About a month ago, I found this INCREDIBLE book of lists at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston: Hang the DJ - An Alternative Book of Music Lists. It makes GREAT road trip fodder to pass those long miles without decent radio (another bow to the realm of satellites, I know) and is often ironically spot-on in describing the sublime joys of listening to the Stones sing American country and western.
Here's the opening list just for kicks: "Spit it out! 10 Essential Stutter Songs."Properly employed, there's nothing catchier, cooler, weirder or funnier than a rock'n'roll stutter. The sung stutter is a vocal expression of one's inner funkiness. It is the sound of a voice dancing. It's not always pretty, but you have to respect the effort...
10. "My Sharona" - The Knack. A quintessential one-hit wonder.
9. "Movin' Out" - Billy Joel. He is brilliant on "heart attack-ack-ack-ack!" 8. "Fidelity" - ReginaSpektor. A less well-known essential. 7. "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" - Bachman-Turner Overdrive. Cheesy but awesome. 6. "Changes" - David Bowie. A lift from the darkness into the light. 5. "Welcome to the Jungle" - Guns N'Roses. Badass energy over a relentless riff. 4. "Lola" - The Kinks. The rarest of rock'n'roll stutters: a SINGALONG stutter.
3. "My Generation" - The Who. Garage band energy filled with spite and bravado. 2. "Pshycho Killer" - Talking Heads. Qu'est que c'est? 1. "Peggy Sue" - Buddy Holly. The grandfather of them all who is so convincing that "you can smell the unplanned pregnancy waiting just around the corner."
What more can you say after reading such a list as this... except, maybe, I gotta buy that bad boy!?! So I did... blessed Sabbath.
More and more I find myself exploring the world of music through the Internet - how about you? I couldn't find the energy to watch the Grammy Awards this year - not that it was every a lot of fun for me - after all when the Beatles were at their prime they were always overlooked. But more and more, I just don't care. I still am fascinated and intrigued by popular culture, but I find that my soul is rarely fed by much of what is currently popular.
I suspect that this is partially just the ebb and flow of contemporary music: there was a time I went into retreat when Springsteen was ascending, too. I was learning to play Dave Von Ronk instead of "Racing in the Streets." Today I love 'em both - and I suspect that in a few years I will rediscover some of this generation's great tunes. Nevertheless, I find that when I just sit down to be in the world of music, there are three or four key places:
+ My current favorite is the new show on Robin Hood Radio @ http://robinhoodradio.com/. An old friend - and still great musician - Hal Lefferts is the DJ and he puts on a smokin' show each day at 3 pm. It is radio like I remember FM at it's prime: great mixes of every style all in one sweet, soul-nourishing groove.
+ Another great site is Martha's Vineyard Radio @ www.mvyradio.com/valentines_day.php which is totally worth the effort to check out. It is almost as good as being back on the Island when I was a wild-ass, in-love young man!
+ Then there is Last FM @ http://www.last.fm/ which is a totally great on-line collection of EVERY popular culture artist you can imagine. If you get a jones for Fairport Convention but your vinyl collection sounds like shit, go to Last FM - they rarely disappoint. Equally fine is Pandora Radio @ www.pandora.com/#/. You will love them both and they are always ready to help you make new discoveries, too.
And as much as I love music it is becoming clear that we're going to have to move into satellite radio for the car: there is just too much crap on what passes for radio to handle more that 20 minutes. Thank God for IPODS and satellites and Internet radio. It is a blessing that I celebrate!
Today was a snow day... of sorts. The flakes are REALLY falling right now and will probably amount to something by tomorrow, but folks have been waiting in worry all day long for something that hasn't yet arrived. To be sure, south of us they've really been socked: NYC cancelled school, the DC area is under a second deluge and the mid-Atlantic states are trying to dig out of what happened last week. But the Berkshires are just beautiful - tranquil and quiet - as the storm begins to pick up speed.
This little break gave me a chance to lay the ground work for our Good Friday liturgy. As some of you know, I have been exploring the intersection of the ancient tradition and popular culture for the past 8-10 years. This year's theme is emerging as something I am calling "Songs of Solace Amidst the Suffering."
+ Each of my band mates has selected a song that has brought them both comfort and perspective during times of trial in their lives. So far this includes Leonard Cohen's "Joan of Arc," Meatloaf's "Heaven Can Wait," JJ Heller's "Your Hands" and a gospel-like original by my other guitar player, "Gonna Be a Brighter Day."
+ We are finding readings from scripture and poetry that speak the word of God's presence and light within the darkness, too. One of my favorites is this from Scott Cairns called "Blood Atonement." It is a killer.
This much we might say with some assurance: a crucifixion occurred, apparently gratuitous, but a harsh intersection – tree and flesh and some iron. We might add that sufficient blood resulted to bring about a death, the nature of which we still puzzle.
As to why? Why the blood? Why the puzzle? It seems that no one who knows is saying, which is not to say we lack opinion.
Still, while we suffer no shortage of dire speculation, hardly any of it has given us anything like a clue.
