Clergy Family Confidential

Well, my comments about the Mennonite sermon I heard on Sunday were noticed by a website called The Urban Mennonite http://www.urbanmennonite.com/. They even posted the sermon in an item titled “Episcopalian treads warily in Mennoland (and the sermon that bored him).” Unfortunately, they posted the wrong sermon! A good one at that http://www.pvmcsermons.com/2008/02/barbara-moyer-lehman-new-adventure-new.html. Once you get past the flame sitting on the pulpit that at any moment might ignite the preacher’s pink blouse, the fact that it’s nearly 22 minutes long, and all the references to her “great, great, great, great, great grandfather,” she does a nice job of relating the danger and risk of Abraham and Sarah’s journey to our own challenges in trusting God. Good stuff.

Happy Presidents Day! No one’s ever greeted me this way as they raced out to the mall to buy a discounted shower curtain at Bed, Bath and Beyond. But let me be the first to wish you a happy and healthy Presidents Day. I wonder what George W. is doing today. “No, Laura I will not take out the trash. It’s Presidents Day for God’s sake. Have some respect. Make Jenna do it.”

And what about all our former Vice Presidents? Why isn’t a day set aside to honor their service to God and country? I think we need a day to celebrate Agnew, Quayle, Cheney, Mondale, Gore, etc. Since they get no respect they should at least have their own day. Plus, we need more three day weekends in this country to give people additional excuses for skipping church. 

Maybe I’ll put this day to good use and teach the boys the names of some former presidents. I just have to remember that Ben Franklin never occupied the Oval Office.

Went to Community Mennonite Church in Harrisonburg, Virginia with my brother this morning. Harrisonburg is crawling with Mennonites so this was the place to check out their worship. Actually, I was all set to sneak into the local Episcopal church for an 8:00 am service but was convinced to expand my liturgical horizons while on sabbatical. I can’t remember the last time I went to something other than an Episcopal church for anything but a funeral.

It’s not like Matt’s a Mennonite or anything but the church is walking distance from his house. I was nicely but informally dressed in a sweater. Matt, for some reason, thought it would be dressy (church in the South after all) and wore a suit. He was by far the best dressed person in the place. If anyone asked, we planned to tell people he was my attorney.

The service was interesting — about as low church as anything I’ve ever experienced. The pastor was wearing street clothes, there was no choir, no candles, no communion of course. The singing was amazing. The congregation sang everything a capella, in parts. Though I’ve never sung “Crown him with many crowns” at such breakneck speed.

The sermon was about 25 minutes long which was about 25 minutes too long. Booooring. Plus I start to twitch after any sermon gets beyond 12 minutes. But overall a good reminder that there are other ways to worship God, even if they’re out of my comfort zone.

Tomorrow we leave for a three day trip to Harrisonburg, Virginia. Not exactly a vacation shangri-la but we’re visiting my brother and his family so we’re all looking forward to it. Well, except for the six hour car ride that stands between us and our destination.

I spent the day prepping the mini van — rotating the tires, checking the alignment, etc. Fine, all I did was vacuum it out at Bryna’s request. And she wasn’t the least bit interested in my argument to wait until afterthe trip to vacuum it since that’s when it’ll really need it. But I also did something more important than even changing the oil. I went to the library to load up on DVDs for the trip. Movies are the saving grace for enduring road trips with kids. That and stuffing them with food. When the boys are old enough to drive, I fantasize about sitting back, watching the Godfather trilogy, eating popcorn and Juji Fruits, and yelling at them to stop when I need to use the bathroom.

Going away for a long weekend is another way I’m taking advantage of being on sabbatical. For obvious reasons this is a rarity for most clergy. Especially during Lent. So we’ll be on the road heading south first thing in the morning.

I watched some of the Congressional hearings on steroids yesterday while I was on the treadmill at the gym. (As I look over this last sentence I should clarify that I myself wasn’t on steroids). I resent the fact that I have to explain to my boys why one of their favorite pitchers is accused of using performance enhancing drugs. As an Orioles fan I also resent the fact that he’s one of their favorite players, but that’s another story, and a hazard of living in New York.

I can’t say watching a Congressional hearing while running was very motivational. It didn’t exactly pump me up (no pun intended). And it does seem silly that the government is involved at all.

I just finished reading New York Times sports columnist Ira Berkow’s book “Full Swing” — basically an autobiography. He’s been covering sports personalities since the mid-1960’s and saw the same post-Watergate skepticism infiltrate the sports world. Suddenly our sports heroes were shown as real people rather than perfect ideals and role models. There’s a sense of flawed humanity that becomes revealed in the process. From a theological point of view this makes sense — we’re all redeemed sinners. From a child’s perspective it’s disillusioning.

Of course this all makes me wonder what performance enhancing drugs for clergy might look like. And don’t tell me it’s the Holy Spirit. I’m talking about the clerical equivalent of human growth hormone. Would you take something if a quick shot in the sacristy made you a better preacher, more compassionate, or a crack administrator?

I don’t know. But if I’m ever called to testify before Congress, I’ll swear the only performance enhancing drug I’ve ever used is Advil.

