No Washing Feet Allowed

“No Washing Feet Allowed.” Tonight at bedtime my 5 year-old son announced we needed such a sign in the church building. And Thomas, our almost 7 year-old who has looked forward to and taken part in the Maundy Thursday footwashing ritual for years, decided this year that he’d wash my feet but he didn’t want his washed, thank you very much.

Once again, I am struggling with the church’s lackluster participation in what I have found to be a deeply meaningful liturgical action. To confirm this as an ongoing struggle, I read over two short reflections I had written five and six years ago, my first two years living in a small rural farming community in Minnesota. Then as now, I was struggling with the silence, the stillness, the reticence of the people in the parish I attended. My question is my son Thomas’ question, the one he kept whispering during the prayers tonight: “Mom, why didn’t everyone come up to have their feet washed?”

I tried to quietly answer his question, talking about how not everyone has experienced a footwashing and that they may be scared or uncomfortable. I don’t know if my answer satisfied him, but he was able to tell me at bedtime that Peter didn’t want his feet washed. Thomas was living the contradiction: wishing all would have their feet washed but unsure about his own participation.

Rilke talks about living into the unresolved questions in our heart. From Minnesosta to Pennsylvania, I’ve been longing for something that may only exist with a bunch of seminarians. For it was during a class retreat at seminary that I experienced a footwashing in which all participated; it was a thoroughly communal event. Ever since, the footwashing has felt more performative: a few people up front being willing to wash feet as others look on.

Over the years, I’ve discovered that perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised at the lackluster participation. Yes it could be many churches simply haven’t lived into the Three Days. It’s an ancient/new experience for many congregations; it will take time. But I think the reticence reveals something deeper, something about who we really are as church. Though the church calls itself the body of Christ, isn’t it more the body of Peter, a bunch of denying, stubborn folks who just don’t get it?  We may ask our selves WWJD, but in reality, we are Peter. Peter, the one who denies Jesus three times. Peter, the one saying with my son Luke, “No washing feet allowed.” What a rock on which we are built!

I might long for a different place, a different kind of Maundy Thursday, one with a bunch of folks eagerly walking to those basins, fearlessly removing their socks and shoes. But in my longing, I am tempted to neglect the greatest commandment, the mandate: Love one another. The command is not to wash feet; the command is to love one another. Love them even in the reluctance. The church by nature may be Peter, but because of God’s grace, the church is also Christ’s face, and hands, and yes, even feet. 

The Scope of Tragedy

The scope of tragedy  

As we know, it’s usually the big things that get our attention, that motivate us to act or think more deeply. You can’t get much bigger than the Titanic, the beast deemed “practically unsinkable.” (What did they mean by that adjective anyway?). Yesterday our family visited the Titanic exhibit at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia. As we entered the exhibit, we were all given a card with the name of a passenger and at the end, we could check and see if our person survived. Our family held the cards of three survivors and two who perished.  (Interesting enough, Nathan got the card of Father Thomas Byles, a priest on his way to preside at the wedding of his brother in New York City).

Getting such cards and finding out their fates does bring a level of emotional attachment to the exhibit, as does seeing the many names on the wall. This is why we create memorials such as the Vietnam Memorial Wall or the 9-1-1 memorial. This is why, after the massacre in Newtown, simple listings of the names of those lost held such power. The large scope of the tragedy brings attention, but it is the personal stories that help us cope with such disasters.

What troubles me is that while we are motivated by such huge tragedies, “smaller” daily tragedies pass by largely unnoticed. Yesterday, on our way home from the museum, we stopped at a restaurant for dinner. As I was in the restroom with one of my children, a woman came in dragging along a young boy, probably about the age of two. I could tell from her face and presence that she was angry. As she was in the stall with the boy, I overheard her chastise the toddler severely for having an accident in his pants and then striking him more than once as he cried. I don’t know if my own child noticed this as he washed his hands, but I was greatly distressed the rest of the evening. While I can sympathize with parents at their wits end and wanted to be motivated with some compassion for her, my heart broke for the child, for one of the least of these that are defenseless at the hand of an adult. We will not spoil the child if we spare the rod; we model the way of non-violence that Jesus lived out. This situation, to me, was a tragedy, one that will inevitably affect him and others. We are all interconnected and who knows what living with such violence will mean for this small child as he grows.

