Faith Works 04-09-05
By Jeff Gill
Both Old and New Testaments, Hebrew Scriptures and Christian Gospels alike, are filled with images of Monarchy, of Kingship and Kingdoms, realms and rulers.
In the funeral of Pope John Paul II, with vast processions, lying in state, and the ornate surroundings for elaborate liturgies, we have our best point of contact in the modern world for what it means to imagine the royal aspect of divinity presented in most Biblical texts.
Karol Wojtyla of Poland, the man who became a priest, a bishop, a cardinal, and then one of the greatest Roman Pontiffs of this or any age, made the papacy accessible for many in a way not seen perhaps since Peter started the office from a humble setting in a quiet corner of Rome 2000 years ago.
Yet the outwards signs of an office with that many years of tradition behind it and most of the earth’s surface incorporated within it (Pontiff comes from the Latin for “bridge builder”) makes for palaces, mitred crowns, and armies of attendants even aside from the ceremonially fierce if only halberd-wielding Swiss Guard. And for some, those imperial trappings can be off-putting on a religious leader. Ask Martin Luther, for one instance.
Do we need royalty or pomp and circumstance in our lives? Many who would call themselves “Bible believing” Christians would say no, pointing to the texts of humility and simplicity. Intriguingly, the accounts of the private papal apartments tell of Spartan lodgings suitable to an as-yet-undecorated dorm room, but even those with a strong taste for the unadorned have to grapple with the richness of Biblical imagery around robes and scepters, jewels and trumpets.
In the papacy, even Protestants find a view of something that instructs and uplifts. The British monarchy has turned to self-parody, and most other European royal houses have either passed from the scene or are shriveling in that direction.
But in the affairs of the Vatican, both in the majestic farewell playing out through this week, and as the world, almost against its better judgment, watches a small chimney near the Sistine Chapel from the Plaza of St. Peter for a tell-tale wisp of white smoke, there is something compelling in all this spectacle. Not just a sight to see, but an image of something simultaneously distant and personal, of direct importance to our lives yet unaffected by everyday bothers.
Undoubtedly John Paul will join Pope Leo who talked the Huns away from the gates of Rome and Gregory the proto-reformer as “the Great.” His own impact on the wider world is unquestioned even by those who objected to much he stood for personally. But it is the ongoing vitality of the Papacy itself in the modern world that is one of the unspoken mysteries of these unusual days we are living through in the weeks after Easter.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. If you have tales to tell of faith at work, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Notes From My Knapsack 04-10-05
By Jeff Gill
Spring break right after Easter with heavy rain outside meant only one thing: Peeps in the microwave!
That’s right, put your Marshmallow Peeps (any color, bunny or bird shape) in the nuke chamber for ten seconds on low power, and watch them puff up to basketball size!
Eat after with a spoon; they deflate pretty quickly, but after the science lab stuff with six varieties of egg dye has worn out . . . or they are now 23 glasses of uniformly grey colored water . . . inflated peepery is pretty darn fun.
Then it’s 10 am, and the day looms ahead, with more rain.
But you may have no Peeps left by now. If you do, they could be getting very dry and hard, another reason for the microwave trick.
The Little Guy and I hit the Columbus Zoo (the aquarium could care less about precipitation), along with The Works, staffing the William Kraner Nature Center out Flint Ridge way for a volunteer afternoon with Licking Park District, and the bird viewing room at Dawes Arboretum.
We’ve been working on our card manufacturing, too, covering the dining room table (“so what’s new?” asks the Lovely Wife) with paper, early attempts, and triumphant works of festive greeting art. Hallmark quakes with fear in their Kansas City citadel, as we laugh away commercial sentiments in favor of colored pencils, crayon, marker, and watercolor vistas (can you say “mixed media”?) surrounding unrhymed truisms as direct as any display rack can provide.
St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, and First Day of Spring Break cards have all gone into production in Little Guy Studios, with Time Change cards our last project.
(We interrupt this homey meandering with a public service reminder: when you set clocks forward Saturday night, did you change your batteries in smoke detectors, testing them and your CO sensors with a quick “bzzzz”? We now return you to sentimentality, already in progress.)
First, a Fiftieth Anniversary card for my beloved’s parents, united in marriage on what was, this year, Easter day! The design for this salute is a bigger challenge, since no one the Little Cardguy knows well has hit this big 5-Oh. My own folks, currently basting and marinating in Rio Grande heat, are just a couple years off their own Golden Occasion, and of course we Loving Parents are only on the brink of their twentieth, not even worth a capitalization.
On the other hand, 20 years ain’t too shabby nowadays, and we might just celebrate it anyhow. Keeping a marriage in good repair is an art form that some say is fading, and even our 30 years less than a Fiftieth can draw the occasional “what’s your secret to a good marriage?” query.
To which I answer: we have . . .oh, sorry, school has started again, the sun just came out and we’re getting out of the house and away from the keyboard! Answers next week, or if you have your own tips, send ‘em in and I’ll post ‘em up here along with our own. Go ahead, write my column for me, I dare you! (Paging Tom Sawyer, Tom Sawyer to the front desk . . .)
Send your thoughts to disciple@voyager.net, and they’ll go in the knapsack until we get back from bike riding, when I can go back to bloviating beyond my word limit.
By Jeff Gill
Spring break right after Easter with heavy rain outside meant only one thing: Peeps in the microwave!
That’s right, put your Marshmallow Peeps (any color, bunny or bird shape) in the nuke chamber for ten seconds on low power, and watch them puff up to basketball size!
Eat after with a spoon; they deflate pretty quickly, but after the science lab stuff with six varieties of egg dye has worn out . . . or they are now 23 glasses of uniformly grey colored water . . . inflated peepery is pretty darn fun.
Then it’s 10 am, and the day looms ahead, with more rain.
But you may have no Peeps left by now. If you do, they could be getting very dry and hard, another reason for the microwave trick.
The Little Guy and I hit the Columbus Zoo (the aquarium could care less about precipitation), along with The Works, staffing the William Kraner Nature Center out Flint Ridge way for a volunteer afternoon with Licking Park District, and the bird viewing room at Dawes Arboretum.
We’ve been working on our card manufacturing, too, covering the dining room table (“so what’s new?” asks the Lovely Wife) with paper, early attempts, and triumphant works of festive greeting art. Hallmark quakes with fear in their Kansas City citadel, as we laugh away commercial sentiments in favor of colored pencils, crayon, marker, and watercolor vistas (can you say “mixed media”?) surrounding unrhymed truisms as direct as any display rack can provide.
St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, and First Day of Spring Break cards have all gone into production in Little Guy Studios, with Time Change cards our last project.
(We interrupt this homey meandering with a public service reminder: when you set clocks forward Saturday night, did you change your batteries in smoke detectors, testing them and your CO sensors with a quick “bzzzz”? We now return you to sentimentality, already in progress.)
First, a Fiftieth Anniversary card for my beloved’s parents, united in marriage on what was, this year, Easter day! The design for this salute is a bigger challenge, since no one the Little Cardguy knows well has hit this big 5-Oh. My own folks, currently basting and marinating in Rio Grande heat, are just a couple years off their own Golden Occasion, and of course we Loving Parents are only on the brink of their twentieth, not even worth a capitalization.
On the other hand, 20 years ain’t too shabby nowadays, and we might just celebrate it anyhow. Keeping a marriage in good repair is an art form that some say is fading, and even our 30 years less than a Fiftieth can draw the occasional “what’s your secret to a good marriage?” query.
To which I answer: we have . . .oh, sorry, school has started again, the sun just came out and we’re getting out of the house and away from the keyboard! Answers next week, or if you have your own tips, send ‘em in and I’ll post ‘em up here along with our own. Go ahead, write my column for me, I dare you! (Paging Tom Sawyer, Tom Sawyer to the front desk . . .)
Send your thoughts to disciple@voyager.net, and they’ll go in the knapsack until we get back from bike riding, when I can go back to bloviating beyond my word limit.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Notes From My Knapsack 04-03-05
By Jeff Gill
Spring break right after Easter with heavy rain outside can only mean one thing: Peeps in the microwave!
That’s right, put your Marshmallow Peeps (any color, bunny or bird shape) in the nuke chamber for ten seconds on low power, and watch them puff up to basketball size!
Eat after with a spoon; they deflate pretty quickly, but after the science lab stuff with six varieties of egg dye has worn out . . . or you now have 23 glasses of grey colored water . . . inflated peepery is pretty darn fun.
Then it’s 10 am, and the day looms ahead, with more rain.
So the Little Guy and I will likely hit the Columbus Zoo (the aquarium could care less about precipitation), along with The Works, staffing the William Kraner Nature Center out Flint Ridge way for a volunteer afternoon with Licking Park District, and the bird viewing room at Dawes Arboretum.
It’ll stop raining by the time we’ve finished all that, right?
We have been working on our card manufacturing, too, covering the dining room table (“so what’s new?” asks the Lovely Wife) with paper, early attempts, and triumphant works of festive greeting art. Hallmark quakes with fear in their Kansas City citadel, as we laugh away commercial sentiments in favor of colored pencils, crayon, marker, and watercolor vistas (can you say “mixed media”?) surrounding unrhymed truisms as direct as any display rack can provide.
St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, and First Day of Spring Break cards have all gone into production in Little Guy Studios, with Time Change cards our next project.
(We interrupt this homey meandering with a public service reminder: set clocks forward Saturday night, prepare coffee-maker for painful recurring darkness at wake-up, and change your batteries in smoke detectors, testing them and your CO sensors with a quick “bzzzz.” We now return you to the sentimentality, already in progress.)
But first, a Fiftieth Anniversary card for my beloved’s parents, united in marriage on what was, this year, Easter day! The design for this salute is a bigger challenge, since no one he knows well has hit this big 5-Oh. My own folks, currently basting and marinating in Rio Grande heat, are just a couple years off their own Golden Occasion, and of course we Loving Parents are only on the brink of their twentieth, not even worth a capitalization.
On the other hand, 20 years ain’t too shabby nowadays, and we might just celebrate it anyhow. Keeping a marriage in good repair is an art form that some say is fading, and even our 30 years less than a Fiftieth can draw the occasional “what’s your secret to a good marriage?” query.
To which I answer: we have . . .oh, sorry, the sun just came out and we’re getting out of the house and away from the keyboard! Answers next week, or if you have your own tips, send ‘em in and I’ll post ‘em up here along with our own. Go ahead, write my column for me, I dare you! (Paging Tom Sawyer, Tom Sawyer to the front desk . . .)
Send your thoughts to disciple@voyager.net, and they’ll go in the knapsack until we finish Spring Break and get this kid back into school, when I can go back to bloviating beyond my word limit.
And don’t forget to set your clocks forward.
By Jeff Gill
Spring break right after Easter with heavy rain outside can only mean one thing: Peeps in the microwave!
That’s right, put your Marshmallow Peeps (any color, bunny or bird shape) in the nuke chamber for ten seconds on low power, and watch them puff up to basketball size!
Eat after with a spoon; they deflate pretty quickly, but after the science lab stuff with six varieties of egg dye has worn out . . . or you now have 23 glasses of grey colored water . . . inflated peepery is pretty darn fun.
Then it’s 10 am, and the day looms ahead, with more rain.
So the Little Guy and I will likely hit the Columbus Zoo (the aquarium could care less about precipitation), along with The Works, staffing the William Kraner Nature Center out Flint Ridge way for a volunteer afternoon with Licking Park District, and the bird viewing room at Dawes Arboretum.
It’ll stop raining by the time we’ve finished all that, right?
We have been working on our card manufacturing, too, covering the dining room table (“so what’s new?” asks the Lovely Wife) with paper, early attempts, and triumphant works of festive greeting art. Hallmark quakes with fear in their Kansas City citadel, as we laugh away commercial sentiments in favor of colored pencils, crayon, marker, and watercolor vistas (can you say “mixed media”?) surrounding unrhymed truisms as direct as any display rack can provide.
St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, and First Day of Spring Break cards have all gone into production in Little Guy Studios, with Time Change cards our next project.
(We interrupt this homey meandering with a public service reminder: set clocks forward Saturday night, prepare coffee-maker for painful recurring darkness at wake-up, and change your batteries in smoke detectors, testing them and your CO sensors with a quick “bzzzz.” We now return you to the sentimentality, already in progress.)
But first, a Fiftieth Anniversary card for my beloved’s parents, united in marriage on what was, this year, Easter day! The design for this salute is a bigger challenge, since no one he knows well has hit this big 5-Oh. My own folks, currently basting and marinating in Rio Grande heat, are just a couple years off their own Golden Occasion, and of course we Loving Parents are only on the brink of their twentieth, not even worth a capitalization.
On the other hand, 20 years ain’t too shabby nowadays, and we might just celebrate it anyhow. Keeping a marriage in good repair is an art form that some say is fading, and even our 30 years less than a Fiftieth can draw the occasional “what’s your secret to a good marriage?” query.
To which I answer: we have . . .oh, sorry, the sun just came out and we’re getting out of the house and away from the keyboard! Answers next week, or if you have your own tips, send ‘em in and I’ll post ‘em up here along with our own. Go ahead, write my column for me, I dare you! (Paging Tom Sawyer, Tom Sawyer to the front desk . . .)
Send your thoughts to disciple@voyager.net, and they’ll go in the knapsack until we finish Spring Break and get this kid back into school, when I can go back to bloviating beyond my word limit.
And don’t forget to set your clocks forward.
Faith Works 04-02-05
By Jeff Gill
Got will?
Not as if that advertising joke hasn’t been beaten into the ground, with church groups in the lead to flog that poor old deceased equine: Got Purpose? Got Jesus? Got Worship?
So let me rephrase: hast thou a Last Will and Testament?
For anyone who started way early looking for Easter eggs under rocks, and just crawled out from under thereupon, a woman who went into a semi-conscious state in her 20’s has been in the news lately while her parents and husband have disputed what course her care should take. Right, that story.
By the time you read this, the woman in question will very likely have died. Much ink on the subject has been spilled on the sidewalks outside a hospice in Florida, governmental pavement in Tallahassee and Washington, and across front pages both far away and on your front doorstep.
My own sense of what can be understood at a distance is that, lacking clear and unmistakable grounds, we should not remove basic care like food and water from anyone, not only for that person’s sake, but before we start trimming other inconvenient lives from our profit margins and Medicaid deficits on such a basis.
But that’s not what I’m talking about today. I’m asking you, especially if you are a parent but really if you are simply over 18, “Do you have a will, or at least some written indication of your wishes when you can no longer speak for yourself, in death or disability?” Even if what you think you want is to be trundled straight to the hospital dumpster if you still can’t watch TV or perform other such worthwhile activities (if “a worthwhile life” was a good standard of care, how many of us earned medical treatment today, anyhow?), have you put it in writing?
