"So, LutheranChik...how did Sunday morning go?"
I'll tell ya. It went swell. More than swell.
Oh, we had a couple of startup glitches. Before the service started I asked the pastor, "Do we process up together, or is one of us in front of the other, or how does that work?" And it turns out we don't know. So we'll have to look that up. The Velcroed collar of my alb kept making alarming scriiiiiitch noises whenever I moved. I also almost forgot to bow to the altar at the end of the service, and we had some momentary confusion about who says, "Go in peace. Live the Gospel." And I chickened out of my plan to ad-lib the Prayers of the Church; wound up squinting at my notes in one hand while attempting unilateral worship choreography with the other.
And no matter how many times you've sat through a church service, how many times you've rehearsed that service in your head, how many times you've wanted to be front and center in the service -- there's always that moment when you're standing there, looking out at dozens of expectant faces, and your mind goes completely, flatline blank...even with the liturgy right in front of you.
Yes, I know; I can be pretty anal at times.
But here's the good stuff.
It never fails to both astound and humble me what a privilege it is to lead worship. How many times have I slouched into church on a Sunday morning, part of me not wanting to be there and part of me desperately longing for a word? Helping people find the words when they don't have any of their own. That thought stayed with me all morning; that is what I was doing. I tend to be rather soft-spoken; during the service I found myself speaking loudly, slowly, clearly. I also tried explaining things as I went along; after the sermon, when it came time to say the Creed, I pointed out that the first part of the service -- the assurance of forgiveness; the lessons; the sermon -- focused on God's "yes" to us, and that the Creed and the Sharing of the Peace were our "yes" to God and to one another. I had a vague idea that I was going to say that, and I can't quite remember how I did say that, exactly, but I did.
I also found myself doing things I don't normally do as a civilian in the pew. Sometimes worshippers, especially newbies, are a little shy; they don't know what to do; they don't know how to act. During the informal pre-service warmup sing-along I got a little more animated than I normally do, to let people know that was okay. And at the end of the prayers, when we invite people to pray for specific people or situations in their lives, aloud or silently, I said names aloud -- names of several people who are probably reading this post, as a matter of fact. Because, again, I wanted people to know it was okay to do that, if they wanted. It's harder for me to do that sitting in the pew with my mother; I'm not sure why, but it is, so I usually keep my prayers to myself. But not yesterday.
And I also felt a very profound sense of carrying other people with me to the front of the sanctuary -- people feeling disempowered, dismissed, despised by Churchianity. Yeah, I know; I'm doing my AM dog-and-pony show in a little congregation somewhere between a hayfield and a state forest; personal guerilla theater; big deal; no one cares: "Can anything good come out of Outer Podunk County?" Well -- if not here, where?
Today I got a very gracious e-mail from the pastor that basically told me I'm not going to be fired anytime soon. And they're ordering me an alb of my own.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Hooray!
I was at a nursing home Christmas party yesterday.
My mother and I were there to see my aunt. She's been there for about four years now, and I recall that our first nursing home Christmas party was pretty hard to take -- the lame and the halt and the demented; some residents lying immobile and unresponsive, barely hanging on; the strained expressions of loved ones as they tried to be cheerful. I remember afterward, our just driving around and around our town for awhile, up and down all the streets, until we could regroup.
But now we're nursing home veterans, so the Christmas party is no longer a source of sadness for us. We're glad for my aunt, who enjoys it, and for the other residents who obviously derive pleasure from the festivities. And I think even for many of the residents who lie in their chairs with closed eyes and expressionless faces, the music and the bells still mean something -- something special and good.
Yesterday one of our local teachers, a young man with a mellow, pop-staples voice, played piano and sang sentimental holiday favorites: "The Christmas Song"; "Winter Wonderland"; "White Christmas." A jolly, well-appointed Santa Claus worked the room, greeting residents and passing out their gifts.
A resident with Alzheimer's was sitting in the front row -- a cheerful older woman who was very expressive in her delight with the whole production -- with the singing and with Santa and with her present. Then another teacher -- the piano player's mother -- read aloud the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke. At each dramatic development, the resident with Alzheimer's shouted, with great excitement and clarity, "HOORAY!"
The angel appeared to Mary: "HOORAY!"
Joseph and Mary headed for Bethlehem: "HOORAY!"
Jesus was born: "HOORAY!"
The angels appeared to the shepherds and told them of the Messiah's birth: "HOORAY!"
Sometimes it takes a child, or someone with the mind of a child, to remind the thinky, anxious, preoccupied rest of us why we're celebrating a holiday in the first place. God is on the way -- HOORAY!
My mother and I were there to see my aunt. She's been there for about four years now, and I recall that our first nursing home Christmas party was pretty hard to take -- the lame and the halt and the demented; some residents lying immobile and unresponsive, barely hanging on; the strained expressions of loved ones as they tried to be cheerful. I remember afterward, our just driving around and around our town for awhile, up and down all the streets, until we could regroup.
But now we're nursing home veterans, so the Christmas party is no longer a source of sadness for us. We're glad for my aunt, who enjoys it, and for the other residents who obviously derive pleasure from the festivities. And I think even for many of the residents who lie in their chairs with closed eyes and expressionless faces, the music and the bells still mean something -- something special and good.
Yesterday one of our local teachers, a young man with a mellow, pop-staples voice, played piano and sang sentimental holiday favorites: "The Christmas Song"; "Winter Wonderland"; "White Christmas." A jolly, well-appointed Santa Claus worked the room, greeting residents and passing out their gifts.
A resident with Alzheimer's was sitting in the front row -- a cheerful older woman who was very expressive in her delight with the whole production -- with the singing and with Santa and with her present. Then another teacher -- the piano player's mother -- read aloud the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke. At each dramatic development, the resident with Alzheimer's shouted, with great excitement and clarity, "HOORAY!"
The angel appeared to Mary: "HOORAY!"
Joseph and Mary headed for Bethlehem: "HOORAY!"
Jesus was born: "HOORAY!"
The angels appeared to the shepherds and told them of the Messiah's birth: "HOORAY!"
Sometimes it takes a child, or someone with the mind of a child, to remind the thinky, anxious, preoccupied rest of us why we're celebrating a holiday in the first place. God is on the way -- HOORAY!
