A HUGE thanks to MaryBeth for sending a fabulous link with her comment, which led me to the even-worse-than-authentic-Precious-Moments nativity scene you see, in all its glory.
Head over to The Cavalcade of Bad Nativities for some enjoyment of your own.
Note from this blogger: between Advent preparations, Thanksgiving travels, and the complicated, emotional process of accepting a new call, blogging has taken a back seat lately. I will do my best to be more regular about writing in a few weeks. Maybe post-Christmas. But for now, at least a little fun with the Friday five is a nice break in the day.
Please tell us your least favorite/most annoying seasonal....
1) dessert/cookie/family food
Lutefisk. No question. Gelatinous fish dried in lye and then re-enervated in soggy white sauce: even real Norwegians don't eat this crap anymore.
2) beverage (seasonal beer, eggnog w/ way too much egg and not enough nog, etc...)
Hate eggnog. Hate it. Makes me gag.
3) tradition (church, family, other)
You know, I'm coming up blank on this one. No annoying traditions here, I guess.
4) decoration
I hate those blow-up oversized snowglobes people put in their front yards. (Or anything in the blow-up family: big snowmen, Winnie the Pooh and his friends decorating the tree, Rudolph, etc.) I just don't get it. They're ugly. And they make your house look like the residence of a creepy Disney-phile who's gone on the It's A Small World ride one too many times.
5) gift (received or given) 
I collect nativity scenes. I have many lovely and beautiful ones. But I also have a few humdingers people have given me over the years, including a plasticine Alaskan Eskimo nativity. It's not kitchsy enough to be fun and not hideous enough to throw out. Just strange.
BONUS: SONG/CD that makes you want to tell the elves where to stick it.
Anything by an artist dressed in a too-tight red elf costume with fur around the cleavage. Mariah Carey, maybe. I don't enjoy looking at the cover and wondering how many hookers actually do work at the North Pole. One too many ho ho ho's, if you know what I mean. There is also some sort of pole-related joke here, but I'll let that one go.
You know, this was kind of cathartic. All my holiday annoyances out in print. I feel much better.
So yesterday was the big day: I (finally) had to tell my staff and council that I have been offered another call. I have been dreading this for weeks. Make no mistake: it was a hard and exhausting day. But, all things considered, it went very well.
I started with our newest staff member, the Director of Music. Because he had been hired only four months ago, and came to this congregation under the assumption he would be working with me for - well, longer than this - I thought he deserved to know first. One of the things that consistently amazes and delights me about this guy is his maturity level; he's 22 years old, but you'd think he's at least 30. His first response? "Wow; congratulations!"
(As an aside, I have been so focused on how hard this is that I forgot it is exciting too. My husband has said "congratulations" to me, and so have many family members, but somehow, coming from a colleague, it was different. I think that small moment changed the whole day.)
Next, to tell the rest of the staff. The secretary, the youth & family director, and one of our two visitation pastors. (Another aside: this particular visitation pastor used to be my full-time colleague. Five years ago, at age 45, he was diagnosed with a terminal brain cancer. He had a biopsy and numerous, serious complications as a result. He has great trouble communicating but now works very part-time as a visitation pastor. I could write a whole book about this experience, not to mention many blog entries, but suffice it to say that our relationship is complicated.)
That, too, went fairly well. Everyone was surprised and, while certainly no one was happy - though, again, very gracious to me - they took it well. We talked for about 45 minutes.
Then I waited for six hours to tell the executive board. Let me tell you this: I accomplished absolutely nothing yesterday during that time. Nada. And I had plenty to do. Oh well.
I had called this exec meeting; we don't meet every month unless specifically requested or we feel there is a particular reason for doing so. I had one minor issue to discuss and then I dropped the bomb. It went something like this:
"I need to tell you that I have received a call to another congregation."
Long pause.
Treasurer (a dear man who can be blunt as a rock but who has gone to the wall for me numerous times): "Can we talk you out of it?"
Which broke the ice, and we had a good conversation. They wanted a little more from me than I can really give - names of other pastors I would suggest, whether they can choose their own interim - but it was good.
