I find myself increasingly irate these days, every time I hear Rep. John Boehner and company talking about how deeply concerned they are about the debt load we'll be leaving for future generations.
It's not the concern itself that makes me angry, it's the johnny-come-lately quality of their schtick.
For where was this deep concern about the burden to future generations when they were rubber-stamping the billion dollar a day war in Iraq?
And where was this deep concern when they were rubber-stamping huge tax cuts for the very wealthiest citizens of our country?
And where was this deep concern as they consistently pushed an ethic and program of de-regulation, policies which created and exacerbated the climate conducive for our current crisis to develop?
I don't think I'd be quite as mad if there was a genuine mea culpa attached to these concerns, you know, an authentic "Gosh, we've really made a mess of things these last 8 years. . .sorry about that. We were wrong, maybe it's time to try some new tactics."
But I'm not hearing anything close to that. All I'm hearing is this newfound "deep concern" coupled with proposals to keep on doing what we've been doing the last 8 years (isn't that a definition of insanity - doing the same thing but expecting different results?), and a refusal to work with people who are actually trying to get us out of this mess. . .so pardon me if I find their stated attitude a little unconvincing and insincere.
Stephen Colbert, God bless him, had fantastic commentary on all this in last night's "The Word" (from which I nabbed the title of this post). True to his persona, he lauded Boehner and company for taking a stand and turning the Economic Stimulus bill into a symoblic, not merely substantive, vote. He then challenged them to take their defiance a step further, and "put no money where your mouth is" - that is, refuse to accept any of the stimulus money for your own district - likening such action to a hunger strike. It was beautiful, if you didn't see it, go find it on the Comedy Central site, it's worth watching.
On a totally different note, an update from the deer incident last night: turns out Peg's car did lose the passenger side mirror, which she did not realize until she was running errands this morning. But that's the extent of the damage. I'm thinking our furry friend is not too bad off after the experience, either, because there was no body or blood or skin or any sign of our collision when I drove by the spot on the way to church this morning. Hopefully next time the deer will look both ways before stepping into the street!
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Precariousness of the Pennsylvania Roadway
Holy crap for crap. . .I'm still a little shaken, not stirred, by what just happened.
Peg and I carpooled to the worship and music meeting tonight, and on our way home, shortly after we left the church, we were cruising merrily along, talking about Vacation Bible School, when out of nowhere a deer ran into the side of Peg's car!
Seriously, it was like this thing just apparated right next to the car - she had her brights on and wasn't driving very fast, yet neither of us saw it coming until it was just there.
In the split second between the flash of fur in my peripheral vision and the loud thud of the impact, I did have the presence of mind to brace myself and think "So this is how I'm going to die - getting run over by a deer?"
Amazingly, it did not come through the window. In fact, it didn't even put a dent in the car! For as loud as it hit, we thought for sure it did some major damage, but it didn't. Weird. . .though, in that split second, Peg did have the presence of mind to pull the car away from the deer, more into the center of the road - not a hard swerve, but maybe it was enough to minimize the force of the blow.
Whatever it was, here's a prayer of thanks that I'm sitting with a computer, not Bambi's head, in my lap right now.
'night,
C.
Peg and I carpooled to the worship and music meeting tonight, and on our way home, shortly after we left the church, we were cruising merrily along, talking about Vacation Bible School, when out of nowhere a deer ran into the side of Peg's car!
Seriously, it was like this thing just apparated right next to the car - she had her brights on and wasn't driving very fast, yet neither of us saw it coming until it was just there.
In the split second between the flash of fur in my peripheral vision and the loud thud of the impact, I did have the presence of mind to brace myself and think "So this is how I'm going to die - getting run over by a deer?"
Amazingly, it did not come through the window. In fact, it didn't even put a dent in the car! For as loud as it hit, we thought for sure it did some major damage, but it didn't. Weird. . .though, in that split second, Peg did have the presence of mind to pull the car away from the deer, more into the center of the road - not a hard swerve, but maybe it was enough to minimize the force of the blow.
