Ignatius Reilly knew what the United States needed. Shuffling through the streets of New Orleans in the world of The Confederacy of Dunces. Reilly remarks, “The United States needs some theology and geometry, some taste and decency. I suspect that we are teetering on the edge of the abyss.”
If the United States is on the edge of the abyss, then the call of the church is to insert a stabilizing fulcrum of leadership to prevent a downward avalanche of distaste and indecency. I’m not sure what Reilly meant by theology and geometry, I’m not sure he himself knew either, but I do know this: the church does need some theology and geometry. We need theology because our words about God, our theos-logos, our God –talk matters. We need geometry, the study of spaces, because our understanding of the angles and spaces of our hearts and world matter. Lessons in theology and geometry don’t just happen in seminary or in math classes. These are courses in life-long learning that intersect every word we utter and every space we inhabit.
This past year I learned a little theology and a little geometry from Rich Gordon. The geometry lesson was simple. Rich Gordon sat in the sixth row from the back at a 30 degree angle from the pulpit. The theology was much more complex. After Rich died at age 49 of complications from cancer, I had the privilege of reading some of his talk to God inscribed in the margins of his Bible. Never before have I seen such an intricate web of words – the prayers of his heart, the struggles of his mind, the hopes for his soul – penciled in during the hardest course of his life. There in the margins were names, dates, prayers, questions, thoughts, circumstances, life. When Rich died, I was absolutely shaken. When Rich lived, the interconnection of his geometry (church every Sunday, same spot in the pew) alongside his theology (constant conversation with God about every circumstance in his life) had exponential impact on those around him. His leadership, strengthened by his theology and geometry, was grounded in love and multiplied by God’s grace. That leadership had exponential impact.
In the gospel of Matthew, chapter 22, the Pharisees and Jesus are engaged in a little God-talk. Pushing Jesus on his theology, one asks, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” Jesus replied, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” This is a geometric equation. Jesus answers with a mathematical mindset to let your love multiply. And not only that, let your love for God exponentially multiply. All your heart multiplied by all your soul multiplied by all your mind will have exponential increase on the world around you. And if you lead from this kind of love, you will have Love Cubed Leadership.
This is the kind of leadership the church needs, for a world teetering on the edge of an abyss. Rich Gordon had that kind of leadership. The challenge for the church is to create structures that encourage Love Cubed Leadership. This isn’t leadership that fills functions or forms, but instead it is leadership that sets loose the love of God from our hearts, minds and souls and in so doing has dramatic impact on the nooks and crannies of our world. Love Cubed Leadership makes exponential impact; not the pact of the status quo. Love Cubed Leadership multiplies in the face of stress; it doesn’t recess out of sight out of mind. Love Cubed Leadership doesn’t box people in; it creates a fulcrum so that those teetering on the edge of the abyss find balance and hope. Love Cubed Leadership is not task-minded; it is our selves turned loose in the world for the sake of the gospel.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Two Steppin' Through Times of Trouble
My first two stepping experience I can describe in ten words:
Junior High
Tall girl
Short boy
Backwards glide
Trash can.
Guess who it was that ended up in the trash can? A traumatic teenage experience to say the least.
Thought for today is: two steppin’ through times of trouble.
It doesn’t take even take ten words – as this Psalm 31 unfolds – for us to realize that the Psalmist is journeying through a time of trouble….
We hear the Psalmist speak from his experience –
I run to you God, I run for dear life.
Don’t let me down!
Free me from hidden traps.
You saw my pain.
Now, I am in deep, deep trouble again.
I’ve cried my eyes out.
I feel hollow inside.
My life leaks away – groan by groan –
My troubles have worn me out.
Do you hear in these words the trouble that life can bring? Like any great poet, the psalmists words help us to name and see our own life experiences - my life leaks away, groan by groan.
So troubling is this particular moment of life, the Psalmist questions the actual presence of God -
Don’t embarrass me by not showing up.
Don’t let me down.
What’s wonderful about the Message interpretation of scripture – is not the perfection of the translation – if you compared this to the NRSV you might hear very different nuances. But what is wonderful about this interpretation is that it was build on Eugene Peterson’s thirty years of pastoral ministry and the thousands of conversations he had with his parishioners in that time. This is a translation informed by an oral history of our present day struggles. The freshness of his language is informed by the faithful struggle of a congregation of believers.
And the nuance he brings to this text, is this: he names those devastating moments when we want to give up.
Its that moment when we put God out of sight, out of mind.
We hear the Psalmist do a two step here – a step forward into faith and the formation of life that comes from faith in God – and then a step backward with a sigh of exhaustion – that screams of giving up.
Have you ever done that dance –
Step forward in faith,
Step backward in fear -
Two-stepping hesitantly through times of trouble?
This weekend, YES, this snowy weekend – our Session (the leadership of our church) was away on Retreat for twenty four hours of praying and learning.
In our conversations we talked much of the role of the church in troubling times. How do we as a session help folks who are doing that troublin’ two step – the forward in faith, backward in fear.
We talked about the Sessions’ need to stand tall – so that they can see above their partners here at the church so that their vision allows a beautiful dance – instead of a trip into the trash can.
As we talked – we discussed the myriad of things a church may offer – and how sometimes we get lost in all of that. We realized that the two fundamental things a church might consistently put before its members is SCRIPTURE and SERVICE.
Scripture, like Psalm 31, that guides us through the troubling times.
Service, that comes in partnership, that helps us do that divine two step together.
Scripture, service. Scripture, service. Scripture, service. What a great two step.
STEP ONE – SCRIPTURE – that leads to prayer
If you came to worship today looking for a three point sermon – then you’ll leave disappointed. I only have two:
They both have to do with two stepping confidently through times of trouble – with scripture and with service..
We come to the end of the Psalm and we hear exactly this:
Blessed God,
Your love is the wonder of the world.
When I was trapped by siege – (when I wanted to give up) – I panicked.
But you heard me,
You listened.
And then we hear this phrase – whispered to us as words of encouragement across the centuries to us here this day -
Be brave. Be strong. Don’t give up.
Expect God to get here soon.
Be brave.
Be strong.
Don’t give up.
Expect God to get here soon.
Turn to your left – tell them to be brave.
Turn to your right – tell them to be strong.
Look inward for a moment – in a quiet moment – whisper to yourself “Don’t give up.”
And look up – heavenward – because we expect God to get here soon.
This is the first step. SCRIPTURE that leads to prayer. The two step begins…
STEP TWO: SERVICE – that leads to partnership
The second point is this: two stepping in the church is always scripture, service. Scripture, service.
Scripture, leads to prayer. Service calls us to partnership. You grab the hand of someone beside you and you get to dancing.
Sometimes those partnerships surprise us – and we realize what a great sense of humor God has.
A person who has partnered our eighth graders with prayer partners from Shenango Home.
The Deacons as they move toward more ministry and less hospitality find themselves in surprising and sustaining partnerships. Someone said this week, those BEACONS are just great.
A member of our youth group who, as she has raised money for the Dominican, has been surprised by the many people eager to be in the dance with her.
These past months, we have all been praying for one of our families, who at many times as surgery was stopped two times – found themselves at the point of Giving Up.
One day, in the midst of the man's waiting at home for a third surgical attempt – the doorbell rang. It was our faithful pastor emeritus.
When the doorbell rang, a soda can went flying – across a white carpet and beige sofas.
It was one of those moments when you look around and think, I give up. I can no longer deal.
This is exactly what the woman said to the pastor as he came to make a pastoral call. We are at our wit’s end here.
