Christmas Eve at St Luke began uneventfully enough. The weather was mild though rainy. My husband Paul and I picked up Hazel, another choir member who is older and does not drive, and gave her a ride to the church. She was delightful to converse with, as usual, telling us about her family traditions for Christmas Eve (she is from an Italian family) and other memories about her family. She described the homemade Italian wedding soup she was taking to her niece's for Christmas dinner the next day. Hazel has been undergoing some medical treatments for the past few weeeks, and said she had not felt well during the day. She almost decided not to come to the service. I'm not completely sure what swayed her, but it may have been the huge bag of homemade handtowels she always crochets for the choir members as a Christmas gift.
Hazel started doing this some years ago, apparently, when she had towels remaining from the Christmas craft fair. Now, the custom has grown into a tradition of choir members exchanging small gifts with everyone else in the choir. In addition to a hand towel from Hazel, Paul and I received bean soup mix from Kathy, homemade plum jam from Ginger and George, a reindeer bell ornament from Jim and Mary, and chocolate-nut bark of many flavors freshly home-made by Elaine (she toasts her own nuts, she proudly declared to the delight of the basses in the choir). Paul and I brought small packages of homemade cookies for everyone.
We surprised ourselves in the service by performing acceptably well on "This Little Babe" from Benjamin Britten's "Ceremony of Carols" which had been tripping us up in rehearsal. The service was going along fine until the lead-in to the last number. The sanctuary had been darkened to allow for candlelight and the singing of "Silent Night" when there was commotion in the choir stalls over Hazel, who seemed to have passed out. Cathy Clarke, a parishioner who is also a family physician, came to the rescue and she and her husband coordinated carrying Hazel out of the sanctuary with help from Paul, Franz, and Elaine. Fred Vivino, another parishioner who is a rheumatologist, called 9-1-1. Soon the EMTs and police had arrived, but by this time, Hazel had revived and claimed to be okay, telling Paul and the other carriers to 'go back in there and sing "Silent Night"'. The singing was extended a bit longer while the paramedics requested additional time to handle the situation. Feeling that giving them time would allow us to help out in some small way, Pastor David took requests and we sang a rousing "Go Tell It On The Mountain" before breaking up the service and going to the side hall for some of Ginger's Wassail.
I have not heard how Hazel is doing yet, but we surely had her in our prayers for the past two days. We never know when something can happen or go wrong; hopefully she is fine, but this was a reminder that as a church family, and simply as people, we cannot control anything and must be prepared to help one another and be strong for one another at any point. Likewise we must always be grateful for what we have, mundane though it may seem to us at times.
Christmas is an ideal time not just for gift-giving, but to think about--and be thankful for--the gifts we already have all around us that we have been enjoying throughout the year. (Sometimes--very often, in fact--these gifts are people!)
Being at St. Luke every Sunday morning allows me to review the previous week in my head. At what moments did I do well? At what moments did I fail to act in the best way? What moments affected me most deeply? I need to be brave enough to pray for myself to make the most of these times. I need to be faithful enough to pray for the others in my life, and to be thankful for their contributions. Hazel is without a doubt one of those people I am thankful for have in my life. In addition, Clyde, Dorothy, Pastor David, our fellow choir members, our families and all the old friends who love and support us, shine in our hearts infinitely more brightly than gold shiny paper.
Best wishes for safe and healthy holidays to everyone. Paul and I will miss church this week because we will be visiting with his family in Missouri until Jan 1. Much love and see you in the New Year!
Friday, December 26, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Responsibility of Asking
This is the time of year when children are expected to make a list of requests for the presents they want for Christmas. Most of them do this, and I find this rather amazing. When I was young, I inwardly froze in terror if anybody asked me because for some reason I had no idea of the answer to this question. Partly, I think I wanted to be surprised because I enjoyed that, and partly, I really didn't know what I wanted, much less have the wherewithal to ask for it. I suppose I may have developed a list of sorts, but I was never very invested in it.
I think somewhere inherent in my uncertainty was also the fear that as soon as I would pick something it would be taken away or denied me. I therefore felt it was safer not to commit. Why set up expectations for Christmas morning and risk disappointment? Better to expect nothing and find yourself pleasantly surprised.
