Acclimitised (stairs) - June 2015

The other day I was trotting down the stairs at work. This is a pretty dismal stairway, all closed off from the outside world by cement blocks dressed in grimy ochre paint, supported by steel handrails and accessible through metal fire doors- and where you have to have your ID to get out anyplace above the first floor. (Yes, I found that out the hard way.) When I'm in it, I fondly remember the stairs up to the Evaluation Center at WMU - all windows and light and oxygen. Several times when I've been in the stairway here, the lights have shut off when I'm halfway between floors. The first time it took me 3 floors of careful climbing before I realized there was a way to turn the lights back on.

Needless to say, they are not frequently used. When I'm in the staircase, I'm often the only one.

Because of the narrowness of the staircase, there's no way to see if anyone is above or below. But with all that cement and metal, you can certainly hear if someone else is in there with you. I've been back to climbing the stairs now that I'm mostly recovered from falling off my bike in Jan. On this day, I hopped on at Level 4 to go down and it sounded like all kinds of people were in the stairway. (I think it was probably 3 of us, total, across 12 levels of stairs.) I got down a level, and there was my friend and colleague Georgia (also a stair user) on her way up. We both laughed about all the footsteps echoing in the stairway, and she said, "It's like Bourke Street in here today." I laughed again, because this is what Bourke Street looks like:

And then I laughed some more because that was a total Melbourne joke and I got it!

Turns out laughter carries pretty well in that stairway, too.

Hymns and Home - June 2015

Ever since I finished seminary - well, basically after the first year of seminary - attending worship has been difficult for me. I am really particular about preaching. And I have high standards. Probably unrealistic, and the majority of the time, unmet.

This is because some of my best pals from seminary are really great preachers. And I wasn't half bad at it myself. By this point - almost 15 years after graduation, I'm accustomed to being disappointed by the preaching. I will often preach to myself, if the sermon is particularly terrible. Or I daydream. I mostly attend because I get to take communion. And I get to sing (loud), and there's usually more good theology in the hymns and liturgy than elsewhere in the service. I like how Lutheran (and other liturgical) worship is built so that even bad preaching won't stop you from getting a dose of the gospel.


Since moving to Australia, worship has been a bit of a moveable feast. Well, more like a lot of drive through. I go to a variety of different churches, irregularly. A catholic one in my neighborhood. I like the priest (and their former vicar helped move my TV cabinet), it's a large congregation so I can be anonymous, and they occasionally sing some good hymns. They have a worship band that is... genuinely enthusiastic. But no communion without risking the wrath of the Pope. There's an Anglican chapel on campus that has worship with a great choir (so great that the rest of us don't get to sing much). It is a small bunch, really friendly, but the pressure is on for fellowshipping - I can feel the weight of their dwindling, aging congregation on my shoulders when I attend. But I get to take communion. And their prayers and outlook match most closely with mine of any place I've been so far. And I got to sing Holy Holy Holy on Trinity Sunday. Then there's the uniting church, where the first time I attended I ended up in a Palm Sunday parade (complete with palm branches, drums and guitars) up the street to the Catholic church I sometimes attend for an ecumenical service. I felt like I was dating two guys, was out with one and ran into the other. They are definitely enthusiastic, but no liturgy to safekeep theology when the singing is everlasting choruses about Jesus is my boyfriend. Good worship band, tho.

And there's the Lutherans. This one is why I'm writing a blog for the first time in months. There's one congregation on the other side of the CBD (read: Melbourne downtown) from my place. It's a 20-25 minute trip by bike or car, so I don't go that often. But they occasionally have lovely Bach cantatas. So when I do go, it's all cognitive dissonance. They are literally singing setting 1 from the green ELCA hymnal - exactly. I can sing the whole liturgy without picking up the bulletin. The organist is fantastic - and people stay after to applaud just like at Trinity in Kalamazoo. They actually print the music in the bulletin (although not in 4 part harmony - but I can make up alternate parts) - most places nowadays just do words, which is a real bummer for a visitor who would like to sing but doesn't know the tune.

