Get up, Jonah...

As some of you know, every Thursday I share a "congregational update" with my church called "prayers and programs" - P and P for short - and this morning I wrote:

As many of you know, I find the wisdom and insights of Eugene Peterson very helpful.  For those who are Internet savvy, you might want to listen to part on an interview with Peterson here (http://youtu.be/gIedwUvXZDg). This morning I was finishing up his reflection on the importance of "praying the Psalms."  Earlier he had observed that using the Psalms can help us pray our way into the reality of our lives:  we can pray our sins (Psalm 51), we can pray our fears (Psalm 23), our hatred (Psalm 137) as well as our doubts (Psalm 73), our death (Psalm 90) and our praise (Psalm 150.)  I particularly was moved by his words re: praying our tears.

Tears are a biological gift of God. They are a physical means for expressing emotional and spiritual experience. But it is hard to know what to do with them. If we indulge our tears, we cultivate self-pity. If we suppress our tears, we lose touch with our feelings. But if we pray our tears we enter into sadnesses that integrate our sorrows with our Lord's sorrows and discover both the source of and the relief from our sadness.  Consider Psalm 56: 8 - You have kept track of my every toss and turn, O Lord, through the sleepless nights; each tear entered into your ledger and each ache written in your book.

With the fullness of the winter holidays rushing down upon us - from Thanksgiving to Christmas - many of us will encounter sadness and maybe even tears.  For some there is loneliness.  For others a sense of regret.  And for still others an awareness that all the public "happiness" talk does not do justice to our deepest reality.  What's more, our ever growing obsession with materialism fuels our emptiness with an addiction that never satisfies.  So, as preparation for Advent - in addition to the Advent Wreath workshop we'll be doing this Sunday after worship - maybe this is the season to start praying the Psalms?

I also offered a few website suggestions to help explore what it means to pray the Psalms.  Now I don't know about you, but praying the Psalms for Advent as a congregation seems to make more and more sense to me.  You see, I have been deeply touched by the OWS movement over the past 2 months. Their gentle and non-ideological witness against greed has awakened something in me that has been waiting for a LONG time.  And in ways that offer an important invitation to the church, I hear them urging us towards our best selves.

Shane Claiborne put it like this recently in the Huffington Post: One of the constant threads of Scripture is "Give us this day our daily bread." Nothing more, nothing less. Underneath this admonition is the assumption that the more we store up for tomorrow the less people will have for today. And in a world where 1% of the world owns half the world's stuff, we are beginning to realize that there is enough for everyone's need, but there is not enough for everyone's greed. Lots of folks are beginning to say, "Maybe God has a different dream for the world than the Wall Street dream."

Maybe God's dream is for us to live simply so that others may simply live. Maybe God's dream is for the bankers to empty their banks and barns so folks have enough food for today.  Woody Guthrie may be right. If Jesus came to Wall Street preaching the same message that he preached in Galilee... he might land himself on a cross again.  

He also said in a recent Christian Century interview:  What an opportunity to create conversation! Jesus' own parable in Luke 12 is relevant to the entire effort. Why build bigger and bigger barns? Occupy Wall Street may not come up with solutions, but at least it is asking the right questions in a nonviolent setting. I don't believe that love can be forced, but I believe it can be provoked. I don't believe that generosity can be forced, but it can be provoked. Occupy Wall Street is provoking generosity.

I'm hoping that Christians will see this as an opportunity to proclaim that God's heart is big enough for the 100 percent. It matters to God that some people are sagging with food while others need $3 for a mosquito net. It also matters to God that many of the oppressors are, in spite of their money, desperately lonely and suffering. God cares for both and can set both free.I believe we're building something new, proclaiming something else as possible. God wants to see us systemically dismantle disparity.

I suspect he is right - and the Psalms for Advent seem to me to be a powerful way to reflect on the counter-cultural calling of Christ for this generation. Reflection, of course, must always be grounded in action, too. One of the great insights of liberation theology is the commitment to live a spirituality based on action, reflection and prayer. One of the acts for me is to go and stand in solidarity with OWS during Advent. I'm going to be sharing ways of helping my congregation move towards a simpler Christmas, too.  And in the mix it seems like praying the Psalms together each week - and then sharing our insights and experiences at the start of Sunday worship - could be a key ingredient.

(Dig the way Bruce Cockburn puts it in "Get Up, Jonah" - damn but I don't love me this song in a powerful way!)

