Food for the journey

As I was closing down my computer in anticipation of this weekend's wedding, I came across this selection from John Dominic Crossan that screamed for another posting. It is in response to the supposed controversy created by the writer, Sally Quinn, going forward to accept Eucharist at the funeral mass of her friend and colleague, Tim Russert. (See Quinn's own writing at:
http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/sally_quinn/2008/07/why_i_took_holy_communion.html)
As one who has gone to the table at a variety of Roman Catholic churches - knowing full well that the Bishop of Rome has forbidden me to accept the Sacrament because I am a Protestant - I like what Quinn did and what Crossan wrote. As one who was a full member of a Catholic faith and prayer group in Cleveland - even though I am a Protestant clergy - I have experienced the

"deep ecumenism" of the table and rejoice in that connection. Sometimes it has been with farm workers in California, other times it was in the Cleveland projects or in the quest for justice with the GLBT community in Arizona. Always my experience was been akin to Merton's who found that monks and the ordinary folk of a tradition often find their way towards common ground while the priests and scribes and pharisees have all the trouble. But I am curious about your thoughts and reactions?

Here's what Crossan, of the Jesus Seminar, wrote. Let me know what you think, ok? See you next week. Sally, and only Sally, can say whether she should or should not have received communion at Tim Russert's funeral mass. From how she herself described it, my own answer is an emphatic yes. But since the sacraments belong to Christ rather even than to Christianity and certainly to Christianity rather than just to Roman Catholicism nobody would have had the right to refuse her. What God has brought together in Christ, do not dare to put asunder in Church.

When you ritually recite the "Pledge of Allegiance" are you pledging your life to a piece of multi-colored cloth. Of course not. Are you pledging your life to the republic for which it stands? Well, yes and no. Yes, definitely yes, if you mean "liberty and justice for all." But no, definitely no, if you are merely thinking about a huge area of land between Canada and Mexico.

Ritual participation may be offhand, distracted, unintentional, and meaningless. It may be sheer unthinking habit or mere contagious emulation of others. But that pledge is very, very straightforward. I pledge myself to liberty and justice for all. You will understand, therefore, why we prefer to debate whether "under God" should or should not be included as a magnificent red herring to distract us from asking whether we have the slightest intention of promoting liberty and justice for all.

Who can or should recite that pledge? Anyone who believes in it and intends to live by it. Would a non-American visitor who lived by that faith have more right to it than an American citizen who did not? My answer is: emphatically yes. Rituals have meaning and, therefore, intentional participation in them is either vital commitment or something between vacuity and hypocrisy.

The Christian Eucharist has two intertwined layers. First, it is bread and wine, the standard summary of a Mediterranean meal, the normal synthesis of Mediterranean eating. It is, in other words, about food. Throughout his life, Jesus insisted that food, as the material basis of life, was to be fairly and equitably distributed to all God's children around God's table. He imagined God-as-Householder (he said "Father" but that was patriarchal normalcy) of the House-World or Homemaker of the Home-earth. And his question was--as in any well-run family--whether everyone had enough or some members had far too much while others had far too little.

Second, none of that was about compassionate charity but about distributive justice. (The Roman Empire did not crucify you for insisting on the former but for insisting too much on that latter.) So Jesus, having lived for non-violent justice died from violent injustice. When one dies an ordinary death, we speak of the separation of body and soul. But a violent death--like crucifixion--involves a separation of body and blood.

In forging the magnificent eucharistic ritual, those twin layers were inextricably linked together to proclaim this: if you live for justice very strongly you could die from injustice very swiftly. When those earliest Christians participated in that ritual, they understood all too well what it meant and to what they were committing themselves. They were pledging themselves to a way of life by participating in the life (definitely) and death (possibly) of Jesus.

They did not have time to debate about the exact mechanics of the "transubstantiation" of bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ (watch for red herrings, always watch for red herrings) because they were too acutely aware of their own "transubstantiation" from Roman citizens to Christian traitors.

Finally, then, we can face our question. In general: who should accept the eucharistic ritual? Those and only those who are intentionally, self-consciously, and publicly committing themselves to live like Jesus and, if unfortunately ever necessary, to die like Jesus. That is, of course, an on-going lifelong process and it is precisely such eucharistic participation that initiates, continues, and consummates it. The eucharist both proclaims and empowers a life, as Paul, would say, "in Christ" or, better "in the body of Christ."

Time to take a break...

Sorry for the last VERY long posts re: U2/Dirty Day. As this new ministry matures - and as I make more and more contacts in the local music/art world - I found it important to find ways of clarifying what I meant by the pursuit of beauty as inspired by God's Holy Spirit. Not only have I truly been haunted by the U2 song, "Dirty Day," for the past few months, but it gave me deeper and deeper insights and clues into how to talk about art, faith, spirit and beauty. There is more work to be done, to be sure, but this was a very helpful start. I hope it didn't drive you too crazy.

Well, rest assured there won't be any more posts from me for a bit as we are getting ready for our daughter's wedding in NJ. What a treat that will be! Not only are we thrilled that she and her beau have decided to deepen their commitment (and asked me to do the ceremony) but we are almost as happy to be able to reconnect with the wider family - and make new family connections, too. It will be a big Italian wedding - music and food and drinks - with a Scots-Irishman officiating: what a delight! Made me think of this old Chuck Berry song:

My wild ass brother from San Francisco (and his dear wife) will be there, my dad and sister and nephew - even daughter number two (who tends to shy away from family gatherings.) All in all, as John Lennon once quipped, "a splendid time is guaranteed for all.." And listen to this: Jess has decided that the father/daughter dance will be none other than... another song from the master: "Roll Over Beethoven."