How can our eyes be opened to the small tragedies, the ones that don’t make the headlines? How can we not throw up our hands wondering “what can one person do?” How do we respond? If we pray, we have the lament psalms; we have “Lord have, mercy.” What actions follow the pleading prayer? 

Jack of all trades?: Thoughts on baseball, church music, and appliance repair.

Spring training is underway and this baseball fan is so looking forward to opening day. My Phillies are off to a decent start which is a plus. Tonight, during our dish-washing conversation, my husband and I made an interesting connection between baseball and church music. Hmmm… where could this be going?

Church musicians are often asked to be a jack-of-all-trades: play the organ, direct choirs, plan worship, manage a music budget, recruit instrumentalists, and more. If you’re curious about what is asked for these days in a full-time church musician, check out the full-time job descriptions on the website of the  Association of Lutheran Church Musicians(www.alcm.org). After reading a couple of these today, I wondered if Jesus would qualify. Indeed, I think the congregations are seeking a savior of sorts, because so many believe (rightly so) that quality music is key to vital congregations. But what they are looking for is one person to bring the skills of a whole team. Which brings me back to baseball.

Very rarely do you have a baseball player who is excels in everything, at least at the professional level. Teams shell out millions for a good pitcher, for a home-run hitter, for a superb short stop. They will spend what is necessary to get the right total package. Churches, on the other hand, often want a musician to do be a dynamic people person, an excellent keyboardist and a skilled choir director, but often with meager pay.  Yet even those that have many part-time positions miss out on having one person to oversee them, to be the “manager” with the vision for the entire music ministry. In most places, the manager and the team are one and the same.

The reason churches need one person to do so much is that congregations are not financially able (willing?) to support multiple church musicians. One is a stretch for most congregations. Many congregations are also not able to afford a full time pastor. Which brings me to the next unlikely partner in these thoughts, the small appliance repairman.

Today Bill came to replace a faulty valve on our fridge. He has been a small appliance repairman for decades. He is also a preacher in a Christian tradition that rarely has full-time pastors. Being bi-vocational has always been the standard practice. After Bill fixed our fridge (taking a risk on a new model he wasn’t too sure about), he started talking about family and faith. He talked about the many homes he has been in fixing appliances and the conversations he’s had with grieving spouses. He’s fixed things for three generations in many instances, seeing what goes on in the homes of parents, children and their children’s children. He talked about the need for families to be with their children, to be home after school for them, to give them just a few minutes of their time. He sees too little of this when he’s in people’s homes.

Bill is not a specialist. He’s not spending his days becoming the most-coveted, up-to-date repairman in town. This was obvious when he looked at the back of our fridge. It said “blowing agent: cyclopentane.” He had never seen it and seemed a little confused, so I did what we young folks have been trained to do: I googled it. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyclopentane. Once I read it, he understood and went about his work. He was successful, and the loud screech our water filter made every time water flowed into the valve was finally silenced (As a mom of three, any extra moment of silence is most welcome!).

By some standards, Bill may not be the most highly rated repairman. But he is also a pastor and I’ve always gotten the sense that he views his small appliance business and his ministry as intrinsically linked, his work being a way to minister and his ministry benefiting from what he encounters everyday in his business. What I valued most was his presence. He knows who he is what he can do. And he does so with a care for the people whose homes he’s been entrusted to care for.

Church musicians can be like Bill, knowing what they need to, interacting with people and honing their craft. The request on job descriptions to work well with people could be viewed as getting people to do stuff, even manipulation. It is this getting people busy that makes one successful. Instead, churches need to seek out a church musician who is present with the people, accompanying them, giving them the gift of music for their life of faith. Ultimately such a musician cares for the health of the congregation’s song. As Bill served generations in his work, church musicians tend to music across the generations, being faithful to the gospel in music from many eras. Quality music can be a sign of health in a congregation, but not at the expense of a musician who is trying to bat, pitch, and catch at the same time, often without a seventh-inning stretch.