And the best part, which resulted in the title of this post, is that they decided we ought not to tell the whole council until I have made a decision. In all honesty, that was the part I was dreading the most: first, telling the council; and second, the extremely high likelihood that the news would then find its way into the congregation, no matter how much they promised to keep it quiet. (12 council members, 12 spouses...you do the math.)
I did feel like it was a stay of execution. The ELCA way of doing this is that you are obligated to inform your council when you receive another call, whether or not you intend to accept it (or have decided yet). You only inform the whole congregation when you have made a decision.
What I really worried about was rumor getting out of hand, during an already emotionally charged time of the year. By not telling the council - or, by fulfilling that requirement via the executive board - I think we've minimized the chances of that as much as possible.
I feel good. I admitted to the staff that, as hard as it was to tell them this, it was also something of a relief to tell them the truth. In a post from awhile ago, I used the image of Hester Prynne to describe how I was feeling during the interview stage; I've heard numerous pastors describe the whole thing as the ecclesiastical equivalent of an affair. (We assume these pastors are speaking metaphorically only and with no personal experience, but it's striking to me how often that image comes up. Certainly says something about the depth of attachment we develop to our congregations.)
To tell the whole council was, as I discussed with a blogging friend the other night, like saying to your spouse, "Well, I've been cheating on you for several months but I haven't technically decided if I'm going to leave you. I'll let you know in thirty days."
This is not a good feeling. (And I have no doubt that actually telling your spouse about an affair would be thousands upon thousands of times more difficult than the conversation I had with the board. But there's still truth in how this image conveys betrayal.)
So I can head into Thanksgiving with a reasonably light heart. Now we just need to make a decision. It's almost a foregone conclusion at this point; I have suspicions that both Beloved and I are dancing around the common assumption that we're going, but no one wants to be the first to say it.
I knew that five very specific people were praying for me as I headed into that exec meeting, and I can't tell you how meaningful that was. To the five, my gratitude.
Also, I got my hair cut and colored today. Now I feel sassy. Sadly, no camera to prove the sassiness. But it's real: trust me.
I'm at Luther Seminary this week, my alma mater, taking a class for continuing education. The class, called Preaching Difficult Texts, has definitely been worthwhile and I know I'll have more individual posts on various consciousness-streams-thereby-produced later, but for now, just a few observations about returning to the home turf:
1. I am obviously getting old because the student who served bread at chapel communion today looked about twelve years old.
2. It is both enormously wonderful to see old professors and hear them again; it is simultaneously wistful to see them aging more quickly than I would like.
3. Although I have long been someone who scoffs heartily at those who disdain seminary professors, saying they are out of touch because they are not in the parish - and I still find that a largely unconvincing argument - there have been a few moments during this class when I have thought to myself, "well, you might be able to get away with that here, but obviously you haven't been in the parish for thirty years." This is much like my swearing up-and-down, in my teenage years, that I would NEVER EVER EVER turn into my mother. Enough said.
4. Seminary friends are still, nearly eight years after graduation and despite being scattered around the country, the very best friends of my whole life.
5. I would really like to be a professor but the truth is, I just don't want to do the work of getting a PhD. Maybe this will change someday.
6. It does the ego a bit of good to be remembered by profs. I am not above this.
7. The seminary bookstore makes me sad that all I have within striking distance of my home is Christian Supply.
8. I am really glad not to live in Minneapolis anymore. Damn, it's cold.
9. A great many pastors, when raising their hand in class, are only doing this in order to hear themselves talk. They do not have an actual question. This was true in seminary and it doesn't change. I am just going to have to find a way to stop being inordinately annoyed by this.
10. Last, but not least, my alcohol tolerance level has obviously gone way down in the parish. So have my pool-playing skills. These, too, are reasons for doing continuing ed with eight of your very best seminary friends.
I just want to point out that tonight on Grey's Anatomy, a woman came into the ER because she had fallen down the stairs. She was worried about her infant daughter but insisted that she, herself, was fine. Just fine.
And what happened to that woman tonight on Grey's Anatomy?
