And God shall wipe away every tear from our eyes...

NOTE:  Here are my worship notes for Sunday, April 28, 2013.  This is an inter-generational Sunday. We shall see...

Introduction

Whenever I lead the liturgy for a funeral or memorial service – whenever I am asked or

invited to be with those who are close to the end of their earthly lives – whenever I ponder my own mortality or pray for those in my own family who are no longer physically present, my heart inevitably takes me to this text from the book of Revelation:

 

Behold I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away… And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among the people. God will dwell with them; they will be his people and God himself will be with them – and he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be over, for the first things have passed away.

These words shape, guide and inform what I think and feel about death and they are always just below the surface for me when death is near– especially the words:  “… he will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”  Isn’t that a stunning promise? 

·      That there will come a time when God’s love will be so real for us that mourning and crying and pain will be over?  That there will be such deep intimacy with the Lord that God will tenderly wipe away every tear from our eyes and suffering and fear shall be gone forever?

·       I think that this experience is part of what the apostle John was getting at, too when he wrote that just before Christ went to the Cross, the Master knelt down, washed his disciples feet like a servant and told them:

Little children, I’m giving you a new commandment:  love one another. Just as I have

loved you, you also should love one another. For by this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.

In my understanding, Jesus is talking about God’s promises here:  your love for one another can be like the love I have known with God, and, it can be like the love I have shared with all of you, too.  This is a love that is gracious and kind, slow to anger and filled with affection; a love, in other words, that can wipe away every tear from your eyes.  There are two places in the Bible where St. Paul describes this love with such penetrating clarity that I want to share them both with you before going any further.

·      In Romans 12 he writes:  Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor… Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.  Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all.  And If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

·       And then in I Corinthians 13: Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.  Love doesn’t strut. Love doesn’t have a swelled head, doesn’t force itself on others, isn’t always “me first,” doesn’t fly off the handle, doesn’t keep score of the sins of others, doesn’t revel when others grovel, takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, puts up with anything, trusts God always, looks for the best, never looks back and keeps on going to the end.

Too many times people of faith try to fake this or take it easy saying, “Well, these passages from the Bible are just the ideal – not something we can really achieve in our daily lives – after all, this talk of love is like Jesus and the Sermon on the Mount.  Good and inspirational words, but come on, not really something we can actually do.” 

But that is all wrong – this call to welcome and share God’s radical love is the most real blessing in the world – and from time to time I’ve actually seen and experienced something of God’s tender love from ordinary, everyday, walking around, run of the mill women and men like you and me, who have tasted a little bit of God’s grace and want to share its sweetness with others.  I bet you have, too – I bet you have felt and been nourished by this love that will not let you go – this love that seeks to wipe away every tear from your eyes, right?

Insights

And do you know where I’ve tasted this love mostly profoundly?  When cherished loved ones are moving towards death. Time and again, I’ve seen sins forgiven and put to rest, the wounds of fear and hatred healed and God’s sacrificial love made flesh all around a death bed.  And more often than you might imagine, it seems that God’s abundant love and grace gets unlocked at these times with even the most stubborn and mean-spirited souls through singing.  The music and hymns of our faith – what some call our memory bank tunes – resonate so deeply in some of us that God’s love rises to the surface like Christ on Easter morning.

·      I can’t tell you how many times this has happened:  we’re standing around the death bed of someone watching and waiting –aching for our friend or loved one to let go and rest into God’s grace forever - and all human words feel inadequate and cheap.

·      So we stand together for a while in awkward silence until someone is inspired to sing:  Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.  I once was lost but now I’m found, t’was blind but now I see.  Or maybe it goes like this:  Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, help me stand, I am tired, I am weak I am worn; through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light:  take my hand, Precious Lord, lead me home.

·      In those moments – when song becomes our best and only prayer – not only are the hopes and fears of the living unlocked in a way that can only be called gracious, but those who are dying also seem to sense the blessing, too.  In fact, over and again in those moments, people who haven’t spoken in days often join in the singing.  They may not be able to make much of a sound, but they move their lips and as the music ripens and it seems to set everybody free to start loving one another just as Jesus commanded.

