New Facebook Reactions -- Emoji Sermon

Amid the hubbub of the new Facebook "reactions" aka emojis, I decided to write a five sentence sermon in which I incorporate the five new symbols. I mean, as long as these emojis are the limits of emotional nuance, why should preachers try to go any deeper, right?

I hope you "like" my sermon. I've put a lot of emotional energy into it.

Good morning! I just flew in from the rectory and boy are my arms tired!

Did you know God created heaven and earth?

Children are starving all over the world.

While you're just wasting time on Facebook.

God is love.

7 Habits of Highly Annoying Clergy on Social Media

Clergy and social media. They go together like, well, selfie sticks and tourists. They might look ridiculous but that's not going to stop them. And occasionally they produce something breathtaking.

My Facebook timeline and Twitter feed are littered with posts by clergy. This makes sense since a) Duh and b) Some of my best friends are women and men of the cloth.

Nonetheless, there are some things clergy post on a regular basis that are highly annoying. Mind you I've been guilty of all of these at various points. So, yes, this blog post is written from the friendly confines of my glass rectory (Biblical reference - ding, ding, ding!)

As I hold up the collective mirror, please know that you're in my thoughts and prayers (religious cliche -- ding, ding, ding!).

1. Posting prayers and/or sympathetic comments after Every. Single. Tragedy. 
We know you care. It's what makes you an excellent pastoral presence in your congregation. But there are some clergy who feel obligated to post banal religious platitudes anytime something bad happens in the news (which is, like, every hour!). We won't think any less of you if you keep some of these thoughts in your daily prayers. Really.

2. Complaining about all the work you have to do during Holy Week.
Yes, you're busy the week before Easter. We're all busy slaving over hot altars with 12 services in four days or whatever. We all have too many sermons to crank out. But you know what? Holy Week is the greatest week of the year -- it's our Super Bowl! If you can't get jazzed about preparing for the Resurrection, despite all it entails, maybe it's time to hang up the vestments.

3. Posting your sermons.
When polled, nearly 90% of drivers believe they are good to excellent at navigating the highways and byways. If you've ever pulled out into traffic, you know this is a ridiculous. The same is true for preachers. Have you ever known a cleric to say, "You know, I'm terrific at running budget meetings but I can't preach my way out of a paper cathedral." No. No, you haven't. And yet when we go on vacation, we here plenty of sermons in the "fair to meh" range, if not worse. Your sermon isn't God's gift to the internet. Sorry. (And, yes, I do have a sermon blog -- though I only share them on the parish Facebook page and Twitter account, where people know the context and my voice).

4. Humble bragging about how many people showed up on Sunday. 
Yes, that's fabulous that you had 682 people show up on Christmas Eve and that you performed eight baptisms on a random Sunday in August. I'm sure Jesus is thrilled as he is depending exclusively on you to usher in his Kingdom. However until you, like the Pope, can sell out of 10,000 tickets to his upcoming mass in Philadelphia in 8 minutes, keep your numbers to yourself.

5. Discussing theological and/or liturgical minutia. 
You may well get your theological jollies by parsing the use/non use of the maniple. But ask yourself, is this doing anything to help make you/the church more relevant and inviting to the world? Unless you were completely insufferable as a seminarian, you presumably have a group of friends you can message about such matters. Use them. For the love of God.

6. Tweeting like a bishop.
A few years ago, several of us got tired of the social media posts of church leaders who had a hierarchical platform but no clue. Thus the #tweetlikeabishop hashtag was born. Any post that proclaims "What a blessing to be with the good people of St. Leo by the Lake this morning" falls under this category. It's a way of trying too hard to be a person of the people; one which has the reverse effect of setting someone apart from rather than within the community. And, no, you don't have to be a bishop to Tweet like one. Believe me. (There are a some bishops who rock social media, by the way. I just wish there were more).

               6A. Selfies with the congregation.
               Please stop. It's not about you.

7. Confusing personal and parish accounts. 
Maybe your parish doesn't have it's own Facebook page? I don't know (get one, please). But I do know that posting multiple pictures of your church's recent Tuna Fish Casserole Cook-Off is irritating  to me and most of your other Facebook friends. I'm not suggesting there be a solid line -- that's the thing about parish clergy, our identities are blurred -- but not everyone on your timeline needs to hear about everything going on in your parish.

Ultimately, this is all about the over-used word "authenticity." Just be yourself. Don't post things because you think they are things clergy should be posting. Post things you're passionate about, things that others might want to hear, things that communicate who you are.

