Last night I taught a VLT class on Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, Job.
There was a lot of energy in the room, spiced up with a little bit of spring fever, and some classic good humored attempts to fool the substitute teacher. But I did find myself grateful for some totally unrelated experiences which were suddenly standing me in good stead.
I had a flashback to an evening about 18 years ago, when I was babysitting the children of the pastor, and they were testing my limits by making up stories of how late they could go to bed. Nope, I didn't fall for it 18 years ago, and I didn't fall for the '45 minute break, and end at 9pm' ploy last night. Sorry guys.
Then I was reminded of the nursing home. After dealing with sleepers and the senile, a little bit of class rowdyness is totally not a problem for me. I've been heckled by a 90 year old demented woman in a wheelchair, so a little bit of whispering (and even some uncontrollable giggling) isn't a big deal.
And then we got to the topic at hand: Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, and Job. Normally you would think this would be rather heavy, but there were moments of levity. The class performed a skit based on the book of Job. Their natural sense of drama brought a whole new flavor to the book. Satan hid in the closet. Job's friends spoke with Hebrew, Yiddish, and Brooklyn accents (or something like that). Job protested at being unfairly accused.
I bet that when Steve Robbins gave us the assignment to write one-sentence summaries of the paragraphs in the book of Ephesians, he didn't realize what would happen if I tried the same exercise on the book of Job. Except it sort of turned out about a sentence per chapter, and inadvertently I ended up writing a skit. Of course, it loses all the grandeur of "where were you when I created the heavens and the earth", but gains in pungency. But it was really the accents that carried it. Thanks guys!
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
...and sell them to you
My friends know that I have a very literal mind. Rather than interpreting what is intended, I read what things actually say. This stands me in very good stead at work, where it allows me to notice ambiguities in business requirement documents. I can then get the documents corrected before the programmers (who also think literally) code what was asked for, rather than what was intended.
But in real life it's sometimes funny, and sometimes confusing, when I read what was stated, rather than what was meant.
"Police do not park here". But everyone else does?
"Stop smoking here". To me it sounds like its a command to not smoke here. But then I realized it was an invitation to join a program.
Sometimes it happens verbally too. The other day I was in a store and a woman came up to the cashier carrying a case of Poland Spring water. She proudly showed it to a friend, boasting about the good price, and commenting on how much her kids like it. "They drink it like it's water". Lady, it IS water!
But my all time favorite was a sign on the wall of a peach farm out East. The sign described in great detail all the steps from tree to market, and why the peaches were unusually good. After detailing the hand picking and sorting, it ended: "...we pick out the bad ones and sell them to you."
But in real life it's sometimes funny, and sometimes confusing, when I read what was stated, rather than what was meant.
"Police do not park here". But everyone else does?
"Stop smoking here". To me it sounds like its a command to not smoke here. But then I realized it was an invitation to join a program.
Sometimes it happens verbally too. The other day I was in a store and a woman came up to the cashier carrying a case of Poland Spring water. She proudly showed it to a friend, boasting about the good price, and commenting on how much her kids like it. "They drink it like it's water". Lady, it IS water!
But my all time favorite was a sign on the wall of a peach farm out East. The sign described in great detail all the steps from tree to market, and why the peaches were unusually good. After detailing the hand picking and sorting, it ended: "...we pick out the bad ones and sell them to you."
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
strange bedfellows
In these days following the death of the Pope, I've been interested to read about his many accomplishments. I'm most impressed by the ability he showed to inspire passion in the youth, and in his demonstrated desire for unity -- shown especially in his efforts towards reconciliation with Eastern Orthodox Christians, and with Judaism.
Beliefnet (an odd, eclectic website honoring various types of spirituality as diverse as Paganism and Zoroastrianism) has an article compiling statements from various world leaders and groups, concerning their reaction to the death of the pope. Amazingly diverse people had uniformly glowing responses to the life of John Paul II.
The two people I noticed who damned with faint praise have probably never appeared side-by-side in print before this very sentence. Are you ready? Representatives from Catholics for Free Choice, and the Taliban. Strange bedfellows indeed.
My main reason for visiting Beliefnet is that they have some funny (clean) religious jokes. They also have some catchy questionnaires, which are a little addicting until you realize that they aren't really that good. Either that or I'm in the wrong church -- all this time I thought I belonged in the Vineyard, and now I'm told that my beliefs match 100% to Orthodox Quaker, instead.
Beliefnet (an odd, eclectic website honoring various types of spirituality as diverse as Paganism and Zoroastrianism) has an article compiling statements from various world leaders and groups, concerning their reaction to the death of the pope. Amazingly diverse people had uniformly glowing responses to the life of John Paul II.
The two people I noticed who damned with faint praise have probably never appeared side-by-side in print before this very sentence. Are you ready? Representatives from Catholics for Free Choice, and the Taliban. Strange bedfellows indeed.
My main reason for visiting Beliefnet is that they have some funny (clean) religious jokes. They also have some catchy questionnaires, which are a little addicting until you realize that they aren't really that good. Either that or I'm in the wrong church -- all this time I thought I belonged in the Vineyard, and now I'm told that my beliefs match 100% to Orthodox Quaker, instead.
