Meanwhile at Church of the Mother Hen - December 7, 2019
(* means not the real name)
When Garrison Keillor was on the radio, I loved it when he told stories about the pastor and the people of the Lutheran Church in Lake Wobegon. They are a fictional lot, but they are also highly familiar. Pastor Liz is always trying to sooth ruffled feathers and the congregation is very change-resistant. But while Keillor had a sense of humour about them, you could also tell that he deeply loved this all too human community.
Being part of the Church of the Mother Hen* family is much like this – it is both inspirational and humorous. Sunday morning starts with being warmly greeted by our greeter Peter* – he is our greatest evangelist. Peter* gives the best hugs and warmest handshakes, and brings newcomers over to the Extravagant Welcome table. At the same time, he describes himself as atheist – it’s just that we “Henners” are the people he wants to be with. I love that it is stated on the Church of the Mother Hen website, the Facebook page, and in the bulletin – “No matter who you are, or where you are on life's journey ... you are welcome here!”
Pastor John* started the service with announcements. There was practically a Wal-Mart-Black-Friday-like scuffle for the microphone. Before moving into the service, John pointed to the Christmas tree – beautifully decorated. And he warned us that the people who find the tree a little crooked or who can see bare patches will be automatically signed up for trimming the tree next year. And then he said those magical words as he lit a candle… “No matter who you are, or where you are on life's journey ... you are welcome here!” Makes me think of Mr. Roger’s Neighbourhood.
On this first Sunday of Advent, Laur and I had a special part to play in the service. We got to be First and Second Reader for the lighting of the Hope candle. Pastor Mary* brought us to the back of the church to explain how things would be done. One of us was listening intently; the other was hugging a new friend who has been struggling with health issues of late. Laur said to me, “Did you get that?!” I gave my Irish Setter look (you know, a few fries short of a Happy Meal) and Mary was more than happy to repeat the directions. Laur said, “I’ll fill her in.”
Which he tried to. We were to remain at the back of the church with a lantern (?) and to process in when the choir was almost finished singing a response. I took off like a jack rabbit and Laur grabbed my arm and said, “Slow down!” What he was thinking was “What part of ‘processing in’ don’t you get?!”
We both had lines. I was Reader One and Laur was Reader Two. Reader One was to light the Hope candle while Reader Two read his last few lines. Church of the Mother Hen has the fire-starter from Hades. You have to have the grip strength of a behemoth to get it to light. I had to use both hands. And then the wick of the Hope candle was super short. So I had to stand there for a while, looking like I was trying to torch the Nativity scene. Finally it took. Phew!
Our worship leader this day was a super tall lad. No sense trying to adjust the microphone – he just pointed the microphone straight up. (I was thinking “Way, way up…” like the Friendly Giant. Canada’s answer to Mr. Rogers.) Thankfully he has a loud voice. He himself is a retired Lutheran pastor. When we say we’re an inclusive church, we’re not kidding. We’ll even take Canadian Mennonites! (Ahem!)
And then it was time for the Choral Anthem. I was practically wagging my tail when I knew it was time for the soprano – Martha* – to sing. And I wasn’t the only one. Martha has a Therapy Dog named Lauren who goes everywhere with her, including church. (This is the dog’s real name. Who names a dog Lauren? The group that rescued her. ) Lauren cannot resist standing up and wiggling when her best friend Martha sings. Did I mention that we are an inclusive church? And isn’t there a beautiful song that goes “All creatures of our God and King”?
The Gospel reading for this Sunday of Hope was a unusual choice from my point of view. It was from Matthew’s gospel and is often referred to as “A Thief in the Night!” Gentle Jesus pretty much yells at people – warning them to wake up! Laur leaned over to me and said with that old man’s whisper that can be heard clear to the parking lot, (except by old people… Whew!) “I think it’s just fine when Jesus gives people h*ll sometimes.” I whispered back to him in a voice he could not likely hear, “Please never say that from the pulpit.”
Not surprisingly Pastor John took a hopeful approach to this reading. I won’t try to repeat the sermon because I’ll get it all wrong. The Irish Setter in me has a short attention span. Also, Sunshine stories are not sermons. But two of the points he made I remembered without writing them down. (Note to Jan: bring a pen next time.)
