Sunday, July 31, 2011

Finding True North #34: Prayers of Intercession for July 31

These are the prayers of intercession that I wrote for use in worship at North UMC on July 31, 2011. The passage for the day was Mark 5:1-20 (the Gerasene demoniac), and I tried to pick up on themes in that narrative as well as on current events within the church and around the world. Each petition was followed by "Lord, in your mercy" and the response "Hear our prayer." There are a few biblical allusions and one paraphrase of Gandhi...

__________


O Lord, today we lift up your Church. We pray for those who have experienced rejection at the hands of your followers. Many have rejected you because the Christians they meet are so unlike your Christ. Lord, we know that even as we seek here at North Church to become more welcoming, we have a long way to go. Strengthen us in our resolve publicly to demonstrate your love and acceptance to all people, and forgive us when we fail to do so.

God of all the nations, we pray for our country. As our leaders struggle to make decisions and reach compromises, we ask for your wisdom and discernment. Remind us and our leaders that when we are dealing with money and resources, we are engaged not in a game of politics but in the important task of using your good gifts rightly. Renew a sense of stewardship and responsibility in this nation as we make our way both at home and in our international relationships.

God of all creation, we give you thanks for the good earth you have given us for food and habitation. We confess that we do violence to you, the creator, whenever we violate your creation by exploiting its resources. Remind us that the good news is not announced to disembodied human souls but to embodied human beings whose fate is bound to the fate of this earth. Give us grace to see through your eyes and to appreciate and honor our place in your grand design.

Lord, we give you thanks for the ways in which you reveal yourself to us in community and in relationships. Help us to love as you love. Whenever we are tempted to ask, "What have you to do with me?", remind us that we are all members of one body, your body. Release the chains that bind us, and lead us with cords of human kindness and bands of love.

We pray today for all those who suffer—for the sick, the hungry, the poor, the lonely. We pray for victims of violence of all kinds. We lift up in particular the people of Norway. Give your children strength to extend grace in the face of violence, both to those who mourn and to those whose actions cause mourning. Assure us that you have made peace by the blood of the cross, and it is that blood that will have the final word.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Finding True North #33: Wrestling with God

Since Brenda is leaving town again (*sigh*), I'm on point for worship Sunday evening at Lockerbie Central. This time, I actually got to design the service myself, which is exciting because (a) I love doing that and (b) this is my last Sunday night service of the summer (*sniff*). Also, the Old Testament lectionary passage this week is Genesis 32, the story of Jacob wrestling with God—perhaps my favorite Bible narrative. I found a great video by Peter Rollins commenting on the passage (see below). Plus, my favorite hymn, "Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown," is based on the passage. (That hymn is also Isaac Watts' favorite, so I'm in good company on that.)

I did have an interesting process in putting together the service, because our guest speaker for this week is Taylor Burton-Edwards, who works on worship resources for the General Board of Discipleship (GBOD) and is an emerging church/liturgical studies guru. I ended up on the phone with him going over the worship order I had put together, dismantling and reconstructing it. It was a humbling process, but helpful—he persisted in asking what the purpose of each element of worship was, how the flow would go, etc. What emerged, I think, will be a much more effective, engaging worship service than I had originally created, and having gone through that with Taylor will hopefully inform future worship design decisions. Also, I made a pretty Powerpoint presentation to use (I know PPT is so out of date, but it's what I have).

Anyway, I wanted to share the first part of the service, which centers around the Genesis passage. We're going to start the service by interweaving "Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown" (I really need to record my quasi-arrangement of it) with Genesis 32:24-31, moves into the video and then goes into my own brief comments on the Scripture. This blog will probably represent my first draft of comments and may be updated later. Here goes! Advance apologies for the length of this post...

__________


Come, O thou traveler unknown,
Whom
still I hold but cannot see!
My company before is gone,
And I am left alone with thee.
With thee all night I mean to stay,
And wrestle 'til the break of day;
With thee all night I mean to stay,

And wrestle 'til the break of day.

Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him.

I need not tell thee who I am,
My misery and sin declare;
Thyself has called me by thy name,
Look on thy hands a
nd read it there.
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name, and tell me now.
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name and tell me now.

Then he said, "Let me go, for the day is breaking." But Jacob said, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." So he said to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob." Then the man said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed."

Yield to me now, for I am weak,
But confident in self-despair!
Speak to my heart, in blessing speak,
Be conquered by my instant prayer.
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if thy name is Love.
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if thy name is Love.

Then Jacob asked him, "Please tell me your name." But he said, "Why is it that you ask my name?" And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, "For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved." The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

'Tis Love! 'tis Love! Thou diedst for me,
I hear thy whisper in my heart.
The morning breaks, the shadows flee,
Pure, universal Love thou art.
To me, to all, thy mercies move;
Thy nature and thy name is Love.
To me, to all, thy mercies move;

Thy nature and thy name is Love.


Wrestling with the Divine from Peter Rollins on Vimeo.


The story of Jacob wrestling with God is one of my favorite narratives in the Bible. I fell in love with this story, and with the hymn that we just sang, during my freshman year of college. That's the year over which I grudgingly came to terms with my call to ministry. While some of my friends had inspirational stories about receiving their call, I felt much more like I was fighting to get any sort of clarity out of God. Hearing a Biblical story about one of the great Israelite leaders physically wrestling with God resonated with me in a way that other call stories never had.

I love the image of wrestling with God because it says a lot about God's character. God is not afraid to get down and dirty with us. God invites us to grab him and wrestle with him because God can take it. Too often we treat God as some delicate being that we might damage if we question him. God's feelings are not hurt by questions or by pushing back! God does that thing Morpheus does in the movie The Matrix where he reaches toward Neo and beckons: "Come and get it." God doesn't just accept our questions as inevitable; God invites us into a wrestling match through which we can ask our questions and be transformed.

Of course, the reason why God can handle our questions and our push-back is that God ultimately is in control. Take a look at Rembrandt's depiction of Jacob wrestling God. (Just as an aside, the vast majority of artistic renderings of Genesis 32 show Jacob wrestling an angel, and I'm sure many of us, myself included, have often thought of this story in those terms, though the word "angel" actually is never used.) One thing I love about this painting is that it is unclear whether God (or the angel) is wrestling with Jacob or holding him. It almost looks like Jacob is being cradled, even falling asleep. Short of the angel putting him in the sleeper hold, what this says to me is that even in the midst of what may feel like physical grappling with God and God's will, God holds us; God is in control; we can rest even as we wrestle. God gives us that space and that freedom because God does not fear our questions but welcomes them and welcomes us. Thanks be to God for the spaciousness of his love.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Finding True North #32: Every Church Needs a 93-Year-Old Mystic Artist

In my Pentecost sermon, I talked about a banner that was created by Doris Douglas, a longtime member of North UMC who for decades has created gorgeous textiles designed to lead the church visually through the Christian year. Not only are these banners beautiful works of art, they are born out of deep prayer and meditation. Doris, I believe, is a mystic of sorts whose contemplative life has born a wealth of artistic fruit.

Yesterday, I had the privilege of spending some time with Doris and with Teresa, another church member who has taken on the task of photographing the many banners and documenting the stories behind them. The banners are created intentionally in the context of the liturgical year and scriptural references, with rich symbolism built in. Yesterday, Doris showed me her banners, speaking to her inspiration, the symbolism and the artistic process.

Throughout our time together, Doris actually encouraged me to try to create something like these banners myself. Mind you, visual art is not my forte. But she pointed out several times where she used a simple technique or an accessible method that she thought I could try out. Although Doris is the visionary behind this wealth of art, she has always drawn other people into the process. I love the idea of one person with vision and talent empowering other people to participate in the artistic process, including even people like me.

At one point, Teresa told me that I would never see anything like this in another church. Doris' gifts are certainly unique, but I hope that the spirit of contemplation and creativity that she exemplifies is something I can one day find and encourage in another context.

Finding True North #31: Chicago

Before this summer, I had never really spent much time in the midwest. I had technically been to Chicago, but only in the sense that I flew into Chicago and was promptly shuttled out to Evanston. So I decided that I absolutely had to visit the windy city before returning to North Carolina.

So, native midwesterner Jordan Updike and I set out on a Friday afternoon on a 24-hour road trip to Chi-town. I had a blast. Chicago is such a cool city. The architecture is gorgeous, the energy is amazing, and oh my goodness there's public transportation. You can get print copies of The Onion on street corners, and there is a surprising amount of green space. Millennium Park is awesome and the waterfront is gorgeous. I've always thought of myself as a mid-sized city girl, but I could dig Chicago (except maybe in the winter).

One cool part of the trip is that we stayed with Matthew Johnson, the pastor of Holy Covenant UMC in Chicago. Matthew is into progressive, emerging church-type stuff, and he just moved to an appointment in the city a month ago. Holy Covenant is a fascinating church that is poised to do some incredible things. The church's membership is around 200 and they worship about 150 on a Sunday. They've been a reconciling congregation for a long time—I think they were one of the first in the area.

One thing Matthew talked about that I found fascinating is that the congregation is transient, being made up largely of young people, which would normally be a disadvantage, but Matthew is choosing to see it as an asset, as an opportunity to train up quasi-missionaries to go out intentionally into other congregations to be transformative. I'm excited to have made the connection with Matthew and with Holy Covenant and to continue those conversations.

We explored downtown Chicago Friday evening and Saturday during the day, with a jaunt out of the city to visit Jordan's aunt's horse ranch sandwiched in there. I ate Chicago pizza for the first time (YUM).

On the way back Saturday night, we stopped off at the Indiana Dunes. (Side note: the Great Lakes are incredible. They look like oceans. I'd been on one of them before, but it continues to blow my mind.) There are beaches in Indiana! I did not know this. Anyway, we got there about 20 minutes before sunset and decided to stick around for the show. Not only was the sunset gorgeous, the sun actually went down right behind the Chicago skyline. I wish I'd had a better camera, but the pictures still turned out pretty well. It was incredible.