Of course number eight on this list would be over-posting. If you're posting more than about three things a day on Facebook, um, join Twitter and have at it.

See you online!

What I've learned after a week on Instagram

I'm not great with technology. Well, I'm okay eventually, but I'm generally about three to five years behind. I was not an early adopter of social media. I still don't have HD or a DVR. I've never watched a show on Netflix.

Some people think I'm a technological genius because I blog, Tweet, etc. But here's a little secret: I'm only technologically advanced when it comes to other middle-aged priests. Many of my colleagues make me look like a veritable Steve Jobs -- the only real similarity is that we both wear a lot of black shirts.

I'm not sure how I ended up behind the technology curve. Granted, some of it has to do with my age. My two teenage boys look at me like I have three heads when I tell them about the computers we had at Gilman Middle School in the early 1980s. Actually, that should read computer (singular) since we only had one. It was named Hughie(sp?) and it was basically a refrigerator-sized calculator. Please don't tell Ben and Zak that the only reason they exist at all is because I wanted free at-home tech support.

The irony is that my late father was always ahead of everyone else with these things. We were the first ones on our block to have a Betamax. Remember those? You could record TV shows to watch later! Unfortunately VHS won that battle and we were stuck with a Betamax. But he was also the first one to get a CD player. Some of this was practical because his first recording (he was a symphony orchestra conductor) came out on cassette, LP, and this fancy new thing called a compact disc.

I remember walking into Tower Records in Manhattan to buy my very first CD and seeing a tiny section of them maybe the size of your average church altar. I brought it up to the counter (it was a Cars CD as I recall) and the girl behind the counter looked at me and said breathlessly "You have a CD player?" I was a playah! Well, I would have been if girls didn't terrify me.

All of which is a preamble to the fact that I now, years after it came bursting onto the scene, have an account on Instagram. Frankly, I joined it as a way to calm my nerves during the Ravens playoff game against the Patriots last Saturday (we will not speak of the result).

I'm still figuring it out but I like it. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram all have their own languages and
vibes. Instagram is all about images and it's fun to take pictures of odd or unusual things as you move about the day. Mostly they're things I'd notice anyway but not give any real thought so Instagram seems to heighten one's awareness, not take away or distract. Ultimately it's just another way of being connected to people and that's a gift.


Granted some people post nothing but selfies (unfollow) or post way too often (unfollow) or post nothing but pictures of their cats (unfollow). But there are also many imaginative and beautiful images that people share, offering insights into their days or their lives. It also allows me to see some unique perspectives from the lives of some of my parishioners. I have a policy of never following or sending friend requests to folks in my parish -- I always say yes or follow back if they send me a request. I just never want to put anyone in the position of having to say no to their priest.

So, if you're on Instagram, look for me. You can follow me @Father_Tim. I'll be the one posting pictures of coffee (unfollow).

In Good Faith: Out of Touch

Yes, I lost my phone. No, it was not spiritually refreshing. My July In Good Faith column explores the experience.

Out of Touch

No, I didn’t drop my cell phone in the toilet. That’s the good news. I did, however, leave it in a cab which is basically the same thing, minus the “yuck” factor. After presenting a couple of workshops at a church conference in Virginia, I flew into Logan and hopped a taxi back to Hingham. It was late, I was tired, I went to pay, I put my black phone down on the black vinyl seat, and...oh there’s no justifying it -- I’m an idiot.

The irony is that the conference was all about digital faith formation -- in other words, exploring ways to connect, grow, and share our faith using technology. There’s nothing quite like being cast into the outer darkness of non-connectivity mere hours after encouraging others to use social media in creative, life-giving ways. Practicing what you preach is tricky when your “pulpit” suddenly disappears.

I realized I’d forgotten it about five minutes after I got dropped off. I called the cab company, lodged a missing item report with the governmental agency in charge of such things, and didn’t hear anything back. Ever. 

I can’t say I was surprised, frankly. I guess I’m supposed to have great faith in human nature but, then again, I lived in New York City for six years where lost items enter a black hole, if not a black market. Given the ever-rising income inequality that exists between the richest and poorest in our country, I can understand someone finding a relatively new iPhone 5 and selling it to supplement his income. I don’t condone it, but I understand it. 

If the roles were reversed and I was eking out an existence, living paycheck to paycheck and had to drive rich people living in big houses on the South Shore to and from the airport everyday, I’m not sure what I’d do. I’d like to think my own moral compass would take over but, do any of us really know what we’d do if it was a choice between having your kids go to bed hungry or “doing the right thing?”

