Lenten Calendar: Good Friday

A prayer from the cross – by Leonard Cohen

If it be your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before
I will speak no more
I shall abide until
I am spoken for
If it be your will
If it be your will
That a voice be true
From this broken hill
I will sing to you
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing

If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell
If it be your will
To make us well

And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night
If it be your will

If it be your will

Lenten Calendar: Betrayal

“Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.” – Jesus (John 13:21)

“Well, did you trust your noble dreams and gentle expectations to the mercy of the night? The night will always win.”

Worse yet, Jesus, did you trust your noble dreams and gentle expectations to the mercy of your followers? Well, then you will always be betrayed. Even if we regret it in the morning. Even if we miss “your stupid face” and “bad advice” when we’ve done everything in our power to flee your presence.

The disciples each had to ask if he would be the one to betray you, Jesus, because they all knew deep down that they were capable of it. More than that, they had absorbed years of your teaching and knew their incapability of living up to it. Judas just knew it better than any of them. Recognized the foolishness of filling all these earthen vessels and tried to shift the onus back on you and your divinity to usher in the kingdom of God. He wasn’t wrong in thinking us unequal to the task.

Even in our attempts to be faithful, we try “to clothe your bones” with poor production values, to make you real to the world around us with unconvincing words that turn people off and trite music that falls flat.

“I throw this to the wind, but what if” Judas “was right” in a way — to just get it over with, and quickly? It was an honest betrayal of sorts, that literally gutted him, compared to Peter swearing up and down that he would never betray Jesus. We can only swear such a thing by the moon — “th’inconstant moon” that changes form and position constantly like our variable love (Romeo and Juliet, II:2).

Jesus knew this would happen all along, and yet he chose to trust, he chooses to entrust us with his message to the world, to include us in his intimate circle, to call us friends. Part of striving to live worthy of such a calling includes facing the inevitability of failing to do so. Jesus entrusting human beings with following the will of God means that yes, the night will always win. But the darkness will not have the last word. The day of the Lord is now, and coming. Jesus’s faithfulness in following the will of God means that the night will never triumph. 

 

Lenten Calendar: From the Depths

De Profundis

Oh why is heaven built so far,
Oh why is earth set so remote?
I cannot reach the nearest star
That hangs afloat.
I would not care to reach the moon,
One round monotonous of change;
Yet even she repeats her tune
Beyond my range.
I never watch the scatter’d fire
Of stars, or sun’s far-trailing train,
But all my heart is one desire,
And all in vain:
For I am bound with fleshly bands,
Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope;
I strain my heart, I stretch my hands,
And catch at hope.
— Christina Rossetti

Press play and compose your own prayer from the depths

Oh why …

…?

I would not …

I …

And all in vain:

For I …

And catch at hope.

Lenten Calendar: Godly Sorrow

I am earworm-prone at the best of times. Musically, tunes often get stuck for no rhyme or reason and threaten to drive me out of my own mind. Lyrically, however, the lines I latch onto tend to be significant indicators of my mental state. Of course, in the worst of times, the mind races, and all these phrases become less helpful as they overlap at higher and higher rpms. I have to unspool and untangle them to make sense of them and self-diagnose.

Today’s first earworm is actually the title of a Harvard Business Review article: That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief. I absolutely recommend you read it right now, if you need to hear that it’s okay to be a “swirling, curling storm” (ay, there’s the lyric) of all the feels and how to weather that storm. This one has the prosaic advantage of directness and requires little to no unpacking. But it’s proving deadly accurate. Just about every conflicted emotion and thought of the day held up against that statement confirms it. That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief. Why, yes, yes it is, now that you mention it. That seems premature, but [several beats here while I actually read the article instead of just having the portentous, disembodied headline echoing in my head] yes.

Most of us have lost something of value at this point, and it only compounds our anxiety that there is no consensus about how much more we stand to lose or for how long. Not only is the ground is shifting beneath us, but the fissures and faults in the lay of the land are also being laid bare.