SHE DIED.
I'm just saying.
In case there was any doubt about the post below. Which was written hours before the show aired, for the record.
(I'm pretty fine. The bruise on my left shin is epic, but the ankle is doing surprisingly well.)
We have had an existential crisis in our house this week: the television died.
Not just any television. This is Beloved's bachelor pride-and-joy, a 57-inch big screen. I hated it when we started dating and was very unsure that I could actually be with a guy who would have a big-screen, until we watched a few movies on it and then - ah, the shame - I became a convert. Smaller would still be okay with me, but this one is already paid for. So we'll stick with it.
Naturally, the repairman is going to come any day now, which is what he's been saying for the last week. On the positive side, we've been getting a lot of reading done.
Yesterday morning, I fell down the stairs leaving the house. It had rained a little, just enough to make the wood deck slippery, and somehow I took a header down the back deck, hitting my legs on the way down and landing face-down (though thankfully not on my face) on the ground. Ouch. I sprained my right ankle and gave myself a huge goose-egg on my left shin. Ouch ouch. I was on my way to meet a friend for coffee, so after I picked myself up and sat for a minute, I decided I was well enough to go. This was very likely my need for caffeine speaking more loudly than the pain.
By the end of our coffee hour, my ankle hurt so badly that I started to worry something might be really wrong. I ended up at the urgent care clinic ("urgent" being a relative term, seeing as how it took them nearly 90 minutes to see me). Mainly, I was worried that I might have a hairline fracture and since I'm flying to Minneapolis on Sunday for a week, I really didn't want to end up 1500 miles away with a broken foot.
But the real reason behind my clinic visit, the image running through my head, was this: you know the person who comes into the ER on Grey's Anatomy and refuses to get checked out, insists he or she is just fine, and then walks away without ever having a doctor investigate their pain? You know that person? You know what always happens to that person on Grey's Anatomy? THEY DIE. Every time.
It turns out my foot is badly sprained but not broken. I will survive. Also, the doctor who saw me was no McDreamy (though he was very kind). So life goes on. But we better get the TV fixed because, you know, TV can save your life.
Or it can cost you an inordinate amount in copays because you are paranoid. Hmmm. Maybe we should leave it broken.
Mother Laura at RevGals is asking about interviews...and yes, I have some thoughts on that! Here goes...
1. What was the most memorable interview you ever had?
I'll choose a portion of the interview I had for the church I serve right now. It was an all-weekend affair. On Sunday morning, I met with whoever wanted to show up at an adult forum and answered whatever they wanted to ask. The first question, right off the bat, was this: "Do you have a man in your life?" (I was single at the time.) I was a bit too stunned to answer immediately, but before I could, someone else in the room told the questioner, "You can't ask that!" We all laughed it off and there was a pause and then, BAM! the same guy asked it again: "No, seriously. Is there?" Before I could stop myself, I said, "Let's just say Jesus and leave it at that." I don't think they saw that one coming. Either that got me the call or I'm lucky I got it in spite of myself.
2. Have you ever been the interviewer rather than the interviewee? If so, are you a tiger, a creampuff, or somewhere in between?
I've been an interviewer for some staff positions. I try to make people feel comfortable. Not exactly a creampuff, but not a tiger either.
3. Do phone interviews make you more or less nervous than in-person ones?
I've done more phone interviews as the interviewer. So I've never been particularly nervous: I just really miss the in-person interaction and the chance to read body language. It's just not satisfying.
That said, it does help you narrow down the candidates.
4. What was the best advice you ever got to prepare for an interview? How about the worst?
I'm sure my dad told me this at my very first job interview ever, in high school: "Be yourself." This is his standard advice (he just gave it again a few weeks ago when I interviewed for Potential Future Congregation).
I can't think of any truly bad advice I've ever gotten about interviews.
5. Do you have any pre-interview rituals that give you confidence?
I like to dress well. Not too formal, but not sloppy. It definitely improves my confidence. Especially really, really good shoes. Materialism aside, good shoes seriously do change the way I walk.
