I was talking with a friend this evening about how much she doesn't like to celebrate Easter...really any holiday.

It is not that the celebrating the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ is not important to her, but really, we ought to be celebrating that each and every day, right?

The big dinner and lots of people is what she eschews. Since her mother's death ten years ago, she is not interested in those family holidays. They are a stark reminder of what she has lost. Grief is a harsh companion at times for her. I don't really blame her and completely understand.

Her husband and his family do not.

Before she married him, she told him how she felt. He said it did not matter, but yet the week leading up to every holiday--seven years into the marriage--is filled with phone calls, emails, and texts about plans. Plans for what she is going to cook, what she wants to do, who is coming. Every holiday. Every year.

Years ago...MANY years ago...I saw a Mork and Mindy episode when Mork was asking Mindy why people were so mean. She replied that it is easier to make fun of that which is different from you than to try to understand it. She said this was particularly so with people. But she told Mork that different was only different, not better or worse.

She could have added that not only do you get made fun of for being different, you also are more likely to spend your life with people trying to make you like what they think you should be--usually more like them. Instead of allowing my friend to spend her holidays in silent reflection, her family forces her to do something she hates or punishes her if she dares to try to abstain from the celebration. How is that love?

It seems as if only in Hollywood or in books is a person allowed to be different and actually accepted--sometimes even celebrated--for who he/she is.

Unfortunately, judgment of difference extends to so very many areas in our society, even church.

Earlier this evening I attended a darkness service, which was a first for me. The service focuses on the suffering of Christ and the last seven things He said. It was filled with scripture reading, hymns, prayers, meditations, and extinguishing of candles. Yes, extinguishing, not lighting. One for each "word" of Christ. As we read and prayed and sang, the lighting in the room was lowered as well. The whole liturgical service was practically drenched in symbolism.

I joke with Pastor D that I need another degree to follow the liturgical services he leads. He always returns with a quip about providing a tutor any time I want. Yet, until I met him, I never realized that it is actually possible to worship through liturgy, that speaking and chanting and praying corporately can have great value in one's faith.

I know someone who would never step foot in Pastor's D's church specifically because of his use of liturgy. I keep thinking of what he would miss.

Now, I am not much drawn to churches that use the speaking of tongues or dance, but I have attended them when the offer arose. I also am very much not interested in churches with bands. Primarily this is because the loud music hurts my ears. Years ago, I spent a whole Degarmo and Key concert in the lobby waiting for the rest of my church group. I couldn't understand a word that was being said and my sternum was vibrating in time with the bass, so I retreated to a quieter place until it was over. This was before MS. Now, I cannot stand to be in a car with the windows down when wind buffets and vibrates. I have a "moon" roof that I cannot open because of how much it disturbs my ears. Yet, physical issues aside, I do know that many worship through rock in a way I do not.

I do wonder if, perhaps, sometimes the rock becomes the focus instead of the words, but who am I to judge that? What I do "judge" is whether or not the bible is the source of knowledge, if Christ is the focus of worship, and if the church is mission-minded and prayer-filled.

But, then again, I have spent so little time in church over the past few years. I have been going to bible study, sometimes twice a week, but not church. I am tired and hurt more in the mornings. By the weekends, I just want to fill up on enough rest to make it through the week. I know not really finding a church home since I moved here plays a large part in my dearth of attendances, but were I less tired, I would probably be dragging myself to Pastor D's church on Sundays.

I am not a Lutheran. I do not really understand closed communion. I stumble and fumble and bumble through set liturgy. Yet I crave and savor the worship that takes place within the walls of his church...be it in a building or in someone's house or even in a laundry mat.

Of course, it should be noted that this diatribe on celebrating difference comes from someone who decidedly does not fit any definition of normal. I would just challenge you to consider your response next time you encounter a family member, friend, or stranger who does not fit into the mold you created for them...