Chapter 4: Life in Quarantine-FridayChapter 5:
...Tonight Beloved Spouse watches “Blacklist,” a favorite of hers, then we find a movie or offbeat show on Netflix...
Our quarantine, too, will pass.
Chapter 5.5:Chapter 4: Life in Quarantine-FridayChapter 5:
...Tonight Beloved Spouse watches “Blacklist,” a favorite of hers, then we find a movie or offbeat show on Netflix...
Our quarantine, too, will pass.
I’m pretty sure Carole killed her former husband, Don.
I have been watching two things:That's going to be key-- keeping calm over the long haul. Anyone can make it through a blizzard or hurricane that shuts things down for a bit. But it gets really old really fast. And if people actually adjust and adopt a new mindset, it will be disorienting to have everything go back to the way it was before.
1) A History of Christianity, narrated by Diarmaid MacCulloch, Oxford professor, on public television. Really pretty illuminating. He goes to the basilica of St. Paul's Outside the Walls in Rome and asks what Christianity would be like if Paul would have been the primate instead of Peter. And the priest indicates that Catholicism would not have been established out of a hierarchy of location or person, since that wasn't Paul. Petrine Rockness being the founding principle led to centralization; Pauline mission would have gone differently. Maybe so! Alternate realities, good mind game when the present reality is grim.
2) The Best of NY Mets 2019 season, game by game. The beauty and wonder of this tour de force is that every game broadcast is a Mets winning game. When we're in a pandemic epicenter game in NY where we're 10 runs down in the third inning of what could be an endless game, it feels liberating to know that somehow, somehow, the Mets are going to pull out a victory every time.
On the actual soil, while doing morning shopping witnessed a really angry dispute between two women, one of whom accused the other of being inside the 6 foot space, deteriorate nearly to the point of violence - "I'm going to come into your space and knock you the f.. out." This is in my home 'hood, so people who normally are very genteel. Not so much this morning. And this is week one and a half out of who knows how many, maybe ten.
Holy Week will, in New York Metro, NOT be done in person, which I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around. We'll figure it out. "My grace is sufficient," says the Lord.
Dave Benke
I have been watching two things:That's going to be key-- keeping calm over the long haul. Anyone can make it through a blizzard or hurricane that shuts things down for a bit. But it gets really old really fast. And if people actually adjust and adopt a new mindset, it will be disorienting to have everything go back to the way it was before.
1) A History of Christianity, narrated by Diarmaid MacCulloch, Oxford professor, on public television. Really pretty illuminating. He goes to the basilica of St. Paul's Outside the Walls in Rome and asks what Christianity would be like if Paul would have been the primate instead of Peter. And the priest indicates that Catholicism would not have been established out of a hierarchy of location or person, since that wasn't Paul. Petrine Rockness being the founding principle led to centralization; Pauline mission would have gone differently. Maybe so! Alternate realities, good mind game when the present reality is grim.
2) The Best of NY Mets 2019 season, game by game. The beauty and wonder of this tour de force is that every game broadcast is a Mets winning game. When we're in a pandemic epicenter game in NY where we're 10 runs down in the third inning of what could be an endless game, it feels liberating to know that somehow, somehow, the Mets are going to pull out a victory every time.
On the actual soil, while doing morning shopping witnessed a really angry dispute between two women, one of whom accused the other of being inside the 6 foot space, deteriorate nearly to the point of violence - "I'm going to come into your space and knock you the f.. out." This is in my home 'hood, so people who normally are very genteel. Not so much this morning. And this is week one and a half out of who knows how many, maybe ten.
Holy Week will, in New York Metro, NOT be done in person, which I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around. We'll figure it out. "My grace is sufficient," says the Lord.
Dave Benke
So, you are not "in quarantine." Right? The same situation as my parents. They are not in quarantine. Their facility has the same limitations that you describe.Please just let this thread be about reflections.
They can go out. Despite our objections and dear sister's offer, Dad went grocery shopping today. I did not approve. But a guy who fought at "Hacksaw Ridge'" and worse can do pretty much do what he wants.
You can go out. You are not "in quarantine."
Right?
Reflections about ... what?Nothing. You're under no obligation to post anything whatsoever, nor to read anything posted by others.
Pr. Kirchner's request to clarify quarantine is valid to understanding 'reflections' ... Am almost 90 year old retired pastor friend recently left his retirement/assisted living center to attend a family funeral a few hundred miles away. Not only was he highly discouraged from going, heavily grilled as to the destination of his travels, but when he returned he was restricted to his room for 3 days (quarantined if you will) after his return.So, you are not "in quarantine." Right? The same situation as my parents. They are not in quarantine. Their facility has the same limitations that you describe.Please just let this thread be about reflections.
They can go out. Despite our objections and dear sister's offer, Dad went grocery shopping today. I did not approve. But a guy who fought at "Hacksaw Ridge'" and worse can do pretty much do what he wants.
You can go out. You are not "in quarantine."
Right?
Chapter 5: Life in Quarantine – Sunday/MondayAdditional sources of music/Bible studies KFUO (https://www.kfuo.org)
We “attended” church at Mt. Olivet, Minneapolis, where the highlight was a fine sermon by Dr. David Lohse. I think churches need to think beyond just “televising” what would have been a “normal” service. But we are learning things along the way.
Our ride took us to a park on Lake Minnetonka, a pleasant diversion. Then we drove by the kids’ house and picked up (keeping distance) a plate full of freshly-smoked ribs and barbecue sauce and took them home. The food was great, though the situation was somewhat saddened by the fact that we were not eating with them.
This morning someone on television said he didn’t like the term “social distance,” because more than ever we need “social contact.” He said he kept “physical distance,” but could still be (a little) “social” by shouting greetings or smiling at others 10 feet away. This happened on yesterday’s ride, as we would greet people in the park from the proper distance. It’s rough, but necessary.
Sad to read in the New Jersey press about the incidents of infection and sickness there. The town where we used to live has the largest number of sicknesses in the county – 273. Other towns usually have 3-7 incidents. Our son, who works for a company that does “relief” after disasters like fires, floods, and other things that wreak havoc, says he has a couple of gallons of what he calls “nuclear power” sanitizer and cleaner. And the company gives him protective gear if he has to go to a disaster site.
I’m suggesting via email to some folks here at Trillium Woods, that we try a Zoom meeting on Wednesday to chat and share thoughts. We’ll see what the response is. To my surprise, a number of people here are not heavily involved in online communications, although many are.
Feeling down, I was, late at night; so I sought some relief in music. And I found it. I was looking on YouTube for the “How Great Thou Art” sung by the “Happiness Emporium,” the famed barbershop quartet from Minneapolis. Couldn’t find it; but found some really uplifting things.
Some tech genius found how to put together a “virtual choir.” Here are young folk scattered around the country singing “Down to the River to Pray”
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RY4CW5pte98 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RY4CW5pte98)
And here is “In Christ Alone” and “Abendlied” by the National Lutheran Choir.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iI7IHEhhG4Y (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iI7IHEhhG4Y)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_NqzFGLYyo (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_NqzFGLYyo)
Of course this moving “Children of the Heavenly Father” by the choir of Concordia, Moorhead, got to me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyPEohF6qq8 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyPEohF6qq8)
And “It Is Well With My Soul” by the Wartburg College choir, singing at a church in Nebraska, works too.
I did find “How Great Thou Art,” sung by two young teenagers, but I don’t know where. They don’t have much “stage presence,” but the voices are terrific. And if you know the traditional harmonies, you can sing any part with them. It works with this arrangement.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plpMqBYhnpg (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plpMqBYhnpg)
Hope everyone keeps well. We must learn how to handle our mental stress for another month at least.
Chapter 5: Life in Quarantine – Sunday/Monday
We “attended” church at Mt. Olivet, Minneapolis, where the highlight was a fine sermon by Dr. David Lohse. I think churches need to think beyond just “televising” what would have been a “normal” service. But we are learning things along the way.
Our ride took us to a park on Lake Minnetonka, a pleasant diversion. Then we drove by the kids’ house and picked up (keeping distance) a plate full of freshly-smoked ribs and barbecue sauce and took them home. The food was great, though the situation was somewhat saddened by the fact that we were not eating with them.
This morning someone on television said he didn’t like the term “social distance,” because more than ever we need “social contact.” He said he kept “physical distance,” but could still be (a little) “social” by shouting greetings or smiling at others 10 feet away. This happened on yesterday’s ride, as we would greet people in the park from the proper distance. It’s rough, but necessary.
Sad to read in the New Jersey press about the incidents of infection and sickness there. The town where we used to live has the largest number of sicknesses in the county – 273. Other towns usually have 3-7 incidents. Our son, who works for a company that does “relief” after disasters like fires, floods, and other things that wreak havoc, says he has a couple of gallons of what he calls “nuclear power” sanitizer and cleaner. And the company gives him protective gear if he has to go to a disaster site.
I’m suggesting via email to some folks here at Trillium Woods, that we try a Zoom meeting on Wednesday to chat and share thoughts. We’ll see what the response is. To my surprise, a number of people here are not heavily involved in online communications, although many are.
Feeling down, I was, late at night; so I sought some relief in music. And I found it. I was looking on YouTube for the “How Great Thou Art” sung by the “Happiness Emporium,” the famed barbershop quartet from Minneapolis. Couldn’t find it; but found some really uplifting things.
Some tech genius found how to put together a “virtual choir.” Here are young folk scattered around the country singing “Down to the River to Pray”
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RY4CW5pte98 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RY4CW5pte98)
And here is “In Christ Alone” and “Abendlied” by the National Lutheran Choir.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iI7IHEhhG4Y (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iI7IHEhhG4Y)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_NqzFGLYyo (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_NqzFGLYyo)
Of course this moving “Children of the Heavenly Father” by the choir of Concordia, Moorhead, got to me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_NqzFGLYyo (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_NqzFGLYyo)
And “It Is Well With My Soul” by the Wartburg College choir, singing at a church in Nebraska, works too.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyPEohF6qq8 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyPEohF6qq8)
I did find “How Great Thou Art,” sung by two young teenagers, but I don’t know where. They don’t have much “stage presence,” but the voices are terrific. And if you know the traditional harmonies, you can sing any part with them. It works with this arrangement.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plpMqBYhnpg (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plpMqBYhnpg)
Hope everyone keeps well. We must learn how to handle our mental stress for another month at least.
I spent time last night on You Tube. I viewed a number of presentations of the hymn 'Abide With Me.' Was surprised to learn the hymn is sung in English soccer stadiums at championship games. NFL, please take note.I’m familiar with “Abide With Me” being sung at Wembley Stadium (for the FA Cup Final). What other stadiums is it sung in?
I spent time last night on You Tube. I viewed a number of presentations of the hymn 'Abide With Me.' Was surprised to learn the hymn is sung in English soccer stadiums at championship games. NFL, please take note.
I wrote and posted the following reflection on Facebook a few days ago. There were the usual negative comments from people attacking my doubts, but I was quite surprised be the number of people who said I managed to express feelings they themselves were also having, but couldn't articulate. It's a rather pessimistic observation, but I can't help but feel times are rather pessimistic.
A Reflection
To say the last two weeks have been difficult is a massive understatement. In that short span of time, I have lost so much dear to me. The restaurants and cafés where I socialized are now closed. My job, to which I was just beginning to acclimate after 6 months of sheer misery, has been replaced virtually by the incessant clanging of Microsoft Teams. Wedding plans I have worked on for years have been cancelled, vanished. All because of a virus, too small to see without a microscope, that condemns its victims to drown in their own lungs, borne into this world by a single individual insane enough to eat a bat. The sense of loss I have is visible, palpable, and very, very frightening.
I have cried until there are no more tears to cry. I have thought until there are no more thoughts within. I have vomited in despair, lain awake until passed out from exhaustion, and denied, bargained, fought, and pleaded with God. I have scoured my mind and applied all the sheer force of reason and analysis the Gerald G. Fox Master of Public Administration program has imbued me to all the information, news, and data I could possibly consume to find an answer to the loss. There has been none.
COVID-19 is coming, and the sheer enormity of this pandemic condemns me to suffer. My own poor choices place me into a high-risk category, meaning that when - not if - I contract this disease along with 80% of humanity, I will likely be among the worst-off and most desperate of patients. The reality of our slapshod, slovenly healthcare systems means that I will most likely be refused testing and treatment and sent home to die in isolation, clutching a handful of cash made worthless by the legal theft of quantitative easing. I pray - desperately - that the post-nasal drip and occasional chest tightness I've been dealing with for five days is seasonal allergies and not the slow-burning harbinger of coronavirus' inexorable creep towards me.
So, for the first time in my almost thirty years, I have had to seriously confront my own mortality. While we all know prima facie that we will die, and that random chance makes this a possibility each day, it is quite different to actually see your own guillotine. I have always considered it impossible for a living being to truly imagine and understand death. Most religions promise an afterlife in some form, and most forms of Christianity would guarantee that I will make it to heaven. But there is little to no evidence of an afterlife in which to place some hope, a situation which is worsened by my general inability to exhibit faith in any meaningful way.
However, having now plumbed the depths of what exactly non-existence may entail, I have come to peace with my own mortality. I will die, probably sooner than later, essentially almost instantly on any historical or natural time scale. The sadness of potentially missing out on so much of life is tempered by the realization that I am almost certainly guaranteed never to realize I am missing it. Death is, cruelly, the burden of the living.
In this knowledge, though, there is some consolation. Other living people will be able to experience the same things I experience - and much more. The seasons will continue their rhythmic change. Animals and nature and weather will continue their lives and processes and patterns unaffected. The sun and moon will continue to rise and set for probably several million more years. I have come to find all this very comforting. That comfort has made me unafraid. And that confidence is power.
This is no way, shape, or form means that I am laying back and waiting to die. I am far too prideful and selfish in my desire to do the things I want to do today, tomorrow, and fifty years from now to give up yet. Coronavirus will come and make me suffer but I have far too much toughness and willpower baked into my genes that I will make it suffer, too. Tomorrow morning, after I wake up and regret and delete this post, I will again throw myself into the endless turpitude of Microsoft Teams. I will continue to work towards my own goals while grieving for all that has and is and will be lost, including, eventually, my own life. There is simply nothing else left to do.
Agreed that we cannot be consumed by fear of the virus. But that could lead to a casual attitude towards mitigation of the disease or protection for others.
And in my not-so-humble-opinion, "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself" was a phrase that seemed to have caught on and did some good, given its time and source. Today? Not so sure.
It may be that another very real and very dangerous and destructive illness in our society shows itself in the need for Dr. Fausi to have bodyguards these days, because there are credible threats against him from people who believe that his word and his work is an effort to undermine the president. These threats come after certain elements of the Twitterverse abound with conspiracy theories about people out to get the President.
It may be that another very real and very dangerous and destructive illness in our society shows itself in the need for Dr. Fausi to have bodyguards these days, because there are credible threats against him from people who believe that his word and his work is an effort to undermine the president. These threats come after certain elements of the Twitterverse abound with conspiracy theories about people out to get the President.
Agreed that we cannot be consumed by fear of the virus. But that could lead to a casual attitude towards mitigation of the disease or protection for others.
And in my not-so-humble-opinion, "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself" was a phrase that seemed to have caught on and did some good, given its time and source. Today? Not so sure.
That makes absolutely no sense. There is a world of difference between fear and acting prudent and in love for one's neighbor.
But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob,
And He who formed you, O Israel:
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you.
For I am the Lord your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior ..." (Isaiah 43:1-3a)
Figuring out how to do "virtual worship" is a real challenge, as we're all discovering. What's the balance between "keeping it familiar" and "not just trying to do a regular service with no worshipers, but adapt to the new situation"? My daughter (who has the benefit of a parishioner with video editing experience) put this Palm Sunday procession together, which I think is really quite remarkable:
https://www.stpaulspittsford.org/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/PalmSundayProcession.mp4?fbclid=IwAR2rjU4Ea19cnFLUhIxaQXCIQWnraREBSxGjv5HC9InM6e8VQAZa5Nuc5kM (https://www.stpaulspittsford.org/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/PalmSundayProcession.mp4?fbclid=IwAR2rjU4Ea19cnFLUhIxaQXCIQWnraREBSxGjv5HC9InM6e8VQAZa5Nuc5kM)
We sort of copied the idea at our church, but with much less expertise, so we just used still photos rather than video. It wasn't nearly as engaging, but still quite moving to see the faces of people we are missing.
Figuring out how to do "virtual worship" is a real challenge, as we're all discovering. What's the balance between "keeping it familiar" and "not just trying to do a regular service with no worshipers, but adapt to the new situation"? My daughter (who has the benefit of a parishioner with video editing experience) put this Palm Sunday procession together, which I think is really quite remarkable:
https://www.stpaulspittsford.org/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/PalmSundayProcession.mp4?fbclid=IwAR2rjU4Ea19cnFLUhIxaQXCIQWnraREBSxGjv5HC9InM6e8VQAZa5Nuc5kM (https://www.stpaulspittsford.org/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/PalmSundayProcession.mp4?fbclid=IwAR2rjU4Ea19cnFLUhIxaQXCIQWnraREBSxGjv5HC9InM6e8VQAZa5Nuc5kM)
We sort of copied the idea at our church, but with much less expertise, so we just used still photos rather than video. It wasn't nearly as engaging, but still quite moving to see the faces of people we are missing.