Best wishes to any and all RevGals who are interviewing soon, or who have. Being mid-interview process myself, I know how it feels...fun, scary, exciting, overwhelming, and then some. Peace to you all.
I was delighted to read this news. Delighted.
Yes, this church is an easy target. It's easy to feel self-righteous when you hear about their protests, simply because 99% of us can truly say, "I would never do that."
But it's still crucial to say no to such heinous behavior. Such a verdict convinces me that Luther was right when he reminded us that God also works outside the church. Sometimes through the court system.
Based on the excerpt I read in the last Christian Century, I ordered The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs and started reading it last week. If you're not familiar, the premise is this: Jacobs, an agnostic who grew up culturally Jewish ("I am officially Jewish," he writes, "but I'm Jewish in the same way the Olive Garden is an Italian restaurant") decides that he will spend a whole year trying to follow every single law given in the bible. Every single one. Which is a lot, by the way.
He wants to explore the power of the bible; what makes it such a driving force for so many people. He wants to try and learn something about the God behind these laws, though he's not sure a real conversion is on the books for him. And he wants to get deeply into the idea of literalism when it comes to scriptural interpretation. That last bit is why I bought this book.
First off, this guy is funny. ("How can these ethically advanced rules and these bizarre decrees be found in the same book? And not just the same book. Sometimes the same page. The prohibition against mixing wool and linen comes right after the command to love your neighbor. It's not like the Bible has a section called, 'And Now for Some Crazy Laws.'") "Funny" is not a word which comes up too often in a sentence also involving "book about reading the bible." For a girl who enjoys both Walter Brueggemann and Bridget Jones, this is a nice change of pace.
But he's on to something. At one point, during his concern about the whole mixed-fiber thing, he confesses, "I'm worried I could spend the whole year on the strange parts of the bible and neglect the parts about goodness and justice." Preach it.
The bible is a bizarre and lovely book. Powerful and incomprehensible and glorious and, occasionally, just plain outdated or silly. Silly to us, anyway. We live in a time when you are generally presented with two options for reading this thing: either a.) You must claim to take the whole book literally; or b.) You think of it as an antiquated book with some good ideas about justice, but basically slightly more than one of Grimm's Fairy Tales.
I have more thoughts on this than I'm going to write at the moment, partly because I want to see where Jacobs goes with this experiment. If anyone else has read this book and has reactions, post a comment.
With hopefully more panache than a used-car salesman, I successfully negotiated a good package with Potential Future Congregation this afternoon. I cannot accurately describe how relieved I am that this phase is over (it's not the last phase, by any means, but it sure has been the hardest yet). Beloved is happy with the results. I am delighted. I sat at my computer with my blog open to the comments made on my post about how hard this is, and I looked at all those encouragements while I talked to the committee chair, and I DID IT!
Thanks to everyone for your good words. It made all the difference.
Norwegian Apple Pie (as stolen from a cookbook belonging to my mom)
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
2 eggs
1 tbl vanilla (yes, you read that right: I know a whole tablespoon is a lot)
2 to 3 cups apples, peeled and diced
1/2 cup walnuts, chopped
Preheat oven to 350. Sift all dry ingredients together in mixing bowl. Add eggs, vanilla, diced apples, and walnuts. Grease 2 8-inch pie pans and divide mixture between them. (NOTE: you can make this in one larger and deeper pie pan; in that case, bake for at least one hour.) Bake for 35-40 minutes. Pie makes its own crust.
Serve warm with vanilla ice cream, or whipping cream, or caramel topping. Or any combination thereof.
Enjoy! (It's more like a really good coffee cake than a pie, but we'll assume that's what the Norwegians like. I myself am Swedish so I have no idea.)
Singing Owl has Halloween on the brain...
