Camp Dispatches

I am continuing to write while the choir practices.  I'm staying at camp lodging with no internet connectivity, so I sit here and type.  It's progress--2 weeks ago I wouldn't have been able to type at all.  Still, my internet time is limited.

Here are a few brief snapshots from Music Week:

--When the choir first started rehearsing the music, I thought, I bet I could do this.  As I've continued observing, I've been glad I decided to sit out this experience.  I have a serviceable voice sometimes.  This choir is for people who are much further along than I am.

--The time when choir rehearses is the best time to do my required internet activities:  checking in with my online classes primarily.  Today I did my applications for the 5 jobs that the unemployment benefit process in Florida requires.

--The drumming has been fun--much more my speed.      

--I've been able to be part of the team that decorates the chapel for worship.  Here's a picture of what we created for Tuesday night, with it's theme of Psalm 23 and the Jeremiah passage that talks about return from exile:

--I could be so happy having this kind of ministry--working on creative responses each week to the Gospel.  That could include a written meditation for the newsletter, a visual image for meditation, the altar space . . . I would like to be the specialist that does such things.  Could my ministry be just that and not visiting the sick, tending the building, etc?

--Today is my birthday.  Perhaps the whole camp will sing the song to me.  But if they don't, that's O.K.

--Was the dining hall always this noisy?  It's impossible to have any sort of conversation over a meal.  And I am missing hot chocolate on cool mornings served in battered aluminum pitchers.

--Music Week is much more scheduled than I remember as a kid.  But we are finding time to get some stuff done to get ready to move (a week from today the moving van will have come and the loading of possessions will be underway!).  We've unpacked 2 cars' worth of stuff, and we've bought a mailbox and a post.  This morning, we washed a load of clothes in the washer and dryer that came with the house.  Judging by its avocado color and smaller size, I'm fairly sure it's a circa 1975 washer/dryer all-in-one unit.  And it still works!  In fact, it looks like it hasn't been used much at all.     

--I am trying not to rhapsodic about the weather.  It's been gloriously cool in the morning.  In the afternoon, I can walk from a building to a car without sweating a drop.  Amazing!  We've slept with the windows open (we're in Bacot, not in our new house that has no furniture).

--And on a non-camp note:  this morning was the first time that I woke up without my wrist feeling like a wooden block.  It's not normal by any stretch of the imagination, but it's a sign of progress.

Ash Wednesday Preaching and Altar Creation

Wednesday night, I preached the Ash Wednesday sermon.  It didn't look/sound too different from the meditation/ blog post that I wrote.

What this picture doesn't show is my shoes.  I've had a few days of achingly sore feet, so Wednesday I decided to wear running shoes with my black velveteen skirt.  It may be the most comfortable outfit I've worn in weeks.

I also wore my running shoes because I knew I'd be doing some set up before the service.  My pastor took care of a prayer station for Ukraine:

I did the altar:

During one of my morning walks, I picked up various sticks that I thought would add dramatic effect.  

I also used some of the cactus from a past Lent altar.

Underneath the altar, I used coils of barbed wire and a large, dried palm frond.  I liked the echo of Palm Sunday and Good Friday at the altar.

This sanctuary is frustratingly hard to capture in good photos, but I may try again as the season of Lent progresses.  Plus I plan to make some changes here and there.

I remember when I first went to Mepkin Abbey in 2004, and I was fascinated watching the sanctuary change throughout the 4 days that I was there, from the flower and plant arrangements to the art and icons.  It was one of the first times that I thought about how much more we could do than just the paraments and sad banners left over from the 1970's.  One of the benefits of being at my current church with a shrinking population is that there is no altar guild, and my pastor is happy to let me take the lead in this area.

Last night was the kind of service where I thought about how much I will miss this church when we leave.  I've had all sorts of opportunities that many lay people never get:  to preach, to lead the service, to set up the altar and the larger sanctuary space, and to lead in many other ways in pre-pandemic times.

Autumn Delights: The 2021 Edition

Last night was the first night that we could sit on the balcony without breaking into a sweat.  It wasn't cool by any stretch of the imagination, but it was temperate for the first time.  Yesterday morning, there was a breeze before sunrise, a much more vigorous breeze.  Again, it wasn't a cold breeze, but it was a relief to have any breeze at all.

