You know that age-old question people always ask home schoolers?
Yes you do. Everyone knows it, even if you think you don't.
"Wow! Do you get to go to school in your pajamas?"
Today, in our house the answer is "yes."
I decided to start a new family tradition today. On days when the high temperature will not reach 20 degrees F, we will not get dressed until noon.
It's nice actually. Nice and warm.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Seven Swords, Spells of Beauty, and the White Witch
My husband says I ripped apart Prince Caspian a bit too thoroughly. That being said, I liked Dawn Treader better than he did. Maybe it's like my sis-in-law says: when you expect less, you aren't as disappointed. After Caspian, I was definitely expecting less.
In my opinion, the movie actually stayed closer to the original story. Not like the first one, of course, but better than the second. Most of the major elements of the book were there, although in a rather unexpected order with odd combinations here and there. I wasn't too excited about the Lone Islands. Governor Gumpas was non-existent, and the weird "everybody go into hiding so you won't be sold into slavery or sent at a sacrifice to the un-explainable green fog out there" town was sort of...well...wierd. (What is with the green fog?)
The dragon was well done, although not well explained, so if you haven't read the book, you'd better do so before watching or you'll never get the dragon part. The end of the world was awesome! Very little was changed about it (except there's no lamb), and I love that Aslan still says he goes by another name in our world. That part kind of made up for some of the other humanistic Disney-ish philosophy Aslan spouts earlier in the movie. (You must conquer the evil that is in yourself, blah, blah, blah).
Speaking of dragons, Eustace was great! I don't think they could have made his character any better for the movie. The ship was good, very Narnian, and I loved the way they had the children go through the picture frame, even though it wasn't quite the same as in the book. Aslan's table and the sleeping lords was very good, but I so wanted to see the birds bring Ramandu the fireberry, and there wasn't even any Ramandu. But Ramandu's daughter is there and she is a blue star that they follow to Ramandu's island, so how does she wind up marrying Caspian?
The Dufflepuds were well done for the most part, but I was not happy with their very short appearance, and there is no humor attached to them like in the book. They could have almost been left out of the movie and you wouldn't miss them. The golden pool was good, and for once there is actually a reason for Edmund's and Caspian's constant antagonism towards each other (albeit through that un-explainable green fog again). (I think it would have been more convincing if they'd been good friends the rest of the time and only went after each other at the golden pool. But in the end, they make their peace, and call each other brother, so I guess all's well that ends well.)
There were a few minor annoyances, like Reep is too small and they didn't quite get his character right (a carry-over from Caspian, I'm sure since I seem to remember absolutely detesting the mice in Caspian). Drinian is overly negative, almost a trouble-maker, and I was quite disappointed with his character (or lack thereof). Caspian again mentions that he's in love with Susan. (Where have we heard that before?) And they have to drag Peter and Susan into the story some way, even though they don't go to Narnia. I guess they have to set the scene somehow, but why can't WWII just be over at some point in time? It's still dragging on here in the third story. Oh, and they have to have some snow, (right?) because it's a Christmas release, so they create some even though there isn't any in the original. And the water people are perfectly pointless, and really kind of confusing.
So much for minor annoyances (I'm sure that wasn't all, but it's a good overview). Now for the big stuff:
1. Caspian sets out to find the seven lords. So far so good. But it's as if for the sake of a post-modern audience who can't understand that kind of loyalty or commitment, they have to give you some better reason than just searching for Caspian's father's long-lost friends. So they create this weird green fog that is never really explained except that it's somehow connected with Dark Island, that surfaces near the Lone Islands to take the boatloads of sacrifices sent out to it and somehow mysteriously transport them to Dark Island where they are apparently held in limbo indefinitely. In order to dispel the evil magic, those on board the Dawn Treader must find the seven swords of the Narnian lords and lay them at Aslan's table on Ramandu's Island. So since Narnia doesn't possess enough magic of it's own, we must invent some more for it to keep our audience happy.
2. And we mustn't forget the other purpose of the green fog. When it's not eating whole boatloads of people, it keeps busy by tempting others. Lucy is tempted to say the beauty spell, Edmund is tempted to take the White Witch's power, and Caspian is tempted not to believe in himself all by means of the green fog. Lucy's spell of beauty is really disappointing. I don't even know what to say about it and all the nonsense Aslan says about it. The scene was really strange and confusing, as if Lucy ceases to exist when she says the spell, and then Aslan just says a bunch of eastern mystic-sounding things. But there is nothing about the other spell Lucy says where she eavesdrops on her friends at school.
3. Oh, yes, and the green fog is the main medium through which the White (or should we say Green) Witch contacts Edmund. When Edmund points out that she's supposed to be dead, she responds, "You can't kill me." Which begs the point that Edmund wasn't the one to kill her. Aslan was. So is she saying that Aslan can't kill her? I mean, really?
Then there are some things they left out that I was disappointed about. I really wanted to see the nightmares at Dark Island, but they are replaced by the sea serpent instead. And I was totally unprepared for them to just suddenly be at the end of the world with none of the lead-up about the sweet water and the wonderful sunlight. When Reep says the water's sweet, it's like he just randomly comments on it, with none of the euphoria that is present at that point in the book. I already mentioned missing the birds, fireberries, and Ramandu.
As far as the battle with the sea serpent goes, I'll have to leave others to make up their own minds about that, because I can't decide whether I like it or not. I really liked the BBC version of that battle, and this was quite different, but passably good, maybe.
And with that, I am done with my critique of the Dawn Treader. And I might actually not mind owning this one.
In my opinion, the movie actually stayed closer to the original story. Not like the first one, of course, but better than the second. Most of the major elements of the book were there, although in a rather unexpected order with odd combinations here and there. I wasn't too excited about the Lone Islands. Governor Gumpas was non-existent, and the weird "everybody go into hiding so you won't be sold into slavery or sent at a sacrifice to the un-explainable green fog out there" town was sort of...well...wierd. (What is with the green fog?)
The dragon was well done, although not well explained, so if you haven't read the book, you'd better do so before watching or you'll never get the dragon part. The end of the world was awesome! Very little was changed about it (except there's no lamb), and I love that Aslan still says he goes by another name in our world. That part kind of made up for some of the other humanistic Disney-ish philosophy Aslan spouts earlier in the movie. (You must conquer the evil that is in yourself, blah, blah, blah).
Speaking of dragons, Eustace was great! I don't think they could have made his character any better for the movie. The ship was good, very Narnian, and I loved the way they had the children go through the picture frame, even though it wasn't quite the same as in the book. Aslan's table and the sleeping lords was very good, but I so wanted to see the birds bring Ramandu the fireberry, and there wasn't even any Ramandu. But Ramandu's daughter is there and she is a blue star that they follow to Ramandu's island, so how does she wind up marrying Caspian?
The Dufflepuds were well done for the most part, but I was not happy with their very short appearance, and there is no humor attached to them like in the book. They could have almost been left out of the movie and you wouldn't miss them. The golden pool was good, and for once there is actually a reason for Edmund's and Caspian's constant antagonism towards each other (albeit through that un-explainable green fog again). (I think it would have been more convincing if they'd been good friends the rest of the time and only went after each other at the golden pool. But in the end, they make their peace, and call each other brother, so I guess all's well that ends well.)
There were a few minor annoyances, like Reep is too small and they didn't quite get his character right (a carry-over from Caspian, I'm sure since I seem to remember absolutely detesting the mice in Caspian). Drinian is overly negative, almost a trouble-maker, and I was quite disappointed with his character (or lack thereof). Caspian again mentions that he's in love with Susan. (Where have we heard that before?) And they have to drag Peter and Susan into the story some way, even though they don't go to Narnia. I guess they have to set the scene somehow, but why can't WWII just be over at some point in time? It's still dragging on here in the third story. Oh, and they have to have some snow, (right?) because it's a Christmas release, so they create some even though there isn't any in the original. And the water people are perfectly pointless, and really kind of confusing.
