Finding True North #37: What DID I Find?

I am currently in Ann Arbor visiting a good friend from undergrad, so although field ed is officially over, my midwest adventures continue a bit longer. Perhaps it's a means of denying the end of the summer, but I'm OK with that.

I came to this summer with a theme: "finding true north." I came without specific expectations but certainly with hopes. I hoped to wrestling with God and hopefully maneuver my way, however awkwardly, into some vocational clarity. Anticipating graduation in May of next year, I hoped to get a little direction and discernment on what might come after.

Around the next to last week of field ed, a friend asked if I had gotten the clarity for which I had hoped. I told him yes and no. My summer 2011 field ed experience could not have been more perfectly suited for me, in ways both expected and unexpected. Some of the things I most enjoyed came as no surprise, while some of what I grew most passionate about I could not have foreseen. Over the course of my 10 weeks in Indianapolis, God opened me up to possibilities that I hadn't dreamed of but which, as it turns out, are probably (hopefully) going to shape and even define my future ministry.

I've likened this opening up to an explosion. Through my work at North UMC and Lockerbie UMC, through the surprising gift of Earth House, through myriad friendships and relationships built over the course of the summer, I feel as if God has blown my world to bits. I know that's a violent image, but it has been a process that is both disconcerting and exciting. Maybe it's something like fireworks. Some of my expectations and self-imposed restrictions had to be destroyed in order to create something so much more exciting and beautiful.

The learning process is not over, of course; in fact, this summer was really just the beginning, at the most a continuation, of discernment processes that will probably go on throughout my life. I was affirmed in my passion for worship design; my horizons were expanded in my love of the arts; I was called out and challenged on administrative shortcomings that I had previously been able to gloss over quietly. The list of things to explore and work on has doubled from the beginning of the summer, not being checked off but rather being added to.

So, did I find true north? I'm not sure. I feel like God, rather than pointing me in a direction, showed me the potential for a whole new dimension of ministry. It's not about me deciding which road to take, but about finding where my path intersects with others, climbing a tree to expand my vision, wandering off the road to plant a garden or cutting my own path through the underbrush. God has given me the freedom and imagination to dream as big as God does, while constantly reminding me that dreams are not to be merely abstract visions but embodied, relational, and contextual. I will continue to pray for a vision of the forest and the trees.

Finding True North #36: Procrastination

(Source.)

I hesitate even to start writing this blog post, anticipating that I will save the draft and leave it unfinished for an embarrassingly ironic amount of time.

However, I have at least started it!

On Monday, I had my final one-on-one meeting with my supervisor here at North UMC, Kevin Armstrong. He had completed my final evaluation for the field ed office, so we went over that. I deeply appreciated Kevin's approach to the evaluation because he took it seriously and used it as an opportunity both to affirm and encourage me, as well as to call me out on shortcomings and things that need improvement.

One of the big things he pointed out to me was my tendency to procrastinate on unpleasant tasks, especially administrative tasks. This was not news to me, but especially since college, procrastination has become a talent of mine, so I've never really been called out on it before.

I'm dead serious about procrastination being a talent. I like to tell the story of the time my freshman year of college when I had two final papers due on the same day at 9:00 a.m. I started the first one (a 14-page paper) the day before at noon—and when I say "started," I do mean, "got books from the library and began my research." I finished that paper around 6:00 p.m., headed back to my dorm, stopped off for dinner along the way, chatted with a few friends, and by about 7:30 p.m. was stationed in the common room with a stack of physics books to start on a 20-page paper. Yes, I said a 20-page paper on physics. This included one book in French. I finished that paper around 4:30 a.m., slept for a few hours, got up, checked both papers briefly for typos, and turned them in.

I got As on both papers.

This story was repeated, though usually in less dramatic fashion, throughout my undergraduate career. I have yet to suffer serious consequences for procrastination, though I haven't been able to pull off As in the same way since starting graduate school, so there has been a little pushback for me in seminary.

Anyway. In going over our evaluation, Kevin pointed out that he's heard the phrase "I really ought to get on that" cross my lips many times this summer, and he's absolutely right. I should have a lot more written on my evangelism directed study than I do, and a few things got wrapped up this week that probably could have been done earlier.

I realized that the things on which I most regularly procrastinate (other than schoolwork) generally fall into 2 categories: simple but irritating tasks such as changing the address on my driver's license (which I just did after meaning to do so for about 2 years) and big tasks about which I am excited but which I fear I am not going to complete to my satisfaction.

My evangelism directed study falls into the latter category. I have enjoyed doing the reading, conversing and thinking related to that course way more than I ever anticipated. I think that once I get the paper written, it will be something of which I can be proud. And yet, I really only have a few pages on paper. Heck, writing this blog right now is really just a way of putting off working on it.