I’ve encountered much the same thing with the Lord’s Prayer, too:  people who have had a stroke, for example, and can’t speak suddenly find a way to join in the sharing of the Lord’s Prayer when it is started.  Do you know what I’m talking about?  It unlocks something deep within them and I think unites heaven with earth.  In certain memory bank hymns and prayers we are empowered to cross over our divisions and become as intimate with God as Christ Jesus was one with the Father.

About 25 years ago, I remember hearing a Vietnam vet talk about what kept him sane and human during the weeks he was locked inside a tiger cage:  the 23^rd Psalm.  He had learned it by heart in Sunday School – the Lord is my shepherd I shall not want… yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall not fear because Thou art with me – and he kept saying it over and over again in the worst of times:  The Lord is my shepherd… Thou setteth a table before me in the presence of mine enemies… Those memory bank words helped him stay connected to heaven when earth had become a living hell for him – and it saved his life.

Behold:  I will make all things new and God will dwell within them; they will be his people and God himself will be with them – and will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

But there’s a problem:  not only are many children and grandchildren never learning some of the great old memory bank hymns and prayers, but because our culture and tastes are changing so rapidly there are huge portions of the American church today where even our memory banks songs have become disposable.  New ones are being written all the time – some of which are lovely and we use some of them here – but none of which are sung over and over and over until they are deeply embedded in our souls.  Contemporary American culture – even in the church – has become addicted to new products, new songs, new and fresh ways of doing everything. 

·      So as much as I am all for keeping it fresh, without some grounding in tradition and memory bank songs and prayers, it is going to be hard to keep the faith alive in such a disposable environment.  

·       Let’s be real:  should WE ever find ourselves in desperate conditions like that tiger cage in Vietnam, we’re not going to be able to turn to our Smart Phones and dial up the 23^rd Psalm or Lord’s Prayer.  If we don’t have it in here… we’re in trouble.

Over the next year we are going to be sharing both some new and some time-tested songs and prayers to help you embrace their blessings more deeply in your heart.  And this should matter to you old timers as much as folk new to the tradition because we ALL need help in unlocking God’s love within and among us.  Again the apostle Paul is instructive when he reminds us that ALL of us – every single one – have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.  All of us need help with unlocking God’s grace and love – those who know the old songs and the old words – just as much as those who want to sing them in new and more inclusive ways.

So what I’d like you to try with me this morning involves singing two musical prayers:  one

is a simple, contemporary chant version of the Lord’s Prayer and the other is an African-American gospel setting for something we often call the Doxology.

·      This setting of the Lord’s Prayer is like a breathing prayer – it ebbs and flows in a gentle rhythm – that asks you simply to follow the leader.  Just sing back what the music leader sings first. 

·       You don’t have to look at any words – you don’t have to even keep your eyes open – just quietly follow the leader in trust and faith like breathing in and out, ok?

Share and sing “Our Creator” here

Now what was your experience of the Lord’s Prayer shared in this manner?  What did it feel like – what was going on for you during the call and response – what did you like and what was uncomfortable? Did you experience anything different by singing this prayer rather than simply reciting or reading it?  Anything else…?

Well, that’s one way to reclaim the Lord’s Prayer – it isn’t better or worse – it is just another resource.  Another important memory bank prayer/song is something some of us know as the Doxology:  almost always this is sung by the people standing up for it is a way of returning thanks to God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  People in our Reformed church tradition usually sing it to a 16^th century tune called “Old One Hundredth” which comes from Louis Bourgeois’ musical setting of Psalm 100 in the Geneva Prayer Book.  It has been around for 500 years and maybe those who know and love it in this form might stand and sing it now…?

Share and sing the Old Doxology here

Now what does singing that song and those words in that way evoke in you?  Did you know that originally those words were the chorus to another song – a tune written to help young boys and men learn to pray every morning, noon and night – a teaching prayer in song about the value and importance of grounding our whole day in prayer?  Nobody sings the old words anymore – nobody uses this song as teaching device either – because as yet another hymn puts it:  time makes ancient truth uncouth.  Times change and so do the needs of the church.

So try singing the old words to a very different setting – in a gospel style – that builds and grows ever more powerfully each time the chorus is repeated. 

·       In this take on the Doxology, the whole thing is repeated three times:  any thoughts about why three times?

·       And the closing verse repeats the Amen three times as well, ok?

Share and sing the Gospel Doxology here 

Now how did that grab you:  what was different about this style of singing the Doxology? 

·      How is it different from the old way?  What did it feel like as you were singing?

