impious

For the past three weeks, I've been listening to a recording of Eusebius' Church History. This is a very important book, especially for historians and church historians in particular. It is not delightful. But I've noticed that there is a word that he loves to use, and I love to hear.
Impious (not pious :  lacking in reverence or proper respect (as for God or one's parents) :  irreverent
To wit:

• and that he impiously sets forth this error of his in detail, holding that the Deity is unknowable and incomprehensible.
• he certainly did not do it on account of his entertaining the impious notion of that man,
• Those who share in this heresy do not allow images, as the impious Severus did not
• Then returning he came to Jericho, where, being seized with melancholy, he planned to commit an impious deed, as if challenging death itself. 
• The king did not rebuke them, nor did he reject their impious flattery
• we practiced unlawful commerce with mothers and sisters, and enjoyed impious feasts.
• and thus through their lawless and impious teaching under pretense of grace, have sunk to the lowest depths of perdition

Apparently, there was a lot of impious behavior in Eusebius' time. 115 times the word is mentioned in his 1000 page tome. And yet no matter how much calumnious behavior E was describing, the pronunciation of the word takes away from the meaning of the word. When I hear impious pronounced correctly IMP-eous it carries with it not heretical or damnable behavior - it implies (!) mischievous behavior - the behavior of an imp (but not the Game of Thrones' Imp, (below) who is a leader in impious behavior.) I hear "naughty" when it is pronounced this way, like Jon Lovitz' "Tales of Ribaldry." 

The secondary pronunciation - a lot less fun to say - actually conveys the meaning of the word: im-PIE-us, emphasizing the very opposite of piety.

Pronunciation belies the meaning. Would you rather have a word that's fun to say but changes the meaning, or mispronounce and be understood perfectly?

Peter Dinklage, the impious Imp.

Billy Bob Goes to Westeros and gets religion

My primary viewing this week was the new Fargo TV series, along with Game of Thrones and Battlestar Galactica. I'm surprised that the most God-talk does not come from the series set in the Midwest, or in a mythical land of lords and ladies but from outer space.
Can I just say that God looks good in a red dress?
BG was pitched to me as a being pretty religious, but who knew? I have a funny feeling that the believers in the one true God are not going to fare well in this series, as the ones who believe in the one true God who offers forgiveness in exchange for a personal relationship with him are "toasters," in the vocabulary of the show. The Cylons are robots that humans created and have rebelled, and although they originally looked like the Cybermen from Dr. Who (see below comparison), they have no figured out how to look like us, and in fact have flesh and blood. And they believe in one God, while the majority of the humans believe in the Lords of Kobol, which are a lot like Greek and Roman gods. I look forward to learning more about other's religions, even if they are by blind believers in a God we share. Could be awkward.
Then there's GoT (see, I'm getting the hang of being cool), which I'm learning more about. I did make one good call from last week's column, and that was that Lady Stark is not to be toyed with. She knows how to marshal sympathy against her enemies, and quick. (The last I've seen her is surrounding the bad writer from Elf with loyal swords. Very nice.)
As much as we are loving Fargo, after two shows, we are suspending our watch because of too many ding dang commercials on Comcast. It took 1:15 to watch a 40 minute show. Good job, Comcast - you've lost two viewers. Sometimes on Xfinity, they'll only show one or maybe two commercials, like on Parks and Rec or The Middle. But man oh man, the "content" feels more like a break from the commercials, instead of the other way around.
Ironically, the most interesting thing I watched about religion this week was in The Americans, which is frankly one of the better shows on television. Thank you F/X (which also gives us the amazing Walton Goggin's brand of southern creepy religion in Justified). The short story on The Americans is that Elizabeth and Philip Jennings, travel agent couple living next door to any one of us, with two kids are deeply embedded KGB agents during the Reagan era. Had this show been on during the 80s, everyone would have been paranoid that their next door neighbors were KGB agents. (As one who lived during that time, I believe that was the thought that Reagan was cultivating). Anyway, just like in The Good Wife, the teen age daughter has found religion, and committed 600 of her hard-earned dollars to go on a mission trip. Remember, her parents are "godless communists" and so the thought that they are actually bringing their own two kids (who don't know their parents' real lives) up as followers of the opiate of the masses sends dad and mom into freak out mode, but dad more than mom. Dad rips pages out of the Bible and screams "So your Jesus tells you to lie to your parents?" He later goes to her pastor and threatens him with physical harm if he ever goes near their daughter again.
I think I'll show that scene at the next DCE meeting when one of my fellow youth directors complains about "alligator parents."
I'm finishing up Hitchcock's 39 Steps and will soon be done with Dovzhenko's Earth (1930), which has this great opening scene...
Old man reposing.
Old friend says, "You dyin' Simon?"
Old man says, "That I am, Peter."
Old friend looks around, sees peaches growing, young men smiling, owheat fields blowing, children playing. Says, "Yep. Well go ahead."

The week in review 4

Stillness: Recalling God's Presence

The clear winner and champeen of all time is Easter morning prayer vigil. I've had the 5 am - 6 am slot since 2005, and it's especially what I look forward to each year, especially now that I'm not concerned about the Easter Breakfast anymore. The chapel is an especial blessed place to do it (when there's no one using the bathroom, that is!) The past two years, I've been Facebook Praying, reaching out to people I think would be open to hearing a particular Easter prayer. And I pray for my family and Vanguard, of course, since they are those closest to my heart.

Gratitude: Expressing Thankfulness 

I'm thankful for my friend Doug. He's taken a call to a Lutheran church in Spokane, and, apart from my four year stint in Canada, he has been the DCE closest to me. He'll still be in the same state, but since my DCE days are waning, I probably won't see him too much more. He's a great dude and will be missed.