I thoroughly enjoyed my short trip to Chicago and would love to come back someday.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Finding True North #30: Imposter Syndrome and the Invisible Alb

Today, I had my weekly meeting with my supervisor (AKA Kevin, the senior pastor at North UMC). I always enjoy our conversations because they are a great opportunity to unpack (Duke buzzword!) my field ed experience and to get ideas, inspiration, food for thought or all of the above.

This week, we talked for a bit about authority and leadership, things I'm always working on (and probably always will be). I went away with two things to chew on:

1. I have imposter syndrome. Wikipedia summarizes it as when "competent people find it impossible to believe in their own competence." It's having this fear that when people find out who you actually are or what you're actually capable of, they'll be disappointed. This has come into sharp focus for me this week as a few exciting opportunities have come up and left me simply confused as to why anyone would entrust me with something like teaching a class on biblical literature, for example. It seems to me that there is some balance to be struck here between believing in and embracing my own call and gifting without being arrogant. But false modesty, as C. S. Lewis says in The Screwtape Letters, is really just another form of pride, and self-deprecation denies what God has done and is doing in my life.

2. Apparently I carry myself differently (with more confidence and authority) when I'm wearing an alb (see image). I don't fidget as much or twirl my hair (things I know full well I do a lot of the time in meetings). It's not necessarily about the alb itself, but when I'm up front in church leading worship, I act like a leader. I've had several members of NUMC comment on my composure; one woman even told me I had the most poise of any intern they've had. (I'm friends with several former interns and so can call shenanigans on the truth of that, but it was still appreciated.) Kevin encouraged me to think about what it is that makes the difference in my comportment, to find my "invisible alb" and figure out how to put it on when doing something simple like walking into a room or attending a meeting.

Do you have imposter syndrome or an invisible alb?

What I'm Reading #28: Evangelism after Christendom (Bryan Stone)

Evangelism after Christendom: The Theology and Practice of Christian Witness, by Bryan Stone

I'll tell you up front: this is not a quick or easy read. Evangelism after Christendom (Brazos 2007) is an important but very dense and theologically heady treatment of the question of how to cultivate the practice of Christian witness in a post-Christendom culture. Stone is heavily influenced by the likes of Stanley Hauerwas, John Howard Yoder and Reinhard Huetter—all familiar names to this Duke Divinity student.

Perhaps one of the most important insights that Stone offers, influenced heavily by the work of Alastair MacIntyre, is the notion of evangelism as a practice with means and ends internal, not external, to it. Stone wants the church to move away from evangelism that is focused on conversion and numbers, a sentiment echoed by many of the authors I've been reading for my evangelism directed study. The practice of evangelism is about faithfulness to the goals and means internal to it, not about an external product or results.

Stone also talks a great deal about how we live in a post-Christendom culture. This, he says, is not necessarily the threat we tend to see it as. In fact, the church's removal from being the lynchpin of society may open it up more to prophetic witness. "Ironically, it may be that it is precisely from a position of marginality that the church is best able to announce peace and to bear witness to God's peaceable reign in such a way as to invite others to take seriously the subversive implications of that reign." The gospel, Stone claims, is and should be subversive, and when the church is too closely allied with the status quo, it loses that voice.

For Stone, evangelism, and God's work in the world, is thoroughly social and communal. Here's a potentially controversial statement: "One of the enormous challenges of Christian evangelism today is that in order to learn once again to bear faithful and embodied witness to the Spirit's creative 'social work,' it may have to reject as heretical the pervasive characterization of salvation as 'a personal relationship with Jesus.'" Salvation history, he argues, is and always has been about God calling out a people. Yes, that "people" is comprised of individuals, but the good news is about how we live in peace with one another, not about where we're going after we die (an inherently problematic question).

This blog post feels pretty lame to me, but it's hard to boil down the complexity of what Stone has done into 600 words...so I'll leave you with this: this book is great, but I only recommend it if you want something dense and philosophical. :)

We Are Made of Love

I've been doing a lot of music-related posts lately. Here's a song I simply want to share because it is beautiful. This is "Needle and Thread" by Sleeping at Last. Check out the lyrics and the video below.

When the world welcomes us in
We're closer to heaven than we'll ever know
They say this place has changed
But strip away all of the technology
And you will see
That we all are hunters
Hunting for something that will make us okay

Here we lay alone in hospital beds
Tracing life in our heads
But all that is left
Is that this was our entrance and now it's our exit
As we find our way home

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end
Where we begin to understand

That we are made of love
And all the beauty stemming from it
We are made of love
And every fracture caused by the lack of it

"You were a million years of work,"
Said God and his angels with needle and thread
They kissed your head and said
"You're a good kid and you make us proud
So just give your best and the rest will come
And we'll see you soon."

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end,
Where we begin to understand

That maybe Hollywood was right
When the credits have rolled and the tears have dried
The answers that we have been dying to find
Are all pieced together and somehow
Made perfectly mine

We are made of love
And all the beauty stemming from it
We are made of love
And every fracture caused by the lack of love

Finding True North #29: One Voice

Yesterday, I got to sing The Wailin' Jennys in church.

I have had some great opportunities in worship and the arts this summer, thanks in no small part to working with Brenda Freije, the Pastor of Discipleship and Formation at North and the pastor of Lockerbie Central, who is a phenomenal musician. Brenda, Anne Moman (the NUMC youth director) and I got together as a trio and sang The Wailin' Jennys' song "One Voice" in worship.

This is the sound of one voice
One spirit, one voice
The sound of one who makes a choice
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice

We didn't just sing it though—we used it as a prayer response. Kevin, the senior pastor, crafted some beautiful petitions that all closed with, "Lord, as we speak," to which the congregation responded, "Help us also to listen," and in between sections of the prayer, Brenda, Anne and I sang a verse of "One Voice." It worked so well that we just used the prayers and song again last night at Lockerbie Central.

This is the sound of voices two
The sound of me singing with you
Helping each other to make it through
This is the sound of voices two
This is the sound of voices two

It was certainly different (at least from my experience here) to have a guitar and microphones in North's sanctuary, but part of what I love about the worship here is that it is definitely traditional but with space and freedom built in. That kind of integrity and flexibility in worship is something I love.

This is the sound of voices three
Singing together in harmony
Surrendering to the mystery
This is the sound of voices three
This is the sound of voices three


After worship, a church member asked me if I knew when I got here that I'd have so many opportunities to use my artistic gifts. I told her that I had hoped to be able to, but I couldn't have known just how I was going to be engaged in that respect. She commented that not many churches have opportunities like that. Welcome to one of my biggest fears about getting an appointment after graduation.

This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and a will to trust
Leave the rest behind, it will turn to dust
This is the sound of all of us
This is the sound of all of us


But you know what? With all the experiences I've had with the arts and worship not only this summer but last school year through New Creation Arts Group and Goodson Chapel, and with all the opportunities I've had over the years to incorporate artistic expression into my faith journey, there's no way that won't be a part of my ministry, wherever I am and whatever I'm doing. If I've learned anything in my engagement with the arts, it's that even the smallest bursts of creativity can draw people into the life of faith in powerful, dynamic ways. Maybe one day I'll use the "One Voice" prayers again; or maybe I'll be in a place where the congregation can create its own prayers and song.

This is the sound of one voice
One people, one voice
A song for every one of us
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice

Thursday, July 21, 2011

All That We Let In

I love the Indigo Girls. My dad loves their music, so I grew up on it. Nobody warned me that being obsessed with them would cause people to make assumptions about my sexual orientation in high school; but that's beside the point.

The Indigo Girls have a beautiful song called "All That We Let In." Click here to listen to a sample. Below are the lyrics to the first verse and the chorus:

Dust in our eyes our own boots kicked up
Heartsick we nursed along the way we picked up
You may not see it when it's sticking to your skin
But we're better off for all that we let in

And I don't know where it all begins
And I don't know where it all will end
We're better off for all that we let in


I've come to see something that seems to be a part of a lot of religious practice that really bothers me. Many Christian seem to me to be preoccupied with keeping out the bad. Being "a good Christian" comes to be about a Puritanical list of "don't"s designed to shield us from bad influence.

I've seen it play out countless times, whether in the controversy over the movie based on Philip Pullman's book The Golden Compass (at least one religiously affiliated school in Durham sent letters home to parents warning them not to allow their children to see the movie) or in the continuing debates over homosexuality, where much of the rhetoric seems to me to be driven by a fear of "traditional" morals and marriage being undermined by the presence of people from the LGBTQ community. Paranoia over movies puzzles and amuses me; the idea that the presence of another human being might pollute a well-to-do community disgusts me.

I believe what the Indigo Girls sang: "We're better off for all that we let in." I think that the church as a whole as Christians as individuals need to shift from a position of defensiveness to one of openness and receptivity. Insulating ourselves from people who disagree with us and experiences that don't fit our understanding of how things should be make us, well, insular. And fearful.

When we draw such black-and-white boundaries on what we can and cannot do or see or feel and who we can or cannot know or associate with or befriend, we create a culture of fear that prevents us from living into the abundance of God's love. There is nowhere you can go where God's love will not follow you. Some rules are there for good reason, but obedience to rules for rules' sake is a vain attempt at controlling God (see my post on Timothy Keller's book The Prodigal God). Obedience is part of Christian discipleship, but it should flow from love and not from fear.

Open yourself up to life. You might be surprised by the places where God can meet you.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Finding True North #28: Family Time!

Most of my family (minus my sister) came to visit over the course of the past week!

Dad and Noah in front of Lucas Oil stadium.


Noah and me at the canal.


Mom and I bought matching dresses. :) Here we are downtown.

