The first thing that snagged me into what appeared to be a pious little cross-dressing group of priests with Monty Python clothing was the fact that when I bent my knee for communion, a WOMAN served me the Cup. That was it for me. Finally, I thought, a place where there is no male, no female. (You’ll find it interesting that it was Janet Harris).

Thing is, fitting in anywhere is a stretch for me, and as you have written, for yourself as well. But at least in the Episcopal Church, you’ve got time-honored creeds and prayers that can be disconnected from the person reciting them up front. Detachment has its benefits. When the person up front is reading the prayer, he’s not extemporaneously quivering the words “And Lord we just wanna pray for Ashley Cleveland” and then suggesting just how badly you need those prayers… I like that.

Of course, I like the fact that no one’s disturbed by the gay couples sitting in their midst (one of them is probably a hell of a tenor, after all), and they serve drinks at their fellowship events without even thinking about it (I realize this may be a minus for you, but you get my meaning- it’s not the most legalistic place you’ve ever bent your knee in).

Then again, their hymns are absolutely impossible to harmonize with. But “Of The Father’s Love Begotten” is my favorite sacred Christmas song, akin to a chant and who knows how many beats to a measure?

Having been a preacher’s kid, I managed to pack 90 years of church attendance into my first 30 years of life. I am one of those Christmas and Easter types, I guess. And this past Christmas, sitting with my daughters at St B’s, and moved at the sound of my daughters reciting the creeds and prayers, crossing themselves, passing the peace… sweeter than honey. 100 years from now, long after “contemporary” worship has faded back into hibernation, those creeds and prayers will be uttered by people all over God’s green earth, tugging our ear lobes on high. We’ll strain from Heaven and hear that sound and whisper a Kyrie back down to this little ball of clay.

And that’s why I am an Episcopalian.