Summer Jams 'n' Jellies

This September, we're not quite ready to say goodbye to summer! Join us on the lawn at 4250 N. Paulina. We’re bringing the jams — inviting some of our favorite (and future fave) guest musicians to mix things up. You bring the jelles — stories of looking for greener grass, coveting your neighbor’s ass, and other times you got a little bit jealous. Read more about it from Vince:

I am in this super challenging, invitation-only trivia league. (HMU if you want a referral, nerds!) I was on Indianapolis’ The Brain Game TV show in high school, and I love some hard, Trivial Pursuit-style general knowledge questions. 

But here’s the thing. It turns out, at this level, I am not that good.

There are 5 divisions you can be in in this league: A, B, C, D, and E - best to worst. I’m a D. Every once in a while I’ll work my way up to C for a couple seasons before getting knocked down. Once I fell down to E (and I #$%&ing crushed those losers!) But mostly I hang out right in the middle of D (BYO middle school joke.) 

And for several seasons it made me miserable. I mean, the goal of a game is to win. And this season I went 11-12-2. In D. It’s not like I’m ever going to make it to A. Or even B. I’m never going to be the best. So why bother?

Unless...maybe...there are other reasons to play? Or to do anything...than just being the best?

All month at Gilead we’re telling stories of being jelly. Of the people who are smarter, faster, or cooler than you (me). Of the person you once were or the person you could’ve been. And this week: the spirituality of losing. Who could I be if I stopped trying to be the best? What could I do, if I didn’t need to win?

Let’s talk about it, you over-achievers. Sundays 5pm.

Summer Reruns!

This August, your local queer, storytelling, bar church is…tired. And we’re getting ready for a whole new season. So this month, it’s Reruns! Read what Vince had to say about it in the weekly newsletter:

Our daughter, Nola, is currently making her way through the back catalog of Super Friends. Last year she burned through ThunderCats, (hoooooo!) and I tried to get her into Gummy Bears with no luck. (No judgments, please. Screen time rules were for pre-pandemic life.)

Revisiting shows with her has been fun. The way the theme songs come back like a reflex. The way the character voices transport me to a shag carpet in the 80’s. The way the stories trace familiar pathways through my brain. There’s a certain pleasure to re-runs.

Coming back to a TV show, or a movie, or - OK, yes - a book, it’s nostalgic. It takes you back to a particular time and place. But it also brings you into the present moment in a different way.

A re-run is a kind of measuring stick, marking off the distance you’ve traveled from the person you were when you saw it the first time. What you thought was funny. What you thought was meaningful. What you’ve kept from who you were, and what’s changed.

Re-runs show us what has held up. In the show and in us. The cringey bits we’d rather forget about, and the solid stuff we ended up building on.

This month we’re trying something new: we’re going back to services that are old. We’re revisiting worship from our first four years to see how it holds up. To see who we’ve been and to measure who we’ve become as a church and as individuals.

We’re picking some of the services we think were great, (but maybe not well-attended) and we hope you’ll join us to re-run them (or, let’s be honest, probably run them for the first time anyway.)

Sundays at 5pm on a lawn in Ravenswood, we’re transporting you to August 19, 2018 in a garden in Rogers Park. To July 14, 2019 in an improv theater in Northcenter. To Shark Week, 2018 at Red Line Tap… Don’t miss it — again.

Camp!

This July, your local queer, storytelling, bar church is going to camp. Starting July 11th, we’ll be on the lawn at 4250 N Paulina (and on Zoom), roasting marshmallows, doing crafts, making friends, and, if some of your childhood camp stories play out: not pooping the whole time you’re there! (But there are bathrooms available.)

The only time I went to overnight camp as a kid, I hated it. It was church camp that even my parents worried would be too conservative. (They were correct.) My visions of finally having a peer group of “cool Christian kids” evaporated when I realized that cool Christian kids could recognize a dork like me just as easily as cool non-Christian kids. Like some of you, I hated camp, I never quite found my people there, and was relieved to get home. 

So it’s a miracle that I went on to work at camps for years as a teenager and young adult. That I didn’t just get used to outhouses, but also to multi-seat outhouses (friendly!) and outdoor showers (cold! But sexy!). I didn’t just tolerate camp life but reveled in it. It made me who I am — or more fully revealed to me who I am. Someone who loves groups of people striving to make community. Knowing each other too well and lots of singing. Shared meals. Big laughter. Easy tears. Inside jokes that grow and evolve over years. Nudity, sometimes. Fires, as often as possible. And every year, when I came home and struggled to readjust to “real life,” I’d think (or someone else would unhelpfully offer, unsolicited), “Well, you can’t live like that all the time.”

I dunno. Can’t we? 

In July, Gilead’s going to camp. And this time, y’all, it’s gonna be so. good. If you’re a camp kid, this is gonna be right up yer alley. If not...come reclaim camp.

