Today was Ingathering Sunday at the First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia, and despite it being the first Sunday of the church year, I was five minutes late, which is normal for me. I found my regular seat, on the left side, near the back. The place was full, and our new interim minister was up front. Sitting there, I remembered why I go to church. It’s the feeling of belonging to a community, in which people know me and I know them. It is a space where you don’t have to be careful with your smiles, but instead can grin at all who you see, surrendering to the joy of being. Where we watch kids, who we remember as bumps in their moms’ bellies, old enough now to pour their summer memories into the water communion bowl. Where we sit quietly, with our feet flat on the floor, backs pressed against the pew, breathing deeply, the whole congregation taking and releasing air as one unified body.