Here's the cognitive dissonance:

•  The first time I went, the whole sermon was about how we should be like the Apostle Paul. This did not resonate with me.
• On Easter there was no choir, no trumpets, nothing. I guess they use them all for Bach. That was a) weird and b) a total let down, I look forward to Easter worship all year. Plus Easter is in autumn here, which is also strange.
• The Lutheran Church in Australia is vigorously debating about whether women should be ordained. Today, the pastor was preaching on the text when Samuel anoints David - whose family had left him out with the sheep while they sat down to feast with the visiting prophet. Samuel had to ask if there was another son. The pastor preached on how God sees inside people, chooses the outsiders, everyone has gifts, yadda, yadda. I nearly died from an acute case of irony.

All of this is exacerbated by homesickness. Even though attending worship for the last 20 years of my life or so was occasionally exasperating, or outraging, or annoying, or unremarkable, it was always home. So when I sit in worship that has all the accoutrements of home, and feel completely an outsider - well, I'm usually crying by the end. At least with the Catholics I know I'm supposed to feel that way. Having now written this down, I realize it's no surprise I haven't been attending regularly anywhere. Work feels more like home than worship does. And things at work are the usual crazy, just like in the US.

There's a German Lutheran church in the city, but I haven't been. Maybe I'll be better off when I only understand 1 out of every 10 words they say.

So, to my friends who work in the ELCA and elsewhere. Thanks for being part of a church that is working hard to figure out what it means to be God's people in the world in all of its messy crazy, unpredictable ways, to welcome the stranger, and to make space for all to experience God's love. And sing good hymns. Loud. :^)

What's on for the weekend? - Feb 2015

Yesterday I went to the bank on my way home from work. I discovered there's a bank branch between my house and the tram, so I gave that a try. (I "came off" my bike a few weeks ago and have been tramming it while I recover.) The bank is in the entry of a giant hospital, and a tiny little place. I walked in, there were 2 tellers (one woman one man) at the tiny counter, and 3 other bank guys talking intensely to each other. The male teller smiled at me while the lady ignored me, so I obviously I went to his side of the counter. Cranky bank teller is not what I need last thing on a Friday of 12 hour work days.

As this 6'3, fit and healthy looking, 30ish year old, red hair and freckles, fresh faced, and married guy is doing the paperwork to deposit my check, he asked me what I had on for the weekend. This is typical casual conversation. I said not much, probably relaxing, might work a bit. Then there was the predictable lull... for some reason I feel a bit intrusive asking a person this question back, even though they just asked me the same thing. So this time I made myself ask, "What do you have on for the weekend?"

His face immediately was suffused with joy - he literally transformed before my eyes from friendly bank teller to some kind of angelic being.

I was thinking, "Perhaps his wife is giving birth to their first child?"

"I am going to sit on the couch and watch The Cricket Match all day on Saturday," he said. (Yes, I could hear the capital letters. And fortunately, I watch enough TV to understand that Australia is in the cricket world cup and this is A BIG DEAL. At least I think that's what he was referring to...)

"I thought it took more than one day for a cricket match," I said (feeling pleased that I knew this one small fact).

"Well, that's a different kind of cricket," he effused, "I could talk to you about this for hours, but I'll just say that this is the kind of cricket where a match just lasts one day."

"Huh."

"Watching cricket is my favourite thing. I could watch it for days. Once I took a week off of work just so I could watch the cricket. I spent the whole week on my couch, I ate what they ate, took breaks when they took breaks - it was the best vacation of my life."

I'm just going to give you time, dear reader, to let that sink in. The vacation, and his level of joy in said vacation.

Inconceivable and delightful to me. Without doubt, he was the happiest person I saw all week.

I am so glad I asked the question back. I'm still smiling from his spilled over joy today.
Perhaps I'll turn on The Cricket.