Whatever it was, here's a prayer of thanks that I'm sitting with a computer, not Bambi's head, in my lap right now.
'night,
C.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Ode to My Brother on His Golden Birthday
(some very rough verse)
How can you be 28
when I so clearly remember
the day you were born?
I was in the living room
at Grandma and Grandpa's house.
Playing. . .
waiting. . .
when the phone rang.
Grandma answered it in the kitchen
the same phone she still rents from Ma Bell.
I walked
tentatively
across the dining room
toward the sound of her voice.
She hung up
as I reached the doorway
of the kitchen.
Turning to me
she beamed
"You have a baby brother!"
Just what I wanted!
How did mom and dad know?
How can you be 28
when it seems like I was 28
just a few blinks ago?
How did this gap in our ages
which, when we were teenagers,
seemed such an impossibly wide
C H A S M
suddenly close up on us
when we weren't looking?
How you can you be 28?
And yet
you are.
Time marches on
and your golden year
is waiting
to unfold.
Love you bro! Happy Birthday!
How can you be 28
when I so clearly remember
the day you were born?
I was in the living room
at Grandma and Grandpa's house.
Playing. . .
waiting. . .
when the phone rang.
Grandma answered it in the kitchen
the same phone she still rents from Ma Bell.
I walked
tentatively
across the dining room
toward the sound of her voice.
She hung up
as I reached the doorway
of the kitchen.
Turning to me
she beamed
"You have a baby brother!"
Just what I wanted!
How did mom and dad know?
How can you be 28
when it seems like I was 28
just a few blinks ago?
How did this gap in our ages
which, when we were teenagers,
seemed such an impossibly wide
C H A S M
suddenly close up on us
when we weren't looking?
How you can you be 28?
And yet
you are.
Time marches on
and your golden year
is waiting
to unfold.
Love you bro! Happy Birthday!
Monday, January 26, 2009
Navel Gazing
I was tagged in a meme over on facebook, and thought I might as well post the answers here as well.
25 Things About Me
1. It’s pronounced Chi-co-ne (short i, long o, long e). This is the correct Italian pronunciation, capisce?
2. Yes, I know it’s the same last name as Madonna, and no, to the best of my knowledge, we are not related. So store clerks, drunk dialers, and stalkers, please quit asking.
3. Depending on who you talk to, my brother and I either look totally alike or nothing alike. People whose brains categorize by facial structure say it’s obvious we are siblings. People who categorize by coloration say there’s no way my pasty white skin and red hair and his olive toned skin and chestnut brown hair came out of the same gene pool.
4. I have a love/hate relationship with my red hair. I was a very shy kid, and it drew a lot of unwanted attention, especially during the “Annie” years. Even as an adult, it still draws a lot of unwanted attention, but I’ve made peace with that, and mostly appreciate it for the gift that it is.
5. An ironic historical side note to #4 is that when I auditioned for our community theatre’s production of Annie, I didn’t get in! My voice and acting abilities were not strong enough to pull off the lead, and it would have been kind of awkward to have an extra red headed orphan in the orphanage. . .
6. I still feel guilty for the times I got my brother in trouble when we were younger, though he has long since forgiven and forgotten.
7. I know an inordinate amount of songs, with an especially large repertoire of hymns and show tunes.
8. Given #7, I am often providing my life with its own soundtrack, though I am not always aware of the fact that I am doing this.
9. Despite this incredible memory for lyrics, tunes, stories, and useless trivia, there are certain other details my brain just can’t hold on to. For example, I can’t tell you what I wore yesterday, except that the outfit is currently lying on the floor next to my hamper.
10. I have always had a vivid imagination and am easily amused by animated inanimate objects and anthropomorphized animals.