·      And what does it say about a congregation’s commitment to loving one another as Christ loved us when we know how to sing and pray in different styles and even different languages?

Conclusion

There is an old story about St. John the Evangelist, the apostle whose gospel we read earlier, that says at the end of his life he was constantly saying to his friends:  Love one another, for the sake of Jesus, love one another.  And when they got a little overwhelmed by his constant repeating of these words they asked him, “Father, why do you keep going on and on about loving one another?”  To which the old saint simply said, “The Lord Jesus told me that this is the more important thing – to love one another as I have loved you – and everything else is commentary.”

I believe we learn about God’s love best not simply by watching Jesus share love in the gospel stories, but by loving one another ourselves.  In this we learn how to become servants like Christ – how to listen and forgive – how to go the extra mile and honor those who have been wounded and broken. 

By practicing we also learn how to pick up our Cross and follow in obedience when we’d really rather take an easier road.  And we learn how to die and let God’s grace raise us up to new and everlasting life.

Every one of us needs help – and training – and encouragement.  Our songs and prayers can be great allies, beloved, as they link heaven to earth and the living to the dead.  And the more we practice and trust, the more we are able to experience that blessing that wipes away every tear from our eyes.  This is the good news for today for those who have ears to hear.

credits:

1) www.sparkandecho.org

2) www.makotofujimura.com

3) www.crossway.org

4) hilldaleworship.blogspot.com

5) http://www.eyekons.com/art_and_psalms/lisa_doezema_psalm_2

6) http://www.eyekons.com/art_and_psalms/steve_huyser_honig_psalm_13

 

One of the great ones goes home: Richie Havens...

Today one of the great ones, Richie Havens, went home after a sudden heart attack.  He was 72.  From my perspective these days, that's too close for comfort.  He played our high school when I was a junior - a total knock out show - and his recordings and live gigs came highly recommended by our oh so very young and hip American History teacher Ms. Smith who rode into CT every morning from her digs at Columbia University.

Havens was a full band all by himself given his percussive strumming, open tunings and rich bariton voice.  He could be mellow - think of his take on George Harrison's "Here Comes the Sun" - or passionate like he was at Woodstock.

The story goes that not only was that historic show having trouble getting started - too many kids were clogging the hiway for performers to get through - but that after Havens finished his extended set, he was pushed back out on stage and told to "keep it going."  And did he ever deliver... making up the Freedom chant on the spot and playing deep and sweetly poignant chords under his version of "Motherless Child."
I loved everything about this cat... and give thanks to God for the blessings he shared with us all.

Grateful thoughts at the close of a sabbath...

Three thoughts are swimming around my head tonight as this Sabbath comes to a close:

+  First, today is the 12th wedding anniversary for my brothers: Pete and John.  Twelve years ago today, on the first Saturday after Easter, I was privileged to celebrate the giving and receiving of their marriage vows in the presence of the Lord - and about 200 others at Rincon Congregational United Church of Christ in Tucson.  It was one of THE most sacred and beautiful weddings I have ever been honored to officiate at and it changed my life forever.  Once again, as John always does, he gave thanks to God for this ceremony out loud and my heart is full to overflowing with gratitude and joy.

+ Second, my own sweetheart is home from 10 days in the country - and both Lucie and I are delighted!  The goats have been well cared for, the chickens kept safe, too as the kid's country home became a mini-retreat for Dianne from the busy-ness of our everyday life.  In two weeks, we too will celebrate our wedding anniversary and it does my heart good to have her back where she belongs.  I like alone time - and I love reunions!

+ And third my prayers go out to everyone touched by the Marathon bombing this past Monday.  It was an emotionally rich worship today as we brought all of our questions, fears, joys and worries before God's love in silence, sound and song. 

Now it is time for dinner and rest:  blessings to you all.

If you're ready for the country...

After a week at church I left Thursday evening for two days in the country with Di and Lucie (and Sage.) It was quiet and sweet and a blessing.  Yesterday we mostly slept, played with the dogs and cooked.

Today the weather was better and we got out into the wood.  Now we are making plans for our anniversary in Portland, ME and then the Montreal Jazz Festival with daughter Jesse and her beloved Michael. 

With all the pain in the world - and our community - I look forward to being with my faith community tomorrow.  Then I'll head BACK to the country to bring Di home... grace upon grace.

