The summer is nearly over, so we are thrilled to feature our writers who submitted to the annual WGI Invite to Write Challenge!
For this year, we asked our talented cohort to create a new piece on this prompt: Write a story where the end is also the beginning.
First up, we will share Paula Farina’s piece entitled, “Paula the Apostate.” Stay tuned, as we will continue sharing the submissions into the fall!
Paula the Apostate
She cried in church before. It was where she went for all of life’s trials and its joys. But it was a different time and a different church. Today, she sat alone in the pew thinking of all that had happened to bring her where she was now. The organist played “God Beyond All Praising.” The hymn was familiar even though she was in a new church. All her life, it had always been the Catholic church before; now it was an Episcopal church. How did she get here? How did she become so alienated to take this step into, dare she say, apostasy? She thought of being in the then Catholic church, saying goodbye to her wife as they closed the coffin, and then the gradual drift into the world without her. That coffin closing, her wife going, this was another path she’d never thought she’d take.
She made a point to get there early. Figuring she’d sneak in the back. Instead, she was greeted by two women, roughly her age, who smiled and gave her a pamphlet with the Order of the Mass, or Mass service. She made her way to an empty pew about halfway up the aisle. The church was very much a church. She always loved the English country church building. Episcopal churches always seem so aesthetically pleasing. She looked around to see the layout of the church. It’s a typical 19th-century cruciform church. As she got comfortable with her surroundings, she stopped needing to list the differences and similarities between the churches, as if it were a spreadsheet she would analyze later.
She scanned the pamphlet. The service, she realized, was very familiar. And now, she was making comparisons again. It was very close to the Mass before the recent translation. Then the bell rang, and we all stood, and the organ began, and the service started. She wasn’t prepared for what happened next. A full choir, in robes, led a procession. Their singing had an ethereal quality to it. Not something expected on a Sunday in June.
She must have looked lost, because a kind-looking man gave her a 1982 Hymnal. She knew that because it said so on the cover. She looked up the song but was distracted by the sight of the women priests trailing the choir—another blow to her belief that this would be an objective
decision. Weighing the pros and cons of leaving the church she’d always known for a new one had been painful, but necessary. The way she saw it, she had no choice. She did not expect to ever feel about the new church the way she felt about the old one. She didn’t have the history, the memories…how could this ever compare? The best she could do was to stay objective. To take it all in and make the best of her new church, she did not expect to find a new spiritual home.
However, to her surprise, this new place made her feel at ease. She never thought it would affect her this much. This is acceptance and inclusion. The service proceeded on track. She skipped the pamphlet and just observed. She was surprised by the peace offering, and more objectivity slipped away. The enthusiasm of the people to greet each other, including her, was totally unexpected. The priests seemed to enjoy walking through the church as they tried to greet everyone. Back at her old church, she was used to the begrudging nods she’d gotten from the other Catholics during Mass. Sure, there had been an enthusiastic wave or two from true friends, but no one came to her side. And her feet stayed planted while she got through it. Now, here, she was slipping. She had planned on comparing this reading with the one in her Catholic Mass app. The one she would pull out at Mass to show she was a serious Catholic. That the trans girl they were clocking knew her stuff, that’s what she imagined was happening. Instead, most people just looked ahead. By this point, all her plans to stay objective were gone. Her heart was open.
Today was Trinity Sunday. She was prepared for an insipid homily on how hard it is to teach the Trinity. That was what she heard most Trinity Sundays before this one. Instead, she received a sermon from the female rector, who figured out that she was the pastor; it was such a clear explanation of what the Trinity is. She spoke joyfully in what was essentially a litany; being a Catholic, she loved a good litany of the roles the different figures in the Trinity play. All connected by the phrase “be with us.” Oh, c’mon, she thought, that’s too obvious as she shed
her first tears. They were joyful. Her sermon was moving. She forgot she was listening to a female priest.
The service proceeded. The liturgy of the Eucharist was simpler than she was used to, but every bit as reverent. Performed on an altar that looked like a table. Just like they were sharing a meal, she took communion kneeling.
As the service finished, she was still shocked at how emotional she had been. She wanted to slip out unnoticed, just as she usually did at her old church. But as she proceeded to the narthex, she met an older priest. Up close, she could see she was definitely older than her. She had kind eyes and listened attentively as she gave her elevator speech. Her story is about how she didn’t leave the Catholic faith; it left her. Tears began to well up as she spoke. She was going to lose it as she asked her what was wrong. And she blurted out that it was her first time here. She had always been Catholic, but no longer felt welcome. The priest responded with a soft, friendly, yet authoritative voice. She understood her dilemma. Of course, she wasn’t alone. They spoke for a few minutes. More than expected in an after-service chat. She was invited to coffee in the parish hall and offered to meet during the week. She agreed to both but mentioned she wanted to sit a bit and collect her thoughts.
Later, the coffee would end up being just a continuation of the warmth and feeling of the morning and meeting people. Including a third young and enthusiastic non-binary priest. How cool was that? But first, it was back to where she started, only now feeling overwhelmed. She’d done it. Let the adventure begin.
But now there she was crying in church again, and this time contemplating what had just occurred. How profoundly would this change her life? Is this one of her joyous moments? As she sat alone in the pew, she thought of all that had happened to bring her where she was now. The organist again plays “God Beyond All Praising” as the crowd filters out. That familiar hymn, which had always reminded her of her Catholic church experiences before, was now sung in an Episcopal church.
