Yeah, What He Said

Adam Copeland is a great blogger. The only thing I'd add to this reflection on clergy collars is: AMEN!

Imaginations Gone Wild

Over the past few years, several All My Children alum ventured west to further their name or find their fortune in L.A. Tired of waiting for Hollywood to notice them, they're making their own mojo in a project called Imaginary Bitches. It's a funny little web series - sort of Harvey meets Mean Girls a la Sex and the City.

Tonight at a party, I learned my young friend Olivia (she's 4.5) is having some troubles with "IBs" herself. Several of the Disney princesses live at her house, but lately they've been really mean to her, to the point that she's had trouble going to sleep at night.

First, mom and dad tried the rational approach "Olivia, they're imaginary friends - they'll do whatever you want them to do." Well, that wasn't helping matters - she reported at breakfast the other day that the princesses wouldn't listen to her, they were still being mean. Dad asked "Do you want me to talk to them when we're done eating?" "Yeah."

So, they all "lined up" on the couch after breakfast. Dad looked at Olivia and asked "Is everyone present?" "Yeah." He proceeded to lecture them about the importance of respect and caring for other people and their feelings. He paused to let the message "sink in" and then looked to Olivia for a cue: "I can't hear what they're saying. Can you tell me?"

And in a complete "Duh!" tone of voice, she responded "Daddy, they're imaginary friends. . ."



The good news is, they've quit pestering her this week - apparently, they all decided it was time for a vacation to Florida, to visit their other friends at Disneyworld. One or two have come back already, but they are being nice. The rest will be away for at least a couple of weeks. . .!

Gotta love those wild imaginations! :)

Evangelizing Funerals?

I had a really strange funeral today. First, both the Masons and the American Legion were there to do their little spiels (the Masons at the funeral home, the Legion at the cemetery). I don't mind that they are there, but I am adamant that they go first. The Masons were fine with that, but the Vets were grousing.

One guy in particular kept griping about it, and as we're all standing there by the casket at the graveside, waiting for all the family and friends to come down the hill and gather round, he turned to me and angrily asked "Why?"

Pastor C: "Because God gets the last word."
Angry Vet: "Taps gets the last word - you get all the rest! (consternated grimace). . .None of the others ask us to go first!"

(I know this is pure bullsh*t because many of my fellow Lutheran clergy, at least, are as adamant about this as I am. I don't know if he thought he could bully me because I'm young and a girl, or if he caught sight of the "War is Not the Answer" sticker on my bumper and thought I was acting out some passive-aggressive vendetta against the armed forces, or what, exactly, possessed him to pick this fight at that particular moment, but my policy is firm no matter who you are or what organization you represent)

PC: (shaking my head, firm but respectful) "God gets the last word."

AV: (exasperated pause) "He's our God too, you know."
PC: "I believe He is, and I believe God deserves to have the last word today. That's what I was taught, and that's how I preside."

He quit arguing with me at that point, more because the family was now gathered under the tent than because I had convinced him of the correctness of my praxis. If I had been thinking quicker on my feet, I would have added, "I'm about to throw a bunch of dirt on top of the casket, and I doubt you want that landing on the flag."

But believe it or not, that was not the weirdest nor worst part of the day. The worst part was during the service, especially as I was giving the sermon - none of it seemed to be connecting at all. My normal funeral sermon strategy is to just pay attention to people, to draw out stories about the deceased and listen for a prevailing image or metaphor in their life story that becomes the sermon's rhetorical hook and the place where I graft their story into God's story. The trouble was, the family really gave me almost nothing to go on. I tried every trick I could think of to get them talking, but they just couldn't think of anything. I consulted some folks in the community, which did help to flesh things out a little. And when all else fails, just focus on the promises of Christ, right? But even that didn't seem like it was resonating.

I came to realize halfway through the service, these are the folks bishop Michael Curry was talking about at the Festival last week - people who have not been raised in the womb of the church, people who weren't resonating with the old, old story because they aren't all that familiar with it. Had I realized that sooner, I would have taken a different tack with the sermon.

But now that's got me thinking as to what tack, exactly, I would or should have taken. My worship and preaching professors at seminary often talked about funerals as incredible opportunities to evangelize** precisely because people who have never heard the story and who may never step into a sanctuary on Sunday morning will come to a funeral, and everybody, churched and unchurched alike, are generally never more hungry for the gospel than when they are staring into the ugly maw of death.

So how much of the story, then, do we tell? On the one hand, a funeral doesn't seem like the time or place to give a complete rundown of God's saving work in human history, the life of Christ, and the doctrine of justification. On the other, if people aren't familiar with the basic story, how can we effectively graft them into it and help them claim it as their own? And if we don't give them the story here, where else are they going to get it?

Peace,
Catrina


**not in a creepy, fundamentalist, taking-hostages-for-Christ kind of way, but in a literal sharing the good news of life and grace and hope in the midst of death and decay and destruction kind of way

Thanks!