With my brain currently functioning as sort of sloppy concordance on the themes, it’s struck me recently how Scripture distinguishes between different forms of grief, sorrow, and distress; there are times they are appropriate and times they are inappropriate; ways they can harm us and ways they can be redemptive. “In fact, to be distressed in a godly way causes people to change the way they think and act and leads them to be saved. No one can regret that. But the distress that the world causes brings only death” (2 Corinthians 7:10, God’s Word Translation).

Repentance, in today’s world, is for suckers. It involves self-incrimination in a culture that constantly reminds of our rights to remain silent, plead the fifth, and shift the blame. Feeling guilty without admitting guilt and anxiety without corrective action are forms of worldly sorrow. Admitting guilt is what allows us to stop wallowing in it. Responding properly to the conviction that we’ve done wrong is an opportunity to find redemption in the consequences. In her chapter on Lent in The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year, Kimberlee Conway Ireton writes

“There is nothing self-flagellating about repentance. In fact, true repentance is just the opposite: it frees us…. Like fasting, repentance creates space in our lives; it allows us to hear the voice of God speaking to our hearts. Through repentance we become reacquainted with our truest selves, the selves God created in his own image” (p. 78).

Or, as the old-school version of 2 Corinthians 7:10 on repeat in my head goes, “godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation” (NKJV). I love the bounds that makes in so few words, from distress to rescue.

Which brings me to my final earworm, courtesy of Bastille’s “Pompeii.”

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Where on earth did that question come from? I mean, the obvious answer is that I’m not. I don’t get to be optimistic before anyone, much less myself, has any idea of what we’re dealing with here. I’m in the held breath calm before a storm of utterly uncertain size, and grinning about how it’s all going to be okay when they’re using exhibition centers as field hospitals and ice rinks as morgues in Madrid would be downright creepy.

And yet, in the midst of coming to terms with my small personal losses, empathizing with friends with larger concerns, and mourning with those dealing with ultimate concerns, the hope- and future-oriented pinwheels of my racing mind are spinning as well.

That discomfort we’re feeling is grief, but in response to it, the Harvard Business Review is urging us to “stock up on compassion.” And a lot of people are doing so, eagerly.

There’s something encouraging in the collective grief of facing how precariously most of us really live. God can make use of that kind of sorrow. That kind of conviction can lead to the kind of repentance that makes real change possible.

“See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done.” 2 Corinthians 7:11a (NIV) 

We are, beyond a doubt, alarmed, but it’s making us listen again. We’re hearing more good faith explorations of ethical questions, bordering at times on my vague memories of civil discourse. We’re collectively confronting the quandary of whom to save in the trolley dilemma, and questioning a system that seems most concerned with saving the trolley. It’s appalling to witness, but some scales fall away from our eyes when our elected officials propose literal human sacrifice on the altar of capitalism to appease the gods of the market.

None of this is cause for optimism, per se. “To be an optimist about this” has nothing do with expressing blind faith in human capabilities or pretending a deadly virus is a godsend. It doesn’t mean disregarding disheartening realities; it means letting our godly sorrow change the way we think and act in the face of them. It means devoting ourselves less to clawing our way back to a broken status quo and more to cultivating an earnest readiness, longing, and concern to see justice established where it was not before.

Lenten Calendar: Pray for Peace

Video

Engage in a little audio divina today with Moçnik Damijan’s Ierusalem. Damijan’s text is taken from Psalm 122 – sung in Latin and English – and the names for Jerusalem in multiple languages.

Jerusalem has only rarely, if ever, been a “city of peace,” as its name signifies. It is a prophetic, rather than a descriptive, name. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus “sets his face toward Jerusalem” in chapter 9 and does not arrive until chapter 19; most of his ministry takes place as he journeys toward the cross. Both God and Jesus lament over Jerusalem repeatedly in the Old and New Testament; it represents a place that has a special place in the heart of God, but which has never reached its potential. The prophetic book of Revelation ends in a description of a new “city of peace” in which God’s will is finally done on earth as it is now in heaven.