Tomorrow is Sabbath time - bringing the compost to the garden, playing some music in a nursing home and listening to my colleague Carlton work his jazz magic with some dancers - and the on to Christ the King.

Here's a treat...

Here's a treat: check out Steve Thorngate's article in the most recent edition of the Christian Century @ http://christiancentury.org/article/2011-11/new-harmonies

About four years we had our first conversation... and then not too much - until now.  As they say, "To everything there is a season, yes?"  I am grateful to the good people and musicians at First Church for being open to the Spirit. They are courageous and compassionate and truly committed to the hard work of church renewal. They have given me maximum creative expression and deep support, too.

Ok, so now we're onward to Christ the King Sunday and the Thanksgiving Eve Festival of American Music and Poetry, right?

Yearning for Advent...

Today - at our Wednesday midday Eucharist - a few of us gathered informally to listen to the Psalm for today and share Holy Communion.  We spoke of yearning for Advent - and that's the perfect word. Yearning.  Aching inwardly for the quiet and intense watching and waiting that is at the heart of this season. 

Sure, there is Christ the King Sunday and Thanksgiving to embrace - and they are both sweet and meaning-filled - and a whole lot of pre-Christmas bullshit to ignore and block out, too.  But, all the while, our souls seem to be aching for the quiet solitude of Advent.  For the first time in decades my heart feels ready for this strange season of silence and surprise.

Then I read Fr. Richard Rohr's reflection for today and man did it resonate.  He writes:

God always entices us through love. Most of us were taught that God would love us if and when we change. In fact, God  loves you so that you can change. What  empowers change, what makes you desirous of change, is the experience of love. It is that inherent experience of love  that becomes the engine of change. If the mystics say that one way, they say it  a thousand ways. But because most of our common religion has not been at the mystical level, we’ve been given an inferior message—that God loves me when I change (moralism).

What that does is put it back on you. You’re back to “navel-gazing,” and you never succeed at that level. You  are never holy enough, pure enough, refined enough, or loving enough. Whereas, when you fall into God’s mercy,  when you fall into God’s great generosity, you find, seemingly from nowhere,  this capacity to change. No one is more surprised than you are. You know it is  a gift.

This upside-down truth is coming towards us in spades as we move towards Advent. No wonder the mystics among us are yearning...

On another front, as we prepare for our Thanksgiving Eve gig of American music and poetry, I was delighted to rewatch brother Steven Colbert celebrate the healing nature of singing together in community. 

At the end of the show, Michael Stipe suggests they sing together - so Brian Eno comes back out - and they sing, "Lean On Me."  We'll be doing something similar on Wednesday, November 23rd @ 7:30 pm.  Lots of GREAT musicians and friends singing together to reinforce how much we NEED to lean on one another.

New rules...

NOTE:  Here are my worship notes for this Sunday, Christ the King Sunday, November 20th.  (There is limited art that makes sense to me for Christ the King Sunday. Like most "religious" art, the visuals for this day are either too schlocky or too imperial. So I found myself searching far and wide for some "upside down" images.)  Join us if you are in town at 10:30 am - it would be sweet.

What are we to do – as modern and post-modern people of faith – with all the ancient judgment language our tradition asks us to consider in preparation for this day? It is, after all, Christ the King Sunday – the last Lord’s Day of the church calendar – the culmination of all our celebrations before the arrival of Advent like a thief in the night and we’re asked once again to consider Jesus as our King. 

• What’s up with that? Americans don’t know anything about kings – hell we barely know our OWN history let along the realm of monarchs.

• And how in the world are we supposed to get our hearts, minds and souls around the idea that Jesus is a King? Suffering servant – ok! Prince of Peace – I’m down with that! 

• But King of kings and Lord of Lords? That is just all too much ancient imperial Roman projection for this all too 21st century Christian to swallow. 

You see, all year long – especially throughout Ordinary Time – we’ve been wrestling with key stories and psalms in the scriptures that help us catch a glimpse of God’s upside-down kingdom. A kingdom NOT of this world but rather an encounter with grace within and among us: it is a realm where the first shall become last, where women and children live as honored guests just as much as men, where little and broken ones serve as rabbis to the wise and powerful, where prodigal sons and daughters are welcomed home with feasting and where the least of these my brothers and sisters show us something of Christ’s true face, right?

• So why bring the story to an end like this?

• Christ the King? Jesus the judge?

