Saturday morning a small group of us went for a walk before breakfast. Over breakfast the topic of where we planned on attending church Sunday morning came up. Two of the members of the group were heading to Trinity Washington, and the other two of us asked if we could go with them. Plans were made, and off we went to start our individual days.
Yesterday morning Barbara, Joyce, Maxine, and I climbed into Anita's car for the drive into the District. We left an hour before the service "just in case" (or as my family says, "the bridge might be up"). It was a good choice. We took a wrong exit off of 395 and ended up seeing parts of Washington we hadn't planned on seeing. The Siri sounded quite cross at times, and we joked that we'd be in trouble if we heard Siri say "Do not cross the Jordan River. Make a u-turn and go back to the Wilderness." We arrived at Trinity 15 minutes before the service started.
An usher handed us each a bulletin, and several people said good morning as we headed down to the front of the church to find seats. The rector stopped by to greet us, as he and Anita have known each other for a while, and I worked with him last month when the parish's young adult volunteers had their beginning of the year retreat at the seminary.
The church was full by the time the service started. High church? Not only did they use incense, I observed dalmatics and tunicles on various members of the altar party. This parish is also one of the very few I've visited where the copies of Lift Every Voice and Sing are more used than my at former parish in Connecticut.
A lot happened during the service. They were auditioning the last organist candidate, and the choir did not do well masking their opinions. There was a baptism. They installed the new officers of their Episcopal Church Women chapter. It was Ministries Sunday. And the Peace was fairly lengthy. The service went on for almost two-and-a-half hours, though it never felt like it was dragging. Well, the announcements, which came between the Peace and the Offertory, took longer than they should have. Three people got up and talked about Saturday's parish picnic. Definitely a lot going on!
The other thing they did during announcements was to ask newcomers/visitors to stand and introduce themselves. They even passed the mic around to do it. Three of our group didn't stand, but the rector came over and made a point of having us introduce ourselves because of the connections that already existed. I will say it again. This is not always the best way to identify or welcome visitors.
I saw something new to me. A cup sat on each of the patens used for distributing the bread. It took me a moment to realize that the cups held wine, and they were used for intinction when the clergy placed the intincted wafer on the communicant's tongue. it also took a moment for me to see that there were also chalices. I probably would have been better off receiving an intincted wafer. The Eucharistic minister spilled wine on me. It happens sometimes. I've done it myself.
On the surface, this congregation isn't any more diverse than any of the others I've visited since I've been here. But a closer look reveals that the members come from several different African countries and the Caribbean. There is a small number of Anglos. They also have a wide variety of age groups, though I did not see many teenagers.
We spent a few minutes at the Ministry Fair and then headed out to find something to eat. Siri didn't get too annoyed with us, since we didn't make any wrong turns. We ended up at La Madeleine in Old Town.
I really enjoyed visiting Trinity. It has a lot to offer. But I still have a list of churches I want to visit, especially now that Summer is over.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Saturday, September 15, 2012
The Yankee Goes to A Football Game
My friends Kellee and Bob are big sports fans. All of their kids participated in sports, and they follow college and professional teams in a number of sports. Their youngest is a freshman at a small college that is fielding it's first football team since 1929. So when Kellee asked me earlier in the week if I'd like to go to a high school football game with them last night, I figured why not. I'd spend some time with friends, and I'd have some time off the Hill (more about that at a later time).
An unexpected late afternoon meeting threw a wrench into my plans to run some errands for the Guest Houses and then head over to Kellee's and Bob's before the worst of the rush hour traffic. Instead, I hit the road at about 4:50 and took the local roads route. I'm slowly learning the ins and outs of navigating Alexandria and points west. Traffic wasn't as bad as it could have been, so I arrived in plenty of time. We went to dinner and then headed over to Annandale High School for the game.
The Annandale Atoms third game of the season was against the Jeb Stuart (tell me again that we're not in the South) Raiders. I actually had a good time. It's hard not to get caught up in the excitement of the game when you're sitting in the stands among parents and students. There were times when it seemed like the Atoms were scoring in spite of themselves. In the end, however, they won 32-27.
