Last Sunday in worship, one of our new members helped with communion. Now this, in itself, is not unusual because I want people to help with church. I encourage them to work in church to make it successful. Ultimately, it is the congregation that makes church succeed. When (in my more delusional moments) I think it is me, I am reminded harshly – even gently – it is God and the congregation making us thrive.
Anyway, on Sunday, our new member, confined to a motorized wheelchair, with one arm that barely works, held the bread in his working hand for all the congregation to come forward to partake. As they came forward, I offered a healing blessing with oils at the back of the church. The two serving communion – one in a wheelchair, the other who works for Partners in Progress (PIP) a community organization for individual with special needs – were in themselves unusual. Even so, the most unusual part came toward the end of communion.
In our congregation, we serve those who cannot come forward in their seat. This being the custom, our new young member wheeled his chair to the pew where a 92-year-old woman waited for communion. As he got to her, he adjusted the chair so that she would not have to reach too far, and held out the bread as far as his arm could reach. She took her piece and then, from our PIP server, took the juice cup. After he finished serving this woman he wheeled back and she walked back to serve each other and wait for me to come back from anointing.
I, standing in the back of the church watched this, then continued watching as the communion serving played itself out. First, our wheelchair-bound young man held out the bread to his co-server, she took her piece and consumed her juice, then she took the bread and offered it to him. At that point, he needed more help to get the bread and juice so another congregation member that works at PIP came forward to help. I could only stare as these three helped each other with this sacred meal.
As a church planter when I came to north central Pennsylvania, I expected to attract the liberal-minded professors and their families to our new church. For the most part, they have stayed away in droves. What we have is the most diverse congregation in the county. We have diversity in race, education, income, ability, disability, age and singing ability (I am low here). We have the best musician you can find who seems – though he is going through a spiritual crisis – to really like our congregation.
I was relating my intention to write this blog to a friend this morning as we drove to Galeton and she reminded me of her favorite line: “If you want to make God laugh, tell God your plans.”
What I need to end with is this: our congregation is small – growing – but small. Yet, we have the biggest hearts of any congregation I have ever known. If church is about everything and everyone being part of God's place, then we ARE church. And I thank God that we are!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
“Molly Ivins can’t say that, can she?”
I used to read Molly Ivins columns faithfully – I loved it that she called a spade a spade and a Texan a tall-tales-Texan. She died way too young of breast cancer – she was 62 and younger than I. I do not have breast cancer – and I do not have a syndicated column, nor do I possess the wit she used in her writing though I wish I did.
Molly Ivins did have some help – for instance, she hired a fact checker. I wish I had a fact-checker to keep me from making some woefully common errors and an editor (Molly had one of these, too) to chop up my run-on sentences and to be sure I finish all my thoughts before sharing them. Most of all, (I don’t think Molly had one of these) I wish I had a button for “pause – reread – reconsider” before clicking send. That button (or the editor or fact checker) would have made my blunder on Facebook this morning less likely to happen. To help, I could have taken myself off Facebook like my friend Larry did. Several months ago, he sent a broadcast email saying “sayonara” “hasta la vista” and “so long” to this wacky communication tool.
Not me, I keep thinking I will sign off FB, but I am addicted. I really want to see what is going on with all my friends – I don’t have millions, not even thousands or hundreds but I do have 116. FB tells me I ought to have more – a friend of a friend would love to be my friend - even when they don’t know me. I say no to most “friend requests.” Sometimes I should say yes, who knows whom I might meet, but mostly “no” fits my life style.
Twitter is another tool for keeping in touch. On Twitter, many people follow me - I do not know one of them. If I wrote more comprehensively about what I do, I would be concerned about the anonymous people following me. They follow me in spite of the fact that once I signed in to Twitter, I never went back online again. Still every few days, I get an email saying “___ is following you on Twitter.” Must be they have drab lives since following my non-existent life is part of their daily routine.
Then there is “Linked-In” – a professional networking site, good for job hunting. Every few days, a headhunter tells me that a job paying BIG BUCKS awaits me. I don’t answer these come-on emails. If I were job hunting, I would contact my Linked-In buddies.
