Digging in: John 9 (1000)

[This is public blogpost #1000.  In this post, I'm going to attempt to merge concisely some very significant areas--exegesis, religious challenge and reform, and worship.  And then I'm going to take somewhat of a break.  This is a longish blog, but I hope you'll take the time, because there won't be any more blogs coming from me anytime soon!]

Digging In:   John 9

One of the Marvelous Happenings in the Life of Jesus

Exegetical Interpretation, Focusing on Christian Challenge/Reform and Worship
With a Timely, Eulogistic Postscript

John 9 has long been a favorite chapter, and it’s not because I memorized it as a child or because it was read at a family funeral.  This chapter is of deep impact on me because the story highlights Jesus in a way that simply won’t let me go.

While it would have been nice, I suppose, to have a true essay worked out, I would need more time for that, “living with” the text for a period of weeks or even months.  I trust that it will be beneficial to see the process of asking questions of the text, not only the reaching of conclusions.

Method  Ideally, I would start with two or more readings of the entire gospel, in different versions — perhaps one with more of a sentence-for-sentence orientation, and another, more of an expansive paraphrase.   Initially, my method was simple:  to read/refresh myself on the whole of chapter 9, and jotting questions I had while reading.  The “first pass” through chapter 9 resulted in the need for a second pass.  Within about an hour and a half total, I had approximately two pages of notes/questions.  (An irresistible 3rd pass is yielding almost as many additional questions and brought tears to my eyes, but the new material will have to wait.)  For sake of brevity — ha! — I am selecting only a portion of these questions to blogshare (to coin a term).

Book-level questions

Bypassing for the moment the typical, academic, background questions that are important but are more stock-in-trade (author, date and place of writing, audience, etc.), I ask such things as these, from a perspective that is mostly “zoomed out” on the entire gospel of John:

• What special features can be found in John’s vocabulary and literary style?
• Within the whole gospel, does chapter 9 constitute a bona fide pericope?  Does John use pericopes as, say, Matthew does?
• What is the relationship of blindness and sin for John?
• How does God the Father relate to Jesus in the narrative?  Is Jesus called “Son of Man” earlier? later? throughout? often?
• How does John’s stated purpose (20:30-31) relate, or not, to key aspects found in this passage, such as spiritual blindness, sin, coming to faith, and worship?  How might belief in 9:35-36 be tied to the overall, stated purpose?

Smaller-context questions

Now zooming in more to the immediate context:

• Where are we in the progression of John’s narrative when we reach the events of chapter 9?  What occurs immediately before, and immediately after?  (The answer to these questions may be singularly significant.)
• Check 9:1-2 for chiastic structure.  (Note the three mentions of blindness.)
• Note the various portrayals in this chapter:  disciples, Jews, neighbors, Pharisees, and the man.  (Larger question:  how is each group painted in John overall, as compared to Mark?)
• What is the relationship of blindness and sin for each of the above people/groups?
• Could there be a larger inclusio from 9:1-34 (“the Jews’” idea of sin as bookends)?
• Note the relationship between eyesight and light and works, as in verse 4.
• Is “Siloam” Aramaic?  Translation relationship to Greek “apostle”?  Any significance to be found in Jewish background there — either with the Siloam pool or with the use of the word in OT texts?  What is John saying by inserting the definition of the word?
• Chiasm in 9:13-16 vicinity (Pharisees, had been blind, Jesus, mud ==> Sabbath, Pharisees <== mud, Jesus, see, Pharisees/Sabbath). Yes? Investigate.
• Examine the use of “disciples” in 9:27-28 vs. its use in John overall.
• How does the Father God figure in to this story?
  • What do “the Jews” and the Pharisees think of Him?  How do they “use” Him? (vv. 16, 24, 29)
  • What does the blind man think of Him?  (9:31, 33)
  • What could be made out of the fact that Jesus mentions God early in the story but not later?
• Hermeneutically speaking, are questions (such as the above group) significant from both John’s and the first readers’ points of view?  Does John show any bias or agenda that his first-century readers would naturally share, or naturally be resistant to?  How is God potentially working through John to say what needs to be said?  And how do these answers affect my own point of view?
• What is the significance of the label “Son of Man” in this particular text?  (It seems significant for John in the ultimate responsiveness of the [formerly] blind man.)  (9:35)
• There appears to be a mirroring mini-chiasm in 9:39:  blind ==> see; see <== blind?  Do “judgment” and “guilt” complete this mini-structure?
• Note some striking, possibly unusual, recurring, or significant vocabulary words and phrases in NASB:  blind, works of God, displayed, Light of the world, spit, seeing, eyes opened/opened my eyes (vv. 10, 13, 17, 30, 32), mud, miraculous signs, prophet, put out of the synagogue, “give glory to God,” disciples.

Musings  Some musings and commentary stem from these types of questions!

I.  In terms of challenge to the status quo and religious power structures … it seems to me that there are battles presented in this chapter — a battle of people and cliques, a battle of systems, and ultimately, a battle of and for the Kingdom.  Clearly, the Jews and the Pharisees are the “conservatives” here, resisting challenge and change — while the simple facts of the blind man’s story necessitate, on the other hand, that traditional viewpoints are challenged.

Although the connection of blindness and sin might be an easy target for preachers of sermons, one should not dive into a topical sermon that uses a snippet of John 9 without first knowing a good deal about the context(s) here.  We could not, in other words, legitimately draw any conclusions about the equation of spiritual blindness and sin without knowing more of how John the inspired writer uses and develops those ideas (or doesn’t) within the literary context.  Just as significant would be some cultural insights — related, for example, to blindness, begging, synagogue norms, Pharisees, and more.  This area, like so many others, requires more investigation.

It has long seemed to me that the parents in this story are presented as weak and sniveling.  (Textual clues gained in further investigation could bolster or counter this impression.)  Out of fear, they deflect attention and responsibility.  On the other hand, the “Pharisees” and “Jews” groups are not “weak,” but they are in some sense blind and foolish.  Note, for example, that they pronounce a cloudy half-truth regarding Jesus and the Sabbath in v. 16, and they resort to name-calling in v. 34.  The Jews in power are more interested in protecting their system than in avowing the obvious wonder that has just occurred at the hands of Jesus.  From their standpoint, 1) Jesus is a threat, and 2) the now-seeing man — although formerly negligible — may now be a threat, too.

Something that struck me 25 years ago, and still strikes me today (and here, I hope I’m not just coddling my earlier reading) is this:  the Pharisees could not even see, much less accept, the God-glorifying miracle that had obviously occurred because they were too invested in protecting their empire.  John presents unadorned facts in v. 7 (that the man “returned seeing”) and in v. 9 (that he kept saying “I am the one”).  Waxing prophetic, I would assert that the implications of the Pharisees’ stubbornness here are momentous for institutional Christendom, and for various cliques and sects.  Could the Pharisees legitimately be seen to represent some of the entrenched “clergy” of later eras?  The implicit warning echoes through the centuries:  Watch out that you’re not building your own structures, and pay attention to the work of God, or else you may be found blindly rejecting Him.

In contrast to the Pharisees and the parents stands the blind man.  I would imagine that a Jewish person reading or hearing John’s gospel would find intense irony here:  the blind man appears as largely a positive example, although he would previously have been a worthless drain on society — a mere opportunity to be seen giving alms!  Initially, the man is trusting and obedient.  He also makes an ostensibly false assumption:  that “God does not hear sinners.”  No, he doesn’t quite “get” everything about Jesus yet (no one could), but he is open, and he is coming to faith.  (Who wouldn’t be experiencing new things after having been given sight?!)  Not only can he see the ground in front of him for the first time in his life, but he is beginning to see who and what Jesus is.  An encouraging message surfaces:  that one can travel the road of discipleship, progressively coming to see more truth.

II. In terms of worship … the response seems so beautifully unfeigned and unaffected — the man simply worships, when confronted with the truths that Jesus is 1) from God and 2) able to work miracles.  (Let alone, for now, the question of the meaning of “Son of Man.”)  The antecedent worship word here is proskuneo, which

• is not inherently a “religious” thing to do
• means “kissing toward” as an act of homage, and implies bowing down
• has nothing directly to do with so-called whole-life worship
• is rather the simple act of response — by one who recognizes greatness far beyond oneself

Letting alone the so-called worship wars of our times, and jettisoning any historical connections related to liturgy/”services,” or checking off items on a list on Sunday mornings, or any other corruptions of biblical worship ideals, we see worship, pure and simple, in this text.  We see that an unconstrained person, when he observes the reality of Jesus, worships.

