Love's Labors Lost... in translation.

Dear Fellow Translators:

During my years as a pastoral counselor, I recommended one book more than any other: The Five Love Languages by Dr. Gary Chapman. It is a simple, straightforward read in which Chapman suggests that each of us is conditioned to share and receive love in particular ways. When we want to convey our love to our partner, we do so in the love language we understand. We also resonate with love communicated in the language we find familiar. As the book title suggests, Chapman identifies five love languages: 1. Words of Affirmation, 2. Quality Time, 3. Receiving Gifts, 4. Acts of Service, and 5. Physical Touch. The problem, Chapman believes, is not our lack of love, but our failure to translate our love into expressions meaningful to our partner.

Tomorrow, Dani and I celebrate eight years of marriage, initiated eight years and three months ago by my proposal at Buckingham Fountain. After more than a decade of dating, we texted our kids with the announcement of our engagement, which brought the blasé response, “It’s about time,” from them all. But despite their lack of surprise, the proposal itself was almost lost in translation.

In ranking Dani’s fluency of love languages, Receiving Gifts and Words of Affirmation rank four and five. It's not that she doesn’t enjoy the occasional bouquet of flowers or encouraging word; it’s just that Acts of Service rank way higher. So, when I dropped to one knee and popped out a marquise diamond engagement ring and began to wax eloquent about the wonder that is Dani, her response was not swooning delight but, “What are you doing? Get up! People are staring! Get Up!” (If being the center of attention was a love language, Dani’s fluency would rank somewhere below Urdu.)

Of course, having read Chapman’s book, I was aware of my own fluency in Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation. Dani had also read the book but sometimes experienced me as an insecure, cloying, praise junkie. I frequently referred to Chapman’s work, using it as a weapon to explain how she needed to step-up her language acquisition, but when I started to understand Dani rather than insist she understand me, things dramatically improved.

Some lessons are easy. As a minister I’ve learned to never bring her flowers after officiating a funeral (even if I’ve taken the time to clip off the ribbon that says “Loving Grandpa”). But other lessons have been hard. To this day I really don’t understand the purpose of making a bed that I will be messing up again in 16 hours, or why I should never use the guest towels, even when we don’t have company. As I’ve tried to wrap my brain around Acts of Service as an expression of love, Dani has been graciously patient. Of course, as with all foreign languages, I speak with a thick accent. I make the bed and, even though it still looks like the dog is sleeping under the covers when I’m done, Dani receives my effort with the love I’m trying to convey.

Tomorrow is our anniversary, and I’ve learned how taking out the garbage without being asked will be received way better than a box of fine chocolate. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get a big hug and an “attaboy” for taking out the recycling.

Still stammering through foreign language class, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Happily Married

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Don't Try to Be Happy
Don't Try to Be Happy

Dear Happy(?) Campers:

Happiness is a byproduct, not a goal. I heard that quote during a podcast interview last week and it is stuck in my head. 

A little research reveals that Mahatma Gandhi may or may not have said something similar. His abbreviated quote usually reads, “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” Except that seems to be a memeification (yes, invented word) of a longer, more verifiable Gandhi quote: “Happiness is a direction, not a place. Happiness

Leisure, A Sign of Failure?
Leisure, A Sign of Failure?

Dear Busybodies, 

Labor Day—that last gasp of summer as we slip our summer whites into storage and prepare for the seasonal responsibilities of harvest. A day for workers to set aside the drudgery of Mondays for one fleeting glimpse of how life could always be had we been born into the luxury of the leisure class. Except these days we no longer mark success as freedom from responsibility, but rather prove our worth by a flurry of perpetual busyness.

Imagine Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos lingering over one more game of croquet on the lawn while sipping lemonade. Or Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg touring aimlessly down a coastal highway, windblown with

Wishing It Were True
Wishing It Were True

Dear Seekers:

This past week I attended a required clergy continuing education program hosted by the Presbytery of Chicago. A portion of the day was devoted to helping us understand the importance of monitoring our stress. When we are under pressure, we are more likely to violate the personal boundaries of others; we become less supportive of their needs, and our tolerance for their behavior wears thin. At the same time, the presenters wanted us to appreciate how stress helps us grow, building our resilience, so they offered this illustration...

Biosphere 2 was a research project constructed in the Arizona desert in the late 1980s to determine if it was possible to create a closed ecological system which, in the future, might sustain human life on other planets. It’s a massive domed structure that replicates

The Gospel of Success
The Gospel of Success

Dear Wealthy Investors:

If you’ve missed the fact that I think a “prosperity gospel” is heresy, then we haven’t talked. Religious hucksters have been around since the beginning of time. Even the early church struggled with that brand of phony. 