In the blink of an eye...

Last night I left Pittsfield to join Di at Michal and Winton's small farm - it is idyllic and so quiet.  Throughout this past week I've been meeting with people who were in Boston for the Marathon - or whose family and/or friends - are in Boston.  Time and again we have all said, "How quickly our lives can change... and everything is different in the blink of an eye."  In personal conversations and Wednesday Eucharist, our hearts and minds have been filled with uncertainty.

Imagine how much more startling this realities feels today given the surreal and terrifying events unfolding in the wake of the bombings?  Metro-Boston under lock down?  Assault vehicles, helicopters and shoot outs on our streets?  After the September 11th attack I read a Franciscan's reflection about about how Americans were now sadly coming to experience some of the ugly realities that so much of the rest of the world endures on a regular basis.  Once again that rings true to me as law enforcement teams hunt down young Chechen bombers and more death and fear flows through our streets.

I don't pretend to understand why these young men chose to bring murder and mayhem to the Marathon.  I do know that such anger is not born in a vacuum.  I also know that their evil has been fed and that each of us are capable of equally horrible deeds no matter how much we protest to the contrary. As the Rev. Dr. Mary Luti recently wrote:  

Boston is a ghastly commonplace, even if we insist on thinking that "things like this" don't happen to us, or they shouldn't, or when they do it's somehow worse or more meaningful than, say, a drone wreaking havoc on an Afghan wedding. Boston is one more horrific instance of what human beings do, what we're capable of, even as we're capable of selflessness and love. It's what we do, this sowing of evil, every bit as much as we sow good. It's who we are, this callous heart, this heartless strike; it is not alien to us.

No "monster" did this. A human being did it, one not as distant from us as we need to believe. We ourselves did not plant the bombs, but we could have. Another person planted them, but he might not have; he might have done good instead, because he was and still is capable of it. You may not want to hear this about that person, or about yourself. I don't like thinking of myself this way. But it's a denial we cannot afford anymore. This is a truth we need to know and build on.

It's damaging to the quest for peace to keep carving out exceptional cities, exceptional tragedies, exceptional monsters, and postures of exceptional morality and innocence. The world's healing depends in part on owning our intimate kinship with the enemy—the one out there, the one within. God speaks our names in the same breath.

Jesus said to love him. That's the heart of the gospel, but it's a lot to ask. Let's start with a confession of our own dust, and go from there.

Prayer: You know how we are made, that we are dust, with hearts faithful and frail, lives that could go either way. Keep us in your way, O God, so that we learn to do no harm, stand tenderly with the harmed, and somewhere find compassion for all out human kin, the good and the bad, on whom you send your rain, on whom your sun still shines.

In the days to come, there will most certainly be calls for retribution and some of it will once again take on an anti-Muslim tone.  People of good will must challenge this ignorance and hatred with love. Not naively, of course, but with humility and solidarity. For unless we offer clear alternatives that advance both justice and the possibilities for a measure of peace, we add fuel to the fire that causes hatred to burn out of control.

Today I grieve with my fellow Americans.  In time, however, we will be called "to go where we do not want to go and be led by one greater than ourselves" to do more than weep.  After the Cross, the Risen Christ, asked the one who had betrayed him, "Peter, do you love me?  Feed my sheep."

reflections on disorientation: good friday, spirituality and popular culture - part two

NOTE:  This is another part of a short essay I am working on to give some shape and form to our conversation about liturgy, popular culture and the Christian story. In the first part of this essay, I made a few contextual observations re: Pittsfield, the local arts renewal/creative economy taking root over the past seven years and the changing reality of First Church.  In the second part let me turn our attention to my understanding of doing "liturgical art."  And in the third part I will share some insights about how and why I blend popular culture into the core of our liturgical art meditations.  In this I hope to clarify the importance of why creating an "aesthetic experience" for those who have lost communion with a sense of awe can help some seek out a "religious experience" with the very source of the transcendent.

Part Two
A month before our church band, Between the Banks, presented this year's Good Friday meditation - "Disorientation: An Evening of Song, Silence, Scripture and Solidarity" - the band asked me (very kindly) to explain "what the hell is going on with this liturgy?" What I shared with them became the core of my comments that night.

The poet, Mary Oliver, recently wrote:

The man who has many answers
is often found
in the theaters of information
where he offers, graciously,
his deep findings.