And that is a beautiful precedent that both instructs and compels.  Lord, may we.

~ ~ ~

Postscript

It worked out to honor my grandfather, Andy T. Ritchie Jr., by publishing my blogpost #1000 on this, the 104th anniversary of his birth.  (I even set the posting time as 19:09 CDT, the year of his birth, but this part is useless trivia.) 

Andy Thomas Ritchie, Jr., son of Andy T., Sr. and Fannie Mae Cobb Ritchie, was born and raised in the Nashville, Tenn., area.  He married Kathryn Delma Cullum in 1933; the pair had four children — Andy T. III, Edward, Bettye, and Joan.  I am #7 of 10 grandchildren, and there are 29 great-grandchildren.

Granddaddy taught music at David Lipscomb College and Bible and music at Harding College.  (Both later become universities.)  He was a concert singer who recorded an album in addition to his performing on stage and on radio.  He influenced thousands through his

• personal conversations and correspondence
• leadership of personal evangelism meetings and “lily pool” hymn sings on the Harding campus
• direction of the Harding Chorus for several years
• much-remembered classroom teaching (see here for an external mention)
• inimitable, compelling leadership of worship  in song, and preaching — in his own congregation, and in other states
• manner of living life

I think Granddaddy would have appreciated a good deal of what I’ve written on this blog to date, although certainly not all.  He himself wasn’t known for his writing as much as for his leadership in other veins, but he did publish articles in multiple periodicals and wrote a full-length book on worship.  I imagine that, were he alive today, he would also have expressed being inspired by John 9, and would have appreciated my exegetical efforts, along with the highlighting of the challenge of the (Jewish) status quo.  (Therein, certain goals of the Restoration Movement which influenced both of us are also highlighted.)  Granddaddy probably would have appreciated most the emphasis on the worship of God the Son, as seen in this compelling story.

Believe it or not, one of the more memorable aspects of Andy T. Ritchie, Jr., almost eluded mention until the fourth draft of this postscript.  He was severely sight-impaired for the last 20 years of his adult life, having suffered detached retinas related to diabetes, and later became legally blind.  This mention of his blindness, written after the main portion of this post, leads me to include, here, a prayer song I wrote for a family reunion some years ago.  Please take a moment to read at least the words of Lord, I Want To See.  (A sound file may be downloaded by clicking this link.)

Granddaddy entered the land of the eternally living and seeing in 1983.

Voices: yeah … no (993)

The problems with the clergy-laity system are a) centuries old and b) pandemic.  Most of my disputes with this system run pretty deep and are long-lived,¹ but this particular rant is rather shallow.

Having recently visited a church I’d been a member of years ago, in which one preacher had filled the pulpit for about 50 years, I suppose it was inevitable that, soon after, I saw two articles about other, way-too-long-term preachers.  (These things seem to come in multiples.)  First, the man I once knew.  Then, another octogenarian, celebrating 50 years with the same church.  And then a feature article about a guy who was with one church more than a quarter-century and with another church in the same city for 10 years.

This man is surely a wonderful man, with a good heart and a love for God.

But he is quoted as having said … and, you know, everything has the potential for being quoted out of context … but, get this:

Church growth must begin with the preacher.

Yeah . . . NO.

Oh, my goodness. . . .

First off, the term “church growth” is loaded, and I don’t accept its chock-full package as entirely worthy of discussion.  Sure, the growing of churches is likely a good thing — at least potentially so, for some churches grow merely in an opposite reaction to the decline of other churches, which fact makes the growth rather moot.  Numerical growth in terms of overall congregational “membership,” then, may be good but also may be neutral.  Spiritual growth is not quantifiable.  In my experience, “church growth ‘experts’ ” focus almost exclusively on quantifiable data.

Even if one accepts (or ignores as loaded) the term “church growth,” the notion that “growth much begin with the preacher” is ludicrous on at least two levels.

1. First, the presence of a preacher is required by no biblical text that I know of, and this fact negates the “must.”
2. Moreover, I would assert that if either spiritual or numerical growth is preacher-driven, it is growth that is not going to last. 

Preachers, of course you should keep growing and not become stagnant.  (This self-evident truth may get at the speaker’s intent more than the ripped-from-context quote.)  My rant here is in no way intended to ignore the human tendency to become stale.  I have had good models in staying current in one’s discipline, including my grad advisor Ken Singleton, who, for instance, annually updates his repertoire list with new, good music, refusing to do anything but grow.  Preachers should do similar things, studying new books and documents and Greek and methods, etc.  But really, preachers, don’t be deceived into thinking that you should function as the center of things.

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P.S. to the Christian Chronicle:  I chose not to read this article in depth.  It’s a matter of time and priorities for me.  But let’s think about the big, bold quotation at the top of the page for a moment.  Couldn’t you have chosen a better seven-word quote to pull out for highlighting?  Surely there were better, more on-target things that he said!  :-)

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¹ Grandmother Kathryn Ritchie (1909-1988) taught me that “long-lived” was originally pronounced with a long “i,” as in “dive.”  I have trouble saying it that way now, because everyone thinks it’s wrong.  Often, taking the less popular way ends up being right, right?

Expected answers (992)

As I begin this essay, I’m watching a master at work.

At the performance, two days later

He is a musically gifted conductor with a long-developed, international reputation, and an artist I’ve had the honor of working with in more than one symposium.  He, like all the rest of us mortals, has a pedagogical crutch/quirk or three.  The one I’m thinking of hasn’t hampered him much, but I still notice it:  he has the habit of asking a very specific type of closed-end question.  He just queried, for instance, “Trombones, at D, I need a little bit of what?”  The “what” is a blank he’s ostensibly asking for help with, but there is only one right answer, and everyone in the room knows it.  As I said, this little teaching crutch works fine for this master conductor, but it’s a minor irritant for folks like me who dislike feeling like a blind sheep,¹ so I resist it.

I’m more bothered, though, by expected-answer word formulas (incantations?) that play a part in so many churches — of a) the mainline protestant, b) the more evangelically oriented, and c) the Roman Catholic varieties.  If a responsive reading or some such is specified thoughtfully and theologically soundly, it’s not so bad (although rarely truly inspiring for me).  What I react more negatively to is these:

1. “The Word of the Lord” ==> “Thanks be to God”
2. “God is good” ==> “all the time” // “All the time” ==> “God is good”

Taking those in reverse order:  I definitely do affirm that God is good all the time; I just don’t care to parrot that truth with a covey of other parrots.

And, regarding the first incantation, I might or might not believe that what was just read in church constituted “the word of the Lord” more than “the word of us.”  If I perceive it to be more employed as our word than as the Lord’s, I’m hard-pressed to recite “Thanks be to God” with the same enthusiasm.  Why my negative cast here?  Because the “thanks be to God” utterance, at worst, could be tantamount to shading the light around God’s throne by highlighting some human misappropriation.  In other words, I want to be sure that it’s truly God’s voice speaking, as opposed to some stilted, misapplied, or irrelevant phrase masquerading as God’s word.

So, whose word was it?  I suppose there’s no solid answer, because communication can be complex, especially when there are many people in a room.  Determining whose word it has just been may involve

• consideration of the reason(s) the particular passage was selected (be careful not to be too suspicious … and also be careful not to be too gullible!)
• awareness of the passage’s literary and/or historical context
• assessment of the relative scriptural literacy and spiritual maturity of the group

(Generally, the more literate and mature the perspective, the more a passage may legitimately be separated from its context without misunderstanding.  The more developed the group, the greater the possibility that the passage might be well applied even when not heard in its context.)

Even if scripture — of which I hold a very high view — is used well, I retract from the call for expected answers.  I simply don’t prefer them.  They don’t thrill my soul.  They don’t ignite my passion or inspire me to worship more richly or to live more devotedly.  Those of you who are more trusting by nature, and more captivated more by large-group dynamics may naturally feel otherwise, but I offer these critical, introverted thoughts to help round out your thinking.

And now, with thanks for their existence and acknowledgement that their imperfections are minor, back to music and masters that do thrill my soul. . . .

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¹ Feeling like a blind, helpless sheep — as though I have no initiative or insight in myself —  is to be desired and avowed when Jesus is the Shepherd.  Since I repudiate the notion of apostolic/papal succession (!), though, having a “pastor” ask this kind of thing of me is far less appealing.

Real (4): covering, style, and content

As though I hadn’t done this enough already, I’m gonna commence to “preach” again — to a crowd that is probably not reading, making what I’m about to say pointless. . . .  