One was a quote from Mark Twain. “Let us endeavor to live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.” MT was a Presbyterian – I repeat, we are very inclusive.
The other point was that our bucket list – since we do not know how much time we have left – ought to be a “values and good works” bucket list. What are the ways you can change how you interact with others? (Be less of a j*rk.) What are the things you can do right now to fulfill your calling(s)? Time is not on our side. We are mostly seniors at Church of the Mother Hen.
Time for our communion hymn. All of a sudden our Director of Music, Paul*, leapt up from his seat in the front row and joined the choir and started singing swiftly and passionately. I asked him later about that and he told me that this hymn was originally composed for harp and was to be sung strongly. Paul is a devout Anglican. Did I mention our inclusivity?
Now I know Communion is a very solemn time, but I cannot help but smile at one aspect. Our church uses individual cups that we are to put into a bowl nearby when we are finished. While the taking of the bread is done as a community, the taking of the grape juice is done individually. There are theological reasons for this that I won’t get into. Me, I always wait until the Pastors and Servers partake, but others actually follow instructions. A little too well. Across the congregation you hear this “clunk, clunk, clunk, quiet, clunk, clunk, quiet, clunk, clunk, clunk” as the glasses are set down.
Our closing hymn was very bouncy. “Toda la tierra espera al Salvador” (All earth is hopeful; the Savior comes at last!) My dour Scot husband thought it was just a little too happy. Me, I felt like I’d been given my marching orders. One of the lines is “Almost here! God is nearing, in beauty and grace! All clear every gateway, in haste, come out in haste!”
The last line in the Order of Service is “The Community Scatters” and we certainly do! There is Fellowship Hour, Adult Study, events to sign up for, missions to support, people to visit with and and and … Laur and I normally stay in our seats for the Postlude. We love the music, yes, but we also like to avoid the rush-hour-like crush of parishioners making their way here, there, and everywhere.
Garrison Keillor is reported to have said, “Going to church no more makes you a Christian than standing in a garage makes you a car." And I agree with this, but I also think there are a lot worse ways to spend one’s Sunday mornings. I always sit in the front pew – and hubs is kind enough to accompany me. I don’t want to miss a thing…
* names changed
When Garrison Keillor was on the radio, I loved it when he told stories about the pastor and the people of the Lutheran Church in Lake Wobegon. They are a fictional lot, but they are also highly familiar. Pastor Liz is always trying to sooth ruffled feathers and the congregation is very change-resistant. But while Keillor had a sense of humour about them, you could also tell that he deeply loved this all too human community.
Being part of the Church of the Mother Hen* family is much like this – it is both inspirational and humorous. Sunday morning starts with being warmly greeted by our greeter Peter* – he is our greatest evangelist. Peter* gives the best hugs and warmest handshakes, and brings newcomers over to the Extravagant Welcome table. At the same time, he describes himself as atheist – it’s just that we “Henners” are the people he wants to be with. I love that it is stated on the Church of the Mother Hen website, the Facebook page, and in the bulletin – “No matter who you are, or where you are on life's journey ... you are welcome here!”
Pastor John* started the service with announcements. There was practically a Wal-Mart-Black-Friday-like scuffle for the microphone. Before moving into the service, John pointed to the Christmas tree – beautifully decorated. And he warned us that the people who find the tree a little crooked or who can see bare patches will be automatically signed up for trimming the tree next year. And then he said those magical words as he lit a candle… “No matter who you are, or where you are on life's journey ... you are welcome here!” Makes me think of Mr. Roger’s Neighbourhood.
On this first Sunday of Advent, Laur and I had a special part to play in the service. We got to be First and Second Reader for the lighting of the Hope candle. Pastor Mary* brought us to the back of the church to explain how things would be done. One of us was listening intently; the other was hugging a new friend who has been struggling with health issues of late. Laur said to me, “Did you get that?!” I gave my Irish Setter look (you know, a few fries short of a Happy Meal) and Mary was more than happy to repeat the directions. Laur said, “I’ll fill her in.”
Which he tried to. We were to remain at the back of the church with a lantern (?) and to process in when the choir was almost finished singing a response. I took off like a jack rabbit and Laur grabbed my arm and said, “Slow down!” What he was thinking was “What part of ‘processing in’ don’t you get?!”