While the man who has only questions,
to comfort himself, makes music.

That’s why we’ll mostly be making music tonight – music that is comforting and

disorienting, music that wrestles with the questions of God’s presence in the midst of our pain and music that comes from almost everywhere except the church – but  before the music I’ve been asked by my comrades in arms to say a few words about why we do what we do  So, with the risk of saying something too puffed up, let me try this on for size:  tonight’s meditation in song, silence, scripture and solidarity is our artistic expression of what it feels like for God to come to us as light in the middle of our darkest time.

As artists we share a belief that holy aches to be with us in our suffering AND brings healing to whatever is wounded – that is a core belief – something that almost every spiritual tradition holds as true.  In the Christian world we say that in all things God works for good – NOT that all things ARE good nor that all things are as God wants them – but rather that God can take the worst the world throws at us and redeem it.  That’s what the Cross tells us:  even shame, suffering and pain can be transformed by God’s loving into something greater and even something holy.  And when we discover the sacred presence in the midst of all our muck, it is disorienting…

You see, most of the time when we operate according to conventional wisdom, we don’t trust this truth.  We live like God isn’t really God because we believe that we have to fix everything, heal every hurt and take control of our destiny because that’s what healthy, constructive and successful people do.  And when we wake up to find out that playing by these rules still leaves us powerless over some things – or that being a “good boy or girl” has become destructive, addictive or even ugly – ooh Lord THAT is really disorienting.  Cut to the music we’ve chosen for tonight:

+  We began by trying to give shape and form to the feeling of disorientation by using an ancient prayer – o blessed fault - o necessary sin – felix culpa – with the weird industrial groove of “Purple Haze.”  If it made you uncomfortable, it was supposed because our hope is that this creates something of the tension that exists in how God brings healing and hope into the ugliest human realities:  surrender and serenity, you see, are married to acceptance – and this always feels disorienting.

+  As the music continues it tells us that we live in a “Mad World.”  We may start to know that something is going wrong and want to “get outta Dodge,” but we don’t know where to go – and don’t know what to do – so we keep on keeping on and  “Keep the Car Running” even when bad becomes worse.  If nothing changes we can wake up to discover that all our “Roads” lead to despair – and we find ourselves “At the Bottom of the River.”  More often than not, it is only when we run out of options – when we have no more “High Hopes” – do we let God greet us with grace and begin to sense that even in the worst moments, God didn’t give up on us.

In Judaism this truth is honored in the observation of Passover, in Islam in the stories of Allah’s guidance that leads the Prophet through his darkest hour, in Buddhism it comes when Siddhartha endures the fears of illusion before enlightenment awakens and in Christianity it takes place between Good Friday and Easter.  We’re talking about an emptying – a hitting bottom – that is never just about us but always pregnant with grace bringing light into the darkness.

Tonight’s meditation is a musical pilgrimage that begins in madness but concludes by saying:  love wins – grace trumps karma!  And knowing this – trusting it – and practicing it can make all the difference between life and death.  The playwright, poet and one-time Czech President Vaclav Havel put it like this:

Hope is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart; it transcends the world that is immediately experienced and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons. . . It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense regardless of how it does turns out.

Our conviction – as musicians, theologians, poets and artists – is that God can work good in all things.  I am grateful to work with such creative souls – and to have the artistic freedom of the pulpit that is part of this congregation’s long history.  So let me offer these closing practical words:  Tonight’s program will be like going to MassMoCA – you will probably love parts and hate parts and not grasp what the devil is going on in other parts – that happens to me every time I go there.  And that’s ok, it is part of the creative process.  Give yourself time to wrestle with it all. And now let me invite you to go deeper with us into a musical Serenity Prayer of sorts as we share with you:  disorientation.

After the presentation, two different people said to me:  "I get it: You are a 'liturgical artist' using the liturgy of the church as your chosen canvas or medium."  Now that was a helpful albeit not entirely clear way of describing the experiment I have been working on for the past 15 years.  You see, for those who know anything about liturgy, to call my artworks "liturgical art" suggests that I make physical art, pottery or tapestries for use during worship. 