Many of us have recently heard sermons, prayers, and various inspirational messages about life and death and our dispositions beyond the here and now to the hereafter. Many of us also have considered, but put off a serious contemplation of even the most prosaic issues around what happens when we die, like “who gets Grandma’s antique pie safe?”
The Lovely Wife and I began Lent with a full, formal, official lawyer oriented reflection on some of the most ghastly possibilities life can hold. It was not theological in essence, but you would have to be thicker than a law book to not catch the echoes.
We now have the real deal on file, something that provides for the ever-popular “simultaneous demise,” as well as various turns on “who precedes who” in death, even if in short order, and what happens to children, as yet hypothetical grandchildren, let alone property and assets. And we have talked about who makes which horrendous decisions in front of a sympathetic if ethically neutral witness, and have documentation for everything from who authorizes what to what gets done to or with the earthly remains thereof.
Talk about your solemn preparation for the Easter season.
Frankly, there is no excuse for a person of faith who owns any kind of property and has any sense of commitment to others, even just friends, not to have something written down to simplify funeral planning and distribution of obligations after you’ve left the stage. Once houses and children enter the picture, something lawyerly is necessary, but anyone can write down a basic plot outline of their final wishes and tuck it in a place easy to find (your Bible, a filing cabinet, safe deposit box). And if you feel uncomfortable discussing these things with anyone, you either need more or better friends, or your faith stance is not helping much and you’d better figure out why!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you want to offer a thought about how “faith works” for you, send it to disciple@voyager.net.
By Jeff Gill
Got will?
Not as if that advertising joke hasn’t been beaten into the ground, with church groups in the lead to flog that poor old deceased equine: Got Purpose? Got Jesus? Got Worship?
So let me rephrase: hast thou a Last Will and Testament?
For anyone who started way early looking for Easter eggs under rocks, and just crawled out from under thereupon, a woman who went into a semi-conscious state in her 20’s has been in the news lately while her parents and husband have disputed what course her care should take. Right, that story.
By the time you read this, the woman in question will very likely have died. Much ink on the subject has been spilled on the sidewalks outside a hospice in Florida, governmental pavement in Tallahassee and Washington, and across front pages both far away and on your front doorstep.
My own sense of what can be understood at a distance is that, lacking clear and unmistakable grounds, we should not remove basic care like food and water from anyone, not only for that person’s sake, but before we start trimming other inconvenient lives from our profit margins and Medicaid deficits on such a basis.
But that’s not what I’m talking about today. I’m asking you, especially if you are a parent but really if you are simply over 18, “Do you have a will, or at least some written indication of your wishes when you can no longer speak for yourself, in death or disability?” Even if what you think you want is to be trundled straight to the hospital dumpster if you still can’t watch TV or perform other such worthwhile activities (if “a worthwhile life” was a good standard of care, how many of us earned medical treatment today, anyhow?), have you put it in writing?
Many of us have recently heard sermons, prayers, and various inspirational messages about life and death and our dispositions beyond the here and now to the hereafter. Many of us also have considered, but put off a serious contemplation of even the most prosaic issues around what happens when we die, like “who gets Grandma’s antique pie safe?”
The Lovely Wife and I began Lent with a full, formal, official lawyer oriented reflection on some of the most ghastly possibilities life can hold. It was not theological in essence, but you would have to be thicker than a law book to not catch the echoes.
We now have the real deal on file, something that provides for the ever-popular “simultaneous demise,” as well as various turns on “who precedes who” in death, even if in short order, and what happens to children, as yet hypothetical grandchildren, let alone property and assets. And we have talked about who makes which horrendous decisions in front of a sympathetic if ethically neutral witness, and have documentation for everything from who authorizes what to what gets done to or with the earthly remains thereof.
Talk about your solemn preparation for the Easter season.
Frankly, there is no excuse for a person of faith who owns any kind of property and has any sense of commitment to others, even just friends, not to have something written down to simplify funeral planning and distribution of obligations after you’ve left the stage. Once houses and children enter the picture, something lawyerly is necessary, but anyone can write down a basic plot outline of their final wishes and tuck it in a place easy to find (your Bible, a filing cabinet, safe deposit box). And if you feel uncomfortable discussing these things with anyone, you either need more or better friends, or your faith stance is not helping much and you’d better figure out why!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you want to offer a thought about how “faith works” for you, send it to disciple@voyager.net.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Faith Works 3-26-05
By Jeff Gill
Hosanna, Hallelujah, and Amen!
Much of Licking County is working through the events of what’s known to Christians as Holy Week, or Passiontide, or the Easter events.
Last Sunday, known as Palm Sunday, marks the entrance into Jerusalem by Jesus, greeted by palm waving crowds as a ruling monarch; Thursday past the institution, or “mandate” of communion for Maundy Thursday, and the arrest, trial, and crucifixion of Jesus on Good Friday.
Along with these ancient, but fairly simple and straightforward commemorations, are some old mysterious words with actually quite elementary meanings.
“Hosanna!” is the shout of acclamation associated with Palm Sunday. Found in the Psalms (118:26), the archaic Hebrew “hoshianna” is translated there as simply “save us,” or “O save!” Originally a plea shouted to a king in procession (like ‘hang in there’ or ‘keep it up’), it had become by the time of Christ a ritual phrase associated specifically with a king in public settings (like ‘hear ye, hear ye’ in court). Matthew 21:9, the lectionary reading for many churches last week, carries the evolved meaning into the Greek with an untranslated “Hosanna,” kept now in the English.
“Hallel” is just Hebrew for “praise,” and also a term referring to a section of the Psalms sung at the close of observances, like a Passover meal. This is the setting for the Maundy Thursday readings many will use, closing with Matthew 26: 30, “when they had sung the hymn (one of the Hallel Psalms), they went out to the Mount of Olives.” Hallelujah is praise to “Yah,” or the traditional abbreviation for the unnamed One, Yahweh. Yah is combined in many Hebrew names with an active verb, such as Yah-shua (remember our ho-shianna?) or “God-saves,” the meaning of the name we translate to English as Joshua, or out of Aramaic, Jesus.
Hallelujah is then just “praise God,” or “praise the Lord,” with an hint of ancient tradition in the older forms of the words.
And Amen? In Hebrew, “Omein” or some similar transliteration, since Hebrew letters, especially the more archaic roots, don’t translate precisely to the English sounds.
But it means no more and no less than “Yes.” Just “Yes.”
May your “Yes” to God’s love in whatever language ring out this Easter weekend!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you have news from your faith community worth sharing around and abroad, contact him at disciple@voyager.net.
By Jeff Gill
Hosanna, Hallelujah, and Amen!
Much of Licking County is working through the events of what’s known to Christians as Holy Week, or Passiontide, or the Easter events.
Last Sunday, known as Palm Sunday, marks the entrance into Jerusalem by Jesus, greeted by palm waving crowds as a ruling monarch; Thursday past the institution, or “mandate” of communion for Maundy Thursday, and the arrest, trial, and crucifixion of Jesus on Good Friday.
Along with these ancient, but fairly simple and straightforward commemorations, are some old mysterious words with actually quite elementary meanings.
“Hosanna!” is the shout of acclamation associated with Palm Sunday. Found in the Psalms (118:26), the archaic Hebrew “hoshianna” is translated there as simply “save us,” or “O save!” Originally a plea shouted to a king in procession (like ‘hang in there’ or ‘keep it up’), it had become by the time of Christ a ritual phrase associated specifically with a king in public settings (like ‘hear ye, hear ye’ in court). Matthew 21:9, the lectionary reading for many churches last week, carries the evolved meaning into the Greek with an untranslated “Hosanna,” kept now in the English.
“Hallel” is just Hebrew for “praise,” and also a term referring to a section of the Psalms sung at the close of observances, like a Passover meal. This is the setting for the Maundy Thursday readings many will use, closing with Matthew 26: 30, “when they had sung the hymn (one of the Hallel Psalms), they went out to the Mount of Olives.” Hallelujah is praise to “Yah,” or the traditional abbreviation for the unnamed One, Yahweh. Yah is combined in many Hebrew names with an active verb, such as Yah-shua (remember our ho-shianna?) or “God-saves,” the meaning of the name we translate to English as Joshua, or out of Aramaic, Jesus.
Hallelujah is then just “praise God,” or “praise the Lord,” with an hint of ancient tradition in the older forms of the words.
And Amen? In Hebrew, “Omein” or some similar transliteration, since Hebrew letters, especially the more archaic roots, don’t translate precisely to the English sounds.
But it means no more and no less than “Yes.” Just “Yes.”
May your “Yes” to God’s love in whatever language ring out this Easter weekend!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you have news from your faith community worth sharing around and abroad, contact him at disciple@voyager.net.
Notes From My Knapsack 03-27-05Jeff Gill
Sunrise!That is an astronomical event with (according to the Old Farmer's Almanac) a very precise time and orientation on the horizon. For Easter Sunday, call it 6:22 am.Of course, the pre-dawn twilight begins about 5 am, growing in illumination to the first appearance of the sun's rays directly shining over the horizon. So is it sunrise when the first light of day is visible? When you can read a headline from the Booster without a flashlight, closer to 6 am, or when the disc is visible of the ruddy orb o' dawn, which is you're on west side of a hill, could be more like 7 am?So sunrise is an elastic term, and the various Christian worship services tied to the celebration of Christ's rising from death "at sunrise" are equally various.While I find no evidence of any church holding a 5 am "Sonrise Service," there are congregations going with 6, 6:30, 7, and even 7:30 am.You probably did not pick your church by when they hold Easter sunrise observances (though some may be wishing they had checked that out before joining), but for those looking to attend a "community service," there are two open to their entire locality worth noting here in the knapsack.Around the Lakewood schools area, the Lakewood Area Ministerial Association is holding their Community Sunrise Service at 6:30 am just inside the gates of Dawes Arboretum at 6:30 am. Musicians from churches in Jacksontown, Hebron, and the surrounding area will set up in that aforementioned gathering light (and dew!), sharing their gifts with you and a chance to sing and pray together just as the sun rises over the hills to the east.In the greater Newark area, the Newark Area Ministerial Association in association with the Licking County Jail Ministry offers an Easter Sunrise Service at the Midland Theater, right on Counrthouse Square. Thanks to the support of Park National Bank, neither the time of sunrise nor the status of the weather is a big problem in that vast indoor space.A community chorus will sing and Rev. Barbara Sholis of First Methodist downtown will preach. Afterwards, a very tasty and cheap ($5!) breakfast in the Second Presbyterian fellowship hall benefits the ministry programming at the Licking County Justice Center. A mere short block away, you can't pass up the fellowship and food after getting up early to celebrate life and renewal in the first place.Most churches will be delighted to see visitors at any service on Easter morn, let alone at whatever time they observe the sunrise commemoration, but these two worship events are oriented around an invitation to the wider community.But wherever you go, at whatever time, remember to celebrate that Spring is here, Hope is born anew, and all Creation can rejoice . . . the ham and candy are just a fringe benefit. Now plant your lettuce and peas (you did that already, right?), set the turnips in the ground, and hold off on those flowers and tomatoes for a few weeks yet, because there's still some frost in an Ohio springtime well into April. Easter Monday is a good day to get up again at dawn (6:20 am) and turn over some soil, smelling the life already bursting out beneath your very feet.Next weekend, time change, and dawn really jumps around on us, so dig in now!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you want to share a story of renewal, e-mail him at disciple@voyager.net.
Sunrise!That is an astronomical event with (according to the Old Farmer's Almanac) a very precise time and orientation on the horizon. For Easter Sunday, call it 6:22 am.Of course, the pre-dawn twilight begins about 5 am, growing in illumination to the first appearance of the sun's rays directly shining over the horizon. So is it sunrise when the first light of day is visible? When you can read a headline from the Booster without a flashlight, closer to 6 am, or when the disc is visible of the ruddy orb o' dawn, which is you're on west side of a hill, could be more like 7 am?So sunrise is an elastic term, and the various Christian worship services tied to the celebration of Christ's rising from death "at sunrise" are equally various.While I find no evidence of any church holding a 5 am "Sonrise Service," there are congregations going with 6, 6:30, 7, and even 7:30 am.You probably did not pick your church by when they hold Easter sunrise observances (though some may be wishing they had checked that out before joining), but for those looking to attend a "community service," there are two open to their entire locality worth noting here in the knapsack.Around the Lakewood schools area, the Lakewood Area Ministerial Association is holding their Community Sunrise Service at 6:30 am just inside the gates of Dawes Arboretum at 6:30 am. Musicians from churches in Jacksontown, Hebron, and the surrounding area will set up in that aforementioned gathering light (and dew!), sharing their gifts with you and a chance to sing and pray together just as the sun rises over the hills to the east.In the greater Newark area, the Newark Area Ministerial Association in association with the Licking County Jail Ministry offers an Easter Sunrise Service at the Midland Theater, right on Counrthouse Square. Thanks to the support of Park National Bank, neither the time of sunrise nor the status of the weather is a big problem in that vast indoor space.A community chorus will sing and Rev. Barbara Sholis of First Methodist downtown will preach. Afterwards, a very tasty and cheap ($5!) breakfast in the Second Presbyterian fellowship hall benefits the ministry programming at the Licking County Justice Center. A mere short block away, you can't pass up the fellowship and food after getting up early to celebrate life and renewal in the first place.Most churches will be delighted to see visitors at any service on Easter morn, let alone at whatever time they observe the sunrise commemoration, but these two worship events are oriented around an invitation to the wider community.But wherever you go, at whatever time, remember to celebrate that Spring is here, Hope is born anew, and all Creation can rejoice . . . the ham and candy are just a fringe benefit. Now plant your lettuce and peas (you did that already, right?), set the turnips in the ground, and hold off on those flowers and tomatoes for a few weeks yet, because there's still some frost in an Ohio springtime well into April. Easter Monday is a good day to get up again at dawn (6:20 am) and turn over some soil, smelling the life already bursting out beneath your very feet.Next weekend, time change, and dawn really jumps around on us, so dig in now!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you want to share a story of renewal, e-mail him at disciple@voyager.net.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Faith Works column draft 2005 [note: this ran 3-19 in place of the St. Patrick story seen below]
The Purpose Driven Life Returns
Jeff Gill
Recent events overturn our own well-made plans; Ashley Smith knows this even better than Rick Warren, let alone yours truly.