So much for minor annoyances (I'm sure that wasn't all, but it's a good overview). Now for the big stuff:
1. Caspian sets out to find the seven lords. So far so good. But it's as if for the sake of a post-modern audience who can't understand that kind of loyalty or commitment, they have to give you some better reason than just searching for Caspian's father's long-lost friends. So they create this weird green fog that is never really explained except that it's somehow connected with Dark Island, that surfaces near the Lone Islands to take the boatloads of sacrifices sent out to it and somehow mysteriously transport them to Dark Island where they are apparently held in limbo indefinitely. In order to dispel the evil magic, those on board the Dawn Treader must find the seven swords of the Narnian lords and lay them at Aslan's table on Ramandu's Island. So since Narnia doesn't possess enough magic of it's own, we must invent some more for it to keep our audience happy.
2. And we mustn't forget the other purpose of the green fog. When it's not eating whole boatloads of people, it keeps busy by tempting others. Lucy is tempted to say the beauty spell, Edmund is tempted to take the White Witch's power, and Caspian is tempted not to believe in himself all by means of the green fog. Lucy's spell of beauty is really disappointing. I don't even know what to say about it and all the nonsense Aslan says about it. The scene was really strange and confusing, as if Lucy ceases to exist when she says the spell, and then Aslan just says a bunch of eastern mystic-sounding things. But there is nothing about the other spell Lucy says where she eavesdrops on her friends at school.
3. Oh, yes, and the green fog is the main medium through which the White (or should we say Green) Witch contacts Edmund. When Edmund points out that she's supposed to be dead, she responds, "You can't kill me." Which begs the point that Edmund wasn't the one to kill her. Aslan was. So is she saying that Aslan can't kill her? I mean, really?
Then there are some things they left out that I was disappointed about. I really wanted to see the nightmares at Dark Island, but they are replaced by the sea serpent instead. And I was totally unprepared for them to just suddenly be at the end of the world with none of the lead-up about the sweet water and the wonderful sunlight. When Reep says the water's sweet, it's like he just randomly comments on it, with none of the euphoria that is present at that point in the book. I already mentioned missing the birds, fireberries, and Ramandu.
As far as the battle with the sea serpent goes, I'll have to leave others to make up their own minds about that, because I can't decide whether I like it or not. I really liked the BBC version of that battle, and this was quite different, but passably good, maybe.
And with that, I am done with my critique of the Dawn Treader. And I might actually not mind owning this one.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Thoughts
I love flying. I love the thrill of take-off, the view of the ground from above, trying to pick out landmarks, the sight of clouds underneath, trying to guess the exact moment when the wheels will touch down. And seat mates are always an adventure.
She was already there when I boarded, sitting in the aisle seat. I had the window. Younger than me, she wasn't exactly beautiful, but certainly a far cry from ugly. She was military, stationed at the local base, flying home to Virginia for a month of holiday. She owned a Kindle, Ipod, and Iphone. And she flies on board awac planes for a living. She could care less about the flight or me.
He was an older man, probably in his sixties. We shared a three-seat row. Nice. Space for stuff. He took the aisle. I took the window. His voice was quiet, so when he tried to joke, I didn't get it because I couldn't hear him over the noise of the plane. Once we reached New England though, he really got animated. We discussed what we could see out the window. He grew up in Boston, coming home to visit his brother. He's lived in California and Arizona, but he's tired of the desert. Maybe he'll move to Montana. Boston gets too much snow. (And I'm wondering if Montana gets less.) He loves U.S. history. So do I. We talk. Should have talked before. The flight would have gone faster.
They got on after me; an older couple with their dog in a carrier. I had the window again. She made him sit in the middle because she thought she'd have to get up during the flight. I tried to help her with her spilled coffee, dog, carry-on, etc. They were heading for Ft. Lauderdale to spend the winter. Summer home in Boston. I'm feeling a little bit out of my league. They're very polite, but not really interested. As they get off, we kindly wish each other good trips to our respective destinations.
He was quiet, no talking at all in the beginning. But pretty soon it came out that he's a soldier. Coming home from the Middle East. He didn't say where. No uniform. He says he's "incognito." The other soldiers on the plane got special treatment because they had theirs on. (One of them even gets moved to 1st class.) He calls his wife after we board to tell her we'll be on time. Calls his sister after we touch down to tell her he's home. It's raining as we come in over the city, but he's as excited to see all the landmarks as I am. Maybe more. Says he hasn't seen rain in a long time. For the first time the whole trip, I feel guilty for having the window seat.
People are so interesting to watch, to study. On the street, in the sidewalk cafe, on the subways and buses of Boston, Harvard, downtown, the North End. Tourists, college students, residents. They're all different. All have their own stories to tell if we will pay attention and listen.
She was already there when I boarded, sitting in the aisle seat. I had the window. Younger than me, she wasn't exactly beautiful, but certainly a far cry from ugly. She was military, stationed at the local base, flying home to Virginia for a month of holiday. She owned a Kindle, Ipod, and Iphone. And she flies on board awac planes for a living. She could care less about the flight or me.
He was an older man, probably in his sixties. We shared a three-seat row. Nice. Space for stuff. He took the aisle. I took the window. His voice was quiet, so when he tried to joke, I didn't get it because I couldn't hear him over the noise of the plane. Once we reached New England though, he really got animated. We discussed what we could see out the window. He grew up in Boston, coming home to visit his brother. He's lived in California and Arizona, but he's tired of the desert. Maybe he'll move to Montana. Boston gets too much snow. (And I'm wondering if Montana gets less.) He loves U.S. history. So do I. We talk. Should have talked before. The flight would have gone faster.
They got on after me; an older couple with their dog in a carrier. I had the window again. She made him sit in the middle because she thought she'd have to get up during the flight. I tried to help her with her spilled coffee, dog, carry-on, etc. They were heading for Ft. Lauderdale to spend the winter. Summer home in Boston. I'm feeling a little bit out of my league. They're very polite, but not really interested. As they get off, we kindly wish each other good trips to our respective destinations.
He was quiet, no talking at all in the beginning. But pretty soon it came out that he's a soldier. Coming home from the Middle East. He didn't say where. No uniform. He says he's "incognito." The other soldiers on the plane got special treatment because they had theirs on. (One of them even gets moved to 1st class.) He calls his wife after we board to tell her we'll be on time. Calls his sister after we touch down to tell her he's home. It's raining as we come in over the city, but he's as excited to see all the landmarks as I am. Maybe more. Says he hasn't seen rain in a long time. For the first time the whole trip, I feel guilty for having the window seat.
People are so interesting to watch, to study. On the street, in the sidewalk cafe, on the subways and buses of Boston, Harvard, downtown, the North End. Tourists, college students, residents. They're all different. All have their own stories to tell if we will pay attention and listen.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Boston
Boston was fun. It was beautiful, fall weather the first day, the leaves were gorgeous (if just a bit past their prime). I walked more than I've walked in a very long time: all over Harvard, and almsot the entire Freedom Trail (the only thing I missed was Bunker Hill). And that's not to mention walking to the cafe half a mile away every morning for breakfast, at least a mile every night for supper, and almost a mile to get to the nearest T stop. I toured the Longfellow House, the Massachusetts State House (capitol building) and the Old North Church. Saw the USS Constitution, Paul Revere's House, and the Make Way for Ducklings statue. Walked through Boston Commons and imagined it full of Washington's troops, took a picture of the tombstone of the lady who inspired Hawthorne's Hester Prynn, heard a new Longfellow poem I'd never read before ("All houses wherein men have lived and died are haunted houses"), ate swordfish and cod at South Market, and saw Fanuil Hall at least once every day.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Imperfect
She's the perfect home school mom. One of several support group leaders, a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, actively involved, a veteran of homeschooling. Her four or five children (still haven't figured out exactly which ones belong to her) are all bright, well-accomplished students. The oldest boy plays the violin...beautifully. At a birthday party we both attended, she clipped coupons while visiting. She breastfeeds her 18-month-old. She's not just the perfect home school mom. She's the perfect Proverbs 31 woman. The epitome of what a wife and mother is supposed to look like.
