Why The Church is Losing

As is our custom, my wife and I arrived at church about 10:25 am this morning, in anticipation of the 11:00 am worship service.  Our most excellent choir happens to practice their anthems in the nave at that time, and it is our habit to sit on the pew in the narthex to listen to their angelic singing.

At around 10:30, the first usher, Mr. J, came grumbling into view.

"Well, I guess it's hurry up and wait!  Just like in the Army.  They want us here at 10:30 am, but there's not a damn thing we can do until 10:45, when the choir is finished."  I think he may have addressed this to myself or my wife, but we both had our eyes closed so as to better focus on the voices of the choir.

Mr. J set to loudly jingling the change in his left trousers pocket, until another parishioner came up the stairs.
"Well, I guess it's hurry up and wait!  Just like in the Army.  They want us here at 10:30 am, but there's nothing we can do until 10:45, when the choir is finished. Heh heh."

The other parishioner also made no reply to Mr. J, but soon he had a third opportunity to make his little speech about the hardships of usher duty.  I believe that the third parishioner gave at least a grunt of acknowledgement in return.

As the choir concluded its rehearsal, it occurred to me why Christianity is losing traction in our culture.  It is Mr. J's fault.  Well, not just him, but those like him.  Those for whom fifteen minutes of standing in silence at the door to the nave to keep the choir from being interrupted is simply just TOO much to bear, an unthinkable burden.

Meanwhile, those whose religion makes them enemies of Christ are often willing to die for their religion.  I don't think you can defeat (or outpace) a religion whose adherents are wiling to die in its defense with one whose adherents think that showing up to church fifteen minutes early is in unspeakably horrible imposition.

Exothermic (Yet Another New Poem)

This morning, I wrote another poem for my wife.  This one is essentially intended as a "Nerd Remix" of the Song, "My Gal is Red Hot"  (see below).  I set two main rules for myself in writing this:  (1) I could not use the word "red"; and (2) I could not use the word "hot".

Exothermic

My gal is exothermic; yours is not.

Allow me to expand upon this thought:

She violates thermodynamic laws.

Her temperature would give Lord Kelvin pause.

She radiates both infrared and light,

And shimmers like a ruby in my sight.

Her aura is a bright photonic maelstrom

Of wavelength nearly 7000 Ångström.

Allow me to continue with my boast:

Her enthalpy of fusion is the most!

Her burning beauty your gal cannot touch.

(About her ΔS, I’ll not say much.)

My opening volley is my parting shot:

My gal is exothermic; yours is not!

© 2015, Paul W. Erlandson


Here is the song mentioned above:

Dividing By Zero (Another New Poem)

I've written another poem. This one, I'll dedicate to my wife Cindy (like most of them), but also to all the cool Math teachers everywhere.


Dividing By Zero 

To not divide by zero was the rule
My teacher taught in elementary school.
Upon you Something Bad must needs be wrought
The day you make denominators naught.

You cannot find that quotient if you try!
(She never would reveal the reason why.)
“It’s undefined,” she said, but what she meant
Was, “To define it, I’d need your Mom’s consent.”

She couldn’t speak of orgasms or anti-matter –
Too risqué the former, too arcane the latter.
And so she had no licit language to employ
In explanation of Divide By Zero joy.

But children do not stay in school forever,
So I went out with hot Numeric Fever,
Grabbing sundry numerators by the collar,
Dividing them by numbers smaller and smaller.

Until one day I divided my failure
By my wife’s negligible lack of valor.
We shot up like tan(x) at 1.57,
Far up off the graph, beyond the highest heaven.

So, all you grade school kids, don’t play the hero;
You must be THIS tall to divide by zero.


© 2015, Paul W. Erlandson

ACNA Archbishop Foley Beach says "Hey".

This is a big day in the life a humble Anglican layman such as myself.

There is an Orthodox Church Council happening in Atlanta, GA. A clergy friend of mine is attending. He texted me this, about bumping into a well-known Anglican there.

HOW COOL IS THAT?

July, 2015 Visit to Grace Church, Mt. Washington (Pittsburgh)

Who shall ascend into the hill of the LORD? * or who shall rise up in his holy place? 

Even he that hath All-Wheel Drive, and a stout motor; * and that hath not let his clutch foot to slip, nor sworn when his car hath rolled back at the stop sign.

Visiting my favorite Anglican parish church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania involves driving up a very steep hill on Sycamore Street.  And there is a stop sign for a cross street just at one of the steepest places.  So, when worshipping at Grace Church, Mt. Washington, it really does feel as if one is ascending into the hill of the Lord!

In fact, it feels as if one is being taken up into heaven.  And the reason for this is the best possible one:  that one actually is being taken up (if only for an hour or two) into heaven!

I've visited Grace Church before with my family, and it feels like heaven every time.  Everything about the church and its people makes us feel at home.  My visit today proved no exception to this rule.

I did make one mistake at the outset of this morning's worship, and that was not to grab hold of the little goldenrod sheet of paper that contained all of the Scripture readings, including the Psalm, which was chanted responsively.  But even this worked out for the best, since I had worn my voice out a bit on the processional hymn, and not having the Psalm in front of me gave my voice a needed break from singing, and the congregation a needed break from my voice!

