Happy birthday, Baby Jesus...
...sorry your party's so lame.
We had our staff Christmas party after school today.
It started out well. The choir sang, which is always nice because the choir is quite good. Then we got to sing some Christmas carols, which was also nice.
Then the mimes came.
As did the liturgical dancers.
I sat, mildly horrified--I thought I'd managed to get away from Clowns for Christ when I left Concordia. In my head I imagined my college friend, Emily, singing "I'm a cloooooooooooooooooooown...for Christ!" to the tune of Britney's "Slave 4 U," like she used to do, at the top of her lungs, whenever we saw random acts of clown happening on campus (or, um, after we'd had a few too many frozen margaritas). Tequila or no, it was always hilarious.
After the mime incident, the preacher stepped up.
He spoke for 45 minutes--25 minutes too long by this Lutheran girl's standards--and did the entire thing in Indonesian. This wouldn't have been bad if someone had provided a translator, or a separate speaker for those of us whose Indonesian language ability is limited.
No--we were provided ONE PowerPoint slide with THREE paragraphs. This was our "translation" for the entire 45-minute sermon.
The "party" was supposed to last until 5:30. At 5:45, when we were just barely two-thirds of the way through the program, we left. So did half a dozen other irritated expatriates.
I could look at it this way, I suppose--at least they didn't decide to translate the sermon into mime.
Mimes make the baby Jesus cry.
We had our staff Christmas party after school today.
It started out well. The choir sang, which is always nice because the choir is quite good. Then we got to sing some Christmas carols, which was also nice.
Then the mimes came.
As did the liturgical dancers.
I sat, mildly horrified--I thought I'd managed to get away from Clowns for Christ when I left Concordia. In my head I imagined my college friend, Emily, singing "I'm a cloooooooooooooooooooown...for Christ!" to the tune of Britney's "Slave 4 U," like she used to do, at the top of her lungs, whenever we saw random acts of clown happening on campus (or, um, after we'd had a few too many frozen margaritas). Tequila or no, it was always hilarious.
After the mime incident, the preacher stepped up.
He spoke for 45 minutes--25 minutes too long by this Lutheran girl's standards--and did the entire thing in Indonesian. This wouldn't have been bad if someone had provided a translator, or a separate speaker for those of us whose Indonesian language ability is limited.
No--we were provided ONE PowerPoint slide with THREE paragraphs. This was our "translation" for the entire 45-minute sermon.
The "party" was supposed to last until 5:30. At 5:45, when we were just barely two-thirds of the way through the program, we left. So did half a dozen other irritated expatriates.
I could look at it this way, I suppose--at least they didn't decide to translate the sermon into mime.
Mimes make the baby Jesus cry.
posted by Erin @ 5:16 AM
2 Comments:
At Thursday, December 14, 2006 9:28:00 AM,
Anonymous said…
Oh, no. Nice Office allusion though.
At Thursday, December 14, 2006 11:28:00 PM,
Anonymous said…
My only experience with liturgical dance was that once in this crazy, artsy Lutheran Church out there had this girl in a white leotard dance to Easter hymns. The problem with white leotards is that if you don't um, trim up "down below" that you can see RIGHT through the leotard a big, um, dark bunch (oh, it's even ackward to type about...pain...). That's all anyone could see. A big dark bunch through a white leotard while someone sings Alleluia. Down below dark bunches should not be seen in church, no? Liturgical dance should be outlawed.
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