Saturday, December 03, 2005
The Now and the Not Yet
Yesterday, driving home from work, I headed east, into the dusk, the sky streaked with Advent colors of blue and lavender and mauve. And I was thinking about Advent -- what Advent means.
Actually, Advent means a lot of things. In many ways it's a hard season to get a handle on -- you've got eschatology, the Old Testament prophets, John the Baptist, the first part of the Gospel birth narratives...you've got penance, you've got hopeful expectation...lots of concepts and images swirling together, like the December sky at sunset.
I can write, I think, a fairly cogent summary of what Advent means -- but it's perhaps not so easy to encapsulate what Advent means to me. That was my feeling, anyway, heading home on Friday evening.
But later on, at home, for some reason the phrase "Word and Sacrament" kept popping into my head. So I thought about the Church year, and about how the seasons of the Church year relate to the life of the Church. Lent, where we are invited to enter into God's kenotic action in Jesus, to follow him through his Passion, into death and then again into life, is a season with a baptismal theme -- indeed, in many of our churches we conduct baptisms at the Easter Vigil. Pentecost is the season for extended focus on the Word made flesh; for listening to Jesus' words and watching his actions as he lives with and ministers to those around him. If Lent and Easter show us God's salvific action though Christ, then the "green and growing season" explains the saved for what? -- what moving in a Godward direction, what living Christ into the world, look like.
To me Advent, with its theme of hopeful, joyful expectation, is a time to think about the Eucharist -- the "foretaste of the feast to come." Sometimes I have a very hard time dwelling in that place between the now and the not yet, in a variety of contexts.
It's easy for me to become angry, confused, discouraged, even desperate, when my "eyes are on the prize," but the prize never seems forthcoming. It's easy for me, at times, to embrace the definition of faith once offered by a child in Sunday School: "Faith is believing something you know isn't true."
This is where a sacramental understanding of how God operates becomes so valuable. The Reign of Christ and the renewal of all things can seem very far away indeed -- perhaps even unattainable; a nice fantasy our spiritual ancestors came up with to keep their sense of chaos and despair at bay. But when we believe that Jesus Christ is truly present in the bread and wine of the Eucharist, when we see them, touch them, taste them, incorporate them into ourselves in the radical trust that, somehow, Jesus is incorporating us into himself -- I don't know about you, but that multidimensional, multisensory encounter with Christ can get me through another week of life on this planet, in the space between the now and the not yet.
We have an Advent wreath at church, and I have one at home. But for me this year I think perhaps the most meaningful symbols of the season for me are going to be the wafer on my tongue and the sip of wine on my lips -- the Word of God become the enfleshed God With Us, who once entered into our common human existence in a particular place, at a particular time, no different than any of us; who graciously enters into our lives now, again and again, in the humble stuff of earth -- water and grain and grapes; who has promised to enter into our world again in a different, definitive way, when "all will be well and all manner of thing will be will." Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
Chalice and paten by Holbrook's Stoneware .
Actually, Advent means a lot of things. In many ways it's a hard season to get a handle on -- you've got eschatology, the Old Testament prophets, John the Baptist, the first part of the Gospel birth narratives...you've got penance, you've got hopeful expectation...lots of concepts and images swirling together, like the December sky at sunset.
I can write, I think, a fairly cogent summary of what Advent means -- but it's perhaps not so easy to encapsulate what Advent means to me. That was my feeling, anyway, heading home on Friday evening.
But later on, at home, for some reason the phrase "Word and Sacrament" kept popping into my head. So I thought about the Church year, and about how the seasons of the Church year relate to the life of the Church. Lent, where we are invited to enter into God's kenotic action in Jesus, to follow him through his Passion, into death and then again into life, is a season with a baptismal theme -- indeed, in many of our churches we conduct baptisms at the Easter Vigil. Pentecost is the season for extended focus on the Word made flesh; for listening to Jesus' words and watching his actions as he lives with and ministers to those around him. If Lent and Easter show us God's salvific action though Christ, then the "green and growing season" explains the saved for what? -- what moving in a Godward direction, what living Christ into the world, look like.
To me Advent, with its theme of hopeful, joyful expectation, is a time to think about the Eucharist -- the "foretaste of the feast to come." Sometimes I have a very hard time dwelling in that place between the now and the not yet, in a variety of contexts.
It's easy for me to become angry, confused, discouraged, even desperate, when my "eyes are on the prize," but the prize never seems forthcoming. It's easy for me, at times, to embrace the definition of faith once offered by a child in Sunday School: "Faith is believing something you know isn't true." This is where a sacramental understanding of how God operates becomes so valuable. The Reign of Christ and the renewal of all things can seem very far away indeed -- perhaps even unattainable; a nice fantasy our spiritual ancestors came up with to keep their sense of chaos and despair at bay. But when we believe that Jesus Christ is truly present in the bread and wine of the Eucharist, when we see them, touch them, taste them, incorporate them into ourselves in the radical trust that, somehow, Jesus is incorporating us into himself -- I don't know about you, but that multidimensional, multisensory encounter with Christ can get me through another week of life on this planet, in the space between the now and the not yet.
We have an Advent wreath at church, and I have one at home. But for me this year I think perhaps the most meaningful symbols of the season for me are going to be the wafer on my tongue and the sip of wine on my lips -- the Word of God become the enfleshed God With Us, who once entered into our common human existence in a particular place, at a particular time, no different than any of us; who graciously enters into our lives now, again and again, in the humble stuff of earth -- water and grain and grapes; who has promised to enter into our world again in a different, definitive way, when "all will be well and all manner of thing will be will." Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
Chalice and paten by Holbrook's Stoneware .
O Little Town of Bedlam...
Submitted for your viewing and reading pleasure: A Cavalcade of Bad Nativities . I laughed so hard I almost snorted chocolate-covered marzipan all over my laptop. Hat tip to Charlotte for clueing me in on this.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Until We Have Faces
In this episode of "Too Much Time On Her Hands," our intrepid heroine designs her own Yahoo! alter ego.
Meet my new Yahoo! avatar. "This day have I begotten thee."