Figuring out how to do "virtual worship" is a real challenge, as we're all discovering. What's the balance between "keeping it familiar" and "not just trying to do a regular service with no worshipers, but adapt to the new situation"? My daughter (who has the benefit of a parishioner with video editing experience) put this Palm Sunday procession together, which I think is really quite remarkable:
https://www.stpaulspittsford.org/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/PalmSundayProcession.mp4?fbclid=IwAR2rjU4Ea19cnFLUhIxaQXCIQWnraREBSxGjv5HC9InM6e8VQAZa5Nuc5kM (https://www.stpaulspittsford.org/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/PalmSundayProcession.mp4?fbclid=IwAR2rjU4Ea19cnFLUhIxaQXCIQWnraREBSxGjv5HC9InM6e8VQAZa5Nuc5kM)
We sort of copied the idea at our church, but with much less expertise, so we just used still photos rather than video. It wasn't nearly as engaging, but still quite moving to see the faces of people we are missing.
This is very good! Kind of stuck in Brooklyn, we went to the Brooklyn Terminal Market where all the flowers come into the borough, got a lovely palm plant in a big pot, put it on rollers and the palm itself - immune to COVID19 - processed from the entrance of the sanctuary up to the altar. It did start waving along the way - in the spirit of the day.
Dave Benke
Figuring out how to do "virtual worship" is a real challenge, as we're all discovering. What's the balance between "keeping it familiar" and "not just trying to do a regular service with no worshipers, but adapt to the new situation"? My daughter (who has the benefit of a parishioner with video editing experience) put this Palm Sunday procession together, which I think is really quite remarkable:
https://www.stpaulspittsford.org/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/PalmSundayProcession.mp4?fbclid=IwAR2rjU4Ea19cnFLUhIxaQXCIQWnraREBSxGjv5HC9InM6e8VQAZa5Nuc5kM (https://www.stpaulspittsford.org/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/PalmSundayProcession.mp4?fbclid=IwAR2rjU4Ea19cnFLUhIxaQXCIQWnraREBSxGjv5HC9InM6e8VQAZa5Nuc5kM)
We sort of copied the idea at our church, but with much less expertise, so we just used still photos rather than video. It wasn't nearly as engaging, but still quite moving to see the faces of people we are missing.
This is very good! Kind of stuck in Brooklyn, we went to the Brooklyn Terminal Market where all the flowers come into the borough, got a lovely palm plant in a big pot, put it on rollers and the palm itself - immune to COVID19 - processed from the entrance of the sanctuary up to the altar. It did start waving along the way - in the spirit of the day.
Dave Benke
I tuned into live stream worship yesterday, and wondered why the person operating the camera was wandering around outside. And why in the world would the camera continually pan up and down the street too high to see any traffic going by, little that it was. Then, without coffee, I got it! I was looking at the palm trees I see everyday as the fronds at the very top gently swayed in a light breeze. Hosanna!
All those happily liberated palm branches, free from the annual harvest for liturgical use. The question now becomes what we will burn to make the ashes for next year's Ash Wednesday?
Dave Benke
All those happily liberated palm branches, free from the annual harvest for liturgical use. The question now becomes what we will burn to make the ashes for next year's Ash Wednesday?
Dave Benke
We still have the palm fronds used for crosses, and can burn those. That said, one year our leftover palms molded (!) during the year and were half rotten. I didn't get ash from them, but it did not matter. I have a jar of palm ash that is nearly full, containing the remnants of all the palms I've burned over the years that went unused (I'm also a bit meticulous in that after burning, I use a mortar and pestle to grind to a fine dust, and then sieve out the unburned fibers left behind). Historical? no, but for me, there is something timeless in knowing that I'm using ash from ALL of the Palm Sunday palms going back to 1997, reminding me that in my own mortality, I too will be called from this life when my time of ministry has run it's course.
It's probably been 3 or 4 years since I've burned palms and still have plenty for next year. You can also order palm ashes on line.
It's probably been 3 or 4 years since I've burned palms and still have plenty for next year. You can also order palm ashes on line.
After reading instructions about how to make the ash from palms, I went to the large Catholic Supply house in town and got them. Later, when I moved away, I ordered them and got them through the mail. Much easier.
A reflection...watching more tv than normal, partly because I am with the kids and they cannot ride their bikes all day long and our sog cannot take a 24 hour walk. Last night I watched an Australian baking show. Someone made a meringue and the audience went crazy with applause. I was totally shocked. Don't Australians boo meringue?:'( :'(
Jeremy
I am one of those mid-sized rural churches that simply had no budget for the technical videography I will again produce tomorrow. We use my cell phone and the available 'data' I have through my carrier since there is also no internet at church. Even if we had internet it would not be adequate to do the job.
I realize that many are used to productions that are produced with a great deal more expertise and refinement. But I couldn't help but think of the hand-written card I received this week from one of my 40-something members with three younger children: "Thank you for continuing to provide church services for all of us to watch."
When this pandemic shut-down is past us, I know that my leadership will be committed to upgrading what I am doing now on a non-existent budget. But right now I am the only real connection with what they would otherwise not see or experience, a lifeline of normalcy in a world turned upside down.
I realize that seeing what I live stream is a far cry from what can and maybe should be done. I hope one day to do more. But right now it is the only thing I can do to minister to them and remind them that although their church is empty, it is used, and that that bell that rings lets our neighborhood know that this virus did not shut down worship.
My apologies. I did not mean to put down those who are doing “the best that they can.” I am concerned about those who do not think through what they are doing or simply attempt to re-create “the in the pew” setting.
Do what you can do with what you have. I am sure that blessings will ensue. But keep thinking. Keep looking ahead.
Pastor Engebretson's travails in video production were on my mind as I composed my post up stream. Without a congregational website (at not listed on Synod's website) how do you make the video to your flock?What I have been doing is uploading the video of the service to Vimeo. I think that you could also do it to YouTube, I'm not up on all the video streaming services or the relative merits of YouTube vs. Vimeo. From Vimeo I can get links that anyone can use to access the video. I then copied those links into an email that I sent out to all members that I have emails for. (I use the BCC function for the email addresses, that way people who receive the email cannot see everyone else's email address. Privacy)
To worship at home, place the device you're listening to on a table; make that your altar. Add a cross if you have one. Stand and sit, chant, and sing along as you would normally do in worship
Pastor Engebretson's travails in video production were on my mind as I composed my post up stream. Without a congregational website (at not listed on Synod's website) how do you make the video to your flock?What I have been doing is uploading the video of the service to Vimeo. I think that you could also do it to YouTube, I'm not up on all the video streaming services or the relative merits of YouTube vs. Vimeo. From Vimeo I can get links that anyone can use to access the video. I then copied those links into an email that I sent out to all members that I have emails for. (I use the BCC function for the email addresses, that way people who receive the email cannot see everyone else's email address. Privacy)
I've also set up a congregational web site that I also post the links on.
Why is simply recreating the in pew setting undesirable or unacceptable? While not fully on board with viewing guidelines such as this (http://www.saint-athanasius.org/Tips.pdf) and the followingQuote from: trinityaustin.comTo worship at home, place the device you're listening to on a table; make that your altar. Add a cross if you have one. Stand and sit, chant, and sing along as you would normally do in worship
I find no God pleasing grounds to criticize them.
Prior to the pandemic, many congregations, including those of forum member pastors, simply broadcast the service that their in person members participated in the sanctuary.
How and why should a virtual service differ from an in person service?
Full disclosure .. other than an occasional critique (requested and encouraged by the pastor), I have absolutely no involvement in the video production on Sunday Mornings.
We each must deal with situation we're handed, even if not ideal or some turn up their nose at our lack of sophisticated technology or innovative camera work or staging.Presentations of worship services lacking sophisticated technology or innovative camera work is important ... it demonstrates that the emphasis should be on the message ... not the medium. Thank you to Pastors Fienen and Engelbretson for sharing your labors of love ... often simplicity is the best!
But if the medium does not work, the message is weakened or lost completely.
All I ask is that we consider that what we are doing is not simply lifting a church service out of the chancel and placing it in people’s living rooms. Furthermore, people are very savvy about television as a medium and they are not likely to put up with inept presentations if they go on too long.
There are websites designed to help churches learn how to use the new media. People should take a look at them.
Don't ever diss the power of The Word of God, Charles, simply because it's not entertaining or sophisticated enough for you.
Don't ever diss the power of The Word of God, Charles, simply because it's not entertaining or sophisticated enough for you.
For the word of God to be powerful, it needs to be heard. Proclaiming the greatest sermon to an empty church will not have any affect. It can't be planted and take root in people's lives if no people hear it.
Don't ever diss the power of The Word of God, Charles, simply because it's not entertaining or sophisticated enough for you.
For the word of God to be powerful, it needs to be heard. Proclaiming the greatest sermon to an empty church will not have any affect. It can't be planted and take root in people's lives if no people hear it.
Do you even understand what you are responding to? Nobody is suggesting that a sermon preached to an empty church that nobody but the preacher hears or sees is effective. How about a sermon preached to a church that is empty but for a camera that records that sermon or live streams it so that people who cannot be there to listen to the sermon live and in person? Is that efficacious? Even if they don't have the kind of production values that they might be able to pull off at the National Cathedral or a mega church?Don't ever diss the power of The Word of God, Charles, simply because it's not entertaining or sophisticated enough for you.
For the word of God to be powerful, it needs to be heard. Proclaiming the greatest sermon to an empty church will not have any affect. It can't be planted and take root in people's lives if no people hear it.
Don't ever diss the power of The Word of God, Charles, simply because it's not entertaining or sophisticated enough for you.
For the word of God to be powerful, it needs to be heard. Proclaiming the greatest sermon to an empty church will not have any affect. It can't be planted and take root in people's lives if no people hear it.
Brian,
I've commented on your stream of consciousness posts. But wow, this one doesn't even manifest cognizance.
Do you even understand what you are responding to? Nobody is suggesting that a sermon preached to an empty church that nobody but the preacher hears or sees is effective. How about a sermon preached to a church that is empty but for a camera that records that sermon or live streams it so that people who cannot be there to listen to the sermon live and in person? Is that efficacious? Even if they don't have the kind of production values that they might be able to pull off at the National Cathedral or a mega church?Don't ever diss the power of The Word of God, Charles, simply because it's not entertaining or sophisticated enough for you.
For the word of God to be powerful, it needs to be heard. Proclaiming the greatest sermon to an empty church will not have any affect. It can't be planted and take root in people's lives if no people hear it.
Take a breath, Pastor Fienen. It ain’t worth all this mewling. Good grief!
Don't ever diss the power of The Word of God, Charles, simply because it's not entertaining or sophisticated enough for you.
For the word of God to be powerful, it needs to be heard. Proclaiming the greatest sermon to an empty church will not have any affect. It can't be planted and take root in people's lives if no people hear it.
Brian,
I've commented on your stream of consciousness posts. But wow, this one doesn't even manifest cognizance.
So thankful that you weren't my seminary professor when I wrote a paper on hearing the Word of God. There's much we can do to help people hear the message we are proclaiming. 60% of what is heard in a two-way conversation is from non-verbal cues. I suggest that this says a lot about how we deliver a sermon; and the how is just as important as the what. If we say all the right words - properly proclaim the Word - but it's not heard or is misheard; we have not adequately preached the Gospel.
Chapter 9 - The Haircut
Chapter 9 - The Haircut
Nicely written! Thanks for sharing!
Because our pastor is not live streaming Bill and I live streamed the service at Pacific Palisades Lutheran. The preacher was Bill's 92 year old brother, the Rev. Richard Z Meyer, St. Louis class of 1952. His sermon was on Jesus the Good Shepherd and how the 23rd Psalm speaks to us today.
Due to the distance between Bethel CT and Pacific Palisades CA we have not heard Dick preach for many years. This morning my reflections turned to the last time I heard Bill's dad preach shortly before his death at 89. Today, as Bill and I worshiped from the dining room table I glanced at the picture of Bill's 21 year old mother on her wedding day. She was a role model for me as a daughter of our heavenly father, a wife, a mother and a disciple of Christ.
Marie Meyer
Don't ever diss the power of The Word of God, Charles, simply because it's not entertaining or sophisticated enough for you.
For the word of God to be powerful, it needs to be heard. Proclaiming the greatest sermon to an empty church will not have any affect. It can't be planted and take root in people's lives if no people hear it.
Brian,
I've commented on your stream of consciousness posts. But wow, this one doesn't even manifest cognizance.
So thankful that you weren't my seminary professor when I wrote a paper on hearing the Word of God. There's much we can do to help people hear the message we are proclaiming. 60% of what is heard in a two-way conversation is from non-verbal cues. I suggest that this says a lot about how we deliver a sermon; and the how is just as important as the what. If we say all the right words - properly proclaim the Word - but it's not heard or is misheard; we have not adequately preached the Gospel.
So, is that it? You had a seminary professor teach you stream of consciousness thinking, to respond with a totally irrelevant and nonsensical observation just because it comes to mind?
Now you’re simply being intellectually dishonest, Brian. You moved from an empty church, no one hearing, to some not hearing.
And the point remains. If some are not going to listen to the Word of God because they’re not sufficiently entertained or the tech is not top notch, there’s something deeper, more troubling going on. IOW, if it’s like you flicking through movies that you find entertaining... 😳
Now you’re simply being intellectually dishonest, Brian. You moved from an empty church, no one hearing, to some not hearing.
And the point remains. If some are not going to listen to the Word of God because they’re not sufficiently entertained or the tech is not top notch, there’s something deeper, more troubling going on. IOW, if it’s like you flicking through movies that you find entertaining... 😳
The original topic was about the quality of the production. I suggested that if the quality is so bad that no one is listening to the live streaming, it's like preaching to an empty church. The Word lands in no soil. I further suggested that if the production quality (not the sermon quality) is bad, folks may stop listening - again, when there's no soil, the word can't be planted and take root. I see nothing dishonest about this. The topic is the quality of the production. The better the quality the more likely people are to tune in and keep listening.
But if the medium does not work, the message is weakened or lost completely.
Now you’re simply being intellectually dishonest, Brian. You moved from an empty church, no one hearing, to some not hearing.
And the point remains. If some are not going to listen to the Word of God because they’re not sufficiently entertained or the tech is not top notch, there’s something deeper, more troubling going on. IOW, if it’s like you flicking through movies that you find entertaining... 😳
The original topic was about the quality of the production. I suggested that if the quality is so bad that no one is listening to the live streaming, it's like preaching to an empty church. The Word lands in no soil. I further suggested that if the production quality (not the sermon quality) is bad, folks may stop listening - again, when there's no soil, the word can't be planted and take root. I see nothing dishonest about this. The topic is the quality of the production. The better the quality the more likely people are to tune in and keep listening.
You don't think people, even back in my parent's generation, flipped through TV channels to find a more entertaining worship service? Billy Graham drew thousands to his crusades and TV shows. Other evangelists were not so entertaining. I would watch Oral Roberts because of the quality of the programming. (I didn't care much about the message back then.) They put on a good music show.
Thread drift.
I'll open later, if someone doesn't do it first, a topic on Televised Worship. There are resources out there, good examples, things we can learn from. That would be better than yelling at Brian here.
Thread drift.Feigning ‘thread drift’ to distract from “intellectual dishonesty’ is a new low in forum dialog.
I'll open later, if someone doesn't do it first, a topic on Televised Worship. There are resources out there, good examples, things we can learn from. That would be better than yelling at Brian here.
Feigning ‘thread drift’ to distract from “intellectual dishonesty’ is a new low in forum dialog.
Now you’re simply being intellectually dishonest, Brian. You moved from an empty church, no one hearing, to some not hearing.
And the point remains. If some are not going to listen to the Word of God because they’re not sufficiently entertained or the tech is not top notch, there’s something deeper, more troubling going on. IOW, if it’s like you flicking through movies that you find entertaining... 😳
The original topic was about the quality of the production. I suggested that if the quality is so bad that no one is listening to the live streaming, it's like preaching to an empty church. The Word lands in no soil. I further suggested that if the production quality (not the sermon quality) is bad, folks may stop listening - again, when there's no soil, the word can't be planted and take root. I see nothing dishonest about this. The topic is the quality of the production. The better the quality the more likely people are to tune in and keep listening.
Sorry Rev Stoffregen ... quality was NOT the original issue ... as is clearly stated below the medium IS the issue that originated this discussion. Quality and medium are NOT (https://www.merriam-webster.com/thesaurus/medium) synonyms.But if the medium does not work, the message is weakened or lost completely.
But then moving the goal posts is your speciality. ☹️
Now you’re simply being intellectually dishonest, Brian. You moved from an empty church, no one hearing, to some not hearing.
And the point remains. If some are not going to listen to the Word of God because they’re not sufficiently entertained or the tech is not top notch, there’s something deeper, more troubling going on. IOW, if it’s like you flicking through movies that you find entertaining... 😳
The original topic was about the quality of the production. I suggested that if the quality is so bad that no one is listening to the live streaming, it's like preaching to an empty church. The Word lands in no soil. I further suggested that if the production quality (not the sermon quality) is bad, folks may stop listening - again, when there's no soil, the word can't be planted and take root. I see nothing dishonest about this. The topic is the quality of the production. The better the quality the more likely people are to tune in and keep listening.