This first admonition is to all the vocalists in “worship teams” (why the ever-present sports reference?) and “praise bands”:  if you’re really in touch, all “realed up” and sensitized to your contemporaneity and communications, you won’t cover your face with a microphone.  To me, covering your face with as much of the mic as possible is analogous to wearing a hood over your head when a) it’s not cold and b) you’re not outside.  Obscuring your face with the mic makes you look like you’re hiding something.  Yeah, it’s a style thing, and style is always related to taste.  I get that, and I’ll be outvoted on this by all but the stodgiest of my friends (my age or younger).  I still think covering some of your communicators up, when you’re supposed to be communicating, makes little sense.

P.S.  I searched pages of Google’s “pop singer” images and never did find an example of what I’m talking about. (But I think you, my readers, will know.)  Apparently, singers and Google both know to choose better images — those that display the entire face.  On a whim, I searched “rap artists” and found these.

Back to music style now. . . .

A few months back, a younger acquaintance recently commented on the so-called “worship wars” and mentioned a time frame of the last decade.  Given his age, his perspective is limited to about a half-dozen years of actual experience, and he wisely expanded that by a few years to be inclusive of history he has not experienced.  My timetable’s length is more than double his when I speak of style changes in worship and assemblies.¹   I have experienced about twenty years of what he thinks of as ongoing for only ten; moreover, I’m aware that style changes were afoot before I personally became involved and attentive.  Style is always with us.  (Ever heard that John Calvin [I think it was] outlawed “those Geneva Jigs” that others might have called “spiritual songs” — because they weren’t in his favored style and didn’t have strictly biblical texts?)

I have little comparatively little concern over contemporaneity in music.  Although I don’t go out of my way to be archaic, whether an expression is hip or in any way current is far less important than whether its content is relevant to people.  Real people — those who live real lives and are more concerned with real situations than a surface-level “keep it real” might indicate — will be drawn to meaningful, genuine content.²  I recently came upon some unfamiliar hymn words that struck me as very meaningful, although a couple centuries out of date in terms of the surface-level style.  What do I do with that discovery?  Well, not a lot, really, but I surely wish more people would be more interested in such good content than in mere style.

What do I mean by good content?  Well, just like style, content is sometimes in the eye of the beholder.  Check out the words below from Bob Kauflin, a contemporary song writer, describing an album he and his group had produced.  Here, Kauflin draws attention to content over style:

Many of the lyrics on this CD were written long ago by men and women who loved God deeply and wanted to give the church tools for knowing and worshiping Him. So they wrote hymns. We want to benefit from and emulate their example.

Hymns focus on rich lyrical content, giving us a feast for the mind which leads to a feast for the heart. The music and melodies may change to communicate more effectively with each generation, but the biblical truths they proclaim remain constant and must not be lost.

The word “hymn,” often associated with supposedly moldy songs of past centuries (in other words, labeling age and neither style nor content), is better used to describe

• musical style
• lyrical content, and/or
• form

… as opposed to merely commenting on how old the song is.  These days, quite a few “contemporary hymn writers” such as Kauflin and the Gettys and Stuart Townend, are standing up to advocate good, “hymnlike” depth and quality, and I applaud them.  They are writing what have been called “modern hymns for the church.”

I trust that the closure of this mini-series with some lyrics that are rich in content will highlight some truly worthy thoughts.  The excerpts below come from several centuries, including the last couple of decades.  These communicate real truths and relevant, God-honoring worship and edification for any generation.  At times, style-consciousness may lead to updating a few words and some of the music.  But, as Kauflin says, “The biblical truths they proclaim remain constant. . . .”

Lord of all being, throned afar, Thy glory flames from sun and star;
Center and soul of ev’ry sphere, yet to each loving heart how near!
Lord of all life, below, above, Whose light is truth, Whose warmth is love,
Before Thy ever-blazing throne we ask no luster of our own.
- O.W. Holmes, 19C

By faith we see the hand of God in the light of creation’s grand design,
In the lives of those who prove His faithfulness, who walk by faith and not by sight.
We will stand as children of the promise;
We will fix our eyes on Him, our soul’s reward,
Till the race is finished and the work is done,
We’ll walk by faith and not by sight.
- Keith Getty, Kristyn Getty, Stuart Townend, 21C

O Thou fount of blessing, purify my spirit, trusting only in Thy merit.
Like the holy angels who behold Thy glory, may I ceaselessly adore Thee, 
And in all, great and small, seek to do most nearly what Thou lovest dearly.
- G. Tersteegen, 18C

O for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my god and King, the triumphs of His grace!
- Charles Wesley, 18C

In beholding the glorious Son,
My eyes see the Magnificent One,
And His splendor, as bright as the Sun,
Reveals me:  I am undone.
- Brian Casey, 20C

Jesus, Thy name I love
All other names above.
Jesus, my Lord.
O Thou art all to me.
Nothing to please I see —
Nothing apart from Thee —
Jesus, my Lord.
-  James G. Deck, 19C

How deep the Father’s love for us! 
How vast beyond all measure – 
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.
- S. Townend, 20C

Father and Friend, Thy light, Thy love beaming through all Thy works we see.
Thy glory gilds the heavens above, and all the earth is full of Thee.
Thy voice we hear, Thy presence feel, while Thou, too pure for mortal sight,
Enwrapt in clouds invisible, reignest the Lord of life and light.
Thy children shall not faint nor fear, sustained by this delightful thought:
Since Thou, their God, art everywhere, they cannot be where Thou art not.
J. Bowring, 19C

From life’s first cry till final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
- K. Getty and S. Townend, 21C

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¹ Worship is primarily a verb and should be conceived of differently from “the assembly” (gathering or meeting) of Christians.  Neither is “worship” synonymous with what is so often called “the service.”  Worship and service are certainly not the same thing, and the historically attested, yet conceptually illegitimate use of the term “service” doesn’t even enter the picture here.  A few prior writings in this topical area reside here, here and here.

² Transparently, I would add that I don’t always feel the same way when dealing with Bible translations as I do when in the musical arena.  I don’t have much patience with outmoded, oblique, obscure wordings when we’re trying to study scriptures, but I think there’s a bit more value to the aesthetic and artistic quality of song lyrics.  Artful wordings tend to be heavier on aesthetic beauty than on trendiness.

Real (3): relevance and participation in singing

Relevance in church gatherings is sometimes overrated — at least, relevance as commonly understood.

Various aspects of church and church gatherings could be discussed in terms of whether or not they manifest relevance.  Since I am a professional musician and a longtime (read:  since I was 10 or 12) careful observer of church music habits, successes, and pitfalls, I’m opting for music as the specific subject area here, in this next-in-series post on being “real” and relevant.  (Please read the last two posts for background thinking.)

Is it possible that style in music is too important when people are trying to be relevant?  I mean, when churches that want to be “real” and “seeker-sensitive” get their heads together to decide what music is going to sound like in their gatherings, don’t they think about style before anything else?  On the surface, this seems a good line of thinking — I mean, skinny jeans and contemporary decor def give u good style points (as does my texter spelling there), don’t they, and that goes a long way toward hooking a seeker.¹  I don’t discount that style is important.  I just think it’s not the only thing.  In considering church music within the context of being “real” and “seeker-sensitive,” it is important to distinguish between style and content.

But first:  a matter of the harp.  (By that I mean something I harp on every now & then!  See here and here for more logistical considerations and background.  These prior posts are both about the same length; one is more “brass tacks,” and the other is more “from the heart.”  Or, just stay with me here!)  The next section constitutes a rather substantive “aside” that I hope will not be ignored.

Whether the songs are familiar, somewhat familiar, or unfamiliar, more people can sing if there is music notation.  When there is no notation available, you’d better provide a lot of background texture of some sort.  Otherwise, unfamiliar music is especially uncomfortable and/or leaves out the uninitiated (seekers or otherwise).  Now, make no mistake:  at The Journey in Newark, Delaware, there was a lot of background texture!  In fact, the last time we were there, we were treated to a kind of head-banging performance version of “Carol of the Bells,” with three rockers front-and-center before things got really going.  :-)  For those with sensitive ears like me, earplugs are in order, but it’s “real’ to assume that most seekers out there already have hearing damage from their earbuds and subwoofers, and they’ll probably connect with over-loud music.

There will probably always be something in me that feels deflated when I’m sitting in yet another church gathering in which someone has taken the lazy path by just projecting the words.  Words-only (or simply singing from memory) can work for a few songs that are “favorites,” and I do think it’s OK to “leave out” a visitor in some activities, since the church gathering is for the church, not the unknown and often indescribable visitor.