What I'm Reading #27: The Prodigal God (Timothy Keller)

The Prodigal God: Recovering the Heart of the Christian Faith, by Timothy Keller

I can recommend the book The Prodigal God (Dutton 2008) readily as being accessible for its length, content and language, which is great in and of itself. But Keller concisely states an interpretation of the parable of the prodigal son that is not necessarily new but is still important for people of all walks of faith to hear. It recasts the parable of the prodigal son as the parable of the two lost sons and uses the adjective "prodigal" to apply to God in an interesting way.

My favorite book on the parable found in is and always will be Henri Nouwen's The Return of the Prodigal Son, which uses Rembrandt's beautiful painting of the homecoming scene as a meditative center. Keller, like Nouwen and many others, encourages readers to focus not just on the younger son but on the older son. Rather than joining the party and welcoming his little brother home, the older son sulks, feeling jilted.

Keller's description of the older son hit pretty close to home for me in many ways, as did Nouwen's when I first read it: I am literally the oldest child, the goody-two-shoes, the rule-abiding, parent-pleasing daughter who does what is expected of her and more. When I read Nouwen's book, I felt chastised for attitudes I held (and still struggle with) in relation to my younger sister, and reading Keller's book, I felt similarly convicted for how I sometimes approach my faith. Rules and order are important to me, and although this is not a bad thing, I realize that rules can become idols. Discipline is an integral part of the spiritual life, but never for its own sake, and I am having to learn to recognize and let go of rules that I cling to as an end in themselves rather than a means to an end—the end being communion with God and others, and the participation in the kingdom. Keller says that religious legalism is as much as if not more of a way of abandoning God than the younger son's abandoning his father because it is an attempt at controlling God and getting what you want out of God.

Something interested that Keller pointed out about the older son he does by situating the parable in its context between that of the lost sheep and the woman with the lost coin. In both of the latter stories, someone goes looking for what is lost, but in the parable of the prodigal son, no one goes after the younger son. This raises the question: who, if anyone, should have gone looking for him? The answer is clear: his older brother. But the older son's pride and self-righteousness prevented him from extending compassion to his younger brother and seeking him out as he should have done.

Early on, Keller points out that the actual definition of the word prodigal is not, as we so often assume, "wayward." Rather, the word means "recklessly spendthrift." In this context, he says, it is really the father in the story—God—who is prodigal. The father recklessly, foolishly, lavishly gives his money, his property, his dignity and his love to a son who has rejected him. This is the God we must learn to love and to imitate: a God who loves with reckless abandon, when it makes no sense, when it is rejected, when it causes resentment in those who think they deserve it more. This is the prodigal God to whom we are continually called to come home.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Finding True North #28: Reflecting Toward 9/11/11, Part 3—Interfaith Worship

This is part 3 of a series in which I'm reflecting on liturgical themes and symbols as I prepare to offer some ideas to North UMC for worship on 9/11/11, the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks, which falls on a Sunday. You can read part 1, "Ashes," here, and part 2, "Tears," here. In both of those, I focused on specific images and began to lay some groundwork for potential worship ideas; here, I will talk about interfaith/intertradition worship, as North will be participating in an interfaith service in addition to its Sunday morning worship on 9/11/11. After this, I'll move on to thinking more concretely about how North might begin to plan a service that is reflective, meaningful, and hopefully coherentmeaning I will probably reject many of my coolest ideas...but that's part of the point.

Interfaith worship is tricky. There are all sorts of theological questions to be asked right off the bat. Just starting with ecumenical Christian worship, there are problems of tradition, Biblical interpretation, authority, etc. When you move to interfaith worship and include, for example, Jews and Muslims, you've opened a whole other can of worms. Yes, these are the big three Abrahamic faiths—but do we even worship the same God? How do we acknowledge and embrace our common ground without resorting to a "least common denominator" attitude that diminishes the theological and liturgical integrity of each discrete faith tradition?

I believe that it is important to meet people of other faiths on their terms, not ours. This means being willing to learn about and be attentive to other beliefs and traditions, even if they may seem to contradict ours. The Liturgical Conference blog offers some really helpful guidelines for interfaith/intertradition worship, to which I have linked at the bottom of this post. Here's an abbreviated version of their guidelines:
  1. Learn to appreciate the underlying worldview of another faith.
  2. Learn the names of things.
  3. Find an interpreter/"native informant."
  4. Learn to observe and listen.
  5. Abide by the conventions.
  6. Respect the practices reserved for "insiders" (don't appropriate at will!).
  7. Expect surprises.
  8. Reflect theologically on your experience.
My favorite definition so far of the term "hipster" is "apathetic cultural appropriator." We live in a time and place where cultures other than ours often have a sort of exotic appeal, but the temptation to appropriate from other traditions without understanding the full meaning of that appropriation is dangerous. In worship planning, this means that we shouldn't cobble together a variety of exotic-looking practices and call it interfaith worship. There needs to be some sort of integrity within the service itself as a coherent whole as well as in regard to each tradition represented. As the guidelines above make clear, having a "native informant" is vital to this process. Even a scholar of Islamic practice may not suffice in translating the customs and rituals that are a part of Muslim worship, and just because Christians read the Hebrew Bible as well as Jews does not mean that they can immediately transfer their understanding of Scripture and superimpose it on Jewish tradition. Basically, planning interfaith worship well means entering into relationships that are mutual, open and attentive. This is harder than picking a song in Arabic, reading a Psalm in Hebrew and singing a Christian hymn; but the results of such time investment will be immeasurably better in terms not only of the integrity of the worship itself but in terms of building relationships among people of different faiths.

Have you participated in an interfaith worship service before? What was it like? What did you enjoy about it, and what rubbed you the wrong way? What specific issues does a 9/11 remembrance service bring up in terms of interfaith relations that might affect one's approach to planning such an event?

"Guidelines for Interfaith/Intertraditional Worship," The Liturgical Conference, part 1 (link) and part 2 (link).

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Finding True North #27: Reflecting toward 9/11/11, Part 2—Tears

This is part 2 of a series within a series I'm doing that emerged from conversations with the North UMC staff around preparation for this year's 10th anniversary 9/11 commemoration, which falls on a Sunday. As I did in part 1 ("Ashes," which you can read here), I am focusing on a single image tied to 9/11 remembrance and exploring its Biblical, theological and liturgical connections.

To this day, when I see footage of the 9/11 terror attacks, tears come to my eyes. I did not know anyone who perished that day. I'm not from New York or DC. I watched the tragedy unfold on a television in my 9th grade biology class. Yet, as easily as I cry, I do not think I am alone in experiencing that depth of emotion when remembering that day in 2001. As we approach the 10th anniversary of 9/11/2001, tears are still close for many.

The authors of the Bible were no stranger to tears. People in the Bible wept out of grief, in remorse, for joy, from despair, in unbelief and hunger and thirst. In Luke 7, a woman bathes Jesus' feet with her tears; in Acts 20:19, tears accompany the endurance of trials; in Acts 20:13, warning others to be alert brings the speaker to tears; in 1 Corinthians 2:4, weeping accompanies the expression of deep love; and in Philippians 3:18, speaking of the enemies of Christ prompts the flow of tears. Weeping can mean many things, and it is not an activity that is rare in the Bible.

The Psalms especially are full of tears: "I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping" (Psalm 6:6); "My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, 'Where is your God?'" (Psalm 42:3). Jeremiah practically begs for tears in order appropriately to mourn his people's demise: "O that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night for the slain of my poor people!" (Jeremiah 9:1). Tears are acceptable, almost necessary, and excessive.

(I'd just like to point out that the men of the Bible cry a lot. Esau, Job, Joseph, Peter, Jesus, the list goes on and on. Wonder if that squares up with some of what muscular Christianity is painting as "masculinity" these days.)

The inherently excessive nature of tears is something on which contemporary artist Makoto Fujimura reflected at length during a lecture I attended this past April (see my blog about that here). Fujimura recently completed the Four Holy Gospels Project to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible. The project is one-of-a-kind in many ways, and it was no small undertaking. As he approached it, Fujimura chose a Bible verse to meditate on as he painted: "Jesus wept" (John 11:35). This proved appropriate in a number of ways, one poignant one being that Fujimura works with water-based paints, so he imagined himself literally painting with the tears of Christ, those tears illuminating each page of Scripture. (See an article by Fujimura called "The Beautiful Tears," link provided at the end of this post.)

But Fujimura had more to say about tears that I found deeply poignant. In his lecture, he drew the audience into the story of John 11—the death and raising of Lazarus. When Jesus arrived, he first met Martha, who said, almost rebuking Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:21). Jesus gave her a simple, straightforward answer: "Your brother will rise again" (John 11:23). Martha knew about the resurrection to come, but Jesus reasons with her in regards to his own identity and ability to restore life, thus satisfying and reassuring her. Then he encounters Mary, who says the same thing her sister had said: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:32). But Jesus responds differently this time. He sees her tears and the tears of all those who loved Lazarus, and he, too, weeps.

Fujimura pointed out how nonsensical this is. Jesus had just told Martha that Lazarus would be raised. Why did he not give Mary the same reassurance? Fujimura says that it is because Jesus knew and loved each of these women in their particularity and knew that while Martha would be comforted by a direct answer, what Mary most needed at that moment was not to be alone in her grief. Jesus was literally wasting time and energy crying over the death of a man whom he knew full well he was about to raise from the dead. Jesus cried useless, wasteful, excessive tears, all for love of his friends.

Tears are a waste of time, but precisely because of that fact, they provide a unique access point for the divine. God's love is neither efficient nor utilitarian. The psalmist even imagines that God keeps count of these useless drops of water that pour from our frail eyes: "You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your record?" (Psalm 56:8). If you or someone you know is a hoarder or a pack rat, at least they do not keep tears in bottles. But to God, each tear is precious because it is an overflow of the fullness of the human heart.

