Advent Musical Reflection #3 :: 3rd Week: "Sing About It" The Wood Brothers

Happy Gaudate Sunday! It's my favorite Sunday of the liturgical year. It's the only day of the year we celebrate joy for joy's sake, and that's pretty amazing. Also, the liturgical color is pink. That's awesome.

Weirdly enough, the deacon's homily this morning was pretty much what I was planning on talking about today, so if you happened to be at Sacred Heart this weekend I swear it's not a rip-off. More like great minds.

I chose this song because it is a fantastic, joyful song about pain. As a religion, we've never glossed over the pain in life. Some people can offer some horrific platitudes in times of pain, but we exalt the cross for goodness' sake. In case you forgot because of all the plastic glitter crosses out there, it's an instrument of torture. We have a Savior who felt all our pain as acutely as we did, and do.

Despite this, we have a day like today, where the priest wears pink (or is supposed to) and nearly all the candles on our Advent wreaths are lit. The Light of the World is almost here. We have so many griefs and pains and aches and sadness and anger in our lives. This is the day we look at all those pains and say a resounding "yes, AND," to them. Yes, I am in pain, AND I am joyful about the coming of my Emmanuel. (another both/and situation! What are the odds?)

Of course there are days when this is not possible. There are days out there that are just not going to be better. But there are days that have little bit of light in them. And those days are worth celebrating.

I can't help but dance to this song - it's the most effective use of a melodica ever. In fact, I've never witnessed an effective use of melodica before. So dance to it! And sing about it!

Original image: https://flandin505.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/satx122311-75.jpg

Advent Musical Reflection #2 :: 2nd Week: "Ain't No Man" The Avett Brothers

I'm going to do a weird thing this week - and contradict and not contradict the main idea of this song. How does that even make sense? Well, it's a both/and situation. Yes, that happens. Jesus is both human and divine, so blammo.

Human AND divine, you say? We call it Christ's dual nature, that Jesus was both 100% divine and 100% human. This, of course, makes no sense. Back in the early church several heresies gave alternative views, that Jesus was just divine and his body was an illusion, or he was a man who divinity was given to, or just a cool guy. Eventually, after those theories had been thrown out, people generally understood Jesus as human and divine. Then, around 300, Arius hit the scene.

Arius poked a hole in the rhetoric around Jesus's relationship with the Creator and said that the Son must be a creation of God the Father's, and therefore not eternal. The dogma of Trinity had not yet been fully formed, so he made some headway with his argument. He even had a slogan: "There was a time when the Son was not." (Placher 73) I have a story in my head but I can't find the source (if someone can cite it for me that would be great!) that in Alexandria, people at the marketplace were debating this topic.

Imagine that! While bartering and haggling was happening, the nature of Jesus was being debated. Imagine a world where talking faith and discussing theology was as common as buying bread. Emperor Constantine even got involved in the debate, even though he didn't understand the difference. "Having made a careful inquiry into the origin and foundation of these differences, I find the cause to be of a truly insignificant character, and quite unworthy of such fierce contention." (75) Constantine, probably worried about the unrest, called the Council of Nicea and (now Saint) Athanasius, who was the champion of anti-Arianism was declared the winner and Arius a heretic. Arianism did not quite hit the mark.

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/33/af/49/33af491c8d0d1c166d45c95d420a64b5.jpg

Why is it so important? Why did Saint Nicholas punch Arius? Why was the extremely stubborn Saint Athanasius so adamant about the words begotten and of the same substance/consubstantial? (or homoousios in Greek, but that starts a whole other story about the Trinity which is connected but I won't go there for this. But it's super interesting.) So what does all this have to do with an Avett Brothers song?

I hear this song in two parts: the first and third lines, and the rest of it.

There ain't no man can save me

...There ain't no man or men who change the shape my soul is in

That's true, except for one. There is no man or woman (Trump or Clinton) who can save you, or change the shape of your soul, except for one. And that one can save you because he is both human and God. He is begotten or consubstantial or however you would like to say it with our Creator. There was no time when the Son was not. That is something to rely on when there's not much else that can be considered eternal.