So today I found the three most recent issues of Rolling Stone magazine sitting in my mailbox. At first I thought the postman made a mistake, until I saw my very own name and address in the mailing label. I'm guessing somebody gave me a subscription as a birthday present, but I have no idea who (my gut instinct says Sarah and Rob - ??? - but I really don't know). So, thank you mystery gifter(s), whoever you are!

Also, a belated hello and thanks to the jaddedjabber for their comments on earlier posts and for the DiFranco reference - I am unfamiliar with that song, but those are great lyrics! So thanks for that too!

Peace,
C.

The Trouble with Memorial Day

I don't have a problem with Memorial Day itself, mind you. I don't even have a problem holding some kind of observance of Memorial Day that involves clergy in some way. My hometown always had a commemoration down on the beach or (in inclement weather) at the American Legion. It was sponsored and organized by the veterans (as well it should be), who always asked the high school band to play, and usually asked some local clergy to pray. That was fine.

The trouble I have in this context is the tradition in this congregation to host a Memorial Day service in the church (in conjunction with our UCC neighbors across the street). The first year I was here, I started just a few weeks before Memorial Day, so I was just told this is what we do, and it was the UCC's turn to host so their pastor organized everything.

It was appalling. I don't remember everything the speaker said, but it was something along the line of all Muslims being terrorists and all of us having the responsibility to fight them at home and abroad, and his rhetoric was completely black/white, with us or against us. And for the readings my UCC colleague had chosen the Romans passage about submitting to the government because they are only in authority by God's design - a troublesome passage on most days, but hackle-raising in this particular scenario.

I couldn't believe we were, effectively, putting the stamp of Christ on such a hate-filled message. At our next council meeting, I shared my concerns and basically said that can NEVER happen again.

The next year was our turn to host. I planned the service and gave the homily, all of which had a very humble and repentant flavor to it by design (beating swords into plowshares, asking God to make us instruments of God's peace, and all that). The handful that show up to this thing are usually people who served in or lived through WWII or Korea, so I talked about how they or their loved ones made tremendous sacrifices of body, mind, spirit, even life, in a war that was supposed to put an end to all war. I thanked them for their service, and for what they suffered for the sake of others. Then I apologized that we have not been better stewards of that gift. Apologized that we have asked their children, and now their grandchildren, to put their lives on the line and make similar sacrifices still today. And then I encouraged us all to seek ways to become better stewards, to become instruments of God's peace. Basically, I preached Memorial Day as a day to remember, a day to repent, a day to resolve to do better. And they didn't run me out of town on a rail, so the peacenik pastor's message must have resonated with the people. One person even asked for a copy of what I said.

Last year, back at the UCC church. The speaker wasn't as offensive as the first year, but I was still uncomfortable with his content, considering we were gathered there in the name of Christ. And in the context of this service, the Romans passage once again made me cringe.

This year was our turn to host. As I've said, in my opinion, this is most properly a civic, not a church function, and this year I had a perfect excuse to abdicate any responsibility for the service - I was going to be out of town for the three weeks prior to Memorial Day. The joint cemetery committee agreed to take over the planning. Whew!

. . .except then, of course, I had no say in what happened in the service, other than my own Scripture reading (knowing my colleague would once again tell us to submit to the authorities, I read from Colossians 1, telling the authorities to submit to Christ). So in the context of worship Sunday night, we pledged allegiance to the flag (yes, we have a flag in our sanctuary - in my time here, we've had bigger fish to fry, so that's a hill I've selected not to die on for now - at least it's tucked into a corner behind the organ, visible enough for those who want it there, obscure enough for those who don't). And our speaker was once again retired military who gave a very abbreviated, very triumphalist history of the American military (I suspect James Loewen and Howard Zinn picked up this disturbance in the Force and let loose a primal scream) before addressing the modern challenge of terrorism. Thankfully, not as offensive as the first year's speaker, but still not a message or service I'm comfortable having in the church.

So, I'm not really sure what to do in the future. On the one hand, I really don't think the church is an appropriate venue or sponsor for this observance, so I really want no part in it, outside of saying a prayer or reading a piece of Scripture that leans towards peace. On the other hand, this is a long-standing tradition between these congregations, they are going to keep doing it until the handful of folks who attend are all part of the great cloud of witnesses. If I took a more active leadership role like I did two years ago, I could keep the tone less nationalistic, at least in the years we are hosting.

I'm curious to hear from other people in this matter. What are your thoughts or experiences of the church/state dynamic in relation to Memorial Day? (moe, if you're out there, given your background I'm particularly curious to hear your reflections) What do you think my little nonviolent activist self should do the next time around?

That's all from me. For other poignant thoughts on Memorial Day, check out what T had to say on the Charmer blog.

Peace,
Catrina

Famiglia

The blog has been silent lo these many weeks because I have been off cavorting in Europe, and right now I'm at the Festival of Homiletics in the motherland. More on all of that later, but for now, check out the really nice piece that WCCO did on my cousin Andrew last Friday.

Congrats buddy! I love ya!