Oh the weather outside was frightful. . .

Actually, the weather could have been worse. But whoever was in charge of plowing today deserves a good kick in the rump. The church is out in the country, but directly on a main backroad that leads right into town, to the hospital, and is somewhat well-traveled as a result. When I left to go to the office just before 10 am, with at least an inch of snow on the ground, this road had not been plowed at all. I was doing my best to see and stay within the tracks of those who had already been on the road this morning, praying that no one would be coming in the opposite direction on the blind curves, and basically did a rolling stop to get across the incline at the unregulated intersection of death.

While I was at the office, a plow came by in the same direction I had taken to get to the church. When I left for a meeting at 11:30 am, now with at least 2 inches of snow on the ground - which was actively being covered with a fresh batch of sleet - the side of the road heading into town had still not been plowed at all. I made it down the church hill alright, but started spinning my wheels 3/4 of the way up the next hill. I tried applying gas more slowly - no deal. I tried backing up a little and getting my momentum going from a differing spot. Got stuck in the same place. After more dinking around, a woman from the house at the top of the hill came out to talk to me and told me of a back way to the back way that would take me around this hill but still get me into town - all I had to do was back my car down the hill to catch the other road!

I thanked her, and did just as she instructed. By the time I got around the hill and back onto the road into town (mostly on roads that had also not been plowed), the plow had finally come by in the direction I was heading, and had sanded the road to boot. This made the trip in infinitely easier - but by now it was nearly noon. Nearly noon before a fairly significant road was plowed for the first time!

At least I figured things would be better once I got to Hwy 15 - which is the major 4 lane North-South state highway in this part of the state. Yeah, not so much - it looked like it had been passed by once (on the inner lanes it was debatable whether even that happened).

I mean, I realize PA doesn't have the breadth of equipment and manpower that MN has to deal with such storms, but today was freaking ridiculous. Because they do get enough snow here that they should have a good gameplan for how to handle it, and this was by no means the worst or most snow we've had since I've lived here, so I really don't understand why the plowing situation was so horrendous today.

Alright, that's enough from scrooge for one night. Here's hoping the next round (due to hit Sunday) goes better.

A Day in the Life

Man, today was a long day. For the curious, it went something like this:

Return phone call from message received too late the previous evening - check in with parishioner who just got out of the hospital.

Get picked up by Bob and Carol (parishioners with a truck!), who are gracious enough to help me find, haul, and set up a Christmas tree.

Receive phone call from secretary regarding a parishioner in crisis.

Call said parishioner to find out what's going on. Go to their home to comfort them and pray with them.

Quick stop at the church office, to check in with secretary and discuss everything that needs to be done between now and noon on Christmas eve. Strategize a game plan to get it all accomplished.

On to the local ministerium meeting/Christmas lunch.

Work on the newsletter (this would be one of the things that needs to get sent out before Christmas eve).

Meet with engaged couple for pre-marital counseling.

Bring communion to and visit with couple who are homebound.

Slap together a "report of recent activity" for the council meeting. Return another phone call whose message was received too late previous evening.

Attend council meeting.

And now I'm home, but will probably spend the next couple hours finishing up stuff for the newsletter and proofing the Christmas Eve bulletin, with a break to watch Grey's Anatomy if it's new.

Whew - like I said, a long day. Yesterday was not nearly so hectic, but thanks to a number of random errands I had to run for work, I found myself driving around town with a case of communion wine in my trunk, and my guitar and a rather large camel costume in my back seat (the wise guys have a return engagement in a couple weeks). It's a good thing my lead foot didn't get me in trouble, or I'm sure the officer would have wondered what in the world kind of party I was headed to! :) Some days, this is just a weird gig. . .

Down and Dirty Reviews

Ok, these will be quick, but here's my take on some of the stuff I've been watching and reading of late:

First, a film:

Death at a Funeral
Hilarious dark comedy from Britain. Every pastor should watch this. In fact, every pastor should own this, and watch it to unwind on the day of a funeral with a particularly dysfunctional family. If you've ever had a funeral this nutty - all I can say is, I'm sorry!

Next, some books:

Giving to God: The Bible's Good News about Living a Generous Life by Mark Alan Powell
There was nothing earth-shattering in what Powell had to say here, it's pretty much what I already believe about stewardship, he just says it so much better than I ever could. What I particularly like about his approach is how all-encompassing and how accessible it is. I think it would be a good resource for shattering the paradigms of those who limit their understanding of stewardship to "The money I give to the church." Also nice - each chapter concludes with some good conversation-starting questions, so he clearly intends it to be read and discussed in small groups. I'm thinking about using it with our council this year.

The Good News from North Haven by Michael Lindvall
So I found this little gem at Loome's while I was waiting for them to look over 4 bags of books I was trying to sell. Turned out, they didn't want any of my books, but I still wanted this one, so I came home with more books than I left with - my uncle still gives me crap about that, but I digress. Sort of Woebegone-esque, in this slim volume of short stories we walk through a calendar year with the pastor and congregation of Second Presbyterian Church, in the fictional small town of North Haven, MN (allegedly out west of Mankato). An enjoyable read, and eminently preachable (some of the stories could serve as narrative sermons in themselves).

Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian by Tom Long
This is one of the books in the practicing our faith series, and is full of great insight on worship, preaching, the hunger for authentic God talk, the interweaving of our episodic narrative with God's grand narrative, and the implications of all that for our every day lives. Very accessible and engaging - read it - you won't regret it.

Coming attractions: a discussion of Australia, which I saw on vacation. Lots to talk about and unpack there, requiring more time than I have tonight. Another day. . .

PS - The weather was gorgeous - and more importantly dry - on Saturday, so I'm happy to report, there is now plenty of crisp krumkaker to last through the holidays! Woot.

You Can't Make Lefse on a Rainy Day

The holiday baking began in earnest this week, and after four years of working together to make all our favorite Christmastime treats, Breen, Patrick, and I have it down to a science - we're like a finely tuned cookie- and candy-making machine. :)

One of the things we've learned (through past frustrations) is that Scandihoovian goodies pine for the apparently arid fjords of their native land. They don't care for these humid Pennsylvania winters one bit, and they absolutely refuse to set up properly on precipitation-laden days (thus leading Patrick to coin the new adage, "You can't make lefse on a rainy day.").

The same is true of krumkaker, which was originally on the agenda for tonight. But, as it's been raining here for two days straight, we had to ditch that plan, so we made several batches of peppermint bark and chocolate krinkles instead. These are also quite tasty, and (in the case of the krinkles) infused with childhood memories for both Patrick and I, so it's all good.

But our jones for crisp cardamom-y goodness remains unsated. Perhaps Saturday, if Mother Nature will comply. . .

Bridge Over Troubled Water

The new 35W bridge is beautiful, and it's fantastic that it was completed ahead of schedule, not merely for the sake of Twin Cities traffic flow, but personally, since 35W is the most direct route between my parents' homes. . .

. . .but I still feel kind of weird driving over it, considering why it was built.

Minnesota's Pain on Ice

The title of this was supposed to be "How Do You Spell Hockey?" with the answer: M-I-N-N-E-S-O-T-A! Unfortunately, the curse not only abides, it appears to extend to all MN athletic events which I attend.

Dad and I went to the Gopher game last night and watched them get spanked by Michigan, in spite of several power plays to our advantage. We lost two players to injury in the first period, and it just wasn't Kangas' night in front of the net.

Ah well. . .at least I got to watch the Gophers play (which is impossible in PA, even on TV), and it was still an exciting game to watch, and I got to do my favorite thing several times throughout the night (singing the rouser with a stadium full of people!), regardless of the final score. So all in all, it was a good night.

And What Do You Do?

Alright, here's the thing: I'm an introvert. An introvert who hates to fly. An introvert who hates to fly, who is not a morning person, who nevertheless ends up on crack of dawn flights to the Midwest when she's going on vacation.

This means I do not really want to talk to anybody on my flight. I pretty much want to read until we take off, then turn on my iPod as soon as electronic devices are allowed, close my eyes, and try to forget about the fact that I am sitting in a small metal tube that is hurtling several hundred miles an hour, many thousands of feet above the ground. It's nothing personal against anyone else who may be flying with me - I'm sure they're all lovely people. I just don't want to talk to them.

