In case you were wondering what pastors do to unwind after Easter. . .
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
He Is Risen, Indeed!
So far behind on blogging, it's not even funny, but for now, enjoy this picture of our Easter garden (complete with empty tomb)!
Also, belated props to the Milton High School Drama Department for their excellent production of Beauty and the Beast this past weekend!
Also, belated props to the Milton High School Drama Department for their excellent production of Beauty and the Beast this past weekend!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A Night Unlike Any Other Night
Maunday Thursday is one of my favorite services of the whole church year, it is such a bummer to me that more people don't come out for it. Especially this year, when I've been preaching a sermon series through all of Lent, basically running through the whole history of humanity's relationship with God from Genesis forward. The basic underlying tension in my telling of the old, old story has been God's continual desire to be our God, to delight in us and dwell with us in the world of shalom; against our continual rebellion and deep desire to be our own gods (in other words, the basic Lutheran understanding of Sin and Salvation).
This evening was part of the series, and it's not that someone still won't get something out of my Easter sermon (hopefully) without having been there tonight, but Easter would just be that much more powerful after this service, because tonight's sermon was about God through Jesus choosing us, even though we never choose him; about Jesus deciding to reconcile us to God and to one another even if it kills him [which it did]. It's all heading to Easter Sunday, of course, which I'll proclaim as God's validation of Jesus' choice for us and the ultimate triumph of God's life-giving will for the world over our self- and other-destroying wills and habits.
So, like I say, it's not that someone can't get something out of that message in itself, but it's all the more awesome having come face-to-face with your inner God betrayer/Barabbas-lover, which is part of what I was doing tonight.
But I digress, the real reason I wanted to write tonight was because our kids once again demonstrated why they are the best theologians of the church.
My children's sermon on Maunday Thursday is always to wash the children's feet. It's a custom I picked up from my internship supervisor, Jeff Russell. When I first started the tradition here, I think the kids were a little unsure about it, but they've since grown to love it. Most come up to the front with their socks and shoes already off, they are so excited for it.
Tonight we had a pretty big crew - I was close to running out of water and towels! And when I finished with the kids, for the first time I turned and offered for anyone in the congregation to come forward as well. None of them did, but then one of the kids said, "Pastor Catrina, can we wash your feet?" And I said sure. So I took off my socks and shoes and held my feet over the basin, and the kids gathered round and poured the water over them, then carefully wiped them dry with a clean towel.
I've always found it a humbling experience to have my feet washed in the context of worship. But this was probably the most humbling and most profound, to see how these little ones get it, and how they long to embody the serving love of Christ.
You know, in their baptisms, we adults all made promises to teach them the faith. But they sure have plenty to teach us as well. . .
On a final note, a blessed Passover to all my Jewish brothers and sisters, as you celebrate your own night unlike any other.
L'Chaim,
C.
This evening was part of the series, and it's not that someone still won't get something out of my Easter sermon (hopefully) without having been there tonight, but Easter would just be that much more powerful after this service, because tonight's sermon was about God through Jesus choosing us, even though we never choose him; about Jesus deciding to reconcile us to God and to one another even if it kills him [which it did]. It's all heading to Easter Sunday, of course, which I'll proclaim as God's validation of Jesus' choice for us and the ultimate triumph of God's life-giving will for the world over our self- and other-destroying wills and habits.
So, like I say, it's not that someone can't get something out of that message in itself, but it's all the more awesome having come face-to-face with your inner God betrayer/Barabbas-lover, which is part of what I was doing tonight.
But I digress, the real reason I wanted to write tonight was because our kids once again demonstrated why they are the best theologians of the church.
My children's sermon on Maunday Thursday is always to wash the children's feet. It's a custom I picked up from my internship supervisor, Jeff Russell. When I first started the tradition here, I think the kids were a little unsure about it, but they've since grown to love it. Most come up to the front with their socks and shoes already off, they are so excited for it.
Tonight we had a pretty big crew - I was close to running out of water and towels! And when I finished with the kids, for the first time I turned and offered for anyone in the congregation to come forward as well. None of them did, but then one of the kids said, "Pastor Catrina, can we wash your feet?" And I said sure. So I took off my socks and shoes and held my feet over the basin, and the kids gathered round and poured the water over them, then carefully wiped them dry with a clean towel.
