i like birds: reflections on yesterday's art walk as community

A lovely FB meme greeted me this lazy day: "If you think you've blown God's plan for your life, rest in this: you, my beautiful friend, are not that powerful." This is wisdom speaking a word of humility to the hubris of our hearts. It is the love greater than our imaginations reminding us that grace trumps karma. And it is an invitation to simultaneously own our wounds, mistakes, failures, and sins even as we trust that they are not the end of the story. A poem by Daniel Ladinsky evokes this paradoxical blessing born of the spirituality of St. Francis: 

What mother would lose her infant—and we are that to God,

never lost from [Her] gaze are we? Every cry of the heart

is attended by light’s own arms.

You cannot wander anywhere that will not aid you.

Anything you can touch—God brought it into

the classroom of your mind.

Differences exist, but not in the city of love.

Thus my vows and yours, I know they are the same. . . .

The holy water my soul’s brow needs is unity.

Love opened my eye and I was cleansed

by the purity of each

form.

Yesterday I participated in a walking arts encounter sponsored by the local poetry slam organization WordXWord. (http://wordxwordfestival.com) They work tirelessly to bring people of all ages, races, gender and class together in one spot to create and share poetry. Their work simultaneously builds bridges, challenges stereotypes, evokes truth-telling, and sometimes even facilitates beauty and new understandings. It is a risk-taking collection of individuals committed to the cause of community building in a fractured culture. Our challenge was to respond - and react - to sculptures showcased within the gardens of The Mount (https://www.edithwharton.org/ event/2018-sculpturenow-exhibitopening/) There were angry words, cries for justice and mercy, sounds of beauty and wonder, invitations to risk new ways of honoring our differences, and a reminder that each and all of us ache for the comfort of "home."  I left the event with two thoughts connected to the possibilities of renewal and transformation noted above that continue to ripen:

+ First, in ways that are striking to me after 40 years of Christian ministry, this arts consortium brought together diverse people in a way that most American churches have yet to imagine.  This was NOT about entertainment or distraction. It was an engagement with truth on a soul level. Young, old and middle aged folk all had a part to play according to the movement of the Spirit. Black, white and Latinx walked together - those who special needs rode in a small, motorized cart - and after each presentation the crowd responded with gratitude. We talked to one another about what had touched us while walking from one exhibit to the next and then gathered again at the close for more sharing. 

+ Second, the visual art as well as our reactions with dance, poetry, music and shared conversation was not rarefied or elitist.  There was no insider jargon. Rather, there was heart-talk. Big emotions struggling for honest reflection. Tenderness. And even hope. When I read these words from Kahil Gibran this morning, they felt much like my experience at the art walk:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.…When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

Our offering, "I Like Birds," was the only music for the day. Di and I worked up an upright walking bass groove to be the foundation for her vocal. It was both whimsical and prophetic. In a way that is gentle and fun, the song invites each to fully become themselves rather than be mashed into the uniforms of conformity. 

If you're small and on a search
I've got a feeder
for you to perch on
I can't stand in line at the store
The mean little people
are such a bore
But it's alright
if you act like a turd
'Cause I like... birds.

I found myself hearing St. Paul's wisdom from Romans 12 as the day came to a close:

I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.

The arts community being forged here is not territorial. Neither is it automatic. The artists and coordinators are vigorous in networking. They insist that there some venues are for expertise and others for novices. Their poetry slams give everyone a fighting chance to share their gifts - and learn from their mistakes. This group also shows up in support of others, too. They have earned their street cred not by words alone, but by solidarity. My urban ministry mentor, Ray Swartzback, used to say: Credibility is not portable; every place demands that you stand and deliver before trust is shared. It is hard work. The church could learn something important for how it is being done among us.