Without missing a beat, he took her in his arms, a partner in service, and almost as if in a dance – took her in his arms and whispered in her ears, ‘Dear God, help these two not to give up. They need you now.” And then he walked out the door.
It was about this time last year that members of our church were down in New Orleans for a mission trip. It was on our first mission trip that we learned a great two step – a Cajun tradition – called the Cajun Potato Dance.
The Cajun potato dance is a two step – done with a potato between your head and your partner’s. The folks who still have the potato between their heads at the end of the dance are the winners – they win applause, acclaim, affirmation!
There is a great phrase that goes with the Cajun Potato Dance –
Lache pas la potate. Say it with me… lache pas la potate.
What that means is “Don’t let the potato drop”.
And it is slang for the phrase – Don’t give up.
Here is surprising encouragement from a Cajun two step. Don’t give up.
So I am going to ask my fellow Cajun to come demonstrate the dance.. and while Dan plays a little Cajun tune… you all need to say continuously, “Lache pas la potate.”
I don’t know where you are struggling to keep the potato up – if it is in your marriage, in your job, in midlife questions, in retirement. Maybe it is financial – with bills, cuts, gas and groceries. Perhaps it is with one of your children – where the call to give up can seem greater than the call from God to keep trying.
You see, we all have something that is like this potato –
And it is the two step of SCRIPTURE and SERVICE
Alongside the spirited encouragement to NOT GIVE UP
That helps us to two step through times of trouble.
Junior High
Tall girl
Short boy
Backwards glide
Trash can.
Guess who it was that ended up in the trash can? A traumatic teenage experience to say the least.
Thought for today is: two steppin’ through times of trouble.
It doesn’t take even take ten words – as this Psalm 31 unfolds – for us to realize that the Psalmist is journeying through a time of trouble….
We hear the Psalmist speak from his experience –
I run to you God, I run for dear life.
Don’t let me down!
Free me from hidden traps.
You saw my pain.
Now, I am in deep, deep trouble again.
I’ve cried my eyes out.
I feel hollow inside.
My life leaks away – groan by groan –
My troubles have worn me out.
Do you hear in these words the trouble that life can bring? Like any great poet, the psalmists words help us to name and see our own life experiences - my life leaks away, groan by groan.
So troubling is this particular moment of life, the Psalmist questions the actual presence of God -
Don’t embarrass me by not showing up.
Don’t let me down.
What’s wonderful about the Message interpretation of scripture – is not the perfection of the translation – if you compared this to the NRSV you might hear very different nuances. But what is wonderful about this interpretation is that it was build on Eugene Peterson’s thirty years of pastoral ministry and the thousands of conversations he had with his parishioners in that time. This is a translation informed by an oral history of our present day struggles. The freshness of his language is informed by the faithful struggle of a congregation of believers.
And the nuance he brings to this text, is this: he names those devastating moments when we want to give up.
Its that moment when we put God out of sight, out of mind.
We hear the Psalmist do a two step here – a step forward into faith and the formation of life that comes from faith in God – and then a step backward with a sigh of exhaustion – that screams of giving up.
Have you ever done that dance –
Step forward in faith,
Step backward in fear -
Two-stepping hesitantly through times of trouble?
This weekend, YES, this snowy weekend – our Session (the leadership of our church) was away on Retreat for twenty four hours of praying and learning.
In our conversations we talked much of the role of the church in troubling times. How do we as a session help folks who are doing that troublin’ two step – the forward in faith, backward in fear.
We talked about the Sessions’ need to stand tall – so that they can see above their partners here at the church so that their vision allows a beautiful dance – instead of a trip into the trash can.
As we talked – we discussed the myriad of things a church may offer – and how sometimes we get lost in all of that. We realized that the two fundamental things a church might consistently put before its members is SCRIPTURE and SERVICE.
Scripture, like Psalm 31, that guides us through the troubling times.
Service, that comes in partnership, that helps us do that divine two step together.
Scripture, service. Scripture, service. Scripture, service. What a great two step.
STEP ONE – SCRIPTURE – that leads to prayer
If you came to worship today looking for a three point sermon – then you’ll leave disappointed. I only have two:
They both have to do with two stepping confidently through times of trouble – with scripture and with service..
We come to the end of the Psalm and we hear exactly this:
Blessed God,
Your love is the wonder of the world.
When I was trapped by siege – (when I wanted to give up) – I panicked.
But you heard me,
You listened.
And then we hear this phrase – whispered to us as words of encouragement across the centuries to us here this day -
Be brave. Be strong. Don’t give up.
Expect God to get here soon.
Be brave.
Be strong.
Don’t give up.
Expect God to get here soon.
Turn to your left – tell them to be brave.
Turn to your right – tell them to be strong.
Look inward for a moment – in a quiet moment – whisper to yourself “Don’t give up.”
And look up – heavenward – because we expect God to get here soon.
This is the first step. SCRIPTURE that leads to prayer. The two step begins…
STEP TWO: SERVICE – that leads to partnership
The second point is this: two stepping in the church is always scripture, service. Scripture, service.
Scripture, leads to prayer. Service calls us to partnership. You grab the hand of someone beside you and you get to dancing.
Sometimes those partnerships surprise us – and we realize what a great sense of humor God has.
A person who has partnered our eighth graders with prayer partners from Shenango Home.
The Deacons as they move toward more ministry and less hospitality find themselves in surprising and sustaining partnerships. Someone said this week, those BEACONS are just great.
A member of our youth group who, as she has raised money for the Dominican, has been surprised by the many people eager to be in the dance with her.
These past months, we have all been praying for one of our families, who at many times as surgery was stopped two times – found themselves at the point of Giving Up.
One day, in the midst of the man's waiting at home for a third surgical attempt – the doorbell rang. It was our faithful pastor emeritus.
When the doorbell rang, a soda can went flying – across a white carpet and beige sofas.
It was one of those moments when you look around and think, I give up. I can no longer deal.
This is exactly what the woman said to the pastor as he came to make a pastoral call. We are at our wit’s end here.
Without missing a beat, he took her in his arms, a partner in service, and almost as if in a dance – took her in his arms and whispered in her ears, ‘Dear God, help these two not to give up. They need you now.” And then he walked out the door.
It was about this time last year that members of our church were down in New Orleans for a mission trip. It was on our first mission trip that we learned a great two step – a Cajun tradition – called the Cajun Potato Dance.
The Cajun potato dance is a two step – done with a potato between your head and your partner’s. The folks who still have the potato between their heads at the end of the dance are the winners – they win applause, acclaim, affirmation!
There is a great phrase that goes with the Cajun Potato Dance –
Lache pas la potate. Say it with me… lache pas la potate.
What that means is “Don’t let the potato drop”.
And it is slang for the phrase – Don’t give up.
Here is surprising encouragement from a Cajun two step. Don’t give up.
So I am going to ask my fellow Cajun to come demonstrate the dance.. and while Dan plays a little Cajun tune… you all need to say continuously, “Lache pas la potate.”
I don’t know where you are struggling to keep the potato up – if it is in your marriage, in your job, in midlife questions, in retirement. Maybe it is financial – with bills, cuts, gas and groceries. Perhaps it is with one of your children – where the call to give up can seem greater than the call from God to keep trying.
You see, we all have something that is like this potato –
And it is the two step of SCRIPTURE and SERVICE
Alongside the spirited encouragement to NOT GIVE UP
That helps us to two step through times of trouble.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
PAH RUM PUM PUM PUM... The Pulse of Christmas
What is your favorite holiday hymn?