It’s baaaaaack. Just when I thought it was safe to surf the internet without undo embarrassment, the clip mocking me on The Daily Show has returned. You may remember when All Saints’ was featured on ABC’s Nightline when we held a “U2charist” in 2006: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2MfPrkkzc3k

Jon Stewart of Comedy Central’s “The Daily Show” subsequently poked fun of the whole concept. He was particularly enamored with my dancing ability. Okay, I have none. I think the last time I had danced in public was at my wedding. Someone (Bryna!) grabbed me to dance to the last song — “Walk Away (I will follow)” — at the end of the service. The Nightline clip lasted about 3 seconds but that’s what piqued Mr. Stewart’s fancy.

When it first aired, someone immediately posted it on youtube (gotta love friends) but it only lasted a few days because of the Viacom lawsuit. Well, now it’s on the Comedy Central website: http://www.thedailyshow.com/video/index.jhtml?videoId=118984&title=this-week-in-god-christmas

One more thing to give up this Lent: dancing on national television.

We celebrated Zack’s 7th birthday yesterday with a Godzilla/Pirate party. This was per Zack’s orders. This was a tough theme to pull off since you can’t buy Godzilla/Pirate plates at Party City. And I wasn’t about to dress up like Godzilla. Though I did think about rigging up a fire-breathing mechanism with a can of sterno. That’s one way to get a reputation among the neighborhood parents.

We held the party in the church Parish Hall since who wants a bunch of 7-year-olds running amok in your house during the dead of winter? And while Bryna and I were exhausted afterwards, I loved being able to host the party ourselves. Where we live, this is the exception — most parties are held at some themed-party place (gym, bowling alley, rock climbing  wall). And while we’ve done this, it feels like outsourcing your child’s birthday.

We had a bunch of mini events: bobble head dog painting, pin the tail on the donkey (everyone cheated!), Twister, bingo, and, of course, pizza and cake. Then the kids raced around on scooters, laughed, and just enjoyed one another. A good time was had by all and no one was maimed. 

The theme? Well, Bryna put a fire-breathing monster and a pirate action figure on top of the Carvel ice cream cake. Perfect.

Spent the First Sunday of Lent running the Bronx Half-Marathon (13.1 miles). It was a bit odd not being in church — can’t remember the last time I missed Lent I — but the experience was as penitential as enduring The Great Litany. So I take some consolation in that (around mile 11 the refrain ”Good Lord deliver us” came to mind).

Despite some major headwinds on the Grand Concourse, I was very pleased with my race. I PR’ed it (Personal Record) by 8 seconds, finishing in 1:52:20. I drove in with parishioner and fellow runner Kristen Nelson who ran a terrific race, beating me by 16 seconds to the finish line. Kristen was very respectful of my being on sabbatical and we didn’t talk about church at all. Thanks, Kristen! We rewarded ourselves with some Coffee Labs Coffee on the way home. Here’s a brief video from the race: http://www.nyrr.org/resources/video/local/2008/bronx_half.asp

The New York Road Runner’s Club http://www.nyrr.org/ of which I’m a member, sponsored the race. I’ve run a fair number of their races over the years but, of course, rarely the ones on Sundays. I half jokingly want to start an organization called Clergy Runners Opposed to Sunday Starts (CROSS), but I can’t imagine I’d drum up much support. It’s amazing they can get over 3,000 runners out to the Bronx on a Sunday morning in February. That would qualify as a mega church!

One of the perks of being involved in National Church ministries is travel to exotic places. I spent last night and all day today in Newark, New Jersey.

I was recently appointed to the Province II Council http://www.province2.org/ (the Episcopal church is made up of nine provinces). And while the province is the least known level of ecclesiastical governance, it actually does some important work. Much of this is centered around mutual regional ministry. Perhaps the best part of being in a “province” is that it makes me feel slightly Canadian.

The meeting went well. Good folks, engaging conversation, and an obvious passion for ministry. And I got to visit a city I’ve never been to. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve been on Amtrak when it stopped in Newark and, of course, I’ve flown out of the airport. The city actually seems to be on the rise. There’s the New Jersey Performing Arts Center, the brand new Prudential Center, and some great Portugese restuarants (I know, I found one). But before you think I’m becoming a city booster, I doubt I’ll be back until the next provincial meeting.

Went to a nearby Episcopal church for Ash Wednesday services yesterday. I’m really not a very good parishioner — I get distracted by too many things. Especially during the “reverent silence” before the start of the liturgy. Yesterday’s highlights included an older couple sitting behind me arguing about whether the husband’s hearing aid was turned up too high (it was whistling at various intervals). Then the priest inadvertently turned on her wireless microphone five minutes before the service was to begin. That meant listening to her conversation with the acolyte as they discussed where he would sit.

When the service began, the priest used the wrong entrance rite for Ash Wednesday. Perhaps a minor detail in the grand scheme of Lent but annoying to me. Fortunately, a thoughtful and nicely presented homily helped me get over the minor irritations and brought my focus back to the invitation to a holy Lent.

The rest of the liturgy was smooth except for a bizarre incident coming back from communion. The 80-year-old man sitting behind me paused before getting back into his pew. I could tell something wasn’t quite right and asked if he was okay. Suddenly he crumpled to the floor — I helped break his fall. He was conscious but clearly struggling. Someone called 911, a nurse who happened to be in the congregation took control, and the paramedics burst in a moment later. So keep a gentleman named Fred in your prayers; to my layman’s eye it looked like a mini stroke.

On the way home I kept thinking, “Ashes, ashes, all fall down.”