There ain't no man can enslave me
...There ain't nobody here 
who can cause me pain or raise my fear
'cause I got only love to share

The rest of the song, lines 2, 4, and beyond. All that is true because of this great mystery of divine and human as one person. "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because God first loved us." (1 John 4:18-19) We have the ability to love because our Eternal Creator loved us; we know how to put our love into action because the human Jesus gave us examples.

This song is joyful; Advent is joyful. Advent is our preparation for celebrating this great mystery, something we celebrate every Sunday but commemorate in a special way with Jesus's birth. Another big word (because I didn't give you enough in this post) is Incarnation. That is the word we use for Jesus's birth as both a fully human and fully divine being. God incarnate. This is what I mumble to myself whenever I watch a bad Christmas movie tell me the "real meaning of Christmas" is family, or caring, or warm fuzzy nonsense. It's about the Incarnation. (so, all those things but only because of the Incarnation) It is incredible to consider being loved so much that my Creator wanted to live, die, rise for me. And you. And everybody.

So there are a couple lines I contradict, but I affirm the other lines because of the contradiction to the few. Theology so often works out in that confusing kind of way, but the message of all of this is always the same: you are loved.

If you're looking for truth I'm proof you'll find it there.

original image http://www.stpatrickshamilton.ca/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/Advent-Wreath-5.jpg

Placher, William C. A History of Christian Theology: An Introduction. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1983.

Advent Musical Reflection #1 :: 1st Week: "Get Ready" The Temptations

The readings today are all about being prepared for the coming of the day of the Lord. The first reading says

"They shall beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks;
one nation shall not raise the sword against another,
nor shall they train for war again." (Is 2:4)

Exciting prospect, right? We've been through so much fighting lately. We have acts of terrorism being perpetrated every day; the biggest story of the last week was tips on how to have a peaceful post-election Thanksgiving. Or, if you should even try. 

The readings today also call us to joy. The responsorial psalm today is "Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord." (Ps 122) With these thoughts of getting ready with joy, I settled on "Get Ready." Yes, it is definitely a song about pursuing a woman, but if we blink past a few lyrics we have the heart of Advent:

"So, fee-fi-fo-fum
Look out baby, 'cause here I come"

Jesus is coming! Get ready!

"And I'm bringing you a love that's true
So get ready, so get ready
I'm gonna try to make you love me too
So get ready, so get ready 'cause here I come"

Advent is about preparing for the coming of Jesus. It is a penitential season, hence the purple, just like Lent. But it is joyful. When I anticipate something good, I get a gearing-up, rolling-forward feeling right at the base of my ribcage. Advent is that feeling - anticipating not just something good, but the best thing. Our Light of the World, Emmanuel (God-with-us), Divine Love, Savior of the World.

The Sunday after the election the priest giving the homily made sure to talk about our Savior. Our Savior is not a politician. Our Savior is not a winner. Our Savior is not a loser. No person who holds office can save us. No person can save us. Only our God, ever present in perfect, sacrificial love, can save us. That story of salvation starts with the event we are preparing for: The Nativity of the Lord. (one could easily say, and I will agree with you, that salvation history starts long before then. That is true. But I mean, specifically here, the story of Jesus.)

In the song, the singer wants to build anticipation. He wants to race to the object of his affection, and overwhelm her with his eagerness. He still tells her to prepare, however. "Here I come," he says. He's "bringing you a love that's true," and he's "gonna try to make you love me too," but offers no specifics on how she should go about doing that. How does one prepare for that?

There are the questions for reflection: How do you prepare for a love that's true? 

How do you get ready for a love that saves? 

