The Lutheran Zephyr

It has served its purpose

This blog - as a host for my thoughts and feelings, reflections and rants, questions and quandaries - has served its purpose.  As a place for personal punditry and faithful reflection, this blog is done.  Over.  Kaput.  Finished.  Dead.

Well, almost.

For now I'll keep this blog up and running, and perhaps fashion it in the form of Clint's blog, who posts links and compelling quotes and other brief items, but who rarely opines online.  Eventually, perhaps I'll transform this blog into one such as Mark Daniel's, posting lectionary reflections, sermons, and thoughtful reflections on the news.  Perhaps.

But as I enter a new phase of my calling - that of a parish pastor - I'm quickly realizing that I'd do better to read more and write less, to pray more and play the pundit less, to be still and know that the Lord is God more, and busy myself with blogging less . . . I'll be reading fewer blogs much less frequently, too.

This blog has been a great blessing to me for more than three and a half years, a place for me to share ideas and learn much, to grow and be challenged, to express myself and to try something new.  I am thankful for the various people who have commented, who read, who are part of my online community.  You have been part of my formation as a pastor, as a person of faith, as a child of God.  Thank you.

A blessed Christmas season and New Year to all.

Peace to you.
Chris

Ordination, and First Time Presiding

 Last Saturday, December 20, I was ordained for the Ministry of Word and Sacrament.  On Christmas Eve at 11pm, I presided for the first time at the Eucharist.  Not to mention the move to the parsonage and Christmas celebrations, and it's been a wonderful two weeks.  A few thoughts.

The ordination was a profound moment, personally and spiritually, but especially personally (not that the two are distinct, but . . . the spiritual high came a few days later, to be honest.  More on that in a moment).  From the presence and participation of old friends (both pictured here; my best friend Josh - friends since 5th grade - read from Isaiah, and my dear friend Meredith - friends since 6th grade and an Episcopalian priest - offered the Prayers of the Church),to the surprise appearances of my (now retired) college pastor and his wife (who drove 3+ hours to get to the ordination) and also of a young man who was a youth in a church I served as a youth director 9 years ago,to being surrounded by the church in prayer, and by clergy colleagues in the laying on of hands . . . it was a special moment, one that I will not soon forget.

I got weepy twice in the evening - when I saw my college pastor walk through the church doors just moments before the service began, and when the Bishop declared, "Let it be acclaimed that Christopher Thomas Krey Duckworth is ordained a minister in the Church of Christ." 

An extra little special element in the service was the little Bible I held in my hands.  We recently learned that my grandfather's grandfather was a Methodist pastor in Philadelphia.  Upon my grandfather's death two years ago, my dad and step-mother found a small Bible among his possessions that had been given to his grandfather on the day of his ordination.  My step-mother had the Bible rebound and gave it to me for my ordination.  I held it with me during the entire service, connecting me with this man of faith whom I never met yet whose work I now share.

In the middle of the ordination rite itself I was on my knees for several prayers and for a hymn invoking the Holy Spirit, all the while surrounded by clergy.  The hymn, however, was not printed in the bulletin, and most the clergy standing around me had not brought their hymnals to the chancel.  So here I was in the chancel, kneeling before the Bishop and indeed the whole church, surrounded by clergy in red stoles . . . mumbling through the hymn!  It was both a high spiritual moment and a comfortingly down-to-earth moment, all wrapped up in one.  Perfect.

All this - from my great great grandfather's Bible to the clergy to the great outpouring of friends and clergy and church members - demonstrated to me that in this ministry I am not alone.  I am surrounded and supported by a broader body of God's people, a body of which I am part, and for that I give thanks to God.

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I presided at the Eucharist for the first time on Christmas Eve at the 11pm candlelight service.  I was just as nervous for this as I was for the ordination - actually, moreso.  As I processed during the entrance hymn, I could hardly sing . . . so nervous, so anxious, so overwhelmed by the ministry I was about to offer.

At my church the presiding minister wears a chausable throughout the entire service.  From the moment I put on this massive - almost suffocating - cloak-like vestment I felt as if I were carrying an extra burden, a new responsibility.  This extra layer of liturgical garb even further reinforced to me that I am a minister of the church, bound by and dedicated to a tradition much larger than me or my personality, gifts, or skills.  Wearing the chausable was incredibly humbling.