All we dare say is that it was necessary; that we have somehow become both culprit and beneficiary, and that we
Are left to something quite like a response to that still lost blood, to the blameless world.
+ And then there are the great hymns of the tradition: Precious Lord, Were You There, Amazing Grace, I Wonder as I Wander, Over My Head - and one of my all time favorites - Wayfaring Stranger. (Man I hope I can find a fiddler!)
I give thanks to God for snow days - musical mates with creativity and talent - and a way to explore God's loving presence from within the hard places.
NOTE: As I am getting ready to post this I find myself listening to a podcast of a new radio show hosted by Hal Lefferts. I was in a band with Hal during high school - he is a totally smoking guitar player and all round sweet soul - and it is a treat to here his new show. You can check him out at: Robin Hood Radio from Sharon, CT at http://www.robinhoodradio.com/shows.phphp Keep on rockin' dude, keep on rockin!
Ok, here are my Sunday sermon notes for Transfiguration Sunday, February 14, 2010. As the last Sunday before Lent begins, a theme has emerged: living the spirituality of the beloved. Henri Nouwen, of course, is critical for moving this deeper and I sense that I will be taking each of his major themes - living as those who are chosen, blessed, broken and shared - to guide my preaching throughout Lent.
So, come join us this week if you are in town at 10:30 am. If not, we're also doing a weekly gig on PCTV in Pittsfield at 11:30 am and 6:00 pm. You can also check it out on-line at: http://www.pittsfieldtv.org/sfieldtv.org/ under the program name: "Sunday Street with the Rev. James Lumsden."
I am going to ask you to try to do something this morning that is very hard – it isn’t complicated – but will take genuine concentration. For, you see, I would like you to try to be genuinely open to the wisdom of today’s gospel.
• Not necessarily my take on the gospel
• And probably not your old or favorite understandings either
• Just an “openness” so that God’s presence might really be good news to you
I think of the old story about the Zen master who welcomed a new student to his community. The novice was filled with zeal and ideas – his enthusiasm was palpable – so the old soul asked him to sit for tea. And as the tea progressed, the young man talked and talked and talked; he was on fire about the quest for enlightenment and full to overflowing with questions and concerns.
So the old man stood and started to refill the young man’s cup – and when it was full he kept on pouring – and pouring and pouring and pouring. At first, the novice thought it was a foolish accident but eventually shouted, “Master whatever are you doing?” To which the enlightened one said, “How can anything be filled if it is never empty? Be still – be open – then you will be ready for blessings.”
• I think that is the challenge and invitation for us, too: be still – be open – for then you will be ready for blessing.
• And blessing is what today’s gospel offers, yes? For after Jesus ascends the mountain with Peter, James and John – and shares a mystical time of ecstatic prayer with Moses and Elijah – a voice from beyond and within proclaimed: this is my beloved, the chosen, listen to him.
I am convinced that we have been invited by God not only to listen to Christ Jesus as God’s beloved, but also to live within God’s grace as the beloved in our generation. So let me first ground this morning’s gospel for you in a context that explains the images and symbols.
• Second let me deepen our conversation about the four ingredients necessary for living into this spirituality – how being taken, blessed, broken and shared by God are essential for becoming the beloved in our world – ok?
• And third let me remind you why the life of God’s beloved always takes us down from the mountain top back into the rough and wounded realities of everyday life.
Context – spirituality – real life: so please pray with me that we might be grounded and open for this journey.
Gracious and Compassionate God – close to us as breathing and distant as the farthest star – be with us now that we might be open to you. Take the words of my mouth and the meditations of each of our hearts and cleanse them that we might be claimed as your beloved. In the spirit and presence of Christ Jesus we pray. Amen.
Here are two important contextual insights about this morning’s gospel: a) Jesus takes Peter, James and John – his closest associates – up the mountain with him for prayer; and b) while praying Jesus mystically encounters Moses and Elijah – the symbolic personifications of the Law and the Prophets of Israel – who together illuminate Christ’s deepest identity.
Only Luke’s gospel places this event we call the Transfiguration within Christ’s prayer – and I don’t think that Luke does anything accidentally – he is careful and intentional in telling the story of Jesus and the birth of the church. So when he reminds us that Jesus was at prayer, we’re supposed to connect the mountain top with other prayerful experiences:
• Jesus and all the people were at prayer during his baptism when the skies broke open, a dove appeared representing the Holy Spirit and the heavens proclaimed: This is my beloved, the chosen, with him I am well pleased. Almost the same words as today, right?
• Jesus was in prayer for 40 days and nights in the wilderness – a season we will mark together starting next week as Lent – during which time he explored his fears and brokenness amidst an abiding trust that God’s light was always present even in the darkness.
And there are regular reminders that Jesus often got away from the grind for times of renewal and solitary prayer: after cleansing the leper, he withdrew to a deserted place for prayer; before choosing the 12 who would become his key disciples, he went out to a mountain to pray; before Peter confessed and claimed Jesus as Messiah we are told that Jesus was out praying by himself; and then, of course, there is the disciples’ lament, “teach us to pray, Lord” which evokes the Lord’s Prayer. All of which leads me to believe that Jesus spent a lot of time getting empty before he was filled. And he kept on going back to those wild, empty places to be opened by trust because he believed that if he let go, God would fill him in God’s own time. How do our Muslim sisters and brothers put that? “Inshallah” – in God’s time – if God wills it: Jesus practiced being empty so that in God’s time he could be filled.
