LeRoi Moore, RIP

LOS ANGELES (AP) -- LeRoi Moore, the versatile saxophonist whose signature staccato fused jazz and funk overtones onto the eclectic sound of the Dave Matthews Band, died Tuesday of complications from injuries he suffered in an all-terrain vehicle accident, the band said. He was 46.

Moore died at Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center, where he was admitted with complications that arose weeks after the June 30 wreck, according to a statement on the band's Web site. It did not specify what led to his death, and nursing supervisor Galina Shinder said the hospital could not release details.

On June 30, Moore crashed his ATV on his farm outside Charlottesville, Va., but was discharged and returned to his Los Angeles home to begin physical therapy. Complications forced him back to the hospital on July 17, the band said.

The band went on with its show Tuesday night at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, where lead singer Dave Matthews acknowledged Moore's death to the crowd after the first song.

"It's always easier to leave than be left," Matthews told the crowd, according to Ambrosia Healy, the band's publicist. "We appreciate you all being here."

Link. Thanks to Erin for sending it along.

I think I'll go pop in Under the Table and Dreaming now...

Jesus Camp

I watched Jesus Camp this past weekend, which is a documentary following three kids who attend an Evangelical Christian camp in North Dakota. It was certainly an eye-opening film, to say the least.

We spend a decent amount of time learning about the kids: one is home-schooled on creationism and is even told at one point that "science doesn't prove anything." Another goes bowling and 1) prays over her ball before she rolls it, and 2) walks up to a stranger, gives her a tract, and leaves after a mini-speech about God putting it on her heart to do so. A third tells of her love for Christian heavy metal.

While perhaps older elementary-age, all three speak with a somewhat impressive sophistication about their faith. The girl who witnesses with the tract talks in a different segment about seeing herself as a warrior for Christ, "but not in the sense of going into battle." The home-schooled boy actually preaches one evening at the camp, talking about how their generation is crucial to the future of American Christianity. I found myself impressed by how well-spoken they were, though at the same time cynical as I could also spot buzzwords and phrases likely picked up from other church leaders and parents who speak in the film.

The film also spends a good deal of time with Pastor Becky Fischer, who organizes the camp that they attend. We watch her and the other organizers pray over the sound equipment and tell Satan not to mess with their microphones in the name of Jesus. We hear her exclaim that Harry Potter would have been put to death if he'd grown up in Old Testament times. We hear her tell the camera that she wants to do what radical Islamists do when they "indoctrinate" their children from an early age (except, she qualifies, "We have the truth.").

The camp itself features some dramatic practices, some of which belie an Ameri-Christendom hybrid. At one point, a cardboard cut-out of Bush is set on the stage, and the children pray for him, even laying hands on the cut-out as they do so. Another evening is spent breaking cups with a hammer, meant to symbolize breaking unChristian influences on our government. Another evening is spent with a man who gives an anti-abortion talk as he hands out miniature plastic fetuses. The children do a lot of praying, crying, speaking in tongues, and listening to Fischer tell them about hell and hypocrisy and Harry Potter being killed.

(In one brief scene during mealtime, one of the kids smugly tells his friends that even though his mom doesn't like him watching the Harry Potter movies, he watches them with his dad. It provides a small revelation that not all the kids are completely swallowing what is taught at the camp.)

The film is augmented by two other elements. First, at the very beginning of the film, we hear a radio dial being turned and focusing in on various preachers talking about Christians' need to band together to "take back America for Christ." We also hear snippets of news stories chronicling the retirement of Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor and the subsequent nomination of Samuel Alito to take her place. This all provides us with some backdrop and context.

Second, the radio dial eventually settles in on talk radio host Mike Papantonio, a self-identified "Bible-believing" Christian who raises concerns on his show about the overt and dangerous connections between Evangelical Christians and politics. He notes a political presence in worship, in teaching, and so on.

Papantonio's commentary is interspersed throughout the film, and at one point he has an on-air interview/debate with Fischer over whether or not this theopolitical union, as well as some of the tactics used in camps like hers, are appropriate. He decries "indoctrination," while she embraces the term. He raises the point that such practice flies in the face of free democracy, and here Fischer's response is very telling: she hails democracy as the best political system on earth, but then states that everyone having equal freedom is its major flaw in the same breath. One wonders which groups she might like to enjoy a little less or a little more freedom (I could take a few guesses).