In the interest of truth in advertising, I should note here that:
1. I have never been this thin in my entire life.
2. My legs have never been this long in my entire life.
3. I have not been this young in -- oh -- 20 years.
4. I do not in any way have a face like a Bratz doll.
Other than these minor points...spittin' image. You betcha.
(The avatars are also animated, and you can choose their facial expressions. It's fun to play with these. There's an option called "Special," intended to convey one's romantic interest in another party; it makes LC Jr. look as if she's suffering from Tourette's Syndrome or doing a really lame Elvis impersonation, so I think I'm sticking with the benign smile option.)
Avatars are a new Yahoo! feature -- for persons who game or instant-message or whatnot, you can now do so with an avatar. I don't do any of these things, but creating one looked like a fun exercise. And I used to own one of those amusing dress-up refrigerator magnets, so I felt that I had the technical expertise to accessorize a mini-me.
Some thoughts in the course of this process:
Why is it that Yahoo! assumes all women want to look like Bratz dolls?
Where are the middle-aged and older people? Where's the gray-hair option? How about the thick-torso option?
It's somewhat ironic that Yahoo! has unveiled this new feature just as doctors have successfully completed a face transplant. Both things can get you to thinking about how much of what constitutes "me" is visual in nature.
Hey -- I yam what I yam. And this avatar ain't me. But since I am a Shy Person, and will not be posting my own mug here anytime soon, feel free to envision me thusly. At least the snow and the boots are accurate. Nice Advent-y background colors too.
Meet my new Yahoo! avatar. "This day have I begotten thee."
In the interest of truth in advertising, I should note here that:
1. I have never been this thin in my entire life.
2. My legs have never been this long in my entire life.
3. I have not been this young in -- oh -- 20 years.
4. I do not in any way have a face like a Bratz doll.
Other than these minor points...spittin' image. You betcha.
(The avatars are also animated, and you can choose their facial expressions. It's fun to play with these. There's an option called "Special," intended to convey one's romantic interest in another party; it makes LC Jr. look as if she's suffering from Tourette's Syndrome or doing a really lame Elvis impersonation, so I think I'm sticking with the benign smile option.)
Avatars are a new Yahoo! feature -- for persons who game or instant-message or whatnot, you can now do so with an avatar. I don't do any of these things, but creating one looked like a fun exercise. And I used to own one of those amusing dress-up refrigerator magnets, so I felt that I had the technical expertise to accessorize a mini-me.
Some thoughts in the course of this process:
Why is it that Yahoo! assumes all women want to look like Bratz dolls?
Where are the middle-aged and older people? Where's the gray-hair option? How about the thick-torso option?
It's somewhat ironic that Yahoo! has unveiled this new feature just as doctors have successfully completed a face transplant. Both things can get you to thinking about how much of what constitutes "me" is visual in nature.
Hey -- I yam what I yam. And this avatar ain't me. But since I am a Shy Person, and will not be posting my own mug here anytime soon, feel free to envision me thusly. At least the snow and the boots are accurate. Nice Advent-y background colors too.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Synchronicity
I had lunch with my pastor today. Because he was supposed to tell me what I'm going to be doing in our service on Sunday.
Now, keep in mind that my pastor does not read my blog. I'm a little precious about maintaining some personal space around my online presence, so I've never given him the URL. And he's cool with that. (Maybe he has a blog somewhere.)
Anyway...we're discussing theology, and stuff going on in our parish, and Churchianity, Inc. (as opposed to stuff going on in our parish), and the price of eggs in Albania, and finally I ask, "So...what am I supposed to be doing on Sunday, anyway?"
"How would you feel," he responds, "about praying the Prayers of the Church?" .
Yesssss!
Actually, it turns out that I'm going to be assisting during a good chunk of the service. In an alb, even. (I asked if we have one for short, round people.) The pastor also asked me if I could do a bit of narration before my parts of the liturgy, to help folks, especially our newbies, really understand what's going on. It turns out that we've reached both a numerical and a kind of attitudinal critical mass in our congregation where people are wanting to dig a little deeper into "celebrating the Mystery."
This is cool. Very cool.
By the way, my pastor says hi. He says he wishes we could hold some sort of high-minded weekend conference at our church that would provide a good excuse to invite you bloglings and just have a good time together.
Until that happens, know that I'm taking you all with me up to the front of our sanctuary Sunday morning. Because your thoughts, your experiences, your friendship -- all of that is such an important part of my own faith journey and my sense of vocation. So you're going to be with me when I give the greeting and opening prayer at the beginning of the liturgy...when I hold up in prayer the whole world, the whole people of God in Christ Jesus, and all according to their needs...when I invite folks to share the peace of Christ with one another.
So..see you, in spirit if not in the flesh, on Sunday. Just imagine a short, round chick in an alb, and you'll be there.
Now, keep in mind that my pastor does not read my blog. I'm a little precious about maintaining some personal space around my online presence, so I've never given him the URL. And he's cool with that. (Maybe he has a blog somewhere.)
Anyway...we're discussing theology, and stuff going on in our parish, and Churchianity, Inc. (as opposed to stuff going on in our parish), and the price of eggs in Albania, and finally I ask, "So...what am I supposed to be doing on Sunday, anyway?"
"How would you feel," he responds, "about praying the Prayers of the Church?" .
Yesssss!
Actually, it turns out that I'm going to be assisting during a good chunk of the service. In an alb, even. (I asked if we have one for short, round people.) The pastor also asked me if I could do a bit of narration before my parts of the liturgy, to help folks, especially our newbies, really understand what's going on. It turns out that we've reached both a numerical and a kind of attitudinal critical mass in our congregation where people are wanting to dig a little deeper into "celebrating the Mystery."
This is cool. Very cool.
By the way, my pastor says hi. He says he wishes we could hold some sort of high-minded weekend conference at our church that would provide a good excuse to invite you bloglings and just have a good time together.
Until that happens, know that I'm taking you all with me up to the front of our sanctuary Sunday morning. Because your thoughts, your experiences, your friendship -- all of that is such an important part of my own faith journey and my sense of vocation. So you're going to be with me when I give the greeting and opening prayer at the beginning of the liturgy...when I hold up in prayer the whole world, the whole people of God in Christ Jesus, and all according to their needs...when I invite folks to share the peace of Christ with one another.
