DOCC

I'm back.  Delinquency admitted, path readjusted, eye on the ball/balance. 

***
Several months ago, following the death of my iconic Grandfather, I received a phone call from one of his peers, an Episocopalian priest from New Orleans who has known three generations of my family.  He was to be in Washington the following Sunday, and would I like to join him at the National Cathedral (where he once served as Canon) for the early Eucharist?  I enthusiastically agreed. 

[Before I go any further, perhaps I should clarify my church-going habits up until that phone call.  I was what you might call a "back-door member" of the Cathedral congregation, arriving within two minutes of the procession (sometimes later), sitting and standing, singing and praying, totally delighted to be in quiet company and communion with hundreds of Washingtonians who are, like me, called to live through love.  Then comes the end of the service, when I slip out the same door I entered, smiling--but never chatting--and out into the real world.]

I should have known the visit of my family friend/former Cathedral Canon might upset my Sunday routine.  Instead of sitting on the far side of the lectern, William and I take our seats in the front row.  A row I understood as reserved for Saints...and Heads of State.  I clearly fit into neither category, but here we are. And let me tell you--the view from the top is different. 

After the service, in which I pray and sing more fervently than ever before [in case God can hear me better up here], I follow William to the top floor of the Cathedral, where he gives a talk on a program called DOCC, or Disciples of Christ in Community.  I'd known about DOCC for sometime. My mom participated in it at some point when I was younger, and I had a vague recollection of my grandmother's involvement in New Orleans, where the program started over 30 years ago. 

So, I sit quietly next to fellow Congregation members (again, smiling but never chatting) and listen to William, respected priest with a classic southern accent, talk about the DOCC experience.  A 16 week seminar on values of Christianity in the modern world; the platform it provides for exploration of one's faith; and the community that grows out of such honest and raw discussion.  I nod as William speaks.  This sounds good, I'm thinking, maybe just what I need as I question Christianity in light of my recent Buddhist calling.  Another sangha for my spiritual growth...though it wouldn't come close to Bhutan...prayer flags, monks, mountain tops...oh wait, did William just call my name? 

Smiling, yes, smiling, oh, you want me to stand up?  Of course (as I bound to my feet)!  Why I am standing up I can't be sure, but when in doubt, smile.  Smile really big.  I shake the prayer flags from my mind and tune back in to William.  He is telling the audience (of about 100) that I am a member of the Cathedral, that I work for the State Department, and that I am the granddaughter of one of DOCC's co-founders.  Really?  Yes, of course I knew that!  I am totally supposed to be here. Obviously I will be joining this year's DOCC course.  It's in my blood.  Third generation, baby!  Where do I sign?

And thus begins my second spiritual journey in the span of six months.  Two hours every week of reflection, doubt, and discussion.  Finally exploring the faith of my childhood, determining how it fits into my life as an adult...