It’s not about ____; it’s about _____

It’s not about age; it’s about dementia
Folks should stop talking about President Biden’s age.  (This is one of the 184 reasons I abhor, detest, and otherwise hate the news media.)  The issue has only an indirect connection to age, and the media’s insistence on using the term “age” obscures the problem.  Quite a few 81-year-olds could have functioned as president.  (Former President Trump’s age doesn’t appear to be a factor in consideration of him; it’s more that his megalomaniacal character is thoroughly repulsive, making any positive ideas he has seem negative . . . plus and the fact that more than 50% of the country will be reduced to tears or violence if he is elected again.)  President Biden is clearly suffering from dementia, and it will not get better.  It will continue to get worse.  The Democratic party must do something else if it wants to make any sense to those citizens who have sense.  Now, on to things with more lasting significance.

It’s not about “respect for ‘the Bible'”; it’s about responsible treatment of scriptural texts
This distinction is only one reason I’m not returning, on a nationally significant Sunday, to the church in which the nature of a scriptural text was treated with disrespect last week.  (See here for some detail.  It’s not about upholding a particular creation theory as though the Bible taught that theory and required believing people to believe it.)  This Sunday for us will involve portions of four assemblies, with brass-playing at 7:00, then again at 8:45 and 10:30; then at another location at 10:50.  I hope I have the conscious thought of giving a musical sacrifice to God through my playing.  If not, at least I will have done the thing that serves others.  It’s not about the music, really, although the music is fine; it’s about honoring God and serving others.

It’s not about religious observance; it’s about Jesus
Although we should make opportunities and keep commitments to be with other Christians, it’s not about where we are and whether we observe things in a traditional/religious way.  It’s not about doing “Easter,” in other words.  It’s about the Lord Jesus, who, after his sacrificial death and resurrection, received the “name above every name.” ¹

This is why I often keep my Kingdom New Testament in sight.  Even seeing its cover can lead me to a thought of Jesus the Christ.

This is why I have two hymnals out and have had been intending this past week to create some new music for words that worship Jesus.

This is why I have talked about Jesus more with my son recently—and why we shared some thoughts and a brief-but-meaningful memorial time on Friday afternoon.

The early Jesus movement—before the Christian church started becoming more institutionalized—was quite devoted to Him in worship, as documents and artifacts show.  (Please see here and here for links to Larry Hurtado’s scholarly articles on the nascent Jesus movement.)  Disciples today will also naturally worship and devote ourselves to Jesus if we understand who He was, what happened while He was on earth, and who He is now.

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¹ This is the “naming” that rightly, finally and inextricably declares that Jesus Christ is God, one with the Father.  Philippians 2:9.  In other words, Christ is κυριός | kurios (Lord), and that selfsame word had been used to translate the Hebrew YHVH in the Septuagint that Saul-Paul knew.  https://hopeondemand.com/what-is-his-name/kurios

Religion vs. spirituality

An acquaintance posted this from a third source.  I find it worthy of critical thought.  And what better day than a Sunday, the “Lord’s Day” (Rev 1:10), to comment on religion and spirituality?  Of course all the other days are His, too, but here goes.

Right out of the gate, I will say that I typically view “religion” as a negative.  For me, the word connotes tradition and ritual more than genuine Christian practice.  (While I hold that tradition and ritual are hindrances, they do not necessarily exclude genuineness.)  During Christian seasons such as the present Lent, I suppose more “religion” is being practiced by more Christian people, but more practice does not equate to more Christianity going on.  I say all this not to preach this particular point, but to establish that my general predisposition would be to favor spirituality over religion, as I conceive of each word.  But in this philosopher’s “spiritual guidance” list, not so much.

The original source of this information is apparently known as a “spiritual guide” and is of the New Age variety.  I’ll take the seven items in order.

