Pew for Two: Why Worshiping Together as a Couple Might Not Be a Good Thing

When I was growing up, Sunday mornings were filled with the sounds of black gospel music on local radio station WHUR being played on the car stereo, the smell of Estee Lauder's White Linen, Mom yelling at my sister and I to hurry and dress, and Grandma gently chiding my mom for making us four leave so late for Mass. After Mass, there was stop off at the local bakery for cheese danish, cinnamon buns, and an eclair or two. Then Mom and Grandma would start cooking Sunday dinner and by the time that dinner was served, Dad would make it home. Dad went to a different church - a small, charismatic Christian church of 50-60 members that was different than our sprawling, Roman Catholic church which could have 300 people attending just one of our three Sunday services. 

Having a dad who didn't attend Mass with us made us unique at our church. Sunday was the day when the dads, many of whom came from very modest financial means, would put on their one good suit and parade their families down the red carpeted aisle to sit together as a family unit. As a child I always wished that our dad would put on his best suit and join us, too, but I also knew that even though Dad didn't go to our church, he was faithful. Dad would rise at 5:00am every Sunday to drive the church van, providing a ride to church for members who needed it. Dad also headed up the tape ministry, providing audio and, eventually, video tapes of the Sunday services for those unable to attend. He served as his church treasurer and believed in the practice of the biblical tithe. He visited parishioners who were in the hospital and he read from his Bible every day. Mom's devotion to her religion was no less strong, though it was more suited to her introverted personality. Mom sang in the choir and she attended Mass almost every day during her lunch hour thanks to the Catholic Church across the street from her office. My parents found a way to honor their commitment to each other, and to honor their commitment to their faith. 

When I got engaged, I promised myself that my Sunday mornings would be spent with my husband and I side-by-side in a pew built for two. Now, 14 years later I can say that this has produced some fairly mixed results. Before I met my husband, I had been a member of a United Methodist church located in Washington, DC. The congregation was a great mix of races, classes, sexual orientations, and households. I sang in the church's amazing choir which meant spending every Sunday in the musical playground that is the Methodist hymnal. I was in my early twenties, a recent arrival in the city after completing my masters degree, and I was hungry for the sense of community that I'd had in my university setting.  I met my husband a few years later and made the tough decision to move to the suburbs and to a church home nearer to us geographically and nearer to his faith tradition. That this church was less diverse than my Methodist church was evident from our first Sunday, but I figured it was best for our marriage to be in a place that was comfortable for my spouse. And my gamble paid off for my husband who has been an active and engaged volunteer from the beginning. Having grown up in this faith tradition, he had a rich personal and family history of service to draw on and he has had a stellar track record as a volunteer. For me, though, the introverted singer, it's been a struggle. In an extrovert-heavy church full of Type-A's who have a high tolerance for church committee meetings and a knack for getting things done, it's been hard to find my spiritual groove, and I think, at some point, I stopped looking for it. 

Does this sound familiar to you? Churches often take couples and families as a package, assuming that they can find an activity or practice that will involve each member of a family to their satisfaction and that they have a community who can, and are willing to absorb the new members into the community's fold. There are a lot of cases where this works. But, when it doesn't, it's a slow march into a spiritually lonely place. A church might have all of the "right" things for one half of a couple, but still not feel like home to the other half of that same couple. There's an old blues song that has the refrain, "if it don't fit, don't force it," and that's what a lot of people, myself included, have done or are doing when that pew for two feels more like a cage for one. Some have just disappeared - opting out of Sunday service altogether. A few have migrated to other churches. And others, who are now in the midst of raising their families in the church, will drop out after their children start attending or graduate from college. But, what are we waiting for? What are we afraid of? Are we afraid that the couple who can't pray together won't stay together? But, shouldn't the fear of falling apart spiritually override the fear of drifting apart as a couple? I can tell you from unfortunate first hand experience that feeling nothing is the worst feeling you can have, especially when you've had the experience of deep spiritual connection. So now my hard work has begun. I've made good friends in our church and so I work on those relationships, developing them into friendships and enjoying the company of those good people. I take a Sunday or two and head to the local Baptist church when I'm in need of gospel music. The next step is to find a place to sing on a few Sunday mornings, maybe a place with a Methodist hymnal that used to be my spiritual home once upon a time and where I can find a place to meet up with my husband for a Sunday brunch where we can share with each other what we did at church today:)