A Prayer for Blessing of Pets

Many congregations are doing some sort of Blessing of the Pets this Sunday.  We did ours last Sunday because we had already scheduled our last outdoor worship service when I had the idea of adding a Blessing of the Pets to our autumnal activities.  We didn't do it in 2023 because I had just arrived in June.  In 2024, we had Hurricane Helene, and last year, I was away doing a workshop for my mom's church's retreat in Williamsburg.

I got to last Sunday without having written any liturgy or prayer, or a blessing of any kind.  So I wrote one, by hand, because my computer mouse had stopped working, and writing by hand was faster.

I want to preserve the prayer, so I'm transcribing it here.

Creator God,

Please bless all of your creatures gathered here together, the humans, their beloved pets, and this piece of Eastern Tennessee.  Please bless those who couldn't be here with us.  And we ask your blessing on our wider world, with so many who need so much.   And let us always remember that you are more loyal than our most faithful pets, and you love us in the same generous way we love our pets.   

Thursday Weariness

 I am weary this morning, but in a good way--in several good ways:

--I've gotten to hear a lot of good singing/music and even done some singing myself.

--I've seen a lot of folks:  old friends, family members, people I recognize from past years.  I've had lots of conversation.

--The work still needs to be done:  grading, sermon writing, thinking about papers due in a few weeks.

--I've done more sketching than usual.

--We've started every morning with a vigorous walk.

--Each day since Sunday has contained one worship service, and usually 2.  And they are so well done.

--There's been Bible study:  villains in the Bible (the serpent, the Pharoah, David, and today, the Crowd).

--We've had good food.  Much of it was pre-prepped, but it still needs to come out of the refrigerator and go back in.

--I am thankful for the dishwasher, which we've used twice a day most days.

I am thankful for this time out of time, this time that reminds me that there's more to life than maintenance of body and of structures.

Report from the Field: Good Shepherd Sunday

Yesterday was a good Sunday--we welcomed a new member, had donuts, and heard about Jesus as a good shepherd and a gate.  Before the worship service, I met with the two confirmands.  We are at the end of our time together:  I'm gone for the next two Sundays, then we have one Sunday to rehearse, and then it will be Pentecost, the day we'll also have Affirmation of Baptism, which is what we call Confirmation these days.

I felt my sermon was serviceable.  My spouse would have preached a more political sermon, while I worried that I had strayed too much into the realm of politics.  My spouse often hints that he thinks I preach too much on the same themes:  God loves us, the world of empire does not, here's how to survive in a world where the empire is too much with us.

He's not wrong.  When I think about the Good News that my people need today, as my Foundations of Preaching professor advised we do when crafting a sermon, I think about the horrors and sadnesses that my congregation is facing, less so about the horrors and sadnesses faced by the larger world.

The recording of yesterday's sermon is here on my YouTube channel.  If you want to read along, I put the manuscript in yesterday's blog post.

First Full Day of Create in Me

In some ways, the Create in Me retreat is the same from year to year:  Bible study in the morning, workshops, drop in stations with a wide variety of supplies and projects, worship and song, and of course, food and snacks (not all of which have this artist theme):

This retreat came with a coloring booklet and pencils on every table.  I haven't colored mine yet, because I might want to make copies.

Our theme is rooted in nature, so we've spent time in and with nature--including a nature walk yesterday.  We had 20 minutes to spend how we wanted, in nature, even if it was no further than steps from the door.  We had some questions to make us more intentional.

I went to my favorite tree, the maple between the Faith Center and the Dining Hall.  I spent time gazing and looking, looking close up, like I require my first year Composition students to do.  It was amazing.

I had a moment where I wanted to lie on the grass gazing up at the tree, but I decided it was unwise for many reasons.  I made an intentional decision not to take a camera or a notebook, to be fully present with the tree.

I love retreats for many reasons, but one reason is because it forces me to do what I say I want to do:  to be more present.

