One of our youth texted me last week- “I got a deep question, when you have the chance.” So on Sunday we chatted, and the question was deep indeed! “Shane, in your opinion, what’s the soul?” This about five minutes before service started. Certainly time for an adequate answer, right?! Well, I tried, but wanted to say more. So I’m writing about it today; I’ll be curious for your responses.
Here’s my two cents: Like a good preacher, my first instinct is, “Let’s do a word study!” (Insert YAWN here- but please bear with me) The Greek word for ‘soul’ is yuch or psyche (pronounced p-sue-kay), which has a complicated history. Mostly, I think people regard it as an invisible, immortal spirit-person living “inside” the body, who goes onto some afterlife judgment or reward, depending on how good that body acted. Some even consider that spirit-person/soul the only important part about us.
But, the eternal question seems to be, how does the soul affect our lives/bodies? Well, if you believe Plato, it’s through our brains, or as he says, Reason. Always battling the emotions, appetites and will (which Plato doesn’t think highly of), in a perfect world Reason controls things, producing the cardinal virtues- wisdom, courage, temperance, justice. That’s the soul doing its job, for which it should receive eternal reward.
Sound fanciful? Maybe…but consider hymn #254 in our Hymnal, Verse 2- “Breathe on me, Breath of God, until my heart is pure, until with thee I will one will, to do and to endure.” There’s yearning here that our lives (souls?) align with God’s holiness and virtue, and it’s especially interesting that the hymn identifies “breath” as the way that occurs. In Hebrew (the other Biblical language), the word we translate soul, ruach, is also translated as wind and/or breath. So the Breath or Spirit of God is what moved over the waters “in the beginning” to form order and life; it guided the people to liberation and remains the very life-force of life itself.
Think about it- when living things have breath, we live. When breathing stops, life stops. So breath and spirit (or soul) are related, in this way of thinking, as if breath is the outward symbol of our inner life- our very own tidbit of eternity. How does the soul, then, affect our lives/bodies? Imagine a downed electric wire. When electricity moves through it, the wire jumps and sparks- it’s animated by electricity- but when the current’s turned off, the wire lays flat. Such is another idea about our soul; the animating life-force of life.
On one level, these two ideas aren’t very far apart. But I love the emphasis that the Hebrew vision puts on the body as the spirit’s rightful home, not some temporary holding place. There is no unavoidable war between soul and body; it’s all one. Plato, and the many Christians he influenced (especially St. Paul), were wrong, I think, about the emotions and appetites. Yes, they can be dangerous and manipulative. But so can Reason. Besides, as any lover or musician will attest, our emotional life has much greater opportunity for joy and excitement than our intellectual pursuits. If our soul operates primarily through Reason, Heaven will be a boring place! Even for a philosophy major like me…
Rather, think of our passions, desires, hopes and fears as part and parcel to the human adventure; intended by God to be embraced prudently, not treated as obstacles to overcome. Indeed, maybe it’s in suitably integrating our hearts and heads- not suppressing either one with the other- that the soul’s true affect is found. “Breathe on me, Breath of God, fill me with life anew, that I may love what Thou dost love, and do what Thou wouldst do.”
As for the soul and Heaven, well, here’s where I think Paul’s right on- as you can’t see the glory of a tree by looking at its seed, so we can’t see the wonder of paradise by looking at life now. We’re just convinced it’ll be glorious, because the Breath of life will surround us all from everlasting to everlasting. Glory be to God!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Effective idealism…
Last Saturday was my birthday, and I want to thank you for your birthday cards and well wishes! I received some at the church, others somehow made it to my home, despite the fact they were all addressed to the same wrong address. Which was rather humorous. To clarify, my address is 3711 Joppa Ave. S, not 3771. Unless you’re letter disagrees with my sermons, then send it to…well, I guess I’ll take those too. In any event, it was a fun birthday, especially because of the support of great people like you.
Being now almost 30 (insert disingenuous ‘old man’ joke here), I reflected this week on my current life situation, and how different it is from anything I imagined in my youth. I suspect I’m not the only one. My earliest memories of ‘projecting my ideal future’ involve me playing tight end for the Denver Broncos at age 29, or perhaps small forward for the Denver Nuggets. Alas, despite conventional wisdom to the contrary, those dreams were rather fanciful. But they changed at some point, and I then imagined I’d spend my twenties traveling the world, digging up dinosaur bones. Of course, that was before I knew that, if I’d gone that route, I would’ve likely still been in school at 30!
But again, my idealized future changed, and the older I got, the more realistic my dreams became. Or at least, I began to plan intermediate, measurable steps that would take me there, rather than just hopes and prayers. So I soon decided to become a brain surgeon, which, I admit, was still a reach. But I believed I could do it, and studied hard, and always took more science courses than required, sooner then required (ask me about the funny story of being the only freshman in biology class, when the teacher made a joke about genetics, my blue eyes and the mailman…). And when that ideal future changed, to the ministry path I’m currently on, I made the appropriate change in class schedules, college major and salary expectations. Still, even then, I couldn’t have imagined where I’d be now- married to a wonderful woman, serving a great church and living in Minnesota. Life takes you down unexpected paths, which sometimes exceed expectations.