What is your least favorite holiday hymn? A recent survey polled people on the most annoying holiday hymn – In this survey – three came in close together for top honors of least favorite:
Silver Bells
Do You Hear What I Hear?
The Little Drummer Boy
Did I touch on anyone’s personal dislike?
But of the three – it is the Little Drummer Boy that tops the list.
Listen to how one disgruntled listener, David James Duncan explained his initial dislike… “So an uninvited urchin, stands next to the cradle of a newborn baby, banging away on a drum. Have any vindictive relatives ever given a child in your home a drum?”
As someone who was the recipient of a Leap Frog Drum – (Leap Frog is the toy that won’t let you stop playing with it) – for several winter months – “bang the drum everyone, bang the drum…” I can resonate with the frustration.
When the prophet Isaiah writes to the people of Israel, in chapter 61 of Isaiah:
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners..
We don’t have a drummer boy – we have a prophet – sent to drum into the hearts of the people of Israel the good news of deliverance.
The pah rum pump um pum of this passage comes from the rising rhythms of reconciliation, restoration and redemption that are the beat of this passage.
This is a complicated text – with an ambiguous speaker talking to multiple listeners – You can look at it inside your bulletin. Five paragraphs: the speaker himself tells of being anoninted to redeem those who are in turmoil, a paragraph describing what those who have been redeemed will do in decades to come, a paragraph speaking to the people of Israel, a paragraph where God himself speaks, and finally at the end a return to the speaker.
Picture alongside those paragraphs a drum set –
Bass drum
Snare drum
Tom toms – two
And a floor tom –
These form a five piece drum set – placed alongside the five movements in this scripture following verses 1-11.
You’d have the two side by side toms – the tom toms – that parallel the beginning and end of the passage. The voice of the prophet himself – who says, “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me…” and ends with a message of hope for the nations.
You’d have the snare drum – representing those who are ensared in prison, in grief, those oppressed and brokenhearted. These are the ones who will be freed from faintness of spirit to a life of rebuilding – look at verse 4 – it is those who had been ensnared who will now build up the ancient ruins, raise up the former devastations, repair the ruined cities – they will stop the devastation that has been for generations.
There would be the floor tom – long cylindrical drum – this is the drum of the people of Israel – the you of this passage. Their status, like this extended cylinder, has been exalted – they who had once been slaves in Egypt – are now priests of the Lord, ministers of our God.
Getting the picture – snare drum, tom toms, floor tom – but one is missing. The bass drum – the center of the whole set – the one who holds it all together. In our text, this presence comes in verses 8 and 9. The Lord God himself, speaks – and says “I am the one who loves justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing, I will make an everlasting covenant with them. All who see the people whom I am rising up – will acknowledge that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed.” Can you hear this booming voice – the bass line – amid all others?
The drum set would not be complete without a few additional cymbals –
Just as this text would not be complete without the joy immersed within it –
Remember this is gaudete Sunday….
In the text, God and God’s love, are framed by joy – the words for joy and rejoicing and exulting – appear twice in verse 7 and twice in verse 10. This joy resounds with the clanging of cymbals, the praise of a God who overcomes grief with joy.
Recently Jason and I watched a wonderful movie entitled “The Visitor”. The story tells of a man, Walter Vale, who has lost the ability to find joy. A college professor – in the field of global economics, he has taught the same course for years without much thought. A writer commissioned to produce a book, he has not written one sentence. A widower, whose wife was a concert pianist, he grieves her every minute and her every grace. In one small act of moving forward, Walter Vale attempts piano lessons – but he is a plod on the piano. He knows it. In his life, he is joyless. Despondent.
In the midst of a crisis, he leaves his home to attend a conference for a colleague in NYC. There he walks into an apartment that he owns only to find it inhabited by two strangers – all victims of a housing scam.
Seeing their plight, they would be homeless if he kicked them out, he invites them to stay. Tarek Khalil is a young man from Syria – a jazz drummer – who works the clubs. His girlfriend, a beautiful African from Senegal, is with him.
A strange friendship develops between the three. When Tarik offers to teach Walter to play the Djembe drum, the perpetually suit-and-tie adorned Walter becomes a cautiously eager student. The two men gleefully join a drum circle in Central Park. Minus dreadlocks and exotic fashion accessories, Walter’s the proverbial fish out of water. In a surprising confession, Walter admits to Tarik that he would love to be freed to simply sit in a subway station and play his Djembe drum.
Just as Walter is beginning to tap into joy – when the worst of injustices happen. Tarik and Walter continue growing their friendship until Tarik is arrested for jumping a subway turnstile, a crime he didn't commit. Nevertheless, in the climate of post-9/11 NYC, the Syrian is detained. Turns out he’s an illegal. Tarik won't be released without legal struggling. Suddenly his textbook economies are jumping off the page in the complexity of this global struggle.
Walter Vale ACHES for joy. While he could bachussly tap into the joy of unencumberment, Walter Vale longs for the complexity of joy available in the depths of human relationships.
Isaiah 61 speaks to that kind of joy – this isn’t happy happy joy joy. The joy that comes is not freed from the complexity of human relationships – this joy is bound by the need to work heartily for justice for others – so that all can know joy.
In three instances where joy is mentioned – we find joy that exults. But the fourth is a different kind of joy – a joy that overcomes. There is something different about this joy. This is the first of the four joys in the passage. Not gaiety joy. Not pleasureful joy. But a joy that overcomes sorrow, brokenhearts, imprisonment, despair. This kind of joy – doubles delight while it lightens the loads of others.
Individual freedom from these would be exactly that – individual freedom and vacuous joy. There might exist within that person the capacity to exult, but full joy would be incapacitated by a lack of community. That was the problem that Walter Vale found.
Instead, God commissions those who have overcome these roadblocks to rebuild relationship, to restore cities, to bring redemption and reconciliation. This joy is tied up in the welfare of a community, it is a joy that has responsibility and calls for the activity of repair.
The detached professor Walter Vale finds the complexity of joy realized in the depth of human relations – and within those human relationships the need for justice and mercy. Joy is realized when he commits himself to an ongoing engagement with the struggle at hand. It is not easy. It is not fun. But he finds joy within it.
So much so, that at the end of the movie – when he would have every reason to be depressed and discouraged – he still is able to tap into joy. He takes his djembe drum down to the subway station – and with a little anger, and a little resentment, with some frustration at the injustices of this world – he starts to bang his drum. But the drumming turns to joy. He has found a passion and a place in this world. God has blessed him. And in so doing, Walter Vale became a blessing to others.
This is a contemporary drummer boy story –
On his own, Walter Vale had no gift to bring. But in joining the fight with others for a just and right kingdom, Walter Vale played his drum.
Now tomorrow, I don’t expect to walk the streets of New Wilmington and see drummers banging away in the streets.
But I do encourage you to do this – to find that place of joy in your life – where it is that kind of joy that overcomes sorrow and despair. And then from that place of joy – tap into the pah rum pum pump um of this passage – its rhythmic heartbeat, the gift that is offered when God’s love is our pulse.
What is your gift to bring? How is joy a part of that gift?
David James Duncan concludes his deliberation on the little drummer boy by saying – “I used to hate it – but now, the chill runs from my spine to my eyes… the song hits home and the truth of my own spiritual poverty, my inability to find joy, gets me every time. The line, “I played my best for him… pah rum pump um pum… what more can one offer, no matter how silly or bad it sounds? And then, when he says, “then he smiled at me… pah rum pump um pum…well that gets me every time. What more can we hope for than to please the child king?”
This is the joy that overcomes.