We also take a trip to New Life Church and hear from a pre-scandal Ted Haggard on why it's so great to get kids pumped up for Evangelipolitics, and to Washington D.C., where a group prays for the government.

Jesus Camp presents all of this with little commentary, other than a few factoids presented such as the makeup of home-schooled children who are Evangelicals. Besides that, the viewer is left to decide for themselves what to make of Fischer and the camp, as well as Papantonio's counterpoints. First and foremost, this film is about the so-called "culture war," and what Evangelical Christians are doing to "recruit" their children into it. One may be disturbed (an understatement...this is the kind of thing that sometimes makes me want to give up the whole "Christian" enterprise), but it is no less an important presentation.

As an aside, Fischer has shut down her camp since the release of this film due to the resulting public backlash and vandalism done to the camp facility.

Fun With Ellipses

This morning Coffeeson had the biggest, longest, most demonic poop that I've ever seen. He wasn't quite done while I changed him. He thought it was hilarious...July freaking took forever, and I'm so glad that it's August. Have I mentioned that?...The prospect of Michigan football brings a certain level of excitement and dread...Equal Exchange coffee tastes sooooo goooood...Yesterday I had to buy a light blue shirt for a family picture with the in-laws, and I'm surprised at how good it looks...

I'm re-reading the Sandman comics now. Graphic novels work really well when you have to split your time between full-time ministry and a baby...I changed the strings on my guitar the other day, and the difference is amazing...Anyone in NE Ohio want to be in a band? Nothing serious, just something to do...I recently remembered that I wanted to play at a local open mic night last summer and never did...I'm saving up for a 12-string. They sound pretty...

There have been reports of supposed mountain lion attacks near where I live...I sometimes wonder if I'll be able to see this "365 Albums" thing to the end...Recently when I've browsed titles in the Religion section at Borders, I've become bored and annoyed...I'm thinking about enrolling in a certification program in spiritual direction...Has Obama himself ever claimed to be the Messiah?...

I'm really pleased with this Sunday's sermon...I don't believe that Jesus came to establish Socialism, but I do think that he calls his followers to practice justice, equality, and loving mutual community...I like sitting in empty church sanctuaries...I realized this morning that some of the churches from whom I receive newsletters haven't sent me a new one since May...I sometimes worry that I don't pay enough attention to my cats...

I bought a long-sleeve t-shirt at the DMB concert, so I won't have opportunity to wear it for another month and a half...I'm not as into the internet in general as I used to be...That's probably why I'm resorting to elipsis-style entries...There's baby drool on my jeans...I'm getting a haircut today...This seems to be wrapping up...

Watchmen

I just finished the graphic novel last night. Besides the character Rorschach, I wasn't familiar with this book at all until talk of an upcoming movie was the cover story on a recent Entertainment Weekly.

The storyline, especially at the time it was written, was revolutionary. Superheroes ("masked adventurers," as they're called in the book), have been outlawed in a 1977 law after a police strike. Their only legal options are retirement or they can work for the government. Depending on how familiar one is with comic books, one may be able to spot certain archetypes in the main characters. There's the gadget-dependent Batman type (Nite Owl), the super beyond-human type (Dr. Manhattan), the sociopathic big-gun Punisher type (The Comedian), and so on.

Each of these characters are more than types, of course. In fact, a big chunk of the story is exploring how they really feel about "adventuring." Nite Owl, for instance, felt silly about dressing up in his outfit. Dr. Manhattan is actually quite bored with humanity due to his powers. The Comedian does his job more for the chance to inflict damage and pain than to help others. Rorschach has an unflinching commitment to punishing evil...his own backstory may be the most involved and complicated.

These types of stories turned the comic book genre on its head because of how human it makes its characters. As it turns out, none of these people really do what they do for truth, justice, and the American way...or at least not in the boy scout manner that Superman does. They aren't so noble and clean-cut. Their motives aren't so pure. Their actions aren't always so heroic. Watchmen was considered revolutionary because of all of this - it deconstructed the genre and explored a much darker, more conflicted side of "masked adventuring."

