And the band played on

The band was set up in a parking lot, sandwiched between a castle-like assisted living facility and a less pretentious looking nursing home. The Repasz Band is the oldest, non-military band in continuous existence in the US. They recently took two tour buses to Appomattox to play for the 150^th anniversary of Lee’s surrender (the band was present for the actual event). My mom, a faithful member of the band, says they often joke about some of the band members being there in 1861; the joking brings some levity to the reality: the average age of the band has to be at least 60. 

Tonight the sixty-something’s were the young ones, playing for a mostly wheel chair bound audience that had been parked in neat rows on the lawn in front of the nursing home. The director of the band who himself is up in years displayed the most gracious hosting, inviting the audience to sing along with some old Billy Sunday tunes. When the band played a medley of Armed Forces themes, he invited those present to raise a hand (or stand for the few that could) when they recognized their tune. At those moments, the conductor turned toward those with a hand raised and offered a gracious salute.

As I watched, tapped my foot and encouraged my children to “listen and watch grandma, “ I reflected on the beauty and rarity of a community band. They are a seemingly dying institution yet their name says it all: community.

Earlier today, our President broke into song while he was in a community, a community gathered for mourning in Charleston. What was more beautiful than him beginning “Amazing Grace” was the assembly joining him. It was not his solo; it was a song that belonged to those people gathered who, for that moment, were a community.

Community faces great odds. It can easily turn in on itself; it can erode because we are only looking out for number one. I can't forget that the reason the Repasz band went to Appomottox was to remember a war where two communities in one country killed one another. And still, years after slavery, racism rears its head time and time again.  But on days like today, I sense a deeper awareness of our connective tissue. The reason I and so many rejoiced at the supreme court ruling was its blessing of relationship, of realizing the basic human desire to be united with another, even in the midst of struggle.

Tonight as the band played an arrangement of “America the Beautiful,” I quietly sang the words of Katharine Lee Bates:

America, America, God shed his grace on thee

and crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea.

The brotherhood language aside (that’s another struggle) the theme is clear: the prayer for community made possible by grace. It sings of a patriotism that glorifies not “bombs bursting in air” but the unity of our land and our people. What would have Katharine Lee Bates thought of today's events, herself a woman that lived with the love of her life, a woman named Katharine for twenty-five years? Even as the struggles for equality continue, we have little bands playing on in harmony. So I say, let the band play on.  

Extreme VBS? Mustard Seed Musings

Mountaintop Extravaganza. Under the Sea. Wild Safari.

 Extreme this. Extreme that.

Yes, it’s Vacation Bible School (VBS) Season. Tis’ the season to gear up for the hustle and bustle of crafts, activities, music and stories. For some churches, the week can be a huge production with “out of this world” themes. Perhaps you’ve noticed the invitation to go on safaris, climb mountains or my personal “favorite” theme that caught my eye a few years back: “Pandamania” which, of course, is a play on pandemonium. Even with a cute and cuddly panda, do we really want to advertise chaos, bedlam, and mayhem?

Does faith equal escape?  Is the goal of passing on the faith to our kids about being anywhere but here? Or is it about having spiritual moments now, in the ordinary, often less-than-adventurous day to day?

I spent five evenings at our church’s VBS this past week. Our theme, Growing in Christ reflected the readings for the upcoming Sunday, especially the parable of the mustard seed (thereby integrating children into the worship life of the church).  As I reflect upon our week together, I am struck by how unconventional it was in its conventionality. We ate a simple meal, painted, planted flowers, sang and played instruments and listened to stories. We closed each evening with worship, the children hearing one of Sunday’s scriptures and offering their “Thank yous” and “Helps” to God. We prayed the Lord’s Prayer. We were sent forth with a sung and danced, “Go now in peace, my friends.”

It dawned on me halfway into the week that our time wasn’t just based on the parable of the mustard seed; we were enacting the parable. Were we big? No. Did we have lots of glitter and gimmicks? No. But what we did have was intentional, quality time with a group of children and adults on their faith journeys together. It was more of the “Mr. Rogers” version of VBS: doing ordinary things with the awareness that God was present in each and every person.

It’s not popular, of course, to be the little playground instead of the glitzy theme park. It seems our culture is obsessed with extreme everything. Yet this week convinced me once again that we have so much to gain in the small things: reading a story to a child, singing a song, planting a flower. These were moments not of escape but of immersion in the earth and connection with one another. As I hear

my own daughter singing, “The trees of the field shall clap their hands,” I realize that even something as seemingly everyday and ordinary as a tree leads to moments of rejoicing.