Sarcastic Lutheran

HFASS Easter vigil

Easter vigil was incredible.     We had no idea that 70 people would show up!  Here's some of the highlights:

An Ethiopian thurible gifted to us by our brothers and sisters at St Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco.

Dave and JP lit a New Fire outside from which we lit the Paschal candle and chanted "The Light of Christ; Thanks be to God" whil entering the dimly lit sanctuary

The children were charged with the telling of the creation story and they did a wonderful job using art they had made.

Jim and Stuart took on the Noah and the flood story with camp and heart.  The spray bottle was, of course, central.

Notice the waters having come up around the ark. Noah sends out the dove (which I believe was a knotted sweat sock.

Looking out the window Noah sees that the dove has returned with and olive branch in it's mouth.

And of course, the rainbow.

Amy and Sheralee told the story of Ezekiel and the valley of the dry bones.  The image on the screen is of an amazing photo of Amy's of hands holding little bones.  After the reading there was a black and white video clip of a quartet (from the 1950's form the look of it) singing Dem Bones Dem Bones.

Brandi spray painted this image of Daniel and the fiery furnace and Andi read the text.  Very cool.

An amazing slam poetry- techno interpretation of Isaiah 55 played while Sara dramatically set the altar table. "You who have no money come to eat and drink"

And what's a Bible story without a flannel-graph?  Roxane and Rachel tell us all about the deliverance from the Red Sea

We take the thurible and in a procession around the block chant the litany of saints.  The names of the saints were provided by the community. "Uncle Bobby and Aunt Gladys"....."Come celebrate with us".

After inviting the faithful departed to celebrate the resurrection with us, the children dug up the Alleluia banner the community had made and buried on the final Sunday before Lent.  Note to self: muslin molds.

The following is from an email a couple day later from a member of our community who is new to all of this:

... the Alleluia banner.  It was buried beautiful and highly adorned.  It was dug up in a different state(by children of course.  Are the liturgical churches always so damn symbolic?).  While its shell - the outer sheet -was unharmed by its venture into death, the banner was me.  Yes, it still reads, though a little less legibly, "Alleluia".  But it is speckled with mildew.  And there are buttons missing.  And some things that were added to "prettify" it are caricatures and garish in its new state.  It isn't pretty, but it is still, maybe even more, true. 

 

And there I am, dug back up and brought back to church.  Who knew?

We pound on the closed doors of the church and when the doors open the sanctuary is blazing with light and filled with lilies.  We sing Alleluia for the first time since Lent started!

Jessica sings the gospel reading from John 20.

We welcome Bill into the body of Christ.  Yes, I dunked his whole head in - 3 times!  I'd prefer a baptistery for full immersion but this is the next best thing.

After the baptism we celebrated the Eucharist.

The whole experience was amazing.  The community I get to serve is so creative and funny and faithful.  I'm very blessed.

This, by the way, is a little thing we call "pridefulness"

So how do you celebrate the closing of Holy Week???
Answer: DANCE PARTY

Electric slide.  I'm not proud.

Nothing says "He Is Risen" quite like a chocolate fountain in the baptismal font.

Thanks to everyone who worked so hard to pull off the Triduum!

HFASS Good Friday

Our Good Friday service.

45 of us entered in silence.  The stations of the cross set up around the room.  Only a black cloth covering the altar.
Chanted Psalm 22
A sermon of only questions.
O Sacred Head Now Wounded.
Procession of the crucifix - Chant: "behold the life-giving cross on which hung the savior of the whole world" response: "O come let us worship Him"
The cross is laid on the altar.
Adoration of the cross: bowing, laying purple tulips, kissing it....
The Solemn Reproaches
"Were You There When They Crucified My Lord" acapella (of course) during station of the cross.
Leaving as we arrived: in silence.
Then several of us took all the tulips that had been placed at the cross and laid them where there had been a shooting in Denver last week.

