Is It Rude To Seat Latecomers Later In the Service?

I respect the opinion of the marvelous Executive Director of the Massachusetts Council of Churches, the Rev. Laura Everett, who started a tiny Twitter dust-up by posting this [click on the image to enlarge it]:

 

 

Screenshot 2013-12-28 22.17.25I don’t find that offensive.  I don’t visit as many churches as Laura does, but when I do I often arrive late because I’m notoriously bad at finding new locations when I haven’t had enough sleep or coffee. When I see this sort of notice in the bulletin, I am grateful that the ushers have a set time to seat latecomers so that I don’t have to figure it out myself (I don’t know the liturgy, so I’d rather not guess when the best time would be to find a seat), and the ushers don’t have to get anxious wondering what the best moment might be to seat me or let me in.

Laura writes that she gets a sense of “don’t disturb our performance” from this detail in the program. That’s interesting to think about. When I attend worship as a visitor, I hope that it will be a carefully planned and executed liturgy, with excellent production values. I understand that that’s a traditional preference but I am not attracted to casual services, as I find them nerve-wracking and often even embarrassing. To me, the “Latecomers seated” suggests that this faith community knows and respects its liturgy, respects those who are leading and attending it enough to set boundaries around it, and is actually considerate of the latecomer by acknowledging that we’ll undoubtedly be present and because we will be, they want us to know when to join the service in an appropriate way.

Thanks, Laura! So — what do you all think?

“Being the Resurrection” Read by the Author

I wrote this Easter poem for my congregation a long time ago — I don’t remember when. It was certainly before I had any awareness of transgender issues, so I regret the “he/she” gender binary. Whatever its flaws, it was written from my heart and it is in that spirit that I share it with you.

I have been asked for permission to reprint this many times. I can never express how much it means to know that this little bit of writing has wound up being shared all over the country in so many congregations.  I only remember that I wrote it fast without a lot of forethought and no editing — much like blogging. So much of what ministers write is ephemera: meant for one moment in one community, an expression that comes from that day’s or week’s prayers or pastoral experience. To have one of those moments caught and shared widely (even if I am the one who submitted it to the UUA worship web) is — well, I don’t know a word that expresses “great/humbling/a little spooky/sobering/happy.”

Sometimes when I like a piece a lot, I wish I could hear the author read it. So that’s what this is. Thanks for appreciating. I appreciate you all right back. Very much. Happy Easter.

Being The Resurrection Recording

“Prayer For the Lady Who Forgave Us” by John Shea

A colleague used this poem the other day for a worship service. I think it’s a great worship resource, or just a lovely reflection piece.  Enjoy.

 

Prayer for the Lady Who Forgave Us

by John Shea

There is a long-suffering lady with thin hands

who stands on the corner of Delphia and Lawrence

and forgives you.

“You are forgiven,” she smiles.

The neighborhood is embarrassed.

It is sure it has done nothing wrong

yet, every day, in a small voice

it is forgiven.

On the  way to the Jewel Food Store

housewives pass her with hard looks

then whisper in the cereal section.

Stan Dumke asked her right out

what she was up to

and she forgave him.

A group who care about the neighborhood

agree that if she was old it would be harmless

or if she were religious it would be understandable

but as it is…they asked her to move on.

Like all things with eternal purposes

she stayed.

And she was informed upon.

On a most  unforgiving day of snow and  slush

while she was reconciling a reluctant passerby

the State people

whose business is sanity,

persuaded her into a car.

She is gone.

We are reduced to forgetting.