Monday, June 27, 2005


I don't like anonymous notes. I throw them in the trash, and I like to pretend that they don't bother me. I've received two or three over the last five years.

One particularly uncomplimentary one addressed to me was left on an offering envelope for the ushers to see as they counted money. Wow!

Today I found one on my desk. "Pastor, don't wait till they are ready. Set a standard. They need to be fed." Hmmm. What does that mean, I wonder? They? Not we. Perhaps the note writer feels disconnected from the rest of us.

Or perhaps he or she, being spirituality fat already, does not need to be fed? Oooh, pride. Bleech. The implication is that no one is being fed spiritually by the sermons, I suppose.

Perhaps the person thought I would strike my forehead and say, "Aha! I need to feed them? Why didn't someone tell me? Thank GOD and hallelujah for the wisdom of the brief words on this anonymous slip of paper!"

Phooey! Anonymous notes usually come from cowards. And they never make me change what I'm doing. But they sure do make me crabby.


Anonymous said...

Kinda like people I visit who very kindly steer me away from their delicate wicker and towards the largest, heaviest furniture they own. Like I don't already know my size?

Yep. People can be real sweeties. Aren't you glad the Lord is the one you answer to, not anonymous tipsters?

Rick Schrager said...

Hola, Came across your blog by hitting the "next blog" button. Nice.

Sounds like your parish is indeed being fed...

But someone --- is looking for dessert - ;)

Fish, Loaves, Manna, .. Cheesecake?

I know that when I am feeling malnourished I need to take a look at just how overpaid I am and with that - take God out for pie and ice cream - ;)

D. P. said...

I'm glad you seem to be handling your anonymous "helpers" appropriately--venting and ignoring :-) I've only gotten a few, and they really really get under your skin if you let them. One guy (yes, I know who wrote it) told me I ought to preach more about "Christ crucified."

This was within six months of my arrival at the church. I privately noted (1) it was still several weeks before Lent, and I had already planned a multi-week series on the meaning of the cross, and (2) looking back over my sermon notes, I had mentioned the death of Christ in at least 60% of my recent sermons. All of this got journaled in rather direct language, then I gave myself permission not to let it bother me.

Ten years later, this is probably the first time I've thought about the incident in a long, long time, so I guess it worked :-)