My brother was ordained into the Episcopalian Deaconate yesterday. He is an amazing and talented man, and his path to this place in the Episcopalian Church has been a long time coming. I could tell you all about him, and there is much to say. But let’s just selfishly concentrate on me. Does this mean I have a kind of “in” with God?!

I have described in other posts that I get a sort of latent Tourette’s like impulse whenever I am in an august setting and especially in church. If I don’t distract myself by looking at other people or reading, I just feel like I want to blurt out something inappropriate. Bringing the latest issue of Vanity Fair into the sanctuary on the day of my brother’s ordination didn’t feel like a good choice. So instead I made a valiant attempt to listen.

First of all, have you ever been to an ordination? I’m going to assume mostly no. It’s a really remarkable ceremony. It’s very much like a wedding in a way, although it’s kind of not like a wedding too. There is the sense of marriage to faith and to God and to the church and there’s white robes and beautiful bestowing of sashes and bibles in a sacred covenant. Perhaps like accepting a ring and giving one in return.

One of my best and equally immature friends asked me over the phone last night: “So, were there a lot of funny hats?” Indeed! Half a dozen bishops and probably 50 priests, some in vestments, some in street clothing. The Episcopalian church is very liberal – well here anyway . (Note to self: do not try to explain the Episcopalian Church on your blog today. Your head will explode.)  So the presiding Bishop is a woman, and many of the clergy are openly gay. There’s a very liberal stance in this church, a church that is that is kind of based on Catholicism but then the whole thing happened with King Henry VIII and…whatever. Watch “The Tudors” for a salacious version of events.

I kind of grew up in church – my father was an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ – a very liberal branch of the Protestant faith. (Note to self: Do not try to explain the difference between Protestants, Episcopalians and Catholics on your blog today Because your head will explode.) After my parents divorced, I went to the Episcopalian church with my mother. Baptized Protestant, Confirmed Episcopalian. An Episcoprot. But I’m probably more an agnostic than anything.

I have deep and profound feelings about church – my rational mind likes the arguments for and against the idea of one God and grapples with the sense of a supreme being leading so many diverse groups of people towards different interpretations of ancient texts. I’m a writer and I love stories, so I think about fiction and truth, personal narrative, second hand reporting and the interpretation of texts. Is the Bible fiction? There seems to be enough proof of some lives and deaths to say no, it’s not completely fiction. But where would I be without the ability to interpret things for myself?

The priest who gave the sermon had the whole congregation cracking up by beginning her sermon with wise words about our restless minds. She made everyone feel comfortable by acknowledging that many people were probably thinking: “How can I tweet this.” Or thinking distractedly about what ELSE might be going on in the world, whether an inner world or a universal world.

The cathedral where the ordination was held was originally built before the American Revolution, and the church that still stands today is a cathedral built in the early 1800’s – so touching the wood of the pews brings to mind the thousands of people who also have touched these sacred pews, and how, how, HOW is it possible that we all might share that particular sensation over the centuries? That to me is miraculous. If that is proof of God, well, I get it! But I’m still on the fence.

The emotional part of my being loves the rituals and the mysteries and the music of church. Of temples, of congregations, of community and communion. Being an Episcoprot who grew up in church and in a musical family, I bellowed out the hymns of course. I was thanked by many around me for leading the way with the singing – because it can get pretty confusing. I think my greatest joy in church has always been standing up to sing in unison. That feeling of joining in with the choir – the flash mob of Christianity – is just amazing.

Overwhelmed by this feeling of unity through singing I started to think I should go to church more regularly and even join a choir. Perhaps. Perhaps when God is ready for me and I am ready for God. Not yet.

But my brother, well, there’s no going back for him! It’s funny when you know someone very well but don’t really know them at all – the inner mysteries are especially profound among siblings, I think, because of the assumption of shared experience. New generations make the focus even more blurry as titles are bestowed – I am an aunt and a sister and a niece. Games are played with the children – and in my family there is some name confusion. I loved the time when my nieces and nephew were young enough to confuse the titles and called my brother Aunt Alan. As opposed to Uncle Alison or great Aunt Alice.

I know my brother as well as I can, but what I saw yesterday was an entirely different person. He was radiant. Watching him be ordained, kneeling in front of the bishop – I felt completely intensely lost in the focus of the moment – much like the feeling one might have at a wedding. When the vows are made and you know it to be the truth. He is radiant. Somehow his ordination seemed to give HIM the chance to relax into his own remarkable path.

On the lighter side of all this good and great news, the service was about a million hours long. Okay – two and a half hours. The hymns were really challenging and being surrounded by priests, well, I kept giving and receiving cues. Stand up, sit down, kneel, sing, now kneel, genuflect, etc. etc. I am woefully out of shape on many levels, but especially on the church level. When asked, during the service, if anyone had a reason to stop this person from being ordained my mind leapt to about six snarky things to say. In fact, my restless mind wandered quite a bit as I thought “Cute outfit! Wait, is that my brother? Who’s the tall guy? I should probably start preparing for the next hymn. I’m hungry. This church is awesome! I wish I could walk around right now. Is that my brother? Where’s the hymnal?”

After the ordination the new ordinates were able to give communion. Of course, my brother was on the other side of the church, so yes, I pretty much cut in line to receive communion from my brother. I got the holy wafer from the bishop and then turned and THIS OTHER PRIEST GOT IN THE WAY! I was unsure of what to do, so accepted the chalice from whoever, totally not my brother, while silently eyeing my brother. Like I literally took cuts to receive communion from my brother and was stymied. Then I tripped over a person in a wheelchair and apologized to everyone.

My cousin was even more awesome – she took the wafer from the bishop, placed it in her mouth, turned to receive the blood of Christ from Alan and just hugged and kissed him instead. She later asked me: “Do you think that was wrong?”  Um, no. That was so right.

I wish my mother could have been there – she was in my heart and soul all day., and we all felt her loss but also the great joy she would have shared on such a day.

So that is all I can say for this Good News Sunday. Thanks always for reading.