• His prayers were rarely GIMME prayers – give me health, Lord; give me hope; give me healing; give me love – rather, mostly they were quiet, waiting and trusting prayers.
• More listening than asking – more waiting than receiving – more letting go than acquiring.
And then, at the right time... he encounters Moses and Elijah in prayer. Now I am NOT going to try to explain how this happened – there really are NO words available for ecstatic and mystical prayer – all we can do is listen and be open to the wisdom of the story. And the story says that together Jesus, Moses and Elijah were glorified – enveloped and filled with God’s wisdom, love and light – and this is not accidental in Luke’s gospel either for Luke regularly tells us that Jesus is the essence – the unity – of the Law and the prophets.
• When teaching the wealthy about their use of money, Jesus tells them to consider the Law and the prophets and to share so that poverty is ended. (Luke 16: 16-17/19-31) • When Jesus appears to his disciples on the Emmaus Road after his resurrection – a time when they are confused by grief – he begins to explain the meaning of his life with Moses, the Law and the prophets. And then later, at supper and the breaking of the bread, when the disciples realize it is Jesus sitting with them, they say NOW we understand! (Luke 24: 13-35)
More than the other gospels, Luke wants us to know that from the beginning of time through Moses and all the prophets God was at work bringing salvation to the world through Jesus. Small wonder, then, that Luke paints a picture not unlike the one in Exodus where Moses is engulfed in light after meeting with God. Are you with me?
We are being told by the context in Luke that becoming the beloved of God is at the heart of Christ’s ministry: you are my beloved the Creator said to Jesus on the mountain – and through Christ tells us – you, too, are my beloved and chosen. Not my rejected – not my forgotten – not my abused or discarded or despised – you are my beloved.
• For you – and you – and you and all of us are made in the image of… whom? God – Christ Jesus being the fullest vision we can grasp of God’s image.
• And guess what? God don’t make junk. God is NOT co-dependent, addicted, filled with hatred and so broken that she can’t see our fears and needs.
How does today’s psalm put it? God is enthroned with the cherubim and angels – God is the lover of justice and font of healing – God is holy, mighty and beyond awe – filled to overflowing with forgiveness so that we might be whole.
All of that is what Luke is telling us in this simple story: he reminds us that Jesus practiced emptying himself so that he could be filled – he assures us that just as God’s light enveloped Christ Jesus, so, too, you and me – and then he gives us a new name: beloved – born of Christ’s love and saturated with God’s grace. And over time those far wiser than me have figured out that there is a spirituality – an intentional way of living – that nourishes us life as God’s beloved.
There are four key ingredients that are simple but so important: to live as those taken by God and blessed, to realize that we have been broken by the world but also empowered to share grace, too. These ingredients – taken, blessed, broken and shared – are at the core of living as God’s beloved. They give shape and form to Christ’s ministry and outline the movement of the Eucharist. I think I am going to spend time with each element more deeply in Lent, but here’s a taste:
• Taken – I’ve come to think that this word might better be described as chosen – taken can be too violent or harsh. But chosen – embraced by God as precious – that is closer to the truth. And while many of us don’t really believe that we are precious to the Lord – chosen in love – the spirituality of the beloved says otherwise. In fact, it asks us to empty ourselves of self-hatred and doubt and trust that God knows us by name – knit our very being into existence since before the beginning of time –and loves us in a way that will not let us go. First, we are chosen and invited to practice letting go everything that denies this sweet truth.
• Second we are blessed – and God wants us to know this from the inside out. Much of our tradition begins with sin – it is real and finds expression in our brokenness – but it is not how the story begins. No, the story begins with God’s creation and God calls it… what? Good – blessed – filled with bounty and value. The late Henri Nouwen gives meaning to being blessed in a little story about the early days of serving the L’Arche Community in Toronto. After building a very prominent public career as a writer and seminary professor, Nouwen left it all to become a member – and part-time priest – to a group of people with disabilities and challenges founded by Jean Vanier. He writes:
One of my friends (at L’Arche) who is quite handicapped but a wonderful, wonderful lady once said to me, "Henri, can you bless me?" I remember walking up to her and giving her a little cross on her forehead. She said, "Henri, that doesn't work. No, that is not what I mean." I was embarrassed and said, "I gave you a blessing." And she said, "No, I want to be blessed.” Well, I kept thinking, "What does she mean?" Sometime later we had a little service and all these people were sitting there. After the service I said, "Janet wants a blessing."I had an alb on and a long robe with long sleeves. Janet walked up to me and said, "I want to be blessed." She put her head against my chest and I spontaneously put my arms around her, held her, and looked right into her eyes and said, "Blessed are you, Janet.
