On a recent Sunday, I officially joined a Unitarian Universalist church in Seattle. Not even 24 hours later, I bussed down to the state capital with a bunch of church members for a rally.

How’s that for acting speedily on my faith? Especially as I’d only just discovered that I have some.

Admittedly, this particular rally was a no-brainer for me: It was all about gay rights. Co-sponsored by the Religious Coalition for Equality and Equal Rights Washington, Equality Day 2006 took place after the House had passed the anti-discrimination bill and as the Senate was taking it up. Last year, after almost three decades of trying, the bill failed by one vote in the Senate. This year, failure seemed as palatable as brussels sprouts.

Add to that the fact that we in Washington have been waiting for the state Supreme Court to announce its decision on gay marriage approximately since Truman was president, and I knew I had to be on that bus to Olympia.

A fortuitous decision, I realized as we boarded, when I heard an older church member introduce her friend to one of the ministers: “We each have a gay child. Isn’t that great?”

Our contingent included lesbian parents with their toddler, high school students and both of the church’s ministers. It seemed to me that most people on board were straight, and if I’m not careful, I could go into a paroxysm of gratitude.

Soon after we arrived, the steps of the Capitol crowded with Unitarians. So many banners were in evidence that a rabbi from Everett joked to our minister, “The Unitarians must run the printing business.”

The steps filled up and the rally was underway. The Seattle Men’s and Women’s Choruses performed a ditty called “I Do,” which included the lyrics: “Who wants to blow a fortune on flowers? Scribble invitations for hours and hours? Open stupid presents at bridal showers? Who wants to say ‘I do?’ Well I do.”

Another highlight for me was when three leaders from the Christian, Jewish and Islamic faiths shared the dais. Each spoke compellingly, and each quoted from his faith tradition on the necessity of pursuing justice, even when it’s not popular. These three worked well enough together that I couldn’t help but nickname them Larry, Curly and Moe. I’m weak that way.

Gov. Gregoire remembered back to 1977 when the first brave souls started this legislation: “Finally, after 29 years, Washington state will pass the civil rights bill!” From her mouth to the ears of the many gods in attendance.

After the remarks, songs and prayers concluded, it was time to seek out our state senators. I hung around on the Capitol steps a while longer, watching as “Catholics for Justice” and Wallingford United Methodist Church and Ingraham High School posed for group photos. It was indeed a day to record.

My friend Bobbie and I located Sen. Jacobsen’s office, and entered long enough to shake hands and hear him say he thought it looked good. All this optimism from politicos. Bobbie and I dipped into the cafeteria for a bite. A state trooper stood in line, a few feet away from a man sporting long hair, a beard and a delicate skirt. Ah, democracy.

We ambled back toward the busses, enjoying the sun I suspected would be nowhere to be seen in Seattle. Bobbie asked two bus drivers where our bus was. She said that we came down with a group of Unitarians. One driver replied, “I’m with the Jewish folks.”

Wrong bus. Right day.