11. Given #10, I am a natural fan of The Muppets, Calvin and Hobbes, Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, that MasterCard commercial where all the kitchen equipment has the night off, and other such highly imaginative entertainment.
12. I have been to nine countries: Germany, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Poland, Austria, Holland, Canada, and Latvia. Some of these I have been to multiple times. I aspire to visit all 6 inhabited continents before I die.
13. An ironic historical side note to #11 – though I grew up in a border state, it was not until I was 24 that I first made it to Canada, and I was in living in Washington State at the time. In fact, the only part of Canada I’ve seen so far is British Columbia.
14. I’d like to visit all 50 states in my lifetime. So far I’ve been to 36. Still to go: Alaska, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, Mississippi, South Carolina, North Carolina, West Virginia, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. In fairness, while I’ve technically been to Colorado and Arizona, our band bus passed through them in the middle of the night on our way to California – I’d really like to see more of those states, in the light of day, beyond their interstate rest stops.
15. I am a sucker for a well-told epic tale. The one exception to this seems to be The Lord of the Rings saga – I’ve never been able to get into that.
16. I would like to learn Spanish for practical reasons, and Italian because it’s a beautiful language and it’s part of my heritage.
17. I can play the guitar, piano, trumpet, hand bells, and auxiliary percussion. I’d still like to learn the mandolin, violin, and trap set.
18. Few places on this earth make me feel more at home and at peace than the St. Croix River Valley.
19. When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up, mostly for the experience of zero g and the God’s-eye view of the earth. The Challenger explosion put something of a damper on those dreams, but not nearly as much as finding out how much hard math was involved. No amount of zero g flips or breathtaking views could be worth the conniptions trig and calculus would put my brain through.
20. Finding out all the g force training involved was also disheartening, because I absolutely detest throwing up. I would rather have an upper respiratory illness for two weeks than have the stomach flu for one day. I don’t do so well when others around me are sick like that either, so if you’re gonna hurl, please try not to do it in front of me.
21. I’m still kind of upset that my name is now forever and inextricably linked with the destruction of New Orleans and the height of insensitive governmental ineptitude.
22. Someday I hope to complete a Sunday New York Times crossword in pen.
23. I love cats, but I’m not a big fan of dogs. Dogs seem to sense this about me and consequently work even harder to win me over. Seriously, I can be in a room full of people, half of whom are genuine dog people, and the dog will still make a bee line for me.
24. I don’t really care for drinks you have to sip. This means I generally don’t drink a lot of hot beverages or alcohol.
25. Letterman, not Leno, but Stewart and Colbert trump both.
25 Things About Me
1. It’s pronounced Chi-co-ne (short i, long o, long e). This is the correct Italian pronunciation, capisce?
2. Yes, I know it’s the same last name as Madonna, and no, to the best of my knowledge, we are not related. So store clerks, drunk dialers, and stalkers, please quit asking.
3. Depending on who you talk to, my brother and I either look totally alike or nothing alike. People whose brains categorize by facial structure say it’s obvious we are siblings. People who categorize by coloration say there’s no way my pasty white skin and red hair and his olive toned skin and chestnut brown hair came out of the same gene pool.
4. I have a love/hate relationship with my red hair. I was a very shy kid, and it drew a lot of unwanted attention, especially during the “Annie” years. Even as an adult, it still draws a lot of unwanted attention, but I’ve made peace with that, and mostly appreciate it for the gift that it is.
5. An ironic historical side note to #4 is that when I auditioned for our community theatre’s production of Annie, I didn’t get in! My voice and acting abilities were not strong enough to pull off the lead, and it would have been kind of awkward to have an extra red headed orphan in the orphanage. . .
6. I still feel guilty for the times I got my brother in trouble when we were younger, though he has long since forgiven and forgotten.
7. I know an inordinate amount of songs, with an especially large repertoire of hymns and show tunes.
8. Given #7, I am often providing my life with its own soundtrack, though I am not always aware of the fact that I am doing this.
