Tag Archives: church

Guess what they played at church today.

Imagine.

John Lennon’s Imagine.

AAGGHHHRUGHEAHHGUGGGGGHHHHHHHH.


pop philosophy talk

Alright, what do I have to do to summon a skeptic or whatever they’re called on short notice?  We’re talking Brené Brown at the church I’ve been visiting lately and her “”discoveries”” have been driving me up the wall.


New Olympic Sport:

trying not to burn yourself with a candle that has one of those cheap paper wax guards because the church you’re at didn’t get the good plastic ones


Note to self:

Here’s the plan for next time: 1) Visit the church with no pews or pew back shelves for book storage. 2) Forget to pick up a hymnal on your way in. 3) Pick a seat next to where you know the cutie usually sits. 4) Ask if you can look over and share their hymnal book during the hymns, creating an excuse for the two of you to stand closer together.

Y’all, I was this close to successfully executing this plan after legitimately forgetting to pick up a hymnal, but then someone noticed I didn’t have one and gave me one before I could get to step four.  Bummer.

Me and the cute kid did chat for a bit before the service though, and they even asked if they would see me next Sunday, so, seems promising?


our meme, who art in heaven

I forgot to tell y’all about this church sign I found that just says “EPIC FAIL?” over a stock photo of a man with his head in his hands.

20161120_1705531

This is a real thing that I passed on the road.


during a convo about churches

the engineer friend: Because it’s really hard to find a LGBT-affirming church that isn’t…

me: Unitarian Universalist?

the engineer friend: Basically, yes.


Call for Zine Submissions

call for submissions

Aces in the Church: a zine from under the asexual umbrella about experiences with(in) modern Christianity

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

Too often, non-aces will speculate about what it’s like to be ace under the gaze of one of the most politically powerful religious groups to date, making assumptions about what we do or don’t face, without asking those of us who have the relevant experience.  This zine, “Aces in the Church,” is intended to be a compilation of ace experiences with & within Christianity, to bring our stories together into one place and close the door on any need for speculation.

Who can submit content?

Anyone who fits both criteria:

  • past or present identification with asexuality, gray-asexuality, or some other identity under the asexual umbrella (questioning people welcome)
  • past or present participation in/involvement with/exposure to a Christian church or community (or Christian and Christian-leaning individuals)

If you’re interested but you’re on the fence about whether you or your experiences count, you are invited to submit something anyway.

What content can you submit?

Any personal reflections, mini essays, vignettes, stories, short comics, or other works dealing with being ace while engaging with Christians and/or in relation to Christianity.  For example, you might submit something about:

  • messages from within the Church about marriage and sexuality & how they’ve impacted you
  • abstinence-only sex education as experienced by an ace
  • how a Christian upbringing has affected the way you or others feel about the legitimacy of your ace identity
  • a time when you disclosed an ace identity, lack of interest in sex, etc., to a Christian
  • consequences to not believing in Christianity and consequences to not expressing sexual desire
  • parental expectations with regard to sex and God
  • dating (or not) as a Christian and an ace
  • interplay between religious and sexual trauma
  • things you would tell your younger, more devout (or less devout) self about attraction, dogma, and community
  • positive experiences of explicit ace acceptance in a Christian context

There is no minimum length requirement.  A couple of sentences is fine.  A short note saying that the subject is too difficult for you to talk about can count as a contribution.

All submissions will be subject to the editor’s approval prior to publication.  Pieces with objectionable content, such as antigay sentiment, will not be tolerated.  You can opt to supply a contact method if you would like to resolve any issues that may arise.

The editor will add content warnings at its own discretion, and you are welcome to specify some yourself.  There is only one mandatory rule about this: please place a note at the top if your submission includes sexual content.

How can I submit something?

You have two options!  Either drop the full text into Coyote’s askbox, or email the file/document to theacetheist@gmail.com, with the subject line “zine submission.”  These methods can also be used to send questions about the zine, but in that case, make sure to include a contact method for the reply, unless you’re a regular reader of The Ace Theist.

Please specify what name (if any) you would like the piece to be attributed to for the byline.  In other words, please say who your submission is from.  Your submission can be from “Anonymous.”  If you choose not to remain anonymous, you may use an alias or a url, or both.

When is the deadline?

The current deadline is August 15, but that’s subject to change depending on the response rate.  Feel free to drop Coyote a note to request more time.

[note for people who don’t read the tags: full text copying of this post is permitted & encouraged so this will spread]


hmmm

Even though I know 0 things about online zine making, I’ve been, ehh, thinking about putting one together about aces’ past and present experiences with Christianity — because lately I’ve seen some more comments around saying “aces have it okay because churchfolk love celibacy.”  And… I do have that religion & asexuality overview post that says otherwise, but I like the idea of putting out a call for more writing and having it bundled in one document, rather than depending on links.  ‘Cause as much as I love linkspams… tumblr urls are ephemeral.  And this seems like the more fitting option for what I have in mind.

So… interest check for just my readers rn.  Might write up a more formal description depending.


#nsfw

You: Not all Christian denominations practice intinction as one of the methods of receiving communion.

Me:


supper

[cw: Christianity, alcohol]

While our various ceremonial remembrances of the meal may be meaningful in their own right, it’s a shame they aren’t accompanied more often by actual feasts, complete with bread baskets and wine bottles, elbows and spills, cleanup and candle-light, and big fat serving bowls of mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and fresh green beans.  For many, such feasts are a stable of their informal church life — those planned or improptu gatherings around Chinese takeout or a backyard grill when the people of God just hang out together — but the dichotomy between the sacred and the secular is a Western construction and one I suspect those first disciples of Jesus would find a bit curious given what we know about those first Sunday meals.

–Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday, p.129-130

I don’t know if that dichotomy is actually a Western construction (seems so), but, this hits on one of my pet topics.

Because on the one hand… on the one hand, liturgy is very… pretty.  It can create a very gripping, somatic experience.  I think of church bells, solemn and clamorous, and of the resonant “bowl” I would ring as an acolyte during Eucharist while all else was silent, paying rapt attention to the timing and how to strike, to be loud enough, without being too loud, and pace the blows, letting some ripples of vibration fade before striking anew — and how the sound would fill the space of the sanctuary and it was beautiful.  I loved that part of the service, even though I was anxious about it because there were no diversions to cover my mistakes.

But also?  Usually?  The liturgy can be cold and distancing, and so… lifeless.  It’s a facade,  and it’s stiff, and it’s the same every time, and that makes it tedious.  It can be good for invoking muscle memory and nostalgia and sometimes (sometimes) quiet reverence, but for me, usually, it just feels empty.

And I remember being frustrated even as a, what? a preteen? a young teen? …about this, even then, even though I had a very underdeveloped sense of what was bothering me.  I was noticing that people mostly didn’t want to talk Godtalk without being formal and vaguely scripted about it, like it was this far-removed thing to be held at arm’s length, quarantined to designated hours and structured participation, not a natural part of their actual everyday lives.  I kept feeling this uncomfortable divide between how people handled themselves during Church Stuff and how they handled themselves when talking about literally anything else.  In trying to express my interest in suturing those two worlds together and maybe even collapsing some of the divide, trying to talk to some adults about it, I… didn’t express myself well.

And eventually, I gave up.