Musical Reflection :: Easter | Man on Fire

"Man on Fire" Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

Only one desire
That’s left in me
I want the whole damn world
To come dance with me

Jesus has walked through all the murder, pain, heartache, shame, rage, panic, strange the world has to throw. He did it so he could shoulder our burdens with us. So that when we feel God by our side, we know it is a God who has felt the pain we carry. When we look to God, we should see love that understands the weight of our suffering. More than the platitudes we hear from other people: "I know what you're going through," "everything happens for a reason," "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Jesus does not waste those cliches on us because he did not want to hear them either, as he struggled to his death.

That love that feels our pain wants something for us: wants the joy an freedom that comes from embracing it. There is hope, there is love that encompasses our pain. That's our Easter: Jesus came through all his suffering to rise from the dead, defeating evil, opening heaven. What happens if we let Jesus do that? If we come dance with him?

Triduum Musical Reflection #3 :: Holy Saturday | My Oh My

"My Oh My" by Punch Brothers

There's no lyric video for this, but you can read the lyrics here.

This song is a little happier than my usual choice for Holy Saturday. Jesus is in the tomb, yes? The disciples are scared! We, however, know the next part of the story. We know "something beautiful's gonna come." Jesus has resurrected! He did it 2,000 years ago.

If that is true, though, why are we miserable so often? Why do we question the goodness in our lives? Why do we cheat, lie, steal, fight when our Creator became human to die and rise from the dead for us? If we really, truly, embrace, inhale, believe in the resurrection, how could we be less than joyfully hopeful?

We are in the tomb.

My oh my, what a wonderful day
We're having, we're having
Why, oh why, are we looking for a way
Outside it, outside it

Of course, even a perfect person could not be blissful all the time; that is ridiculous and, well, boring. There are times when we need to be sad, or mad, or frustrated, or afraid, or guilty, or mournful. We can be all those things and hopeful at the same time.There are things that can try to blot out that hope, and sometimes they are successful. My own struggles with depression have taught me that.

It is in those times, when deep in the tomb hardly believing that a stone could be rolled away, that the Resurrection does the work of hope for us. It exists, echoing through time, crumbling that stone so light can eke through. The total triumph of our God over the dark spaces in our lives and hearts. We don't have to be the victors; Christ is the victor and hands that victory to us.

When that darkness makes us doubt we do not need to push it away. We have a savior who conquered it. When we question the good and beautiful in our lives, we have Jesus whispering, "but maybe so."

I see the green grass below
I feel the warmth of the spring
Is it beautiful (maybe not, maybe not)
But maybe so
But if it keeps us singing

So, for reflection on this (in Chicago it is beautiful!) Holy Saturday: 

What keeps you in the tomb?

When do you see the Resurrection coming though?

What "keeps [you] singing?"

Triduum Musical Reflection #2 :: Good Friday | Creep

"Creep," Postmodern Jukebox feat. Haley Reinhart (Radiohead)

I chose to put here the cover from Postmodern Jukebox because for one thing, it's great. For another, I know a few people who would never willingly listen to Radiohead. This one seems a little more dignified for the occasion, right? If however, you much prefer the uncensored original, here is a great lyric video. If you don't think what I chose is dignified enough, click here, though it is also uncensored. [This song has been covered lots of times, including Karen Souza, (real jazzy) Macy Gray, (real Macy Gray-ish) Jinkx Monsoon, (fascinating and uncomfortable) Diego Luna, (for a kids' movie!) Amanda Palmer, (worth it for the ukulele) Clint Mansell & Coco Sumner, (smooth and pretty) and Prince. (Yes, Prince! live at Coachella) So, pick your favorite musical style to listen to while you read. The song also has its own Wikipedia page.]

"If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before you. If you were of the world, the world would love what is its own. Because you are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Remember the word that I have spoken to you: No servant is greater than his master. If they have persecuted me, they will persecute you also." (John 15:18-20)

This is the reading for the third Station of the Cross, Jesus falls the first time, in the Barton-Cotton Stations of the Cross: A Scriptural Version. We are using this version at our church for Stations at noon today. I was still debating if "Creep" would be my Good Friday song this year until I was practicing with the students who are going to do the readings for the Stations yesterday and we got to this one. These verses from John connect so perfectly, I had a lovely "everything clicks" moment.