You know how much we love you. You know how important you are. You know what a good woman you are." And she looked at me and said, "Yes, yes, yes, now I know. Thank you.” And all at once I saw all sorts of energy coming back to her. She seemed to be relieved from the feeling of depression because suddenly she realized again that she was blessed. She went back to her seat and immediately other people said, "I want that kind of blessing, too."
I don’t think Nouwen’s experience is unique: we all want that kind of blessing – to know and feel from the inside out – that we are valuable and beloved of God. The second key ingredient is to nourish being blessed.
• Then there is the brokenness – we are a broken people – we live in a broken and wounded world. And while I will be sharing more about brokenness with you during Lent let me just say that the challenge of being broken is to own it. Embrace it. Not hide it or be ashamed of it or blame somebody else for it. How did Jesus put it when his flesh was broken on the Cross: Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. There is MUCH more to say about this… Inshallah – if God wills and in God’s time.
• For then – and only then – will we have something to share – which is the fourth ingredient to the spirituality of the beloved. Most of the time we can’t fix things – not only are they bigger than our abilities – but so often they are beyond change. They simply are – and as much as we would like to take the pain away and replace the fears and darkness – most of the time we can’t.
But we can share those times – fill them with our presence and loving prayers – help those we love carry their burdens. We can’t take them away no matter how hard we try – in fact, most of the time we shouldn’t even try to take away the darkness – all we can do share it. And here is the mysterious blessing of sharing the darkness: it becomes ok – a little safer – a little easier – a little less harsh.
When my daughters were small and would wake up at night with a bad dream mostly all they wanted was for me to put on a small night light and sit with them until it felt safe again. And sitting by their beds – sharing the darkness – gave them the comfort to rest and know they were loved. And over the years I’ve come to see that we’re not all that different.
We’ll do deeper into this spirituality as we move through Lent. For now let me simply add that after the prayers – after the embrace with Moses and Elijah and the illumination of the Transfiguration – Jesus took his troops down from the mountain. Peter and James and John wanted to stay up in that lofty, ecstatic place with the saints – it was a good time – and only natural.
But Jesus said, “Knock it off, will you? We have work to do: we have been called to make flesh a way of living that documents what it looks like to be chosen by God and blessed – to own and embrace the brokenness all around and within us – and then tenderly share our lives with others who are afraid and wounded as well. Come on, let’s get off this mountain and back down into the valley of the shadow of real life.”
And my friends, what was true then is true today – and that is the good news for our time – so let those who have ears to hear: hear.
(as I was listening to Hal's first show... he started off with this tune and it just seems fitting to close with it, too.)
Tonight at our "Three Cups of Tea" class, we ate Afghani food (and drank a little Armenian wine because it was the closest brew I could find) and talked about where the Spirit might be calling us next in our pursuit of peace. Clearly we want to raise money for Greg Mortenson and his effort to bring schools to Afghani children - particularly girls - and we are likely to jump on this first. There were creative and wise ideas about how to make this happen so that we accomplish something meaningful in the short term.
But there are two other emerging ideas - still to be shaped and formed - that have to do with focusing upon the healing of women in particular in Afghanistan and reclaiming the "just peace" theology that the United Church of Christ began to articulate during the Cold War.
+ The group, Women for Women International, makes a strong case for those of us in the west who want to advance the cause of healing and hope to cast our lot with their work. Like the passionate insights that Nicholas Kristoff of the NY Times has shared in One Half the Sky, this group helps us translate the desires of our hearts into deeds.
+ An article by Susan Thistlethwaite, former president of the Chicago Theological Seminary, notes that when Obama spoke at the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony, he was not only grounded in the irony and Christian realism of Reinhold Niebuhr, but also his mother church's theology of a just peace - a phrase used carefully and intentionally. (check this out: http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/panelists/susan_brooks_thistlethwaite/2009/12k.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/panelists/susan_brooks_thistlethwaite/2009/12 So now we take a little time to see what the Spirit stirs up within and among us. We'll meet after worship on Sunday to see what rumblings might be taking root, make some decisions to get a fund-raiser for "Stones into Schools" happening and then agree to gather again in early Lent to begin laying the groundwork for a more sustained just peace commitment.
Since September 11th, 2001, I have had a growing sense that part of whatever ministry I might share during my remaining years MUST be about atonement - owning and atoning for the sins of my nation that I have participated in overtly or tacitly - not out of fear but compassion. I am clear that as we go deeper into this work a measure of healing will take place in God's time (inshallah.)
I saw the Who during the Super Bowl half time show - spectacular pyrotechnics and a decent retro look at some of their greatest hits - but it still looked and felt sad to me. Don't get me wrong: I admire old rockers who can still share some of their magic - Springsteen did at the same venue last year and Tom Petty the year before - and these guys have earned their right to play and make millions with their CSIfranchise, too. But they seem to be much more about the past than the present or the future - and that is simply nostalgia or sentimentality.