This worked well enough since I always received presents that I enjoyed, but I haven't found that it works very well in life. The very core of the human condition, and indeed survival, rests on wanting something and working to get it. We go nowhere in our careers, relationships, or leisure interests if we can't determine a path and envision ourselves in it. Our goals may change somewhat from time to time, but on some level we know what it is we want.
The trouble is asking for it. When we ask for something we really want, we risk being told "no" and many of us are terrified of that so much that we don't even ask. We don't even acknowledge to ourselves what we might want, so strong is our self-protective instinct against vulnerability. This is a tough problem to get around, and it requires that we frequently slow down and ask ourselves: Am I satisfied with my life as it is? What areas are problems for me? What would make them better? Who can help me with this? Have I prayed about it? How will I feel if I can't get the help I need? How will I feel if I DO get it? If the answer to the last question is "I'll feel wonderful" then you need to at least ask.
A stumbling block for me is actually asking for help. I feel I have to do everything myself and I take pride in it. Now that I'm married, I'm learning fast that it is better not to do everything myself. I have learned how good it feels to get something I want. The knowledge of that feeling helps me temper that fear of asking, or fear of even hoping.
This Christmas I hope we all find some time to center on what it is we want and where we can go to get help. We may not always get our answers, but we will at least experience the self-knowledge and liberation of allowing ourselves to hope, and ask!
I think somewhere inherent in my uncertainty was also the fear that as soon as I would pick something it would be taken away or denied me. I therefore felt it was safer not to commit. Why set up expectations for Christmas morning and risk disappointment? Better to expect nothing and find yourself pleasantly surprised.
This worked well enough since I always received presents that I enjoyed, but I haven't found that it works very well in life. The very core of the human condition, and indeed survival, rests on wanting something and working to get it. We go nowhere in our careers, relationships, or leisure interests if we can't determine a path and envision ourselves in it. Our goals may change somewhat from time to time, but on some level we know what it is we want.
The trouble is asking for it. When we ask for something we really want, we risk being told "no" and many of us are terrified of that so much that we don't even ask. We don't even acknowledge to ourselves what we might want, so strong is our self-protective instinct against vulnerability. This is a tough problem to get around, and it requires that we frequently slow down and ask ourselves: Am I satisfied with my life as it is? What areas are problems for me? What would make them better? Who can help me with this? Have I prayed about it? How will I feel if I can't get the help I need? How will I feel if I DO get it? If the answer to the last question is "I'll feel wonderful" then you need to at least ask.
A stumbling block for me is actually asking for help. I feel I have to do everything myself and I take pride in it. Now that I'm married, I'm learning fast that it is better not to do everything myself. I have learned how good it feels to get something I want. The knowledge of that feeling helps me temper that fear of asking, or fear of even hoping.
This Christmas I hope we all find some time to center on what it is we want and where we can go to get help. We may not always get our answers, but we will at least experience the self-knowledge and liberation of allowing ourselves to hope, and ask!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Why I Am At Home Here
This morning, the second Sunday of Advent, the hard work of those who participated in "Hanging of the Greens" on Saturday was evident, with greens, candles in globes, red bows, and two fresh Christmas trees making the sanctuary festive and fragrant.
Pastor David introduced the scripture reading from Mark on John the Baptist with the suggestion that today's "John the Baptist" is the economic recession. The economic hard times, like the voice of one crying in the wilderness centuries ago, are a wake-up call to us to bring us to repentance and to turn our lives back toward God. He read the scripture, then began his sermon with the question that if that is the case, then who is our modern-day savior? Not President-elect Obama, he said, although we have high hopes for him. None other than Jesus.
This type of assertion may sound unsurprising and evident if you are accustomed to often hearing Christian faith sincerely expressed. Since I'm actually not accustomed to it, to me it sounded stunning in its simplicity and straightforwardness, and very profound. In my busy working life, my relatively new marriage, the concerns of what I can and what I can't control about my schedule or my health, and my gamely trying to make sense of world and national news and global responsibilities, I found this to be exactly the message I needed, and marvel that I so infrequently hear this point of view.