Soft Opening

About our June 2021 theme and not about anything else. What kind of church do you think this is? From the newsletter:

Everyone loves a good soft opening. For the person having the soft opening, it’s a first step into something that feels exciting, but risky; a chance to experiment with someone(s) you already trust. For the people invited to a soft opening, it’s an honor to be allowed into that tender space, to know you’re on the inside, that you’re one of the first to see this thing that is so personal and sensitive for your friend. And later, when folks come out gushing over how good it was, you get to say, I was there first.

You’re invited this Sunday (and all month) as Gilead has a soft opening. It finally feels safe(r) to be together again. (Although we’re still asking you to wear protection.) We’ll see if we even remember how to do this thing with someone else around. It feels a little scary, but we think we’re ready. 5pm this Sunday on the lawn at Bethany UCC (4250 N. Paulina St). And if you just want to watch, that’s an option too, though we can’t promise it will be as good. Also, if you have stories of your soft openings that you want to share, by all means, let’s get into them!

We trust you. We love you. Come on over, and we’ll just see what happens. Help us prepare for something bigger. It might be a disaster. But it could be really good. Just remember we didn’t promise you anything grand.

Summer 2021 worship

Guess who’s back???

You gxys, it’s us! We are!

Starting June 13, 2021, Gilead is back on the lawn at 4250 N Paulina, 5 pm on Sundays. Bring your mask (and, y’know, plan to wear it), any bevvies you might want to enjoy, your church lady fan… We’ll have space and chairs on the lawn for you. We’ll have communion individually wrapped/poured for you. A digital bulletin, bathrooms open for your use (soon-to-be single-user, gender-neutral), stories, sermons, and music you can SING ALONG WITH (still in masks, for now). Thanks to your thoughtful responses to our survey, in case of rain, we’ll be inside the gym with masks, distance, and ventilation.

What to expect, more broadly, and a few reviews.

We need your halp, of course. Sign up to greet and/or bake bread here where you can also get more details. Thanks!

We can’t wait to see you. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

CW: no trigger warnings

At Gilead, you may have noticed (or been told by Rebecca when you asked if your story needed one), we don't do trigger warnings.

There are good, important, reasons for trigger warnings. And we've got good, important, reasons for not doing them. We don't want to be in the position of deciding which stories need them. And we don't actually know what could be triggering to someone. (As a teller, host, and listener, I've been surprised many times by what turned out to be triggering. A story told by someone who thought they were in a room full of strangers, telling, in detail, about the death of a person I'd known well. A story that included an elderly parent dying sent another listener out of an event, saying, "I just can't be here." I have upset listeners with content and in one case, by the very act of telling a story!) We also believe that any part of anyone's story might be something that someone else is dying to hear.

At Gilead, we do edit and craft stories for greater impact and to reveal meaning, including to the ones telling the stories. We believe that God is in every story, including, yes, the one about getting running over by an SUV while stoned and the one about #AnalFissures (#NeverForget).

At Gilead, we trust that there are other ways to take care of ourselves and each other. Stepping away from the computer if this one's not for you. Typing, "WHOA!" in the chat. Having a conversation after church. Building our stories in ways that are attentive to listeners and how a thing might strike them. Believing that our community can hear and hold your story. It's not too much for us.

This anniversary month, our theme is Oversharing is the Brand so, ah, we're kind of aiming for "too much." It's that kind of place. Because your "too much" (and mine, thank God) doesn't need a trigger warning. It needs a community.

TMI

From this week’s newsletter, and the launch of our 2017 birthday month theme, Vince writing on Oversharing is the Brand:

A few weeks ago, one of my colleagues began the service by launching right into the welcome, accidentally skipping over the poem and the opening song. I panicked, wondering whether to intervene and how.

I remembered a mentor who impressed upon me the importance of the opening moments of worship. “That is the time when you gain the congregation’s trust, when they see that you are capable of leading them through, and they can relax and let themselves be present.”

I realized we could just as easily skip the poem and use the opening song somewhere else. No one would even know the difference. So, of course, I broke in and started screaming. “No! No! It’s not time yet! We’re supposed to be doing the poem!” Then I hit mute and congratulated myself on the perfect response.

OK, maybe not perfect. Typical. On brand.

As Rebecca and I have been saying for the last four years, “Oversharing is the brand.” When we’re preaching. When we’re talking to denominational committees that hold our future in their hands. When someone makes a tiny mistake that no one would have even noticed. Why not say everything?

And not just the preachers. All of us. In our stories, in our prayers, in our friendships we encourage each other to put it all on the table. Your fears and failures. Your abortions and anal fissures. SO many stories about peeing and pooping your pants.