Gertrud Mueller-Nelson makes this observation about sentimentality in her reflections on family holidays and our frenetic obsession with creating a happy Christmas in her masterpiece, To Dance with God:
Sentimentality is the emotion we feel when we scoop off a part of the truth, that part which we are willing to accept, and slather it like syrup to cover what we do not want to see. Usually what we don't want to see is our own responsibility to the remaining truth. A half-truth is a very dangerous thing, because it is a lie. One example of sentimentality is those feelings around nationalism, often fostered with rousing anthems and speeches, that allow citizens to promote their own country's interests over the common interests of all nations and see themselves as superior and blameless...
I don't think rock and roll is supposed to be sentimental - or nostalgic - or a half-truth. I don't think rock and roll's greatest hits are supposed to be auctioned off to the highest corporate bidder. (And before anyone carps about U2 and IPOD remember: they did the WHOLE gig for free in pursuit of a technology that has truly advanced the sharing of beauty and music. That's right, they cut a deal and did it for FREE so get over it!)
And I don't think old rockers are supposed to either die off before they get old as brother Townsend once prophesied or act like their 15 when they are 65! I mean I love the fact that Jagger HAS the energy to shake his ass like a fool, I just don't think any body needs to see it outside the privacy of his home anymore. (And while Keith can still play the shit out of a guitar, they haven't written anything of value since Tattoo You in 1981!)
I guess what I'm saying is that some rockers have figured out how to grow up and still make music that matters - sometimes it is still beautiful and powerful, too - but it takes hard work to grow beyond being a caricature of yourself. Springsteen went through a long dry period in the 90s - with a variety of good tunes but nothing monumental - and came back more humble and mature with "The Rising." Steve Earle spent time in jail detoxing. Cheryl Crow faced real heartbreak and the agony of cancer. U2 has faced their demons and found ever new ways of maturing in a medium that was founded by children with an attitude. The Who have seen their share of troubles... but what have they gained from it all?
I first saw them back at the Fillmore East in 1968 when they debuted "Tommy" and it was electrifying. Ground-breaking. And the guys in my high school band and I went back two weeks later to see another smoking reprise of that show. They have an incredible oeuvre to celebrate:
+ the early pop/rock songs like "Can't Explain" and "My Generation"
+ the tongue in cheek power pop of "I Can See for Miles" and "Boris the Spider" (what about "A Quick One While He's Away?")
+ Tommy
+ Live at Leeds
+ Quadraphenia
+ and their masterpiece: Who's Next (that boasts "Baba O'Reilly" as well as "Won't Get Fooled Again" and "Behind Blue Eyes")
But tonight I saw two old men who looked worn out and a little bewildered doing the same old rock star shtick they've been doing since they were 16. I wish Townsend and Daltrey the best - they have enriched my life and filled my heart with hope and attitude - but it doesn't look like they've figured out how to grow up.
I remember reading how some of the men's movement folk realized that if a man reaches 50 and hasn't figured out how to grow up - and that means become humble, creative, honest and generative in some way bigger than himself - he will become a cranky, old fool. I know a lot of guys (and women) who are old but not wise. Mean-spirited sots who have nothing but piss and vinegar to share. And then there are people who have been knocked down - and learned something from it - who have become creative and compassionate. Look at T-Bone Burnett - or Elvis Costello - or Patti Smith - or Linda Ronstadt - or James Taylor - and let's not even BEGIN when it comes to Bob Dylan!
They all have something old Pete and Roger need to wrestle with... and I pray they do. (Here's an example of an old guy finding a new way into his music and craft and making it art that nourishes the soul and helps us all grow up.)
Today is a sweet and refreshing day in my part of the world: Di is off to work, our piano-tuner friend is getting the 88s back into shape and I am reclaiming my study from the clutter and dust. It seems - and looks - like it has be eons since I took care of business here and now it is done!
One of the things I love about doing house cleaning is the way new thoughts and musical ideas bubble up around the corners of the work. As I was scrubbing the floor I found myself thinking of one of my favorite Dylan laments: Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues. It was near perfect on the Highway 61 album back in 1965 (I can still remember buying my first copy like it was yesterday) and it still rocks my world 45 years later. That album is FILLED with disturbing and wonderful songs - from the anthemic Just Like a Rolling Stone to Ballad of a Thin Man and Highway 61 Revisited. Someone said the whole thing sounds like Salvador Dali after he strapped on a Fender Stratocaster! Rock critic Bill Janovitz wrote this about Tom Thumb:
For anyone else, its extravagant imagery and literary references would make it a sophisticated, comic tour de force...the singer comes in sounding tired and telling a tale about being lost in the rain in Juárez, Mexico, at Easter time ... [The singer] encounters shady women like Saint Annie and Sweet Melinda, as well as corrupt authorities ... drinks and drugs his way into helplessness, and having done so, declares ironically at the end, 'I'm going back to New York City / I do believe I've had enough.' " Like many songs on Highway 61 Revisited, 'Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues' is overflowing with literary references, including images recalling Malcolm Lowry's novel Under the Volcano, a street name taken from Edgar Allan Poe's short story 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue,' and the title's reference to Rimbaud's 'My Bohemian Life (Fantasy),' in which Rimbaud refers to himself as 'Tom Thumb in a daze.'