What Kevin said to me about procrastination and about administrative tasks in general is this: the main reason he came down on me in that area is that he knows I'm perfectly capable of doing that sort of work. Even I know that's true. I have great attention to detail, and if I'm convinced an administrative task is worth my time, I can rock its socks off. I think it's a combination of that—being convinced that it is worth my time—and being convinced that I am, in fact, capable of completing the task well. And maybe getting over my paralyzing fear of the phone.

Finding True North #35: The Kenya Interns

What some of my gentle readers may not know is that I am actually one of four Duke interns connected to North UMC this summer. You haven't heard much about the other three because, well, they were in Kenya for 7 weeks.

I did blog about the Global Interfaith Partnership, the organization that attempts to collaborate with various faith communities here in Indiana as well as with churches, schools and communities in Kenya. It is through that group that several Duke students travel to Kenya each year to work with the Umoja Project. This summer, Lindsey, Lydia and Camille focused specifically on the issue of the girl-child, gathering information and building relationships around women's empowerment as they visited churches, schools and more.

The Kenya interns came back to Indianapolis about a week and a half ago, and ever since then (and even before) I have constantly been asked about what they did in Kenya. But honestly, even though I've spent my share of time working in the conference room with them since their return, I didn't really know. I sporadically had kept up with their blog, but I didn't really know specifics.

However, last night the trio gave a presentation on their pilgrimage, and it gave some profound insight into their experiences. Each of the interns focused on a concept that had emerged as central to them individually over the course of the summer—for Camille, it was openness; for Lindsey, it was presence and trust; and for Lydia, it was empowerment. They showed pictures of the people they had met and the places they had visited, shared about what the Umoja Project is doing in communities and how it can better partner with people in the spirit of its name (which is Swahili for "unity"), and at times made themselves vulnerable to us as they described challenges they faced while in Kenya.

Perhaps most interesting to me personally was Lindsey's reflection on race. Lindsey was the only white intern, so she had some experiences that Lydia and Camille did not. Having struggled myself as I've considered international missions, it was helpful to me to hear Lindsey reflect on the ways in which she sometimes encountered different treatment because of her skin tone, from innocent things like children wanting to rub her arms to more intense experiences like someone suggesting that perhaps Jesus was a "mazungu" (white person or foreigner) because Jesus loved the children as Lindsey did.

It seemed to me that although the Kenya interns left a lot of their own questions unanswered, that was precisely how it should be. They closed essentially with an invitation into umoja—unity—not only in this particular project but in our lives as a whole. Although I am more than happy to have been "the intern who stayed," I have benefited from the connection with the Umoja Project through the other interns and will continue to do so as I return to school with these three incredible women.

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.

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 and 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.

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.

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?

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

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.

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 coherent—meaning 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).

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)

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.

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?!

Finding True North #23: Boycotting a "Not Kosher" Hotel

This has almost nothing to do with my field ed placement. However, it shows the kinds of friends I'm making in Indy: awesome ones. Today, my friend Rebecca, a Moravian pastor here in Indianapolis (but originally from NC, what's up!), roped me into participating in an action against the Hyatt Hotel downtown. The hospitality workers and community members have been working for fair process and union rights at the Hyatt for several years now. I had no idea what I was getting into, but the more I learn, the more interesting this looks.

The group I tagged along with today is called UniteHere! and today, housekeepers across the nation spoke out against poor working conditions at Hyatts all over. Here's something from UniteHere's website:

When two housekeepers in New York came forward to report assault on the job, taking on some of the most powerful men in the world, they exposed some of the grittier and oftentimes hidden aspects of hotel work--the work of scrubbing toilets, changing sheets, and encountering guests alone behind closed doors. Hotel housekeepers--overwhelmingly women, immigrants, and people of color--are the invisible backbone of the hotel industry. While incidents of sexual assault are uncommon, the women who work as housekeepers routinely face a broader spectrum of dangers at work, from sexual harassment to the debilitating injuries that many women sustain after years of making beds and scrubbing floors.

Perhaps most fascinating to me is that a group of clergy has come together and published an investigation into working conditions at Hyatts. Their findings have caused rabbis to pledge to declare the Hyatt "not kosher." Wow. (Read more here.)

I'm theoretically pro-union (because Amy Laura Hall is pro-union and I take my marching orders from her), but I've never paid really close attention to worker's rights beyond a vague interest in the recent brouhaha in Wisconsin and some talk about a living wage. Needless to say, I had never participated in a public action like this. It was kinda fun.

