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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Friday, September 17, 2010
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!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Cuando Fluyan a la Mar…
I was privileged to be ordained at Iglesia del Pueblo Christian Church in Hammond, IN. In fact, IDP was the first Disciples of Christ church I joined, so it’s quite important to me. Although, I almost never went in the first place. What happened was I, a relatively new DoC convert, was looking around the Chicago area for a DoC church to ordain me. I tried many places over multiple months, but nothing seemed ‘to fit.’ However, I needed to choose soon if I hoped to be ordained after graduation.
Then, an attractive woman at my seminary told me she’d been checking out IDP, this Disciples church just over the state line from south Chicago, and it was really cool. They spoke Spanish and English, she said, and worshiped with a praise/gospel/salsa band, and I should go with her sometime. I must say, that sounded intriguing, but very intimidating, and I agreed to go mainly because 45 minutes in the car each direction was a long time to convince her to date me.
It worked, by the way, she’s now my wife. And what’s certainly less important, but still crucial, is I loved the church, and they nurtured me down the final path to ordained ministry. But again, however neat the result in retrospect, I didn’t expect IDP ‘to fit.’ I figured I was a young, white kid who speaks minimal Spanish, so hoping a predominantly Latino congregation would partner with and love me enough to make me a reverend seemed farfetched. Until I walked in the door, and all assumptions I’d made about “Us v. Them” or “White v. Latino” disappeared, when John Cedeno vigorously greeted me, saying, “Thanks for coming! Tell me about yourself!” Great hospitality. I felt very welcome. And that helped me relax enough to learn that in the important things, IDP and I were one and the same. We both valued worship, passionate worship, above most everything else.
But similar though our values were, IDP worshiped differently than I’d experienced before. They were intentionally multicultural. This, as you might suspect, is very tricky. Across the country, only 7% of American churches are what sociologists dub “multicultural” (meaning no one ethnic group tops 80%). Indeed, White, Black, Latino or Asian Pacific-Islander, most American Christians attend church with folk who look similar, and share similar tastes in music and expectations about worship culture (expectations like service length, music volume, impromptu v. scripted prayer, vocal interaction during sermons, clapping). That’s not news, surely, but the stats highlight how strange IDP was by blending English and Spanish, Black Gospel, Salsa, White Evangelical Praise, and Old European Hymns. Or what to some seemed strange, I learned was “Glorious.”
In retrospect, I think one lesson from my IDP days sticks out most: Christians share vastly different cultures, languages, assumptions about ‘proper church behavior’ and even beliefs about Jesus, but all that’s less important than our shared desire to praise God. In whatever way we do best. My favorite IDP song remains a Spanish language Pentecostal tune called “Como Las Aguas del Rio.” Roughly translated, the words are- “Like the waters of the river when they flow to the sea/so arrives the glory of the Lord into my heart”. I think that’s possible whether you’re shouting and dancing, or silently meditating to a Celtic version of “Be Thou My Vision.”
But the point of multicultural worship isn’t simply to affirm ‘we have more in common than not.’ Nor is it, as some have suggested, rejecting your inherited culture as ‘boring’ or ‘dull’. I means using worship to affirm what Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13:12- “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” Experiencing worship from a variety of cultures, in multiple languages, is the same thing as seeing God through another’s eyes, and from vantages we’d never achieve on our own. Or, if you will, knowing God more fully now, in anticipation of that ‘Great Getting’ Up Morning’ when it’ll all be made plain.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Then, an attractive woman at my seminary told me she’d been checking out IDP, this Disciples church just over the state line from south Chicago, and it was really cool. They spoke Spanish and English, she said, and worshiped with a praise/gospel/salsa band, and I should go with her sometime. I must say, that sounded intriguing, but very intimidating, and I agreed to go mainly because 45 minutes in the car each direction was a long time to convince her to date me.