Of course, as flutist, I looked for the flutes. No flutes. Three piccolos. We had no piccolo player during my years at DHS. The first flutes usually ended up with the piccolo parts in the Sousa marches.
All in all I had a good time. I might even go again, if I'm invited.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
The Yankee Remembers
It's impossible not to know when this date rolls around. For days before, sometimes weeks, the media barrages us with stories and documentaries about that awful day 11 years ago. When I awoke this morning I noted, as did many others, that the weather was pretty much the same as it was 11 years ago, and that it was also a Tuesday. I'd overslept that morning, and as I got ready for work I heard the traffic report about a plane hitting one of the towers of the World Trade Center. Details were sketchy, and the reports of those first few minutes said nothing about a jet. I was on the way to work when I heard reports of the second plane. Immediately I knew it was no coincidence and no accident. Not long after that came the news of the plane hitting the Pentagon and eventually about the plane going down in Pennsylvania.
The company I worked for had temporary employees on assignment with companies in the Towers. Employees of our New York office watched helplessly from their conference room further uptown. When one of my friends emailed me that one of the Towers had collapsed. At first I thought he was kidding.
He wasn't.
It was days before we tracked down all of our employees assigned in the Towers.
It was days before I heard from people I knew at the Pentagon.
Each year on the anniversary the nation's attention focuses on what happened to and in the Towers. We hear surviors' stories and the stories of victim's families over and over again. We hear about the upcoming memorials around Ground Zero and across the country. Memorials from Ground Zero are televised. Throughout all of this comes the occasional afterthought.
Oh,yeah, one plane hit the Pentagon.
Oh, and there were those passengers who heroically fought their hijackers and kept their plane from hitting its intended target.
After 10 years of remembrances in the vicinity of New York City it is a different experience being literally less than six miles from the Pentagon on this 11th anniversary. The stories I hear are tinged with a sense of the panic people felt here that was very different from what people felt in New York City. There was a much greater sense of waiting for the next attack to come, which is understandable given the large number of military bases and offices in the Washington, DC metropolitan area. Not to mention federal offices, the Capitol, and the White House.
Yet even here, the majority of the media coverage focuses mostly on the events in New York City. The images of the Towers burning and collapsing are iconic. The empty field in Pennsylvania doesn't hold the same visual impact. Photos of the downed jet look much like any other air crash. The Pentagon was not catastrophically destroyed, and it was a military target as opposed to a civilian one.
Eventually the events of 11 years ago will fade into history and myth joining, among others, the attack on Pearl Harbor that occurred 71 years ago, the sinking of the Lusitania 97 years ago, and the sinking of the Maine 113 years ago. Like those events, the historical, social, and political contexts of 9/11 will be simplified or glossed over in our cultural retelling. Like those events, 9/11's primacy in our cultural memory will be replaced by some new catastrophe or attack.
Until then, we remember.
The company I worked for had temporary employees on assignment with companies in the Towers. Employees of our New York office watched helplessly from their conference room further uptown. When one of my friends emailed me that one of the Towers had collapsed. At first I thought he was kidding.
He wasn't.
It was days before we tracked down all of our employees assigned in the Towers.
It was days before I heard from people I knew at the Pentagon.
Each year on the anniversary the nation's attention focuses on what happened to and in the Towers. We hear surviors' stories and the stories of victim's families over and over again. We hear about the upcoming memorials around Ground Zero and across the country. Memorials from Ground Zero are televised. Throughout all of this comes the occasional afterthought.
Oh,yeah, one plane hit the Pentagon.
Oh, and there were those passengers who heroically fought their hijackers and kept their plane from hitting its intended target.
After 10 years of remembrances in the vicinity of New York City it is a different experience being literally less than six miles from the Pentagon on this 11th anniversary. The stories I hear are tinged with a sense of the panic people felt here that was very different from what people felt in New York City. There was a much greater sense of waiting for the next attack to come, which is understandable given the large number of military bases and offices in the Washington, DC metropolitan area. Not to mention federal offices, the Capitol, and the White House.
