Easter, Marvin K. Mooney, and me

On Easter Sunday, after the dust settled, in a moment of self-reflection, I posted this on my Facebook page: I never wanted to become one of those pastors who doesn't know when it's time to retire. Today began when I put on two pairs of panties. I've never done that before. Then after worship, I went to leave the building and noticed I was still wearing my robe and stole. I wish I could say that I've never done that before, but I can't. This afternoon I watched the video of this morning's worship on YouTube and saw I made the same announcement twice without realizing it. On my final Easter as a parish pastor it has been confirmed for me once again... It's time for me to retire.

Judging from the comments my post elicited, I’m feeling the need to say more. First of all, if you know me, you know that I like to exaggerate in my storytelling. So, regarding the panties, I realized while I was putting the second pair on that I already had the first pair on. I did not wear two pairs of panties on Easter morning. And then, about exiting with my robe on… I didn’t get very far before I realized I was still wearing my vestments. It’s not like I made it to the car. And, regarding the duplicate announcement… Even though I didn’t realize I had already made the announcement about taking home Easter lilies at the beginning of worship, it was still a good idea to say it again just before the benediction. If I hadn’t confessed the fact that I didn’t realize I did it twice, no one would have noticed. And, it was a simple mistake, considering the fact that I hadn’t written it down anywhere and I had a gazillion things to remember on Easter morning. In other words, I might have done the same thing 20 years ago. So, I appreciate all the people who tried to make me feel better by encouraging me to be gracious with myself.

But here’s the thing for me, and the real reason I wrote that post. Although it was the first time I led in-person worship on Easter since 2019, I can still remember how it was back then. And I am not the person I was three years ago. Everything was more stressful this year. Keeping track of the details took more effort. Just getting through it felt like it took everything I had. Perhaps to those who were sitting in the pews, it didn’t seem that way, but from inside my skin, that’s how it felt. 

Prior to Sunday, I wondered if I would be able to make it through leading my last Easter worship without shedding a few tears. In reality, I didn’t even come close; I simply didn’t have enough bandwidth for emotions. I was working too hard to do what I needed to do so folks at Ascension could have a nice Easter. And I gave it the best I had to give. 

Later in the day, reflecting on my experience, it was clear to me that it’s good this is my last Easter as a parish pastor. I don’t say that with any regret or angst. I’ll turn 70 this year. I’ve been doing this for over 43 years now. That’s long enough. And, of course, I’m not the pastor I once was. After I’ve crawled on the floor ironing the wrinkles out of an Easter banner, I need some help getting up. When I do the Easter Bunny Hop with the kids, I have to fake my hops. I sometimes have a brain fart and can’t remember names when I give people communion. And every little thing I do requires a tremendous amount of effort. 

I don’t say any of this with a sense that I’ve somehow been defeated. I’ve spent enough time with old people through the years to know that it’s normal. The affects of aging are going to continue for the rest of my life. And I’m grateful to be alive! (I’m also grateful that I have the ability to laugh at my own limitations.) I suppose what I’m saying is that I don’t need to prove that I’m still young and up to the job because I’m not. And that’s okay.

I keep thinking about a book I read to my kids when they were little, Dr. Seuss’s Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now! All through the book, the narrator is trying to get Marvin K. Mooney to leave, and he won’t go. “You can go by foot, you can go by cow. Marvin K. Mooney, will you please go now?” So it continues, and Marvin K. Mooney just won’t go. Until the very end when we read, “I don’t care when and I don’t care how. Marvin K. Mooney, will you please go now!” And after begging, cajoling, and demanding that Marvin K. Mooney go, we finally read, “I said go and go I meant. The time had come, so… Marvin went.” 

I don’t deny my limitations as I age. And I don’t wonder if maybe I could hang on for a few more years. Instead, I hope it will be said of me, when all is said and done, that I went out like Marvin K. Mooney. “The time had come, so… Nancy went.”