As I may have mentioned earlier, I'm fairly new to this whole blogging thing. And there has been a learning curve for me. For example, it was only a few weeks ago that finally figured out how to post videos from YouTube on here. And as you can see, the layout is a little on the plain side.
Well, this weekend, after several weeks of begging, I agreed to let my 11 year old set up a blog. (Side note to my wife or any other panic stricken relatives of mine: She has to show me what she posts in advance and she doesn't use the computer without her mother or I present. And we check her e-mail.) Anyway, within an hour of setting it up, she had figured out how to post videos, she had a poll, and it was generally much more visually interesting than mine. Of course, her blog is mostly about pokemon and other video games, so we're not exactly appealing to the same demographic. Anyway, it made me feel old to find that she surpassed me in techno savvy in just a couple of hours. This must be what my parents felt like when they discovered my brother and I could program the VCR and they couldn't.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Happy Easter!
Happy Easter to Everyone!!
I was right, my mood did improve a lot today. The service at church was wonderful. We had lunch at my wife's parents and the food was fantastic. The kids behaved and I even got a nap when we got home.
I hope everyone had a wonderful Easter. My thoughts and prayers are especially with those joining the Church this weekend. Congratulations and may God bless you.
He is Risen!
I was right, my mood did improve a lot today. The service at church was wonderful. We had lunch at my wife's parents and the food was fantastic. The kids behaved and I even got a nap when we got home.
I hope everyone had a wonderful Easter. My thoughts and prayers are especially with those joining the Church this weekend. Congratulations and may God bless you.
He is Risen!
Friday, March 21, 2008
Maundy Thursday at my Church
My wife, the kids and I went to the Maundy Thursday service at our church last night. First the good. The music was beautiful and moving. I was one of several people who read some scripture during the service and I managed to get through without mispronouncing anything or stumbling too bad over what I read. We had communion via the intinction method. While still not what I'd fully like communion to be, I prefer intinction much more than the usual way we do communion. (For a slightly longer take on my problem with the way we do communion, see here.)
Now the bad. The church was maybe a third full. (And that might be a generous estimate.) And, other than my two kids, there was only one child present. I asked a friend of mine who was also reading one of the lessons where his wife and kids were. He told me that one of our elders had made it clear to him that this wasn't a service for children. As you might imagine, this didn't sit real well with him. He said he wouldn't have come either if he hadn't already committed to read scripture during the service. Sigh. What a sad commentary on our church. We say we want to grow and everybody says they want more young families but here we are telling one of our most active young couples that their kids aren't welcome on one of the holiest nights of the year.
I contrast this with my experience last year on Maundy Thursday. The kids were on Spring Break from school and my wife took the kids to the mountains with her mother. I was being a bachelor and found myself in Charlotte that evening. Sort of on a whim, I went by St. Patrick Cathedral to see if I was near in time to their service. I was, so I went in. The service was beautiful. The main difference I noticed was that the church was almost full and there were tons of kids there. This made for some noise and some distraction, but I'd sure take that any day over the tomb like atmosphere at our mostly empty church last night.
I understand that kids are going to make some noise. And the more kids you have at church the less likely you are to have a lot of silence for contemplation. And, I know I heard more of the beautiful music last night than I did last year in Charlotte. But it seems to me we have to decide what is important to us. My desire for quiet contemplation isn't as important as having children active and participating in the life of our church.
I don't know what the future holds for me, and I'm not sure that the Catholic Church is the answer, but I've got to make a change at some point. I felt like I was in a dying church last night. It was 100% white, probably 75% over 50 and at most 30% full.
Sorry this post was so depressing, but hopefully, I'll be better by Easter morning. In the meantime, prayers for me and my family and our church are appreciated.
Now the bad. The church was maybe a third full. (And that might be a generous estimate.) And, other than my two kids, there was only one child present. I asked a friend of mine who was also reading one of the lessons where his wife and kids were. He told me that one of our elders had made it clear to him that this wasn't a service for children. As you might imagine, this didn't sit real well with him. He said he wouldn't have come either if he hadn't already committed to read scripture during the service. Sigh. What a sad commentary on our church. We say we want to grow and everybody says they want more young families but here we are telling one of our most active young couples that their kids aren't welcome on one of the holiest nights of the year.