I had practiced the presider's prayers and gestures much during the two days leading up to Christmas Eve, and I'm glad I did.  Everything went smoothly.  Well, almost everything.  I forgot to do the fraction (breaking the bread after the Lord's Prayer at the Invitation to the Table), but overall it did seem to go well.  I'll preside again on Sunday.

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Much more to write, but that's it for now.  I am still in active contemplation about the future of this blog . . . discerning everything from the personal/professional divide and the wisdom of blogging about personal matters, to the do-I-have-time-to-blog? issue, to the thought of developing a blog intentionally focused on my ministry, an endeavor which would draw time and energy away from this blog . . .  We'll see.

Thanks for checking in.  A blessed Christmas season to all.

Consumer Capitalism and Christian Ministry

Tony Jones makes a comment today about Christian publishing and marketing that didn't set right with me.  Over at his The New Christians blog he writes:

For a decade, Doug [Pagit] and I have been speakers at the National Youth Workers Convention and the National Pastors Convention, which primarily serve as platforms for the authors of Youth Speciaties and Zondervan, respectively.  Our initial solo effort was the once-in-a-lifetime book tour, the Church Basement Roadshow.

What bugged me was his description of these massive ministry training events as "platforms" to sell books.  When I receive the emails and brochures, these events are billed as places to learn about ministry, be renewed in faith, and share ideas with other church leaders.  Yet here I read that these events "primarily serve as platforms" to sell books.  Are these events nothing more than elaborate sales shticks?  Am I being hoodwinked?

Similarly, I was critical of the sales/marketing aspect of Tony's Church Basement Roadshow in a post over the summer.  I wrote back then:

And I'm impressed, too, by the entrepreneurial spirit of these guys.  Yes, this show is part revival, but it is also part book tour.  There's a $10 cover charge for each show.  There are various institutional sponsors undoubtedly providing financial and/or in-kind support.  And surely while you're at the show you'll be encouraged to purchase a few books.  As a former sales representative for Augsburg Fortress Publishers - and as one who took a bookstore display on the road to synod assemblies and church conventions - I'm impressed by their imaginative marketing.

But I remain more baffled than awed.  A pay-to-enter "revival" is much less a revival than a marketing enterprise calling consumers rather than converts, pocketbooks rather than pious souls. 

I don't begrudge people the opportunity to produce a Christian book and get paid to do it (see 1 Corinthians 9:14, Luke 10:7), or to travel around to promote the book . . . but what's the driver here - Gospel proclamation or bottom-line profits?  These goals - Proclamation and Profit - are not mutually exclusive, but they do create a tension and can easily be at odds.  As I commented on Tony's blog today:

Should the publisher produce materials that will lose money but further the Gospel? Should the publisher sell materials that appeal to a broad audience - generating revenue for the publishing ministry - but which might be thin on Gospel? And most importantly, we can probably agree that faithfulness does not directly correlate to profitability. The marketplace is not the best determinant of what is faithful and beneficial to the church, yet publishers must make money to keep their doors open. It's an imperfect and very difficult business to be in. These questions are posed simply to highlight potential pitfalls and show how careful we must be when connecting ministry with consumer capitalism. That's all.

The intersection of Christian faith and capitalist enterprise is a difficult one to navigate, for sure.  I'm generally uncomfortable with the glitz and shine and consumer appeal of the largest church publishers (Group, Zondervan, Youth Specialties, etc.), fearing that they often cross a line I'd rather not cross (while simultaneously doing good work, as I highlighted in my comments on Tony's blog.  I'm a Lutheran, after all - I can see the sinner/saint in most things!). 

What do you think?  Are the best business decisions necessarily the best ministry decisions?  Should a Christian publisher risk going out of business for the sake of the Gospel?  Perhaps what I'm really asking is, to what extent should Christians engage the patterns and practices of capitalism in carrying out their Gospel ministry?  Do we sometimes sacrifice the Gospel so that we can keep our doors open and our bank accounts filled to a certain level?  Does institutional preservation become a greater goal than growing the Kingdom?