Yet even here, the majority of the media coverage focuses mostly on the events in New York City. The images of the Towers burning and collapsing are iconic. The empty field in Pennsylvania doesn't hold the same visual impact. Photos of the downed jet look much like any other air crash. The Pentagon was not catastrophically destroyed, and it was a military target as opposed to a civilian one.
Eventually the events of 11 years ago will fade into history and myth joining, among others, the attack on Pearl Harbor that occurred 71 years ago, the sinking of the Lusitania 97 years ago, and the sinking of the Maine 113 years ago. Like those events, the historical, social, and political contexts of 9/11 will be simplified or glossed over in our cultural retelling. Like those events, 9/11's primacy in our cultural memory will be replaced by some new catastrophe or attack.
Until then, we remember.
Monday, September 10, 2012
The Yankee Experiences Virginia Weather
Yesterday and today we've had our first taste of Fall weather, even though Fall doesn't officially start for another few days. After the past weeks of hot temperatures and high humidity it is a relief. It did not, however, come without cost.
Fortunately, I had the TV on Saturday afternoon while I puttering around the apartment taking care of chores. Shortly before 4:00 an Emergency Alert interrupted whatever was showing. I paused to see what it was for what areas. It wasn't the thunderstorm I could hear coming in rapidly from the west. It was a tornado warning of the seek immediate shelter kind. Having been raised by a mother who grew up in the Midwest and gone to colleges in the Midwest, I knew what to do without hesitation. I grabbed my flashlight/radio, cell phone, wallet, list of who's in the Guest Houses, and keys and headed for the bathroom in my office--ground floor with no exterior walls. I glanced out the office window as I headed into the bathroom and saw the rain start to go horizontal, which is never a good sign. Later I learned that the proctors moved students into the basements of the dorms while I was headed into my office.
The all clear came about 15 or 20 minutes later. Other than the funnel cloud sighted to the west of us, we had no tornado. Even where there had been one, there appears to have been no serious damage. There were lots of branches down, and the power was out. Shades of June's Derecho. Fortunately, the power came back on after a couple of hours.
As we've shared stories over the past couple of days, locals have said this is just part of weather in Virginia. Hurricanes, thunderstorms, tornadoes, and the occasional snowstorm. Fewer snowstorms than back home, but probably more hurricanes.
And let's not forget about earthquakes.
Nature happens. There isn't anything do do but be prepared. I know where to shelter. I know what to grab depending on how much time I have. I keep a shelf in the kitchen stocked with food that doesn't need to be cooked.
So the violent weather front passed through, and we're experiencing cooler temperatures and clear skies. Yesterday afternoon and this evening I opened my windows. It feels wonderful having fresh air in the apartment. I should sleep well tonight.
Fortunately, I had the TV on Saturday afternoon while I puttering around the apartment taking care of chores. Shortly before 4:00 an Emergency Alert interrupted whatever was showing. I paused to see what it was for what areas. It wasn't the thunderstorm I could hear coming in rapidly from the west. It was a tornado warning of the seek immediate shelter kind. Having been raised by a mother who grew up in the Midwest and gone to colleges in the Midwest, I knew what to do without hesitation. I grabbed my flashlight/radio, cell phone, wallet, list of who's in the Guest Houses, and keys and headed for the bathroom in my office--ground floor with no exterior walls. I glanced out the office window as I headed into the bathroom and saw the rain start to go horizontal, which is never a good sign. Later I learned that the proctors moved students into the basements of the dorms while I was headed into my office.
The all clear came about 15 or 20 minutes later. Other than the funnel cloud sighted to the west of us, we had no tornado. Even where there had been one, there appears to have been no serious damage. There were lots of branches down, and the power was out. Shades of June's Derecho. Fortunately, the power came back on after a couple of hours.