I contrast this with my experience last year on Maundy Thursday. The kids were on Spring Break from school and my wife took the kids to the mountains with her mother. I was being a bachelor and found myself in Charlotte that evening. Sort of on a whim, I went by St. Patrick Cathedral to see if I was near in time to their service. I was, so I went in. The service was beautiful. The main difference I noticed was that the church was almost full and there were tons of kids there. This made for some noise and some distraction, but I'd sure take that any day over the tomb like atmosphere at our mostly empty church last night.
I understand that kids are going to make some noise. And the more kids you have at church the less likely you are to have a lot of silence for contemplation. And, I know I heard more of the beautiful music last night than I did last year in Charlotte. But it seems to me we have to decide what is important to us. My desire for quiet contemplation isn't as important as having children active and participating in the life of our church.
I don't know what the future holds for me, and I'm not sure that the Catholic Church is the answer, but I've got to make a change at some point. I felt like I was in a dying church last night. It was 100% white, probably 75% over 50 and at most 30% full.
Sorry this post was so depressing, but hopefully, I'll be better by Easter morning. In the meantime, prayers for me and my family and our church are appreciated.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Spring is almost here
My seven year old signed up for baseball last week. The season hasn't started yet, but we've been practicing. There isn't anything much better as a Dad than playing catch with your little boy. I know that in a few years other things will interest him and when he gets to be a teenager he probably won't want to take advice from his Dad very often. But right now, teaching him to play baseball is one of my favorite things in the world.
I honor of the approaching spring and baseball season, I give you one of my favorite baseball songs by the late, great Steve Goodman.
Go Cubs!
I honor of the approaching spring and baseball season, I give you one of my favorite baseball songs by the late, great Steve Goodman.
Go Cubs!
Monday, March 3, 2008
The Value of Community
I had one of those days the other day. We all have them from time to time. One of the kids brought a note from the teacher home from school (not the good kind of note), the car needed some work and I wasn't getting paid for another week, the dog was sick, etc., etc. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. My plan for the evening was basically to sit around and lament my fate. You know, lots of self pity about how terrible my life was. Then my wife reminded me that we had committed to go to a supper at church. I really didn't feel like going, but my wife and kids really wanted to go, so I went.
When I got there I found out two pieces of news about members of our congregation. First a woman who had been an elder in our church and has a daughter about my daughter's age had been indicted in federal court for stealing money from the bank where she worked. Apparently there had been an article in the newspaper. Unfortunately, I've not seen them at any church function since this all became public. People in the congregation who have spoken to them indicate they are too embarrassed to come. How sad is that? I understand their feelings, but it seems like the church is the place they most need to be right now.
Secondly and even more tragically, we found out that another church member has had her cancer return and that it's basically untreatable and beyond hope at this point. This woman has three school aged children. Her husband is a basket case about this and, as you might imagine, the children are taking it pretty hard. Different groups in the church have begun taking meals to them and we're trying to figure out how best to help this young family as the situation worsens over the next several weeks or months.
Obviously, I felt pretty shallow whining about my little problems when I heard about what these two women and their families are dealing with. But my larger point is not just that I can be pretty self-centered and self-absorbed, but that I wouldn't have realized the depths of my self-absorption if it were not for the community of the church. We all need to be in community. Like a lot of young people, I went through one of those "I can worship God anywhere" periods when I was younger and stop going to church as a young adult. Boy was I wrong. First of all, I wasn't really worshiping God at all. I slept late a lot or engaged in activities that had nothing to do with the Lord. But even if I had been worshiping God, I would would have missed out on the challenges and benefits of being in community. It's easy to read about loving your enemies, but when someone you really dislike is sitting one pew over, it becomes a real challenge. You can think about loving your neighbor, but it doesn't really come home to you until you ponder how to help elementary school kids deal with the fact their Mom is dying.
I live in the south and there is a lot of focus in churches around here on having a "personal relationship with Jesus Christ." And that is certainly vital. But I wonder sometimes if that focus on the individual and his or her relationship to Christ doesn't take away somewhat from the value of being active and involved in a Christian Community. I keep thinking of the whole idea of there being no salvation outside the Church. Obviously, God can do whatever he wants and save whoever he wants, but if you look at salvation as meaning more than just what happens to us when we die, I think no salvation outside the church may be correct. Maybe I was saved by being drawn away from selfishness and self-absorption the other night. Perhaps I was being saved when I was forced to think of ways to help these fellow Christians who were suffering. Hopefully, I was saved when I hugged my children and my wife that night and gave thanks to God for their lives and health.