Let me explain a little bit about my own background with churches. My family of origin are active members of the Church of the Brethren, a small Anabaptist/Pietist Christian denomination that, in addition to adult baptism, emphasizes peace, social justice, and service (I'm extremely proud to say that Dan West, the founder of now-famous and celebrated Heifer Project International, was Brethren http://www.cob-net.org/hpi.htm). Music was important, members were mostly professionals with a strong and simple Christian faith, and our ministers served up intellectually challenging sermons each week including creative invocations, readings, and special events. Like most kids, I thought all churches must be like mine.
I went off to college at a Lutheran college, Muhlenberg College in Allentown, PA, which I chose for its academic reputation, size, and location. Once there, I was a member of the college choir and participated in services with formal sung liturgies and weekly communion. The logistics were a challenge. The first two years I spent focusing more on what page of the book we were on than on the sermon or sentiments of the service. I was slightly appalled that the Lutheran ministers, while obviously well trained and qualified religious leaders, were also required to lead sung liturgies. I found this forced and distracting, and the liturgy melodies strange.
By the time I had I married in my late 20s and then divorced again in my early 30s, I felt estranged from the church and unworthy of Christian fellowship, I found a home in the Unitarian Universalist Church to help me get re-established in a new direction. This was a wonderfully welcoming church family whose creed emphasized "the inherent worth of every individual" which was a blessed grace for me in growing strong again and building a new life. The arts were an extremely important part of this faith community, and again I found many avenues for singing, theater, and playing the piano, and I began serious voice lessons. My musical life was the center of my life even more than the spiritual community I found there. I also grew intellectually, as we were responsible for "Building Our Own Theology" and for going out into the world of work without any additional spiritual armor than that which we fashioned for ourselves. Though New Testament scripture was rarely read (possibly limited to Christmas Eve if memory serves) being involved in this congregation felt like living the parable of the talents for me. I was learning that God may be pleased when we pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps and let our personalities shine through, instead of hanging back with modest self-effacement in the name of God, which, somehow, to me, felt like one of the most complex problems of the way many of us receive the Christian message. The missing piece was that I felt there needed to be more beyond the individual's beliefs and preferences. There needed to be a connection to a larger Presence. We looked for that in each other, and foundered a little bit without a common God we could talk about without fearing we were stepping on somebody's toes.
As my singing voice improved, a friend who was an organist and choirmaster invited me to come and serve as a paid section leader at his Episcopal Church, which I did for the next two years. Here I realized even more fully how many different forms Christian worship may take. At the Episcopal Church, not only the liturgies but even the prayers came from a book, and the scriptures were read with attendants to carry the bible, hold up the cross, and ring the bell. I even learned to chant the psalms--a very unusual experience when you are not accustomed to it, with its own forms of notation to master. Mostly I found I loved being a regular member of a Christian church again, and that along with bringing musical gifts I enjoyed the interaction and community aspects of this congregation, and felt the parishioners were open-minded and educated and not judgmental of a Unitarian Universalist. But this church was a long commute from my home and when I received a promotion at work, it was too much to continue with it.
I went along for a year happy to have no Sunday morning obligations, when in the late summer of 2006 I got a phone call from Dr. Clyde Shive, who had gotten my name from an alto soloist at another Episcopal Church, I decided to come to St. Luke to audition for the alto section leader position, being vacated by the illustrious Sue Lomax, who was stepping down after many years to spend more time with her grandchildren and traveling with her husband. In the first few weeks I began to really get excited--Clyde allowed soloists to select our own pieces, there was some very participatory congregational sharing of joys and concerns, I loved the choir members, there was coffee after the service, and numerous potlucks (see November post). The hymns sounded a bit more like the ones I recalled from my Church of the Brethren days, even including some Ken Medema selections (I was a huge fan of his when I was in high school, and still am). Best of all (for me) no two services were alike, no two prayers were alike, no two invocations or benedictions or call to worship readings were repeated or from a book, but rather from the heart and creative mind of someone who came up with them or culled them from somewhere. It was personal. But unlike the Unitarian experience, it was not ONLY personal. It was also very much moving in both the concentric circles of humanness and godliness.
