At one point I was going to convert to Catholicism, but they had so many rules. I have to say that the Catholic Church is very much about who has the nicest suit, the valet parking–too much about the money. I don’t think you have to dress up or show God a bunch of gold for him to forgive you your sins, love you, and guide you. Then I went to an Episcopal church in Daytona, and it just felt right. The Episcopal Church isn’t about gimme, gimme, gimme. The Episcopalians are like enlightened Catholics. They have the faith, but they’re a little more open-minded.I was thinking, "What Catholic church did this guy visit? " Doubtless there are Catholic churches like that but even ours, which has leanings toward Gregorian chant and kneeling at the altar rail, also sees its fair share of families in shorts, blue collar workers and the dispossessed even at the most formal masses.
Strange Herring (where I came across the story) says it better, as always:
So look, if he found some kind of spiritual peace at an Episcopal church, God bless. But I do wonder what Catholic church he wandered into. Not that I have a dog in this fight. And I’ve known some Catholic parishes — in Manhattan and even in London — where you’d think every Sunday was the wedding of Count Romeo to Lady Juliet. But I’ve also been in Catholic churches where it may as well have been the parish of Our Lady of the Alien Homeless. It’s sorta funny that an Episcopalian church is seen as the “everyman’s” church. If ever there was a status-conscious denomination, good gravy. Once upon a time, the church use to rent pews to families, and the more you gave, the closer you were allowed to be to the action (and the farther from hoi polloi).I base my knowledge of Episcopalians strictly on my grandmother and the few times I accompanied her to church. So, that may not be strictly accurate, but Strange Herring's take is similar.
Well, wherever he wound up, I'm glad he wound up somewhere.