This song is about feeling alienated. Thom Yorke said he wrote it about a man who follows a woman around all night and never gets the courage to talk to her. Obviously, "Creep" has meant so much more to so many people or it would not have so many iterations. We have all had times when we have felt less than, put upon, oppressed, ashamed, outside. Some of us live with those feelings all the time due to gender, skin color, documentation, disability, age, acne, illness, poverty, hand-me-downs, expectations, mental illness, unpopular interests, and on and on. There does not seem to be an end to the list of things that can make us feel alienated, or the justifications people give to do the alienating.

Jesus chose to come incarnate to this world as one of God's chosen people. It is essential to understanding the story of Jesus to recognize his status as an oppressed, occupied person. While the Roman empire could sometimes be just fine for an imperialistic, militarized state, they held their power with veracity. Jesus carried not a cross but a crossbeam through the streets of Jerusalem because the pole was already there. It was always there, waiting for the next "criminal" to be sentenced to crucifixion by the governor. Pontius Pilate was particularly liberal with cruel death sentences; his reluctance to send Jesus to Golgotha had more to do with the Roman empire ordering him to stop killing so many people.

Jesus chose not only to live as a politically powerless person, but to push the buttons of every group trying to comply and trying to revolt. He didn't fall into any of those categories, the Jewish leadership trying to protect their people or the Zealots ready to stage the revolution. He was ready to condemn the methods of any organization that devalued the individual. He constantly chose to look with compassion into the faces of the lepers, widows, prostitutes, and tax collectors he met. This made him dangerous and unpredictable. Many people tried and failed to discover his angle, so they killed him. He chose to die as an alienated person. (Jesus Christ Superstar does a great job of portraying this; "We are occupied, have you forgotten how put down we are?")

It's hard to explain the concept of solidarity, but maybe it looks like this:

Or this:

The USCCB describes solidarity as: "We are one human family whatever our national, racial, ethnic, economic, and ideological differences. We are our brothers and sisters keepers, wherever they may be. Loving our neighbor has global dimensions in a shrinking world. At the core of the virtue of solidarity is the pursuit of justice and peace. Pope Paul VI taught that if you want peace, work for justice. The Gospel calls us to be peacemakers. Our love for all our sisters and brothers demands that we promote peace in a world surrounded by violence and conflict."

Jesus was surrounded by violence and conflict, much like we are today. You need only think of today and the image above to know what he decided to do; die to rise and save us all. Are we fasting today because it is a rule? Or are we fasting in solidarity with our hungry sisters and brothers in the world? Are we solemn today because of the death of our Savior? Or do we also mourn the countless senseless deaths both on our news and the ones that never make the story? When we hear the following lines of "Creep," do we recognize that in ourselves? What does that make you do: focus on yourself or see that we all share the same pain?

I wish I was special.
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo,
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

Triduum Musical Reflection #1 :: Holy Thursday | You've Got a Friend in Me

"You've Got a Friend in Me," Randy Newman

Does this seem like a strange choice? It shouldn't. ;)

"No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." - John 15:13

The story of Holy Thursday is all about friendship. On the first level, it is about Jesus and the people who were his friends during his life on earth. He prepares all week to celebrate the Passover with the people closest to him. I myself am preparing to celebrate my high holiday with friends, and I am making sure my space is ready and the food is purchased and decorations are just so. My friends are loved and important, so I am happy to serve them.

When the road looks rough ahead
And you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed

Jesus loved his friends. These were the people he traveled with, the people who supported and protected him. He listened to them describe their lives as fishermen and tax collectors and widows. Some knew the Torah well and some could only listen. Any time you have been able to look around a table with love for each one sitting there, you know what it was like for Jesus at Passover that year.