Linked-In sounds the most like it fits my line of work – preaching. According to some sources, the Bible for instance, no one has ever seen God and if we were to, we would have to die, so Facebook is not a really good tool for my work. A liberal, progressive pastor working with twitter-ing might be mistaken for a very conservative preacher and I don't want that confusion. But, Linked-In. I like that. I think I will use that for the title of Sunday’s sermon: “Linked-In – Emerging Church in Pennsylvania.” Linked-in infers that we have others to communicate with. I like that, since I am always looking for someone to tell about church. If I had a sign out front of church where I could put the sermon title in big black letters, I might use “Linked-In: Networking with God.” I could use “Facebook: Networking with God” but that loses some punch.
Linked-In. I like that.
And, gosh, in case you were “Linked-In” to me this morning when I wrote (on FB) that I am sorry to have a round-trip ticket to Colorado, will you please read the part (30 seconds later) where I said that I would be sad leaving my family and friends when I return here – and I should have added “coming home to my new friends.”
Molly Ivins did have some help – for instance, she hired a fact checker. I wish I had a fact-checker to keep me from making some woefully common errors and an editor (Molly had one of these, too) to chop up my run-on sentences and to be sure I finish all my thoughts before sharing them. Most of all, (I don’t think Molly had one of these) I wish I had a button for “pause – reread – reconsider” before clicking send. That button (or the editor or fact checker) would have made my blunder on Facebook this morning less likely to happen. To help, I could have taken myself off Facebook like my friend Larry did. Several months ago, he sent a broadcast email saying “sayonara” “hasta la vista” and “so long” to this wacky communication tool.
Not me, I keep thinking I will sign off FB, but I am addicted. I really want to see what is going on with all my friends – I don’t have millions, not even thousands or hundreds but I do have 116. FB tells me I ought to have more – a friend of a friend would love to be my friend - even when they don’t know me. I say no to most “friend requests.” Sometimes I should say yes, who knows whom I might meet, but mostly “no” fits my life style.
Twitter is another tool for keeping in touch. On Twitter, many people follow me - I do not know one of them. If I wrote more comprehensively about what I do, I would be concerned about the anonymous people following me. They follow me in spite of the fact that once I signed in to Twitter, I never went back online again. Still every few days, I get an email saying “___ is following you on Twitter.” Must be they have drab lives since following my non-existent life is part of their daily routine.
Then there is “Linked-In” – a professional networking site, good for job hunting. Every few days, a headhunter tells me that a job paying BIG BUCKS awaits me. I don’t answer these come-on emails. If I were job hunting, I would contact my Linked-In buddies.
Linked-In sounds the most like it fits my line of work – preaching. According to some sources, the Bible for instance, no one has ever seen God and if we were to, we would have to die, so Facebook is not a really good tool for my work. A liberal, progressive pastor working with twitter-ing might be mistaken for a very conservative preacher and I don't want that confusion. But, Linked-In. I like that. I think I will use that for the title of Sunday’s sermon: “Linked-In – Emerging Church in Pennsylvania.” Linked-in infers that we have others to communicate with. I like that, since I am always looking for someone to tell about church. If I had a sign out front of church where I could put the sermon title in big black letters, I might use “Linked-In: Networking with God.” I could use “Facebook: Networking with God” but that loses some punch.
Linked-In. I like that.
And, gosh, in case you were “Linked-In” to me this morning when I wrote (on FB) that I am sorry to have a round-trip ticket to Colorado, will you please read the part (30 seconds later) where I said that I would be sad leaving my family and friends when I return here – and I should have added “coming home to my new friends.”
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Church planter cultivates relationships
Interesting week, this.
This afternoon, We are scheduled to rehearse “The Three Pigs,” a reader’s theatre offering through Hamilton-Gibson, our community theatre. I read the part of Bambi, the pig who wants a wood house. I say that last, because I don’t think that the pigs were named in the original story. My “costume” is a straw hat with really bright pink ears that I made from pink construction paper. Then this evening, we rehearse a 10-minute play about a Christmas tree. I am co-director.