I first saw the trailer for the movie before The Dark Knight. That was before I read the book. Watching it again, it actually makes more sense. I could even remember back to when each scene happens, so they're trying to stay pretty close to the story. I doubt that hardcore fans would have it any other way.

Thoughts Barely Related

Last night, I worked my second of four games in a Progressive Field concession stand. For those who missed it, my church is doing this as a fundraiser - 12 games, base rate for everyone who works + percentage off what we sell. The Tigers are in town this week, and I originally wasn't going to work this one because I wanted to attend as a fan...and then I realized what a copout that probably was, and I ended up working.

Our booth was right behind home plate last night. I'd leave the booth to restock peanuts out front just in time to see Pudge throw the ball back to Rogers, maybe 200 feet from me. Before the game, I watched Magglio and a few others take batting practice. The Tigers lost 5-0...Rogers wasn't his best by any means last night. If the game had even been the slightest bit competitive, I'd have regretted working instead of watching.

I made a lot of popcorn last night. I made A LOT OF POPCORN. And I got pretty sick of the smell of hot dogs. That didn't happen to me last time.

I'm actually reading a book. Yeah, it's been a while. If you want an unbiased, agenda-less take on whether America was intended to be a "Christian nation" and an analysis of the religious devotion of our various Founding Fathers, check out Founding Faith by Steven Waldman. He counters both sides: "they were all hardcore devoted evangelicals" vs. "they were all Deists." It wasn't that simple.

So far, I've learned that some of the early colonies were originally governed under some semblance of "Christian law," and that they could be as oppressive and backwards as some modern religion-based governments.

I've also learned that Franklin, Adams, and Jefferson in particular didn't mind religion so long as it actually taught virtue and influenced people to do good works. They rejected aspects of religion that inspired people to sit around talking about how right they are. Jefferson was the most critical of Christianity's "superstitious" elements, but anyone familiar with the "Jefferson Bible" probably knew that.

I've also learned that there was a lot of anti-Anglican and anti-Catholic sentiment back then, mostly because they associated those particular denominations with England's government. Washington in particular tried to curb this sentiment, mostly to unify his Continental army.

This is a great book. I highly recommend it. It shows that the early American religious landscape was much more complicated than either typical "side" argues, and that making the case that six or seven guys were or weren't devoted Christians over 200 years ago still doesn't say much of anything about how Christian our nation was, is, or should be. I think that the early history of states like Massachusetts, Maryland, and Virginia should be enough to convince people that maybe "Christian government" (and even then, particular denominations of Christians) isn't really the best idea, or even all that Christian.

But a lot of people won't be convinced. And that makes me saddest of all.

Help the Wittenburg Door

It was revealed on Facebook (yes, I'm on Facebook...we can laugh about that later) that The Wittenburg Door, a Christian satire magazine of immense hilarity, has suspended print publication due to financial strains:

As some of you know, the print publication of the Wittenburg Door has been temporarily suspended. We have a revamped website www.wittenburgdoor.com - if you haven't already subscribe to the free newsletter, so you can be kept apprised of the latest humor bits posted on the website.

Harry Guetzlaff, one of the major forces behind putting out the Door, is now in hospice care. Robert Darden, Sr. Editor of the Wittenburg Door (print version), went to see him and has this report:

He is very, very thin and spends most of his time in bed. The doctors really, really want him to eat and sit up (and even occasionally walk around), but he simply has quit eating. Says food hurts and makes him feel worse. Of course, he can't go home or continue chemo unless he's stronger and he won't get stronger until he eats. It may be that he simply doesn't want to.
He says he is in no pain (and the doctors concur).
I don't know if he is ever going home or how much time he lasts. John Bojo thinks we have perhaps three months -- more if he'll eat.

What he really, really wants is for The Door to continue as a print and web venture.
To that end, Mary and Kim (our designer) are heading up a DoorKeepers campaign. They'll be contacting 100s (perhaps 1,000s) of people, harvesting all of The Door's e-mail contacts in recent years. They've been working with John Bojo and Ole to establish a non-profit board of friends who will be financial sustainers of the magazine at different financial levels. Their goal is to make it self-sufficient so that we won't have to rely on a single "angel" to put out another issue.
If you are interested in learning more about this campaign, please feel free to contact: doorbus@earthlink.net

Feel free to pass this email along to anyone you feel might be interested - blog about it if you're so inclined. Yes, this is the perils of publishing in the 21st century but too many people tell us that Door is "church" for them and they cherish their print magazines beyond just another rag to read that I pray we can continue here.