Reflection: Looking Back on Your Day 

Another good Friday, highlighted by some Battlestar Galactica. I finished the pilot and two shows today. Well, I wouldn't say that's the highlight,which is my continuing paper on private confession, which I hope to publish in this space next week. Such an interesting topic. Graced by my wife's presence this afternoon, which was a treat. She is being feted as one of the two new hires in the PLU religion department tonight, so I took the chance to play some indoor/outdoor frisbee at the Puyallup Y. Such a duffer, but I did get some great exercise. And I didn't get hurt, which is a bonus. Shout out to Trader Joes, the best grocery store on earth. They had some spicy sausage sampler today that was very tasty! And I got to mow the lawn for the first time in two weeks; nearly machete height. For these and all blessings, I thank you God!

Sorrow: Asking for Forgiveness

Each Friday is a good day to remember Good Friday. This week's sins that helped nail Christ to the cross: I had my evaluation at church, and everyone said really nice things about me, but I sometimes don't feel completely at home at OSLC; I feel like I'm a burden, old youth director and all. It's when I am forced to look at what I do that I feel like I'm falling short of God's purpose.

Hopefulness: Resolving to Grow

My hopefulness this week is in my 2014 ministry plan, which should include more school visits and being part of a killer small group. Can't tell you how pumped I am about that. Despite my round minister in a square church feeling from above, i am hopeful for the next year. I look forward to the small group, confirmation and youth events taking a positive turn. I'm hopeful for this summer's courses - Writings of the Mystics and Pastoral Counseling. I think that should prove pretty cool, and hopefully practical for the situation I find myself in at OSLC.

Icon

Our subject in Images of God this week was icons, but the subject actually came up the week before in a post by one of the four guys in my sub-group. (in order to build a closer relationship throughout the term, the prof subdivided us into groups of four and five. This helps draw us closer; that, and the Voodoo doughnuts I bought during our face time cemented it.) The lesson was from C. Baxter Kruger's The Great Dance: Christian Vision Revisited which teaches us that God has invited us to an amazing dance, and that we have become so enamored of our own sinfulness that we have forgotten that the purpose behind the savior was to invite us to the Eden Dance, not to have a kid save us from an abusive parent. We were all moved by this image, of an inviting God, but one of us was terrified by the prospect. He said the reading made him think of Rublev's icon of the Trinity: 

This is truly one of the most incredible creations by any human being, but it was a source of anxiety for our group, because we realize that there's no kid's table. We are to be seated with the father, son and holy spirit. We are in the game, and that can be a lot less comfortable than sitting at the next table in adoration. In order to make him feel better about it, I used my awesome Microsoft Paint skills to come up with this:

I can't believe I even forgot to click off so that John still has the editing square around him. Sorry John!

That's our little motley crew, chillin' at the Trinity's table. I do not mean to disrespect a work of art I greatly admire, but I hope it helped a fella in crisis. I think it did cheer us all a bit, to think that we are invited to the table, to the dance, to the wedding - whichever metaphor you would like to employ. I love how lovingly each member is looking at these obvious interlopers. Better to photoshop in the pope or Mother Theresa. 

But then I thought, no, this is exactly what I wanted to say, that none of us belong at God's table, and no matter how perfect we try to be, and how many souls we save and how many mouths we feed, we are still not good enough to be at that table.

But we were invited; and that makes all the difference. We may not sit at the right hand of the father, but we may get to visit; won't that be amazing!

So this week's reading was actually on icons; we read an article by Jim Foster, who used - guess what? - the Rublev as an example of the highest form of the art. He said it is a corridor to heaven, not in a real way, but in a transformative way. We look at this icon, and see the reality of heaven.

Same with mine. See you there in 50 years, guys!

Tsunami

Tsunami
The fish are not pleased.

-a poem by Chris Cokinos

Here's how stupid I am

Our Savior is a progressive Lutheran church. It's part of our DNA to always look to change something when it doesn't work; we don't stick with the tried and true (except for the gospel). We are trying to take what's best from an institution that we find ourselves in with the speed and excitement of a movement. We've been learning from Bill Woolsey's FiveTwo, Greg Finke's Dwelling 1:14, both of which talk about the need to be in a missional community with a small group of friends, attracting people to Christ through natural firendships rather than ham-fisted evangelical methods. We have learned from the past mistakes of missionaries who have tried to win people to Christ with agendas or assumptions.
We had a big campaign last fall when hundreds of our members were slotted into small groups, some of which are still going strong.I satisfied myself by saying my small group is my Vanguard (youth leadership team). But I have not really been a part of a small group where I am not the leader since before Nirvana.
The simple truth is, I've never met my tribe.
Requirements for my tribe:
1) Be Lutheran. Really Lutheran.
2) Like Ultimate Frisbee.
3) College educated, and interested in learning more.
For the past three years, I've been in charge of the traditional service and our most consistent attenders have been the H-E's and the Mailands, and their families. I have baptized their four children. They play music. They have become the leaders of the service in my absence. And yes:
1) They are Lutheran. Really Lutheran.
2) Like Ultimate Frisbee.
3) College educated, and interested in learning more.
This is how stupid I am - that it took pater H-E to say "vespers" last night, as in "we could meet on Sunday evening and have a vespers service, and then talk about a book we all like."
Bazinga.
I have a small group. With my tribe.
This is presuming a lot, but I am excited to try all the things I've been taught with a group of people I respect and admire.