Ashley Smith is the quietly heroic captive of the Atlanta courthouse shooter from just a few weeks back; she read aloud to her kidnaper a section she was reading that day from “The Purpose Driven Life,” a book written by Saddleback Church pastor Rick Warren, a two year and still going strong bestseller (in hardback, no less), which her church was reading together through Lent, the worship season leading up to Easter.
Among regular Christian churchgoers, the question is not so much “have you read it” as “how is your church reading it?” Some congregations have done the “40 Days of Purpose” official program through Saddleback’s outreach ministry, others have done a less formal version of congregation-wide reading a day at a time together, and many churches have small groups reading the book for 40 days together.
The idea that your life has a purpose, set by God, and waiting for you to discover to achieve a truly fulfilled life, is not unique to Pastor Warren. But his material, written to give an entire faith community a context to ask this question of one another, and of their church life as well, has created a new opportunity in modern Christendom. The 100-plus weeks this volume has stayed on the New York Times bestseller list show that a chord across America was struck by this book.
So in one sense, the fact that Ashley Smith was reading “The Purpose Driven Life” when she was held captive is not surprising (although how she used it gives her credit beyond my ability to praise in a brief column).
What caught my attention in the coverage over the next two days after the capture and telling of the story was how most TV journalists were utterly unaware of this phenomenon. It started to get painful to me hearing on-air personalities, after segments of Ms. Smith’s narrative, say “This will sure put that book on the bestseller list!”
No, I’m not saying all reporters should know the top ten lists of all media at all times. But it was painfully indicative to me that there was clearly no one on TV who had heard of this book in the first blush of coverage, and mostly fairly stilted descriptions of what this “chapter 33” and who Warren was and what this book meant well into the new cycle.
I know a number of Christian pastors, actually, who have concerns and objections to “The Purpose Driven Life” or the 40 day program for churches. They think it oversold and overhyped. But I don’t know many active Christians who have never heard of it.
Of course, the idea that few media figures are committed religious people is not a new one. But the lack of awareness of such a widespread phenomenon did catch me a bit by surprise. If this were a pop cultural artifact like a hula hoop or pet rock, I’d bet most high profile reporters would know what the deal was, even if they didn’t own one.
Is religious life an aspect of the culture worth knowing about? Inquiring minds want to know . . .Ashley Smith has a story to tell that is of interest to both the culture and to Christians. Her faith is an absolutely necessary part of that narrative, if we’re to make sense of her heroism and strength in a situation of absolute weakness.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio who has used “The Purpose Driven Life” with a congregation; if you have an opinion pro- or con- about this or other trends in church life, e-mail him at disciple@voyager.net.
* * *
Faith Works column draft [note: this has not yet run, and is "parked" here; it will move to the proper chronology when it sees the light of newsprint -- jbg]
Why do we pray in Licking County?
Jeff Gill
Christians pray. The Lord’s Prayer, morning prayers, bedtime prayers; we pray in worship services and we pray in private. We speak to God, addressing ourselves to the Creator of the Universe, with a sense of trust in the belief that God listens, and a sense of wonder that God might answer.
Moslems pray, offering their submission, or “Islam” (the literal meaning of that awkward transliteration from the Arabic) to Allah, five times a day at minimum, whether alone or in association with other believers.
Jews pray, both in corporate worship that calls for a “minyan,” the ten men needed for official services, or alone before the Lord Who is One, Adonai.
Hindus pray, to a variety of divine figures who embody manifestations of the Divine Nature, but prayers both “set” and spontaneous are part of their tradition as well, no matter how different their worship spaces look to Western eyes.
Native Americans, or members of the First Nations as the Canadians say, pray; they speak most often of what they do devotionally as “listening,” with much less emphasis on asking or requesting than what they hear Anglo-Europeans do in prayer. Those who happily accept the label “Pagan” or Wiccam say much the same about their prayers.
Buddhists . . . well, they are more comfortable, for the most part, with the word “meditate,” but there are many traditional petitions and praises to the embodiments of Buddha-nature that sound like nothing other than prayer.
And the profane speak the name of God in a variety of forms, most of which are rude and disrespectful . . . but often with a frustrated or helpless tone that almost makes you think they could even be . . . naaaahhh. But Jesus really doesn’t have a middle name as far as anyone can tell from the Bible, in case you wondered.
So what are we all doing when we pray? Of course, there are those who would say that if you are not praying to the real, actual God, you are moving your lips and wasting oxygen; there are also those militantly atheistic enough to say we’re all doing that.
Others, a fair number around these parts I would guess, believe that prayers not intended and aimed and shaped by the right or true or orthodox position are getting much less communion and communication out of their prayers than they might. There is more of an economy of efficiency than an assertion of accuracy among Licking County believers of all faiths. Even very conservative Christians around here would agree that prayers of the monotheistic faiths, Jewish, Christian, and Moslem are spoken to the same one God, but with less efficacy depending on one’s spiritual disciplines and personal faithfulness. Most would even say God hears the misuse of divine labels by the profane; they just would not want to be in their shoes when the answer comes back.
Do those who pray think they talk to God? Almost without exception, yes. Do they think they change God? Generally, no. Serious pray-ers mostly see their prayers as having effects on those who offer the prayers, opening a channel for God’s grace and peace to work in them through a powerful non-verbal communication in response; they also understand their prayers as having an effect on others by being the vehicle for allowing that grace-filled power to flow more freely in a world often intent on blocking God’s intention. While free will, in this post-Calvinistic world, is widely understood by believers as the autonomy God respects in human persons, those who freely choose prayer can give an appropriate and effective nudge to events in the world by opening doors for God to work. And such openness allows our will to be aligned with the will of God, a source of power for those who believe.
Prayer is . . . how would you answer that?
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. Share your story of prayer at work with him at disciple@voyager.net.
The Purpose Driven Life Returns
Jeff Gill
Recent events overturn our own well-made plans; Ashley Smith knows this even better than Rick Warren, let alone yours truly.
Ashley Smith is the quietly heroic captive of the Atlanta courthouse shooter from just a few weeks back; she read aloud to her kidnaper a section she was reading that day from “The Purpose Driven Life,” a book written by Saddleback Church pastor Rick Warren, a two year and still going strong bestseller (in hardback, no less), which her church was reading together through Lent, the worship season leading up to Easter.
Among regular Christian churchgoers, the question is not so much “have you read it” as “how is your church reading it?” Some congregations have done the “40 Days of Purpose” official program through Saddleback’s outreach ministry, others have done a less formal version of congregation-wide reading a day at a time together, and many churches have small groups reading the book for 40 days together.
The idea that your life has a purpose, set by God, and waiting for you to discover to achieve a truly fulfilled life, is not unique to Pastor Warren. But his material, written to give an entire faith community a context to ask this question of one another, and of their church life as well, has created a new opportunity in modern Christendom. The 100-plus weeks this volume has stayed on the New York Times bestseller list show that a chord across America was struck by this book.
So in one sense, the fact that Ashley Smith was reading “The Purpose Driven Life” when she was held captive is not surprising (although how she used it gives her credit beyond my ability to praise in a brief column).
What caught my attention in the coverage over the next two days after the capture and telling of the story was how most TV journalists were utterly unaware of this phenomenon. It started to get painful to me hearing on-air personalities, after segments of Ms. Smith’s narrative, say “This will sure put that book on the bestseller list!”
No, I’m not saying all reporters should know the top ten lists of all media at all times. But it was painfully indicative to me that there was clearly no one on TV who had heard of this book in the first blush of coverage, and mostly fairly stilted descriptions of what this “chapter 33” and who Warren was and what this book meant well into the new cycle.
I know a number of Christian pastors, actually, who have concerns and objections to “The Purpose Driven Life” or the 40 day program for churches. They think it oversold and overhyped. But I don’t know many active Christians who have never heard of it.
Of course, the idea that few media figures are committed religious people is not a new one. But the lack of awareness of such a widespread phenomenon did catch me a bit by surprise. If this were a pop cultural artifact like a hula hoop or pet rock, I’d bet most high profile reporters would know what the deal was, even if they didn’t own one.
Is religious life an aspect of the culture worth knowing about? Inquiring minds want to know . . .Ashley Smith has a story to tell that is of interest to both the culture and to Christians. Her faith is an absolutely necessary part of that narrative, if we’re to make sense of her heroism and strength in a situation of absolute weakness.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio who has used “The Purpose Driven Life” with a congregation; if you have an opinion pro- or con- about this or other trends in church life, e-mail him at disciple@voyager.net.
* * *
Faith Works column draft [note: this has not yet run, and is "parked" here; it will move to the proper chronology when it sees the light of newsprint -- jbg]
Why do we pray in Licking County?
Jeff Gill
Christians pray. The Lord’s Prayer, morning prayers, bedtime prayers; we pray in worship services and we pray in private. We speak to God, addressing ourselves to the Creator of the Universe, with a sense of trust in the belief that God listens, and a sense of wonder that God might answer.
Moslems pray, offering their submission, or “Islam” (the literal meaning of that awkward transliteration from the Arabic) to Allah, five times a day at minimum, whether alone or in association with other believers.
Jews pray, both in corporate worship that calls for a “minyan,” the ten men needed for official services, or alone before the Lord Who is One, Adonai.
Hindus pray, to a variety of divine figures who embody manifestations of the Divine Nature, but prayers both “set” and spontaneous are part of their tradition as well, no matter how different their worship spaces look to Western eyes.
Native Americans, or members of the First Nations as the Canadians say, pray; they speak most often of what they do devotionally as “listening,” with much less emphasis on asking or requesting than what they hear Anglo-Europeans do in prayer. Those who happily accept the label “Pagan” or Wiccam say much the same about their prayers.
Buddhists . . . well, they are more comfortable, for the most part, with the word “meditate,” but there are many traditional petitions and praises to the embodiments of Buddha-nature that sound like nothing other than prayer.
And the profane speak the name of God in a variety of forms, most of which are rude and disrespectful . . . but often with a frustrated or helpless tone that almost makes you think they could even be . . . naaaahhh. But Jesus really doesn’t have a middle name as far as anyone can tell from the Bible, in case you wondered.
So what are we all doing when we pray? Of course, there are those who would say that if you are not praying to the real, actual God, you are moving your lips and wasting oxygen; there are also those militantly atheistic enough to say we’re all doing that.
Others, a fair number around these parts I would guess, believe that prayers not intended and aimed and shaped by the right or true or orthodox position are getting much less communion and communication out of their prayers than they might. There is more of an economy of efficiency than an assertion of accuracy among Licking County believers of all faiths. Even very conservative Christians around here would agree that prayers of the monotheistic faiths, Jewish, Christian, and Moslem are spoken to the same one God, but with less efficacy depending on one’s spiritual disciplines and personal faithfulness. Most would even say God hears the misuse of divine labels by the profane; they just would not want to be in their shoes when the answer comes back.
Do those who pray think they talk to God? Almost without exception, yes. Do they think they change God? Generally, no. Serious pray-ers mostly see their prayers as having effects on those who offer the prayers, opening a channel for God’s grace and peace to work in them through a powerful non-verbal communication in response; they also understand their prayers as having an effect on others by being the vehicle for allowing that grace-filled power to flow more freely in a world often intent on blocking God’s intention. While free will, in this post-Calvinistic world, is widely understood by believers as the autonomy God respects in human persons, those who freely choose prayer can give an appropriate and effective nudge to events in the world by opening doors for God to work. And such openness allows our will to be aligned with the will of God, a source of power for those who believe.
Prayer is . . . how would you answer that?
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. Share your story of prayer at work with him at disciple@voyager.net.
“Think Ability First”
The Community Booster 3-14-05
Jeff Gill
Ability. We rarely think about the everyday actions we perform, from walking across a room to driving a car. We just do.
Disability is more vivid in our minds, whether a temporary loss of capacity like a broken leg or sprained wrist, or the prospect of something larger and long-lasting.
If some one is described as “having a disability,” that kind of thinking leads to our defining a person by that lack, or absence of ability.
Ashley and Danielle and Stephanie and David don’t see their world as a list of what they can’t do, or at least no more than any other high schooler does. Thanks to Rhonda and Dorothy and Raydelle and Molly and dozens of others, children as well as adults with special needs see themselves as people with abilities. Do we?
MRDD Awareness Day and Month is designed by the Licking County Board of Mental Retardation and Developmental Disabilities (you can see why they go by MRDD, can’t you?) as one of many efforts they take on to help the wider community “Think Ability First.”
How can you stop from seeing what someone can’t do as their defining characteristic? Well, one way is to put yourself in their shoes, by working a wheelchair through doors and down hallways, or wearing vision-limiting goggles. At first you are all about what you can’t do, but the gentle hints of those who live with these situations and a little persistence can show how you “do different” what you’re used to doing another way.
Or you can simply walk alongside, and learn that from adaptive technology to dogged persistence to a whole lotta love, there’s always a way.
Think ability first, says the MRDD Board, and you see a thousand Licking County residents in a very different way.
Awareness Day was an event involving some 40 community members invited to start a morning at the E.S. Weiant Center (formerly known as the “Starlight School”) with breakfast together and a brief orientation, followed by breaking into teams of 2 to 6 members visiting various locations where special needs students, young adults working on the transition to independent living, and working people with disabilities at the LICCO workshop and other sites through Community Employment Services. They ended their experience with lunch back at Weiant where participants shared what they did and saw with each other.
MRDD also works very closely with the Licking County Schools and their Educational Service Center, which provides appropriate education experiences for children from kindergarten through age 22. While many are able to graduate in one form or another, some need special services to get ready for as much independent living as they can.
This writer was with a group that went to one of three high school based multi-handicap units, or a “MH room.” Every child needing such services through their individual education plan, or IEP, has access, but not every school has their own program and intervention specialist with aides.
Children from five different districts in the county were beginning a series of exercises when our Awareness Day group arrived. The roomful was grouped by skill level rather than by grade or simple age divisions, but the exercises were done by everyone, including visitors, who were considerably less flexible than the 14 to 19 year olds.
Rhonda Taylor, the room coordinator and intervention specialist at the Granville High MH room, explained that these were exercises designed not so much to stretch the muscles as the mind, working left and right limbs over to the opposite sides, which forces the two sides of the brain to work together. This is one “stretch” that most of us could probably use to start a day, but is particularly useful for many of the students in the MH room.
We saw how each child has their own “objectives list” for the day and week, tailored to their own unique situation. When they reach 10th grade level, they also take an alternative assessment version of the Ohio Graduation Test, just their peers all across the state this week.
After some time for individual work, most of the group was scheduled for a field trip to Newark and “The Citadel,” formerly the YWCA building. Licking County School ESC has a program there for transitioning to independent living, where life skills are sharpened and aimed at their goals for their later years. Raydelle Matthews, the specialist there, was cooking a lunch that tempted us all to veer off our plan, but she invited us to just walk around the room with our escorts and join the activities.