Anyway, all that is prelude to the point of today’s letter, which is trying to convince you to take a survey for the Worship Team. As you might know, our Worship Team has spent the past year working very hard to help make our church’s fundamental activity as rich and moving as possible. Slowly but surely, we’re discerning an ideal future for our worship culture that is constantly creative, open, multicultural and familiar, all at the same time! That’s quite a task, and will take many months, even years. But we believe worship is so important, it’s worth the patience and devotion these wonderful people are giving it. Be sure to thank them, when you can, and especially our Leader, Martha Francis.
But as I discovered about effective dreaming, the older I became, it works best if you identify intermediate steps in the process, and then regularly assess your progress toward those goals. Which is just a wordy way of saying, “Make sure what you’re doing is worth it.” Hence our survey. We’ve tried some new things in recent months during worship, related to these goals for the future, and we’d like your feedback. After all, effective changes in our worship culture only matter if our fellow worshippers- members and guests- feel closer to God, each other and their neighbors as a result. So we’ll include some printed surveys in our bulletins over the next few Sundays, and have created an internet version which you can complete by clicking this link, if that’s easiest for you. All responses are confidential, so please be honest. And whatever your response, I hope you trust that Plymouth Creek’s worship leadership- the Team members, Jeremae and myself- consider serving you in this fashion, and exploring the power of God’s presence with you, among our greatest gifts. We’ve got a bright future together, I believe, wherever God feels fit to lead us!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Being now almost 30 (insert disingenuous ‘old man’ joke here), I reflected this week on my current life situation, and how different it is from anything I imagined in my youth. I suspect I’m not the only one. My earliest memories of ‘projecting my ideal future’ involve me playing tight end for the Denver Broncos at age 29, or perhaps small forward for the Denver Nuggets. Alas, despite conventional wisdom to the contrary, those dreams were rather fanciful. But they changed at some point, and I then imagined I’d spend my twenties traveling the world, digging up dinosaur bones. Of course, that was before I knew that, if I’d gone that route, I would’ve likely still been in school at 30!
But again, my idealized future changed, and the older I got, the more realistic my dreams became. Or at least, I began to plan intermediate, measurable steps that would take me there, rather than just hopes and prayers. So I soon decided to become a brain surgeon, which, I admit, was still a reach. But I believed I could do it, and studied hard, and always took more science courses than required, sooner then required (ask me about the funny story of being the only freshman in biology class, when the teacher made a joke about genetics, my blue eyes and the mailman…). And when that ideal future changed, to the ministry path I’m currently on, I made the appropriate change in class schedules, college major and salary expectations. Still, even then, I couldn’t have imagined where I’d be now- married to a wonderful woman, serving a great church and living in Minnesota. Life takes you down unexpected paths, which sometimes exceed expectations.
Anyway, all that is prelude to the point of today’s letter, which is trying to convince you to take a survey for the Worship Team. As you might know, our Worship Team has spent the past year working very hard to help make our church’s fundamental activity as rich and moving as possible. Slowly but surely, we’re discerning an ideal future for our worship culture that is constantly creative, open, multicultural and familiar, all at the same time! That’s quite a task, and will take many months, even years. But we believe worship is so important, it’s worth the patience and devotion these wonderful people are giving it. Be sure to thank them, when you can, and especially our Leader, Martha Francis.
But as I discovered about effective dreaming, the older I became, it works best if you identify intermediate steps in the process, and then regularly assess your progress toward those goals. Which is just a wordy way of saying, “Make sure what you’re doing is worth it.” Hence our survey. We’ve tried some new things in recent months during worship, related to these goals for the future, and we’d like your feedback. After all, effective changes in our worship culture only matter if our fellow worshippers- members and guests- feel closer to God, each other and their neighbors as a result. So we’ll include some printed surveys in our bulletins over the next few Sundays, and have created an internet version which you can complete by clicking this link, if that’s easiest for you. All responses are confidential, so please be honest. And whatever your response, I hope you trust that Plymouth Creek’s worship leadership- the Team members, Jeremae and myself- consider serving you in this fashion, and exploring the power of God’s presence with you, among our greatest gifts. We’ve got a bright future together, I believe, wherever God feels fit to lead us!
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, October 8, 2010
Rest…
Who isn’t always longing for another quote from St. Augustine? Well, here’s one- “You have made us for yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”
I spent last week on retreat, again, this time in a Catholic Retreat Center just south of Boston. Along a bay, looking over the Atlantic, surrounded by the lush foliage of New England, hesitantly shedding its greens for yellows, and summer warmth with rain. Glorious. For those who don’t know, I take these retreats bi-annually, as part of a group in our denomination called The Bethany Fellows. The organization’s purpose is to nurture and support young adult Disciples clergy, so they bring us (about 40) to retreat centers around the country for a week every six months. There, we worship, laugh, share stories, learn and, my favorite, spend Wednesday in silence. I believe Don’s (the Bethany leader) idea is that good ministers need deep spirits, and he wants to show us how to get there. As well he should, being one of the deepest souls I know. Ever heard someone quote Philippians 1 from memory- and not just as a rote repetition, but as if those words blaze in the oven of his soul? I have, because Don is that kind of Christian. And these regular weeks of tutelage from that wellspring renew me for ministry more than I can articulate.