This is the love that doubles our joy.
Invite you to close, in singing as a kind of prayer – the first two verses of The Little Drummer Boy – if you are one of those folks who find this hymn jarring, invite you to listen beyond the reaction – to an internal reflection – what does the heartbeat – the pahrumpumpum of this passage mean for your heart?
Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.
Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,
On my drum?
Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.
What is your least favorite holiday hymn? A recent survey polled people on the most annoying holiday hymn – In this survey – three came in close together for top honors of least favorite:
Silver Bells
Do You Hear What I Hear?
The Little Drummer Boy
Did I touch on anyone’s personal dislike?
But of the three – it is the Little Drummer Boy that tops the list.
Listen to how one disgruntled listener, David James Duncan explained his initial dislike… “So an uninvited urchin, stands next to the cradle of a newborn baby, banging away on a drum. Have any vindictive relatives ever given a child in your home a drum?”
As someone who was the recipient of a Leap Frog Drum – (Leap Frog is the toy that won’t let you stop playing with it) – for several winter months – “bang the drum everyone, bang the drum…” I can resonate with the frustration.
When the prophet Isaiah writes to the people of Israel, in chapter 61 of Isaiah:
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners..
We don’t have a drummer boy – we have a prophet – sent to drum into the hearts of the people of Israel the good news of deliverance.
The pah rum pump um pum of this passage comes from the rising rhythms of reconciliation, restoration and redemption that are the beat of this passage.
This is a complicated text – with an ambiguous speaker talking to multiple listeners – You can look at it inside your bulletin. Five paragraphs: the speaker himself tells of being anoninted to redeem those who are in turmoil, a paragraph describing what those who have been redeemed will do in decades to come, a paragraph speaking to the people of Israel, a paragraph where God himself speaks, and finally at the end a return to the speaker.
Picture alongside those paragraphs a drum set –
Bass drum
Snare drum
Tom toms – two
And a floor tom –
These form a five piece drum set – placed alongside the five movements in this scripture following verses 1-11.
You’d have the two side by side toms – the tom toms – that parallel the beginning and end of the passage. The voice of the prophet himself – who says, “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me…” and ends with a message of hope for the nations.
You’d have the snare drum – representing those who are ensared in prison, in grief, those oppressed and brokenhearted. These are the ones who will be freed from faintness of spirit to a life of rebuilding – look at verse 4 – it is those who had been ensnared who will now build up the ancient ruins, raise up the former devastations, repair the ruined cities – they will stop the devastation that has been for generations.
There would be the floor tom – long cylindrical drum – this is the drum of the people of Israel – the you of this passage. Their status, like this extended cylinder, has been exalted – they who had once been slaves in Egypt – are now priests of the Lord, ministers of our God.
Getting the picture – snare drum, tom toms, floor tom – but one is missing. The bass drum – the center of the whole set – the one who holds it all together. In our text, this presence comes in verses 8 and 9. The Lord God himself, speaks – and says “I am the one who loves justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing, I will make an everlasting covenant with them. All who see the people whom I am rising up – will acknowledge that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed.” Can you hear this booming voice – the bass line – amid all others?
The drum set would not be complete without a few additional cymbals –
Just as this text would not be complete without the joy immersed within it –
Remember this is gaudete Sunday….
In the text, God and God’s love, are framed by joy – the words for joy and rejoicing and exulting – appear twice in verse 7 and twice in verse 10. This joy resounds with the clanging of cymbals, the praise of a God who overcomes grief with joy.
Recently Jason and I watched a wonderful movie entitled “The Visitor”. The story tells of a man, Walter Vale, who has lost the ability to find joy. A college professor – in the field of global economics, he has taught the same course for years without much thought. A writer commissioned to produce a book, he has not written one sentence. A widower, whose wife was a concert pianist, he grieves her every minute and her every grace. In one small act of moving forward, Walter Vale attempts piano lessons – but he is a plod on the piano. He knows it. In his life, he is joyless. Despondent.
In the midst of a crisis, he leaves his home to attend a conference for a colleague in NYC. There he walks into an apartment that he owns only to find it inhabited by two strangers – all victims of a housing scam.
Seeing their plight, they would be homeless if he kicked them out, he invites them to stay. Tarek Khalil is a young man from Syria – a jazz drummer – who works the clubs. His girlfriend, a beautiful African from Senegal, is with him.
A strange friendship develops between the three. When Tarik offers to teach Walter to play the Djembe drum, the perpetually suit-and-tie adorned Walter becomes a cautiously eager student. The two men gleefully join a drum circle in Central Park. Minus dreadlocks and exotic fashion accessories, Walter’s the proverbial fish out of water. In a surprising confession, Walter admits to Tarik that he would love to be freed to simply sit in a subway station and play his Djembe drum.
Just as Walter is beginning to tap into joy – when the worst of injustices happen. Tarik and Walter continue growing their friendship until Tarik is arrested for jumping a subway turnstile, a crime he didn't commit. Nevertheless, in the climate of post-9/11 NYC, the Syrian is detained. Turns out he’s an illegal. Tarik won't be released without legal struggling. Suddenly his textbook economies are jumping off the page in the complexity of this global struggle.
Walter Vale ACHES for joy. While he could bachussly tap into the joy of unencumberment, Walter Vale longs for the complexity of joy available in the depths of human relationships.
Isaiah 61 speaks to that kind of joy – this isn’t happy happy joy joy. The joy that comes is not freed from the complexity of human relationships – this joy is bound by the need to work heartily for justice for others – so that all can know joy.
In three instances where joy is mentioned – we find joy that exults. But the fourth is a different kind of joy – a joy that overcomes. There is something different about this joy. This is the first of the four joys in the passage. Not gaiety joy. Not pleasureful joy. But a joy that overcomes sorrow, brokenhearts, imprisonment, despair. This kind of joy – doubles delight while it lightens the loads of others.
Individual freedom from these would be exactly that – individual freedom and vacuous joy. There might exist within that person the capacity to exult, but full joy would be incapacitated by a lack of community. That was the problem that Walter Vale found.
Instead, God commissions those who have overcome these roadblocks to rebuild relationship, to restore cities, to bring redemption and reconciliation. This joy is tied up in the welfare of a community, it is a joy that has responsibility and calls for the activity of repair.
The detached professor Walter Vale finds the complexity of joy realized in the depth of human relations – and within those human relationships the need for justice and mercy. Joy is realized when he commits himself to an ongoing engagement with the struggle at hand. It is not easy. It is not fun. But he finds joy within it.
So much so, that at the end of the movie – when he would have every reason to be depressed and discouraged – he still is able to tap into joy. He takes his djembe drum down to the subway station – and with a little anger, and a little resentment, with some frustration at the injustices of this world – he starts to bang his drum. But the drumming turns to joy. He has found a passion and a place in this world. God has blessed him. And in so doing, Walter Vale became a blessing to others.
This is a contemporary drummer boy story –
On his own, Walter Vale had no gift to bring. But in joining the fight with others for a just and right kingdom, Walter Vale played his drum.
Now tomorrow, I don’t expect to walk the streets of New Wilmington and see drummers banging away in the streets.
But I do encourage you to do this – to find that place of joy in your life – where it is that kind of joy that overcomes sorrow and despair. And then from that place of joy – tap into the pah rum pum pump um of this passage – its rhythmic heartbeat, the gift that is offered when God’s love is our pulse.
What is your gift to bring? How is joy a part of that gift?