Prayers as always are appreciated.

Peace,

Becky G.

The man written about above, Harry Guetzlaff, has since passed away. So now the Door staff is dealing with grief and financial problems.

If you are an appreciator of the Door's willingness to show just how naked the Christian Culture emperor is, consider donating to them. They've got a nice little Donate Button Thing set up for that purpose, so it's nice and easy.

Random Thoughts Separated By Ellipses

I've lost 12 pounds on the "diet and exercise" plan. I didn't have to change my lifestyle at all, if you don't count what I eat and my daily schedule. I strongly recommend it both as a new pastor and as someone who has used it with fantastic results...Nine Inch Nails gets me good and angry for my workout...Yesterday I ate Chipotle, ice cream, and a stout beer, and still lost weight. That was a freebie...

I think my new tattoo is my favorite...Maybe some day I'll post pics of all three...Kat Von D is hot...I care less and less every day whether parishioners find out that I have them...I don't get irritated at July 4th like I used to...I think it's because Coffeewife and I get to spend it together these days...

I blatantly stole this post concept from Kamp Krusty...I don't do as much blogreading nowadays...There's a lightning bug on my window...The magnitude of listening to 365 albums over the next year is finally beginning to sink in...Some days, living in the middle of nowhere drives me nuts...Coffeeson gets baptized the end of August...

I really hope that I've matured over the past seven years...I wish I'd told certain people my story sooner...I had a different post up this morning for all of 10 minutes...I hope you didn't see it...My dad did...Coffeewife loves Jon and Kate Plus 8. That show irritates the crap out of me...I have jury duty next week...

You don't need a fancy wedding. Give that money to the homeless instead...I recently read an article noting that more and more people my age are getting M.Divs to help augment careers like social work and less aspire to local church ministry...I couldn't make my annual Conference gathering this past month after I registered, so I just made a $100+ donation to my Conference...So now I've missed out on going to Eden AND Heidelberg this year...

I want to start a new book just because I can't find time to finish the other one...I know how little sense that makes...Our church is going to need a new roof soon...I'm tired of doing this...I think it's time to stop...I wish I had something more profound to write about...

#3

"Full Failure All American Hero" by Derek Hess

Taps

Day is done,
gone the sun,
From the hills,
from the lake,
From the skies.
All is well,
safely rest,
God is nigh.

Go to sleep,
peaceful sleep.
May the soldier
or sailor,
God keep.
On the land
or the deep,
Safe in sleep.

Love, good night,
Must thou go,
When the day,
And the night
Need thee so?
All is well.
Speedeth all
To their rest.

HT to Moleskinerie.

Haikus

Diaper change again
That's the seventh one today
Stop sniffing that, cat

Trying to slim down
Eating well and working out
Three pounds lost so far

Six days' work this week
Wedding, and then baptism
There could be worse things

Father McKenzie
Sermons for non-attendees
Yes, no one comes near

Eve the Cat - A Fable

Ah…the good life. Eve had it, and she knew it.

Eve’s day followed a particular pattern. It was a pattern finely crafted from her own genius and according to her own whims. She’d discovered after a while what worked best for her and in what order, and thus established her schedule and held to it, except of course on days when she felt like doing something different.

She’d begin by stretching from her spot either at the foot of the human's bed or, if she could manage it, between the human’s legs. If she’d been able to snag this delectably cozy spot at some point during the night, it was certain to be a good day. First, the human wouldn’t be able to move for the rest of the evening save for an occasional trip to the room with the running water. At these moments, she’d simply move to where his head had been resting. This didn’t last particularly long, but it was a small victory. Second, if he went from the running water room to the room with the special food, she could stay in his space for an extra hour or two. Either way, she was happy.

