Lenten Writing Prompt #15
What is a role that you participated in the church as a kid - if not a church 'job' (acolyte, usher, etc.) was there a personality role that you seemed to fill? If you didn't go to church regularly, what were your impressions of church as a kid? How did this job, role, or impression shape your faith now? (This is a broad question in order to be inclusive of all different backgrounds - feel free to take this prompt and run with it in the direction that you wish...)
I was in an assembly in the small Lutheran parochial school I attended in the 3rd grade. We were all waiting for a promised movie. However whoever was supposed to run the film projector wasn't there and no one knew how to get it to go. I didn't either, but I went up to the projector, saw the threading instructions on the door and proceeded to load the film. I threw the two bat handled silver looking switches to the on position and the projector started its motors which made the two reels go around and the gears push the film through. The light also came on at the same moment. The movie started. I felt like the king of the world. I got immense pleasure out of figuring out the machinery and learning how it worked. I also realized that I was in charge of the movie and I was important. After that I was always asked to run the films. I still do the same thing for the same reasons. Doug
ReplyDeleteWilling servants have this notion that Spirit will make it go! You've captured it.
Deleteronaldo
Wow. This seems like it was such a profound turning point in a really subtle, every-day way. Helping people, finding your importance, fixing machinery and church are all elements in this story that fit into countless other scenarios of your life. Cool.
ReplyDeleteNice gift! I asked my Dad to will me his mechanical ability - He's been gone for 5 years and I still don't get it! Nice to have folks like you around Doug!
ReplyDeleteMy dad was a mathematician and had zero mechanical ability, although he doted over a push lawn mower. I had to teach myself everything and build my own workbench in the garage, leaned to solder, saw, drill and cut without much help. One of the things I learned to do is to use the expertise of others. By sharing our talents we worked together and built friendships that have lasted. A lot of my hobby stuff is radio and test equipment operation and repair. In a hobby that helps people be loners, that skill of getting people together has not only helped me be a better person, but has helped others. My radio club issued me an injunction against soldering, as my soldering is pretty bad, but my retort was that I would accept it if they offered to solder for me. The result is that they have fun needling me and we have fun building things together. (I get to test the results, a skill I am good at.)
DeleteMake your own path and turn your problems into opportunities. Doug K6JEY K6JEY.com
creative spirit building community. CQ CQ. reading you 4 X 4
Deleteronaldo
God’s Home
ReplyDeleteMy parents brought me to God’s home 19 November 1945,
My Godparents stood beside me as my baptismal vow given.
Faithful as the calendar, worship reminded me, God’s alive,
Sisters, brothers showed me love, kindness never sin riven.
Every home has chores to make them run aright,
Early on I needed babysitting, mom the choir led.
A church friend did the duty, keeping folks in sight,
Dad sang with the men, a gentle baritone, music read.
My younger brother, John, joined three years later.
We followed our parents witness as God’s kids.
Helpful hands lending support, never dissention, no debater.
Mattered not the need, folding bulletins to silent auction bids.
As years past, opportunities shifted to fit skills.
Extra hands became acolyting, door greeter, junior usher.
Worship leaders knew we’d be present, often last minute fills,
Women’s group needs, men’s group projects, never sled musher!
Youth choir, Luther League meetings, always Sunday School class,
Usually pals with the pastors on a last name basis,
We were faithful, hard workers who weren’t prone to sass.
Spirit blessed our Melver foursome, a Norwegian Lutheran oasis.
Confirmation years came, in my class three boys true.
Toward the last 5 months, our family moved once again.
By reel to reel tape I’d make my answers, never few,
After ninth grade ended, we three felt Spirit descend.
High School years brought us to church as the remnant.
Luther League president gave me a title to uphold.
Being true to the lifestyle, faithful in my baptismal covenant,
I’d encourage church peers to be fun-loving, active and bold.
Nearly two decades of involvement completed before college.
God’s home had much iteration I could attest to as real.
Word Made Flesh, my loving Savior, to Whom my life I pledge,
His home, my home; His mission of love and service has great appeal.
The Rev. Ronald Allen Melver, M.Div.
2 March 2013
“You can be an acolyte when you can reach the candles! And you have to be tall enough that the robes don’t drag on the ground!” Those were the two requirements of being an acolyte and I remember Toby Everett eyeing me over and mentally measuring me for a robe as soon as I turned 8 years old. I recall the seriousness of wearing TWO layers of robes – a black long robe with a collar that stiffly stuck up out of a white over-robe that looked angelic and had sleeves that, in hindsight were pretty full for a kid with a stick that had fire coming out of one end.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was tall enough and there was a robe that fit me, I finally got to learn to be an acolyte in our very traditional-looking church. Long red-orange rug down aisle (with Lutheran beige linoleum under the pews), Lutheran A-frame construction, windows of mottled bumpy mustard-colored glass instead of stained glass windows and mint-green paint on the walls, echoing the color of the Green Lutheran Hymnal. Candles lit, we would walk up the aisle and then ascend up the steps to the “stage” area where the pulpits were. Then up one more step, past the communion rail to the candles. We actually got to go inside of the railing – swinging open the gate that would let us in to light the candles. Some Sundays there was just one candle for each acolyte on either side of the small gold-painted cross on the Altar. Other times, there was a candle AND a candelabra for each of us. Candelabra Sundays were the best. I would assume that they were put out for Communion Sundays. Perhaps it was a liturgical-season thing. I never knew though - I was the mechanical side of the program.