But, if words-only is all a church ever does, it’s ill-advised, careless, and really, downright inexcusable.  We ought to realize that we are a more advanced society than ever, and there is simply no reason — technologically, societally, or sub-culturally — to assume we are all dumber than people were in the 1700s and 1800s and 1900s.  They all had notated music, and we would do better if we did, too.  It is not “musically elitist” to display music along with words.  As a rule, projecting the music allows more people to sing more confidently, whether they realize it or not.  The technological tools we have available (CCLI‘s SongSelect and The Paperless Hymnal, for example) make this quite easy, and not really much more time-consuming than displaying lyrics only on PowerPoint slides.  I am not, therefore, advocating that all churches need hymnals.  (Hymnals still have their place, and some of you middle-aged folks might be surprised at the broad range of stylistic preferences of hordes of twenty-somethings, but that’s beside the current point.)  I am saying that contemporary, seeker-sensitive churches have just as much reason to display (at least) the melody lines on their screens as the more traditional churches have either to project four-part harmony or to continue to provide hymnals in the pew racks.  Pretty much EVERY literate person benefits (some, only subliminally) from seeing the musical notations.

One undeniable trend in all singing churches is this:  the more we distance ourselves from notation, the less people in the seats will sing.  Personally, 1) I am flat-out mentally unable to sing a song I don’t know unless music notation is available; and 2) I can contribute vocally pretty well on a song I don’t know if I have the sheet music, hymnal, or projected notation available.

Another undeniable trend in a cappella churches:  the more years that transpire without music notation as the norm, the closer the congregation edges toward musical extinction.  You can do church without music at all, but I’ve not met the church that intends that, and no one seems to realize that they’re hurtling down this path to oblivion unless they change courses.  You see, if there are no instruments to carry things, notation is even more essential, for without it, there is nothing but a bad, rhythmically scattered rendition of a poorly remembered melody from the last time people heard the song on the radio, by some — which was it?  the 3rd or 4th? — group that covered the song.  Confusion quickly results.

Within the context of analyzing for the relevant/”real,” we have to admit that it’s a little weird for anybody but Girl Scouts and churches to sing together in a group.  (“Kum Ba Yah” is a great song, really, but it has often been the butt of jokes, showing that group singing is counter-cultural.)  It is no more relevant to the world out there to sing with lyrics-only than it is to sing with projected music notation or hymnals.  Group singing is pretty much out of style, and we simply have to major in offering relevant content within the songs we do sing in church.

With all that said, I would acknowledge that the “heartfelt energy level” of the singing at The Journey was a bit higher than at many other contemporary churches with a lot of instrumental texture.  (It was probably a bit higher than in most a cappella churches, too.)  They have something corporately energized going at The Journey.  But more often, in my experience, loud instruments inspire

• hero worship (as with groupies and rock idols)
• mumbling and half-hearted singing (as in most congregations)
• silence (with some, no matter where you go)
• the insertion of earplugs (as with me)

Loud instruments, then, would tend to discourage participation with any real personal dynamic.  But not always.  For instance, a relatively young, derivative organization in Searcy, Arkansas called Sons of Thunder recently almost single-handedly restored my faith in the ability of a “praise band” to inspire the congregation to pour our their hearts.  I surmise that assembly energy has more to do with the group’s health as a whole than with the particulars of the music.

Next:  The last post in this series comes in two days and deals with covering up the eyes, style, and content.

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¹ Don’t for a moment think that that “hooking” is reelly my line as a fisher of men.  But we must admit that hooking people is the way that some church salespeople think.  Sit there in your church row(boat) singing “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore,” and think about it for a moment, and you’ll reelize that something smells fishy, which makes you stop singing bass.  You’ll get that sinker feeling.  Then, just cast off and move on.  But don’t listen too closely for pitch; it’s very difficult to tuna fish.)

Keepin’ it real

I s’pose the notion of keepin’ it real is important to most of us.  And it’s more valid than this phrase’s association with less-than-desirable elements of society suggests.  In other words, just because hoods and hoodlums in hoodies use the phrase doesn’t mean the idea is bad.  To be “real” is to be relevant, honest, and genuine, right?

For nearly as long as I’ve been aware of so-called seeker-sensitive churches,¹ I’ve thought the descriptor represented a worthy goal, but apparently not a readily attainable one.  I mean, every church I’ve ever visited (a good number — score and scores, if not hundreds) has been “churchy” in one way or another.  Being “churchy” seems inherently not “real” and not seeker-sensitive, right?

It’s more than a tad ironic that each of the churches I’ve visited has probably thought it was fairly, or even extremely, seeker-sensitive.  Churches’² opinions of themselves rarely resemble the public’s opinion of said churches — rendering the churches’ self-generated opinions fairly useless.  (Footnotes³ in a blogpost are also fairly useless, but sometimes they help to eradicate parenthetical expressions [except in this case].)

The real question for would-be seeker-sensitive groups to consider:  how would a church go about being attractive to those outsiders who might show up, actively seeking what a church has to offer?  Being attractive doesn’t equate to being real, but the two are related.  No one really likes fake.  No one is deeply drawn to facades and veneers.

Knowing this, a church in Delaware takes as its slogan “real church for real people.”  A church in rural New York tries to attract outsiders, as well.  One succeeds more than the other, in my estimation — if success is tied in any way to the name of the church, at least:

• In DE, the name “The Journey” (“Your Journey” in its URL) seems inherently honest to me.
• In NY, the name “Joy Community Church” strikes me as off-putting to real people with real lives.

It’s not that people don’t want joy.  It’s that real life doesn’t consist entirely in joy, and if I’m feeling seeky or needy or searching, I’m not going to be drawn to a group that erects a joy facade to hide behind.  Few people experience joy as a life-motif, I’m convinced.  So, leaving that NY group’s pretense aside (c’mon, stop humming “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart . . .”), let’s talk more about the first group.  It’s the one I’ve actually visited, and it does “real” pretty well, in my estimation. . . .

The DE church, which my old friend Bob had invited us to visit when in town, is called “The Journey.”  And what about this metaphor of the life-journey?  It’s a cliché, and I sometimes tire of the surface-level interest in the so-called “Christian walk” or “faith journey,” but “journey” really is an appropriate simile.  Undergirding this idea, we have a prominent figure of speech in the gospel of Mark:  following Jesus on the way.

I would here inject a reference to a couple of prior posts on Mark’s content:

• http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/02/05/epic-2/
• http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/05/29/mark-wrap-up-2/

These both mention the centrality of following, of walking.  Authentic discipleship may well be summarized as “following Jesus on the way.”  The individual believer’s discipleship is to be seen as eclipsing inherited membership & institutional establishmentarianism.  Not only is “walking Christianly through life’s journey” a realistic descriptor for the contemporary mind; it’s also a biblically apt metaphor.

Now, back to real response and analysis. . . .

All the while at The Journey, I’m sitting there considering my real-life journey, because of the name.  Then as I drift in and out of awareness of those around me, I’m thinking thoughts like, “I wonder what that guy’s journey has been like” and “Is that guy hearing the same way, and making the same applications for his journey as I am for mine?”  There’s something relevant about making church gatherings tie in to the real living of real lives, and speaking in terms of “the journey of life” is one way to tie in.

The Journey has until recently been renting its facilities.  I think that if a church is large enough to need a building, renting is the way to go.  It’s less wasteful.  The Journey’s facility has been an office-type space in an industrial park, which strikes me as “real.”  The group is preparing to inhabit its own facility (seen at left) for the first time this coming weekend.  Although I wish the group had spent its money on something else, I have to give it credit for a) using rented facilities for years and b) not going into more debt to build anything new or elaborate, but rather, purchasing a pre-existing, vacant facility.  If The Journey had continued renting, it might have been even better, but I wish it well and trust that it will do good things in its more visible, larger structure.

Also at The Journey church, there is a “lead” (not “senior”) pastor.  I don’t know that this label has anything to do with sensitivity to less-churchy seekers — out in the world of workplace hierarchies, we find ample use of both terms — but I like “lead” better.  At my age, I figure I’m allowed to have some simple preferences (and will leave it there, not complaining about the ubiquitous, non-biblical use of the word “pastor” right now.)  ”Lead” seems to speak of function within a group more than calling attention to age or position.  It communicates relevance and not stodgy hierarchianism.