In Acts 4.32, we’re told how many people sold property to place the money before the Apostles so they could distribute it to any who were in need. In Acts chapter 5, Ananias and his wife Sapphira wanted in on the action. Christians were digging deep to support the work of the early church. So Ananias and Sapphira sold a piece of property, but they held back

The Pervasive Power of Patrons
The Pervasive Power of Patrons

Dear Political Patrons:

I’m not a Chicago native, but I’ve spent nearly three times as many years as a resident of the Windy City as I had in my hometown of Omaha, and all of that time on the South Side (if one counts Hyde Park as the South Side). When I arrived in Hyde Park, Michael Bilandic was Mayor, and the fact that he was Croatian was of little consequence to my newfound awareness of Chicago politics. The Irish were kings of the South Side ever since Mayor Richard J. Daley’s mother, Lillian, announced that she wanted more for her son than being a policeman. Richard J. didn’t disappoint.

Daley (the elder) had a keen sense of optics, making sure that his base constituencies were well represented when handing out credit and meting out power. His was a carefully crafted machine in which the component parts were not

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When Spiritual Misses the Religious

Dear Collective Clergy:

As you may gather from my sermons over the past several weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about community, about interdependence, about sharing. Perhaps because there are few things less independent or self-sufficient than caring for someone who is ill; or perhaps because I am old enough to realize there are some things I will never accomplish in this life. Whatever the reason, I’ve been musing about how spirituality has become a personal responsibility. We’ve privatized it. We are taught that each of us is responsible for working out our own salvation, our prayer life, our meditation, our scriptural devotion, even our emotional health and faith. I’m not so sure that’s right.

Much of this started with the Reformation. The reformers denounced the special position priests held in mediating God’s presence for the people through the

A Little Love Note to a Church
A Little Love Note to a Church

Dear, Dear Friends:

Letters from the pastor are traditionally epistles of reprimand. Seeing oneself as constrained by a stiff-necked people, the pastor attempts to write the congregation into submission. Confident that the only limit to their ministerial wonderfulness is spiritual stubbornness, they dedicate their pens and preaching to browbeat the very congregation to which they are called. I sometimes wonder how church members tolerate such dismissive paternalism. There must be something irresistible in the friendships, or the choir rehearsals, or the coffee that brings people back to endure their weekly scolding. I have on occasion, submitted my congregations to such smug condescending judgmentalism, and now looking back, I am sorry. My regret arises not only from the absurdity of ‘biting the hands that feed me,’ but

Is Our Welcome Upside Down?
Is Our Welcome Upside Down?

Dear Welcoming Worshipers:

This may come as a bit of a surprise, but occasionally I muse about things other than political temperament or cultural erosion; sometimes I muse about the church—and not just its niche in society or role in public discourse. I sometimes think about how we ‘do’ church and how we ‘are’ church.

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The centerpiece of our community in both energy and focus is our gathering

Pointless Performative Posting
Pointless Performative Posting

Dear Fatigued Faithful:

Now that the state of Louisiana has codified posting the Ten Commandments in every public school classroom, attention has been given to commandments 7 (Thou shalt not commit adultery) and 9 (Thou shalt not bear false witness) and whether or not the politicians who endorse the policy live up to these commands. Those who defend the posting of the Decalogue claim it is a bedrock document of American law, and as such a piece of history without religious prejudice. My musing over this issue, and the recent state school superintendent of Oklahoma mandating the teaching of the Bible in schools, has less to do with the documents themselves and more to do with the qualifications of those who will interpret their meaning for young minds.

Of course, the Ten Commandments is a religious document. Let’s start with #1, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” There is nothing secular about that! Of course, moving on, the next three commandments are equally sectarian: #2 Thou shalt not make any graven image, #3 Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain and #4 Remember

Requiem For The Horde
Requiem For The Horde

Dear Bugged Ones: 

As many as 1.5 million cicadas per acre emerged a few weeks ago in our region of Illinois. With great anticipation, people dreaded the endless sound of their mating screech. It was amazing how finding a single cicada in the house and courting him outside could fill the air with so much noise. While larger than most bugs, it still seemed to emit more sound than its size could resonate. The crunching sound too—of thousands of exoskeletons littering the sidewalks—created its own fascinating cringe.  

Love them or hate them, they’re now nearly gone.