After stretching, Eve would trek up the human’s body, making small whines to let him know she was coming. Once positioned upon his chest, she would either knead his shoulders, taking extra special care to jab her paws into his skin, or to lick his cheek with sandpapery gusto. Sometimes she’d be thrown off the bed, so she’d have to go through all the work of jumping back up and starting the process all over again. At other times, he’d become so annoyed that he’d go to the running water room and return. However, if it was near time for him to be up for the day, he’d fulfill her desire: the empty food dishes would be refilled.

The rest of Eve’s day after this morning breakfast was variations on a theme: return to the human’s abandoned spot, follow him into the special food room hoping for the special food to be produced, jump onto her other favorite nesting place on the back of the couch, hunker down on the human’s lap for a good scratch on the belly or head, a romp with one of those isolent yellow mice silently taunting her in the living room.

She usually found time to do all these things several times over during an average day. In fact, she pretty well required it and, as noted, it was subject to change depending on her mood. Perhaps her morning stretch would be for a scratch instead of food. She tended to decide in the moment, and she liked it that way.

This was the life of Eve. It was a life she loved, a good life. A life where all her fondest desires were met, if not after a little poking of the human.

She liked her human, too. He was good about keeping up with what she required of him. The only complaint that she really had was about the frequent fake-outs in the special food room. She didn’t get the special food nearly as often as she wished, no matter how much of a fuss she put up. There was also the issue of being thrown off the bed sometimes. Aside from that, however, he was very attentive. She enjoyed what he did for her, and it allowed her to go about her day in peace.

That’s why she thought it was so strange the first time that her bowl went the whole day without being filled. He was around; she’d seen him come through the door. He barely noticed her, even when she walked directly in front of his feet. He merely uttered a few human things she didn’t understand before sitting down at the brightly lit box and tapped on the fingertap thing. Even her usual attempts at jumping on his lap and licking him didn’t seem to produce results. And he sat there tapping for what seemed like HOURS.

It was a little perplexing, but much more irritating. She was hungry, after all! He was supposed to give her her food! Where was her food?! Becoming angry, Eve silently skulked off and fell asleep on her couch. It wasn’t until later that evening when she heard the food falling into her bowl. He better not make a habit of that.

The second time that it happened, the human sat on her couch instead of the bed. This time, there was water coming out of his eyes and even her best efforts at getting him up to move toward the food dish was met with some half-hearted scratching and then nothing. She decided not to make a big deal out of it this time, figuring that maybe he needed a nap like the ones she took on the back cushion.

Something like this kept happening every couple days, and Eve began to wonder about the human. It was not like him to seem so distracted from what she wanted. He would sit on the couch with water coming out of his eyes, or he would hold the small talking box to his ear, or he would tap on the fingertap thing. And there were times when he seemed to just like staring into space. It was like what she did, except he never seemed to want to sleep. He would seem angry about something, or distracted, or sad.

That’s when Eve wondered whether the human wanted things, too. Maybe figuring out what he wanted would help, and help her as well.

Eve knew where the human’s food was, but she was not nearly strong enough to open the big white door.

Eve knew where the human got his water to drink, but she couldn’t figure out how to get it to come out.

Eve tried to warm up his spot in the bed, but she'd just end up falling asleep herself.

Already, Eve was out of ideas. What else was there to life besides food and a delectably cozy place to nap?

Eve wondered about this for quite a while. She wondered about it while she ate, she wondered about it before drifting off to sleep, she even wondered about it while she batted around the insolent yellow mouse. But she couldn’t come up with what her human really wanted.

Finally one night, the human once again sat on the couch. Eve sat at his feet, watching as the first traces of water appeared in his eyes. The only thing that she could think of doing was to jump up in his lap, turn around, and lie down.

She braced herself to be thrown off, but nothing happened. Stealing a glance up at the human, she saw him looking down at her, a slight smile appearing on his face. And then, the human’s hand gently made its way from her head to her tail, over and over again.

The two sat in silence for a while, the human continuing to run his hand down her back. Eve noticed that the water in the human’s eyes stopped, as they instead watched her. Eve guessed that her jumping up had probably helped stop the water, and maybe had been the human’s secret need.

Eve went ahead and put her head down, content to feel the human’s hand down her back, content to know that it helped him. She drifted off to sleep, and after a while, the human laid his head back and drifted off to sleep, too.

