Untasted

The truth is that I’m pretty hungry now.
This walk from city to Emmaus has
been tiring, more than any walk I can
remember, since my heart is wrapped in grief
and fear because, you know, you’re dead and gone
and I refused to take much comfort from
the words the women shared (is it because
they’re women, now, I ask “enlightened” me?).

So I am famished when I sit to eat
with you (the you I do not recognize)
and my companion (oops, whose name I have
forgotten to report to history).
Can we get to it now? Just break the bread
and share it round, replenish my depleted
stores of stamina and strength of mind.
I’ll wait. You break. Then we can eat in peace.

Now hours and miles later, gasping with
the sweet exhaustion of a joy-filled run,
I find that you have traveled swifter yet
than I, to share the miracle of your
renewed and resurrected life. I share
the wonder that “The Lord has risen indeed;”
because I left the bread untasted on
the table when the Lord appeared to me.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 24:13-35, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, third Sunday of Easter.

Image by RvdWeyer – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27519876.

An Ordained Geek Becomes a Televangelist

On March 15, in my Sunday morning sermon to worshipers at Church of the Holy Cross UCC in Hilo, Hawai’i, I said, “When our Board of Deacons meets following worship today, I will recommend that we not meet for worship for at least two weeks. I have already begun planning a worship experience via live video over the Internet in anticipation that we will need to do this at some point. It won’t be what we want. It may not satisfy the thirst of our souls. But we need to satisfy a different thirst first.”

The Board accepted my recommendation. Not long thereafter, Hawai’i Governor David Ige issued a stay-at-home order that prohibited gatherings greater than ten people until the end of April. Church of the Holy Cross shifted to worshiping via streaming video over the Internet, a new endeavor and one with which relatively few of us had any familiarity.

Fortunately, I’d done something like this before when I was on the communications staff of the Connecticut Conference UCC. I also had been producing short pre-recorded videos as part of the church’s life each week for three and a half years.

That gave me some technical background, but I also had to think about reformatting the Sunday service. We simply could not replicate the in-person event. It was irresponsible to bring in the choir to sing. The sermon needed to get shorter. The children’s moment needed to be included, and so a story became the first section of my meditation. Music was still important, but we would have to feel our way into it for practical and copyright awareness reasons.

What are the essentials of worship? A moment to call ourselves into that place… a prayer to bring ourselves to God… reading of Scripture… a story… a message… an invitation to give… a consecration of those gifts… a blessing.

Others will have their own ideas about the essentials I’ve omitted (confession and assurance, for one). This was how I started, and it has turned out to be a good framework.

The next questions were all technical. First, how to share? I wanted to make it as painless as possible for the end user to view and participate in worship. There were several options, boiling down to three major groupings.

One that many churches have used is Facebook Live, a live video option within the social media platform. It offers some limited interaction – rather delayed by processing time – and Facebook is a widely used platform. It was not, however, widely used in my existing congregation. Requiring people to subscribe to a social media service in order to worship seemed like a bad approach.

A second option was a video conferencing application like Zoom or GoToMeeting. This had the strong advantage of offering interaction during the service; lag time exists in these technologies but is usually not noticeable. Although there are in-browser options, the principal players in this field require the end users to download an application. That seemed to me like a significant barrier for people unfamiliar with these technologies.

So I chose the third option: Live streaming over a video distribution service, in this case YouTube. I had an advantage. I’ve had a personal YouTube account long enough that I was already authorized for live streams. That resource was in place. I’d had plenty of practice embedding YouTube players into the web pages of our church site, so people could find us in a familiar interface. Best of all, YouTube has worked hard to be a “visit us and it works” technology. It almost never requires an end user to install anything.

Streaming, however, was not enough. There might be audio or video issues. There might be breakdowns or technical failures. There might simply be people straining to hear from a small computer speaker. Live subtitles didn’t seem practical without special equipment (I’d be willing to be proved wrong about this). I had to provide the texts easily and in advance.

As a result, the worship service text gets posted to a web page, including links to a PDF version of the service so that people can print it and follow along while they keep the YouTube box centered in their screen. I write and post a text for the sermon and pastoral prayer as well, generally early on Sunday morning, so that people with hearing or audio difficulties can follow along. Subscribers to our email newsletter receive the link to the service’s web page on Thursday or Friday, and then again a little over an hour before worship begins. Nobody should have to search very far for the link to the service text and video.

Now it was time to test things. There is a camera in my laptop computer, but I doubted that it would work well (or that the microphone would work well) for worship streaming. One test later, I was on my way to the electronics supply store looking for a better webcam and a long Ethernet cable. With the webcam, a Logitech C922, mounted on a camera tripod I could separate the camera from the computer that controlled everything. It also improved both video and audio quality (with one persistent audio problem I’ll discuss later).

Early tests had showed an undesirable number of freezes and drop-outs. Why? Wifi, of course. The long Ethernet cable immediately evened out the audio and video.

Still eager to test this in a small but “live” environment, I settled on performing a song each Wednesday. So on March 18, I went live for the first time.

