Okay, okay. Here’s the skinny on the bishop’s nomination/election process for all of you that asked (all = 5).

Without getting into all the whys and wherefores, this is how it works.  A few months ago folks in the synod were invited to submit names for possible candidates. Twenty-five names were submitted. Of the 25 nominated, eleven declined. (For you non-math majors, that leaves 14 ) Of those who didn’t decline, two didn’t respond at all. (More math: 14 - 2 = 12.) Of the dirty dozen, one more has withdrawn. (Ready? 12 - 1 = 11.)

So, as of right now, there are 11 pre-nominated clergy folks vying for the opportunity to be the next bishop of the South-Central Synod of Wisconsin. I have been blessed to be one of them.

On the first day of the Synod Assembly, May 3, all the voting members of the assembly will receive a ballot. The ballot will have the names of the Elusive Eleven plus a blank line for the name of any clergyperson in the ELCA someone wants to write in. (There is no "None of the above" line.) So, when the first ballot comes to rest, my guess is that there will be 20 to 30 folks nominated for bishop.

The second ballot is where things start to whittle down. After a few more rounds of voting, a bishop is finally elected (sorry, no white smoke). You can see by the very fact that there are so many candidates, that statistically (oops, there we are back to math again) I am unlikely to be elected.

On a personal level: I’m feeling no push to move on to new territory. I love it here, and I love the congregation. If, however, God wants me to take on a new challenge, I am willing to follow the meanderings of the Spirit. Election would mean that I would leave my call here.

On a different note, a high note at that: what a wonderful presentation of The Gospel Mass by our choir on Sunday. Thanks to Linda Stauffacher and everyone who made the beautiful music lift us and inspire us.

Pastor B.

Overtime.   Sudden death.  The championship game of the Western Collegiate Hockey Association’s tournament. Minnesota vs North Dakota. A team that started the season on fire and cooled against a team that was peaking at the right time.

Just inside the Minnesota blue line ( for non-hockey fans, this is not the same as the Blue Route off the Beltline) a Gopher player got the puck and made a long pass that missed everything. Two players, one in maroon and one in green chased after it. The maroon guy (Minnesota, okay!) dived (my 11^th grade English teacher, Miss Issacson taught us that "dove" is a bird and "dived" is the past tense of "dive") at the biscuit (aka puck) so he could touch it before in crossed the red line (the thin one by the goal and not the thick on in the middle) so the puck would not be iced (a technical rule term since all pucks are already frozen before they get used in a game).

The M player took a wild swipe, the puck popped in the air, sailed over the N goalie’s left shoulder, pinged off one of the pipes that holds the goal together, and ended up in the net. Pandemonium ensues as the Minnesota players mob the ice. Alone, sitting at the side of the goalmouth, the Fighting Sioux’ goalie looks as forlorn as a goalie who has just given up the winning goal in overtime. (No, wait, that is what happened! No wonder he looked like that!)

Anyway, looking at that goaltender who was as surprised as anyone at the shot, I at first felt a little sympathy. And maybe I still do since it’s one of those shots that you cannot predict. However, I also couldn’t help thinking to myself that the picture of the player’s despondency must be what the devil looked like on Easter morning.

Overtime is done. The victor is Jesus. Alleluia!

Pastor B.

PS I was supposed to say something about the bishop nomination, wasn’t I? Maybe next time.

PSS You can find a video link to the goal here.  Look for Wheeler OT Goal (3/17/07)

Part I

My pen broke. I would guess that for most folks this is no big deal. Pens are a dime-a-dozen (okay, a little more, but you get the point), and I suppose we all have promotional pens scattered in various venues of our homes. In fact, by my calculations, if we account for all the ballpoint pens that have been lost over the years, we should all be standing in two inches of BICs. I believe lost pens go to the same secret hiding place as lost socks.

Anyway, my pen broke, and this pen is one that fits nicely into by somewhat shriveled fingers (not all pens do). ‘Twas a Cross Rolling Ball pen. I have a certain attachment to it, even though it’s really the fourth one I’ve had. They have all broken in exactly the same place. Since it has a lifetime warranty, I send them back to Rhode Island, and Cross sends me another. So, I suppose I will have a new one in hand soon.

Part II

In one of those soup-to-nuts drawers in our house I ran across a Sheaffer fountain pen and pencil (no eraser) set that belonged to my dad. I have seen this set many times through the years. Not because my dad used it, but because my family kept the inflating needle for blowing up footballs and basketballs in the case along with the pen and pencil. Three or four times a year my brother and I needed that needle which meant glancing at the Sheaffers.

With no personal pen for my pocket, I thought I’d check this out. After a little trial and error to get the right ink (the University Book Story is the only place to get it around here), I found that it works. It’s a beautiful pen. Probably from somewhere between 1945 and ‘46 (it’s older than I). It has a piston vacuum thinger-jigger that draws the ink from the bottle into the pen (wear rubber gloves and put down newspaper).

As I’ve been using it, I’ve felt a fascinating attachment to the spirit of by dad, and questions have popped into my mind. How did my dad come by it? Straight purchase, wedding gift, birthday present? And why did he never use it? But my father died eight years ago, and my mom passed away six years ago. There is no one who can answer the questions I have about this writing instrument. And I wish there were.

Part III

Do you have a parent about whom you don’t know the whole story? Sit down and talk before it’s too late.

Pastor B.

P.S. I know I haven’t made any comments yet about being nominated for bishop. I’ll try to get that in next week.