9. Despite this incredible memory for lyrics, tunes, stories, and useless trivia, there are certain other details my brain just can’t hold on to. For example, I can’t tell you what I wore yesterday, except that the outfit is currently lying on the floor next to my hamper.
10. I have always had a vivid imagination and am easily amused by animated inanimate objects and anthropomorphized animals.
11. Given #10, I am a natural fan of The Muppets, Calvin and Hobbes, Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium, that MasterCard commercial where all the kitchen equipment has the night off, and other such highly imaginative entertainment.
12. I have been to nine countries: Germany, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Poland, Austria, Holland, Canada, and Latvia. Some of these I have been to multiple times. I aspire to visit all 6 inhabited continents before I die.
13. An ironic historical side note to #11 – though I grew up in a border state, it was not until I was 24 that I first made it to Canada, and I was in living in Washington State at the time. In fact, the only part of Canada I’ve seen so far is British Columbia.
14. I’d like to visit all 50 states in my lifetime. So far I’ve been to 36. Still to go: Alaska, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, Mississippi, South Carolina, North Carolina, West Virginia, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. In fairness, while I’ve technically been to Colorado and Arizona, our band bus passed through them in the middle of the night on our way to California – I’d really like to see more of those states, in the light of day, beyond their interstate rest stops.
15. I am a sucker for a well-told epic tale. The one exception to this seems to be The Lord of the Rings saga – I’ve never been able to get into that.
16. I would like to learn Spanish for practical reasons, and Italian because it’s a beautiful language and it’s part of my heritage.
17. I can play the guitar, piano, trumpet, hand bells, and auxiliary percussion. I’d still like to learn the mandolin, violin, and trap set.
18. Few places on this earth make me feel more at home and at peace than the St. Croix River Valley.
19. When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up, mostly for the experience of zero g and the God’s-eye view of the earth. The Challenger explosion put something of a damper on those dreams, but not nearly as much as finding out how much hard math was involved. No amount of zero g flips or breathtaking views could be worth the conniptions trig and calculus would put my brain through.
20. Finding out all the g force training involved was also disheartening, because I absolutely detest throwing up. I would rather have an upper respiratory illness for two weeks than have the stomach flu for one day. I don’t do so well when others around me are sick like that either, so if you’re gonna hurl, please try not to do it in front of me.
21. I’m still kind of upset that my name is now forever and inextricably linked with the destruction of New Orleans and the height of insensitive governmental ineptitude.
22. Someday I hope to complete a Sunday New York Times crossword in pen.
23. I love cats, but I’m not a big fan of dogs. Dogs seem to sense this about me and consequently work even harder to win me over. Seriously, I can be in a room full of people, half of whom are genuine dog people, and the dog will still make a bee line for me.
24. I don’t really care for drinks you have to sip. This means I generally don’t drink a lot of hot beverages or alcohol.
25. Letterman, not Leno, but Stewart and Colbert trump both.
Inauguration Play-by-Play
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A Dream Fulfilled
Six years ago I read a book by Roger Wilkins (nephew of Civil Rights leader Roy Wilkins) entitled Jefferson's Pillow. In the book, Wilkins took a closer look at four of the founding fathers, trying to understand how they could write such beautiful prose and build a government upon the concept of all men being equal, yet fail to abolish the enslavement of Africans and continue to personally own slaves themselves.
Out of a sense of fairness, Wilkins refused to judge 18th century men by 20th century standards, he was really trying to understand this dilemma from within their own time and worldview. And the conclusion he came to (roughly paraphrased) was this: privately these men did wish for the fulfillment of their words and ideals for all people living in this country. But they also realized the fledgling economy of their fledgling nation was surviving in large part due to the "free" labor of the slaves. To push for an abolition of slavery at that time would have very likely collapsed both the fragile economy and the fragile new political structure. So, the founding fathers did the next best thing within their power. First, they planted the ideal of freedom for all and the concept of inalienable human rights as deeply as possible, weaving it into the very DNA of the nation. And second, they intentionally designed a system of government that was amendable and adaptable so that, when the day came, those rights and that freedom could be extended to all in this fair country.
