Monday, March 21, 2005

Ticker Tape Palm Sunday Once again at the Northwest Church, Palm Sunday has come and gone. For the fourth year, stunned churchgoers exited the building after "Northwest Passage"--our moniker for the 6:00 assembly--with confetti stuck in their hair and a just a bit of a party buzz in their in their hearts and minds. The idea is this: if Jesus were to enter a post-modern American city after displaying the sort of power he displayed, and if we thought he was really going to bring the answers to our personal and social difficulties and injustices, we wouldn't put down palm branches...we'd throw a parade...maybe a ticker tape parade. So that's what we do at Northwest Passage on Palm Sunday--throw a ticker tape parade for the Christ. This year we had cannons shooting confetti into the highest parts of the sanctuary and we finally got that snow effect we've been trying for. The celebration was pretty raucus and gave people the kind of experience that allowed them to enter into the mindset of the people running ahead of Jesus that day as they welcomed him into the city. That kind of celebration brings into stark constrast what happens later in the week. How is it that a city that celebrates a man's heroic entry on Sunday kills him on Friday? We are a fickle people, and the sort of madness that takes over when stakes are high, when legitimate power is on the line--it makes the whole scene both surreal and totally human. The meaning of the death of Jesus is still alive some 2000 years later, and may our week be filled with renewed grappling with it. To find your life, you must lose it... 8:03:13 AM    comment []

Waffle Batter I'm getting proficient at breakfast after all these years of kids stumbling semi-conscious to the table just after 6:00 a.m. But this morning, Monday rose up in all its vengeance, and before it was over, I had burned all the bacon and thrown my waffle batter off the counter, into the middle of floor. Butter, vanilla, 3 eggs, and and a cup and a quarter of milk, all beaten pretty well--but not yet filled with the dry ingredients--inching along the floorboards as I served up Rice Chex instead. It could have been worse, I suppose. But then there were lunch items (as in sack lunches for the kids) not at hand, a small financial matter that managed to eek its way into my consciousness, and of course the various and sundry maladies that daily plague the life of teenagers, maladies most acute when stumbling out of bed. Oh, the list could go on, and at one point, my daughter asked me, "What?" after hearing me mutter "amazing" under my breath. I said, "Just the way a morning can completely align itself against you." Of course, it's not the morning's fault, but the animation of a kitchen--as it wreaks havoc with a peace of mind just received as a matter of prayer and intention--makes one think there has to be an active malevolance at work. How else do utensils suddenly declare themselves on strike, or worse, take on traits of slightly mischievous gremlins? Enough complaining, on to the real stuff... 7:51:37 AM    comment []

© Copyright 2005 Jeff Berryman .