The audio quality is… odd. The spoken portion of the video has a fair amount of room echo in it, but by and large it works. During the music, however, the input level rises and falls without rhyme or reason. I would discover that this is a frequent issue on Windows – some process adjusts the sound input levels based on its best guess – but finding it proved to be a more time consuming than I could manage.

We went into our first worship service with this setup: one webcam and built-in microphone feeding into a “Webcam” stream on YouTube Live. We simplified the setting. We placed two chairs on camera, which remained fixed. Participants moved in and out. I stayed on camera for most of the service, a practice we later changed.

Once more, we had issues with sound during the musical performance.

To try to fix that, we turned to better microphones and an audio mixer. It improved things a little, but we still had the curious problem with levels changing by themselves. We reduced the room echo, however, and that was all to the best.

We also brought in a guest preacher via Zoom.

I have to hand it to Zoom: their online help is superb. Setting up an account to stream a Zoom meeting to YouTube is not an easy task, nor is setting up a meeting to be streamed. The instructions they provide, however, are clear and detailed. I did a test (of course) that included the audio mixer (it connects via USB) and Zoom simultaneously. It worked.

And on Palm Sunday, our preacher addressed us from 6,000 miles away.

We also added prelude music that day. Worshipers had told me that they really missed that time of music. It helped them center their spirits. A member recorded a piano performance in audio, and we played it through the board. One of our three-person production team began moving the camera, so it was no longer quite as static. We were slowly adding technical capability as we went.

For Easter Sunday, our piano accompanist offered a video recording of a piano adaptation of Handel’s “Hallelujah” chorus. That meant adding a new level of complexity, because combining pre-recorded video with live video meant using a video switcher. I’d been experimenting tentatively with OBS, which is both powerful and free, but had avoided adding that level of complexity. Well, now we needed it.

Using OBS meant three changes. First, it meant configuring the software for our combination of video and audio inputs. That took some experimentation. Second, it meant switching from YouTube Live’s webcam interface to its stream interface. I was somewhat familiar with that from prior experience, fortunately. Third, it meant that one or two of us would need to be familiar enough with OBS to make the switches happen during the service itself.

We made those changes, and discovered something else: using OBS eliminated the strange changes in audio levels we’d been hearing. I immediately switched to using it for the Wednesday songs as well.

If you’ve lost track, we currently use:

  • A single webcam on a tripod,
  • Two dynamic vocal microphones in mic stands,
  • An analog audio mixer with a USB output, and
  • A laptop computer running OBS using a wired Internet connection.

We have plans. We’re not entirely happy with the video. It’s difficult to move a video camera smoothly. It’s awkward to move one that doesn’t have its own viewfinder. The camera operator has to use a side view of the laptop screen. We have ordered a hardware switcher and have camcorders available. Using their HDMI output, we hope to be able to produce a better looking video. The switcher, however, has been on backorder for weeks and I do not know when this will change.

Finally, I determined to do something different and special for Good Friday. Some years ago I wrote a song based on Psalm 130. I set up several cameras and microphones, recorded several takes, and assembled a final video using the editing software I’ve used for years.

Enjoy.

Untouched

[Thomas] said to them, “Unless I… put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” – John 20:25

I don’t want to make this a condition
of belief, my Friend. I don’t want
to make this a condition
of relationship; oh, no.

But.

While I don’t desire so to place
my finger on or in your wounds,
I crave in separation time your touch,
A hand, a breath, a deep embrace.

Just that.

So great a thing as that.

A poem/prayer based on John 20:19-31, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, second Sunday of Easter.

The image is The Incredulity of Saint Thomas by Caravaggio – http://www.christusrex.org/www2/art/images/carav10.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6804893.

Holy Week 2020: Easter Sunday

This is, perhaps, my way of emulating
your three days away, to let a silence
fall between a midday and a morn, to
wait and see if resurrection lifts the weary
bones once more, restores connections,
grants the boon of inspiration.

Perhaps.

But truth to tell, my risen friend,
I yearn much more that you would speak
to me and all the weary world
as you addressed your friends that night
behind the fast-closed door. Come wish me peace,
dear Jesus. Come and wish us peace.

A poem/prayer based on John 20:1-18 the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year A, Easter Sunday.

Image of Christ greeting his disciples by Duccio di Buoninsegna – http://www.wga.hu/frames-e.html?/html/d/duccio/buoninse/index.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3925674.

Holy Week 2020: Holy Saturday

Speak to the spirits in prison, Jesus.
Speak to them words of release.

Speak to the souls behind bars, Savior.
Tell them that they might be free,
free of the cell and the guards,
free of addiction and need.

Speak to the ones kept at home, Jesus.
Tell them that this time will end.
Assure them that illnesses pass,
even if we cannot know the day.

Speak to the ones in the shackles
of greed and of greed and of greed.
Tell them their souls need not bow
to the folly of selfish pursuit.

Speak to the ones whose emotions
cannot be controlled by their minds.
Speak peace, reassurance, and comfort.
Grant them a shoulder to cry.

Speak to the braggarts and blowhards.
Persuade them the curse of their pride,
a torrent of crass self-deception
in which the Truth often dies.