This should be a special day – unique and clarifying – for to my way of thinking the conclusion of the story should pack some punch for us, ok? Like any good work of literature, drama, film, art or music, the final act should bring the totality of the story into focus with resolution and maybe even challenge our hearts and souls, too.

Do you know Ralph Ellison’s life work, Invisible Man? It is a brilliant depiction of American racism as told through the eyes of a black man who moves from the rural South into the cultured and political world of NYC - and never once is he seen as a full and complete person. He is always invisible and degraded to those with power and influence. It is a brilliant and bitter encounter with part of the American experience. And if you let the story grab you by the throat and shake you into consciousness – as it should – you will never be the same afterwards. 

That is what great literature can do – same with other art forms:

• Have you seen Picasso’s “Guernica” or let the abstract walls of color painted by Mark Rothko lure you into the realm of contemplation? Have you read Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov? Solzhenitsyn’s Cancer Ward? D.H. Lawrence’s Women in Love or Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse? 

• Do you know the poetry of Emily Dickinson, Anna Ahkmatova or Billy Collins? Have you experienced Spielberg’s “Schindler’s List?” Or Pakula’s, “Sophie’s Choice?” Shakespeare’s “King Lear,” Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot?” or even Stephen Schwartz’s “Godspell?”

Each and all of these great works of art not only bring their stories to a close with resolution, but they also conclude in ways that compel a decision from each of us: how will we be different because of what we have experienced? And when it comes to the greatest story ever told - the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ – the celebration of Christ the King Sunday is supposed to help us do likewise: 

• It is supposed to empower us with a clear sense that God’s kingdom is within and among us.

• It is suppose to invite us to go deeper into that kingdom as well through lives nourished by faith, hope, trust, grace and love. 

But here’s the rub: this only happens if we are open to being shocked and humbled by a radically upside-down king. If we read the end of Christ’s story as a traditional morality tale – all about who is good and who is bad – I think Christ the King Sunday becomes irrelevant. I mean who cares, right? I can watch “Law and Order” or “Prime Suspect” on TV if I just want to reinforce the status quo and feel good about myself as a one who keeps the rules. But if I want to move closer to the kingdom of God rather than the kingdom of self…. well, then I need a really different type of king.

And it is my hunch that while the Church has often treated Christ the King in a manner all too elevated – fashioning art and hymnody, symbols and sounds that befit an earthly monarch rather than a Messiah born in the mud of a stable – amidst the confusing what is really at stake is the way our upside-down king Jesus has already elevated grace to become the new standard for judgment. To paraphrase HBO’s Bill Maher: there is a new rule among us wherein our encounters with God’s grace now serve as both judgment and entrée into the kingdom of God for us.

Here is what I mean: when Jesus calls us to repentance – to a life of fidelity to our covenant with the Lord in community and a life of integrity and purpose with our neighbors and self – he evokes a new rule: forgiveness. Not shame, fear or guilt – not power and control as we know it – but grace and forgiveness. 

• Do you recall the story of Jesus meeting a woman caught in adultery as recorded in the gospel of John? (review the story of John 8) How does the story close? Jesus shows how ALL of us have stumbled and fallen short of the glory of God – all of us have sinned – so he says: Who condemns? No one – and neither do I – so go and sin no more.

• How about when the angel Gabriel visits the Virgin Mary in Luke’s gospel? He appears and says, “Behold, favored one, the Lord is with you,” right? And when Mary reacts with concern, what does the angel tell her? “Be not afraid.”

• And what are the words Jesus gives us from the Cross as recorded in the third gospel? “When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals… and he said: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Are you with me? Jesus did NOT construct a moral life, an ethical path or spiritual intimacy with God on anything like shame, fear or guilt. But sometimes our institutions stumble, yes?

True story: last week I was watching PCTV on my couch after Sunday worship when one of the preachers said, “The Blessed Virgin told us last year that she saw sinners falling into the fires of hell like snowflakes in a furnace – so get ready, people, get ready to either perish and suffer or live with God in eternal peace.” No kidding – that’s a direct quote.

So let’s be honest: Shame-based Roman Catholics do it, fear-based Fundamentalists do it and guilt-based Liberal Protestants do it along with a lot of others, too. In fact, I wouldn’t be going out on a limb if I also said that Jews and Muslims do it, Buddhists and Atheists do it, Republicans and Democrats, Gays and Straights, Women and Men and Children do it, too. 