For what place or city do you feel moved to pray? Pray along with the groans and whispers and cries and melodies of the choir. Pray for its peace and reconciliation and fulfillment and the success of those working to improve the lives of its inhabitants.

blum

Temple Mount and Western Wall by Ludwig Blum

Jerusalem—built as a city
    that is bound firmly together.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem:

    “May they prosper who love you.
Peace be within your walls,
    and security within your towers.”
For the sake of my relatives and friends
    I will say, “Peace be within you.”
For the sake of the house of the Lord our God,
    I will seek your good.

— Psalm 122:3, 6-9

Lenten Calendar: Hiding

Today’s lectionary psalm is Psalm 32 – a maskil, or contemplative psalm imparting wisdom. It deals in visceral images of the pain and futility of trying to hide our dark secrets from God.

When I kept silent,
    my bones wasted away
    through my groaning all day long.
For day and night
    your hand was heavy on me;
my strength was sapped
    as in the heat of summer.

This oppressive feeling of guilt and shame lifts completely after coming clean with God, but then this psalm we’re supposed to think about and learn from does a funny thing. Just after busting the myth that we can hide from God, it refers to God as a hiding place. Obviously not from God, but from those who would punish us for giving up our pretense and deceit. God’s presence is the safest place to be our whole selves.

La Voix du sang Magritte

La Voix du sang by René Magritte

The lyrics to Our Lady Peace’s “Hiding Place” echo those of the psalm…

Have you seen what I saw
The sky came down from afar?

Have you been there before
That place where hearts’re reborn?

I’m looking for a place to go
I’m waiting on another
Hiding place for hearts

Have you dreamed of a world
Where armor sheaths your bones?

Have you ransomed your soul
To pay for all that you’ve got wrong?

Never give up

… and the video evokes the feelings of danger and safety.

 

Lenten Calendar: Change

Most of us — if we’re honest — will admit that we resist change, even if we like the idea of it. We may delight in newness, have a penchant for novelty, welcome distraction, or coolly ride out circumstances, but that doesn’t mean we want anything to shift within ourselves on a profound level.

Lent is an apt season for reflecting on the things in our lives that want to move, that cannot or should not remain the same. A gift that needs to grow, priorities desperate to realign, bits of our psyche we’ve worried so much that they’re raw or calloused and need to be left alone to heal.

Tracy Chapman’s song “Change” asks all the right questions — questions we can only safely ask ourselves in the presence of a God of love.

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“If everything you think you know
Makes your life unbearable
Would you change?”

“If not for the good why risk falling?”

“If you’d broken every rule and vow
And hard times come to bring you down
Would you change?”

“Are you so upright you can’t be bent
If it comes to blows?”

“If you knew that you would find a truth
That brings a pain that can’t be soothed
Would you change?”

Into the Labyrinth: The Road to Emmaus

Traditionally, the labyrinth is an uncluttered opportunity for centering prayer. It usually consists of a single path that leads into the center and back out. There are twists and turns, switchbacks, and apparent setbacks that actually take you further along the path to your goal, but feel like moving in the wrong direction. Unlike in a maze – the labyrinth’s choose-your-own-adventure cousin – if you simply walk the path in front of you, you will get where you’re going. Labyrinths are often found outdoors or in relatively bare chapels with an altar and candles that welcome people to come and unburden themselves of whatever they’re carrying, yoke themselves to Christ, and practice walking in the spirit. It is a lovely form of sacred space: simple yet suggestive. The idea presented below is not intended as an improvement over a traditional labyrinth. We borrowed the labyrinth motif because it brought to life the sense of realization while in movement, the walking epiphanies of the story of the disciples meeting Jesus on the road to Emmaus. As such, it would be appropriate to set up during Epiphany or during Lent – when we wander the desert not to lose ourselves, but to find our center – as well as when we did it: during the season of Easter, before Ascension, when this story originally took place.