Me? I'm a home school grad, an ex public school teacher, who doesn't understand my husband's mother tongue, trying (and often failing) to raise twins and their brother the best I know how.
She doesn't have twins. She has no idea.
I try and mess up and try again something different. I don't have this whole parenting thing down pat yet. I'm not sure I ever will.
She's had about ten years longer than me to get it figured out.
I don't always know what to do with my kids. When they don't want to play the game all the other kids are playing, I think "that's ok, right?" They have suddenly and inexplicably been thrown into a group of 25-30 kids that they haven't ever met before. Most of whom are older. All the younger ones have older siblings participating in the games. To me, it's understandable that they are hesitant, especially when the leader says we'll number off to make sure each team has an even number of players. And the girls realize they'll be split up that way.
They both want me to come with them. How can I pick one over the other? I say I can't. A2 doesn't want to play, so I say I'll just watch with him. Then they don't want to play either. Their little chins quiver when I say I want them to. Maybe I should make them, but I don't. It wouldn't do any good. They'd just cry the whole time, they wouldn't play, and we'd all come home miserable. And it would be awkward for the other kids. I tell them they can just watch. I'll watch with them. Maybe they'll see how much fun it is and want to do it next time.
But I'm not sure they will. The problem isn't that they don't think the game is fun. The problem is that they don't know any of those other kids, and they all seem to know each other. They're not being rebellious. They're just five years old and they're scared.
I tell them I'm going to help the other moms mark the finish line. They can sit and watch while I'm gone. I'm hoping that will help them want to play, if I'm not right there with them. It doesn't work. They all start crying about the time I get to the finish line. And then She points them over to me. I motion for them to join me. They all stand behind me like they're trying to hide.
She comes clear across the playing area straight to me. I'm thinking maybe she'll try to talk to them, try to get them to play.
Instead she looks at me.
"I see you have an attachment...." Her voice trails off. But I can see the last word on her face. She was going to say "problem."
I don't know what to say, so I find myself smiling, listening attentively, and then agreeing with her. And I hear myself explaining how they're not really used to being around this many kids they don't know because our church is small and they know all the other kids.
She smiles and moves on.
And I come home and wonder how to solve my "attachment problem." Because I'm not perfect like her.
Me? I'm a home school grad, an ex public school teacher, who doesn't understand my husband's mother tongue, trying (and often failing) to raise twins and their brother the best I know how.
She doesn't have twins. She has no idea.
I try and mess up and try again something different. I don't have this whole parenting thing down pat yet. I'm not sure I ever will.
She's had about ten years longer than me to get it figured out.
I don't always know what to do with my kids. When they don't want to play the game all the other kids are playing, I think "that's ok, right?" They have suddenly and inexplicably been thrown into a group of 25-30 kids that they haven't ever met before. Most of whom are older. All the younger ones have older siblings participating in the games. To me, it's understandable that they are hesitant, especially when the leader says we'll number off to make sure each team has an even number of players. And the girls realize they'll be split up that way.
They both want me to come with them. How can I pick one over the other? I say I can't. A2 doesn't want to play, so I say I'll just watch with him. Then they don't want to play either. Their little chins quiver when I say I want them to. Maybe I should make them, but I don't. It wouldn't do any good. They'd just cry the whole time, they wouldn't play, and we'd all come home miserable. And it would be awkward for the other kids. I tell them they can just watch. I'll watch with them. Maybe they'll see how much fun it is and want to do it next time.
But I'm not sure they will. The problem isn't that they don't think the game is fun. The problem is that they don't know any of those other kids, and they all seem to know each other. They're not being rebellious. They're just five years old and they're scared.
I tell them I'm going to help the other moms mark the finish line. They can sit and watch while I'm gone. I'm hoping that will help them want to play, if I'm not right there with them. It doesn't work. They all start crying about the time I get to the finish line. And then She points them over to me. I motion for them to join me. They all stand behind me like they're trying to hide.
She comes clear across the playing area straight to me. I'm thinking maybe she'll try to talk to them, try to get them to play.
Instead she looks at me.
"I see you have an attachment...." Her voice trails off. But I can see the last word on her face. She was going to say "problem."
I don't know what to say, so I find myself smiling, listening attentively, and then agreeing with her. And I hear myself explaining how they're not really used to being around this many kids they don't know because our church is small and they know all the other kids.
She smiles and moves on.
And I come home and wonder how to solve my "attachment problem." Because I'm not perfect like her.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Tonight's Devotions
After spending a couple of nights reading/talking about Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, tonight's assignment for the kids was to pretend they had travelled to Israel with the Queen and were returning to their home with the job of telling everyone there who hadn't gone (Mommy & Papi) what Solomon was like.
In preparation, Joe asked what they would do first when they got home from such a long journey. The answer? "Take off our shoes and play!"
A1 really got into the re-telling:
(Kids run in from hallway, all jumping up and down excitedly like the monopods on the island in the "Voyage of the Dawn Treader," which they continue through the entire story.) WE'RE HOME!!!!
Mommy: Welcome home! How was your trip?
Kids: Great!
Mommy: Did you see Solomon? What was he like?
A1: Yes! He was wearing a crown. It was made out of gold and silver.
Mommy: Wow! So he must be very rich!
Papi: He must have lots of money!
A1: Yes! And he was giving it out to everybody!
Mommy: Well, that's not very smart. Why would he give all his money away?
A1: Yes, he is smart! He is keeping some of it for himself, but he's giving the rest away.
Mommy: So you thought Solomon was pretty smart, huh?
A1: Yes.
Mommy: What did he do that made you think that?
A1: Well, when we got there, he was sleeping.
Mommy: Oh, so did he have a dream?
A1: No we crept into his bedroom and pitched our tents.
Mommy: You pitched your tents in his bedroom?
A1: NO! We pitched our tents OUTSIDE first!
(At this point, A2 demonstrates the tents by dropping suddenly to the floor and covering himself with his blanket.)
Papi: So did you ask Solomon any questions to see how smart he is?
J: Yes! We asked him LOTS of questions.
Papi: And did he answer them?
Girls: YES!
A1: I was smarter than him, so I helped him answer the questions.
Papi: How many questions did he answer?
A1: (stopping jumping and suddenly looking very serious) 25.
J: He answered them all!
A1: We stayed there for 20,000 nights, and he took us all over the whole country and it's PERFECT!
Papi: Is it flowing with chocolate and Coca Cola?
A1. No. They have Dr. Pepper and Coca Cola. Here, we brought you some. (handing out pretend drinks)
Moral of the Story: Don't feed a 5-year-old half a package of gummy bears before family devotions. Also, if A1 is telling you a story, that's probably just about all it is: a story. But no one can claim she has poor self-esteem.
In preparation, Joe asked what they would do first when they got home from such a long journey. The answer? "Take off our shoes and play!"