You got troubles and I got 'em too
There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you
We stick together, we can see it through

When Jesus started washing their feet, Peter (of course) was upset. Peter always got upset about the wrong things, but gosh darn it his heart was in the right place. I have grown into a respect and love of Peter as I've gotten older. He is so faithful, so terribly flawed, and terribly misguided most of the time. Think of one of your friends who is loyal to a fault, but drives you nuts. That's your Peter. (Granted, in a few hours even Peter's loyalty fails, but he's still the rock of our Church)

The duality of Christ's nature come to a confusing head here. If the fact that Jesus is both fully human and fully God isn't confusing enough, we have this scene of footwashing mixing them all together. Just a few months ago we celebrated the Incarnation, the Nativity of Jesus. God being human. Emmanuel, God with us. I think on Holy Thursday we should call him Emmanuel more often, because here God is, with us, washing our feet. Is there a more visceral image of the Incarnation? God using water and oil to get rid of the dust and mud of the road off the feet of his disciples. Jesus is telling his friends that he may be the rabbi, but they all have the same troubles. His feet are tired and dirty, too, but there isn't anything he wouldn't do for them. Even when he goes to pray, facing the hardest thing he will ever face, asking his friends to wait with him and they all fall asleep. He still allows himself to be arrested, beaten, humiliated, and crucified.

But none of them
Will ever love you the way I do

These words are for the disciples, and these words are for us. We cannot fathom the love of God; but whenever we love others it is a reflection of God's love for us. Has the love of a friend ever held you up? Made you a better person? "We love because God first loved us." (1 John 4:19) If we really allow God's love to fill us our wounds are healed, our scars are soothed, light is brought to our dark places. "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39) (Could you say that better than Paul?) 

In a New Testament class in graduate school my professor quoted something I will paraphrase as "There is no despair like knowing that you can never love God as much as God loves you." (Does anyone know the actual quote or who it's by? I can't remember, and I think about it all the time) Usually, we can fully reciprocate the love others give us. God's is too much to even comprehend, much less give back. Think of the story of the Hebrews: they constantly turned from God's love and God constantly accepted them back. What kind of love can do that? God's constant love and mercy. 

And as the years go by
Our friendship will never die

A constant, loving friendship is what God offers us. A God who washes our feet, suffered, died, and rose from the dead for us. In return God does not require us to die for him, at least not physically. I assume most of the people reading this are in the US, and there probably won't be many opportunities to die for God. We are not necessarily asked to be on the cross, but we are asked to stay awake in the garden. God does ask us to live for him. 

You got a friend in me

My Weird Personal History with the Parable of the Sower

It's been entirely too long since I last posted. I hope no one was holding their breath.

From http://catjuggling.com/new-illustration-parable-of-the-sower/

For most of my life, I've hated the Parable of the Sower. I think there was a children's book based on it floating around my church with sad-looking seeds withering on a path or being devoured by evil-looking weeds that made me think of it as rather cruel. Then, of course, the more I thought about it the more it just seemed like he was a terrible farmer. Who doesn't weed? Who doesn't know their land? Who would waste seed by throwing it on a path? What is he, an idiot?

I got a bit older and I could say I understood the metaphor of each bit of land, but I still hated the parable. It just seemed so inhumane. I blame the illustrator of that children's book; anthropomorphic seeds represented people to me, and I could never imagine God throwing people to the weeds or the rocks or the birds. 

Years went by before I really got it: love. Love, of course! The seeds weren't people, they were the Word! We are the soil! Dumb illustrators, ruining parables... The Word doesn't look like a little seed with a terrified expression on its face. The Word is courageous, compassionate, full of light and truth. It is given to us whether we have a heart of fertile soil or hardened path because God loves us.

By margauxeve http://uptowncollective.com/2012/04/06/instagramuptown-margauxeve/

I only had this revelation a few years ago, embarrassingly recent. It was such a huge epiphany I tweeted about it. That counts, right? Since then I have been walking closely with this particular parable. It comes out to hit me at the strangest times.