• But here’s the thing: Jesus doesn’t care what everybody else is doing – especially when it comes to shame, fear and guilt.

• His new rule is grace trumps karma – forgiveness is judgment enough if you are fully open to it – for only three things abide – faith, hope and love – and the greatest of these is…? Love.

One of the finest minds of the 20th century, Karl Barth, captured the new rule of grace when he wrote:

The person who says that the Bible leads us to where finally we hear only a great No or see a great void, proves only that he or she has not yet been led thither. This No is really Yes. This judgment is grace. This condemnation is forgiveness. This death is life. This hell is heaven. This fearful God is a loving father who takes the prodigal into his arms. This crucified is the one raised from the dead. And this explanation of the cross as such is eternal life. No other additional thing needs to be joined to the question…

Because, you see, we’re not dealing with a traditional king – we’re dealing with Jesus – the upside-down king. And in this kingdom, you have to turn almost everything on its head to grasp what is going on.

Jesus makes it clear that in his society – the kingdom of God rather than the kingdom of self – there is a whole new way of living. You show wisdom by trusting people; you handle leadership by serving; you handle offenders by forgiving; you handle money by sharing; you handle enemies by loving; and you handle violence by suffering. You see, you have a new attitude towards everything in the Jesus society… because here you repent not by feeling bad but by thinking different.  Rudy Wiebe, Blue Mountains of China, p. 215

So what would this new thinking look like – what would this new rule mean – in our context? I think Carl Jung was on to something when he told us that the Lord’s words of judgment by grace spoken in today’s gospel lesson have three layers and each is essential for holiness and healing:

• The first layer is social: social justice is what grace looks like in public – not charity – but justice. Not pity or hand outs but equality and right relationship. For on a social level we are speaking of covenantal justice where the least of our sisters and brother are afforded the respect and dignity endowed upon them by the Creator. Not Wall Street or the market place – not birth order or luck of origin – justice born of being created in the image of God.

• The second layer is communal – particularly the community we call church: here we are to be the body of Christ to one another. I can’t know all your pain or problems – neither can you – and in a body it isn’t up to the pastor or the moderator to fix things. No, what we can do – and must do – is our part. We can feed one another, we can visit one another, we can listen and cherish one another. And if one of us is having a lousy day, that isn’t the end of the story, right? There are others to carry the load or listen with affection.

• The third layer of this story is personal: in addition to feeding others and caring for their wounds, we must make certain we bring our own emptiness and loneliness, our own hungers and hurts to the Lord for healing lest we starve and wither on the vine. 

Did you hear that? An old gospel hymn put it like this: “It’s not my brother or my sister but it’s ME, o Lord, standing in the need of prayer.” So often we are afraid to bring our fears or hurts or sins to the Lord because we are terrified of judgment. But listen to how one way smarter than either you or me put it: “Oh what peace we often forfeit, oh what needless pain we bear: all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer!” Everything – the hurt that was done to us, the wounds we have brought upon ourselves and the ugly things we have done to others – take it ALL to the Lord and prayer.

• And that will be judgment, beloved. It is agonizing to stand in God’s light and fully own our sins. Terrifying and humbling…

• And ultimately liberating and cleansing, too

Because we’re not talking about taking our sins and fears and wounds to the Supreme Court – or Queen Elizabeth of England – or any other traditional judge or monarch. We’re talking about King Jesus – the upside-down judge – who brings to us forgiveness and grace as a new rule: a new covenant.

• Do this at any of the layers - healing the world, healing the body and healing the heart – and the promise is clear: God will embrace you saying: 'Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what's coming to you in this kingdom for it's been ready for you since the world's foundation.”

• Do you hear what I’m saying? Since the world’s foundation – grace prepared and ready for you – whenever you embrace grace as Christ’s true judgment.

Beloved, this IS the good news for today because it doesn’t get any better than this: so let those who have ears to hear, hear!

credits:
+ William Humes @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/willhumes/
+ Robert Lentz @ http://amoshouse.wordpress.com/
+ Robert Lentz @ info.sdiworld.org

Let's take it deeper: lovin' Danny Thompson...

Ok, I LOVE the bass playing of Danny Thompson: this guy is a monster and my favorite bass player ever (and I adore McCartney, Bruce, Pastorius, Carter, Jamerson, Lesh and Weymouth.) I just can't get enough of this guy.  And he's played with everyone, yes? Think Donovan and Kate Bush, Pentangle and Loreena McKennit, Nick Drake and Tim Buckley as well as Zoe Rahman, Richard Thompson and John Martyn.