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A labyrinth of the everyday – trompe l’oeil outside Chartres Cathedral

Road to Emmaus Labyrinth

Luke 24:13-35

Our[1] labyrinth consisted of a huge drop cloth on the floor marked in a variation on a classic labyrinth pattern.[2] With staggered starts, the labyrinth could accommodate four or five people at a time. We set up eight compact, numbered stations along the path – five going in, one at the center, and two going out.[3] Two readers (one reading the script, the other the scripture passages throughout) recorded an audio tour with music as follows. People were given headphones and a cheap, one-button mp3 player and invited to pause and play and go at their own pace. In this script the numbers correspond to the track number.

  1. “Welcome”

Welcome to the Emmaus Road Labyrinth. Here we enter the story of two disciples meeting the resurrected Jesus as they walked along the road to a town called Emmaus. In a sense, we’ll be walking along with them as we progress into and back out from the heart of the labyrinth. A labyrinth is not a maze. A maze is a puzzle to be solved. A labyrinth is a path to be followed. Walking a labyrinth is a completely different exercise than running a maze. Here there is no fear of being lost. The labyrinth externally enacts the internal experience of centering. Spiritually, it represents space set apart, or sacred space, in which we are drawn into the center, to the recognition of the presence of God, then return to the world blessed and changed by the experience, and better equipped to be an agent of blessing and change.

 

Each station in the labyrinth has one track on this audio guide. Go at your own pace. This is a time to walk in the Spirit, swap stories with Jesus and listen for the voice of God in your life. If the words or music become a distraction, feel free to pause, skip ahead or ignore the recording entirely. Enter the labyrinth and continue walking until you reach station one.

 

  1. “Station One (going in): They were kept from recognizing him” Luke 24:13-16

Jesus’ followers then and now have different perceptions of who he is and what he came to do. The disciples’ false perceptions of Jesus kept them from knowing and loving him for who he is. They thought he was a teacher, a revolutionary, a ruler; they thought he was dead.

It is difficult to recognize the presence of God when God doesn’t act according to our assumptions. St. John of the Cross called this the dark night of the soul. He saw it as a time in which, despite all appearances and perceptions, even though it feels like stumbling around in the dark, the soul grows in faith and intimacy with Christ Himself, rather than with illusions of Him.

 

Open the flaps to see images of the Jesus we think we know. Ask him to reveal himself so that we may love him as he truly is.[4]

Music: “The Dark Night of the Soul” by Loreena McKennitt

 

  1. “Station Two (going in): Downcast” Luke 24:17

The Seder is the traditional meal and central celebration of Passover. To read about the origins of Passover, please pause this recording and read Exodus 11 & 12 marked in the bibles here. The entire extended family is to come together. Throughout the meal, they retell the Exodus story in the first person as if they had been one of the slaves freed from Pharaoh’s bondage. The bitter herbs, horseradish here, are eaten to remind the participants of the bitterness of slavery.  Are you downcast? Where are you experiencing bitterness? Taste the herbs and let the words of Psalm 22 be your cry to heaven.

 

  1. “Station Three (going in): Storytelling, Part 1” Luke 24:18-24

The disciples on the road were consoling each other by telling stories and remembering Christ. On index cards, write about a time in your life when you met with God. Pin them to the storyboard. Read others’ stories and allow others to read your story.

 

  1. “Station Four (going in): Storytelling, Part 2” Luke 24:25-27

Now Jesus tells his story, explaining his work throughout the ages, establishing and re-establishing relationships with his people. Flip through a bible and take some time to hear God’s story of constant provision and love. The lectionary bookmarks and bibles are free for you to take with you.

Music: “Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet” by Jars of Clay (light) or Gavin Bryars (strong)

 

  1. “Station Five (going in): Welcoming the Stranger” Luke 24:28-29

The disciples welcomed Jesus though they did not yet recognize him. Who is the stranger walking along the road with you now? Have you ever encountered Christ in or through a stranger? Have you ever been that stranger? Consider these questions as you watch the video.[5] Pause this program and use the headphones attached to the monitor.

 

  1. “Station Six (center): Breaking Bread” Luke 24:30-31

Here in the center of the labyrinth, Jesus meets us and offers sustenance for the journey outward. Break bread with Christ. Join in this prayer from “Six Recognitions of the Lord” by Mary Oliver as you take and eat.

