12th night fun and Epiphany jazz-fest...

"What is the cosmic significance of the fact that our second jazz gig falls on Epiphany?" I've wondered over and over during this past month. Mostly... nothing - it is just a great coincidence. At the same time, it is waaaay too fun to note that our totally eclectic group is playing on the night of the Feast of the Wisdom of the Outsiders (read Magi) who recognize, celebrate and honor the presence of Christ in the world in spite of tradition, religion and culture. It is almost as if they are bowing with the words, "Namaste" to this infant Messiah, yes?

And that is what we're up to - both with this gig and our trip - discerning and honoring the divinity in the other. Jazz and other tunes are the medium - jazz speaks of creativity and culture, openness within form, a time of dancing in the flesh with the promises of the spirit - and the medium can't oppose the message or else it rings phony at the deepest level. So, we go sharing music and living into the "namaste" wisdom without fulling knowing everything that means.

Quinn Caldwell wrote this morning in the United Church of Christ daily meditation that there is a common theme in most 12th Night celebrations: inversion. Harvey Cox spoke of it as "the feast of fools," one of the most important yet least valued truths in all of Christianity.

Remembering the kings bowing down before a peasant child instead of King Herod, English sovereigns used to play the part of the fool on this evening, and someone else would take the throne. So throw a Twelfth Night party tonight. We don’t have a king, but there are still plenty of powers to knock down: Refuse to worship the media gods: turn off the TV and the computer and spend a whole night talking to somebody you share your house with. Refuse to bow down before the God of busyness: cancel an evening meeting and go have a drink with friends. Smash the god of respectability: stop being so darn well-behaved and do something scandalous (or at least silly).

Tonight, take whatever powers usually rule your life, make them play the fool instead, and let the God of Love rule. After all, nobody worships Caesar any more, but plenty of us worship a kid in a feedbox.

That is clearly what tomorrow's gig is about: the upside down values of foolishness and peace-making in the midst of the wise and powerful. Finding common ground to celebrate in the most unlikely places among the most unlikely people - you and me! Fr. Richard Rohr pushed the edges of this again today in his daily reflection noting:

In the second half of life you have begun to live and experience the joy of your inner purpose. The outer purposes and goals matter less and less and have less power over you. You are immensely self-possessed and grounded. At one and the same time, you know what you know, and you know what you do not know. This is what Thomas Merton means by “belly of the paradox.” Many politicians and clergymen know what they know, but they don’t know what they don’t know, and that’s what makes them dangerous.

A creative tension in the second half of life, knowing what you know and knowing what you don’t know, is a necessary one. All you know is that it is foundationally all right, despite the seeming contradictions and conflict. That’s why the holy old man can laugh and the old holy woman can smile. I heard recently that a typical small child smiles six hundred times a day, and old men smile two and a half times a day. That tells me that religion is not doing its job very well.

Over the past few months, I have discerned yet another important theme in my ministry: inversion. Thirty years ago I began as a deeply committed social activist in search of an inner life - and began to practice prayer and meditation as the key to peace-making rather than demonstrations and social agitation. In time, I found that one of the ways to build common ground in pursuit of God's grace involved the arts - so I started to reclaim the gift of music for myself - as well as the visual and embodied arts, too. And now, towards what is likely to be the closing years of ministry, I am adding a commitment to inversion to the justice, prayer and artistic components of my ministry.

I closed last week's message with a story about my band in high school - and our Roman Catholic drummer. The heart was that after a month long mission trip throughout the US, we closed with Eucharist; but George, who was a faithful person, felt he could not break bread with us given his tradition. So, as we celebrated Christ's risen presence in one room, he sat behind the accordion doors of the church basement and audibly wept.

I knew in my heart of hearts in that moment that part of my ministry had to be about moving through such arbitrary and ugly barriers - especially those done in Christ's name.

And so the adult work of ministry continues into the heart of Epiphany, yes? We have been called to the feast - the celebration - the dance - just like Christ. There will always be time for fasting and grief and waiting. As the Lord said to the Baptist: They condemn you for fasting and they hate me for feasting. To which I might add: so, let the party begin!