Sunday, August 6, 2017

Scottman Has Left The Building (Though A Part of Him Remains In Spirit)

(from feb 2009)

On June 22, 2003 I walked into the Unitarian Universalist Church of Frederick (pictured here) and my life changed in ways that took years to completely sink in, altering me in many positive ways.
I've always thought the timing of this was remarkable in a strange sort of way. This was when I was a reporter at the Hagerstown Herald-Mail. Friends at the newspaper knew I had been shopping around for the right church and that I was not alone in trying to find the faith and church that was right for me.
The resulting column, Choosing My Religion, spelled out some of my experiences when, over more than ten years, I was without a church to call my own for a variety of reasons since leaving Catholicism behind.
As the target date for the column's publication approached I'd narrowed down the best fit for me to two faiths: Quakers and Unitarian Universalists.This is partially because I wanted it to be a church where it not only talked about compassion and loving thy neighbor but demonstrated it by being welcome and supportive, for example, of gay members. When a documentary was made about one gay couple who joined our church it was shown at our church and I thought it was an excellent moment, for the congregation, for the community. Ever since when debating someone about same sex rights I often will cite my review of that movie and ask, "Do you really think this couple deserves less rights than, say, heterosexual couples where spouses have had affairs or been in other ways dysfunctional?
A newspaper friend, Chris Copley, who helped edit my piece, mentioned he attended the Frederick UU church. At the time I'd heard the gossip and stereotypes that Unitarian Universalists were a cop-out, were too wishy-washy, that you could believe whatever you wanted, etc. (I later found out - and had to explain to many - that this was mostly hogwash.)
So the day the column ran was the day I tried out this church and immediately it felt like home.
That same day I wrote the following in a journal:
I went to my first Unitarian service today. It was in Frederick, about 30 minutes away. Which is both good and bad. Good in that I'm outside of my newspaper coverage area and can get involved in more political actions than if I was in the city I cover. Bad in that I have to drive and get up earlier than usual on a Sunday. The service was like a cross between a Christian service and the Quaker service - there were songs, some meditation, an opportunity for people to light a candle and speak from the pulpit and a nice sermon.
At one point the minister hit on a church message: you may never figure out why you are on earth. But we can provide you with good friends and community while you wait. "Will this change the world? No, but it may change your world," he said.
It's hard to describe how you know when a church feels more comfortable but it just did. More people waved or said hello or smiled encouragingly at me. Afterwards two asked if they could answer any questions and I explained that I was still vacillating between them and the Quakers and explained where i was coming from in my past and my beliefs and they said either church would be lucky to have me.
Over the next few weeks I was besieged by more feedback than for any other column I ever wrote (with the exception of this one where I encouraged all fathers to tell their children that they loved them.
Much of the feedback consisted of churches begging me to come give their church a try. The message that most blew my mind was this one:
Dear Mr. Butki: Thank you for writing the column with such honesty. You truly do represent the numerous folks in and around Hagerstown and Washington County who seek to find the "right" church for them. I loved your word picture of "the blind date." I will use this article to train our greeters, ushers and deacons. Your words speak volumes, and your truthfulness touched me enough to write to you to tell you so. Maybe sometime during my sabbatical I'll have time to go out in the community and talk to some others who share your opinion and therefore help our church to make adjustments so you will feel more welcomed. Please consider attending here and let me know how we rate on your "blind date" scale. We hope you would want to come again.
I remember thinking, "My column is now someone's homework!?"
But by then it was too late. I was no longer interested in other churches," not even a UU church in Hagerstown (because it had little, if any, religious education, and it was the religious education element that I quickly became part of.)
I was soon helping teach students of all ages and continued doing so up until last Sunday. Once a month last year, for example, I was a pirate captain (complete with killer pirate hat) leading our pirate ship (made out of cardboard) to visit various lands and we'd say "ahoy" and if they would question if I was a real pirate, I'd squash that vicious rumor by pointing out that I had a pirate sticker and asking, "Would I have that sticker were I not a real pirate?" If only all problems could be resolved so easily.
This work kept me grounded. I'd wonder why the advice and rules we'd give the kids - about helping each other and not being selfish - were not being followed by so many other people, namely adults.
Over the next few years I played many roles - teacher, helper, day care provider, entertainer, listener.
But for many I will be best known as... Scottman.
So before I explain why it's significant that Scottman has "left the building" - due to my move to Texas - I think it is important to know the backstory on Scottman. I think I may be unique in that I actually have my own theme song.
Well, sort of my own theme song. It bears an uncanny resemblance to the Batman theme song but I am sure that is just a total coincidence. I never pressed the girl who "wrote" the song for me, who was about 5, about copyright issues or concerns.
It goes something like this: Each time I enter a room the kids (or teens and adults) begin singing "da na na na da na, etc Scottman!" and at the end I do a little jump as if to jump into action. This caught on fast. I'd overhear kids telling other kids the song.
One of the more surreal moments came when I entered one classroom late and not only found myself unsuccessful in slipping in quietly (because they began singing the theme song - even though I tried to signal them to stop) but I could then hear kids begin to sing the song in an adjacent classroom.)
As for the name Scottman it came from my overuse of the word "man," as in "hey, man," or "what's up, man?" One day I was playing a game with a kid at church and his mom asked who he was playing with and he said he was playing with a man. I asked if he knew who I was. I told him "my name is Scott, man."
"It's OK, mom," he shouted, "I am playing with Scottman!" So I added the suffix "man" to his name and whenever we'd see each other it'd be "Hi, Scottman!"
And thus the name was born and the legend of Scotttman grew, especially when the song was so popularized that it was even sung in church last Sunday.
But while I had this catchy song and name I was missing one important item required by every superhero, namely a uniform. A superhero without a superhero uniform is like a pirate without the proper garb 
so last Sunday was my final Sunday at church. It was a very meaningful day:I often miss the service because of the class but we made an exception today so I can say goodbye to the congregation and it can say goodbye to me I did this through the joys and concerns ritual, the joy being how the church has helped me and affected me and the concern being that I didn't think I was going to fit all of them in my boxes when I move.
The congregation applauded like I was the UU version of Cal Ripken or something.
People I admire, respect and care about said many nice things - the essence of which was the essence of which was "Scott has affected and helped many here but other places need him too."
They even had a little party afterwards for me.
I left with the realization that not only had church changed me in good ways but maybe I did the same for the church, which was a mind-blowing realization. The most surreal moment came meeting a lady, new to the church, in the hallway. She was in the service.
She stopped me to congratulate me - "I don't know you but you've apparently done some great things for this church."
I was floored.
What I did not mention yet was an improvement on the best present of all. For at least the last year, if not two, I have been working with the teenagers at the church. They always sing the Scottman song when I enter the room.
On Sunday they each signed the back of a tie-dye shirt and were going to give it to me until one said, "We need to put the Scottman logo on the front." So one of the more artistic members of the group drew the logo you see on my shirt. And, really, how many churches do you know that have tie-dye shirts? But I digress...
Tuesday night I was at church for a meeting. While there I was handed the shirt, now with the logo.
Scottman now finally has his uniform to use to fight evil and boredom. But it is also time for Scottman to move to Texas.
So I say to you, good citizens, Scottman may be leaving this building but he is still here in spirit and if you ever need Scottman in a hurry you just
shine the special patented Scottman lightscall or text me and I'll do what I can.
The end

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