We both had lines. I was Reader One and Laur was Reader Two. Reader One was to light the Hope candle while Reader Two read his last few lines. Church of the Mother Hen has the fire-starter from Hades. You have to have the grip strength of a behemoth to get it to light. I had to use both hands. And then the wick of the Hope candle was super short. So I had to stand there for a while, looking like I was trying to torch the Nativity scene. Finally it took. Phew!
Our worship leader this day was a super tall lad. No sense trying to adjust the microphone – he just pointed the microphone straight up. (I was thinking “Way, way up…” like the Friendly Giant. Canada’s answer to Mr. Rogers.) Thankfully he has a loud voice. He himself is a retired Lutheran pastor. When we say we’re an inclusive church, we’re not kidding. We’ll even take Canadian Mennonites! (Ahem!)
And then it was time for the Choral Anthem. I was practically wagging my tail when I knew it was time for the soprano – Martha* – to sing. And I wasn’t the only one. Martha has a Therapy Dog named Lauren who goes everywhere with her, including church. (This is the dog’s real name. Who names a dog Lauren? The group that rescued her. ) Lauren cannot resist standing up and wiggling when her best friend Martha sings. Did I mention that we are an inclusive church? And isn’t there a beautiful song that goes “All creatures of our God and King”?
The Gospel reading for this Sunday of Hope was a unusual choice from my point of view. It was from Matthew’s gospel and is often referred to as “A Thief in the Night!” Gentle Jesus pretty much yells at people – warning them to wake up! Laur leaned over to me and said with that old man’s whisper that can be heard clear to the parking lot, (except by old people… Whew!) “I think it’s just fine when Jesus gives people h*ll sometimes.” I whispered back to him in a voice he could not likely hear, “Please never say that from the pulpit.”
Not surprisingly Pastor John took a hopeful approach to this reading. I won’t try to repeat the sermon because I’ll get it all wrong. The Irish Setter in me has a short attention span. Also, Sunshine stories are not sermons. But two of the points he made I remembered without writing them down. (Note to Jan: bring a pen next time.)
One was a quote from Mark Twain. “Let us endeavor to live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.” MT was a Presbyterian – I repeat, we are very inclusive.
The other point was that our bucket list – since we do not know how much time we have left – ought to be a “values and good works” bucket list. What are the ways you can change how you interact with others? (Be less of a j*rk.) What are the things you can do right now to fulfill your calling(s)? Time is not on our side. We are mostly seniors at Church of the Mother Hen.
Time for our communion hymn. All of a sudden our Director of Music, Paul*, leapt up from his seat in the front row and joined the choir and started singing swiftly and passionately. I asked him later about that and he told me that this hymn was originally composed for harp and was to be sung strongly. Paul is a devout Anglican. Did I mention our inclusivity?
Now I know Communion is a very solemn time, but I cannot help but smile at one aspect. Our church uses individual cups that we are to put into a bowl nearby when we are finished. While the taking of the bread is done as a community, the taking of the grape juice is done individually. There are theological reasons for this that I won’t get into. Me, I always wait until the Pastors and Servers partake, but others actually follow instructions. A little too well. Across the congregation you hear this “clunk, clunk, clunk, quiet, clunk, clunk, quiet, clunk, clunk, clunk” as the glasses are set down.
Our closing hymn was very bouncy. “Toda la tierra espera al Salvador” (All earth is hopeful; the Savior comes at last!) My dour Scot husband thought it was just a little too happy. Me, I felt like I’d been given my marching orders. One of the lines is “Almost here! God is nearing, in beauty and grace! All clear every gateway, in haste, come out in haste!”
The last line in the Order of Service is “The Community Scatters” and we certainly do! There is Fellowship Hour, Adult Study, events to sign up for, missions to support, people to visit with and and and … Laur and I normally stay in our seats for the Postlude. We love the music, yes, but we also like to avoid the rush-hour-like crush of parishioners making their way here, there, and everywhere.
Garrison Keillor is reported to have said, “Going to church no more makes you a Christian than standing in a garage makes you a car." And I agree with this, but I also think there are a lot worse ways to spend one’s Sunday mornings. I always sit in the front pew – and hubs is kind enough to accompany me. I don’t want to miss a thing…
* names changed