In the afternoon, we did worship planning.  I am always amazed how we come to the meeting at 3:30 with the barest bones of a worship service, and we have a fully-realized worship service prepared by the 6:45 start time.

We ended the day in the Faith Center, creating and talking.  It was a good day.  Of course, every Create in Me day is a good day--it's a foretaste of what could be. 

Week-end Recap and a Look ahead at the Coming Week

It has been a good week-end; I haven't meant not to blog this week-end.  My basal cell skin cancer removal on late Friday afternoon went well.  In fact, it was the easiest skin cancer removal yet.  Is it because it was on my back, so I couldn't see what was happening?

Whatever the reason, I'm always grateful for easy medical operations.  

We had a week-end similar to so many, filled with cooking, baking, running errands, looking at mindless TV and mindful internet wandering, both together and apart.

In some ways, my Sunday was easier than most Sundays.  We had a group of seminarians and college students staying at the church.   They were in town for the race, and they slept and had meals at the church, which they've done every time they're in town. The seminarian preached 2 great sermons, both the youth sermon and the other one, and he and 2 friends assisted with communion. Their enthusiasm for life in all its facets made me feel like maybe civilization has a chance after all.

I didn't have to craft a sermon for yesterday, but I still spent time writing a sermon--I won't be with my congregation this coming Sunday, so I'll need to have a sermon to them.  I had hoped to have it ready to leave at the church yesterday, but it was not to be.  I got a draft done, but it was still in rough shape yesterday.

This morning, I've done some revising, and I'm happy that it's stronger now.  I'll put it aside, do one or two more revisions and call it done.

This week will be one of schedule disruptions.  Tomorrow, all classes are cancelled so that we can all participate in Pioneer Scholars day, where we'll have presentations of all sorts.  Faculty are required to be on hand for a variety of support.  I am judging a fine arts competition.

At the end of the week, I will be up the hill at Lutheridge, for my beloved Create in Me retreat.  I haven't really thought about the retreat too much at this point--I'm not that kind of member of the planning team.  I am somewhat surprised to find myself here, speeding to the end of the semester. 

Easter Sunday Recap and Recording of the Sermon

It was a good Easter Sunday at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, TN.  It's a small, country church, so we don't have what suburban or city churches experience, those folks who show up only for Christmas Eve and Easter.  We are more likely to have brand new visitors on Christmas Eve, not Easter, and even then, it's only one or two.

The church felt full, though, in a similar way yesterday.  It's one of the few days when all members are likely to come, along with some friends and family members tagging along.  In addition, the folks who aren't members but come here and there--they were there too.  It was joyful and a bit noisy.  It was also raining outside, so we don't have as many pictures at the chicken-wire cross covered with flowers; some folks did put flowers on the cross, despite the rain.

My sermon stopped recording part-way through.  I decided to have our tech expert post what she captured, and when I got home, I recorded the rest.  The first part of the sermon is here, and the second part is here.  If you'd like to read along, I put the sermon manuscript in this blog post.

We got home and drifted around the house, collapsing into bed around 6:30.  I woke up a bit later and thought, we are missing a glorious sunset, before falling back to sleep again.  

Last Thoughts (and Recording of Sermon) on Maundy Thursday

Last night was a good worship service.  I felt a bit frazzled at first.  We left a bit early, but afternoon traffic around Asheville still left us almost late.  

That's not true.  We got to the church with 10 minutes to spare, and most people came after us.  Still, I was feeling a bit frazzled.  It's one of the disadvantages of the geography that is part of this SAM experience.

Worship went well, and I was pleased with my sermon, which you can view here on my YouTube channel.  I put the sermon manuscript in this blog post.  If you follow along, you'll see that there are places that I expand on thoughts in the manuscript.  I wasn't thrilled with the ending when I wrote it, but I like the impromptu ending better.  I felt something moving through me, as if the Holy Spirit knew what someone listening needed to hear.  I am always happy to be that vessel.