A1 really got into the re-telling:
(Kids run in from hallway, all jumping up and down excitedly like the monopods on the island in the "Voyage of the Dawn Treader," which they continue through the entire story.) WE'RE HOME!!!!
Mommy: Welcome home! How was your trip?
Kids: Great!
Mommy: Did you see Solomon? What was he like?
A1: Yes! He was wearing a crown. It was made out of gold and silver.
Mommy: Wow! So he must be very rich!
Papi: He must have lots of money!
A1: Yes! And he was giving it out to everybody!
Mommy: Well, that's not very smart. Why would he give all his money away?
A1: Yes, he is smart! He is keeping some of it for himself, but he's giving the rest away.
Mommy: So you thought Solomon was pretty smart, huh?
A1: Yes.
Mommy: What did he do that made you think that?
A1: Well, when we got there, he was sleeping.
Mommy: Oh, so did he have a dream?
A1: No we crept into his bedroom and pitched our tents.
Mommy: You pitched your tents in his bedroom?
A1: NO! We pitched our tents OUTSIDE first!
(At this point, A2 demonstrates the tents by dropping suddenly to the floor and covering himself with his blanket.)
Papi: So did you ask Solomon any questions to see how smart he is?
J: Yes! We asked him LOTS of questions.
Papi: And did he answer them?
Girls: YES!
A1: I was smarter than him, so I helped him answer the questions.
Papi: How many questions did he answer?
A1: (stopping jumping and suddenly looking very serious) 25.
J: He answered them all!
A1: We stayed there for 20,000 nights, and he took us all over the whole country and it's PERFECT!
Papi: Is it flowing with chocolate and Coca Cola?
A1. No. They have Dr. Pepper and Coca Cola. Here, we brought you some. (handing out pretend drinks)
Moral of the Story: Don't feed a 5-year-old half a package of gummy bears before family devotions. Also, if A1 is telling you a story, that's probably just about all it is: a story. But no one can claim she has poor self-esteem.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Ouch!
Thomas Aquinas, surnamed the angelical doctor, who was highly esteemed by Pope Innocent 4., going one day into the pope’s chamber, where they were reckoning large sums of money, the pope, addressing himself to Aquinas, said: "You see that the Church is no longer in an age in which she can say, Silver and gold have I none?" "It is true, holy father," replied the angelical doctor, "nor can she now say to the lame man, Rise up and walk!"
Clarke, A. (1999). Clarke's Commentary: Acts (electronic ed.). Logos Library System; Clarke's Commentaries (Ac 3:6). Albany, OR: Ages Software.
Clarke, A. (1999). Clarke's Commentary: Acts (electronic ed.). Logos Library System; Clarke's Commentaries (Ac 3:6). Albany, OR: Ages Software.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
So My Feet are a Little Slow
But they eventually get back to business.
"We should teach children, too, not to 'lean' (too confidently) 'unto their own understanding,' because of the function of reason is, to give logical demonstration (a) of mathematical truth; and (b) of an initial idea, accepted by the will. In the former case reason is, perhaps, an infallible guide, but in the second it is not always a safe one, for whether that initial idea be right or wrong, reason will confirm it by irrefragable proofs."
Yes, I had to look up "irrefragable." No, my spell check does not recognize it as a word. But I'm pretty sure I spelled it correctly.
There, I made it through the preface of Book 1. (There are 6.) This could take a while.
"We should teach children, too, not to 'lean' (too confidently) 'unto their own understanding,' because of the function of reason is, to give logical demonstration (a) of mathematical truth; and (b) of an initial idea, accepted by the will. In the former case reason is, perhaps, an infallible guide, but in the second it is not always a safe one, for whether that initial idea be right or wrong, reason will confirm it by irrefragable proofs."
Yes, I had to look up "irrefragable." No, my spell check does not recognize it as a word. But I'm pretty sure I spelled it correctly.
There, I made it through the preface of Book 1. (There are 6.) This could take a while.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Jumping in with Both Feet
I'm beginning to explore the ideas of Charlotte Mason, a turn-of-the-century British educator who has much to say about teaching children at home. Our current curriculum is based in her work, so I thought I should probably understand it.
"The child is a person with all the possibilities and powers included in personality."
"It stultifies a child to bring his world down to a 'child's' level."
"Education is a discipline...of habits formed definitely and thoughtfully, whether habits of mind or body."
"A child's mind is no mere sac to hold ideas; but is rather, if the figure may be allowed, a spiritual organism, with an appetite for all knowledge. This is its proper diet, with which it is prepared to deal, and which it can digest and assimilate as the body does foodstuffs."
"...Our business is, not to teach him all about anything, but to help him make valid, as many as may be of
'Those first born affinities,
'That fit our new existence to existing things.'"
I think I like this. But it's going to take a loooooong time to get through it all.
"The child is a person with all the possibilities and powers included in personality."
"It stultifies a child to bring his world down to a 'child's' level."
"Education is a discipline...of habits formed definitely and thoughtfully, whether habits of mind or body."
"A child's mind is no mere sac to hold ideas; but is rather, if the figure may be allowed, a spiritual organism, with an appetite for all knowledge. This is its proper diet, with which it is prepared to deal, and which it can digest and assimilate as the body does foodstuffs."
"...Our business is, not to teach him all about anything, but to help him make valid, as many as may be of
'Those first born affinities,
'That fit our new existence to existing things.'"
I think I like this. But it's going to take a loooooong time to get through it all.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
A2's Prayer
Dear God,
Please help me be good. Help L1 and Mommy and Opa. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. (I actually didn't count all the pops. But there was a longish pause between each one.) Help Allie get better. Give us a wonderful day. Amen. Pop. Amen.
Please help me be good. Help L1 and Mommy and Opa. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. (I actually didn't count all the pops. But there was a longish pause between each one.) Help Allie get better. Give us a wonderful day. Amen. Pop. Amen.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Random Breakfast Conversation
J: Mommy, do lions like to eat snakes?
Me: Not particularly, I don't think.
10 minutes later:
A: Mommy, if we ever have a real snake...
J: (Interrupting) OH! LET'S NOT HAVE A REAL SNAKE!!
A: Let's give it to a lion.
A: Mommy, I mean if Papi has a snake, I mean if he finds a snake outside, and he picks it up, I want him to find a lion and give it to the lion to eat.
J: OH, NO!
Me: The poor snake!
J: What if the lion eats Papi?
A: No! I mean a lion in a cage that's really close to the door where he can just hand him the snake through the door and the lion can't get him. Then we'll watch the lion eat the snake.
Me: Don't you think that would hurt the snake?
A: Yes.
~~~~~
Currently, J and A2 are "playing church." A2 is standing on the girls' bed (the top of the stage) playing his Wiggles guitar (turned off, of course) while J "runs the speakers" which are made out of A2's train trestles and the lid to his blocks box. And the song they're singing for "church?"
In the town where I was born
There lived a man who sailed the seas
And he told us of his life
In the land of submarines
We all live in a yellow submarine
Etc., Etc., Etc.
Me: Not particularly, I don't think.
10 minutes later:
A: Mommy, if we ever have a real snake...
J: (Interrupting) OH! LET'S NOT HAVE A REAL SNAKE!!
A: Let's give it to a lion.
A: Mommy, I mean if Papi has a snake, I mean if he finds a snake outside, and he picks it up, I want him to find a lion and give it to the lion to eat.
J: OH, NO!
Me: The poor snake!
J: What if the lion eats Papi?
A: No! I mean a lion in a cage that's really close to the door where he can just hand him the snake through the door and the lion can't get him. Then we'll watch the lion eat the snake.
Me: Don't you think that would hurt the snake?
A: Yes.