This time, during silence, I began reading a book on contemporary spirituality by a thoughtful, open-minded, deep-spirited Catholic priest named Ronald Rolheiser. Its title is “The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christian Spirituality,” and if anyone’s interested in more active spirituality, pick it up. Fr. Rolheiser wrote for all Christians, not simply professional ministers. Heck, I’m enjoying it so much, I’d love to discuss it with you. Anyone up for a book group? Let me know the time and tavern (or coffee shop!), and I’ll be there.
Anyway, back to Augustine, because Rolheiser makes that quote central to his book. Simply put- he believes we’re all restless, so our great spiritual task is learning what to do with this restlessness.
For some, he suggests, we give too much into the restlessness, running all over- volunteer appointment to Board Meeting to Yoga class to Dog Park- trying to experience everything and never slowing down, hoping that somehow, at some point, we’ll end up feeling fulfilled. And we don’t. Because we don’t take time enough to rest in places that can truly “restoreth my soul.”
For others, he claims, the restless impulse isn’t embraced, but suppressed, medicated through foreign substances or mindless TV or late-night Sudoku marathons on the computer. At such times, we’re not sucking the marrow out of life, but are staring at life blankly, like a reluctant date at a community theatre production. But that doesn’t mean we’re rested or content. Often, far from it. We’ve traded the anxiety-ridden feeling of restlessness, for the numbing fog of avoidance or survival.
And at different points in life, either path may be fine. Doing lots of stuff can mean you’re growing and expanding your soul, while contributing to God’s good world. Detaching from the hustle and bustle, letting life continue without your active contribution after, say, finishing a huge project, or experiencing great loss, that can be just what the doctor ordered. But in neither case is life fully balanced. Over time, we want to channel our restlessness- our unrelenting passions- into healthy, creative, unselfish ventures, while seeking places to finally, truly rest.
“Our hearts are restless until they rest in you,” Augustine prayed. And I think he’s right. In God’s presence, we can experience solitude and relationship, active creativity and holy Sabbath. Restless passion can transform into loving ministry, restlessness into rest. Or at least, Rolheiser contends, that’s the promise of Christian spirituality. Not just thinking deep thoughts, or praying pretty prayers, but achieving self-sustaining, ever-renewing balance between rest and activity.
What would that look like in practice? Well, I’m still on chapter three! But it seems worth pondering. How do you find rest in God, and receive energy to live and love with abandon? Or perhaps, to use another term, Spiritual Balance?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
I spent last week on retreat, again, this time in a Catholic Retreat Center just south of Boston. Along a bay, looking over the Atlantic, surrounded by the lush foliage of New England, hesitantly shedding its greens for yellows, and summer warmth with rain. Glorious. For those who don’t know, I take these retreats bi-annually, as part of a group in our denomination called The Bethany Fellows. The organization’s purpose is to nurture and support young adult Disciples clergy, so they bring us (about 40) to retreat centers around the country for a week every six months. There, we worship, laugh, share stories, learn and, my favorite, spend Wednesday in silence. I believe Don’s (the Bethany leader) idea is that good ministers need deep spirits, and he wants to show us how to get there. As well he should, being one of the deepest souls I know. Ever heard someone quote Philippians 1 from memory- and not just as a rote repetition, but as if those words blaze in the oven of his soul? I have, because Don is that kind of Christian. And these regular weeks of tutelage from that wellspring renew me for ministry more than I can articulate.
This time, during silence, I began reading a book on contemporary spirituality by a thoughtful, open-minded, deep-spirited Catholic priest named Ronald Rolheiser. Its title is “The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christian Spirituality,” and if anyone’s interested in more active spirituality, pick it up. Fr. Rolheiser wrote for all Christians, not simply professional ministers. Heck, I’m enjoying it so much, I’d love to discuss it with you. Anyone up for a book group? Let me know the time and tavern (or coffee shop!), and I’ll be there.
Anyway, back to Augustine, because Rolheiser makes that quote central to his book. Simply put- he believes we’re all restless, so our great spiritual task is learning what to do with this restlessness.
For some, he suggests, we give too much into the restlessness, running all over- volunteer appointment to Board Meeting to Yoga class to Dog Park- trying to experience everything and never slowing down, hoping that somehow, at some point, we’ll end up feeling fulfilled. And we don’t. Because we don’t take time enough to rest in places that can truly “restoreth my soul.”
For others, he claims, the restless impulse isn’t embraced, but suppressed, medicated through foreign substances or mindless TV or late-night Sudoku marathons on the computer. At such times, we’re not sucking the marrow out of life, but are staring at life blankly, like a reluctant date at a community theatre production. But that doesn’t mean we’re rested or content. Often, far from it. We’ve traded the anxiety-ridden feeling of restlessness, for the numbing fog of avoidance or survival.
And at different points in life, either path may be fine. Doing lots of stuff can mean you’re growing and expanding your soul, while contributing to God’s good world. Detaching from the hustle and bustle, letting life continue without your active contribution after, say, finishing a huge project, or experiencing great loss, that can be just what the doctor ordered. But in neither case is life fully balanced. Over time, we want to channel our restlessness- our unrelenting passions- into healthy, creative, unselfish ventures, while seeking places to finally, truly rest.