Throne Games

I know. I know. I'm late to the Game. As someone who was on the bottom floor of Lost, 24 and Breaking Bad, Orphan Black, The Americans, The Good Wife and Fargo, I cannot explain why just this week, I've begun the long and perilous journey that is Game of Thrones. (One of my Facebook friends posted something about, "Here's what I don't get about GoT..." and I had no idea what she was talking about.)
First show.
What I gather on a basic level - this show will bring me into a land of unparalleled violence and sex of a kind strictly prohibited in the Bible. Walkers are bad. And it looks like poor Boromir lost his smallest son; no matter, I'm sure his little Brave girl will provide him with a son-like heir. The nasty writer from Elf looks like he's going to be drowning in hookers, but good is rarely all good on HBO and evil is rarely all evil. The white haired lady - I guess she turns out to be the Dragon Queen? thanks for the spoiler, M! - well, we've already seen her nekkid from head to toe, so I guess we've established her character. Her fey brother is extremely skeevy and her new hubby only knows the word "no" so far. Meanwhile, in the other kingdom, the Queen and her brother are reaaaaaally close. And murderous. So we're going to love to hate them. King Full Monty will hopefully have some redeeming qualities. Boromir's wife looks to be made of steel, but how will she withstand the Walkers? And we have a classic vengeance scenario between Fey King and his Yes Man, who just happened to kill Boromir's sister. I wouldn't want to go against Boromir.
Will I need a score card?
So why would a Christian minister watch Game of Thrones?
I have and remain a cultural sojourner. I share with Luther not exactly the disdain he had for the Cloister, but am curious as to why my fellow disciples refuse to step outside the safe walls of Christian radio, Christian schools, Christian thought, Christian scripture, Christian authors, and especially Christian friends. How are you going to change people of the world if you know only the Bible and everything Christian? That's your first step to interaction (not integration) with the world.
Now I do understand the statement in James that if we are to be religious, we should keep ourselves from being polluted by the world. So if you are going to avoid a toxic dump, you can either not go near the dump, or else wear a protective suit. I prefer to wear my Ephesian armor as well as my Christian filter.
And this is not me saying there is something good in everything I see. There is a lot of crap out there. I could not, cannot watch another episode of Parenthood. I gave up on Glee after the second season. Just could not. Californication. No. Sorry, Mulder, don't go there.
So first show of Game of Thrones - could have some potential there. We'll see. But we'll see, we won't keep out. Got my filter on.

The week in review 3

Holy Week 2014.

Of course rating Holy Week without Easter is like gaining the calories without eating the pie. So writing on Good Friday is a bit unfair, but we'll hit Easter next week.

Stillness: Recalling God's Presence

I definitely felt God's presence today, in an unusual place, honestly. For all the speechifying I heard today, it was the words and melody of O Sacred Head Now Wounded that nailed me to the floor this week. Not that I didn't appreciate the words of Mike Neil at the Kiwanis Prayer breakfast this morning, or the seven OSLC elders who shared thoughts on seven words of Good Friday at Tennebrae, but it was the hymn well-sung by the congregation, well-accompanied by Gerod, Diane and the band and harmonized by the choir that drove it home.

Gratitude: Expressing Thankfulness 

I'm thankful I heard from my daughter today. It's strange, and a little unnerving not to hear from your kid. For five days. While she's in Spain. On Spring Break. At a place where Britons are notoriously stupid. But she surfaced today, tired, but happy.

Reflection: Looking Back on Your Day 

I did a lot of driving today! Odd that. Drove the 15 miles to Bethany Baptist for the breakfast; drove back home. Was just about to take a nap when daughter called with tales of Spring Break. Took a nap. Went to get my hair re-cut; drove back home. Went to lunch at Shogun and the mall for Sees candy. Drove back home. Did an errand for last minute groceries for our Sunday meal (challa for French Toast!); drove back home. Drove another 12 miles back out to church for Good Friday service; drove back home. Happily, I made a lot of headway into Eusebius. (I have his History on audiobook, and made quite a dent.) Very good day.

Sorrow: Asking for Forgiveness

If you can't think of a thing to ask for forgiveness on Good Friday you're just not trying. This day is all about realizing the part each of us - including Tim Ihssen - plays in nailing Christ to the cross. My lies and thievery drove those nails a little deeper. Father, forgive me, for I know exactly what I'm doing.

Hopefulness: Resolving to Grow

I know I'm being flip, but after a disastrous hair cut, I'm resolving to grow my hair back as quick as I can. It drives home the point that I should have never cut my hair in the first place. Of all the traits I want to thank my parents for - blue eyes, healthy body, good work habits - I'll not be thanking whoever gave me a cowlick. I think it's dad, but I'm no geneticist. After yesterday's cut, both the stylist and I felt uneasy. She said, "That bugs me," but we let it go. I preached last night, but never really got it right (luckily, my tie was backward for most of the sermon, so no one was looking at my hair). So I decided to give her another crack at it and she agreed. If anything, it's worse. It was to the point where I thought about wearing a hat to church. My wife frantically put product after product in my hair just to get it manageable. Then I get there and sit in the second row, because no one sits in the first row. Except my most stylish youth group member, Emily! There were little cards in our bulletin, where we could confess our sins, and she passed hers to me saying, "I made fun of Tim's hair cut."

It's that bad. If I believed that kind of thing, I'd say God was punishing me for my part in his son's death by giving me the worst hair cut ever.

I forgave her and told her to sin no more.

God bless your week, and remember to pray for a time between now and Sunday.

The Upstairs Front Room

Here is my message - two true stories, but not at the same time - that I gave at the Maundy Thursday service tonight.