Sorry Rev Stoffregen ... quality was NOT the original issue ... as is clearly stated below the medium IS the issue that originated this discussion. Quality and medium are NOT (https://www.merriam-webster.com/thesaurus/medium) synonyms.But if the medium does not work, the message is weakened or lost completely.
But then moving the goal posts is your speciality. ☹️
No, the medium is not the issue, except when it doesn't work. If it's not working at all, it's no longer the medium. "Not working" is defined in Charles post as when the message is "weakened or lost completely." Since we know that the medium works; and that folks can spread their message clearly without it being lost. It's not the medium's fault if a message is weakened or lost. I stand by my interpretation that it's about how well a users is able to use the medium - thus the quality.
While the forum search function is not perfect, it reveals that Rev Stoffregen is the ONLY forum member to use the word 'quality' since Rev Austin's mention of the medium as a thread topic.Now you’re simply being intellectually dishonest, Brian. You moved from an empty church, no one hearing, to some not hearing.
And the point remains. If some are not going to listen to the Word of God because they’re not sufficiently entertained or the tech is not top notch, there’s something deeper, more troubling going on. IOW, if it’s like you flicking through movies that you find entertaining... 😳
The original topic was about the quality of the production. I suggested that if the quality is so bad that no one is listening to the live streaming, it's like preaching to an empty church. The Word lands in no soil. I further suggested that if the production quality (not the sermon quality) is bad, folks may stop listening - again, when there's no soil, the word can't be planted and take root. I see nothing dishonest about this. The topic is the quality of the production. The better the quality the more likely people are to tune in and keep listening.
Sorry Rev Stoffregen ... quality was NOT the original issue ... as is clearly stated below the medium IS the issue that originated this discussion. Quality and medium are NOT (https://www.merriam-webster.com/thesaurus/medium) synonyms.But if the medium does not work, the message is weakened or lost completely.
But then moving the goal posts is your speciality. ☹️
No, the medium is not the issue, except when it doesn't work. If it's not working at all, it's no longer the medium. "Not working" is defined in Charles post as when the message is "weakened or lost completely." Since we know that the medium works; and that folks can spread their message clearly without it being lost. It's not the medium's fault if a message is weakened or lost. I stand by my interpretation that it's about how well a users is able to use the medium - thus the quality.
So what we did today was to plant some tomatoes and peppers in the community garden. Get down in the dirt. Think other thoughts.
Pastor Bohler writes:
There is joy, even in this. Because you have Christ.
I comment:
You are right, of course.
But in my life and mind, to "have Christ" - for all the eternal glory and promise and reality of in that phrase - does not always get me through the day with the verve and uppy-ness of one dancing the living dream of redemption.
My life needs real contact with real people, especially loved ones. Maybe that's selfish. Maybe it's selfish to crave listening to and making live music, dining out, live theater, art galleries, and trips to interesting places far from home.
Those things are all blessings of God that have enlightened and enriched my life; and right now I don't have them. Yes, I have other blessings. So I suppose that should do.
Even typing this response has turned me a little towards cheerfulness.
Beloved Spouse and I yesterday were saying how glad we are that we were able to do the things we did - college, careers (two for her, three for me), life abroad, extensive world travel, and interesting friends and experiences, children grown responsible (mostly), and grandchildren to know.
But there are more things to do. Haven't been to the Greek Islands yet. I would like to see Paris or Rome again and have some filet de perche with friends on the shore of Lake Geneva. More simply, I'd like to have dinner in the dining room with friends also living here in Plymouth. Our granddaughter's confirmation was cancelled and we don't know when it will be re-scheduled.
The infirmities of age may prevent us from doing some of those things, but right now the virus is certainly preventing us from even considering them.
Do I need more for joy than to "have Christ"? Is it heresy to say yes?
So what we did today was to plant some tomatoes and peppers in the community garden. Get down in the dirt. Think other thoughts.
We call it "dirt therapy" in my house. Anything that gets your shoes muddy or your fingernails grimy or your knees dirty. Or gets sawdust in your hair. Or motor oil on your T-shirt. It's therapeutic. And it's an incredible escape.
When I have enough energy for it...
Pastor Bohler writes:
Do not confuse the gifts with the Giver. He is the One who gives joy, not them. Otherwise, you will never truly have it -- there's always more trips to be taken, more time with friends to anticipate, more shows and entertainment to see. And the devil will always remind you of that.
I comment:
Thank you, Pastor Bohler, but the joy is hard to see and experience unless it exists in some tangible way. I am reminded of an old Peanuts cartoon. Snoopy is shivering in the cold. Linus walks by and says “be of good cheer.” The last frame of the strip shows snoopy, still shivering.
I am somewhat repelled by your suggestion that it is the devil who reminds me of the human joys of life.
It seems clear that we have a serious misunderstanding.
I would say that you misunderstand me.
You would say that I misunderstand you.
And there we are.
Pastor Bohler writes:
Do not confuse the gifts with the Giver. He is the One who gives joy, not them. Otherwise, you will never truly have it -- there's always more trips to be taken, more time with friends to anticipate, more shows and entertainment to see. And the devil will always remind you of that.
I comment:
Thank you, Pastor Bohler, but the joy is hard to see and experience unless it exists in some tangible way. I am reminded of an old Peanuts cartoon. Snoopy is shivering in the cold. Linus walks by and says “be of good cheer.” The last frame of the strip shows snoopy, still shivering.
I am somewhat repelled by your suggestion that it is the devil who reminds me of the human joys of life.
Maybe it's selfish to crave listening to and making live music, dining out, live theater, art galleries, and trips to interesting places far from home...
But there are more things to do. Haven't been to the Greek Islands yet. I would like to see Paris or Rome again and have some filet de perche with friends on the shore of Lake Geneva.
I truly believe that our theology has to have room for Psalm 88. And for the God who chose to include it in scripture. We would all do well to reread that Psalm, and meditate particularly on how it ends. A true theology of the cross does not put a smiley face Band-Aid on an open wound.
We weep with those who weep.
Pastor Austin, may God grant you a peace that passes understanding, and the grace and faith to know that even the hidden God is still God and is still good.
Knowing that, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the Psalm 88-like honesty that says, “This sucks”. We who know what the creation originally was and what the future shall be are all the freer to lament the shortcomings of our present reality. Like all creation, we groan.
Pastor Kirchner:
You and Beloved Spouse count your many blessings, blessings that so many in this country much less the world could only dream of. But, for you, it's not enough. You want fancy travel and fancier food. All while people are dying. Alone. Separated from family. Some even separated from their spouse.
Me:
Now you sound like one of those guilt-inducing liberals trying to make everyone feel guilty because they have things which others do not have. I make no apologies for what I have or for what I have done because I have obtained and done these things the way you conservatives say they should be obtained - I worked for them. And so did my wife. And they are the ways God has chosen to bless my life. I also share what I have received with others. You think I don't know people are dying and alone? I have seen them. In New Jersey, in New York, in refugee camps in Africa, along our southern border, among refugees resettled in our country.
I truly believe that our theology has to have room for Psalm 88. And for the God who chose to include it in scripture. We would all do well to reread that Psalm, and meditate particularly on how it ends. A true theology of the cross does not put a smiley face Band-Aid on an open wound.
We weep with those who weep.
Pastor Austin, may God grant you a peace that passes understanding, and the grace and faith to know that even the hidden God is still God and is still good.
Knowing that, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the Psalm 88-like honesty that says, “This sucks”. We who know what the creation originally was and what the future shall be are all the freer to lament the shortcomings of our present reality. Like all creation, we groan.
As long as we don't stay there.
I once heard that "joy" and "happiness" are Bibilically distinct. "Happiness" was defined as "right circumstances", if I want to play golf and it's raining, I'm not happy! By contrast, "joy" is "right relationship". From our Lord's perspective, this is established and eternal in our Baptism into the death and resurrection of Christ. It is sheer gift. However, the living out of that "joy" in our broken world, our relationship with others and with our world...well that is far more difficult, as Charles has eloquently said. This event has separated (root concept of sin) us from one another. Yes, Pastor Bohler, God's promise is sure. But in the warp and woof of a fallen world, the "joy" we once shared in community (church, world and beyond) is deeply and profoundly challenged. We can "know" it is present but because we are not experiencing even remotely fullness we once took for granted, our human nature is feeling the pain of such loss. Not unlike the ongoing emptiness in my life since the death of my wife. I cannot "fix" that, I can rejoice in the promised resurrection, but the daily reality of emptiness and loss is still a part of my ongoing earthly journey. FWIW.
Pr. B.A. "Tim" Christ, STS (retired)
As long as we don't stay there.Agreed. BUT... the timing is His, not ours. And to cry out, “How long, O Lord?” has more than a little Biblical precedent.
I truly believe that our theology has to have room for Psalm 88. And for the God who chose to include it in scripture. We would all do well to reread that Psalm, and meditate particularly on how it ends. A true theology of the cross does not put a smiley face Band-Aid on an open wound.
We weep with those who weep.
Pastor Austin, may God grant you a peace that passes understanding, and the grace and faith to know that even the hidden God is still God and is still good.
Knowing that, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the Psalm 88-like honesty that says, “This sucks”. We who know what the creation originally was and what the future shall be are all the freer to lament the shortcomings of our present reality. Like all creation, we groan.
As long as we don't stay there.
"We don't stay there" for how long? The length of time it takes to read a psalm? A day? A week?
This is a complex situation right now. My folks at church are really anxious, really cooped up, and in that process remembering all kinds of other experiences from their lives. Certainly there are mountaintoppers, but what I find more prevalent is that other griefs and sorrows are cropping up as they explain their ennui, tiredness, and emotional/spiritual journey. Long conversations, reminiscences, unburdenings.
It's one thing to say "Buck up." It's another to say "Jesus is your anchor." The latter is always true, and both could be helpful. But in a thread about reflection in quarantine, I think the task is more to listen, to accompany.
Dave Benke
I truly believe that our theology has to have room for Psalm 88. And for the God who chose to include it in scripture. We would all do well to reread that Psalm, and meditate particularly on how it ends. A true theology of the cross does not put a smiley face Band-Aid on an open wound.
We weep with those who weep.
Pastor Austin, may God grant you a peace that passes understanding, and the grace and faith to know that even the hidden God is still God and is still good.
Knowing that, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the Psalm 88-like honesty that says, “This sucks”. We who know what the creation originally was and what the future shall be are all the freer to lament the shortcomings of our present reality. Like all creation, we groan.
As long as we don't stay there.
"We don't stay there" for how long? The length of time it takes to read a psalm? A day? A week?
This is a complex situation right now. My folks at church are really anxious, really cooped up, and in that process remembering all kinds of other experiences from their lives. Certainly there are mountaintoppers, but what I find more prevalent is that other griefs and sorrows are cropping up as they explain their ennui, tiredness, and emotional/spiritual journey. Long conversations, reminiscences, unburdenings.
It's one thing to say "Buck up." It's another to say "Jesus is your anchor." The latter is always true, and both could be helpful. But in a thread about reflection in quarantine, I think the task is more to listen, to accompany.
Dave Benke
Maybe my training was different than yours, but I was taught that when a person (especially a Christian) is in pain, we are to point him to Christ. Not just to listen in silence. Not to let him stew in despair or (worse) self-pity. Yeah, this life sometimes does hurt but this life is not where we are to put our focus. In fact, God uses the pain and suffering of this life for that very purpose. And so, like St. Paul, we CAN be thankful in all things -- even suffering. In short, I am surprised that on a Christian website, I am questioned for directing a hurting soul to Christ rather than simply letting him vent and curse.
I truly believe that our theology has to have room for Psalm 88. And for the God who chose to include it in scripture. We would all do well to reread that Psalm, and meditate particularly on how it ends. A true theology of the cross does not put a smiley face Band-Aid on an open wound.
We weep with those who weep.
Pastor Austin, may God grant you a peace that passes understanding, and the grace and faith to know that even the hidden God is still God and is still good.
Knowing that, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the Psalm 88-like honesty that says, “This sucks”. We who know what the creation originally was and what the future shall be are all the freer to lament the shortcomings of our present reality. Like all creation, we groan.
As long as we don't stay there.
"We don't stay there" for how long? The length of time it takes to read a psalm? A day? A week?
This is a complex situation right now. My folks at church are really anxious, really cooped up, and in that process remembering all kinds of other experiences from their lives. Certainly there are mountaintoppers, but what I find more prevalent is that other griefs and sorrows are cropping up as they explain their ennui, tiredness, and emotional/spiritual journey. Long conversations, reminiscences, unburdenings.
It's one thing to say "Buck up." It's another to say "Jesus is your anchor." The latter is always true, and both could be helpful. But in a thread about reflection in quarantine, I think the task is more to listen, to accompany.
Dave Benke
Maybe my training was different than yours, but I was taught that when a person (especially a Christian) is in pain, we are to point him to Christ. Not just to listen in silence. Not to let him stew in despair or (worse) self-pity. Yeah, this life sometimes does hurt but this life is not where we are to put our focus. In fact, God uses the pain and suffering of this life for that very purpose. And so, like St. Paul, we CAN be thankful in all things -- even suffering. In short, I am surprised that on a Christian website, I am questioned for directing a hurting soul to Christ rather than simply letting him vent and curse.
And there may be times when common sense, a realistic and scientific look at the world, and simple resignation is of more comforting than faith, scripture, theology or ancient "wisdom."Pandemics and plagues have little to do with messing up the earth and our care thereof except in the sense that sin is the root of death and much suffering is self-inflicted. That's a theological take based on faith, Scripture, theology, and ancient wisdom. There is no realistic science or common sense that can make a case that the suffering of people quarantined due to a pandemic results from our having messed up the earth or each other. If anything, the scientific outlook sees the outbreak of periodic pandemics as a normal, healthy function of evolution.
Peter writes:It is the issue you brought up-- God did not inflict this upon me. We inflicted it upon ourselves. We messed up the earth, messed up our care of the earth and each other. We are the source of suffering, not God.
There is no realistic science or common sense that can make a case that the suffering of people quarantined due to a pandemic results from our having messed up the earth or each other.
I comment:
That's a different issue completely, but I'm not taking it on right now.
When I have my times of poor-poor-me navel gazing, I do not want a pastor who pats my hand and tells me that I am right, life sucks, and God apparently doesn't care. I want one who tells me that it will be all right because Christ has died for ME. That my suffering has a purpose, even if neither he nor I can see it at the present. That my God is in control and He LOVES me. But to each his own, I guess.
When I have my times of poor-poor-me navel gazing, I do not want a pastor who pats my hand and tells me that I am right, life sucks, and God apparently doesn't care. I want one who tells me that it will be all right because Christ has died for ME. That my suffering has a purpose, even if neither he nor I can see it at the present. That my God is in control and He LOVES me. But to each his own, I guess.
What I need now (selfishly, I am told >:( ) is a fuller dose of the blessings that God has given the world, human companionship, art, literature, the wonders of the earth.
Rev Austin's "as with the flip remarks of some current heads of state" tragically indicateso how incapable he is of controlling his angst .. and unfortunately his preoccupation with blaming his life's issues on politics >:( Now back to the thread topic.
I beg to differ ... had others introduced politics into this thread that has been free from politics ... and refreshingly politically neutral, there is little doubt in that a similar statement would have been rightfully posted by Rev Austin. There is ample opportunity for political discourse elsewhere on the numerous political threads.Rev Austin's "as with the flip remarks of some current heads of state" tragically indicateso how incapable he is of controlling his angst .. and unfortunately his preoccupation with blaming his life's issues on politics >:( Now back to the thread topic.
The thread topic is "Life in Quarantine: One man's reflections," initiated and authored by Charles Austin. His reflections ARE the thread topic.
Dave Benke
Those who think that “politics” have no bearing on the ills we and our neighbors face are just stupid. <emphasis added>
Unbelievable.
Some remain tone deaf.
Those who think that “politics” have no bearing on the ills we and our neighbors face are just stupid.
Off, I am, to other matters.
Unbelievable.
Some remain tone deaf.
Those who think that “politics” have no bearing on the ills we and our neighbors face are just stupid.
Off, I am, to other matters.
Just keep lamenting your dire circumstances..... ::)
This recent conversation ably illustrates the futility of effectively ministering to people experiencing a difficult time in their life via the internet, especially in an open forum. Directing people to look to Jesus for joy, hope, and healing is the ultimate answer, but it is usually not as simply as just laying that on them and they should just perk right up and be fine. It usually just doesn't work that way. In the middle of grief or discontent people usually have a great many thoughts and emotions to work through before they can resolve to calm confidence in Jesus. While I do not take Kubler Ross and her stages of grief as absolute gospel, she has made some very good observations. Dealing with loss and privation of any sort is a process and there are no short cuts.
Sometimes people do need to be told to get over themselves, quit their belly aching, recognize that others have it much worse than themselves, and get on with things. But that is a conclusion that should only be reached after much listening to the person and helping them explore their experience. A post or even several posts on the internet is hardly adequate.
I fear that sometimes a too quick and glib assurance that Jesus will take care of everything ends up coming off less of caring ministry than an unwillingness to listen to and help the person deal with their pain. "Take these two Bible passages and get out of my face!"
Unbelievable.
Some remain tone deaf.
Those who think that “politics” have no bearing on the ills we and our neighbors face are just stupid.