So..see you, in spirit if not in the flesh, on Sunday. Just imagine a short, round chick in an alb, and you'll be there.
Who's the Girlie-Man Now, Monsignor?
My friend bls of The Topmost Apple recently posted some of the comments of Monsignor Tony Anatrella, psychoanalyst and consultant to the Pontifical Council on the Family, in a recent article in the newspaper L'Osservatore Romano wherein he argued against the ordination of gay men. One of Msgr. Anatrella's arguments against gay priests is that, in his view, they are not "mature in their masculine identity," and thus cannot provide a model of a "bridegroom of the church" and "spiritual father" to their flocks. (Unlike that testosterone-soaked paragon of Middle Eastern machismo Jesus of Nazareth.)
Well, of course talk like this is pretty hurtful and patronizing and offensive, and not just to gay men. And reading it made me a little growly, to say the least.
But this morning, on the way to work, ruminating over that post, a cartoon lightbulb appeared over my head. It stayed there all day, until I got home again.
I condensed several of the Monsignor's quoted remarks into a paragraph:
I then fed that to the Gender Genie. Now, with the disclaimer that, according to the algorithmic hoo-doo involved in the Genie's calculations it should really be given at least a 500-word chunk of prose to analyze -- allowing for that, in the interest of fairness and all -- the Gender Genie's assessment of Msgr. Anatrella's comments is that...
He sounds like a girl.
Well, of course talk like this is pretty hurtful and patronizing and offensive, and not just to gay men. And reading it made me a little growly, to say the least.
But this morning, on the way to work, ruminating over that post, a cartoon lightbulb appeared over my head. It stayed there all day, until I got home again.
I condensed several of the Monsignor's quoted remarks into a paragraph:
One must free oneself from the idea that leads one to believe that, insofar as a homosexual person respects his commitment to continence lived in chastity, there will not be problems and he can therefore be ordained a priest...a commitment in holy orders presupposes that the candidate has attained a sufficient affective and sexual maturity coherent with his masculine sexual identity...he must, in principle, be suitable for marriage and able to exercise fatherhood over his children. And it is under those mature conditions that he renounces exercising them in order to give himself to God in the priesthood.
I then fed that to the Gender Genie. Now, with the disclaimer that, according to the algorithmic hoo-doo involved in the Genie's calculations it should really be given at least a 500-word chunk of prose to analyze -- allowing for that, in the interest of fairness and all -- the Gender Genie's assessment of Msgr. Anatrella's comments is that...
He sounds like a girl.
LC and the Gender Genie
Check this out: The Gender Genie
I submitted two writing samples to The Gender Genie: the last sermon I preached, on the feeding of the five thousand, and the draft of a maybe-upcoming blog entry lamenting the state of the economy in my neck of the woods. The Gender Genie deemed my sermon female and my blog post male.
Quelle surprise.
But LutheranChik just sounds so much better than LutheranFowl.
I submitted two writing samples to The Gender Genie: the last sermon I preached, on the feeding of the five thousand, and the draft of a maybe-upcoming blog entry lamenting the state of the economy in my neck of the woods. The Gender Genie deemed my sermon female and my blog post male.
Quelle surprise.
But LutheranChik just sounds so much better than LutheranFowl.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
My Kid
No -- no startling new revelations here.
I'm talking about my Angel Tree kid.
Our local DHS office puts up two Angel Trees at two different businesses in town. Each tree is covered with the gift requests of needy children in our county. Back in more flush times you'd also find requests from older teens and adults; in the last couple of years, because of our tanking local economy, and because shoppers are less likely to buy gifts for other adults, you just see the kids' requests. And the wish lists have changed too; a lot fewer items, as if the children were coached by their caseworker to keep their requests modest.
One Angel Tree contains tags with just a number, an age and a wish; you purchase the items the kid wants and take them to the service desk. The other Angel Tree includes the kids' first names on the tags, and asks that the presents be wrapped.
So, anyhow, I randomly pulled off a tag on the second tree, the more personalized tree, and found that I had picked a six-year-old girl with a lovely, unusual name that I will not use here; I'll call her Leila instead. And the first thing, the most important thing, that I noticed about Leila was that she had no special request for a Christmas present. Someone had noted that she needed some clothes; you know a six-year-old didn't request those. But no wishes for the Hot Toy Du Jour or toys or books or the other things that kids tend to want. Nothing. Nada.
It could be that Leila is disabled in some way and lives in a twilight world without wishes other than basic human comforts. But it could also be that Leila is simply a sad little girl with no expectations at Christmastime. And frankly I don't know which alternative breaks my heart more.
When I was six, I spent much of November compiling long, detailed wish lists from Sears, Penney's and Monkey Ward, the old trinity of Christmas catalogs. Not that I always got what I wanted, mind you -- the primary object of my holiday desire from toddlerhood to puberty, which was never fulfilled, was a science kit with a microscope; a topic that is still a somewhat sensitive one around the LutheranChik household -- but I always got something; and I always got enough to fuel my hopes for another year.
What do you buy a little kid who can't imagine getting a Christmas present?
I'm talking about my Angel Tree kid.
Our local DHS office puts up two Angel Trees at two different businesses in town. Each tree is covered with the gift requests of needy children in our county. Back in more flush times you'd also find requests from older teens and adults; in the last couple of years, because of our tanking local economy, and because shoppers are less likely to buy gifts for other adults, you just see the kids' requests. And the wish lists have changed too; a lot fewer items, as if the children were coached by their caseworker to keep their requests modest.
One Angel Tree contains tags with just a number, an age and a wish; you purchase the items the kid wants and take them to the service desk. The other Angel Tree includes the kids' first names on the tags, and asks that the presents be wrapped.
So, anyhow, I randomly pulled off a tag on the second tree, the more personalized tree, and found that I had picked a six-year-old girl with a lovely, unusual name that I will not use here; I'll call her Leila instead. And the first thing, the most important thing, that I noticed about Leila was that she had no special request for a Christmas present. Someone had noted that she needed some clothes; you know a six-year-old didn't request those. But no wishes for the Hot Toy Du Jour or toys or books or the other things that kids tend to want. Nothing. Nada.