It worked, by the way, she’s now my wife. And what’s certainly less important, but still crucial, is I loved the church, and they nurtured me down the final path to ordained ministry. But again, however neat the result in retrospect, I didn’t expect IDP ‘to fit.’ I figured I was a young, white kid who speaks minimal Spanish, so hoping a predominantly Latino congregation would partner with and love me enough to make me a reverend seemed farfetched. Until I walked in the door, and all assumptions I’d made about “Us v. Them” or “White v. Latino” disappeared, when John Cedeno vigorously greeted me, saying, “Thanks for coming! Tell me about yourself!” Great hospitality. I felt very welcome. And that helped me relax enough to learn that in the important things, IDP and I were one and the same. We both valued worship, passionate worship, above most everything else.
But similar though our values were, IDP worshiped differently than I’d experienced before. They were intentionally multicultural. This, as you might suspect, is very tricky. Across the country, only 7% of American churches are what sociologists dub “multicultural” (meaning no one ethnic group tops 80%). Indeed, White, Black, Latino or Asian Pacific-Islander, most American Christians attend church with folk who look similar, and share similar tastes in music and expectations about worship culture (expectations like service length, music volume, impromptu v. scripted prayer, vocal interaction during sermons, clapping). That’s not news, surely, but the stats highlight how strange IDP was by blending English and Spanish, Black Gospel, Salsa, White Evangelical Praise, and Old European Hymns. Or what to some seemed strange, I learned was “Glorious.”
In retrospect, I think one lesson from my IDP days sticks out most: Christians share vastly different cultures, languages, assumptions about ‘proper church behavior’ and even beliefs about Jesus, but all that’s less important than our shared desire to praise God. In whatever way we do best. My favorite IDP song remains a Spanish language Pentecostal tune called “Como Las Aguas del Rio.” Roughly translated, the words are- “Like the waters of the river when they flow to the sea/so arrives the glory of the Lord into my heart”. I think that’s possible whether you’re shouting and dancing, or silently meditating to a Celtic version of “Be Thou My Vision.”
But the point of multicultural worship isn’t simply to affirm ‘we have more in common than not.’ Nor is it, as some have suggested, rejecting your inherited culture as ‘boring’ or ‘dull’. I means using worship to affirm what Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13:12- “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” Experiencing worship from a variety of cultures, in multiple languages, is the same thing as seeing God through another’s eyes, and from vantages we’d never achieve on our own. Or, if you will, knowing God more fully now, in anticipation of that ‘Great Getting’ Up Morning’ when it’ll all be made plain.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Look around you… (September Creeksider)
The other day, my wife and I were hiking on Barn Bluff, just outside Red Wing, in Southeastern Minnesota. At one point, as we snaked along the path, moving toward the bluff’s peak, I looked to my right and there it was: A series of cliff faces, just yards away, reaching high above our heads. That may not sound like much to you, but their size and shape nearly replicated other cliffs I’d spent hours staring at and thinking about as a kid. Those cliffs were in Winter Park, Colorado (the ski mountain where I learned the sport), viewable only from the bottom of a dangerous run dubbed “The Chutes.” But while out of the way, for those fortunate enough to survive The Chutes, and wise enough to stop and look around, these cliffs, steep and spectacular, towering over the trees, were postcard beautiful. As a kid, I imagined they weren’t just cliffs, but seats, where God would choose to sit and relax, if God needed rest. An odd fantasy, I realize, but for whatever reason, those cliffs deeply moved me. Still do. So when my wife and I hiked near something similar, I made her stop and listen as I breathlessly, rapturously sermonized about how awkwardly meaningful those other cliffs were to me. When I finally shut up, I asked, “Have I told you this before?” She said, “You have, many times, but it’s okay.” Wonderful wife.
Anyway, it’d been awhile since I’d pondered that favorite bit of scenery, so I’m glad I thought to look around on that hike, rather than focus only on the loose rocks beneath my feet, or where we were headed. Indeed, that’s much the joy of hiking, right? You might plan your destination and pay close attention to not losing your footing, but the point is to enjoy the walk, appreciate the journey, soak in the wonder of your surroundings.