In God's economy, the wastefulness of tears hides a promise to which we can all cling. Tears are a direct cry for help, and God does respond: "I have heard your prayer, I have seen your tears; indeed, I will heal you" (2 Kings 20:5). As preoccupied as the psalmist sometimes seems to be with tears, even in the psalms of lament, we find hope: "May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy" (Psalm 126:5). Isaiah makes that promise more explicit, as does the author of Revelation: "Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces" (Isaiah 25:8); and "God will wipe away every tear from their eyes" (Revelation 7:17). This promise does not diminish the reality of whatever might have brought on tears, but it does give us a sense of God's presence even—and especially—when we weep.

How might all of this connect with our remembrance of 9/11? First, the church can and should make space for tears, not just on 9/11/11 but at all times. What that means concretely, I'm not sure, and I am wary of anything in worship that is geared intentionally at producing an emotional experience. But this anniversary marks an event that has unique power and resonance throughout this country, and the church needs to be aware that we are dealing with mass grief, sometimes in strange and nonsensical ways (like how I find myself a little choked up writing this). How might the image of water be incorporated into worship? Doing a baptismal remembrance is an obvious answer; recalling that we are baptized not just into life but first into Christ's death could help people connect this national grief with a corporate performance of going from death to life. How might an adaptation of a service of remembrance strike the balance between mourning and hope? Where could the arts fit into such a remembrance?

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Makoto Fujimura, "The Beautiful Tears." (link)
General Board of Discipleship (GBOD) Resources: Remembering 9-11. (link)

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Finding True North #26: Hospital Visits and Pastoral Care

One of the many wonderful things about interning at a church the size of North UMC is that they don't really need an intern. That sounds bad, but what it means is that I have a lot of flexibility. There's a lot to do, and I can get involved in whatever I want. Discipline is required to do the things I don't necessarily want to do but need to do, of course, but I figure that's a good thing to learn.

That having been said, I hate hospitals and nursing homes. So I made sure early on that I expressed a desire to go on hospital and other pastoral care visits. Yesterday, I got to tag along with Rick Pickering, North's Pastor for Care and Nurture. Rick has a wonderful pastoral presence, which I think was part of the reason that even when we walked into Indy's ginormous Methodist Hospital, I wasn't uncomfortable. We visited two church members at Methodist, and I was able not only to meet and speak with them but also to observe Rick's bedside manner, for lack of a better phrase. He has an attentive, non-anxious presence that seemed to me to make the patients feel cared for but not fretted over, their pain acknowledged but not given power.

We also went to a retirement community to visit a 93-year-old woman who Rick says is the closest thing North has to a matriarch. She has been involved in just about every aspect of the church for decades. It was incredible to talk to her because her memory is still razor sharp—better than mine, and at her age she would have an excuse to let things slip. We ate lunch with her and Rick asked questions about the history and present of North, what she thought about certain things going on, etc., and each answer led to a story complete with details like names and dates, even if the narrative was from 30 years ago. I hope to catch up with her again before the end of the summer. People like her are the true keepers of what my old worship professor would call the "sacred bundle," those things most important to the history and identity of a congregation.

Rick and I are going to meet sometime soon to debrief on those visits, and I should get at least one more opportunity to go along on some other ones. He said he'd like to get me to see a variety of different situations so I can get an idea of the breadth of pastoral care. I'll probably also do some hospital visits with Kevin at some point (I was going to a week or so ago, but scheduling and early discharges caused that not to work out), so that will be good as well. Hooray for doing things you don't really want to do and enjoying it.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Finding True North #25: Reflecting toward 9/11/11, Part 1—Ashes

Just over two months from now, we will mark the 10th anniversary of September 11, 2001. It is a significant moment in and of itself, and I have heard many religious leaders already thinking through and planning for the commemoration. It is particularly meaningful for Christians that the anniversary falls on a Sunday. My supervisor, Kevin Armstrong, asked me not only to look into worship planning resources for 9-11 but also to help think through what the church’s posture should be on such a day.

In our initial conversation about this, Kevin suggested taking a Biblical, theological approach to the thought process, perhaps focusing on a key image or two that might aid in both reflection and worship planning. His suggestion was the image of ashes; another I will explore is that of tears, and others may come up. What follows is a series of musings on ashes using Biblical references as well as artistic and liturgical ciphers to encourage thoughtful conversation as we approach 9-11-11. At the end, I have included links to various resources, including liturgies, prayers, hymns, interfaith worship planning guidelines, articles and more.

The image of ashes can be somewhat graphic in relation to 9-11. Makoto Fujimura, an artist whose studio was two blocks from Ground Zero (and whom I will discuss more when I talk about tears), talks about his son, whose school was near the twin towers, being covered with "that white dust, later called 'dust of death'" when he emerged from the chaos. Smoke and flames burned through Manhattan, debris indistinguishable from incinerated humanity settling on trees, grass, buildings and people. Two 1300-foot towers and thousands within became nothing but rubble and ashes.

Dust and ashes show up throughout the Bible both as metaphorical images and as tangible materials with a purpose. Dust is actually the medium in which God works to create human life—God "formed man from the dust of the ground" (Genesis 2:7), and the familiar adage "ashes to ashes and dust to dust" echoes the Scriptural "you are dust, and to dust you shall return" (Genesis 3:19). In the Old Testament, ashes are something insubstantial; Job accuses his friends of speaking falsely, saying, "Your maxims are proverbs of ashes, your defenses are defenses of clay" (Job 13:12). This image of frailty is one Abraham recognizes in his own humanity when he says, "Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes" (Genesis 18:27). Dust and ashes are the immaterial material from which we ourselves are made and to which we will return.

Another important function that ashes have in the Bible, especially in the Old Testament, is their role in the sacrificial system. Burnt offerings were part of ritual purification; Numbers 19 describes a process by which the ashes of the purification offerings are mixed with water (I think the images of tears is related here) to make the unclean clean again. Of course, the sacrificial system is connected with a concept that ashes symbolize: repentance. Repentance and mourning are the main contexts in which ashes appear in the Bible. Putting ashes on your head and wearing sackcloth are signs of both. But the prophet Isaiah insists that such actions are not sufficient as an offering if works of mercy and grace does not accompany them:

Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? (Isaiah 58:5-7)

Ashes are important to ritualized actions of mourning and repentance, but even as they image desolation and destruction, they are not the end but should help us be led by God to choose the fast of justice.

An obvious liturgical tie-in to the image of ashes is the imposition liturgy of Ash Wednesday. The imposition of ashes has to do almost entirely with repentance, but I've been thinking about this more in the context of healing for a variety of reasons. First, in keeping with Elaine Heath's assessment of medieval mystic Julian of Norwich in the book The Mystic Way of Evangelism, I’m starting to think about sin more in terms of wounds. In that framework, what sin requires is healing, not condemnation. Moreover, I have participated in Ash Wednesday services where the ashes were mixed with oil. This not only makes imposition easier, it also carries symbolic weight, since anointing with oil is often associated liturgically with services of healing. How might the imposition of ashes be presented as an image of healing and restoration as well as (or simply as) repentance?

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Makoto Fujimura, "Post 911 – Ground Zero Meditations." (link)
General Board of Discipleship (GBOD) Resources: Remembering 9-11. (link)

Finding True North #24: Cowboys, Pit Crews and the Church

Kevin Armstrong, the senior pastor at North UMC in Indianapolis, asked the staff to read an article that appeared in The New Yorker in May. It is actually the commencement address delivered to Harvard Medical School's 2011 graduating class by Atul Gawande, and it is called "Cowboys and Pit Crews." The staff is slotted to discuss the article and its implications for the pastoral team at today's staff meeting, but I actually won't be there, so this is my reflection on the article.

Gawande's speech is focused on the medical world and has lots of implications for health care policy and even education, but I'm going to set all that aside for now. His basic point is that doctors for a long time were expected to be able to hold all the information and skills necessary to practice medicine independently—and before modern medicine developed and ballooned into what it is now, they were able to do that.

Unfortunately, Gawande says, the idea that a doctor should be a cowboy and work autonomously is destructive in a system that now requires more and more specialization. An individual doctor is able to practice medicine in a much narrower sense than was one possible, but he or she is still expected to function independently—hence the ongoing problems with misdiagnosis, the high rate of infections contracted within hospitals, redundant testing and treatment, etc. Gawande argues that doctors need to be able to work more collaboratively, because as each doctor becomes more focused in his or her specialization, he or she needs even more the expertise of other professionals.

Gawande advocates the cultivation of three main values: humility, discipline and teamwork. He points out that these values are "the opposite of autonomy, independency, self-sufficiency," mores that we prize and of which we are reluctant to let go, having been so indoctrinated in them. We do not need doctors who can work independently, Gawande says; we need pit crews, not cowboys.

I am glad to know that the staff at North is starting a conversation about this particularly on the teamwork front. One thing I have loved about working here is that the leadership is very much hands-off. I always tell people that when it comes to working, I need direction but not a lot of supervision. I do not respond well to micro-managing, so the atmosphere at North is a great fit. They bring in people who are gifted at what they do, and they trust them to do their thing without excessive hand-holding. It is a very empowering approach, and Kevin (along with the rest of the pastoral team) is always available to respond to questions or concerns.

However, one thing the church is realizing is that there are a lot of incredible ministries going on here, all of which are great in their own right, but which would benefit from improved communication and collaboration with other things happening in the church and the community. People involved in outreach may not have the slightest clue of what's going on with the children's ministry, and that is true both of parishioners and pastors. It's not surprising in a church of North's size with the number of amazing ministries it has, but since I've been here, I've heard a number of conversations that reveal a common desire to work together more. It seems to me that there is a balance to be struck between micro-management and fragmentation, but when that balance is found, good things will happen.

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This has nothing to do with anything, but in googling "cowboy preacher" to find a picture for this post, I found the website of The Reverend Lon M. Burns, D.D., M.S.W., "America's Favorite Jewish Cowboy Minister." What?!