Some might question how community theatre relates to planting a new church and the skeptic might not like my answer. The answer, from my perspective, is that I have to be involved in as many aspects of community life as possible to get my name and the name and our new congregation into the public domain. Looking through my Daytimer, any person who is totally “left-brained” that is, logical, sequential, rational and analytical would certainly doubt the value of my week: play rehearsal (two plays), Kiwanis, Rotary, University community group, Tioga County Community Health Partnership, Friday Club, Art group, dream group are part of what I am scheduled to do. This more linear person might wonder how this builds a church. This linear person would think I am not going forth and offering God to people. But I am doing just that.
Last week, as part of what I receive from this community involvement, I was invited to give the invocation and benediction for a new community group that invited me to become a member. at such event, the prayers are inclusive and I try to be sensitive (see the blog about Interfaith from a week or so ago) to those in the room, that is, to “preach” not to the choir, but to those gathered. After the invocation and the benediction/grace, several people – most of whom I did not know – complimented me on the wording and the sensitivity of these public prayers. Several days later, a companion on the bus trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake Ontario, Canada did the same.
My activities this week that are evangelical include the same variety as my community presence does. On Wednesday, I write the Midweek Message for the Wellsboro/Mansfield Gazette, our local paper. I will meet with colleagues for a lectionary group to sort out Sunday’s sermon, I will meet with our newly formed pastoral relations committee (Friday evening) and write a sermon and produce the weekly bulletin for Sunday. In addition, I will spend at least one hour a day responding to emails that I receive – many of which are about global activities in which our two denominations participate. I will send positive thoughts to our newly formed prayer quad. Among the less –pleasant pastoral tasks was this: early this morning, I had to tell a man who is traveling from Massachusetts to New Mexico that I have no funds to help with gas, bus ticket, lodging or food. What a terrible thing – denying help. I feel terrible not to help. Yet, there are so many who are in need and our already limited resources dwindle as more and more of our congregation feels the pressure of the recession.
Sometimes I imagine that God is watching - trying to find out what I am going around in these circles for. Why don't I just walk up to people and invite them to join our congregaion on Sunday. I wonder, too. But I understand that not everyone appreciates my progressive stance on living as a 21st Century Christian. I hope that my actions will show how we live as progressive Christians and maybe then some of the unchurched community will come.
Interesting work, this.
This afternoon, We are scheduled to rehearse “The Three Pigs,” a reader’s theatre offering through Hamilton-Gibson, our community theatre. I read the part of Bambi, the pig who wants a wood house. I say that last, because I don’t think that the pigs were named in the original story. My “costume” is a straw hat with really bright pink ears that I made from pink construction paper. Then this evening, we rehearse a 10-minute play about a Christmas tree. I am co-director.
Some might question how community theatre relates to planting a new church and the skeptic might not like my answer. The answer, from my perspective, is that I have to be involved in as many aspects of community life as possible to get my name and the name and our new congregation into the public domain. Looking through my Daytimer, any person who is totally “left-brained” that is, logical, sequential, rational and analytical would certainly doubt the value of my week: play rehearsal (two plays), Kiwanis, Rotary, University community group, Tioga County Community Health Partnership, Friday Club, Art group, dream group are part of what I am scheduled to do. This more linear person might wonder how this builds a church. This linear person would think I am not going forth and offering God to people. But I am doing just that.
Last week, as part of what I receive from this community involvement, I was invited to give the invocation and benediction for a new community group that invited me to become a member. at such event, the prayers are inclusive and I try to be sensitive (see the blog about Interfaith from a week or so ago) to those in the room, that is, to “preach” not to the choir, but to those gathered. After the invocation and the benediction/grace, several people – most of whom I did not know – complimented me on the wording and the sensitivity of these public prayers. Several days later, a companion on the bus trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake Ontario, Canada did the same.
My activities this week that are evangelical include the same variety as my community presence does. On Wednesday, I write the Midweek Message for the Wellsboro/Mansfield Gazette, our local paper. I will meet with colleagues for a lectionary group to sort out Sunday’s sermon, I will meet with our newly formed pastoral relations committee (Friday evening) and write a sermon and produce the weekly bulletin for Sunday. In addition, I will spend at least one hour a day responding to emails that I receive – many of which are about global activities in which our two denominations participate. I will send positive thoughts to our newly formed prayer quad. Among the less –pleasant pastoral tasks was this: early this morning, I had to tell a man who is traveling from Massachusetts to New Mexico that I have no funds to help with gas, bus ticket, lodging or food. What a terrible thing – denying help. I feel terrible not to help. Yet, there are so many who are in need and our already limited resources dwindle as more and more of our congregation feels the pressure of the recession.