Truth be told, I probably first heard him playing on Donovan's "First There Is a Mountain" single back in 1967 - and the follow-up live album has Thompson holding down the bass on that, too.  From there it was a quick hop, skip and a jump to Pentangle - my all-time favorite Celtic-Jazz-Psychedelic band - and 40 years later he is still just as incredible, nuanced and powerful to my heart and soul.

My man has had his ups and downs - who hasn't in this realm, yes? - and converted to Islam in 1990.  He is still playing rockin' music and keeping the foundation solid and moving - and I can't wait to find out what he's up to next.  Check him out!  Here's one of my all time favorites from the good old days:  "I've Got a Feeling."  Hmmm... this sounds like it might work a way into the repertoire...

A weird little blessed revival...

Taking a short break from writing/editing Advent liturgies to remember a few early important musical influences.  This weekend, when my daughters and loved ones were visiting, a conversation about Pentangle, Fairport Convention, Steeleye Span and Tim Buckley took place.  And when I put on a Pentangle album - vinyl not CD - my daughter said, "Oh, yeah I recall growing up to those songs!"  As we talked and listened they let me know that a little revival of English/Celtic jazzy-folk-psychedelia seems to be happening, too.

I've returned thanks to Bert Jansch recently - especially noting his passing - and John Renborne, too. Sandy Denny, Terry Cox and Richard Thompson are all masters in this genre as well - and then there is Danny Thompson:  bass man extraordinaire!  I know that I have grooved to his sound for over 40 years and hear his influence all over the place.  (We were listening to Tim Buckley, too and heard his presence on "Happy/Sad" even though it is John Miller holding down the bass on that album.)

Thompson brought the jazz thing into focus with Pentangle - and whenever he played with others - he pushed them in that direction, too.  So that the result was total genre bending that highlighted the best of all worlds (rather than an unfocused mush!) I LOVE the way he brings this all together with grace and wit.

You can follow the arch of this into the beautiful new/old music of June Tabor, the Pogues, the Oysterband as well as some of the sounds Jethro Tull shared.  Certainly old Donovan did his bit to popularize and advance the cause, too.

And still after all these years, I find these folk to be on the cutting edge of creativity - advancing a vision where cultures blend and become more creative and supportive - rather than just become a watered down pop product that takes off the edges and leave only the sludge.  Thank God for the new, weird little Celtic-Jazz-Psychedelic mini-revival:  may it take us into new possibilities and help us share a pint or two with one another along the way!  Slainte!

I return thanks...

First, slowly but surely I am getting over the CRUD.  Nothing is more human and humbling than being sick and having to slow down.  Second, it was a complete blessing to have my daughters around this weekend; in addition to the jazz gig, we had lots of time to visit, feast, watch British mysteries, go to the cinema AND do yard work. A total gas.

And third, this morning our congregation unanimously voted to become and Open and Affirming congregation in the United Church of Christ. There were two comments during the meeting after worship - both from straight, white guys over 50 - and both were insightful and important. The first, from a retired Methodist clergy person who lamented his own tradition's impasse on sharing the fullness of God's grace with all people, encouraged us to move into this new commitment with courage, faith and tenderness.  The second simply prayed that there come a time when one's sexuality is no longer a part of our public conversation. 

The moderator asked if there was anything more to say... there wasn't.  So she called for the vote and the congregation was unified by God's Spirit to proclaim:

Following the spirit of Jesus, we embrace the diversity of God’s creation. We welcome people of any sexual orientation, gender identity, family structure, race, ethnic or cultural back ground and ability. Everyone is invited to participate fully in the worship and ministry of First Church.

It has been a blessed day - and I return thanks just like Cyndi...

All blues and healing on a winter morning...

It was a bluesy set last night at Patrick's Pub in Pittsfield - one that got more and more creative - and wild, too.  I was still feeling a bit wiped-out from a dreadful head cold but playing great music with wonderful musicians - who are also generous and compassionate people - brought a whole lotta healing. It felt great.