The sermon, given by Fr. John Porter, focused on the Gospel lesson from St. Mark, the 6th Chapter.  It is St. Mark's account of the feeding of the five thousand.  At the reading of the Gospel, perhaps inspired by the amazing incense used at Grace Church, I noticed something about this story I'd never noticed before, and it was something rather comical.  Verses 31 through 33 tell the story:  

"And he said to them, 'Come away by yourselves to a lonely place, and rest a while.' For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. 

 And they went away in the boat to a lonely place by themselves.

 Now many saw them going, and knew them, and they ran there on foot from all the towns, and got there ahead of them."

How did I never notice this before, the comedy of it?  The Lord of the Universe is simply trying to get some rest from the ceaseless round of crowds coming to see him, and he is thwarted (by his own creatures) in even that.  It is as if God the Father allows his Son to be outwitted, in a sense.  As I visualized it through the cloud of incense, it seemed to me like something out of a comedic silent movie, like a scene in a Chaplin or Harold Lloyd film.  Jesus and the Apostles trying to make their getaway, but being thwarted by people from all the surrounding towns racing on foot to beat them there, so that there were 5000 men in the "lonely place" by the time they got there!

To borrow (and highly modify) a phrase from a Lightnin' Hopkins song, "Travel on the heel is faster than travel on the keel."  (What Hopkins actually said was, "Rubber on the wheel is faster than rubber on the heel.")

Fr. Porter's sermon made several good points about the Gospel story, which I won't go into here, but soon it was time to "ascend into the hill of the LORD" for the Lord's feast.  I probably shouldn't focus on details like this, but one thing that helps a person of weak faith such as myself is when I am allowed to receive more than just a few molecules of consecrated wine from the chalice, and today I was granted a nice large swallow.  (Perhaps there was the suspicion that I had a particularly large number of sins to be washed away, but I rather think that this generosity was shown to all.)  In my 25 years as an Anglican, I've encountered quite a few chalice bearers who seem to take is as their Prime Directive to give as little of the wine as possible to those receiving.  I've never understood this phenomenon.  But that was certainly not the case here.

I should mention that there was a guest organist today (I did not get his name) who did a very fine job!

The entire worship experience, from start to finish, was a complete joy.

After the service, a coffee hour was held in the undercroft, after which a truly special treat was in store.  For today's Adult Spiritual Formation class, we learned about Anglican priest and poet George Herbert from J. D. Wright, a scholar in the study of Herbert and the Metaphysical Poets.  This was not only a great and very informative session, but it was spiritually very moving as well.

I can hardly wait to come back and visit Grace Church, Mt. Washington again!

Perspective

A woman was sitting outside the front window of my gym this morning. She looked just like Michael Moore. She was at least 100 pounds overweight, and she chain smoked the entire 40 minutes she sat there. Every so often, she would take a swig from a bottle of soda pop. Several times, she glanced inside the gym to see what we meatheads were doing in there. 

So, I started composing a mental blog ... likening her situation to those who remain outside the church. All the solutions to her problems (well, at least the problem of looking just like Michael Moore) were just a few feet away. But she would not come and join us. 

And then, because I've done a lot of laps around the track of life, I realized that her occasional glances were not looks of admiration, but of pity. She pitied us because we were breathing recycled air under a steel roof and tangle of ventilation pipes, while she breathed the fresh morning air under God's own sapphire pavement. We listened to horrid pop tunes and watched a poker tournament on a small TV while she heard the songs of the birds and watched the sunrise. We looked forward to a half cup of dry oats and 5 oz of dry chicken breast, while she had clearly feasted on the richest food the earth can offer. Yes, in her tobacco-incense-filled reverie ... she pitied us poor meatheads. 

And as she sat and smoked, she composed a mental blog about how we bodybuilders were like those who sat trapped in the world, unwilling to come out into the expansive universe of God's great love and beneficence. 

Perspective

Stars, Bars, and the Wrath of The Market

There has been a bit of hand-wringing and knee-jerking (mostly from folks in harmony with my own politics) about companies cleansing their shelves (virtual or real) of "Confederate flag" related merchandise. 

I myself was mostly astounded at the speed of the thing. It scared me. I don't like mob rule. But upon further reflection, these are simply wealthy corporations (which I love and defend) attempting to react to perceived (future) market forces.

All good companies do this. And with the world so inter-webbed and with worldwide communication causing news and trends to move with lightning speed, a company has to move nimbly to get out ahead of the coming wave of consumer wrath. In this environment, being perceived as having to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into conformity with The New Consensus (on any given subject) is a kind of economic suicide. 

The Market moves very quickly in our day. And haven't we (Right-minded people) always said to trust The Market? Yes, we have. And I do. It is possible that The Market shall punish eBay for disallowing the purchase of "General Lee" Dodge Charger car models. But, I don't expect so. 

In short, I can find no fault in these companies having done what they have done. There may be some fault elsewhere, which we can discuss if you like.