In time-honored Shane fashion, I will now use that experience as an unfinished metaphor for church. Namely, I suspect what I just wrote about hiking applies to our Christian life together. Like hiking, where we’re going and whether we’re getting there as effectively as possible are very important, something to think about constantly. But if we don’t enjoy the process, frequently look around us, we miss the point of doing church. For instance, sometimes worship leaders and preachers get so focused on saying the right thing, picking the right song, performing it just right, that we don’t look around to assess whether the worship makes an impact. Maybe not, and we should change course. Maybe so, in some way, and we should build on that. But we won’t know if we don’t look around.
Ditto with something that’s been recently on my mind- If we don’t constantly look around to learn about and enjoy our community, we’ll miss opportunities God puts in our way. By community, I mean two things. 1) Church folk; if you don’t look around church consistently, you’ll miss who’s there, who isn’t, who’s new, or who you just haven’t said, “Hi” to enough recently. 2) Where we live; if we don’t look around, we’ll miss who needs help, who’s too lonely or scared to seek it, or who’s doing something wonderful we can partner with.
Sometimes Christians get so focused on doing their thing and going their own way, they don’t look around. But God brought us to our communities for a reason: to help create God’s Kingdom in this place with these wonderful people. Like a great hike, that can be tiring, but the journey’s worth it, as much for the people you hike with and the sites you see as you go, as the place you end up.
So if you haven’t looked around your community- either church or home- in awhile, stop and look. You might see something new and wonderful, or be reminded of something you’ve long loved. After all, wherever we are, whatever we’re doing, God is working to make goodness a reality in our midst. If we look around, we might find that happening. God might even use us to make that so for others.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Anyway, it’d been awhile since I’d pondered that favorite bit of scenery, so I’m glad I thought to look around on that hike, rather than focus only on the loose rocks beneath my feet, or where we were headed. Indeed, that’s much the joy of hiking, right? You might plan your destination and pay close attention to not losing your footing, but the point is to enjoy the walk, appreciate the journey, soak in the wonder of your surroundings.
In time-honored Shane fashion, I will now use that experience as an unfinished metaphor for church. Namely, I suspect what I just wrote about hiking applies to our Christian life together. Like hiking, where we’re going and whether we’re getting there as effectively as possible are very important, something to think about constantly. But if we don’t enjoy the process, frequently look around us, we miss the point of doing church. For instance, sometimes worship leaders and preachers get so focused on saying the right thing, picking the right song, performing it just right, that we don’t look around to assess whether the worship makes an impact. Maybe not, and we should change course. Maybe so, in some way, and we should build on that. But we won’t know if we don’t look around.
Ditto with something that’s been recently on my mind- If we don’t constantly look around to learn about and enjoy our community, we’ll miss opportunities God puts in our way. By community, I mean two things. 1) Church folk; if you don’t look around church consistently, you’ll miss who’s there, who isn’t, who’s new, or who you just haven’t said, “Hi” to enough recently. 2) Where we live; if we don’t look around, we’ll miss who needs help, who’s too lonely or scared to seek it, or who’s doing something wonderful we can partner with.
Sometimes Christians get so focused on doing their thing and going their own way, they don’t look around. But God brought us to our communities for a reason: to help create God’s Kingdom in this place with these wonderful people. Like a great hike, that can be tiring, but the journey’s worth it, as much for the people you hike with and the sites you see as you go, as the place you end up.
So if you haven’t looked around your community- either church or home- in awhile, stop and look. You might see something new and wonderful, or be reminded of something you’ve long loved. After all, wherever we are, whatever we’re doing, God is working to make goodness a reality in our midst. If we look around, we might find that happening. God might even use us to make that so for others.
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Everybody throw your hands up…
Three weeks back, I said I’d write about worship for a month, exploring my conviction that it teaches us, by experience, to trust our entire life with God’s holy empowering presence. Then I wrote about the power of simple songs, simple melodies in the Taize (chant-like) style, followed by a celebration of silence, mantra and contemplative practices. You’ll be excused, therefore, if you’ve begun believing that I think worship should be…
Boring.