Of course, all of these questions could be asked of congregations themselves . . . how do we use our resources?  In what ways do we seek to "market" ourselves to the community?  And in doing so, do we comprimise on the Gospel so that we can get butts in the pews and money in the offering plates?

A seminary professor said to me once, "You know, if we all truly followed Jesus, we'd end up on a cross like his."  Of course, it's in our nature to avoid the cross at all costs . . .

Ordination Text Update

I ditched the first draft of Bible readings for my upcoming ordination after they were met with luke-warm responses . . . and truth be told, I wasn't in love with them as ordination texts.  But I've had a hard time choosing my ordination texts, recognizing that this isn't an occasion to simply choose my favorite bible texts (as if it were a great hits or a mix tape of sentimental favorites).  Indeed, some of my favorite texts - Romans 8, Luke 1, the stories in the Elijah cycle - are wonderful, but don't quite speak to unique setting of an ordination.

So I took another stab at it, and leaned on an old rule I try hard not to forget (but which I had forgotten in this case) - trust the tradition.  Our liturgical tradition has handed down to us a variety of texts that are customarily used for the ocassion of an ordination.  Why try to re-invent the wheel?  I read through each of the suggested texts - about ten texts are suggested for each reading - and pretty easily selected readings for the first three readings:

Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 103
Romans 10:13-17a

But still, none of the suggested Gospel texts spoke to me.  So I tried to think of stories from the Gospels that speak to the tasks of ministry but which wouldn't unduly elevate the ordinand.  I landed on Mark 9:33-41, which contains two quick anecdotes about ministry -

• first, Mark's version of the "let the children come to me" text where Jesus embraces and identifies himself with a child (ie, the low, weak, marginalized, unaccomplished);
• second, the story in which Jesus' disciples trying to stop someone else - who was not "one of them" - from casting out demons in Jesus' name.  Jesus rebukes the disciples, telling them that "whoever is not against us is for us."  I figure that it is good to begin ministry by being reminded to whom it is we're called to minister, and that no one person or group of people has a monopoly on the ministry.

Click here for all the texts.  Thanks!

It has taken me 12 years to get here

12 years ago I applied to seminary and the Candidacy Process for Ordained Ministry in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.  Later this month, I will be ordained.  Why did it take me 12 years to arrive at this place, instead of the usual four (three years of study, and a one year full-time internship) that is the norm for us Lutherans?

I'm not publishing the tell-all Candidacy memoir of Chris Duckworth (though that would be more interesting that it might seem at first glance), but I'll try over the next two weeks to offer some reflection on the path that has taken me to ordination at age 34, rather than at age 26, as was my intention. 

Here's a timeline of my candidacy for ordination.  I won't be offended if you don't read it all . . . it is quite long, after all.

• Fall 1996: Senior year at the College of William and Mary.  Seminary and ministry had been on my mind since late in my freshman year (Spring 1994).  I was completing a B.A. in Latin American Studies and an undeclared minor in Religious Studies when I applied to both seminary and the Candidacy Process for Ordination.    
• May 1997: Graduate from College and receive a Postponement from my Candidacy Committee at my Entrance interview.

• August 1997: Begin study at Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago, where I'm participating in the Latino Ministry program.
• Spring 1998: Receive a positive Entrance decision into the Candidacy Process for Ordination.  Decide to transfer to Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia to be close to girlfriend, family, and Candidacy Committee (I had traveled three times between Chicago and Philadelphia in one month that Spring - not fun).
• Summer 1998: Complete one unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at Thomas Jefferson Hospital in Philadelphia.  Wasn't crazy about the experience, but got it done.

• Fall 1998: Enroll at our Lutheran Seminary in Philadelphia, living with best friend from elementary/middle/high school 20 minutes away from campus.  Receive a positive Endorsement decision in the Candidacy Process.  Accepted into Horizon Internship program for low-income congregations in urban settings.
• January 1999: Get engaged to be married - schedule wedding for January 2000.
• Spring 1999: Unable to secure an internship within a reasonable distance from my fiancee's job.  A combination of emotional crud (both personal and with my fiancee) and frustration with my inability to get an internship site leads me to the brash decision to drop out of seminary and the Candidacy Process with 2/3 of my Master of Divinity and Candidacy requirements complete.
• Summer 1999: Though I had dropped out of seminary, I take a job as a lay preacher/worship leader at a Sunday evening contemporary service at a congregation in the Philadelphia suburbs.