I spent the past week-end trying to have some autumnal delights, even in the heat.  I walked over to the pumpkin patch of a local church and picked out some pumpkins.  One of the women staffing the patch had a small boy with her, and his delight in the pumpkins was a joy that I wouldn't have had if I hadn't gone to the patch that day.

I needed to buy pumpkins because I wanted to transform the altar at church.  We are using Dr. Wilda Gafney's A Women's Lectionary for the Whole Church, and Sunday's gospel reading was about trees that bear good fruit and how a thorn bush will never bear good fruit.  It was the perfect excuse to buy some apples and pears for this wooden bowl:

And then on Sunday, I created a new vision for the altar, a vision that can take us to Advent, with some changes here and there:

Here's a close up of the right side as you face the altar:

And here is the left side of the altar, the one with the wooden bowl of apples:

I know that I am lucky to be part of a small church that has no altar guild, and so I am free to create these altarscapes.  I am even luckier to be part of a church that appreciates this creative work of mine.  I am sure that there might be a person or two who wishes for an altarscape that is less cluttered, less busy, and if someone wanted to design and create that vision, I would share these opportunities by dividing up the weeks of altar design.

It was a full morning at church, as I was also part of the sermon team.  Our pastor preached on good fruits, and then I took the congregation through a creative exercise.  We have a stash of blank notecards, so we handed each parishioner one as they came in.  I had the congregation write a card to themselves, imagining the voice of God telling them where they are bearing good fruit.  So many of us focus on the ways we are failing, on the thorn bush side of ourselves.  I want people to remember.  I read them the passage from Galatians 5 that explains what good fruit looks like:  But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  I offered to mail the cards to them later, if they gave them to me--and I did get a stack to mail.  Hurrah!

After a long morning at church, it was good to come home to cook.  On the Smitten Kitchen website, I saw this recipe for a winter squash and spinach pasta bake, and happily, I saw the recipe before I did the grocery shopping I needed to do.  On Sunday afternoon, I made the casserole, and I confess that I had my doubts as I smoothed the gloppy mixture into a 9 x 13 inch pan.  It has to bake for 90 minutes, and it made the house smell delicious.  It tasted as good as it smelled, and it is such an easy preparation:  no sauteeing, no making of separate sauces.  I'll be making this one again, but I'll be making it even easier by using frozen, chopped spinach.  I didn't have fontina cheese, so I used cheddar, which was just fine and cheaper.

We finished the autumnal week-end by working on variations of "Simple Gifts," which I'll be using for devotions for a seminary class this week.  At first, my spouse plucked it on the violin.  Then I suggested that he try playing it with a bow, and it came out in the most amazing way; I'm glad that I was recording.  I decided to go back to the bowl of fruit, so that people would have a visual focus:

It is good to remember that although this autumn has a different set of joys than autumns of the past, there are still joys to be had.  And I have enough perspective to know that in future years, I'll be wistful about these very joys. 

Altarscape for Bread Month

I was in charge of church on Sunday, and all went well; for notes on my sermon, see yesterday's blog post.  

While I was happy about the sermon, what made me even happier was my altar design.  

A week or two ago, when I realized that this was the August of bread year for the lectionary, I thought about changing the altar.  I remember as a child hating summer at church, "the long green season," as a long-ago pastor called it.  I loved the Advent/Christmas season for many reasons, but mainly it was because the church of my childhood changed all sorts of worship factors that shook up the stuff that makes it so boring for children, and adults too.

I thought about bread and grain and did a bit of browsing on various web sites, looking for fabric or wreath elements that would evoke bread.  I found a great deal on 100 stalks of wheat, so I ordered it.  I wasn't sure of what 100 stalks would translate too--would it be enough?  Would people at the back of

the church be able to see it?  I think it's a success from that standpoint.

I decided not to buy any fabric once I realized that the piece I had my eye on was similar to a table runner that I have; it's in the picture above.  I looked around my office and realized that the little tea pot I rarely use has a grassy theme that can work with wheat:

I also brought with me some of the baskets that I have in the office.  I had a friend who was downsizing several years ago, and I came to look around her house to see if I could use any of her discards.  I took as many baskets as I could fit in my car, and hardly a week goes by that I don't use them.  But this may be the first time I've used them in creating an altarscape.

I was putting away the AV equipment after the service, and I overheard a parishioner say, "The altar is so pretty."  I'm calling this one a success.

