I.

This is what they forbid:

Jewelry.

Dancing.

Pork.

Shellfish.

Alcohol.

Coffee.

Secular activities, such as swimming or dining out, on the Sabbath.

They are traditionally intolerant of black pepper — or "devil's dust," as my grandfather calls it. Mustard? Again, traditionally, no. Sage? Fine, even encouraged.

Once a family from church hosted my parents and another family for Sabbath lunch. The other guests' small child marched up to the hostess, pointed at the entrée, and demanded, "Does this have pepper in it?"

The hostess didn't miss a beat. She replied, "It has sage," and the child went away, mollified.

II.

I have been quiet for so long. I have been their good little church member for so long, joining their handbell choir, playing piano for their children's classes.

All I have to do to stay is keep quiet. All I have to do is keep my mouth shut and my head down.

I could stay and marry a man who knows my background as well as he knows the back of his own hand, because that is his background as well. I could marry a man who would help me get the car seats out of the back seat every Sabbath morning and walk me into the babies' classroom.

I could do that. I have worked at one of their youth camps and been one of their missionaries. I know how to make cottage cheese loaf, that vegetarian version of meatloaf that delights so many at their potlucks. I know how to walk in a Grand March, their version of line dancing. 

I would not be all right, but I would be good.

III.

Four days out of the womb, I went to church.

It was my first outing, if you don't count leaving the hospital. That Sabbath morning, probably the pastor asked my parents to bring me to the front of the church. Probably the pastor looked at me and said something like, You are loved, you are cared for, you are cherished.

Then they started adding caveats.

... if you wear this, don't wear that, and don't get tattooed or pierced.

... as long as you don't intermingle the wrong bits with another human before we say so.

... as long as you're not bi. Assuming that's a real thing.

We reserve the right to decide what love looks like.

IV.

"That Old-Time Religion"

(a poem scavenged from a friend's email and a professor's rage)

"My dear friends, early this morning I drove to my Iraqi family’s home and I gave the sewing machine to my Iraqi mom from all of you. I included a card with all of your names, your messages of love, and the leftover money so she can buy materials (we’re planning a sewing shopping trip soon!!!)."

"Are you listening? This is how the church falls: you’ve got little bits of culture seeping in, like an oil slick, until the evil seems normal. So that TV show --- that book --- that song --- that social media superstar --- you might be telling yourself it’s harmless, but if you keep telling yourself that, and telling yourself that, pretty soon everything will seem harmless, and you’ll be neck-deep in sin."

"Well, when she saw the box, your names in the card, she cried. And then when we opened the box and she saw her brand-new Singer sewing machine, she cried some more. She said, 'I don’t know what I can say for you. Thank you, thank you, to all of you, thank you.' My Iraqi dad says, 'Thank you from our deep hearts.'"

"I thank God every day for bringing me out of fornication and idolatry and Sunday worship, but I know this is a waning movement. For so many people, the voice of prophecy means rules. And rules are stuffy. Rules are bad. Wait, what? If you’re getting surgery, don’t you want the surgeon to follow the rules?"

"Thank you from me, too. You know what you did, all of you, with your generous hearts? You lifted the shadows from one life; you gave my Iraqi family hope, and joy."

"So when the Bible tells you homosexuality is evil, when the Bible tells you not to be unequally yoked, when the Bible tells you to destroy the Canaanites and not to make any covenants with them, why do we hem and haw and say, 'Well, the Bible was written a long time ago --- it needs context'? That is dangerous thinking. The Bible is timeless. If God said it, I’ll do it."

"You made them feel surrounded by love, which they so desperately need right now. Thank you with all my heart."

V. 

One night I dreamt I was stuck in a tornado shelter. The shelter was crowded and hot, and everyone was worried sick about their homes and families.

But somehow there was also a priest, and a bottle of Chianti, and tortillas. So the priest very calmly began to celebrate the Eucharist, and as word spread across the room, people began to line up to receive their sip of Chianti, their piece of tortilla. It was a calmer room then, a more peaceful group.

VI.

Twenty-nine years out of the womb, I visited a church.

There was a baby there, her first time at church. Her parents carried her to the front to introduce her to her new church family.

The priest — a woman — smiled at the baby and her parents, and said something like, You are loved, you are cared for, you are cherished.

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to belong there.
Where are the caveats? I wanted to ask her. What's the catch? When will you start extolling the benefits of sage?