Speaks in public. Lives to tell.

Speaks in public. Lives to tell. October 7, 2015

Because it’s homecoming this weekend at my alma mater, the school’s mascot — i.e., a kid in an Eagle costume — came to the chapel service today to accompany the announcements about the weekend’s events.

This is not actually Eastern's Eagle mascot costume, but it's close enough to get the general idea.
This is not actually Eastern’s Eagle mascot costume, but it’s close enough to get the general idea.

The mascot arrived early, standing off to the side during the lovely opening music, which was a short set of worship songs performed by members of the school’s gospel ensemble. One of the students in that ensemble played the violin for the final song, gorgeously blending with the group’s gospel-inflected arrangement of a popular praise chorus. I looked over and saw the mascot slowly swaying to the music, lost in the moment and raising their arms/wings in worshipful reverie.

For a few minutes, that student in the Eagle suit was simultaneously: A) having a sincere encounter with the sacred, while B) wearing a giant foam bird head, leggings, feathers and oversized fuzzy Eagle feet.

The mascot left after the homecoming announcements, and then I went up to speak. It’s a bit of a blur, but I hope that the end result may have been something like that sublime and ridiculous moment that kid in the Eagle costume had during the prelude. Did I babble, rush, stammer, and swallow the important bits while staggering awkwardly through way too many points about way too many things in a litotical, elliptical mess? As usual, yes. Of course I did.

But I think maybe while I was up there tripping over the fuzzy, oversized feet of my silly costume, there may also have been a few moments where the students gathered today might’ve encountered something reverent or holy, meaningful or challenging or even, perhaps, true. I hope. Maybe.

In any case, it was a real honor to have had that opportunity and to experience the gracious hospitality of Eastern’s chaplain, Joe Modica, and to get to see some old friends and old mentors who still mean a great deal to me 25 years after graduating.

 

 


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