But here's the other thing: I'm very polite. Though I will not initiate a conversation with the person sitting next to me, I will respond when spoken to. Even if I'm spoken to while clearly reading a book. And I frequently get seated next to raging extroverts, who just can't help themselves, they have to talk.

Inevitably the conversation turns to why we are traveling, what we do for a living. And when they find out I'm a pastor, then they often spend the duration of the flight either asking me all about what it's like being a pastor (especially a woman pastor), or telling me all about their church (like the very sweet and well-intentioned woman who talked to me about the Salvation Army for two hours yesterday morning), and occasionally telling me what they think is wrong with the church.

Please don't get me wrong, these have all been very gracious and interesting people, and these are conversations that I would probably enjoy having were I tapping into my "professional E" on the ground.

But I'm an introvert, who hates flying, who is not a morning person, who is on vacation, who is too polite to wait for a lull in the conversation and put my headphones on so you can't keep talking to me.

So I think I just need to come up with a fake job to give as an answer to that inevitable "And what do you do?" question. Something weird enough that others are not likely to know much about it, yet not so weird that I can't say anything intelligible about it or that they'll be so intrigued that they'll want to take about my fake job for the whole flight.

I am honest to a fault, so I don't know if I could really pull it off. But I'm open to suggestions. . .

Happy Thanksgiving,
C.

Wade in the Water

Interesting things going on over at All My Children these days. Bianca (the youngest daughter of the show's diva, Erica Kane) is back in town, and she's engaged and has a new baby. That might not be so interesting in itself, except, you see, Bianca is gay.

Baby Gabrielle was scheduled to be "christened" this past week, and the first pastor scheduled to do the ceremony, who was clearly supposed to be a Catholic priest, refused to perform the baptism once he realized the baby was the child of a gay couple.

I realize such rejection is, sadly, more often the experience homosexuals have with the church than not, so it was good and accurate for it to be part of the story. Still, I found myself furious by what was happening on screen, and thought - were these real people - I would have tracked them down and offered to baptize the baby myself (Pine Valley can only be a couple hours from Lewisburg, at most!).

Turned out my services were not needed :) - by the end of the episode, La Kane had taken care of things and found a woman pastor with a sweet looking portable font who "christened" Gabrielle. I'm a little confused as to what tradition this pastor was supposed to represent - she wore black academic robes like a Methodist, but a banded clerical collar and a white stole like an Episcopalian, and the baptism itself was rather humanist - but what else can one expect from a soap?

In any case, I was curious to see what kind of chatter there was on the official AMC discussion board after all this, and it was very interesting - as may be expected, there were those who lauded abc for showing the discrimination gay people constantly face in the church, as well as those who defended the priest's decision and lambasted abc for picking on the Catholic church.

Even more interesting is how those latter discussions morphed into conversations about baptismal practices in general. One of the defenses of the priest was that, given that nobody in Pine Valley seems to be involved in a faith community on a regular basis, the priest was well within his rights to refuse the baptism (even though it was clear those weren't the grounds of his refusal). Several folks responded with stories of being denied baptism for their own children because they were not members of the church, and their analysis was simply that all the church wants is money, and if you're not willing to join and give it, too bad for you - no baptism.

Now, I can understand how these folks may have come to this conclusion. But let me give you the pastor's perspective on baptism.

And let me start by saying that I have yet to deny anybody a baptism, and I find it unlikely I ever will. I have baptized both children and adults, I have baptized people in families that are very active in my congregation, and I have baptized people whose immediate families are not active at all in the congregation (and who have never darkened the door of the church since).

Here's what baptism is not: eternal fire insurance. I know, lots of people, even highly churched people, treat it as such. And I suspect that's why a lot of people, even highly unchurched people, want to get their kids "done" (as some have called it), because they think baptism is some golden ticket into heaven.

That's not exactly how it works. Baptism, first and foremost, is a covenant. Primarily a covenant between God and the person being baptized. In the act of baptism God names and claims this person as God's own beloved child.

Now, does that mean that if you're not baptized, you're not a child of God? Absolutely not. But baptism is a very public declaration of this relationship with God - in front of witnesses, God makes this covenant with you and promises that you are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. In other words - no take backs. No matter what happens. And that's a good promise to be able to cling to, especially on those days and in those seasons when your life is a mess, when you feel like you're drowning in mistakes, when your heart is broken, when you're overwhelmed by the darkness, when all others have abandoned you - in all times and places, it's good to know you can trust that God is with you and for you, come what may.

I believe this a promise that God wants to make publicly to everyone, and this aspect of the covenant is why I can't see myself ever denying a baptism, no matter how shady the motivations of the parents or the person themselves. For I hold with the prophet Isaiah that the Word of God never returns to God empty, but always, ultimately, bears fruit; and I feel it is neither my right nor my responsibility, as a member of the clergy, to stand in the Word's way. If anything, my job is to cast the Word out into the world and then do my best to keep myself and others from bungling it up.

All of that being said - the covenant between God and the person being baptized is not the only covenant being made that day. The parents, the godparents, and the whole body of Christ are also making promises to the one being baptized - significant promises to help the baptized learn the old, old story of God's deep love for and engagement with the world, to help them discern their role in this ever-unfolding narrative, and to help them wrestle with the deep questions of faith that will inevitably pop up along the way. We make these promises because we believe you can't do any of this on your own - you need the help and support of a community, and part of these promises are concrete commitments to life together - to worship together, and study together, and talk together.

So when folks who are not already a part of the community, and who, after conversation, clearly have no interest in becoming part of the community, come to me and ask for a baptism, I do stop and wonder why it really even matters to them - I mean, why bother going through this ritual and making promises that you don't intend to keep? That's basically making a mockery of the whole process - which is, you know, kind of irritating to those of us who take these promises seriously and hold this ritual sacred.

But in spite of this rub, one's answer to the question "To baptize, or not to baptize" ultimately comes down to which covenants one feels are most important. I believe, for the sake of the baptized, it is most important to make God's covenant with them a matter of graspable, tangible public record, because God's promises never fail, even when all our human promises fade and whither like the grass. And, as I said, I trust the power and efficacy of God's Word to find its way and bear its fruit in spite of all our attempts to bungle it. So I'd rather err on the side of grace, and consequently have yet to refuse a baptism, and doubt that I ever will.

But I can also understand the frustration of fellow clergy who are tired of trampling on the human covenants being made that day, I can understand their desire to raise the bar and reasonably expect the people making these promises to put a modicum of effort into fulfilling them.

And to those who've encountered such clergy, who have perhaps even been denied a baptism as a result of your unwillingness to meet whatever expectations were laid out by this clergy and/or their congregation - before you get all hot and bothered and start tearing down the church for not asking "How high?" when you said "Jump!," can I ask you to consider this possibility: that it is not so much about them wanting your money, as it is about God wanting your life, and them taking seriously what God has said from the very beginning, that it is not good for you to live that life alone? I mean, I wasn't there, I don't know what shook down, and I know there are clergy and congregations out there who do want to grow their membership just to get more coins in the coffer. So, your take on things may be entirely right. I'm just asking you to consider another side of things, in the off-chance you were wrong.

Whoo - that's probably enough about baptism, at least for today. I trust certain faithful readers and fellow members in the priesthood of all believers will correct me if I've spewed forth any heresy. :) And I welcome any further thoughts or insights on the matter - leave a comment!

Peace,
C.

Tradition!

In her Halloween post, Maria the Great commented on how Tim sorts candy with the boys after they've gone trick-or-treating, because he remembers doing that as a kid. That got me thinking about traditions and how they get started. . .

Tim's a few years older than me, so he may have a better sense of how this all began, but from what I remember, the great candy sort began as a way for our fathers to inspect our candy. We were young trick-or-treaters during the candy scares of the early 80s, when some people were doing all sorts of weird junk to the candy they gave out on Halloween. Anything that looked suspect was pulled out of the pile without question, along with anything else they didn't want us to have (I think hard candy and suckers were routinely removed until we were old enough for them to trust we wouldn't accidentally choke on them). As we got older and our fathers' inspection was less needful, we'd still dump our candy out all over Uncle Ron's living room, sort it, then swap each other to either gain more of our favorites or get rid of stuff we really didn't like. So, a tradition that began out of practical necessity and gradually morphed into family habit is still going strong 25 years later, as a new generation of Ciccones are learning to sort their candy when they get home from trick-or-treating, because that's what my cousins and I always did when we were kids.

