Today’s Word from Trinity member Cameron Castle…
I was in the back seat with my best friend, Mase, as his parents drove me home from a sleepover. I think we were about ten. His dad was driving; a jovial man. His mom was in the passenger seat; a very proper lady, always well dressed. They lived on the golf course of a very exclusive club. Mase’s mom turned to me and asked, “Cam, does your family belong to any religion?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask what it is?”
I started to search my memory banks. Uh, ah . . . got it. “We are prostitutes!”
Mase’s mom gasped while his dad’s shoulders started to bob up and down. She thought for a moment and asked, “Do you mean Protestant?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s it.”
Mase’s dad let out a big laugh and his mom elbowed him in the ribs so hard he lost his breath.
“We don’t go very often, I think like on Easter,” I added.
Turns out they went to the same church as our family, only difference being that they actually went.
A few years later Mase was starting confirmation and asked if I wanted to join him. The requirements were rather lax. The program consisted of watching as many as was convenient of 14 movies about Jesus, and learning the Lord’s prayer. I got most of the prayer down. The quality and depth of the movies was suspect because every once and awhile, while robed actors walked around in sand, cars would go by in the background. The robes looked good but most of the male actors had on watches and wore penny-loafers. Mase and I made it through most of two movies and spent the other time clowning around in the basement of the church. But we both got our certificates. I actually still have mine in a memory book my father made for me.
So that was it as far as religion went for me for a long time. During college in the ‘70s, religion was rather obscure. Religion didn’t cross my path for many years. For my first marriage it was a challenge to find a minister who would preside over the ceremony with our request to not mention God. But we found someone and had a nice service in an adorable church in Anacortes. Years later I drove by it and was surprised to find that it was now a dry cleaner. With a steeple.
My first wife and I were living in Lynnwood with our two kids: Krissy, nine; Mason, four. There was a church at the end of the street. One day we decided maybe it was time to introduce religion to our children. So, with all the enthusiasm in the world, we told Krissy to walk her younger brother to the end of the street and go in the church. After an hour or so, they returned.
“How was it, Krissy?”
“Kinda weird.”
“What did you learn?’
“We learned that the reason childbirth hurts is because Eve ate the apple.”
They didn’t go back. Sadly, that church was one of the ones burned down by an arsonist that went on a rampage in the early ‘90s around North Seattle.
When my wife Laura moved from Chicago to join me in the townhouse I was renting in Edmonds, her parents sold their house and moved to Whidbey Island. Edith was the daughter of German farmers in Texas who were very Lutheran. Roy’s family were Norwegian/German Lutherans from Madison, Wisconsin. They immediately joined Trinity Lutheran Church in Freeland. We visited them every Sunday.
Laura and I bought a house in Snohomish and for ten years we caught the 8:30 ferry and were early for the 9:30 service. (Later, where we now live 4 minutes from Trinity, there have been many times we showed up late or at the last minute.) Laura and I went through the new members class taught by Pastor Dennis and Annette Andrews-Lux. We enjoyed it very much. Carter and Wilson still have their Trinity Preschool caricatures on their bedroom walls. Carter has been confirmed through the incredible program that Deacon Amy put together. We love being part of the plays, readings, and having Wilson in the Splash choir. It just gives us a great feeling to contribute and be part of the church family.
We love every aspect of this church. We will get back to the sanctuary sometime soon.
What I miss is sitting where I can see Karl’s hands on the piano. I miss listening to the choir. I really miss those deviled eggs. I even miss Bill’s (rest in peace) weekly updates about his truck or colon. But until then, I marvel at the amazing effort and skill that is put in to produce the weekly online services. That is because they preserve the most important aspect of the church as I see it, the sense of community. I love that, at any time, someone in need needs merely to ask for help, and it will be showered on them from all the wonderous souls of the congregation. “Everyone welcome. Everyone equal.”
The message that Pastor Jim has conveyed is so simple and so world-changing: Acceptance. Non-judgement. Forgiveness. Kindness. Generosity. Love. Done.
A sermon that won me over early was titled, “Religious People are a Pain in the Butt.” (Before the Bush/Kerry election there was a church where the Pastor announced that anyone voting for Kerry cannot take part in communion.)
Be accepting. Don’t be judgmental. Forgive. Be generous. Be kind. Pastor Jim conveys this message every week, and daily with the missives. I cannot be reminded too often.
It was a bumpy ride from my not being able to name the religion we really weren’t practicing, to dashing late toward the altar in my robe and staff to play a shepherd in the Nativity play.
And, yes, I think I was wearing my watch and Adidas tennis shoes.
Cameron Castle