~~~~~
Currently, J and A2 are "playing church." A2 is standing on the girls' bed (the top of the stage) playing his Wiggles guitar (turned off, of course) while J "runs the speakers" which are made out of A2's train trestles and the lid to his blocks box. And the song they're singing for "church?"
In the town where I was born
There lived a man who sailed the seas
And he told us of his life
In the land of submarines
We all live in a yellow submarine
Etc., Etc., Etc.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Bedtime Prayers
After I prayed for J at bedtime tonight, I asked her if she'd like to pray too. She said yes. In order to prevent the perpetual "Dear God, thank you for our wonderful day. Please help us have a wonderful night," I tried to give her a direction for her prayer.
Me: Great! Who do you want to pray for, honey?
J: I want to pray for Allie to feel better.
Note: Allie seems to have been miraculously healed. But she's still at the top of both girls' prayer lists. As a matter of fact, she's about the only one on both girls' prayer lists.
Me: Ok, and who else?
J: I want to pray for someone who has a kid that is sick, but doesn't have enough money to go to the doctor.
Me: Ok, who is that?
J: I don't know. But I want to pray for them. Dear God, please help Allie feel better and help the person who has one or two or three kids who are sick but doesn't have any money to go to the doctor to be able to go to the doctor.
After sorting all of this out in my mind, I told her it was a good prayer.
Then it was A's turn.
Me: Who do you want to pray for?
A: I want to pray for the person who has sick kids and has money to go to the doctor, but doesn't have a car or a minivan or a motorcycle to be able to drive to the doctor, that He will go pick them up and take them there. Dear God, please help the person who doesn't have a car or a vinivan or a motorcycle that a taxi won't have to pick them up, but they can go to the doctor because they have the money and they can.
My brain is scrambled for the rest of the evening. But I was able to think clearly enough to realize that God can definitely use those prayers, even though they are for an un-named and unknown person at a possibly even un-defined period in time. Because God exists outside of our time limitations, He can take those prayers and turn them into messages of good. So far be it from me to discourage them from reaching out in prayer to someone they don't know. God give us all the faith of a little child!
Me: Great! Who do you want to pray for, honey?
J: I want to pray for Allie to feel better.
Note: Allie seems to have been miraculously healed. But she's still at the top of both girls' prayer lists. As a matter of fact, she's about the only one on both girls' prayer lists.
Me: Ok, and who else?
J: I want to pray for someone who has a kid that is sick, but doesn't have enough money to go to the doctor.
Me: Ok, who is that?
J: I don't know. But I want to pray for them. Dear God, please help Allie feel better and help the person who has one or two or three kids who are sick but doesn't have any money to go to the doctor to be able to go to the doctor.
After sorting all of this out in my mind, I told her it was a good prayer.
Then it was A's turn.
Me: Who do you want to pray for?
A: I want to pray for the person who has sick kids and has money to go to the doctor, but doesn't have a car or a minivan or a motorcycle to be able to drive to the doctor, that He will go pick them up and take them there. Dear God, please help the person who doesn't have a car or a vinivan or a motorcycle that a taxi won't have to pick them up, but they can go to the doctor because they have the money and they can.
My brain is scrambled for the rest of the evening. But I was able to think clearly enough to realize that God can definitely use those prayers, even though they are for an un-named and unknown person at a possibly even un-defined period in time. Because God exists outside of our time limitations, He can take those prayers and turn them into messages of good. So far be it from me to discourage them from reaching out in prayer to someone they don't know. God give us all the faith of a little child!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Stewarding Our Time - A New Perspective
Tonight our lesson was on putting God first in our lives, especially in the area of how much time we give to Him.
There were 3 boys present. No girls. Two boys are 12. One is 11. Two are home schooled. One goes to public school. Two are white. One is black. It was hilarious!
We played a game with a clock face that had different activities depicted on it, and hour/minute hands for spinners. Each player spun the hour hand and then discussed the particular activity it landed on. This is a synopsis of the funny parts:
Church: D1 spends 9 hours at church on Sunday. He plays drums the whole time. B spends 7 hours at church on Sunday because his mom practices that whole time with the worship team.
TV/video games/junk food: D1 spends all day every day eating junk food because he is allowed to eat anything he wants to during school. B only spends 2 hours a day watching TV, but reports that D2 spends at least 4 hours a day playing video games.
Chores: D1 spends 4 hours every night washing the dishes. When asked how washing dishes could possibly take 4 hours, he replied that he only washes 1 dish at a time and then goes to his room to play a video game or talk to some girls on the phone. Then he comes back to wash another dish. B and D2 both spend 3 hours every day cleaning their house. They have to clean half of their house and their sisters have to clean the other half. When asked how it could take 3 hours to clean half a [fairly small] house, B insisted I only asked such a question because I hadn't seen their house. I pointed out that if they cleaned their house every day, it shouldn't take 3 hours. Only if they only cleaned it every now and then, it might take 3 hours. At that point, he acknowledged that maybe they "get sidetracked some."
Bible reading/prayer: D1 sidestepped the question. B said 10 minutes. D2 said 3 minutes at night when he asks God to keep him from having nightmares. Then B and D2 remembered that they read 2-3 Bible chapters every day for school, so they changed it to 30 minutes. Ironically, later when I asked what they could do to do a better job of putting God first, all three immediately said God is already first, and they spend plenty of time with Him. Hmmm...I think we may have missed the point somehow.
School/homework: D1 claimed to spend 9 hours in school. I talked him down to a more reasonable 7 with lunch included. He does his homework in 10 minutes. B said he is in school all day and sometimes stays up until 3:00 AM to finish his homework. I don't remember D2's answer.
Sports/hobbies: D1 said 4 hours, and talking to girls on the phone seemed to be the major hobby. B said 3 hours, mostly playing outside. D2 said 3 minutes dribbling a basketball and sometimes playing soccer in the house, which he gets in trouble for.
Note: B's schedule adds up to approximately 21 hours of activities. I asked him when he sleeps. He said, "Oh, I'm a very poor sleeper."
And the most amazing quote of the evening? I asked near the beginning of class what they would be willing to give up for God. D1 said "I'd give up my clothes, if it was for a girl."
Which leaves me wondering why I am teaching this class of pre-pubescent boys and whether I am getting through. *Sigh*
There were 3 boys present. No girls. Two boys are 12. One is 11. Two are home schooled. One goes to public school. Two are white. One is black. It was hilarious!
We played a game with a clock face that had different activities depicted on it, and hour/minute hands for spinners. Each player spun the hour hand and then discussed the particular activity it landed on. This is a synopsis of the funny parts:
Church: D1 spends 9 hours at church on Sunday. He plays drums the whole time. B spends 7 hours at church on Sunday because his mom practices that whole time with the worship team.
TV/video games/junk food: D1 spends all day every day eating junk food because he is allowed to eat anything he wants to during school. B only spends 2 hours a day watching TV, but reports that D2 spends at least 4 hours a day playing video games.
Chores: D1 spends 4 hours every night washing the dishes. When asked how washing dishes could possibly take 4 hours, he replied that he only washes 1 dish at a time and then goes to his room to play a video game or talk to some girls on the phone. Then he comes back to wash another dish. B and D2 both spend 3 hours every day cleaning their house. They have to clean half of their house and their sisters have to clean the other half. When asked how it could take 3 hours to clean half a [fairly small] house, B insisted I only asked such a question because I hadn't seen their house. I pointed out that if they cleaned their house every day, it shouldn't take 3 hours. Only if they only cleaned it every now and then, it might take 3 hours. At that point, he acknowledged that maybe they "get sidetracked some."