Mark, the lead pastor, is not referred to with the paradoxically irreverent label “reverend,” a ghastly vestige of Latin/Roman origins.  Inviting ears to attune to his message rather than appearing to demand that respect be shown to a titled position, Mark connects his own real life and inward feelings to that of “average Joe.”  In my (admittedly spotty) experience, he does this convincingly and without facade, also connecting these human experiences to biblical narrative and imperatives.  In the lobby, I see Mark doing the preacher thing a bit — meeting and greeting, you know….  But I observe that while Mark is thinking about, and talking to, those who might be “seekers,” he is all the while naturally moving back and forth between dealing with them and with those who are already disciples.  Mark’s name, not incidentally, does not appear on the church’s “business cards” or on the sign in front of the building.  I had to look all the way into the podcast section of the website to remind myself of his last name.  Admirable!  It’s not about him; it’s about everyone’s lives and souls.

An official “greeter” starts things off in an upbeat vein as the assembly gets underway.  While this is mostly unnecessary for a temperament and get-down-to-business head like mine, I recognize that it helps most people to feel good, and the greeter serves this function well.  Other evidences of being “in touch” with real life include provision of protected children’s environments and pretty good coffee.  Coffee at church is also a cliché these days, but since you can’t avoid it, you might as well offer it (and tea, and maybe hot chocolate) in an attractive atmosphere.  Add to all these things the general sense that friends are talking all around the lobby, and the considerate, all-too-often-ignored “visitors excepted” clause when an offering is taken, and you have a pretty inviting, seeker-sensitive church gathering.

I’ll soon share 1) The Journey’s “Who We Are/What We Believe” statement, and 2) a bit about the reality of music in The Journey church and in other, would-be seeker-friendly churches….

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¹ Here, I’ll leave the ill-begotten “seeker-targeted” and “seeker-oriented” labels alone.  ”Seeker-sensitive” can certainly be a good thing, but church gatherings are for the church, after all, not for the seekers.  Orienting “church” to seekers is counter-rational by definition.  Other methods and events might well be considered for drawing in seekers.

² It’s been a long time since I harped on misplaced apostrophes.  See this post for some fun.  Just this morning, I read this “quote” of Acts 9:16 in an e-gram from a highly educated, respected editor/theologian:  “I will show him how many things he must suffer for My names’ sake.”  Now don’t go gettin’ all Christian-markety on me and say that God has many names.  He really only has one.  Anyway, I don’t think the other identifers/descriptors of God were in the picture there in Acts.  It should have read, “I will show him how many things he must suffer for My name’s’ sake.”

³ It’s also been too long since I used footnotes in a blogpost.  I once asked, in a physically posted print, whether anyone read my footnotes, and Randall responded, “I read your footnotes,” but he may be in a small crowd.  :-)

Kick it

“Kick it with your toes.”  

- advice from bad soccer coach in the movie Playing for Keeps

Even as a non-soccer player, I didn’t think that was right.  A few seconds later in the movie, when my suspicion was confirmed, I thought, “Hmm … advice given by someone who doesn’t know whereof he speaks … welcome to my life in church pews.”

I’ve heard a lot of bad advice given from pulpiteers and other officials.  There is way too much ineptitude manifest by public leaders.  But after my own preachment comes a confession. . . .

Although many are giving advice as bad as telling 8-year-old soccer players to kick the ball with their toes, it is neither spiritual nor wise to do what I’ve done:  I’ve pretty much turned off advice from professional religionists.  Maybe I’d do better not to block the “channel,” but rather, to be discriminating in my listening and viewing.  There are still a few decent coaches out there who not only understand the basics but can even help me move beyond them.

Twelve for 2012 (2)

[ ... continued from here]

Inherently, the modus operandi of quasi-prophetic, interrogatory verbalization runs counter to long-practiced norms — and to a good many beliefs tenaciously held by the masses.  For this disequilibrious endeavor I will make no apology, but if I ever seem to be fighting the individual’s independent, sincere pursuit of Almighty God and His eternal kingdom, I sit ready to be corrected.

In my last post, I listed an initial, six things I would do in, to, and for the earthly, western church of the 21^st century, if I had the ability.  These had to do with sects and structures, the clergy role, and scriptural moorings.  The ramifications of some of these items are broad, and I’m fully aware of the audacity of some of them.  In order to be clear about my human fallibility, I am presenting my list of twelve items in half-twelve lists of six, the “number of man.”  The total number — a nice, round, “biblical” one — has more reference to the current calendar year than to biblical completion:  here, although I touch on several matters I consider crucial, I make no claim to being exhaustive.

Below, then, is the second group of six things I would do in, to, and for the earthly, western church, if I had the ability.  These six concern (1-2) relational dynamics, (3-4) concepts of worship and of the Christian gathering, and (5-6) understandings of beginnings and continuations.

1. create small groups and other home gatherings where they do not already exist
2. inject a more apt understanding of the assembly (for starters, not thinking of it as a “service”)
3. infuse a deeper understanding of the nature and extents of worship — neither a) considering it to be singing or as confined to a musical style preference (e.g., so-called “worship music”), nor b) superimposing liturgical notions of “service,” thus obscuring worship
4. balance reverence with familial informality — establishing a patently respectful, informal (although not a casual) approach to worship and other church activities
5. cause an acceptance of the biblical place of the believer’s immersion in clothing oneself with Jesus as Savior — thus identifying fully with His death, burial, and resurrection (as a result, eradicating residual trust in such items as infant sprinkling, the incantational “sinner’s prayer,” and institutional church affiliation)
6. instill a solid, long-lasting, far-reaching concept and practice of discipleship, as opposed to false security in hereditary church “membership”

Not all the twelve items (the ones above, plus the last six) are of equal importance, but they are all important to me.  They don’t represent the gamut of need within Christendom; there are other areas that need attention, as well.  I don’t claim to be all that circumspect or insightful — only ardent for pure Christianity where I find its current iteration tainted.

While the list of twelve items may contract or expand with the passing years, I have given these enough thought, through enough time, that I expect them to remain with me, to some extent, until I die — or until the Son returns to claim His own.  I do not believe m/any of the items will ever come to pass, in any appreciable measure.  In the circles in which I have influence, however, God giving me life and influence, I am resolved to encourage the absorption of these and other aspects of biblically well-founded Christianity.

Twelve for 2012 (1)

Caveat lector:  Despite my deep-and-wide-spreading neo-protestant roots, I don’t want to be a tree made of hard wood that never sways with the refreshing breezes of God’s Spirit.

I do intentionally strike a posture of challenge toward any nominally Christian element that seems not to emanate from scripture.  Plus, I’m relatively comfortable with speaking sincerely, earnestly, even prophetically (although NOT miraculously so! – I claim no special revelation, only attentiveness to the witness of God’s inspired spokesmen of old) for God and for pure Christianity.

The M.O. of quasi-prophetic, interrogatory speech necessarily counters long-practiced norms, and a good many beliefs tenaciously held by the masses.  [To friends and acquaintances who tolerate and/or love me anyway most of the time:  is this introductory elaboration helping to illuminate?]  I make no apology for speaking against cults, various human hierarchies, and merely tradition-based denominational tenets, but if I ever seem to be battling the individual’s sincere, independent pursuit of Almighty God and His kingdom, I stand ready to be corrected.

Several months ago, I was led to think anew about the tone of some of my blogposts—thus the verbal groundwork laid above.  I had actually started this piece before the beginning of 2012 but was unsure about it.  I’m still unsure about the thrust of a few items.  Although some question remains about certain extents, my reluctance stems more from insecurity over the reception of what I’ll be saying.

We’re now almost finished with 2012.  Although originally planned for 1/1/12, this post is now scheduled to be broadcast at 12:12 on 12/12/12.  Nice number, huh?  The ramifications of some of the items below are surely broad, and I don’t present them, deluded, as “gospel.”  I’m fully aware of the audacity of some of them.  In order to frame them clearly as humanly fallible, I’ll now present these items in half-twelve lists of six, the “number of man.”

I would like to present these somewhat incendiary thoughts with a special invitation for feedback.  Responses I receive may be used in, or as, follow-up posts, so if you write privately, please confirm whether you want to remain anonymous if quoted.  Perhaps we can have some valuable discussions—whether openly on the blog or on the backchannels.

Here, then, are the first six things I would do in, to, and for the earthly, western church of the 21^st century, if I had the ability.

If I could, I would

1. instantiate exegetical Bible study methods into every Christian church
2. morph sermons, with their “points” and jokes and poems, into studies with scriptural exegesis at their core
3. abolish the “pastor/minister” role altogether — this role (not to mention its attendant hierarchies) is an unknown entity in New Testament writings, and although many of these individuals clearly do good in our day, the harm inherent in the position and its ramifications is not insignificant; perpetuation of the institution is contra-indicated, although many of the persons currently in such positions could serve well in other roles
4. inculcate the principle of the Bible as “the only rule for faith and practice” — and this would necessitate a) ridding ourselves of superimposed creeds and “faith statements,” and b) abandoning residual loyalties to articulate, more or less charismatic non-specially-inspired personages, whether past or present
5. eradicate all traces of denominational pride and loyalty (if not all evidence of denominations, period)
6. sell most of the church buildings in the country, leaving only the ones used several days a week for Kingdom business and neighborhood service

To be continued . . . my next post will list the remaining six items. . . .