I hope that helps explain why I am at home at St. Luke United Methodist. There is a balance here of real sincere people who also apply their gifts and intelligence to a strong Christian faith. Nobody is using their faith to hide, and nobody is hiding from their faith. Unlike in the Unitarian church, where I could perform a solo that was classical in nature with no religious overtones whatsoever, and the music would be considered appropriate for the service (more so than a piece that mentioned the "J" word). Here I feel that I am expected to bring something meaningful to the spirits of the congregation, and that inspires me.
Getting back to how Jesus can be our savior from the economic recession, I would only say that it is focusing on the blessings of our lives that we can help weather the disappointments. Perhaps talented people working together for the common good can help turn things around for the desperate and least fortunate. With so much blaming and complaining going on, though, it is soothing and wonderful to have something to pray for, and someone to wait for, expectantly.
Pastor David introduced the scripture reading from Mark on John the Baptist with the suggestion that today's "John the Baptist" is the economic recession. The economic hard times, like the voice of one crying in the wilderness centuries ago, are a wake-up call to us to bring us to repentance and to turn our lives back toward God. He read the scripture, then began his sermon with the question that if that is the case, then who is our modern-day savior? Not President-elect Obama, he said, although we have high hopes for him. None other than Jesus.
This type of assertion may sound unsurprising and evident if you are accustomed to often hearing Christian faith sincerely expressed. Since I'm actually not accustomed to it, to me it sounded stunning in its simplicity and straightforwardness, and very profound. In my busy working life, my relatively new marriage, the concerns of what I can and what I can't control about my schedule or my health, and my gamely trying to make sense of world and national news and global responsibilities, I found this to be exactly the message I needed, and marvel that I so infrequently hear this point of view.
Let me explain a little bit about my own background with churches. My family of origin are active members of the Church of the Brethren, a small Anabaptist/Pietist Christian denomination that, in addition to adult baptism, emphasizes peace, social justice, and service (I'm extremely proud to say that Dan West, the founder of now-famous and celebrated Heifer Project International, was Brethren http://www.cob-net.org/hpi.htm). Music was important, members were mostly professionals with a strong and simple Christian faith, and our ministers served up intellectually challenging sermons each week including creative invocations, readings, and special events. Like most kids, I thought all churches must be like mine.
I went off to college at a Lutheran college, Muhlenberg College in Allentown, PA, which I chose for its academic reputation, size, and location. Once there, I was a member of the college choir and participated in services with formal sung liturgies and weekly communion. The logistics were a challenge. The first two years I spent focusing more on what page of the book we were on than on the sermon or sentiments of the service. I was slightly appalled that the Lutheran ministers, while obviously well trained and qualified religious leaders, were also required to lead sung liturgies. I found this forced and distracting, and the liturgy melodies strange.
By the time I had I married in my late 20s and then divorced again in my early 30s, I felt estranged from the church and unworthy of Christian fellowship, I found a home in the Unitarian Universalist Church to help me get re-established in a new direction. This was a wonderfully welcoming church family whose creed emphasized "the inherent worth of every individual" which was a blessed grace for me in growing strong again and building a new life. The arts were an extremely important part of this faith community, and again I found many avenues for singing, theater, and playing the piano, and I began serious voice lessons. My musical life was the center of my life even more than the spiritual community I found there. I also grew intellectually, as we were responsible for "Building Our Own Theology" and for going out into the world of work without any additional spiritual armor than that which we fashioned for ourselves. Though New Testament scripture was rarely read (possibly limited to Christmas Eve if memory serves) being involved in this congregation felt like living the parable of the talents for me. I was learning that God may be pleased when we pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps and let our personalities shine through, instead of hanging back with modest self-effacement in the name of God, which, somehow, to me, felt like one of the most complex problems of the way many of us receive the Christian message. The missing piece was that I felt there needed to be more beyond the individual's beliefs and preferences. There needed to be a connection to a larger Presence. We looked for that in each other, and foundered a little bit without a common God we could talk about without fearing we were stepping on somebody's toes.