We’re here for it. This month it’s even our theme. (If you’ve got a story that seems like TMI, HMU!) And maybe it’s not exactly relaxing to hear it all. Maybe it makes you question our capability. But hopefully, over time, it does help us learn to trust each other. Saying it all. Being there for it all.

Be there for it. Sundays at 5 pm.

The Reviews Are In: Jarring. Accepting. Courageous.

When Joe Ciresi filled out his 2021 online pledge card, he ignored the goofy-ass prompt and wrote this, dare we say, 5 star review:

After dropping faith completely more than 20 years ago I have struggled with trying to find a place where my questions and beliefs would be accepted at that same time. I first checked this church out a couple years ago because a friend suggested (not pushed) for me to come sometime. The whole concept of setting down my Jack & Coke to go accept communion was honestly a bit jarring and so did not come back for a while but then that same friend invited me to a party they were having and that's where they began to bring me in.

I did not go to another "church service" but would show up at some of their events and realized how much these people really accepted me and everyone around me for who they were with what seemed like no discernment.

The stories aspect of church is so real, as they are so relatable, and I was/am privileged to take part in the story tellers workshops over the last couple months which literally brought me back to the Sunday church services. I'm in absolute awe of the courage and charisma the storytellers have in this community as they are nothing but inspiring. In short I find that in a world I often question why to keep fighting I always seem to walk away from Gilead services/events with a new sense of the fight I need to keep going. Thank you for accepting the oddness of me!

Thank you, Joe, for sharing this and for accepting the oddness of Gilead! We are so glad to be in community with you.

If you can support Gilead in 2021, let us know here.

The Reviews Are In: "I think they're trying"

I think they’re trying? Missing the mark.

A friend had been inviting me “to Gilead” for a long while, which was confusing, but I eventually determined they were not doing weekly cosplay for some kind of Handmaid’s adventure in a near-future, totalitarian patriarchal theocracy, but instead attending some other kind of “church.”

They shot me a text every few months to see if I wanted to join and literally every time it was at a different location. I’m surprised people could keep track of where to show up. Like, that must have taken an absurd amount of email and social media communication.

But, I finally took them up on it. And this place is a trip.

Are they trying too hard to be cool? Or are they not trying to be cool at all? Is that why things are so random? I’m not even that much of a church-y person, but there are some baseline expectations to be met to be church, no?

Someone got up front and mentioned they were looking forward to “shark week church,” then proceeded to share a very meaningful story about a spiritual transformation they experienced. 

What?? Are we having fun or are we doing church? This is weird.

The opening song we sang included the lyrics “hot like Mexico, rejoice,” “just smoke my cigarette and hush,” and “I'm not your babe, Fernando.” HOW is this related to anything about church.

There was an announcement about scheduling your photo shoot if you wanted to participate—great, church directories, very helpful, right? UM, turns out this was for a church pin up calendar? I don’t know. I was too nervous to ask.

And, get this, ALL their communion bread is gluten-free. All of it. ...You know, on second thought, that bread was actually really good. Like, REALLY good. So tbh I would recommend their bread.

But the last straw came recently. I saw they were having an Advent wreath sale, which, finally, something traditional. I can support that. But when it was delivered, it wasn’t a wreath at all! It was beer. False advertising.

I guess if you’re into creative interpretations, go for it. But prepare to be surprised.

2 out of 5 stars. (Was gonna be one, but that bread WAS good.)

---

FAQ

Q: Is this review real

A: Define “real.” It was written for a real Gilead service by a real Gileadite to simultaneously poke fun of and say what’s great about Gilead.

Q: But why?

A: It’s our annual pledge campaign, asking people who love this place to commit to what (they think) they can give in 2021!

Q: What do you hope will happen?

A: We hope people will give to support new, creative, inclusive church by filling out this online pledge card.

Q: How’s it going?

A: Oh, not that great. We’ve heard from lots of people, including first time givers, which is amazing, but we’re running way under the goal of $47,000.

Q: How can I help?

A: Let us know what you can give, whether it’s $15/mo or $50/wk or one big ol’ lump sum. ANY amount that matters to you, matters to us!

Confused?

Well, it's a confusing time. This week, a (pretty) earnest email from us, in the name of clearing some things up.

First, Mom, I wouldn't assume it's your age that's creating the confusion. Ever since Vince penned the now iconic sentence, "We are open and affirming, anti-racist, local, organic, slow-church, just peace, free range, real butter Christians," people of all ages have wondered which parts are real (and whether free range Christians are a thing).

Gilead is a place where a lot of things are simultaneously a joke and the most serious, life-saving work in the world. (And, to be clear, "free range Christians" aren't a thing, unless you count us Gileadites and other people like us who roam around the world, living like the chickens God made us to be, being who we are out in the open air and sunlight and, by so doing, glorifying God. See? Clarity.)