And then just to top things off, after all the festivities are over and we spend a night at my old seminary in NYC, we'll have a chance to have some drinks with an old friend and former pianast from Tucson before heading back to the Berkshires. How blessed is that!

The only sobering part to the whole gig is that the wedding will fall at about the same time my mentor in ministry is going to be laid to rest. He died on Saturday after a long and ugly disease. As I noted earlier, I had the joy of being with his daughter just the day before he died and I am both glad that Sam is at rest and sad that he is gone. But his children and wife were with him when he said good bye... and I give thanks for that. And one of our dearest shared friends will be at the wedding, too, so that is extra sweet.

So... we are off to NYC - children - parties and old friends. I leave you with this relic cuz it puts everything into perspective for me:

Dirty Day: Part Three

“Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope. Nothing true or beautiful makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are saved by love," wrote the late American theologian, Reinhold Niebuhr. Fifty years later, Bruce Springsteen, sang: "Now I believe in the love that you gave me, I believe in the faith that can save me and I believe in the hope and I pray that some day it will raise me above these badlands, you gotta live it every day - let the broken hearts stand as the price you've gotta pay. Well keep pushin' till its understood and these badlands start treating us good." (Bruce also sang of faith, hope and love in the chorus of his tribute to the September 11th fire fighters, "Into the Fire," praying: May your strength give us strength, may your faith give us faith, may your hope give us hope, may your love give us love)

It was St. Paul, of course, who first began this chorus of clarity and commitment in his letter to the church in Corinth - "faith, hope and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love" - which sounds like this in Eugene Peterson's reworking of scripture:

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, 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, always looks for the best, Never looks back but keeps going to the end. Love never dies... (So) trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.

That is what I hear the more I listen to U2's take on incarnational spirituality: when they are wounded by the ugly cruelty of the world - think: "Peace on Earth," "One" or "Acrobat" - when they are perplexed by how to live authentically in a culture that reduces creativity and humanity to commodities - think: "Vertigo," or "Last Night on Earth" - when they are using "judo" to move the energy of hate, violence or greed into something new and potentially healing - think: "Grace," "The Fly" or "Peace, Love or Else" - there is always a deep commitment to faith, hope and love - with the greatest of these being love. I love how Bono puts it in "God: Part Two" (his reverent reply to John Lennon's primal scream song.)


I... I... believe in love! This commitment to love is how I understand the call of the artist into expressions of beauty in the work of U2. They have made clear choices: to embrace the edge of punk without its nihilism, to flirt with the shadow without becoming addicted to despair, to affirm the ethos of the 60s counterculture without the bullshit and brown rice .

In Christian Scharen's book, One Step Closer: Why U2 Matters to Those Seeking God, he quotes Bono in a post ZooTV reflection: "We were confirmed about our instincts that the idea of counterculture, the way it used to be in the sixties, is up. And I'm interested in these more Asian ideas, which we playfully call judo, that you use the energy of what's going against you - and by that I just mean popular culture, commerce, science - to defend yourself. Rather than resistance, in the hippie or punk sense of the world, you try to walk through it rather than walk away from it. As opposed to old ideas of dropping out and forming your own Garden of Eden - the brown rice position." (pp. 66-67)

Think the RED Campaign - or One - going through and into the world rather than resisting it - with love and I would add beauty. But because beauty has been the road less travelled in the modern/post-modern era, it needs a few comments for context. (NOTE: for more on the role of Spirit, Beauty and Art please see: Spirit and Beauty by Patrick Sherry, The Substance of Things Seen by Robin Jensen, Art and Soul by Hilary Brand, Theology and the Arts by Richard Viladesau and Spirituality and Contemporary Art at:(http//www.pbs.org/art21/series/seasonone/spirituality.html) To be sure, my summary merely suggests some of the ways that beauty has been treated as the country cousin in the pursuit of truth and goodness in the 20th century; still they are a piece of the portrait.

First, artists in the modern age tend to both reject beauty and embrace what is jarring in their creations as a way of casting off the rigid confines of Romantic high art. When beauty in art had to fit into a mold constrained only by that which is harmonious, pure, noble and serene, it was inevitable that the freedom-seeking non-conformists of the 20th century would reject the "sterilizing dogmatism (of another era. And) this deprecation is found not only amongst critics and philosophers, but also among many artists, who reject or disregard the traditional view that their role is to celebrate the beauty of creation." (Sherry, p. 23) The result can be seen in the obviously caustic creations of Marcel Duchamp as well as the more engaging schools of abstract, surreal and other modern design of Picasso, Rothko and Pollock et al.