“Our hearts are restless until they rest in you,” Augustine prayed. And I think he’s right. In God’s presence, we can experience solitude and relationship, active creativity and holy Sabbath. Restless passion can transform into loving ministry, restlessness into rest. Or at least, Rolheiser contends, that’s the promise of Christian spirituality. Not just thinking deep thoughts, or praying pretty prayers, but achieving self-sustaining, ever-renewing balance between rest and activity.
What would that look like in practice? Well, I’m still on chapter three! But it seems worth pondering. How do you find rest in God, and receive energy to live and love with abandon? Or perhaps, to use another term, Spiritual Balance?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, October 1, 2010
…there is a season… (October Creeksider)
The third pastoral letter I wrote our church began with the above quote from Ecclesiastes (or, depending on your preference, the American folk-rock band, “The Byrds”). I spoke about transitions, and the seasons of ministry we go through- as individuals, as churches, as families- and how the ancient wisdom of Ecclesiastes should lead us to embrace such seasons of change as part of God’s design. Not rebel against change as unnatural. Nor assume that any one seasonal change will be the final word, forever. We may not always like what’s in season, of course. But things always ‘turn, turn, turn,” or as the words of Solomon’s Ring suggest, “This too shall pass.” Whatever “this” is.
Well, a change in our season of ministry as a church is near. Some of you know this already, but everyone should know, because it impacts us all. Thy Word Worship Center, the Apostolic faith church who began ministry in our building almost four years ago, will be leaving very soon. I can’t say exactly when that will occur, although it’s most likely that October 31 will be Thy Word’s final Sunday here.
As often happens with any significant change, my heart feels heavy and sad about this situation. Although Thy Word is certainly a dissimilar church than Plymouth Creek, who hold different expectations about worship, and teach some different ideas about Christian faith, they are our sisters and brothers in Jesus, and so they will be missed. Indeed, it’s never been us v. them. It’s all ‘Us.’ And when part of ‘us’ leaves, we should feel some loss and sadness. Yes, as a result, our church building will be more available for programming that can help Plymouth Creek move forward and realize God’s fullest vision for our church. I look forward to turning that opportunity into reality with you in many ways. But before we move on, it’s important, for ourselves and our building partners-in-ministry, to reflect on the good we did together, and why I’m sad to see this end.
Plymouth, Minnesota has not been an historical hotbed for multiculturalism, although that’s fast changing. Elementary school principals say that their classroom compositions in recent years have become much more diverse as more African-American and Latino families move into this area. Which means, as our neighbors claim a wider array of ethnic heritages, our suburb will have to adapt its understanding about how race dynamics matter in our lives. One such adaptation, of course, will be among churches. Do we continue to worship in styles that solely reflect white church culture, and thus reach out to a diminishing percentage of our neighbors? Or will we attempt to adapt, and make our church more open? No easy answer to that. But one solution we’ve helped implement over the past four years was to nurture and support an African-American new church start in Plymouth, when there was none before. It’s been trying at times, glorious at others, but in the end, that Thy Word maintains its viability and vibrancy as a church is something for all to be proud of, and to thank God for helping make happen.
But this very success is the reason for the change. Thy Word has grown to a point that the limitations we all have to accept as partners in this facility are no longer an asset, but a liability. Jesus’ Table has no limit for how many people can fit around it. Our church building, however, can only fit so many! So to ensure the continued growth of both communities, we made the decision to change our relationship, and worship in separate facilities. Where that will be for Thy Word? I can’t answer that yet, alas. But as their pastors told me, “Shane, God will make a way. God put us here in Plymouth. God needs us here in Plymouth. So we will continue to serve Plymouth and show the love of Jesus, wherever the final building ends up being.”
Amen. My translation- This change in season, despite the falling leaves around us, will usher in Spring for both our churches. A time for hope.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Well, a change in our season of ministry as a church is near. Some of you know this already, but everyone should know, because it impacts us all. Thy Word Worship Center, the Apostolic faith church who began ministry in our building almost four years ago, will be leaving very soon. I can’t say exactly when that will occur, although it’s most likely that October 31 will be Thy Word’s final Sunday here.
As often happens with any significant change, my heart feels heavy and sad about this situation. Although Thy Word is certainly a dissimilar church than Plymouth Creek, who hold different expectations about worship, and teach some different ideas about Christian faith, they are our sisters and brothers in Jesus, and so they will be missed. Indeed, it’s never been us v. them. It’s all ‘Us.’ And when part of ‘us’ leaves, we should feel some loss and sadness. Yes, as a result, our church building will be more available for programming that can help Plymouth Creek move forward and realize God’s fullest vision for our church. I look forward to turning that opportunity into reality with you in many ways. But before we move on, it’s important, for ourselves and our building partners-in-ministry, to reflect on the good we did together, and why I’m sad to see this end.