Barack Obama's inauguration as the 44th President of the United States is a fulfillment of so many dreams - of his father, of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., of so many throughout this country who never thought they'd live to see this day. But dare I claim that today is also a fulfillment of the dreams of our founding fathers? Because today, Barack Obama is living proof that their system works. Certainly, it's been a long and weary road to get here: 232 years, a Civil War and a Civil Rights Movement, with incalculable suffering and personal sacrifice along the way, mostly by folks whose names are lost to the annals of history. But we did it. We the people have kept struggling and striving together to forge a more perfect union, we the people have kept adapting and amending, not only our constitution and governance, but also our ways of thinking and our ways of living out our founding ideals. And now today, a man who would have been counted as 3/5 of a person in the very first census, a man who in living memory would have been denied service in many a restaurant in this country, today that man was sworn into the highest office in the land.
Which is not to discount the struggle that still lies ahead. I am not so naieve to believe we have fully arrived, I know there is a long and weary road still before us. But I have hope that we will get there. Because I have seen with my own eyes that the system, for all its faults, still works. Because I hold with the good Dr. King that the arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice. Because I believe that this president, in particular, will call forth the better angels of our nature and will build upon the best ideas and practices of our history as we struggle and strive together over the next four years.
Wilkins relates an anecdote in the book, about a woman who approached Benjamin Franklin on the streets of Philadelphia one day in the midst of the Continental Congress. She is alleged to have asked him, "And what have you made for us, Mr. Franklin?" He is alleged to have answered, "A Republic madam, if you can keep it." It's that last part that's the key - with the security of 200-plus years of history under out belt, we take our existence as a nation so much for granted. But from the very beginning, America has been a grand experiment in self-governance, an experiment whose success is absolutely dependent upon the active engagement of our citizenry. We've been slacking off in recent years, and President Obama rightly called us out for it in his speech today. But then he also issued a clarion call to action. It's an invitation he's been extending since the very beginning of his campaign, an invitation I trust he will continue to extend through every speech and act of his administration.
May God give us each the grace and the strength to answer it.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Et Incarnatus Est
I continue to maintain that children are the best theologians in the church. Case in point:
Last week, being (liturgically) the Baptism of our Lord, my children's sermon was about baptism. The kids and I talked about what happened at Jesus' baptism, and what happened at their baptism, how God named them and claimed them, and how anytime they want to remember they are a child of God and God loves them, they can find some water, make the sign of the cross on their forehead and tell themselves "(Name), child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever." Then we went to the font to try it out.
Today, as 2 year old Jindrah was coming forward for the children's sermon, he stopped right at the font (which is in the aisle, in the midst of the congregation). His older brother grabbed his hand and tried to pull him forward, but he stood right there and started to reach up for the bowl. He wasn't quite tall enough to reach on his own, but an adult sitting nearby realized what he was trying to do, and picked him up so he could stick his hand in the water. When they set him back down, he smiled at me and made the sign of the cross on his forehead, then came forward to join the rest of the kids. I smiled and nodded as he was walking toward us and said "That's exactly right, Jindrah, child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever."
My children's sermon (and adult sermon, for that matter) today was about call, and with the kids I talked about the story of Samuel, and how God calls even young people like them to be servants of God's kingdom. Later in the service, when it was time for communion, Jindrah came running up the aisle, completely excited to help out (we use a common pouring chalice with individual little glasses, and the younger kids hold the trays from which folks take their clean glass and return their used glass). Today was his first time helping, and he just couldn't contain his joy at being a part of it all - he was the theology of my sermon incarnate, I kept thinking to myself, "Would that we all respond to God's call in such a way!"