I'm sorry, I just had to...

"Meanest Mom on the Planet"

Heh. From MSN:

DES MOINES, Iowa - Jane Hambleton has dubbed herself the "meanest mom on the planet."

After finding alcohol in her son's car, she decided to sell the car and share her 19-year-old's misdeed with everyone — by placing an ad in the local newspaper.

The ad reads: "OLDS 1999 Intrigue. Totally uncool parents who obviously don't love teenage son, selling his car. Only driven for three weeks before snoopy mom who needs to get a life found booze under front seat. $3,700/offer. Call meanest mom on the planet."

Just curious...

Dear Honda,

How come your CR-V is now only made with an automatic transmission?

Love,
Coffeepastor

Ten Thoughts on New Year's Day

1. It started in my head and has moved down into my chest.

2. Dick Clark looks better than he sounded last year.

3. I came in last place in the Game of Life.

4. The "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" board game is a lot easier than the TV version.

5. I kick butt at Guitar Hero.

6. I enjoy Cranberry Sierra Mist.

7. Coffeewife made it home by midnight.

8. The wind blew one of the top doors open on our recycling bin, and it's really hard and annoying to shut it again.

9. At least I'll get to watch Michigan play today.

10. I don't feel no different.

Post-Christmas Lull

Now begins a brief period of time when there are no meetings...

...there are no visits...

...there's only one sermon and worship service left to prepare before vacation...

...there's one little bit of gift-giving left...

...there are only a few days left until the Capital One Bowl (sigh)...

...when do we take down these decorations?...

It's quiet...almost too quiet. The next few days for me, I think, should entail some reflection on Where It's All Going, or something. Maybe I'll even bust out that retreat idea I had months ago and use it as a guide.

But hey, stay tuned for a couple year-end-themed entries. It's gonna be great.

Pastor Fashion

Shortly after I started at one of my seminary field placements, I was pulled aside by my supervisor and told that I "should probably start wearing a tie." He didn't elaborate too much immediately after, but when we next met for our weekly mentor-mentee pow-wow, he explained what he meant: "When I first started and I wore ties everywhere, one shut-in commented that it showed that I took her seriously." At the time, I thought this made sense. For the rest of my time there, on through the rest of seminary, and into my early days where I am now, I wore ties to all visits figuring that this "take me seriously" thing was true everywhere.

Now that I reconsider the story my supervisor told, I wonder if it was more a cultural or generational issue for that shut-in than anything else. Case in point: I switch to polo shirts for the summer months, evoking the only comment I've ever gotten about my pastoral wardrobe: "Oh...I'm not used to the pastor not wearing a tie." So for this older member it was an issue until I showed up the next time with my tie back on and he said, "You're all dressed up? I figured you'd want to be comfortable." So I guess he quickly acclimated to my non-tie-wearing.

You may be wondering where this is all headed.

It probably wasn't more than a few weeks after I was ordained that I started caring a little less what I wore to the office. Up until that point, it was ties if not just dress pants and a collared shirt or a sweater. Now if you stop into the office, your pastor is wearing sandals or sneakers, usually jeans, an untucked polo in the summer months or a casual sweater in the winter, maybe a UCC t-shirt. My new thing lately has been taking fashion cues from Dr. House, which makes me feel like a college professor more than anything else. I've not received one single comment about any of it, with the exception of my purposeful wearing of my Evil Skull Tattoo Shop t-shirt to choir practice, but again that was on purpose, and a couple people thought it was weird that their pastor was wearing a shirt like that, and then I was all like, "Mission accomplished."

Why shed the tie? Shouldn't a pastor be wearing suits and whatever? Well, in my opinion...no. I dress the way I do to emphasize my Regular Guy-ness. I also do it because the church and I have reached a certain comfort level where what I wear doesn't matter. But I mainly do it as one more piece of a larger goal to dispel the myth that pastors are all uppity high-collar non-Regular-Guy people that no ordinary person would really want to talk to. I get enough of that as a pastor anyway...I don't need to make it worse by dressing the part.