Sometimes I imagine that God is watching - trying to find out what I am going around in these circles for. Why don't I just walk up to people and invite them to join our congregaion on Sunday. I wonder, too. But I understand that not everyone appreciates my progressive stance on living as a 21st Century Christian. I hope that my actions will show how we live as progressive Christians and maybe then some of the unchurched community will come.
Interesting work, this.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Challenges of technology
Last Sunday, my congregation really entered the technological age and I realized just how dependent I have become on technology. My HP LaserJet printer – the one that prints many pages per minute, that prints in color and that duplexes failed. Well, not exactly failed – rather it ran out of ink in the red cartridge! In my logic that does not seems to be a problem that stops everything, but it apparently is. Seems that the printer knows when there is no ink in one cartridge and has a chip that says “don’t print” even when what I want to print uses black ink. I tried everything – pretending that I had installed a new cartridge by taking out the red cartridge, shaking it and then putting it. No luck. I tried running the print without the cartridge – no luck. After a few other tries – I can tell you that hitting the printer does not work nor does *&#&^*&&! - including debating the three hour round to the mall to purchase a new cartridge, but after spending so much time trying to by-pass the programmed issues, I no longer had sufficient time to get there, get the order or worship printed and still have a sermon to deliver. So I did it electronically.
On Sunday morning, I set up the screen, hooked the projector to my laptop and we went through the service without paper. Luckily it was Earth Day and I had a good excuse.
Excuse, you say – why excuse? When I first came, the remnant congregation was quite used to having the Order of Worship on one side of a 4 x 5.5 sheet of paper. But I wanted us to live large – to be extravagant – to show the world who joined us in worship that we had something to share. With that thought, I enlarged the Order of Worship to fit onto both sides of an 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper. I fold it (by hand) include clip art (not pirated, but free for general use) and then for good measure, added two more sheets of regular size paper with lots of news and information. If perception is reality, then the perception visitors would get is that we are a congregation with lots going on. I think it worked. I used to get the question “Should I print more than 6 or 7 for worship?” Now, that question is should I (and it is me that does the printing) print 35 or 40?
As the number of copies has increased, I have dropped one of the pages of news and started a monthly newsletter to save paper and some of my time. But when I purchased a projector and screen to use for movies and classes I heard remarks like – "I hate screens" "I hate looking up at words in church" – never mind that looking up seems to be reverencing God - "I hate the snappy things people do with PowerPoint." As my time here has lengthened, I have come to hate using so much of our resources to print bulletins that are never taken home, are rarely read and waste reams of paper (and ink) every week.
I have a ways to go with this technology. I am the only person who can use it in our congregation. I own the only laptop to hook up the projector to and I won’t share my personal laptop. I am the only person who knows when to go from one part of the service to another. Time for me to rethink this. Not that I won’t do the projector/screen sthick anymore – rather, that I need to train one or two others to share the load.
Oh, and in order not to face this printer crisis again, I bought myself a wireless printer, scanner and copier – color, duplexes, thinks for itself. Now as long as my internet provider keeps going, I can.
On Sunday morning, I set up the screen, hooked the projector to my laptop and we went through the service without paper. Luckily it was Earth Day and I had a good excuse.
Excuse, you say – why excuse? When I first came, the remnant congregation was quite used to having the Order of Worship on one side of a 4 x 5.5 sheet of paper. But I wanted us to live large – to be extravagant – to show the world who joined us in worship that we had something to share. With that thought, I enlarged the Order of Worship to fit onto both sides of an 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper. I fold it (by hand) include clip art (not pirated, but free for general use) and then for good measure, added two more sheets of regular size paper with lots of news and information. If perception is reality, then the perception visitors would get is that we are a congregation with lots going on. I think it worked. I used to get the question “Should I print more than 6 or 7 for worship?” Now, that question is should I (and it is me that does the printing) print 35 or 40?