Plus, he was adorable as all get out - the tray was a little too heavy for him (especially as it was filling with glasses), so his dad came up and helped him to hold it, which he didn't mind at all, he was happy to share the experience.
What's even cooler is that I'm not the only one who noticed all this. As I was greeting people after the service, one of the adults who came through the line (who is normally my biggest fan) said "Pastor, your sermon was excellent as usual, but that little boy is the one who really brought the gospel to me today." I smiled and nodded, because I couldn't agree more.
Last week, being (liturgically) the Baptism of our Lord, my children's sermon was about baptism. The kids and I talked about what happened at Jesus' baptism, and what happened at their baptism, how God named them and claimed them, and how anytime they want to remember they are a child of God and God loves them, they can find some water, make the sign of the cross on their forehead and tell themselves "(Name), child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever." Then we went to the font to try it out.
Today, as 2 year old Jindrah was coming forward for the children's sermon, he stopped right at the font (which is in the aisle, in the midst of the congregation). His older brother grabbed his hand and tried to pull him forward, but he stood right there and started to reach up for the bowl. He wasn't quite tall enough to reach on his own, but an adult sitting nearby realized what he was trying to do, and picked him up so he could stick his hand in the water. When they set him back down, he smiled at me and made the sign of the cross on his forehead, then came forward to join the rest of the kids. I smiled and nodded as he was walking toward us and said "That's exactly right, Jindrah, child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever."
My children's sermon (and adult sermon, for that matter) today was about call, and with the kids I talked about the story of Samuel, and how God calls even young people like them to be servants of God's kingdom. Later in the service, when it was time for communion, Jindrah came running up the aisle, completely excited to help out (we use a common pouring chalice with individual little glasses, and the younger kids hold the trays from which folks take their clean glass and return their used glass). Today was his first time helping, and he just couldn't contain his joy at being a part of it all - he was the theology of my sermon incarnate, I kept thinking to myself, "Would that we all respond to God's call in such a way!"
Plus, he was adorable as all get out - the tray was a little too heavy for him (especially as it was filling with glasses), so his dad came up and helped him to hold it, which he didn't mind at all, he was happy to share the experience.
What's even cooler is that I'm not the only one who noticed all this. As I was greeting people after the service, one of the adults who came through the line (who is normally my biggest fan) said "Pastor, your sermon was excellent as usual, but that little boy is the one who really brought the gospel to me today." I smiled and nodded, because I couldn't agree more.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Good Art
My cousin Sarah is an outstanding artist and photographer, and she just launched a new website - it's really cool, you should go check it out.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Cultural Differences
Again, not a lot of time to write, but a couple more cultural differences between the Midwest and the Mid-Atlantic that have been rather noticeable to me in recent days.
First, weather (beyond the plowing rant). Whenever the first "big" snowfall comes (which around here means 3-4"), the news shows a montage of people buying out the store in terms of shovels, snowblowers, etc. I realize such items break down, get lost, or just need to be replaced every so often, but the way in which the news portrays it kind of gives one the impression that folks in central PA just throw their shovels away every May, and then December comes around and they're like "Crap, now we need a shovel again! To the store - quick, before they sell out!"
As an addendum to this - anytime we're due for significant snowfall, the news also shows people buying out the grocery store, expecting to be snowed in for several days. But the thing is, a couple significant snowfalls could happen just a few days apart, and the news will show the same thing - people once again making a run to stock up on groceries, begging the question: What did they do with all the food they bought a few days ago? Again, kind of leaves one with the impression that they either wolfed it down in a few days or threw it out once they realized they wouldn't be homebound all week.
The other observation has to do with singing. I'd realized long ago that this is not a culture that values or practices singing in the way the upper Midwest does. Midwestern Lutherans love singing, and especially love singing in harmony, which is why Garrison Keillor can start a familiar hymn on PHC and by the end of the first verse you'll hear the audience singing in four parts. For sure when you go to a gathering of pastors or a synod assembly, you can count on richly harmonized congregational singing, and even in many regular churches, you will find a number of folks belting out soprano, alto, tenor, and bass lines in the pews.