Plymouth, Minnesota has not been an historical hotbed for multiculturalism, although that’s fast changing. Elementary school principals say that their classroom compositions in recent years have become much more diverse as more African-American and Latino families move into this area. Which means, as our neighbors claim a wider array of ethnic heritages, our suburb will have to adapt its understanding about how race dynamics matter in our lives. One such adaptation, of course, will be among churches. Do we continue to worship in styles that solely reflect white church culture, and thus reach out to a diminishing percentage of our neighbors? Or will we attempt to adapt, and make our church more open? No easy answer to that. But one solution we’ve helped implement over the past four years was to nurture and support an African-American new church start in Plymouth, when there was none before. It’s been trying at times, glorious at others, but in the end, that Thy Word maintains its viability and vibrancy as a church is something for all to be proud of, and to thank God for helping make happen.
But this very success is the reason for the change. Thy Word has grown to a point that the limitations we all have to accept as partners in this facility are no longer an asset, but a liability. Jesus’ Table has no limit for how many people can fit around it. Our church building, however, can only fit so many! So to ensure the continued growth of both communities, we made the decision to change our relationship, and worship in separate facilities. Where that will be for Thy Word? I can’t answer that yet, alas. But as their pastors told me, “Shane, God will make a way. God put us here in Plymouth. God needs us here in Plymouth. So we will continue to serve Plymouth and show the love of Jesus, wherever the final building ends up being.”
Amen. My translation- This change in season, despite the falling leaves around us, will usher in Spring for both our churches. A time for hope.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, September 24, 2010
I Sing of Peace…
I’d imagine the central-eastern countryside of France, circa 1940, was a troubling home. I’m no expert, but what little I know doesn’t paint a pretty picture. Devastating signs of war littered the towns and hills. Enemy German troops controlled the country, plunging the people’s identity into conflict. For these rural folk, far outside the occupied Paris, perhaps there was some semblance of normalcy. But not much., I’d guess For it was there, in a desolate village named Taize (in the Bourgogne district, if you know French geography, aka three hours southeast of Paris), a Swiss monastic named Brother Roger bought a house, to shelter war refugees.
Bold move, if you ask me, especially since he also hid Jews. Which some nearby Nazis found out apparently, and Roger returned to Switzerland in late 1942 to save his skin. While there, he advertised his little house- said it wasn’t simply a refuge for the war-torn, but an emerging Christian community- and in 1944, after the Allied liberation, returned to his Taize home with some new residents and friends. Well, one thing followed another, and this quasi-monastic community kept growing. Soon there were Catholics, Anglicans, Protestants, and Orthodox, all committed to living simply, poorly, and with kindness and love as their rule. The goal- Show the world that reconciliation and peace are possible, and through their ‘parable of community’ teach that God is love, and love alone. Brother Roger, by the way, was 26 when he founded the Taize Community. And from those humble, youthful days (i.e. wide-eyed and optimistic, despite the world’s nastiness and horror), Taize has become an international pilgrimage site for young adult Christians, leading weeklong retreats of prayer and peace for over 100,000 people a year. In fact, they’ve gone international; set up houses in other countries to serve the poor and teach deep spirituality. I’m a fan. A big one. In case you haven’t noticed.
Alas, I haven’t been to Taize myself, yet. Although if anyone’s desperate to buy a plane ticket to France, I’ll give you my travel agent’s number. But I’ve experienced the depth and richness of their spirituality through the musical tradition they created. You may have too, by the way. PCCC currently sings three Taize-written songs regularly. I’ve also written about their musical style in this space. So you may be wondering, “Shane, why mention these guys…again?” Good question. Here’s my answer: Jeremae, our Music Minister, said so.
Context? Given my love for this music (meditative, repetitive songs, that are so simple to grasp and sing, your singing quickly transforms into prayerful listening to God…if you’re open to it…), I wanted our church to learn it better. So I’ve asked Jeremae and the choir to help us incorporate more Taize music into our worship life. Every week through Advent, we’ll sing at least one Taize song, so that by Christmas, we’ll have 10 in our regular singing rotation. When I asked Jeremae to help lead this, she, as usual, said, “Great! I’m flexible, and we can be really creative with this! But will you, Shane, tell our church the story of this music? It’s good to accompany change with a fuller explanation…”
And she’s right. Yes, we’ve sung Taize songs now for over a year. But did you know it’s multicultural music, written in many languages? Or from a monastery dedicated to reconciliation and peace? Or that it’s inspired millions of young adults, across six decades, to encounter God through mystery, simplicity and meditative prayer, and so serve the world’s needs more deeply? Again, I think that’s incredible, even inspiring. And if it’s worked such magic for others, why not us?