As the number of copies has increased, I have dropped one of the pages of news and started a monthly newsletter to save paper and some of my time. But when I purchased a projector and screen to use for movies and classes I heard remarks like – "I hate screens" "I hate looking up at words in church" – never mind that looking up seems to be reverencing God - "I hate the snappy things people do with PowerPoint." As my time here has lengthened, I have come to hate using so much of our resources to print bulletins that are never taken home, are rarely read and waste reams of paper (and ink) every week.
I have a ways to go with this technology. I am the only person who can use it in our congregation. I own the only laptop to hook up the projector to and I won’t share my personal laptop. I am the only person who knows when to go from one part of the service to another. Time for me to rethink this. Not that I won’t do the projector/screen sthick anymore – rather, that I need to train one or two others to share the load.
Oh, and in order not to face this printer crisis again, I bought myself a wireless printer, scanner and copier – color, duplexes, thinks for itself. Now as long as my internet provider keeps going, I can.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
GOD? Whose G_D?
I just returned from Rochester, NY where I attended the first Interfaith Understanding Conference sponsored by Nazareth College, a private college started by Roman Catholic nuns. The conference began on Sunday and ended today (Tuesday) at noon. During those 48 hours, we heard many speakers, attended numerous quality workshops and talked with so many people who were different from us that our collective heads are still spinning.
Here is a brief look back at this conference:
Our opening speaker was Sister Joan Chittister, a Benedictine nun from Erie, PA. She talked about women in her church and her Roman Catholic upbringing and heritage and her calling to help women religious find their paths. Sr. Joan has been a guiding light for women – both Catholic and non-Catholic, Christian and non-Christian – for almost 50 years.
Following Sr Joan, Dr. Eboo Patel, a Muslim leader and founder of Interfaith Youth Corps (ifyc.org) told the story that forced him to choose life as a visible Muslim: His parents and grandparents provided care to women who suffered abuse in their Muslim homes the same way American women suffer abuse in their own homes. His family helped hundreds of such women and when Eboo asked why, his grandmother said that this caring is how a Muslim acts. This grandmotherly philosophy made Eboo Patel determine, at 22, that if he was to be a good Muslim he had work to do in this world – work of caring for the least of these (Christians, does "caring for the least of these" sound familiar?).
Finally, this morning, Rabbi Brad Hirschfield showed us how – as he phrases it – you do not have to be wrong for me to be right. Using humor, he told of a cabbie, Christian, who started putting questions to the Rabbi – like: so, why don’t you believe in Jesus? The response: Jesus was a wonderful man, full of good things to say – just not the man he, the Rabbi, thinks of as Savior. It was Rabbi Hirschfield who wrote the book reminding us that just because I am right does not mean that you are wrong. We can all be right.
In breakout sessions, Muslim students (proudly wearing head scarves) led us through discussions on peace. Catholic women showed us how individual stories can tell who we are, without making the listener defensive. Multi-cultural panels addressed difference and sameness of God (or G_D, or for a Muslim: “Allah, Blessed be His Holy Name” as well as Buddhist and Hindu sacred beliefs). Some Episcopal women showed us a new way of labyrinth meditation; in yet another session, we re-learned the lasting work of Martin Luther King and Gandhi.
Whose God? Yours, and yours and yours and mine -- we just get to the divine in different ways. As our world shrinks, we need to know more about the various paths so that we can converse and not be so fearful of losing our core that we stop listening. If our beliefs have staying power, our conversations solidify our world and make peace a reality instead of a dream.
Here is a brief look back at this conference:
Our opening speaker was Sister Joan Chittister, a Benedictine nun from Erie, PA. She talked about women in her church and her Roman Catholic upbringing and heritage and her calling to help women religious find their paths. Sr. Joan has been a guiding light for women – both Catholic and non-Catholic, Christian and non-Christian – for almost 50 years.
Following Sr Joan, Dr. Eboo Patel, a Muslim leader and founder of Interfaith Youth Corps (ifyc.org) told the story that forced him to choose life as a visible Muslim: His parents and grandparents provided care to women who suffered abuse in their Muslim homes the same way American women suffer abuse in their own homes. His family helped hundreds of such women and when Eboo asked why, his grandmother said that this caring is how a Muslim acts. This grandmotherly philosophy made Eboo Patel determine, at 22, that if he was to be a good Muslim he had work to do in this world – work of caring for the least of these (Christians, does "caring for the least of these" sound familiar?).