All Hallows Eve (Halloween) is near. As a child, Halloween was one of my favorite holidays. We didn’t yet worry about razor blades in apples or popcorn balls or some of the other concerns people have with Halloween these days. Halloween was a chance to be mildly scared, and better yet, to dress up and pretend to be something we really weren’t. Let’s talk about that a bit, but then let’s add in some food ideas for this year. Where I live the leaves are falling, the temperature is chilly and pumpkins are for sale everywhere, along with many kids of apples. What's more, the "Holiday Season" will soon be upon us. ACK! I could use a new idea for dessert. So, here we go…
1. How did you celebrate this time of year when you were a child?
For Halloween, we did the standard trick-or-treat thing (though we never performed any actual tricks). This involved two main traditions: one, the arguing with mom over wearing your winter coat under your costume; and two, the pouring out of all the candy on the coffee table afterward to trade with siblings. That and the dumping of all black licorice-related items in dad's bag.
2. Do you and/or your family “celebrate” Halloween? Why or why not? And if you do, has it changed from what you used to do?
Not really. But now that some of our close friends have kids, we love to have them over and see their costumes. I'm not much into adults dressing up. (I was a pregnant nun once, in seminary, but that's a long story.)
2. Candy apples: Do you prefer red cinnamon or caramel covered? Or something else?
Caramel, I guess. Plain apples are my first choice.
3. Pumpkins: Do you make Jack O’ Lanterns? Any ideas of what else to do with them?
If I have time, yes; mostly, I just put them on the front porch in a "harvesty" kind of way.
4. Do you decorate your home for fall or Halloween? If so, what do you do? Bonus points for pictures.
I decorate for fall. This year I have chinese lanterns and fall leaves in an urn on the mantel. But, a few years ago, I did buy some super-cute-but-totally-unnecessary spider votive holders from Pottery Barn (75% off in November) and so we have those too. Sorry, no pictures!
5. Do you like pretending to be something different? Does a costume bring our an alternate personality?
Eh...it's not a big attraction for me. When I was a kid, I loved it. I am now either a.) totally unimaginative or b.) more comfortable in my skin.
Bonus: Share your favorite recipe for an autumn food, particularly apple or pumpkin ones.
I just found a GREAT recipe called "Norwegian Apple Pie," but it's at home. I double-pinky swear to post it later this afternoon. Extra easy and very, very tasty.
If I remember correctly, Jon Lovitz used to do a regular skit on Saturday Night Live featuring a very whiny guy who, upon proposing some horrible idea, would follow it with, "is that so wrong?" (I tried googling this but the SNL archives online are pretty limited.) At any rate, there's a reason I feel a bit like said character today.
In the Lutheran system, here's how the call process works: the pastor goes through an interview; if the call committee chooses that person then they propose that name at a congregational meeting; the congregation votes to extend the call; then the pastor has 30 days to consider his/her response. So far, so good. We're currently in the purgatory between call committee recommendation and congregational vote.
And in this purgatory is the special hell of package negotiations. When I accepted my first call, here's how that process went for me:
1. I receive official letter of call from Current Congregation.
2. I notice that Current Congregation is planning to pay me, you know, ANYTHING.
3. I think about student loans starting repayment in six months.
4. I pray for, oh, thirty seconds.
5. I sign on dotted line and say yes. I am genuinely excited about doing ministry with Current Congregation. I am also delighted by the prospect of any salary at all. And benefits, too! I'm rich.
Now I'm married. And we have a house. And Beloved has a job. And those two latter things, plus all our friendships and family in this place, will be pulled up by the roots if we move. And we will move into a much higher-cost housing market. All of which means I need to be a little more savvy when it comes to negotiating a salary for this potential new call.
Is that so wrong? Because half of me thinks it is, and the other half thinks that's how a lot of pastors let themselves get in a financial hole.
This is something they don't teach you in seminary. And I hate that phrase, generally, because a lot of people blame all their shortcomings on the seminary, as if any educational institution could ever teach you absolutely everything you need to know. Ask any business person with an MBA or even doctor with an MD: you won't learn everything in school. Get over it.
Nevertheless...how do you balance responsible finances with Jesus' call to give up everything and take up the cross and follow? My brain tells me that asking for a salary appropriate to my experience and education is not a bad thing. My heart worries about being too demanding and self-centered.