So that’s the story; what remains is implementation. And who knows? Maybe y’all won’t dig it like I do. But I hope that, after this three-month experiment, we’ll know better as a church what moves us deeply. Because in the end, Brother Roger’s legacy isn’t just a songbook of pretty music. It’s the conviction that Christians in community can serve, inspire and even change the world. And it’s always a good time we let that conviction work its way deeper into our souls, again.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Bold move, if you ask me, especially since he also hid Jews. Which some nearby Nazis found out apparently, and Roger returned to Switzerland in late 1942 to save his skin. While there, he advertised his little house- said it wasn’t simply a refuge for the war-torn, but an emerging Christian community- and in 1944, after the Allied liberation, returned to his Taize home with some new residents and friends. Well, one thing followed another, and this quasi-monastic community kept growing. Soon there were Catholics, Anglicans, Protestants, and Orthodox, all committed to living simply, poorly, and with kindness and love as their rule. The goal- Show the world that reconciliation and peace are possible, and through their ‘parable of community’ teach that God is love, and love alone. Brother Roger, by the way, was 26 when he founded the Taize Community. And from those humble, youthful days (i.e. wide-eyed and optimistic, despite the world’s nastiness and horror), Taize has become an international pilgrimage site for young adult Christians, leading weeklong retreats of prayer and peace for over 100,000 people a year. In fact, they’ve gone international; set up houses in other countries to serve the poor and teach deep spirituality. I’m a fan. A big one. In case you haven’t noticed.
Alas, I haven’t been to Taize myself, yet. Although if anyone’s desperate to buy a plane ticket to France, I’ll give you my travel agent’s number. But I’ve experienced the depth and richness of their spirituality through the musical tradition they created. You may have too, by the way. PCCC currently sings three Taize-written songs regularly. I’ve also written about their musical style in this space. So you may be wondering, “Shane, why mention these guys…again?” Good question. Here’s my answer: Jeremae, our Music Minister, said so.
Context? Given my love for this music (meditative, repetitive songs, that are so simple to grasp and sing, your singing quickly transforms into prayerful listening to God…if you’re open to it…), I wanted our church to learn it better. So I’ve asked Jeremae and the choir to help us incorporate more Taize music into our worship life. Every week through Advent, we’ll sing at least one Taize song, so that by Christmas, we’ll have 10 in our regular singing rotation. When I asked Jeremae to help lead this, she, as usual, said, “Great! I’m flexible, and we can be really creative with this! But will you, Shane, tell our church the story of this music? It’s good to accompany change with a fuller explanation…”
And she’s right. Yes, we’ve sung Taize songs now for over a year. But did you know it’s multicultural music, written in many languages? Or from a monastery dedicated to reconciliation and peace? Or that it’s inspired millions of young adults, across six decades, to encounter God through mystery, simplicity and meditative prayer, and so serve the world’s needs more deeply? Again, I think that’s incredible, even inspiring. And if it’s worked such magic for others, why not us?
So that’s the story; what remains is implementation. And who knows? Maybe y’all won’t dig it like I do. But I hope that, after this three-month experiment, we’ll know better as a church what moves us deeply. Because in the end, Brother Roger’s legacy isn’t just a songbook of pretty music. It’s the conviction that Christians in community can serve, inspire and even change the world. And it’s always a good time we let that conviction work its way deeper into our souls, again.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Friday, September 17, 2010
The aftermath…
Mine was a generation supposed to have been defined by 9/11/2001. Or that’s how one theory went. They said all generations have a “You remember where you were when…” moment, and the Twin Towers’ destruction was apparently mine. My Dad remembers the days JKF and MLK were shot. My grandparents had Pearl Harbor seared in their memory. And those moments, some say, can define a generation, change our collective consciousness…
But there’re other theories, like that promulgated by Tom Brokaw’s famous book, The Greatest Generation (vignettes about those who lived through and fought the Second World War). In this theory, historic moments do help shape people, but more important is their response- the positive lessons learned and applied. So after WWII, our nation witnessed an economic and institutional boom. Churches expanded rapidly. Colleges too. People, full of optimism and entrepreneurial courage, thought, “By golly, we won overseas! So let’s make life better here too!” In other words, this theory goes, what ultimately shapes us are responses to shared events, not just events themselves.
And my generation, apparently, was supposed to respond to 9/11- to learn something valuable and apply it. What that is isn’t yet apparent to me. But given the date and recent events, I’ll tell you what I hope for:
I experienced 9/11/01 and now two wars in predominately-Muslim countries, while preparing to be a religious leader. It seemed reasonable to me, therefore, to study Islam as much as possible. I’m no scholar, certainly, since I focused mostly on Christianity (of course!). But I’m not ignorant of the religion, and have learned to love and respect it.
Islam means “submission,” deriving from the Prophet Mohammed’s central insight that our common goal- a lifelong struggle (aka jihad) of the soul- is submitting our whole self the will and mercy of God. That takes regular prayer, worship, almsgiving, and reverence for an authority (the Qur’an and the Prophet’s teachings) higher than yourself. Over the years, like Christianity, turning theory into practice produced mixed results. It’s been distorted by the violent, misappropriated by the greedy and powerful, and brutalized women in systemic ways. But also like Christianity, the application of Islam by everyday people has been overwhelmingly a source of strength in a difficult world, and an avenue to connect with God.
So it frustrates me when people say nasty things about Muslims, as if they’re all the same, and all terrorists. One critique goes, “Read the Qur’an. It’s horrific.” I have read the Qur’an, and like the Bible, it’s full of conflicting ideas, but an overarching message of goodness. And besides, it’s never enough to assume you understand another’s faith tradition by reading their holy book. In Christianity, we’ve inherited nineteen post-Biblical centuries of experiences, beliefs and ideas about God. Heck, it took us 300 years to formulate the Trinity! And once that happened, we disagreed again, sometimes violently. Of course, that violence was about much more- land, wealth, natural resources- like most religious conflict. But the main point is we don’t know ourselves as Christians by only reading the Bible. So we should apply the same standard to Islam and others.