Over the years I've come to embrace others versions of this masterpiece, too. Many critics HATED Judy Collins' live take in 1971 - much better to me than the baroque-like version she did with recorders and a string quartet in 1966 - because it SOUNDS weary, jazzy and a bit aloof. But then there is Nina Simone's incredible reworking from 1967 (and with this video the song is so broken-hearted.)
The Grateful Dead reworked it (with Phil Lesh out front on vocals), Linda Ronstadt gave it a shake and then Bryan Ferry ROCKEDits ass-off with some English soul and attitude. It is amazing to me - now that the study is cleaned - how one song can evoke so many different good interpretations for the each bring out part of the wisdom of the music.
We just returned from a sweet mini-retreat - 36 hours of listening to jazz, wandering through bookstores, long conversations over breakfast or tea and a chance to reconnect - in Brattleboro, VT. I am always rested and refreshed when we can get away like this - it has become part of the rhythm of health and healing in my life - and I am grateful that we have the time and resources to make it happen.
Driving back this afternoon in the cold afternoon sunlight, this old, old tune came quietly back for a visit: "This is what these little trips feel like" the song whispered to me. The gently descending guitar - the tea and oranges and songs - and ideas that are spiritual and sensual and fun and saturated in soul all at the same time.
One of the joys of such mini-retreats is taking a WHOLE DAY to wander around used book stores. I found three volumes by one of my favorite poets, Louise Gluck, as well as my favorite Jack Kerouac book, too. Later we found bootleg CDs of Springsteen and Afghani folk musicians to say nothing of a KILLER 70s compilation. Here is one of those sweet poems called "Celestial Music."
I have a friend who still believes in heaven. Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God. She thinks someone listens in heaven. On earth she's unusually competent. Brave too, able to face unpleasantness.
We found a caterpillar dying in the dirt, greedy ants crawling over it. I'm always moved by disaster, always eager to oppose vitality But timid also, quick to shut my eyes. Whereas my friend was able to watch, to let events play out According to nature. For my sake she intervened Brushing a few ants off the torn thing, and set it down Across the road.
My friend says I shut my eyes to God, that nothing else explains My aversion to reality. She says I'm like the child who Buries her head in the pillow So as not to see, the child who tells herself That light causes sadness- My friend is like the mother. Patient, urging me To wake up an adult like herself, a courageous person.
In my dreams, my friend reproaches me. We're walking On the same road, except it's winter now; She's telling me that when you love the world you hear celestial music: Look up, she says. When I look up, nothing. Only clouds, snow, a white business in the trees Like brides leaping to a great height Then I'm afraid for her; I see her Caught in a net deliberately cast over the earth.
In reality, we sit by the side of the road, watching the sun set; From time to time, the silence pierced by a birdcall. It's this moment we're trying to explain, the fact That we're at ease with death, with solitude. My friend draws a circle in the dirt; inside, the caterpillar doesn't move. She's always trying to make something whole, something beautiful, an image Capable of life apart from her. We're very quiet. It's peaceful sitting here, not speaking, The composition Fixed, the road turning suddenly dark, the air Going cool, here and there the rocks shining and glittering It's this stillness we both love. The love of form is a love of endings. Dianne takes beautiful pictures and this trip was no exception - she took a bunch - some of which are included above. And then, as we were just about to head home, I found this GREAT old jazz album that I have wanted for more than 40 years... with this incredible song - that is another part of the journey:I'm just trying to make it real compared to what!??!
For far too long - and for too many years - I had NO idea what clergy self-care really meant. I guess I am just one of those hard-headed guys who had to hit bottom HARD before I could see that taking care of myself and my loved ones was essential to remaining in ministry. So now - whether I THINKI need it or not - every 6-7 weeks, we get out of Dodge for 48 hours of down time... and I mean REAL down time.
+ no computers
+ no cell-phones
+ no place where I am likely to bump intoANYbody from church
And it is not that I don't like bumping into folks from church: when I am in town, I actually love it. But there is an old, old story about a woman calling up her pastor and complaining that she wasn't able to talk to him because his secretary said he was out for the day. "You know, pastor," said the irate one, "the Devil NEVER takes a day off." To which the pastor replied without missing a beat, "I know and I would be just like him if I didn't get away from time to time."
So pretty much for the last nine years, we make it part of our religious practice to get out of town on a regular basis to sleep, visit, walk and reconnect. And tomorrow is another one of those times: we were away right after Christmas in Boston (totally great) and now we are headed off to Brattleboro - a sweet little arts/hippie town about 45 miles northeast of here. This is a town with five - count them - five independent bookstores to say nothing of art galleries, concert halls and movie theatres. We'll hit a jazz/reggae benefit for Haiti tomorrow night and who knows what else...
And it will be a part of saving our souls and marriage and minds. This winter - thanks be to God for the guys who got me into cross country skiing - I have been much more grounded than last year. To be sure, there has been a wholelot less snow, but we've begun to figure out how to make this cold, dark time more meaningful. And now - in anticipation of Lent - we'll get rested and ready to roll with these two days away. (It also helps to know that in early March we'll get a whole week away in Arizona where it is about 75 and sunny, too!)