More clarity: we are in the middle of our annual pledge campaign. (That's what all the fake/real/jokey/serious reviews are about.) We are asking people who call Gilead home (or who are glad it exists as a home for others) to make a financial commitment to support this community in the coming year. We are asking you to click on this link which is our online pledge card and let us know what you plan to give next year.

If you’re still on the fence about whether the world needs a queer storytelling bar church like Gilead, here are some very, very real reviews we pulled off the internet:

“What do puppets have to do with Jesus?” - Jason
“I'd be willing to show up to your church.” - Jo Firestone*
“Yikes. Remind anyone of Handmaid's Tale???” - Caitlyn, Katelin, Kaytlen

Give to a church where you get (some of) the jokes. Pick an amount that’s meaningful and doable for you. Then fill out an electronic pledge card and don’t forget to set-up your online giving!

Thank you for all you do to make this community possible. Seriously.

*We have receipts! Check out the recording on our podcast feed.

Amazon Review left by Marilynn Robinsfan 2020

Things are hard lately. In need of comfort, I decided to return to an old stand-by: Gilead, the perfect-as-is Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Marilynn Robinson. But, when I pulled my well-loved hardcover off the shelf: a tragedy. The text disintegrated in my hands like a dandy-lion I had wished-upon. My only wish was to read the book, so I asked the internet to send another copy to my house. 

But I did not get a book. I got this church. In my computer. 

Problem 1: It was so convenient. I got an email, clicked a link, and forgot to be mad for entire minutes during the opening song, which was catchy, I’ll admit but that brings me to...

Problem 2: Why are hymns not hymns?! If there must be music in this adaptation, it should be something Gilead’s beloved protagonist, Rev. John Ames would enjoy. Rev. John Ames does not like MUNA cover songs. He does not listen to queer-inflected West Coast indy-pop. He is not even familiar with the theological controversies that make that choice subversive. John Ames (beloved protagonist) does not need a new paradigm—he has been through enough! 

Problem 3: The casting made no sense. There were numerous preachers. Like, four maybe? Which one was supposed to be John Ames, beloved protagonist? Which one was supposed to be Boughton, beloved friend of the beloved protagonist? Some of the preachers were women, so that was extra confusing. It’s like this church isn’t even based on the book. 

Problem 4: I laughed out loud at least once. That was nice,  but I came to weep. This is supposed to be a novel about a grieving father/widower who finds love and parenthood late in life, so late he has to die of old age before he gets to see his son grow up, and it is SO SAD, not haha funny at all, so the all laughter just felt really inappropriate to me. 

Nonetheless, I signed a pledge card. It was also linked in the email I got so, whatever, I did it. I assume this is not a real church and I’m having an extended literary nightmare. But, on off-chance this is a thing, I’ve pledged my support because the Rev. John Ames would have wanted that. He also ministered to a small congregation under pandemic conditions and they had no money and it was stressful, so fine.  

Overall, I think I can appreciate what the adaptors are trying to do here, but it is too poststructural, and again, above all—did not come wrapped!

HUGE thanks to Gilead-ite Annabel Lang for this bad review.

.

The Reviews Are In: 2020 Pledge Campaign

“If I could give this church zero stars i would…”

Four years ago this month we started creating Gilead. Last week after worship, my five-year-old daughter, Nola, told me, “I think I like Gilead Church now.” So, there you have it. The reviews are in. It was all worth it.  

This week we’re launching our pledge campaign for 2021, asking people who call Gilead home (or who are glad it exists as a home for others) to consider making a financial commitment to support this community in the coming year. We think there are lots of compelling reasons to give to Gilead in 2021, and if you’re already convinced, you can skip the rest of this email and go straight to this online pledge card.  (but pls read the rest after, there are important announcements below - rihannon)

But if you’re still on the fence about whether the world needs a queer storytelling bar church like Gilead, don’t take our word for it. Check out some of these reviews we’ve pulled at random off the web.

“Too many ministers! How many ministers does one church need? Not this many!” - Holly P

“They don’t fill growlers.” - Tony H.

“Have they even heard of The Handmaid’s Tale?” - Becky

“Church...in a bar?” - Craig M., The Today Show

Or take it from a real first time visitor this August:

“I was raised in a conservative Christian culture/family/bubble, and have left it behind, and am so wary of any churches...but [the service] ended with me feeling so much gratitude, admiration, love, peace...Ahhh, I seriously want to cry. Okay, I'm crying. Haha ahhhh. I've been really struggling lately, and the kindness of strangers has completely melted me. Thank you, so much.“

Give to a church that isn’t for everyone but is for YOU. Pick an amount that’s meaningful and doable for you. Then fill out an electronic pledge card and don’t forget to set-up your online giving!

Thank you for all you do to make this community possible and for all the reviews you post about it pseudonymously.