Off, I am, to other matters.
Just keep lamenting your dire circumstances..... ::)
So, you would have kept Lamentations out of the Bible? It was wrong for the people to express their frustrations at God for what was happening to Jerusalem?
Surprisingly, perhaps, there's not a book in the Bible called Joy!
They are the topic of every thread.
You all have convinced me. I take back my telling Rev. Austin to look to Christ for his joy. Instead, I will just let him sit there in his gilded cage, bemoaning his sorry existence and cursing. Because somehow, in a way I do not really get, pointing him to Christ is to deny his suffering. Because that moaning and cursing is what he needs now, apparently even more than he needs Christ. Because that leaving a person to moan and curse is what Psalm 88 insists be done, and I certainly do not want to censor it or diminish or correct it.
Todd Peperkorn has come up in another thread. He wrote a book called (I think) "I Trust When Dark My Road" about his personal struggles and bouts with extreme depression. Could be a good resource for people feeling the gloom and human cost of the shut down.
I am reminded of Psalm 23:4 (ESV) "4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Doesn't say that His rod and staff removes us from the valley, but that they comfort us as we walk dark roads.
Chapter 11: Church, this time “for real”
The Sunday before Palm Sunday was the last I worshipped inside a church building.
Since then it has been experiences with online worship services, some good, some not so good. Obviously most clergy and congregations were not prepared to put “worship” online in meaningful, creative or satisfying ways.
But I will not offer a critique of those ways. Online services were all I had, so they had to do.
I visited several local Lutheran churches and found some decent preaching, but a desultory approach to liturgy and inadequate attention to lighting and sound.
But at the National Cathedral in Washington D.C., I found elevated liturgy in the Anglican style, with mostly prayer book language and an approach to the eucharist that seemed right – that “spiritual communion” prayer on the screen just after the consecration. I also found sophisticated use of television, because the cathedral is fully equipped to broadcast state occasions.
Beloved Spouse and I returned to the National Cathedral on subsequent Sunday mornings, even though it rarely felt like “church.”
This morning, though, something special happened, and I do not know how or why.
We have been in social lock-down for more than six weeks now and have only small tastes of anything like “community” activity; and this has taken a toll on our spirits. Maybe I was just down far enough that almost anything would lift me up.
Cathedral worship began with a somber prelude and then the cantor, Amy Broadbent, sang “My life flows on in endless song” and its wondrous refrain:No storm can shake my inmost calmNow choral singing is one of the things I have missed most the past three months, and apart from the words of the refrain, the music itself reached deep inside.
While to that Rock I’m clinging.
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth,
How can I keep from singing?Through all the tumult and the strifeI was quietly singing along, as I often do, but I had to stop. It’s hard to sing through tears.
I hear the music ringing.
It finds and echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?
The processional hymn was “Alleluia, Sing to Jesus” with the familiar Hyfrydol tune; and the world around the chair where I watch television and read literally vibrated with something transcendental. I felt more “in church” than I had for weeks.
Cantor Broadbent sang the Psalm (most of Psalm 68) with one of those psalm tones familiar to anyone who has use the Lutheran Book of Worship. But I hope some seminary professor of worship stumbles across the video, clips it out, and makes every seminarian spend two hours studying it. Here were words, distinctly and elegantly sung, phrased according to the Psalm Tone, but pronounced and delivered according to the meaning of the text. It is a psalm that praises God for deliverance. When she got to:He rides in the heavens, the ancient heavens;I was again quite properly “in church” and extremely thankful to be there.
He sends forth his voice his mighty voice…
How wonderful is God in his holy places!
The God of Israel giving strength and power to his people!
Blessed be God.
“When peace like a river” was the sequence hymn and I quietly sang along, harmonizing through the refrain – “It is well, it is well with my soul” – and through tears.
The preacher was Jon Meacham, the Pulitizer prize-winning historian of presidential history, who last year wrote The Hope of Glory: Reflections on the Last Words of Jesus From the Cross. He stuck closely to the John 17, but noted that the followers of Jesus, after the resurrection and ascension, having seen that glory, prayed, waited, and wondered “which is what you and I are doing now.” We pray, we wait, we wonder. He suggested that the history of the faith is a proof of the faith, for the passage for the faith has always been – no matter how dire the circumstances – “from darkness to light.”
It was a good sermon, both textual and contextual. He’s pretty good with words, too.
The liturgy continued, creed, announcements, an offertory anthem, then preface, sanctus, benedictus, and eucharistic prayer – we could all join in the “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.”
“Spiritual communion” through that ancient prayer is bittersweet, but there it is. I had been so set up, led and fed with what went before that this morning it was almost enough.
The cathedral liturgy often uses a jazz piano, clarinet or saxophone and the church-jazz voice of Imani-Grace Cooper to close the service. The music is quiet/reflective, with a bit of a “get out there” beat and a few voice embellishments to make it real jazz.
We sang “America, The Beautiful” for the closing hymn, as the Memorial Day holiday had been mentioned in the announcements. My favorite verse was includedO beautiful for heroes proved in liberating strife,Again, the world around my chair was vibrant and filled with something wonderful, and I sang through tears. Whatever it was, I felt I had been "in church."
Who more than self their country loved, and mercy more than life!
America! America! God mend thine every flaw.
Confirm thy soul in self control, thy liberty in law.
Why was this Sunday this way? I have no idea. But I’m glad it was.
-0-
From: Arthur Carl Piepkorn, The Conduct of the Service, St. Louis, Concordia Seminary Press, 1965, p. 6Saturday evening we virtually attended a small mid central state congregation served by a friend we met as he began his study for the holy ministry. Despite the fact that his congregations resumed in person worship a few weeks ago, pastor and organist still met a couple days prior to record the service so it was available in a timely manner to his numerous high risk senior saints members. With no technical assistance, he makes use of three cameras and his self taught editing skills resulting in an almost in person worship experience. Following the edit process, is a 5 plus hour upload process due to poor internet service ... Text received that within a half hour of completion of the upload, the up load abruptly terminated ... necessitating another 5 plus hour up load process. Thankfully he allows ample production time ... and always has his service available by regular service time.
"When a ministration takes place outside of church, the effort should be made to reproduce the conditions of church as far as possible, and as much of the ceremonial as conditions permit or warrant should be retained."
This is a great reflection, Charles. "My life flows on in endless song" is a favorite of mine.
Since it began more than 30 years ago, Lorna and I have watched the National Memorial Day Concert (at the Mall). This year it was not at the Mall and there was no huge crowd. Lorna is gone but John Alex, my 12 year old grandson watched with me. For him the history is vague; he won't remember the dates, 1945, 25 June 1950, etc. (he does know what 9/11 was about). He still has a strong sense that there are those who gave everything for the nation just as there are those who do now whether soldiers, sailor, Marines, airmen, police, firefighters, or health care providers and grocery workers.
He gave a sharp salute at the national anthem and Taps.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! JOHN
Since it began more than 30 years ago, Lorna and I have watched the National Memorial Day Concert (at the Mall). This year it was not at the Mall and there was no huge crowd. Lorna is gone but John Alex, my 12 year old grandson watched with me. For him the history is vague; he won't remember the dates, 1945, 25 June 1950, etc. (he does know what 9/11 was about). He still has a strong sense that there are those who gave everything for the nation just as there are those who do now whether soldiers, sailor, Marines, airmen, police, firefighters, or health care providers and grocery workers.Bill and I have also regularly watched the Memorial Day concert. For some reason the event this year, though limited, was more moving, intimate and patriotic than I experienced it in the past.
He gave a sharp salute at the national anthem and Taps.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! JOHN
I did not give a salute at the national anthem or Taps as John Alex did, but I did get up from the couch to stand at attention.
Marie Meyer
The Morris family does the same every year as well. This year, while I appreciated the first hand accounts from previous years, I really missed having more of those. Otherwise, we thought they did a great job despite the limitations in format.Since it began more than 30 years ago, Lorna and I have watched the National Memorial Day Concert (at the Mall). This year it was not at the Mall and there was no huge crowd. Lorna is gone but John Alex, my 12 year old grandson watched with me. For him the history is vague; he won't remember the dates, 1945, 25 June 1950, etc. (he does know what 9/11 was about). He still has a strong sense that there are those who gave everything for the nation just as there are those who do now whether soldiers, sailor, Marines, airmen, police, firefighters, or health care providers and grocery workers.Bill and I have also regularly watched the Memorial Day concert. For some reason the event this year, though limited, was more moving, intimate and patriotic than I experienced it in the past.
He gave a sharp salute at the national anthem and Taps.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! JOHN
I did not give a salute at the national anthem or Taps as John Alex did, but I did get up from the couch to stand at attention.
Marie Meyer
:) He wants to be a soldier (or Marine). He's actually a member of Sea Cadets (as a Marine cadet), so his salute is quite correct; unusually for someone his age. I too enjoyed more the "toned down" version this year.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! JOHN
Since it began more than 30 years ago, Lorna and I have watched the National Memorial Day Concert (at the Mall). This year it was not at the Mall and there was no huge crowd. Lorna is gone but John Alex, my 12 year old grandson watched with me. For him the history is vague; he won't remember the dates, 1945, 25 June 1950, etc. (he does know what 9/11 was about). He still has a strong sense that there are those who gave everything for the nation just as there are those who do now whether soldiers, sailor, Marines, airmen, police, firefighters, or health care providers and grocery workers.Bill and I have also regularly watched the Memorial Day concert. For some reason the event this year, though limited, was more moving, intimate and patriotic than I experienced it in the past.
He gave a sharp salute at the national anthem and Taps.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! JOHN
I did not give a salute at the national anthem or Taps as John Alex did, but I did get up from the couch to stand at attention.
Marie Meyer
:) He wants to be a soldier (or Marine). He's actually a member of Sea Cadets (as a Marine cadet), so his salute is quite correct; unusually for someone his age. I too enjoyed more the "toned down" version this year.
Alleluia! Christ is risen! JOHN
I avoided the fees but I am not surprised to find out that someone, somewhere, is making money out of these transactions. That can’t happen if someone else just sent a check. So I wonder whose friend runs the financial institution that’s making money from these debit card. And will make money in the future if people choose to refill these cards and keep using them.
I avoided the fees but I am not surprised to find out that someone, somewhere, is making money out of these transactions. That can’t happen if someone else just sent a check. So I wonder whose friend runs the financial institution that’s making money from these debit card. And will make money in the future if people choose to refill these cards and keep using them.I think if someone somewhere is making money off it, that's the point. It isn't like you earned it. Never was gift horse given such a dental screening.
Bottom line: I have my “stimulus check,” though not a check. Darn! I was going to frame His autograph.
I avoided the fees but I am not surprised to find out that someone, somewhere, is making money out of these transactions. That can’t happen if someone else just sent a check. So I wonder whose friend runs the financial institution that’s making money from these debit card. And will make money in the future if people choose to refill these cards and keep using them.
I avoided the fees but I am not surprised to find out that someone, somewhere, is making money out of these transactions. That can’t happen if someone else just sent a check. So I wonder whose friend runs the financial institution that’s making money from these debit card. And will make money in the future if people choose to refill these cards and keep using them.
And to think my 91 year old father simply and thankfully received his card, took it to his bank and deposited it ... no TDS, no snark, no attempted political statement.
Oh by the way, the fact that the card was on the way had been carefully reported in the local media. The fact that "we almost threw away" is no one's fault and responsibly but yours ... your wife's, and definitely NOT Sally's.😶
Ridiculous?? That your local media was silent ... yes! Heck .... my 75+ year old neighbors handled their debit card with no problem ... even having to find an open bank lobby to process the card .. and they are very apolitical ... never expressing opinions either way.And to think my 91 year old father simply and thankfully received his card, took it to his bank and deposited it ... no TDS, no snark, no attempted political statement.
Oh by the way, the fact that the card was on the way had been carefully reported in the local media. The fact that "we almost threw away" is no one's fault and responsibly but yours ... your wife's, and definitely NOT Sally's.😶
Ridiculous. I read "the local media" and the national media voraciously, and this is the first I've heard of this. And congratulations to your 91-year-old father, but what Charles describes sounds like a recipe for disaster for countless households.
When my brother worked for the U.S. Government as a liaison to petroleum wholesalers in Michigan and Minnesota, he always got a chuckle from his audience when he said, "I'm from the Federal Government and I'm here to help you." Yeah, sure. It doesn't always malfunction, but it does so often enough to make people leery of promises to solve all our problems. Yet the Feds keep offering--or threatening.
I've always had a direct deposit relationship with the IRS, Charles, but I just got my first "stimulus" check in paper form, last week.
I don't know what's wrong with me (and don't give suggestions :) ), but we got our stimulus money through direct deposit back on April 15. I also got a small refund the same way from the IRS two months earlier.I too received my stimulus check via direct deposit ... Googling concerning payments to social security recipients seemed to indicate that nothing needed to be done ... Apparently nothing needed to be done to receive payment ... by debit card.
Thirteen days after I received the at-first confusing debit card, the mail brought a letter saying I would receive an Economic Impact Payment by “check/debit card” and the amount. (No mention of which - check or debit card - or direct deposit.) The letter says I am a “hard-working American,” thanks the House and Senate for “working so quickly with my administration”, and hopes the payment provides “meaningful support.”If your Economic Impact Payment is too insignificant for you to bother with you could just trash it or maybe simply donate it, to your church, a food bank, or maybe a Black business owner there in Minneapolis whose business was burned out and looted during the recent peaceful protests and demonstrations.
The letter is “signed“ by the president.
Were I still an actively “hard-working American,” my payment, a little less than the amount as received by my truly “hard-working” younger relatives, would have covered - maybe - one month’s rent or a good part, but not all of a month’s mortgage, food for two, maybe three weeks if I shopped carefully, or one quarter of a dentist’s fee if someone in the family had a problem.
But OK. Thanks.
And of course we all agree the checkS were a good use of $2 trillion of federal funds.No, I don’t agree with that, which is what I said. “I don’t think it is good policy.” But not because getting a card rather than a check is too confusing, or getting a belated notice is a waste of paper and postage, or that the check wasn’t big enough to sustain people through the (dumb) shut-down. It was a stimulus check designed to help keep the economy afloat. Whether it was fifty dollars or five thousand, their bipartisan hope was that whenever you spent it would be someplace that could use the business. Again, bad economic policy, probably, but understandable in theory and supported fairly broadly in Congress, though I’m sure you voiced your strong support of the few Republican who spoke against it.
And of course we all agree the checkS were a good use of $2 trillion of federal funds.Perhaps you should make up your mind. First you complain that the amount wasn't enough, then you suggest it should not have been done at all. Which is it?
I guess I should be enjoying the fact that some “small government“, “keep the big government out of my life“, people are so eager to support the stimulus package, which is one of the biggest “government in your life“ operations of the last two decades. Or it’s a matter of “give government money to everybody, including me“ and that’s good; but “don’t give money to a certain class of people“ because they’ll just spend it on booze and drugs.Nobody here has suggested they are glad about the stimulus check as government policy. They’ve simply addressed your reasons for complaining about as silly.
Ok. Then let’s stop talking about it.Only after you admit that your statement ...
I guess I should be enjoying the fact that some “small government“, “keep the big government out of my life“, people are so eager to support the stimulus package, which is one of the biggest “government in your life“ operations of the last two decades. Or it’s a matter of “give government money to everybody, including me“ and that’s good; but “don’t give money to a certain class of people“ because they’ll just spend it on booze and drugs.Please cite specific forum posts ... failure to cite forum posts supporting your apparently unfounded statements indicates ... oh well .. carry on as you are wont to screed from time to time.😞
Chapter 11:
Are we lockdown/quarantine or “normal”?
Adventures in medicine.
A death in the family not related to the virus.
Watching – and not watching – the Virus News.
Four months! Although some things change, it is still a grim long haul. But we are so desperate for “something,” that anything looks good.
Some things returning
Daily exercise classes returned. Size is limited; we sign up the day before. Sessions are shorter so staff can cleanse chairs and gear. We do three days a week in the room and two days a week in the pool.
We now eat three days a week in our fine dining room. Our floor gets Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Sometimes tables can be configured for three persons. Alternate days we order meals delivered to our residence.
They occasionally show new, first-run movies in our auditorium, with attendance limited to 20. Before each event, they take our temperature and give us “I’m cool” stickers to show we are ok.
Adventures in medicine
This humble correspondent spent a month dealing with a kidney stone. Terrible pain arrived suddenly, about 20 minutes after I had stumbled to avoid stepping on our cat and hard-banged my side into a table. Thought that was it. Pain went up, sending me to the emergency room. Strong medical precautions took over. Dropped off; no one allowed in with me; nurses and staff garbed, gloved, masked and shielded. All very pleasant and kind. Nurse made the diagnosis; CT scan and doctor confirmed it. Big stone, probably wasn’t going to “pass.”
Got an Uber ride home.
Plans were made to zap the stone, but a by-product was - ta da! – I got a Covid-19 Test!
Two nurses in a clinic had me do some paperwork, then one stuck a long stick up my nostril. I had heard of the “pain” and that they rammed the probe right up into your brain, so I prepared for the hurt. But she quickly pulled out the stick, and said “that’s it.” If the test were positive, she said, I would hear from her. I never did.