 

Oh, feed me this day, Holy Spirit, with

the fragrance of the fields and the

freshness of the oceans which you have

made, and help me to hear and to hold

in all dearness those exacting and wonderful

words of our Lord Christ Jesus, saying:

Follow me.

 

[minute pause]

When you are ready to begin your journey back out into the world, take a card and exit out the corner opposite from the one you entered. Practice walking prayerfully.

 

  1. “Station Seven (going out): Burning Hearts” Luke 24:32

What is Christ saying to you on the road? What does scripture say about Jesus? What does it say about you? Have you looked recently to see? Light a candle and pray for the scriptures to be opened to you, for the words to burn within your heart.

[pause]

What words from the scripture cards or from your bible reading do you want burned deeper into your heart? Write them onto a paper heart, tack it to a candle and take it with you. Light it at home, while it burns pray that the scriptures will be opened to you and your heart opened to them.

Music: “Listen” by Michelle Tumes

 

  1. “Station Eight (going out): Returning to Jerusalem” Luke 24:33-35

Where is your “Jerusalem?” Where will you now return and share what you have experienced? Who can you talk to about what you are learning about Jesus?

Christ is risen! Take a cross to give to a friend as a reminder of Christ the Lord, alive and walking with us.

 

 

[1] You know you have a successful collaboration going when no one can remember whose ideas were whose and they’ve become too interwoven to attribute them separately anyway. I got to write the script, but the experience as a whole was thought through and produced by everyone in our alt worship planning group: Cristie Kearny, Deb Hedeen, Judy Naegeli, Trisha Gilmore, Cathy Stevens, Heidi Estey, Kirk Heynen, James Kearny and Anika Smith.

[2] Ours happened to have one path leading in to the center and a different path leading back out, but generally I would recommend the Half-Chartres (basically the inside half of the design at Chartres Cathedral). You can find instructions for making a 12’ x 12’ version at “Karen’s Small Labyrinths” http://www.angelfire.com/my/zelime/labyrinthssmall.html#halfchartres. The size shown there would be sufficient for people to use one or two at a time with a single station in the middle, but wouldn’t accommodate what I’m describing here. Ours was about 4 times that size, maybe 25’ x 25’.

[3] The stations should be clearly numbered with the station number and the track number and labeled “going in” or “going out” so as not to confuse anyone. Remember they are all actually set up on and around a flat, open surface, so they will not be laid down linearly. If you use a single path labyrinth, people will be walking by stations 7 and 8 on the way in, but should only stop at them on the way out. We set up stations on small, low tables and music stands so they wouldn’t pose as obstacles by taking up too much space. Café tables would work nicely for the stations you can place around the outside of the circuit. Ideally, if someone’s standing at a station, another person should be able to pass them without stepping completely off the path.

[4] Our artists made this interactive piece. You can create your own by making a collage poster of images of Jesus or roles people think of Jesus playing: the miracle worker, the rustic shepherd, the white-suited televangelist, the revolutionary in a beret, the pacifist at a sit-in, etc. Then overlay the poster with another piece of poster board and cut flaps in it that open onto the various images.

[5] We commissioned a videographer and a high school student in our congregation to collaborate on a video of different kinds of people. You could make your own using stills of people in your church and neighborhood or footage from mission trips. Or you could download something along the lines of The Work of the People’s “Stranger” (http://www.theworkofthepeople.com/index.php?ct=store.details&pid=V00520) or LifesongMD’s “World Faces” (http://youtu.be/z6RLHKRs9D8).

No Fear of the World: The Sequel

Click here if you missed part 1

Any theology of culture will intertwine with an interpreter’s rational, theological, and ideological characterization of the present condition of humanity. If culture is a uniquely human creation, its status relies on our status. Does the image of God within us validate our good creations? Does our fallen state taint our works indelibly? Does our redemption transfer to the work of our hands and minds? Most theologies of culture cite the incarnation as a model. If Christ took on flesh and lived among us, we cannot follow God in the abstract or love our neighbor in only an otherworldly sense. In fact, the Trinity as a whole, not just the second person, exemplifies God’s commitment to humanity. God created, entered, and remains at large in this world and has commissioned and empowered the Church to walk to the ends of it to communicate that good news. Turning our back on the world is not an option for Christ’s body.