1. These ideas are false:  that worshipping God is somehow a negative, and that “oneness with God” is somehow contradictory to the inner compulsion to worship.  Both worship and oneness with God are good things, unless seasoned with New Age thought.  A wispy, vacuous, meaningless, postmodern sense of “spirituality,” as is often heard from celebrities,¹ is the real culprit here.
2. Once again we see a false dichotomy:  Almighty Creator God is at once other and within.
3. In one way of looking at things, religion does tend to separate people, e.g., by location on Sunday mornings.  On the other hand, if “spirituality” unites people despite contradictory beliefs, that spirituality and that unity turn out to be shallow.  Authentic Christianity will naturally separate people at times, while also fostering unity where possible.
4. Certainly not all religion teaches the fear of hell.  Not all religion even talks about hell.  While it is said that hell is spoken of in Hebrew and Christian scriptures more frequently than heaven, that doesn’t mean folks necessarily have a viable view of either of the above, or of the afterlife at all.  The concept of “heaven on earth” is also a big can of worms that I’m not going to dump out here.  (Worms are creepy, although full of protein, and their mere mention suggests digestive  issues.  I’ve had nightmares about tapeworms.)  Suffice it to say that no agnostic, atheistic, or theistic group has a corner on the real future.  No one knows.
5. Now about fear/restriction vs. love/freedom.  It’s true that some religion over-emphasizes fear and restriction, and that emphasis has been duly mocked.  The second word-pair is far more profound, naturally attracting deeper minds and provoking deeper contemplation.  There is so much here that is not possible to reduce to a pithy couplet.  From a positive perspective, we might well say that fear and restriction can be absolutely good things in their place, and they are natural outgrowths of mature human experience, occurring simultaneously with love and freedom.
6. This drop/ocean comparison doesn’t speak to me, but it reminds me of a Shirley MacLaine scene.  If you have 2.5 extra minutes right now, go here and skip to about midway through the clip.  This was once mercilessly mocked by the late Tony Campolo.  I don’t think it serves a human to think of himself as being the ocean, the sky, a mountain, or an anthill (or an ant in the anthill).  Rather, we constitute a unique species among many created by God.  Maybe that makes us more like a drop than an ocean?  On the other hand, the “ocean of humanity” has received special attention by the Creator.  But one of us is no ocean.  Oh, well.  Enough on that.
7. This final couplet is more important to treat than some others.  If spirituality is based on personal experience alone, then any right-minded person ought to be wary of said spirituality.  On the flipside, if “religion” is based only on the experience of others, that too is suspect.  I would suggest that something between the extremes is best:  we should recognize the place of both the wisdom of the ages and our own experience.  I should benefit from, and capitalize on, the worthy experiences of others—say, those of Jesus, Simon Peter, Barnabas, Lazarus, Mary, Martha, Lydia, the Philippian jailer . . . our parents, some teachers, and more . . . using them all in the growth of the self toward the image of the Christ.

I don’t really aspire to be a “religious” person, no matter whose vernacular is in view.  I do on the other hand aspire to be a more “spiritual” person, assuming on-target parameters.  My parameters and definitions do not align with those of Gabi Kovalenko.  In fact, a quick perusal of material on the WWW reveals that she is a source to be avoided by any Christian.

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¹ Over the years, I must have read something like this 20-30 times in interviews with movie or pop music stars:  “I’m very spiritual.”  I never know what that statement means.  It can come by itself, or with an understood or expressed distance from Christianity (or any other religion).  The statement might even be connected with atheism, i.e., “I don’t worship the Christian God and don’t really believe in any God, but I like my inner feelings, and I think they are very ‘spiritual.'”  Poppycock.

Who are my brothers and sisters?

Some time ago, LaGard Smith wrote a book on Christian relationships that proposed “levels” of relationship.  I never read the book in its entirety but saw enough of it to know that, at the time, I was not in sympathy with its import.  A quick skim of the reviews online reminds me that it was a “reaction” book, written in part to refute what Smith saw as a bad direction in Church of Christ circles.  Max Lucado was a target.

The main issue I recall having had was that Smith proposed five levels of Christian relationship.  (Smith’s term of choice was “fellowship.”)  The desire to codify and draw circles rather than to accept others’ non-central viewpoints seemed, at the time, to be overzealous and over-exclusionary.  I still don’t care for the circle-drawing exercise.  For better or worse, though, I seem to find myself dealing with such levels in my all-too-real life.  Here is my quasi-engagement with Smith’s levels, moving from the most restrictive to the most open:

1. I have no “congregational fellowship” at all now.
2. A rather small cadre of “conscience fellowship” siblings exists, and I don’t lean into them enough.
3. The group of “In Christ” people I know is large, and I should lean into it more, too, but it’s elusive, given geography and life concerns.
4. The “Faith Fellowship” level probably implies basic belief in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and a few other “core” doctrines.  This could be an area for growth, but I think I have a latent fear that if I think about this too much, even this level of Christian relationship will fade or become troublesome, practically speaking.  I’m OK for now with participating in some musical things at a couple of local churches, and enjoying generic faith statements, without too much pressure on them or me.
5. “Universal fellowship” with all humans as creations of God is significant and can come into play in such situations as helping the poor in general, or protecting an abused child, regardless of faith.