I've always found it a humbling experience to have my feet washed in the context of worship. But this was probably the most humbling and most profound, to see how these little ones get it, and how they long to embody the serving love of Christ.
You know, in their baptisms, we adults all made promises to teach them the faith. But they sure have plenty to teach us as well. . .
On a final note, a blessed Passover to all my Jewish brothers and sisters, as you celebrate your own night unlike any other.
L'Chaim,
C.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Welcome to America
Today I spent about twenty minutes behind a truck that had the following bumper sticker: Welcome to America. Now, speak English.
Aside from the general irritation I feel whenever I bump up against folks who have conveniently forgotten that their families, too, were once immigrants, the irony of that particular sentiment in this particular locale is that Central Pennsylvania has some very unique speech patterns, the most distinctive of which come directly from the German spoken by their immigrant forbears.
The three which most stand out to my Minnesota ears:
1. The “What for. . .”
As in, when offered something to drink, a Central Pennsylvanian might ask, “What for soda do you have?” It comes directly from the German construct “Was fur,” zum Beispiel (for example): “Was fur die Getranken haben Sie?”
2. The “it’s all.”
If a Central Pennsylvanian tells you this, it means whatever it is that you asked for is finished. For example, “The cake is all” means there is no more cake, it has all been eaten. Again, comes directly from the German construct “ist alle.” Zum Beispiel: “Der Kuchen ist alle,” literally means “The cake is finished.” Basically, somewhere in the two hundred years of living in the United States, they merely dropped the “e” off the end of the word to make it an English word, but its meaning is still rooted in the German grammar construct and consequently makes no sense to any English speakers non-native to here because “all” does not mean “finished” in English in any place other than the “Dutchified” parts of Pennsylvania.
3. The missing infinitive
This is the one that most irritates me and every other non-native I know. Central Pennsylvanians don’t use the words “to be” (makes me wonder how a high school or community theater could ever put on a production of Hamlet).
I am totally serious. In the course of everyday conversation here one will regularly hear things like “My hair needs brushed,” or “This desk needs cleaned,” or “The apple needs cut,” as opposed to “My hair needs to be brushed,” and “This desk needs to be cleaned,” and “The apple needs to be cut.”
Again, this comes directly from the German, whose grammatical rules dictate when there are two verbs in one sentence, the infinitive gets kicked to the end of the sentence. In English that would mean saying “My hair needs brushed to be” which sounds even more ridiculous and “immigranty” than “My hair needs brushed.” So again, somewhere in the two hundred years of living here, they just dropped the infinitive out of the sentence completely.
So essentially, most of the peculiarities of Central Pennsylvania speech patterns can be credited to straight transliterations of German grammar constructs (with some deletions here and there). Which, ok, fine, that’s part of their heritage and who they are. . .but then be willing to give newer immigrants the same luxury or benefit of the doubt, huh?
I’m just saying, a culture that’s been here for several generations and is still almost defiantly proud of the ways that it does not speak proper English is not exactly in a position to throw stones at those just arriving on our shores. If you expect others to learn our language, then it’s only fair that you, the native speaker, make the effort to learn it and use it accurately yourself.
It’s like that Jesus guy once said: take the log out of your own eye before you address the mote in the eye of your neighbor. Or, to paraphrase Papa H. (who was himself paraphrasing John Donne): therefore never send to know to whom the bumper sticker speaks; it speaks to thee.
So welcome to America, land of the many-tongued huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
Aside from the general irritation I feel whenever I bump up against folks who have conveniently forgotten that their families, too, were once immigrants, the irony of that particular sentiment in this particular locale is that Central Pennsylvania has some very unique speech patterns, the most distinctive of which come directly from the German spoken by their immigrant forbears.
The three which most stand out to my Minnesota ears:
1. The “What for. . .”
As in, when offered something to drink, a Central Pennsylvanian might ask, “What for soda do you have?” It comes directly from the German construct “Was fur,” zum Beispiel (for example): “Was fur die Getranken haben Sie?”