As my spouse and I reflected on the sermon on the drive across the mountains to get back home, I did wonder if the sermon needed firmer boundaries between the Holy Week holidays.  I still worry/wonder if the sermon has too much of a Good Friday vibe.  But since Faith Lutheran doesn't have a Good Friday worship with a sermon, I am O.K. with that. 

Wednesday Night Soup and Worship

We are a bit past the midway point of Lent.  I find myself thinking of my Wednesday experience from this past week when I was visiting my mom and dad in Williamsburg.

We started the evening with a soup supper at my parents' church, one of my church homes away from home.  We had a choice of three soups (corn chowder, vegetable with beef, and chili) and cornbread and sourdough bread.  I love these kinds of soup suppers, and I was glad to be able to be part.

We were there for soup supper because the church does a Lenten Wednesday evening program.  It was meditative and quiet.  We ended with the option to light a small candle from the Paschal candle and put it in the cross-shaped sandbox on a table in front of the Paschal candle.  I wanted to record it, because I liked how it looked.  Is it worth the extra effort to make a sandbox in a specific shape, instead of a big bowl of sand?  Perhaps.  It was lined with 2 layers of heavy plastic, not to protect the wood frame from the flame, but to keep the sand contained.

I didn't take any pictures because I didn't bring my phone to the church.  There wouldn't have been a good way to take pictures, and I wouldn't have wanted to destroy the meditative mood by taking pictures.

On the way home, we stopped at a soft serve ice cream place, the kind that has a small building with a walk-up window and some picnic tables in the parking lot.  It was wonderful to eat ice cream after church and enjoy the freakishly warm weather.

Sunday and Salt

I was pleased with my sermon yesterday--it was a tighter composition than I'm always able to pull together.  And I feel like both sermons went well.  I preached on Matthew 5:  12-20, and I decided to focus on salt alone.  The believer as light metaphor is fairly easy to understand, and I feel like I've done that several times before.  But I didn't see any references to salt in my past sermons.

Yesterday morning, for the youth sermon, I made a big bowl of popcorn.  I left some of it unsalted and put it in sandwich bags.  I salted the rest and made more bags of popcorn.  

I'm not crazy about all the sandwich bags, but it's the easiest way for me to do my youth sermon on salt without getting popcorn all over the place, the way we would if I just passed around two big bowls.  Plus it minimizes germ spreading--no hands in the same bowl of popcorn.

As I divided the popcorn, I thought about seminary, about my Foundations of Preaching class.  In that class, we had a lot to do in a very short time, so I don't fault the professor for not talking about children's sermons much.  I'm glad that I'm old enough to have seen plenty of examples of both good and bad children's sermons through the years.

I did check with the parents before giving out popcorn--no allergies to popcorn or salt.  If I preach on this passage in the future, I might do the same for the adults.

To read a manuscript of my adult sermon, see this blog post.  To see the recording, I uploaded it here on my YouTube channel.

Sunday Snow Day Short Worship by Way of Technology

On Saturday afternoon, my spouse suggested that I make some sort of recording for parishioners, since we weren't having any sort of worship service at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  While I thought it was a great idea, I decided to wait until Sunday morning, so that I would have time to think about the best approach and write down a few thoughts/prayers.

I decided that it should be more than just a prayer for all of us stuck inside because of the weather, although I did want to do that too.  I decided on reading the lectionary selections for the day, having a bit of a meditation, and closing with prayer and a benediction.

I use the live recording feature of Facebook every morning as I do my morning watch devotional time that I started during Covid.  But that's with my South Florida church's page, not my own.  Happily, it was just as easy on my own page.

I tagged the church in the space where one puts the date/title and a short description.  As I broadcast, one of my morning watch people who usually watches the 5:30 a.m. broadcast joined us.  Within 15 minutes of finishing the broadcast, the member who manages the church's Facebook page had linked back to my post.

I was also able to capture the recording and put in on my YouTube page and then to send the link to the church's e-mail list.  You can view it here if you like--it's open to all.

Certainly more people have viewed it than just the church membership of roughly 40 adults.  Right now, the number of viewers is at 456, and I have no idea what counts as a viewer.  I've tried some experimenting on my own, but the viewer count doesn't go up--but perhaps that's because it's my page?