And from an email from my beloved friend Sara: honey, it's unstoppable now. he's rising. death is finished.

 

HAFASS Maundy Thursday

A few years ago someone asked me, when they heard about me wanting to start a Lutheran emerging church, what kind of building would be ideal?  A warehouse?  Storefront? No I said.  A hundred year old church building with no pews.  That would be perfect.  I honestly did not know at that time that my synod happened to own a 100 year old church building with no pews.  It was Bethany Lutheran - established in the late 1800s and disbanded sometime in the 1960's.  For the last 18 years the building has been given to the American Indian community to use.  They share the space with us.

So, yesterday afternoon as I was trying to move some stuff around for the Maundy Thursday service, I found in the back of a closet the Original Bible and cross which I'm assuming were used on the altar back when there was a Lutheran church still worshiping there.

That's the Bible.  Published 1952.  The font is the original which we just moved back into the space a month or so ago.

We used the cross.  When I realized what I had found I started to cry.

In my tradition there is no absolution during Lent.  We confess on Ash Wednesday and do not receive the absolution until Maundy Thursday.  Everyone comes forward and the pastor lays hands on them saying "In obedience to the command of Christ I declare to you the entire forgiveness of all your sins. Amen"

We remember the command of Christ to Love one another and to wash one another's feet.

We as an act of serivce and worship assembled bleach kits for Denver's underground needle exchange because:

...we are unconditionally loved in our own beautiful, broken process

...our brokeness does not dictate how many chances we get and how many times we are offered safety and care

...we continue to see the way our lives our changed, without merit and outside of achievement

... we believe and confess that grace is real

To sing "Take O Take Me As I Am" while putting cookers and bleach and condoms in bags felt quite holy.

As we left we threw "30 pieces of silver" into a basin by the door.  This is to be given to a group who has been betrayed.  This year it goes to the American Indian community we share space with.

It was an amazing night.

Now for Good Friday...

[Grid::Blog::Via Crucis 2007]

Good Friday

Those who seek victory over enemies....look not upon the cross.
Those who seek personal glory...look not upon the death of our Lord.
Those who seek to be lifted up ... look not upon the crucified Christ

But those who seek to see the folly of God’s love... look.
those who seek God in suffering...look
those who seek what it looks like to be human and to be God...look

Here is our King. Here is God’s glory. In the tortured flesh of our God-Man Jesus. This flesh on which we feast. This blood which we drink. The broken, the poured out from which there is true wholeness, true shalom.

Hidden in the suffering, God is revealed.

-Nadia

Grid::Blog::Via Crucis 2007

i am part of an eccumenical international grid blod during holy week and easter (april 1- may27) - esentially that means that folks are blogging each day (I've signed on for 3 of them) and using the same title, Grid::Blog::Via Crucis 2007

it's a bit slow out there this morning, but during these two months google Grid::Blog::Via Crucis 2007 and you'll find some good stuff

if you're a blogger, consider joining in here

Good Friday?

CPE: Clinical Pastoral Education- a required experience for those who are Lutheran seminary students preparing for ordained word and sacrament ministry in the ELCA. CPE students work as chaplains in various institutions while regularly attending a touchy-feely group with a supervisor and other CPE students in which there is a great deal of discussion about feelings, issues and emotional baggage.