It could be that Leila is disabled in some way and lives in a twilight world without wishes other than basic human comforts. But it could also be that Leila is simply a sad little girl with no expectations at Christmastime. And frankly I don't know which alternative breaks my heart more.
When I was six, I spent much of November compiling long, detailed wish lists from Sears, Penney's and Monkey Ward, the old trinity of Christmas catalogs. Not that I always got what I wanted, mind you -- the primary object of my holiday desire from toddlerhood to puberty, which was never fulfilled, was a science kit with a microscope; a topic that is still a somewhat sensitive one around the LutheranChik household -- but I always got something; and I always got enough to fuel my hopes for another year.
What do you buy a little kid who can't imagine getting a Christmas present?
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Advent Calendars
When I was little, I knew it was Christmastime when my aunt brought out her very old Advent calendar and set it on her parlor windowsill. It was heavy cardboard, covered in tarnished glitter, and showed a picture of Mary and Joseph on their journey to Bethlehem. I can't even remember what was printed behind each door.
These days I'm rather fond of online Advent calendars. And here, for your own viewing pleasure, are some interactive online calendars I found surfing:
St. Margaret Mary Parish Advent Calendar
Grace Cathedral Advent Calendar (This one needs a DSL connection)
New York Carver Advent Calendar For all the medievalists out there, enjoy!
Teme Valley South Advent Calendar
Episcopal Diocese of Washington Advent Calendar
It's a little ironic to me that, considering the northern European love of Advent calendars, more Lutherans haven't created online versions. What's up with that, Lutheran 'puter geeks?
These days I'm rather fond of online Advent calendars. And here, for your own viewing pleasure, are some interactive online calendars I found surfing:
St. Margaret Mary Parish Advent Calendar
Grace Cathedral Advent Calendar (This one needs a DSL connection)
New York Carver Advent Calendar For all the medievalists out there, enjoy!
Teme Valley South Advent Calendar
Episcopal Diocese of Washington Advent Calendar
It's a little ironic to me that, considering the northern European love of Advent calendars, more Lutherans haven't created online versions. What's up with that, Lutheran 'puter geeks?
Mystery Date
I have a mystery date this Sunday, front and center at church, when our congregation's lay ministry graduate and candidates will help lead our service.
My pastor is supposed to call me sometime this week and tell me what role it is, exactly, that I'll be playing. That's kind of how it works at our place. (I have to get offline for awhile -- Ye Olde Dialup Connection and shared phone line -- so I can take the call.)
Know what I want to do? I want to lead the Prayers of the Church. I haven't done that in a long, long time. It's one of my favorite parts of the service anyway. It's a privilege.
Yup; that's what I want to do, this time around. Wonder what I'll be doing instead?
My pastor is supposed to call me sometime this week and tell me what role it is, exactly, that I'll be playing. That's kind of how it works at our place. (I have to get offline for awhile -- Ye Olde Dialup Connection and shared phone line -- so I can take the call.)
Know what I want to do? I want to lead the Prayers of the Church. I haven't done that in a long, long time. It's one of my favorite parts of the service anyway. It's a privilege.
Yup; that's what I want to do, this time around. Wonder what I'll be doing instead?
Monday, November 28, 2005
In Search of the Lost Minor Chord
This Sunday we sang not one, but two of my favorite hymns, both oldies but goodies: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel and Soul, Adorn Thyself With Gladness. (The latter sung to a tune called "Schmuecke dich" -- fun to say, and the music is a pleasure to sing.) For the past few weeks now I notice we've had some of the venerable hymns familiar to cradle Lutherans interspersed with newer additions to our hymnal. And people are liking it...minor chords, solemn tempos and all. They belt 'em out. At one point, surprised by the sound of my own often anemic voice, I looked around to see other enthusiastically singing parishoners looking around too, in what seemed to be genuine surprise: Do we really sound like this? Wow.
You know those T-shirts that say "Art Can't Hurt You"? Here is my shocking proposition, directed to church music directors everywhere: Minor chords can't hurt you. The folks in the pews aren't going to melt, or stampede en masse, if you play them once in awhile. Don't get me wrong: I enjoy the broadening of our hymnody to include newer hymns and hymns from other cultures. But please don't forget the great old hymns of our tradition. They deserve to be sung.
You know those T-shirts that say "Art Can't Hurt You"? Here is my shocking proposition, directed to church music directors everywhere: Minor chords can't hurt you. The folks in the pews aren't going to melt, or stampede en masse, if you play them once in awhile. Don't get me wrong: I enjoy the broadening of our hymnody to include newer hymns and hymns from other cultures. But please don't forget the great old hymns of our tradition. They deserve to be sung.
Monday Morning Postscripts
Just a couple of bits of mental housecleaning this foggy Monday morning here in Outer Podunk, as I'm working up to getting ready for work:
An addition to my shop-in-yer-jammies post: Higher Grounds Coffee , located in Leland, MI -- one of my favorite getaway places -- is another great coffee purveyor that sells exclusively fair trade coffee. The company was featured on our local news this morning because it's selling a special decaf coffee blend to help fund a clean water project for its coffee growers in Mexico...it needs to sell a few more pounds of fundraising beans to reach its $8,000 goal. Higher Grounds hasn't updated its website to include this new blend, but if you e-mail the company you can find out more. Higher Grounds also has partnership programs if your church, workplace or organization would like to sell its products as a fundraiser. Check 'em out.
A few more garage-moment songs: One of our local PBS stations reprised its Veterans Day programming last night with a program featuring favorite songs and dance tunes of World War II, which I enjoyed muchly -- gotta add "I'll Be Seeing You" to my all-time favorites list. And even though it's not a song -- "Sing! Sing! Sing!" -- you can't just turn that tune off, no way, nohow. And I'll sit in the garage for many classics of the Motown songbook -- "Ain't Too Proud to Beg," "Reach Out," "Stop in the Name of Love," many more.