The kidney discomfort continued, alleviated by some Big Pills, until – in another severely sanitized clinic – I was put under while the doc laser-blasted the rock and removed it through a catheter, me being very glad I was not conscious for any of it. My plumbing was modified with some kind of “detour” to accommodate the follow-up, uncomfortable, but bearable. Two weeks later a doc and a nurse went in with camera and tongs (don’t ask), removed the detour and I was pronounced stone free.
These contacts with the medical world, plus a visit to the dentist recently showed how seriously those people take the virus and sanitary procedures.
A death in the family
Our dear little Sally Pearl, the cat over which I stumbled, died last week. She was 13, and in bad health for some time. The vet treated her almost a year ago and the prognosis was not positive. So we cared for her and observed the decline the three weeks before her death. One night, Sally sat on our laps – purring nicely – but could barely walk. I put her to bed where she died during the night.
Burial was in our daughter’s back yard, with appropriate ceremonies. A stone cat now marks her grave. She was a dear friend, a gift from God, and we are thankful for her time with us.
The Virus is not the whole world
I don’t want the Virus to take over my world. I am always torn – watch the news or don’t watch the news? Watching brings both hope and added worry. Watching shows civic unrest, medical heroes, and far too many stupid and selfish people. The mess in our country is greater than in some parts of the world, lesser than in others. But death is “out there,” especially for those of us of six or seven decades.
We phone friends in far-away New Jersey. Things tough there, also. Sometimes tougher. The son-in-law of friends died suddenly, not related to The Virus.
These remain trying times. But there are books, movies on Netflix and elsewhere, music. Some live performances are coming online. We spend some sunny afternoons by a lake. Both Beloved Spouse and I are in generally good health, although her eyes are not good.
Normal? Don’t know what it will be. But we cling to the good things in life. Don’t know what else to do.
A death in the family
Our dear little Sally Pearl, the cat over which I stumbled, died last week. She was 13, and in bad health for some time. The vet treated her almost a year ago and the prognosis was not positive. So we cared for her and observed the decline the three weeks before her death. One night, Sally sat on our laps – purring nicely – but could barely walk. I put her to bed where she died during the night.
Burial was in our daughter’s back yard, with appropriate ceremonies. A stone cat now marks her grave. She was a dear friend, a gift from God, and we are thankful for her time with us.
The Virus is not the whole world
I don’t want the Virus to take over my world. I am always torn – watch the news or don’t watch the news? Watching brings both hope and added worry. Watching shows civic unrest, medical heroes, and far too many stupid and selfish people. The mess in our country is greater than in some parts of the world, lesser than in others. But death is “out there,” especially for those of us of six or seven decades.
We phone friends in far-away New Jersey. Things tough there, also. Sometimes tougher. The son-in-law of friends died suddenly, not related to The Virus.
These remain trying times. But there are books, movies on Netflix and elsewhere, music. Some live performances are coming online. We spend some sunny afternoons by a lake. Both Beloved Spouse and I are in generally good health, although her eyes are not good.
Normal? Don’t know what it will be. But we cling to the good things in life. Don’t know what else to do.
We have always had cats, of both the indoor and outdoor variety. And they have always lived well, partly because I am totally allergic to cats. So they have their own section of the house if they're indoor, their own apartment, so to speak. I bonded with a couple of them, but often no bond has been the best bond for my sinuses. But the do bond with Judy, so all is well on the home front.
Kidney stones, on the other hand, need to be evicted from the body. I've evicted fifteen of them and the one(s) currently residing in the lower left lobe have been put on notice by being blasted into many teeny-tiny stones. I like the methodology you speak of, Charles - the laser and urethra modification. On the other hand, it is a Luther-an malady, viz: In 1537 Luther’s health tanked even further from a large kidney stone and its attendant bleeding. When he couldn’t urinate, the court’s physician prescribed massive amounts of water. And when this obviously only made matters worse, the doctor tried a mixture of garlic and raw manure. "In excruciating pain, Luther expected—and hoped for—death. Finally relief struck . . . [when] the sharp jostling of his carriage broke the [kidney] stone loose. Over a gallon of urine poured forth uncontrolled. Shocked by his survival, he exclaimed that night, 'Luther lives!’"
To show you how far we've come, at the hospital I frequent, the doctors use garlic and refined manure, which is really composting, internal organic gardening. At least that's what they told me.
Dave Benke
We have always had cats, of both the indoor and outdoor variety. And they have always lived well, partly because I am totally allergic to cats. So they have their own section of the house if they're indoor, their own apartment, so to speak. I bonded with a couple of them, but often no bond has been the best bond for my sinuses. But the do bond with Judy, so all is well on the home front.
Kidney stones, on the other hand, need to be evicted from the body. I've evicted fifteen of them and the one(s) currently residing in the lower left lobe have been put on notice by being blasted into many teeny-tiny stones. I like the methodology you speak of, Charles - the laser and urethra modification. On the other hand, it is a Luther-an malady, viz: In 1537 Luther’s health tanked even further from a large kidney stone and its attendant bleeding. When he couldn’t urinate, the court’s physician prescribed massive amounts of water. And when this obviously only made matters worse, the doctor tried a mixture of garlic and raw manure. "In excruciating pain, Luther expected—and hoped for—death. Finally relief struck . . . [when] the sharp jostling of his carriage broke the [kidney] stone loose. Over a gallon of urine poured forth uncontrolled. Shocked by his survival, he exclaimed that night, 'Luther lives!’"
To show you how far we've come, at the hospital I frequent, the doctors use garlic and refined manure, which is really composting, internal organic gardening. At least that's what they told me.
Dave Benke
And, to think that you could resolve the horrible problem in a patricarchal Lutheran way by a simple but painful ride in a carriage on a rough road! 8)
They sent the stones for analysis to determine what they were made of. . Probably that will give us some clue about what I shouldn’t eat or do to avoid getting stoned again. But in the end, it’s still just a crapshoot. Sometimes you make eight the hard way, sometimes you crap out.
Thomas Shelley, .you have a long memory, that phrase must’ve been posted 14 years ago.
Thomas Shelley, .you have a long memory, that phrase must’ve been posted 14 years ago.
The Orthodox generally have a long memory . . . ;)
Thomas Shelley, .you have a long memory, that phrase must’ve been posted 14 years ago.
The Orthodox generally have a long memory . . . ;)
The one thing does seem to proceed from the other. And ONLY the other.
ἀνάπαυσον τὴν ψυχὴν τοῦ κεκοιμημένου δούλου (τῆς κεκοιμημένης δούλης) σου (τας ψυχάς των κεκοιμημένων δούλων σου),
ἐν τόπῳ φωτεινῷ,
ἐν τόπῳ χλοερῷ,
ἐν τόπῳ ἀναψύξεως
Give rest to the soul(s) of Your departed servant(s) (Name)
in a place of light,
in a place of green pasture,
in a place of refreshment...
I've always thought this thread was the best of us on this board in these past months, initiated by our friend Charles Austin.
So in the last 24 hours, I (and Judy) finally left the Island. Long Island, particularly the inner half from Brooklyn through Nassau County. Yesterday we paid a bridge toll (!) and headed all the way to Yonkers, which is for non-locals located on continental America and not an island. We saw people! Family first, including a new grand-nephew whose dad went through a serious bout of COVID-19 in March, and is now back to work as a physician in Yonkers. Baby born (Scott Geminn) at Lawrence Hospital, so a native New Yorker and Westchesterian (Westchesterite?). Anyway we went to this beautiful park on the Hudson, the Untermyer Park, on the estate of a really cool rich dude from back in the day. Then we went to the other water, in Pelham Bay, to the Club I belong to, which is the top Athletic Club probably in the US, sponsoring normally 50-60 medal-winning athletes at the Olympics. This location, actually is on a little island called Travers Island and is our club's Yacht Club and sailing/ water sports training center. Snazzy. For first night off the other Island, we were kind of overwhelmed by being in an exclusively Anglo setting - 100%. Except for some non-white waitstaff.
So today, traffic being down, I took a shot at another trip to the far-off island of Manhattan (7 miles), paying this time the tunnel tolls (we have no more toll booths in NY - all digital reads of your license plate). And there - hey, hello! Welcome back to New York City! People - people of all possible kinds, mostly NOT tourists (this is a major change in midtown), and just us being us, wandering and kvetching and taking it in. I walked through Macy's, full of stuff, not many people buying. I see a guy looking lost, who asks a guy outside a hotel a question and gets no answer. I ask him what's up. He says "where do I get Amtrak? That man didn't know." We're standing maybe 100 feet from MSG (Madison Square Garden) and therefore Penn Station, ie Amtrak. I say, "See that big building next to us? Go in there. You'll be fine." The other guy didn't know? Welcome back to New York City!
Dave Benke
What a thrill to know the 5 boroughs of New York City:
Staten Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx.
Of course the Bronx is home to the New York Yankees. This
is the most successful sports franchise in American history.
Yankee Stadium is the beautiful cathedral which hosts the
Bronx Bombers and their 27 World Series Championships.
Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Yogi
Berra, Whitey Ford, Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter are just a
few of the MLB Hall of Famers who have worn the Yankee
pinstripes.
I've always thought this thread was the best of us on this board in these past months, initiated by our friend Charles Austin.I went to review this thread’s contents. Apparently... and most likely without the knowledge of Rev Benke, the initial post to this thread now appears as follows ....
Dave Benke
Content deletedMuch of the content Rev Benke referenced as “ the best of us on this board in these past months” is no longer available to forum members and guests.
« Last Edit: August 19, 2020, 06:40:40 PM by Charles Austin »
Check this out: a really great read - https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/05/arts/design/bronx-virtual-tour.html (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/05/arts/design/bronx-virtual-tour.html).Thank you for the link. It is tragic that even in The Bronx the selfish self centered graffiti vandal thugs live such a depraved life that the have to vandalize area businesses as depicted in the linked article.
Dave Benke
What a thrill to know the 5 boroughs of New York City:
Staten Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx.
Of course the Bronx is home to the New York Yankees. This
is the most successful sports franchise in American history.
Yankee Stadium is the beautiful cathedral which hosts the
Bronx Bombers and their 27 World Series Championships.
Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Yogi
Berra, Whitey Ford, Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter are just a
few of the MLB Hall of Famers who have worn the Yankee
pinstripes.
Once upon a time - John will remember this - someone in the marketing division at our Concordia came up with this slogan as a way to recruit: Bronxville - It's Not the Bronx.
Seriously. So the pastoral and lay denizens of The Bronx crafted letters indicating that the comparison was not apt, to put the best construction on it.
"How," they would ask rhetorically, "is your world class zoo. It must be better than the Bronx Zoo, known worldwide." "How," they would continue, "is your best in the US Botanical Garden. It must be far better than the Bronx Botanical Garden which houses the only original growth forest in this region, and is frequented by botanists from all over the world." "How," they would conclude, "is your Major League Baseball Team doing up there in Bronxville. Our squad has won 27 World Series; what's the Bronxville team's record?"
The slogan, which was somehow designed to attract students from upstate, was mysteriously dropped soon thereafter.
Jonas Bronck could well have been Lutheran - that's one of the major descriptions. He was most likely a Dane. Later on in New Amsterdam, the Dutch Reformed were running the place, so that's how he may have ended his days on the 680 acre farm he called Emmaus but later folks called Broncksland that is now the Mott Haven section. Check this out: a really great read - https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/05/arts/design/bronx-virtual-tour.html (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/05/arts/design/bronx-virtual-tour.html).
Dave Benke
What a thrill to know the 5 boroughs of New York City:
Staten Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx.
Of course the Bronx is home to the New York Yankees. This
is the most successful sports franchise in American history.
Yankee Stadium is the beautiful cathedral which hosts the
Bronx Bombers and their 27 World Series Championships.
Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Yogi
Berra, Whitey Ford, Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter are just a
few of the MLB Hall of Famers who have worn the Yankee
pinstripes.
Once upon a time - John will remember this - someone in the marketing division at our Concordia came up with this slogan as a way to recruit: Bronxville - It's Not the Bronx.
Seriously. So the pastoral and lay denizens of The Bronx crafted letters indicating that the comparison was not apt, to put the best construction on it.
"How," they would ask rhetorically, "is your world class zoo. It must be better than the Bronx Zoo, known worldwide." "How," they would continue, "is your best in the US Botanical Garden. It must be far better than the Bronx Botanical Garden which houses the only original growth forest in this region, and is frequented by botanists from all over the world." "How," they would conclude, "is your Major League Baseball Team doing up there in Bronxville. Our squad has won 27 World Series; what's the Bronxville team's record?"
The slogan, which was somehow designed to attract students from upstate, was mysteriously dropped soon thereafter.
Jonas Bronck could well have been Lutheran - that's one of the major descriptions. He was most likely a Dane. Later on in New Amsterdam, the Dutch Reformed were running the place, so that's how he may have ended his days on the 680 acre farm he called Emmaus but later folks called Broncksland that is now the Mott Haven section. Check this out: a really great read - https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/05/arts/design/bronx-virtual-tour.html (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/05/arts/design/bronx-virtual-tour.html).
Dave Benke
Bronxville is a lovely spot. Few parts of the Bronx look much like it, although the Bronx does harbor abiding beauty as well (along with just a few urban struggles).
For the record, Yankee Stadium today lacks the gritty grandeur and the history of the old place, particularly in its pre-1974 form.
What a thrill to know the 5 boroughs of New York City:
Staten Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx.
Of course the Bronx is home to the New York Yankees. This
is the most successful sports franchise in American history.
Yankee Stadium is the beautiful cathedral which hosts the
Bronx Bombers and their 27 World Series Championships.
Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Yogi
Berra, Whitey Ford, Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter are just a
few of the MLB Hall of Famers who have worn the Yankee
pinstripes.
Once upon a time - John will remember this - someone in the marketing division at our Concordia came up with this slogan as a way to recruit: Bronxville - It's Not the Bronx.
Seriously. So the pastoral and lay denizens of The Bronx crafted letters indicating that the comparison was not apt, to put the best construction on it.
"How," they would ask rhetorically, "is your world class zoo. It must be better than the Bronx Zoo, known worldwide." "How," they would continue, "is your best in the US Botanical Garden. It must be far better than the Bronx Botanical Garden which houses the only original growth forest in this region, and is frequented by botanists from all over the world." "How," they would conclude, "is your Major League Baseball Team doing up there in Bronxville. Our squad has won 27 World Series; what's the Bronxville team's record?"
The slogan, which was somehow designed to attract students from upstate, was mysteriously dropped soon thereafter.
Jonas Bronck could well have been Lutheran - that's one of the major descriptions. He was most likely a Dane. Later on in New Amsterdam, the Dutch Reformed were running the place, so that's how he may have ended his days on the 680 acre farm he called Emmaus but later folks called Broncksland that is now the Mott Haven section. Check this out: a really great read - https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/05/arts/design/bronx-virtual-tour.html (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/05/arts/design/bronx-virtual-tour.html).
Dave Benke
Bronxville is a lovely spot. Few parts of the Bronx look much like it, although the Bronx does harbor abiding beauty as well (along with just a few urban struggles).
For the record, Yankee Stadium today lacks the gritty grandeur and the history of the old place, particularly in its pre-1974 form.
Today was one of those small, but significant moments of congregational and family joy in the midst of the pandemic.
Earlier this month, on Aug. 10, I buried a 50 year old woman. The next day her 59 year old brother died, and we buried him on Aug. 15. It was hard on the family, especially the 80-something mother who lost two adult children within days. Thankfully we were able to hold the funerals, albeit with reduced numbers and pandemic protocols.
This morning we confirmed the son of the woman buried on Aug. 10. He was a 'class of one', but we did it with all the ceremony and celebration we would do with a regular class in normal times. Just before this difficult month of death and mourning closed, we were able to bring a moment of joy and celebration to our congregation. I have learned during these times to treasure moments of celebration, no matter how small they are. And it was a record attendance for Sunday - 49! There with our little band of faithful we heard the public confession of one of our own, prayed again for a member and her family who lost her mother and buried her this past week, and then celebrated the Sacrament. Life is difficult and unpredictable and challenging, but the risen Lord is still among us! Life reigns!
My daughter is graduating from Valpo next month. She already had her semester in Paris cut short and her overseas internship ruined, but was looking forward to graduating in the chapel, and my wife and I wanted to be there. Not to be. Absurdly, VU has declared the Covid capacity of the massive chapel to be 100 people. That means they're going to do something like six separate graduations. And they're going to stagger them back and forth between the chapel and the gymnasium so that cleaning can take place between them. So she will be graduating in the gym. But the kicker to me is that her ceremony will be taking place at 9:30 a.m. on a Sunday morning. I won't be there, obviously.Sounds like the mentality of a secular organization ... a failure to respect Sunday morning as a time of worship. Why not Saturday .. unless they are catering Jews and Seventh Day Adventist among the student body.
We delayed out Confirmation service but ended up doing with some modifications. Each confirmand could only bring four people and they had assigned places with family groups socially distanced. But it happened with everyone there, and it was a glorious day.
Panic and craven safety-obsession can do as much damage to the fabric of human life as disease.
Our facility is shut down again; as three workers here were infected; those of us who had contact with them were tested. Beloved Spouse and I tested negative. But our dining room and activities are on hold again; and the state just issued additional orders for the month ahead. So I wrote...Why are things so bad in Europe if the situation here was caused but our bumbling leadership? Not not all those countries have idiotic, bumbling heads of state. But the bolded parts above have become par for the course for you. Maybe you should take a break from this forum.