This is not to say that Christians should not be discerning consumers. Discernment is a constant process that constitutes a major portion of the Christian’s job description. This discernment process, however, occurs within the Christian community, not by forcing our vision on those outside of it. Ralph C. Wood advises we become “self-critical citizens of the world as well as self-critical confessors of the Faith.”[1] We learn to critique our cultures because, like it or not, they define a significant portion of our selves. If Christ did not come to condemn the world, why would he send us poor souls to do so? Or, as Paul once put it to the Corinthians, “What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside?”[2] American Christians need to stop trying to enforce “Christian values”[3] outside of the body of Christ. If we concerned ourselves as much with keeping the Church and our own self-righteous selves on the straight and narrow as we currently do with perfect strangers who happen to act or sing for a living, we might wake up one morning to find we have a credible witness in the world.

When we come to terms with and gratitude for the fact that God has set us in our extended human families for our own good and for theirs, we begin to create within our cultures in order to bless them, rather than to curse. We stop trying to protect our own religious sensibilities and God himself by creating a safe cultural ghetto for ourselves. We can describe all our work in the world the way Tim Foreman of Switchfoot describes his band’s music: “Christian by faith, not by genre.”[4]

The apostle Paul validated what he found valid in the Athenian worldview, but sought to enlarge and inform it.  He served the Corinthians by becoming like them to win them over, for the sake of the gospel.[5]  The Church has traditionally patronized and sponsored the artistic tendencies of high culture.  Christians approve what is excellent, see nature (including human nature, in the form of the conscience) as a source of general revelation, and accept that what is true, beautiful, and good in human life represents God’s pervasive, common grace within all creation.  We can comfortably affirm ennobling tales of self-sacrifice, and the sentimental images, captured in oils, of devoted parents or a glowing sunset as echoes of God’s presence in our everyday lives. But what about Skins, Grand Theft Auto, and Here Comes Honey Boo Boo?  What of the superficial and frivolous, the gaudy and offensive? Should we consume such things? Contribute to their creation?

Not all the ideals of our culture will reflect our ideals, but our convictions of how things should be should not blind us to how things are. We must become conscious of the forces at work and play in our popular cultures that shape us or attempt to shape us. Being aware of the rules and ethos of Survivor, for example, allows us to recognize and resist social currents that might otherwise carry us along to unthinking engagement in behavior antithetical to the gospel.  While the language of voting people off the island, dismissing the weakest link, and pursuing entirely wrongheaded notions of winning becomes ingrained and normalized in our collective psyche, those in discerning Christian communities remind each other that the people of God are called to live into a different reality. What if Christians created everyday culture that reflected that reality? How can we do that if we’re not familiar with our culture as it actually exists? What if we occasionally took our kids to an “inappropriate” but important movie and talked to them about it instead of forbidding them to go? What if we listened to their music with them instead of insisting they turn it down or investing our energies in keeping them culturally ignorant? Once a week ask them to play you something and help you hear or see why it is significant to them.[6]