So you know, I don’t, and consider those worship styles quite engaging. But let’s be honest: A LOT of people find worship boring. Very boring. Holy Jesus, don’t-make-me-do-it, my brain-is-exploding-I’m-so-uninterested boring. I can’t say with certainty, but I’d imagine that in the top five reasons why adults (especially my age) don’t attend church is, “My God, church is BORING!” Top 3?
And let’s be honest again- It is. For a large portion of the population. For many reasons, folk prefer using free time for stuff other than singing hymns, listening to speeches/sermons, prayer, searching ancient texts for guidance. And maybe they’d be open to that, one theory goes, if church were just less…YAWN…
So some churches have tested that theory by making their worship services a great spectacle, filled with the most hip and exciting sounds and sights. Which makes other churches- especially predominantly white churches used to pianos/organs/’classical’ instruments- nauseous, convinced as they are that such fashion-driven worship is shallow, artificially-spiritual or too loud. I’ve heard such comments from some of you. But here’s food for thought- worshippers have embraced ‘novelty’ and ‘spectacle’ for millennia. Consider Handel’s Messiah, Notre Dame Cathedral. Martin Luther wrote numerous hymns, some still sung, many of whose melodies and styles he borrowed from local taverns. That’s right, some sacred music began as drinking tunes. In any event, popular music, pizzazz and spectacle are very much part of the mainstream Christian worship tradition. Because it’s stuff worshippers enjoy.
Think about African-American spirituals. Many of these songs began as work tunes for slaves. In other words, beloved songs like “Were You There?” and “Wade in the Water” not only taught the faith while protesting slavery. They passed the time. They made hard life easier. They were fun to sing, and since the words evoked God’s grace and presence, perhaps that enjoyment had deeper roots. Or consider this well-known experience of hospital chaplains: They’ll meet a dying patient, who doesn’t remember her family or name, has difficulty forming sentences, but when she hears, “Amazing Grace,” or “Be Thou My Vision,” suddenly the patient’s eyes perk up, and she sings along. That’s not just because she knows the words. It’s because she loves God and the music.
So no, worship isn’t, or needn’t be, boring. But as we all know, what you consider boring, I might consider wonderful, and vice versa. And since our church values openness, always striving to include all God’s people at Christ’s Table, we’ll always have a worship problem. Always. Why? Well, how would you feel if tomorrow Jeremae and I decided to use only German-language polka music during service? Alienated from church? Uninvited? Now imagine yourself my age, new to church, and the only music you hear is from 2/3/6 centuries ago. Do you feel included? Or like you’re supposed change what you love in order to be accepted at the Table? In other words, how we worship says as much about what we believe as what we teach. And what we teach is that Jesus invites everyone to the Table.
It’s our job to set that Table, i.e. to create worship that’s as open as our hearts and minds, by making room for others. Which isn’t just about music. It’s prayers, hospitality practices, sanctuary design, the joy and energy we bring. This doesn’t mean we should build a rock band and burn the organ. Rather, it means accepting that our ‘worship problem’ is never solved, and so always searching to learn more about how others enjoy worship, while adapting as best we can.
So what do you think? How should today’s churches adapt worship (music, prayers, architecture, sermon style/length/content) to ensure there’s as much room at the Table as Jesus wants?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Boring.
So you know, I don’t, and consider those worship styles quite engaging. But let’s be honest: A LOT of people find worship boring. Very boring. Holy Jesus, don’t-make-me-do-it, my brain-is-exploding-I’m-so-uninterested boring. I can’t say with certainty, but I’d imagine that in the top five reasons why adults (especially my age) don’t attend church is, “My God, church is BORING!” Top 3?