I did hear from church members who appreciated my effort, so that alone made me feel it was worthwhile.  If it reaches others who find it meaningful, that's great too.  On a week-end so full of troubling news and difficult weather, I'm glad I was able to minister in some form.

Quilt Camp Homily: the Prophetess Anna and Our Quilting/Spiritual Life

I gave the homily for our Saturday night Quilt Camp closing worship.  I wanted to take a minute and make a record of the experience before it slips away.

Our Bible verse was Psalm 91: 4, and we focused on the first part, about God covering us with God's feathers and sheltering us beneath wings.  We talked about wings and feathers and angels.  We had a prayer board in the shape of wings, and we had feathers where we wrote prayers.

I wanted my homily to go in a slightly different direction--what happens when we don't feel that sheltering space?  What happens when it looks like everyone else's prayers get answered and not ours?  How many of us feel too old for whatever might have once seemed to make us special?

We had begun the retreat by talking about where we had sensed the presence of angels, and I started my sermon by talking about the angel Gabriel appearing to Mary, but that's really a young person's story.  Can you imagine if Gabriel came to any of us with that possibility?  We'd say, "Hmm, mother of the Messiah--not really my calling thanks."  

So I thought about other people who make an appearance in our Advent and Christmas texts.  I thought about Elizabeth, who gets to be the mother of John the Baptist.  But she doesn't even get the angel message herself; it comes through her husband, who laughs at the idea that his very old wife might have a baby.  He's struck mute through the whole pregnancy for his disbelief.  But it's still pregnancy, still not everyone's idea of fulfillment.

I continued:  I call your attention to a bit later in the story, when Joseph and Mary bring the baby Jesus to the Temple.  Simeon has been promised that he will not die without seeing the Messiah, and he holds the baby Jesus, holding the light of the world in his arms.  But I call your attention to Anna in Luke 2:  36-38 (I read the text).  We may think of Mary Magdalen as the first evangelist, the first to tell of the empty tomb, but I've come to think of Anna as the first, as she goes out to tell everyone about the Messiah.

Of course, it's sobering to realize that by the time the Gospel of Luke was written, that very Temple has been destroyed, and it will be thousands of years before there will be another one.

Then I took the turn to quilting:  it's a bit like quilting.  Some of us have everything we need, the right material, the sewing machine that is up to the job.  Other times, we discover we didn't buy enough cloth, and it's no longer available, and we have to figure out what to do.  There are times we are given a quilt started generations before, and it comes with no instructions, and we have to figure out a way.  And we, too, will die.  Maybe someone else will complete our projects, maybe not.  But we continue to do what we can do.

The life of faith is like this.  Some times, everything goes well.  Other times, the sewing machine explodes.  But we are in a group that can keep us going, keep us encouraged, help us solve the problems.

I concluded with what I think is the most important thing to remember:  when we feel abandoned by God or abandoned by our quilt group, we're not.  God is still there, although we may not be able to hear God.  Even someone like Mother Theresa has felt this way, as we discovered, when her letters were published after her death.  Some people thought her doubt diminished her, but I felt just the opposite, this relief that if even someone like Mother Theresa feels doubt, then I shouldn't feel alarm when I feel abandoned.

The trick is to keep going, keep working on our quilts, keep believing until the time when it isn't so hard to keep going.

As I delivered the homily, I noticed a few people wiping their eyes.  I noticed people smiling and nodding--happily, I didn't see any angry expressions.

I felt good about my homily, and I got good feedback, from people who appreciated the brevity to those who appreciated the message which gave them hope.  But most importantly, I feel that my homily spoke to those who were feeling loss and grief, emotions that are never very far away, especially for those of us who are on the older side of life.

Recording of Sermon for Sunday, November 9, 2025

Yesterday was a high-energy day at church.  We welcomed new members; actually, they were members here years ago and transferred to another Lutheran church across the state line, and now they've come back.  We went ahead and did the liturgy that my spouse created to welcome new members.  I think it's a good idea to have this recognition, which I'm hoping will keep people from drifting in and out and away.