• Fall 1999: Accept emergency certification to teach high school Spanish in the School District of Philadelphia.  Love working with the kids.  Don't love teaching.
• September 1999: Best friend from college dies, the straw that eventually broke my emotional back.  I sink into a period of sadness and uncertainty.  Within a few weeks I call off my wedding and begin seeing a therapist.  I begin to explore bigger family and personal issues in therapy, initiating a period of great - yet difficult - personal growth.
• November 1999: I admit that teaching won't be my life-long calling, but commit to finishing out the year at my school.  Contact my synod to return to the Candidacy Process, and ask seminary to reinstate me as a student "on-leave."
• January 2000: Move out of apartment where I had planned to live with my fiancee, and move in with my father (with whom I hadn't lived since my parents' divorce in the late 1970s).  Begin working part-time as a youth director at the church where I had preached the previous summer.
• Spring 2000: First appearance before the Candidacy Committee since my hasty departure from the process.  They are (understandably) cautious about my quick turnabout in sense of call and vocational plans.  At the time, however, their caution didn't seem so reasonable to me.
• June 2000: As the academic year ends at the school I take on full-time responsibilities as youth director at the church.

• Fall 2000: Have a great deal of fun at the congregation, including coordinating a wonderfully creative and logistically-challenging Coffee House event (that still goes on a few times per year!).  I even get to preach on a monthly basis!
• January 2001: Return to seminary part-time while working as youth director.  Sit next to an extremely attractive young woman named Jessicah in Confirmation and Youth Ministry class.  I ask to borrow her notes.  Later, I call my best friend to tell him about this wonderful woman I've met.  Too bad she's engaged, though.
• Spring 2001: Realize that I don't want to be a youth minister for ever, and begin to make plans to return to seminary full-time.  I have high hopes that Candidacy will work out.  I also have high hopes that things with Jessicah will work out.  For starters, she's ended her engagement . . . ;-)

• Fall 2001: Study full time at seminary, live on campus. But have a "final showdown" with Candidacy - I am informed that because over the previous two years I had two postponement decisions (more on those in another post, perhaps), a third postponement would result in a denial and a minimum of one year away from the candidacy process.  Not wanting to be kicked out of Candidacy, I drop out (again), and look for work in church and non-church roles.  I'm not sure that I'll be able to return to thoughts of ordained ministry.  Ever.  And I'm crushed.
• January 2002: Land a full-time job at the Lutheran Seminary - raising money for student scholarships as director of alumni relations and annual fund.  Ironic, no, that the guy who didn't/couldn't become a pastor is raising money so that the seminary can train more pastors?  Early on I find the job to be quite a bittersweet experience, and try to accept the idea of a career outside of ordained ministry.
• February 2002: Get engaged to Jessicah over chicken soup at the Trolley Car Diner.
• May 2002: Graduate from The Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia with a Master of Divinity, Latino Concentration.
• October 12, 2002: Get married to Jessicah in a wonderful liturgy.
• November, 2002: Jessicah tells me we're pregnant.
• December 2002: Jessicah decides to apply to Princeton Theological Seminary for a PhD program in Practical Theology.

• Spring 2003: work is going well, Jessicah's final semester as an MDiv student is going well, baby is growing well in Mommy's belly.  I take a few courses in an MBA program.  After more than three years, I decide to end my regular visits with my therapist.  I also do my first supply preaching engagements for a seminary classmate . . . an experience that would prove very valuable in my discernment.
• July 2003: we move to Princeton and have a baby girl, Talitha.  I change my first ever diaper.
• August 2003: I begin working at a new (non-church) job closer to our new home (and new baby!) in Princeton.  Jessicah begins her graduate studies.  I take an online MBA course.
• Fall 2003: We join and get involved in a congregation . . . the first time in a long time that I worshiped in and belonged to a church where I wasn't a "leader."  In retrospect it was a wonderful time and place for me to grow and be fed as a child of God, and regain some clarity in my sense of call.