Playing ball with young adults who are legally blind, like Robin, seeing crafts prettier than anything their guests knew they were capable of making, or getting whooped on at cards by almost anyone there (who had the disability at that table?) were some of the experiences to be had while other students worked to set up for lunch.
Here, as throughout the system, MRDD caseworkers are in close consultation with the school staff, but particularly as the emphasis shifts from the more academic to primarily vocational after age 19 or post-graduation. Adult services, with CES and the LICCO workshop, create a safety net for these able, but vulnerable members of our community.
Licking County MRDD is funded largely through our own local tax levy, some federal and state funding, and small amount of revenue. Their activities go “around the clock and around the county” in the words of Sherry Steinman, MRDD’s public relations director.
At the closing luncheon, participants like John Gard of Park National Bank noted their amazement at “how vast a transportation system it takes to do this work.”
Nancy Neely, the superintendent of MRDD, spoke of their “huge responsibility to connect with the various service programs around the county.” That kind of co-ordination, between a variety of organizations and structures, is something that is often beyond the skills of the “regularly abled,” let alone those who need assistance. From the preschool at the Weiant Center, the ten ESC school-based programs around the county, and through the work-based settings all the way to the Licking County Aging Program, people with special needs are all around us, aided and served well by the staff and volunteers of LCMRDD. Your purchases may have been made or wrapped by their clients, you may have eaten off of dishes they wash, or a bed you slept in during the ice storm was likely made by a CES worker. They are a vital part of our economy as well as our community.
Together, they invite us all to “think ability first.”
The Community Booster 3-14-05
Jeff Gill
Ability. We rarely think about the everyday actions we perform, from walking across a room to driving a car. We just do.
Disability is more vivid in our minds, whether a temporary loss of capacity like a broken leg or sprained wrist, or the prospect of something larger and long-lasting.
If some one is described as “having a disability,” that kind of thinking leads to our defining a person by that lack, or absence of ability.
Ashley and Danielle and Stephanie and David don’t see their world as a list of what they can’t do, or at least no more than any other high schooler does. Thanks to Rhonda and Dorothy and Raydelle and Molly and dozens of others, children as well as adults with special needs see themselves as people with abilities. Do we?
MRDD Awareness Day and Month is designed by the Licking County Board of Mental Retardation and Developmental Disabilities (you can see why they go by MRDD, can’t you?) as one of many efforts they take on to help the wider community “Think Ability First.”
How can you stop from seeing what someone can’t do as their defining characteristic? Well, one way is to put yourself in their shoes, by working a wheelchair through doors and down hallways, or wearing vision-limiting goggles. At first you are all about what you can’t do, but the gentle hints of those who live with these situations and a little persistence can show how you “do different” what you’re used to doing another way.
Or you can simply walk alongside, and learn that from adaptive technology to dogged persistence to a whole lotta love, there’s always a way.
Think ability first, says the MRDD Board, and you see a thousand Licking County residents in a very different way.
Awareness Day was an event involving some 40 community members invited to start a morning at the E.S. Weiant Center (formerly known as the “Starlight School”) with breakfast together and a brief orientation, followed by breaking into teams of 2 to 6 members visiting various locations where special needs students, young adults working on the transition to independent living, and working people with disabilities at the LICCO workshop and other sites through Community Employment Services. They ended their experience with lunch back at Weiant where participants shared what they did and saw with each other.
MRDD also works very closely with the Licking County Schools and their Educational Service Center, which provides appropriate education experiences for children from kindergarten through age 22. While many are able to graduate in one form or another, some need special services to get ready for as much independent living as they can.
This writer was with a group that went to one of three high school based multi-handicap units, or a “MH room.” Every child needing such services through their individual education plan, or IEP, has access, but not every school has their own program and intervention specialist with aides.
Children from five different districts in the county were beginning a series of exercises when our Awareness Day group arrived. The roomful was grouped by skill level rather than by grade or simple age divisions, but the exercises were done by everyone, including visitors, who were considerably less flexible than the 14 to 19 year olds.
Rhonda Taylor, the room coordinator and intervention specialist at the Granville High MH room, explained that these were exercises designed not so much to stretch the muscles as the mind, working left and right limbs over to the opposite sides, which forces the two sides of the brain to work together. This is one “stretch” that most of us could probably use to start a day, but is particularly useful for many of the students in the MH room.
We saw how each child has their own “objectives list” for the day and week, tailored to their own unique situation. When they reach 10th grade level, they also take an alternative assessment version of the Ohio Graduation Test, just their peers all across the state this week.
After some time for individual work, most of the group was scheduled for a field trip to Newark and “The Citadel,” formerly the YWCA building. Licking County School ESC has a program there for transitioning to independent living, where life skills are sharpened and aimed at their goals for their later years. Raydelle Matthews, the specialist there, was cooking a lunch that tempted us all to veer off our plan, but she invited us to just walk around the room with our escorts and join the activities.
Playing ball with young adults who are legally blind, like Robin, seeing crafts prettier than anything their guests knew they were capable of making, or getting whooped on at cards by almost anyone there (who had the disability at that table?) were some of the experiences to be had while other students worked to set up for lunch.
Here, as throughout the system, MRDD caseworkers are in close consultation with the school staff, but particularly as the emphasis shifts from the more academic to primarily vocational after age 19 or post-graduation. Adult services, with CES and the LICCO workshop, create a safety net for these able, but vulnerable members of our community.
Licking County MRDD is funded largely through our own local tax levy, some federal and state funding, and small amount of revenue. Their activities go “around the clock and around the county” in the words of Sherry Steinman, MRDD’s public relations director.
At the closing luncheon, participants like John Gard of Park National Bank noted their amazement at “how vast a transportation system it takes to do this work.”
Nancy Neely, the superintendent of MRDD, spoke of their “huge responsibility to connect with the various service programs around the county.” That kind of co-ordination, between a variety of organizations and structures, is something that is often beyond the skills of the “regularly abled,” let alone those who need assistance. From the preschool at the Weiant Center, the ten ESC school-based programs around the county, and through the work-based settings all the way to the Licking County Aging Program, people with special needs are all around us, aided and served well by the staff and volunteers of LCMRDD. Your purchases may have been made or wrapped by their clients, you may have eaten off of dishes they wash, or a bed you slept in during the ice storm was likely made by a CES worker. They are a vital part of our economy as well as our community.
Together, they invite us all to “think ability first.”
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Notes From My Knapsack 03-20-05
By Jeff Gill
Local school districts, and educators all over Ohio, are having to take a very serious look at their projections for funding and student counts for the next five years.
Almost without exception, school boards and superintendents have done this for decades just in the course of providing good leadership. What is a little bit different is that they now are required by the state to present these projections and proposed budgets for five years out, and that they are not, by state law, allowed to present an intentional deficit.
What is a whole lot different is that, for the most part, district treasurers are legally obligated to create these budgets for which they will be held accountable, while the lawmakers themselves are playing fruit-basket-upset with the sources of revenue.
From the futzing around with the millage rollback (perish the thought that education might benefit from increasing property values, which they likely contributed to!) on through the slow bleed of eliminating what’s known as “inventory taxes” to myriad other complex intricacies of the tax code that result in simple reductions to local school districts, education in Ohio is taking it on the chin. Big time.
So be aware, and be supportive of what school boards and the professional staffs of districts are going through, as the Statehouse hints and winks at what they may or may not do with funding formulas and tax reform, fiddling ‘til June while responsible officials close to where the hard work of citizenship happens are having to produce figures right now. They’re not supposed to guess, they can’t overspend, and they have no idea what they’ll be allowed to receive. Sound fair to you?
Oh, there in the third row: you want to know why they spend so much more, per capita, even adjusted for inflation? Thank you for raising your hand, and I’m delighted to answer that question. The reason is not a “problem,” but it is a new factor which we should celebrate and support, along with taking into account as we hold (as we should) our schools accountable.
Not so very long ago, within the personal experience of many of us who are old enough to read, most developmentally disabled, handicapped, and chronically ill students were told “Sorry.” If you couldn’t run up a flight of stairs, use a restroom on your own, or hang upside down on the monkey bars by your knees, you didn’t go to school.
That was it.
A few motivated districts and caring teachers might have gone out of their way to bring schooling to children in such situations, and institutionalized kids may or may not have gotten some kind of education wherever they were warehoused, but that wasn’t the school district’s expectation, by either the law or in the minds of local residents.
What has changed, and costs more, and what we should be very, very thankful for, is that the law now clearly says there aren’t any kids we can spare. No child is “someone else’s problem.” Every school district is required – and who wants to say this is a bad idea? – to educate every child in their care, no matter what the obstacles.
The law does not require football or baseball, or band, or busing for older youth. It does require that, if it takes an aide or special equipment or assisting devices to get a child on the road to the three R’s and beyond, that’s gotta be done. I like sports and music and science fairs, but that legal distinction makes sense to me, it really does.
Add to that the fact that graduation rates 50 years ago were close to 50% in most school districts (calculated as the number of ninth graders who got diplomas four years later), with the social assumption that the “other” 50% would be educated on the job, in the military, or along the railroad tracks catching a westbound freight, and that was just fine, you can see why education costs more, head-for-head, than it did.
I’m open to any good idea about the best mechanism for levying the taxes to support schools without harming business. Abso-bloomin-lutely. But let’s not blame kids in wheelchairs, or castigate treasurers and board members who are playing a perverse game of “Wheel” with your host Pat Housemember and the lovely Vanna Senatechamber changing the rules in mid-game.
Got an idea? E-mail me at disciple@voyager.net and I’ll give you room in this column to propose your plan. Give me three weeks worth of material, OK? This random roulette with kids’ futures has to stop.
By Jeff Gill
Local school districts, and educators all over Ohio, are having to take a very serious look at their projections for funding and student counts for the next five years.
Almost without exception, school boards and superintendents have done this for decades just in the course of providing good leadership. What is a little bit different is that they now are required by the state to present these projections and proposed budgets for five years out, and that they are not, by state law, allowed to present an intentional deficit.
What is a whole lot different is that, for the most part, district treasurers are legally obligated to create these budgets for which they will be held accountable, while the lawmakers themselves are playing fruit-basket-upset with the sources of revenue.
From the futzing around with the millage rollback (perish the thought that education might benefit from increasing property values, which they likely contributed to!) on through the slow bleed of eliminating what’s known as “inventory taxes” to myriad other complex intricacies of the tax code that result in simple reductions to local school districts, education in Ohio is taking it on the chin. Big time.
So be aware, and be supportive of what school boards and the professional staffs of districts are going through, as the Statehouse hints and winks at what they may or may not do with funding formulas and tax reform, fiddling ‘til June while responsible officials close to where the hard work of citizenship happens are having to produce figures right now. They’re not supposed to guess, they can’t overspend, and they have no idea what they’ll be allowed to receive. Sound fair to you?
Oh, there in the third row: you want to know why they spend so much more, per capita, even adjusted for inflation? Thank you for raising your hand, and I’m delighted to answer that question. The reason is not a “problem,” but it is a new factor which we should celebrate and support, along with taking into account as we hold (as we should) our schools accountable.
Not so very long ago, within the personal experience of many of us who are old enough to read, most developmentally disabled, handicapped, and chronically ill students were told “Sorry.” If you couldn’t run up a flight of stairs, use a restroom on your own, or hang upside down on the monkey bars by your knees, you didn’t go to school.
That was it.
A few motivated districts and caring teachers might have gone out of their way to bring schooling to children in such situations, and institutionalized kids may or may not have gotten some kind of education wherever they were warehoused, but that wasn’t the school district’s expectation, by either the law or in the minds of local residents.
What has changed, and costs more, and what we should be very, very thankful for, is that the law now clearly says there aren’t any kids we can spare. No child is “someone else’s problem.” Every school district is required – and who wants to say this is a bad idea? – to educate every child in their care, no matter what the obstacles.
The law does not require football or baseball, or band, or busing for older youth. It does require that, if it takes an aide or special equipment or assisting devices to get a child on the road to the three R’s and beyond, that’s gotta be done. I like sports and music and science fairs, but that legal distinction makes sense to me, it really does.
Add to that the fact that graduation rates 50 years ago were close to 50% in most school districts (calculated as the number of ninth graders who got diplomas four years later), with the social assumption that the “other” 50% would be educated on the job, in the military, or along the railroad tracks catching a westbound freight, and that was just fine, you can see why education costs more, head-for-head, than it did.
I’m open to any good idea about the best mechanism for levying the taxes to support schools without harming business. Abso-bloomin-lutely. But let’s not blame kids in wheelchairs, or castigate treasurers and board members who are playing a perverse game of “Wheel” with your host Pat Housemember and the lovely Vanna Senatechamber changing the rules in mid-game.
Got an idea? E-mail me at disciple@voyager.net and I’ll give you room in this column to propose your plan. Give me three weeks worth of material, OK? This random roulette with kids’ futures has to stop.
Faith Works 03-19-05
By Jeff Gill
[note: this did not appear in print, since the Atlanta hostage incident with Ashley Smith and the Purpose Driven Life story kind of overrode events; i wrote a new column seen above, and this exists only here...but enjoy anyhow! jbg]
A Children’s Sermon For Grown-ups
Now that the flood of green beer has crested, and the “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” buttons put back at the bottom of the sweater drawer, we can talk about Saint Patrick. Not the winkin’ wee feller of St. Paddy’s Day, but the good missionary bishop himself, and that hunk of Emerald Isle landscape in his hand.
“The Wearin’ o’ the Green,” with or without the pinch penalty (hope you checked workplace guidelines on sexual harassment before you tried that on anyone last week) is part of the adoptive Irishness that has trickled down to the wholesale embrace of “Celtic spirituality,” a broad table with an assortment of dishes set out, not many of which would Bishop Patrick recognize a millennium and a half ago.
Shamrock symbolism for the day and place and person is a good quick identifier, like pumpkins for Hallowe’en and fireworks for the Fourth of July. We’ve come to associate it with Ireland as a whole, in tourism ads or decorating the margins of our family tree from County Sligo.
What Patrick first plucked a shamrock for was to make a point, and a difficult one at that, one that has challenged Christian teachers and preachers for many an age. He held up the lowly green ground cover to make three points, or maybe three points in one.
What the good bishop was trying to get across to his pagan and Druid listeners was what Christians meant when they said they believed in “One God, not many” but could also call Jesus “truly God and truly human,” and, oh yes, there was this “Holy Spirit” authentically divine as well.
