In full disclosure, I wrote this piece prior to COVID-19. I thought it was timely because gyms in my area are opening their doors today for the first time since March.
My Sunday best is a t-shirt, yoga pants and unwashed hair that’s pulled up with a gold lamé tie. On Sunday mornings, not a speck of makeup adorns my face.
The off-brand yoga pants I purchase wear out quickly and it sometimes puts the “holy” in my Sunday morning ritual.
I rarely miss my Sunday cycling class. The regular daytime instructors rotate each week for the Sunday session and it’s always a thrill to walk in and wonder who will be sitting atop the elevated bike at the front of the room. Is it the older male instructor who solely plays jazz music (I mean seriously – who wants to exercise to elevator music?) or is in the 20-something brunette who seems to have a window into my 90’s tune-loving heart? Will we be tackling speed work or faux hills on our stationary bikes this week?
I recently read an article that stated millennials are forgoing traditional church membership. Are millennials opting for other types of communities, like group exercise classes, to “feed their soul”? I think so.
I was born in 1985 making me an older millennial and I don’t have children. I grew up in a household that wasn’t necessarily religious but one with a belief that God didn’t care where you were on Sundays but instead, how you lived your life. We rarely attended church and it never made me feel empty or unfulfilled. I respected that my churchgoing childhood friends couldn’t commit to an activity on a Wednesday evening or Sunday.
I earned my undergraduate degree from a Catholic liberal arts university but diversity in religion was accepted and it never felt forced upon me. I never felt like an outcast not being Catholic in my classes or on campus.
I attend church a few times a year and it tends to be during tough times when I need guidance. When things aren’t going well in my life and I’m questioning God’s plan, I know where I need to be. Sometimes I go to a Catholic parish (and skip communion obviously) where the priest is known for being a little more liberal than you might expect. I always get a lot from his messages and it makes me feel at home. Sometimes I go to a non-denominational church without pews but rather folded chairs in what appears to have once been a gymnasium. I like that it’s casual and it makes me feel at home. During each visit, I always learn something and feel a sense of community even though I’m not there each week.
To me, the idea of attending church is all about a sense of community. You can fill your soul on an uncomfortable bike seat, by volunteering at an animal shelter or in front of an easel at a painting class. Pews and fancy clothes aren’t always necessary to find fellowship, a purpose and a clear mind.
When I come together with other habitual riders at spin class each Sunday, we say hello to one another and wave. We ask each other rhetorical questions like “how are you doing?” or “did you have a good week?” We’ve all made a choice to arrive to the studio, to listen to the instructor and be respectful of others for our 60-minute class. We have a common goal and that goal brings us together. If you arrive late, leave early or halfway through class decide it’s not a good fit for you, there are no judgments. If we see you one week and not the next, that’s OK.
No matter one’s age, we’re all paving our own way and filling our souls as we see fit. I know when my soul could benefit from religion versus exercise.
Would my opinion on regular church attendance change if I was raising a young family? Most likely but I’m not certain.
I applaud everyone who is working to fill their soul and hope they build a true sense of community on that journey.
Let’s all be kind to one another and live the best life we can.
Let’s not reject each other if our Sunday morning routines don’t align.
Let’s respect how we all spend our free time and hard-earned dollars.
And please, please, let’s not judge my holy yoga pants.
Glitter on the Sidewalk 