As we've shared stories over the past couple of days, locals have said this is just part of weather in Virginia. Hurricanes, thunderstorms, tornadoes, and the occasional snowstorm. Fewer snowstorms than back home, but probably more hurricanes.
And let's not forget about earthquakes.
Nature happens. There isn't anything do do but be prepared. I know where to shelter. I know what to grab depending on how much time I have. I keep a shelf in the kitchen stocked with food that doesn't need to be cooked.
So the violent weather front passed through, and we're experiencing cooler temperatures and clear skies. Yesterday afternoon and this evening I opened my windows. It feels wonderful having fresh air in the apartment. I should sleep well tonight.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
A Picture Tells a Thousand Words
Ding! Ding! Ding! That friend is one I met through my work at the Episcopal Church Center and has seen me primarily in the context of that work and during my long period of unemployment. The five year period? That’s about the time the first of the reorganizations went into effect at the Church Center, followed by three more reorganizations, the elimination of my position, and 16 months of unemployment. The amount of change that occurred during those five years left many of us who worked there with whiplash.
Change. Not long after I started working at the Church Center I visited a palm reader at one of the Renaissance Faires Rachel and I went to regularly. I held out my hands, and she gently pulled my thumbs away from the rest of my fingers. “You don’t handle change very well,” she said. Over the years I would stop and see her now and again. Each time she performed the same exercise, and over the years my hands became more and more relaxed. “You’re learning to handle change,” she’d say. Of course, handling all the change going on didn’t mean the stress of change disappeared. It took an emotional toll.
Then came the biggest change I’ve had to handle in a long time. I moved to Virginia to take a new job. In the space of three weeks I went from being asked to interview to accepting the position. From acceptance to starting I had 40 days to pack up my belongings and move. A lot of change in a very short amount of time.
When I went off to the University of Wisconsin-Madison I imagined that I would eventually end up at an academic institution, although as faculty. During the last bout of unemployment my outplacement counselor and I talked about possible options in the travel and hospitality field, though not at an academic institution. For many years my path looked as if I might end up at a seminary, but as a student. Now I am the Hospitality and Guest Residence Manager at Virginia Theological Seminary.
Which is amusing given all of the above but particularly in light of my decision last year to finally say to myself and to everyone else that I was DONE with the ordination process. The fact that I held off submitting completed paperwork for over a year was probably my biggest clue. It has felt very liberating to no longer be on that path. Yet I end up at a seminary. God does have a sense of humor.
So the picture tells the story of moving on, change, and new beginnings. It tells the story in ways words cannot. I'm rather enjoying this new chapter in my story. Can you tell?
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
The Yankee Starts a New Year
The calendar may say mid-August, but signs of fall have begun appearing. The days gradually grow shorter. On campus we see the first signs of the new school year. Juniors have arrived for Orientation and August Term, and returning middlers and seniors trickle back. The Fall Semester begins the Tuesday after labor Day. After years of unlearning the academic calendar, my new job has immersed me in it.
Although the methods of higher education show all the signs of adapting to new technology, the school year still begins in August or September and ends in May or June. Families buy new clothes and supplies. College students pack up their belongings. As long as residential schools exist we will probably continue to have the familiar academic calendar.
And so the new students begin the process of settling in and making the campus their own. Empty dorm rooms take on new personalities. A lone figure practices hurling (the sport, people, the sport!) on the Grove. Students sit on benches talking on their cell phones to friends or family back home or struggling with the unfamiliar alphabets of Greek and Hebrew. They trade their stories with the others with whom they will share the next two or three years of their lives. While the Seminary forms them, they also form the Seminary. Another generation in a long line.
But even here at the Seminary working within a changing church and changing world gradually expands the calendar, and for more than just than academics. As part of the Hospitality team I work with both internal and external groups plan and implement programs, meetings, and conferences held on our campus. How do we meet the needs of all of our constituents, both internal and external? How do those different groups interact and where? All of this while working within the context of the Seminary's mission.
However, the calendar says August. The new students have arrived. It must be the beginning of a new year!