John 13

It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.

² The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. ³ Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; ⁴ so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. ⁵ After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

⁶ He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

⁷ Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

⁸ “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

⁹ “Then, Lord,” Simon Peter replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!”

¹⁰ Jesus answered, “Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” ¹¹ For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean.

¹² When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. ¹³ “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. ¹⁴ Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. ¹⁵ I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. ¹⁶ Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. ¹⁷ Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

I’m going to tell you about a time when I was a waiter at the Front Room on Ninth and Judah in San Francisco, around 1990. It was kind of a neighborhood joint, we served chicken dishes, like chicken la crema or chicken parm, and salads with home made dressing, we had steaks and sandwiches. But the thing we were most known for is our Chicago style deep dish pizza. Before Pizza Hut invented the cheese in the crust thing, we did it with a thick pan, with the dough wrapped around the outside, then sauce would go on the bottom, then cheese, then the toppings, and then more cheese on top of that, so that when they wrapped the dough back over, the cheese would go inside the crust. Now I’m hungry.

I was one of the two waiters there, and the other was Guy, he was raised on a kibbutz in Israel. Our owner was Cambodian. And then we had two cooks, Chen from China and Danny from Iran. So if you’re keeping track, our staff was from China, Iran, America and Israel. Little united nations going there. We also had a couple of dishwashers but they were notoriously unreliable.

You work at a neighborhood restaurant in San Francisco for awhile and you end up with some regular customers. I had Jim the book store owner, who would sometimes tip me with paperbacks, Abe, the tailor who always had to send something back, Susan, the Korean grad student – actually went out with her for awhile before we realized that our fathers had both fought in the Korean war. On opposite sides. The thought of in-laws who had already tried to kill each other put the kibosh on that relationship, we were still friends though, she always came by. Then there was Tammy the Tazmanian she-devil, and the zoo workers, and my very favorite, Crazy Uncle Bud, who wore a fedora and suit coat, not matter what the weather.

The interior was like this the front door split into two sides, 15 tables on the main floor, but we also had this single room upstairs that could hold about 20 people, and so the owner bought a big screen tv and offered 2 dollar pitcher Tuesdays and thursdsay, but for some reason ,most people didn’t want to go up there – the stairs were kind of steep, but I thought it was a nice place. Didn’t really take. We had a couple of softball teams that tried it out, but we didn’t get the regular business in the upstairs room. Until one day, I saw on the reservation board Guy’s Gang. Apparently, some friends of Guy wanted a place for a private celebration – wedding or funeral, or some such, I never did find out. And they wanted the place to themselves. The owner figured out how much a typical Thursday night would run, made sure his waiters would get a good tip, and so we shut the place down for Guy’s friends. Deals were made, hands were shook, and we were ready for the big party in the Upstairs Front Room.

I thought it would be a pretty easy night, and it would have been, except that Cheno got sick and the dishwasher didn’t show up of course, and the owner took off for Reno, so it was just Danny the cook, Guy and me, the three of us for what turned out to be 13 guys.

They came in promptly at 6 and it took everything for me to not bust out laughing. Apparently the invitation said “formal dress” for whatever celebration they were having, but they had all gone to the Goodwill, because they looked like a motley crew of dudes. Blue collar types with a coat of one color, and pants of a different color, and a shirt that did not match, ties of all shapes and sizes. The biggest guy looked like he was right off the boat, and his suit was two sizes too small, so he was stuffed into it. There was one guy who was nerdy, but he was nerdy nerdy, not hipster nerdy. It looked like they were trying, but did not have a sense of style. Except two guys, one who looked like he had a tailored outfit and the other, obviously the leader – he had on a dark plum coat with matching pants, a black turtle neck and ankle boots. He just had this look – he wasn’t trying hard at all, but it was quality.

As they walked up the stairs, they were really happy, like they were going to the party, and the first thing the main guy did when he got to the Upper Front Room was turn off the tv.  We walked up behind him – they were Guy’s friends, or at least one of them was. We had agreed to split the tip, and so when we got them settled with menus, the main guy said, “We’re not going to need any of those. If you’ll come and sit down, I’ll tell you what we’d like.”

That’s kinda strange – most people don’t have you sit down when you take an order, but we rolled with it. After we sat down, he pulled up a chair and faced us and he said, “Here’s what we’d like. I’d like to get four deep dish cheese pizzas, no meat, just cheese. I need 13 glasses and three bottles of wine. And once you deliver those, you’ll be done for the night.”

And he smiled.

Man, I thought – 1200 dollars to get four cheese pizzas, but it’s not my money. And he had a really cool smile. So we went down and delivered the order to Danny, who shrugged when he saw the order. the pizzas take about 25-35 minutes to cook, so we didn’t really have anything to do except point to the sign on the door when people tried to come in – Private Party!. But I was so curious about what was going on upstairs, and for the first ten minutes, nothing really happened. You know, you could hear lots of people talking, but you know how when you’re watching a game and something surprising happens and you gasp? After about 10 minutes, we heard that gasp. And the mood of the room changed – it was no longer a party atmosphere, it’s almost like someone was getting fired. And sure enough, the guy in the expensive suit came storming down the stairs and he pushed open the front door and ran straight cross 9^th avenue. If one of the Muni trains had been running, it would have flattened him, but luckily the lights were with him. None of the other guys came down after him, but you could tell they were watching him go from the railing on the balcony.