Bible reading/prayer: D1 sidestepped the question. B said 10 minutes. D2 said 3 minutes at night when he asks God to keep him from having nightmares. Then B and D2 remembered that they read 2-3 Bible chapters every day for school, so they changed it to 30 minutes. Ironically, later when I asked what they could do to do a better job of putting God first, all three immediately said God is already first, and they spend plenty of time with Him. Hmmm...I think we may have missed the point somehow.
School/homework: D1 claimed to spend 9 hours in school. I talked him down to a more reasonable 7 with lunch included. He does his homework in 10 minutes. B said he is in school all day and sometimes stays up until 3:00 AM to finish his homework. I don't remember D2's answer.
Sports/hobbies: D1 said 4 hours, and talking to girls on the phone seemed to be the major hobby. B said 3 hours, mostly playing outside. D2 said 3 minutes dribbling a basketball and sometimes playing soccer in the house, which he gets in trouble for.
Note: B's schedule adds up to approximately 21 hours of activities. I asked him when he sleeps. He said, "Oh, I'm a very poor sleeper."
And the most amazing quote of the evening? I asked near the beginning of class what they would be willing to give up for God. D1 said "I'd give up my clothes, if it was for a girl."
Which leaves me wondering why I am teaching this class of pre-pubescent boys and whether I am getting through. *Sigh*
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Taking Meditation Seriously
The last few weeks, our Pastor has been doing a Sunday evening series on meditation (on God's Word). Tonight he discussed different methods various people use to make meditation meaningful to them: journaling, singing, words of affirmation, etc. It was a good message.
One of the things he talked about was making up your own song to sing to God (based on Ephesians 5:19). This song would be something you make up and for His ears alone, unless you just want to sing it for others too for some reason.
I guess the girls were listening, too, albeit while they colored. When we got home tonight, they started dancing up and down the hallway singing. At first they were all singing at the same time, and it was really hard to understand them. But in the end, they worked out a system of taking turns with the singing while everybody danced. Even A2 had a turn.
I don't remember the exact words of their songs. They were far too long. But here is the gist of each, with some parts that stood out to me possibly a little more accurately worded than others.
A:We love you God, and we praise you for all the things you've done. You give us clothes and toys and food, and some love and some life and we love all those things. God, we love our toys, and we love food. And we praise you for grace. And we bless your holy name. Amen
J: God we love you and we love Mommy and we love Papi and we love our animals and our toys. But we love you more than anything or anybody. And we praise you more than anything. And we especially love dogs and cats. Amen.
A2: Mommy. Papi. Nana. Papa. God. Bless. Jesus. Amen.
One of the things he talked about was making up your own song to sing to God (based on Ephesians 5:19). This song would be something you make up and for His ears alone, unless you just want to sing it for others too for some reason.
I guess the girls were listening, too, albeit while they colored. When we got home tonight, they started dancing up and down the hallway singing. At first they were all singing at the same time, and it was really hard to understand them. But in the end, they worked out a system of taking turns with the singing while everybody danced. Even A2 had a turn.
I don't remember the exact words of their songs. They were far too long. But here is the gist of each, with some parts that stood out to me possibly a little more accurately worded than others.
A:We love you God, and we praise you for all the things you've done. You give us clothes and toys and food, and some love and some life and we love all those things. God, we love our toys, and we love food. And we praise you for grace. And we bless your holy name. Amen
J: God we love you and we love Mommy and we love Papi and we love our animals and our toys. But we love you more than anything or anybody. And we praise you more than anything. And we especially love dogs and cats. Amen.
A2: Mommy. Papi. Nana. Papa. God. Bless. Jesus. Amen.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Proof that it Really Is Cold
Just in case you hadn't already figured it out, it's cold. Really cold.
I have proof. We ate raclette tonight, and my ice didn't melt.
If you've ever had raclette before, you understand how strange that is. Normally you fill your glass to the brim 3 times with ice just to keep your beverage drinkably cool, since everything on the table is being heated like it's over the stove.
But we started eating 4 hours ago, and I just crunched up the last piece of ice from my glass. I only filled it up once.
Now you know it's cold.
I have proof. We ate raclette tonight, and my ice didn't melt.
If you've ever had raclette before, you understand how strange that is. Normally you fill your glass to the brim 3 times with ice just to keep your beverage drinkably cool, since everything on the table is being heated like it's over the stove.
But we started eating 4 hours ago, and I just crunched up the last piece of ice from my glass. I only filled it up once.
Now you know it's cold.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Wow!
I knew tonight would be a "wow" night last week when I read over the lesson and realized it was going to be on Joseph and Potiphar's wife. I was right.
I was really trying to gear it more towards resisting temptation in general, but that's a little hard to do given the particular Bible story we were discussing. They paid more attention tonight than they have all year. Sigh.
So here's my "wow" story. I started off by defining "temptation" (none of them knew what it was, and when I got done, they concluded it was "like peer pressure"). Then I asked them to each write down something you might be tempted to do and put it in a hat. We took turns taking a slip out of the hat, reading it, and then discussing why it was tempting and how we could avoid it.
The one I pulled out said, "try to commit adultery with someone's wife." Of course, they all tittered and thought that was hilarious and wanted to know who wrote it and all that. (And we hadn't even gotten to Mrs. Potiphar yet.) So I tried to make it a little more relevant to them by turning it into a boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I asked what they would say to someone who was being tempted to sleep with their boyfriend/girlfriend.
I should have known better.
I really should have known better.
These kids don't see anything wrong with that. Anything. At all.
The answer? I've never heard that boy talk so softly before. In this kind of low, trembly voice, he says, "Come on, Baby!"
~~~~~
Despite the inauspicious beginnings, we did manage to have a relatively productive evening, although I was dismayed to note that most of the things I mentioned as being temptations to sin they didn't see anything wrong with. We closed with a time of prayer, and all agreed to pray for each other through the week to resist temptation. I guess it was a step in the right direction. I just never really considered having to address moral impurity as a children's pastor. Guess I'd better start considering it real quick.
I was really trying to gear it more towards resisting temptation in general, but that's a little hard to do given the particular Bible story we were discussing. They paid more attention tonight than they have all year. Sigh.
So here's my "wow" story. I started off by defining "temptation" (none of them knew what it was, and when I got done, they concluded it was "like peer pressure"). Then I asked them to each write down something you might be tempted to do and put it in a hat. We took turns taking a slip out of the hat, reading it, and then discussing why it was tempting and how we could avoid it.
The one I pulled out said, "try to commit adultery with someone's wife." Of course, they all tittered and thought that was hilarious and wanted to know who wrote it and all that. (And we hadn't even gotten to Mrs. Potiphar yet.) So I tried to make it a little more relevant to them by turning it into a boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I asked what they would say to someone who was being tempted to sleep with their boyfriend/girlfriend.
I should have known better.
I really should have known better.
These kids don't see anything wrong with that. Anything. At all.
The answer? I've never heard that boy talk so softly before. In this kind of low, trembly voice, he says, "Come on, Baby!"
~~~~~
Despite the inauspicious beginnings, we did manage to have a relatively productive evening, although I was dismayed to note that most of the things I mentioned as being temptations to sin they didn't see anything wrong with. We closed with a time of prayer, and all agreed to pray for each other through the week to resist temptation. I guess it was a step in the right direction. I just never really considered having to address moral impurity as a children's pastor. Guess I'd better start considering it real quick.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Overheard in a Restaurant
Diner 1: The bad thing about airplanes is when you run out of gas, you can't just stop at the next gas station to get some more.
Diner 2: (nodding in totally serious sympathetic agreement) Yeah, and then you crash.