We had donuts after worship.  We stopped at a Dunkin Donuts on the way to church, which is a very different experience than the donut stores of my youth:  no place to sit down, no display of donuts.  We ordered from a touch pad, and the very friendly teen worker brought them to us.

I'm not sure my sermon connected all the dots that I hoped to connect, but I do feel I made good points.  I posted the manuscript in this blog post, if you'd like to read it.  The recording of the sermon is on my YouTube page.

We came home, did some grocery shopping, and settled in for a cozy end to our Sunday, watching TV and me getting some additional stitching done, a lovely way to end a lovely Sunday.

A Wonderful All Saints Sunday

 We had a great All Saints Sunday.  Much as people complain about the time change, every autumn when we turn the clocks back, I have a night of wonderful sleep.  This year was no exception.  Because of the time change, we were both up early, and we headed over the mountains to Bristol early.

It was wonderful to travel in the daylight, to see the trees in their full and fading autumnal glory.  This year, various trees are on their own schedule.  Some are still green.  Some have lost all their leaves.  There's every variety of in between.  It's not as full and blazingly beautiful as two or three years ago, but it's been a treat, especially considering last year.

I was glad for the extra time, because we had a lot to unload.  I knew that the confirmation class, and perhaps all the youth who arrived for Sunday school, would set up the space I envisioned for people to put photos and other mementos of loved ones who had died.  I brought all the supplies:  fabrics, fairy lights, candles (both traditional and electronic), candle holders, 2 yellow mums, and a small table.  I gathered 2 additional small tables from the sacristy.

The youth did a great job of working together to create the space.  They are two pairs of siblings, and the siblings are cousins, so we had a head start in working together.  They seem like the kind of cousins who are more like siblings, siblings who like each other and have fun together.  I was so impressed with what they created:

The congregation came through too--we had plenty of pictures, so many that we added two additional flat spaces (flipped boxes with white tablecloths to hide their identity).  

After church, we spent some time in the front, hearing stories of the loved ones whose pictures had graced our worship space.  I had made extra bread, and people ate bread or took some home.  It was delightful, a way of having a picnic with the ancestors.

My sermon went well, which is always a treat for me.  What I mean by well is not that everyone loved it, but that I felt good about my delivery (not too much reading, not getting tongue twisted).  If you want to view the recording, it's here on my YouTube channel.  If you want to read a version, head to this post on my theology blog.

We came home and relaxed, as we always do.  Sunday afternoons come after very full mornings, so we're not going to be doing much of substance.  We watched a great PBS show about a man who was taking a last trip on a buckboard wagon pulled by his 36 year old mule on their last trip in Hyde county, NC.  It was oddly compelling.  I did a bit of sewing on my quilt top and headed to bed.

Today I have two days of work, and the rest of the week is spent at Quilt Camp, just up the hill at Lutheridge.  I'll sleep in my house and spend the rest of my time at Quilt Camp.  I'm hoping to make progress on a variety of projects.

It sounds heavenly, and it will be, but first I have to do the prep work so that I can be gone from my full-time teaching job.  I am probably further along on that project than I think, but I feel a bit of anxiety.  At the same time, I'm sure it will all be fine.  It's nice to be at a school where I can rest easy in the knowledge that it will all be fine, even as I'm feeling a bit of anxiety.

Keeping Our Lamps Trimmed and Burning on the Feast of Saint Michael and All Angels

 I've had the spiritual "Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning" in my head for much of the week-end:  "Keep Your Lamps, Trimmed and Burning, for this work is almost done.  Children don't grow weary."  It was the anthem for Sunday worship at St. Stephens, and it was also the theme for the women's retreat that the church offered, the retreat where I led workshops on spiritual journaling (more on those workshops in this blog post).  