That's just not the tradition here, even in places where one might reasonably expect it - and this point has been driven home repeatedly over this recent holiday season. First, I went to an advent vespers service at a local college, a service that included lots of congregational singing, and realized no one was singing harmony other than myself and the person who had invited me. Even the choir at this service was most often singing in unison!
Then at our ministerium luncheon, my colleagues were discussing the Bucknell candlelight service, which I have never been to, but from what I gathered, is shorter in duration and has more readings and less choral singing than the St. Olaf Christmas Festival. Someone asked the Bucknell chaplain if the students get class credit for participating because it is "such a big undertaking" (the presumption being you'd have to be crazy to do this for nothing) and were relieved to find out yes, in fact, they do get credit.
I kept my mouth shut during this whole exchange, but was rather flabbergasted because, well, pretty much every Lutheran college in the upper Midwest has a choral Advent or Christmas Festival of some sort, and they are labors of love. Being in choir is an extra-curricular activity, and students put in many hours of extra rehearsal (including returning to school early from Thanksgiving break to get in more practice as a mass choir) for the sheer joy and honor of being part of these gorgeous services that inevitably blur the distinction between the earthly and the divine.
So the idea that someone would only reasonably be expected to participate in this if they got something as base as a little bit of class credit in return just seemed preposterous and completely foreign to me, and once again underscored this difference in cultures and our respective attitudes about worship and singing.
So, that's the latest report from the fish out of water files.
Happy Epiphany!
C.
First, weather (beyond the plowing rant). Whenever the first "big" snowfall comes (which around here means 3-4"), the news shows a montage of people buying out the store in terms of shovels, snowblowers, etc. I realize such items break down, get lost, or just need to be replaced every so often, but the way in which the news portrays it kind of gives one the impression that folks in central PA just throw their shovels away every May, and then December comes around and they're like "Crap, now we need a shovel again! To the store - quick, before they sell out!"
As an addendum to this - anytime we're due for significant snowfall, the news also shows people buying out the grocery store, expecting to be snowed in for several days. But the thing is, a couple significant snowfalls could happen just a few days apart, and the news will show the same thing - people once again making a run to stock up on groceries, begging the question: What did they do with all the food they bought a few days ago? Again, kind of leaves one with the impression that they either wolfed it down in a few days or threw it out once they realized they wouldn't be homebound all week.
The other observation has to do with singing. I'd realized long ago that this is not a culture that values or practices singing in the way the upper Midwest does. Midwestern Lutherans love singing, and especially love singing in harmony, which is why Garrison Keillor can start a familiar hymn on PHC and by the end of the first verse you'll hear the audience singing in four parts. For sure when you go to a gathering of pastors or a synod assembly, you can count on richly harmonized congregational singing, and even in many regular churches, you will find a number of folks belting out soprano, alto, tenor, and bass lines in the pews.
That's just not the tradition here, even in places where one might reasonably expect it - and this point has been driven home repeatedly over this recent holiday season. First, I went to an advent vespers service at a local college, a service that included lots of congregational singing, and realized no one was singing harmony other than myself and the person who had invited me. Even the choir at this service was most often singing in unison!
Then at our ministerium luncheon, my colleagues were discussing the Bucknell candlelight service, which I have never been to, but from what I gathered, is shorter in duration and has more readings and less choral singing than the St. Olaf Christmas Festival. Someone asked the Bucknell chaplain if the students get class credit for participating because it is "such a big undertaking" (the presumption being you'd have to be crazy to do this for nothing) and were relieved to find out yes, in fact, they do get credit.