Second, because there has been serious ambiguity in the realm of Christian aesthetics, contemporary artists of faith often find themselves having to "reinvent the wheel" when it comes to understanding beauty. From the earliest days, there has been fear and uncertainty about the value of created beauty in the church: some feared that beauty would lure believers into idolatry, others sensed that beauty might become a diversion from acts of faith while still others mistrusted anything but the pursuit of higher and spiritual goals. Nevertheless, a minority report has grown within the Christian realm that believes that a healthy and balanced theology of beauty embraces three ideas: a) The Holy Spirit communicates God's nature to creation through natural beauty; b) Earthly beauty is a reflection of God's essence that inspires created artistic beauty; and c) All beauty points to God's intention of restoring creation to perfection at the end of time as we know it. "...something of great beauty might be both described as sacramental - in the sense that for many people they are signs of God's presence and activity - as the sensible reveals the spiritual - as well as occasions for wonder and awe." (Sherry, p. 3)

And third modern Christian artists have had to negotiate their way through both modernism and faith to find a way of understanding creativity and beauty in their original works. Many have come to identify the presence of beauty as the work of the Holy Spirit who brings order out of chaos and inspires humanity with the inner truth of God's nature. Besides the New England Congregational theologian, Jonathan Edwards, the Roman Catholic thinker, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and contemporary artists/theologians, Lois Huey-Heck and Jim Kalnin as well as Robin Jensen and Steve Turner have done important work in this area. Gregory Wolfe of the IMAGE Journal likes to reference von Balthasar when it comes to the importance of reclaiming beauty:

We no longer dare to believe in beauty and we make of it a mere appearance in order the more easily to dispose of it. Our situation today shows that beauty demands for itself at least as much courage and decision as do truth and goodness, and she will not allow herself to be separated and banned from her two sisters without taking them along with herself in an act of mysterious vengeance. We can be sure that whoever sneers at her name as if she were the ornament of a bourgeois past - whether he admits it or not - can no longer pray and soon will no longer be able to love.

I suspect that it is no coincidence that U2 opened their first album of the 21st century with the song, "Beautiful Day," that is simultaneously hymn/gospel-like in its sound and paradoxically promising in its poetry: Touch me, take me to that other place, teach me, Lord, I know I'm not a hopeless case. See the world in green and blue, see China right in front of you, see the canyons broken by cloud, see the tuna fleets clearing the sea out, see the Bedouin fires at night, see the oil fields at first light and see the bird with a leaf in her mouth: after the flood all the colors came out!

This combination of artistic beauty - the calling by the Spirit to go deeper into truth and goodness - and their pursuit of faith, hope and love empowers U2 to discover light in even the darkest places. Bono says: "One of my definitions of art is the discovery of beauty in unexpected places. Looking for the baby Jesus under the trash as I sing in "Mofo." This was really the theme of POP: big subjects for the basements." (U2 by U2, p. 266)

In addition to "Dirty Day" and "Exit," another overlooked dark song - "Last Night on Earth" - juxtaposes what on the surface looks like a young woman's descent into narcissism and decadence with God's calling to the wounded through our pain. The poet, Rumi, put it like this in "Love Dogs." One night a man was crying, "Allah! Allah!" His lips grew sweet with the praising until a cynic said, "So, I have heard you calling out, but have you ever gotten any response?"

The man had no answer to that. He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep. He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls, in a think, green foliage. "Why did you stop praising?" "Because I never heard anything back."

This longing you express IS the return message. The grief you cry out from draws you toward union. Your pure sadness that wants help is the secret cup. Listen to the moan of a dog for its master. That whining is the connection. There are love-dogs on one knows the names of: give your life to become one of them.

She feels the ground is giving way but she thinks we're better off that way The more you take the less you feel The less you know the more you believe The more you have the more it takes today: You got to give it away Well she don't care what it's worth: she's living like it's the last night on earth. She's not waiting on a saviour to come She's at the bus-stop with News of the World and the Sun, here it comes She's not waiting for anyone: you got to give it away!

This is the via negativa - the road less travelled - the presence of God discovered in the emptiness - the white space surrounding the black letters - the aching for wholeness and hope in the midst of sadness and pain. And what makes this song a blessing is that like the true spirit of Jesus, U2 offers no judgment for the woman's brokenness - just grace. "Are your tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come away with me... and I will show you the unforced rhythm of grace."

Poet Denise Levertov has noted that, "People turn to poems (and I would add music) for some kind of illumination, for revelations that help them to survive, to survive in spirit not only in body." Like U2 she knows how important it is for us all to:

Keep writing in the dark:

a record of the night, or

words that pulled you from depths of unknowing...

or opened as flowers of a tree that blooms

only once in a lifetime:

words that may have the power

to make the sun rise again.

Dirty Day: Part Two

I got a very helpful post today from Beth Maynard of Get Up Off Your Knees/U2 Sermons (http://u2sermons.blogspot.com/) re: Dirty Day: Part One. She writes that there are other influences that (hint) "... at the same kind of U2 attraction to the dark - while just being constitutionally unable not to experience the dark as the place where the glimmers of new light come through." I am so grateful for her words because as I continue to meditate on this song and its importance to me at this moment in time, additional ideas come to mind. First, is A Litany of Darkness and Light from the United Church of Christ which reads in part:

We wait in the darkness, expectantly, lovingly, anxiously, thoughtfully. The darkness is our friend. In the darkness of the womb, we have all been nurtured and protected. In the darkness of the womb, the Christ-child was made ready for the journey into light... It is only in the darkness that we can see the splendor of the universe - blankets of stars, the solitary glowings of distant planets. It was the darkness that allowed the Magi to find the start that guided them to where the Christ-child lay. You are with us, O God, in darkness and in light. Sometimes, in the solitude of darkness, our fears and concerns, our hopes and our visions rise to the surface. We come face to face with ourselves and with the road that lies ahead of us. And in that same darkness, we find companionship for the journey... We know you are with us, O Lord, yet we still await your coming. In the darkness that contains both our hopelessness and our expectancy, we watch for a sign of God's hope. (From the New Zealand Book of Prayer, NCH No. 880)