It was a great retreat, with lots of thoughts on what keeps us on fire and how our lights are threatened by candlesnuffers everywhere.  It was a rich subject, and we could have spent a week or more on the subject.

I was most moved by the closing worship for the retreat.  We gathered around the paschal candle in the worship sanctuary.  Earlier in the retreat, we had thought about something that's important to us that we worry will be lost.  My list could have been long, but we were asked to choose one to bring with us to closing worship.  

As we entered the worship space, we were given small candles, the kind that we get on Christmas Eve.  At the end of the short worship, each woman came to the paschal candle and lit her candle while she said the thing that was important.  The whole assembly said, "Keep Your Lamp Trimmed and Burning."

We heard things like "freedom" and "democracy" along with specific items.  Mine was "the idea of the value of a liberal arts education."  I loved that we took time for each woman to state her item and we met each offering with a prayerful chant.

We ended with a song, "I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light," and not for the first time, I reflected on how wonderful it is to sing together.  I am much more used to sitting in spread out sanctuaries where I only hear my own voice.  I much prefer to sing in closer quarters, where I can't hear any individual voice.

It was also a great way to close the retreat.  We have much work to do, but it was good to remember that we're not doing it alone.

On this feast day of Saint Michael and All Angels, it's great to have these images in my mind:  lamps trimmed and burning, candles lit with prayers for protection.  We didn't invoke the protection of the angels during our retreat, but today's feast day reminds us that along with our earthly help, we can call on divine help too (and for a more traditional writing about this feast day, see this blog post).

Praying for Peace in the World, With Map and Candles

This year, because of CPE,  I can't participate in Music Week the way I have in the past.  But I can go to evening worship.

Last night when we arrived at the chapel, a map of the world was spread out across the center of the worship space.  We picked up battery operated tea light candles as we entered.

Photo by Piper Spencer

The focus of last night's worship was praying for peace in the world.  Near the end of the service, as we sang "Dona Nobis Pacem," we were encouraged to put our candles on a part of the map that we were praying for, and to widen our focus so that we didn't include just the U.S.

Photo by Piper Spencer

As you might be able to tell, the map is not to scale, so I wasn't sure exactly where I placed my candle.  But I thought that aspect worked symbolically too.  If I just pray for peace in the U.S., that peace is much less stable when the rest of the world is not peaceful.  I don't necessarily need to be able to visualize a specific country when I pray for peace in the world, although that prayer practice has merit.

When in doubt, without a doubt, let us pray for peace in the whole world.

A Friend's Ordination

 Today one of my closest retreat friends will be ordained.  The ceremony will happen right here at Lutheridge.  As I have helped her get set up for the service, I've tried to remember if I've ever gone to an ordination service.

I've seen so many pictures of ordinations that I feel like I must have been to one, but as I've reflected, I have realized that I haven't.  I've known lots and lots of seminarians who graduated to become pastors, but I never went to their graduations or their ordinations.  Hmm.

My friend has been planning this ordination worship service for months, which has been interesting to hear about.  She went from thinking about mostly camp songs, but she's shifted to more traditional songs that can be played on the piano.  One reason is practical:  a lack of a guitarist, which would be necessary for camp songs.  But also, she's realized how much the other music has impacted her, perhaps more than camp songs.

She created a special quilt which will be part of the kneeling bench.  She's having the service at the Faith Center, not the chapel, because more of her own faith formation has happened there, and she doesn't have a personal connection to the chapel.  The banners hung for the Create in Me retreat still hang there, although they'll be taken down after this ordination.

I am looking forward to a well-designed worship service.  I am also looking forward to seeing friends who will gather for this celebration, even as I know I will wake up tomorrow wishing that we had had more time to reconnect.

Most of all, I am feeling fortunate that I can be a witness to this ordination.  In past years, I wouldn't have had enough vacation time to get up here for an ordination service on a June Saturday.  I'm glad that my life is different now.