“Is one of them crying?” I asked Guy. It sure sounded like it, but I wasn’t going to go up. I kinda poked my head out to see if there was anything obvious wrong. A few minutes later, though, something else weird happened. I was taking the plates up, because the pizzas would be ready in about five minutes, and I saw the big guy, with the small suit saying, “I’ll never betray you. I swear to God!” and the main guy gave him a look filled with love and said, “You’ll do it three times tonight. But the good news is, it looks like our pizza is almost here.” All eyes were on me, and the other guys gave a nervous laugh, but you could tell that the Big Guy was unnerved. I felt dumb, and made two stacks of uneven plates on one side of the table, and placed napkins forks and knives at each place. not a word was spoken when I was there, until I got to the main guy, and he said, “It’s just you and Guy and the cook?”

Yep.

And what’s his name?

Danny.

Good.

He smiled again and the sweetness and the sadness of it nailed me to the floor.

I wanted to ask him what was going on, what the celebration was for, why the guy ran out, why would his friend betray him, but what I said was, “The pizzas will be here soon.”

Good.

I went down and Guy and I brought up the pizzas a little later, and I dished it out, because the pans are hot, and the cheese gets everywhere, so I had to do this kind of motion – slicing the cheese with the spatula and we had a kind of a fireline going all the way around the table, and finally, all 12 guys had a piece. Can I get cheese and peppers? No thanks. I left, and five minutes later, Guy went up to see if everything was all right, and he came back down shaking his head.

What? I said,

Weirdest thing, he said. I went up and each of the guys had a piece of pizza on a fork, and the main guy was standing, and he said, “When you eat this, you are one with me.” and he turned to the guy next to him and gave him his bite, and they each turned to the guy next to him and they all fed each other.

Weird.

I know. And then he said, “when you drink this, you’re one with me,” and he gave a sip of his wine to the guy next to him, and the same thing happened. The last thing he said was “This is a new way. Remember me and remember this.”

Weird. You don’t think this is some kind of cult do you? They weren’t wearing black Nike track suits, were they?

But it wasn’t done getting weird. They stayed up there and talked for awhile, and it was a pretty somber affair. We couldn’t make out any words, but we know the one guy is talking and I was thinking, “Man this is not a great party.” But it got to be about time to clean up, and I was just thinking of going to clear some plates, when the main guy comes down with his plate, glass, knife and fork and I’m thinking, “Dang, we have to comp him a pizza because there’s a dirty fork or plate, or something was floating in his wine glass. And the whole party behind him.

He puts the plate, glass, fork and knife down on table number 7, takes off his plum coat, takes off his black turtle neck and says to me, “Do you have an apron I can borrow?”

I take off my blue apron and he puts it over his head and he says, “The dish room is this way?”

Now we have a nasty dish room. It’s no wonder the guys never show up, because it is a hot, steamy, smelly room. And no matter how often we try to hose off those rubber mats, there’s a kind of permanent sour milk smell to them. I just have one thing to say – hot, steaming water and bleu cheese dressing. But he goes right in with his plate and glass his fork and his knife and he washes them with the hose, and soaps them up with the dish wand, really cleans the inside and outside of the cup, scrapes between the tines of the fork, and then he gets a clean towel and dries them, and puts the plate on a stack, the wine glass on the overhead hanger, the fork and knife in their places.

“Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them.  “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am.  Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your dishes, you also should wash one another’s dishes. ¹⁵ I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. ¹⁶ Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. ¹⁷ Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

And sure enough, one by one the guys all file back upstairs, and take each other’s dishes, and while some of them are busy with the dishes, the other guys are cleaning the rest of the restaurant. Some guys are wiping the tables, the other guys are vacuuming, putting the chairs upside down on the clean tables, the nerdy guy is helping me count the money, another guy is helping Danny clean the grill and wash the big pots of spaghetti sauce, another guy is folding the cloth napkins, another guy is making takeout pizza boxes for the next day’s shift. The only thing Guy, Danny and I did was tell people what our normal jobs are and where things went.

And even though the main guy went to his work cheerfully, when he saw that everyone was working, he went off by himself in an alleyway out by the dumpster, in a little hallway, it wasn’t inside it wasn’t outside. But he was squatting and leaning against the wall and I could just look at him and tell he was distraught. That’s the only word for it. I kinda poked my head in and he saw me, and gave me a reassuring smile, so I left him alone, and as I was working by the kitchen, I could hear him crying. I don’t know what it was, but he was really upset.

And even though the message was for his friends, Guy and I learned something from him that night. We never did our jobs the same again, because when he showed his friends how to do what we do, he made it seem special, and new and fresh and different. It actually changed the way I worked as a waiter, and more than that, how I lived my life. I came up with what I call the Waiter’s Prayer after that. Lord let me be of use, that I may glorify you through my acts of service.

I heard a rumor that the guy got murdered a couple of days later. That really made me sad. I never saw him after that anyway. But some of his friends came around, after about a year or so. They were different, and not just because they weren’t in their funny clothes. And here’s the weird thing – whenever they came they insisted on doing their own dishes. I said, “What are you doing, why are you doing your dishes?” We do it, they said, because we remember. We remember what he told us.

And I do too. I’ll never forget that night, and my prayer is you don’t either.

cuittle

Cuittle \KY-tl\ verb 1. to wheedle, cajole, or coax. This week's word might not have taken the cake if it hadn't been for Dictionary.com's examples. Some words have poetry in their meanings, and cuittle is one of them. As you can see, it rhymes with "idol," and its synonyms look like they are a combination of them: wheedle (we-dl), cajole and coax. If I were going to make up a word like cuittle, I'd have made it cajeedle, but words are not mine to make. But unusual spellings/pronunciations are not enough to whet my wheedle. Let's hear from Sir Walter Scott, shall we?