And let’s be honest again- It is. For a large portion of the population. For many reasons, folk prefer using free time for stuff other than singing hymns, listening to speeches/sermons, prayer, searching ancient texts for guidance. And maybe they’d be open to that, one theory goes, if church were just less…YAWN…
So some churches have tested that theory by making their worship services a great spectacle, filled with the most hip and exciting sounds and sights. Which makes other churches- especially predominantly white churches used to pianos/organs/’classical’ instruments- nauseous, convinced as they are that such fashion-driven worship is shallow, artificially-spiritual or too loud. I’ve heard such comments from some of you. But here’s food for thought- worshippers have embraced ‘novelty’ and ‘spectacle’ for millennia. Consider Handel’s Messiah, Notre Dame Cathedral. Martin Luther wrote numerous hymns, some still sung, many of whose melodies and styles he borrowed from local taverns. That’s right, some sacred music began as drinking tunes. In any event, popular music, pizzazz and spectacle are very much part of the mainstream Christian worship tradition. Because it’s stuff worshippers enjoy.
Think about African-American spirituals. Many of these songs began as work tunes for slaves. In other words, beloved songs like “Were You There?” and “Wade in the Water” not only taught the faith while protesting slavery. They passed the time. They made hard life easier. They were fun to sing, and since the words evoked God’s grace and presence, perhaps that enjoyment had deeper roots. Or consider this well-known experience of hospital chaplains: They’ll meet a dying patient, who doesn’t remember her family or name, has difficulty forming sentences, but when she hears, “Amazing Grace,” or “Be Thou My Vision,” suddenly the patient’s eyes perk up, and she sings along. That’s not just because she knows the words. It’s because she loves God and the music.
So no, worship isn’t, or needn’t be, boring. But as we all know, what you consider boring, I might consider wonderful, and vice versa. And since our church values openness, always striving to include all God’s people at Christ’s Table, we’ll always have a worship problem. Always. Why? Well, how would you feel if tomorrow Jeremae and I decided to use only German-language polka music during service? Alienated from church? Uninvited? Now imagine yourself my age, new to church, and the only music you hear is from 2/3/6 centuries ago. Do you feel included? Or like you’re supposed change what you love in order to be accepted at the Table? In other words, how we worship says as much about what we believe as what we teach. And what we teach is that Jesus invites everyone to the Table.
It’s our job to set that Table, i.e. to create worship that’s as open as our hearts and minds, by making room for others. Which isn’t just about music. It’s prayers, hospitality practices, sanctuary design, the joy and energy we bring. This doesn’t mean we should build a rock band and burn the organ. Rather, it means accepting that our ‘worship problem’ is never solved, and so always searching to learn more about how others enjoy worship, while adapting as best we can.
So what do you think? How should today’s churches adapt worship (music, prayers, architecture, sermon style/length/content) to ensure there’s as much room at the Table as Jesus wants?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Cultivating Silence…
You ever get a song stuck in your head that, try as you might, won’t go away? Wait; let me rephrase that.
When was the last time a song got stuck in your head, and wouldn’t stop playing?! Because that’s happened to you- of that I’m certain. It could start innocently enough; you’re whistling while you work, enjoying the exercise. But eventually, the work’s done, and you move onto something else. The music, however, as if it has a mind of its own, isn’t ready to end. So regardless your next task, that song (and typically, it’s not even a song, but a short phrase of a chorus of a song, whose full lyrics you never bothered to remember) repeats itself over and over, an unwelcome soundtrack to your day, sonically pounding away at your sanity. Here’s a cure for that malady- scream the word, “AHHHHHH!”
Btw, that’s happening to you right now with, “Whistle While You Work,” isn’t it? You’re welcome.
Now while I might cause some eye raising with the forthcoming comparison, tell me if that experience doesn’t remind you of Buddhist and Hindu spiritual practice? No? Try this: I suspect you’ve heard of the classic Buddhist/Hindu meditation tool, ‘mantra’. If not, according to Wikipedia, mantra “is a sound, syllable, word, or group of words that are considered capable of ‘creating transformation’”. What happens is a meditation practitioner, perhaps under the guidance of a teacher/swami/guru, will chose (or have chosen for her) a short phrase (mantra), which is spoken aloud or internally and repeated slowly for a specified amount of time. Sometimes, mantras are phrases common to many. Sometimes a person’s mantra is secret, known only to the student and his guide. Maybe the most identifiable mantra to Americans is one word, and isn’t just spoken repeatedly; it’s sung. Or rather chanted. The word is “Ohm,” which means “Peace,” although you might know it better as “Oooooohhhhhmmmmmm.”