Yet another wrinkle in an increasingly complicated pattern. Yet more on which I can fixate my anxiety - and not in a good way. Meanwhile, the six confirmands are preparing their statements of faith for Sunday and, you know what? They're really good. Those kids were six years old when I came to this congregation. I can't believe they're in high school.
I always thought that taking a new call would be a clearer process. That I would just know what to do in every situation. Life isn't like that. Is that so wrong?
I got the phone call yesterday. The chairman of the call committee, saying, "We want you." Which was simultaneously exciting and surreal.
I've been completely unfocused for the past week waiting for that call, waiting to get rid of the tension and the wondering about whether I had read the situation accurately, whether my instincts about this were on target or totally wrong. So, on the one hand, I was relieved to hear that yes, I did have a decent sense of the interview weekend. I thought it went well, and it did, and that was good to know.
But immediately after relief I felt a not-small amount of fear. Because now the ball is in our court, and we have to make a decision. This involves things like negotiating a salary package and finding Beloved a new job and selling our house and holy freaking cow, this is going to be a lot of work.
I'm vacillating between real excitement and pure terror. Boy, this is harder than I thought.
You Are a Little Scary |
 You've got a nice edge to you. Use it. |
(I'm cheating by doing this Friday Five on Thursday, but tomorrow is going to be crammed full o' stuff and I think this is my only chance.)
RevHRod writes, This Fall my family has been energetically watching Top Chef on the Bravo channel. My teenage daughter watches with the dream of some day being a chef. My husband watches because he loves reality shows and I mean, really loves them. Plus the whole competition thing really works for him. Me, I love cooking and good food. Every so often I get an idea from this group of talented young chefs who are competing for big money and honors galore.
The winner for this season was Hung. Not the fan favorite, but he won fair and square. In his bio, he says if he were a food "I would be spicy chili - it takes a while to get used to, but once you eat it you always come back for more!" With that in mind, here is this week’s Friday Five.
1. If you were a food, what would you be?
French Onion Soup. Substantial, a little spicy, occasionally cheesy, and hot.
2. What is one of the most memorable meals you ever had? And where?
That's a hard one. Grilled flank steak and spinach salad at the lake cabin - after which my husband proposed. An amazing little French restaurant in Montreal with a friend years ago; best mushroom pasta ever. A bottle of wine, perfect bread, brie, and international friends sitting on the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower for hours, ten years ago. My grandmother's Swedish meatballs on Christmas Eve. And the dessert buffet (complete with chocolate fountain!) at our wedding.
I realize this is more than one. Oh well.
3. What is your favorite comfort food from childhood?
My mom used to make this dish called "Saucy Chicken" when they had adult dinner parties. I remember lying in bed, listening to the adults laugh, feeling so safe and loved, and smelling that dish. Even though it involves cream of celery soup - not exactly gourmet - I still love that meal.
4. When going to a church potluck, what one recipe from your kitchen is sure to be a hit?
I make a mean potato salad.
5. What’s the strangest thing you ever willingly ate?
Cooked sea cucumber. It does not taste like chicken.
Bonus question: What’s your favorite drink to order when looking forward to a great meal?
I'm not a pre-dinner drinker, but I do love a good red wine. Pinot Noir or Merlot usually, with occasional forays into Cabernet. Unless it's winter; then I'm all about the hot buttered rum.
I just finished a first pre-marital counseling session with a very sweet couple. As always, I had them take the Prepare/Enrich inventory.
I usually scan through a few areas to make sure there aren't any glaring issues. As I did so, I noticed something which I have seen many times before.
Under "religious affiliation," there are four choices.
a.) Catholic
b.) Jewish
c.) Protestant
d.) Other
This couple chose "other." This couple is Protestant. This happens all the time. I assume they notice the absence of the word "Lutheran" and figure that "other" is their best choice.
Meanwhile, the people who score these things probably think I'm running a Wiccan retreat center out here.
I never realized so many people didn't comprehend "protestant." No judgment on my part. Just a random observation.
I'm so happy that our local NPR station's pledge drive is over today.
That's all. You have to take happiness where you can find it.