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Finding True North #34: Prayers of Intercession for July 31

These are the prayers of intercession that I wrote for use in worship at North UMC on July 31, 2011. The passage for the day was Mark 5:1-20 (the Gerasene demoniac), and I tried to pick up on themes in that narrative as well as on current events within the church and around the world. Each petition was followed by "Lord, in your mercy" and the response "Hear our prayer." There are a few biblical allusions and one paraphrase of Gandhi...

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O Lord, today we lift up your Church. We pray for those who have experienced rejection at the hands of your followers. Many have rejected you because the Christians they meet are so unlike your Christ. Lord, we know that even as we seek here at North Church to become more welcoming, we have a long way to go. Strengthen us in our resolve publicly to demonstrate your love and acceptance to all people, and forgive us when we fail to do so.

God of all the nations, we pray for our country. As our leaders struggle to make decisions and reach compromises, we ask for your wisdom and discernment. Remind us and our leaders that when we are dealing with money and resources, we are engaged not in a game of politics but in the important task of using your good gifts rightly. Renew a sense of stewardship and responsibility in this nation as we make our way both at home and in our international relationships.

God of all creation, we give you thanks for the good earth you have given us for food and habitation. We confess that we do violence to you, the creator, whenever we violate your creation by exploiting its resources. Remind us that the good news is not announced to disembodied human souls but to embodied human beings whose fate is bound to the fate of this earth. Give us grace to see through your eyes and to appreciate and honor our place in your grand design.

Lord, we give you thanks for the ways in which you reveal yourself to us in community and in relationships. Help us to love as you love. Whenever we are tempted to ask, "What have you to do with me?", remind us that we are all members of one body, your body. Release the chains that bind us, and lead us with cords of human kindness and bands of love.

We pray today for all those who suffer—for the sick, the hungry, the poor, the lonely. We pray for victims of violence of all kinds. We lift up in particular the people of Norway. Give your children strength to extend grace in the face of violence, both to those who mourn and to those whose actions cause mourning. Assure us that you have made peace by the blood of the cross, and it is that blood that will have the final word.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Finding True North #33: Wrestling with God

Since Brenda is leaving town again (*sigh*), I'm on point for worship Sunday evening at Lockerbie Central. This time, I actually got to design the service myself, which is exciting because (a) I love doing that and (b) this is my last Sunday night service of the summer (*sniff*). Also, the Old Testament lectionary passage this week is Genesis 32, the story of Jacob wrestling with God—perhaps my favorite Bible narrative. I found a great video by Peter Rollins commenting on the passage (see below). Plus, my favorite hymn, "Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown," is based on the passage. (That hymn is also Isaac Watts' favorite, so I'm in good company on that.)

I did have an interesting process in putting together the service, because our guest speaker for this week is Taylor Burton-Edwards, who works on worship resources for the General Board of Discipleship (GBOD) and is an emerging church/liturgical studies guru. I ended up on the phone with him going over the worship order I had put together, dismantling and reconstructing it. It was a humbling process, but helpful—he persisted in asking what the purpose of each element of worship was, how the flow would go, etc. What emerged, I think, will be a much more effective, engaging worship service than I had originally created, and having gone through that with Taylor will hopefully inform future worship design decisions. Also, I made a pretty Powerpoint presentation to use (I know PPT is so out of date, but it's what I have).

Anyway, I wanted to share the first part of the service, which centers around the Genesis passage. We're going to start the service by interweaving "Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown" (I really need to record my quasi-arrangement of it) with Genesis 32:24-31, moves into the video and then goes into my own brief comments on the Scripture. This blog will probably represent my first draft of comments and may be updated later. Here goes! Advance apologies for the length of this post...

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Come, O thou traveler unknown,
Whom
still I hold but cannot see!
My company before is gone,
And I am left alone with thee.
With thee all night I mean to stay,
And wrestle 'til the break of day;
With thee all night I mean to stay,

And wrestle 'til the break of day.

Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him.

I need not tell thee who I am,
My misery and sin declare;
Thyself has called me by thy name,
Look on thy hands a
nd read it there.
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name, and tell me now.
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name and tell me now.

Then he said, "Let me go, for the day is breaking." But Jacob said, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." So he said to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob." Then the man said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed."

Yield to me now, for I am weak,
But confident in self-despair!
Speak to my heart, in blessing speak,
Be conquered by my instant prayer.
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if thy name is Love.
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if thy name is Love.

Then Jacob asked him, "Please tell me your name." But he said, "Why is it that you ask my name?" And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, "For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved." The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

'Tis Love! 'tis Love! Thou diedst for me,
I hear thy whisper in my heart.
The morning breaks, the shadows flee,
Pure, universal Love thou art.
To me, to all, thy mercies move;
Thy nature and thy name is Love.
To me, to all, thy mercies move;

Thy nature and thy name is Love.


Wrestling with the Divine from Peter Rollins on Vimeo.


The story of Jacob wrestling with God is one of my favorite narratives in the Bible. I fell in love with this story, and with the hymn that we just sang, during my freshman year of college. That's the year over which I grudgingly came to terms with my call to ministry. While some of my friends had inspirational stories about receiving their call, I felt much more like I was fighting to get any sort of clarity out of God. Hearing a Biblical story about one of the great Israelite leaders physically wrestling with God resonated with me in a way that other call stories never had.

I love the image of wrestling with God because it says a lot about God's character. God is not afraid to get down and dirty with us. God invites us to grab him and wrestle with him because God can take it. Too often we treat God as some delicate being that we might damage if we question him. God's feelings are not hurt by questions or by pushing back! God does that thing Morpheus does in the movie The Matrix where he reaches toward Neo and beckons: "Come and get it." God doesn't just accept our questions as inevitable; God invites us into a wrestling match through which we can ask our questions and be transformed.

Of course, the reason why God can handle our questions and our push-back is that God ultimately is in control. Take a look at Rembrandt's depiction of Jacob wrestling God. (Just as an aside, the vast majority of artistic renderings of Genesis 32 show Jacob wrestling an angel, and I'm sure many of us, myself included, have often thought of this story in those terms, though the word "angel" actually is never used.) One thing I love about this painting is that it is unclear whether God (or the angel) is wrestling with Jacob or holding him. It almost looks like Jacob is being cradled, even falling asleep. Short of the angel putting him in the sleeper hold, what this says to me is that even in the midst of what may feel like physical grappling with God and God's will, God holds us; God is in control; we can rest even as we wrestle. God gives us that space and that freedom because God does not fear our questions but welcomes them and welcomes us. Thanks be to God for the spaciousness of his love.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Finding True North #32: Every Church Needs a 93-Year-Old Mystic Artist

In my Pentecost sermon, I talked about a banner that was created by Doris Douglas, a longtime member of North UMC who for decades has created gorgeous textiles designed to lead the church visually through the Christian year. Not only are these banners beautiful works of art, they are born out of deep prayer and meditation. Doris, I believe, is a mystic of sorts whose contemplative life has born a wealth of artistic fruit.

Yesterday, I had the privilege of spending some time with Doris and with Teresa, another church member who has taken on the task of photographing the many banners and documenting the stories behind them. The banners are created intentionally in the context of the liturgical year and scriptural references, with rich symbolism built in. Yesterday, Doris showed me her banners, speaking to her inspiration, the symbolism and the artistic process.

Throughout our time together, Doris actually encouraged me to try to create something like these banners myself. Mind you, visual art is not my forte. But she pointed out several times where she used a simple technique or an accessible method that she thought I could try out. Although Doris is the visionary behind this wealth of art, she has always drawn other people into the process. I love the idea of one person with vision and talent empowering other people to participate in the artistic process, including even people like me.

At one point, Teresa told me that I would never see anything like this in another church. Doris' gifts are certainly unique, but I hope that the spirit of contemplation and creativity that she exemplifies is something I can one day find and encourage in another context.

Finding True North #31: Chicago

Before this summer, I had never really spent much time in the midwest. I had technically been to Chicago, but only in the sense that I flew into Chicago and was promptly shuttled out to Evanston. So I decided that I absolutely had to visit the windy city before returning to North Carolina.

So, native midwesterner Jordan Updike and I set out on a Friday afternoon on a 24-hour road trip to Chi-town. I had a blast. Chicago is such a cool city. The architecture is gorgeous, the energy is amazing, and oh my goodness there's public transportation. You can get print copies of The Onion on street corners, and there is a surprising amount of green space. Millennium Park is awesome and the waterfront is gorgeous. I've always thought of myself as a mid-sized city girl, but I could dig Chicago (except maybe in the winter).

One cool part of the trip is that we stayed with Matthew Johnson, the pastor of Holy Covenant UMC in Chicago. Matthew is into progressive, emerging church-type stuff, and he just moved to an appointment in the city a month ago. Holy Covenant is a fascinating church that is poised to do some incredible things. The church's membership is around 200 and they worship about 150 on a Sunday. They've been a reconciling congregation for a long time—I think they were one of the first in the area.

One thing Matthew talked about that I found fascinating is that the congregation is transient, being made up largely of young people, which would normally be a disadvantage, but Matthew is choosing to see it as an asset, as an opportunity to train up quasi-missionaries to go out intentionally into other congregations to be transformative. I'm excited to have made the connection with Matthew and with Holy Covenant and to continue those conversations.

We explored downtown Chicago Friday evening and Saturday during the day, with a jaunt out of the city to visit Jordan's aunt's horse ranch sandwiched in there. I ate Chicago pizza for the first time (YUM).

On the way back Saturday night, we stopped off at the Indiana Dunes. (Side note: the Great Lakes are incredible. They look like oceans. I'd been on one of them before, but it continues to blow my mind.) There are beaches in Indiana! I did not know this. Anyway, we got there about 20 minutes before sunset and decided to stick around for the show. Not only was the sunset gorgeous, the sun actually went down right behind the Chicago skyline. I wish I'd had a better camera, but the pictures still turned out pretty well. It was incredible.