Our regular sax man had a conflict so a veteran trombone cat sat in with us - and he was smokin!  He played a regular jazz gig on Lake George for over 20 years (in addition to teaching music, too) and he still has his chops. Now, truth be told, while we regularly use the charts and lead sheets from the "Real Book" - especially me - we also take off on improvisations at the drop of the hat.  So, it was a magic carpet ride for Woody who nailed everything thrown his way.  After the first break he said in his sweet and understated way, "I don't really know what I'm doing, but  I'm having a ball.  And it sure beats having to play Dixieland for 3 hours!"

A few highlights early on included "Fly Me to the Moon," "Georgia on My Mind" and "Stormy Monday."  Then things really started to heat up - and by the third set a host of other local artists were sitting in, too.  Carlton and Rob came on board for an extended and energetic take on Miles' "All Blues" - Rebecca Leigh (an incredibly talented R and B soulster) gave us her take on the Etta James classic "At Last" (and she'll be at our Thanksgiving Eve show, too) - and there was a cookin' horn duet on "Bye, Bye Blackbird."  Add Dianne's "C'est Magnifique" and "Blue Skies" and a little Tito Puente "Oye Como Va" and we just didn't want to stop. In fact, we played almost an hour longer than usual.

What was additionally sweet is that both of my daughters were able to get into town for this show:  what a treat for the old man to share this gig with them - I love them so!

And now as I sit in my study looking out itn the wetland while everyone else in the house still resting up, I see the snow is starting again (very lightly) and it looks like winter has finally arrived. Beautiful browns, greys, yellow-orange and gold fill the fields with an ocasional teaser of red, too.  And the wind magically swirls the leaves as they dance 

like partners with the snow. In the quiet, I revel in the beauty of this day and the healing of last night's bluesy improvisation... and think of a poem...

Although it is not yet evening,
the secretaries have changed their frocks
as if it were time for dancing,
and locked up in the scholars' books
there is a kind of rejoicing,
there is a kind of singing
that even the dark stone canyon makes
as though all fountains were going
at once, and the color flowed from bricks
in one wild, lit upsurging.

What is the weather doing?
And who arrived on a scallop shell
with the smell of the sea this morning?
Creating a small upheaval
high above the scaffolding
by saying, "All will be well.
There is a kind of rejoicing."
Is there a kind of rejoicing
in saying, "All will be well?"
High above the scaffolding,
creating a small upheaval,
the smell of the sea this morning
arrived on a scallop shell.
What was the weather doing
in one wild, lit upsurging?

At once, the color flowed from the bricks
As though all fountains were going,
and even the dark stone canyon makes
Here a kind of singing,
and there a kind of rejoicing,
and locked up in the scholars' books
there is a time for dancing
when the secretaries have changed their frocks,
and though it is not yet evening,

There is the persistence of song.
(Howard Moss, The Persistence of Song)

credits:
1) ospac.org
2) jazz.soniquo.com

What are their names...

Check it out - some of my boys down at Occupy Wall Street - I love it!  Don't get me wrong, David Crosby has NEVER met a conspiracy theory he didn't cherish - it caused conflict back in the Byrds and makes him sometimes over the top.  And at the same time, he is always on the right side, too.  If you'd like to see Crosby and Nash at OWS, check it out:


Remember the great Langston Hughes poem that starts:

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.)

Here's another of Crosby's GREAT tunes that rings as true today as it did when he first recorded it 40 years ago.

Jazz for the weekend...

This will be another full and wild weekend here in the Berkshires:

+ Tonight, November 10th our Jazz Ambassadors' band will play our monthly gig at Patrick's Pub in Pittsfield.  This is a loose time filled with hot jazz, improvisation and guest musicians sitting in. The fun starts at 6:30 pm so... be there or be square!

+ And on Sunday, our congregation will take the official step of voting on our Open and Affirming commitment.  Earlier this fall we met as a congregation for conversation and discussion. This followed a full year of study and going deeper.  At the fall gathering the congregation affirmed unanimously the Open and Affirming commitment - and now we will act in an official capacity.

A theology of juxtaposition...

This will be far from complete (the damned flu demon continues to hang on virulently) but worth a few observations.  After recently posting about the inter-connections between a spirituality of play-fullness and feasting, I returned to a theological touchstone:  Feast of Fools by Harvey Cox.  As some know, this slim and often overlooked volume from 1969 continues to give shape and form to my ministry in ways that still make sense to me! 