Dear family and friends,
I have wept real tears and shaken my supposedly tough-guy body with sobs, realizing that we will not be together this Thanksgiving. I even try to suppress memory, for it does not bring smiling nostalgia, but increased pain. Our separation these days is for “good reason,” probably even life-saving reasons. This, however, does not take away the hurt.
We are, I believe, in a war. It is as if bombs were falling around us and we must take shelter.
The disruption in our lives, while not as vicious as that faced by the British in 1940, is nonetheless real and wide-ranging. Virtually everything that enriched my life – movies, theater, social events, singing groups, dinner out with friends, church, travel, freedom to roam wherever I wanted – was taken from me last March. Even activities in our retirement facility and meals in our fine dining room are suspended. The food we order is delivered in sacks of green boxes.
This is our life now, in the war against the virus. We are not combatants on the front lines; we are civilians trying to survive. Now we see, with the development of vaccines, new and powerful weapons in this war. We hang on every hopeful sign.
Meanwhile, it is hard to control my anger. The top leadership of our country failed us dozens of times since the virus became known last January. What might we have saved, how many lives might have been saved if, instead of idiotic denial and bumbling, we pulled together in the war for the last nine months?
I am also angry at many fellow citizens, who to this very day, downplay the seriousness of the war and mock efforts to improve public health as assaults on our “freedom.”
Furthermore, I am angry at those who – despite no evidence – continue to claim some massive fraud infested this year’s election. They are fools; their actions border on criminality or treason. And they have grievously hurt our war against the virus.
But it will be Thanksgiving and I am to give thanks. I will, I guess, do so. Beloved Spouse and I are alive, relatively healthy for our advanced ages. We live in a retirement facility and restrictions here minimize our chances of being exposed to infection. We don’t socialize, We wear masks when grocery shopping, and avoid crowds.
So I guess I’m thankful for life, for the hope that vaccines will come in the months ahead, for the hope that family and friends will be spared additional pain. I’m thankful for all the holidays I have had with family and friends though it hurts to get too close to those memories today.
I believe we will come through today’s war, and am thankful that – when the tears are not flowing – I can believe that.
I hope you can, too.
Definitely worth a read: https://concordiatheology.org/2018/11/jeff-gibbs-the-myth-of-righteous-anger/ (https://concordiatheology.org/2018/11/jeff-gibbs-the-myth-of-righteous-anger/)Anger ... especially unrighteous anger can be worse than cancer .. eating away at one’s heart ... damaging the heart and soul far more disastrously than cancer eats away at the body.
Jeff Gibbs, "The Myth of Righteous Anger: What the Bible Says About Human Anger".
I hope you can, too.
One positive thing about Pandemic Thanksgiving. Since we'll be alone, we mutually agreed last night that there was really no good reason not to break into the pumpkin pie a day early. ;D
Like everything else opinions differ .. I’ve always enjoyed refrigerated cakes, pies, and other pastries .. last checked .. neither commanded or forbidden by God.One positive thing about Pandemic Thanksgiving. Since we'll be alone, we mutually agreed last night that there was really no good reason not to break into the pumpkin pie a day early. ;DSo, make up a bad reason. A pie, still a bit warm from the oven, is better than a day-old pie from the refrigerator.
I simply want us to remember that those Puritans came here to find religious freedom for themselves, not necessarily to grant it to anyone else. That’s how we got Rhode Island, when Roger Williams Got thrown out of the Massachusetts Bay colony because he sought religious freedom, to dissent from the beliefs of the established church.Indeed.
I simply want us to remember that those Puritans came here to find religious freedom for themselves, not necessarily to grant it to anyone else. That’s how we got Rhode Island, when Roger Williams Got thrown out of the Massachusetts Bay colony because he sought religious freedom, to dissent from the beliefs of the established church.
I do not believe that our expansion in this land was “an insidious white colonization scheme designed to bring disease to the inhabitants and steal their country.” But that’s sort of what happened. And later, under President Andrew Jackson, it was intended.
I've always thought it terribly ironic that the descendants of those Pilgrims morphed into some of the groups that strayed farthest from orthodox Christianity--the Unitarians, of course, and what is today the UCC (which, we used to joke, means "Unitarians Considering Christ").
I spent much of the day hunting (no luck; saw only three does all day).
Interested ... our 22 lb turkey roasted 6 hrs @ 325 in the oven ... curious what type of grill you used that roasted 20 lb bird in 3 hrs.
We started up the grill, seasoned the bird, and flew it onto the grill.
<snip>
The turkey cooks much more evenly and is done in less than three hours for a twenty-pound bird.
Interested ... our 22 lb turkey roasted 6 hrs @ 325 in the oven ... curious what type of grill you used that roasted 20 lb bird in 3 hrs.
We started up the grill, seasoned the bird, and flew it onto the grill.
<snip>
The turkey cooks much more evenly and is done in less than three hours for a twenty-pound bird.
Spatchcock turkey cooks quickly. An 11 pound bird takes about 1 hour and 10 minutes to cook through. Larger birds may take a little longer and smaller birds may take less time. Remove the turkey from the oven when the meat from the thickest part of the breast reaches 165 degrees F.
Thanksgiving alone: Breaking the myths. The Year of the Pandemic
In this pandemic year, Beloved Spouse and I will eat Thanksgiving dinner alone, the meal brought to our door in three courses. Over on another thread, Peter says Thanksgiving is “aspirational.” I would say the favored “pictures” of the holiday are mythological.
Childhood Thanksgiving was filled with mythology. The Puritans’ “noble” quest for religious freedom. The cozy Pilgrim-Indian friendship. Norman Rockwell paintings, which we had in abundance. The family of several generations happily gathered. Even the wonderful deliciousness of the food. All myths. But we inserted our families into the myths and acted them out.
Post-war years in Iowa, the Thanksgiving family was my parents, me, my maternal grandmother and a divorced aunt with three children. Sometimes that meant a “children’s table”. That grandmother died when I was 9; the aunt remarried and moved far away. In another part of Sioux City, a different covey of Austins gathered with paternal grandparents. Since we had moved across town, my parents and I were not really part of that sometimes tumultuous “family,” except on Christmas Eve when we made the 40-minute streetcar ride to the grandmother’s house. I don’t think I ever heard Grandpa Austin speak a word. He sat in his chair, smoking a pipe, generally ignoring everyone. He died when I was about 13.
That year, I gained a “brother,” as we took in a 7-year old cousin, whose mother had died and whose father was unable to care for him.
Most houses in my neighborhood had only one child. A few went “over the river and through the woods” to be with older relatives, but most stayed home. We kids would sometimes get together after Thanksgiving dinner, taking our sleds to a nearby hill if there was snow.
Television arrived, with Thanksgiving specials, if we could get a picture that did not look like ghosts dancing in a snowstorm. When reception improved, it was the Macy’s Parade and – for some – football. We were adding to the myths of thanksgiving.
I remember one, maybe two, larger Thanksgivings at our house with distant relatives visiting Sioux City. One of my mother’s sisters, a heavy drinker on her second marriage (there would be three). Two families from my father’s side who lived in Mason City (considered far away in pre-Interstate days). My piano teacher next-door neighbor, living alone in the house where her parents had died that year.
In college years I had to connect with the family of the woman who would become Beloved Spouse. Not easy. No realized Norman Rockwell paintings there. And I was the interloper plotting to steal away the treasured First Grandchild.
Thanksgivings the first 10 married years were “just us,” maybe another couple (we couldn’t afford to feed a crowd.) No continuity, no stability. Seminary. Internship in Kingston, NY. Back to Chicago. First parish. Big move from Iowa to New York.
In New York, we assimilated the myths of longer-term friends, including a married couple, both Methodist clergy, the husband a journalist like me. Those Thanksgivings meant outstanding southern cooking (they were from Georgia and Tennessee), guests who were journalists, authors, and Methodist church executives. We were the only family with children. These were great times. But the husband finally came to terms with being gay; after an amicable divorce, the wife became a bishop’s assistant in Tennessee.
The myths were set aside in Europe. It wasn’t a holiday. Americans would get together on the fourth Saturday in November for the Turkey fest, arranging for the consulate in Geneva to supply us with cranberry sauce.
In the 1980s in New Jersey, Beloved Spouse and I became the host family. The number of chairs around the table varied, usually including the lesbian couple next door, our children (until Glenda went to Minneapolis for college), sometimes a girlfriend attached to our son, the divorced Methodist journalist, a older married couple with grown children, and one or two single schoolteachers. These, too, were very good years, and I truly miss the heavy work required to put it all together. (I know at least four ways to peel chestnuts; and all are difficult.)
One of these years, I had to be in the newsroom by 1 pm and work until 11, so the dinner went on without me (as did the dinner in the homes of the 100 or so other people putting out the newspaper.) I spent a good part of that day cold and wet at the scene of a fire, and the rest of it calling cops to see if any of the domestic disputes had resulted in an arrest or fatality.
Most of our friends “celebrated” similar Thanksgivings as changing, varied-myth festivals. Generally, the food remained, but little else. Furthermore, things in “the world,” civil unrest, political turmoil, church controversies, job insecurity, potentially fatal sicknesses and children of friends going through tough times were almost always present and intrusive to what was supposed to be a warm, cozy holiday.
Then came Minneapolis two years ago.
Daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren always spent Thanksgiving three hours from Minneapolis with his family, so – reducing and changing the myths – we joined the table of a brother-in-law who had remarried some years after the sister of Beloved Spouse died.
And now The Year of the Pandemic. We will watch what's left of the Macy's Parade on television. The kids are nearby, as the family-gathering myth of our son-in-law has collapsed. But we can’t be with them. We will do a late-afternoon drive-by to pick up some of their leftovers.
The myths of Thanksgiving. What a set of memories, experiences, changing locations, different faces around the table!
And each year, we find things for which to be thankful. I suppose we’ll do that this Year of the Pandemic.
-0-
A comment on the holiday in a pandemic year:
https://www.startribune.com/in-winter-2020-we-need-a-little-christmas/573296621/
I do not write Op-Ed articles that are "sermons," although some have said where I stand personally on religious matters. Depending on the audience, I consider what will be appropriate if I want to reach readers with some good ideas.
In some parts of our land, it may be possible to write "sermonic" Op-Ed pieces. But I would rather try to "touch" the partly-religious or non-religious reader with a little "real" Christmas than write a semi-sermon that would turn them off even if they chose to read it.
I do not write Op-Ed articles that are "sermons," although some have said where I stand personally on religious matters. Depending on the audience, I consider what will be appropriate if I want to reach readers with some good ideas.
In some parts of our land, it may be possible to write "sermonic" Op-Ed pieces. But I would rather try to "touch" the partly-religious or non-religious reader with a little "real" Christmas than write a semi-sermon that would turn them off even if they chose to read it.
I have lived in my current community now for 20 years. During that time the editor of our small daily would include a 'religious' article, but usually one picked from the AP, one that wasn't always geared for the local audience, and had a sense of randomness to it. After his death about a year ago and the sale of the paper (just prior to his death), the new editor began to invite local clergy to write a weekly article for the Friday edition. I was surprised, considering that the new owners were from outside the community. Some of these article take on a more "sermonic" style, as you call it, and I'm inclined as you are to avoid that approach. I try to remember that my 'audience' may include parishoners, but also potentially includes many others who are not part of my little circle. As a chaplain whose outreach ministry extends well beyond my church I know that some of these first responders who know me a bit more may also be reading. Writing for a secular paper is different than writing for a religious periodical. You don't have to avoid mention of Jesus, but you also don't have to come off with a full blown sermonic treatise either.
Randy Bosch writes:
Nice that you were able to sneak in a "little Christmas" paragraph that alludes to the actual meaning of Christmas. The Editors didn't catch it -- unless they're the ones who took Christ out of Christmas...
I comment:
I suspect you speak in hyperbole, Randy Bosch, so I am not miffed by the comment. However, in discourse such as this I am pleased to note the following:
Since 1963 (my first job in secular journalism), I have dealt with dozens and dozens, probably hundreds of editors. I've known editors for: Suburban weeklies, the Associated Press, United Press International, The Record (Hackensack, NJ), The New York Times, Hearst News Service, BBC, Deutsche Presse Agentur, Agence France Presse, and - occasionally - editors in maybe 25 or more daily newspapers around the country. Also a few magazines like the old Time and Newsweek and the late New York Magazine.
It has been my experience that editors are - for the most part - personally as "religious" as people in the states, countries, regions, territories, etc., they serve. In the U.S., this means that most are Christian, the majority of them more or less "active" Christians, some quite active, some less so, some among the "nones" concerning religious preference.
But smart, successful editors know the religious aspects of their readers' lives. Newspapers have little to gain by jabbing away at religion (which still means they must be diligent in reporting on such things as financial shenanigans or sexual abuse in churches.)
I have seen no editor attempting to "take Christ out of Christmas." In the several "Christmas" or "Easter" Op-Ed columns I have written over the years, there has been no need to "sneak in" what we think is important about the festival.
Now a word (my, this is going on too long, isn't it?) about writing "religion" for secular publications. Editors and readers generally respond badly to things that sound like a sermon, have an "evangelistic" tone or appear to be "doctrinally" driven. Sometimes even Christmas columns in New York city papers by the Cardinal Archbishop of New York are more "generic" than homiletical about the holiday.
I do not write Op-Ed articles that are "sermons," although some have said where I stand personally on religious matters. Depending on the audience, I consider what will be appropriate if I want to reach readers with some good ideas.
In some parts of our land, it may be possible to write "sermonic" Op-Ed pieces. But I would rather try to "touch" the partly-religious or non-religious reader with a little "real" Christmas than write a semi-sermon that would turn them off even if they chose to read it.
Editors have no "campaign" to "take Christ out of Christmas." That is a base canard foisted upon the public by ideologues like Pat Buchanan (promoting "culture wars") and the far-right side of the evangelical spectrum.
(Whew! Is he done yet?)
Yes, I am.
Nicely done, Pastor Austin. We missed it but got it on the rebound.
And for a charming, varied, and extremely well produced video of a congregation’s Christmas, go to this website of Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Teaneck New Jersey, if you blocks from where are used to live. The opening is a video of the Rockettes at radio city music hall because the man who has played the organ at radio city music hall for several decades is the organism in the congregation. The program runs about an hour, but it is very good, some interesting comments, good music, and a nice homily from the Rector near the end, along with an animated nativity scene. Unlike anything you’ve usually seen.Might want to check that voice activation feature.
Here is the link.
http://www.stmarksteaneck.org/
Works for me. Maybe your terminal doesn’t speak Episcopalian.Hhmmm. Episcopalian congregations have designated organisms? I’ll admit to not having known that.
Jan. 30 of the Plague Year
And so it ends. Hope is on the horizon.
The residents of the nursing home attached to our retirement facility have all been vaccinated, as have the “associates” who work on our ranch, doing housekeeping, food prep and serving (but we’re still not eating in the dining room) and in maintenance.
Exercises classes start “in person” in our auditorium next week, limited to ten people per session. You can book time in the pool or in the fitness center.
But alas for Christmas! No church services, except online; no family dinners or gatherings, save for a 90-minute exchange of gifts Christmas Day. No choral singing or concerts.
We have much hope for the vaccines now in the pipeline, though there is always the chance that the pipeline will be screwed up by, well, almost anybody.
And the nation wheezes, still in the dangerous grip of believers in myths, those captive to conspiracy theories, fanatic loyalists and a leader who plays golf while thousands die, ignores truth and law and the Constitution.
But this too, will pass, except that we will have to endure more cynical political posturing, all based on those myths and conspiracy theories and enacted to boost the egos (and vote-getting power) of those cynically posturing under false flags.
Working hard on a pleasant New Year’s eve for tomorrow. We will “eat out” for lunch, which means take-out consumed in the car by a scenic lake. Then in the evening we have ordered appetizers and organized nibble snacks, and appropriate beverages for the two of us.
We have paid for a streaming evening show from the St. Croix Valley opera, presented by local musicians in Stillwater, Minnesota. We support local artists, and I’m fairly sure I will enjoy the music more than that done by glitzy “stars” on the television networks.
It will be odd, but necessary to watch ball fall on what we assume will be a mostly empty Times Square.
And it will be good to hope that next year – Memorial Day? July 4? – we will celebrate with family and friends.
Happy New Year to all. And to throw a line from Captain Picard towards God: "Make it so."
Thanks, Randy Bosch, that performance is always on our schedule, and we have marveled at the choreography as well as the music, right up to the Radetzsky March finale.
I once heard the orchestra play in that hall, but they didn't play the Radetzsky March at the end. It was during a meeting of Roman Catholic communications and press people. We were properly tuxedo-ed for the concert and afterparty, but the priests had only their black suits and collars. A few "modern nuns," however, came in evening dress. 'Twas an interesting event.
Jan. 30 of the Plague Year
And so it ends. Hope is on the horizon.
The residents of the nursing home attached to our retirement facility have all been vaccinated, as have the “associates” who work on our ranch, doing housekeeping, food prep and serving (but we’re still not eating in the dining room) and in maintenance.
Exercises classes start “in person” in our auditorium next week, limited to ten people per session. You can book time in the pool or in the fitness center.