Naturally, I see many parallels here to the life of the church. A noticable parallel around here has to do with communion practices - despite a synod-wide push several years ago to have every congregation in the synod move to weekly communion, there are still many congregations who only celebrate communion four times a year plus high holy days. This, too, began as a practical necessity - in the days of the circuit-riders, a congregation was probably only visited by an authorized presiding pastor 4-6 times a year. But it gradually became "family habit" so even after a congregation had a regularly established and called pastor present every week, they continued their very irregular or infrequent celebration of communion because "that's what we have always done."

Now don't get me wrong here - I think traditions are good. They help us remember and tell and live our stories, and they often give us solid ground to stand on in a topsy-turvy world. And trust me, I can get as grumpy as the best of them when my traditions are messed with.

But, traditions can also be, or become, stifling. When we forget how the tradition started, or why we perpetuate it, when we allow tradition to become an end or a god in itself and refuse to entertain the possibility of any new things we're being called to do. . .then I think maybe tradition is not so good. Or healthy. Or helpful.

At least, that's what my friend Tevye found out (the hard way). . .

Da Cats

I've been cat-sitting all week, and of course, I love them each in their own unique way (even Lucy, for whom I've often offered to purchase a one-way ticket to California), and try to shower them with equal amounts of attention when I'm taking care of them. But I have to admit, I am a little partial to Jake - he's a total goofball and a glutton for attention, he will greet me at the door and follow me all through the house, throwing himself in front of my feet, until I rub his belly.

This is his favorite thing when he plays - to have a towel thrown over him. I think he thinks he's hiding, as in, he thinks no one can see him, even if he's in the middle of the floor. Like I said, a total, adorable goof.



Melvin is the gentle giant. Hard to believe now, but when he was rescued from the street, he fit in the palm of my hand and he was so emaciated you could see his every rib, poor little guy. I used to call him the grey ghost because there were some times when I'd watch them, I'd go almost all week without seeing head nor tail of him. But in the past year he's become more social, and this time he actually wanted to come cuddle with me on the couch.



And Lucy, well. . .we love Lucy. It's impossible to get a picture of her without her eyes glowing red, which confirms my suspicions that her full given name should be Lucifer :). But in all seriousness, she is a living example of good Lutheran theology - that in daily life we all need the right balance between structure and freedom (aka law and gospel), and with enough love and patience, even the most irascible, issue-laden, and seemingly irredeemable can be transformed. This is her favorite spot, from whence she can survey her realm in peace and evade sneak attacks by the boys.




Happy Weekend,
C.

Wonders Never Cease

It was gorgeously warm and sunny in central PA this past weekend, which made it all the more surreal to read the facebook postings of my Midwestern family and friends who kept talking about snow. Well, that system finally made its way east, and we actually had a little bit of snow falling here today, which totally surprised me - I don't think of central PA as capable of getting snow this early. Shows what I know.

In other surprises, a seed of ministry blossomed in a beautiful and unexpected way today. We've been talking a lot this fall about what our mission is, how we can reach out beyond our walls and be a positive and serving presence in our community. Our council president gave a beautiful temple talk yesterday on similar themes and laid out a little bit of a challenge to the entire congregation to get involved and help us discern this path forward together. And today a parishioner who is normally kind of quiet called me up, all excited, to propose a short-term ministry project that is easily accomplishable, meets an immediate and identified need in the community, and gives us a chance to establish good rapport with a neighbor. And this parishioner is willing to lead and coordinate the whole project. So, I just affirmed it was a brilliant idea and gave them permission to run with it.

This is exactly the kind of thing I was hoping would come out of these discussions. And when so much of ministry is casting and tending seeds that you're never sure are going to come to fruition, it feels really good to see signs that one of them is starting to take root.

To Quote the Back of My Old Wellstone Shirt. . .

Mumble.
Grumble.
Complain.
Wallow.
Hope.
Despair.
Worry.


VOTE.

The Hymns We Sing

It's funny Choral Girl started this meme today, because this morning I led a hymn sing at a local nursing home, which meant singing a lot of schmaltzy, old-timey stuff like In the Garden, The Old Rugged Cross, The Church in the Wildwood, Blessed Assurance, Battle Hymn of the Republic, etc, because that's what the folks there love to sing, those are the hymns that most shaped them, the songs they learned in the cradle and are taking with them all the way to the grave. Since tomorrow is Reformation Day, I did throw in A Mighty Fortress for the sake of any Lutherans in the bunch, because I hope that someone will come and sing A Mighty Fortress with me when I can no longer get to church on Reformation Day.

In any case, that got me to thinking, on the drive back to church, as to just what hymns will be sung at nursing homes by the time I'm rolling around in one. Because, with all due respect to my elders today, I don't want to be singing In the Garden 50 years from now - it's just not a hymn that I find inspiring, comforting, or life-defining in any way.

But there are so many other hymns that have shaped me and continue to hold strong influence over my life. . .so, I need some time to think about it, but CG I consider myself tagged.

Get On the Bus

In honor of Wellstone World Music Day (and the sixth anniversary of Paul and Sheila's death), I want to tell my favorite Wellstone story:

He was up for re-election when I was a sophomore in college. One fall weekend, supporters were doing a blitz of fundraisers, and Paul and Sheila were trying to actually be present at a fair number of them. Of course, it was a no-brainer that they would be at the Northfield event. The St. Olaf College Democrats had worked our tushies off and registered over 1,000 students to vote, so we were invited to the event for free, as a thank-you for our efforts.

I got to meet Paul for like, two seconds, at the event itself. But he and his staff happened to be leaving around the same time that our group was. It was raining, and we had a long walk up the hill to get back on campus. Paul looked at us and asked "Are you all going back to Olaf?" We nodded our heads. "Get on the bus," he waved us over, "I'll give you a ride."

We were all in 7th heaven, of course, to be riding the green bus with Senator Wellstone! But then what happened next was even cooler, and affirmed in my mind why I was so proud to have this man represent us in Washington. This was right around the time that Bob Dole (who was running for president against Clinton) had fallen off a platform in Iowa, and somebody among our college group started ripping on Dole and specifically brought that incident up as evidence why he shouldn't be president. Senator Wellstone shut them down right away, and said "Hey, that's not cool. That podium was unstable, and that could have happened to any one of us - Senator Dole is a good man, and he could have been seriously hurt. That's nothing to joke around about."

I supported Wellstone all those years because he was a man who stood up for what he believed in, even if it made him unpopular. He was a man who stood up for what was just and fair, a man who gave a voice to the voiceless, who defended the defenseless, a man who deeply respected and reached out to those who disagreed with him. I loved and respected him because he asked us to be better people, as individuals and as a nation; he held us to a high standard of involvement in our country and our shared future, and an equally high standard of compassion and care for the most vulnerable and struggling among us.

In that moment, on that bus, he was all of those things - he was surrounded by his own staff and a group of college kids who adored him - no one was going to tell the press if he had let those comments about Dole fly or had even joined in on them. But instead he shut down his own supporters and spoke up for a man who was his ideological opposite and often his enemy on the Senate floor, a man who had recently been publicly humiliated through no fault of his own. He asked us that day to be better than the partisan politics and ad hominum attacks so typical in most (if not all) elections, asked us to remember that Senator Dole was first and foremost a fellow human being who deserved our compassion, not our mockery.

That's who the Senate, and the world, have been missing these last six years. And that, more than anything, is why I've been such an ardent supporter of Senator Obama since he first entered the race for president (and really, since I became aware of him in 2004). Because I see in him the same qualities as I saw in Senator Wellstone - that same passion for justice and fairness, that same voice for the most vulnerable, that same conviction to stand strong for what he believes, that same respect and engagement of those who think differently than him, that same invitation to participate in our shared life and future together, that same expectation to act in accordance with the better angels of our nature. . .

