November 19, 2012

Underneath -- and Beyond -- the Kilt

The teasing started almost as soon as the box arrived.

My husband, a strapping 6’3”, would be wearing knee socks. And a kilt.

My stern admonition: he must wear something underneath.

Yesterday, we participated in our first Kirkin’ of the Tartans at our congregation, aptly named St. Andrew’s. My husband had long pined for a kilt to honor his Scottish ancestry, and with our arrival at this congregation, he finally had a reason for one.

In the past, the service had been held on Sunday morning, during the regular worship time.
Why not, thought my husband, make this a community event? Let’s not hide our light under bushel or the kilts under the robes. Bring the bagpipes down the main street, with a parade and flags and Highland dancers. Invite people to participate. Give them a chance to do something interesting and fun. Offer Scotch eggs and haggis and scones.

Let the congregation and community have a chance to mingle.

There were some skeptics. Would people show up if it was out of the regular schedule? Would we only see a dedicated bonnie few? Was this a hare-brained scheme of a new priest?

About 30 minutes before the parade began, people started to gather. Brothers from three area Masonic lodges wore their regalia and carried their flags. Scottish dancers, some as young as 10, clustered in a group. Bagpipers began to sound.

About 75 people marched down the street in plaids from green to red to purple. A new family, boxes still on the porch, stood outside and waved to the parade. Others came out to watch too.

Inside the church, about 150 worshiped a modified Evening Prayer that included the blessing of tartans and reading of the clan names. The mix was marvelous – perhaps half church members, half neighbors and community leaders.

It was a wonderful chance to open our church doors, to extend by personal invitation a welcome into St. Andrew’s. It made me wonder how often we take the opportunity to include others in our celebrations. We have something pretty exciting to share but so often, for whatever reasons, we keep it all in the family.

After the service, participants made their way down to the fellowship hall for Scottish food and dancing.

“Father,” said one of the community members to my husband, “this is the first time I’ve been in a church for 35 years.

“It was nice. Who knows? I might come back.”