But alas for Christmas! No church services, except online; no family dinners or gatherings, save for a 90-minute exchange of gifts Christmas Day. No choral singing or concerts.
We have much hope for the vaccines now in the pipeline, though there is always the chance that the pipeline will be screwed up by, well, almost anybody.
And the nation wheezes, still in the dangerous grip of believers in myths, those captive to conspiracy theories, fanatic loyalists and a leader who plays golf while thousands die, ignores truth and law and the Constitution.
But this too, will pass, except that we will have to endure more cynical political posturing, all based on those myths and conspiracy theories and enacted to boost the egos (and vote-getting power) of those cynically posturing under false flags.
Working hard on a pleasant New Year’s eve for tomorrow. We will “eat out” for lunch, which means take-out consumed in the car by a scenic lake. Then in the evening we have ordered appetizers and organized nibble snacks, and appropriate beverages for the two of us.
We have paid for a streaming evening show from the St. Croix Valley opera, presented by local musicians in Stillwater, Minnesota. We support local artists, and I’m fairly sure I will enjoy the music more than that done by glitzy “stars” on the television networks.
It will be odd, but necessary to watch ball fall on what we assume will be a mostly empty Times Square.
And it will be good to hope that next year – Memorial Day? July 4? – we will celebrate with family and friends.
Happy New Year to all. And to throw a line from Captain Picard towards God: "Make it so."
A New Year's Day suggestion: Check out your PBS affiliate for the time of the Annual New Years Concert from Vienna.
Always great Viennese Baroque music in a great setting - likely a bit tinged by masks, plexiglas and very few in-person patrons, but always great!
The nurse urged us to “use” the vaccination arm all day, to keep it moving to deter possible pain. ..
It’s about seven hours since the poke in the arm. Neither Beloved Spouse nor this humble correspondent have felt any discomfort.
Loss is an overarching theme. Loss of time, of freedom to move, of worship in person, of lives.Poignant. You can't go home again. You can only look forward to arriving there for the first time.
I will be conducting five funerals in the next week, of parishioners, friends, colleagues. And due to a positive COVID-19 case in our school, our church and school have been closed for over two weeks, so we're using every other medium we can to keep folks informed and prayed for. My overall feeling is that I've seen a lot of people get older quicker in the last year, isolated and numb, even while we reach one another with love in Christ in these less comfortable new ways.
So last week I called out to Milwaukee, my birthplace and spiritual home, and discovered what I had heard was true - our family, and extended family's, congregation is going to close. What about my confirmation record? My report cards? Our wedding record? My ordination? If that's how your name is written in the book of life, where are they taking the book?
In thinking about my childhood days, today then brought another blow. Of all the Milwaukee Braves fans in the 50s and early 60s, I was near the top of the heap. And of all the Braves fans who knew in their heart that the best baseball player who ever played was Hank Aaron, I am in the inner sanctum of that club. I can list four or five key ingredients in my vocational desire to serve in multi-cultural and inner urban ministry. One of them is Hank Aaron, who could just stone play. Who carried himself with quiet dignity. Who let his bat do the talking. The first time I heard a Black person speak was at age 7 at a father-son sports banquet at Christ Memorial in the fall of 1953. Billy Bruton gave the keynote, a speech about faith and life to an all-white audience in which he put Jesus right up there with him at the podium. It was amazing to me as a little guy - Billy Bruton was a Christian. (You may know that Lutheran Day at County Stadium was sold out then, and it was called "Andy Pafko" day because Andy was a Slovak Lutheran) The next spring Hank Aaron arrived on the scene, and lived no more than a couple of blocks from our north side home. All the other kids I hung out with were crazy for Eddie Mathews. So when the little gangs of us - remember we were 8-10 years old - took the bus and train and got in for 35 cent bleacher tix for a Sunday double-header without parental accompaniment - they would head off to right field and I would spend the afternoon in left waiting for Aaron to hit one out. All of his early homers were about ten feet off the ground max - bullet line drives. I tried to model my game that way - let the bat do the talking, line drives to all fields, all of it, not as a slugger, but as an all-around player.
Behind me in my home office is my best autographed ball -
Best wishes
To Pastor David
Hank Aaron
Dave Benke
Loss is an overarching theme. Loss of time, of freedom to move, of worship in person, of lives.Poignant. You can't go home again. You can only look forward to arriving there for the first time.
I will be conducting five funerals in the next week, of parishioners, friends, colleagues. And due to a positive COVID-19 case in our school, our church and school have been closed for over two weeks, so we're using every other medium we can to keep folks informed and prayed for. My overall feeling is that I've seen a lot of people get older quicker in the last year, isolated and numb, even while we reach one another with love in Christ in these less comfortable new ways.
So last week I called out to Milwaukee, my birthplace and spiritual home, and discovered what I had heard was true - our family, and extended family's, congregation is going to close. What about my confirmation record? My report cards? Our wedding record? My ordination? If that's how your name is written in the book of life, where are they taking the book?
In thinking about my childhood days, today then brought another blow. Of all the Milwaukee Braves fans in the 50s and early 60s, I was near the top of the heap. And of all the Braves fans who knew in their heart that the best baseball player who ever played was Hank Aaron, I am in the inner sanctum of that club. I can list four or five key ingredients in my vocational desire to serve in multi-cultural and inner urban ministry. One of them is Hank Aaron, who could just stone play. Who carried himself with quiet dignity. Who let his bat do the talking. The first time I heard a Black person speak was at age 7 at a father-son sports banquet at Christ Memorial in the fall of 1953. Billy Bruton gave the keynote, a speech about faith and life to an all-white audience in which he put Jesus right up there with him at the podium. It was amazing to me as a little guy - Billy Bruton was a Christian. (You may know that Lutheran Day at County Stadium was sold out then, and it was called "Andy Pafko" day because Andy was a Slovak Lutheran) The next spring Hank Aaron arrived on the scene, and lived no more than a couple of blocks from our north side home. All the other kids I hung out with were crazy for Eddie Mathews. So when the little gangs of us - remember we were 8-10 years old - took the bus and train and got in for 35 cent bleacher tix for a Sunday double-header without parental accompaniment - they would head off to right field and I would spend the afternoon in left waiting for Aaron to hit one out. All of his early homers were about ten feet off the ground max - bullet line drives. I tried to model my game that way - let the bat do the talking, line drives to all fields, all of it, not as a slugger, but as an all-around player.
Behind me in my home office is my best autographed ball -
Best wishes
To Pastor David
Hank Aaron
Dave Benke
We just started a four week zoom study of John Nunes's new book Meant for More. He graciously volunteered to lead the study from New York. His is a very upbeat view of the future, with a focus away from loss and toward pursuit of "more" not in a crass sense but in an Augustinian directing of the soul toward its proper ends. It is refreshing but challenging. The genuine emotion, passion, and energy of sensing loss can be a positive, but it does not go there by itself.
Agreed. In all these decades of dealing with folks going through the grief process, the one learning is that you can't wedge it in a box and tell it to go away. After September 11 a couple of our pastors said they were done with any grief and remembrance around Thanksgiving, 2001. Moving on. I wondered aloud whether they had asked their congregants about that timeline. Of course, the answer was no.
Dave Benke
When I was a teenager I was amazed at how many of the rock and roll greats were putting out nostalgia-themed records. They were, of course, a lot older than I was. But Springsteen's The River as well as many songs on Born in the USA, Bob Seeger sang Like a Rock, Mellencamp had Jack and Diane, Tom Petty, et al. Plus nostalgia movies like Stand By Me, Hoosiers, and A Christmas Story became all the craze. It can be good to indulge nostalgia a bit with music and movies. Give it its due. But don't get stranded there.Loss is an overarching theme. Loss of time, of freedom to move, of worship in person, of lives.Poignant. You can't go home again. You can only look forward to arriving there for the first time.
I will be conducting five funerals in the next week, of parishioners, friends, colleagues. And due to a positive COVID-19 case in our school, our church and school have been closed for over two weeks, so we're using every other medium we can to keep folks informed and prayed for. My overall feeling is that I've seen a lot of people get older quicker in the last year, isolated and numb, even while we reach one another with love in Christ in these less comfortable new ways.
So last week I called out to Milwaukee, my birthplace and spiritual home, and discovered what I had heard was true - our family, and extended family's, congregation is going to close. What about my confirmation record? My report cards? Our wedding record? My ordination? If that's how your name is written in the book of life, where are they taking the book?
In thinking about my childhood days, today then brought another blow. Of all the Milwaukee Braves fans in the 50s and early 60s, I was near the top of the heap. And of all the Braves fans who knew in their heart that the best baseball player who ever played was Hank Aaron, I am in the inner sanctum of that club. I can list four or five key ingredients in my vocational desire to serve in multi-cultural and inner urban ministry. One of them is Hank Aaron, who could just stone play. Who carried himself with quiet dignity. Who let his bat do the talking. The first time I heard a Black person speak was at age 7 at a father-son sports banquet at Christ Memorial in the fall of 1953. Billy Bruton gave the keynote, a speech about faith and life to an all-white audience in which he put Jesus right up there with him at the podium. It was amazing to me as a little guy - Billy Bruton was a Christian. (You may know that Lutheran Day at County Stadium was sold out then, and it was called "Andy Pafko" day because Andy was a Slovak Lutheran) The next spring Hank Aaron arrived on the scene, and lived no more than a couple of blocks from our north side home. All the other kids I hung out with were crazy for Eddie Mathews. So when the little gangs of us - remember we were 8-10 years old - took the bus and train and got in for 35 cent bleacher tix for a Sunday double-header without parental accompaniment - they would head off to right field and I would spend the afternoon in left waiting for Aaron to hit one out. All of his early homers were about ten feet off the ground max - bullet line drives. I tried to model my game that way - let the bat do the talking, line drives to all fields, all of it, not as a slugger, but as an all-around player.
Behind me in my home office is my best autographed ball -
Best wishes
To Pastor David
Hank Aaron
Dave Benke
We just started a four week zoom study of John Nunes's new book Meant for More. He graciously volunteered to lead the study from New York. His is a very upbeat view of the future, with a focus away from loss and toward pursuit of "more" not in a crass sense but in an Augustinian directing of the soul toward its proper ends. It is refreshing but challenging. The genuine emotion, passion, and energy of sensing loss can be a positive, but it does not go there by itself.
Agreed. In all these decades of dealing with folks going through the grief process, the one learning is that you can't wedge it in a box and tell it to go away. After September 11 a couple of our pastors said they were done with any grief and remembrance around Thanksgiving, 2001. Moving on. I wondered aloud whether they had asked their congregants about that timeline. Of course, the answer was no.
My message last Wednesday evening after the inauguration was on the power of the cross, God's wisdom and actual, real, permanent power.
Dave Benke
Loss is an overarching theme. Loss of time, of freedom to move, of worship in person, of lives.
I will be conducting five funerals in the next week, of parishioners, friends, colleagues. And due to a positive COVID-19 case in our school, our church and school have been closed for over two weeks, so we're using every other medium we can to keep folks informed and prayed for. My overall feeling is that I've seen a lot of people get older quicker in the last year, isolated and numb, even while we reach one another with love in Christ in these less comfortable new ways.
So last week I called out to Milwaukee, my birthplace and spiritual home, and discovered what I had heard was true - our family, and extended family's, congregation is going to close. What about my confirmation record? My report cards? Our wedding record? My ordination? If that's how your name is written in the book of life, where are they taking the book?
In thinking about my childhood days, today then brought another blow. Of all the Milwaukee Braves fans in the 50s and early 60s, I was near the top of the heap. And of all the Braves fans who knew in their heart that the best baseball player who ever played was Hank Aaron, I am in the inner sanctum of that club. I can list four or five key ingredients in my vocational desire to serve in multi-cultural and inner urban ministry. One of them is Hank Aaron, who could just stone play. Who carried himself with quiet dignity. Who let his bat do the talking. The first time I heard a Black person speak was at age 7 at a father-son sports banquet at Christ Memorial in the fall of 1953. Billy Bruton gave the keynote, a speech about faith and life to an all-white audience in which he put Jesus right up there with him at the podium. It was amazing to me as a little guy - Billy Bruton was a Christian. (You may know that Lutheran Day at County Stadium was sold out then, and it was called "Andy Pafko" day because Andy was a Slovak Lutheran) The next spring Hank Aaron arrived on the scene, and lived no more than a couple of blocks from our north side home. All the other kids I hung out with were crazy for Eddie Mathews. So when the little gangs of us - remember we were 8-10 years old - took the bus and train and got in for 35 cent bleacher tix for a Sunday double-header without parental accompaniment - they would head off to right field and I would spend the afternoon in left waiting for Aaron to hit one out. All of his early homers were about ten feet off the ground max - bullet line drives. I tried to model my game that way - let the bat do the talking, line drives to all fields, all of it, not as a slugger, but as an all-around player.
Behind me in my home office is my best autographed ball -
Best wishes
To Pastor David
Hank Aaron
Dave Benke
There are masks specifically designed for singers. And your people must be getting different information than my people.Probably. Our public schools in Indiana have taken a different approach than neighboring Cook County, Illinois. They've opted to err on the side of shutting everything down, we've opted for the opposite default, to do what we can to mitigate while not shutting down unless necessary. Though now I believe even Chicago teachers are going back to the classroom contrary to their union's wishes. Not sure what they'll do about choirs.
Today I received my first vaccine shot via the Norfolk County Sheriff's Office. Hopefully I'll be back ministering to inmates at the jail right after Easter.
Today I received my first vaccine shot via the Norfolk County Sheriff's Office. Hopefully I'll be back ministering to inmates at the jail right after Easter.
Pfizer or Moderna?
Dave Benke
O Lord and Master of my life, drive away from me the spirit of despondency, carelessness, love of power, and idle chatter.
(Prostration)
Instead, grant to me, Your servant, the spirit of wholeness of being, humility, patience, and love.
(Prostration)
Yes, O Lord and King, grant that I may see my own faults and not condemn my brother; for You are blessed to the ages of ages. Amen.
(Prostration)
Even as Easter is upon us, I received this video from my brother yesterday: https://www.tmj4.com/news/coronavirus/declining-membership-decrease-in-funds-leads-to-closure-of-milwaukee-church-after-nearly-77-years?fbclid=IwAR11UZzuFzY7hvwLNmnGypzyOei5-vvgJm-lA1sf8SeLQi8Yedy6pGbpLGA.Such a melancholy trend. Yet Easter is the ultimate eucatastrophe that teaches us, again and again, that we never prevail the way we were hoping to prevail and dedicating ourselves to prevailing. We do our utmost against insurmountable odds, fail, and then God turns it to victory in ways we do not see but can only trust are there.
This is the church of our family's baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and some funerals. Easter was its last worship service. Looking at the attendance, it seemed to me to be above the margin, but apparently not. There are two buildings there, the "old" church which is now a gymnasium, and the one in the video. I gave the address on the meaning of all the crosses in the sanctuary as an eighth grader at the dedication service and later that year confirmed/made first communion at the altar. I was married to a daughter of the church eight years later and ordained into the Holy Ministry at that altar 12 years later - 1960, 1968 and 1972.
The report on WTMJ was careful to give the statistics as to the general decline and the specific closing of congregations. I guess the small to tiny country churches with less facility overhead can combine resources in terms of personnel easier than the urban counterparts, but the "general decline" is getting steeper and steeper, and now it has taken the church of my childhood. Our home was a half block from the church, and we were all little church mice, hanging around the facility all the time, playing "Red Rover" in the schoolyard and "Red Light, Green Light" around the church grounds in the summer evenings.
Anyway, we keep plugging away "while it is day," children of the Resurrection.
Dave Benke
Even as Easter is upon us, I received this video from my brother yesterday: https://www.tmj4.com/news/coronavirus/declining-membership-decrease-in-funds-leads-to-closure-of-milwaukee-church-after-nearly-77-years?fbclid=IwAR11UZzuFzY7hvwLNmnGypzyOei5-vvgJm-lA1sf8SeLQi8Yedy6pGbpLGA.Such a melancholy trend. Yet Easter is the ultimate eucatastrophe that teaches us, again and again, that we never prevail the way we were hoping to prevail and dedicating ourselves to prevailing. We do our utmost against insurmountable odds, fail, and then God turns it to victory in ways we do not see but can only trust are there.
This is the church of our family's baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and some funerals. Easter was its last worship service. Looking at the attendance, it seemed to me to be above the margin, but apparently not. There are two buildings there, the "old" church which is now a gymnasium, and the one in the video. I gave the address on the meaning of all the crosses in the sanctuary as an eighth grader at the dedication service and later that year confirmed/made first communion at the altar. I was married to a daughter of the church eight years later and ordained into the Holy Ministry at that altar 12 years later - 1960, 1968 and 1972.
The report on WTMJ was careful to give the statistics as to the general decline and the specific closing of congregations. I guess the small to tiny country churches with less facility overhead can combine resources in terms of personnel easier than the urban counterparts, but the "general decline" is getting steeper and steeper, and now it has taken the church of my childhood. Our home was a half block from the church, and we were all little church mice, hanging around the facility all the time, playing "Red Rover" in the schoolyard and "Red Light, Green Light" around the church grounds in the summer evenings.
Anyway, we keep plugging away "while it is day," children of the Resurrection.