So... here's to clergy self-care - mental and physical health - and sabbath time to get reconnected with the source of love and God's grace.(Here's a TOTAL blast from the past - one of my favorite Sabbath songs from the psychedelic era - that still makes me smile and fills me with rest: sunshine instead of snow indeed!)
NOTE:As I often do about this time each week, here are my sermon notes for Sunday, February 7, 2010. The texts are wonderful - the call of young Isaiah and the confusion of Simon Peter - and speak to the condition of both the church in this generation and many of our own challenges. This week I am exploring the way of discipleship as expressed in Eucharist - taken, blessed, broken and shared - as Henri Nouwen used to say. So, if you are in town, please join us for worship at 10:30 am.
There are a variety of ways to approach our readings for today from both Isaiah and Luke and many of them are brilliant:
• Kate Huey of the United Church of Christ has written that we might begin our reflection by asking “how big is your boat?” Recent archaeological discoveries have found “a first-century boat from the Sea of Galilee that is 26.5 feet long, 7.5 feet wide and 4.5 feet high, giving us a pretty good idea of the size of Simon Peter's boat.” She goes on to say that since men of Simon Peter’s time were about five and a half feet tall – that’s a BIG boat – big enough to hold a LOT of fish. And it would have taken something even BIGGER to get “its crew… to walk away from it and the livelihood it must have represented.”
• Jan Richardson, a wonderful fabric artist and theologian, is more taken by the passage where Jesus tells the workers to, “put out into the deep waters… and let down your nets.” Think of the possibilities those words offer us? Deep spiritual insights – profound psychological wisdom – challenging and ever changing options for how to live with integrity and joy amidst the harsh realities of everyday life. “Put out into the deep waters – not the shallow streams – not the kiddy wading pools – put out into the deep waters” and see what a life of faith brings to you.
And William Willimon, United Methodist Bishop of Alabama, has observed that this could also be a story about how liberal and progressive pastors and congregations too often fail to trust that God can take a horrible situation and turn it into a blessing. Describing a meeting between Jim Wallis of the Sojourner’s community in inner city Washington, DC and a group of mainline pastors, Wallis talked about how churches in decline could be resurrected – and often are renewed – by discovering a sense of God’s mission. And when he was finished he had to listen to his audience say that either he was looking at the church through rose-tinted glasses or lying. Horrified, Willimon expressed shock and dismay, only to be told by Wallis:
"I’m not surprised… that’s the reaction I always get from mainline, liberal pastors. They are always amazed when God wins – scared to death that Easter just might, after all, be true.” To which Willimon reminds us that this is often the response of those who claim to follow Jesus: look at Peter after Christ brings in a huge boatload of fish. He doesn’t celebrate – he demands that Jesus get out of town! (Christian Century, January 4, 2004)
There is so much to be said about these two powerful stories of God’s call in our lives – but I’m not going to follow any of these leads. Rather, I want to call you attention to the way we respond to God’s presence in Holy Communion – the Eucharist or Lord’s Supper – because, you see, I sense that all too often we are like Peter in the boat rather than Isaiah in the temple.
• When Peter is given evidence of God’s abundant grace, what does he say in today’s lesson? “Leave me, Lord, get out of town because I am a sinner.”
• And Isaiah – after his mystical encounter with God’s healing presence – what does he say when he hears God’s invitation? “Send me, Lord.”
• Peter prefers his fears and his habits – let me call this business as usual – to the blessings Jesus promises, while Isaiah opens his heart to be embraced by grace. One disciple is wrapped up in fear and his own limited perspective while the other opens his arms in trust: get out of town – or – send me, Lord.
To be sure, over time Peter has a change of heart – and that’s good news for you and me – but he has to get his theological behind kicked over and over before it happens. And while there is some merit to being humbled – and clearly some of us need it in spades – there is another spiritual path to discipleship, too, and we call it Eucharist.
And from my perspective – and I would be happy to discuss this with you after worship – the Eucharistic path of discipleship has been either denigrated or minimized in our tradition to the point that we don’t really know why we do it. It is habit or ancient tradition for some – it is one of the only times others make for quiet reflection in their lives (which is a stinging indictment of busyness) – or else it is a vaguely endearing spiritual practice that is supposed to bring us hope and forgiveness but we don’t exactly know how or why?
The late Henri Nouwen once summarized the essence of the Eucharistic path of discipleship like this: like the bread on the communion table we are taken by God, blessed, broken and then shared for the healing of the world. Those four words – taken, blessed, broken and shared – are the path of becoming a disciple through the wisdom and grace of the Eucharist.