Quotes:

The Papist threatened us with purgatory, and fleeched us with pardons; — the Protestant mints at us with the sword, and cuittles  us with the liberty of conscience…

-- Sir Walter Scott, The Abbot , 1820

I'm fascinated to know what this means. So I looked up to see what the context of this quote is:

So soon as the more numerous body of riders had

turned off to pursue their journey westward, those

whose route lay across the river, and was directed 

towards the north, summoned the Bridgeward, and

demanded a free passage.

" I will not lower the bridge," answered -Peter, in

a voice querulous with age and ill-humour. — " Come

Papist, come Protestant, ye are all the same. The

Papists threatened us with Purgatory, and fleeched

us with pardons ; — The Protestant mints at us with

the sword, and cuittles us with the liberty of con-

science ; but never a one of either says, ' Peter, there

is your penny.' I am well tired of all this, and for

no man shall the bridge fall that pays me not ready

money ; and I would have you know I care as little

for Geneva as for Eome — as little for homilies as

for pardons; and the silver pennies are the only

passports I will hear of."

Being a Protestant, I wanted to find out what we do, and how it differs from the Catholic especially in the area of how we treat bridgewards. The Catholic - excuse me, Papist - threatened him “with purgatory and fleeched him with  pardons.” Taken from the context, fleeched would be analogous to cuittles, which is sort of like the the carrot Boyd Crowder offers his meth cookers, rather than the stick (purgatory and sword). There is no dictionary definition for fleeched, but for mints there is, which is "to hit or strike at (someone or something)." As opposed to the chocolate treat found on the pillows of finer hotels.

So I learned two new words (cuittle and mints), and am left wondering at another (fleeched). And to top it all off?

Origin:

Cuittle  is of uncertain origin.

A mystery wrapped inside an enigma fleeched inside a contradiction.

I guess the lesson from all of this is that for all the mintsing, and fleeching and cuittling and threats, the only way to get across is to pay the penny.

There’s probably a sermon there somewhere…

Wholly Weak

Things are poppin' around OSLC this week, this Holy Week, this week when the other days get a whiff of greatness.
Sundays, of course, are God's day, a day we are to keep the Sabbath Wholly, to borrow a book title from Marva Dawn. Wednesdays are the unofficial Church Day Honored by Absolutely No One Anymore. Not bitter, just noticing. Regardless, Ash Wednesday kicked off the season of Lent way back in February, and the day before that is Shrove Tuesday.
But during Holy Week, Thursday, Friday and Saturday step up to bat to take their place in the divine pantheon, leaving only Monday to be a day with no redeeming value. Ever. The only day we worship on Mondays is every seven years or so when Christmas or Christmas Eve lands on its God-forsaken day.
So this week, we have Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday, leading up to Easter Sunday.
Maundy Thursday (pronounced by everyone as Monday Thursday, which just seems to be slagging on Monday once again) is taken from the Latin mandatum, or commandment, because it is the day in which we remember that Christ changed everything old into something new and improved - he gave us a new commandment to love one another as God has loved us. When I was a non-traditional whipper snapper, I suggested to my internship pastor that we change the words of institution (heaven forfend!) to read, "Our Lord Jesus Christ, on the night when he gave a new commandment, took bread...." I said, "It's more positive!" I'm not convinced I'm wrong, but I do look back and wonder how anyone could stand me. This year OSLC has two (2!) Maundy Thursday services; one is an elaborate Seder meal, all courses and education included, for $25. It's sold out! (I sense a youth fund raiser for next year...) That's at 6. Then at 7, there's a free Maundy Thursday service in which I'm preaching. You get what you pay for. That's all I'll say about that. Though I am excited to continue the dramatic MT service that we've enjoyed for the past five years or so (has G-rod been here that long?). I'll be lucky if I don't get stoned.
Good Friday is always an outstanding service, featuring seven elders doing 2.5 minute homilies for each of the seven words on the cross. This is the Tennebrae service (that's right - the one with the loud bang.) My wife and I commemorate the death of our savior on the cross by eating Mexican. There's absolutely no significance to that, it's just something we started doing and continue to do because most great traditions are very silly.
My favorite part of Holy Week starts on Good Friday - our prayer vigil. We pray continually from noon Good Friday to noon on Easter. We used to haul people out of bed at three in the morning Fri and Sat night, but we've caved to culture and allowed people to pray in their jammies. I usually anchor the prayer team by praying right up until the sunrise service; I'll be there again, doing my text-prayers for the second year. Mostly to East Coast friends who would hopefully be up by then...
Holy Saturday, in the ancient church, was the time when new Christians were baptized, late at night, so that when they came out of the underground cavern - I know, wouldn't that be cool? - they would arise along with Jesus into new life. We have it at 6 pm. I don't know if we're going to use our new fountain or not, but it's always an awesome service. We have four baptisms slated.
And of course the wonder and majesty of Easter, the time when fasts end and celebrations begin!
By the end of Holy Week, your hard-workin' staff will be wholly weak.
Maybe I'll give up puns for Lent one year.
And there would be great rejoicing. Maybe that will be the same year the powers that be declare that along with all the other days, we'll celebrate Manic Monday.

The week that was 2

Part of what makes life life is examination.
I'm clearly no Socrates, who said it best: "An unexamined life is not worth living.
I'm going to reprint something from Loyola Press which I hope will have a positive effect on you. It's an exercise called the Daily Examen, and it was started by Iganatius of Loyola.

