Gandhi was quoted once (at least I've seen it on a bumper sticker) with "I like your Christ, but not your Christians. I wish your Christians would be more like your Christ"... or something along those lines.
Likewise, I would say, "I believe in Church, just not your churches." It is a dismaying thing to sit down and realize that there are few churches that I would call home. In my home state there aren't many places where there are more than one Episcopal church. Which leaves me with one option, if I want to stay in the Episcopal church (which I do). The problem with this is that not all churches are entirely welcoming and warm to young adults. Even some with college ministries (if you're lucky) aren't open. My Mom once wrote an article for the Mississippi Episcopalian entitled, "Episcopals are the frozen chosen ones." There's something to that argument, I feel. Now, many people my age and older are giving me the response, "what then can we do to alleviate that problem?" and the answer is, "I don't know, but it has to change."
I've been reading a book lately called "Ancient Faith, Future Mission" edited by Steven Croft. I picked it on a whim, but it really talks about the problem that churches, specifically Episcopal (and by Episcopal I mean the Anglican church in America) churches have. We're just all assuming that everyone should be Christian and if you're not a Christian, we don't care. That is, in my opinion, the greater American attitude. I can't tell you how many times I have heard the argument, "America is a Christian nation." As a student of history (I have my bachelor's degree in American History) I can definitely say that America was founded on deism, with the opinion that whatever your religion (it just so happened to be that most people were Christian), you could practice it. Now, then the colonists encountered the Native Americans, who weren't Christian, and thus they were discriminated against. Hypocritical? Yes. But it seems that's the American way.
But back to my denomination. So the Episcopal church is very inward focused. They mostly (and I'm making a blanket statement here) have the same opinion as most Christians in America do, which is, "If you're not Episcopal, you don't belong here." There are a few exceptions made for people who have the guts to walk into an Episcopal church (which in the South usually means you're "well to do") and stick out the odd stares they get. I once on an Ash Wednesday was asked to move to another pew in the church by an older man because "I was in his seat." What?! Isn't there a bit in the scripture about hospitality and being humble and inclusive? No, according to this old gentlemen. And to be honest, that was the reason I didn't attend the rest of Holy Week's services.
That is the exact opposite of what Christians are called to do. The church is not your social club. The church is not a place where you have assigned seats. It's a church of God and God is not discriminating, unless you want to revoke what I learned in Sunday School. If that is the case, that God and Christians discriminate, have assigned seats, snear at people who show up to the sanctuary because they're not dressed properly, then I want no part of that church. That breaks my heart, but that's the truth.
In high school, I attended a friend's child's baptism. At said baptism I wrote a poem about the perspective of a drunk showing up at an Episcopal church, who was seeing it as his first time in a church. I wrote about priests and their vestments as cross-dressers with beards. I wrote about the man not liking the host (the bread blessed as Jesus' flesh) but loving his blood (the wine blessed as Jesus' blood). I wrote about a child acolyte handling incense as a child would do tricks with a yo-yo. It seems that even when I was an established Episcopalian, I could see the perspective of the marginalized in church.
About five years back, I once again had a revelation about the marginalized in the Episcopal church. I had a dream that I woke up in the choir loft of my home parish, which was at the time an Episcopal church in Pass Christian, MS. In most choir lofts in churches in the South during the 60s, those spaces were reserved for Black people to be segregated as second class church-goers. I woke up in a bed in the choir loft surrounded by Black people and immediately assessed that I was not welcome there. So, in my dream, I jumped down from the choir loft. As I walked down the aisle of the church, behind the altar, where elements (bread and wine) are blessed as sacraments, I noticed something odd. The walls were replaced by video images (much like the videos lined up in one of the Matrix movies). What was even more harrowing was that these images behind the altar were of different segments of my life. Now, I'm no dream analyst, but to me that speaks pretty powerfully that even though I am marginalized and discriminated against in the Episcopal church, I have a place in it somewhere, and in my opinion, that place will eventually be serving the sacrament to those who feel they have no place in the Episcopal church.
In summary, I believe in Church in its original theory. I believe in a community constantly challenging itself to be more inclusive, welcoming and Christlike. What I don't believe in are most churches that are by the looks of it, just another social club that takes on the ritual as a hobby. I am tired of people taking Christianity on as a hobby. I am tired of the Episcopal church as I see it to be a networking tool and a social club. The only thing I like about the Episcopal church right now is the Eucharist. That is the sacrament (an outward sign of an inward and invisible grace) that ties us (in theory) all together.
I have been burned enough by individual churches and Christians in general to make me want to become an atheist. And that's the honest truth.
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