2. The “it’s all.”
If a Central Pennsylvanian tells you this, it means whatever it is that you asked for is finished. For example, “The cake is all” means there is no more cake, it has all been eaten. Again, comes directly from the German construct “ist alle.” Zum Beispiel: “Der Kuchen ist alle,” literally means “The cake is finished.” Basically, somewhere in the two hundred years of living in the United States, they merely dropped the “e” off the end of the word to make it an English word, but its meaning is still rooted in the German grammar construct and consequently makes no sense to any English speakers non-native to here because “all” does not mean “finished” in English in any place other than the “Dutchified” parts of Pennsylvania.
3. The missing infinitive
This is the one that most irritates me and every other non-native I know. Central Pennsylvanians don’t use the words “to be” (makes me wonder how a high school or community theater could ever put on a production of Hamlet).
I am totally serious. In the course of everyday conversation here one will regularly hear things like “My hair needs brushed,” or “This desk needs cleaned,” or “The apple needs cut,” as opposed to “My hair needs to be brushed,” and “This desk needs to be cleaned,” and “The apple needs to be cut.”
Again, this comes directly from the German, whose grammatical rules dictate when there are two verbs in one sentence, the infinitive gets kicked to the end of the sentence. In English that would mean saying “My hair needs brushed to be” which sounds even more ridiculous and “immigranty” than “My hair needs brushed.” So again, somewhere in the two hundred years of living here, they just dropped the infinitive out of the sentence completely.
So essentially, most of the peculiarities of Central Pennsylvania speech patterns can be credited to straight transliterations of German grammar constructs (with some deletions here and there). Which, ok, fine, that’s part of their heritage and who they are. . .but then be willing to give newer immigrants the same luxury or benefit of the doubt, huh?
I’m just saying, a culture that’s been here for several generations and is still almost defiantly proud of the ways that it does not speak proper English is not exactly in a position to throw stones at those just arriving on our shores. If you expect others to learn our language, then it’s only fair that you, the native speaker, make the effort to learn it and use it accurately yourself.
It’s like that Jesus guy once said: take the log out of your own eye before you address the mote in the eye of your neighbor. Or, to paraphrase Papa H. (who was himself paraphrasing John Donne): therefore never send to know to whom the bumper sticker speaks; it speaks to thee.
So welcome to America, land of the many-tongued huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Healthy Leaders R Us
In an attempt to lower health insurance premiums and health care expenditures, and to try to deal with the fact that a lot of ministers just aren't very healthy folk, the ELCA has been on a campaign to make us all "Healthy Leaders" for several years now. The amusing part about this is that nearly every pastors meeting one goes to has donuts or coffee cake or some other such unhealthy goodies on which to gnosh. Even at seminary, which in theory should be setting the pace for this initiative, my friend Mike noted the irony of coming out of a "Healthy Leaders" meeting to a plate full of cookies.
In any case, the latest, greatest part of this campaign is again one of those things that is good in theory. It started a year ago, when they raised our deductables by a few hundred dollars, but also gave us the opportunity to earn "free" money (really, more like credits) to offset that increase. We earn the free money by taking a health risk assessment online (100 points, first 100 bucks) and thereafter logging into the designated website (10 pts/day) and completing various "programs" available therein (usually you get 50-100 pts per program; once you earn another 300 pts, you get another $300 credited to your offset).
Like I say, it's good in theory - providing incentive for us to be proactive about our health and find out important info like our cholestoral and blood sugar levels, etc, and to take on more preventative care like working on diet/nutrition and exercise.
But here's the thing: if you're already trying to lead a healthy lifestyle, there's not a lot for you to do. Last year I signed up for the stress program, which I knew I needed to work on, and which the assessment confirmed as one of my "risk factors." The program proved to be mostly unhelpful, because it was written for people in a regular 9-5 corporate kind of job, it was not tailored at all to the unique stressors that pastors deal with on a regular basis.
I also signed up for the exercise program, which was intended to help people get into an exercise regimen - I already was, so this was also not very helpful.