Here is that same critique from the periphery - the cry of the wounded and outcast - that is a part of "Dirty Day" in both word and sound. The music begins with an industrial drone with an insistent bass riff that explodes into a wall of guitary wah-wah sound and drums:

I don't know you and you don't know the half of it
I had a starring role I was the bad guy who walked out
They said be careful where you aim 'cause where you aim you just might hit
You can hold onto something so tight
You've already lost it
Dragging me down, that's not the way it used to be
You can't even remember what I'm trying to forget
It was a dirty day - dirty day

Been there? How did Richard Farina put it: been down so long it looks like up to me? As Old Testament professor, Walter Breuggemann, reminds us: in times of cultural chaos or injustice, God's people are called to listen to the scriptures - and voices - from the sidelines. Think Job: "Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge...? I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees." (42: 3/5) Think Jesus before the self-righteous and at a feast table with whores, drunks, collaborator and losers: "Go learn what this means, 'The Lord desires mercy, not sacrifice.'" (Matthew 9: 13)

Dare I included Dylan? "I ain't gonna work on Maggie's Farm no more!" Or Ginsberg: "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night..."

U2 used one of America's masters of the darkness (and light) - the Priest of the Beats: William Burroughs's - during their ZooTV special and his "Thanksgiving Prayer" is as true today as it was so many years ago.

Fear of the darkness keeps God's people from seeing the truth - the light - the beauty as well as the horror: It's a dirty day...! (This reworking from "Taxi Driver" is incredible!)

Darkness, truth, the voices of the discarded - and beauty. More than most in pop culture, U2 grasps the connection between repentance, renewal and beauty. Whereas their predecessors in punk - Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Television and Patti Smith - laid claim to the Beat critique, these musical pioneers told their story with violent and ugly sounds. Indeed, much of the punk aesthetic was about rage and the primal sounds of life in the city.

The ugly and harsh sounds of rage are one avenue in art notes Makoto Fujimura; in his recent reflection on the recent death of painter Robert Rauschenbusch, he writes:

I had been working on a Refractions entry on the works of American contemporary artist Jasper Johns, when the news of Robert Rauschenberg passing away hit the news wires. Rauschenberg was Johns' comrade in the frontlines of the avant-garde art world. Both artists are now considered seminal and central to twentieth century American art... They were misfits, but the island of Manhattan did serve as a perfect backdrop to these artists' existential dramas. Surely, there was to be a unique destiny for those willing to eek out a meager living in their illegal lofts, without having to sell a single painting for many years, receiving ridicule after ridicule if they were fortunate enough to have their works shown.

These vanguard creators always lived in tension, both in their art and in life, often juxtaposing contradictions together in a patchwork. No simple or singular definition of their art, or their lives, would suffice: they were surprisingly varied in their personalities, political persuasions, and aesthetic dispositions, but found a common ground in their ambitions and in their brokenness...

The world they depicted anticipated the spiritual climate of post-modernity, and the multi-media culture to come. Avant-garde expressions and artifacts echo Hazel Mote's "Church without Christ" in Flannery O'Connor's "Wise Blood." If to O'Connor the south was "Christ haunted," then so was the avant-gardes scene in lower Manhattan. What is in the negative can be revelatory. Negative spaces are just as important as positive shapes, so we learn in a drawing class. If a chair is to be drawn, a good instructor will help the student pay attention to the shapes in between the legs of the chairs, or the back rests, as much in the "positive shapes" of the chair itself. In the same way, these artists depicted the spiritual climate by negative shapes, but by doing so they effectively described the shape and influence of the churches they rejected.

Their observations serve as an invaluable service for the church, as they gave shape to the spiritual vacuum that pervades our culture today. They are important precisely because they depict an honest spiritual wrestling within empty spaces... Late in his life, Rauschenberg, influenced by the art and culture of India, stated; "everything is relative, that everything is acceptable, and that you don't have to be afraid of beauty, either." Of course, critics sneered, for the notion of beauty was taboo in late twentieth century art... (But) perhaps the resurgence of material and beauty in the art world that we are experiencing today began with Rauschenberg's generous art. Quintessentially American, original and prolific, Rauschenberg's images do lead us, like a strange red nosed reindeer, right into the thick fogs of our post-modern night. His images, even in decay, would resonate to those who look for signs of good fortune from a strangely, but beautifully, collaged sky. (See, Refractions, http://makotofujimura.blogspot.com/2008/06/refractions-28-island-of-misfit-toys.html)

By embracing beauty, however, U2 - like a growing movement in this post-modern context - plays with our limited appreciation of beauty in the hope of taking us into deeper truths. Eugene Peterson writes, "One of the maddeningly enduring habits of the human race is to insist on domesticating God. We are determined to tame God... (and) figure out ways to harness God to our projects." (Introduction to Get Up Off Your Knees, Whiteley/Maynard) With wit and paradox, poetry and rhythm U2 reminds us that even losers like the father in "Dirty Day" have a truth to tell.

What's more, their life in the gutter is not the end of the story. Think prodigal son (Luke 15: 11-32.) Think St. Paul (Romans 7: 14-8:2.) Or St. Peter after betraying Christ (John 21: 4-19) "When you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go... follow me.."

In this era of shock and awe - terror and the coming to pass of our worst nightmares - U2 invites us to go into some of the places we do not wish to go - and they do so with beauty. Sometimes it is a harsh and challenging beauty, sometimes it is playful and paradoxical, but always they let the Spirit lead where it will. These days may run away like wild horses over the hill but still there is always a glimmer of light within the darkness. Think: "Mysterious Ways." Think: "Vertigo." Think: "God Part Two." Think: "Last Night on Earth" (on which I will bring this reflection to a close with more tomorrow.)