It will be 2041 when our brood emerges again. If I’m still around, I’ll be 80.

Equipped for Ministry?
Equipped for Ministry?

Dear Keepers of the Faith:

Last week the Southern Baptist denomination voted to change its constitution in order to fully codify that the office of Pastor could only be held by men. Congregations who deign to use the title Pastor for someone without a Y chromosome will be expelled from the denomination. Closely intertwined with the amendment’s rhetoric was a conservative political pushback related to debates over gender identity. It was not coincidental that former VP Mike Pence addressed the conference in person, and candidate President Trump provided pre-recorded video remarks to the assembly. Affirming the masculine prerequisite for congregational leadership, the vote was seen as a thumb-in-the-eye to political progressives who the Southern Baptists believe

Cleaning our Plates
Cleaning our Plates

Dear Dinner Guests,

Beginning this coming Sunday, June 9, our Adult Education program will feature a series of speakers discussing the lingering spiritual and emotional impact of the COVID-19 pandemic. These presentations will rely on materials and research prepared for the spring conference that didn’t happen due to low enrollment. I reflected on possible reasons for our collective disinterest a few weeks back in an essay linked here, and it is quite possible these Sunday post-worship gatherings will garner the same lackluster participation. But in consultation with our Adult Ministry Moderator Joe Yount, we’ve decided to try anyway, because we believe these conversations will be good for you—think of it as educational broccoli.

A core concern of mine has to do with what I have witnessed as a pastor and counselor when we fail to acknowledge undigested grief. (Yes, I’ll continue the roughage metaphor.) When we individually or collectively experience trauma, loss or disappointment,

Jesus Our Mother Prays for Us
Jesus Our Mother Prays for Us

Greetings, Praying Parents:

Sunday was Mother’s Day, and the text for the day was from John 17, a passage known as the High Priestly Prayer of Jesus. I’ve always found this record of Jesus’ words to be daunting. John’s language is layered and complex, and I’ve never quite understood what Jesus was praying. But, since it was Mother’s Day, I attempted to reinterpret John 17 as a mother’s prayer. When I started the project in preparation for my sermon, I was surprised how much more meaningful Jesus’ words were when seen through the heart of a mother.

Following worship, a few people asked if I could share the prayer. Since I hadn’t paraphrased the whole chapter, and chunks were truncated to make a point, I decided to undertake a re-reading of the whole

A Recipe for Reconciliation Has a Starting Point
A Recipe for Reconciliation Has a Starting Point

Dear Non-Conference Non-Attendees:

As you may know, a great deal of effort was put into planning and promoting a post-COVID conference scheduled for the second Saturday in March. Pre-registrations were underwhelming, so the week before the event I decided to cancel it. It’s bad form to have more breakout groups than attendees. I’m grateful for the presenters and preparers who were unable to showcase their no-doubt brilliant work; but discussing the impact of the pandemic four years out was clearly uninteresting to a wider public.

Upon reflection, I realize I shouldn’t be surprised. I conceived of an event designed to address the unprocessed grief we carry regarding what was lost during those dark months of soaring death rates and social isolation. I recognize now that a conference organized to address denial is doomed by its own irony.

Perhaps because I spent so much time thinking about the pandemic’s impact on our social psyche,

Thoughts and Prayers or Thoughtful Prayer?
Thoughts and Prayers or Thoughtful Prayer?

Dear Deep Intercessors:

As I’ve mentioned before, when confronted with pain, struggle, deprivation, weakness, etc., we’re not comfortable regulating our helplessness. “Thoughts and prayers” have become a trivializing phrase, hiding passivity in the face of tragedy. But there are times when that’s all we’ve got. Unfortunately, “I’ll pray for you” feels like a last resort when we’ve exhausted all the options of practical assistance. It feels like surrender. ‘I wanted to do something useful, but all the wonderful things I could do have been declined, so I guess I’m stuck with praying instead.’

I understand how quickly feelings of helplessness can degenerate into a self-loathing

A Taxing Responsibility
A Taxing Responsibility

Dear Taxing Filers:

April 15th, Tax Day! Hopefully you’re not scrambling to finish the filing task on this beautiful Monday; I usually am. Not because I procrastinate, which I do, but because ministers are paid like independent contractors, so the 15.3% self-employment tax on salary and housing allowance usually leaves a little extra needed to top off my quarterly payments from the previous year. Like many, I’m in no rush to hand off that cash. I am grateful for the continued income tax exemption provided to clergy for housing allowance, but am not confident that exemption will last. Implemented to compensate pastors who own their homes rather than live in a church manse, local municipalities like the allowance because it keeps clergy houses on the property tax rolls. Churches do not pay tax for their property, including church-owned pastors' housing. (Strangely enough, continuation of the housing allowance exemption finds its greatest protection from the U.S. military.) All this brings me to today’s musing, a brief history of the religious church tax exemption.