This is not true. I explore the arc of both the human and the sacred story embodied in a particular liturgical experience (i.e. Good Friday) and then search for popular culture synonyms in the realm of twenty first century visual art, poetry, music, film and dance.  That is to say, I am grounded by belief and practice in the revelation that God has shared with the church through the journey of the liturgical Christian year.  I not only experience deep wisdom and truth in this journey, but also believe by faith that it offers all people a taste of God's grace and hope.

Increasingly, however, fewer and fewer trust the story of the church.  For a variety of reasons, both good and bad , most people never darken a sanctuary's door.  But they are open to the creative arts.  Music in our culture is ubiquitous. Through social media and the Internet, many are flooded each day with images, words, ideas and emotions that race past us in a variety of ways that are all too fast to comprehend and almost impossible to evaluate.  William D. Romanowski, Professor of Communication Arts and Sciences at Calvin College, put it like this:

Popular artworks provide us with maps of reality that can acts as guides for getting around in the world, establishing a cultural orientation.  In this sense, they can be understood as models both of and for life in the form of stories and songs.  The popular arts facilitate our (contemporary) cultural conversation by aiding us in our communication, social criticism, social unite and collective memory - for important roles historically associated with (high) art. (Eyes Wide Open, p. 99)

My practice of "liturgical art" might be better understood as midrash on the historic worship experiences of the Christian community. As I understand Jewish midrash it involves playing with contradictions, filling in the gaps of our Biblical stories so that real life questions might be explored and answered with insight and humility.  Midrash deepens the oral tradition of God's people by going beyond the obvious or literal moral codes.  Another way of thinking about this type of liturgical art is to see it akin to the way Clarence Jordan (1960),J.B. Phillips (1983) or  Eugene Peterson (2002) recast the words of Scripture within the cultural context of their generation.  All three utilize contemporary language as a necessary foundation for communicating God's grace to the world, while striving at the same time to be faithful to the original intent of the text and the Christian tradition. 

For example, Phillips reworks Romans 12 in a brilliant way that speaks to an industrial society: Don’t let the world around you squeeze you into its own mould, but let God re-mould your minds from within, so that you may prove in practice that the plan of God for you is good, meets all his demands and moves towards the goal of true maturity. There is poetry and pathos in this reworking that speak to many who feel trapped like a cog in a machine.  Peterson does something equally revolutionary with Matthew 11: 28-30:  Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.

For this year's experiment on Good Friday, I started with an intuitive hunch:  the journey from Good Friday to Easter "feels like" disorientation.  I don't know why this idea came to me - call it inspiration - call it being attuned to the times or just weird luck or the Holy Spirit.  Whatever the reason, I kept thinking about the foundational text for the Paschal Mystery - the teaching that God can bring a blessing out of the worst tragedy - Romans 8:  We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose... therefore I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers,nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

So first I read through the Passion narratives in all gospels using three translations - Peterson's The Message, the New Revised Standard Version and the Jerusalem Bible - to see which elements of this story "fit" with my emerging theme.  I also started to make a list - and asked others for suggestions, too - of songs that spoke to them about despair, confusion, hitting bottom, running away, betrayal, grace, healing and hope.  I had a hunch that I tested out with my bandmates that on a personal level the arc of the Passion story is not unlike working the 12 Steps of Recovery, too.  Over the course of a few weeks, the Biblical stories began to point towards contemporary songs - and another Good Friday experiment in "liturgical art" took shape and form.

We practiced - and prayed - and left a lot to our discipline as artists who also rest in God's guidance.  This note from a couple who joined us that night arrived on Holy Saturday and expressed our deepest hope about what "disorientation" might communicate:

What a gift to be carried by the music you created on a deeply poignant emotional journey through human and spiritual history; pain and longing; surrender and hope. We were truly transported. Please thank all of your incredibly talented musicians for their willingness to be so vulnerable, and thank you for your willingness to transcend the typical to create something truly magical on Good Friday. It was conceptually brilliant and flawlessly delivered. You all touched our hearts, leaving us filled with tenderness, hope, and joy. We were blown away. We felt surrounded by and filled with love. 

Believe me, it is rare to hear something like this about Good Friday worship - from long time church folk or new believers - not only because so many of our current liturgies are truly lifeless and filled with cruel, outdated theology, but also because so many people simply stay away from church on this day.  I think there is something to this experiment in "liturgical art" and in the next installment I'll try to point to some clues.  (I also hope to have the event posted on Youtube soon, too.)