My best friend, Thomas, was usually my acolyte partner. It wasn’t a big church, so I don’t think there were a lot of other acolytes, but frankly - if I may be extremely prideful during Lent…we were the gosh-darned best. The Pastor’s Daughter and the Church Secretary’s kid (which if any of you are ‘insiders’, you know that the church “secretary”, the person at the front desk – is really the one who runs the church. Aside from God, of course). Thomas was also a military kid – his dad trained Marines in the desert in Southern California. We never knew exactly what he did, but the lock-step cadence that Thomas taught me was our signature. I know it sounds rote and un-Godly to be all ‘robotic’ and military about lighting candles that represent God, but we had such a deft precision. We could handle those candelabra Sundays like nothin’! Light, bow. Part separate ways and light, light, light, light, light, light, light, come to the center and bow, turning inward toward each other and try not to smile and make each other laugh, then face the congregation and lock-step it to our seats – by the pastor or in the choir. If you sat by the pastor, there was a leeeetle crack between the pulpit and the wall so that the congregation could see you and you HAD to behave. Your mom could see you. So it became the job of the person sitting incognito next to the choir (which could only be partially seen.) to make the person in the ‘hot seat’ laugh. How many things did we do and how many times did we get into trouble from the pastors or the choir director, Zula-Dawn Noregard with this game? Countless times.
(To be continued below...)
the word picture is clear, the relationship unfolds so well, can't wait to read the next!
Deleteronaldo
(...Continued)
ReplyDeleteThen handing out communion – actually taking the teeny-tiny empty plastic shotglasses of wine from each person in our plate full of holes for each cup felt so important. One of the other sets kids our age – a set of brothers, was had the ‘spiritual gift’ of ushering. It was a big brother (teenager) and his little brother, who was our age. They always played tricks on us to try to make us mess up. Once they told us that we were supposed to light the candles and then march back down the aisle to the back of the church. Unquestioningly, we did so with such authority that no one questioned it. The congregation just collectively reached out to make sure that their beloved green hymnal was still there and let out a sigh that even though the acolytes made a change, their beloved ‘Green Book’ was still safe. We got to the back of the church and the brothers were giggling wildly, knowing that they made us mess up and we had to return to the front of the church by the “secret ways” – through the church office on the left and out, through a sidewalk on the perimeter of the church into the choir loft.
I always love that today, the acolyte carries the light out after he or she extinguishes the candles – I love that symbolism – but if anyone saw our faces after a job well done, they would know that a light was indeed being carried out, not by the cold wick & bell, but within our hearts.
children always find ways to endure, to faithfully carry out God's work. Shenanagins are part of the reality children bring. Jesus seemed to delight in the free spirit brought into the stuffy scene. you've captured it well.
Deleteronaldo
My childhood church was small, with fewer than one hundred members. Until I was about ten years old the women and children sat on one side, the men on the other. One sat quietly, and if a child sometimes turned his head to stare at the crowd, an adult was sure to bop him on the head. I think it was after the War that men and women sat together, and things got a bit looser.
ReplyDeleteThe first minister I remember had a strong German accent, as did most of the Sunday School teachers. Most of the curriculum consisted of memorization, sometimes a little too early. When we sang "I've got the Choy Choy down in my heart", my mother did answer my question as to what that was down in my heart, and I learned a new word, "Joy". A very good word. I had a bit of trouble too when I heard the older children reciting Luther's meaning to the Ten Commandments. Why would anyone want to bite his neighbor's back? (You have to be Lutheran to know what I'm talking about). I did eventually learn of the love and goodness of Jesus, even though I was bopped on the head a lot. After confirmation and while in high school I was privileged to teach the toddlers in Sunday School, the best church experience I had in my youth. I tried hard to use words that they understood. Once I heard a child singing "Onward Christian Soldier, leaning on the floor". I let that go, because I didn't want to get into war. I emphasized the love of Jesus and loving each other, being kind. It was sometimes hard, given some of those Bible stories, but with the help of the Holy Spirit, I did a good job.
Sylvia
your honest account stirs me. Spirit quietly enabled you. love, compassion, true joy accompanied you. thank you.