OK, said the Irish. So you worship three gods, which is fine by us; many do. No, no, answered Patrick, we worship God in three persons, a blessed Trinity, where the eternal Oneness of God is manifested in three. . .
And then Patrick saw the shamrock.
Aside from general theological illiteracy, a big reason for folks here and now not knowing the religious roots of the shamrock symbol is that we point at our common clover as the closest analogy (and look for luck in the four leaf variety, just as they did in the Auld Sod for four leaf shamrocks).
But clover is three distinct leaflets off of a central stem. Shamrocks were a, well, God-send for Patrick because they look like three leaves until you consider them up close and personal. A true shamrock is actually one leaf, with divisions between the three lobes so deep that they look like three different sections. Careful observation, instead of a casual glance, shows that the shamrock is in fact one coherent, connected, unified leaf.
Thus, Patrick to-be-saint would have said, is our understanding of the inner relationships of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. From a distance, three distinct forms and roles; draw near, and see and feel the oneness.
Town after town, county after county, king after king heard Patrick’s shamrock theology talk about Christianity, and asked for baptism. This way of understanding the doctrine of the Trinity became so attached to the Irish Church that the shamrock became the symbol of the whole island.
And may the road rise to meet all those preparing for baptism this Easter season, and may the gentle wind be at everyone’s back, Irish or not.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. If you have other ethnic faith traditions to share, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
By Jeff Gill
[note: this did not appear in print, since the Atlanta hostage incident with Ashley Smith and the Purpose Driven Life story kind of overrode events; i wrote a new column seen above, and this exists only here...but enjoy anyhow! jbg]
A Children’s Sermon For Grown-ups
Now that the flood of green beer has crested, and the “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” buttons put back at the bottom of the sweater drawer, we can talk about Saint Patrick. Not the winkin’ wee feller of St. Paddy’s Day, but the good missionary bishop himself, and that hunk of Emerald Isle landscape in his hand.
“The Wearin’ o’ the Green,” with or without the pinch penalty (hope you checked workplace guidelines on sexual harassment before you tried that on anyone last week) is part of the adoptive Irishness that has trickled down to the wholesale embrace of “Celtic spirituality,” a broad table with an assortment of dishes set out, not many of which would Bishop Patrick recognize a millennium and a half ago.
Shamrock symbolism for the day and place and person is a good quick identifier, like pumpkins for Hallowe’en and fireworks for the Fourth of July. We’ve come to associate it with Ireland as a whole, in tourism ads or decorating the margins of our family tree from County Sligo.
What Patrick first plucked a shamrock for was to make a point, and a difficult one at that, one that has challenged Christian teachers and preachers for many an age. He held up the lowly green ground cover to make three points, or maybe three points in one.
What the good bishop was trying to get across to his pagan and Druid listeners was what Christians meant when they said they believed in “One God, not many” but could also call Jesus “truly God and truly human,” and, oh yes, there was this “Holy Spirit” authentically divine as well.
OK, said the Irish. So you worship three gods, which is fine by us; many do. No, no, answered Patrick, we worship God in three persons, a blessed Trinity, where the eternal Oneness of God is manifested in three. . .
And then Patrick saw the shamrock.
Aside from general theological illiteracy, a big reason for folks here and now not knowing the religious roots of the shamrock symbol is that we point at our common clover as the closest analogy (and look for luck in the four leaf variety, just as they did in the Auld Sod for four leaf shamrocks).
But clover is three distinct leaflets off of a central stem. Shamrocks were a, well, God-send for Patrick because they look like three leaves until you consider them up close and personal. A true shamrock is actually one leaf, with divisions between the three lobes so deep that they look like three different sections. Careful observation, instead of a casual glance, shows that the shamrock is in fact one coherent, connected, unified leaf.
Thus, Patrick to-be-saint would have said, is our understanding of the inner relationships of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. From a distance, three distinct forms and roles; draw near, and see and feel the oneness.
Town after town, county after county, king after king heard Patrick’s shamrock theology talk about Christianity, and asked for baptism. This way of understanding the doctrine of the Trinity became so attached to the Irish Church that the shamrock became the symbol of the whole island.
And may the road rise to meet all those preparing for baptism this Easter season, and may the gentle wind be at everyone’s back, Irish or not.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. If you have other ethnic faith traditions to share, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
Faith Works 03-12-05
By Jeff Gill
Contemporary and Traditional Worship
One of the more vexed questions in today’s congregational life is how to approach the widespread move to what’s called “contemporary worship.”
Actually, there’s no more a contemporary style than there is a single “traditional worship” style. Variations from religious body to religious body, between geographic and cultural regions, and out of ethnic backgrounds as well make any use of standard terminology tricky.
For central Ohio, mostly among Protestant Christian bodies, the distinction is largely one of music, at least on the surface. Traditional worship is marked by hymnals, music mostly 40 years old or older, often a bulletin with an “order of worship” built around regularly recurring songs and prayers or acts that stay pretty much the same from week to week.
Traditional worship is orderly, generally more formal, with mostly professional leadership in front of the congregation, and from the worshipers there is less active involvement in the service, with clapping or applause less welcome.
Contemporary worship is marked by music presented by a “praise team” usually made up of mostly volunteers, playing guitars, drums, and keyboards or synthesizers to offer music written in the last few decades. Hymnals are all but invisible, as words are projected before the congregation, freeing the hands to clap, applaud, or even raise up during prayer and praise. While contemporary worship isn’t necessarily “charismatic” in the Pentecostal sense, a freedom for individual expression and spontaneous flow in the elements of the service are similar to what has been found in charismatic fellowships for many years.
Obviously, these styles resist blending in one service. Some churches, such as Jacksontown United Methodist Church, have been able to do this successfully, but more common is either having two (or more) services clearly presented as “contemporary” at blank o’clock and “traditional” at other o’clock.
One concern raised with this approach is the question “aren’t we going to have two separate congregations under one roof if we do that?” Actually, the results in churches doing this are pretty much what happens anywhere there are multiple services. Even in places which have chosen to stick with traditional as their style across the board, the “early” and “late” services have their own set of regular attenders, and a different feel between the experiences of worship.
To have multiple services for worship means taking on an extra obligation to have a variety of fellowship experiences that can cut across generational boundaries and issues of musical taste. It can be done, and two or three healthy services will always total more worshipers than the most crowded single service over time, anyhow.
My wife loves being part of a praise team ensemble, working out harmonies and accompaniment for new pieces of music (which often are Biblical texts or phrases from ancient music: it ain’t all new!), and seeing the active involvement of an entire sanctuary in the entire experience of worship. My mom can’t stand contemporary worship of any sort, period. My dad is, to quote “baffled by why anyone would enjoy all this noise in church,” but also says “if you can get all these people to church who weren’t coming before, there must be something to it.”
Me? Well, like any good columnist, I have an assortment of feelings about all this. But I keep coming back to a keepsake I have on a shelf in my office, a hymnal from the roots of my own background, whose proceeds built Bethany College, churches across the US in the 19th century, and funded missionary efforts all around the world. My great-great-grandmother, her daughter, and her daughter sang from this hymn book.
It has over 600 hymns in it. There are precisely two – “Amazing Grace” & “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” – that anyone still sings.
Will we still sing much of contemporary praise music a hundred years from now? Probably not. But it’s worth giving it a try today. I’ll bet my great-grandmother thought “Old Rugged Cross” didn’t sound right the first time she heard it, either.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you have a favorite hymn you’d like to read more about, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
By Jeff Gill
Contemporary and Traditional Worship
One of the more vexed questions in today’s congregational life is how to approach the widespread move to what’s called “contemporary worship.”
Actually, there’s no more a contemporary style than there is a single “traditional worship” style. Variations from religious body to religious body, between geographic and cultural regions, and out of ethnic backgrounds as well make any use of standard terminology tricky.
For central Ohio, mostly among Protestant Christian bodies, the distinction is largely one of music, at least on the surface. Traditional worship is marked by hymnals, music mostly 40 years old or older, often a bulletin with an “order of worship” built around regularly recurring songs and prayers or acts that stay pretty much the same from week to week.
Traditional worship is orderly, generally more formal, with mostly professional leadership in front of the congregation, and from the worshipers there is less active involvement in the service, with clapping or applause less welcome.
Contemporary worship is marked by music presented by a “praise team” usually made up of mostly volunteers, playing guitars, drums, and keyboards or synthesizers to offer music written in the last few decades. Hymnals are all but invisible, as words are projected before the congregation, freeing the hands to clap, applaud, or even raise up during prayer and praise. While contemporary worship isn’t necessarily “charismatic” in the Pentecostal sense, a freedom for individual expression and spontaneous flow in the elements of the service are similar to what has been found in charismatic fellowships for many years.
Obviously, these styles resist blending in one service. Some churches, such as Jacksontown United Methodist Church, have been able to do this successfully, but more common is either having two (or more) services clearly presented as “contemporary” at blank o’clock and “traditional” at other o’clock.
One concern raised with this approach is the question “aren’t we going to have two separate congregations under one roof if we do that?” Actually, the results in churches doing this are pretty much what happens anywhere there are multiple services. Even in places which have chosen to stick with traditional as their style across the board, the “early” and “late” services have their own set of regular attenders, and a different feel between the experiences of worship.
To have multiple services for worship means taking on an extra obligation to have a variety of fellowship experiences that can cut across generational boundaries and issues of musical taste. It can be done, and two or three healthy services will always total more worshipers than the most crowded single service over time, anyhow.
My wife loves being part of a praise team ensemble, working out harmonies and accompaniment for new pieces of music (which often are Biblical texts or phrases from ancient music: it ain’t all new!), and seeing the active involvement of an entire sanctuary in the entire experience of worship. My mom can’t stand contemporary worship of any sort, period. My dad is, to quote “baffled by why anyone would enjoy all this noise in church,” but also says “if you can get all these people to church who weren’t coming before, there must be something to it.”
Me? Well, like any good columnist, I have an assortment of feelings about all this. But I keep coming back to a keepsake I have on a shelf in my office, a hymnal from the roots of my own background, whose proceeds built Bethany College, churches across the US in the 19th century, and funded missionary efforts all around the world. My great-great-grandmother, her daughter, and her daughter sang from this hymn book.
It has over 600 hymns in it. There are precisely two – “Amazing Grace” & “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” – that anyone still sings.
Will we still sing much of contemporary praise music a hundred years from now? Probably not. But it’s worth giving it a try today. I’ll bet my great-grandmother thought “Old Rugged Cross” didn’t sound right the first time she heard it, either.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you have a favorite hymn you’d like to read more about, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Notes From My Knapsack 3-13-05
By Jeff Gill
Calvinists from Wales, landless Anglican prone to the Arminian heresy (said the Calvinists), German Dunkards and Congregational New Englanders – religious refugees, sectarian churches, and pilgrim colonists are not just the story of the settling of the East Coast of North America.
We know the legends of Plymouth Rock (Myles Standish and John Alden) and the Hudson Valley (Rip VanWinkle and Sleepy Hollow) or even Revolutionary Piedmonters (Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox) from the far edge of America, but what about our story? The narrative of Licking County and her European pioneers is all too little known, but with dramatic characters and startling scenes all its own.
John Jones, Elias Ratliff, Lucius Mower, or Billy Dragoo deserve to be known to a wider audience in this area, and the religious underpinnings of migrant bands ending up along Raccoon Creek are vital to understanding their story.
Dick Shiels may not get to Billy Dragoo, but he will talk this Tuesday about how churches and colonists created the core of Licking County in the Granville area in the early 1800’s. Dick is a popular teacher of history at OSU-Newark both of events long ago and far away, as well as the history just at our feet.
7:30 pm on March 15 at the Granville Inn is your chance to come hear about the creation of a tale that is not only still being re-told, but re-edited as well!
Quite a few congregations in Licking County are celebrating their bicentennials over the next few years: White Chapel United Methodist Church off Hog Run west of Rt. 13, Licking Baptist Church on Beaver Run Road near Hebron, and both First Presbyterians in Newark and Granville. A number of sesqui’s are coming up, too: Perryton’s Church of Christ, Johnstown Baptist Church, Croton and Hebron United Methodist Churches soon and Denison University this next year. Please send me news of any anniversary events you know about, and what will be a public portion of the commemorations.
Most of our local school systems didn’t come into being as organized entities until after 1838 with state legislation helping put the pieces together, and many (like Newark’s) didn’t get going until 1850 or so. Civic affairs were in log structures and based on infrequent meetings until about the same time.
Church buildings and the congregational life in them was often the only structure outside of family life for much of the early history in Ohio, as in most of this country. It can be fairly assumed that the structures of church life also shaped the still developing social and cultural life around them, simply by being first and in having a shape and solidity to copy.
Were all our pioneer forebearers active and faithful members of the churches they attended? A close reading of history says they were individually less so than you might think, but that same careful observation shows how unique and idiosyncratic elements of the denominations found on the frontier created much of the foundation for civil government. I’m looking forward to hearing Dick Shiels trace the marks of these formative influences on the community we continue to build.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you have a story to add to the files of historic Licking County or for tomorrow’s tale, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
By Jeff Gill
Calvinists from Wales, landless Anglican prone to the Arminian heresy (said the Calvinists), German Dunkards and Congregational New Englanders – religious refugees, sectarian churches, and pilgrim colonists are not just the story of the settling of the East Coast of North America.
We know the legends of Plymouth Rock (Myles Standish and John Alden) and the Hudson Valley (Rip VanWinkle and Sleepy Hollow) or even Revolutionary Piedmonters (Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox) from the far edge of America, but what about our story? The narrative of Licking County and her European pioneers is all too little known, but with dramatic characters and startling scenes all its own.
John Jones, Elias Ratliff, Lucius Mower, or Billy Dragoo deserve to be known to a wider audience in this area, and the religious underpinnings of migrant bands ending up along Raccoon Creek are vital to understanding their story.
Dick Shiels may not get to Billy Dragoo, but he will talk this Tuesday about how churches and colonists created the core of Licking County in the Granville area in the early 1800’s. Dick is a popular teacher of history at OSU-Newark both of events long ago and far away, as well as the history just at our feet.
7:30 pm on March 15 at the Granville Inn is your chance to come hear about the creation of a tale that is not only still being re-told, but re-edited as well!
Quite a few congregations in Licking County are celebrating their bicentennials over the next few years: White Chapel United Methodist Church off Hog Run west of Rt. 13, Licking Baptist Church on Beaver Run Road near Hebron, and both First Presbyterians in Newark and Granville. A number of sesqui’s are coming up, too: Perryton’s Church of Christ, Johnstown Baptist Church, Croton and Hebron United Methodist Churches soon and Denison University this next year. Please send me news of any anniversary events you know about, and what will be a public portion of the commemorations.