We all have different tastes. I’m not suggesting we feign a fondness for Glee where none exists, but do I become a better witness among my neighbors and co-workers by flaunting my complete ignorance of a show that informs and influences their lives?  Dick Staub counsels us to be “serious about faith, savvy about faith and culture, and skilled in relating the two…. Culturally savvy Christians follow the path of neither the cultural glutton nor the cultural anorexic. Instead, they are marked by their discretion and thoughtful discernment.”[7] Discernment is a form of wisdom Christ offers his Church through the Spirit to enable us to walk well in a world full of falling hazards and diversions. It is a gift and a tool that we become more adept at using as we practice it. Much of parenting consists of equipping our children to make good decisions then allowing them the freedom and responsibility to do so. God parents us in much the same way. We need to develop lifestyles of prayerfully listening to the Spirit to rightly and readily discern how to relate to particular aspects of our cultures, but God’s word equips us with some basic principles. Staub summarizes the relevant guidelines in Paul’s letters to the Romans and the Corinthians: all things are lawful, but not all are beneficial. We are not to be controlled by cultural goods or to use them to occasion another’s fall, but rather to do everything we do to the glory of God.[8] We are to remain in conversation with people who do not believe as we do. “Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.”[9] Which response best stimulates that kind of conversation: “I don’t watch that show/ play that game/ listen to that music because I heard it was evil” or “I watched/ played/ listened to that a couple times, but I was so turned off by the glorified violence/ portrayal of women as objects/ the racist-sounding lyrics I just stopped. You obviously follow it more closely than I do, though. What about it appeals to you? What am I missing?”

Sometimes our neighbors and co-workers diversions will be just that: diversions – opportunities to check out from real life. Let’s not read too much into those or pretend we don’t have our own indefensible diversions. People who consistently try to convert others to a favorite movie or band or sport, however, have probably found something that moves them and relates to their desire for more out of life. In Your Neighbor’s Hymnal, Jeff Keuss talks about pop music as one of the many cultural forms in which we may find spiritual solace or expression; chances are our neighbors already have.

“True, there is pop music fandom that draws people into the trivial and mundane just as there are some Christian worship services that celebrate consumer culture more than critique it or provide an alternative. But the drive to find something larger than ourselves and make it public is a starting point – even a shallow faith is better than no faith at all. And in this we are to celebrate rather than too quickly denounce the fanboy faith that permeates the culture around us. Our neighbor’s hymnal is filled with pop songs that are sowing the seeds of faith and pushing for a form of life that is larger than the mundane and points to a transcendence worth paying attention to.”[10]

If we dismiss out of hand the cultural texts and goods that God may use to open our neighbor’s heart to something beyond this world, we squelch the prospect of discovering an addition to our playlist that works similarly on us; worse, we hazard quenching the Spirit, who – as the old song goes – moves in mysterious ways.

[1] Wood, Contending for the Faith: The Church’s Engagement with Culture (Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press, 2003), 102.

[2] 1 Corinthians 5:12.

[3] Whatever those are; the fact that Christians can’t agree on them doesn’t bode well for their universal legislation anyway.

[4] qtd. in Andrew Beaujon, Bodypiercing Saved My Life: Inside the Phenomenon of Christian Rock (Cambridge, Mass.: Da Capo), 42.

[5] 1 Corinthians 9:9-13

[6] This will be a test, by the way. If they put themselves out to articulate something that matters to them and you only find fault with it, don’t expect them to play along next week. Even if a song or video turns you off completely, listen to your child’s heart and how media speaks to it and affirm that heart. Also, don’t expect their articulation to be particularly articulate or convincing at first. By having these conversations you may be giving them their first lessons in putting their spiritual lives into words; they’re not learning this in school. Listen for opportunities to augment their vocabulary for discussing soul issues without putting words in their mouths.

[7] Staub, The Culturally Savvy Christian: A Manifesto for Deepening Faith and Enriching Popular Culture in an Age of Christianity-Lite (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2007), 1, 151.

[8] ibid. 152-153.

[9] Colossians 4:5-6, TNIV.

[10] Jeffrey F. Keuss, Your Neighbor’s Hymnal: What Popular Music Teaches Us about Faith, Hope, and Love (Eugene, Ore.: Cascade Books, 2011), 22.

