This Music Is Brought to You By…..Part II

What is this place where we are meeting?

Only a house, the earth its floor.

Walls and a roof sheltering people,

windows for light, an open door.

Yet it becomes a body that lives

when we are gathered here,

and know our God is near.

                                     “What is This Place”- Huub Oosterhuis, b. 1933.

Yesterday I praised the temples. I praised the mission of the church as a place, a place that can house beautiful music. I do not intend here to undermine that praise or that mission, but I need to offer a counterpoint.

We speak of the church as the body of Christ and as a body, it breathes, moves, and sings. For a very large gathering of worshippers or for a concert setting, a cathedral can be exactly what is needed to promote our singing. Fine acousticians have planned it that way. But the reality is that in many contexts, the large room with people spread out, all facing forward may not promote our singing. If you compound this with a musical leader that is not properly tuned into the singing body, the music falls flat. We sing quieter. We are discouraged. We stop singing and then blame style or format when in fact the situation is much more complex than hymnals versus screens.

Music is brought to you by the breath, by pulse, by listening. It is nurtured by compassion and courage. In a culture that tends to see music as something you consume, it can be truly ear opening to experience music—particularly singing—as a truly communal, participatory event. The musical spaces that support the fine concerts can also support fine singing by a community, but it will take a different set of skills. Music that Makes Community changed my perception of singing together as church. Click on the site and learn about this venture that opens us to new/old ways of being a singing body.

As with so much of faith and life, it is not either/or but both/and. Beautiful worship spaces are a mission of the church, but singing together, like everything else, is death and resurrection. What needs to die so that singing together flourishes? What needs to be raised up? Every space and people will have different answers and questions, but we trust that as the Spirit works, we will be that living, singing body.

This Music Is Brought to You By…..Part I

The conductor took his place at the podium. After the courteous applause subsided, he stepped up to the microphone and addressed the audience. He thanked us for coming and then proceeded to thank the sponsors, naming especially the generous ones whose large philanthropic gifts made this afternoon’s concert possible. From amateur school productions to professional orchestra performances, the money matters. The show will not go on without the generous support of those who have the will and the means to do so.

I did not watch today’s musical performance from a concert hall. Instead, I took my place in a church pew. As I looked to the choir, I could not help but notice the cross and the stained glass rendition of the Last Supper behind them. The church could surely accommodate a crowd with its ample floor seating and wrap-around balcony. I know for a fact that it is not so full for regular Sunday worship.

Question: When you think about two words—“church” and “mission”— what do you think of? Do you think of everything that happens outside of the church’s walls? Evangelism on the street? Food pantries? Supporting missionaries in other countries?

So often we think of mission as all that happens outside the four walls of a church This Sunday afternoon I was reminded of a mission that happens precisely because of those walls: the church as a home for the arts. The beauty of an architectural space lends itself to the creation of beauty; the space itself is its mission.

We know that without maintenance and support, these buildings will fade from glory; and even with care, over time, “tower and temple fall to dust.” Yet with care, with an appreciation for the space can come appreciation for what happens in that space. We can honor churches for the ways their very buildings celebrate the arts.

Today the mini-cathedral where I sat resounded with beautiful choral and orchestral music, not unlike other many other churches before that have housed similar sonic beauty. It is a mission of the church to value that which makes us pause, breathe deeper, and wonder at the gift of artistic expression. We marvel.  We rejoice. We cry. We sit in awe. We embrace mystery.

But what if there is no magnificent sanctuary? After all, didn’t Jesus have some harsh words to say about the temple?  Stay tuned for Part II.

New Bag, New Box, New Bottle?

“Would you like a separate bag for your bananas?” said the young, friendly check-out clerk on today's post-work trip to the grocery store.

Would you like a plastic clamshell box for your tomatoes, ginger root, peppers, pears, lemons, and…

 

Would you like a case of water in little single-serve bottles?

Would you like…..

Well, to be honest, I might like it. Packaging makes life pretty darn convenient and organized. Really, what says newness better than something packaged in a clear, shiny plastic box? Or bag? Or bottle? We like them. We like them SO much. 

Tonight Miriam and I were cleaning up her wooden castle blocks. They still go back into the original container, a little cardboard box whose sides are now bent. The blocks don’t stay in very well. I caught myself daydreaming of the home organization aisles at Target. You know, all those color-coordinated boxes, crates and canvas sorters? “J” personality types like me drool over the clever ways everything can be so neat and tidy. For a moment I thought about getting a new container for the blocks.

Then I woke up. I have shoe boxes in the basement. I have gift bags in the attic. Nathan has wood scraps I’m sure he could fashion into a simple box. I don’t need to buy anything. Sorry, Target execs. I really do like them, but I don’t have to have them. 