Most of our local school systems didn’t come into being as organized entities until after 1838 with state legislation helping put the pieces together, and many (like Newark’s) didn’t get going until 1850 or so. Civic affairs were in log structures and based on infrequent meetings until about the same time.
Church buildings and the congregational life in them was often the only structure outside of family life for much of the early history in Ohio, as in most of this country. It can be fairly assumed that the structures of church life also shaped the still developing social and cultural life around them, simply by being first and in having a shape and solidity to copy.
Were all our pioneer forebearers active and faithful members of the churches they attended? A close reading of history says they were individually less so than you might think, but that same careful observation shows how unique and idiosyncratic elements of the denominations found on the frontier created much of the foundation for civil government. I’m looking forward to hearing Dick Shiels trace the marks of these formative influences on the community we continue to build.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio; if you have a story to add to the files of historic Licking County or for tomorrow’s tale, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Faith Works 03-05-05
By Jeff Gill
One of my little personal treasures is a carefully laminated newspaper photograph of Jim Short going in to vote. His wife, Virginia, is holding his arm, and a neighbor is holding the door of their local school where the polling place was set up.
Jim died not very long after this picture was taken, with the effects of Parkinson’s disease finally overwhelming his ability to breath. He knew he was likely to not see those he voted for sworn in, let alone serve out their terms, but this veteran of World War II knew where his place and duty lay, and his family and friends were going to help him fulfill his calling.
I think of Jim when I watch Pope John Paul II on television, a man I’ve never met but whose service, like Jim’s in the Marine Corps, has touched my life and for the better. My freedom and confidence in the world my family lives in is due to the steadfastness and faithfulness of those who have stood against Nazism and Communism.
And I laugh, and think of Jim again when I hear people ask, “will the Pope step down?” The former archbishop of Krakow has often said “Jesus did not step down from the cross” in answer to that question, a response which says volumes to those of us who have known individuals who put the greater good over personal comfort. Whether in combat, in ministry, or simply in getting out of their home for one of the last times to cast a vote for candidates they respected, there are heroes all around us, and John Paul, bishop of Rome, knows he represents many such lesser known folk even as he is also “the vicar of Christ.”
Parkinson’s is a disease, and like breathing, it will lead to death if given enough time. It does not carry away brain cells, or rewire your thoughts, but it does mask the emotions you still feel just as strongly behind a frozen set of facial muscles. The mask, the tremors, and the slow debilitation of walking and working leads far too many to assume it has mental effects. (Ask a blind person how tired they get of people talking slowly and too loudly to them!)
Recently, two movies won Academy Awards for best film and best foreign language film that affirm what some call the “right to die,” but many others would call the “right to assisted suicide.” One disability rights activist said the next morning after the Oscars: “Good thing there wasn’t an animated feature about putting us out of everyone else’s misery, or it would have been a clean sweep.”
I think the Pope would agree. He is aware and active and ready to serve, whether for a month or a year or possibly another decade. Whose misery is he needing to sooth: his own, or that of those who see a once vital man weighed down by illness and see possibilities for themselves they’d rather not confront?
May God bless John Paul for his faithful example before the world, and in another of the marvels of this modern age, if you’d like to say thank you this Lent, just drop “Il Papa” an e-mail through john_paul_II@vatican.va.
He can’t type anymore, but he can hear a “thank you” as well as any of us. Maybe even better.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. You can e-mail him at a less impressive address, disciple@voyager.net.
By Jeff Gill
One of my little personal treasures is a carefully laminated newspaper photograph of Jim Short going in to vote. His wife, Virginia, is holding his arm, and a neighbor is holding the door of their local school where the polling place was set up.
Jim died not very long after this picture was taken, with the effects of Parkinson’s disease finally overwhelming his ability to breath. He knew he was likely to not see those he voted for sworn in, let alone serve out their terms, but this veteran of World War II knew where his place and duty lay, and his family and friends were going to help him fulfill his calling.
I think of Jim when I watch Pope John Paul II on television, a man I’ve never met but whose service, like Jim’s in the Marine Corps, has touched my life and for the better. My freedom and confidence in the world my family lives in is due to the steadfastness and faithfulness of those who have stood against Nazism and Communism.
And I laugh, and think of Jim again when I hear people ask, “will the Pope step down?” The former archbishop of Krakow has often said “Jesus did not step down from the cross” in answer to that question, a response which says volumes to those of us who have known individuals who put the greater good over personal comfort. Whether in combat, in ministry, or simply in getting out of their home for one of the last times to cast a vote for candidates they respected, there are heroes all around us, and John Paul, bishop of Rome, knows he represents many such lesser known folk even as he is also “the vicar of Christ.”
Parkinson’s is a disease, and like breathing, it will lead to death if given enough time. It does not carry away brain cells, or rewire your thoughts, but it does mask the emotions you still feel just as strongly behind a frozen set of facial muscles. The mask, the tremors, and the slow debilitation of walking and working leads far too many to assume it has mental effects. (Ask a blind person how tired they get of people talking slowly and too loudly to them!)
Recently, two movies won Academy Awards for best film and best foreign language film that affirm what some call the “right to die,” but many others would call the “right to assisted suicide.” One disability rights activist said the next morning after the Oscars: “Good thing there wasn’t an animated feature about putting us out of everyone else’s misery, or it would have been a clean sweep.”
I think the Pope would agree. He is aware and active and ready to serve, whether for a month or a year or possibly another decade. Whose misery is he needing to sooth: his own, or that of those who see a once vital man weighed down by illness and see possibilities for themselves they’d rather not confront?
May God bless John Paul for his faithful example before the world, and in another of the marvels of this modern age, if you’d like to say thank you this Lent, just drop “Il Papa” an e-mail through john_paul_II@vatican.va.
He can’t type anymore, but he can hear a “thank you” as well as any of us. Maybe even better.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. You can e-mail him at a less impressive address, disciple@voyager.net.
Notes From My Knapsack 03-06-05
By Jeff Gill
Give ‘Em The Works
So far this winter, the Little Guy and yours truly have made krispy squares, irish soda bread, fresh pasta, and some spectacular messes. Iron Chefs in training we ain’t, but we can demolish a Kitchen Stadium with the best of them.
Many more snow days and delays, and we’ll be making deoxyribonucleic paper chains, with an atcg cgat gatc hey ho!
As a stay-home dad, my Y chromosome seems to lack certain craft alleles, but moms who hold down the home fort daytimes tell me that this is not just a guy thing, after all. Too many days with the kids a) at home and b) not able to go outside can result in tensions, trauma, and too much snack-bribing (or is that a guy thing?).
Then we have Spring Break looming on the horizon. Some of you may be heading for Cabo San Lucas, but most of us are likely to be cruising around Cabo San Licking County for the week. What to do? Should we load up some neighbor kids in a fit of altruism and head for the screaming steelcage scrum called COSI and kill a day in Franklin County?
OK, I’m exaggerating (a bit), but while COSI costs about half a home equity loan (see first half of sentence) and leaves your ears ringing for the rest of the week (no exaggeration at all), what about “The Works”?
Y’know, “The Works: Ohio Center for History, Art & Technology” just south of Courthouse Square in Newark, at 55 S. First St. Haven’t been there yet? That’s true for far too many Licking County parents and kids. Think it’s expensive? Try $6 for adults, $4 for seniors (all you grandmas and grandpas watching kids the last week o’ March), and kids are $2.
“The Works” is a locally focused museum, but also a Smithsonian affiliate, which tells you something about the quality of what’s interpreted there about “History, Art & Technology.”
We went there for their free day on President’s Day Monday a few weeks ago. It was full of kids and families, but you could hear yourself think. There were lots of activities going on, but not of the “slap a few buttons and run to the next so-called exhibit” that so many sci/tech museums have. The glassblower was putting on a show that kept a certain six year old interested for a straight through twenty minutes (Aaron, would you come by our house and do that, just so my wife believes me?), but the glowing orange maw of the furnace helped, too.
I grew up on the famed Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, and about the only thing I didn’t feel matched up at The Works is that they don’t have a captured German sub out back to tour (Howard, are you working on that one?), but they have a Print Shop, Wood Shop, and Art Studios that are all real working sites, not just displays.
Speaking of art, if you want to invest a few more dollars but get more time out of The Works experience for your elementary kids, they have some Spring Break “camps” coming up.
There’s a “Spring Break Art Camp”for students in grades 4-6 that runs from 9:30am-12:30pm, where you produce your own children’s picture book during a one-week camp.
From their web site www.attheworks.org: “Each day you will create a page for your book using a different illustration technique including drawing, watercolor, printmaking and collage. You will also tour The Works Print Shop, create your book cover and bind your book. By the end of the week, you will have a complete, handmade book that you can read to your little siblings or friends!”
Or there’s also a “Spring Break Museum Camp” for students grades 3-6 from 1:00pm-4:00pm.
They plan to help your child “learn about Bridges and Structures ... Discover the History of Flight and experiment with your own glider ... Work with wood to build your own birdhouse” and of course “much more.”
Both Spring Break Camps are held Monday, March 28 through Friday, April 1.
Cost for each camp is $85 per student.
For more information, call The Works at (740) 349-9277.
If you just want to pick your time and length of visit, they are open any week Tuesday through Friday from 9 am to 5 pm; or on Saturday from 11 am to 4pm.
The admission is cheap at twice the price, and a family membership is just $50 for the year. Marcia Downs and the staff have put a great facility together for Licking County, so come see and spend some time there this Spring Break. You’ll see us there for sure.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply pastor around central Ohio; he and his wife have worked on designing a number of museums and exhibits, and they know good stuff when they see it! If you have news of another visitor experience in central Ohio you’d like to share, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
By Jeff Gill
Give ‘Em The Works
So far this winter, the Little Guy and yours truly have made krispy squares, irish soda bread, fresh pasta, and some spectacular messes. Iron Chefs in training we ain’t, but we can demolish a Kitchen Stadium with the best of them.
Many more snow days and delays, and we’ll be making deoxyribonucleic paper chains, with an atcg cgat gatc hey ho!
As a stay-home dad, my Y chromosome seems to lack certain craft alleles, but moms who hold down the home fort daytimes tell me that this is not just a guy thing, after all. Too many days with the kids a) at home and b) not able to go outside can result in tensions, trauma, and too much snack-bribing (or is that a guy thing?).
Then we have Spring Break looming on the horizon. Some of you may be heading for Cabo San Lucas, but most of us are likely to be cruising around Cabo San Licking County for the week. What to do? Should we load up some neighbor kids in a fit of altruism and head for the screaming steelcage scrum called COSI and kill a day in Franklin County?
OK, I’m exaggerating (a bit), but while COSI costs about half a home equity loan (see first half of sentence) and leaves your ears ringing for the rest of the week (no exaggeration at all), what about “The Works”?
Y’know, “The Works: Ohio Center for History, Art & Technology” just south of Courthouse Square in Newark, at 55 S. First St. Haven’t been there yet? That’s true for far too many Licking County parents and kids. Think it’s expensive? Try $6 for adults, $4 for seniors (all you grandmas and grandpas watching kids the last week o’ March), and kids are $2.
“The Works” is a locally focused museum, but also a Smithsonian affiliate, which tells you something about the quality of what’s interpreted there about “History, Art & Technology.”
We went there for their free day on President’s Day Monday a few weeks ago. It was full of kids and families, but you could hear yourself think. There were lots of activities going on, but not of the “slap a few buttons and run to the next so-called exhibit” that so many sci/tech museums have. The glassblower was putting on a show that kept a certain six year old interested for a straight through twenty minutes (Aaron, would you come by our house and do that, just so my wife believes me?), but the glowing orange maw of the furnace helped, too.
I grew up on the famed Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, and about the only thing I didn’t feel matched up at The Works is that they don’t have a captured German sub out back to tour (Howard, are you working on that one?), but they have a Print Shop, Wood Shop, and Art Studios that are all real working sites, not just displays.
Speaking of art, if you want to invest a few more dollars but get more time out of The Works experience for your elementary kids, they have some Spring Break “camps” coming up.
There’s a “Spring Break Art Camp”for students in grades 4-6 that runs from 9:30am-12:30pm, where you produce your own children’s picture book during a one-week camp.
From their web site www.attheworks.org: “Each day you will create a page for your book using a different illustration technique including drawing, watercolor, printmaking and collage. You will also tour The Works Print Shop, create your book cover and bind your book. By the end of the week, you will have a complete, handmade book that you can read to your little siblings or friends!”
Or there’s also a “Spring Break Museum Camp” for students grades 3-6 from 1:00pm-4:00pm.
They plan to help your child “learn about Bridges and Structures ... Discover the History of Flight and experiment with your own glider ... Work with wood to build your own birdhouse” and of course “much more.”
Both Spring Break Camps are held Monday, March 28 through Friday, April 1.
Cost for each camp is $85 per student.
For more information, call The Works at (740) 349-9277.
If you just want to pick your time and length of visit, they are open any week Tuesday through Friday from 9 am to 5 pm; or on Saturday from 11 am to 4pm.
The admission is cheap at twice the price, and a family membership is just $50 for the year. Marcia Downs and the staff have put a great facility together for Licking County, so come see and spend some time there this Spring Break. You’ll see us there for sure.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply pastor around central Ohio; he and his wife have worked on designing a number of museums and exhibits, and they know good stuff when they see it! If you have news of another visitor experience in central Ohio you’d like to share, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Faith Works 2-26-05
By Jeff Gill
If you look into the breaks left on so many trees from our year end ice storm, the exposed areas tell a variety of stories.
Quite a few show hidden flaws, patches of rot or wear invisible before the stress of added weight revealed the inner weakness. Lightning strikes, insect infestation, tree diseases were at work long before the freezing rain fell.
Some are just a split where the fault was just waiting to collapse. And there are a few that are just a mystery: why this branch broken, and not another more likely to splinter or crack?
Recent revelations of clergy sexual abuse, crossing a variety of denominational boundaries, shake out very like those tree branches. Occasionally, the story that finally comes out is still a mysterious one: why did this preacher or teacher "fall"? More often, the sadness of the tale is intensified by revelations that the cracks were visible long before from the right perspective, and those who could see what was going on turned a blind eye.
Many area churches are going to a "two deep" approach to ministries of all sorts, especially with youth; Scouting has used the idea of "no adult alone with a child out of eyeshot or hearing for any reason whatsoever," or "two deep leadership" since the early 1980’s, and this has reduced both incidents and claims of improper contact with children to almost none.