Dirty Day: Part One

For over two months I have been haunted by a U2 song from 1993 - "Dirty Day" - which was buried in the middle of Zooropa released 15 years ago - part of the boomerang of Achtung Baby and the chaos of 1991 and it is often overlooked. Back when it meant something, Rolling Stone magazine noted that this album sounds like the "exuberant paranoia of Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" (with) a postmodern twist."

Boston music critic, Jim Sullivan, wrote, that "Dirty Day," a gently disorienting tune dedicated to barfly-beat poet Charles Bukowski, warns early on, "You can hold onto something so tight/ You've already lost it" - and then launches into a dead-father-to-son discourse about art" but that is only the half of it. You see, "Dirty Day" builds on shadow wisdom - the truth of the dark side - that U2 first explored in "Exit" - and it is the truth of the shadow, I suspect, that gives "Dirty Day"its power.

Three inter-connecting truths come to mind here and deserve consideration. First, U2 is a consciously Christian collective of artists exploring the joys and sorrows of life in these strange, post-modern times. Until "Exit" they dwelt primarily in the realm of the light - think "Pride (in the Name of Love" or even "40" - yes, they knew sorrow and suffering but they shared nothing as bleak as "Exit" until they journeyed into America. And as they have noted, America held both darkness and light for Irish boys: there was both the ecstasy of Springsteen and Elvis, Motown and Beale Street as well as the reality of a tragic and racist foreign policy.

I suspect it is no accident that both "Bullet the Blue Sky" - a cry of anguish born of US policy against El Salvador - and "Exit" find their way onto the same recording: The Joshua Tree. Throw in the bluesy Buddy Holly sound of "Desire" in the follow-up work on Rattle and Hum - along with"Angel of Harlem," the gospel-blues of "When Love Comes to Town" and the infectious recasting of "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" with the gospel choir - and the promise and curse of America becomes clear.

"Exit" - which Bono describes as his dark descent into what a religious man will do at his worst - is terrifying: is it about murder or suicide? Does it matter? "I had read Norman Mailer's The Executioner's Song and Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. This was my attempt at writing a story in the mind of a killer. It is all very well to address America and the violence that is an aggressive foreign policy but to really understand that you have to get under the skin of your own darkness, the violence we all contain within us... it is the least attractive thing in anyone and I wanted to own up to that." (U2 by U2, p. 184) In 1987 "Exit" starts a public journey into confession and embracing/integrating the dark side of human experience with the ecstasy of the spirit.

Second, the tunes from Achtung Baby and Zooropa - and dare I say Pop, too - push the band's conscious awareness of the tensions between our public and shadow selves even farther. The great Spanish poet, Juan Ramon Jimenez, spoke of the shadow like this:

I am not I. (Yo no soy yo!)
I am this one
Walking beside me whom I do not see,
Whom at times I manage to visit
And whom at other times I forget;
The one who remains silent when I talk,
The one who forgives, sweet, when I hate,
The one who takes a walk where I am not,
The one who will remain standing when I die.
I am not I.

And "Dirty Day" nails this in a way that bears a unique insight for Americans these days as we try to discern ways to end this never-ending, horrible war in Iraq, what to do about a faltering economy and where we must go next in healthy race relations in the United States: "You're looking for explanations I don't even understand - if you need someone to blame throw a rock in the air you'll hit someone guilty." Bono said that he took a bunch of Charles Bukowski sayings and threw them together to describe "a character who has walked out on his family and years later meets the son he has abandoned." (U2 by U2, p. 249)

To be sure, this is father and son talk - with questions of poetry and art thrown into the mix - but it is also owning the shadow singing that is confessional, honest and demanding in ways that traditional Christian music never is! Get it right, there's no blood thicker than ink! Hear what I say, nothing's simple as you think. Wake up - some things you can't get around; I'm in you more so when they put me in the ground.

Does anyone else hear the sounds of the Hebrew Bible here - the very 10 Commandments, in fact? You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand {generations} of those who love me and keep my commandments.

So third, they share this paradox - this tension and ambiguity - with beauty. Bukowski, whatever you may think of him (and many Beat aficionados love him) was anything but beautiful, yes? His horrible acne, his brutalization by his father and his alcoholic haze all made him a keen interpreter of life from the outside - an important perspective with prophetic implications - for he has said about himself:

When they beat you long enough and hard enough you have the tendency to say what you really mean; in other words, they take all the pretenses out of you. If you can get out of it, whatever is still there is usually something genuine. Anyone who gets severe punishment during childhood can get out of it quite strong, quite good, or can end up being a rapist, a killer, end up in a madhouse or lost in all kinds of different directions. So you see, my father was a great literary teacher: He taught me the meaning of pain--pain without reason (High Times 98).

But as important as his harsh and ugly judgments were (are), Bukowski could never communicate the way U2 does because he was afraid of beauty. He ran from beauty. He was terrified of beauty's judgment. In 1994 he wrote, "What Can We Do?"
what can we do?
at their best, there is gentleness in Humanity.
some understanding and, at times, acts of
courage
but all in all it is a mass, a glob that doesn't have too much.
it is like a large animal deep in sleep and
almost nothing can awaken it.
when activated it's best at brutality,
selfishness, unjust judgments, murder.

what can we do with it, this Humanity?

nothing.

avoid the thing as much as possible.
treat it as you would anything poisonous, vicious
and mindless.
but be careful.
it has enacted laws to protect
itself from you.
it can kill you without cause.
and to escape it you must be subtle.
few escape.

it's up to you to figure a plan.