Although the methods of higher education show all the signs of adapting to new technology, the school year still begins in August or September and ends in May or June. Families buy new clothes and supplies. College students pack up their belongings. As long as residential schools exist we will probably continue to have the familiar academic calendar.
And so the new students begin the process of settling in and making the campus their own. Empty dorm rooms take on new personalities. A lone figure practices hurling (the sport, people, the sport!) on the Grove. Students sit on benches talking on their cell phones to friends or family back home or struggling with the unfamiliar alphabets of Greek and Hebrew. They trade their stories with the others with whom they will share the next two or three years of their lives. While the Seminary forms them, they also form the Seminary. Another generation in a long line.
But even here at the Seminary working within a changing church and changing world gradually expands the calendar, and for more than just than academics. As part of the Hospitality team I work with both internal and external groups plan and implement programs, meetings, and conferences held on our campus. How do we meet the needs of all of our constituents, both internal and external? How do those different groups interact and where? All of this while working within the context of the Seminary's mission.
However, the calendar says August. The new students have arrived. It must be the beginning of a new year!
Sunday, August 12, 2012
A Visit to Hope United Church of Christ
I was not always an Episcopalian. My brother and I were baptized in the Episcopal Church, but my parents left the church for various reasons when we were very young. We grew up unchurched. I found my my own way to a church community during college. Rockford College, founded by the Congregational Church in 1847, has a UCC chaplain even though it is no longer affiliated with the denomination. When I went to grad school in Madison, Wisconsin, I joined First Congregational Church and remained a nominal UCC member after returning to Connecticut. I visited a few UCC churches but never found one that met my needs at that point in my life. Eventually I visited Grace at the invitation of a friend and rather quickly became an active member.
Since moving to Alexandria I've visited a number of the many Episcopal Churches in the city and the surrounding area. In the three-and-a-half months I've been here, I'd not seen a United Church of Christ church during my explorations. So this weekend I decided to see if I could locate one. The Internet is a wonderful thing, and I quickly found Hope United Church of Christ, which is a short drive south.
I arrived about 15 minutes before the service and found a parking lot in need of care and a church that looked like a large concrete box. However, the greeting at the door was warm, and I ended up with children's name tag because they couldn't find the regular visitors' tags. As the former Children's Ministries Officer, that worked for me. I entered the sanctuary to find lots of wood and movable pews. I was particularly struck the baptismal font that stood to one side of the table. A wood base served as a table for a white ceramic bowl and pitcher. I also saw a Pascal Candle standing in one corner.
By the time the 10:30 service started the sanctuary, which looks like it would hold about 100 worshippers, was about half full, including a dozen children. I was among the older people there; a very different experience than the churches I've visited so far. On the other hand, like all of the churches I've visited so far the congregation was overwhelmingly white. The church also lists itself as a "God is Still Speaking" and "Open and Affirming" church, so there was no doubt that I would be welcome there.
Their pastor is on vacation, so the Christian Education Minister led the service, which was preceded by the announcements. As today was the second Sunday of the month, the worship was what Episcopalians know as the Service of the Word. Communion takes place only on the first Sunday of the month. While all the elements are there, the order was a little different: the Call to Worship (Opening Sentences), a hymn, Prayer of Confession, Words of Assurance, Passing of the Peace, Proclaiming the Good News, Offering, Prayers, a final hymn, and finally the Benediction. The Children's Message, although based on the Gospel reading, came before the scripture readings. When it was done, the children went to Sunday School, and the adults remained for readings from the Gospel and the Epistle for the day. Another lay person gave the sermon.
The prayers were titled "Responding with Prayers, Actions, and Hopes", and were very much prayers of the people. Beginning with Joys and moving on to Concerns, people raised their hands, called on by the leader, and spoke briefly about their thanksgiving or request for prayers. The congregation was much more involved in the worship at Hope than in some of the UCC churches I've visited over the past few years. I found it interesting that this congregation uses the "trespasses" version of the Lord's Prayer, though the leader announces that everyone should pray in their own way.