• January 2004: I quit Princeton-area job and begin a new job as a traveling sales representative for Augsburg Fortress.  I just couldn't stay away from the church.  I put any thoughts of an MBA on hold, and love getting paid to travel to churches and talk with pastors and lay leaders about ministry and the resources they need to carry out their ministry.
• September 2004: I begin inquiring how I might return to the Candidacy Process.  Talking to all those pastors about their ministry gets me to thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, I'm called to be a pastor.  And perhaps, just perhaps, I'm ready to try again.

• July 2005: We move to Pennsylvania, as my wife steps away from full-time doctoral studies to enter parish ministry.
• November 2005: I receive a positive Entrance decision into the Candidacy Process, four years after thinking the door to ministry was permanently closed.  Candidacy committee wants me to do an additional unit of CPE prior to internship.  I continue working at Augsburg Fortress, but realize that my days are numbered there.
• July 2006: Our second child, Cana, is born.

• September 2006: Leave Augsburg Fortress, begin a 9-month, full-time, 3-unit CPE Residency as a hospital chaplain at Thomas Jefferson Hospital (where I had completed one unit of CPE 9 years earlier).
• November 2006: Receive a positive Endorsement decision by the Candidacy Committee, clearing me for an internship.  It's been ten years since I first applied to seminary and the Candidacy Process.
• Spring 2007: Jessicah is being heavily recruited for a teaching position at Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, DC.  I find an internship at a Northern Virginia congregation that had been one of my faithful customers during my Augsburg Fortress days.  The chaplaincy has been exhausting - physically and emotionally - but hugely important.
• August 2007: We move to Northern Virginia.

• September 2007: I begin internship at St John's By the Gas Station, a wonderful - and in some respects unconventional - place to learn about ministry and the task of being a pastor.  I preach, teach, lead worship, provide pastoral care, and otherwise participate in the pastoral ministry of the congregation.
• November 2007: Our third child - and first son, Naaman - is born.
• May 2008: Approved for Ordination by my Candidacy Committee.  I cry like a baby when they give me the good news.
• August 2008: Initial conversations about a possible call at an inside-the-beltway congregation.
• November 2008: Called to be Associate Pastor at St John's Inside the Beltway.
• December 2008: Ordained into the minstry of Word and Sacrament.

This timetime certainly doesn't tell the whole story.  I could say much more about friends and family, or the process itself (for example, for a few years my participation in the Candidacy Process was just a mess, and I think it can be fair to say that "mistakes were made."  In a future post I'll allude to some of those mistakes and offer some reflections on the Candidacy Process as it is structured in the ELCA.  After all, I should know something about Candidacy - I was in and out of the process for much of the past 12 years!). 

But this timeline is a good start to some pre-ordination reflections . . .

Choosing Ordination Texts

I will be ordained on Saturday, December 20, at Resurrection Lutheran Church in Arlington, VA (please join us!).  As you can imagine, I'm quite excited.

The Lutheran Book of Worship Occasional Services suggests plenty of texts, all good and appropriate for an ordination, but . . . but I'm being ordained at the end of Advent, just prior to Christmas.  If it were a "green" season I'd more likely select texts that focus on the ordination and tasks of ministry.  But because we'll be in the midst of an intentionally sacred season of preparation and hope, I would like to choose texts from the season's lectionary to reflect the season's themes.

To that end, I turned to the Daily Lectionary (found in the back of your Evangelical Lutheran Worship pew edition, starting on page 1121) and looked at all of the texts for the days surrounding Advent 4 (I also peaked at Year A and Year C texts for the week surrounding Advent 4).

And then, breaking from my self-imposed Advent rule, I chose Isaiah 6 for the first reading, a wonderful call text which was put to music by my church choir director in high school (I'm not sure if we can get the anthem for my ordination, however - I think it was an unpublished manuscript, and quite modern.  I remember practicing it for months!  Not the type of song that you just pick up and sing with little preparation.)

Well, nothing is set in stone yet.  I'm still playing with the texts (they're growing on my wife).  Let me know what you think.  Here's a link putting all the texts together.

• Isaiah 6:1-13 (see above)
• 1 Samuel 2:1-10 (as the psalmody, from the Wednesday after Advent 4.  I love this text, as it points to one of my favorite texts in the Gospels, the Magnificat)
• Hebrews 1:1-2:1 (joining and extending the readings for the Thursday & Friday before Advent 4.  This text rings out to me because of its strong proclamation of the Christ for whom we are waiting and preparing.  This text is both a comfort to me and a reminder of the proclamation task to which I am called.)
• Mark 11:1-11 (from the Wednesday after Advent 4.  This account of Palm Sunday reminds us to prepare the way for the Lord, and recalls the reason for which he came: the cross.)

I'd be thrilled to hear your feedback on these texts, either here at my blog or over on my Facebook page.  Thanks!

Called!

I am pleased to announce that I've been called to be a pastor in Christ's Church - specifically, an Associate Pastor at "St John's inside the Beltway" (pseudonyms used to protect the innocent).  More news and details later.

Peace to you this Christ the King Sunday.

From Reformation to Advent: Liturgical Whiplash

I'm not entirely satisfied with my experience of the church calendar in late October, November, and December.  Let me try to explain.

First, I'll make this much clear: I'm no scholar of neither the liturgy nor the lectionary (Derek and others say, "yeah, no duh").  I'm writing here as an informed and long-time participant in the Lutheran lectionary cycle, but as one who is increasingly dissatisfied with my experience of the church calendar come late October. 

After celebrating the many weeks of Pentecost from late Spring through mid Fall - and its progression through one of the synoptic Gospels and related texts in the Old and New Testaments - in late October our church jumps out of that cycle for one Sunday to celebrate Reformation Sunday (a fixed-date lesser festival that nonetheless we Lutherans always shift to the Sunday on or prior to Oct 31, and celebrate with grandeur).

The following Sunday we celebrate All Saints, another fixed-date festival that we Lutherans move to the Sunday on or following Nov 1, again jumping out of the week-by-week lectionary cycle.  (The festival readings for All Saints, however, do select from the synoptics for Year A and Year C, and from John for Year B, maintaining a connection to the church year that the Reformation festival does not.)

So what happens is that after several months of progressing quite nicely through one of the synoptic Gospels, we break away from that progression for two whole Sundays.  Normally I might not suggest that this is a grave problem.  However, the readings for the season of Pentecost are designed to lead us to the Festival of Christ the King in late November, marking the end of the church year.  This festival is characterized by eschatological themes of Christ's promised return, judgement, and promised New Creation - an essential element of the Christian worldview.  You'll note that as we get closer to Christ the King, the readings become much more apocalyptic (this is not just a theme that magically appears on Christ the King Sunday - our readings are already moving in that direction in the weeks prior to the festival).  As we get closer to that festival, as our readings orient us toward reflection upon and celebration of Christ the eschatological King, most Lutherans deviate from the intentionally-crafted lectionary for two weeks of Reformation and All Saints celebrations.  Inevitably, we miss something.

Argh.

But now that we've celebrated the Church in its Reformation glory and recalled the life and faith of the dearly departed and/or the saints of old, we return to the Pentecost readings leading us to Christ the King for two Sundays.  However, one (or more) of these Sundays are often overtaken by "Stewardship Sunday" or Congregational budgetary meeting themes.  Again, our preaching, teaching, and congregational energies are bring diverted from the liturgical calendar's themes toward other - good and holy, for sure, but nonetheless other - things.

Argh.

So, after having celebrated Church with Reformation fanfare, and remembered the dead and/or the saintly on All Saints (see my old post on our Lutheran confusion about All Saints), and having heard about giving and having made commitments of time/talents/treasure on Stewardship Sunday, we're ready (or not!) to celebrate Christ the eschatological King!  Except . . . except that about half the time Christ the King falls over Thanksgiving weekend, when the national holiday (and football) schedules overshaddow anything the church is trying to do.

Argh.

All of a sudden, following a busy month of liturgical gyrations, congregational "business" matters, and a national holiday, we're in Advent, which unfortunately is nothing more than "Pre-Christmas" for too many of our churches.  Advent especially has its apocalyptic, "Come, Lord Jesus" imagery, but this is often lost as we shop and prepare for the commercial Christian holiday of Christmas.