I thoroughly enjoyed my short trip to Chicago and would love to come back someday.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Finding True North #30: Imposter Syndrome and the Invisible Alb

Today, I had my weekly meeting with my supervisor (AKA Kevin, the senior pastor at North UMC). I always enjoy our conversations because they are a great opportunity to unpack (Duke buzzword!) my field ed experience and to get ideas, inspiration, food for thought or all of the above.

This week, we talked for a bit about authority and leadership, things I'm always working on (and probably always will be). I went away with two things to chew on:

1. I have imposter syndrome. Wikipedia summarizes it as when "competent people find it impossible to believe in their own competence." It's having this fear that when people find out who you actually are or what you're actually capable of, they'll be disappointed. This has come into sharp focus for me this week as a few exciting opportunities have come up and left me simply confused as to why anyone would entrust me with something like teaching a class on biblical literature, for example. It seems to me that there is some balance to be struck here between believing in and embracing my own call and gifting without being arrogant. But false modesty, as C. S. Lewis says in The Screwtape Letters, is really just another form of pride, and self-deprecation denies what God has done and is doing in my life.

2. Apparently I carry myself differently (with more confidence and authority) when I'm wearing an alb (see image). I don't fidget as much or twirl my hair (things I know full well I do a lot of the time in meetings). It's not necessarily about the alb itself, but when I'm up front in church leading worship, I act like a leader. I've had several members of NUMC comment on my composure; one woman even told me I had the most poise of any intern they've had. (I'm friends with several former interns and so can call shenanigans on the truth of that, but it was still appreciated.) Kevin encouraged me to think about what it is that makes the difference in my comportment, to find my "invisible alb" and figure out how to put it on when doing something simple like walking into a room or attending a meeting.

Do you have imposter syndrome or an invisible alb?

What I'm Reading #28: Evangelism after Christendom (Bryan Stone)

Evangelism after Christendom: The Theology and Practice of Christian Witness, by Bryan Stone

I'll tell you up front: this is not a quick or easy read. Evangelism after Christendom (Brazos 2007) is an important but very dense and theologically heady treatment of the question of how to cultivate the practice of Christian witness in a post-Christendom culture. Stone is heavily influenced by the likes of Stanley Hauerwas, John Howard Yoder and Reinhard Huetter—all familiar names to this Duke Divinity student.

Perhaps one of the most important insights that Stone offers, influenced heavily by the work of Alastair MacIntyre, is the notion of evangelism as a practice with means and ends internal, not external, to it. Stone wants the church to move away from evangelism that is focused on conversion and numbers, a sentiment echoed by many of the authors I've been reading for my evangelism directed study. The practice of evangelism is about faithfulness to the goals and means internal to it, not about an external product or results.

Stone also talks a great deal about how we live in a post-Christendom culture. This, he says, is not necessarily the threat we tend to see it as. In fact, the church's removal from being the lynchpin of society may open it up more to prophetic witness. "Ironically, it may be that it is precisely from a position of marginality that the church is best able to announce peace and to bear witness to God's peaceable reign in such a way as to invite others to take seriously the subversive implications of that reign." The gospel, Stone claims, is and should be subversive, and when the church is too closely allied with the status quo, it loses that voice.

For Stone, evangelism, and God's work in the world, is thoroughly social and communal. Here's a potentially controversial statement: "One of the enormous challenges of Christian evangelism today is that in order to learn once again to bear faithful and embodied witness to the Spirit's creative 'social work,' it may have to reject as heretical the pervasive characterization of salvation as 'a personal relationship with Jesus.'" Salvation history, he argues, is and always has been about God calling out a people. Yes, that "people" is comprised of individuals, but the good news is about how we live in peace with one another, not about where we're going after we die (an inherently problematic question).

This blog post feels pretty lame to me, but it's hard to boil down the complexity of what Stone has done into 600 words...so I'll leave you with this: this book is great, but I only recommend it if you want something dense and philosophical. :)

We Are Made of Love

I've been doing a lot of music-related posts lately. Here's a song I simply want to share because it is beautiful. This is "Needle and Thread" by Sleeping at Last. Check out the lyrics and the video below.

When the world welcomes us in
We're closer to heaven than we'll ever know
They say this place has changed
But strip away all of the technology
And you will see
That we all are hunters
Hunting for something that will make us okay

Here we lay alone in hospital beds
Tracing life in our heads
But all that is left
Is that this was our entrance and now it's our exit
As we find our way home

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end
Where we begin to understand

That we are made of love
And all the beauty stemming from it
We are made of love
And every fracture caused by the lack of it

"You were a million years of work,"
Said God and his angels with needle and thread
They kissed your head and said
"You're a good kid and you make us proud
So just give your best and the rest will come
And we'll see you soon."

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end,
Where we begin to understand

That maybe Hollywood was right
When the credits have rolled and the tears have dried
The answers that we have been dying to find
Are all pieced together and somehow
Made perfectly mine

We are made of love
And all the beauty stemming from it
We are made of love
And every fracture caused by the lack of love

Finding True North #29: One Voice

Yesterday, I got to sing The Wailin' Jennys in church.

I have had some great opportunities in worship and the arts this summer, thanks in no small part to working with Brenda Freije, the Pastor of Discipleship and Formation at North and the pastor of Lockerbie Central, who is a phenomenal musician. Brenda, Anne Moman (the NUMC youth director) and I got together as a trio and sang The Wailin' Jennys' song "One Voice" in worship.

This is the sound of one voice
One spirit, one voice
The sound of one who makes a choice
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice

We didn't just sing it though—we used it as a prayer response. Kevin, the senior pastor, crafted some beautiful petitions that all closed with, "Lord, as we speak," to which the congregation responded, "Help us also to listen," and in between sections of the prayer, Brenda, Anne and I sang a verse of "One Voice." It worked so well that we just used the prayers and song again last night at Lockerbie Central.

This is the sound of voices two
The sound of me singing with you
Helping each other to make it through
This is the sound of voices two
This is the sound of voices two

It was certainly different (at least from my experience here) to have a guitar and microphones in North's sanctuary, but part of what I love about the worship here is that it is definitely traditional but with space and freedom built in. That kind of integrity and flexibility in worship is something I love.

This is the sound of voices three
Singing together in harmony
Surrendering to the mystery
This is the sound of voices three
This is the sound of voices three


After worship, a church member asked me if I knew when I got here that I'd have so many opportunities to use my artistic gifts. I told her that I had hoped to be able to, but I couldn't have known just how I was going to be engaged in that respect. She commented that not many churches have opportunities like that. Welcome to one of my biggest fears about getting an appointment after graduation.

This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and a will to trust
Leave the rest behind, it will turn to dust
This is the sound of all of us
This is the sound of all of us


But you know what? With all the experiences I've had with the arts and worship not only this summer but last school year through New Creation Arts Group and Goodson Chapel, and with all the opportunities I've had over the years to incorporate artistic expression into my faith journey, there's no way that won't be a part of my ministry, wherever I am and whatever I'm doing. If I've learned anything in my engagement with the arts, it's that even the smallest bursts of creativity can draw people into the life of faith in powerful, dynamic ways. Maybe one day I'll use the "One Voice" prayers again; or maybe I'll be in a place where the congregation can create its own prayers and song.

This is the sound of one voice
One people, one voice
A song for every one of us
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice

Thursday, July 21, 2011

All That We Let In

I love the Indigo Girls. My dad loves their music, so I grew up on it. Nobody warned me that being obsessed with them would cause people to make assumptions about my sexual orientation in high school; but that's beside the point.

The Indigo Girls have a beautiful song called "All That We Let In." Click here to listen to a sample. Below are the lyrics to the first verse and the chorus:

Dust in our eyes our own boots kicked up
Heartsick we nursed along the way we picked up
You may not see it when it's sticking to your skin
But we're better off for all that we let in

And I don't know where it all begins
And I don't know where it all will end
We're better off for all that we let in


I've come to see something that seems to be a part of a lot of religious practice that really bothers me. Many Christian seem to me to be preoccupied with keeping out the bad. Being "a good Christian" comes to be about a Puritanical list of "don't"s designed to shield us from bad influence.

I've seen it play out countless times, whether in the controversy over the movie based on Philip Pullman's book The Golden Compass (at least one religiously affiliated school in Durham sent letters home to parents warning them not to allow their children to see the movie) or in the continuing debates over homosexuality, where much of the rhetoric seems to me to be driven by a fear of "traditional" morals and marriage being undermined by the presence of people from the LGBTQ community. Paranoia over movies puzzles and amuses me; the idea that the presence of another human being might pollute a well-to-do community disgusts me.

I believe what the Indigo Girls sang: "We're better off for all that we let in." I think that the church as a whole as Christians as individuals need to shift from a position of defensiveness to one of openness and receptivity. Insulating ourselves from people who disagree with us and experiences that don't fit our understanding of how things should be make us, well, insular. And fearful.

When we draw such black-and-white boundaries on what we can and cannot do or see or feel and who we can or cannot know or associate with or befriend, we create a culture of fear that prevents us from living into the abundance of God's love. There is nowhere you can go where God's love will not follow you. Some rules are there for good reason, but obedience to rules for rules' sake is a vain attempt at controlling God (see my post on Timothy Keller's book The Prodigal God). Obedience is part of Christian discipleship, but it should flow from love and not from fear.

Open yourself up to life. You might be surprised by the places where God can meet you.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Finding True North #28: Family Time!

Most of my family (minus my sister) came to visit over the course of the past week!

Dad and Noah in front of Lucas Oil stadium.


Noah and me at the canal.


Mom and I bought matching dresses. :) Here we are downtown.