I wrote awhile ago about a particularly neurotic experience in worship. (If you missed it, look here.) It had to do with my congregation's reluctance to change the Lord's Prayer, moving out of "thy and thine" to "you and yours." (The sort of language change that generally happened, you know, hundreds of years ago, but that's okay.)
I decided to write a newsletter article about this, because a.) I needed something to write about for November and frankly, the annual "be thankful!" theme is getting old and b.) I like newsletter articles to give food for thought. Plus I'm not entirely sure where else to address this, given that I don't really want to spend a whole sermon on it and there aren't too many other options. (The music director and I have decided, however, that we'll likely use the Lord's Prayer as our theme for Lenten midweek services, and "prayer" as a general Lenten theme. That should be fun.)
At any rate, the article is below. (Wherever you see "This Congregation," the actual name of my church appears, but it's been altered to protect the stubborn.) If you have any thoughts, please comment. It can't get much longer than this - I'm pushing the boundaries already - but I'd love to hear other opinions. I wilt be forever grateful for thine gracious words. 
There’s an old joke: “How many Lutherans does it take to change a light bulb?” Answer: “Change?” (I said it was an old joke, not necessarily a great one.) The implication, of course, is that Lutherans aren’t big on change. That’s partly true, though I think it’s more of a general human tendency than just a Lutheran one. Change is hard. Especially when we weren’t looking for it.
Our biggest changes in the last few months at This Congregation have largely revolved around the new hymnal. New songs, new liturgy pieces, new book (small print, I know – the large print edition is coming in 2009), new version of the Apostles’ Creed. These adjustments we have handled with considerable grace and good humor, all things considered. For all that we claim not to like change very much, This Congregation has long been a congregation at ease with many changes, able to bend without breaking and learn to try new things.
But oh, it has been hard to change the Lord’s Prayer, hasn’t it? For some of us more than others, but on the whole, that’s the one piece which has certainly caused the most consternation, and about which I’ve been asked the most questions. “Why did we change the prayer? What was wrong with the old one? What if I don’t want to pray the new one? Why fix something if it isn’t broken?”
I’m not sure I can address all those questions here, but it seemed like one place to try. At the very least, I’d like to encourage you to think hard about why change is sometimes a good idea, even when it makes you uncomfortable for awhile, or when it’s a change you don’t really want. Changes in worship are always a challenge. But they do give us opportunity to think about why we worship, how we worship, and what we’re really doing when we gather on a Sunday morning.
The Lord’s Prayer appears in both Matthew and Luke’s gospels (Matthew 6:9-13; Luke 11:2-4). In Matthew, Jesus instructs the disciples to pray “in this way,” perhaps meaning that the prayer itself is a pattern to be followed for all our prayers, not simply something to be recited. It comes in the midst of Jesus’ reminder that his followers should not pray for show, nor should they worry about using big, fancy, religious words. Instead, he encourages them to pray simply, for, as he says, “your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Matt. 6:8).
In Luke, the setting is a bit different. In Matthew, Jesus’ instruction on prayer comes during the Sermon on the Mount; in Luke, it occurs later in Jesus’ ministry, right after he has reminded Mary and Martha not to keep themselves so busy that they lose track of what really matters. Luke’s version of the prayer is also quite a bit shorter, mentioning nothing about God’s will being done or delivering us from evil. Neither gospel contains the words which traditionally close the prayer: “for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever.” I encourage you to read both versions and note some of the differences between the two.
The traditional version – the one with “thy” and “thine” and “art” – originated in 1662 and was slightly altered in 1928. It came from the Church of England Prayer Book. Both those versions, as well as the newer ones, are based on Matthew’s version of the prayer, instead of Luke’s. Since Jesus would have prayed in Aramaic, an ancient language related to Hebrew, any English version is a translation of the original.
The version we now pray on Sundays comes from the English Language Liturgical Consultation, an ecumenical body. It was formed in 1969 by many mainline churches to help develop not only prayers, but also the lectionary (the series of biblical readings we hear on Sunday mornings). The hope was that all churches, regardless of denomination, would be able to share some key things in common: the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, and a lectionary. The “new” version of the Lord’s Prayer is not that new, since it was released in 1975. In fact, it was actually in the green hymnal!