Prayerfully Reviewing Your DayThe Daily Examen

Part of the rich tradition of the Catholic Church is recognizing the need to reflect on the day's activities—to remember God's invitation and our response or lack of response. Saint Ignatius of Loyola developed a simple method by which you can review each day in a way that will help you grow in self-understanding and free you to follow God's will. This practice is often called the Daily Examen. Many people choose to practice this prayerful review of their day before going to bed at night by following the five steps below.
Stillness: Recalling God's PresenceRelax in God's presence in your favorite prayer place and posture. Be aware of how God shows his love for you in all his gifts to you. Be thankful as you think of God the Father's love, the love of his Son Jesus, and the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Ask the Holy Spirit to come into your heart and to help you to look honestly at your actions this day and how you have responded in different situations. With the Spirit's inspiration you can recognize what draws you close to God as well as what pulls you away from God.
Gratitude: Expressing ThankfulnessReview your day and give thanks to God for his gifts. Try not to choose what to be thankful for but rather to see what springs to mind as you reflect. Think of the concrete details of your day—the aroma of coffee brewing, a smile from a co-worker, or a beautiful rainbow. Recall the gifts that God has given you that you can share with others—your ability to help in a crisis, your sense of humor, or your patience with children. Pause and express your gratitude to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Reflection: Looking Back on Your DayAgain review the events of the day and notice how you acted in the many situations in which you found yourself. Recall your feelings and motives to see whether you considered all of the possibilities and freely followed God's will. Ask yourself when you were conscious of God's presence. Think about opportunities you had to grow in faith, hope, and charity. When we think about why we did or did not take advantage of these opportunities, we can become aware of how we might change our actions in the future. Be grateful for the occasions when you freely chose a course to help others. Perhaps you let a shopper with a small order go ahead of you in line or did not join in a conversation critical of a co-worker. These are examples of responding freely as God wants us to. When we reflect on the times we did or didn't act with God's grace, we can be more sensitive to developing habits of positive responses.
Sorrow: Asking for ForgivenessAfter you have asked for the Holy Spirit's guidance in recalling and reflecting on the actions of your day, spend time talking with God or Jesus. Express sorrow for the times you failed to follow his direction and ask him to be with you the next time you encounter a similar situation. Give thanks to God for the grace that enabled you to follow his will freely. Feel the sorrow and gratitude in your heart as you converse with God.
Hopefulness: Resolving to GrowAsk God to help you as you look forward to a new day tomorrow. Resolve to cooperate and trust in the loving guidance of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Conclude the day's prayerful review with the Lord's Prayer.
By prayerfully reviewing your day, you will experience the difference it can make in the way you live. If you make a habit of practicing the Daily Examen, you will grow closer to God in your thoughts and deeds and will be free to choose to follow him.

This is a great pattern for daily time with God. Of course, reading your Bible, or a verse or two each day is important, but the Daily Examen is trying to apply what you've learned in Scripture against the hard reality of life. This is an excellent elixir to anxiety, too, because as you stop and are still before the Lord, you begin to see how his work in your life compliments what you already know is true: God loves you and wants to be your Father.
Think how different this is than our normal prayers - Lord, help me pass my test, or help heal Auntie Em. We're not asking anything from God except forgiveness. You can think of this as Havin' a Cuppa with God.
So let's begin:
Be still. I felt God's presence this week in planning, implementing and creating a labyrinth at Central Ave. Elementary. I love that God's presence is permanently embedded on the pavement there. I took some time this morning to pray the labyrinth there.
Gratitude: I thank God for the story he gave me to tell to the youth group Wed. I felt like they totally bought in to the premise of the story and I can't wait to share with the congregation on Maundy Thursday. I love being creative, and combining my knack for stories with the truth of Scripture.
Reflection: I met with my awesome Splash Group leaders first thing this morning, followed by a spirited class discussion on the perils of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism with my confirmation class. After a take-out lunch at Famous Daves, I got some new cleats for softball (3 pm) and Ultimate Frisbee (5 pm), which I went to after my Sunday nap. Got home and put away the overdue laundry while watching the end of the Yankees/Red Sox game. Looking forward to TV Time/Popcorn in a few minutes. Overall, one of the better days of the year so far! Thank you God!
Sorrow: While I was very active, I didn't get a chance to spend much time with my wife, so that was not ideal. As my schedule gets busier, I'll need to spend more time with my partner.
Hopefulness: (I love that it ends with Law and Gospel!) My hope for this week is that I can knuckle down and work on my confession paper for Christian History. I'm excited to start, but haven't gotten over that initial hump yet - so what better week than Holy Week?
My other hope is that you will all spend some time tonight - tomorrow night - the next night - examining the amazing life God has lent you.

Image of God

Fear and Love God

Our assignment this week was to write a 2 page description of the image/images of God directly expressed or implied in the writing of a primary text of your religious tradition. Cite the passages used to found your description. Provide a brief statement of how this image is aligned with the official teaching statements about God found in your tradition.

Enjoy!

All good Lutheran children have learned the phrase “fear and love God” from their very first Confirmation class, because it is a theme that runs throughout Luther’s Small Catechism (1529). Like most of his writings, Luther’s Catechism was published because of his dyspeptic attitude toward German clergy and their “deplorable, miserable condition” and called them “dumb brutes and irrational swine.”[1]

In his simple explanation, then, of the 6^th Commandment, Luther wrote, “You shall not commit adultery. What does this mean? Answer: We should fear and love God so that we may lead a pure and decent life in words and deeds, and each love and honor his spouse.” And likewise the 3^rd: “You shall sanctify the holy day. What does this mean? Answer: We should fear and love God that we may not despise preaching and His Word, but hold it sacred, and gladly hear and learn it.” And one more, the 8^th: “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. What does this mean? Answer: We should fear and love God so that we may not deceitfully belie, betray, slander or defame our neighbor, but defend him, think and speak well of him and put the best construction on everything.”