David James Duncan concludes his deliberation on the little drummer boy by saying – “I used to hate it – but now, the chill runs from my spine to my eyes… the song hits home and the truth of my own spiritual poverty, my inability to find joy, gets me every time. The line, “I played my best for him… pah rum pump um pum… what more can one offer, no matter how silly or bad it sounds? And then, when he says, “then he smiled at me… pah rum pump um pum…well that gets me every time. What more can we hope for than to please the child king?”
This is the joy that overcomes.
This is the love that doubles our joy.
Invite you to close, in singing as a kind of prayer – the first two verses of The Little Drummer Boy – if you are one of those folks who find this hymn jarring, invite you to listen beyond the reaction – to an internal reflection – what does the heartbeat – the pahrumpumpum of this passage mean for your heart?
Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.
Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,
On my drum?
Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
ENLIGHTENING WORDS: A Theology of Articulation
The darkness of post-Katrina New Orleans has haunted my sensibilities and called out for words since first visiting on a work trip two summers ago. Even now, years after the storm, suffering is visceral and grief still heavy. After serving on several mission trips; our work group heard a new call to mission. This past year, we went to New Orleans not only to work, but also to write. While we have continued with drywall and physical labor, we added the labor of putting pen to paper in offering words that continue to tell the story no longer in the headlines. This new component of mission calls us to a theology of articulation, in bringing words to our work. These words, when centered in God’s word, enlighten the darkness and lighten the load of those who feel forgotten, for those who need their story told.
Strands of Lights
While unpacking the Christmas lights this Advent season, words of those in the Gulf South shimmer in my memory. Henry, the gentlemen who cooked Jambalaya for our group (saying he made it with 100 pounds of Christian love) said, “Sometimes I just sit and cry at my desk at work.” The nurse who served a city hospital through the storm said simply, “I can’t talk about it.” I think about Nathan who cried when he told us his dog died the day before they were rescued.
In the tears and the silences of these stories, there is a need for words.
Psalm 119, the longest in this poetry book, presents an unfolding strand of God’s word. For 176 verses the Psalmist maintains an extended meditation on the word of God. If Psalm 119 were a strand of lights, there would be 175 brightly shining bulbs enlightened by the word of God. In almost every verse of this Psalm, one of the synonyms for God’s word shines through: law, decrees, statutes, commandments, ordinances, word, precept, promise. [1] The Psalm sparkles brilliantly, making the tree of life, the word of God, come alive. If each of these words were a color in a multi-colored strand, an array of eight colors would sparkle through the whole of this strand of lights. God’s word is on array here: law, decrees, statutes, commandments, ordinances, words, precept, promise. For those who need a good word in a dark place, the word of the Lord shines bold and clear in almost every verse. The unfolding of your words give light[2], proclaims verse 130. This unfolding word reveals glory, relinquishes grief, releases captives, reveres salvation, rejoices always.
But there is one exception in this multicolored strand. There is one burned out bulb. In verse 122, the word of God is forgotten, it falters. The light here fails. God’s word is not present, in any of its forms, in this verse. To understand this broken bulb, it is necessary to understand the intricacies of Psalm 119.
Each of the twenty two stanzas in Psalm 119 is shaped by a letter of the Hebrew alphabet. In this acrostic Psalm, each stanza has eight lines and each of the eight lines begins with the given letter. James Mays comments that present here is the whole alphabet to signal “completeness and the whole vocabulary to represent comprehensiveness.”[3] Mays refers here to the thematic vocabulary on God’s word: law, judgments, decrees, statutes, commandments, ordinances, words, precept, promise. Each of these manifestations of dabar, God’s word, is a variation on this theme that lights up the whole of the Old Testament. Frederick Schumacher explains it this way:
A dabar is not a simple matter, and is not limited to speech. A dabar means a word but also: thing or object. In either case there is an immaterial or spiritual element connected inseparably with a dabar. As a word or utterance, the speech is filled with spiritual content, placed there by the speaker. On the other side, it includes the spiritual conception lying behind an object or thing but cannot be identified with it. In this sense dabar signifies event, occasion, object of justice, object of action, history or a story.[4]
The Psalm aims to move beyond speech to full absorption in the completeness and comprehensiveness of God’s word; its justice, its history, its story. The filament of God’s word inside each verse allows the light in each Biblical bulb to brighten. Throughout all of the twenty-two stanzas, and each of the eight lines within those stanzas, one of the terms of the thematic riffs on God’s word is present.
One Shattered Word, One Broken Bulb
But there is one exception: verse 122. Guarantee your servant’s well-being; do not let the godless oppress me. Here the filament falters. In this array of multi-colored promise, this one verse is dim without a ‘word’, or any of its variations, shining through it. For a moment we are left without the word that has provided constant instruction and direction until this moment. The word that has oriented all senses and sensibilities, the word that has shared the history and told the story, falters, even if for a moment. Eyes fail, hearts falter, ears ache, hands grasp: and with that lapse, all else grows dim. The servant’s well being had been preserved as the word provided a testament to history, a remembrance of the story. But without the word of God present in verse 122, the Psalmist loses sight. The Psalmist then laments that lack of light cast on the subject of God’s word in verse 123: My eyes fail from watching for your salvation, and for the fulfillment of your righteous promise. Failed words make for dim bulbs. The oral history is lost. Ocular stagnation occurs. Salvation depends on sight and story.
One of the iconic images post-Katrina was of a FEMA trailer enwrapped in Christmas lights. Pastor Cliff Nunn of First Presbyterian Church New Orleans and his wife Nieta lived in a trailer on church property for months. The lights beamed through that first Christmas on into spring and summer. For people strung out, the strands of light hung were a filament of hope. One burned out bulb would be unacceptable. Every bulb mattered. Every word from God enlightens and lightens. Even when hundreds of lights are ablaze, the failure of one creates a black hole for those who depend on their salvific witness.
Consider these histories where lost words need light cast upon them.
When our work crew vans passed through the Lakeview neighborhood of New Orleans, we saw only one man amid hundreds of homes. “Thank you,” he mouthed to us as he saw his vans pass by. My heart quickened. His words ached to be heard. If we didn’t stop, who would listen? His words could not be lost. Sweat from a hard day of labor poured from his forehead as we stopped to listen.
“I can’t talk about it,” a nurse tells us.
Then there was Nathan. Nathan, sixteen and sincere in his earnest desire to better the neighborhood, came home to a deluged bedroom relieved to find his photographs intact and floating on the lingering floodwaters. As he described his disappointment in picking up his high school photographs and seeing the ink run into the murky waters, we knew the testament to his memory disappeared. What words are there to remember his history, to tell his lost stories?
These three longed for light. Their eyes scanned the horizons for the filament of faith to lighten dreary days, even three years later. My eyes fail from watching for your salvation. Not just the eyes have failed in these situations, but all systems have failed. Failure to see results, results in a failure to see the possibility of salvation. In these situations a good word would strengthen exhausted sensibilities and brighten tired senses. A word would brighten and enliven. A word might even provide salvation.
God’s Word Unfolds
If Psalm 119 is a strand of multi-colored lights, then the gospel of John reveals the one clear light, the true light that will enlighten everyone. It might just be the star on the top of the evergreen. While the word was lost for a moment in Psalm 119, even amid the bright strand of God-lit promises, the Word shines clear and true as the gospel opens. This is the promise at Christmas, that the word will become flesh and dwell among us. It will not be dimmed and darkness will not overcome it. The people who walked in darkness crying, my eyes fail, have seen a great light.