I have met nobody who has escaped.
I have met some of the great and
famous but they have not escaped
for they are only great and famous within
Humanity.

I have not escaped
but I have not failed in trying again and
again.

before my death I hope to obtain my
life.

My hunch is that what U2 has discovered - born of the Paschal Mystery - is that when we bring our own deep, ugly, haunting and honest pain and suffering into the light, God meets us there. The agony does not go away - sometimes it is shared and sometimes it is released - but it never goes away. And yet some how by bringing the darkness into the light, there is a chance that beauty can be exposed within it. This is what is at the heart of confession: create in my a clean heart, O God, and a new and right spirit within me. (Psalm 51) Solzhenitsyn made this observation in his lecture after winning the Nobel Prize in 1971:

One day Dostoevsky threw out the enigmatic remark: "Beauty will save the world." What sort of a statement is that? For a long time I considered it mere words. How could that be possible? When in bloodthirsty history did beauty ever save anyone from anything? Ennobled, uplifted, yes - but whom has it saved?… There is, however, a certain peculiarity in the essence of beauty, a peculiarity in the status of art: namely, the convincingness of a true work of art is completely irrefutable and it forces even an opposing heart to surrender. …(And) those works of art which have scooped up the truth and presented it to us as a living force - they take hold of us, compel us, and nobody ever, not even in ages to come, will appear to refute them…. In that case Dostoevsky's remark, "Beauty will save the world", was not a careless phrase but a prophecy? After all HE was granted to see much, a man of fantastic illumination.

The voice of the father in "Dirty Day" tries to make excuses for all the stupid shit he has done - it is always some else's fault, yes? - and this wounds us. In this the sins of the fathers and mothers are passed on to the third and fourth generations. But then the strange closing chant of the song comes up - another Bukowski line - and tells us, "yeah... so what? Get on with it, ok?" Yes, life is tough - damn right ugly and mean, too - and still in each day there is beauty: Days, days, days run away like wild horses over the hill!

Sweet Baby James...

What a privilege it was last night to go to beautiful Tanglewood for the annual James Taylor concert with the daughter of my mentor in ministry. Her dad is slowly dying from a tragic and unknown disease that consumes his esophagus. He is not expected to live into next week. So it was a bittersweet time and yet this young woman decided to welcome us into one of the Berkshire's sweetest traditions - and I am so glad she did. For not only did Tanglewood celebrate JT's 60th birthday, but it was a joyous time to reconnect with her through music in ways that her dear dad understood well.

We had a long and lovely picnic on the lawn of this magical center for music during which we talked about letting go and remembering. My mentor, Sam was the minister of my home church during the tumult and joy of the 60s and he embraced it with open arms. In 1966 our small folk ensemble led worship with guitars singing the songs of Bob Dylan. The next year, after putting together a rock band, we shifted to electric gear and brought the music of Quicksilver, the Mothers of Invention and the Youngbloods into that old Puritan meeting house. And by the time we graduated we had done gospel - "Oh Happy Day" a la Edwin Hawkins - both Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar and everything from the Beatles' "Nowhere Man" to a rock/jazz postlude built around "Dancin' in the Street."

Under Sam's loving embrace the church became for me a "shelter from the storm" as well as a center for exploring creativity and imagination. (In fact, when life would get too weird at home, I would break into the church through a back door and pray, listen to music and cry myself to sleep because it felt that safe!) Another old mentor, Malcolm, who led our Sunday School class encouraged us to bring in the music of the day as a lense through which we learned to see God's broken heart or compassionate embrace in the "signs of the times." (NOTE: I will see Malcolm in a week as he participates in our oldest daughter's wedding celebration.)

I started to make a list of all the songs Sam encouraged us to play in worship - it began with "The Times They Are A'Changin" and included "Take Your Clothes Off When You Dance" (a Zappa ode to radical hospitality and equality), "Dust in the Wind/Eleanor Rigby" (lament) as well as Marvin Gaye's "Inner City Blues" and Bob Marley's "Get Up, Stand Up." The last music I shared in that old sanctuary with Sam was at my ordination into Christian ministry 27 years ago and we played Dylan's gospel "Saved" and "You Got to Serve Somebody." I give thanks to God for his life and that now I am becoming friends with his daughter (who was just a baby back in the day but is now a successful young business woman in Hartford!)

As the James Taylor concert deepened there were some tender surprises: Yo Yo Ma came on to support "Sweet Baby James."

Then Taylor's old buddy, Carole King, came out for show stopping versions of "Natural Woman" and "You've Got a Friend" and on and on it went.

When we left, Sam's daughter spoke about how angry she was that her father had to suffer such a horrible death. "This anger is your prayer for the moment," we said softly: "stay with what is real because that is where God is with you whether you feel it now or not." It is like Job who could not sense the presence of the Holy in all of his suffering until he finally exploded. Then he was opened to God's presence - mysterious, to be sure, but very real - and began to understand that before he had only heard of the Living God... but now he had me something of the Sacred. "Who knows how long that will take? But stay with what is real..."

