Rev. James goes to Washington . . . ish.
I'll lead with the moral of the story:
"Sometimes, when you're nice to random strangers, they remember you later and ask you to do highly public and moderately important things."
Such was my experience when I was a) nice to a local senator (I didn't know who he was) when he came through the hand-shaking line at church and b) nice to his clerk when I visited him in the hospital after surgery (I didn't know who he was, either).
And so I was invited to give the prayer before the opening of the State Legislature last Wednesday. This is an honor on par with ringing the opening bell on Wall Street. Ok, not "on par with," but similar to in the sense that a) they have someone do it every day, and b) you only get noticed if you screw up.
So I showed up in an appropriately serious suit (which I discovered during my time there had a nice little hole in the leg, so if anyone had really great vision and the right angle they got not only a prayer, but about a quarter inch square of man-thigh) and took pictures with people I would later discover were of genuine political significance. They were wonderfully gracious and welcoming:
Step 1: After a short tour I was seated in a chair (you can't really see it in the picture) that was far too big for me, which led me to wonder: Which makes you more self-conscious - sitting in a chair that is far too small, like in a kindergarten classroom, or in a chair that is too big, like you're saving it because your giant friend is in the bathroom? Here I am pondering that:
Step 2 ("I thought we'd be dead by step two, so this is going great!"): After a one-sentence introduction about how the day was, in the Christian tradition, Ash Wednesday, I offered a prayer:
"Holy and Gracious God, Eternal Spirit: We call you by many different names and recognize you in many different forms and places. Yet we come before you today with our common work to do, our common work of service to the people of our communities. As we set our hearts and minds to that work, we ask that you grant us faith in the face of uncertainty, the courage for honesty, the insight for growth, a passion for justice, the patience for peacemaking, the grace for compromise, suspicion of the promises of power, the discipline of mind and generosity of spirit that have always led to meaningful, sustained, flourishing and abundant life. Amen."
Here I am saying that. Note that this prayer was making people (left to right, respectively) tired, amused, and confused/angry, which is actually a pretty accurate cross-section of the reactions I usually get when I speak out loud.
All told, it was a wonderful experience, actually. I'm always afraid that inclusive, ecumenical prayers will end up being simply lukewarm, generic niceties, but this, in the moment at least, sounded and felt right. I'm very grateful for the opportunity - it was a neat forum.
Next time, though, I'm going fire-and-brimstone; I want my name in the paper.
"Sometimes, when you're nice to random strangers, they remember you later and ask you to do highly public and moderately important things."
Such was my experience when I was a) nice to a local senator (I didn't know who he was) when he came through the hand-shaking line at church and b) nice to his clerk when I visited him in the hospital after surgery (I didn't know who he was, either).
And so I was invited to give the prayer before the opening of the State Legislature last Wednesday. This is an honor on par with ringing the opening bell on Wall Street. Ok, not "on par with," but similar to in the sense that a) they have someone do it every day, and b) you only get noticed if you screw up.
So I showed up in an appropriately serious suit (which I discovered during my time there had a nice little hole in the leg, so if anyone had really great vision and the right angle they got not only a prayer, but about a quarter inch square of man-thigh) and took pictures with people I would later discover were of genuine political significance. They were wonderfully gracious and welcoming:
Step 1: After a short tour I was seated in a chair (you can't really see it in the picture) that was far too big for me, which led me to wonder: Which makes you more self-conscious - sitting in a chair that is far too small, like in a kindergarten classroom, or in a chair that is too big, like you're saving it because your giant friend is in the bathroom? Here I am pondering that:
Step 2 ("I thought we'd be dead by step two, so this is going great!"): After a one-sentence introduction about how the day was, in the Christian tradition, Ash Wednesday, I offered a prayer:
"Holy and Gracious God, Eternal Spirit: We call you by many different names and recognize you in many different forms and places. Yet we come before you today with our common work to do, our common work of service to the people of our communities. As we set our hearts and minds to that work, we ask that you grant us faith in the face of uncertainty, the courage for honesty, the insight for growth, a passion for justice, the patience for peacemaking, the grace for compromise, suspicion of the promises of power, the discipline of mind and generosity of spirit that have always led to meaningful, sustained, flourishing and abundant life. Amen."
Here I am saying that. Note that this prayer was making people (left to right, respectively) tired, amused, and confused/angry, which is actually a pretty accurate cross-section of the reactions I usually get when I speak out loud.
All told, it was a wonderful experience, actually. I'm always afraid that inclusive, ecumenical prayers will end up being simply lukewarm, generic niceties, but this, in the moment at least, sounded and felt right. I'm very grateful for the opportunity - it was a neat forum.
Next time, though, I'm going fire-and-brimstone; I want my name in the paper.
posted by Aaron at
10:57 AM
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