It's twelve years later, and I'm still on the bus, Senator Wellstone. And for the first time in a long time, I'm feeling really encouraged because there's so many other folks now riding it with me, and we're driving down a road called HOPE.

Keeping the faith,
C.

Deep Economic and Philosophical Question Part II

I keep seeing commercials lately deriding Obama's "lack of executive experience."

Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it unquestioned "executive experience" (in the White House, on Wall Street) that got us into the current economic nightmare (not to mention the war in Iraq)?

Adventures in Live Performance

This weekend has been kinda rough for the chorale. I originally thought the most exciting/anxiety-provoking thing I'd have to report from our concerts was the missed cue in the Rutter yesterday (which wasn't really that big of a deal, we recovered by the next entrance and only those who know the piece well would have noticed).

But then this afternoon one of the basses passed out during the Agnus Dei (also during the Rutter). We were rocking that movement today and we'd just finished the most intense and built-up part of it when I saw a flutter of movement out of the corner of my eye, then heard a tremendous thud, and when I looked over toward the source of both noise and movement, there was one of the basses, flat on his face on the floor, not moving at all, and his fellow basses were getting down off the risers and onto the floor next to him to see if he was alright. Bill stopped the orchestra, and when his comrades rolled him over, his glasses were broke, his face was bleeding, and from where I was it was hard to see if he was breathing. Another bass pulled out his cell phone and called 911, and there were some tense moments as we waited to see what was going on. Thankfully, the three doctors in the house (one in the chorale, one in the orchestra, one in the audience) all came to his aid right away. And thankfully, he regained consciousness quickly. And thankfully, it happened during the first half of the concert, when there was space in which to fall. During the Gounod we had a larger orchestra, with instrumentalists all the way up to where the risers began - had he fainted then he would have fallen into the French Horns and may have hurt himself even more seriously (as of now it seems he has only suffered a broken nose and the embarrassment of the whole situation).

We took an intermission so the first sopranos' riser could be moved to give the paramedics access, they braced his neck and took him out on a stretcher and were going to check him out further at the hospital. Then, as they say, the show must go on, so we started the movement over and finished the first half of the concert without further incident. During the second half, I noticed a lot more squeaking noises coming from the risers than normal - I think we were all a little paranoid of being the next person to pass out, so we were consciously shifting our weight and wiggling our toes and bending our knees.

So, that's the big excitement in the Valley this weekend. Hopefully the next concert will be as musically dramatic but less personally dramatic!

Deep Economic and Philosophical Question for the Night

Why is it only labeled "class warfare" when the poor and middle class ask for a fair and equal share of wealth and power, and not when the wealthy consistently exempt themselves from sacrifice and abuse their power and wealth to oppress the majority of the world?

City Mouse for a Day

I took a much needed mental health day and went to see Sarah and Rob in the Big Apple yesterday. Unfortunately, Mondays are sort of quiet days for the city that never sleeps (exacerbated in this case by the Columbus Day holiday) - most museums and restaurants are closed, and while I don't begrudge these folks a day of rest, I find it a bummer that our Sabbaths coincide.

I still had a great time, however. I got to town in time for lunch, then Sarah and I walked to Grant's Tomb, took some pictures on the funky mosaic benches outside, and read the displays inside the classical-looking tomb. On the walk back, I was thinking one of the buildings we passed looked familiar, and Sarah asked if I had seen Enchanted. Turns out, the end of their block was featured heavily in the movie, and for as often as I've been to visit them, I am totally embarrassed that I did not recognize that when I was watching the movie. Ah well. . .

We had wanted to go the the Cloisters as well, and were hoping it would be open, since the Met itself was open especially for the holiday. Alas, the Cloisters were closed. So we just hung out around the apartment visiting until Rob came home from a meeting, then we planned to go to dinner at a pizza place they wanted to try on the lower East Side. Alas, the pizza place is not open on Mondays. So instead we went to an excellent Thai restaurant in Union Square, then digested a bit while feeding my addiction at the Strand (what's not to love about 18 miles of books?!), then walked to the Dessert Truck, which sells a deliciously decadent molten chocolate cake - Sarah and I split one, which was a good thing - it was so rich, I think I would have been sick had I tried eating a whole one by myself. On the walk back to the subway, we noticed the Empire State Building was lit up in green, white, and red, for Columbus Day, so Sarah and I said a little cheer for our fellow paisan, even though his claim to fame is rather dubious (my Norwegian friends are adamant that the Vikings got here first).

Today on my way out of town I did the NBC studio tour, which is a worthwhile tourist trap. We got to see the studio for the NBC Nightly News and MSNBC and the infamous Studio 8H (another pilgrimage complete), and learn all sorts of cool and interesting things along the way (like, that Brian Williams is in his suit and makeup first thing in the morning so he is camera-ready in case a story breaks during daytime programming, and that he stands at the beginning of each newscast in homage to the Huntley-Brinkley Report, who did their whole news program standing; or that each cast member and guest on SNL has a facial cast/bust made of them so the make-up artists can work on make-up design and prosthetic pieces without pulling the actors out of rehearsal).

Then I stopped by the public library to try and see the original Pooh, but he is temporarily not on display. So I looked at a small exhibit on art deco design instead, then headed for Penn Station. Along the way, I'm pretty sure I passed a film crew of some sort - lots of cameras and people and directors chairs, but no title on the back of the chairs, and no luminaries that I recognized. It could have been for a movie, or could have been a location shot for a NY-based TV show - it was right outside the au bon pain on 5th Ave, near the Empire State Building, and seemed to involve a bus.

So, that was my day and a half in New York, which was beautiful and went all too quickly, as usual. The drive was also particularly beautiful this time - the trees are pretty close to peak color in eastern PA.

And, total aside - my train reading this time was A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. My copy has an introduction by Walker Percy, who was apparently instrumental in getting the book published a decade after the author's death. Percy makes particular mention that a character like Ignatius J. Reilly was rather unprecedented at the time of the book's writing (in the early 60s). . .but as I read (about halfway through right now) it occurs to me that Ignatius certainly seems to have some contemporaries here in the early 21st century. . .his lambasting diatribes and ridiculous rhetoric are reminiscent of a certain O'Reilly over on FOXNews, as well as Stephen Colbert's satirical persona.

On Ownership

I heard a report on NPR today about a new bill President Bush signed into law that would create a cabinet-level "pirate czar" - not the kind that would wear an eye-patch and say "Arrrrrrrgh!" with a Russian accent, but the kind that would crack down on the piracy of intellectual property, like the "drug czar" supposedly cracks down on the illegal drug trade.

Now, I know being a "starving artist" is not just a metaphor, but a reality for a number of folks who are trying to make a life and a living following their true calling. So I by no means think artists should not be paid fairly and appropriately for their work.

But the thought occurred to me, as I was listening to this report, that after thousands of years of music-making and storytelling, there is nothing new under the sun. Nothing that anyone writes today is truly original - all the metaphors, images, chord progressions, etc, that we could possibly come up with are all borrowed from someone (or several someones) who came before us. So is it really fair to say anything is one person's intellectual property? Is it fair to take something that once belonged to the common good, slap your name on your own arrangement of said material, and start charging the public to access it and/or deny others the ability to borrow from you (as you yourself have borrowed)?

I then thought of how eerily similar this is to another situation in our nation's history - when western Europeans came to this country and imposed their understanding of private property and the accompanying rights it entailed upon the indigenous people who considered land an un-ownable public good. Essentially, this is the same understanding of private property now being imposed upon cultural, instead of natural, resources.

Maybe I wouldn't be grousing about this as much if I thought the law was meant to protect the artists. But it seems like it's more geared to protect the financial interests of the corporate managers of the artists. Certainly, there's got to be a happy medium - something that protects the artists from the abuses of both managers and patrons, but doesn't put the creative commons under lock-down and reward inalienable rights to whoever slaps their name on an old idea first.

Burn After Reading

An old college friend on Facebook thought this latest from the Coen Bros was fun but "couldn't decide what it was supposed to be."

