The first time I came to Pilgrim was on a Good Friday. I had started attending Immanuel Lutheran, which shares Lent services with Pilgrim, so Good Friday was here. Good Friday has been my favorite church service since I was in middle school.
Although I had continued to go to church alone long after my family stopped going, when I moved to Macalester for college I didn’t bother to get into weekly services again. I looked up nearby churches on the internet and never went to any of them, aside from the occasional holiday. Even Good Friday fell prey to my busy schedule; we had the day off school but there was always a track meet at Gustavus. My faith was still important to me, as I decided to pursue a career in Biblical Studies, but it wasn’t until my life began to fall apart that I went back to church, because I had to.
When I was 23 my boyfriend of two years broke up with me. Although it was my third long-term relationship I had never been dumped before. It turned out to be the crisis that activated trauma I had blocked out from childhood. Now I know why I always liked the more morbid church services; they gave meaning to the ever-present but inexplicable sense of tragedy I inherited from my childhood abuses.
I became suicidal, drank too much, and cut myself for awhile. Then I developed an eating disorder, which proved to be the most effective and devastating coping mechanism yet. At the same time, I got myself out of a toxic living situation, moved back to the Macalester neighborhood, and started going to church.
By the time I walked through Pilgrim’s doors, I was scared of everything. The post-traumatic stress combined with the neurological effects of prolonged starvation made life almost impossible. Every time I saw a man looking at me, I felt a choking sensation which could last up to a week. I was so anxious I couldn’t stay in one place for more than an hour. I was in constant state of fight or flight. I couldn’t socialize, I was falling behind in school and my job as a TA, and simple tasks like riding the bus had begun to terrify me. Church was the only place I felt safe, so I went every chance I got, and that brought me to Pilgrim on Good Friday in 2007.
As I entered the old sanctuary, the setting sun burned red through the stained glass and the mounting tragedy of the service was echoed by the darkening of the sky. I loved the haunting music and the ancient feel of the liturgy. I came back for the Nordic service and sang about wandering pilgrims and sat in silence and heard God. Where else might a terrified, roaming anorexic find rest than “a home for hungry minds and souls?”
Since then, I started treatment, became a member at Pilgrim, and I am almost done with my master’s degree in Religions in Antiquity. I still plan on being a biblical scholar, but I have a lot more work to do with my eating disorder and the PTSD. I need church as much as ever and I am so happy I found a home at Pilgrim.
Johanna Shreve
I spoke for an hour at Pilgrim Lutheran Church, hosted by Pastor Carol who is a remarkable woman, with an invitational voice and spirit such as I’ve never seen. It was a privilege to be there with her. If you find yourself in St. Paul, Minnesota, and are wont to attend church, I urge you to seek her out.
As fate would have it, I had brought with me exactly one piece of art from the book to share with people at the readings. Yep. It was the little shrine made by Tari in Germany and now face-to-face with her cousin in a church basement in St Paul, Minnesota. Imagine that.