Christmas Eve, in All Its Strangeness

 I knew it would be a topsy turvy Christmas Eve:  just one church service instead of several, outdoor church with no decorations and no congregational singing.  I thought I would make a pot of clam chowder to have after church.  I thought I might have a restful day ahead of church, a day of reading and contemplation.

But first, I knew I needed to get to the grocery store, so I decided to go early.  As is often the case, I bought more than I anticipated, which meant that the putting away of the groceries took longer than I thought.

I came home to discover that my spouse had finished hanging the pendant lights over the kitchen sink.  Is it just us or are home repairs/improvements going at a much slower pace as we age?  For example, we knew that we would have pendant lights over the kitchen sink; it was always part of the kitchen remodel.  But it took us a long time to decide on the exact lights, to order them, and then to get them hung.  Of course, we have more to choose from in terms of the pendants, the design of the light itself.

And can we talk about how impossible the directions were?  My spouse needed extra time to figure out exactly how to hang them, and it was hard to tell which wire was which.

And then we washed the windows of the living area.

That sounds like such a simple thing, but our windows aren't, which is why we don't wash them often, which is why they get so dirty, which is why we get overwhelmed and don't do them at all.  Yesterday, we finally cut out the wiring from an old alarm system so that we could remove the screens and get to all of the windows.  We spent much of the middle part of Christmas Eve day removing screens, washing screens, and scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing windows and frames and window sills.

Then we tried to recover.  Washing the windows means a lot of stretching and bending--the outside glass of all of our windows are not easy to access--another reason why we don't do this often.  I took a handful of ibuprofen, took a shower, and off we went to church.

We arrived to church to find this, which made me gasp with happiness:

My pastor made the call in the early afternoon to move the 5:30 worship inside, which gave him limited time to decorate the stripped down sanctuary that hasn't been used for worship since spring.  He said he got the last 3 poinsettias from the grocery store and 2 small pine trees from the Home Depot at 25% off.  

He dug the nativity scene out of storage, along with some red balls and pine cones, and voila, a beautiful altar.

I found the service moving, but I am always moved by Christmas Eve, with its nostalgic elements and that message of the good news that God has come to be with us.

We came home to eat the cooked shrimp that I got when I went shopping.  Earlier in the day, I decided not to make the chowder, since it wasn't going to be cold outside.  We ate the last of the delicious popcorn that arrived earlier this week.  I thought about tuning into other services, but in the end, we watched the recording of our own church's service again--my spouse analyzes the music because he's part of the choir, and I control the rudimentary camera, so I'm interested to see how that looks to the people at home.

It was a different Christmas Eve, but I'm not sure I have a regular set of Christmas Eve traditions, the way I have Thanksgiving traditions.  Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that every Christmas Eve feels strange, now that I am grown.

But strange doesn't mean bad.

Transforming the Altar for Transfiguration Sunday

Yesterday was Transfiguration Sunday, a festival day where Christians celebrate Jesus going up a mountain with a selection of the disciples. While there, his clothes and face glow, and Moses and Elijah (dead prophets) appear.  We hadn't really talked about doing much to change the sanctuary for this day.

When I got to church, the altar was still set up the way that it has been since we changed it for the baptism of Jesus, back in early January:

I asked my pastor if I could transform the altar for Transfiguration Sunday.  He said, "Sure.  Have fun."  It's one of the things I love about my church--I am allowed to play and experiment.

I hadn't brought anything with me, but we had some elements on the altar, primarily the gold fabric.  I covered the various structural elements (the bowl, the blocks, the pitcher), added some shimmery yellow fabric and silver florists' wide ribbon, and a few more candles.  I'm really pleased with how it came out:

I did worry about some of the fabric parts catching fire, but I kept a close watch.  Here's a longer view:

Later, I created some haiku-like creations and did a sketch around them.  Here, too, I was pleased:

I love mornings like this at church that make me feel that I've had a creative encounter in a spiritual setting.  May we all be transformed and transfigured!

Baptism of Our Lord: Sanctuary Elements Year 3

I have never thought of the Baptism of Our Lord as having the same sort of decorating possibilities as Christmas, Advent, Lent or Easter.  But for the past several years, our church has risen to the occasion.

Two years ago, our pastor was out of town, and he asked me to decorate.  I did a lot with the space under the altar:

I also used the ledge on the back wall as a focal point.