Collabo-vestment

One of the current paradigms in my vocation (conducting) involves seeing what we do in music-making as largely collaborative.  Having moved far from the old-school model of the tyrannical conductor who demanded, and shouted, and treated those who played single wrong notes as worthless slackers, these days, many of us tend to see leading music from the conductor’s podium more in terms of inviting and coaching and collaborating.

Examples of collaborative efforts in my job these days include

• inviting input from section leaders regarding the need for special work on difficult musical passages
• sharing Google Drive documents with graduate assistants — for their participation in announcements, scheduling, logistics and transportation, and meetings
• asking questions of chamber groups relating to flexing the rehearsal schedule
• asking questions, in general, instead of statements (when feasible)
• creating and maintaining councils of student officer-servants
• engaging ensemble members via comments and nonverbal communications (including conducting gestures)

To the extent that a musical enterprise is collaborative, as a rule, the musicians will be more invested.

Is there a top-down hierarchy in a musical ensemble?  Often, yes.  I’m the music director and conductor.  I’m currently aided by assistant directors who not only have administrative capabilities but who conduct well, too.  And there are section leaders and others who play important leadership roles at times.  While I don’t deny that there are certain elements of the so-called benevolent monarchy from my conductor’s podium — and surely, “the buck stops” with the conductor in certain matters — I often find myself considering ways to be more collaborative.

All other things being equal, the more successful I am with spawning collaborative mechanisms and opportunities, the more invested the members of the musical ensemble become.

To the extent that a congregational enterprise is collaborative, the believers will also be more invested.

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P.S.  In churches, examples of top-down hierarchy and unfortunately non-collaborative paradigms include elders’ meetings and preachers’ sermons.

A musical artist

What makes an “artist” an Artist?

In these days of the indiscriminate bandying about of the word “artist” to describe pretty much any teeny-bopper who can hold a microphone to her face, I wanted to bring to my readers a description of a personal hearing of a true musical artist. 

On Saturday night, October 6, a few student friends and I had the opportunity to hear Mark Jenkins, euphonium soloist with “The President’s Own” U.S. Marine Band.  Of course, the band’s performance of other works was impressive — I enjoyed the rendition of Mackey’s Asphalt Cocktail and John Williams’s March from 1941, but it is Jenkins’s euphonium that I would drive many miles to hear again.  (I sincerely hope Jenkins is a believer:  discovering that he possesses a sense of being gifted by God would stack joy upon joy, as I re-live the finest soloistic musical performance I’ve experienced in at least five years.  This is saying a lot, because I hear a lot of good music regularly.)

Mark Jenkins, euphoniumist extraordinaire

Jenkins’s performance was astounding.  It was emotionally charged and of high musical impact.  During one stretch, he pinned my ears to the wall, then proceeded to mesmerize me. Moments later, he undid me with rapturous phrasing and tones.  It was not only the brilliant effervescence of the dazzling concert piece that impressed.  The linear beauty of the encore, a tender aria from Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi, was even more deeply moving.  For me, the presence of words in this performance would have compromised the sheer beauty of the music; no singer could have approached this purity.

A further response on responses.  I think standing ovations are far, far too common these days.  In this case, however, I was among the first ten people to stand for Mark Jenkins.  I remain proud of my decision to “stand out in a crowd.”  Even after the soloist’s return to stage, not everyone in the audience was standing, and that’s fine, but I did find the seeming greater enthusiasm for a lesser-talented vocalist (whose mic was far too live) imbalanced and telling.  The public doesn’t always have a developed sense of artistic quality!  I don’t discount that the vocalist’s songs clearly impacted the majority of the audience that night; however, musically speaking, the singing was not in the same league as the offerings of the euphonium soloist.

Thank you, God, for endowing certain humans like Mark Jenkins with gifts of great aesthetic value.

Thank you, Mark Jenkins, for showing a couple thousand people at Shea’s in Buffalo what a truly artistic performance is.

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P.S.  For those interested, Mark Jenkins’s Marine rank is abbreviated as GySgt.  (Despite the fact that at least two military families were represented among my group, no one actually knew what “GySgt” stood for, before looking it up!)  I opted out of using the military rank above, because Jenkins is not my GySgt.  In relation to me, and in relation to 99% of the October 6 audience, Jenkins was no military man; he was simply an artistic performer.  Similarly, I don’t use the title “pastor” to refer to someone who is not my pastor.  If the person doesn’t stand in relation to me as pastor, or father, or lieutenant, or head honcho, I don’t see the point in using either an honorific or a functional title when addressing him/her.  Nor do I want people outside of an academic context to refer to me with my academic title.  This is just me, and I do realize I’m in a tiny minority here.

Inappropriate

Some things are just inappropriate.

• The use of John Lennon’s song “Imagine” in the closing ceremony of the supposedly unifying, unified Olympics

This song contains patently offensive lyrics — in the ears of attentive Christians, that is.   You may think, “Oh, it’s just a popular song” or “What’s wrong with it?  It’s got a message of hope.”  Among some nice or at least neutral thoughts, though, two lyric lines spur the hearer toward the blasphemous conception of an eternity in which there is no heaven — no eternal home.  I don’t think the use of this song was very unifying or even smart.  It was inappropriate at best.  But then again, most people — Christians included — aren’t that discerning, and probably neither noticed nor cared much.

• The phrase “rock the vote”

This catch-phrase has been applied, for 20 years, to the effort to get young people (presumably rock music fans) to vote.  It seems to me that the event organizers must find the political process more deeply significant than the trivializing phrase “rock the vote” implies.  Phrases such as “rock-n-roll,” “we’re rockin’,” “you rock,” “rock the vote,” etc., are so deeply mired in pop culture as to render themselves unworthy of any meaningful process, event, or concept.

Said another way:  if I were sitting on the fence between political activity and inactivity, the phrase “rock the vote” certainly would not move me to get involved.  The ineffectiveness of the phrase (to my ears) has something to do with my age bracket, I’ll admit.  Just as much, though, I perceive an inherent incongruity between the purportedly deep, broadly applicable political enterprise on one hand, and the immaturity of so many rock-related concepts, practices, and celebrities on the other.  (Please know, if you’re inclined to write off this whole item, that I like some classic and progressive rock music, stylistically speaking — namely, KANSAS, Styx, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Boston, ELO, and a few more.)

• The title “Reverend” (used to address, or to refer to, a human)

Taking a descriptive word applied only to Deity in scripture and then applying it to a supposed “vicar” — really?  One who actually thinks about the title “Reverend” will surely realize what an affront it is to God.  (And if one doesn’t think about it . . . well, why tie an epithet to someone if you’re not thinking about it?!)  Would that Christians would consider that, if they use the title “Reverend” to refer to a human, 1) they are not on solid ground, 2) they could be found to be blaspheming, and 3) they may simply be pandering to societal scenaria.  Calling a human “Reverend” pushes far beyond impropriety.

Inconsistencies

We humans can be really hypocritical inconsistent.

1.  Some Mormons once told me they were forbidden to drink any coffee or tea, because caffeine was addictive.  The restriction, which I believe was universal, i.e., not specific to a ward/district, excluded herbal tea, which is not tea, strictly speaking, and which contains no caffeine at all.  On the other hand, Mormons were allowed to drink hot chocolate, which does have caffeine.

Hmm.  And we won’t even get into the rather blatant, blasphemous inconsistency presented by the very existence of the Book of Mormon.

2.  As I understand it, Amish citizens are ruled by local bishops, at least in some respects; some of the rules do change by the district/area.  I know of one Amish man who agreed to advertise his repair business through a local community theater, which was at the time producing The Sound of Music.  Leaving alone the generally wholesome nature of this particular show — it ain’t Gypsy or Rent, after all — I found interesting the connections between racial/religious persecution (well known in Amish history) and the Alpine area from which this Amish man’s family originated.  He had no prior conception of the show, but there developed a conflict.  His decision to advertise in The Sound of Music program was overruled by his bishop; the man retracted his ad, but generously, strangely allowed the money to remain in the hands of the theater organization.

Hmm.  Didn’t want to be associated with something in print, but allowed his money to support the enterprise.  It’s commonly known that Amish folks are forbidden to have telephones as communication devices in their homes, and yet some are allowed, by special dispensation.  Telephones are either tools of the devil or not, right?  Amish folks do not have electricity, yet they run hot water heaters on diesel fuel.  So many inconsistencies.