I have to disagree. I think the fact that it's kinda hard to tell what the point of the movie is, is exactly the movie's point. In that sense, it's a cinematic exegesis of Quoheleth (aka Ecclesiastes).

To a world full of folks looking for their 15 minutes of fame and/or their big jackpot moment, the movie says "All is vanity." To a world fixated on a certain standard of superficial beauty, the movie says "this too is a chasing after wind." To a world overrun with both excessively revealing navel gazers and obsessively voyeuristic surveilance, the movie says "there is nothing new under the sun" - for as much hoopla as we make of them, really, our lives are not that fascinating, and all that we consume ourselves worrying about is ultimately in vain.

Once again, the brothers Coen masterfully portray how the effects of sin continue to ripple out through our lives and the lives of others, how one bad choice can suddenly trap you into a series of even more bad choices. Truly, Joel and Ethan are theologians trapped in filmmakers bodies! :)

So, I liked it. Thumbs up.

Nana's House of Sauce

Tomorrow is our "stockholder" dinner at church - a thank you to all the folks who helped to underwrite the mission trip and summer camp experiences. A few people have been hinting around about trying my family red sauce, so I decided to make it for the dinner. As I type, batch #3 of 4 is simmering on my stove, and probably won't be done until after midnight. #4 is going to have to wait until tomorrow to get going - good thing this is for dinner!

I have not had a marathon sauce-making day like this since preparing for my ordination party, when Nana and I pulled both a marathon sauce day and a marathon meatball day. It was a lot of work, but we had so much fun cooking together and hanging out, I wouldn't trade that time for anything. I could get to the phone faster than she could, so whenever it rang, I would run to grab it and answer "Nana's House of Sauce," which would make both her and the person on the other end of the line chuckle.

In the middle of the first day, she was asking a lot of questions about my new call, what the congregation was like, and the area I'd be living in, and how much vacation time I got, and then all of sudden she blurted out, "Do you think they'll let you come home to bury me?" I was kind of taken aback, and after a little pause to let the request sink in, I asked, "Nana, is that what you want?" "Yes, I think so. Yes." "Then yes, I will come home to bury you."

Hard to believe she's been gone for a year and a half already. Marathon sauce days are certainly a lot less fun when you're working alone. . .

Cute Kid Stories (Worship Division)

Molly (9 months) learned to crawl, and loves to go exploring and show off this new skill. Her family no sooner got to worship this morning than she was crawling under the pews to visit and play with the kids a couple rows behind them. Her mother warned me I might have to "return" her at some point during the service, in case she wandered her way up front to help me with the sermon!
Her dad held on to her, so it didn't happen. . .this time. :)

Alex (13 months) has figured out he can make all sorts of cool noises and echoes in our sanctuary and has been pretty vocal lately as a result. A couple weeks ago, right as I was getting into the home stretch of the proclamation in my sermon, he called out "Yeah!" and his timing couldn't have been more perfect - I actually broke with my script and looked up at him and said "That's exactly right, Alex, yeah! You got it! Yeah!"

Today, during the hymn of praise I could hear him making some noise, and when I looked over to him, he was waving furiously at me, and he smiled big and waved even faster when he saw that he grabbed my attention. It was too adorable, and was giving both his parents and I an acute case of the church giggles. I wanted to wave as enthusiastically back to him, but I knew the congregation couldn't see what was going on and would wonder what in the world I was doing. So I just did a little wave and kept singing through the chuckling, while they pulled out a sippy cup to occupy his hands.

They're not only cute, they're profound little theologians - unafraid to wander into new territory and make friends with new people, unafraid to use their voice and respond enthusiastically to the gospel - no wonder Jesus said we should all receive the kingdom as a little child. . .

SNL Opener 9/27/08

You Tube is blocking everyone who tried to post the sketch, and I can't get nbc's embedding code to work here, so you'll just have to go on over to their site to watch the spoof of Palin's interview with Katie Couric, but Tina Fey is once again brilliant (not to mention, as adorable as ever. Pew! Pew! Pew!).

Can't wait to see what she does with the debates tonight. . .

The Sanctity of Marriage

Everyone on the planet needs to read my friend Choral Girl's thoughtful reflections on the matter. But especially, everyone in the ELCA.

Coen Bros Trifecta

Guess where my dad is today? On the set of the new Coen brothers movie.

I'm not jealous, really I'm not.

Ok, maybe I am a little. He and my stepmom are into classic cars, and have a '68 Chevelle. Since the new movie is set in the late '60s, they need lots of stuff from that era to create the appropriate atmosphere. Hence, my dad gets to hang out on the set while the car serves as a set piece. There is a chance he may get suited up in period dress and serve as an extra as well, lucky bugger.

He says it's fascinating to see everything that goes into making the magic happen onscreen, and that's the part I'm envious of - the chance to see how a movie is actually made, in general, and in particular, to watch how these two geniuses work.

Now I really can't wait for this next one to come out!

Conditions on the Blank Check

I agree with Robert Reich.

Hat tip to Mary for the link.

Three Cups of Tea

I finally finished reading Three Cups of Tea tonight. It was our new book club's inaugural book. I'm normally a fast reader, and this was only 300 pages, so I didn't start it until the week before the book club meeting - I was less than halfway through the book by the time we gathered to discuss it in the beginning of September. David Oliver Relin's prose was just too sloggy for me - I could never read more than 20 pages in a sitting. It's too bad, because Greg Mortenson's life story is incredibly compelling in and of itself, and he's doing amazing and important work in Pakistan and Afghanistan that every American should know about - yet this book had a hard time holding my attention. I was often distracted, as I dutifully trudged my way through it (can't stand abandoning a book), by wondering what a more competent author would have done with the same material.

All that being said, I think it's still worth reading in order to learn more about a part of the world that most Americans have very little knowledge or understanding of, and to learn more about the work and methods of the Central Asia Institute, and to help us think more critically about the methods and principles behind our own foreign policy (a most pertinent discussion in this electoral season).

SNL Opening 9/13/08

Man, I'm a busy little blogger tonight. This is the last post for today, I promise.

I adore Tina Fey. I think Saturday Night Live has suffered greatly since she left the show. I was particularly lamenting her absence after Palin was announced because they look a lot like each other - I was imagining all the incredible sketches and impersonations that wouldn't be happening this fall.

To my own and (I think) everyone's delight, she made a guest appearance on the opening sketch last night, and was spot on. See for yourself:



The sketch overall was excellent - tightly written and masterfully performed by both Poehler and Fey, and satirically bringing up a major rhetorical issue in this campaign and its coverage - the vast difference and inconsistencies in how we name things.

Rock, rock on, Tina Fey. And if you want to stop by for a few more impersonations this fall, I for one won't mind at all.

The Trouble with Grapevines (and: The Rumors of "B's" Death are Greatly Exaggerated)

Today we had a perfect illustration of how quickly incomplete information can go "viral."

Parishioner A works with a nephew of Parishioner B. Nephew mentions at work Friday that his aunt died. He does not say which aunt, and Parishioner A does not think to ask, and doesn't think too much of it until this morning when Parishioner B's husband is not in worship (B herself is homebound). Now Parishioner A wonders if Parishioner B was the one who died, and innocently makes inquiries of other members of the congregation to see if they've heard anything to this effect.

Parishioner A also asks me, during the sharing of the peace, if this is true. I look and notice Parishioner B's husband is not present, and though I have heard nothing in regards to his wife's death, I realize with a sinking feeling in my stomach that I was not home for most of yesterday and I forgot to check my voicemail when I did get home, so it's entirely possible Parishioner B did die and I just haven't picked up the message yet. So now I'm worrying that the husband is grieving and has left me messages and I'm the schmucky pastor who hasn't gotten back to him.

By the end of worship, probably a dozen people are fluttering around wondering whether Parishioner B is alive or not. Some of them have heard this rumor from someone other than Parishioner A, which tightens the knot in my stomach, thinking multiple sources mean greater likelihood the rumor is true. But then I talked to the "other" sources and asked them where they got their information - it all tracked back to Parishioner A's inquiries.

I went to Parishioner C, a neighbor of the Bs, to see if they could shed light on the truth. They had heard nothing to the effect of B dying, and thankfully made some phone calls while I was teaching confirmation, and found out that B is, in fact, still with us.