For each of the commandments, the answer to “What does this mean?” always begins with “We should fear and love God” and follows with examples of how to break the commandment and how to keep the commandment.

Thus from childhood to our grave, good Lutherans are taught what I call Lutheran dualism: the fear and love of God expressed in the concept of Law and Gospel pervade each decision we make, each sermon we hear, each relationship we maintain.

Though some of my instructors and pastors have tried to relax the “fear” of God into the “respect” or even “honor” of God, I have reminded each of my classes that the one and only reaction of any human who has ever encountered the divine has been fear, and not just because they are primitive brutes who have no concept of the Almighty. It is not for no reason that the first words out of the angels’ mouth are “Do not be afraid.” We believe because we have an image of a mildly dyspeptic Almighty on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel nearly touching the finger of Adam that we could probably be in the same room with I Am and not pee ourselves.

Not so. Fear in the face of Holy I believe is very healthy. The idea of eternal punishment is not a hard hurdle to jump.

But before they begin to despair, I remind them of the Love part too. That we have a God whose heart hurts when we sin, but who is constantly beseeching us to return to him, the Waiting Father of the Prodigal Son. This is a God of second chances, who never gives up on us poor miserable sinners.

Bred in the Lutheran bone, then, is the concept of Law and Gospel, and this seeps into our image of God and our interactions with other people. For example, I watched Men of a Certain Age and one of the plot lines involved Owen needing to fire one of his father’s employees for stealing. He and his father sat listening to the man try to explain, and he said, “I needed the money, I shouldn’t have done it, I can pay it back.” And the Father got right to the point: “I hired you and kept you for 30 years, you son of a bitch, and you betrayed me. I don’t want to see your face again.” That’s the Law applied, I said to my wife, to an unrepentant sinner. The thief did not see the severity of his actions and therefore he received the Fear and Wrath and Law of the father. Had he come cap in hand and broken in sorrow over what he had done, and offered to make a public confession to all those he had hurt, the reaction of a Lutheran, anyway, would have been to calm his fear and not torture the sinner’s conscience, lest he despair.

In each situation we deal with, then, we think, “Does this person need to feel the Fear of God or the Love of God?” A great litmus test for whether you need to feel the Fear or the Love of God is to ask yourself to respond to the phrase: “God is watching you.” If your conscience is seared, and you don’t feel sin, you might hear “God is watching you - you’d better shape up.” If your conscience is tortured, you might hear, “God is watching over you.”

While it might seem to outsiders that we have turned God into a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, our image of a Fearsome and Loving God provides a balance that aligns with Luther’s idea of we are all simultaneously sinner and saint. I’m very comfortable with that.

---

[1] All quotations come from McCain, Timothy Paul, ed. Concordia: The Lutheran Confessions, A Reader’s Edition of the Book of Concord. Concordia, St. Louis. 2006

Omphaloskepsis

I subscribe to two word of the day sites: Dictionary.com's Word of the Day, and the Urban Dictionary; I don't love either of them. The latter is usually crude (like the last two words...you've been warned), though occasionally very clever, while the former is good, but not as exciting.

But every so often, I'll find a thrilling new word from Dictionary.com, and the title of tonight's blog is just one such word:

Omphaloskepsis

There is just so much fun in this word, and I don't even care what it means yet. Is it being skeptical of Ooompa-Loompas? Is it the sound you make when you hit a loskepsis really hard (Omph!)? It has "phalos" in there, so is it a naughty word? Usually when I see a word I don't know, I try to figure out what it means, and some of you Greek/Latin types may be already on top of it, but this one had me completely baffled.

The meaning makes me love it even more: 

contemplation of one's navel as part of a mystical exercise

You have got to be kidding me.
Here's the rest of the Dictionary.com email (they always throw in two ways in which the word has been used in literature):

There is a word for that, Greek, of course, which ha come into English: omphaloskepsis , or meditating while staring at one's navel. Marvelous, isn't it. I love words.

-- Lynne Tillman, Cast in Doubt, 1992

...as a mere illusion, who run away from it and devote their time and energy to occupations which Mr.Cardan sums up and symbolises in the word omphaloskepsis .

-- Aldous Huxley, Those Barren Leaves, 1925

Origin:
Omphaloskepsis comes from the Greek roots omphalos which means "navel" and sképsis which means "act of looking."

So if you think about it, you could actually make a case that while you are chanting "Om," you're half way to omphaloskepsis. They've said so as much on the omphaloskepsis wiki page. Yes, it has a wiki page.
This will be a very handy word when you are filled with a room of people gazing at their navels, say, Congress or your church council or hippies.
Not surprisingly, it has religious connotations, not only for the Hindu, but one of my top 5 religious bodies, the Eastern Orthodox Church! The wiki page mentioned Gregory Palamas as well as hesychasm, otherwise known as the breathing prayer - hesychasts are able to pray "Lord Jesus Christ" on the inhale and "have mercy to me a sinner" on the exhale, thus taking the Scriptural dictum to "pray continually" literally. That seems like a whole other blog, but for now, let's just sit and contemplate the wonder of omphaloskepsis.
Would a practitioner of this navel-gazing mystical exercise be an omphaloskepsist? Or maybe an omphaloskepsister? If so, then would the male be an omphaloskepbrother?
So many questions - so few answers. If only I had some time to meditate properly.
Eww. Belly button lint.