I first saw James Taylor right after high school - and now he is 60. I first learned his sad songs - and now sing his more grounded and loving songs, too. I first learned to think about popular music in church with Sam - and now he is dying. I learned to play guitar in that church from my friend, Ross - and I am still playing 40 years later. It is all connected like St. Paul said:

We know that in everything God works for good with those who love God. (Not that everything IS good but it can work for good - please note the difference). That is why we are sure that neither death nor life, angels nor principalities, 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.

I sang this song to bury my sister - and her son, too - may it be a part of what carries Sam from this place to the next with all my love.

She is just too cool...

For your Independence Day celebration, check out a new friend who is an incredible musician: Jessica Roemischer. Blessings.

Independence Day, July 4th 2008

For as long as I can remember a host of competing sounds, images, truths and realities have been in my head and heart on the Fourth of July. The first is a poem by Langston Hughes that we used to read together as a family when my daughters were small: "Let America Be America Again" from 1938.

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."
The free?
Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me?
The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again - The land that never has been yet
And yet must be - the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again, America!
O, yes, I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath-- America will be!

The second is Marvin Gaye's haunting 1971 masterpiece: "Inner City Blues."

Then that quintessential song about hope and loss: "Thunder Road" in its acoustic version.

And finally Martin's summons to all the above in Washington, D.C. in 1963:
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice... I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I DO, TOO.

Are you burned out on religion?

There is a delightful story that comes to us from the Hassidic tradition about the child of a rabbi who used to wander alone in the woods. For a time, his father gave the wandering no thought, but over time he became concerned:

The woods could be dangerous, after all, and who knew what lurked there? So he decided to discuss the wanderings with his child and asked,”You know I have noticed that each day you go into the woods alone for a walk. I wonder why you like to go there.” Looking innocently, the boy said, “I go there to find God.” To which the rabbi replied, “That is a very good thing and I am glad you are searching for God. But, my child, don’t you know that God is the same everywhere?” “Yes, of course,” said the boy quietly, “but I am not.” Frederic and Mary Anne Brussat, Spiritual Literacy, p. 128

Mmmmm, such a sweet and tender story – God is the same everywhere but I… I am not – no wonder Jesus told us that unless we become as a child it is unlikely that we will enter the Kingdom of God. In just a few moments I am going to invite you as the whole people of God – women and men, children and adults, guests and old timers – to renew your baptismal vows. I understand that there are some here today who have never been baptized – and I am not going to ask you to “renew” a commitment that has never been made; nor am I going to ask those of you who are not ready to make this commitment to do something that feels phony or forced, ok?

But for those of you who are ready to take the next step in helping Christ renew this congregation for mission and ministry, let me remind you that for the past two weeks we’ve been considering baptism – why it matters and how to celebrate it in a 21st century mode – and now some of us are ready to reclaim the radical nature of what’s at stake in baptism. In a word, we want to live in a way that makes flesh the life, death and resurrection of the one we know as Lord and Savior – we want to both talk the talk AND walk the walk – express our faith in a healing and hopeful way –because, as the old hymn says, “I have decided to follow Jesus.” Do you know that old song? It is one of my favorites:

I have decided to follow Jesus – I have decided to follow Jesus
I have decided to follow Jesus: no turning back, no turning back

Verse two is a killer:

The world behind me – the Cross before me
The world behind me – the Cross before me
The world behind me – the Cross before me
No turning back – no turning back

To live into our baptismal vows – to reclaim and renew them as a living commitment – is to say that we have decided to follow Jesus and there is no turning back. And this morning’s gospel text is so wonderfully clarifying that I just have to share these three quick insights. First Jesus tells a story about children playing in the market place: How can I account for this generation? The people have been like spoiled children whining to their parents, 'We wanted to skip rope, and you were always too tired; we wanted to talk, but you were always too busy.' John came fasting and they called him crazy. I came feasting and they called me a lush, a friend of the riffraff. Opinion polls don't count for much, do they? The proof of the pudding is in the eating."

Bible scholars tell us that in the Middle East the boys would be the ones out in public doing the wedding circle dance – skipping rope, if you will, and celebrating in joy – while the girls would be back home learning women’s work and doing the mourning, weeping and crying. In comparing John the Baptist – the mourner – with himself as a party animal, Jesus is saying: you can’t have it both ways! You are like spoiled children who want to be the girls when the boys are dancing and then want to be the boys when the girls are weeping. This is lazy and dangerous foolishness that wounds and distracts everyone. The time has come to stand up and be counted so that the joy of God’s spirit becomes real in your flesh.

That’s one truth I want you to remember before you renew your vows today: we follow the way of Jesus – the man for others – who more than any other spiritual teacher made God visible through feasting and joy – and so shall we. The time has come for our congregation to claim its true identity: not as the town’s first church – although that is true – and not as the place known as the frozen chosen – and I’ve heard that, too. No, the time has come to show that we follow the servant of joy who makes all things new. And a primer for all church people - young, old, boomers, gen xers, millenial kids and those of the greatest generation - has to be "Godspell" with a deep commitment to joy, generousity and celebration. Check out a clip at:

Second, while there are hosts of perfectly acceptable ways to nourish deep spiritual integrity within and among us, our path at this moment in time has more to do with grace than judgment. Jesus could not have been clearer: 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. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly. This text always make me think of the Collective Soul's song, "Shine" which cries out: "oh heaven let your light shine down!"

We’re talking about church as a place of rest and renewal – joy and gratitude – not obligation and shame. We’re talking about renewing a community of faith that visible celebrates the unforced rhythms of grace rather than perpetuate the burn out of religion.