Comparing Worship Numbers: 2015 and 2022

Yesterday as I waited for my audiologist appointment, I read the report on the future and pastors in the ELCA; you can read it too, if you'd like (go here for the PDF).  It seems well-researched to me, and the implications also seem well-reasoned.  I say "seemed" because I didn't do a deep dive.  I was in a waiting room, reading the document on my phone, which is not a good way to read for me.  I tried turning the phone sideways, but the document did not shift to a more readable position.  

The information isn't new to me.  I know that churches have been shrinking in terms of attendance and money.  I know that there are far more pastors retiring than seminarians graduating.

What was new to me:  more churches are now very small.  Very small was defined as 50 or fewer worshipping each week, and online worshippers weren't included in that count.  

Here are the latest numbers, for 2022:

58%    worshipping fewer than 50

35%    worshipping 50-150

4%      worshipping 151-250

2%       worshipping more than 250

in contrast, here are the numbers for 2015:

32%    worshipping fewer than 50

47%    worshipping 50-150

12%      worshipping 151-250

9%       worshipping more than 250

There are many reasons for the decline, the pandemic chief among them.  Many of the people who stopped worshipping in person did not come back to worshipping in person; there wasn't analysis of those numbers, but there was reference to another study which concluded that those absent worshippers aren't as involved in 2022, even if they worship remotely.  

The study, as we might expect, was most interested in how that plays out in terms of money.  I will spend some days thinking about the spiritual implications for the people who aren't in church.  Do they have other systems in place to help them see God at work in the world?  They might.  Do they have support systems that will get them through life's hard times?  They might.

But for the majority, I imagine that there's not an institution that has replaced the Church, at least not one that's healthy.  And that's what worries me.

Sunday Report

Yesterday was a more harrowing drive to Bristol than I like, especially in the first half hour (darkness and rain and wind and big trucks).  But it was a good day at Faith Lutheran.

For our Confirmation class, we looked at the baptism promises and the affirmation of baptism promises, which are essentially the same.  We talked about what it means to live into these promises.  Even the ones that seem straightforward, like bringing children to the word of God could have some nuance:  that could be the Bible, most obviously, but even things like hymns can contain the word of God.

I will continue to stress that what we're talking about is a lifetime journey, not a one time test, like a driver's license.  I want them to know that even if they're not sure about everything, it's O.K. to live with some mystery.

Then we headed upstairs for worship.  I was happy with worship and with my sermon, which you can view here or read here.  There was a good vibe in the congregation, even though the attendance was a bit lighter.

On our way home we had rain and snow at the higher elevations.  Down here on the other side of the mountain, we had sun, but so much wind I didn't want to go back out.  Luckily, I didn't need to.

What Is Worship For?

I have been thinking about the future of worship. Let me post a semester end reflection that I wrote for the seminary Foundations of Worship class in the spring.

My ideas of what worship is/should be/must be began to change when I was part of an ELCA (Lutheran) church in Pembroke Pines, Florida. Our pastor was working on a DMin degree which gave him all sorts of interesting ideas for how to make worship more interactive. But the pandemic really opened my mind to all the larger ways we could be a faith community, as we all recorded parts of worship in creative ways. In 2022, we had a native plant sale, which opened my mind again. The plant sale happened right after worship, in the parking lot of the church. We had three times as many people in the parking lot waiting for a chance to buy plants as we had in worship. There was talk of plants and care of creation and God. I remember thinking that we should serve brunch and round out the worship experience, a mimosa mass and garden day. In the intervening years, my mind has returned to that possibility that we could incorporate the places/events where people yearn to be on Sundays (brunch, outdoors, in the garden dirt) and not insist on what people don’t want as much (creeds, long sermons, hymns that are no longer relevant).

In short, I think that worship at its best is a place to meet God. Ideally, we should also hear the narratives of God and God’s people at work in the world: that might be through Scripture, through drama, through sermons, through song, and through the stories we tell in other ways. We also hear that narrative through our Eucharistic practices. All of these practices can offer spiritual formation, along with spiritual sustenance, by molding us into a faith community. When I think about the kind of faith community I want to be part of and be part of creating, I feel even more compelled to create worship that is meaningful on many levels.