Please know that these paragraphs are not intended as a special indictment of the Amish.  We live near quite a few of them and consider one family our friends.  All the Amish I’ve ever interacted with are pleasant, charming, industrious, decent people.  Although they attempt to live devotedly plainly and unspotted from the world, they are, in another way, quite like the rest of us:  they are inconsistent and have some really silly rules.

3.  Churches of Christ are notorious for disallowing women from participating in certain roles.  One particularly striking, stark example is that, traditionally, women do not serve the elements of communion while standing and passing the trays from row to row.  However, women almost always pass the trays from side to side on a given pew.  Perpendicular service is not okay, but parallel service is?

Hmm.  Contrast the above lack of opportunity to serve with the frequent identification of church women as very good cooks who serve wonderfully at congregational meals.  In one case, we forbid serving, and in another, we essentially require them to serve.

Inconsistent?  I think so.

I see another inconsistency in the common notions of “Sabbath”:  despite the biblical fact that there is no Christian Sabbath — it was a Jewish thing with no documented, post-Pentecost manifestation — we look down our noses at those who rake leaves or wash their cars (do laundry? wash dishes? pick up toys?) on Sunday, and yet we have church staff who are required to work on the same day.  Here, we could eradicate church staff altogether and solve the problem,  :-o   or we could at least stop holding tenaciously, with what I tend to take as false piety, to an a-biblical idea.

What are some other inconsistencies found within Christendom?

* * *

Recently my blog has attracted a dozen or so regular followers who don’t appear to have Christian underpinnings.  I’m glad for these new readers.  But I’m sometimes embarrassed about the inconsistencies seen within Christianity.  Those from without can see them; why can’t we see them from within, and make adjustments in our thinking and practice?

It’s really not all that important, guys

Come along with me, siblings, for I am about to “sin” again.  

It has been three months since my last protest.

(Anyone got an indulgence for sale, cheap?  This neo-protestant may need absolution soon.)

The inset quotations below, mired in sub-cultural egocentrism (read:  ”we are chest-deep in thinking our religion is really, really important”), came in a recent news report (URL below). . . .

Pope Benedict XVI will visit Philadelphia in 2015 to host the Vatican World Meeting of Families, he announced today as this year’s meeting wrapped up in Milan.

Wow, really?  And I, just as I wrap up some of my programming and planning business in New York, am about to announce a visit to Colorado.  Bully for me.

Archbishop of Philadelphia Charles Chaput was on hand, and, according to tweets from Catholic News Agency, was up on the stage “chatting up a storm” with the pope, thanking him as he kissed the papal ring.

Yay, Charlie.  Bully for you, too.  You seem to know how to win friends and influence popes.  Now:  if you can look yourself in the mirror after kissing a man’s ring, you are either deluded by years of subservience to a religion gone awry, or you are no man yourself.

Chaput, who moved to Philadelphia from Denver last year, is one of the most outspoken U.S. bishops on the intersection of Catholic life and society and politics.

Charles Chaput

Okay, I think I’ve got this straight.  Charlie is not only employed by, and beholden to, the most bloated, blasphemous Christian organization¹ on the planet, but he also must think it matters that he intersects stupidity Catholicism with other stupidity politics.

The announcement comes “amid a scene of epic turbulence for the Northeastern fold,” says Philadelphia-based Catholic blogger Rocco Palmo.

At “Whispers in the Loggia,” he’s posted from the grateful Chaput’s official chancery a response, calling the visit . . . a gift to the local Church in Philadelphia and to the whole nation.

Celebrate, then, Philadelphia!  Bake an enormous cake for Benedict’s trip, and pull out all the stops along Broadway and across Market and Chestnut.  May Rittenhouse Square be festooned for the ’15 festivities with logos and brands (more wastes of marketing departments).  May Boathouse Row gleam! May you all fool yourselves into thinking this one visit of one man matters one whit in the spiritual world.  

Palmo points out that Chaput’s first nine months in office “…have been dominated by the fallout of a flood of legal, administrative and financial crises which erupted in the wake of a February 2011 grand jury report, the second in five years to probe the archdiocese’s handling of sex-abuse cases across several decades.”

Lest anyone stumble upon my site and have no idea what I am about, let it be clear here that my ire a) is directed toward the Roman Catholic institution, not individuals, and b) is about theology and darkness and power structures and anti-biblical and a-biblical practices, not about the more recently surfacing stories of atrociously immoral actions of priests here and there.  I do not decry the Catholic machine because of those disgusting acts or the subsequent cover-ups.  These specific problems are only symptoms of an abhorrently errant system.  I resist centuries of history, not only decades.  And I boldly call others to join this resistance.

Now, one last provocative bit from the article:

DO YOU THINK… Benedict can persuade more Catholics to follow church doctrine on sexuality and family life?

Uh … no.   Despite people’s insistence that they “are” Catholic, the actions — the real life patterns of the majority of ethnic/born-in Catholics — continue to suggest that the whole thing is a charade.

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Read the complete article, only if you really have a lot of free time, at http://content.usatoday.com/communities/Religion/post/2012/06/pope-to-visit-philadelphia-in-2015-/1#.T8wEYbBSS8A

¹ The Latter-Day Saint (Mormon) organization does not qualify as Christian, or we might have a tussle on our hands.

Methods

A recent presentation touted solfège methodology in training a choir.

I thought, “Yes, I suppose solfège is valuable in that way, and probably more so than I’d thought previously.”

I then remembered a telling, sonic display, a year and a half prior, of four junior and senior choral students – well-versed in this solfège method – three of whom had grave difficulty finding pitches in a simple hymn tune, both in rehearsals and performance.  It seems to me, on reflection, that the solfège method isn’t all it’s cracked up to be in the context of choral pedagogy.  Let’s be honest:  when trained singers can’t find pitches within a major scale, their sight-singing skills are lacking.  And, to the current point, pedagogical methods employed in order to deepen these very sight-singing abilities must bear some of the blame.

And our Christian methodologies — in and out of ecclesiastica, in and out of devotional life and Bible study — should all be examined honestly, as well.  Some will be found not to be as effective as we assume they are.  Certain methods might have been given credence by their mere perpetuity, rather than by their validity or their proven effectiveness.

3 things

Thinking out loud here . . . should I call a person by a title because religious protocol tells me I should?

“Reverend”?
“Pastor”?
“Father”?

Me genoito!  (Rom. 6:2–yeah, I’m ripping this Greek from its context to support my agenda, but it’s just an interjection, after all.)  Those 3 labels are among those that I have resolved never to call any other human.  If I did call someone by one of these titles, the reality wouldn’t change, of course: the person would still not be reverend, for example.  Yet the use of such titles does suggest subservience to a non-biblical system.

The problem is twofold.  Foremost, it’s God’s will that is conceptually over all; He, through the eternal Son, has ruled that no one of us is lord over another — and, specifically, that we should not call each other “Father.”  This much is clear:  there are no hierarchical rankings in the Kingdom.  Even Peter referred to himself as a “fellow elder,” not setting himself up over others in terms of spiritual influence, so why should anyone today think he is over anyone else?

Even if the Father, in the “vertical” sphere, had expressed nothing along these lines, the problem of religious titles would still exist in another sphere — the horizontal one.  Churches would still need to deal decisively with the ramifications of setting one person or a group of persons above others. 

Church is really not about the clergyfolk.  Those in paid ministry positions (where such positions seem necessary!) should stop calling attention to themselves by the use of titles, by hogging corporate time, and by generally thinking they have rank in the Kingdom of God.  Some of the problem is not the fault of the clergyfolk per se; it’s the fault of the system that insists, by its very existence, that we all perpetuate the problem.

Where do you stand?  Will you pander to the persistent problem, or be about the Father’s business, in and through a better body life?

Monkish monkey-business revisited

This post won’t be all that well-thought-out.  Maybe entertaining in a spot or two, though?

Several times in this space, I have commented critically on the “Kansas Monks”–those associated with Benedictine College in Atchison, Kansas.  Although I have a fond feeling for Atchison in general, having spent three important years of my life there and having made some good friends (a few of whom I’ve kept!) I have no fond feelings for monks — these or any other — or what they stand for.

Once, I wrote that I would not write about the “Kansas Monks” ever again on this blog, but I am reneging.  I figure that repeatedly ignored requests that they take me off their fundraising, propagandizing mailing list will be seen to justify at least this one coming-out-of-hiding on my part.