Finally, this morning, Rabbi Brad Hirschfield showed us how – as he phrases it – you do not have to be wrong for me to be right. Using humor, he told of a cabbie, Christian, who started putting questions to the Rabbi – like: so, why don’t you believe in Jesus? The response: Jesus was a wonderful man, full of good things to say – just not the man he, the Rabbi, thinks of as Savior. It was Rabbi Hirschfield who wrote the book reminding us that just because I am right does not mean that you are wrong. We can all be right.
In breakout sessions, Muslim students (proudly wearing head scarves) led us through discussions on peace. Catholic women showed us how individual stories can tell who we are, without making the listener defensive. Multi-cultural panels addressed difference and sameness of God (or G_D, or for a Muslim: “Allah, Blessed be His Holy Name” as well as Buddhist and Hindu sacred beliefs). Some Episcopal women showed us a new way of labyrinth meditation; in yet another session, we re-learned the lasting work of Martin Luther King and Gandhi.
Whose God? Yours, and yours and yours and mine -- we just get to the divine in different ways. As our world shrinks, we need to know more about the various paths so that we can converse and not be so fearful of losing our core that we stop listening. If our beliefs have staying power, our conversations solidify our world and make peace a reality instead of a dream.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Will the "real" Sharon plase stand ...
Last week, I wrote about my experience with some forms of shopping that I have tried in the 19 months I have lived in this beautiful rural community. I blogged about “shopping” at match dot com for a nice, educated, liberal male living in somewhat close proximity to me who could be a dinner date, a dancing partner, someone to talk to who would understand the idiosyncrasies of this life I am called to.
One of the “matches” whom I met told me that I was not clear about what I was seeking. He is spot on. I deliberately was not clear about the kind of companion who would be a match. Here he is: Someone who can carry on an intelligent conversation, a friend who is empathetic, one who might go bike riding if we found a level path and would like to have a picnic as part of the ride. Shortly before my three-month subscription ended, I devised an experiment on how to attract men - I revised my profile, taking education from Ph.D./post-doc to BA, changed music interests from more classical to C&W, added line dancing and otherwise modified the picture of me to see what would happen.
Several men did wink at me but they winked at a fictional character. Would they be interested in the “real” me? At the core of the real me is that I am an ordained minister, that I work full time as a pastor of a new church that I am called to start: A church that is different - a liberal church in conservative Tioga County, Pennsylvania. People shy away from ministers. They assume we are different – I am not sure, but I think that means that I have a halo though I have never seen one or that I have a shepherd’s crook that pulls them into the church doors they are avoiding.
The truth is that when I started seminary, my friends could barely believe I was going to change my occupation and become a minister. I have a loud laugh, tell off-color jokes (now just in select circles and they never were that bad), flunked “prayer chain” at my UCC church in Colorado Springs because I always forgot to pray consciously for the people who asked for prayers, and could not pronounce the words in the Hebrew Bible. However, it is true, I am called to ministry. My call is to be a different type minister – a minister who starts churches, who helps churches grow, but who does not stay at one church for a 30-year pastorate.
I am not proud that I in my life I am reluctant to tell those I meet in social situations that I am a minister. We ministers must have terrible reputations for grabbing every person by the collar and trying to convert each person who happens to pass by.
I am not proud that when asked what I do, the first thing I say is that I work with people and if pressed, that I do counseling (which I rarely do) and only when pressed to say where I work, or to give my business card do new acquaintances learn that I am a minister. Talk about “hiding my light under a bushel tree” when the part that should be is “this little light of mine.”
This past Sunday, I preached an Easter sermon about Mary, the first convert and her imperative to “go tell the others.” I, too, am required to go tell the others. I just wish the others would not judge me by the actions of others they have known. In turn, I will try not to judge them by some obscure standard. So when you see me coming, you will see that I am a minister; not to worry: you will only be converted if the spirit leads you.
P.S. I found some clothes in Ithaca yesterday (at Fantasy and Fiber).