Which returns me to the larger issue- How would I like my generation defined? We have fingertip access to more information now than ever before. We can connect with other cultures, people, religions and ideas with as little as a youtube video or twitter feed. My hope is we use that power for good, especially by taking time to learn from others before condemning them or burning their sacred texts. On that horrible 9/11/01 day, I learned, for the first time, the power of perverted faith. So as a person of deep faith, I vowed to be a beacon of something more loving, like my Savior instructed. I’ve befriended people of different faiths, learned their best ideas and hopes. I don’t let people demean others’ faith convictions in my presence. I could still do that better, as can many my age. But if we do, and so increase the world’s compassion and understanding, regardless our many differences, we may not be the ‘Greatest Generation,’ but I’d be proud to play a part.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
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But there’re other theories, like that promulgated by Tom Brokaw’s famous book, The Greatest Generation (vignettes about those who lived through and fought the Second World War). In this theory, historic moments do help shape people, but more important is their response- the positive lessons learned and applied. So after WWII, our nation witnessed an economic and institutional boom. Churches expanded rapidly. Colleges too. People, full of optimism and entrepreneurial courage, thought, “By golly, we won overseas! So let’s make life better here too!” In other words, this theory goes, what ultimately shapes us are responses to shared events, not just events themselves.
And my generation, apparently, was supposed to respond to 9/11- to learn something valuable and apply it. What that is isn’t yet apparent to me. But given the date and recent events, I’ll tell you what I hope for:
I experienced 9/11/01 and now two wars in predominately-Muslim countries, while preparing to be a religious leader. It seemed reasonable to me, therefore, to study Islam as much as possible. I’m no scholar, certainly, since I focused mostly on Christianity (of course!). But I’m not ignorant of the religion, and have learned to love and respect it.
Islam means “submission,” deriving from the Prophet Mohammed’s central insight that our common goal- a lifelong struggle (aka jihad) of the soul- is submitting our whole self the will and mercy of God. That takes regular prayer, worship, almsgiving, and reverence for an authority (the Qur’an and the Prophet’s teachings) higher than yourself. Over the years, like Christianity, turning theory into practice produced mixed results. It’s been distorted by the violent, misappropriated by the greedy and powerful, and brutalized women in systemic ways. But also like Christianity, the application of Islam by everyday people has been overwhelmingly a source of strength in a difficult world, and an avenue to connect with God.
So it frustrates me when people say nasty things about Muslims, as if they’re all the same, and all terrorists. One critique goes, “Read the Qur’an. It’s horrific.” I have read the Qur’an, and like the Bible, it’s full of conflicting ideas, but an overarching message of goodness. And besides, it’s never enough to assume you understand another’s faith tradition by reading their holy book. In Christianity, we’ve inherited nineteen post-Biblical centuries of experiences, beliefs and ideas about God. Heck, it took us 300 years to formulate the Trinity! And once that happened, we disagreed again, sometimes violently. Of course, that violence was about much more- land, wealth, natural resources- like most religious conflict. But the main point is we don’t know ourselves as Christians by only reading the Bible. So we should apply the same standard to Islam and others.
Which returns me to the larger issue- How would I like my generation defined? We have fingertip access to more information now than ever before. We can connect with other cultures, people, religions and ideas with as little as a youtube video or twitter feed. My hope is we use that power for good, especially by taking time to learn from others before condemning them or burning their sacred texts. On that horrible 9/11/01 day, I learned, for the first time, the power of perverted faith. So as a person of deep faith, I vowed to be a beacon of something more loving, like my Savior instructed. I’ve befriended people of different faiths, learned their best ideas and hopes. I don’t let people demean others’ faith convictions in my presence. I could still do that better, as can many my age. But if we do, and so increase the world’s compassion and understanding, regardless our many differences, we may not be the ‘Greatest Generation,’ but I’d be proud to play a part.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Friday, September 10, 2010
Days of Awe…
First of all, let me say that last month’s letters about worship were fun for me. A good chance to explore different ideas about my favorite part of church. As I mentioned in the August 12 letter, I have a deep love for the Taize worship tradition. I believe its simple, beautiful melodies and repetitive words help us put aside the clutter we bring into worship, and arrive more fully into God’s presence. So this Fall, we’ll explore that tradition in greater depth, singing one Taize song per week. Meaning by Advent, hopefully, we’ll have added some new songs, and a new genre of contemporary, multi-cultural (Taize is a monastery in France) music to our worship life!
But this week, I want to bring your attention to the Days of Awe. That inspired phrase is the Jewish description of the ten days from Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, i.e. the holiest days of the Jewish Year. For those who don’t know, Rosh Hashanah is actually two days, and celebrates the “Jewish New Year” (although, according to jewfaq.org- “This name is somewhat deceptive, because there is little similarity between Rosh Hashanah…and the American midnight drinking bash and daytime football game”!). Yom Kippur occurs a week and a half later, and is the “Day of Atonement.” Now if this sounds out of left field, let me remind you we’re in the midst of the Days of Awe. Rosh Hashanah began at sunset Wednesday, September 8, and Yom Kippur ends at sundown, on the 18th. Something felt somehow more…awe-some…didn’t it?