And besides, pastors should be approachable. Coffeewife once worked at a kids' psychiatric hospital in St. Louis. Wanna know who the kids preferred talking to? The employees in street clothes, rather than the ones dressed like they could administer medication or dock their level at any moment. So we, who are so often misrepresented by Golden Compass protesters, people who yell at homosexuals to repent or burn, and others who so often define themselves more by what they're against, are gonna make matters worse by dressing prim and proper so that younger people especially who are already in the process of writing off the church as self-righteous, boring, or irrelevant can just make their exits that much quicker?

The theological word is incarnation. I incarnate a particular thing by wearing a tie. Granted, for some members of an older generation I'm incarnating a form of church that they know and love and there isn't anything necessarily wrong with. I incarnate another particular thing by avoiding a tie, and particularly to younger people it's a church and a Jesus who's interested in other things besides how you're dressed.

They're All Up North Except Me

Last night my buddy The Masked Doctoral Student called to tell me that he's accepted a teaching position at a small college in Grand Rapids. I already have a good friend from seminary living in that area. My brother is getting his Masters at a university in Detroit.

And here I am. South.

Did you know that there's a UCC church searching in Ann Arbor? Just sayin'.

Nah, it's not so bad in Ohio. There are lots of people here who like me and whom I like. Plus the Tigers assured themselves a spot in the ALCS last week. Now if only a certain school can secure a coach that eats sweatervests...

In other news, try to justify spending $1.3 million on your church's Christmas pageant.

Worst Thanksgiving Ever

This is the story of the Worst Thanksgiving Ever...at least as my wife and I remember it. There are many Thanksgivings that are probably worse than this, but at least as our Thanksgivings go, this one was The Worst.

The year was 2003, the place was St. Louis, Missouri. That September I had started my time as student pastor at a large UCC church right down the road from the seminary. Coffeewife's time had been occupied for some time at a local children's psychiatric hospital which was right up her alley in terms of background and career aspirations. I think that's enough of a setup.

The church at which I was serving held a worship service on Thanksgiving Day, followed by a traditional meal in their parlor. The whole thing would start mid-morning and finish shortly after noon. Since I was the low guy on the totem pole, I was put in charge of organizing and leading this service. This was no shock to me, so I began to put the thing together. Coffeewife's reaction to this news is lost to my memory, but there was some measure of understanding that I as the scrub had to perform this thing. So any plans to head back to Ohio had to be scrapped, at least for that day.

She, meanwhile, had the entire day off, so we began evaluating our options for after I would complete my duties at the church. One option would be to visit friends of her family who still lived in the area, but we'd done that the year before and hadn't been keen on not knowing very many people at that gathering. Another option would be to wander to the seminary's commons for a student-organized family potluck sort of thing. This was one toward which I leaned, just because I figured we'd know more people and would be the most comfortable.

The service went fine. Coffeewife's experience less so. She sat by herself in a pew with what seemed a 10-foot radius of avoidance around her (others' avoidance, not her own). The tipping point for this part of the day was someone approaching her afterwards to make introductions and then following up with, "Oh, you should come on Sunday mornings!" Of course, she had been coming for almost three months by that point. This was one of the last times she attended that church.

After the meal, we headed home to try to figure out how to make the most of the rest of the holiday. Unfortunately, we weren't able to come up with something. The time of the seminary potluck drew near, and began to pass. In a moment I'm now not very proud of, I pretty well dragged her to this gathering which, at that point, had been raging for a half hour or more.

It was here that it began to dawn on me that the seminary community was beginning to pass me by. I was, after all, in my final year at this point. A lot of the people with whom I'd really hung out had graduated, and many of those from my own class had gone home for the weekend. This gathering was mostly made up of students from the first- and second-year classes, and it was very apparent that this was especially geared toward families with children. Coffeewife and I picked over the lukewarm leftovers at the head table, ate largely in silence with the sounds of children all around us, and left after couldn't have been longer than 20 minutes.

So we had had two Thanksgiving meals without any real Thanksgiving connection to others. It wasn't that we'd spent the day alone...but we had spent it in loneliness. We were both 500 miles away from our families and despite anyone's best case for what constitutes family and how the church is also our family and blah blah blah, those settings had not been very familial or familiar to us. With the time change, darkness had settled in early, but darkness seemed to have creeped over our holiday much much earlier. This had not gone well.

