Thursday, June 17, 2010

A note to my congregation...

NOTE: Every week I write a "prayers and programs" note to my congregation. Here is what I shared this week...

Some of you know that I have been studying (and blogging) about the importance of the Beat poets (i.e. Ginsberg, Kerouac et al.) in shaping a culture of justice and compassion in the United States after WWII. A decade before most churches and synagogues threw their support behind the movement for Black civil rights, the alienated intellectuals of the Beat generation (not their caricature - the beatniks - but the real deal) were searching for meaning amidst the jazz bebop artists of the day as well as the early pioneers of eco-justice, abstract expressionism, and peace. One commentator puts the challenge of that era like this:

Life was pretty uncertain after two world wars and two atomic bombs in too little time. By 1945, it could go either way and everybody knew it. Edward R. Murrow was on the wireless delivering poetic nightly accounts of the bombing of Europe. Centuries-old nations were tumbling by the month. Blackouts, rationing and depression were a way of life. The end was surely near. But leaning forward into this tension wind were some courageous artists transforming their media into gloriously honest expressions of the furthest and sometimes most beautiful reaches of our mind. Through a door opened by Freud and into a room lit by Jung, Reich, Stanislavsky, Breton and others, the expression of the subconscious self - the center, the soul, the truth - became the new goal of artists all over the world, some who happened to be drinking together and others who were drinking alone: Charlie Parker, Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning...Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis... Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry... Marlon Brando, James Dean... and so many more. (Abstract Expression: From Bird to Brando by Brian Hassett)

A full generation earlier, Protestant theologian and pastor, Paul Tillich, discovered that after WWI it was the artists of his day who were best able to capture something of God's still speaking voice. Churches were caught up in their fears - or sentimentality - while the painters, sculptors, dancers, and musicians of the early 20th century were giving shape and voice to both the human condition and God's puzzling presence amidst the turmoil. Fifty years later, it was the Beat poets who rediscovered this insight within their own world while churches were caught up in a building frenzy that sacralized the spirit of consumerism in America. No wonder most congregations were stunned and terrified when American cities exploded and burned in the 60s: God was speaking to us through our boldest artists, but most of us were not listening. And so the guitars were electrified, the volume was pumped up, and everything grew more intense.

I underscore this during this week's Prayers and Programs because we are at another key turning point in America. The world is more inter-connected than ever before and what we do ripples across every continent to say nothing of the sky and oceans. So, we can either listen carefully and try to discern what God's still speaking voice might be saying to us amidst the Gulf Coast catastrophe, our two wars, and the on-going economic turmoil - OR - we can try to keep doing what we've always done only to discover that such a life is unsustainable. Repentance, you know, means changing our direction - turning away from what is sinful, destructive, and unhealthy - and moving towards the true image of God in which we were created. Poet Robert Bly put it like this:

Tell me why it is we don’t lift our voices these days
And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed
The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting?

I say to myself: “Go on, cry. What’s the sense
Of being an adult and having no voice? Cry out!
See who will answer! This is Call and Answer!”

We will have to call especially loud to reach
Our angels, who are hard of hearing; they are hiding
In the jugs of silence filled during our wars.

Have we agreed to so many wars that we can’t
Escape from silence? If we don’t lift our voices, we allow
Others (who are ourselves) to rob the house.

How come we’ve listened to the great criers—Neruda,
Akhmatova, Thoreau, Frederick Douglass—and now
We’re silent as sparrows in the little bushes?

Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.

One voice that offers a wise, sustainable and faith-based alternative to the current madness is Brian Mclaren who just "blogged" his reaction to President Obama's recent Oval Office speech concerning our addiction to oil, the BP disaster, etc. If you are looking for hope - or a light in the current darkness - you may want to read Mclaren's remarks at:
http://blog.sojo.net/2010/06/16/my-initial-response-to-president-obamas-speech/.

Here is a prayer litany for this week from our partners at the National Council of Churches:

A CONFESSION:
Creator God, author of life, source of all meaning, you made a universe of infinite complexity and beauty and entrusted us humans with the care of a tiny jewel called Earth. With the passing of time we came to believe we were owners, not fellow creature dwellers, of this bountiful planet and its extravagant web of life. We have used God’s creation without regard for the impact our rapacity had on the other creatures with whom we share our earthly home. We have acted with craven disregard for complex ecosystems we barely understand.

Our self-deception has led us to assume we have the capacity to manage environments we exploit to sustain lifestyles that defy the intrinsic interdependence of all life. Now we face the consequences of our idolatry. We thought we were gods; but our recklessness has brought us to our knees, to ask for your mercy and forgiveness for the chaos we have brought about. We pray for the oceans and all the creatures that dwell in it. We pray for the forests and the abundance of life they nurture. We pray for the very air we breathe, now laden with the toxic gases we produce. We pray for our children whose earthly home we have so imperiled. Loving God, have mercy on us, grant us forgiveness and the strength to make amends.

A TIME FOR QUIET REFLECTION

AN ASSURANCE OF FORGIVENESS There are no sins so great that the mercy of God cannot forgive. Go with God’s grace to make amends. Embrace lifestyles that will help restore balance and harmony to our Earthly home. Care for those whose environments have been destroyed by our actions and inactions. Amen.

PRAYERS OF PETITION

God, we come to you today with heavy and humbled hearts. We ask that your healing, comforting and strengthening presence be with all those affected by this unfolding tragedy:
For workers injured, missing, and presumed dead from the explosion on the rig and for their families and friends, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers.

For people working tirelessly to contain the spill and protect fragile ecosystems and communities from its toxic impacts, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers.

For individuals and communities whose livelihoods depend upon the Gulf of Mexico, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers .

For your good Creation – from the smallest of sea creatures to the birds of the air - and all your magnificent handiwork at risk of exposure from our human errors, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers.

For wisdom to understand our dependence on You and strength that we might walk humbly in the path of justice and right-relationships with all Your Creation, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers.

(Tomorrow we leave for a weekend away at a family wedding... when I return I will be ready to move into Dylan and the Beats: Part Three.)

2 comments:

Peter said...

By Providence I recently picked up a volume of poetry by Canada's Gwendolyn MacEwen (1941-1987)--very dense, difficult stuff. She was a genius. But in the foreword by our novelist Margaret Atwood, Ms. Atwood, who otherwise celebrates the Beat culture in Canada and North America at the time, notes that it was almost entirely a male phenom.

Women tended to be regarded largely as bedmates, muses or creative obstacles to the Beats, and it wasn't until well into the times (early-mid '60s) that women's poetic and artistic voices began to be heard in their own right.

Interestingly, some of the women who were actually present from the get-go of the Beat phenom are only now publishing their perspectives.

I'd say she's right, and that this represents the shadow of the Beat phenomenon. In fact, I think it was represented visually by Joan Baez's pathetic tagging along with Bob Dylan on several of his tours, at one point appearing on stage dressed exactly as he was.

I've been pondering this even as I make my way through the Collected Poems of Allen Ginsberg. It's like a little bit of salsa in a slice of apple pie.

Enjoying your Beat series very much, RJ: don't get me wrong there. :)

RJ said...

My man you are sooo right - as is sister Atwood - re: women. I just finished two essays re: this theme while away at the wedding. And I had the identical thought re: Baez and Dylan, too. Looking backwards, it is one of the most visible and ugly signs of our cultural mysogyny. I am delighted to find some of the women of the era publishing their own insights even at this late date.

And yet... and yet there are still some dazzling insights yet to be mined from these old guys. Glad you are enjoying it, my man.

an oblique sense of gratitude...

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