In spite of the fact that they began the Lord's Prayer with "Our Father", this congregation has fully embraced the inclusive language movement. They use The New Century Hymnal along with a supplementary hymnal, which is in a notebook. So while the hymn tunes were familiar, I stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar, if greatly appreciated, wording.
The congregation also takes hospitality seriously. There were two other visitors in addition to me. I'm sure the other two also received personal invitations to join the meal (coffee hour) after the service, as all three of us went. People greeted us and engaged us in conversation, but no one pried or was pushy about possibly joining. They rate right up there with St. Clement's in terms of being a welcoming church.
Occasionally I feel the pull to revisit the UCC. First Congregational Church Madison, Wisconsin, or probably more accurately my memory of it, is pretty much the standard by which I judge other congregations of any denomination. But in terms of liturgy and most theology, I really am at home in the Episcopal Church.
Since moving to Alexandria I've visited a number of the many Episcopal Churches in the city and the surrounding area. In the three-and-a-half months I've been here, I'd not seen a United Church of Christ church during my explorations. So this weekend I decided to see if I could locate one. The Internet is a wonderful thing, and I quickly found Hope United Church of Christ, which is a short drive south.
I arrived about 15 minutes before the service and found a parking lot in need of care and a church that looked like a large concrete box. However, the greeting at the door was warm, and I ended up with children's name tag because they couldn't find the regular visitors' tags. As the former Children's Ministries Officer, that worked for me. I entered the sanctuary to find lots of wood and movable pews. I was particularly struck the baptismal font that stood to one side of the table. A wood base served as a table for a white ceramic bowl and pitcher. I also saw a Pascal Candle standing in one corner.
By the time the 10:30 service started the sanctuary, which looks like it would hold about 100 worshippers, was about half full, including a dozen children. I was among the older people there; a very different experience than the churches I've visited so far. On the other hand, like all of the churches I've visited so far the congregation was overwhelmingly white. The church also lists itself as a "God is Still Speaking" and "Open and Affirming" church, so there was no doubt that I would be welcome there.
Their pastor is on vacation, so the Christian Education Minister led the service, which was preceded by the announcements. As today was the second Sunday of the month, the worship was what Episcopalians know as the Service of the Word. Communion takes place only on the first Sunday of the month. While all the elements are there, the order was a little different: the Call to Worship (Opening Sentences), a hymn, Prayer of Confession, Words of Assurance, Passing of the Peace, Proclaiming the Good News, Offering, Prayers, a final hymn, and finally the Benediction. The Children's Message, although based on the Gospel reading, came before the scripture readings. When it was done, the children went to Sunday School, and the adults remained for readings from the Gospel and the Epistle for the day. Another lay person gave the sermon.
The prayers were titled "Responding with Prayers, Actions, and Hopes", and were very much prayers of the people. Beginning with Joys and moving on to Concerns, people raised their hands, called on by the leader, and spoke briefly about their thanksgiving or request for prayers. The congregation was much more involved in the worship at Hope than in some of the UCC churches I've visited over the past few years. I found it interesting that this congregation uses the "trespasses" version of the Lord's Prayer, though the leader announces that everyone should pray in their own way.
In spite of the fact that they began the Lord's Prayer with "Our Father", this congregation has fully embraced the inclusive language movement. They use The New Century Hymnal along with a supplementary hymnal, which is in a notebook. So while the hymn tunes were familiar, I stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar, if greatly appreciated, wording.
The congregation also takes hospitality seriously. There were two other visitors in addition to me. I'm sure the other two also received personal invitations to join the meal (coffee hour) after the service, as all three of us went. People greeted us and engaged us in conversation, but no one pried or was pushy about possibly joining. They rate right up there with St. Clement's in terms of being a welcoming church.
Occasionally I feel the pull to revisit the UCC. First Congregational Church Madison, Wisconsin, or probably more accurately my memory of it, is pretty much the standard by which I judge other congregations of any denomination. But in terms of liturgy and most theology, I really am at home in the Episcopal Church.
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