One of the “matches” whom I met told me that I was not clear about what I was seeking. He is spot on. I deliberately was not clear about the kind of companion who would be a match. Here he is: Someone who can carry on an intelligent conversation, a friend who is empathetic, one who might go bike riding if we found a level path and would like to have a picnic as part of the ride. Shortly before my three-month subscription ended, I devised an experiment on how to attract men - I revised my profile, taking education from Ph.D./post-doc to BA, changed music interests from more classical to C&W, added line dancing and otherwise modified the picture of me to see what would happen.
Several men did wink at me but they winked at a fictional character. Would they be interested in the “real” me? At the core of the real me is that I am an ordained minister, that I work full time as a pastor of a new church that I am called to start: A church that is different - a liberal church in conservative Tioga County, Pennsylvania. People shy away from ministers. They assume we are different – I am not sure, but I think that means that I have a halo though I have never seen one or that I have a shepherd’s crook that pulls them into the church doors they are avoiding.
The truth is that when I started seminary, my friends could barely believe I was going to change my occupation and become a minister. I have a loud laugh, tell off-color jokes (now just in select circles and they never were that bad), flunked “prayer chain” at my UCC church in Colorado Springs because I always forgot to pray consciously for the people who asked for prayers, and could not pronounce the words in the Hebrew Bible. However, it is true, I am called to ministry. My call is to be a different type minister – a minister who starts churches, who helps churches grow, but who does not stay at one church for a 30-year pastorate.
I am not proud that I in my life I am reluctant to tell those I meet in social situations that I am a minister. We ministers must have terrible reputations for grabbing every person by the collar and trying to convert each person who happens to pass by.
I am not proud that when asked what I do, the first thing I say is that I work with people and if pressed, that I do counseling (which I rarely do) and only when pressed to say where I work, or to give my business card do new acquaintances learn that I am a minister. Talk about “hiding my light under a bushel tree” when the part that should be is “this little light of mine.”
This past Sunday, I preached an Easter sermon about Mary, the first convert and her imperative to “go tell the others.” I, too, am required to go tell the others. I just wish the others would not judge me by the actions of others they have known. In turn, I will try not to judge them by some obscure standard. So when you see me coming, you will see that I am a minister; not to worry: you will only be converted if the spirit leads you.
P.S. I found some clothes in Ithaca yesterday (at Fantasy and Fiber).
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Catalog shopping
This blog series contains my observations about my move to Tioga County Pennsylvania. In the past, I have written about landscape and lots to do, but have not told about my forays to malls for necessities of daily living. Here is a look back at this week:
A week ago, I decided that I want a dress or two for those times I get dressed for going out places and jeans are not appropriate. I went to the local shops and found nothing that fits me. Neither in size nor in age. My size is almost unchanged in over quite a few years though my age continues to creep up. I was sixty-seven last year and very much too old for clothing meant for a flirt-y and flat-chested 20-year old. After exhausting the local shops, I drove to the mall – DETERMINED to find a dress that looks good. I spent a whole day (my day off for those of you who are wondering where I get this time) taking off and putting on. After 8 hours, I did purchase one dress that, when tried on at home, is terrible. I gave the double-knit clingy polyester dress to my 36-year old neighbor who is better suited to the clings of knit polyester. The same day, I bought a skirt (a keeper) and two blouses – that can now be found in their respective mall stores.
Not being completely deterred, I looked online then, remembered why I don’t like to buy clothes online – I return them. In the office area of my home, I have an almost-new sewing machine, so on my day off this week, I went to the same New York mall and bought material, two spools of thread, two patterns, and tree buttons to sew into two dresses. Next week, after Easter, I will give it the old college try. I used to sew well, but have not since discovering that I can try on clothes in a store, discard what I don’t like and take others home. After sewing, if I don’t like the dress, it goes into a basket to be taken to Goodwill.
Next in the list of things I need is bedding. I have wanted a colorful quilt for several years and looked at many online sites without luck. When a catalog came and I saw the picture of one I liked, I ordered it immediately. I waited with eager anticipation for the package to arrive --- it came yesterday. I could barely contain my excitement as I tore open the box and put the quilt on the bed. Disappointment flooded my soul – the quilt did not look so good. I decided to return it, then talked myself out of that spontaneous reaction, tried it again, decided it was OK – not great, but OK. This morning sanity returned and the ”OK” quilt with two shams (total cost: $398) are on their way back to the online catalog store.