And one of the blessings of the contemporary church is that this spiritual path is being explored more explicitly through the new music of Holy Communion. Much of our music in the past is too private – it is beautiful and has a place (and we will always include it in worship) – but it is sadly incomplete. Not so with the sounds of the international and ecumenical church – and let me give you a few examples:
• From the Community of Iona – an ecumenical monastery on one of the wee islands of Scotland – comes this song – Among Us and Before Us – with an emphasis on being taken by God…
• From the Community of Celebration in Aliquippa, PA – another ecumenical monastery dedicated to the renewal of the church – comes this song – Jesus Is Our King – with an emphasis on being blessed…
• From Nicaragua and the struggle of the church against social injustice comes this song – We Are People on a Journey – that invites us to claim the joy of being broken for God’s love in the world…
• And from the isle of Jamaica comes this fun and playful song – Let Us Talents and Tongues Employ– about how to be shared as an agent of God’s grace in the world…
The Book of Worship in the United Church of Christ suggests that if we are to grasp the way of discipleship found in Eucharist, we must be more like Isaiah and less like Peter. We must open our hearts in gratitude – we must accept our failing and sin honestly – and then let God heal and cleanse us so that we might be sent out into the world in joy to bring hope and healing.
• Not cynicism and despair nor that worn-out fear that maybe Easter is real but we don’t want to believe it
• No… joy and gratitude born of being taken by God’s love – and blessed – and broken – and then shared for the feeding of the world
As you have probably gathered by now I am a Eucharistic disciple: fed and nourished and instructed at the Lord’s table – and while it is not the only way to learn the faith of following Jesus as Christ – it is one I invite you to consider. So, as the ancient liturgy says: come, let us feast with the Lord for now all things are ready.
Today was to be a retreat and prayer day of sorts: I had planned on being in Framingham for my monthly prayer/accountability group with other clergy. I was looking forward to the 2 hour drive this morning (and another 2 hours coming home) after a full schedule getting ready for our annual meeting as a time to think. But when I got up at 6:45 am, it was snowing like a blizzard and kept it up for about 2 hours so I pulled the plug on my trip - and now it is sunny!
So, given the change of plans, I am now working on Lenten study materials and the text for our new website (soon to be unveiled later this month.) Thinking about Lent took me to Howard Rice's reflection on worship in the Reformed tradition. He makes this fascinating observation about the forty days of Lent.
The number forty is important in liturgy and is a remarkable number in the Bible: + It rained for 40 days and nights while Noah was in the ark (Genesis 7:4) + The children of Israel wandered for 40 years in the wilderness (Exodus 16:35) + The Israelites suffered under the oppression of the Philistines for 40 years before Samson was born (Judges 13:1) + Elijah prepared for his ministry for 40 days and nights (I Kings 19:8) + Jonah warned Nineveh that it had 40 days in which to repent (Jonah 3:4) + Jesus fasted and was tempted in the wilderness for 40 days (Matthew 4:2) + There are 40 days between the Resurrection of Easter to the Ascension of Christ (Acts 1:3) Numerous proposals have been offered in an attempt to decipher the mysterious meaning of the number forty. In all the explanations no scholars have noted its relation to the primordial number having to do with the length of fetal development: forty weeks from conception to birth for humans. Thus, the number is part of the development of all human life. All of the major incidents in Scripture that are based upon the number forty have to do with birth (as a nation, as a prophet, as the Son of God) or else rebirth (i.e. second birth in service and ministry.) This helps me as the band starts to prepare for this year's Good Friday worship. For about 9 years I have been experimenting with the ways popular culture can help crack open the spiritual insights of this paradoxical gathering. We've used the blues as lament, songs of anguish to consider the war in Iraq as a contemporary crucifixion, U2 tunes and more. This year we are starting to find the music that each of us have found to be places of refuge amidst our own times of suffering.
+ One person has lifted up Meatloaf's "Heaven Can Wait" as a song she sang and listened too over and over again during her years of agony.
+ I am particularly drawn to Leonard Cohen's, "Joan of Arc" as interpreted by Judy Collins, as a song that gave me hope in it's beauty and a vehicle to open and express my tears of sadness and pain.
It seems like the right way to enter this time of death and renewal - especially after the words of wisdom Rice offers in Reformed Worship. We shall see...
Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc as she came riding through the dark; no moon to keep her armour bright, no man to get her through this very smoky night. She said, "I'm tired of the war, I want the kind of work I had before, a wedding dress or something white to wear upon my swollen appetite."
Well, I'm glad to hear you talk this way, you know I've watched you riding every day and something in me yearns to win such a cold and lonesome heroine. "And who are you?" she sternly spoke to the one beneath the smoke. "Why, I'm fire," he replied, "And I love your solitude, I love your pride."
"Then fire, make your body cold, I'm going to give you mine to hold," saying this she climbed inside to be his one, to be his only bride. And deep into his fiery heart he took the dust of Joan of Arc, and high above the wedding guests he hung the ashes of her wedding dress.
It was deep into his fiery heart he took the dust of Joan of Arc, and then she clearly understood if he was fire, oh then she must be wood. I saw her wince, I saw her cry, I saw the glory in her eye. Myself I long for love and light, but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?
eum of Fine Arts in Boston: Hang the DJ - An Alternative Book of Music Lists. It makes GREAT road trip fodder to pass those long miles without decent radio (another bow to the realm of satellites, I know) and is often ironically spot-on in describing the sublime joys of listening to the Stones sing American country and western.
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