Given the emerging political realities of this nation - the Occupy Wall Street movement, the fight-back in support of unions in Ohio, the candidacy of Elizabeth Warren and the defeat of the mean-spirited and religiously narrow "personhood" ballot initiative in Mississippi - could it be that the spirit of Feast of Fools might warrant a second look?  (see Washington Post @ http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/plum-line)

And let's not forget that the musical that was inspired by this theology - Godspell - is being revived yet again on Broadway.  (see http://theater.nytimes.com/2011/11/08/theater/reviews/godspell-at-the-circle-in-the-square-review.html) 

In chapter nine, Cox writes:  "A religion must be to some degree "out of step" with the assumptions of the era or it becomes banal. Juxtaposition sees the disrelation between the inherited symbol and present situation not as a lamentable conflict to be resolved, but as a piquant cacophony to be preserved."  He then offers a concise summary of what is at stake - and I sense this speaks to our moment in time at least as profoundly as it did in the late 60s.  He makes these observations:

+ Traditional theologies emphasize faith's dependence on the past: they are historical.

+ Radical theology, the theology of creative negation, focuses on the present crisis of faith: it is incarnational.

+ A theology of hope is oriented toward the future: it is eschatological.

But a theology of juxtaposition plays off the tensions among all of these three not by neatly balancing them, but my maximizing the creative friction among all three. So it focuses precisely on those discomfiting points where memory, hope and experience contradict and challenge each other. It recognizes our estrangement from much of the tradition, but it is also somewhat estranged from the ethos of today, too. It is unwilling to reconcile itself to either: it delights in the disrelation.

In both theory and practice, I have found the synthesis that Cox advocates to be the one that best allows for not only a counter-cultural response to the status quo - that is, the radical hospitality and inclusivity of Jesus born from the prophetic and poetic traditions - but also one that creates space for a new/old form of worship, prayer and community. "Conscious discontinuity with the tradition does not mean we either betray it or abandon it," he writes. "Rather we use the tradition as the assumption from which a new departure is orbited. Calculated discontinuity exploits the friction between the past and the present to generate new possibilities for the future."

Not long ago, for example, I received a letter from a person whose family will be relocating to the area.  They wondered about how they would fit into First Church - and shared with me a few of their questions.  Now, at the outset I am always apprehensive about such inquiries because community is something to be experienced rather than something defined by a list of requirements, yes?  And at the same time I know that the consumerist metaphor of the marketplace is so dominant in America that it often shapes our initial faith conversations.  That is, people "shopping for a church" - and that is the reality - want to know whether our "salad bar" contains the ingredients they most desire.

I was able to carefully and compassionately answer their questions reasonably well until it came to worship:  what type of worship takes place at your church?  Hmmmm... well it isn't traditional worship - although tradition plays a part.  And it isn't contemporary prayer and praise - for that is too often vacuous and simplistic.  It isn't post-modern evangelical - that is overly minimalist and heady - nor is it a Jesus Seminar neo-Unitarian experience either.  My response required the help of YouTube clips: new/old music that lovingly embraces chant as well as Collective Soul, candle light and state of the art computer graphics, traditional congregational hymns and responses as well as music from jazz and World Beat, too.

And when I did a follow-up to see whether my description worked, the response was intriguing:  your community sounds very, very interesting - unique - and we will eagerly be looking forward to visiting with you soon.  It seems to me that using this theology of juxtaposition helps us express that something is not only horribly wrong at this moment in time, but that God's presence is still within and among it all, too.  Ours, therefore, is not a closed system or society.  It is, as Cox wrote over 40 years ago, "the reappropriation of the radical Utopian, sectarian and monastic impulses in Christianity" singing and moving together.  We are a playful, feasting, singing, dancing and thinking community of young/old people learning to live simply in the Spirit of Jesus while still engaging in a violent and greedy culture.

Now this theology doesn't work for everybody.  It connects with those who want to know more about Christ but are apprehensive of controlling traditions.  It works for those who are open to questions and deep theological discourse.  It works, too for people interested in the inter-play of faith and culture and those willing to wrestle with the darkness in addition to the light.  But it doesn't connect with those who want easy answers - or privatized religion - or market place community.  And it doesn't work with people who want to remain addicted to their wounds. This new/old/juxtaposition community takes work and vulnerability - making mistakes and asking forgiveness - it requires openness and trust and a high tolerance for ambiguity - and that just doesn't work for some of us, yes?

I am once again stunned, however, at how relevant and real the work of Cox in Feast of Fools continues to be for me.  And maybe for you, too?