And speaking of music...if you've collected music over the years that you haven't listened to for awhile, it can be fun to pull a random cassette out of the basement box once in awhile for old time's sake. I've been doing this (the Intr pid having an old-tech tape deck), and rediscovering some good music, as well has having a few "What was I thinking?" moments. On the way to church yesterday I listened to an old Bob Dylan tape, "Another Side of Bob Dylan," that I think I originally retrieved from a $3.99 bargain bin back in my college days -- grooving to favorites like "It Ain't Me, Babe" and forgotten songs like "To Ramona," chuckling over some of the dated hipster language and basically enjoying the lyrics. Dylan describing a woman's lips as "wet and weird" -- jarring at first hearing, but after thinking about it, the phrase had an almost Beowulf ring to it, as if Bob had been French-kissed by Grendel's mama. Well, who knows what he was smoking back in those days.
UPDATE: I fixed my link. Thanks, Gene!
An addition to my shop-in-yer-jammies post: Higher Grounds Coffee , located in Leland, MI -- one of my favorite getaway places -- is another great coffee purveyor that sells exclusively fair trade coffee. The company was featured on our local news this morning because it's selling a special decaf coffee blend to help fund a clean water project for its coffee growers in Mexico...it needs to sell a few more pounds of fundraising beans to reach its $8,000 goal. Higher Grounds hasn't updated its website to include this new blend, but if you e-mail the company you can find out more. Higher Grounds also has partnership programs if your church, workplace or organization would like to sell its products as a fundraiser. Check 'em out.
A few more garage-moment songs: One of our local PBS stations reprised its Veterans Day programming last night with a program featuring favorite songs and dance tunes of World War II, which I enjoyed muchly -- gotta add "I'll Be Seeing You" to my all-time favorites list. And even though it's not a song -- "Sing! Sing! Sing!" -- you can't just turn that tune off, no way, nohow. And I'll sit in the garage for many classics of the Motown songbook -- "Ain't Too Proud to Beg," "Reach Out," "Stop in the Name of Love," many more.
And speaking of music...if you've collected music over the years that you haven't listened to for awhile, it can be fun to pull a random cassette out of the basement box once in awhile for old time's sake. I've been doing this (the Intr pid having an old-tech tape deck), and rediscovering some good music, as well has having a few "What was I thinking?" moments. On the way to church yesterday I listened to an old Bob Dylan tape, "Another Side of Bob Dylan," that I think I originally retrieved from a $3.99 bargain bin back in my college days -- grooving to favorites like "It Ain't Me, Babe" and forgotten songs like "To Ramona," chuckling over some of the dated hipster language and basically enjoying the lyrics. Dylan describing a woman's lips as "wet and weird" -- jarring at first hearing, but after thinking about it, the phrase had an almost Beowulf ring to it, as if Bob had been French-kissed by Grendel's mama. Well, who knows what he was smoking back in those days.
UPDATE: I fixed my link. Thanks, Gene!
Sunday, November 27, 2005
The First Candle Is Lit...
V Help, O King
R Shepherd of Israel, Hosannah!
Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Psalm 80
V Blessed is our God who inhabits the highest heavens, blessed is he, and blessed is the kingdom of our father David which is coming.
R Amen. Thanks be to God.
my Advent wreath
R Shepherd of Israel, Hosannah!
Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Psalm 80
V Blessed is our God who inhabits the highest heavens, blessed is he, and blessed is the kingdom of our father David which is coming.
R Amen. Thanks be to God.
my Advent wreath
The God Who Comes Down
My Lord, what a morning!
My Lord, what a morning!
Oh, my Lord, what a morning!
When the stars begin to fall.
We sang this old African-American spiritual this morning in church. We also sang the European spiritual "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." Two songs with origins in very different cultural contexts, but both expressing the same longing -- what someone has called the "eschatological itch."
Ever feel that itch? I feel it, sometimes, watching the evening news, with its nightly illustrated litany of global misery and violence and stupidity. As I hear about the latest degradations of people and planet, I find myself thinking: How bad does it have to get?
Today in his sermon my pastor noted that he finds the end-of-the-world scenarios described here and elsewhere troubling; hard to read. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm an earth-dweller. I love it here." Now, I'm on the same page with my pastor most of the time, and I agree with him that today's Old Testament and Gospel texts make me wince...but for a different reason. I find my natural skepticism running up against the promise made time and time again in Scripture that, no matter how it may seem to us, history is ultimately in God's hand; that, in the end, "all will be well, and all manner of thing will be well." Some days, frankly, that seems just too good to be true.
I don't even try to speculate on the how's and when's of the denouement of the human story; as we read in today's Gospel lesson (and contrary to the purveyors of pop Christianity), it's an exercise in futility. I can't wrap my head around stuff like this anyway. For me it's a topic that leads to 2 a.m. "What sort of religious craziness have you gotten yourself into?" second-guessing; been there, done that, very wearying of mind and soul, don't want to do it again.
But what I can maybe hang onto by a quivering fingernail or two is the idea that God, for whatever God's reasons, wants us to know that we are not alone on this journey, as difficult and dangerous as it may be. That God wants us to know this so much that God "came down" -- not only down from God's glory, God's otherness, but down the same birth canal we all travel, down and out, bloody and bawling. And that God grew up as one of us and lived with us for 30-some years, and then died, the way we all die; and more than that, died in the way that the least among us die -- alone, abandoned, in pain, wondering why.
The other Sunday, in talking about Jesus' kenosis, his emptying of self into the human experience, my pastor wondered how our lives might be different if, every day in this time between the now and the not-yet, we looked for opportunities to show Jesus that his coming down and emptying out of himself on our behalf was worth it. Between you and me, threats of impending apocalyptic doom don't do a lot to bring me closer to Christ; but the thought of letting Christ down in the time that I have on this planet -- which is now over a decade more than his time -- gives me pause.
The late theologian Dorothee Soelle wrote that she was a Christian because she didn't want Jesus to suffer alone for his proposition. Today, beginning the journey of Advent, looking back to that first time of waiting and longing even while living with our own waiting and longing -- even as we may struggle with the question of how our lives matter in the greater scheme of things -- I want to respond to God's coming down for us in a way that says, "It was worth it. It did matter. And I want to walk with you the way you've walked with me." That, I think, is going to be my spiritual, on my own path through the Advent season.