And again, the goal is to produce transformation in the life and mind of the meditator. Of course, that doesn’t happen immediately. A person might use mantra for years until a desired effect manifests. But the belief is (and contemporary Neuroscience has been investigating this, with promising results so far) that practicing meditation will train a person to be more mindful of the stressors and opportunities in her life, and of the lives of those around her. It builds our capacity for compassion, like weight training for biceps. Especially if the chosen mantra reflects core religious values.
Now, I realize, mantra exercises and annoying songs in the head are different. But they’re related. Something contemplatives of all religions recognize is that cultivating mindfulness, by entering intentional periods of personal silence, provides a strong counterbalance to a culture saturated with noise and distraction. After all, if it’s not a song lyric distracting you, it’s your to-do-list, or your I-feel-bad-about-this list, or your I’m-scared-of-this-future list. The world bombards us all, in unique ways perhaps, but it’s constant and anxiety producing, and can make us all too self-focused all too often.
Which is another way regular worship can help us live better. Think about it…For Christians, the meditative act isn’t simply focused on a word or phrase. It’s an intentional encounter with the Word (Jesus Christ), and an infilling of the Holy Spirit. In solitude, I’ve found that mantra helps me do this (I use 1 Cor. 13:13; or the beginning of Psalm 46:10). But it works best when I balance personal meditation with communal worship. There’s something reinvigorating and affirming about joining a group in prayer, song, sermon and communion, i.e. focusing together on the Word. It’s like we use the power of each other to help shut out the world’s distractions, and reconnect with what’s most important. On our best days, I take that power home with me, and use it throughout the week.
But for it to work that way, worship must create meditative space, which can be tricky. Have you ever thought that worship has too many words?! I have. Sometimes, I’d like more balance between talk, music, talk, sing, talk, and silence. I wonder the long-term impact that might have on a church?
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
When was the last time a song got stuck in your head, and wouldn’t stop playing?! Because that’s happened to you- of that I’m certain. It could start innocently enough; you’re whistling while you work, enjoying the exercise. But eventually, the work’s done, and you move onto something else. The music, however, as if it has a mind of its own, isn’t ready to end. So regardless your next task, that song (and typically, it’s not even a song, but a short phrase of a chorus of a song, whose full lyrics you never bothered to remember) repeats itself over and over, an unwelcome soundtrack to your day, sonically pounding away at your sanity. Here’s a cure for that malady- scream the word, “AHHHHHH!”
Btw, that’s happening to you right now with, “Whistle While You Work,” isn’t it? You’re welcome.
Now while I might cause some eye raising with the forthcoming comparison, tell me if that experience doesn’t remind you of Buddhist and Hindu spiritual practice? No? Try this: I suspect you’ve heard of the classic Buddhist/Hindu meditation tool, ‘mantra’. If not, according to Wikipedia, mantra “is a sound, syllable, word, or group of words that are considered capable of ‘creating transformation’”. What happens is a meditation practitioner, perhaps under the guidance of a teacher/swami/guru, will chose (or have chosen for her) a short phrase (mantra), which is spoken aloud or internally and repeated slowly for a specified amount of time. Sometimes, mantras are phrases common to many. Sometimes a person’s mantra is secret, known only to the student and his guide. Maybe the most identifiable mantra to Americans is one word, and isn’t just spoken repeatedly; it’s sung. Or rather chanted. The word is “Ohm,” which means “Peace,” although you might know it better as “Oooooohhhhhmmmmmm.”