It’s an old allowance. Christian Emperor Constantine (272-337 BCE) famously insulated Christian churches from Roman taxation, a tradition that was continued

Keep Looking Up, at least until you're tired
Keep Looking Up, at least until you're tired

Dear Sunward Gazers,

As I write this we are anticipating a solar eclipse, which reminds me of my brief childhood hope of becoming an astronomer. It was the height of the Space Race, and Apollo missions were already in full gear, inching the United States closer to planting the first human feet on the moon. My neighborhood buddies and I were well aware of the tragic Apollo 1 accident on February 21, 1967, in which Command Pilot Gus Grissom, Senior Pilot Ed White and Pilot Roger B. Chaffee perished in an awful fire during a launch rehearsal. An electrical spark ignited nylon insulation, and the conflagration was accelerated by the use of pure, high-pressure oxygen in the cabin. A congressional investigation resulted in several changes to the module’s design, particularly the use of a far less explosive nitrogen/oxygen mixture. They had briefly experimented with an even more inert helium/oxygen blend, but that combination made the astronauts sound like Alvin and the other chipmunks, so it was scuttled in the name of dignity.

Most of my friends aspired to be astronauts, but I was a risk-averse kid. As with the high dive or the zipline, I preferred to be an observer rather than a potential stain on the pool’s bottom or cautionary splat on a camp trail. Astronomy was for me—it was a profession that involved sitting

You Raise Me Up, Because?
You Raise Me Up, Because?

Dear Sitters:

In 2001, Norwegian composer Rolf Løvland wrote a short instrumental piece with a contemplative melody and haunting harmonies titled “Silent Story”. A few years later, Løvland approached novelist and songwriter Brendan Graham to write lyrics for the piece. It was first performed at the funeral of Løvland’s mother by vocalist Johnny Logan, who later recorded a demo of the piece with full orchestra. The song was picked up by various artists, but these recordings languished without much fanfare; that was until 2003, when producer David Foster selected the song for up-and-coming star Josh Groban. “You Raise Me Up” became one of Groban’s megahits.

The structure of the song creates a sweeping double crescendo of the chorus; just when you think the song has reached its emotional apex, the tune modulates,

Looking for Joy in All the Wrong Places
Looking for Joy in All the Wrong Places
Pledge Punctuation Changes Allegience
Pledge Punctuation Changes Allegience

Dear Pledging Patriots:

At the close of the 1800s, the United States was swamped with immigrants. Nearly 15% of the nation was foreign born, with a majority coming from northern and western European countries. It was noted that in 1890, one in six Chicago residents had been born in Germany. There were also a substantial number of new American residents from Ireland and eastern Europe. They were largely poor and alarmingly Catholic. Most, regardless of their country of origin, were arriving on American shores having formerly been pledged to kings and other associated royal potentates. Coming to America required not only the acquisition of a new language, but also a changed understanding of citizenship. Republics are very different from monarchies.

Concern over the new arrivals’ ability to assimilate and a fear that they lacked understanding

In Gratitude for Your Manifestation of God's Presence
In Gratitude for Your Manifestation of God's Presence

Dear Ones:

As you may imagine, today’s Musing doesn’t wander far from Dani’s brain surgery today. Some things overwhelm all other threads of concentration. Counting out Aggi’s (our dog) pills this morning and smooshing them into her favorite gummy candy, I was taken aback, because next to the newly filled pill cup was another pill cup containing the pills, each stuffed into a gummy. Clearly, I had done that task earlier in the morning and had no actual memory of having performed that part of my morning routine. I’m finding myself making sure the keys are in my pocket several times each time I get out of the car. Deep thought clearly takes up a lot of space, crowding out the mundane mental wanderings of an average day…

March 9, 2024. Dropping the Mask: A COVID Remembrance - what we lost, what we learned
March 9, 2024. Dropping the Mask: A COVID Remembrance - what we lost, what we learned

Dear Past Pandemic Prospectors,

Four years ago, during the second week of March 2020, the world underwent a profound transformation. Restaurants, schools, libraries, museums, churches, offices, sports arenas—any place where people gathered—shut down for nearly two years. Social connections were reduced to glowing screens, loved ones were glimpsed behind closed windows, learning was confined to laptops, and touch was abandoned. The world functioned at a distance, and remote living seemed safer.