I loved the way the sanctuary looked at the end.  Perhaps that's what gave me courage to keep transforming the sanctuary throughout the liturgical year.

Last year, when I arrived at church, my pastor had already started decorating.  I asked if I could add the ribbons, and he said yes:

This year, because of scheduling issues, my pastor decorated without my help.  Here are the pictures he sent:

And a close up:

It's interesting to see how we have used similar elements throughout the years--similar effects, and yet different.  It's good to keep changing, so that people don't get bored with the same displays, year after year.

Currents of Baptism

Just over a year ago, my pastor asked me to do something with the sanctuary to transition from Christmas to the Baptism of Jesus.  I wasn't sure I could pull it off.  A few years ago I had an idea for making a small prayer chapel out of a larger room, and it never quite came together.  I still feel a twinge every time someone asked me about interior decorating kinds of creative projects.

But I said yes last year, and I started collecting a variety of cloths and ribbons that would suggest rivers and water.  We have a great space under the altar, and I used it in this way:

I also used the ledge on the back wall as a focal point.

I loved the way the sanctuary looked at the end.  Perhaps that's what gave me courage to keep transforming the sanctuary throughout the liturgical year.

As we move into this liturgical year, I'd like to avoid just doing what we've already done.  Yesterday when I arrived at church, my pastor had already started decorating.  I asked if I could add the ribbons, and he said yes:

We both agreed that it gave the blue cloth some suggestion of currents.  I had brought some ocean elements from home.  I like this one best:

I had a different idea for the jar of shells and coral, but alas, I couldn't get the gold ribbon to stand up straight to support the descending dove I'd created.  I didn't get a close up, but the jar is on the left side of this picture:

It's fun to create these elements.  I think it helps us worship when the space changes and gives us something new to consider.

Preparing the Worship Space for Advent

Last night, I went home to pick  up my spouse after work.  Then we headed to church, where he had choir rehearsal.  I helped decorate the sanctuary for Advent.

I feel fortunate to be part of a church that has no altar guild.  For those of you who grew up in different spiritual settings, your experience with the altar guild may be different--or non-existent.  Some spiritual gathering places don't allow for decorations at all or perhaps they don't change with the seasons.  In other spaces, the decorations are already chosen, perhaps kept for ages across generations.  Those spaces often have altar guilds that take care of all the objects and make sure that the changes happen in an orderly manner. 

Many stereotypes exist around altar guilds.  Many people see them as the way that older women claimed some power and ownership in churches that didn't let them lead in many ways.  Woe to those newcomers who wanted to help out or those who suggested change.  I've had some experience with all sorts of altar guilds, and I always see the members as good-hearted people who are trying to avert catastrophe, even if the catastrophes wouldn't be as dreadful as the fear.

Our church doesn't have an altar guild.  We have a set of paraments that used to hide the gorgeous white marble of the altar, but now we don't use those much.  If we have traditional banners, I'm not sure where they are.

We don't have an altar guild, and we have a pastor who is open to new ideas.  That's a powerful opening of opportunity for folks like me who have visions of a different sort of worship space.  When I was first at Mepkin Abbey in 2004, one of the things that most intrigued me was how the worship space changed on a daily basis, and how much more engaged I felt.

So I wasn't sure what to expect last night.  There might be a crew of people.  There might be just me, noodling around in the space while the pastor worked on a different project.  In the end, it was me and my pastor.  I worked on the tree, while he set up the altar.

We have fake trees for a variety of reasons.  We used to have 2 that flanked the altar.  Last night while I was setting up the second tree, the stand broke leaving us with no way to make the fake tree stand up.  So we thought about other possibilities for the tree, since the asymmetry wasn't working.  Eventually, we moved it to a spot to the side of the steps that lead to the chancel.  The asymmetry is fine, because the piano is on the other side of the steps.

We have two boxes of Chrismons, some of which are in good shape, and some of which should probably be thrown away.  I decorated the tree with blue and silver balls and some of the best of the Chrismons.  I didn't think to take a picture last night. 

My pastor came up with a very cool approach to the Advent wreath.  Here's the Advent wreath we used to use, which is much more traditional:

Our wreath has been on a stand next to the altar:

Last night, my pastor set up the manger scene on the altar and then began to develop something new, which then sparked his idea for this:

At first, the crucifix wasn't part of the scene.  My pastor added the gold ribbon to make clear that the crucifix was intentional.