And again, the goal is to produce transformation in the life and mind of the meditator. Of course, that doesn’t happen immediately. A person might use mantra for years until a desired effect manifests. But the belief is (and contemporary Neuroscience has been investigating this, with promising results so far) that practicing meditation will train a person to be more mindful of the stressors and opportunities in her life, and of the lives of those around her. It builds our capacity for compassion, like weight training for biceps. Especially if the chosen mantra reflects core religious values.
Now, I realize, mantra exercises and annoying songs in the head are different. But they’re related. Something contemplatives of all religions recognize is that cultivating mindfulness, by entering intentional periods of personal silence, provides a strong counterbalance to a culture saturated with noise and distraction. After all, if it’s not a song lyric distracting you, it’s your to-do-list, or your I-feel-bad-about-this list, or your I’m-scared-of-this-future list. The world bombards us all, in unique ways perhaps, but it’s constant and anxiety producing, and can make us all too self-focused all too often.
Which is another way regular worship can help us live better. Think about it…For Christians, the meditative act isn’t simply focused on a word or phrase. It’s an intentional encounter with the Word (Jesus Christ), and an infilling of the Holy Spirit. In solitude, I’ve found that mantra helps me do this (I use 1 Cor. 13:13; or the beginning of Psalm 46:10). But it works best when I balance personal meditation with communal worship. There’s something reinvigorating and affirming about joining a group in prayer, song, sermon and communion, i.e. focusing together on the Word. It’s like we use the power of each other to help shut out the world’s distractions, and reconnect with what’s most important. On our best days, I take that power home with me, and use it throughout the week.
But for it to work that way, worship must create meditative space, which can be tricky. Have you ever thought that worship has too many words?! I have. Sometimes, I’d like more balance between talk, music, talk, sing, talk, and silence. I wonder the long-term impact that might have on a church?
Grace and Peace,
Shane Read more!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Simple Songs, Simple Melodies…
Last week, I wrote about my beliefs regarding the point of worship. Is it to make the pastor feel better by boosting numbers? Sure, but only in part. Shortly put- I believe worship is training for living better, perhaps the best there is. When worship works, you should experience a ‘laying down’ of all your heart, soul, mind and strength before God’s loving presence, which according to Jesus, is the first and best commandment for living well. But how can worship teach that, practically speaking? Glad you asked! The Worship Team has given it some thought, and identified possible answers, which we wanted to pass along. And that’s what I’ll do for the next couple letters.
It begins with brains. And a conversation I had with an old organ player. I’ve mentioned this story before, but I beg your indulgence, because this man changed my thinking about worship. As a former big church Music Minister, he’d spent a career helping large groups get more out of worship. In retirement, though, he became a consultant and interim musician for small churches, places that often, he said, “Had difficulty mustering the energy for vibrant congregational singing.” This was a problem, he claimed, but also offered a solution. He made every church member memorize 25 hymns. He passed out tapes and lyrics, and literally gave worshippers homework, promising them that their worship would improve when they’d memorized this music.
Odd? Perhaps not… According to his research, one major problem many old-line churches like ours (still use hymnals, organs, etc.) experience is that we leave too much of ourselves out of worship. According to his theory, as we stare at the notes in our hymnals, straining to link five densely written verses with complex music, we rely too much on our ‘thinking brain.’ But this leaves the ‘emotional/creative brain’ on the sidelines. Until, that is, we sing songs we know and love, i.e. ones we don’t have to work hard to follow. Then, we experience our thinking and emotional brains integrating with our creative passions and memories, in effect bringing our entire ‘self’ together through worship.
You ever notice how most big evangelical churches use worship bands that play repetitive, simple songs? In part, they’re intentionally reaching out to young families via rock music, but it goes deeper. These worship bands specialize in simple songs with simple melodies- music that’s easy-to-sing and remember. Alas, the theology of their lyrics is often feather-light, sometimes even woefully misguided. But the experience of singing this music is more important than the content. It takes a worshiper out of her head, into her heart, and directs all that energy to the Lord through song. When the lyrics are good, the song combines the head with the heart, all to the glory of God. And notice the main point: The music facilitates that process; it doesn’t get in the way. So there’s a reason people keep worshiping in these churches more than just, “I like Christian Soft Rock.” They experience the fullness of God’s love through worship, even if taught to understand that love in overly restrictive ways.