When 'normalcy' returned, there was a rush to resume activities, to gather, to embrace, and to move forward. However, in our haste, we overlooked

Knowing Everything/Knowing Nothing
Knowing Everything/Knowing Nothing

Dear God Lovers:

I seldom experience past sermon preparation bleeding over into my Monday brain—by Sunday afternoon I’ve pretty much exhausted all interest in that morning’s texts, and I attempt to create some headspace to welcome the following week’s passages. But yesterday’s epistle reading from 1 Corinthians 8.1-13 has left some spiritual residue about which I have been musing.

For those who were there or who listened online, the focus of my sermon was the conclusion of the first verse of the passage, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” These words were convicting enough to wrestle out a full sermon. But verse 2 is equally if not more startling. Paul writes,

Leaning, Learning, Loving
Leaning, Learning, Loving

Dear Members and Friends:

This past Saturday our elders and deacons gathered for our annual time for learning and mutual encouragement. Back in 2012, the Presbyterian Church (USA) changed the term “Minister of Word and Sacrament” to “Teaching Elder” as the designation for ordained clergy in our denomination. It didn’t really catch on, and now both terms are considered appropriate. Whatever term you use to refer to me, my experience at our Saturday gathering was that of a learner, not an instructor. And while the content of what I learned was not really new, it was great to revisit and be reminded of the wealth of wisdom and grace FPCLG has among its officers.

The Session met in the morning, and I heard again of their deep love for our congregation and their appreciation for how we do church. They shared their desire

For all Seasons
For all Seasons

Dear Shivering Saints:

There’s something about extreme cold that makes creativity difficult. As mammals, a good portion of our metabolism is obsessed with keeping our body temperature at a level where all the chemical and mechanical reactions can function efficiently, and there’s a very narrow temperature range where that can happen. As a result, when the ambient temperature is very cold or very hot, we either curl up to preserve warmth or sprawl out to maximize surface area and dissipate heat. Those of you who are dog owners know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s only when the air around us hits the Goldilocks zone

Mourning Coffee
Mourning Coffee

Dear Morning Makers:

I woke up this morning to our furnace functioning quite efficiently, and while its humidifier unit underfunctions a bit on cold winter days, we bought a large console floor model which works quite well, and despite its age we can still find filter wicks in stock at both Menards and Home Depot. Our hot water heater is a few years old, but it works great and seems significantly more responsive than the one it replaced. When I went to the basement yesterday, the green indicator light on the freezer shone brightly, and it’s partially full of a variety of rock-hard frozen foods. Meanwhile, upstairs

God Doesn't Give You More than WE Can Handle
God Doesn't Give You More than WE Can Handle
Christmas Time Crunch
Christmas Time Crunch

Dear Christmas Time Crunchers:

In a recent article published by the American Psychological Association, researchers Julian Givi and Colleen P. Kirk presented their findings regarding the emotional weight associated with declining an invitation (a PDF of the article may be found here). Briefly stated, their study found that those who decline invitations predict far more negative ramifications from the inviter than are justified. For example, if someone invites you to lunch and you decline, they tend to be far less disappointed than you think they are. The implication of the findings suggests that we respond positively to invitations more often than we honestly desire, and when we decline invitations, we are disposed to exaggerate the weight of our excuse. While my own research on this topic is far less scientific, I’m inclined to agree. Which brings me to my

One From the Missiles
One From the Missiles

Dear Advent Star Gazers:

There are many accounts of the Cuban Missile Crisis which I will not recount for you here today, but as this time of year we muse together about Christmas music, some of you may not know how these two topics overlap.

For a quick background, the United States had placed nuclear tipped Jupiter missiles with NATO allies Italy and Turkey in 1961. At that same time the Kennedy administration was arming and training Cuban exiles to mount attacks on Fidel Castro’s regime, a strategy

Switching Toggels to Tuners
Switching Toggels to Tuners

Dear Light Walkers:

I’ve been thinking a lot about our understanding of binary categories ever since several months ago I listened to an interview with a man who is blind, having lost his vision in his mid-twenties in an accident. He mentioned that he did have some shadow vision—he could make out shapes and forms, but they lacked definition and color. When he described what his poorly functioning eyes could ‘see’, he expressed his surprise that many people told him he wasn’t really blind. He said that we think of blindness and sight as a binary relationship, when less than 20%