However, it’s not as if I was having these lofty thoughts about ethical conundrums in the immediate aftermath of my discovery. The thoughts I was having are not printable in a family publication such as this. 

While I’ll never see that phone again, I did get a “new” one after a week and a half. My wife realized she was due for an upgrade and so she got an iPhone 5 and I got her hand-me-down iPhone 4. I’m not complaining, believe me. Even if I do have the most outdated phone in my entire household. 

It’s amazing how we’ve come to take technology for granted. For the brief time I went without a phone, I felt out-of-sorts as I reached for my non-existent digital device numerous times per day. I swear I felt it vibrating or heard it ding on various occasions. I reached for it to take a picture of a gorgeous sunset over Nantasket Beach and realized I had to just enjoy the moment without sharing it with the world. I had to take it on faith that my teenage sons were okay at home without checking in with them (of course they were). And at one point I even had to ask someone for the time since my phone also serves as my watch. 

I wish I could say it was spiritually refreshing to be without a phone but it gave me more agita than peace. I’m not proud of this and it likely means I need a vacation in an area without cell reception.

e-Formation -- It's not just a fad

Finally, a conference that recognizes the impact of technology and modern life on Christian formation! Or, as they put it in their tagline, "Faith formation for a connected, digital world." 

Next week I'll be at Virginia Theological Seminary for a couple of days to present a couple of workshops and sit in on some others at the e-Formation Conference. 

So much of this is rapidly evolving and while I'm a so-called "expert" we're all learning together to embrace the changing realities of the digital world and translate that into effective, vibrant ministry in our own parishes. 

There are a number of luminaries presenting at the conference including...well, you can read them on the graphic.

My two workshops are on Stealth Christian Formation and blogging -- two areas where I actually do have some experience. 

Stealth Christian Formation 
Was your recent 27-part series on Deuteronomic Law poorly attended? Do you wish more people took advantage of education opportunities at your parish? You can keep teaching to the choir but how do we reach the people who don’t “do” classes? Come learn how Lent Madness brought Lenten discipline, knowledge of the saints, and spiritual growth to the masses and how this model can work for you.

I Blog, Therefore I Am
Whether you have a blog no one reads besides your mother or are considering starting one, this workshop is for you. We’ll explore questions such as: Why blog? What should I blog about? How often should I blog? How can I get people to actually read my blog? You, too, can impress your friends with the moniker “blogger” while sharing the Good News with a global audience.

The good news (lowercase) is that if you didn't sign up to attend, you can still participate via webinar for the bottom basement price of $75. Click here for details.

Perhaps the best part of participating in my workshops is that turn around's fair play. You can live-snark  all you want on Twitter and I won't be able to respond in real time since, um, I'll be busy. The hashtag for the conference, by the way, is #eForm14. Hope to see you there either in real life or online!

Is Snark Un-Christian?

“Snark” is one of those wonderful terms born of the internet. It reminds me of some of those great Yiddish words that sound like what they mean – like klutz, shlep, and schmuck. The word is basically a synonym for sarcastic, an amalgamation of “snide” and “remark.” Depending on your perspective, to call someone “snarky” is either a compliment of the highest order or a derogatory term for an overly negative person.

Snark often plays out on social media as a sort of public gallows humor. You can spot it on Facebook though it’s more prevalent on micro-blogging sites like Twitter that offer opportunities for real time back and forth repartee.

Some clergy are particularly adept at snark, making cutting comments about everything from liturgy to church meetings to the seven habits of the highly dysfunctional. At its best, snark highlights deeper truths that bubble just beneath the surface in a humorous manner. When engaged in a lighthearted rather than angry way, snark can be a delightful respite from the profound responsibilities of ministry. Indeed, I’d contend that true snark, while at times acidic, is never without a degree a levity.

Christians with a predilection for online snark occasionally encounter pushback from those who don’t think it’s appropriate. The best snark comes right up to the line without crossing over it and that can push people’s buttons who expect more positive output from their clergy and lay leaders. This all begs the question: Is snark un-Christian?

If you get back to the original definition of “sarcastic,” I don’t think you have to look much further than Jesus himself for validation. While it’s rarely put this way, Jesus had a wicked sense of humor that made extensive use of both hyperbole and sarcasm. If Jesus was Tweeting I'm pretty confident he'd be a master of the medium (though I doubt he'd have as many followers as Justin Bieber).