There is one thing that I could shop for online and not return, a date! On January 1, 2010, I signed up for match dot com for three months, just to see if there is someone "out there” to date: someone to talk with, to have coffee with, to laugh out loud with. I met four men and did not meet as many others who expressed an interest. People tell me that I did well for three months. Here is what I learned – few men are interested in dating a minister (that may have to be qualified to dating a “female” minister, apparently being a male minister is a turn-on). Living two hours apart is not an attractive proposition for men seeking women my age they have many opportunities to date single women living a mere 20 minutes away. An additional drawback: I am employed, working 50+ hours each week, so I plan time off. The men my age are freer - retired or working part time and can do things at the spur of the moment. I did meet one nice man, clergy, who is at this point, a friend. He listens, makes me laugh and even talks about his ministry. All good – just the inconvenient two hours away from Wellsboro.
Catalog shopping – the days of the Sears and Roebuck Catalog being eagerly anticipated may still be who Americans are. We love to look, make our wishes – then we do the 21st Century thing – we go online and buy – getting goodies overnighted for just a few dollars more. Instant gratification. I would settle for gratification just because something came, fit, looked right or (in the case of a date) lived close enough to have coffee on an impulse.
A week ago, I decided that I want a dress or two for those times I get dressed for going out places and jeans are not appropriate. I went to the local shops and found nothing that fits me. Neither in size nor in age. My size is almost unchanged in over quite a few years though my age continues to creep up. I was sixty-seven last year and very much too old for clothing meant for a flirt-y and flat-chested 20-year old. After exhausting the local shops, I drove to the mall – DETERMINED to find a dress that looks good. I spent a whole day (my day off for those of you who are wondering where I get this time) taking off and putting on. After 8 hours, I did purchase one dress that, when tried on at home, is terrible. I gave the double-knit clingy polyester dress to my 36-year old neighbor who is better suited to the clings of knit polyester. The same day, I bought a skirt (a keeper) and two blouses – that can now be found in their respective mall stores.
Not being completely deterred, I looked online then, remembered why I don’t like to buy clothes online – I return them. In the office area of my home, I have an almost-new sewing machine, so on my day off this week, I went to the same New York mall and bought material, two spools of thread, two patterns, and tree buttons to sew into two dresses. Next week, after Easter, I will give it the old college try. I used to sew well, but have not since discovering that I can try on clothes in a store, discard what I don’t like and take others home. After sewing, if I don’t like the dress, it goes into a basket to be taken to Goodwill.
Next in the list of things I need is bedding. I have wanted a colorful quilt for several years and looked at many online sites without luck. When a catalog came and I saw the picture of one I liked, I ordered it immediately. I waited with eager anticipation for the package to arrive --- it came yesterday. I could barely contain my excitement as I tore open the box and put the quilt on the bed. Disappointment flooded my soul – the quilt did not look so good. I decided to return it, then talked myself out of that spontaneous reaction, tried it again, decided it was OK – not great, but OK. This morning sanity returned and the ”OK” quilt with two shams (total cost: $398) are on their way back to the online catalog store.
There is one thing that I could shop for online and not return, a date! On January 1, 2010, I signed up for match dot com for three months, just to see if there is someone "out there” to date: someone to talk with, to have coffee with, to laugh out loud with. I met four men and did not meet as many others who expressed an interest. People tell me that I did well for three months. Here is what I learned – few men are interested in dating a minister (that may have to be qualified to dating a “female” minister, apparently being a male minister is a turn-on). Living two hours apart is not an attractive proposition for men seeking women my age they have many opportunities to date single women living a mere 20 minutes away. An additional drawback: I am employed, working 50+ hours each week, so I plan time off. The men my age are freer - retired or working part time and can do things at the spur of the moment. I did meet one nice man, clergy, who is at this point, a friend. He listens, makes me laugh and even talks about his ministry. All good – just the inconvenient two hours away from Wellsboro.
Catalog shopping – the days of the Sears and Roebuck Catalog being eagerly anticipated may still be who Americans are. We love to look, make our wishes – then we do the 21st Century thing – we go online and buy – getting goodies overnighted for just a few dollars more. Instant gratification. I would settle for gratification just because something came, fit, looked right or (in the case of a date) lived close enough to have coffee on an impulse.
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