I am currently working as an intern (CPE) chaplain at the hospital near my home. Recently someone asked me if I being a hospital chaplain was causing me to face the existential issue of my own death. Not really. This is not to say that I haven’t been pretty freaked out by the experience, only that this mortal coil isn’t existentially unwrapping in my mind around my own mortality. The possible death of my husband, children, siblings or parents is another matter - I’m fairly certain that I would not recover from that sort of blow and even the thought of it can turn me inside out. In providing spiritual care for those who are ill or for the families of those who have died suddenly, or who have had a massive stroke out of the middle of nowhere, I have been completely torn open around the suffering and grief involved in losing those we love. I have found myself in the ER trauma room watching life going in and out of the person on the table whom the doctors and nurses are violently attempting to resuscitate and in that messy chaos my role is to stand there and be aware of God’s presence in the room. Kind of a weird job description, but there it is, and I’m strangely qualified. I’ve found myself having various difficulties with this. I can’t help but feel God’s presence in the trauma room, but I find myself sensing God’s presence in other rooms too. In the little white room with just enough space for 4 love seats and as many boxes of tissue, we bring the families of those who are dead, or might be dead, or should be dead, or died and are now not dead but we don’t know for how long. I sit with these people who are consumed with the fear of loss, and sometimes they are then consumed by loss. Their 60 year old father has just died. Their spouse of 51 years has just experienced a brain aneurism. Their sister has just swallowed 4 bottles of pills and they are waiting to hear if her body is dead, or just her brain. So in this pit of pain, I am the chaplain. What can I do? I’d rather die myself than simply spout some standard pastor bullshit that sounds an awful lot like “it’s God’s will that you are experiencing this unspeakable pain and that your life is pretty much fucked from here on out” which is just some freeze dried bullshit if you ask me. I have no answers for these people. I bring them water, make some calls for them, keep bugging the doctors to give us more information or a compassionate update, but words of wisdom I have none. I feel the unfairness of it all. I feel the uncontrollable terror of loss. I feel the finality of never having a father again. I feel the sadness that is both poetic and grotesque. I stand by and witness the disfiguring emotional process we politely call grief. I am aware of God’s presence and I want to slap the hell out of Him or Her or It, not out of anger as much as out of defense. Maybe if God senses that I’m not a girl to fuck with my loved ones will be spared. But then in a slice of a moment, I am aware that God isn’t feeling smug about the whole thing but is there in the messy mascara-streaked middle of it feeling as shitty as the rest of us. It is this awareness of God which torn me open last night during the Good Friday service. I was feeling the sorrow of so many who I had encountered in the last few weeks and when the choir sang I began to weep and I didn’t finished that up until 20 minutes after everyone else left (except the other wretch who couldn’t manage to find her legs and stand the hell up). I wasn’t weeping for myself but for OUR suffering which in some beautiful horrible way is shared with and in Christ. I experienced the readings last night as God’s heart breaking for our suffering through Christ’s suffering and the beauty of it spilled out in my tears.
Happy Easter

triduum (three days)

Holy Thursday Batman!
This morning I'm reflecting on how prfoundly counter-cultural the triduum is. Tonight we begin a three day long worship service with washing oneanother's feet. For those who believe worship begins at 8:30 on Sunday morning and ends no later than 9:30 Sunday morning this can feel a bit freaky. So when I say the triduum is counter-cultural, I mean that it runs counter to the culture of the church as well. These three days call us to a deeper piety. This over-the-top act of worship doesn't let us off the hook - it grabs us by the _____(insert what ever might be pretty uncomfortable here), and doesn't let us go. We have yet to recieve the forgiveness from our confession on Ash Wednesday...these days of Lent are like an unresolved chord progression. We have been uncomfortably waiting for resolution for weeks and now we raise the volume to 11.

Washing feet is humiliating, both for the washer and the washee. Tonight I will allow someone to wash my feet...in the sanctuary. Even for the grooviest, most out-there churches, this is pretty different stuff than what ussually happens in the sanctuary. (That reminds me to try and exfoliate some of the 1/2 inch of dry winter skin off my heels). This act of humility and service is a powerful ritual enactment of Christ's ministry. Everything was stripped away and Christ met those around him (and all of us) on a core level of who we are...children of God. Wealth, gender, status, health, purity was all of no consequence. So too in this act of foot washing. We are all stripped down to this common factor: we all need, we all are weary, we all have dirty feet and everybody's shit stinks. Here is where God meets us today and everyday, in our commonality - which is the truth that we all have dirty feet and that we are all the beloved of God. This (I think) is most certainly true.