As my singing voice improved, a friend who was an organist and choirmaster invited me to come and serve as a paid section leader at his Episcopal Church, which I did for the next two years. Here I realized even more fully how many different forms Christian worship may take. At the Episcopal Church, not only the liturgies but even the prayers came from a book, and the scriptures were read with attendants to carry the bible, hold up the cross, and ring the bell. I even learned to chant the psalms--a very unusual experience when you are not accustomed to it, with its own forms of notation to master. Mostly I found I loved being a regular member of a Christian church again, and that along with bringing musical gifts I enjoyed the interaction and community aspects of this congregation, and felt the parishioners were open-minded and educated and not judgmental of a Unitarian Universalist. But this church was a long commute from my home and when I received a promotion at work, it was too much to continue with it.
I went along for a year happy to have no Sunday morning obligations, when in the late summer of 2006 I got a phone call from Dr. Clyde Shive, who had gotten my name from an alto soloist at another Episcopal Church, I decided to come to St. Luke to audition for the alto section leader position, being vacated by the illustrious Sue Lomax, who was stepping down after many years to spend more time with her grandchildren and traveling with her husband. In the first few weeks I began to really get excited--Clyde allowed soloists to select our own pieces, there was some very participatory congregational sharing of joys and concerns, I loved the choir members, there was coffee after the service, and numerous potlucks (see November post). The hymns sounded a bit more like the ones I recalled from my Church of the Brethren days, even including some Ken Medema selections (I was a huge fan of his when I was in high school, and still am). Best of all (for me) no two services were alike, no two prayers were alike, no two invocations or benedictions or call to worship readings were repeated or from a book, but rather from the heart and creative mind of someone who came up with them or culled them from somewhere. It was personal. But unlike the Unitarian experience, it was not ONLY personal. It was also very much moving in both the concentric circles of humanness and godliness.
I hope that helps explain why I am at home at St. Luke United Methodist. There is a balance here of real sincere people who also apply their gifts and intelligence to a strong Christian faith. Nobody is using their faith to hide, and nobody is hiding from their faith. Unlike in the Unitarian church, where I could perform a solo that was classical in nature with no religious overtones whatsoever, and the music would be considered appropriate for the service (more so than a piece that mentioned the "J" word). Here I feel that I am expected to bring something meaningful to the spirits of the congregation, and that inspires me.
Getting back to how Jesus can be our savior from the economic recession, I would only say that it is focusing on the blessings of our lives that we can help weather the disappointments. Perhaps talented people working together for the common good can help turn things around for the desperate and least fortunate. With so much blaming and complaining going on, though, it is soothing and wonderful to have something to pray for, and someone to wait for, expectantly.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Advent Amens!
So apparently it’s Advent Season already! Finally it does not seem odd to be singing the Christmas music we’ve had in our choir folders for weeks.
Yesterday, though we hadn’t even switched the calendar to December yet, the choir at St. Luke’s performed a lovely anthem called “Advent Credo” (the words go something like….”I believe in hope….I believe in joy… I believe in peace… I believe in love”). This piece was simple, lovely, and calming. It was fairly easy to sing, with unison men’s and women’s parts through most of it. Our organist and choir director, Dr. Clyde Shive, played it expressively and we felt sure of all our cues.
When we finished, we received resounding “Amens” for it from members of the congregation. We went back to what
The “Amens” after musical performances are one of the things I love about St. Luke. There are nearly always “Amens,” although they are delivered with varying degrees of enthusiasm. A few people out there who always give an “Amen” and I admire that. I have never experienced or witnessed such an outward show of appreciation of a church choir.
It’s positive reinforcement that your singing was enjoyed, and an affirmation of the message of the anthem, not so much on the quality of the musical performance. To hear that “Amen” after a piece that has somehow gone wrong—someone hit some wrong notes, you made a wrong entrance, the parts were not together at one or two spots—is a metaphor and tangible reminder of how God forgives and loves us even when we do not deserve it. On those occasions the congregation seems to be ministering to us rather than the other way around.
The choir at St. Luke have moved into the final two weeks before the annual cantata, for which we’ve been rehearsing for many weeks. More on that soon!
Many other activities are bustling at the church as well, and it promises to be an exciting holiday season! Post comments and questions of your own, or, as always, check out http://www.stlukebrynmawr.org for the full story!
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