A few observations:

1. I'm amazed at how quickly and exponentially the incomplete information spread - and we are just a microcosm of the wider world. Gives me new appreciation for how widely and rapidly information (accurate, inaccurate, and incomplete) can reach people, especially when aided by mass media tools like television or the internet.

2. I'm wondering if the correct and complete information will spread as rapidly. I've already received one phone call, from Parishioner D, to tell me that they also made some calls after worship and discovered B is still alive. I'm wondering how many more of those kind of calls I'm going to get, and how many more calls the church office is going to get wondering if B died, and how many calls the Bs themselves are going to get from well-intentioned folks trying to track down the truth and/or offer their condolences.

3. In this case the whole situation was very innocent and well-meaning - people genuinely wanting to reach out in support to a brother who may be in grief. Even so, I think our experience this morning clearly illustrates just how dangerous a communication tool the grapevine can be, and I shudder to think of the damage that could be done by someone with malicious intent who is purposely dispersing blatantly false information.

4. McCain's presidential campaign currently manifests my worst fears from observation 3. He has apparently decided he likes living in Bush's "Opposite Land" (a place where you name things the opposite of what they actually do, like calling rollbacks on air pollution and air quality standards the "Clear Skies Initiative"). And he and Palin have adopted the Bush/Cheney/Rove strategy of just repeating lies often enough and through enough different sources until people believe they must be true (and they're doing it with both smears about Obama and lies about their own records - like McCain being such a "maverick" when in truth he votes with Bush 90% of the time, or Palin rejecting the "Bridge to Nowhere" and fighting pork barrel spending, when in truth, she was all for the bridge until it was politically expedient not to be, and she kept the money from the federal government anyway, sans bridge!). I hope - I pray - the American public is smart enough not to fall for this strategy again, and resourceful enough to research the truth for themselves.

But I also fear the power of the grapevine, especially when it's under the power of the dark side of the force.

Igniter Media

I went to an excellent presentation on evangelism yesterday by Pastor Ernie Hinojosa, and he used several short videos from this group to illustrate what he had to say. Witty, sarcastic, and hit-the-nail-on-the-head truthful (though in perusing their website, they also have much devotional and still-frame image kinds of stuff too). In all, good resources to be aware of and to utilize, especially for emergent church types.

Check out "me Church" to see what I'm talking about. He had another particularly hilarious one about "pizza evangelism" that I assumed was from the same source, but I can't find it yet, either on their site or via google.

The Great Minnesota Get-Together

(Sky Ride and Space Tower)

Pictures from the happiest place on earth (is it horribly Minnesotan of me that my happy place only exists for 12 days out of the year? Somehow I sense Garrison Keillor could make a monologue out of that. . .). In total, I made it to the Fair three different days while I was home. In addition to my normal haunts, two definite highlights of this year were the special programs regarding the Minnesota Sesquicentennial, and the free Brandi Carlile concert at the Leinie stage (she played at least half an hour's worth of encores!).


(The Midway at Night)

Definite lament: the Disneyfication of the International Bazaar. The old bazaar felt like an actual open-air market in another country - crowded lanes, crowded stalls, tamped dirt walkways, etc. The new one is more user-friendly in that it's bigger overall, has wider lanes that are paved with concrete, and a roof over the center. But it's sterile, like an Epcot version of an international bazaar. And, much like the rehab on the food building a few years ago, this too drove out a lot of the smaller vendors (gone were the Vietnamese egg roll people, and also the Hawaiian ice folks, and where there used to be 4-5 different Hmong groups selling needlework, now there is only one).


(The Search for the Great Pumpkin continues. . .)

A wide variety of food, both on and off a stick, was consumed. And yes, I tried the pig lickers (chocolate-covered bacon), but only because the friends I was with wanted to get them, so they bought and we all ate a piece. It's not the worst thing I've ever eaten (the lefse dog last year was definitely a poorer choice), but I have no desire to ever eat it again.


(Princess Kay butter sculptures)

Hopefully next year Adri and Burki will be with us for the Fair! Adri was thoroughly indoctrinated into Fair culture during her visit six years ago, but we still have to introduce her new hubby to the time-honored traditions and bizarre rituals of the Great MN Get-Together!


(Brandi Carlile at the Leinie Bandshell)

Deep Thoughts

From Lutheran preacher and professor Edmund Steimle, quoted in Tom Long's Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian: "A good sermon is not a beautiful package with a pretty bow tied by the preacher. A good sermon is like rings on the surface of a lake when the preacher has gone down in deep water."

From Bill Payne, our beloved SVC conductor, during last night's rehearsal of the Gounod Messe Solennelle: "Remember, this guy composed opera. Piano is more of an attitude than a dynamic. Think like you're singing piano at the Met."

Good Country for Film-making Men

As if it wasn't cool enough that parts of Fargo were filmed in my hometown, the Coen brothers will shoot part of their next film at my alma mater. Oh, to be a student again and be on campus while they're filming!

Everybody Wake Up

Well, if nothing else, Sarah Palin certainly proved tonight that she can be just as catty and snarky as many steeped in the culture and establishment of DC.

She also affirmed what I suspected from the moment she was announced - that a McCain/Palin administration will be another 4 years of the same as far as energy policy, and I quote "we will lay more pipeline, build more nuclear plants, burn more clean coal, and move forward on [renewables]." Once again, as we've heard repeatedly over the past 8 years, the plan is direct action to ramp up our consumption of non-renewables, with vague lip service paid to developing renewable energy. . .some day. Yet she supposedly stood up to big oil as governor.

This is the top issue for me in this election - more so than the war and the economy, though those are also very strong concerns - but if we don't get on top of this and shift to a more renewable and sustainable energy policy now, we're going to have a lot more war and a lot deeper economic problems in the future. Yes, it's going to cost money, but it's also going to save money in the long run (once you've got the technology to utilize them, sunlight and wind are abundant and free), and it's going to create money for all the scientists and skilled laborers and venture capitalists who make the shift into this field, those who will develop the technology, learn how to build and maintain it, and front the money to get the stuff built. Yes, that in-between time of transitioning between an oil/coal/carbon-based economy and a renewable/sustainable economy may be a little rough, and being the good progressive that I am, I'd say we ought to anticipate who will be hit the hardest and do what we can to make that transition smoother and easier for them.

But I'd also say we need to take a page out of the Silent Generation's playbook and learn to just suck it up and be willing to make some economic sacrifices for the good of this country. During WWII they rationed staples and gasoline and grew victory gardens, women stopped wearing pantyhose, they recycled as much as possible, it was anathema to waste anything. Here we are five years into a war, a quagmire with no end in sight (despite all the talk of immanent "victory" tonight**) that has now lasted longer than WWII, and what sacrifices have we as a people made through its duration? Oh, I forgot, our commander-in-chief recently gave up his golf game in honor of the troops. But what about the rest of us? Some folks are now finally giving up their unnecessary and inefficient SUVs or striving to consolidate trips since it seems gas will never go under three and a half bucks a gallon again. But just as many are refusing to change their habits, rather, they are clamoring for us to exhaust any and every potential drill site, foolishly believing that American oil companies (heavily subsidized by the American government, incidentally - in other words, corporate welfare funded by your tax dollars) will actually sell American oil to Americans, as opposed to the highest bidder, once they pull it out of our ground. Even in a Pollyanna world where they manage to safely, efficiently, and cleanly get every last drop and actually sell it to Americans at a reasonable price, it's enough to meet 5% of our current demand. That's not even a band aid. We need to start changing NOW, and be willing to make some sacrifices in the process.

As Dave would say, EVERYBODY WAKE UP!



Peace,
Catrina

**Just wondering - when Gov. Palin says "victory" does she mean it in the same way that a jump-suited Pres. Bush meant "mission accomplished" on the decks of the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln five years ago?

I know - she's not the only one proving she can be catty and snarky tonight. . .

The Swiftboating Begins

The past couple of days, there has been a commercial running rather often here in PA, questioning what we really "know" about Barack Obama, and bringing up his connection to William Ayers of the Weather Underground once again. They go into great detail about Ayers' terroristic behavior (emphasizing his lack of repentance), and try to scare folks by making it sound like he and Obama are BFFs and served together on a left-wing think tank.