Here are some examples:

1. "Let the dead bury the dead." (Matthew 8:21-22)

2. "How can you say to your neighbour, “Let me take the speck out of your eye”, while the log is in your own eye?" (Matthew 7:4)

3. About John the Baptist: "What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who put on fine clothing and live in luxury are in royal palaces." (Luke 7:25)

4. Upon his arrest: "Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a bandit?" (Mark 14:48)

5. "Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the market-places, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honour at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers." (Mark 12:38-40)

6. About the scribes and Pharisees: "You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel!" (Matthew 23:24)

7. About profaning the holy: "Do not give what is holy to dogs; and do not throw your pearls before swine, or they will trample them under foot and turn and maul you. (Matthew 7:6)

There are countless other instances of Jesus using a cutting remark to make his point and, yes, he also got a lot of flack. Obviously I'm not comparing snarky Christians to Jesus but there is a place for snark in the Church. Snark, like all humor, simply looks at life and faith and ministry from a slightly different angle and we all need that. Ultimately it's about taking our faith but not ourselves too seriously -- which is critical to the health and vibrancy of the Church.

I've been both accused of and lauded for my degree of snarkiness. Much of it is simply personality and the internet allows me to share this "gift" with a wider group of people. I take solace in the fact that it's something that people can opt out of by not following me on Twitter or not reading my blog or not friending me on Facebook. In other words, it's snark-optional.

Of course, if you're into this sort of thing I also have some Twitter clergy folks you'll want to follow: Laurie Brock @drtysxyministry, Scott Gunn @scottagunn, Megan Castellan @revlucymeg, David Sibley @davidsibley, and Anne Lane Witt @VaPriestess. Oh, and a couple of anonymous snarkers: @ChurchSnobTEC and @MapleAnglican. Your life will never be the same.

So snark on, friends. You're in good company.

Suggestions for Religious Spammers

Like most people I get a lot of e-mail spam. Sure, I get my fair share of offers for cheap drugs -- mostly Viagra -- and offers for various "relationships." And you probably wouldn't be surprised to learn that a bank in Nigeria has lots of money waiting for me.

But I also get lots of messages greeting me in the name of Christ. I'm not sure if it's because they've figured out I have some connection to religion or if everybody gets these. If you're a shoe salesman do you get messages that begin "My Dearest Mother Hubbard?"

Anyway, I hadn't checked my spam folder for awhile so here's a sampling of come-ons. As with preaching, spammers need a strong opening to hook the reader. Here are a few:

Dear Co-worker in Christ, Calvary greetings to you in the Name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ the Saviour of the World .

Dearest Beloved One in the Lord. My Greetings to you in the Precious Name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

My dear, Sorry that this message is coming to you at this time, I have prayed concerning you before contacting you.

Greetings to you my dearest in Christ. Grace and peace to you from God our father and the Lord Jesus Christ,who gave Himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age.

My name is Michelle Stephen a 75 year old lady, I want you to help me collect $4.2,000,000.00
and dispatched it to the poor. I have set aside 25% for you.

If I ever undergo a vocational change and start leading seminars for spammers, I would offer several suggestions.

1. Grammar is important. Ditto punctuation and spelling. I personally never respond to pleas over the internet to give money for a toddler's lung transplant in Ethiopia unless everything is spelled properly. Don't they have spell check in the spammer's lair?

2. Speaking of the spammer's lair, you need to set up your own version of the man cave. You can call it the Spam Cave if you wish, but know that I have copyrighted that term. A proper Spam Cave should have cabinets chock full of Hormel Spam.

3. You are not the apostle Paul. Please do not begin your "epistles" in the same manner ie. "Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ." Also Paul never used "dearest" as a term of endearment.

4. The subject line of an e-mail is important. Some not to use (which I have seen) include "21 BIBLES PLEASE HELP" (also, typing in all caps does not add urgency; it adds annoying); "Apostolic Greetings !!!" (who exactly is the apostle here? You? Me? It's definitely not me); "Browse hot singles in your area for unattached..." (wait, that was for something else); "Greetings From Yours Sincerely Sister in Christ" (I think you've confused the concluding valediction with the subject line).

5. Finally, please send me your e-mail address so I can bombard you with monetary scams couched in the language of faith. Don't worry, Jesus would want me to do this.

Annoying Status Updates

One of the great things about blogging is what I like to call "channeling the crank." Actually I've never used or even thought  this expression before but whatever. I like it so I'm sticking with it. What I mean by this is that whenever I feel cranky, which does happen on occasion, I can channel the crank rather than taking it out on those around me.