History aside, the real struggle is about something else. Why should we change a prayer to which we have become so attached? The world already changes so fast, so often – why can’t some things stay the same? Is change for its own sake really a good thing?
These are important questions. And yet, there are also some others. Why do we have such a hard time changing our words for this prayer? Is our reluctance to change a real, theological, spiritual issue – or are we just stubborn? (That Norwegian blood runs deep, doesn’t it?) It’s uncomfortable to feel that you don’t know this prayer anymore. But then again, a little discomfort in our faith lives causes us to think. It causes us to ask pay close attention to what we are praying instead of simply reciting words from memory. That’s worth doing every once in awhile, even though it is hard.
I know that on my deathbed, I will very likely pray, “Our Father, who art in heaven…” That version of the prayer is simply imprinted in my brain, and it will always be so. And no one will ever force you to pray the new version if you truly can’t do it. But if you are struggling, ask yourself why. Wrestle a bit with change. Try on a little discomfort.
When Jesus originally taught the disciples how to pray, they were probably uncomfortable too. After all, they had grown up with traditional Hebrew prayers; they had memorized those since childhood, and here Jesus was giving them something quite different. Many Jewish prayers begin with the phrase, “Blessed are you, O God, King of the universe,” and Jesus’ prayer doesn’t begin with those words at all. It was probably a hard change for them.
A little change now and then can help keep our prayer lives vibrant, alive, and growing. Growing pains are inevitable. But we can pray about that too. No matter what words we use.
Beloved and I spent this past weekend with Possible Congregation (see posts below for more details on this). Possible Congregation is now looking more and more like Really Exciting Hope They Call Me Congregation, and, like everything else in this particular process, I didn't see that coming.
Insofar as I can tell, this place would be a great fit for me. They describe themselves as 'theologically progressive,' and their mission statement has words like 'inclusive, compassionate, and challenging.' I love all these words. (It also has 'Jesus,' which is good.) It would be a big change, since I'd be going from Head Honcho to Second Banana (not exactly the technical terms used, but you get the idea). Honestly, I'd be quite fine most days if the buck stopped on someone else's desk. I also know that there would certainly be some moments where not being the one in charge would be a difficult adjustment.
It's a big, definitely programmatic, congregation. Current Congregation is a medium-sized, verging-on-programmatic-but-still-wrestling-with-pastoral-expectations congregation. It would mean more time managing staff and a bit less time doing all the pastoral things I do now. Again: I would enjoy working with a large staff. I'm good at that. I would also miss some things about having just 10 kids in confirmation and teaching it myself (as opposed to 80 kids in their program, with mentors and staff doing much of the teaching).
No place is perfect, and I am not foolish enough to think this one is. But I can definitely feel the pull toward a new beginning. I think that is something to pay attention to.
"What about Beloved?" you ask. Wasn't he dragging his feet on this? Wasn't he the one asking all the practical questions about the expensive housing market and where he could get a job and all the traffic and his expectation that we would live in our current city until he retired?
Here's where it must be the hand of God because, I tell you what, it's sure not me. Beloved is excited. I know for sure that he will also have a hard time leaving and he does have legitimate reasons for that. I also know that he goes up and down about this, as do I, and that I can't guarantee that he will not pull back from time to time.
Nor can I guarantee that Possible Congregation will actually extend the call to me, which is the first question. I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, I realize. But I do want to be as prepared as possible, since we will only have 30 days to decide should they indeed do as we hope.
Which brings us to the word of the day: Dizzy. I've tried to think of something more theologically sophisticated, but that's about all I can find. Dizzy with joy and confusion and grief over the real idea of leaving, dizzy with possibilities and real estate listings and jobs for Beloved, dizzy in a real, physical way (my stomach is jumping even now). Dizzy that Sunday's texts are about wrestling with God. No kidding.
Also seriously unfocused. That was today's runner-up word.
Yikes. Keep praying for us, would you? (And thanks for doing that already.) Good stuff is happening.
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