The above graphic is taken from the Church of Craft website.

Something I haven’t talked about on this blog as of yet is the fact that I’m a knitter. This is one of the things as which I identify, right along with “woman,” “feminist,” and — well, let’s leave the parade there for now.

I always have at least one knitting project on the go (”on the needles” in the technical parlance) and I find it endlessly comforting and relaxing and indeed quite necessary for my mental health.

Right now I’m pondering this: could I possibly get away with knitting in church?

I knit in pretty much all other public environments; waiting rooms, public transportation, coffee shops. In university I would knit in classes where note-taking was not imperative, and where I didn’t care whether the prof would be giving me the stink-eye.

I already knit during one religious gathering, the weekly small group/bible study. Usually I sit beside a group member who forgot her bible, and have her hold mine for both of us while I add a few inches to the sleeve of a sweater.

I knit during the sermony-portions of the annual winter camp retreat, where the associate pastor (the one assigned to the hinterland sojourn, the senior pastor doesn’t make it out these days) gives his missive. But that was at the retreat, a relaxed environment, where we’re all sleep deprived, groggier still from eating too many pancakes. The casualness of the situation is emphasized sartorially, in our denim, sweatshirts, and slippers.

In both of those situations I feel perfectly justified in knitting. I’m the type of person who listens better when her hands are busy, when she’s doodling or otherwise digitally engaged. Having something to do with my hands frees my mind to focus on aural stimuli, in the form of sermons. Not that I’m much of an aural listener to begin with, but it helps. Now, it’s not that I always feel beholden to actually listen to sermons — I don’t beat myself up if my attention lapses or my mind wanders. I’ve long since given up on feeling guilty for those sorts of offenses.

But I can’t help but stop short pulling out the needles during the sermon. I feel like that might be crossing some line. Sure, knitting would be more constructive than, say, playing solitaire on my PDA. Still, I worry about distracting my pewmates. There’s probably more than one of them who would be thinking, “What the heck is she doing? Knitting in church? That’s so… wrong! She shouldn’t be allowed to do that! Why isn’t she paying attention to the sermon!” and so forth. And believe me, I’m loathe to cause anyone to stumble, or force attention away from the adorable animated graphics on the PowerPoint.

Most people would probably take it as a disrespectful action. I wonder if it might actually be. After all, if I went to a more interesting church, I probably wouldn’t feel the desire to knit. For some reason I still want to behave respecfully in a church. I may have rejected a lot of the stuff I grew up with in terms of religion, but I still think strapless dresses for church weddings are tacky. The clickety-clack of the needles probably would be, too.

So like I said, maybe I’m at the wrong church. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m at the “wrong” church, but I don’t have the energy to go find another one, especially since it’s pretty unlikely I’d find one where knitting during the sermon was de rigeur.

The Church of Craft is vaguely/blatantly sacreligious/offensive to evangelical sensibilities; I know it was to mine, once upon a time. But these days, I feel like craft is my true religion. I keep trying to get Christianity to fit, but craft always has fit, with no effort, no aggravating seam allowances and pinpricks.

I’m downright evangelical about craft in a way I never have been about Christianity. Knitting is such a transformative, challenging, engaging experience that I try to pull everyone I can into the fold. At the winter retreat last weekend, I was filled with joy when I looked around the group sitting in front of the fireplace and saw three people — two women, one man — intent on their knitting, all three taught in the ways of yarn by me. I felt a measure of pride, of course, but it was mostly just happiness that they’d discovered an activity which is so beneficial. Beneficial for the mind and beneficial for personal well-being, in that one can create useful thermal items for winter wear. The quintessential beginner’s knitting project is a simple garter-stitch scarf, an item which, even when knit of the most pedestrian and inexpensive acrylic yarn is quite useful in a climate such as ours.

My own church of craft (well, we call it Stitch & Bitch, actually) meets irregularly on weeknights in living rooms or a deserted coffee shop. I spend time with women who are infinitely caring, accepting, and encouraging. Not all of them knit, but craft in all its expressions is related, so it doesn’t really matter.

Knitting is easy at first. Garter-stitch scarves are a snap, as are hats and mittens, once you learn the purl stitch and get the knack of double-pointed needles. Then you try to set a sleeve on your first sweater or knit a swatch of lace and things get ugly. But you keep going. Well, I do.

This entry was posted on Sunday, February 5th, 2006 at 7:51 pm and is filed under church, craft. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.