I was a part of the distraction. A group of us walked into the atrium of the Hyatt holding posters covered with pictures of various leaders at non-union Hyatts around the country, singing "We Shall Overcome." Meanwhile, a delegation, including both workers and community members, went to the general manager's office with the intention of giving him one of the posters and asking for an audience to discuss workers' rights and fair process.

Downstairs, we got through probably 15 stanzas of "We Shall Overcome" before we were asked to leave. It was, I admit, a little awkward, standing there in the lobby bellowing out a spiritual as people leaned over railings all the way up the multi-story building to see what we were doing. But public embarrassment is a big part of activism, I suppose.

We learned later that the delegation had been treated rudely in the office. The general manager was (apparently as usual) out for the afternoon. The delegation spoke with some other people in authority, and one Latina worker told about confronting an employee from Colombia who did not have time to talk, but the worker said, with tears streaming down her face, that she didn't understand how a person from the Latino/a community could be a part of a company that treated her own people so poorly.

So that was my adventure for the day. Rebecca said she'd keep me in the loop for the rest of my time here in Indy, and I intend to do further research to get up to speed on what's going on with the Hyatt, plus to figure out where this kind of thing is happening in Durham. I told some friends last night in an email that my inner activist is waking up, and it's freaking me (and, I suspect, the people around me) out a bit. In a good way.

Finding True North #22: Disaster Preparedness

Yesterday in staff meeting, we spent a good bit of time looking at a draft of a disaster preparedness plan that a team from North has been working on for some time. The goal of such a plan is to equip the church ahead of time to deal with crises both within the walls of the church and in the surrounding community, whether that means a health emergency during a worship service, a tornado ripping through the city, someone bringing a gun to church or some sort of widespread pandemic.

I learned that few churches apparently have such a system in place, and interestingly enough, this plan was adapted in part from one adopted by McMannen UMC in Durham, a church I am fond of because they have supported the Wright Room Summer Program (not sure if that video's public, it's on Facebook) at Asbury Temple UMC, where I worked its first two years of existence. The connectional system gets personal again.

Anyway, I thought it was pretty interesting that North has put so much time and energy into this sort of preparation. Some of it involves ensuring that church documents and valuables are recovered in the case of something like a fire, but if there is attention on intra-church disaster, there is more on how the church might respond to one in the wider community. They are working on getting officially registered with the Red Cross to serve as a shelter in times of emergency; their facility in and of itself could be a valuable resource in a crisis, not to mention the church as a place for worship and prayer. Here's an excerpt that I found moving because it evokes the importance of the church as a spiritual center and respondent in crisis:

If the church should fall victim to the disaster and not be safe for occupancy or remain only as a pile of holy rubble, find a tree, a tent or awning to gather under. Set up a homemade altar and make a cross to adorn it. The pastor and the victims will need this Holy Ground to turn to.

Basically: whatever it takes. It'll be interesting to see how the plan evolves and is implemented. Thank God for churches like North working to be everything Christ would be even in unthinkable circumstances.

Do your churches have anything like this? What do you think about a disaster preparedness plan, and what should the church's role be in a time of crisis?

Finding True North #21: Jesus' Public Ministry

This past Sunday, North UMC launched a worship and sermon series focused on Jesus' public ministry. The goal of the series, which will also include curriculum to support small group discussion along the way, is for the church to figure out how to publicly proclaim its welcome to all people. There is a particular focus here on the LGBTQ community, with the question being not whether to be welcoming but how (and whether to affiliate with the Reconciling Ministries Network (RMN)). The discussion also includes questions on how better to support families of children and adults with disabilities.

These are things that North is already doing, so ironically, they are trying to work out how to "talk the walk." Usually for a church, it's the opposite. I am truly blessed to be in a place where actions speak louder than words, but words are also taken seriously. North's approach to the ministry of welcome and inclusiveness has been intentional, scriptural, theological and corporate in a way that I haven't really seen before, especially not in a pretty mainline Protestant church. On Sunday, as I listened to Kevin explain the public ministry series and deliver a sermon entitled "From the Inside, Out," challenging the church to think about how they might take the hospitality that is already demonstrated within the walls of North UMC and proclaim it to the broader community.

As part of the process, a letter was sent out to the congregation and printed in the bulletin. You can open a PDF of the letter here. It was drafted by the Inclusiveness Task Force at North, a group that was charged a while back with helping to structure the conversation and move the church forward in the goal of more publicly stating its welcome to all people. I was able to meet with this group a few weeks ago and was impressed not only with their focus and sense of purpose but also with their concern for making space for other voices. They recognize that because this move toward inclusiveness is supported by the majority of the congregation, those who may not be comfortable with such a public statement may feel like they cannot speak up for fear of seeming unwelcoming. North had this conversation (specifically about affiliating with RMN) 18 years ago and it was tabled, and apparently there are still people around who have residual struggles from that. But Kevin and the task force are doing everything in their power to bring those voices into the conversation, something that I rarely see happening on either side of the discussion—or really in any discussion these days.