Dave Benke
And now, friends, we see where the “fake news“ really is. The New York post and Fox news ran a manufactured story about Biden that was wrong and they knew it was wrong when they ran it. The reporter resigned. The reporter said she was forced to write that story. Something to ponder.Agreed. The difference is that on the right the perpetrators resign. On the left they get promoted.
Agreed. The difference is that on the right the perpetrators resign. On the left they get promoted.
I can back up the statement, but will do so only on your assurance that if I do, you'll acknowledge the validity of my original statement and future discussion will build on the truth of it. Otherwise I'd just be playing fetch while you throw sticks, i.e. an exhausting and purposeless game which I choose not to play. I stand by my statement. You can take it leave it.Agreed. The difference is that on the right the perpetrators resign. On the left they get promoted.
Can you back up your statement, or are you spreading more "fake news" - hoping to get promoted?
I guess a lot of us see a lot more doubt shadows than you do, Peter. You still Harbor your mythology about the past four years and the past six months, a mythology as mythical as the creatures of the Tolkien worlds that some of you like to visit.Why is it that you can see the motives of FOX doing whatever story it is you’re talking about but can’t believe people with differing political views would have the same motives?
While attending Concordia Luth H.S. Milwaukee on the campus of Concordia Jr College,
in the late 1950's.......I walked to various nearby churches for Sunday Worship. They were
Hope Lutheran, Bethany Lutheran and Mount Olive Lutheran. Perhaps Bishop Benke
could update us on the status of these three as far as survival goes.
The Resurrectional Evlogetaria, sung nearly every Sunday in the Orthodox Church:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4HflNMqQsFo (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4HflNMqQsFo)
“Back to Normal”? Do we want that? Can we go there? A reflection on Romans 6.
Adapted from a sermon. Copyright 2021 by Charles Austin
Are we “back to normal”? Has the pandemic passed? Maybe, but we have a problem “adjusting.” The problem is that everything passes, even the things we do not want to pass, even what is “normal.” Good things, once “normal” things pass.
We want “back to normal,” but can we go back?
Most Augusts, I want to go back home to Iowa in the 1950s, to a Lutheran church, and to a neighborhood full of friends.
They say, “you can't go home again.” I hope they are wrong about that. They say, “you can't go back, you have to go forward.” I guess they are right about that.
So every August, I get a little homesick for the Iowa of my childhood.
I didn’t live on a farm, but it was farm country; we knew the growing seasons. This, I believe, leads to trust in God. A sense that God is in control.
Farmers think of the words of the Psalm, “The Lord will give what is good, and our land will yield its increase.” People who trust God for the seasons understand planting, growth and harvest.
In Sicily some years ago, I learned that Mediterranean climate makes lemon trees produce four harvests each year. Well, that’s not true in Iowa. You get most of the crops in the summer, especially the vegetables. Sow seeds in spring; harvest in summer. One crop.
Iowa summers were free from care, all those years ago. We stayed out late at night, we could roller skate (not roller–blade but roller skate, with metal skates that you clamped onto your shoes, the skate key hanging from a string around your neck.)
Evenings we sat in our yards and watched the lightning bugs, caught them and put them in jars. We lay on our backs in the grass and looked at stars.
It got hot in July and August, but we didn't know it because we didn’t know about air conditioning. It wasn't hot, it was just summer; and there were shady places where you could go for relief. Or the swimming pool.
Nobody told us sugar was bad for you, so we drank gallons of grape Kool Aid. We froze it in ice cube trays with toothpicks and made little square popsicles.
There was the sweet smell of lilacs and peonies and cut grass. Sprinklers whirled in the yards, sending spirals of water over the lawns. We ran through them; getting just wet enough to cool off; but not so wet your mom would yell at you.
No cellphones. No Facebook. No Instagram. No Zoom. Only three channels of television.
But there were friends and we played Monopoly games lasting for weeks and rode our Schwinn bikes. I don't know where any of those friends are today; but those many summers ago, they were – outside of my parents – the most important people in the world.
The library summer reading program gave you an award or put your name on the bulletin board if you read a certain number of books. I don’t remember specific books; but I remember the joy of reading them. Adventures. Biographies. Travel. History. Whole new worlds; flowing off the printed page right there under a tree in my backyard.
That was my “normal.” Iowa. Summertime. Childhood. I remember it as paradise.
Every August, I think I'd go back to that “normal” in an instant.
But they say you can't go home again. They say you have to go forward, to progress.
That is our destiny. We cannot be 11 years old forever. If time for us stops, we die.
In the Bible, St. Paul says we cannot go back to what we were. But Paul refers to our old sinful selves, before we knew the gospel. He says “Once you were slaves to sin; and you died from it. Now you are free in Christ Jesus and have life eternal.” He asks the Romans Christians, “do you want to go back there? Back to sin? Back to that death? Why would you want to do that?”
A very sound theological point indeed. Why go back to your old sinful self? But I don't think my Iowa childhood was so “sinful.” I know a lot more about sin now than I did then. I guess I haven't improved very much. I'm a bigger risk, in need of more grace now than when I was 13.
Paul says to remember that we have “died” to sin; that once we were doomed and now we are saved.
Those Roman Christians could remember a time when they weren't Christians, when they weren't redeemed. I can't. Sometimes I feel less redeemed now than I did back in Iowa.
We had Vacation Bible School those Iowa summers. That was like daily Sunday school; except that we played games outside and you didn't have to get dressed up or go to church afterwards. And they'd give us more of that wonderful, sugary Grape Kool Aid. Sometimes cherry.
The grace of God is more evident in summer; especially in Iowa. Winters in Iowa don't bring out many thoughts about God's wonderful grace.
But summer! It showers us with so many blessings. So many blessings that we took them for granted. Blessed. Happy. That was “normal.”
Food was a special summer blessing. Neighbors who fished gave you walleye. Vegetable gardens produced sweet peas and beans. Rhubarb grew like weeds in our back yard. And some foods – like the fried chicken and potato salad brought to church picnics and family reunions – tasted better because you ate them outdoors.
Simple food, prepared in simple ways. Fry the chicken in Crisco. Boil the potatoes and mash them. Nothing fancy. Nothing unusual.
My mother once caught me slipping potato chips into my peanut butter sandwich. “We don't do things like that, no sir! You do things like that, young man, and who knows what will come of it! You start doing things like that and … you could end up in New Jersey!”
And the greatest blessing of all – sweet corn. Mothers turned some of it into relish; but I'm not sure God approves of that. I'm fairly certain God intends sweet corn to be eaten on the cob, with butter, with salt.
Childhood summers. Who wouldn't go back to that “normal”? But who can? If we survived the pandemic as adults, we are still adults, not children.
I don't believe God gives us wonderful graces and then snatches them from us. Why would such blessings flow if God did not intend for us to enjoy them always, and praise God for them?
Aging cynics will say that childhood and summer dies; and will dismiss my longings as looney escapism. St. Paul must have had a bad day when he wrote to the Romans saying that the past has to die. “All those things you were before! They lead to death, destruction. You died to those things when you came into Christ. Come on! Give it up!”
If I were a newly–converted ex–pagan; I would say “Yes, brother Paul; I died to those old things; and thank you for reminding me what a pagan I was.”
But St. Paul didn't know the innocence of my youth, Iowa, and summer with the smell of lilacs and the taste of fresh sweet corn. Poor Paul never knew those graces and blessings.
I think he knows now – because I think the whole, completed Kingdom of God preserves all those blessings; and even perfects them. There is sweet corn on God's banquet table in heaven and there's never a dark spon on the ear or a little clump of deformed kernels that throws you off your pace as you gnaw from one side to the other.
Perfect rows of sweet corn kernels to delight the teeth of the angels.
The Kingdom of God restores all the blessings God ever gave, all the blessings our mortal lives tend to lose. We do go forward in time, day after day in our lives. And it is not always “progress.” We let ourselves be led and become the slaves of the wrong things. Paul is very right about that. Paul called on the Romans to remember their baptism, give up the things that wrongly enslave us and put all that old, pre–baptism stuff out of their lives.
Maybe the Holy Spirit now calls us to our old “normal” lives; not our old pre–baptism, sinful, unredeemed lives, but to those moments, those times when we are so filled with the blessings and graces of God that it is nearly heaven on earth.
Once, after I had been in New York a few years; I flew to Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Landed about 9:30 on a summer night. This was in the days when you actually got out of the plane into the night air.
There were crickets chirping; and nearby an alfalfa dryer was at work, sending out waves of the musky very–Iowa smell of dried alfalfa. I cannot begin to describe what those sounds and smells evoked.
Summer graces. I think that's what the Kingdom of God is like. A most blessed “normal.”
I don't know how God will handle our different experiences of “normal”. I know there are those for whom “normal” summer meant playing three–sewer stickball, sleeping on the fire escape and a ride on the Cyclone coaster at Coney Island.
But I'll bet God can handle that. Maybe in the eternal kingdom a kid from Brooklyn will learn how to eat fresh sweet corn, and I'll get a ride on the Cyclone.
“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom,” Jesus said in Luke 12. And God does indeed.
There were limits to “normal” Iowa summer evenings. Usually about 9:30, a mother on our block would stand in her front door and call: “T–o–m–m–y! T–o–m–m–y!” And Tommy would reply “c–o–m–i–n–g.” Another mother would pick up the call. The rest of the mothers didn't have to call; for we would all drift home, just a little afraid of the dark without our friends nearby.
And we'd go to bed. We could just look forward to another glorious day; the smells of summer, riding bikes, and blessings from God – taken, alas! – for granted, but granted nonetheless to small children.
“It is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Glimpses of it at least; and a promise that if we stray, we can always come home, come back to “normal”. If our friends have left, if we're a little too far from home, maybe over in the next block, and if the darkness gets sort of scary, or now, when we know that there are no more childhood summers in Iowa (or Brooklyn or New Jersey) – a heavenly voice calls in the night and says: you have a home.
It’s all in this hymn. “Normal.” Normal is that Jesus calls us, that we have a home, that we have mercy, forgiveness, blessings, a home.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkRTfrLBii0 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkRTfrLBii0)
Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me.
See on the portals he's waiting and watching, watching for you and for me.
Refrain: Come home, come home. You who are weary come home.
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling, calling 'O sinner, come home!'
Oh, for the wonderful love he has promised, promised for you and for me.
Though we have sinned, he has mercy and pardon, pardon for you and for me.
Come home, come home. You who are weary come home.
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling, calling 'O sinner, come home!'
-0-
I got on the old synthesizer some years back and prepared a version of "Softly and Tenderly" in the Country/Western style in which the intro and outro are "I Remember the Red River Valley," which is the ancestral area from which one side of my family came after their trip across the Atlantic and across the country when they migrated to the Great Midwest. "Come home, come home..."
Dave Benke
We went through 2021. And?Shouldn't we be thankful that for 2021 we had a knowledgeable and competent president and administration managing the ongoing Coronavirus epidemic rather than the incompetent, crackpot administration we had in 2020? In 2020 we had a president who imposed ineffective and xenophobic travel restrictions, that could not gear up to provide needed medical equipment and PPE and forced through a crackpot initiative to produce effective vaccines in months when everybody with a modicum of understanding and common sense knew that vaccines take years not months to develop and the plan was just a desperate attempt to distract from his failings. No reasonable person would ever take a vaccine rushed through by his administration.
Some comments are coming concerning 2022.
(It's not a "cane," that's for wheezy, crabby old guys.)
(It's not a "cane," that's for wheezy, crabby old guys.)
Really? I used a cane for two weeks after knee replacement surgery during the recovery phase. That's after I gave up the walker after a few days.
I hope you will be able to get yours soon and that you recover as smoothly as I have twice.
Peace, JOHN
I have recovered--twice-from knee dislocation and have needed--twice--to walk with a cane, albeit only for a few weeks each time.I had surgery to reconnect a torn patellar tendon my left knee Dec 21 2016. Meant I missed leading Christmas services for first time since I was ordained. I was able to start leading services again on Jan 8 2017, but had to use a walker in doing so for a month. Learned I needed to pick longer hymns for opening and closing to give me time to hobble in and hobble out. I also had to use the walker for two funerals--with snow and ice outside at gravesides. The one at my Old East cemetery was particularly challenging due to the sloping terrain. The funeral director was more nervous than I was--he was sure I was going to slip and slide into the open grave. Then Feb-Mar (including Lent) it was crutches and thereafter, on uneven ground, I had to use a cane for another five months. The experience gave me greater sympathy and appreciation for the folks having to use walkers and canes more regularly. Hope you're able to have that knee surgery soon Pastor Austin.
First time I was 20 going on 21. Second time (same knee) I was 39.
I vowed there would not be a third time so I have maintained the VMO exercise regimen these past 22+ years.
(It's not a "cane," that's for wheezy, crabby old guys.)
Really? I used a cane for two weeks after knee replacement surgery during the recovery phase. That's after I gave up the walker after a few days.
I hope you will be able to get yours soon and that you recover as smoothly as I have twice.
Peace, JOHN
I have recovered--twice-from knee dislocation and have needed--twice--to walk with a cane, albeit only for a few weeks each time.I had surgery to reconnect a torn patellar tendon my left knee Dec 21 2016. Meant I missed leading Christmas services for first time since I was ordained. I was able to start leading services again on Jan 8 2017, but had to use a walker in doing so for a month. Learned I needed to pick longer hymns for opening and closing to give me time to hobble in and hobble out. I also had to use the walker for two funerals--with snow and ice outside at gravesides. The one at my Old East cemetery was particularly challenging due to the sloping terrain. The funeral director was more nervous than I was--he was sure I was going to slip and slide into the open grave. Then Feb-Mar (including Lent) it was crutches and thereafter, on uneven ground, I had to use a cane for another five months. The experience gave me greater sympathy and appreciation for the folks having to use walkers and canes more regularly. Hope you're able to have that knee surgery soon Pastor Austin.
First time I was 20 going on 21. Second time (same knee) I was 39.
I vowed there would not be a third time so I have maintained the VMO exercise regimen these past 22+ years.
(It's not a "cane," that's for wheezy, crabby old guys.)
Really? I used a cane for two weeks after knee replacement surgery during the recovery phase. That's after I gave up the walker after a few days.
I hope you will be able to get yours soon and that you recover as smoothly as I have twice.
Peace, JOHN
I have recovered--twice-from knee dislocation and have needed--twice--to walk with a cane, albeit only for a few weeks each time.I had surgery to reconnect a torn patellar tendon my left knee Dec 21 2016. Meant I missed leading Christmas services for first time since I was ordained. I was able to start leading services again on Jan 8 2017, but had to use a walker in doing so for a month. Learned I needed to pick longer hymns for opening and closing to give me time to hobble in and hobble out. I also had to use the walker for two funerals--with snow and ice outside at gravesides. The one at my Old East cemetery was particularly challenging due to the sloping terrain. The funeral director was more nervous than I was--he was sure I was going to slip and slide into the open grave. Then Feb-Mar (including Lent) it was crutches and thereafter, on uneven ground, I had to use a cane for another five months. The experience gave me greater sympathy and appreciation for the folks having to use walkers and canes more regularly. Hope you're able to have that knee surgery soon Pastor Austin.
First time I was 20 going on 21. Second time (same knee) I was 39.
I vowed there would not be a third time so I have maintained the VMO exercise regimen these past 22+ years.
(It's not a "cane," that's for wheezy, crabby old guys.)
Really? I used a cane for two weeks after knee replacement surgery during the recovery phase. That's after I gave up the walker after a few days.
I hope you will be able to get yours soon and that you recover as smoothly as I have twice.
Peace, JOHN
Those, Ken, are some outstanding tips!
Related to the cemetery experience, I once had a full body audit by the IRS. Long story, but my salary was less than $10000 and yet they determined to come after me. The auditor was a kind soul and began to ask questions designed to assist me. So he said, "I see you've declared your golf shoes as clergy attire. How does that work in your denomination?" My response was that I wore them (which was true) to certain funerals where there were steep hills on uneven terrain, wearing them especially on rainy days. Otherwise, I said, I might slip into the open grave. The auditor responded, "That's an explanation I have never heard before. I'm going to accept it. Golf shoes CAN BE clergy apparel."
Dave Benke
I think we are on the horns of a dilemma, because too much "opening" would be risky because of the unvaccinated people and more shut-downs and restrictions induces gloom and depression in the general population.
Actually, I think I still personally favor the “do anything to keep us safe“ plan. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand the problems associated with that and the problems associated with the other horn on the dilemma. Perhaps, sometimes and in some places, the “do anything“ plan is best. And perhaps, in other places, the “whatever happens happens“ plan might be appropriate.
Struggling today with the difficulties and the pain of having my knee surgery postponed for what will be probably more than three months, it is hard for me to drum up sympathy for the ones who are hospitalized because they are unvaccinated. And I feel nothing but loathing for Tucker Carlson, his friends on Fox News, and anyone else who has minimized the need to be vaccinated or otherwise spread crazy ideas about the vaccines. In my not so humble opinion, they clearly bear some responsibility for some of the deaths that are now happening among us.
My retirement community will most likely survive and thrive. Other places, I’m not so sure.
Was it the Easter Sunday service? Or the family gathering the day before?
Probably the latter because I and six others who were there have felt unwell and at least three of us - including this humble correspondent - have tested positive.
I am now confined to the apartment for the next five days. Feeling some chills and tiredness, some coughs, but no fever.
Rats.