"Leonid Sunrise," photo by Wally Pacholka at Astropics
Saturday, November 26, 2005
My Shameless Holiday Commercialism Post
I did not -- would not -- take part in the Black Friday shopping madness this year, but today I found myself wandering around a local Kmart in a state of shellshock, pushed and shoved by frantic shoppers and tugged at by the Maternal Unit, who is very adamant that we invest in an artificial Christmas tree. (It didn't happen today.)
I am now sitting with my feet up, regrouping. For those of you who'd rather do your Christmas shopping sitting in your PJ's and bunny slippers, sipping coffee -- a few suggestions from me:
I've bought fair trade food products, ceramics and jewelry from A Greater Gift and have been very satisfied with both the quality and with speed of delivery. I'm putting together a "death by chocolate" Christmas basket for our office's annual Chinese gift exchange (don't ask) with help from their line of Divine chocolate products, which really are divine...most toothsome. And one of my favorite pieces of jewelry is a colorful, funky-chunky glass bead fair trade necklace from A Greater Gift.
Green Mountain Coffee rocks. And it has an extensive line of organic and fair trade coffees, including flavored blends that are sometimes hard to find elsewhere. They also sell a Heifer Hope blend that benefits The Heifer Project .
If you're able and willing to be a little spendy, a foodie friend might appreciate a gift from American Spoon Foods , out of Petoskey, Michigan, a purveyor of very tasty and unusual specialty food products, very often spotlighting Michigan produce. I recently tasted a delicious mango-jalapeno salsa from American Spoon -- obviously not a signature Michigan food, but it was mighty tasty swirled into soft cream cheese.
For that giftee who believes cleanliness to be next to godliness, a really fun website to visit is Killmaster Soapworks . I met the Soapmistress of Killmaster Soapworks at an art fair awhile back -- she and her family manage a small farm with a multitude of different livestock, and she utilizes their milk in her soaps -- she even makes a mare's milk soap. I have tried her more pedestrian oatmeal soaps and loved their scent and sudsiness. Another favorite soapmaker 'round these parts is Bedazzled of Benzonia, which makes all sorts of yummy soaps -- the minty soaps are a favorite of mine, as well as the bay rum and a pleasantly woodsy/resinous frankincense and myrrh (which isn't on the website, but I bet they'd sell it to you anyway). Bedazzled also sells candles and other products made with bee products.
Down the road from Bedazzled is the Gwen Frostic Studio , an "up north" institution. Frostic was an artist, poet and right-on woman who followed the beat of a different drum her whole life and enriched us all by doing so. Her simple and sometimes whimsical nature prints always make me long for a long weekend up by the dunes.
For tonstant weaders who enjoy my occasional stained-glass graphics -- check out the Christmas cards and other products at Stained Glass Photography . And if you enjoy Carl Larsson prints, check out Scandinavian Treasures .
And, of course, if you scroll down my blogroll, you will find my ongoing plug for the RevGals' Advent and Christmas devotional, A Light Blazes in the Darkness. Get 'em while they're hot! The've already paid for themselves, and are now raising money for hurricane relief in the Gulf. We're shooting for sales of a thousand -- help make it happen.
There -- wasn't that more fun than playing offense in the mall?
I am now sitting with my feet up, regrouping. For those of you who'd rather do your Christmas shopping sitting in your PJ's and bunny slippers, sipping coffee -- a few suggestions from me:
I've bought fair trade food products, ceramics and jewelry from A Greater Gift and have been very satisfied with both the quality and with speed of delivery. I'm putting together a "death by chocolate" Christmas basket for our office's annual Chinese gift exchange (don't ask) with help from their line of Divine chocolate products, which really are divine...most toothsome. And one of my favorite pieces of jewelry is a colorful, funky-chunky glass bead fair trade necklace from A Greater Gift.
Green Mountain Coffee rocks. And it has an extensive line of organic and fair trade coffees, including flavored blends that are sometimes hard to find elsewhere. They also sell a Heifer Hope blend that benefits The Heifer Project .
If you're able and willing to be a little spendy, a foodie friend might appreciate a gift from American Spoon Foods , out of Petoskey, Michigan, a purveyor of very tasty and unusual specialty food products, very often spotlighting Michigan produce. I recently tasted a delicious mango-jalapeno salsa from American Spoon -- obviously not a signature Michigan food, but it was mighty tasty swirled into soft cream cheese.
For that giftee who believes cleanliness to be next to godliness, a really fun website to visit is Killmaster Soapworks . I met the Soapmistress of Killmaster Soapworks at an art fair awhile back -- she and her family manage a small farm with a multitude of different livestock, and she utilizes their milk in her soaps -- she even makes a mare's milk soap. I have tried her more pedestrian oatmeal soaps and loved their scent and sudsiness. Another favorite soapmaker 'round these parts is Bedazzled of Benzonia, which makes all sorts of yummy soaps -- the minty soaps are a favorite of mine, as well as the bay rum and a pleasantly woodsy/resinous frankincense and myrrh (which isn't on the website, but I bet they'd sell it to you anyway). Bedazzled also sells candles and other products made with bee products.
Down the road from Bedazzled is the Gwen Frostic Studio , an "up north" institution. Frostic was an artist, poet and right-on woman who followed the beat of a different drum her whole life and enriched us all by doing so. Her simple and sometimes whimsical nature prints always make me long for a long weekend up by the dunes.
For tonstant weaders who enjoy my occasional stained-glass graphics -- check out the Christmas cards and other products at Stained Glass Photography . And if you enjoy Carl Larsson prints, check out Scandinavian Treasures .
And, of course, if you scroll down my blogroll, you will find my ongoing plug for the RevGals' Advent and Christmas devotional, A Light Blazes in the Darkness. Get 'em while they're hot! The've already paid for themselves, and are now raising money for hurricane relief in the Gulf. We're shooting for sales of a thousand -- help make it happen.
There -- wasn't that more fun than playing offense in the mall?
Thursday, November 24, 2005
LC Does the Gospel Meme
Here's a meme that's been making the rounds: Take the month and day of your birthdate, then find the corresponding chapter and verse of each Gospel and see what that says.
