The Kirkin O' Th' Tartan--(or I like men in plaid skirts)

When I returned to graduate school, I began to pick up a new vocabulary, there were certain words that professors were fond of using that I had not had the occasion to use in my “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood” days at home. Certain words like conundrum, inextricably and bucolic would often surface in a lecture or discussion. My favorite new word to whip out in a blog is catholic, meaning universal. I had always equated this word with one religion, based in Rome, but catholic with a little “c” can be dropped into a sentence without ever referring to religion. When I graduated, I received a Master of Liberal Arts degree, but in a separate folder, I also received a post-baccalaureate certificate in Global Studies. While I didn’t start school with this end in mind, the more my mind has been opened to the catholic nature of our lives, the more this little piece of paper means to me.

Yesterday at church, I had the opportunity to use my new favorite word once again and to smile at the universal nature of our beliefs. Each year the Presbyterian Church celebrates its Scottish Heritage with the Kirkin’ O’ Th’ Tartan. Having no Scottish or Presbyterian heritage, I had no idea what to expect, except that my friend Carolyn insisted it was an event not to be missed. (She didn’t warn me though that no one misses it and that every inch of the church would be filled a half-hour before it began.) In this ceremony each “clan” brings forth their Tartan to be blessed. The program explained it this way, “It is said that when the English conquerors banned the wearing of the Tartan in 1745 that some Scottish clansmen began to carry swatches of the material concealed under their clothing into their church services. At some point in the service, when the clergyman would give a blessing, the clansmen would touch their bits of Tartan, and with no outward signals, an underground Kirkin’ occurred.”

As the service began, each clan—the McCormicks, the Wallaces, the Campbells, etc. marched in wearing the distinct tartan or plaid of their name and carrying a blanket over their arms representing their family. Bagpipes, drums and brass players led the way to the front of the church. (Amazing how a drum roll and trumpet can assist in calling one to worship). We then repeated the Scottish Confession of 1560, written my John Knox, the founder of the Presbyterian Church. One line stood out to me “This Kirk (meaning Church) is catholic, that is universal, because it contains the chosen of all ages, of all realms, nations, and tongues who have communion and society with God the Father, and with his son Christ Jesus through the sanctification of the Holy Spirit.” As I looked around the building, filled to overflowing with families, dignitaries, Mormons, Presbyterians and a group of red haired Catholic teenagers from the Ulster project in Ireland. I felt a shiver go up my spine and as the bagpipes played the sweet notes of Amazing Grace I thought to myself, today I am blessed to be a member of this “catholic” community—One God, one Lord, one faith and one baptism.