I like that the crucifix reminds us that the story is much more stark than the Christmas Eve story that we usually hear.  That Christmas Eve story can be sentimental verging into cuteness. 

For me, the worship space gives us all sorts of opportunities to reinforce the message of the lectionary, the theme of the liturgical season.  Most churches have done a great job of using music in this way.  We don't always do as much as we could with the other aspects of the worship service or space.

Of course, most churches have more musicians than other types of artists.  And it takes a certain kind of approach to create a worship space that works for the majority of worshipers.  Something gruesome might make a point, but it may not be the most effective approach for the congregation.

I also try to be aware of the wide-ranging tastes of our congregation.  I know that most of us don't have a memory of Chrismons, for example.  I suspect that the members who made our Chrismons are long gone.  But they serve a purpose, and for some of our congregation, they have a much deeper meaning.

I've heard from at least one member that she finds our approach to the chancel to be too messy.  She would prefer the old paraments.  She thinks the altar should be clear of many of the items we put on it.

But I hear from many more members who like our approach to the chancel space.  And so I continue on, trying to involve more people who are interested in this approach, trying to keep the congregation engaged in new ways.

The Decorating Power of Ribbons

Yesterday, we finished our transitioning of the chancel from Pentecost to the long, green season of Ordinary Time.  During our Pentecost Project, we made streamers which I then draped over the white material that's draped over the back pulpit/lectern, which we no longer use for that purpose:

Yesterday, we took away the ribbons, which I'll save for the possibility of using them when we go to Synod Assembly.  I brought out several bags of ribbons that people have been leaving in the arts and crafts closet.  We chose what we thought we'd be using, and then we went to the sanctuary to go to work:

I used a sarong for the area under the altar.  We'll be leaving the weaving in place for awhile:

I liked this little bit of ribbon:

I wasn't sure that this part worked--but my pastor liked it and talked about how we're creating a horizon of sorts and how we might add to it (an empty tomb for Easter, for example).  As the morning progressed, I had an idea of star that started off small, maybe in late September, and by Advent was very large.

In some ways, we did more with gold than we did with greens and a bit of blue:

I didn't get any good shots of the larger area.  Maybe that will come next time.

Transitioning from Pentecost

Soon it will be time to change the sanctuary.  One of my interactive worship friends said, "It's a shame.  I think those banners are the best work we've ever done."

That comment made me so happy.  When we began the project, I wasn't sure it would work or that the banners would last.  For much of the work, we used glue sticks to attach fabric or tissue paper to the banner.

We've been creating something new for the sanctuary, which I'm hoping people will like just as well.  We got four big canvases and painted the background two weeks ago.  I suggested shades of green, since that's the color of our current liturgical season and will be until Advent.

Last Sunday, I read the Bible passages from each Sunday of the summer and asked people to listen for words or phrases that leapt out at them.  Our project was to paint those words on the canvases.  It was a different kind of lectio divina, one that worked well for our creative group.

We will hang the canvases on the large wall behind the altar.  I envision push pins that will hold the canvases.   I'm also thinking of doing something with the glass block mosaics that we created.  Of course, pictures will be posted in the coming weeks.

Reweaving the Fabric of Society

Before we get too far away from Sunday, let me record what we did in church.  My pastor had wanted to do something to commemorate the anniversaries of the Pulse Nightclub shooting and the Charleston shooting.  During the week that we were exchanging ideas, Trump's evil policy that separated children from parents at the border was happening.  I remembered a prayer weaving that we did at the Create in Me retreat, and I suggested something similar, a group weaving project that would remind us that even when it feels like society is frayed and unraveling, the scraps can be rewoven into something beautiful.

I found one of our picture frames and created this loom.  I lashed sticks that I found in the yard to the frame and used yarn:

My vision was that we'd start on the weaving in the 9:45 service, which is more interactive and open to creative approaches to worship.  Then we'd take it to the table in the sanctuary, and we'd invite members of the 11:00 service to join in the weaving.

I used the fabric that we'd used in our Pentecost projects.  I liked the opportunity to remind people that the Holy Spirit is loose in the world helping us with our weaving.

As I expected, people found the weaving meaningful.  At the end, my spouse pointed out the yellow cross in the center of the weaving that emerged from our effort:

We decided that we liked the weaving too much to take it apart right away.  So now it rests in the altar, with the other Pentecost projects.