A few months back, I couldn’t resist saving a page out of their most recent magazine.  A sidebar shows pics of six monks (I guess that’s the umbrella term; four are labeled “father,” and another two are called “abbot”), along with blurbs about what each of them does with the internet as part of monkish “ministry.”

1. A monk named Miller has 4,200 Facebook friends.  Bully for him.  That’s sad, because it probably means he’s got a following of college students who’ve crossed his path and had wool pulled over their eyes.
2. One named Senecal “gathers prayer requests” via the monks’ website.  Any specific criticism of this one runs a high risk of my impugning his motives, so I’ll merely confess and move on.
3. The coup?  A monk named Habiger “spreads the news of natural family planning via an e-mail newsletter.”  And what a gospel is that!  And what an (pardon me while I grab my tongue with a forceps and shove it irrevocably into my cheek) amazingly credible witness to a Pope-induced, biblically sound limitation!

In other words, gimmeabreak.  How is a monk going to talk about anything that has to do with sex?  At best, he’s a disingenuous, meddling homiletician with a concocted, a-biblical message he’s passing off, by virtue of his cloth, as biblical.

I have to wonder, further on #3 above, whether the whole Pope-against-contraception thing got started — presumably overtly in about 1930, but whenever — because he and all his henchmen realized that they needed to try to ensure continuous re-population so that they could maintain whatever degree of hold they had on the world.

Cynical? Sad? But maybe true?

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For those interested, here are links to a few of the posts that dealt with these monkeys in the past.

http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/05/20/osb-at-it-3-times-already-this-year/

http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/08/28/vianneys-folly-3-of-3/

http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/08/26/a-central-tenet-of-neo-protestantism-1-of-3/

If’n ya’awnt to (3) …

Caveat lector:  “If’n ya’awnt to” is prefatory Southernese for “if you want to.”  In this brief series, I’m giving neo-Protestant attention to several erroneous assumptions common to thinking and practice in Christendom.  All of this is predicated on the ideas that humans may choose courses of action, and that some choices make more sense — biblical, or common, or both — than others.

Part 3

Here are a few more words and expressions that are used to describe something though they do not describe that thing in fact:

D.  If’n ya’awnt to, you can “baptize”[1] a baby … yup, I suppose you can, but that action only has potential meaning for the grown-ups, not for the tiny, human subject of the ceremony.  On t’utha han’, if’n ya’awnt to, you can relate every instance of the word “baptism” in the scriptures to overwhelming by the Holy Spirit, a la two or three significant occurrences in the Acts recorded by Luke, but “Holy Spirit Baptism” shouldn’t be the assumed meaning of the isolated word “baptism” in scripture.

E.  If’n ya’awnt to, you can assume that the words “koinonia” and “fellowship” refer to mere togetherness, networking, “body life,” or worse—further fattening ourselves at congregational meals.  But the biblical koinonia is more than that, and you we might as well realize it.  In the scriptures, koinonia speaks of partnership in a task or project.

F.  If’n ya’awnt to, you can think that

1. worship equals the music you use
2. worship equals the assembly
3. worship equals “the service”/the liturgy

. . . but worship transcends all of these.

If’n ya’awnt to, you can think and do a lot of things in your church life that have little to do with scriptural principles and patterns but that are instead based in choice and freedom.  By God’s design, we have personal freedom.  But for those who want to do things that matter, things that make rational and spiritual sense, there are higher standards than personal freedom.

If’n ya’awnt to, you can a) realize and b) act on whatever truth you find contained in these words, “searching the scriptures to see if these things are so,” regardless of whatever biases and attitudes are or are not found in the writer.

And, if’n ya’awnt to, you can affirm, or take exception to, a point by adding a comment of your own.  I encourage this!

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[1] Here, “baptize” is assumed to mean“sprinkle”—I don’t know of any religious group that actually baptizes babies.  “Baptize” means “immerse.”

If’n ya’awnt to (2) …

Caveat lector:  “If’n ya’awnt to” is prefatory Southernese for “if you want to.”  In this brief series, I’m giving neo-Protestant attention to several erroneous assumptions common to thinking and practice in Christendom.  All of this is predicated on the ideas that humans may choose courses of action, and that some choices make more sense — biblical, or common, or both — than others.

Part 2

C.  Religious titles

1.  If’n ya’awnt to, you can believe that “reverend” equals “designated, sanctioned minister,” but that doesn’t make it so, and it’s irreverent—quite literally—to God, Who is the only One referred to as reverend in scripture.  Properly used, and primarily, the word “reverend” is adjectival, not titular

2.  If’n ya’awnt to, you can ignore Jesus on the matter of whether to call a mere man “Father” or “teacher” (Matthew 23), but I don’t know why you would want to ignore Him.

Aside:  Long ago, I resolved never to call a man “Father” or “Reverend”—no matter if it were a Roman priest on the softball field or a guest speaker in a public venue.  I have wavered because of a situation or two, but I have not fallen.  God helping me, I will continue in this resolve, and will hope to be instructive, not offensive, in this course of action.

3.  Further, if’n ya’awnt to, you can call your full-time minister “pastor,” but the pastoral role, as sporadically depicted in New Covenant documents, is a fur piece from the pastor’s role in any church I’ve known of in my lifetime.  If’n ya’awnt to, you can belong to the massive hunk of Christian flesh that misuses the term “pastor” to mean “head preacher guy” or “leader in charge of everything.”  But the use of the term doesn’t make the man a pastor-in-fact, and you may be an accomplice to the biblically criminal perpetuation (or, to un-mix a metaphor, you may be a cell in the festering, cancerous wart on the Body of Christ) of the hierarchical scenario that is all too common in churches.  This is not just about terminology.  It is about the functioning of the Body.  It is, after all, a Body, not a business . . . and the Christ is the Head.

4.  And again, if’n ya’awnt to, you can set up a minister/preacher/pastor as the “head” man, designating him “senior pastor,” but such titles and designated hierarchies are unknown in the pages of the New Covenant writings.  Corollary:  If’n ya’awnt to, you can call your 28-year-old preaching person who has recently graduated with honors from seminary “Senior Pastor,” but that’s probably more appropriate if your whole church is under the age of 20.

* * *

Part 3 will continue in challenging both word uses and their accompanying, erroneous actions.  If’n ya’awnt to, you can think it’s merely an attitude problem that causes one to spend time on such challenges … or you can a) realize and b) act on the truth you find contained in these words, “searching the scriptures to see if these things are so” (Acts 17:11) regardless of whatever biases and attitudes are, or are not, found in the writer.

If’n ya’awnt to (1) …

“If’n ya’awnt to” is Southernese for “if you want to.”  Introducing each item by this prefatory drawl, this neo-Protestant would like to give attention to several erroneous assumptions common to thinking and practice in Christendom.

I’m actually going to be more serious about these items than the Southernese might lead one to suspect, but if I tick someone off with the content, I figgered the drawl might be seen to infuse the content with some levity.  All of this will be predicated on these ideas:

• Humans may choose courses of action
• Some choices make more (biblical, or common, or both) sense than others.

A.      If’n ya’awnt to, you can think Jesus established your denomination in A.D. 33 (or 29 or 30—take your pick), but He didn’t establish any humanly named group then.  Apostatic humans established denominations, and Jesus never intended them.  (Yes, no matter how much you may wish to protest, your denomination [or “non-denomination”], whether the CofC or the UMC or the SBC or the Roman Catholic Church, is but one of the humanly named, divided groups not envisioned by God and our Christ.  All the separate groups are but denominations [named] and are of human origin, to one extent or another.)

B.      If’n ya’awnt to, you can believe that “Catholic Church” or Roman/popish Church = “The Church,” but that doesn’t make it so.  It is offensive to many more biblically centered Christians when you perpetuate the fallacy of referring to the Roman institution as “The Church.”  There are other myopic groups that have historically used generic, universal terminology in attempts at self-description, too.  Once one begins to understand that his group does not constitute the whole, it is at best blind and at worst arrogant to perpetuate such exclusive labeling.

It is quite possible that no Roman Catholics or Roman-sympathizers will read this material.  Why, then, include the item above?  Because the rest of us should be righteously indignant when newscasters or RCC officials or others use the term “The Church” to refer to the RC institution.

* * *

Part 2 will continue in challenging both word uses and their accompanying, erroneous actions.  If’n ya’awnt to, you can think it’s merely an attitude problem that causes one to spend time on such challenges … or you can a) realize and b) act on the truth you find contained in these words, “searching the scriptures to see if these things are so” (Acts 17:11) regardless of whatever biases and attitudes are, or are not, found in the writer.