Background checks usually only reveal convictions, which are rare even against long-term predators, who often are passed from church to church, area to area, state to state, until they do something so heinous as to get all the way into the court system. By then, they may have a wide swath of damage already behind them, known to those immediately involved but nowhere official.
Does your church or religious organization have policies or procedures for contact and interaction with youth? By bringing up the subject, and suggesting a plan, you may be helping your youth leaders or clergy, who aren’t always sure what to say when folks resist taking steps. "Oh, preacher, we trust you!" Trust, where earned, is wonderful, but some kind of reference check, background check, or two-deep absolute standard for youth outings can protect leaders and the entire institution against both false claims, and the occasional invisibility of problems until they explode in your faith community’s midst.
And if you see a problem, don’t be afraid to speak up. Being a voice for the voiceless is at the heart of what most congregations are called to be, anyhow! Keeping silence is what most predators and problem adults count on to cover their tracks, and can be the moral equivalent of helping them commit their crimes.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio, and has directed youth camps for almost 25 years. If you have suspicions of child abuse, call 349-6333 or 6400; if you have news or stories for the upcoming Easter season, e-mail Jeff at disciple@voyager.net.
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By Jeff Gill
If you look into the breaks left on so many trees from our year end ice storm, the exposed areas tell a variety of stories.
Quite a few show hidden flaws, patches of rot or wear invisible before the stress of added weight revealed the inner weakness. Lightning strikes, insect infestation, tree diseases were at work long before the freezing rain fell.
Some are just a split where the fault was just waiting to collapse. And there are a few that are just a mystery: why this branch broken, and not another more likely to splinter or crack?
Recent revelations of clergy sexual abuse, crossing a variety of denominational boundaries, shake out very like those tree branches. Occasionally, the story that finally comes out is still a mysterious one: why did this preacher or teacher "fall"? More often, the sadness of the tale is intensified by revelations that the cracks were visible long before from the right perspective, and those who could see what was going on turned a blind eye.
Many area churches are going to a "two deep" approach to ministries of all sorts, especially with youth; Scouting has used the idea of "no adult alone with a child out of eyeshot or hearing for any reason whatsoever," or "two deep leadership" since the early 1980’s, and this has reduced both incidents and claims of improper contact with children to almost none.
Background checks usually only reveal convictions, which are rare even against long-term predators, who often are passed from church to church, area to area, state to state, until they do something so heinous as to get all the way into the court system. By then, they may have a wide swath of damage already behind them, known to those immediately involved but nowhere official.
Does your church or religious organization have policies or procedures for contact and interaction with youth? By bringing up the subject, and suggesting a plan, you may be helping your youth leaders or clergy, who aren’t always sure what to say when folks resist taking steps. "Oh, preacher, we trust you!" Trust, where earned, is wonderful, but some kind of reference check, background check, or two-deep absolute standard for youth outings can protect leaders and the entire institution against both false claims, and the occasional invisibility of problems until they explode in your faith community’s midst.
And if you see a problem, don’t be afraid to speak up. Being a voice for the voiceless is at the heart of what most congregations are called to be, anyhow! Keeping silence is what most predators and problem adults count on to cover their tracks, and can be the moral equivalent of helping them commit their crimes.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio, and has directed youth camps for almost 25 years. If you have suspicions of child abuse, call 349-6333 or 6400; if you have news or stories for the upcoming Easter season, e-mail Jeff at disciple@voyager.net.
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Monday, February 21, 2005
Notes From My Knapsack 2-27-05by Jeff Gill
Hunter S. Thompson is not likely to be claimed as a journalistic inspiration by many columnists in weekly local broadsheets, and I'm not going to qualify as one so inspired myself.But I will always be glad I read his long article on "Hell's Angels" before encountering "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" (hey, I was in high school in the 70's and worked in radio through the 70's and early 80's: of course I read it, I'm not recommending it...exactly).Thompson really did have a style all his own, and it wasn't the parody style of drug-addled incoherence with punctuation and periodic ALL CAPS that has now become the standard verbiage of weblog posting, a style which he sadly began to live down to and produce without any assistance from outside mockers.The creator of "gonzo journalism" was a skilled and proficient writer who, like a modern artist who has mastered drawing and perspective and color before going off on an abstract binge, knew exactly what he was doing even when he seemed most out of control.He got the story, and he told the tale, at least the early Thompson did. There is a touch of HST in any of us who are trying to use a personal voice while getting something newsworthy out in front of eyeballs (yours, dear reader!), even for those who'd never read him.With the passing of Warren Zevon and Hunter Thompson, a piece and a period of American pop cultural history is no longer open for revision or correction. Time will judge (and Zevon much less harshly than Mr. Gonzo), but Boomers aplenty will hold high their Bic, aloft and alight, in memory of both. May they rest in peace.Is that all? Well, I was going to write about Iron Chef America, but since the startling outcome of Battle Crab, I'm going to have to think about it a bit more. Or maybe Trish Mumme will be the challenger on an upcoming episode, and she can explain these things better than I. Tune in next week!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio who enjoys making his own pasta...occasionally. If you have recipes, send them to Trish; if you have stories of culinary disasters, send them to disciple@voyager.net.
Hunter S. Thompson is not likely to be claimed as a journalistic inspiration by many columnists in weekly local broadsheets, and I'm not going to qualify as one so inspired myself.But I will always be glad I read his long article on "Hell's Angels" before encountering "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" (hey, I was in high school in the 70's and worked in radio through the 70's and early 80's: of course I read it, I'm not recommending it...exactly).Thompson really did have a style all his own, and it wasn't the parody style of drug-addled incoherence with punctuation and periodic ALL CAPS that has now become the standard verbiage of weblog posting, a style which he sadly began to live down to and produce without any assistance from outside mockers.The creator of "gonzo journalism" was a skilled and proficient writer who, like a modern artist who has mastered drawing and perspective and color before going off on an abstract binge, knew exactly what he was doing even when he seemed most out of control.He got the story, and he told the tale, at least the early Thompson did. There is a touch of HST in any of us who are trying to use a personal voice while getting something newsworthy out in front of eyeballs (yours, dear reader!), even for those who'd never read him.With the passing of Warren Zevon and Hunter Thompson, a piece and a period of American pop cultural history is no longer open for revision or correction. Time will judge (and Zevon much less harshly than Mr. Gonzo), but Boomers aplenty will hold high their Bic, aloft and alight, in memory of both. May they rest in peace.Is that all? Well, I was going to write about Iron Chef America, but since the startling outcome of Battle Crab, I'm going to have to think about it a bit more. Or maybe Trish Mumme will be the challenger on an upcoming episode, and she can explain these things better than I. Tune in next week!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio who enjoys making his own pasta...occasionally. If you have recipes, send them to Trish; if you have stories of culinary disasters, send them to disciple@voyager.net.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Faith Works 2-19-05
By Jeff Gill
"What Not To Wear"
So, you’ve been inspired by Lent or frightened by a falling tree limb from the ice storm, and you’ve decided to go to a place of worship this weekend.
What do you wear?
Not so long ago, this was a fairly simple issue. "Sunday go to meeting" clothes were what you called your good suit or nicest dress through much of American history, from New England Puritans in the 1600’s to Californian Catholics in 1960’s, and most groups large and small in between.
Then John Kennedy didn’t wear a hat to his inauguration, and with a whoosh, standards for special occasions swirled within society. Jimmy Carter wore a sweater for a presidential address, pants suits became the norm, not an exception, for women in many situations, and people on planes went from ties and pearls to tie-dye Pearl Jam t-shirts with sandals.
So what do you wear to church?
The standard answer for and from many has been "wear your best for God." Complicating that stock response is that what hangs in many closets as "the best" ain’t what it used to be (like my grammar), and what looks like grunge to one may be the best for another. You can have in one pew a sharp suit, polished shoes, and a tie seated next to a clean white t-shirt under a worn mud streaked denim jacket, and both are wearing their best.
Most complicated is the new vocabulary of workplace dress that makes "casual Friday" strike fear into the hearts of many. Is this too grubby? Do I look so formal people think I’m making a point? There are many points on a continuum that for many used to be a two or three point line: good clothes, work clothes, leisure clothes.
Now we have business casual, leisure formal ("no short shorts or collarless shirts, please"), and more categories each day as we have more clothes to categorize.
But what to wear to church?
The simple answer is: it depends. Many congregations in Licking County have contemporary and traditional services (now there’s a column!), which tends to tell you that ties and dresses are the norm at traditional, but are likely to stand out in the contemporary format. Many pastors at evangelical churches wear a kind of tieless look under a jacket that says "we’re not business stuffy, but we honor God," while a more liturgical church with robes and stoles and vestments tend to support a more formal look among the worshipers.
Ideally, any place of worship will accept a newcomer however they’re dressed, and most do. Some talk about "people looked at me funny," but that can be as much an internal unease as something really being communicated – after all, some folks just look that way all the time.
Places where a higher truth and deeper reality is affirmed should be able to look past the outer appearance, and building community can start with welcoming openly and honestly those who, well, choose to wear a dress to the contemporary service, as well as the sweat suit wearing person sitting next to them.
But every faith community has it’s own internal norm of dress, which may vary a little for those active in the service, but is fairly standard across the congregation.
Which is another reason why first time visitors tend to arrive late and leave early. They’re checking out what to wear if they want to come back.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. His tie rack gets less of a workout than it once did; if you have a story of "what not to wear" in worship, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
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By Jeff Gill
"What Not To Wear"
So, you’ve been inspired by Lent or frightened by a falling tree limb from the ice storm, and you’ve decided to go to a place of worship this weekend.
What do you wear?
Not so long ago, this was a fairly simple issue. "Sunday go to meeting" clothes were what you called your good suit or nicest dress through much of American history, from New England Puritans in the 1600’s to Californian Catholics in 1960’s, and most groups large and small in between.
Then John Kennedy didn’t wear a hat to his inauguration, and with a whoosh, standards for special occasions swirled within society. Jimmy Carter wore a sweater for a presidential address, pants suits became the norm, not an exception, for women in many situations, and people on planes went from ties and pearls to tie-dye Pearl Jam t-shirts with sandals.
So what do you wear to church?
The standard answer for and from many has been "wear your best for God." Complicating that stock response is that what hangs in many closets as "the best" ain’t what it used to be (like my grammar), and what looks like grunge to one may be the best for another. You can have in one pew a sharp suit, polished shoes, and a tie seated next to a clean white t-shirt under a worn mud streaked denim jacket, and both are wearing their best.
Most complicated is the new vocabulary of workplace dress that makes "casual Friday" strike fear into the hearts of many. Is this too grubby? Do I look so formal people think I’m making a point? There are many points on a continuum that for many used to be a two or three point line: good clothes, work clothes, leisure clothes.
Now we have business casual, leisure formal ("no short shorts or collarless shirts, please"), and more categories each day as we have more clothes to categorize.
But what to wear to church?
The simple answer is: it depends. Many congregations in Licking County have contemporary and traditional services (now there’s a column!), which tends to tell you that ties and dresses are the norm at traditional, but are likely to stand out in the contemporary format. Many pastors at evangelical churches wear a kind of tieless look under a jacket that says "we’re not business stuffy, but we honor God," while a more liturgical church with robes and stoles and vestments tend to support a more formal look among the worshipers.
Ideally, any place of worship will accept a newcomer however they’re dressed, and most do. Some talk about "people looked at me funny," but that can be as much an internal unease as something really being communicated – after all, some folks just look that way all the time.
Places where a higher truth and deeper reality is affirmed should be able to look past the outer appearance, and building community can start with welcoming openly and honestly those who, well, choose to wear a dress to the contemporary service, as well as the sweat suit wearing person sitting next to them.
But every faith community has it’s own internal norm of dress, which may vary a little for those active in the service, but is fairly standard across the congregation.
Which is another reason why first time visitors tend to arrive late and leave early. They’re checking out what to wear if they want to come back.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. His tie rack gets less of a workout than it once did; if you have a story of "what not to wear" in worship, e-mail disciple@voyager.net.
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Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Notes From My Knapsack 2-20-05
By Jeff Gill
"Conservation Hearts and Dollar George"
The Little Guy is a bit sad over the end of Valentine’s season; no promises of cherry pie for Washington’s Birthday can assuage his grief.
(Cranky columnist note: President’s Day implies that we are celebrating James Buchanan and Millard Fillmore, which I will not be on the morrow. I trust you solemnly honored Lincoln’s Birthday last weekend in the manner you find fit, but this one, Monday-ed holiday or Feb. 22, is about the Man, George Himself. End of small tantrum.)
The feast of Saint Valentinus was a real festival in the Little Guy’s life, as he enjoyed getting cards made for Mom, and carefully reading his heart-shaped hard candy from the New England Confectionary Company (you knew that was what NECCO stood for, right?).
It is probably a sign of the kind of conversation our first grader overhears around the house that they were, irreversibly, "Conservation Hearts." Even after he got the mistake, his evil genius then saw the pleasure of insisting on the new label.
Which got the Lovely Wife and me to thinking. What would "Conservation Hearts" say on them?
"Be Green."
"Turn Down the Heat."
"Light a Candle."
"Recycle Now."
"Shall We Hike?"
"Composting Is Fun."
Or, my energy-conscious favorite, "Let’s Shower Together."
NECCO, there’s a market here…
I can’t say that Presidents are far from the LG’s mind, since his presidential place mat has him as charmingly tedious about the names and numbers of our parade of POTUS’s as he was about state capitals when the dinner time mat was a map of the US.
An intriguing confusion came up when he saw a $20.
"That’s not James Garfield," stated the LG.
"No, that’s right," answered the LW, puzzled. Now, since Daddy has spoken of Garfield with approval before (only ordained minister to be president, Civil War vet, progressive Republican, died tragically), it wasn’t unheard of to hear about Garfield in the house, but why now?
Long quizzicality finally produced an answer. George Washington is on the One Dollar Bill, Lincoln a little further along, so the $20 should have POTUS #20, i.e. Garfield.
We thought this was clarified, but then he saw a $50 on the counter (no, this isn’t a common event here, as that’s more than my allowance, let alone LG’s).
He picked it up, looked at it, and laid it down dismissively.
"There haven’t even been 50 presidents."
Grant never did get any respect.
A quick closing note: tomorrow, Monday, Feb. 21, the Village of Hebron has a blood drive in the municipal complex from 1:00 to 6:00 pm. The American Red Cross in central Ohio, and just about everywhere else, really needs donors. If you think because you’ve been turned down twelve years ago you still can’t give, it might be worth stopping by and checking.
The restrictions based on where you’ve traveled, or surgery, or medications have all changed greatly in recent years. There still are some, but many have been eliminated due to improved testing technology.
