Los Angeles and religion are like Madonna and her fake British accent. They don’t go together naturally…everyone knows its a forced bond.
Luckily for me, there are a lot of Mexicans in LA and hence, a lot of Catholic churches. And although the pews are barely half full, I still regularly attend Mass on Sundays.
Many people find it extremely weird that I found my faith during the years when most people shed all beliefs and convictions. In Atlanta, I was often praised for my spirituality; here I am greeted with shock and awe…even by people I’ve known for a couple of years.
Lauri: “You’re Catholic?”
Me: “Yes”
Lauri: “Like, actually Catholic? Like you go to church?”
Me: “Yes”
Lauri: “On Sundays?”
Me: “Yes”
Lauri: “Huh. I didn’t think people still did that”
Well, people do. In fact, a lot of people do, because there is actually a world outside of Los Angeles.
So today, I was sitting in church having a really hard time sitting still. This is a running theme in my life, but especially hard to control in church. Even more difficult…trying to calm my mind. I kept thinking about the Of Montreal concert next weekend and my job and my house and Thanksgiving….on and on…until I heard the one song that can bring me back into focus: Glory to God
Most people don’t care much for Glory to God. We sing it every week. You’d think it would get old, but not for me. Glory to God is the ONLY song I can remember from my childhood church-going days with Grandma. Her church, St. Blase, sang that song with so much joy and energy.
When I moved to LA, I could not find a church that sang the song with the correct arrangement. Every church sang Glory to God as a solemn, quick song to get through. Not a celebration. Certainly, not glorious.
Today, when I heard Glory to God sung in the jubilant way of St. Blase, I started to cry. On this particular Sunday when I found it so difficult to be centered, so hard to remember why I was sitting in a church, something moved in and grabbed me back…dare I say, it was God?