Speak to the spirits in prison, Jesus.
Let all human souls find release.

The image is a detail from the upper right panel of “The Garden of Earthly Delights” by Hieronymus Bosch, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10895578.

Holy Week 2020: Good Friday

Why am I here?
Why are we here?
Why watch and ache with anguish?
Why watch and hear your anguish?

My heart skipped every time
the hammer fell. One hand. Two.
Place a nail against your feet.
Beat (no beat). Beat (no beat). Beat (no beat).

Then as the upright rose I held
my breath. The rough beam stopped
and swayed and fell abruptly.
My lungs seized at your groan.

Since then… Jeers, then silence.
Rattling dice. My God, the guards
are making plans for dinner
as above them you hang dying.

Silence, then jeers. A little
conversation now between
the three who hang and groan
and breathe their lives away.

Why am I here?
Why are we here?
Mary and Mary and Mary
(our parents shared a common taste):

We share a common taste.
We know what true love is.
We know what healing is.
We know it hangs a-dying there.

Why are we here?
Why are you there?
See, that’s the reason in the end:
Where else could you or I be?

The image is a photo of “The Three Marys” by Master of the Rimini Crucifixion, found in the National Museum in Warsaw – Photo: Own work (BurgererSF), CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20397119.

De Profundis

De profundis
De profundis
Clamavi ad te
Clamavi ad te
Out of the depths
Out of the depths
I cry to thee, O Lord
I cry to thee, O Lord

When into darkness I have fallen
When a cloud obscures my way
I raise my voice: and who will hear my crying?
My soul hopes for thee.

Mai loko o no wahi hohonu
Mai loko o no wahi hohonu
Ua kahea aku au ia ‘oe,
‘O Iehova
Out of the depths
Out of the depths
I cry to thee, O Lord
I cry to thee, O Lord

When all I drink of life is bitter,
When those I love refuse their hand,
I raise my voice: and who will hear my crying?
My soul longs for thee.

De profundis
De profundis
Clamavi ad te
Clamavi ad te
Out of the depths
Out of the depths
I cry to thee, O Lord
I cry to thee, O Lord

If you should note my countless failings
How could I ever stand?
Yet you are grace and love and comfort all my crying:
My soul waits for thee.

De profundis
De profundis
De profundis
De profundis

Holy Week 2020: Maundy Thursday

[Jesus said,] “If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.” (John 13:17)

In any other year, O God, it would seem
simple enough. Remove shoes. Remove socks.
Place feet in water. Lave. Bathe.
Dry with towel.

For those few, at least, who are willing.

It was always a deceptive ease.
I rarely found the willing in an
abundance overwhelming.
“I’ll keep my dirty feet.”

Rather than let them be cleansed.

And so it falls once more
as it did so long ago.
Too few will take on “dirty work;”
too few will be cleaned.

Both cleaned and cleaners scorned.

Cleanse us, Lord, of our disdain
for cleaned and cleaners both.
May we find kinship with
forgiven and forgivers.

Perhaps you’d better wash our head and hands as well.

The image is of Jesus washing the feet of the apostles, a mosaic in the Duomo di Monreale, Monreale, Sicily, Italy. Photo by Sibeaster – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10756980.

Holy Week 2020: Wednesday

[Jesus said,] “You are like whitewashed tombs, which on the outside look beautiful, but inside they are full of the bones of the dead…” (Matthew 23:27)

After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.” The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. One of his disciples–the one whom Jesus loved–was reclining next to him; Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, “Lord, who is it?” Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.” So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot. (John 13:21-26)

How might we betray you today, Jesus?

Might we eat from your dish on a holy night,
and dash from the meal to enrich ourselves,
not this time with spirit and with truth,
but this time with the thirty coins of death?

Or might we claim the role of shepherds,
offering polluted grace with unwashed hands,
ready to speak in judgement, not forgiveness,
our churches filled with dusty bones?

How might we betray you today, Jesus?
Truly we are an unimaginative people.
In nearly two millennia, we find
no more creative means to turn from you.

The artist of this image is unknown, believed to be 19th century German – Dr. Fischer Kunstauktionen, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17819714.

Holy Week 2020: Tuesday

“No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.” (Matthew 22:46)

I’ve got some questions, Jesus.

When will this pandemic end?
How can I prevent it from slaying people I love?
How can I keep safe from illness myself?
How can I persuade the idiots
who know the answers to these questions
and do the opposite?
How do I manage my anger
that calls my fellow creatures, “idiots”?

Will you answer those questions, Jesus?

Admittedly, I know the answers to questions
two and three. Four I’m not so clear on.
Five I’ve had to work so hard at; so, so hard.
And one: well, does it matter, really,
just how long it lasts, as long as we
respond with deep compassion?

So are my questions answered,
leaving only this:

Will you stay with me, Jesus,
in this isolation?
Will you stay with me, Jesus,
as your friends would not do?
Will you stay with me, Jesus,
despite my budding tears?
Will you stay with me, Jesus,
whatever life or death may bring?

(And I am answered: “Yes.”)

Photo by Eric Anderson.