I imagine that Smith’s book appealed more to the middle-of-the-roaders, and I saw myself as a progressive Christian during the era in which the book was written.  Those to the right of Smith took grave exception to the very idea of having “in Christ” fellowship with those who were “in error” on other things.  To ponder that phrase now sends me into sharply critical mode, embarrassed by the self-righteousness of some of the people of my general heritage.  Fortunately, I’ve never been in a congregation that espoused that kind of thinking, although people’s visiting relatives and couple of outliers were sometimes culpable.

Some fourteen years ago, I recalled and wrote about an event in my life from twenty years before that time.  If you’ll read the two longer paragraphs at that blog link, it will both illustrate and connect to the last portion of the present post.

The synoptic gospels record that, at least once, Jesus spoke about family relationships, emphasizing spiritual connection instead.

Then Jesus’ mother and his brothers came. Standing outside, they sent word to him, to summon him.  A crowd was sitting around him and they said to him, “Look, your mother and your brothers are outside looking for you.”  He answered them and said, “Who are my mother and my brothers?”  And looking at those who were sitting around him in a circle, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers!  For whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

The NET Bible version includes this paragraph heading just above that passage:

Jesus’ True Family

Such headings can be intrusions into the text, but I like that one and don’t find it misleading.  In some way, and to some degree, the Lord surely was emphasizing spiritual, mission- and partnership-based relationship.

I’m glad for closer relationships with my sisters over the last couple of years in particular, but I continue to be sad, or mildly hurt, or aghast (depending) at some of the extended “family” relationships in my life.  In the past, I had been offended and left hanging out to dry by some, but most of that faded or was corrected in some measure.  Yet there was more to come.  And now, when I think of those I truly love as family, I quickly think of those with whom I have a historical, trusting, tested, “in Christ” relationship, but not necessarily a “blood” one.

Essentially, water is thicker than blood.  Those “in Christ” with whom I share rich Christian relationship and experience really turn out to be the closest extended family members.  They are, in the most important sense, “family.”  And that struck me again just recently as I heartily wished a dear friend “happy birthday” (not being much of a birthday-observing person myself), while ignoring the birthday of a blood relative that was one day later.

So who are my closest family members?  I won’t call them all by name here, but many of them are related to me only spiritually, and that is an eminently close relationship.  Others have been just as close in the past.  And I want more of this kind of relationship, no matter how it’s designated or where I find it.  And I think that I too “have the Spirit of God” (a shamelessly irresponsible, textual cherry-picking!) on this matter.

Did somebody mention church monikers and orientations?

No, actually, I don’t think anyone mentioned these things in my hearing, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about them.  Churches will probably always be catching my eye, if not capturing my heart.  It’s hard to get through a day without a thought—perhaps wistful or, likely, more negative—of one or more churches.  Here, I will not be not using the word “church” very biblically; I’m dealing rather in the sphere of denominating and denominations.

Earlier this month, while on a stress-reducing walk, I saw five or six adults standing outside a church building, probably just having finished a committee meeting.  As I approached on the other side of the street, two people walked away toward their cars and made it a point to greet me.  A few steps later, one who still stood close to the building also greeted me.  I did not really know any of these people.  I could not help but think that they were being friendly because they were, at that moment, connected to a church building.  They wanted to be good church people and look neighborly on behalf of the church.  If I had passed the same group outside a restaurant a few blocks away, when the same people were not functioning as arms of a recognized church, perhaps they wouldn’t have felt it incumbent on them to say “hello” to a stranger.  Is this line of thinking cynical of me?  Maybe, but it’s realistic.  I’ve lived too long and have seen and experienced too much.  (If found in a similar situation, I myself would have acted similarly in the past.)

I find a built-in falseness in such encounters, and I don’t find a lot of genuine meaning in anything that smacks of institutional church.  (This is no slight to the individuals, really.)  Despite that, and despite all the personal angst associated with churches, I keep thinking about them:

What type is this or that one? 
What leanings does it manifest?  Is it like the last one?
What are its leaders like? 
Does anyone seriously study scriptures there?
What dissidents might be within? 
Could I possibly find a home there?

And quite often, I think about church names.  Recent denomination-thoughts formed themselves into categories.  For starters, there are names that have to do with practices or perceived function, and also perhaps with the theology of their founders.

• Methodist
• Presbyterian
• Episcopal
• Congregational

Those denominational labels obviously connote far more than (1) method, (2-3) “presbyters” and bishops, or (4) organization.  Moreover, the connotations change over time.  A Methodist church in rural New York State today, for example, will not conjure up the same thoughts as a Methodist church in late 19C England.  The denominations’ respective practices obviously involve doctrine, to one extent or another, but the monikers of that group seem to emphasize pragmatics.