It has been and continues to be a journey for me to learn how to rely on less packaging; I can do much better. It was a little easier when we lived in towns with co-ops that encouraged not only bringing our reusable bags but containers to fill up our flour bins, spice jars and shampoo bottles. I know it’s possible; that’s what makes the reality of not having it even harder. We can do so much better than bringing our own bags, but that is a start. (or better yet, ban plastic bags altogether as Chicago has done)

Check out the Story of Stuff project. The segment on bottled water is excellent. Check out the grocery stores that promote less packaging. And when the cashier asks if she can put every thing in a separate bag, be bold. Just let those bananas touch the milk and cheese. They won't mind. 

Newness at The Archery Range

When I began this series of Lenten Musings, I began with some questions about newness: “How do we encounter newness in the everyday? What does it look or feel like?”

This past Monday evening I experienced one of those “fish out of water” kinds of newness. I took my oldest son to a Cub Scout event at an archery range. I didn’t know what to expect. His dad took him last year and said it was like a bowling alley except for archery. The description was not too off target, to use an appropriate metaphor.

My son’s fellow scouts were lined up facing a wall of targets, taking turns at shooting and then collecting the arrows. Parents or grandparents (mostly dads and granddads) shepherded them along. After standing around looking like a sheep without a shepherd, a scout leader found a left-handed bow for Thomas and then proceeded to guide him through the motions for almost an hour.  My son’s arrows all dove to the floor with a clank, I’m sorry to say.

I had my other to kids to attend to so I checked in on the “aim and shoot” just a little. I felt quite out of sorts, like an arrow that completely missed the bull’s eye. I wandered about, noticing the posters advertising archery equipment on the wall. I read faded newspaper clippings on the bulletin board that listed awards for best antlers (or something like that). I took Miriam to use the “rustic” looking bathroom.

Sometimes newness is feeling like one of those lonely arrows Thomas let go, on the floor, far off from the others, waiting to be picked up. It can be quite uncomfortable. A recently deceased colleague in ministry preached often that the gospel both “comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable.” In our heads we know that we won’t always be comfortable, yet the fear of newness in our hearts often prevents us from branching out. At least that has been my experience.

As I meandered around the lobby at the range, I thought of symphony concerts. I thought of Christian worship in the liturgical tradition. Comforting for me, yes, but perhaps a momentary affliction for those who don’t regularly frequent such settings, especially if they clap between symphonic movements or stand at the wrong time.

I am grateful for those times to be with people who “get me,” but the evening at the range reminded me of how it feels to be stretched. It’s those challenging, uncomfortable moments that bring awareness and focus. I don’t plan on taking up archery anytime soon, but I left with a glimpse into another world of sorts. And if I do decide to take up archery, at least I know where to practice.

Cinnamon Rolls on International Women's Day

Confession: I didn’t wake up today realizing that it was International Women's Day. I knew it was my friend’s birthday, another friend’s almost birthday and the Third Sunday in Lent. That’s all.

Does it matter? Does it matter that the world has this observance called International Women’s Day? Or Women’s History Month? It’s so easy for me, a privileged white woman in to say we’ve reached women’s equality, but that is so far from the truth. We could come up with all kinds of examples, serious life and death examples: lack of equal pay for equal work, domestic violence against women, poor to non-existent family leave (which is a men’s issue, too), the greater incidence of poverty for women and more. But I want to spend a moment reflecting on an aspect of equality that seems seemingly simple: home economics.

When I say home economics, I’m not talking about the class I had to take in 7^th grade where I attempted to sew a blue and white duffel bag (it was a disaster, by the way). No, I’m talking about the home economy, the way work is distributed for a home to be a life-giving place: who does the cooking, shoveling, lunch packing, bill paying, errand running, floor mopping and toilet scrubbing? As much as we want to think our lives are way more important than these quotidian things, the fact is we have to do them. And how we do them can either encourage equality or discourage it.

This morning my children awoke to fresh cinnamon rolls. When my husband/their dad makes our bread each week, he sometimes doubles the recipe and the extra dough he reserves for cinnamon rolls. The kids love nibbling on bits of raw dough (no eggs, they’re safe). Before church, he whipped together a cinnamon coffee cake for fellowship hour. I might be the “Baker” in our family name, but in our house, the "Trinity" is quite the baker. I am so glad my kids get to help their dad in the kitchen. Whether it’s dishes or cooking, there are “mom nights” and “dad nights."Both of us spend a time working in the home as well as outside of it so that our home economy runs smoothly.

This may not seem that earth shattering in 2015; many men help with or do all the cooking. But in our home economic system, it’s not seen as a rarity; both of us cook, grocery shop and do dishes. Of course, the distribution of labor is not 50/50; it's always give and take. I pretty much always clean the bathroom and he pretty much always pays the bills. Still, we try.

Why does it matter that homemaking gets shared? It matters, I think, because children learn what they live. If we raise our children in homes where gender equality is valued, where there is no talk of “women’s work” or “men’s work,” they will have a more equitable view of the world. Feminism is simply the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities (For a recent interview on the need for feminism and men's vital role in it, check out this speech to the UN Conference by Emma Watson) We have come far, but we still have a long way to go. The kitchen is a good place to start.