Ideally, our worship gets us ready to go back out into the world. Some of us will go into the world to fight for a more just vision of society. Some of us will go into the world to care for others. Some of us will go into the world to educate or to heal in other ways. Often the work we do in the world is draining—and living in the world is draining even if we’re not interacting with it much. If a person has a drop of compassion and pays attention to current events, it’s hard not to sink into depression and despair. Meaningful worship reminds us that the forces of empire and death do not have the final say in the world. Meaningful worship not only repairs the world but repairs us too.

As I think about two thousand years (plus a few) of Christian worship, two thousand years of encountering God in times that are troubling and in times that are peaceful, it’s not surprising that we have such a variety of worship practices. I’ve enjoyed learning about them, and if I were to use any of them, I’d want to be careful to be respectful and not to appropriate/colonize. For example, singing one of the old spirituals that an enslaved person on a U.S. plantation might have sung—that seems respectful and appropriate, while including jumping the broom wedding ritual might not, especially if we’re not the descendants of enslaved people. I imagine we’ll be creating liturgies like the one described in this week’s reading by Lisa E. Dahill more frequently as we head into a future of more and more climate crisis. Times of past tragedy can inform our worship creation and remind us that humans are more resilient than we might believe, especially if we’re struggling in the midst of crisis. Hearing the resurrection story reminds us that when a time seems bleakest for a community, God breaks through in surprising and life-giving ways. Every time I create worship experiences, that’s the story I want to remember to stress. When a parishioner asks, “What is the Good News in all this hellishness?”—that’s the answer I want to be prepared to give.

Vespers in the Dark

Yesterday was the most full day as a C3ARE leader at Lutheridge.  The C3ARE leaders are the ones who do the Bible study, along with one Vespers service.  We are also invited to go along with any other activities, from swimming to crafts to various outings.

Unlike last year, when we only had 8 middle schoolers, we have a huge group of middle schoolers, 55 of them, 55!  Our meeting space is barely large enough.  We're indoors, at least, but it's not air conditioned, and with all those bodies in the room, it gets muggy by the end.  Our C3ARE sessions will be slightly later each morning, so I'm not looking forward to the warmer weather at the end of the week.

Yesterday morning left me a bit frustrated--it's hard to get everyone to focus.  And then we went to lunch, where everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to me, which was cool.  But the best part of the camp day for me was the Vespers service, which we planned.

We thought about the fact that Vespers for our set of campers, the Night Owls, is much later than for others.  It would be dark, so we talked about light and dark.  First we talked about how we tend to talk about God in terms of light blazing forth in terms of angel choirs and such.  I asked how else God's message comes to us in our Christmas stories.  I was so happy that the kids talked about the wise men and the star and Mary--God coming to us in the dark.

We're doing an experiment with seeds.  I wrapped some basil seeds in a wet paper towel, which I put in a plastic bag and put into a dark box.  We'll unwrap them in a few days when we talk more about how God works in the dark.

I had in mind Barbara Brown Taylor's Learning to Walk in the Dark, and I wondered if it would have a good meditation to read, but it was too late to get that book.  So instead, I created a guided meditation of sorts, doing some focused breathing and paying attention as we had less and less lights on in the Lake Pavilion.  We ended up with everyone at the railings, while I guided them to look up at the night sky, look out at the lake, look down at the ground, to remember that God is all around us and messages from God are all around us.

Then we sang "This Little Light of Mine."  One guy really wanted to sing "Kumbaya," so we did that too.  And then it was time to turn on the lights and have a closing prayer.  

Afterward, the area director counselor told me how much she appreciated the Vespers service and how it was so meditative, an exercise in mindfulness, which she really needed.  So, at least it worked for someone.  But I also felt that the middle school campers were much more engaged in the evening than they were in the morning, which was cool.  

Maybe that momentum will follow through today.  But even if it doesn't, I'll hope that something meaningful breaks through, even as I understand that I am unlikely to ever know for sure.