This is the doctrine of the incarnation. The word becomes flesh and dwells among us. But this is not the only promise in this passage. Here is a theology of articulation: The word becomes flesh and dwells among us. This is what the Psalmist longs for when he pleads, My eyes fail fail. Because the word has faltered for a moment, the Psalmist needs a word that can be felt, touched, held, revered. A word that emotes. A word that suffers. A word that doesn’t forget. A word that can’t be forgotten. A word that is a testament to the shared history. A word that tells the story.
The strand of Psalm 119 stands darkened by one burned out bulb. A theology of articulation is the replacement bulb. For those who fail to see, for those who ache to hear and be heard; words matter. Christ may be the very Word of God, but he depends on our words; his ministry is deepened by the way we get the word out. We put pen to paper, we listen, we give voice to the voiceless, we call to speech those who have been oppressed, forgotten. We find words for those who still grieve and suffer. A theology of articulation looks for ways to engage that unfolding word of God in the moments of life that demand deeper speech, in the same way the Psalms provide.
The Word Unfolds, and Unfolds Again…
After speaking with these three Katrina survivors, the same phrase followed their testimony. “Don’t forget us. Tell our story.” This phrase linked people across the city of New Orleans. The plea asked us to tell their story, to change the bulb so dimly lit, to brighten the gap with our words. Our unfolding words replaced the bulb, allowing the strand of lights to lengthen beyond the community of New Orleans to places where the story needed to be seen and heard.
“Don’t forget us. Tell our story.” These six words lit up our mission and deepened a sense of purpose. Their invitation called us to shed light on their story in places that had forgotten and to be the missing word link in other areas of the nation. A theology of articulation, alongside the doctrine of incarnation, revitalized our mission and became one of its essential components. This phrase called for a new tool, not mortar or drywall, but words that illuminated the ongoing suffering.
The plea, “Don’t forget us. Tell our story.” called for another chapter to our mission. So we wrote. A team of thirty youth and adults traveled again to New Orleans to work, but also to write. Those who traveled to New Orleans worked, wrote and wondered, ‘Why?’ Participants led a writing workshop at a local charter school, promising not to talk about the storm with the elementary school aged kids, but instead to engage them in the imaginative act of writing. The teens on the trip produced videos, published on youtube under the name: We Offer Our Testimony. These ‘WOOT’ videos are visual Psalms offering prayers and testimonies.[5] At home in New Wilmington, Pennsylvania, ninety year old and nine year olds partnered with us as writing partners promising to research and to pray and to write.
Just as the Hebrew people depended on the Psalms, we need modern day Psalms to express the communal lament of a people to lighten the load and to enlighten the darkest of places.
Pray along with this Psalter:
I am the one who was devastated by the monster Katrina. I am the one who wears lacy black wrought-iron balconies in the French Quarter. I am the one who tried desperately to hang onto my People as they scrambled to the roofs of their flooded homes. I am the one who has no shelter for many of my poor. I am the one who cries at night for the loss of all that was. I am the one who is no longer in the headlines.[6]
We wake up; the storm is over.
Just to start the hallucinations all over again.
For now, we see the destruction,
the dead, and the hopelessness of the city.
When did the parties end and the nightmares begin?[7]
Katrina’s flood washed over me, leaving nothing but an empty shell. I feel so lost: I cannot see. Life has become a living hell.[8]
The Psalms allow for communal lament. When the word of God is impossible to see, when our eyes fail looking for that salvation, the articulation of grief and suffering is an act that though dark, somehow calls forth light.
Those who made the trip could talk one on one with Dan the graffiti man, Bradley the boy who overnight became a man, and the one man who stood alone in what was once his former home. No longer forgotten, their stories unfolded. And unfolded again. The unfolding of your words gives light, it imparts understanding to the simple. Words give understanding to those who have simply forgotten.
Don’t forget us. Tell our story. The lights shimmer on my tree. This is the deepest prayer I have heard all year. This is the prayer I whisper as the lights are strung, praying for the right word, praying for those who have been forgotten, praying for those who need their story told, praying for the true light that enlightens everyone.
___________________________________________________________________
[1] While four verses do not directly use one of the mentioned synonyms (verses 3 and 37 name ‘ways’, verse 15 utilizes ‘paths’ and verse 90 uses ‘faithfulness’), they do allude indirectly to the word of God as instruction and direction. Only in verse 122 is there neither mention of the word of God nor any synonym.
[2] All scripture references are from the New Revised Standard Version.
[3] James Mays, Psalms (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994), 382.
[4] Frederick Schumacher “The Word of God as Event” in Journal of Bible and Religion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, Volume 20, Number 4, October 1952), 251.
[5] WOOT videos may be viewed at: www.youtube.com/WeOfferOurTestimony. They were produced by Addie Domske and Gary Swanson, 2008.
[6] Written by Wendy Simon one of the writing partners.
[7] Written by Verna Curfman, one of the writing partners.
[8] Written by Howard Moss on location in New Orleans.
Strands of Lights
While unpacking the Christmas lights this Advent season, words of those in the Gulf South shimmer in my memory. Henry, the gentlemen who cooked Jambalaya for our group (saying he made it with 100 pounds of Christian love) said, “Sometimes I just sit and cry at my desk at work.” The nurse who served a city hospital through the storm said simply, “I can’t talk about it.” I think about Nathan who cried when he told us his dog died the day before they were rescued.
In the tears and the silences of these stories, there is a need for words.
Psalm 119, the longest in this poetry book, presents an unfolding strand of God’s word. For 176 verses the Psalmist maintains an extended meditation on the word of God. If Psalm 119 were a strand of lights, there would be 175 brightly shining bulbs enlightened by the word of God. In almost every verse of this Psalm, one of the synonyms for God’s word shines through: law, decrees, statutes, commandments, ordinances, word, precept, promise. [1] The Psalm sparkles brilliantly, making the tree of life, the word of God, come alive. If each of these words were a color in a multi-colored strand, an array of eight colors would sparkle through the whole of this strand of lights. God’s word is on array here: law, decrees, statutes, commandments, ordinances, words, precept, promise. For those who need a good word in a dark place, the word of the Lord shines bold and clear in almost every verse. The unfolding of your words give light[2], proclaims verse 130. This unfolding word reveals glory, relinquishes grief, releases captives, reveres salvation, rejoices always.
But there is one exception in this multicolored strand. There is one burned out bulb. In verse 122, the word of God is forgotten, it falters. The light here fails. God’s word is not present, in any of its forms, in this verse. To understand this broken bulb, it is necessary to understand the intricacies of Psalm 119.
Each of the twenty two stanzas in Psalm 119 is shaped by a letter of the Hebrew alphabet. In this acrostic Psalm, each stanza has eight lines and each of the eight lines begins with the given letter. James Mays comments that present here is the whole alphabet to signal “completeness and the whole vocabulary to represent comprehensiveness.”[3] Mays refers here to the thematic vocabulary on God’s word: law, judgments, decrees, statutes, commandments, ordinances, words, precept, promise. Each of these manifestations of dabar, God’s word, is a variation on this theme that lights up the whole of the Old Testament. Frederick Schumacher explains it this way:
A dabar is not a simple matter, and is not limited to speech. A dabar means a word but also: thing or object. In either case there is an immaterial or spiritual element connected inseparably with a dabar. As a word or utterance, the speech is filled with spiritual content, placed there by the speaker. On the other side, it includes the spiritual conception lying behind an object or thing but cannot be identified with it. In this sense dabar signifies event, occasion, object of justice, object of action, history or a story.[4]
The Psalm aims to move beyond speech to full absorption in the completeness and comprehensiveness of God’s word; its justice, its history, its story. The filament of God’s word inside each verse allows the light in each Biblical bulb to brighten. Throughout all of the twenty-two stanzas, and each of the eight lines within those stanzas, one of the terms of the thematic riffs on God’s word is present.