I did this with my birthdate. Let's go to the videotape...
Matthew 12:26: "If Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself; how then will his kingdom stand?"
Mark 12:26: "And as for the dead being raised, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the story about the bush, how God said to him, 'I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob'?"
Luke 12:26: "If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest?"
John 12:26: "Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor."
I did this with my birthdate. Let's go to the videotape...
Matthew 12:26: "If Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself; how then will his kingdom stand?"
Mark 12:26: "And as for the dead being raised, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the story about the bush, how God said to him, 'I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob'?"
Luke 12:26: "If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest?"
John 12:26: "Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor."
All Good Gifts
The eyes of all wait upon Thee, O Lord, and Thou givest them their meat in due season; Thou openest Thine hand and satisfiest the desire of every living thing. Amen. Lord God, heavenly Father, bless us and these Thy gifts which we receive from Thy bountiful goodness; through Jesus Christ,our Lord. Amen. -- The Lutheran Hymnal, 1941
What good gifts have you been given lately?
"For a Little Card Game," Carl Larsson, Scandinavian Treasures
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Good Bread, Good Meat, Good God, Let's Eat
(Not the table grace we say at our house, by the way.)
The heavens are currently dumping snow in great quantities on our state, with more to come, so a quiet dinner at home tomorrow is starting to look pretty good. Here's what's on the menu at the LutheranChik household -- pull up a virtual chair, do the napkin tuck and enjoy!
Roast turkey breast glazed with some chi-chi-foo-foo cherry-honey mustard from northwest Michigan that I had intended to pop in a gift basket, but didn't.
Stove Top stuffing (my mother prefers Stove Top to scratch) amended with dried cherries and pecans (I prefer scratch to Stove Top)
Mashed potatoes
Whole-berry cranberry sauce
Green bean casserole, complete with crispy canned onion tidbits
Braised celery with toasted walnuts (I love cooked celery -- a vastly underrated vegetable, if you ask me)
Sweet-and-sour red cabbage
Pumpkin crisp
It ain't exactly haute cuisine -- in fact, it's neither -- but I think it'll eat just fine for the next three days.
The heavens are currently dumping snow in great quantities on our state, with more to come, so a quiet dinner at home tomorrow is starting to look pretty good. Here's what's on the menu at the LutheranChik household -- pull up a virtual chair, do the napkin tuck and enjoy!
Roast turkey breast glazed with some chi-chi-foo-foo cherry-honey mustard from northwest Michigan that I had intended to pop in a gift basket, but didn't.
Stove Top stuffing (my mother prefers Stove Top to scratch) amended with dried cherries and pecans (I prefer scratch to Stove Top)
Mashed potatoes
Whole-berry cranberry sauce
Green bean casserole, complete with crispy canned onion tidbits
Braised celery with toasted walnuts (I love cooked celery -- a vastly underrated vegetable, if you ask me)
Sweet-and-sour red cabbage
Pumpkin crisp
It ain't exactly haute cuisine -- in fact, it's neither -- but I think it'll eat just fine for the next three days.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
A Paean to the Preacherly
I know that those of you who preach sometimes wonder, as you're looking out at your hearers -- perhaps to find pairs of eyes glazed over in a thousand-mile stare, or gazing longingly out a window, or looking into a purse, searching for Altoids -- if anyone is actually listening to your sermon; if what you're saying matters, or if you may as well be standing in your shower, preaching to the grout.
I'm here to tell you: Yes, it does.
The winter holidays are always something of an ordeal for me, because the cold and dark make me sad and because I always wind up having to negotiate the household celebrations with my mother. I don't know where I ever got the idea that two people living together -- especially a mother and adult daughter -- can seamlessly mesh their holiday preferences and expectations with no frayed ends, but it seems every year I endulge this fantasy, and every year I'm disappointed, and wind up grumpier than I would be anyway. Yes, I know the definition of mental illness as engaging in the same behavior over and over, expecting a different result; what can I say -- I'm a slow learner.
Today as I was pondering the days to come, a phrase suddenly popped into my head: situations and circumstances. It was something my pastor had said in passing during his sermon on Sunday. I can't even remember the larger context; I'm not sure he could either, since he'd just gotten home from a trans-Atlantic flight and sounded more than a little jet-lagged, and my own brain had pretty much turned to tapioca after an intense out-of-town lay ministry training day. But it was something about how, when we take Jesus seriously about living our faith out into the world, we are able to transcend and transform our situations and circumstances. I think that's what he said; all I remember are those three words.
And when I remembered, I had an "aha" experience; an insight into how I might better, and more prayerfully, navigate through my particular situation this year. It was uncanny. Just three words.
So for those of you who proclaim the Word: What you say does matter...perhaps not always in the way you expect it to, but in a way that results in a Godward outcome for someone else. Hey -- thanks.
I'm here to tell you: Yes, it does.
The winter holidays are always something of an ordeal for me, because the cold and dark make me sad and because I always wind up having to negotiate the household celebrations with my mother. I don't know where I ever got the idea that two people living together -- especially a mother and adult daughter -- can seamlessly mesh their holiday preferences and expectations with no frayed ends, but it seems every year I endulge this fantasy, and every year I'm disappointed, and wind up grumpier than I would be anyway. Yes, I know the definition of mental illness as engaging in the same behavior over and over, expecting a different result; what can I say -- I'm a slow learner.
Today as I was pondering the days to come, a phrase suddenly popped into my head: situations and circumstances. It was something my pastor had said in passing during his sermon on Sunday. I can't even remember the larger context; I'm not sure he could either, since he'd just gotten home from a trans-Atlantic flight and sounded more than a little jet-lagged, and my own brain had pretty much turned to tapioca after an intense out-of-town lay ministry training day. But it was something about how, when we take Jesus seriously about living our faith out into the world, we are able to transcend and transform our situations and circumstances. I think that's what he said; all I remember are those three words.
And when I remembered, I had an "aha" experience; an insight into how I might better, and more prayerfully, navigate through my particular situation this year. It was uncanny. Just three words.
So for those of you who proclaim the Word: What you say does matter...perhaps not always in the way you expect it to, but in a way that results in a Godward outcome for someone else. Hey -- thanks.
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