What I'm Reading #27: The Prodigal God (Timothy Keller)

The Prodigal God: Recovering the Heart of the Christian Faith, by Timothy Keller

I can recommend the book The Prodigal God (Dutton 2008) readily as being accessible for its length, content and language, which is great in and of itself. But Keller concisely states an interpretation of the parable of the prodigal son that is not necessarily new but is still important for people of all walks of faith to hear. It recasts the parable of the prodigal son as the parable of the two lost sons and uses the adjective "prodigal" to apply to God in an interesting way.

My favorite book on the parable found in is and always will be Henri Nouwen's The Return of the Prodigal Son, which uses Rembrandt's beautiful painting of the homecoming scene as a meditative center. Keller, like Nouwen and many others, encourages readers to focus not just on the younger son but on the older son. Rather than joining the party and welcoming his little brother home, the older son sulks, feeling jilted.

Keller's description of the older son hit pretty close to home for me in many ways, as did Nouwen's when I first read it: I am literally the oldest child, the goody-two-shoes, the rule-abiding, parent-pleasing daughter who does what is expected of her and more. When I read Nouwen's book, I felt chastised for attitudes I held (and still struggle with) in relation to my younger sister, and reading Keller's book, I felt similarly convicted for how I sometimes approach my faith. Rules and order are important to me, and although this is not a bad thing, I realize that rules can become idols. Discipline is an integral part of the spiritual life, but never for its own sake, and I am having to learn to recognize and let go of rules that I cling to as an end in themselves rather than a means to an end—the end being communion with God and others, and the participation in the kingdom. Keller says that religious legalism is as much as if not more of a way of abandoning God than the younger son's abandoning his father because it is an attempt at controlling God and getting what you want out of God.

Something interested that Keller pointed out about the older son he does by situating the parable in its context between that of the lost sheep and the woman with the lost coin. In both of the latter stories, someone goes looking for what is lost, but in the parable of the prodigal son, no one goes after the younger son. This raises the question: who, if anyone, should have gone looking for him? The answer is clear: his older brother. But the older son's pride and self-righteousness prevented him from extending compassion to his younger brother and seeking him out as he should have done.

Early on, Keller points out that the actual definition of the word prodigal is not, as we so often assume, "wayward." Rather, the word means "recklessly spendthrift." In this context, he says, it is really the father in the story—God—who is prodigal. The father recklessly, foolishly, lavishly gives his money, his property, his dignity and his love to a son who has rejected him. This is the God we must learn to love and to imitate: a God who loves with reckless abandon, when it makes no sense, when it is rejected, when it causes resentment in those who think they deserve it more. This is the prodigal God to whom we are continually called to come home.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Finding True North #28: Reflecting Toward 9/11/11, Part 3—Interfaith Worship

This is part 3 of a series in which I'm reflecting on liturgical themes and symbols as I prepare to offer some ideas to North UMC for worship on 9/11/11, the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks, which falls on a Sunday. You can read part 1, "Ashes," here, and part 2, "Tears," here. In both of those, I focused on specific images and began to lay some groundwork for potential worship ideas; here, I will talk about interfaith/intertradition worship, as North will be participating in an interfaith service in addition to its Sunday morning worship on 9/11/11. After this, I'll move on to thinking more concretely about how North might begin to plan a service that is reflective, meaningful, and hopefully coherentmeaning I will probably reject many of my coolest ideas...but that's part of the point.

Interfaith worship is tricky. There are all sorts of theological questions to be asked right off the bat. Just starting with ecumenical Christian worship, there are problems of tradition, Biblical interpretation, authority, etc. When you move to interfaith worship and include, for example, Jews and Muslims, you've opened a whole other can of worms. Yes, these are the big three Abrahamic faiths—but do we even worship the same God? How do we acknowledge and embrace our common ground without resorting to a "least common denominator" attitude that diminishes the theological and liturgical integrity of each discrete faith tradition?

I believe that it is important to meet people of other faiths on their terms, not ours. This means being willing to learn about and be attentive to other beliefs and traditions, even if they may seem to contradict ours. The Liturgical Conference blog offers some really helpful guidelines for interfaith/intertradition worship, to which I have linked at the bottom of this post. Here's an abbreviated version of their guidelines:

  1. Learn to appreciate the underlying worldview of another faith.
  2. Learn the names of things.
  3. Find an interpreter/"native informant."
  4. Learn to observe and listen.
  5. Abide by the conventions.
  6. Respect the practices reserved for "insiders" (don't appropriate at will!).
  7. Expect surprises.
  8. Reflect theologically on your experience.
My favorite definition so far of the term "hipster" is "apathetic cultural appropriator." We live in a time and place where cultures other than ours often have a sort of exotic appeal, but the temptation to appropriate from other traditions without understanding the full meaning of that appropriation is dangerous. In worship planning, this means that we shouldn't cobble together a variety of exotic-looking practices and call it interfaith worship. There needs to be some sort of integrity within the service itself as a coherent whole as well as in regard to each tradition represented. As the guidelines above make clear, having a "native informant" is vital to this process. Even a scholar of Islamic practice may not suffice in translating the customs and rituals that are a part of Muslim worship, and just because Christians read the Hebrew Bible as well as Jews does not mean that they can immediately transfer their understanding of Scripture and superimpose it on Jewish tradition. Basically, planning interfaith worship well means entering into relationships that are mutual, open and attentive. This is harder than picking a song in Arabic, reading a Psalm in Hebrew and singing a Christian hymn; but the results of such time investment will be immeasurably better in terms not only of the integrity of the worship itself but in terms of building relationships among people of different faiths.

Have you participated in an interfaith worship service before? What was it like? What did you enjoy about it, and what rubbed you the wrong way? What specific issues does a 9/11 remembrance service bring up in terms of interfaith relations that might affect one's approach to planning such an event?

"Guidelines for Interfaith/Intertraditional Worship," The Liturgical Conference, part 1 (link) and part 2 (link).

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Finding True North #27: Reflecting toward 9/11/11, Part 2—Tears

This is part 2 of a series within a series I'm doing that emerged from conversations with the North UMC staff around preparation for this year's 10th anniversary 9/11 commemoration, which falls on a Sunday. As I did in part 1 ("Ashes," which you can read here), I am focusing on a single image tied to 9/11 remembrance and exploring its Biblical, theological and liturgical connections.

To this day, when I see footage of the 9/11 terror attacks, tears come to my eyes. I did not know anyone who perished that day. I'm not from New York or DC. I watched the tragedy unfold on a television in my 9th grade biology class. Yet, as easily as I cry, I do not think I am alone in experiencing that depth of emotion when remembering that day in 2001. As we approach the 10th anniversary of 9/11/2001, tears are still close for many.

The authors of the Bible were no stranger to tears. People in the Bible wept out of grief, in remorse, for joy, from despair, in unbelief and hunger and thirst. In Luke 7, a woman bathes Jesus' feet with her tears; in Acts 20:19, tears accompany the endurance of trials; in Acts 20:13, warning others to be alert brings the speaker to tears; in 1 Corinthians 2:4, weeping accompanies the expression of deep love; and in Philippians 3:18, speaking of the enemies of Christ prompts the flow of tears. Weeping can mean many things, and it is not an activity that is rare in the Bible.

The Psalms especially are full of tears: "I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping" (Psalm 6:6); "My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, 'Where is your God?'" (Psalm 42:3). Jeremiah practically begs for tears in order appropriately to mourn his people's demise: "O that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night for the slain of my poor people!" (Jeremiah 9:1). Tears are acceptable, almost necessary, and excessive.

(I'd just like to point out that the men of the Bible cry a lot. Esau, Job, Joseph, Peter, Jesus, the list goes on and on. Wonder if that squares up with some of what muscular Christianity is painting as "masculinity" these days.)

The inherently excessive nature of tears is something on which contemporary artist Makoto Fujimura reflected at length during a lecture I attended this past April (see my blog about that here). Fujimura recently completed the Four Holy Gospels Project to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible. The project is one-of-a-kind in many ways, and it was no small undertaking. As he approached it, Fujimura chose a Bible verse to meditate on as he painted: "Jesus wept" (John 11:35). This proved appropriate in a number of ways, one poignant one being that Fujimura works with water-based paints, so he imagined himself literally painting with the tears of Christ, those tears illuminating each page of Scripture. (See an article by Fujimura called "The Beautiful Tears," link provided at the end of this post.)

But Fujimura had more to say about tears that I found deeply poignant. In his lecture, he drew the audience into the story of John 11—the death and raising of Lazarus. When Jesus arrived, he first met Martha, who said, almost rebuking Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:21). Jesus gave her a simple, straightforward answer: "Your brother will rise again" (John 11:23). Martha knew about the resurrection to come, but Jesus reasons with her in regards to his own identity and ability to restore life, thus satisfying and reassuring her. Then he encounters Mary, who says the same thing her sister had said: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:32). But Jesus responds differently this time. He sees her tears and the tears of all those who loved Lazarus, and he, too, weeps.

Fujimura pointed out how nonsensical this is. Jesus had just told Martha that Lazarus would be raised. Why did he not give Mary the same reassurance? Fujimura says that it is because Jesus knew and loved each of these women in their particularity and knew that while Martha would be comforted by a direct answer, what Mary most needed at that moment was not to be alone in her grief. Jesus was literally wasting time and energy crying over the death of a man whom he knew full well he was about to raise from the dead. Jesus cried useless, wasteful, excessive tears, all for love of his friends.

Tears are a waste of time, but precisely because of that fact, they provide a unique access point for the divine. God's love is neither efficient nor utilitarian. The psalmist even imagines that God keeps count of these useless drops of water that pour from our frail eyes: "You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your record?" (Psalm 56:8). If you or someone you know is a hoarder or a pack rat, at least they do not keep tears in bottles. But to God, each tear is precious because it is an overflow of the fullness of the human heart.