Diner 2: (nodding in totally serious sympathetic agreement) Yeah, and then you crash.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
Tonight, after church, I came back into the sanctuary to get our stuff after everyone else was already out in other parts of the church. The platform lights were off, the candles blown out, but the room lights still glowed a dim yellow, and it was very quiet.
The smell of smoke from the candles lingered in the air, a holy smell, a smell from my childhood. I remember that smell mixed with the sweet scent of wine. The two go together in my mind, and they belong in a quiet sanctuary, a holy place, a very different place than the sanctuary tonight. But not so different:
Mom and her friend were washing communion dishes in the sacristy closet. The room lights in the sanctuary were off, and most of the people gone. The platform lights were still on, however, because they were not done with the altar. There were linens to be changed after the communion dishes were washed, the wine poured out on the ground, and the leftover wafers stored for the next communion service.
I was in the sanctuary on the platform. I could hear the quiet murmur of the women in the closet. And I could see the altar. It had lots of things arranged on it. As a child, I neither fully understand, nor attempted to understand their significance. As an adult, I am glad I had the experience. I am grateful that I understand.
As a 10-year-old, I thought the liturgy was boring, meaningless recitation. As a 29-year-old, I begin to appreciate the symbolism. Without variance, it became rote. But without symbolism, it becomes a religion of the mind only.
We worshipped with all our senses. From the black altar colors of Good Friday to the brilliant white and gold of Easter morning was a tremendous visual leap. The altar area was full of visual symbols. A large Bible was propped up and opened to a particularly meaningful passage. Two individual candles, the meaning of which I've forgotten sat on either side of it. Two candelabra on either side of the altar led upward by stair-steps. They were lit from the top down, to symbolize that God came down to us. The heavy solid metal Celtic cross sat in the middle of the altar, a reflection of the enormous stained glass window behind it, that was itself reflected again in the processional cross sitting to the right of the altar area. Above it hung the eternal flame. It never goes out, a constant reminder that God is always present with us. On either side of the altar were the special shelves for the two fresh flower arrangements that decorated the altar each Sunday. The heavy metal vases were empty. Last Sunday's flowers had been bought by a member of the congregation to commemorate a special event in their life, perhaps a child's birth, anniversary, or parent's death. After the service they were delivered to another church member in the hospital or shut in.
Stained glass windows ran down both sides of the sanctuary. Between them hung light fixtures that gave soft lighting during the sermon. The room lights were turned up during the rest of the service. Light was an integral part of our visual worship. The lights were dimmed on Christmas Eve, and candles were lit to symbolize the light Christ brought into a dark world. During Tenebrae on Good Friday, the various lights were gradually extinguished until all was left in complete darkness. But the eternal flame remained. Even in this darkness, God has not left us alone. On this night, all objects on the altar were covered by black veils, and the service took place after dark outside. On Easter morning, everything was lit and glistening, the veils removed, and all lights and candles lit.
The sounds of the organ, choir, flute, and piano lent a solemn or joyful auditory aspect to our worship, as the event required. The slow, somber chanting of Psalms prophesying the death of the Messiah melded with ancient hymns in a minor key on Good Friday: "Stricken, smitten, and afflicted, see Him dying on the tree. 'Tis the Christ, by man rejected. Yes, my soul, 'tis He, 'tis He." The Easter morning processional was accompanied by the majestic and victorious sounds of "Lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim 'til all the world adore His sacred name." The traditional German carols sung at Advent and Christmas time are still sung in our house, sometimes in two languages. "From Heav'n above to earth I come to bear good news to ev'ry home. Glad tidings of great joy I bring, whereof I now will say and sing." And we rejoiced in the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost with the words "Come, Holy Spirit. Dark is the hour. We need your healing, your love, and your might pow'r. Move now among us. Stir us, we pray. Come, Holy Spirit. Revive your church today."
I have never forgotten the music of the liturgy. There are many Bible passages I remember because I memorized them to music in the liturgy. "Our help is in the name of the Lord. Who made heaven and earth." Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." "Holy, holy, holy Lord God of Sabaoth. Heaven and earth are full of Thy glory. Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna in the highest. Blessed is He, blessed is He, blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord." "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace according to Thy word. For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people...."
There were other sounds as well. The strepitus, the sound of the closing of Christ's sepulchre in the darkness following Tenebrae, is probably the most memorable. The sound of the glass communion cups in their holders, the chimes the organ played during silent prayer, and of course the sound of the reading of Scriptures, singing of hymns, responsive reading, and preaching.
Flowers, smoke from candles, wine and grape juice, and the new wood of the ceiling all combined to produce a particular smell that I don't think I've smelled anywhere else.
Grape juice or wine, and communion wafers were obviously a vital part of worship. And communion was celebrated twice a month, with extras for certain church days, like Christmas (yes, we went to CHURCH on Christmas Day!) Easter, and New Year's Eve.
There were tactile ways to worship as well. The surroundings were rich, the carpet thick and soft, the pew pads soft, the pew backs smoothly polished. There was texture everywhere. Iron railings beside the lectern and pulpit, water in the baptistery, brick on the wall, rough stained glass pieces on the windows, banners and hangings on the altar and at the front of the church. The whole room was a study in texture. A feast for the eyes, but also for the hands. The offering plates were cold, gleaming brass. The Christmas Eve candles were warm, pliable wax. The hymnals with their satin bookmarks, the communion cups, the altar rail, the pencils and attendance cards. These were all things we touched.
But maybe more than any of these things, I remember the quiet. It was extraordinarily quiet during the service. Of course there were the normal rustlings that any large group of people will make, but there was no talking, whispering, very little coughing. Small children sat as quiet as the elderly through every service. I know. I was one. I remember the stillness of those services. We were coming before a holy God, and He deserved honor and solemn praise. Of course people visited in the sanctuary before and after the services, but once everyone had gone, the room took on a stillness. That was when I noticed things like the smell of smoke and wine. On Christmas Eve, the smoke hung so heavy from all those candles that my eyes would sometimes smart and sting. Poinsettias are somehow linked with that in my mind.
Yes, we worshiped with all our senses. So did the Children of Israel in the Old Testament. There were bells, horns, incense, blood, water, rich tapestries, perfume, candles, censors, bread, meat, smoke. John says even the disciples worshiped Jesus with their senses: "what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands..." (I John 1:1).
Today, I worshiped with a body of people I am honored to call my brothers and sisters. I raised my hands in awe of Almighty God (something I would never have dared in the solemnity of my previous church) as I sang, "My chains are gone, I've been set free!" I heard more than half (for once) of a sermon three times longer, and much more meaningful to me than anything there. I heard people saying "Yes. Amen!" throughout the message. I listened as a man stood up spontaneously in the service and testified to his freedom in Christ. And I felt privileged to be a part of it.
And yet I wondered how much we have missed by leaving behind the centuries-old traditions of the Church. Sometimes it seems as if our only tradition is to have no tradition at all. But how much fuller might our worship be if we used all our senses to accomplish it? Research overwhelmingly indicates that children learn best when all their senses are stimulated. I believe this carries over to adults as well. God made us sensory creatures, and somehow when we use all of our God-given senses, we partake more fully. And speaking of children, how can we expect them to want to know and understand a God who requires them to sit still and quiet for an hour listening to adults sing and talk? A religion of the mind alone will not work for those to whom Christ said the Kingdom of Heaven belongs.
A liturgy, the rites of the church, these are not requirements of faith. They are not indispensable. But they are accompaniments, aids, teaching tools. They leave strong impressions and lasting memories. And sometimes remembering the smell of smoke and wine makes me feel like smoke is in my eyes.