Now this is where my memory of the day gets a little hazy. One thing for sure is that we decided we wanted to be anywhere but on campus in our shoebox apartment...we needed to get out, and fast. The other thing for sure is that we ended up at Friday's with a table full of appetizers and desserts and even a toast: "Here's to salvaging Thanksgiving" or something like that. We may or may not have gone to a movie before we'd ended up there, but even after a little 'net research on what came out around that time, nothing has jogged my memory. Still, by that point we were looking for some comfort activities to save our holiday, and mozzarella sticks and vanilla bean cheesecake seemed to placate that desire. By that point we could even begin laughing about how ridiculous the day had turned out to be.

By a lot of people's standards, this was not really the Worst Thanksgiving Ever. But on a day traditionally spent with the familiar, the comfortable, the affirming...the best that we could do for ourselves that day was Friday's. It wasn't that the food was prepared badly or that there was a big flareup at the table...it was simply that we were far away from where we wanted to be, and it wouldn't have been so bad if the day's reminders hadn't been so brutal.

I suspect that most other people's Worst Thanksgivings Ever are variations on this theme: being far from home. When "home" is defined as the ones you're with and who create that space of warmth and safety to be yourself and to share that space with little reservation, we were far from home that day.

I wonder how many people will be far from home this year, either physically or emotionally, and how a home may yet be possible for them.

Okay, Pass the Crow

I will happily eat a plate of crow over something I wrote a few weeks ago related to the TV show ER adding a chaplain:

I'm all about a chaplain being portrayed as "normal." God knows clergy struggle with relationships as much as anyone else. I wonder, though...will she pray with people? Will she struggle with some of the tough spiritual questions that come with experiences in the ER? Will she counsel fellow staff after a tough loss of a patient? Will she share her struggles with others in a way that shows how draining and rewarding real chaplains find their work? Obviously, there'll be the sexual tension between her and Uncle Jesse. Oh, and she'll wear low-cut tops. I just hope there'll be more to it than that.

Basically, I was worried that she'd spend more time flirting with John Stamos than doing her job, and that when she did do her job, it'd be so watered-down so as not to reflect what real chaplains do on a daily basis.

This past week I willed myself to sit through ER in order to see what exactly they do with their new chaplain. It's not that I don't enjoy the show...I just don't watch it regularly and 10:00 seems to constitute "late" for me nowadays. I know...lame.

Side note: hey look, it's Stanley Tucci! Cool!

Our new chaplain was not the focal point of the show by any means. Instead, there was something about a heat wave (on a November episode) that I think allowed them to keep with NBC's "green" theme of the night. And another character has a serious drinking problem that apparently almost everyone else is oblivious to.

Anyway, the chaplain first appears tonight finishing a visit with a Jewish family. As she departs, she uses a Hebrew phrase to wish them well. So she's aware of the diversity of religious worldviews that will show up at her job, and she makes use of that knowledge to help care for her patients. And she does this in specific ways, rather than offer a few inoffensive platitudes. Okay.

Later in the episode, John Stamos notices the labyrinth tattoo on her wrist and asks about it. She goes into a somewhat detailed response about what the labyrinth symbolizes and its meaning to her. Dropping some knowledge while giving just a tiny snippet of her own faith story. Okay again.

She explains the tattoo's meaning (after also mentioning that she has more than one) while drinking beer and shooting pool. So that successfully portrays about 60-70% of the pastors that I know. Granted, I run in less uppity circles so mileage may vary. Still, she hangs out without bringing attention to it, i.e., "Hey, lookit me the chaplain drinking beer!" which was what made a show like Book of Daniel so horrendous.

I was even wrong about the low-cut top/cleavage thing. She wore stuff that was contemporary and a little provocative, but not in a "trying too hard to make the chaplain not a nun" sort of way.

Maybe she's UCC.

All in all, based on one episode, I might be willing to call this one of the better clergy portrayals on TV. But where's it going? Once her thing with Stamos' character hits full stride, will she retain her chaplain-ness? Maybe it'll present a conflict about how well she can do her job while being involved with a co-worker! I guess time will tell. But so far, so good.

Can I get my crow with a honey glaze?