For a while, I debated taking up smoking, just so I could get the points from the program for quitting. But I drew the line at getting pregnant just to get the points for the healthy pregnancy program.
That was it, those were the only options other than simply logging in for my 10 points a day.
And those remain the only options again this year. Only for some reason, the website didn't reset the stress and exercise programs like it did the health risk assesment, so as far as the website is concerned, I've already completed those programs, I can't do them again for the points.
Which means the only way to earn my offset is to log in for my 10 points a day. Which is fine, except that I never just log in to the site quick, once I sit down at the computer, I end up checking email, getting on facebook, blogging, basically, dinking around on the internet for at least an hour, if not longer.
So essentially, in my case, this tool that's supposed to help me become a "healthy leader" is actually having the opposite effect, drawing me into a sedentary activity and stressing me out because the time I waste on the internet could have been better spent on a walk or reading a book or finishing work that needs to be done.
Viva la irony,
C.
In any case, the latest, greatest part of this campaign is again one of those things that is good in theory. It started a year ago, when they raised our deductables by a few hundred dollars, but also gave us the opportunity to earn "free" money (really, more like credits) to offset that increase. We earn the free money by taking a health risk assessment online (100 points, first 100 bucks) and thereafter logging into the designated website (10 pts/day) and completing various "programs" available therein (usually you get 50-100 pts per program; once you earn another 300 pts, you get another $300 credited to your offset).
Like I say, it's good in theory - providing incentive for us to be proactive about our health and find out important info like our cholestoral and blood sugar levels, etc, and to take on more preventative care like working on diet/nutrition and exercise.
But here's the thing: if you're already trying to lead a healthy lifestyle, there's not a lot for you to do. Last year I signed up for the stress program, which I knew I needed to work on, and which the assessment confirmed as one of my "risk factors." The program proved to be mostly unhelpful, because it was written for people in a regular 9-5 corporate kind of job, it was not tailored at all to the unique stressors that pastors deal with on a regular basis.
I also signed up for the exercise program, which was intended to help people get into an exercise regimen - I already was, so this was also not very helpful.
For a while, I debated taking up smoking, just so I could get the points from the program for quitting. But I drew the line at getting pregnant just to get the points for the healthy pregnancy program.
That was it, those were the only options other than simply logging in for my 10 points a day.
And those remain the only options again this year. Only for some reason, the website didn't reset the stress and exercise programs like it did the health risk assesment, so as far as the website is concerned, I've already completed those programs, I can't do them again for the points.
Which means the only way to earn my offset is to log in for my 10 points a day. Which is fine, except that I never just log in to the site quick, once I sit down at the computer, I end up checking email, getting on facebook, blogging, basically, dinking around on the internet for at least an hour, if not longer.
So essentially, in my case, this tool that's supposed to help me become a "healthy leader" is actually having the opposite effect, drawing me into a sedentary activity and stressing me out because the time I waste on the internet could have been better spent on a walk or reading a book or finishing work that needs to be done.
Viva la irony,
C.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The Noive
Unbelievable. The doorbell rang this afternoon - just your friendly neighborhood Latter-Day Saints making their rounds.
I answered the door in a cleric. Not typical for me on a Thursday midday, but I'd just come home from a visit with someone who is mentally a little checked-out right now (thought the cleric might help their recognition), and I have a graveside service this evening, so I figured there's no point changing clothes for just a couple hours.
So I answer the door in a cleric, and the guy looks at the white tab on my throat, hesitates for a moment, then starts in on his spiel.
I politely interjected, "I'm a Lutheran pastor, thank you, but I'm not interested.," foolishly thinking he might take the hint that ordination indicates a pretty major commitment to one's faith system.
But no, this did not deter him, he kept on talking!
So I more firmly interjected "I'm a Lutheran pastor. Thank you, but no thank you." And he still didn't look like he was going to stop, so then I just shut the door.
I hate being rude like that, but I also hang up on obnoxious telemarketers who won't take no for an answer.
Now, I know how hard and scary it can be to go door-to-door for anything, selling candy bars, working on a campaign, etc. Adding faith into the mix just makes you all the more vulnerable. So I give the Mormons props for their bravery and for their commitment to their beliefs and their desire to share their understanding of the good news with others.