Dead Can Dance: A Meditation and Playlist for Holy Saturday

The Dance of Death (1493) by Michael Wolgemut, from the Liber chronicarum by Hartmann Schedel

“[Jesus] was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner…. [Jesus] was as dead as a door-nail…. There is no doubt that [Jesus] was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.” adapted from Dickens’ _A Christmas Carol_

Christians are sorely tempted to gloss over or spiritualize the death of Christ. After all, how dead can we imagine the Source of all life? At what point do our imaginations fail to allow for his return to life? If we find Jesus’ resurrection easy to believe, might it be at the expense of our belief in Jesus’ death? Our scriptures and our creeds stress that Jesus did not just die, he was buried. He was counted and fully identified with the dead. He took kenosis, humanity, and mortality to their furthest limits and poured himself out even to death. Christ’s earliest followers wanted to impress upon all who would listen that he did not faint, lose consciousness, or swoon. He was not “mostly dead.” He was as dead as dead gets, deader than we’ll ever be, as ultimate in death as in life, not only the firstborn of all creation, but also the jigging and grinning leader and Lord of the danse macabre that ultimately unites us all regardless of who we were and what we believed. Wherever we go when we die, he went there, and conquered it in his own name. Harrowing of Hell - from a 15th century French Book of Hours at the Huntington Library

Death couldn’t hold him any more than heaven or earth could. Holy Saturday makes room in our theology for the death of God, and a God beyond Being, and all the contributions of William Blake and John of the Cross, Hegel and Nietchze, Caputo and Zizek. We are given a time to mourn him and celebrate his life, time for a proper wake, granted an interval to contemplate the horror of life without him, an opportunity to come together and make sense of and respond to what he was on about in life.

It’s a time to allow our perspectives to shift, like Robert DeLong sings about in “Global Concepts.”

After I die, I’ll re-awake,
redefine what was at stake
from the hindsight of a god.

Whether or not you believe Jesus completely grasped the entirety of who he was and what he came to do before he died, it’s quite obvious that his disciples did not. Only in losing him and in his return did they begin to understand the magnitude of what was at stake. Even those who believed he was the Messiah had a limited notion of what that meant before Christ’s death and resurrection. To John’s disciples who wondered if he was the One, he replied “that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the gospel preached to them” (Luke 7:22), and to the crowds he wondered aloud, if John’s preaching and my healing can’t do it, what’s it going to take to get you people mourning and dancing? What did you go out into the desert to see? A reed in the wind? A man in soft clothes? A prophet? What will you make of me coming to eat and drink with you?

Did I make money? Was I proud?
Did I play my songs too loud?
Did I leave my life to chance
or did I make you f***ing dance?

Holy Saturday redefines death, life, and power. The dance of the dead is not a sign of futility or defeat, but of completion, hope in more than this life, and victory.

Should I close my eyes and prophesize
Hoping maybe someday come?
Should I wet the ground with my own tears
Crying over what’s been done?

Should I lift the dirt and plant the seed
Even though I’ve never grown?
Should I wet the ground with the sweat from my brow
And believe in my good work?

Hey there, I’m flying up above
Looking down on the tired earth
I can see, I can see potential
Speaking through you, speaking to you
From all of heaven’s possibility

Power, hey, do know how it work?
Hey, do you know that the meek
They shall inherit the earth?
You should work, you should work
Yeah, for the self and the family

Should I hit the water or stay on dry land
Even though I’ve never swam?
Take machete, take them into the brush
Though at first there is no path

Taste the war paint on my tongue
As it’s dripping with my sweat
Place my gaze in the future’s path
Seeing things that ain’t come yet

Hope to watch the victory dance
After the day’s work is done
Hope to watch the victory dance
In the evening’s setting sun

Need more for your playlist? Try Elbow’s “The Night Will Always Win” (imagine Peter and Judas singing that for their various reasons), Dave Matthews’ “The Space Between” and The Waterboys’ “Song for the Life” along with, of course the Dead Can Dance’s eponymous album from way back when for atmosphere. Interestingly enough they put out an album called Anastasis (=resurrection) last year that I’ll be listening to tomorrow.

I’ll close with a poem that leads a great post on the subject of Holy Saturday by Christine Valters Paintner

Don’t surrender your loneliness so quickly.
Let it cut more deep.
Let it ferment and season you as few human
Or even divine ingredients can.
Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice so tender,
My need of God
Absolutely clear
.

~ Hafiz