I'm thrilled to be at North as they embark on this conversation. It's been incredible to see how they're approaching it and to be a part of the process, even tangentially. Kevin has asked my help in some aspects of worship planning around this series, so I've been able to contribute some, particularly in the way of hymn suggestions. We opened the service this past Sunday with a David Haas hymn that I love, "We Are Called," based on Micah 6:8. Here are the lyrics:

Come! live in the light!
Shine with the joy and the love of the Lord!
We are called to be light for the kingdom,
to live in the freedom of the city of God!

(Refrain)
We are called to act with justice.
We are called to love tenderly.
We are called to serve one another, to walk humbly with God.

Come! Open your heart!
Show your mercy to all those in fear!
We are called to be hope for the hopeless,
so all hatred and blindness will be no more!

Sing! Sing a new song!
Sing of that great day when all will be one!
God will reign and we'll walk with each other
as sisters and brothers united in love!

I'm so excited to be part of a faith community, even just for a summer, that is dedicating itself to living in the light and finding its prophetic voice intentionally and prayerfully in an increasingly polarized world.

Finding True North #20: Inside the Bottle, Outside the Box

On Thursday evening, I went to a fundraiser for a nonprofit organization called Outside the Box, or OTB for short. The event, a wine tasting and silent auction, was cleverly billed as Inside the Bottle. Jordan Updike, the executive director of Earth House, a member of Lockerbie Central UMC and one of my unofficial guides to Indy for the summer, is on the board of directors for OTB and so had an extra ticket and invited me along. I had heard some about OTB and was interested in learning more, and I had never been to a fundraising event like that, and since I'm theoretically working on a professional certificate in nonprofit management from Duke Continuing Studies, I'm taking any opportunity to learn about grassroots organizations.

Here's a snippet from OTB's mission on their website:

Outside The Box Inc.’s mission is to empower people with disabilities to be the leaders in their lives and create meaningful days. We believe in every person’s ability to create a meaningful and productive day based on their strengths and what is important to them.

OTB is an organization that provides customized services to adults with developmental disabilities. Their model has been recognized as unique in many ways, and they joked at one point that they don't see other groups with the same client base as competition, but rather as a referral source. They work with clients on everything from character development to finances and have a 100% success rate in job placement. Their services include day programs and employment services as well as a really neat arts program called Studio OTB. Some of the art created by clients was for sale as part of the auction, and Earth House will actually be hosting an exhibit called "Outside the Cigar Box" where 150 cigar boxes painted by clients and staff of OTB will be on display. You can check out some of the boxes and the creative process for that on Studio OTB's blog.

Here's a video that gives you a better look into what OTB is and does:



I was really moved by this event, not only because it was a huge success with hundreds of attendees and over $30,000 raised. I have an inner activist/community organizer that has been hibernating for the past several years, but in the last few months it's been waking up. (I blame Dr. Amy Laura Hall, the Toward a Moral Consensus Against Torture conference, and the Jack Crum Conference on Prophetic Ministry for this.) This summer is already opening my eyes to the ways grassroots movements can make a real impact on the community, and even how the church can be involved creatively—but more on that later.

The fundraiser was largely aimed at raising money to renovate a new building that OTB recently acquired. The organization started in a tiny room with a handful of clients and has steadily expanded, and the recent acquisition of a 7-acre property with an old nursing home promises to double their capacity in terms of clients served. The move was made possible in large part by a $100,000 grant from an incredible organization called Impact 100. Here's a brief description from their website: "Impact 100 Greater Indianapolis is a charitable women's giving circle dedicated to awarding high impact grants to nonprofits in our community in the areas of arts & culture, education, environment, family, and health & wellness." The idea is that a group of women comes together to make a real impact on an organization collectively, giving a $100,000 gift to a select group and then smaller gifts to others as well. OTB was this year's large grant winner. That this gift was given by a group of women was made even cooler by the fact that both the executive director and board president of OTB are women.

I really enjoyed myself at Inside the Bottle, but it was especially neat to learn more about Outside the Box. I'm going to see about visiting OTB at some point this summer. North UMC is currently discussing how publicly to profess its openness and inclusivity, a conversation that is largely about the GLBTQ community but which is also being expanded to include the differently abled and even socioeconomic classes that aren't necessarily represented or potentially welcome (or perceived as welcome) at North. Maybe OTB can give us some ideas for how better to reach out to and support families of children and adults with disabilities. Interestingly enough, the executive director of OTB attends North.