But when someone politely declines your invitation, they do not secretly mean "Please, tell me more until you convince me you are right." Persistence in this instance is not a virtue but a violation of others' boundaries. No means no. Your response is then "Thank you for your time. Have a nice afternoon." Capisce?
I answered the door in a cleric. Not typical for me on a Thursday midday, but I'd just come home from a visit with someone who is mentally a little checked-out right now (thought the cleric might help their recognition), and I have a graveside service this evening, so I figured there's no point changing clothes for just a couple hours.
So I answer the door in a cleric, and the guy looks at the white tab on my throat, hesitates for a moment, then starts in on his spiel.
I politely interjected, "I'm a Lutheran pastor, thank you, but I'm not interested.," foolishly thinking he might take the hint that ordination indicates a pretty major commitment to one's faith system.
But no, this did not deter him, he kept on talking!
So I more firmly interjected "I'm a Lutheran pastor. Thank you, but no thank you." And he still didn't look like he was going to stop, so then I just shut the door.
I hate being rude like that, but I also hang up on obnoxious telemarketers who won't take no for an answer.
Now, I know how hard and scary it can be to go door-to-door for anything, selling candy bars, working on a campaign, etc. Adding faith into the mix just makes you all the more vulnerable. So I give the Mormons props for their bravery and for their commitment to their beliefs and their desire to share their understanding of the good news with others.
But when someone politely declines your invitation, they do not secretly mean "Please, tell me more until you convince me you are right." Persistence in this instance is not a virtue but a violation of others' boundaries. No means no. Your response is then "Thank you for your time. Have a nice afternoon." Capisce?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
"This is NOT Rocket Science!"
SVC is fresh off of a wonderful weekend spent performing Bach's Mass in B Minor. Tonight we were already back in the trenches, learning new music for our upcoming Pops concert (first weekend in May).
The music for Pops is generally lighter, easier fare than anything else we sing all year, but is especially light in contrast to what we just finished learning and performing (I think I can honestly say the B Minor Mass is hardest thing I've ever sung. Period.).
Yet somehow tonight we were struggling a bit, especially on an arrangement of "The Shadow of Your Smile" that was set to a Bossa Nova kind of beat. About halfway through our fumbling initial read, Bill (our conductor) shouted out, "This is not rocket science, folks!" Then 10 seconds later, "This is not Bach!"
I was tempted to shout back, "No, it's even worse for white people - it's rhythm!"
I didn't give in to the urge.
But seriously, it always humors me that this is the least technically challenging music that we sing, yet it's sometimes what we struggle the most to learn, because as a group, we can't seem to master the backbeat or swing the rhythm. A few years ago the overarching theme for Pops was "The 60s" and half the concert was Beatles hits - the Beatles being THE popular music when the vast majority of Chorale members were young people - and yet some of our renditions were still painfully stilted.
I guess you can lead us honkies to rock and roll charts but you can't make us swing.
The music for Pops is generally lighter, easier fare than anything else we sing all year, but is especially light in contrast to what we just finished learning and performing (I think I can honestly say the B Minor Mass is hardest thing I've ever sung. Period.).
Yet somehow tonight we were struggling a bit, especially on an arrangement of "The Shadow of Your Smile" that was set to a Bossa Nova kind of beat. About halfway through our fumbling initial read, Bill (our conductor) shouted out, "This is not rocket science, folks!" Then 10 seconds later, "This is not Bach!"
I was tempted to shout back, "No, it's even worse for white people - it's rhythm!"
I didn't give in to the urge.
But seriously, it always humors me that this is the least technically challenging music that we sing, yet it's sometimes what we struggle the most to learn, because as a group, we can't seem to master the backbeat or swing the rhythm. A few years ago the overarching theme for Pops was "The 60s" and half the concert was Beatles hits - the Beatles being THE popular music when the vast majority of Chorale members were young people - and yet some of our renditions were still painfully stilted.
I guess you can lead us honkies to rock and roll charts but you can't make us swing.
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