One Shattered Word, One Broken Bulb
But there is one exception: verse 122. Guarantee your servant’s well-being; do not let the godless oppress me. Here the filament falters. In this array of multi-colored promise, this one verse is dim without a ‘word’, or any of its variations, shining through it. For a moment we are left without the word that has provided constant instruction and direction until this moment. The word that has oriented all senses and sensibilities, the word that has shared the history and told the story, falters, even if for a moment. Eyes fail, hearts falter, ears ache, hands grasp: and with that lapse, all else grows dim. The servant’s well being had been preserved as the word provided a testament to history, a remembrance of the story. But without the word of God present in verse 122, the Psalmist loses sight. The Psalmist then laments that lack of light cast on the subject of God’s word in verse 123: My eyes fail from watching for your salvation, and for the fulfillment of your righteous promise. Failed words make for dim bulbs. The oral history is lost. Ocular stagnation occurs. Salvation depends on sight and story.
One of the iconic images post-Katrina was of a FEMA trailer enwrapped in Christmas lights. Pastor Cliff Nunn of First Presbyterian Church New Orleans and his wife Nieta lived in a trailer on church property for months. The lights beamed through that first Christmas on into spring and summer. For people strung out, the strands of light hung were a filament of hope. One burned out bulb would be unacceptable. Every bulb mattered. Every word from God enlightens and lightens. Even when hundreds of lights are ablaze, the failure of one creates a black hole for those who depend on their salvific witness.
Consider these histories where lost words need light cast upon them.
When our work crew vans passed through the Lakeview neighborhood of New Orleans, we saw only one man amid hundreds of homes. “Thank you,” he mouthed to us as he saw his vans pass by. My heart quickened. His words ached to be heard. If we didn’t stop, who would listen? His words could not be lost. Sweat from a hard day of labor poured from his forehead as we stopped to listen.
“I can’t talk about it,” a nurse tells us.
Then there was Nathan. Nathan, sixteen and sincere in his earnest desire to better the neighborhood, came home to a deluged bedroom relieved to find his photographs intact and floating on the lingering floodwaters. As he described his disappointment in picking up his high school photographs and seeing the ink run into the murky waters, we knew the testament to his memory disappeared. What words are there to remember his history, to tell his lost stories?
These three longed for light. Their eyes scanned the horizons for the filament of faith to lighten dreary days, even three years later. My eyes fail from watching for your salvation. Not just the eyes have failed in these situations, but all systems have failed. Failure to see results, results in a failure to see the possibility of salvation. In these situations a good word would strengthen exhausted sensibilities and brighten tired senses. A word would brighten and enliven. A word might even provide salvation.
God’s Word Unfolds
If Psalm 119 is a strand of multi-colored lights, then the gospel of John reveals the one clear light, the true light that will enlighten everyone. It might just be the star on the top of the evergreen. While the word was lost for a moment in Psalm 119, even amid the bright strand of God-lit promises, the Word shines clear and true as the gospel opens. This is the promise at Christmas, that the word will become flesh and dwell among us. It will not be dimmed and darkness will not overcome it. The people who walked in darkness crying, my eyes fail, have seen a great light.
This is the doctrine of the incarnation. The word becomes flesh and dwells among us. But this is not the only promise in this passage. Here is a theology of articulation: The word becomes flesh and dwells among us. This is what the Psalmist longs for when he pleads, My eyes fail fail. Because the word has faltered for a moment, the Psalmist needs a word that can be felt, touched, held, revered. A word that emotes. A word that suffers. A word that doesn’t forget. A word that can’t be forgotten. A word that is a testament to the shared history. A word that tells the story.
The strand of Psalm 119 stands darkened by one burned out bulb. A theology of articulation is the replacement bulb. For those who fail to see, for those who ache to hear and be heard; words matter. Christ may be the very Word of God, but he depends on our words; his ministry is deepened by the way we get the word out. We put pen to paper, we listen, we give voice to the voiceless, we call to speech those who have been oppressed, forgotten. We find words for those who still grieve and suffer. A theology of articulation looks for ways to engage that unfolding word of God in the moments of life that demand deeper speech, in the same way the Psalms provide.
The Word Unfolds, and Unfolds Again…
After speaking with these three Katrina survivors, the same phrase followed their testimony. “Don’t forget us. Tell our story.” This phrase linked people across the city of New Orleans. The plea asked us to tell their story, to change the bulb so dimly lit, to brighten the gap with our words. Our unfolding words replaced the bulb, allowing the strand of lights to lengthen beyond the community of New Orleans to places where the story needed to be seen and heard.
“Don’t forget us. Tell our story.” These six words lit up our mission and deepened a sense of purpose. Their invitation called us to shed light on their story in places that had forgotten and to be the missing word link in other areas of the nation. A theology of articulation, alongside the doctrine of incarnation, revitalized our mission and became one of its essential components. This phrase called for a new tool, not mortar or drywall, but words that illuminated the ongoing suffering.
The plea, “Don’t forget us. Tell our story.” called for another chapter to our mission. So we wrote. A team of thirty youth and adults traveled again to New Orleans to work, but also to write. Those who traveled to New Orleans worked, wrote and wondered, ‘Why?’ Participants led a writing workshop at a local charter school, promising not to talk about the storm with the elementary school aged kids, but instead to engage them in the imaginative act of writing. The teens on the trip produced videos, published on youtube under the name: We Offer Our Testimony. These ‘WOOT’ videos are visual Psalms offering prayers and testimonies.[5] At home in New Wilmington, Pennsylvania, ninety year old and nine year olds partnered with us as writing partners promising to research and to pray and to write.
Just as the Hebrew people depended on the Psalms, we need modern day Psalms to express the communal lament of a people to lighten the load and to enlighten the darkest of places.
Pray along with this Psalter:
I am the one who was devastated by the monster Katrina. I am the one who wears lacy black wrought-iron balconies in the French Quarter. I am the one who tried desperately to hang onto my People as they scrambled to the roofs of their flooded homes. I am the one who has no shelter for many of my poor. I am the one who cries at night for the loss of all that was. I am the one who is no longer in the headlines.[6]
We wake up; the storm is over.
Just to start the hallucinations all over again.
For now, we see the destruction,
the dead, and the hopelessness of the city.
When did the parties end and the nightmares begin?[7]
Katrina’s flood washed over me, leaving nothing but an empty shell. I feel so lost: I cannot see. Life has become a living hell.[8]
The Psalms allow for communal lament. When the word of God is impossible to see, when our eyes fail looking for that salvation, the articulation of grief and suffering is an act that though dark, somehow calls forth light.
Those who made the trip could talk one on one with Dan the graffiti man, Bradley the boy who overnight became a man, and the one man who stood alone in what was once his former home. No longer forgotten, their stories unfolded. And unfolded again. The unfolding of your words gives light, it imparts understanding to the simple. Words give understanding to those who have simply forgotten.
Don’t forget us. Tell our story. The lights shimmer on my tree. This is the deepest prayer I have heard all year. This is the prayer I whisper as the lights are strung, praying for the right word, praying for those who have been forgotten, praying for those who need their story told, praying for the true light that enlightens everyone.
___________________________________________________________________
[1] While four verses do not directly use one of the mentioned synonyms (verses 3 and 37 name ‘ways’, verse 15 utilizes ‘paths’ and verse 90 uses ‘faithfulness’), they do allude indirectly to the word of God as instruction and direction. Only in verse 122 is there neither mention of the word of God nor any synonym.