Deleteronaldo
Ruth and Thomas were the best acolytes I ever had. Not only were they good at general duties, there were the special odd things that happen in church that if the Pastor does it will attract too much attention, but if one of them does it, it will be done without notice.
DeleteMy favorite is that one Sunday, I forgot my sermon outline on the desk in my office. I whispered over to the acolyte where it was and to go and get it. It was done just in time and without notice. Great job, Thomas or Ruth, I have forgotten which.
They also got to help with the kid's sermons either as players in story or in keeping order in the kids. I did play a trick on Thomas with an egg once. But that is another story. Pastor Doug Millar (father of Ruth)
ah now the truth is revealed. undercover agents in church!! delightful.
Deleteronaldo
Parents didn't go to church, except C&E, but I went most Sundays to Our Saviors Lutheran in Great Fall, Montana with family across the street. It was the choirs I participated in. Children's Choir, wearing black floor-length skirts (boys and girls), long white tops and large black bow ties.
ReplyDeleteLater in the chapel choir (junior high) wearing burgundy robes and with white collors. Felt really important in that choir as we helped lead the service, not just going to the front to sing one or two songs. Started singing alto parts then and still remember those parts without looking, especially to Holy, Holy, Holy and Savior Again to Thy Dear Name we Rise. Once in a while when I hear an instrumental version of an anthem we sang which you don't usually hear now, every word and verse comes back.
If only the great words I think about writing would come back to my consciousness when I'm ready to write them down....
Marlene Obie
you have captured the importance of a young girl in a leadership role. it continues.
Deleteronaldo
Sunday! It’s Sunday! Mom braided my hair and tied the two braids with new ribbon. I put on my freshly-polished white shoes with the Mary Jane straps, and my pink Sunday dress with the small blue primroses. We all climbed into our new green 1949 Plymouth to drive to the north edge of Withee to Nazareth Lutheran Church.
ReplyDeleteHalfway up the right-hand side of the little church was the usual pew in which my family worshipped. We settled in and listened to the organ prelude as the candles were lighted. I liked looking at the baptismal font where I knew I had been baptized, so I knew I was a child of God. Most of the people bowed their heads to pray silently.
I loved standing by Daddy as we rose to sing “Holy, Holy, Holy.” I loved the way Mom held her dark blue hymnal so I could follow along with the words. I tried to understand the pastor when he went up in the high pulpit to speak God’s words, wearing his long black funny clothes. I was embarrassed by my younger sister and brother not sitting as quietly as I. I was pleased that I knew all the words to the Lord’s Prayer as we prayed together. And I was somewhat intimidated when the pastor stood at the back of the church to shake hands with everyone after the worship service.
But when we got outside, I ran all the way to the west fence where our family grave plots were marked with a border of stones. I knew that Grandma and Grandpa, Daddy’s parents, were buried there. Daddy carried a large Mason jar of fresh-cut peonies to put on their graves. Mom came along with my sister on one hand and my brother on the other. We knew it was very important not to step on graves, but I liked walking up and down the rows reading the words on the stones.
Together we walked to the back of the church yard, where Daddy pointed out the grove of evergreen trees. “See those trees? I helped to plant them when I was a young boy. Some day they might be tall enough to hang a swing there.”
We walked back to the car, all together, and drove home to Sunday dinner. But I already looked forward to next Sunday, when we would come back to church together.
Your family surrounded by God's family. I can smell the scent of candles, see the faces of God's people. Thanks.
Deleteronaldo
Church Kid
ReplyDeleteI turned the magic age of 10 years old in November. I was old enough to sing in the junior choir at First English Lutheran Church in Billings, Montana. The choir met for practice after school on Fridays. There were about eight or ten of us in attendance. We could all read music to some degree because music was taught in public schools. My Dad had taught me to play the saxophone.
We were fitted with white choir robes with very stiff white collars and black silky ties. We practiced the processional, walking down the aisle to the choir loft, holding our hymnals open, singing and keeping in step.
When I joined, we were working on music for Christmas. Before long it happened. We made music. I loved the sweet sounds that came from our child voices. We practiced all the favorite Christmas carols, from 'Away in a Manger' through 'Silent Night' and even 'Adeste Fidelis'. We really enjoyed “Angels O'er The Fields' with its soaring 'Gloria' chorus. On Christmas eve we sang for the early and midnight services. On Christmas Day we performed our 'Angels O'er The Fields' for a service group breakfast. We were even asked to sing at a later date on KGHL radio.
Through the Holy Seasons our piping voices reached for the heavens. Our little souls took such joy in being able to produce such sounds that it lives in me still. My time in junior choir was a foundation for my faith and joy in my belief. It serves me still.
Clarene Aitken
3.3.13
your strong voice has continued to bless those in worship. thanks for a glimpse of its beginnings.
Deleteronaldo