Anyway, please pray for these two families and thank God for all your blessings.
When I got there I found out two pieces of news about members of our congregation. First a woman who had been an elder in our church and has a daughter about my daughter's age had been indicted in federal court for stealing money from the bank where she worked. Apparently there had been an article in the newspaper. Unfortunately, I've not seen them at any church function since this all became public. People in the congregation who have spoken to them indicate they are too embarrassed to come. How sad is that? I understand their feelings, but it seems like the church is the place they most need to be right now.
Secondly and even more tragically, we found out that another church member has had her cancer return and that it's basically untreatable and beyond hope at this point. This woman has three school aged children. Her husband is a basket case about this and, as you might imagine, the children are taking it pretty hard. Different groups in the church have begun taking meals to them and we're trying to figure out how best to help this young family as the situation worsens over the next several weeks or months.
Obviously, I felt pretty shallow whining about my little problems when I heard about what these two women and their families are dealing with. But my larger point is not just that I can be pretty self-centered and self-absorbed, but that I wouldn't have realized the depths of my self-absorption if it were not for the community of the church. We all need to be in community. Like a lot of young people, I went through one of those "I can worship God anywhere" periods when I was younger and stop going to church as a young adult. Boy was I wrong. First of all, I wasn't really worshiping God at all. I slept late a lot or engaged in activities that had nothing to do with the Lord. But even if I had been worshiping God, I would would have missed out on the challenges and benefits of being in community. It's easy to read about loving your enemies, but when someone you really dislike is sitting one pew over, it becomes a real challenge. You can think about loving your neighbor, but it doesn't really come home to you until you ponder how to help elementary school kids deal with the fact their Mom is dying.
I live in the south and there is a lot of focus in churches around here on having a "personal relationship with Jesus Christ." And that is certainly vital. But I wonder sometimes if that focus on the individual and his or her relationship to Christ doesn't take away somewhat from the value of being active and involved in a Christian Community. I keep thinking of the whole idea of there being no salvation outside the Church. Obviously, God can do whatever he wants and save whoever he wants, but if you look at salvation as meaning more than just what happens to us when we die, I think no salvation outside the church may be correct. Maybe I was saved by being drawn away from selfishness and self-absorption the other night. Perhaps I was being saved when I was forced to think of ways to help these fellow Christians who were suffering. Hopefully, I was saved when I hugged my children and my wife that night and gave thanks to God for their lives and health.
Anyway, please pray for these two families and thank God for all your blessings.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The Seven Last Words of the Church
In the midst of our current change in pastoral leadership at my church, we've been hearing a lot of sermons on change. How to react, how not to react, etc. I recently heard one that made reference to the so-called seven last words of the church: "We've never done it like that before."
Over the years, I've heard that in sermons many, many times. The point is that as soon as we start to say that in church, we begin to die as a congregation. And I think there is some truth to it. As a church, we can become so stuck in our ways that we begin to worship our style of worship rather than God. (I once heard the following quip: Catholics worship Mary, Fundamentalists worship the Bible, Episcopalians worship their own sense of style. Just a joke, no offense intended to anyone.) But the older I get and the more crazy things I have seen in church, I'm beginning to think saying "We've never done it like that before" is not only not all that bad, sometimes it's required. Take, for example, the Zydeco Mass.
Watching this makes me wish someone had said "We've never done it like this before."
Maybe this kind of thing just points out an inherent problem with Protestantism. There isn't anyone to say no. In churches that are governed congregationally, a majority of the congregation can do just about whatever they want to do. Even in hierarchical Protestant churches, there is a reluctance to stifle creativity. And, of course, the opinions of the hierarchy certainly aren't infallible.
I'm not sure there is any simple solution to how to balance the necessity to be open to change with a respect for tradition. But it seems to me that there are a lot worse things a church can say than "We've never done it like that before."
Over the years, I've heard that in sermons many, many times. The point is that as soon as we start to say that in church, we begin to die as a congregation. And I think there is some truth to it. As a church, we can become so stuck in our ways that we begin to worship our style of worship rather than God. (I once heard the following quip: Catholics worship Mary, Fundamentalists worship the Bible, Episcopalians worship their own sense of style. Just a joke, no offense intended to anyone.) But the older I get and the more crazy things I have seen in church, I'm beginning to think saying "We've never done it like that before" is not only not all that bad, sometimes it's required. Take, for example, the Zydeco Mass.