So go open a vein! They have great cookies for after, too.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. If you have close encounters with presidential history or news to share, e-mail him at disciple@voyager.net.
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By Jeff Gill
"Conservation Hearts and Dollar George"
The Little Guy is a bit sad over the end of Valentine’s season; no promises of cherry pie for Washington’s Birthday can assuage his grief.
(Cranky columnist note: President’s Day implies that we are celebrating James Buchanan and Millard Fillmore, which I will not be on the morrow. I trust you solemnly honored Lincoln’s Birthday last weekend in the manner you find fit, but this one, Monday-ed holiday or Feb. 22, is about the Man, George Himself. End of small tantrum.)
The feast of Saint Valentinus was a real festival in the Little Guy’s life, as he enjoyed getting cards made for Mom, and carefully reading his heart-shaped hard candy from the New England Confectionary Company (you knew that was what NECCO stood for, right?).
It is probably a sign of the kind of conversation our first grader overhears around the house that they were, irreversibly, "Conservation Hearts." Even after he got the mistake, his evil genius then saw the pleasure of insisting on the new label.
Which got the Lovely Wife and me to thinking. What would "Conservation Hearts" say on them?
"Be Green."
"Turn Down the Heat."
"Light a Candle."
"Recycle Now."
"Shall We Hike?"
"Composting Is Fun."
Or, my energy-conscious favorite, "Let’s Shower Together."
NECCO, there’s a market here…
I can’t say that Presidents are far from the LG’s mind, since his presidential place mat has him as charmingly tedious about the names and numbers of our parade of POTUS’s as he was about state capitals when the dinner time mat was a map of the US.
An intriguing confusion came up when he saw a $20.
"That’s not James Garfield," stated the LG.
"No, that’s right," answered the LW, puzzled. Now, since Daddy has spoken of Garfield with approval before (only ordained minister to be president, Civil War vet, progressive Republican, died tragically), it wasn’t unheard of to hear about Garfield in the house, but why now?
Long quizzicality finally produced an answer. George Washington is on the One Dollar Bill, Lincoln a little further along, so the $20 should have POTUS #20, i.e. Garfield.
We thought this was clarified, but then he saw a $50 on the counter (no, this isn’t a common event here, as that’s more than my allowance, let alone LG’s).
He picked it up, looked at it, and laid it down dismissively.
"There haven’t even been 50 presidents."
Grant never did get any respect.
A quick closing note: tomorrow, Monday, Feb. 21, the Village of Hebron has a blood drive in the municipal complex from 1:00 to 6:00 pm. The American Red Cross in central Ohio, and just about everywhere else, really needs donors. If you think because you’ve been turned down twelve years ago you still can’t give, it might be worth stopping by and checking.
The restrictions based on where you’ve traveled, or surgery, or medications have all changed greatly in recent years. There still are some, but many have been eliminated due to improved testing technology.
So go open a vein! They have great cookies for after, too.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. If you have close encounters with presidential history or news to share, e-mail him at disciple@voyager.net.
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Monday, February 07, 2005
Faith/Works 2-12-05
By Jeff Gill
Many of the events in the Christian calendar are “baptized” dates. While no one wonders whether or not Jesus of Nazareth was born, the exact date has never been known, since none of the Biblical accounts mention a day.
In the Roman empire, where Christianity spread first and fastest, a number of dates in the Roman calendar were “baptized,” converted from their cultic purposes along the Tiber to mark major points in the stories from the Gospels, such as late December’s Saturnalia turned into Christmas, or Spring rites of the Vestal Virgins into Lent. Many Celtic dates and names in western Europe were “baptized” the same way, such as Eostre, a Spring fertility rite, taken to mark the date finally agreed upon to mark the Resurrection at the Synod of Whitby.
While few Roman pagans have shown up on the public scene to reclaim holidays for Saturn, Juno, or Mercury, pop culture has done a strange reworking on the reworked festival that is Valentine’s Day.
Originally an ancient, mysterious cultic observance called “Lupercalia,” where the devotees of Bacchus, god of wine and drunken frenzy, would tear an animal apart with their bare hands and then crowd around to be whipped with bloody strips of hide, the early Roman Christians said, and I quote, “Whoa nelly!”
This “bacchanal” (there’s that Bacchus/Dionysus again) was oddly popular, largely because being left with a red mark from one of the flails was believed by women to promote fertility for wives who could not bear children, the summum bonum of ancient life.
So the church leaders did a very clever “baptism” of even the lurid Lupercalia in mid-February, and tied it to the commemoration of an early Christian martyr, who witnessed to the power of love between young believers held captive before their own deaths in the arena, and to God’s power shown through them all. You still had drama, tragedy, hope, and faith all twined together, but with the blood left as a symbolic indicator in emblems of red.
Less to clean up, too.
So for practical and faithful reasons, the feast of Saint Valentinus of Rome washed away the excesses of Lupercalia in love letters and symbols of the heart marking February 14, two weeks before year’s end. (Roman years began in March, but that’s another column.)
Today, St. Valentine is the one who’s co-opted: it’s Valentine’s Day, or V-Day, with even hearts and cupids steadily supplanted by lace, chocolate, and fertility rites of a sort that might be recognized by a Roman matron in training for a Lupercalia street festival.
Renewing that baptism of old, some churches are working to reclaim the day for Saint V and his affirmation of romantic love as a manifestation of divine love, holding special dinners for couples, holding marriage retreats or Marriage Enrichment programs around Feb. 14. Hebron Christian Church even combines a celebration of couples’ and families’ love for each other with their love for a camp program that has built strong relationships over many years, and make their Valentine’s dinner a fundraiser for Camp Christian.
It could be sharing how many years you’ve been married around a sanctuary on a Sunday morning this time of year, or sharing in small groups or in testimony time what has strengthened your marriage recently, but let’s not let Valentine’s Day go back to the wolves!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. Tell him your story of a loving faith community or renewed history at disciple@voyager.net.
By Jeff Gill
Many of the events in the Christian calendar are “baptized” dates. While no one wonders whether or not Jesus of Nazareth was born, the exact date has never been known, since none of the Biblical accounts mention a day.
In the Roman empire, where Christianity spread first and fastest, a number of dates in the Roman calendar were “baptized,” converted from their cultic purposes along the Tiber to mark major points in the stories from the Gospels, such as late December’s Saturnalia turned into Christmas, or Spring rites of the Vestal Virgins into Lent. Many Celtic dates and names in western Europe were “baptized” the same way, such as Eostre, a Spring fertility rite, taken to mark the date finally agreed upon to mark the Resurrection at the Synod of Whitby.
While few Roman pagans have shown up on the public scene to reclaim holidays for Saturn, Juno, or Mercury, pop culture has done a strange reworking on the reworked festival that is Valentine’s Day.
Originally an ancient, mysterious cultic observance called “Lupercalia,” where the devotees of Bacchus, god of wine and drunken frenzy, would tear an animal apart with their bare hands and then crowd around to be whipped with bloody strips of hide, the early Roman Christians said, and I quote, “Whoa nelly!”
This “bacchanal” (there’s that Bacchus/Dionysus again) was oddly popular, largely because being left with a red mark from one of the flails was believed by women to promote fertility for wives who could not bear children, the summum bonum of ancient life.
So the church leaders did a very clever “baptism” of even the lurid Lupercalia in mid-February, and tied it to the commemoration of an early Christian martyr, who witnessed to the power of love between young believers held captive before their own deaths in the arena, and to God’s power shown through them all. You still had drama, tragedy, hope, and faith all twined together, but with the blood left as a symbolic indicator in emblems of red.
Less to clean up, too.
So for practical and faithful reasons, the feast of Saint Valentinus of Rome washed away the excesses of Lupercalia in love letters and symbols of the heart marking February 14, two weeks before year’s end. (Roman years began in March, but that’s another column.)
Today, St. Valentine is the one who’s co-opted: it’s Valentine’s Day, or V-Day, with even hearts and cupids steadily supplanted by lace, chocolate, and fertility rites of a sort that might be recognized by a Roman matron in training for a Lupercalia street festival.
Renewing that baptism of old, some churches are working to reclaim the day for Saint V and his affirmation of romantic love as a manifestation of divine love, holding special dinners for couples, holding marriage retreats or Marriage Enrichment programs around Feb. 14. Hebron Christian Church even combines a celebration of couples’ and families’ love for each other with their love for a camp program that has built strong relationships over many years, and make their Valentine’s dinner a fundraiser for Camp Christian.
It could be sharing how many years you’ve been married around a sanctuary on a Sunday morning this time of year, or sharing in small groups or in testimony time what has strengthened your marriage recently, but let’s not let Valentine’s Day go back to the wolves!
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio. Tell him your story of a loving faith community or renewed history at disciple@voyager.net.
Notes From My Knapsack 2-13-05
By Jeff Gill
Tuesday, Feb. 15 is certainly just around the corner, but there’s an event and opportunity coming up just around that corner you should know about, but that I didn’t think I could promote loudly and widely until just now. But first…
If you are interested in the long (I mean looooong) human history of Licking County, going back to what appears to be the very first human occupants of this area 12,000 years ago and on down to the latecomers from Europe a mere 200 years back, then you should read the rest of this column.
If not, check back next week under this header. Bye!
OK, for those of you still with me, one more request before I get to the meaty details. Don’t turn the page just because I happen to use the words “Granville Bicentennial” in a sentence, because this is a program of interest to anyone who lives in and is intrigued by the Native American prehistory of central Ohio.
Tuesday at 7:30 pm is the next featured speaker in the Granville Bicentennial series, and I was reluctant to shout too much from the housetops because the venue was going to a relatively small room. But the huge turnout for the opening talk by Dale Knobel, Denison president and historian in his own right, led the wonderful management at the Granville Inn to offer their “Great Room” for the rest of the series, with seating enough for hundreds (as we had for Pres. Knobel).
Brad Lepper, curator of archaeology for the Ohio Historical Society, was one of the authors of the new Granville history volume(s), and is widely known as not only the leading expert on early residents in Licking County from after the glaciers to just before the settlers arrived, but also as a great public speaker. In the interests of full disclosure, Brad is a good and longstanding friend, but for many who have heard me rattle on interminably about the Newark Earthworks, the Burning Tree Mastodon, Alligator Mound, Flint Ridge, etc., may I note that all my A-list material has been swiped directly from Brad.
Dr. Lepper, in his professional persona, also has a book coming out this month titled “Ohio Archaeology” (go ahead, check Amazon.com for details; we’ll be here when you get back). His many publications, appearance with former National Park Service director Roger Kennedy on the Discovery Channel, and column in (ahem) another newspaper mean that many of you have read something or another by Brad, but if you’ve never heard him speak on Ohio’s First Residents, you should head for the Granville Inn this week and get a good seat before 7:30 pm.
I will personally offer a money back guarantee for your enjoyment of the evening’s program, which is free and open to the public.
You might also note that Dick Shiels, another author for the Granville history books and a presenter a few weeks on down the road, and Brad are working on co-ordinating a number of events next fall relating to the Octagon Moonrise, the “once in a generation” alignment of the largest assembly in the Newark Earthworks and a unique moonrise that won’t be seen again until 2024. Check out octagonmoonrise.org for the first stage of a website that will tell you more as the big date gets closer. Dick teaches at OSU-Newark, and between he and Brad Licking County has a remarkable wealth of teaching talent and public presentation skills to share our “land of legend” story with a national and global audience.
So come on into Granville Tuesday night, where the natives are friendly (just don’t speed, fer Pete’s sake), and hear a story where we all have a part in telling the growing tale of Licking County wonders.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio, and he’s been known to do an archaeology talk or two himself. If you have local stories of general interest, send ‘em to disciple@voyager.net.
By Jeff Gill
Tuesday, Feb. 15 is certainly just around the corner, but there’s an event and opportunity coming up just around that corner you should know about, but that I didn’t think I could promote loudly and widely until just now. But first…
If you are interested in the long (I mean looooong) human history of Licking County, going back to what appears to be the very first human occupants of this area 12,000 years ago and on down to the latecomers from Europe a mere 200 years back, then you should read the rest of this column.
If not, check back next week under this header. Bye!
OK, for those of you still with me, one more request before I get to the meaty details. Don’t turn the page just because I happen to use the words “Granville Bicentennial” in a sentence, because this is a program of interest to anyone who lives in and is intrigued by the Native American prehistory of central Ohio.
Tuesday at 7:30 pm is the next featured speaker in the Granville Bicentennial series, and I was reluctant to shout too much from the housetops because the venue was going to a relatively small room. But the huge turnout for the opening talk by Dale Knobel, Denison president and historian in his own right, led the wonderful management at the Granville Inn to offer their “Great Room” for the rest of the series, with seating enough for hundreds (as we had for Pres. Knobel).
Brad Lepper, curator of archaeology for the Ohio Historical Society, was one of the authors of the new Granville history volume(s), and is widely known as not only the leading expert on early residents in Licking County from after the glaciers to just before the settlers arrived, but also as a great public speaker. In the interests of full disclosure, Brad is a good and longstanding friend, but for many who have heard me rattle on interminably about the Newark Earthworks, the Burning Tree Mastodon, Alligator Mound, Flint Ridge, etc., may I note that all my A-list material has been swiped directly from Brad.
Dr. Lepper, in his professional persona, also has a book coming out this month titled “Ohio Archaeology” (go ahead, check Amazon.com for details; we’ll be here when you get back). His many publications, appearance with former National Park Service director Roger Kennedy on the Discovery Channel, and column in (ahem) another newspaper mean that many of you have read something or another by Brad, but if you’ve never heard him speak on Ohio’s First Residents, you should head for the Granville Inn this week and get a good seat before 7:30 pm.
I will personally offer a money back guarantee for your enjoyment of the evening’s program, which is free and open to the public.
You might also note that Dick Shiels, another author for the Granville history books and a presenter a few weeks on down the road, and Brad are working on co-ordinating a number of events next fall relating to the Octagon Moonrise, the “once in a generation” alignment of the largest assembly in the Newark Earthworks and a unique moonrise that won’t be seen again until 2024. Check out octagonmoonrise.org for the first stage of a website that will tell you more as the big date gets closer. Dick teaches at OSU-Newark, and between he and Brad Licking County has a remarkable wealth of teaching talent and public presentation skills to share our “land of legend” story with a national and global audience.
So come on into Granville Tuesday night, where the natives are friendly (just don’t speed, fer Pete’s sake), and hear a story where we all have a part in telling the growing tale of Licking County wonders.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and supply preacher around central Ohio, and he’s been known to do an archaeology talk or two himself. If you have local stories of general interest, send ‘em to disciple@voyager.net.
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