My Jewish buddy Andrew, who makes guest appearances in this space, has sometimes referred to himself as a “Three-day-a-year Jew.” This means his Temple attendance typically is restricted to these High Holy Days- Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In Christianland, we’ve sometimes paid joking tribute to our own attendance-limited sisters and brothers, calling them, “Chreasters,” i.e. Christmas and Easter Christians. I’d, of course, advocate more regular worship, from both Andrew and our Chreaster friends, but annual attendance is still something, and it highlights an important fact about Abrahamic religious traditions: We have a profound reverence for time.
Abraham Heschel, the great 20th Century Jewish Rabbi, wrote a beautiful book called The Sabbath, in which he contrasts sacred space with sacred time. Most people find certain places spiritually significant; a sanctuary, beautiful mountain, a certain room in childhood homes. But in the Creation story, God designates a day, a moment of time, holy and set apart. As the Sabbath approaches, therefore, we’re invited to enter through its door into a ‘room’ of 24 hours, when we can experience greater holiness than the other days of the week. But it’s more than that. Annually, we perceive more spiritual power in certain periods time than others. Our sisters and brothers of Islamic faith just completed an observance of the spiritual power of time. Their holy month of Ramadan ended Friday, so for the past month they’ve fasted, prayed and offered hospitality to neighbors in their annual search to live more submissively to their understanding of God’s desires.
Which makes me wonder- Why do certain times contain more ‘awe’ and sacred potential than others? My provisional answer for the space remaining- memory. Some memories just carry more spiritual freight- times we felt God more fully, or when we believe God did something profound. Through memory, in effect, time can stand still, and the blessed hopes or facts of what was can be again. At our core, we believe God doesn’t stand outside of time, but through the vast array of human history, of our time here on earth, God got involved. Which suggests that all the time ahead of us still isn’t just meaningless or dull, but always saturated with the possibility that God will do something awe-some again. So whenever we take time to revere the memories of holy days past, it’s not simply a celebration of what was, but a commitment to seek in the time ahead more awe and righteousness than we’ve seen yet. May your coming week, therefore, be seven days of awe. And the week after that. And after that. And, well, you know…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
But this week, I want to bring your attention to the Days of Awe. That inspired phrase is the Jewish description of the ten days from Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, i.e. the holiest days of the Jewish Year. For those who don’t know, Rosh Hashanah is actually two days, and celebrates the “Jewish New Year” (although, according to jewfaq.org- “This name is somewhat deceptive, because there is little similarity between Rosh Hashanah…and the American midnight drinking bash and daytime football game”!). Yom Kippur occurs a week and a half later, and is the “Day of Atonement.” Now if this sounds out of left field, let me remind you we’re in the midst of the Days of Awe. Rosh Hashanah began at sunset Wednesday, September 8, and Yom Kippur ends at sundown, on the 18th. Something felt somehow more…awe-some…didn’t it?
My Jewish buddy Andrew, who makes guest appearances in this space, has sometimes referred to himself as a “Three-day-a-year Jew.” This means his Temple attendance typically is restricted to these High Holy Days- Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In Christianland, we’ve sometimes paid joking tribute to our own attendance-limited sisters and brothers, calling them, “Chreasters,” i.e. Christmas and Easter Christians. I’d, of course, advocate more regular worship, from both Andrew and our Chreaster friends, but annual attendance is still something, and it highlights an important fact about Abrahamic religious traditions: We have a profound reverence for time.
Abraham Heschel, the great 20th Century Jewish Rabbi, wrote a beautiful book called The Sabbath, in which he contrasts sacred space with sacred time. Most people find certain places spiritually significant; a sanctuary, beautiful mountain, a certain room in childhood homes. But in the Creation story, God designates a day, a moment of time, holy and set apart. As the Sabbath approaches, therefore, we’re invited to enter through its door into a ‘room’ of 24 hours, when we can experience greater holiness than the other days of the week. But it’s more than that. Annually, we perceive more spiritual power in certain periods time than others. Our sisters and brothers of Islamic faith just completed an observance of the spiritual power of time. Their holy month of Ramadan ended Friday, so for the past month they’ve fasted, prayed and offered hospitality to neighbors in their annual search to live more submissively to their understanding of God’s desires.
Which makes me wonder- Why do certain times contain more ‘awe’ and sacred potential than others? My provisional answer for the space remaining- memory. Some memories just carry more spiritual freight- times we felt God more fully, or when we believe God did something profound. Through memory, in effect, time can stand still, and the blessed hopes or facts of what was can be again. At our core, we believe God doesn’t stand outside of time, but through the vast array of human history, of our time here on earth, God got involved. Which suggests that all the time ahead of us still isn’t just meaningless or dull, but always saturated with the possibility that God will do something awe-some again. So whenever we take time to revere the memories of holy days past, it’s not simply a celebration of what was, but a commitment to seek in the time ahead more awe and righteousness than we’ve seen yet. May your coming week, therefore, be seven days of awe. And the week after that. And after that. And, well, you know…
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
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