Watching this makes me wish someone had said "We've never done it like this before."
Maybe this kind of thing just points out an inherent problem with Protestantism. There isn't anyone to say no. In churches that are governed congregationally, a majority of the congregation can do just about whatever they want to do. Even in hierarchical Protestant churches, there is a reluctance to stifle creativity. And, of course, the opinions of the hierarchy certainly aren't infallible.
I'm not sure there is any simple solution to how to balance the necessity to be open to change with a respect for tradition. But it seems to me that there are a lot worse things a church can say than "We've never done it like that before."
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Ash Wednesday at a Catholic Church
I found myself near Charlotte, North Carolina around lunchtime on Ash Wednesday. I was right next to St. Matthew Catholic Church. Since they were having a 12:10 service, I decided to go. I've been to Ash Wednesday services at Episcopal and Presbyterian churches, but never at a Catholic one. I'm glad I went. A few observations:
The church is huge. I went to a friend's wedding at a huge Baptist church in Dallas, Texas that was bigger, but this was a close second. Our church seats around 200 to 250 (and we're lucky if we're averaging 110 these days), so this was a big change for me. The service I went to was one of four or five that day and it was pretty full, so I'm sure they have a big crowd on Sundays. The logistics of dealing regularly with that many people must be pretty daunting, but I thought they handled everything pretty well. People seemed friendly enough, but no one went out of their way to speak to me. Of course, some of that was my fault, since I was in a little bit of a hurry to leave due to work isssues.
Only two clergy, one Priest and one Deacon, participated in the service. This meant that most of the distribution of ashes and later of the Eucharist was done by lay people. I don't know if this was due solely to the service being one of several that day or if this is the usual pattern here due to a shortage of clergy. This didn't bother me at all, but it certainly contradicts the notion of the Catholic Church being run solely by Priests. I don't see how in the world a church this size could be run without most of the work being done by laypeople.
At the Protestant Ash Wednesday services I've attended, the ashes were imposed with the minister saying something along the lines of "Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return." At St. Matthew's we were told something like "Repent and believe the Gospel." (I may not have that exactly right, it's been a few days.) I found the difference in emphasis (mortality vs. penitence) thought provoking. Do they always say this at Catholic churches or do they alternate what is said? And when the Eucharist was distributed, it was only given in one form. Is it the usual practice to omit the wine?
Anyway, I'm glad I went. In the midst of our transition in leadership at my church, we did not have an Ash Wednesday service this year. Though perhaps quite appropriately, the first Sunday after our minister has left is the first Sunday of Lent. It was a service and message I needed to hear.
The church is huge. I went to a friend's wedding at a huge Baptist church in Dallas, Texas that was bigger, but this was a close second. Our church seats around 200 to 250 (and we're lucky if we're averaging 110 these days), so this was a big change for me. The service I went to was one of four or five that day and it was pretty full, so I'm sure they have a big crowd on Sundays. The logistics of dealing regularly with that many people must be pretty daunting, but I thought they handled everything pretty well. People seemed friendly enough, but no one went out of their way to speak to me. Of course, some of that was my fault, since I was in a little bit of a hurry to leave due to work isssues.
Only two clergy, one Priest and one Deacon, participated in the service. This meant that most of the distribution of ashes and later of the Eucharist was done by lay people. I don't know if this was due solely to the service being one of several that day or if this is the usual pattern here due to a shortage of clergy. This didn't bother me at all, but it certainly contradicts the notion of the Catholic Church being run solely by Priests. I don't see how in the world a church this size could be run without most of the work being done by laypeople.
At the Protestant Ash Wednesday services I've attended, the ashes were imposed with the minister saying something along the lines of "Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return." At St. Matthew's we were told something like "Repent and believe the Gospel." (I may not have that exactly right, it's been a few days.) I found the difference in emphasis (mortality vs. penitence) thought provoking. Do they always say this at Catholic churches or do they alternate what is said? And when the Eucharist was distributed, it was only given in one form. Is it the usual practice to omit the wine?
Anyway, I'm glad I went. In the midst of our transition in leadership at my church, we did not have an Ash Wednesday service this year. Though perhaps quite appropriately, the first Sunday after our minister has left is the first Sunday of Lent. It was a service and message I needed to hear.
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