In God's economy, the wastefulness of tears hides a promise to which we can all cling. Tears are a direct cry for help, and God does respond: "I have heard your prayer, I have seen your tears; indeed, I will heal you" (2 Kings 20:5). As preoccupied as the psalmist sometimes seems to be with tears, even in the psalms of lament, we find hope: "May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy" (Psalm 126:5). Isaiah makes that promise more explicit, as does the author of Revelation: "Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces" (Isaiah 25:8); and "God will wipe away every tear from their eyes" (Revelation 7:17). This promise does not diminish the reality of whatever might have brought on tears, but it does give us a sense of God's presence even—and especially—when we weep.

How might all of this connect with our remembrance of 9/11? First, the church can and should make space for tears, not just on 9/11/11 but at all times. What that means concretely, I'm not sure, and I am wary of anything in worship that is geared intentionally at producing an emotional experience. But this anniversary marks an event that has unique power and resonance throughout this country, and the church needs to be aware that we are dealing with mass grief, sometimes in strange and nonsensical ways (like how I find myself a little choked up writing this). How might the image of water be incorporated into worship? Doing a baptismal remembrance is an obvious answer; recalling that we are baptized not just into life but first into Christ's death could help people connect this national grief with a corporate performance of going from death to life. How might an adaptation of a service of remembrance strike the balance between mourning and hope? Where could the arts fit into such a remembrance?

__________


Makoto Fujimura, "The Beautiful Tears." (link)
General Board of Discipleship (GBOD) Resources: Remembering 9-11. (link)

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Finding True North #26: Hospital Visits and Pastoral Care

One of the many wonderful things about interning at a church the size of North UMC is that they don't really need an intern. That sounds bad, but what it means is that I have a lot of flexibility. There's a lot to do, and I can get involved in whatever I want. Discipline is required to do the things I don't necessarily want to do but need to do, of course, but I figure that's a good thing to learn.

That having been said, I hate hospitals and nursing homes. So I made sure early on that I expressed a desire to go on hospital and other pastoral care visits. Yesterday, I got to tag along with Rick Pickering, North's Pastor for Care and Nurture. Rick has a wonderful pastoral presence, which I think was part of the reason that even when we walked into Indy's ginormous Methodist Hospital, I wasn't uncomfortable. We visited two church members at Methodist, and I was able not only to meet and speak with them but also to observe Rick's bedside manner, for lack of a better phrase. He has an attentive, non-anxious presence that seemed to me to make the patients feel cared for but not fretted over, their pain acknowledged but not given power.

We also went to a retirement community to visit a 93-year-old woman who Rick says is the closest thing North has to a matriarch. She has been involved in just about every aspect of the church for decades. It was incredible to talk to her because her memory is still razor sharp—better than mine, and at her age she would have an excuse to let things slip. We ate lunch with her and Rick asked questions about the history and present of North, what she thought about certain things going on, etc., and each answer led to a story complete with details like names and dates, even if the narrative was from 30 years ago. I hope to catch up with her again before the end of the summer. People like her are the true keepers of what my old worship professor would call the "sacred bundle," those things most important to the history and identity of a congregation.

Rick and I are going to meet sometime soon to debrief on those visits, and I should get at least one more opportunity to go along on some other ones. He said he'd like to get me to see a variety of different situations so I can get an idea of the breadth of pastoral care. I'll probably also do some hospital visits with Kevin at some point (I was going to a week or so ago, but scheduling and early discharges caused that not to work out), so that will be good as well. Hooray for doing things you don't really want to do and enjoying it.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Finding True North #25: Reflecting toward 9/11/11, Part 1—Ashes

Just over two months from now, we will mark the 10th anniversary of September 11, 2001. It is a significant moment in and of itself, and I have heard many religious leaders already thinking through and planning for the commemoration. It is particularly meaningful for Christians that the anniversary falls on a Sunday. My supervisor, Kevin Armstrong, asked me not only to look into worship planning resources for 9-11 but also to help think through what the church’s posture should be on such a day.

In our initial conversation about this, Kevin suggested taking a Biblical, theological approach to the thought process, perhaps focusing on a key image or two that might aid in both reflection and worship planning. His suggestion was the image of ashes; another I will explore is that of tears, and others may come up. What follows is a series of musings on ashes using Biblical references as well as artistic and liturgical ciphers to encourage thoughtful conversation as we approach 9-11-11. At the end, I have included links to various resources, including liturgies, prayers, hymns, interfaith worship planning guidelines, articles and more.

The image of ashes can be somewhat graphic in relation to 9-11. Makoto Fujimura, an artist whose studio was two blocks from Ground Zero (and whom I will discuss more when I talk about tears), talks about his son, whose school was near the twin towers, being covered with "that white dust, later called 'dust of death'" when he emerged from the chaos. Smoke and flames burned through Manhattan, debris indistinguishable from incinerated humanity settling on trees, grass, buildings and people. Two 1300-foot towers and thousands within became nothing but rubble and ashes.

Dust and ashes show up throughout the Bible both as metaphorical images and as tangible materials with a purpose. Dust is actually the medium in which God works to create human life—God "formed man from the dust of the ground" (Genesis 2:7), and the familiar adage "ashes to ashes and dust to dust" echoes the Scriptural "you are dust, and to dust you shall return" (Genesis 3:19). In the Old Testament, ashes are something insubstantial; Job accuses his friends of speaking falsely, saying, "Your maxims are proverbs of ashes, your defenses are defenses of clay" (Job 13:12). This image of frailty is one Abraham recognizes in his own humanity when he says, "Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes" (Genesis 18:27). Dust and ashes are the immaterial material from which we ourselves are made and to which we will return.

Another important function that ashes have in the Bible, especially in the Old Testament, is their role in the sacrificial system. Burnt offerings were part of ritual purification; Numbers 19 describes a process by which the ashes of the purification offerings are mixed with water (I think the images of tears is related here) to make the unclean clean again. Of course, the sacrificial system is connected with a concept that ashes symbolize: repentance. Repentance and mourning are the main contexts in which ashes appear in the Bible. Putting ashes on your head and wearing sackcloth are signs of both. But the prophet Isaiah insists that such actions are not sufficient as an offering if works of mercy and grace does not accompany them:

Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? (Isaiah 58:5-7)

Ashes are important to ritualized actions of mourning and repentance, but even as they image desolation and destruction, they are not the end but should help us be led by God to choose the fast of justice.

An obvious liturgical tie-in to the image of ashes is the imposition liturgy of Ash Wednesday. The imposition of ashes has to do almost entirely with repentance, but I've been thinking about this more in the context of healing for a variety of reasons. First, in keeping with Elaine Heath's assessment of medieval mystic Julian of Norwich in the book The Mystic Way of Evangelism, I’m starting to think about sin more in terms of wounds. In that framework, what sin requires is healing, not condemnation. Moreover, I have participated in Ash Wednesday services where the ashes were mixed with oil. This not only makes imposition easier, it also carries symbolic weight, since anointing with oil is often associated liturgically with services of healing. How might the imposition of ashes be presented as an image of healing and restoration as well as (or simply as) repentance?

__________


Makoto Fujimura, "Post 911 – Ground Zero Meditations." (link)
General Board of Discipleship (GBOD) Resources: Remembering 9-11. (link)

Finding True North #24: Cowboys, Pit Crews and the Church

Kevin Armstrong, the senior pastor at North UMC in Indianapolis, asked the staff to read an article that appeared in The New Yorker in May. It is actually the commencement address delivered to Harvard Medical School's 2011 graduating class by Atul Gawande, and it is called "Cowboys and Pit Crews." The staff is slotted to discuss the article and its implications for the pastoral team at today's staff meeting, but I actually won't be there, so this is my reflection on the article.

Gawande's speech is focused on the medical world and has lots of implications for health care policy and even education, but I'm going to set all that aside for now. His basic point is that doctors for a long time were expected to be able to hold all the information and skills necessary to practice medicine independently—and before modern medicine developed and ballooned into what it is now, they were able to do that.

Unfortunately, Gawande says, the idea that a doctor should be a cowboy and work autonomously is destructive in a system that now requires more and more specialization. An individual doctor is able to practice medicine in a much narrower sense than was one possible, but he or she is still expected to function independently—hence the ongoing problems with misdiagnosis, the high rate of infections contracted within hospitals, redundant testing and treatment, etc. Gawande argues that doctors need to be able to work more collaboratively, because as each doctor becomes more focused in his or her specialization, he or she needs even more the expertise of other professionals.

Gawande advocates the cultivation of three main values: humility, discipline and teamwork. He points out that these values are "the opposite of autonomy, independency, self-sufficiency," mores that we prize and of which we are reluctant to let go, having been so indoctrinated in them. We do not need doctors who can work independently, Gawande says; we need pit crews, not cowboys.

I am glad to know that the staff at North is starting a conversation about this particularly on the teamwork front. One thing I have loved about working here is that the leadership is very much hands-off. I always tell people that when it comes to working, I need direction but not a lot of supervision. I do not respond well to micro-managing, so the atmosphere at North is a great fit. They bring in people who are gifted at what they do, and they trust them to do their thing without excessive hand-holding. It is a very empowering approach, and Kevin (along with the rest of the pastoral team) is always available to respond to questions or concerns.

However, one thing the church is realizing is that there are a lot of incredible ministries going on here, all of which are great in their own right, but which would benefit from improved communication and collaboration with other things happening in the church and the community. People involved in outreach may not have the slightest clue of what's going on with the children's ministry, and that is true both of parishioners and pastors. It's not surprising in a church of North's size with the number of amazing ministries it has, but since I've been here, I've heard a number of conversations that reveal a common desire to work together more. It seems to me that there is a balance to be struck between micro-management and fragmentation, but when that balance is found, good things will happen.

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This has nothing to do with anything, but in googling "cowboy preacher" to find a picture for this post, I found the website of The Reverend Lon M. Burns, D.D., M.S.W., "America's Favorite Jewish Cowboy Minister." What?!

 

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