Monday, April 04, 2005
For such a time as this...
Sunday I felt sort of like Queen Esther. A situation came up with the oddest sequence of circumstances, and I realized anew how God uses the most implausible events in our lives.
Did you read the blog from two weeks ago, about the nursing home resident for whom 'S' prayed? He said he regained some of his hearing. So I was eager to see him again and find out how he was. At the end of the service I rushed over to him and said,
"Hi, 'H', how are you doing?"
I was distressed to find out that I couldn't understand a word he said. He spoke on and on, and it was just gibberish. I was afraid that he had had a stroke, yet it seemed too effortless for that to be the case. Eventually I had a suspicion, and I interrupted him to say:
"'H', are you speaking English?"
"No," He replied, "I'm speaking Russian"
"Speak English"
"You don't speak Russian?"
"No."
"Not at all?" He was clearly disappointed.
"Well, I know one sentence." I responded.
"Speak to me, speak to me!" He cried out.
(My one sentence was taught to me 22 years ago by a former co-worker from Kiev. I'm sure my pronunciation was bad, and I don't have the slightest clue how to spell it).
"Yahachu da moy" I attempted.
'H' roared with laughter and repeated "Yahachu da moy".
"Do you know what I said?" I questioned.
"You said - 'I want to go home!'" He exclaimed with glee. Then he turned suddenly serious and said, "I have prayed to God for years that he would send me someone who would speak Russian to me, and today you have come".
It wasn't until I was leaving that I noticed that one of the aides was Russian, and he was probably confusing me with her. But that wasn't the important thing.
I suddenly realized that if he was able to understand me parroting a sentence of Russian that I learned phonetically 22 years ago, he really could hear.
Did you read the blog from two weeks ago, about the nursing home resident for whom 'S' prayed? He said he regained some of his hearing. So I was eager to see him again and find out how he was. At the end of the service I rushed over to him and said,
"Hi, 'H', how are you doing?"
I was distressed to find out that I couldn't understand a word he said. He spoke on and on, and it was just gibberish. I was afraid that he had had a stroke, yet it seemed too effortless for that to be the case. Eventually I had a suspicion, and I interrupted him to say:
"'H', are you speaking English?"
"No," He replied, "I'm speaking Russian"
"Speak English"
"You don't speak Russian?"
"No."
"Not at all?" He was clearly disappointed.
"Well, I know one sentence." I responded.
"Speak to me, speak to me!" He cried out.
(My one sentence was taught to me 22 years ago by a former co-worker from Kiev. I'm sure my pronunciation was bad, and I don't have the slightest clue how to spell it).
"Yahachu da moy" I attempted.
'H' roared with laughter and repeated "Yahachu da moy".
"Do you know what I said?" I questioned.
"You said - 'I want to go home!'" He exclaimed with glee. Then he turned suddenly serious and said, "I have prayed to God for years that he would send me someone who would speak Russian to me, and today you have come".
It wasn't until I was leaving that I noticed that one of the aides was Russian, and he was probably confusing me with her. But that wasn't the important thing.
I suddenly realized that if he was able to understand me parroting a sentence of Russian that I learned phonetically 22 years ago, he really could hear.
Lessons from John Paul II
The pope died this weekend. I figured that it would be appropriate to say something about this at the nursing home.
Towards the end of the service, I started talking about the lessons from his life, especially his work towards unity, for example his condemnation of anti-semitism. And then I spoke about his last days, and his reported serenity in the face of death. Usually, people sleep or chat while I'm speaking (it's a good lesson in humility). But suddenly you could have heard a pin drop, and people were really listening.
I asked them if they had that serenity. I asked if they wanted that serenity. I preached about the resurrection, and the truth that it is in the power of Jesus' resurrection that we gain eternal life. I offered a way to obtain that serenity. And finally, I led them in the sinner's prayer. I know that many times they repeat prayers just out of habit or obedience, but I was astounded at the groundswell of response. It seemed that the whole entire room was responding:
Father God, I'm sorry for my sins...
Wouldn't it be a nice epitaph for the Pope, if his example actually led them into the kingdom?
Towards the end of the service, I started talking about the lessons from his life, especially his work towards unity, for example his condemnation of anti-semitism. And then I spoke about his last days, and his reported serenity in the face of death. Usually, people sleep or chat while I'm speaking (it's a good lesson in humility). But suddenly you could have heard a pin drop, and people were really listening.
I asked them if they had that serenity. I asked if they wanted that serenity. I preached about the resurrection, and the truth that it is in the power of Jesus' resurrection that we gain eternal life. I offered a way to obtain that serenity. And finally, I led them in the sinner's prayer. I know that many times they repeat prayers just out of habit or obedience, but I was astounded at the groundswell of response. It seemed that the whole entire room was responding:
Father God, I'm sorry for my sins...
Wouldn't it be a nice epitaph for the Pope, if his example actually led them into the kingdom?