I love how everything is connected.

Finding True North #19: A Faith of Aesthetics

My new favorite spot for quiet time and prayer is the chapel at North UMC. It is a small, beautiful space located at one corner of the main church building where we have morning prayers each day. I love it for its intimate feel, the piano I've taken to playing in the mornings, and the beautiful stained glass windows that tie together the semicircular external wall.

I picked up a brochure on the chapel windows, which I was pleased to know was available just outside the chapel. The art was commissioned in 1997, the artist being MAuren McGuire from Phoenix, AZ. The five windows trace salvation history from the birth of Jesus to the descent of the Holy Spirit, and though I'd want salvation history (or, to use a word I really don't know why I remember besides the fact that it's fun to say, heilsgeschichte) to go back to creation, I realize 5 windows is limiting. In any case, the windows are beautiful and draw anyone paying attention into the stories.

Naturally, the first window that caught my attention was the last one, which depicts Pentecost. As I was preparing my Pentecost sermon, anything having to do with the Holy Spirit was grabbing me. I love the broad sweep of the dove's wings and the little tongues of fire hovering over the disciples' heads. You can see close-ups, as well as many pictures of the other windows, in the slideshow at the top.

A while back, I was reading a book by my favorite author, Sharon Kay Penman (yes, it's historical fiction, I'm a dork). It was probably her book Time and Chance, because I remember it was Eleanor of Aquitaine whose thoughts Penman was exploring. Queen Eleanor was kneeling in a beautiful chapel to pray, and she found herself thinking that she had, to use the one phrase I recall, "a faith of aesthetics."

I strongly identified with this because space and visuals have always been important to me in life and especially in my faith. I appreciate and find God in beautiful things, whether that is a stained glass window, a Gothic sanctuary or an ordinary space made sacred by something as simple as a candle. For me, aesthetics has to do not only with visual art but with things like wood and stone, the feel of a seat or the floor, and the sounds of a space. Music is part of my aesthetics, whether it's playing out loud or in my head. At times, aesthetics have been all that has sustained my faith, and though I'm tempted to feel guilty about that, I refuse to do so.

Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite was the 5th/6th-century Christian theologian and philospher whose idea about a celestial hierarchy influenced later theologies of aesthetics, including arguments made by Abbot Suger of the abbey of St. Denis, whose basilica was the first church to use Gothic architecture as it came to be in the cathedrals and churches of medieval Europe. Criticized for the decadence of the structure, Suger argued, as Pseudo-Dionysius had, that visual beauty called people to contemplate the beauty and transcendence of God. The lines of Gothic arches and the light streaming through stained glass windows, he said, drew people's eyes, hearts and minds upward.

There are a lot of questions in such a discussion about stewardship. When I took a course on Gothic cathedrals in undergrad, my dad sent me a cartoon that depicted a bishop protectively holding a model of a cathedral while Jesus, depicted as a beggar, holds out his hand asking for help. The construction of Chartres cathedral in particular created a divide between the church and the city that even Duke and Durham's town-and-gown complex can't imagine. Of course, sometimes we focus our understanding of stewardship too narrowly on the building itself; understanding the impact of such a structure on the surrounding community is a helpful broadening of the discussion, but Elaine Heath argues that stewardship ultimately needs to be about creation care. How can the upkeep of a large facility be maintained in such a way as to be environment- and community-friendly?

Last night, I attended a meeting of the Board of Directors at NUMC. One thing they discussed was the use of their building. I had already been part of conversations on the subject, and one staff member said she feels strongly that the building is part of the church's ministry. It truly is, and part of the discussion last night was how to make that even more true. North has a gorgeous neo-Gothic building that sits on the corner of Meridian and 38th Street, a bizarre meeting place of vastly different cultures and socioeconomic groups. Last week through Party in the Park, an outreach event that started up last year, North invited the community to come over for food, fellowship, games, stories, crafts and more. Party in the Park is held in the parking lot, and for many of the attendees, just coming that far onto the property was probably a big deal. Of course, people are in and out of the building all the time, so not everyone is afraid of this big stone structure.

How can churches like North with large and beautiful (but, to some, intimidating) structures open themselves up to their communities? How can beauty and aesthetics become inviting and instructive, not simply for show? These and more are some of the questions North is wrestling with and which the church at large needs to face as membership and giving decline while large portions of budgets must continue to go to building maintenance. How can a beautiful building like North's become a gift to the community and not simply a burden on the membership?