Just last week, we lost a member of our parish. This was a young man in college who died, along with his companions, in a canoeing accident. For their loved ones, the funeral at our parish was just one of four they would attend within a week. It was enormously sad and heart wrenching. I did not know him and his family had not attended church in a long time so I do not know them, either. I hope the rest of this post does not seem heartless, as I had another moment with this parable during the funeral and that is the focus of this post. What happened to those young men and their families is undoubtedly a tragedy, and I feel deeply for them. That is, however, not what I will be focusing on. Sometimes, two things happen at the same time.

I was asked to be at the funeral by our business manager to help with any support pastorally or as a staff member. I was able to get some more chairs out as our church was overflowing, and I was asked to distribute communion. This is not one of the regular ministries I perform, but I love doing it on occasion. It is special, intimate, and holy in a way I will not try to describe here. The funeral itself was beautiful. Our pastor's homily was perfect, not an easy feat, and every person was there to mourn and to celebrate his life. 

From http://stmatthewcatholic.org/extraord

As happens at most funerals, there were a large number of Catholics who had not been to church in a long time and non-Catholics. For those of you not in the know, to receive the Eucharist you must be a Catholic in good standing. This rule is not meant to be exclusionary, it is meant to emphasize what we believe about the Eucharist: it IS the Body an Blood of Christ. Not a symbol, but the real presence. The rule is meant to make sure that those receiving actually believe that. That being said, it does often feel exclusionary to visitors and is fairly impossible to enforce. You don't know every person who comes forward and even if you do, you don't know what is going on in their heart. Some public figures have run into trouble with this rule as their faces and views are widely recognizable, so some priests have withheld communion. 

This might not be everyone's approach, but I am not going to check each person's "Catholic card" when they come forward to receive communion. Particularly not at a funeral. There were some who obviously had not been to church in a long time and while I have no way of knowing for sure, some who were not Catholic and had no clear idea why they were in line. If you are a non-Catholic reader, the expected response to the minister's presentation of the host or cup and "The Body of Christ" is "Amen." I got a nearly comical range of different responses:

"Thank you"

"Thank you, Amen"

"Amen, Thank you"

"Peace be with you"

And from one teenage girl, "cool."

I mention the last one was a teen but I got these responses from every age. I had many very polite and slightly confused "thank you's" from boomers and gen Xers. (Could we please stop blaming millenials for everything? Really, the rest of you ruined it first and raised us, and I'm pretty sure boomers invented blaming your parents, so... /endrant/) 

So there I was, handing out communion in what was probably the most literal Parable of the Sower possible. I was handing Jesus to soil that could be fertile, rocky, full of weeds, or hard. Perhaps in that moment someone had an encounter with Jesus. Maybe they will laugh it off with their sarcastic friends later, or maybe they will ignore it completely. But maybe one person will decide to come back to church sometime this month. Maybe one person will come back this week and never return again. But they did have an encounter with Jesus. The love of God touched them, and I was lucky and/or blessed enough to help facilitate that encounter. What they do with that experience I have no control over, but being able to witness that was incredible.

As ministers, we are asked to be trusting farmers and spread the seeds of God's love wherever we can. Like the farmer, we are supposed to trust the power of the Word instead of forcing and hovering. One of my favorite books about youth ministry is The Godbearing Life: The Art of Soul Tending for Youth Ministry by Kendra Creasy Dean and Ron Foster. In it, the authors remind us that we are not Jesus and we cannot be Jesus for others. We do not save people. Jesus saves people. What we can do is bring Jesus to others, to be Theotokos, God-bearer, like Mary. We have to remember in the midst of finding enough chaperones and honing a talk just right that the work done in the hearts of those we minister to is not done by us. We bring Jesus so that God can do the work in their hearts, something we do when we distribute communion, sing in church, hug a friend, pray for a loved one's intention, or any other use of our gifts for others and the glory of God.   

I look forward to the other ways the Parable of the Sower surprises me in the future. 

The Sower, Vincent Van Gogh. from http://counterlightsrantsandblather1.blogspot.com/2008/08/van-gogh-sower.html