The truth: Ayers and Obama are both strong public figures in Chicago (Ayers serving as a professor at the University of Illinois - Chicago; Obama as a state and now national senator). They did serve as colleagues on a board together, for the Woods Fund of Chicago. A word about the Fund's mission, from their own website:

The foundation works primarily as a funding partner with nonprofit organizations. Woods supports nonprofits in their important roles of engaging people in civic life, addressing the causes of poverty and other challenges facing the region, promoting more effective public policies, reducing racism and other barriers to equal opportunity, and building a sense of community and common ground.

Engaging people in civic life (hmm. . .seems the founders thought that was a pretty good idea), addressing the root causes of poverty, promoting more effective public policies (aka making government work better!), reducing racism and barriers to equal opportunity, and building a sense of community (as American as apple pie, if you ask me) are now radical left-wing causes, the support of which may imply you are an America-hating terrorist? Who knew?!

Oh wait, I forgot. . .as Dom Helder Camara said, if you just feed the poor they'll call you a saint. If you start asking why people are poor, they'll call you a communist.

I Came, I Saw, I Did Not Conquer

SVC rehearsals started up again tonight. We're singing Rutter's Requiem and Gounod's Mess e Solennelle for our fall concerts.

Let's just say, sight-singing in Latin is not one of my spiritual gifts. You would think, for as many masses as we've sung these past few years, I would be getting the hang of this Latin stuff, but each time we start a new piece it's a struggle for me. And it's even more difficult when the music editor can't be bothered to print the altos our own line of text, forcing us to hunt for it above both our own musical part and an English translation of said text (why do you hate altos so, music editors of the world? we are good and kind people who just want to sing a little harmony!).

The music is gorgeous, so I know it's going to sound beautiful and be really fun to sing once we pull it together. But right now
we're in that icky "this is hard and not so much fun to work on" stage. May we get through it quickly!

The Newest Ciccone

While Gustav has been tearing through the Gulf Coast, and protesters have been demonstrating in St. Paul, over in Minneapolis my cousin Steve and his wife Stephanie have been riding out their own personal drama bringing their firstborn into the world. After making us wait 11 days past his due date and putting his mother through a prolonged labor, Clark Steven Ciccone at long last drew his first breath shortly after midnight early, early this morning.

Mom and baby are doing fine, and Rever (nickname - long story) couldn't be a prouder papa, though the long labor was kinda rough on all of them, so if you're a praying type, please hold them in your own prayers these next few days.

Welcome to the world, baby Clark! We are so glad you are finally here!

And Now For Something Completely Different

From a totally different mind than that which brought you the beloved classics Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus and If You Give a Moose a Muffin comes the next great American children's book:
Don't Let the Moose Drive the Car.



Oops.

Ah well, meet Humphrey. Named for Hubert H. Dad won him for me at the Midway last week. As another Humphrey once said, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. . .who knows what mooseadventures will ensue? :)

The Curse Abides

The Twins have lost every game that I have watched in person or on TV since the post- season of 2006. I was really hoping they'd break this streak last night when Dad, Brenda, and I went to the Dome - they've been pretty hot lately, and they were playing the A's, which is who they were playing when my apparent curse upon them began, so it would be very fitting to turn it around with the same team.

Alas, 'twas not to be. Between a homeplate umpire that had it out for us and some seriously goofball fielding (honestly, sometimes it looked like Larry, Moe, and Curly were playing last night) the curse abides. Argh.

On a happier note, big shout out to Dad for teaching me a much better route to bike to Lake Harriet this morning - only one stoplight and significantly lesser amounts of traffic, potholes, and hills with which to contend. Woot.

Now back to my regularly scheduled vacay. . .

Travelblog: Dresden

Alright, now that a ridiculous amount of time has passed since my trip to Germany, it's finally time to write about Dresden before I forget what I did!

First, I have to say, even though it's been seven years since I was last there, and even though the city has naturally undergone changes in that time, Dresden is still a home away from home to me. A lot of that is because of the dear friends who are there, but it's also the city itself, which I just adore. If you've never been, put it on your "bucket list." Now.

I was amazed at how quickly my German skills came back once I was actually in Germany. I had been trying to practice reading and speaking over the past year, knowing this trip was coming up, but in the States I'd really struggled and realized I'd forgotten much grammar and vocab. Once I was immersed in the culture and language again, much of my ability to understand came back very quickly (though my speaking was still pretty rough). The even more amazing thing is that it's kind of stuck with me since my return - I've been trying to read a little auf Deutsch every week to keep my skills up, and I find it's infinitely easier on this side of the trip.

As it was, the whole week we were kind of speaking Gervakish, flowing in and out of languages as needed to get our point across. Adri is a linguistic genius and when she would get overwhelmed she'd inadvertently start throwing other languages into the mix (at one point during the wedding prep she answered somebody in Russian) - as Burkhard said, "The Holy Ghost comes often when Adri is tired!" :)


(Frauenkirche Dresden)

We just kind of chilled and hung around Dresden for a couple days after the wedding. On Pentecost Monday, took a walk along the Elbe and went to see the Frauenkirche. I had to see it with my own eyes now that it's completed - I remember my first time in Dresden in 1995, passing a bunch of scaffolding as they were trying to sort out the ruins and being told that they were finally going to rebuild it using as much of the original stone as possible. It seemed like it would take forever, but at each successive trip to Dresden, I could see the progress being made. And now it's done. And it's beautiful.


(The Pillars of the Church - really!)

Tuesday we ventured further afield to Gorlitz and Bautzen. Gorlitz is on the border with Poland, in fact, half of the town is in Poland, and the border is now open, you can cross without a passport. So we did. And we all agreed the German side is much nicer. They had some churches with very interesting interior architecture - figures were carved into the base of the pillars that supported the roof, and when we asked about it, folks said they were meant to reflect the people who built the church - literally the pillars of the church! Talk about a great visual reminder of the cloud of witnesses! Gorlitz is also home of the "Holy Grave" - a resident who later became mayor made a pilgrimmage to the Holy Land in 1465, then came back and reproduced some of the sites for the townsfolk, since most of them could never make a trip like that. One of the sites is the garden tomb where the resurrection supposedly happened. The interesting thing is that there was a fire at the garden tomb in the Holy Land in the 1600s, and it was rebuilt differently, so this reproduction in Germany is actually closer to the original, in a sense. Bautzen is over 1,000 years old and is just a cool, quaint old town with many interesting corners and vistas, and much of the town wall is still intact, which adds to its charm. It's also the center of high Schwabisch language and culture.

Wednesday was a Dresden day again. We went to the Panometer, which is a panoramic aerial view of Dresden in 1756, and then we went to the top of the Rathaus tower to compare the Dresden of today to the Dresden of 1756, which was both interesting and fun. Wednesday night we were invited to Nora and Clemens' to grill out, which was also a lot of fun!


(Sachsiche Schweiz)

Thursday was hiking in the Sachsiche Schweiz (Saxony's Switzerland) - a huge park on the border with the Czech Republic. It's beautiful there - kind of reminds me of another favorite place on the planet, the St. Croix River Valley, but with much more dramatic views and greater difference in elevation.


(The true test of my gorillapod at Sachsiche Schweiz - wrapped around a guard rail with a very steep drop on the other side.)

After a long and fulfilling hike, we went to the Neustadt to get some doner for dinner. Hmm. . .doner. Delicious, but as you may surmise from the picture, definitely something you need to eat with good friends - not a good place to take a first date! I lived in the Neustadt the summer I spent in Dresden, so I showed Adri and Burkhard the house I had stayed in, then we walked along the Elbe until it got dark, then it was time to pack up because I had to fly out the next day. :(


(Hmmm. . .doner!)

So, that was how I started my summer, with a couple of glorious weeks in Europe. And I'm going to cap 'er off at the happiest place on earth - the Minnesota State Fair! I'm sure some pictures will find their way onto the blog. :)

Peace,
C.

PS - Christopher's got a new job working as a field organizer for the DFL, from now until the election! Woot!