In today's version of keeping those around me safe from crankiness, I thought I would direct my energy toward annoying Facebook statuses. Below are a few general categories of those that annoy me. Granted, I've probably been guilty of using some of these over the years. And I have no illusion that others aren't annoyed by some things I post: "If I see one more status update where he uses his annoying 'religious' jargon, I swear I'll un-friend him."

So with that as the context, here goes:

1. Anything having to do with the food that you are either eating or preparing. Unless you are dining on foie gras with the King of France, I'm not interested.

2. The weather. Is it flurrying? That's great but please keep it to yourself. If I'm really interested in the weather where you are (and chances are I'm not) I will consult the Weather Channel.

3. Quotes from fill-in-the-blank inspirational leader. If I want to be inspired by MLK, JFK, or anyone else whose last initial begins with the letter K, I will read a book by or about them. Having you quote them is somehow less inspiring than going directly to the source.

4. Anything posted by bishops. Since the ability for public snark was extracted at ordination to the episcopate, all posts are non-offensive and "safe." I'm delighted you had a wonderful visit with the good people of St. Elsewhere -- save it for an article in the diocesan newspaper (oh, that's right, it was eliminated due to budget cuts).

5. Videos of songs and/or hymns. I'm glad you love the Kings College, Cambridge, version of "Once in Royal David's City."  So do 25 of my closest friends. Plus, I have the CD. The basic rule of thumb should be that if you are a professional musician and you played the music yourself, post away. Otherwise go listen to your i-Pod.

6. Pictures of your children. Oh, don't get me wrong, I love posting pictures of my kids and seeing pictures of your kids. It's one reason why we don't have to send out so many Christmas cards these days (plus stamps are going up to .45 cents). But, really, once a day will suffice.

7. Posts reminding everyone that it's National XX Day. Unless it's National Coffee Day (September 29th), I don't care.

8. Status updates longer than two or three sentences. A status update is not a novella. If you have that much to say all at once, start a blog. Or become a preacher.

9. Posting more than four times a day. I realize you have a lot to say, are endlessly fascinating, and believe everyone is hanging on your every word and action. That may well be true. But there's an outlet for this. It's called Twitter.

10. Liking your own status update. Zuckerberg shouldn't even let this be an option. Liking your own status update is like laughing at your own joke -- it's annoying. Please stop.

I realize this leaves little left over to write about on Facebook. And I'll probably lose a friend or two. I guess I could write a blog post about what types of status updates really float my yacht. But that wouldn't be nearly as fun. Nor would it do much to channel the crank.

Of Cell Phones and Sanctus Bells

Unless you've been living in a hole (ie. you're not on Facebook), you've likely heard about the Music Director of the New York Philharmonic stopping Mahler's Ninth Symphony when a cell phone went off in the middle of the piece. Maestro Alan Gilbert waved the orchestra to stop playing as a marimba ring tone rang out from the front row (why is the volume always jacked up on the most obnoxious ring tones?!). Naturally it was during a quiet, dramatic, most inopportune moment. You can read the story here.

Most clergy (and lay people) can relate both to the experience and the frustration of cell phones going off in the middle of public "performances" (we happen to call them liturgies).  Look, if you're a high churchman you're used to things ringing during the eucharist -- sanctus bells rung at the elevation of the bread and wine are an integral part of the mass. But things rung by anyone other than an acolyte (ie. that cell phone) interrupt the flow, the majesty, and the passion of the sacred space created through intentional, devoted worship.

We certainly all have stories of cell phones going off at the worst possible times. A cell phone went off while I was preaching just this past Sunday. If it has to happen, I'd obviously prefer it to go off during a particularly boisterous hymn. But at least when I'm in the pulpit I can just stop and wait it out (trying my utmost not to glare).

I particularly remember two instances of cell phones ringing in church. Last year a cell phone went off in the middle of the Good Friday silent veneration of the cross. I remember thinking "This is outrageous!" but there's nothing you can do about it. The other was at my church in New York during a baptism. A teenage friend of the baptismal family was standing around the font as we were baptizing a little girl. Her cell phone went off...and she answered it! "I'm at a baptism; I guess I'll have to call you back." I wanted to dump the holy water all over HER (and her flip phone).

I'd be interested to hear other cell phone stories if you have them. Maybe we can compile the best ones. What are your strategies for dealing with this annoyance? Have you ever stopped the proceedings like Maestro Gilbert or do you just barrel through? Has YOUR cell phone ever gone off during a service?

I'm not sure what Jesus would have done if a cell phone went off during the Sermon on the Mount. Something tells me he would have grabbed it and tossed it into the Sea of Galilee.