Are you with me? In this way of grace, laughter becomes a spiritual discipline and feasting a prayer – embracing one another with deep affection is just as important as what you put into the collection plate – and getting over yourself so that you can really accept the beauty of those all around you is more important than knowing the words to the hymns or being able to quote scripture. We have been called to celebrate the unforced rhythms of grace.

And third we may be confused about a lot of spiritual things – and we are – but we are certain that living into our baptismal vows is also about bold and radical hospitality – welcoming and celebrating everyone’s place at the table – rather than sitting in judgment. I’m not making this up! Listen carefully to the Master’s words: With all your peacock strutting, you are going to end up in the abyss. If the people of Sodom had had your chances, the city would still be around. At Judgment Day they'll get off easy compared to you." Abruptly Jesus then broke into prayer: "Thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth. You've concealed your ways from sophisticates and know-it-alls, but spelled them out clearly to ordinary people. Yes, Lord, that's the way you like to work.

You know, I trust, that the sin of Sodom had nothing to do with sexuality and everything to do with welcoming the stranger, right? Ezekiel 16 is explicit: This was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy. They were haughty and did abominable things before me – they did not welcome the stranger at their gates – therefore I removed them when I saw it. And if you want to know what it feels like to be lonely, afraid and left to figure out life without hope listen to Joni Mitchell's debut album and the haunting song, "Marcie" at:

I can’t help remind you on this July 4th/Independence Day weekend that this has some pretty demanding implications for us as we look at our politics, don’t you think? I’m not going to get partisan here because I am certain that the Founding Fathers set forth this great nation of ours with the belief that we shall establish no state religion, yes? And no political party has a monopoly on God either. Still, if pride and arrogance are a part of the puzzle – and lack of radical hospitality has something to say to us about God’s judgment – then we need to look very carefully at those we elect especially when it comes to things like immigration policies and the way we walk through the community of other nations: “If the people of Sodom had had your chances… their city would still be standing!”

Ok, I’ve said enough: we are here to renew our commitment to the one who shows us God’s love through joy, grace and hospitality. Are ready to stand and deliver? Are you ready to be counted again publically as those who have decided to follow Jesus – with no turning back? Then I would ask you – children and adults, women and men, boys and girls – to stand and join with me as I ask you to renew your vows as a sign of commitment to the way of Christ Jesus:

Do you desire to renew your vows of baptism into the faith and family of Jesus Christ? Do you renounce the powers of evil and desire the freedom of new life in Christ?

Do you confess that Jesus Christ is both your way to know God – the Lord – and the way to spiritual healing – Savior?

Do you promise, by the grace of God, to be Christ’s disciple, to follow in the way of Jesus, to resist oppression and evil, to show love and justice, and to witness to the work and meaning of Jesus as best you are able?

Do you also promise, according to the grace given to you, to grow in the Christian faith and to be a faithful member of Christ’s community the church, celebrating his presence and furthering his mission in the world?

My man... and woman!

My man, Rumi, just keeps getting better and better. After a lovely day of hanging with my sweet wife, I was struck by the Master's words:

Who makes these changes?

I shoot an arrow right.

It lands left.

I ride after a deer and find myself

chased by a hog.

I plot to get what I want

and end up in prison.

I dig pits to trap others

and fall in.

I should be suspicious of what I want.

One of the joys of growing older with a person who loves you is that they see more and more of your flaws within the blessings and love them both (at least some of the time!) What's more, they discover just the right language to tell you about them in ways that you can hear - at least that's what I have discovered as I celebrate milestones with the one I love. Hmmm, reminds me of a song that I used to think was odd but now I think is oddly wonderful:

"Surrender" by Cheap Trick!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pD8ymBR2Ufo

Two poems for a birthday

Two of my favorite poems by two of my favorite poets - Robert Bly and Scott Cairns - and a blast from the past by the Boss, too!

Bad People - Robert Bly

A man told me once that all the bad people

Were needed. Maybe not all, but your fingernails

You need; they are really claws, and we know Claws. The sharks - what about them? They make other fish swim faster. The hard-faced men In black coats who chase you for hours In dreams - that's the only way to get you to the shore. Sometimes those hard women

Who abandon you get you to say: "You."

A lazy part of us is like a tumbleweed.

It doesn't move on its own. Sometimes it takes

A lot of Depression to get tumbleweeds moving.

Then they blow across three or four States.

This man told me that things work together.

Bad handwriting sometimes leads to new ideas;

And a careless god - who refuses to let people

Eat from the Tree of Knowledge - can lead

To books, and eventually to us. We write

Poems with lies in them, but they help a little.

Imperative - Scott Cairns

The thing to remember is how

tentative all of this really is.

You could wake up dead.

Or the woman you love

could decide you're ugly.

Maybe she will finally give up

trying to ignore the way

you floss your teeth as you

watch television. All I'm saying

is that there are no sure things here.

I mean, you'll probably wake up alive,

and she'll probably keep putting off

any actual decision about your looks.

Could be she'll be glad your teeth

are so clean. The morning might be

full of all the love and kindness

you need. Just don't go thinking

you deserve any of it.

I remember seeing this concert - Springsteen's "Tunnel of Love" tour in 1988 - it was so hot and soulful. And when Bruce and his not yet official girlfriend, Patti, opened the second set with "Tougher Than the Rest" it brought the house down with its bold sensuality.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nn6-KDZpFt8&feature=related

I have learned so much from these three guys and now I can mostly say that all of the blessings and love and kindness is all grace cuz "I don't deserve ANY of it."