The More Things Change. . .

the more they stay the same.

A few weeks ago, I read The Grapes of Wrath. It's scary how insightful John Steinbeck is, and even scarier how much has not really changed when it comes to the consolidation of wealth and power in this country, or wealth and power's penchant for beating down and beating up the middle class.

I've also spent much of the summer watching my way through my beloved Northern Exposure collection. And it occurred to me that a lot of the techniques on shows that are popular now were mastered by NX over a decade ago: it was quirky and often utilized fantasy scenes, much like Scrubs or That 70s Show; and much like Grey's Anatomy, it had an excellent soundtrack with music carefully selected to match what was happening on screen, and its episodes were thematic (though often the theme sort of sneaks up on you and you suddenly realize how all the storylines tie to it, where on Grey's it sometimes feels like they beat viewers over the head with the theme to make sure we get the point).

As the Preacher would say, there's nothing new under the sun.

Cute Kid Stories (PK Division)

The last post was so serious, time to lighten things up around here.

Today the synod sponsored a picnic for clergy and families at our local Lutheran camp. Henry (3.5) and Liam (1.75) were there, and they had brought their swimming stuff in a backpack that Henry insisted on carrying. This backpack was only slightly shorter than Henry himself (when he put it on, it was seriously, like, 3 inches off the ground)! It was adorable watching him shuffle around with it on. I was walking next to him from the pool to the picnic pavillion, hearing a gentle "thwap, thwap, thwap" all the way as the bottom of the pack kept hitting the bottom of his legs. I finally looked over and said "Henry, I think your backpack is almost as tall as you are!" He just kept walking ("thwap, thwap, thwap") and casually looked at the pack behind him and said, definitively, "No it's not!" How can you argue with that?!

Also adorable is that he likes to "play communion" - he'll make a chalice and paten out of legos, then recite the words of institution - from memory - holding up the appropriate elements at the appropriate time, then "communing" his family at the appropriate time.

Olivia and Jack were not at the picnic, but they were visiting their Aunt Breen the last night of her bible school. Jack is not quite two and is not super verbal yet, so he hung out with Breen the whole time. She was teaching the kids about the post-resurrection appearance when Jesus gives the disciples the Holy Spirit and says "Peace be with you." As soon as she said those words, Jack jumped up out of her lap and started approaching another little girl with his hand out - he wanted to share the peace!

So that's the cute kid news from central PA this week, where all the PKs are definitely above average.

Peace,
C.

The Weight of History

This luggage tag was a birthday gift from the Mays, and true to my nerdy Lutheran self I think it's hilarious (though i don't know why blogger won't rotate the picture - sorry). Funny as I normally find it, however, I put it up to illustrate more somber thoughts tonight. So let's see just what baggage I'm lugging around these days. . .

The first night of the GME, we heard Katrina Browne speak, then watched her documentary Traces of the Trade. It's about her and a group of her cousins coming to terms with the fact that their ancestors were the biggest slave trading family in New England. It's a good film but heavy - I don't recommend watching it if you're already having a rough day. And watch it with someone you can discuss it with afterwards, not by yourself, if possible.

I've been thinking a lot about the weight of our history ever since that night. Browne said the reaction from many folks, especially those whose ancestors happened to have immigrated after the slave trade and even the Civil War was over, is that "These weren't my ancestors. This isn't my or my family's fault. I have no guilt, no responsibility here." Being the descendent of more recent immigrants myself, and being from a Northern state, I'd have to say this is my normal response.

Browne's response to that (which she credited to conversations with a history teacher) is that later immigrants came because America was the land of opportunity, and it was such a land of opportunity precisely because of an economy largely built on and undergirded by slave labor. In thinking more about it I would also add, even just stepping off the boat and not speaking the language, those later immigrants still had a degree of white privilege that provided opportunities which native-born black Americans were denied, even if their families had been here for generations. So though myself and my ancestors may not have been the perpetrators, we are certainly still among the benefactors of an evil and unjust system. Long before my family ever dreamed of America, the body of Christ was broken here, for us.

But that's not the only weight I'm carrying. Yesterday was the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima. Part of the argument in dropping the bomb was that it would end the war sooner and ultimately save more lives. My grandfather's life is certainly among those that this decision intended to spare - he was sworn into the Navy the day before the Japanese surrendered. Instead of getting sent to the Pacific front he was sent to Oregon to decommission returning battleships. While my mother was yet a twinkle in my grandparents' eyes, the body of Christ was broken half way around the world, for me.

But it's not just the weight of such history that I'm lugging around. It's also the weight of today. For the body of Christ is still being broken, in this country, around the world, every day, for me. Traces of the Trade brought that up as well - the modern day slaveries and unjust systems that our lives depend upon. I am afforded many privileges and opportunities because of my skin color, citizenship, economic class, and education level, things others are denied because they lack one or more of the same qualities. I am afforded a lifestyle that, while rather simple by American standards, is yet outrageously luxurious compared to most of the world, a lifestyle that is underwritten by the people who work for a non-livable wage (in this country and others), by the people who live next to the factory farms and the garbage heaps and the mined mountain tops, by the soldiers risking their lives to enforce the Pax Americana, by the creation itself, which suffers every indignity and abuse in the name of efficiency, all of whom pay a price so that my costs as a consumer stay relatively cheap (even in a world of rising expenses). This is all the body of Christ, broken daily, for me.


Jesus, that's a hell of a lot of baggage.



Lord, have mercy.

Observations on the B-I-B-L-E

For the past year or so, I've been trying to spend time reading the Bible without an agenda. That is, reading stuff that I'm not preparing to preach or teach a lesson on, but can just sit and dwell with and enjoy and pay attention to in a totally different way. It's just 15 minutes a day - that way if it's a really sloggy passage, my eyes don't glaze over because I know I only have to face so much of it at a time. Conversely, if it's a really engrossing passage, I don't throw my whole day's schedule off because I just couldn't put the Bible down.

A few things I've noticed as a result of this practice: I pay attention a lot differently reading this way, making myself an open book to the open book; I feel my overall Biblical knowledge (and my ability to find specific stories or verses without the aid of a reference tool) has improved; this may sound cheesy, but I actually feel better starting my day out this way (I usually try to read while I'm eating breakfast).

But I digress - this summer I've been working my way through the Deuteronomistic Histories - I'm up to 2 Chronicles. And I know I've read through this before, both in college and in seminary, but it never occurred to me until this past week how differently the same history is presented in 1 Samuel-2 Kings compared to 1-2 Chronicles. The Chronicles read more like the Wall Street Journal, with lots of genealogies and lists, things you might otherwise call "just the facts." There are some stories tucked in there, but conspicuously absent is all the glorious dysfunction of the house of David: no shenanigans with Bathsheba, no incestuous treachery by Amnon, no rebellion of Absalom, no siblings squabbling over the succession of the throne. David does get in serious trouble with the Lord, but it's over an improperly taken census (which seems like an awfully silly thing to provoke God's wrath), not the premeditated abandonment of Uriah on the battlefield (definitely schmucky enough to provoke God's wrath). I've got to say, 1 Samuel-2 Kings is starting to feel like a saucy tabloid next to the dry, "factual," rather sanitized Chronicles.

In any case, it's got me thinking about the (most likely) guy who wrote the Chronicles - why did he leave all that stuff out? What was he afraid of? That it would make the royal family look bad? That it would distract from the "real" or "important" things they did, or somehow detract from the glory of God? Kind of funny when you consider most of the Bible is full of the stories of the screw-ups that God called and used for God's purposes. Our having feet made of clay is kind of the point - actually gives greater glory to God for finding a way to work with us in spite of ourselves.

But the fastidious Chronicles inclusion in the Bible, and their location right next to the randy Samuels and Kings, is also a good reminder - that the Bible, the world, and even God, is big enough to hold all kinds. No one's story (nor chosen manner of relating it) is invalidated or unwelcome. Now if only we clay-footers lived that out as well as the good book does. . .

Peace,
C.

PS - What was with that big hairy deal over the prayer of Jabez a few years ago? It's like, one verse that shows up, very randomly, in the middle of a genealogy! Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill.