The Lutheran Zephyr 2.0

Resurrection Promise

Daddy, do you know my Bible story?  
I died, but Jesus raised me to life.
- Talitha Duckworth

For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.
Romans 6:5

We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.  Amen.
The Nicene Creed

When Jessicah and I had our first child we committed to giving Biblical names to all our children, as is a tradition for much of my wife’s extended family (and with a family of over 60 aunts, uncles, and cousins, most with Biblical names, we even have an Uncle Shem!).  But then we raised the stakes, and decided to give our children obscure Biblical names . . . names that wouldn’t show up on the Social Security Administration’s baby name website, a website which lists the top 1000 names for each year for the past 100+ years.  Our poor children with their obscure Biblical names will never find keychains or bicycle license plates printed with their names.  I’m sure they’ll thank us for this later . . . 

Our oldest child is named Talitha, from Mark 5:41.  Talitha is not a proper name, but rather the word for “little girl” in the ancient Aramaic language which Jesus spoke.  In this story (Mark 5:21-43) Jesus is summoned to heal Jairus’ daughter, who was sick.  Along the way to his house, however, Jesus is stopped by a sick woman who is also seeking healing.  Jesus is delayed, and by the time he resumes his trip to Jairus’ house, the little girl had died.

Jesus nonetheless continues on his journey, insisting that the girl is not dead but asleep.  Witnesses to her death laugh at Jesus, but he ignores them.  Jesus continues ahead, enters the house, and says, “Talitha cum,” which in Aramaic means, “little girl, get up.”  The girl rises from the dead.  This is the only instance of Jesus raising someone from the dead in Mark’s gospel.

And so from an early age we would teach this story to Talitha, reading it to her from her Children’s Bible.  Sure enough, she learned it, and retold it to me in this way:

“Daddy, do you know my Bible story?  I died, but Jesus raised me to life.”

But what’s more . . . when on internship I had to assist with a funeral, Talitha told me: 

“Daddy, it’s ok.  Jesus will raise that person back to life one day, just like he raised me to life.”

What makes me so proud is that my daughter figured out that this story is not just for her . . . not just for Talitha Duckworth, and not just for Jairus’ daughter some 2000 years ago, but rather it is a preview of what is promised . . . for all.  

This month we’re going to hear the great story of our Lord’s suffering, death and resurrection . . . a story proclaimed in word and music and framed by the great prayers and traditions of the church.  But please remember this: just as the raising of Jairus’ daughter is not just about her, so too is the Easter resurrection not just about Jesus.  This resurrection is for all.

Unlike my daughter, most of us can’t look to the Bible and find our name attached to a resurrection story.  But each and every Sunday when we walk past that baptismal font at the entrance to the church, we are reminded that in baptism not just our names - but our whole lives - are attached to Jesus’ resurrection.  What God did in Christ at the empty tomb, God also promises to do for us.

(Published in my congregation's April 2009 newsletter)

Children in Worship

Three years ago I wrote one of my favorite blog posts, Children in Worship.  It is a reflection on the role of children in worship written from my perspective as a first-pew sitting pastor's husband and father wrestling a 2 year-old in the pews.  A few months later, balancing a 3 year-old and a 6 month-old, I wrote another post, "Shame on You."  If at all you are interested in issues related to children in worship, please read these old posts and the wonderful comments that were given.  They serve as background for this current reflection.

I'm now a pastor, and am burdened not only with my own passions about children in worship, but also with my responsibility as a pastor to help foster a community that welcomes people of all ages to hear and live into the Gospel promiess.  From children's sermons to "Children's Church" (when children leave the nave during readings and sermon for a 20-minute children's program), to ways for children to meaningfully participate in and even lead worship . . . I'm thinking about these things in preparation for our next program year.

I'm not sure what I want programmatically - sermons or children's church or other activities for children in worship (in fact, we do different things at our two different services) - but I do know a few things:

1. I expect children in worship.
2. I want other worshippers to expect children in worship.
3. I want parents to know how to manage their children's noise levels, removing their children from the nave when necessary. 
4. I want other worshippers to put up with a reasonable amount of child noise (crayons falling on the pew, whispering, the ocassional but brief cry, etc.). 
5. I want congregations to make clear their perspectives on children in worship - whatever they might be - and to teach and re-teach these perspectives to worship leaders, parents, and the general membership. 
6. I want parents and congregations alike to take seriously the baptismal vows - which the parents made and which the congregation promised to support - of bringing the children to the Lord's house.

I know this is an amazingly broad question, but . . . but what are your thoughts on children in worship, not just philosphically, but logistically?  How do you answer these questions and how to you put these answers into practice?

All Alone It Was a Good Night, But . . .

Last night I had a relatively empty house: my wife is in Chicago, my daughters were with my mother at her nearby hotel (Mom/Nanny came down to visit for the weekend), and our au pair was in Virginia Beach.  So it was just me and Naaman, my 11 month old son. 

And it was great.

I was worried that with the hour change Naaman would wake up at around 4 or 4:30am, but he slept through until about 6.  And not once did he wake in the middle of the night.  And so I slept through the night, seven hours, restfully and peacefully, and showered before he even woke up.  It was as close to parental heaven as I've eperienced in a long time.

So why was Naaman so cooperative?  Why didn't he offer up his usual scream or whimper in the middle of the night, or his regular 5am wake-up call?  Of course, he may have screamed or whimpered, and I could have just slept through it.  But I don't think that's the case.  We had an empty house.  My kids all share one room, and last night there were no sisters to toss and turn and wake him.  Naaman had the room all to himself.  Our au pair is in the next room, and she keeps odd hours (perhaps to talk to friends and family in Thailand?), often awake and moving about in middle of the night.  But last night she was not there, either. 

So it was quiet a place last night, and Naaman slept from 7pm Daylight Savings Time to 6am Daylight Standard Time - 12 hours.  He's usually more of a 10 or 11 hour nightime sleeper.  This was beautiful.  Perhaps we should get rid of mommy, the sisters and au pair more often . . .

Of course not.  That would be rediculous.  As hard as it can be to live with family - their noise, their routines and habits, and their varrying needs - we need them.  Naaman needs his sisters and his mother.  Naaman's face lights up when he sees Ann (our au pair) in the mornings.  We are part of a family, and though an ocassional solitary night might be an unexpected boon, it leaves a gaping hole in our daily routine and a yearning for everyone to come back together.

I think of this, in part, as an analogy to church.  Sometimes it can be so tempting to go it alone, to ditch long-standing relationships, to seek to "start from scratch" and reject the "we've always done it this way" rigidness that happens when people get together and develop patterns of life together.  Sometimes - sometimes - I wonder if this is why some pastors start up their own, new churches, or walk away from their denomination and the often-complicated relationships and challenges of being in a denomination.  Can it be "easier" in one sense to just build a new church rather than work with an older, established church?  When people get together, when they live together - in a home or in a church, in daily life or in the worship and ministry life of a congregation - there are inevitable inconveniences and challenges. 

Getting away from those strictures might be nice at times, but it cannot be a long-term strategy.  We need each other - the patterns and (at times rigid) routines, the comfort and the inconveniences - that comes with being a Christian community.  Yes, we need each other, even if at times it wakes us up at odd hours of the night . . .

Life Gets in the Way of "Hope"

I've been pretty excited to blog chapter by chapter through NT Wright's Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church.  However, my initial plan to review a chapter every Monday and Thursday has run smack into the wall of life.  Since I first announced my intention to blog this book I have been unexpectedly busy with assignment/first call process happenings (no other details to share at this point); sending our oldest daughter to her first year in elementary school; going to the doctor's office a few times for our ear-infected 10 month-old; holding down the fort while my wife has made several visits to her sister who is pretty sick but getting better in a hospital about a hour from here; following the Phillies' run toward the post-season (thank God for XM Satellite radio that allows me to listen to the Phillies in Fairfax!); celebrating our oldest daughter's first lost tooth; frolicking outside on the first full days of fall; and then there's the tasks of church work; and so on . . .

For those of you who are reading along, I apologize.  The book blogging will return hopefully later this week.  But life has intervened, and as much as I enjoy this blog and this particular blog project, it takes a back seat to more important things, such as sick kids, pennant-race baseball, and a loose tooth.

The Holy Gospel according to my 5 year-old

Today my five year-old daughter Talitha, who is in her first full week of Kindergarten, demonstrated her understanding of the Gospel and the resurrection to me.  This all took place while we were walking home from school.

Tali: Do you know what the biggest rule at my school is?
Daddy: No, Tali, what is it?

Tali: (in stern voice) No pretend guns.  Because if we had pretend guns, someone could be cheating, and bring a real gun.  And then someone could get hurt.
Daddy: That's not good.

Tali: No.  But you know, Daddy, what I remember?
Daddy: What do you remember?

Tali: You know Jesus?  He died on the cross.  But then he rose again.  He lived.
Daddy: That's right, Tali.

Tali: And so, you know, if we died from a real gun, we would rise again.  Just like Jesus!
Daddy: That's right, Tali.  We will rise again.  That's good news.

Tali: You know how I remember that?
Daddy: How?

Tali: It's in my Bible we read at night.
Daddy: Yes, Tali.  Great job.  I'm glad you know all this.  And I'm glad you like to read your Bible.

If you ever needed a testimony to the power of daily reading the Bible with your children, here it is.  By the way, the Bible we use is the American Bible Society's Read and Learn Bible, published by Scholastic.  It is the best children's Bible I've ever seen . . .

My Brother on Exurban Development, on NPR

My brother, a land developer in the Philadelphia area, was featured in a National Public Radio report on Friday morning as part of a series on "The Urban Frontier" - The Exurbs: Houses, Cornfields, and Empty Lots [UPDATE: link fixed at 2:40pm.  I had originally inserted a link to next Sunday's Gospel text.  Oops!].  He did very well, and reporter Steve Inskeep offered a fairly balanced look at the issues involved in suburban development and the unique kind of development my brother and father offer - traditional neighborhood design, or new urbanism.

Take a listen!  For years I've been wanting to write a little piece about Traditional Neighborhood Design/New Urbanism from a Christian/Lutheran perspective.  Perhaps I'll start doing that on these pages in the coming days . . .

I Cried Like A Baby

Today I was Approved for Ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.  Upon hearing those words, I cried tears of joy and relief and thanksgiving.

More thoughts and reflections later.  After a nice dinner with my dad and step-mother, and a stop at FedEx-Kinkos to download the Diane Rehm Show on my iPod, it's time to make the 3-hour drive home.

I'm going to be a pastor in Christ's church.  I still can't quite believe it.

Lord, have mercy upon me.
Christ, have mercy upon me.
Lord, have mercy upon me.

Americans Eat A Lot Of WHAT?

** WARNING **

Some earthy language lies ahead.  Folks offended by earthy language should stop reading this now. 

** WARNING OVER **

Our new au pair arrived on Friday, and so far she has been wonderful (for an explanation of what an au pair is and why we have an au pair, click here).  She is from Thailand, and even though her English is pretty good, she has a fairly strong accent and a yet growing vocabulary.  One of my challenges has been understanding her very well, as my ear is attuned to Spanish accents (I speak Spanish) but not to Thai accents.

Today we ventured to the grocery store.  I was very conscious that most of what we found in the store was in boxes or plastic bags, quite different than the markets she frequents in Thailand to purchase fresh food.  As we were leaving the store, I heard her say to me, "Americans eat a lot of shit."  I was a bit surprised and taken back by her statement, but . . . judging by the McDonalds we ate last night on our way back from Baltimore (we got stuck in the storms and had to make a stop for the kids), the McDonalds we ate today at the Air & Space Museum, and the massive amounts of prepared, prepackaged food we just observed, I couldn't disagree with her.  Americans do eat a lot of shit.

After a few minutes I decided, however, that I had to tell her that "shit" is a bad word, definitely not a word to be spoken in front of the children.  "You are right to say that we Americans eat a lot of shit, but I need to tell you that shit is a bad word."  She looked at me really oddly.  After a few minutes of confused looks in both directions she pulled out an electronic dictionary and asked me to type the word I was trying to describe to her.

And so I typed it in: S-H-I-T.  She looked at the Thai script that appeared on the screen, turned beet red and then laughed.  "Oh no.  That's not what I was saying.  I would never say that.  Americans eat a lot of cheese, like on cheeseburgers." 

Cheese.  Not shit.  Americans eat a lot of cheese.  But we do eat a lot of shit, too.  We both had a good laugh.

It was a fun start to what we hope is a year of good laughs, eye-opening cultural exchange, loving childcare, and greater understanding of ourselves and our world.

A night at the ballpark with my daughter

Tonight was one of the best nights of my life - a night out with Tali, my 4 year-old daughter, at the ballpark.  It was my first ballgame of the year, and the first game Tali and I ever attended together without Mommy, grandparents, or other siblings.  Put simply - this was some serious Daddy and Tali quality time.

I was given two tickets to the Nationals vs. Pirates game tonight (yes, two of the worst teams in baseball right now).  Jessicah works late on Thursday nights, so I decided to take Tali with me to the game.  I left our other two children with a brave woman from church willing to take on Cana, our 1 year old, and Naaman, our 5 month old (she tells me the kids did great - either she's a great liar or the kids actually behaved!).

Tali and I first had to take a nearly one-hour Metro ride from our suburban enclave into the city.  We sang many rounds of "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" on the train (all apologies to those sitting around us), looked for people wearing Nationals' gear, and also pointed out anyone wearing Pirates' yellow and black.  She was slightly scared when the train went underground, but she got over it quickly.  We switched trains downtown, and she gleefully cheered, "We want Green!  We want Green!" as we waited for the green line train to arrive at our platform.

After the short ride on the green line, we rode a long escalator up to the street level at Navy Yard station.  As soon as we emerged from the station Tali looked left and saw the stadium.  "Whoa, that's awesome!" she said with her 4 year-old exaggerated expression.  As we walked down the road surrounded by Nats fans, she spontaneously started chanting in full voice, "Let's Go Nats!  Let's Go Nats!"  I'm so proud.

Well, my pride only grew when, at the top of the first inning, she started booing the Pirates.  What was great is that no one else was booing - after all this is Washington, not Philadelphia, and it was only the first inning! - but there is just something terribly cute about a 4 year-old girl alternating between booing and cheering.  She even inspired a fan sitting behind us to join us in cheering and booing.  Way to go!

We only watched about 2 1/2 innings of baseball - she's 4, after all.  We then walked around the stadium, I pointed out the Washington Monument and Capitol Building, and then we stumbled upon the playground.  Oh, the playground.  She LOVED the playground.  And I genuinely loved the playground, too, except for one thing - it might be the only part of the whole ballpark where I could neither see a video screen showing the game nor hear a play-by-play broadcast.  This design flaw is probably intentional - rather than pay attention to the game, we parents should be paying attention to our children who are in the play area.  But still . . . we're at a freaking ballgame!  Oh well.

As we were wrapping up at the play area, the Presidents and the Geico Gecko walked by.  For you who are confused, at every Nationals games mascots of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Teddy Roosevelt "compete" in a race (sponsored by Geico), and then make themselves available for photos and high fives with kids.  Tali and I went over, met the Presidents, and got our pictures taken (by one of their staff photographers - I need to go online Friday to see the photo).

After watching another inning of ball while we ate soft pretzels (at $4 each), we left after six innings and caught the Metro home.  Half way home on the Orange line, she fell asleep on my lap.  When we finally arrived at the Metro station we got into the van and turned on the radio - the Nationals won!  Tali said, "Yea, Nats!  Boo Pirates!"  And then she fell back to sleep.

What a great night.  Many thanks to the family from church who gave me the tickets.  Many thanks to the mom and her daughters who watched my little ones.  And many thanks to Tali for a great night.  I'll never forget it!

In Between Au Pairs

After the sudden and unexpected departure of our au pair late last month - who watched our baby full-time, our four year-old every afternoon, and helped out with the evening routine when either Jessicah or I were out of the house - we've had our hands full.  My work schedule has taken a beating - because I'm doing a lot more childcare, my days start later and end earlier than they had - but thanks to several moms and grandmoms from church, I've been able to put some time in at work while the kids are lovingly looked after.  Our new au pair - a 26 year-old young lady from Thailand - arrives next Friday.

Many folks don't understand the whole au pair thing.  An au pair "is a foreign-national domestic assistant working for, and living as part of, a host family" (from Wikipedia).  Structured as a cultural exchange program, the au pair provides childcare and child-related housekeeping for up to 45 hours/week.  In exchange, the au pair receives wages, room and board, six credit hours at a local university, and is included as part of the family for the year-long program.

Obviously, such an arrangement has its pluses and minuses.  But for us the pluses - childcare at a fraction of the cost of standard daycare and flexible scheduling (where else would you find someone to watch your children on Sunday morning or Christmas Eve?) - far outweigh the minuses (giving up a room in the house, losing some privacy, managing personal/cultural/childcare dynamics, etc.). 

My wife and I have three kids, we both work odd schedules outside the home, we live in a tiny townhouse, and we have very little money.  The au pair arrangement - far from perfect, far from ideal - is the best option we have for now.  Despite the challenges we had with our first au pair, we are cautiously optimistic about our new au pair.  I'll let you know . . .