Argh.

And for good measure I'll share this: I find the celebration of the Christmas season - two Sundays - to be terribly lacking, as it has the misfortune of falling around New Year while schools are usually out of session, resulting in terrible attendance, simplified liturgies led by substitute (or simply worn out) preachers, or perhaps a service or two of Lessons and Carols.  Not much attention is given to this season apart from the grand Christmas Eve services, sadly.

As far as remedies go . . .

Beef up Advent.  I like the old practice (in Anglican/Episcopalian circles, I believe) of a six-week Advent season.  This would avoid the awkwardness of kicking off Advent over Thanksgiving weekend, and grant more time to this wonderful season.

End the church year intentionally.  Perhaps a six-week Advent season could be preceded by Christ the King (a 20th century liturgical innovation), and All Saints before that (check out Christopher's blogpost about the timing of Advent).  That is, All Saints could essentially lead us directly into the end of the church year (thematically it could work nicely) and then Advent.  Christopher suggests perhaps a mini-season of All Saints.  I'm not sure what I think about that, but I do like using All Saints as a shift, a liturgical marker pointing the Church toward the year end and Advent.

Establish All Saints as a Sunday feast.  Let's design the lectionary to assume All Saints as a Sunday celebration, since that's what nearly all Lutherans do anyway.  In this capacity as a Sunday feast, it will clearly and cleanly mark a change in the church season toward Christ the King and Advent.

Move Reformation Sunday.   It might be time that we Lutherans find another time of year to celebrate the Reformation.  Perhaps we could celebrate on June 25, the day of the Presentation of the Augsburg Confession - a day that better represents the work and legacy of the evangelical movement than does a commemoration of Luther's 95 theses.

Convert your congregation to a July-June fiscal year.  Congregational programs work according to a program-year schedule, as do schools.  For both liturgical and budgetary purposes, congregations should change their financial books to a fiscal year calendar beginning July 1.  Budgets would be fixed for ministry program years (making for more realistic understanding of program costs and planning), and Stewardship appeals would take place in May and June (deep in the Easter season or early in the green Sundays of Pentecost).

Teach more.  These seasons and themes are important, and the ways we celebrate them in worship is critical to our proclamation of the Gospel.  However, we can also do well to teach these themes and support their integration into the lives of our members through intentional education programs and devotional materials (daily lectionary readings, pericope groups, email prayer and devotional readings, etc.).

More to say, but it's very late.  G'night.

Ten Commandments in the Park?

On Wednesday the Supreme Court heard arguments in Pleasant Grove City v. Summum.  In the case, the Summum religion has asked the Pleasant Grove City Council to accept a monument of their Seven Aphorism to be placed in a public park alongside a monument of the Ten Commandments, donated over a quarter-century ago by a private organization.  The city refused, and the case went to court.  For news coverage of the case, visit the many news links posted at Blog from the Capital, or read Nina Totenberg's report at NPR.  Transcript of the oral arguments available from the Supreme Court website (document opens as a pdf).  It is a very interesting case, and I encourage you to read up on it.

My three regular readers know that I am an adamant advocate for the separation of church and state.  I see no reason for monuments of either the Ten Commandments or the Seven Aphorisms or of any other religious teachings to be placed in a tax-payer funded public park (accuse me of being a small government, fiscal conservative on this issue if you like!).  Surely this town has private, religious organizations that would gladly erect religious symbols on their property and in their places of worship.  Why should the tax-payer funded public park display a series of religious teachings, including "I am the Lord your God.  You shall have no other Gods before me"?  Unlike the "golden rule" given by Jesus (but lacking any explicit God language), the Ten Commandments are clearly and unabiguously religious in nature.  Tax-payer dollars shouldn't go to the purchase, display, or maintenance of religious monuments.

But this is much more than a tax-payer issue.  As I've said elsewhere, I believe that the church is at greater risk than the state when we violate the separation of church and state.  The erection of religious monuments in public parks on one hand smacks of a faith-based and triumphalistic marking of one's territory, as if to say, "we Christians are the majority, this is our place, we can do what we want, the rest of you will just have to deal with it."  This kind of pride can only poison the church and our proclamation of the Gospel.