I kept my mouth shut during this whole exchange, but was rather flabbergasted because, well, pretty much every Lutheran college in the upper Midwest has a choral Advent or Christmas Festival of some sort, and they are labors of love. Being in choir is an extra-curricular activity, and students put in many hours of extra rehearsal (including returning to school early from Thanksgiving break to get in more practice as a mass choir) for the sheer joy and honor of being part of these gorgeous services that inevitably blur the distinction between the earthly and the divine.
So the idea that someone would only reasonably be expected to participate in this if they got something as base as a little bit of class credit in return just seemed preposterous and completely foreign to me, and once again underscored this difference in cultures and our respective attitudes about worship and singing.
So, that's the latest report from the fish out of water files.
Happy Epiphany!
C.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Ya Sure You Betcha!, Eh?
Sorry for the silence on the blog of late. As previously noted, there was kind of a lot to do to get ready for Christmas. And then in the middle of the lots to do, I came down with the particularly virulent stomach bug that's been plaguing the valley. Uff da mayda, I have not been sick like that in well over a decade. And it hit on a Saturday night, so for the first time since I was ordained, I missed church because I was just too ill to be there. Thankfully Kyle pinch hit for me on very short notice, and from all reports did a wonderful job (cou-think seminary-gh cou-young man!-gh). I had been exposed to the bug so many times the week before, it was becoming a matter of not "if" but "when" I was going to come down with it, so I am at least grateful that it took me out before Christmas Eve, not on Christmas Eve.
Suffice to say, between being sick and all the stuff surrounding the holidays, I haven't been online much. And I really don't have that much time tonight either, but I have to relate this funny story:
This evening we were once again privileged to host the Watoto Children's Choir, which is just a very energizing and inspiring concert, and supports a ministry that is literally saving and improving thousands of orphans' lives in Uganda. As host pastor, I offered a greeting and opening prayer, and also a prayer after we received a love offering to support the ministry of Watoto. People from all around the community were in attendance, in addition to many of our own congregation members.
After the concert, a community member came up and introduced himself to me and then said "Your accent. . .are you originally from Canada?"
I laughed and told him no, I am originally from Min-e-sooo-ta. Turns out he works in the paper industry and talks to a lot of paper mills in Canada and the upper Midwest, and he thought I sounded a lot like the folks he talks to "out West."
I just think it's funny that he referred to "my accent" because I (naturally) don't think I have one. Ok, I can admit I have a little bit of an accent - the long o always gives me away, and there is a little bit of a lilt in my speech pattern and sometimes my a's come across kind of nasal - probably moreso if I've been speaking to people from home or am talking fast. But on the whole, I think I speak rather "normally" and not all that differently from folks around here. . .but I guess the natives hear differently!
Blessed New Year,
C.
Suffice to say, between being sick and all the stuff surrounding the holidays, I haven't been online much. And I really don't have that much time tonight either, but I have to relate this funny story:
This evening we were once again privileged to host the Watoto Children's Choir, which is just a very energizing and inspiring concert, and supports a ministry that is literally saving and improving thousands of orphans' lives in Uganda. As host pastor, I offered a greeting and opening prayer, and also a prayer after we received a love offering to support the ministry of Watoto. People from all around the community were in attendance, in addition to many of our own congregation members.
After the concert, a community member came up and introduced himself to me and then said "Your accent. . .are you originally from Canada?"
I laughed and told him no, I am originally from Min-e-sooo-ta. Turns out he works in the paper industry and talks to a lot of paper mills in Canada and the upper Midwest, and he thought I sounded a lot like the folks he talks to "out West."
I just think it's funny that he referred to "my accent" because I (naturally) don't think I have one. Ok, I can admit I have a little bit of an accent - the long o always gives me away, and there is a little bit of a lilt in my speech pattern and sometimes my a's come across kind of nasal - probably moreso if I've been speaking to people from home or am talking fast. But on the whole, I think I speak rather "normally" and not all that differently from folks around here. . .but I guess the natives hear differently!
Blessed New Year,
C.
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