But what about churches who don’t like that music, or think more inclusively about God’s love? My church musician friend tried the “memorize the music” approach, and claimed it worked. So at Plymouth Creek, we’ve tried limiting our music selections over the last year to increase our collective familiarity with certain songs. Let me know if it’s helped! We might also try using “contemporary music” sources that are more contemplative than Evangelical Soft Rock, but also utilize simple, easy-to-sing melodies. For instance, we now sing songs- Eat This Bread, Live In Charity, Jesus, Remember Me- from the Taize tradition. They’re easy to learn, very repetitive, tranquil, such that within two verses, we’ve stopped ‘learning the song,’ and have begun actually to sing it; contemplating all the vast meanings a lyric like, “Trust in me and you will not thirst,” could hold.
So, “How can worship train us for better living?” One answer- Integrate your whole self by experiencing God’s Love. And simple songs with simple melodies is one way to learn that. Others?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
It begins with brains. And a conversation I had with an old organ player. I’ve mentioned this story before, but I beg your indulgence, because this man changed my thinking about worship. As a former big church Music Minister, he’d spent a career helping large groups get more out of worship. In retirement, though, he became a consultant and interim musician for small churches, places that often, he said, “Had difficulty mustering the energy for vibrant congregational singing.” This was a problem, he claimed, but also offered a solution. He made every church member memorize 25 hymns. He passed out tapes and lyrics, and literally gave worshippers homework, promising them that their worship would improve when they’d memorized this music.
Odd? Perhaps not… According to his research, one major problem many old-line churches like ours (still use hymnals, organs, etc.) experience is that we leave too much of ourselves out of worship. According to his theory, as we stare at the notes in our hymnals, straining to link five densely written verses with complex music, we rely too much on our ‘thinking brain.’ But this leaves the ‘emotional/creative brain’ on the sidelines. Until, that is, we sing songs we know and love, i.e. ones we don’t have to work hard to follow. Then, we experience our thinking and emotional brains integrating with our creative passions and memories, in effect bringing our entire ‘self’ together through worship.
You ever notice how most big evangelical churches use worship bands that play repetitive, simple songs? In part, they’re intentionally reaching out to young families via rock music, but it goes deeper. These worship bands specialize in simple songs with simple melodies- music that’s easy-to-sing and remember. Alas, the theology of their lyrics is often feather-light, sometimes even woefully misguided. But the experience of singing this music is more important than the content. It takes a worshiper out of her head, into her heart, and directs all that energy to the Lord through song. When the lyrics are good, the song combines the head with the heart, all to the glory of God. And notice the main point: The music facilitates that process; it doesn’t get in the way. So there’s a reason people keep worshiping in these churches more than just, “I like Christian Soft Rock.” They experience the fullness of God’s love through worship, even if taught to understand that love in overly restrictive ways.
But what about churches who don’t like that music, or think more inclusively about God’s love? My church musician friend tried the “memorize the music” approach, and claimed it worked. So at Plymouth Creek, we’ve tried limiting our music selections over the last year to increase our collective familiarity with certain songs. Let me know if it’s helped! We might also try using “contemporary music” sources that are more contemplative than Evangelical Soft Rock, but also utilize simple, easy-to-sing melodies. For instance, we now sing songs- Eat This Bread, Live In Charity, Jesus, Remember Me- from the Taize tradition. They’re easy to learn, very repetitive, tranquil, such that within two verses, we’ve stopped ‘learning the song,’ and have begun actually to sing it; contemplating all the vast meanings a lyric like, “Trust in me and you will not thirst,” could hold.
So, “How can worship train us for better living?” One answer- Integrate your whole self by experiencing God’s Love. And simple songs with simple melodies is one way to learn that. Others?
Grace and Peace,
Shane
Read more!
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