[2] All scripture references are from the New Revised Standard Version.
[3] James Mays, Psalms (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994), 382.
[4] Frederick Schumacher “The Word of God as Event” in Journal of Bible and Religion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, Volume 20, Number 4, October 1952), 251.
[5] WOOT videos may be viewed at: www.youtube.com/WeOfferOurTestimony. They were produced by Addie Domske and Gary Swanson, 2008.
[6] Written by Wendy Simon one of the writing partners.
[7] Written by Verna Curfman, one of the writing partners.
[8] Written by Howard Moss on location in New Orleans.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Three Whys
syzygy Definition
syzy·gy (siz′ə jē)
noun pl. -·gies
1. a pair of things, esp. a pair of opposites
2. Astron., Rare either of two opposing points in the orbit of a celestial body, specif. of the moon, at which it is in conjunction with or in opposition to the sun
3. Gr. & Latin Prosody a measure of two feet, as a dipody
Syzygy is the only word in the English language to contain three 'y's. Add in a guttural 'g' and the opposing serpents 's' and 'z' (eye to eye over the 'y' between them); and there you have one sizable word weighed down by the why's of the world:
Why opposition?
Why such orbital positioning?
Why are my own two feet so weighed down by 'why'?
syzy·gy (siz′ə jē)
noun pl. -·gies
1. a pair of things, esp. a pair of opposites
2. Astron., Rare either of two opposing points in the orbit of a celestial body, specif. of the moon, at which it is in conjunction with or in opposition to the sun
3. Gr. & Latin Prosody a measure of two feet, as a dipody
Syzygy is the only word in the English language to contain three 'y's. Add in a guttural 'g' and the opposing serpents 's' and 'z' (eye to eye over the 'y' between them); and there you have one sizable word weighed down by the why's of the world:
Why opposition?
Why such orbital positioning?
Why are my own two feet so weighed down by 'why'?
Sunday, August 24, 2008
TEN THINGS I LEARNED FROM EUGENE PETERSON ABOUT BEING A PASTOR
10. EFFICIENCY ISN’T EVERYTHING
The best pastors aren’t always efficient. I'll leave it at that...
9. THE TUNA CASSEROLE TRUTH
For church newsletters, while Eugene wrote columns about abstract religious truths upon occasion, the ever-better received articles were those of his wife who wrote about the dishes, the laundry, the tuna casserole, the children. Flesh intersects, abstract truths divide.
8. LET THE MYSTERY BE
In being impatient with mystery, we diminish the beauty of life. If you know what you are writing, then you are a professor or perhaps a doctor. If you don’t know what you are writing, then you are most likely a poet, novelist or preacher.
7. LIVE WITH THIS
Before we can share the narrative of the Christian faith in story or sermon, that story needs to become incarnate within us. Only then can we speak from the center of that story.
6. ADRENALINE IS ADDICTING
Pastoral work is a lonely and tiring work. In those down moments, the call for a boost of adrenaline is almost addictive. Instead of the constant demand for adrenaline, channel those urges in ways that may not even be ‘prayerful’ but instead are simply helpful and practical. Eugene would put on his tennis shoes and go for a five mile run.
5. THERE IS SOMETHING TO THOSE TAR HEELS
Stability is a spiritual gift that eliminates a lot of other idols. Eugene’s encouragement to any pastor is to be rooted and grounded in love, not rooted and grounded in the next big call to the next exciting place. If there is any frustration with your current congregation, consider any group of people in the Bible. Would they have been any easier to serve?
4. LISTEN, PRAY, PREACH
The Message is shaped of course by the Hebrew and the Greek languages, but even more so, the soulful verse and spirited style derive from thousands of pastoral conversations Eugene Peterson engaged in over thirty years of pastoral life. We love the translation because it is a conversation. For Eugene, that conversation evolved through listening, praying, preaching and the ever widening cycle of engagement those circles open up over time.
3. LACK OF DEFINITION
plus
DOGMATIC EXPECTATIONS
does not equal
A BIG BIND
Instead
it might just equal
PASTORAL FREEDOM (Eugene finds this liberating, I’m still living into this.)
Pastoral life is the least defined vocation in America. The lack of definition plus dogmatic expectations puts pastors in a bind. Eugene Peterson found that tension liberating. If only the rest of us could do the same…
2. GET PAST BITCHING (this is a direct Eugene quote, this is liberating to me.)
Writers and pastors are entrusted with the affirmation of life. Anything but this, Eugene would say is just….
1. THE TRINITY IS AN EXUBERANT DOCTRINE
Everyone is talking about The Shack. The reason for its popularity is in its relationality. The trinity is the most unique and important of Christian doctrines because it calls us to community. Christianity without community is Gnosticism. Gnosticism can be attractive because community can be messy at times. The exuberance behind the trinity is in continually reminding us of the beauty of the trinity – God, Christ, Spirit – with an arm always outstretched to us and to our neighbor to be engaged in that exuberant dance.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
LITURGY
At Homegrown, the heaviness
of May’s clouds above us, a mass.
Flowers, weeds demand the sky, the sun,
the weight of mulch smothers.
A woman, there, her name happens to be June,
inquires if she may help.
Two pastors, the town therapist, morning
gardeners all labored
for her attention, aching
to bloom. Cultivate our soil,
teach us this reversal of energy, transform our earth
to sky. The lemon verbena learns.
Why can’t I?
In seminary I received these seeds: word,
story. One slips from my hand
here in these gardens with June.
We were flying, I tell her,
Caitlyn, her heart so tender beside mine,
the sky lifted us from the ground.
The crimson bands a tone
on the dark horizon, scar.
On that plane,
A woman beside me asks,
“What do you do?”
This time in the confusion
of our life, no hesitation.
“I’m a pastor.”
I ask her, “And you?”
She replies, “A pediatric cardiac nurse.”
This story falls into the aisles
here at Homegrown. Pansies,
purple and gold, their thin veins
open before us
share an invitation - a hymn
for June.
The decomposition of bark
is not to suffocate weeds, mulch
is deliverance from myself.
I am buried. Take me
to the heart of the earth.
Let it rot around me. Let my soil
rise up for June, as her hair,
tender shoots
of trilliums bleeds from the ground.
of May’s clouds above us, a mass.
Flowers, weeds demand the sky, the sun,
the weight of mulch smothers.
A woman, there, her name happens to be June,
inquires if she may help.
Two pastors, the town therapist, morning
gardeners all labored
for her attention, aching
to bloom. Cultivate our soil,
teach us this reversal of energy, transform our earth
to sky. The lemon verbena learns.
Why can’t I?
In seminary I received these seeds: word,
story. One slips from my hand
here in these gardens with June.
We were flying, I tell her,
Caitlyn, her heart so tender beside mine,
the sky lifted us from the ground.
The crimson bands a tone
on the dark horizon, scar.
On that plane,
A woman beside me asks,
“What do you do?”
This time in the confusion
of our life, no hesitation.
“I’m a pastor.”
I ask her, “And you?”
She replies, “A pediatric cardiac nurse.”
This story falls into the aisles
here at Homegrown. Pansies,
purple and gold, their thin veins
open before us
share an invitation - a hymn
for June.
The decomposition of bark
is not to suffocate weeds, mulch
is deliverance from myself.
I am buried. Take me
to the heart of the earth.
Let it rot around me. Let my soil
rise up for June, as her hair,
tender shoots
of trilliums bleeds from the ground.
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