The smell of smoke from the candles lingered in the air, a holy smell, a smell from my childhood. I remember that smell mixed with the sweet scent of wine. The two go together in my mind, and they belong in a quiet sanctuary, a holy place, a very different place than the sanctuary tonight. But not so different:
Mom and her friend were washing communion dishes in the sacristy closet. The room lights in the sanctuary were off, and most of the people gone. The platform lights were still on, however, because they were not done with the altar. There were linens to be changed after the communion dishes were washed, the wine poured out on the ground, and the leftover wafers stored for the next communion service.
I was in the sanctuary on the platform. I could hear the quiet murmur of the women in the closet. And I could see the altar. It had lots of things arranged on it. As a child, I neither fully understand, nor attempted to understand their significance. As an adult, I am glad I had the experience. I am grateful that I understand.
As a 10-year-old, I thought the liturgy was boring, meaningless recitation. As a 29-year-old, I begin to appreciate the symbolism. Without variance, it became rote. But without symbolism, it becomes a religion of the mind only.
We worshipped with all our senses. From the black altar colors of Good Friday to the brilliant white and gold of Easter morning was a tremendous visual leap. The altar area was full of visual symbols. A large Bible was propped up and opened to a particularly meaningful passage. Two individual candles, the meaning of which I've forgotten sat on either side of it. Two candelabra on either side of the altar led upward by stair-steps. They were lit from the top down, to symbolize that God came down to us. The heavy solid metal Celtic cross sat in the middle of the altar, a reflection of the enormous stained glass window behind it, that was itself reflected again in the processional cross sitting to the right of the altar area. Above it hung the eternal flame. It never goes out, a constant reminder that God is always present with us. On either side of the altar were the special shelves for the two fresh flower arrangements that decorated the altar each Sunday. The heavy metal vases were empty. Last Sunday's flowers had been bought by a member of the congregation to commemorate a special event in their life, perhaps a child's birth, anniversary, or parent's death. After the service they were delivered to another church member in the hospital or shut in.
Stained glass windows ran down both sides of the sanctuary. Between them hung light fixtures that gave soft lighting during the sermon. The room lights were turned up during the rest of the service. Light was an integral part of our visual worship. The lights were dimmed on Christmas Eve, and candles were lit to symbolize the light Christ brought into a dark world. During Tenebrae on Good Friday, the various lights were gradually extinguished until all was left in complete darkness. But the eternal flame remained. Even in this darkness, God has not left us alone. On this night, all objects on the altar were covered by black veils, and the service took place after dark outside. On Easter morning, everything was lit and glistening, the veils removed, and all lights and candles lit.
The sounds of the organ, choir, flute, and piano lent a solemn or joyful auditory aspect to our worship, as the event required. The slow, somber chanting of Psalms prophesying the death of the Messiah melded with ancient hymns in a minor key on Good Friday: "Stricken, smitten, and afflicted, see Him dying on the tree. 'Tis the Christ, by man rejected. Yes, my soul, 'tis He, 'tis He." The Easter morning processional was accompanied by the majestic and victorious sounds of "Lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim 'til all the world adore His sacred name." The traditional German carols sung at Advent and Christmas time are still sung in our house, sometimes in two languages. "From Heav'n above to earth I come to bear good news to ev'ry home. Glad tidings of great joy I bring, whereof I now will say and sing." And we rejoiced in the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost with the words "Come, Holy Spirit. Dark is the hour. We need your healing, your love, and your might pow'r. Move now among us. Stir us, we pray. Come, Holy Spirit. Revive your church today."
I have never forgotten the music of the liturgy. There are many Bible passages I remember because I memorized them to music in the liturgy. "Our help is in the name of the Lord. Who made heaven and earth." Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." "Holy, holy, holy Lord God of Sabaoth. Heaven and earth are full of Thy glory. Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna in the highest. Blessed is He, blessed is He, blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord." "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace according to Thy word. For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people...."
There were other sounds as well. The strepitus, the sound of the closing of Christ's sepulchre in the darkness following Tenebrae, is probably the most memorable. The sound of the glass communion cups in their holders, the chimes the organ played during silent prayer, and of course the sound of the reading of Scriptures, singing of hymns, responsive reading, and preaching.
Flowers, smoke from candles, wine and grape juice, and the new wood of the ceiling all combined to produce a particular smell that I don't think I've smelled anywhere else.
Grape juice or wine, and communion wafers were obviously a vital part of worship. And communion was celebrated twice a month, with extras for certain church days, like Christmas (yes, we went to CHURCH on Christmas Day!) Easter, and New Year's Eve.
There were tactile ways to worship as well. The surroundings were rich, the carpet thick and soft, the pew pads soft, the pew backs smoothly polished. There was texture everywhere. Iron railings beside the lectern and pulpit, water in the baptistery, brick on the wall, rough stained glass pieces on the windows, banners and hangings on the altar and at the front of the church. The whole room was a study in texture. A feast for the eyes, but also for the hands. The offering plates were cold, gleaming brass. The Christmas Eve candles were warm, pliable wax. The hymnals with their satin bookmarks, the communion cups, the altar rail, the pencils and attendance cards. These were all things we touched.
But maybe more than any of these things, I remember the quiet. It was extraordinarily quiet during the service. Of course there were the normal rustlings that any large group of people will make, but there was no talking, whispering, very little coughing. Small children sat as quiet as the elderly through every service. I know. I was one. I remember the stillness of those services. We were coming before a holy God, and He deserved honor and solemn praise. Of course people visited in the sanctuary before and after the services, but once everyone had gone, the room took on a stillness. That was when I noticed things like the smell of smoke and wine. On Christmas Eve, the smoke hung so heavy from all those candles that my eyes would sometimes smart and sting. Poinsettias are somehow linked with that in my mind.
Yes, we worshiped with all our senses. So did the Children of Israel in the Old Testament. There were bells, horns, incense, blood, water, rich tapestries, perfume, candles, censors, bread, meat, smoke. John says even the disciples worshiped Jesus with their senses: "what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands..." (I John 1:1).
Today, I worshiped with a body of people I am honored to call my brothers and sisters. I raised my hands in awe of Almighty God (something I would never have dared in the solemnity of my previous church) as I sang, "My chains are gone, I've been set free!" I heard more than half (for once) of a sermon three times longer, and much more meaningful to me than anything there. I heard people saying "Yes. Amen!" throughout the message. I listened as a man stood up spontaneously in the service and testified to his freedom in Christ. And I felt privileged to be a part of it.
And yet I wondered how much we have missed by leaving behind the centuries-old traditions of the Church. Sometimes it seems as if our only tradition is to have no tradition at all. But how much fuller might our worship be if we used all our senses to accomplish it? Research overwhelmingly indicates that children learn best when all their senses are stimulated. I believe this carries over to adults as well. God made us sensory creatures, and somehow when we use all of our God-given senses, we partake more fully. And speaking of children, how can we expect them to want to know and understand a God who requires them to sit still and quiet for an hour listening to adults sing and talk? A religion of the mind alone will not work for those to whom Christ said the Kingdom of Heaven belongs.
A liturgy, the rites of the church, these are not requirements of faith. They are not indispensable. But they are accompaniments, aids, teaching tools. They leave strong impressions and lasting memories. And sometimes remembering the smell of smoke and wine makes me feel like smoke is in my eyes.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Suck Up to Mommy
J: Mommy?
Me: Yes?
J: I love you.
Me: I love you too, Sweetheart.
J: Can I please have some candy?
Me: (laughing) What is this? Butter up Mommy so she'll give me candy day?
Me: Yes?
J: I love you.
Me: I love you too, Sweetheart.
J: Can I please have some candy?
Me: (laughing) What is this? Butter up Mommy so she'll give me candy day?
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