Furthermore, there's a false sense of security in monuments - whether on public or private ground.  We can build all the monuments we want, but that doesn't guarantee faithfulness to what the monument enshrines.  In fact, erecting a monument is often the cheap and easy thing to do.

(For example, in Cuzco, Peru, once the thriving capital of the Inca people, a monument to Peru's indiginous peoples stands.  But in this Andean nation it is the descendants of the Inca who remain disproportionately in poverty, struggling with illiteracy and suffering with shorter life expectancies.  But . . . but the government dominated by the descendants of European conquistadores erected a monument!  Why bother do anything else?)

Finally, I do not want the church to expect the government to help us carry out our God-given, faith-based mission.  The mission of faith is the responsibility of people of faith, not the responsibility of government or of the broader, secular society.  It seems unreasonable for people of faith to ask the government to help them in their ministry of proclaiming religious teachings by accepting, displaying, and maintaining a religious monument in a public park.  This is also why I oppose prayer in school - teaching children the discipline of prayer is the responsibility of parents and communities of faith, not that of a tax-payer funded public school system.  This is why I am also uncomfortable with civic displays of religoius piety - invocations at political rallies or prayers at city council meetings - for it supports the notion that we're a "Christian nation" or that our faith is supported by the government and political leaders.  That kind of complacency inhibits our prophetic mission to speak truth to power.

Well I could go on, but I won't.  You three regular readers already know where I'm coming from, and probably haven't read this far anyway . . . ;-)

The Uncertain Future of The Lutheran Zephyr

This blog, born in May 2005, may be near the end of its lifespan.  I'm just not sure.  With the ways I use Facebook - to easily share newspaper and online articles, to express brief comments about current issues, to connect with others on certain topics . . . - I sometimes wonder if the longer and much less connective format of a blog is even worth it.

Of course, it is not just a matter of which online platform I should use.  Facebook and Twitter - if I could ever get into Twitter - have their limitations, too.  More importantly, I wonder if this blog has served its purpose in my life.  You see, The Lutheran Zephyr filled a void in my life in that interim period from my days as a non-ordained seminary graduate with serious questions of call, to today when I'm knocking on the door of a call as an ordained pastor.  This blog was a place to share ideas about ministry when I wasn't actively involved in ministry, but wishing beyond all belief that I could be.  But as I look ahead just a few weeks to a congregational vote and the beginning of a call and career in pastoral ministry, all of a sudden I'm not sure if The Lutheran Zephyr is quite as important to me as it used to be.

And it's not all of a sudden.  My blogging has slowed down over the past year, and particularly over the past few months.  I used to write several times per week, but over the past two months it has been much less frequent.  My time and energy are more directed to work and my growing family.  The pixels of The Lutheran Zephyr are just not as appealing as they used to be.

There's also the cost.  More than two years ago I purchased my own url (www.lutheranzephyr.com), I pay $8.95/mo to use some extra services at Typepad, and I pay $18/yr for somebody to host my blog at my url.  It's not a ton of money, but it adds up.  And if I'm on the fence about the future of my blog, and if I can blog elsewhere for free, then why pay?

Though at times I've gotten consumed about the number of visitors to my blog, checking statistics on an almost daily basis, those days were few and they are far behind me.  At its best this blog has been a place for me to express and share ideas, to connect with others, and to grow.  If others enjoyed reading it, all the better.  The Lutheran Zephyr was never was intended to be a polished online journal, but simply a personal journal that happened to be online.  I am grateful for the practice of regular writing that this blog has given me, for writing is a skill I truly value and enjoy using.  But now that I will soon be writing sermons, lessons, Bible studies, and other materials with great frequency, I wonder if the impetus to blog will only continue to decline.

We'll see, and I'd welcome the insights of other bloggers out there, particularly those bloggers for whom the purpose and practice of blogging has changed over the years.  At the least this blog will stay up until my eventual ordination . . . which might be an appropriate time to bid farewell to The Lutheran Zephyr.

Discernment and deliberations to be continued . . .