Love. It just sort of exists, with its old buildings silently looking on as new issues unfold, and you can visit and enjoy it without being asked anything in return.
It's much quieter and sparser than New York, where bustling energy borders on chaos but is contained within the grid of the streets. New York welcomes ambition and creativity in the way stretches on for miles and never goes to sleep--and in its soaring skyscrapers. The blue sky is the limit.
Boston, by contrast, is older and more conservative. Ironically, that also means that it has newer skyscrapers than New York--they waited a few decades to make sure the towers didn't collapse in other cities before attempting building their own. It also has circular roads and one-ways, making driving confusing and walking quite indirect. Perhaps its citizens make up for this by being forthcoming and honest.
If there's anything I've learned about Bostonians, it is that they are reliable and trustworthy. Not a bad thing when one lives and works here, I suppose. But not something that makes them fun and exciting to be around. They are also quite unable to understand when someone expresses a dislike for their city. They lack the self-awareness of New Yorkers who love to hate their concrete jungle, and they have so much unconditional pride in their sports teams that it goes without saying who you should root for.
Well, this is my way of not conforming to Boston culture in a tangible way. I'm rooting for the Eagles, and of continuing to maintain my individuality in a city that collects and then colonizes those within its reach.
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