Nominally speaking, Baptist and Anabaptist names might be said to exist in the middle ground between function and doctrine.  On the other hand, some of the names below seem to be oriented to doctrine over practice or function:

• Lutheran
• Reformed
• Adventist[1]
• Wesleyan

At first blush, Mennonite churches would seem to be in the same category as “Lutheran,” in that they take their name from a person who espoused a set of doctrines.  However, in my experience these days, Lutherans are more attached to the person of Luther and to what he taught than the Mennonites are to Menno Simons.  Wesleyan churches seem more doctrine-oriented than Methodist churches, although they were both “founded” by John Wesley.

Some denominations give the spotlight to deity over function—in name, at least.

• Christian Church
• Church of God
• Church of Christ
• Church of God in Christ
• Disciples of Christ
• Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (on the surface, one of the best names there is, although the description is both verbose and deceptive)
• Community of Christ
• Assembly of God

Then there are the location-based splinter groups, such as these:

• Greek and Russian Orthodox
• African Inland Mission
• . . . and Wisconsin Lutherans or Missouri Synod Lutherans, plus any number of additional, splinters, further denominated by geography

Non-franchise churches are a mixed bag.  Some names seem pretty good (“God’s People on the White River” or “Faith Bible Fellowship”), while some (“Celebration Church” or “Family Life Church”) exhibit trite marketing, in my opinion.  And again, the focus here is more on the naming, not so much on the background theology, the pragmatics, or the people inside.  Of course there will be genuine disciples of Jesus in Roman Catholic churches, “methodists” (method-oriented people) in Reformed churches, “catholics” in Lutheran churches, and “baptists” in Churches of Christ.

“Community of Christ,” “Baptist,” “Congregational,” or other monikers can be meaningful, but each is also a potential barrier or a misnomer.  Despite the shortcomings of the Restoration Movement—and any movement will have them, and many are the people who will point them out—I’m still drawn to its ideal of being “Christians only.”

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[1] Goodness, what a mess in this branch. I just learned how many twigs there are. After the Millerite “disappointment” of 1844, it’s no surprise that there were a lot of splinter groups. They are not all Seventh-Day subscribers. The family tree even includes the Branch Davidians.  These do not seem very doctrinally unified, but they appear to hold in common idea of an imminent second coming (“advent”).

It shouldn’t be all Latin (or Greek) to them

A Roman walks in to a bar and says, “I’ll have a martinus.”
The bartender asks, “You mean a martini?”
The Roman replies, “No, if I wanted a double, I would have asked for one.”

That’s funny.

But that’s also the way it goes with most of those trained in the primary Latin-infused religion, Roman Catholicism.  It’s not always a Latin language orientation, but a RC angle on everything related to Christianity can enshroud anyone.  It must be acknowledged, too, that it’s the same situation with other denominations and groups:  the jargon takes on a life of its own.  It just happens that there are a bunch more Roman Catholics in the world than adherents of other systems.

Consider most English Bibles’ renderings of the word  ̔αγιος | hagios from the most ancient texts we have.  When used in the plural, this word is often translated “saints” or “holy ones.”

Imagine how difficult it is to get a Roman Catholic to read “refreshed the hearts of the saints” (Philemon 1:7) and realize it is referring to all the Christians in the given locale.  Philemon, to our knowledge, had not performed a miracle, and there was no “canonization” of people at the time.  There was no special class in Kolosse or Philippi or even in Jerusalem.  Sure, there were apostles who had special roles for a time, but they were no more worthy of grace in God’s eyes, nor had they any greater status ultimately, than Lydia in Thyatira, Naomi in Nazareth, Josh in Joppa, or Laura in Little Rock.  No set of Christians is any more special than the next set.

Perhaps it would be better to say that all of God’s people are in a single special class . . . but rooting out a problem like this might require a particularly strong negation.  Thus:  there is only one class of God-people, and there are no other classes in God’s eyes, period.  It’s difficult enough to communicate to your everyday Christian that s/he is, constitutionally, a saint.  And how much more difficult if you’ve grown up thinking that a “saint” is in a special class.

It’s not the fault of the individual Roman Catholics.  They may be, and many are, quite sincere in wanting to be God-people.  It’s the fault of the system.

As much as I gravitate to Greek, and as many times as the “it’s all Greek to me” joke has been heard, and as much energy as I sometimes feel when digging into a Greek text, I would never say the Christian Way is all about Greek.  Even more, it oughtn’t to be about Latin.

ὅτι τὰ σπλάγχνα τῶν ἁγίων ἀναπέπαυται διὰ σοῦ, ἀδελφέ.

quia viscera sanctorum requieverunt per te frater

Sauces as symbols

First, I would simply like to say that I have missed the flavor of A1 sauce.  I don’t think I’ve had any in my fridge for a year.

Second,¹ I would like to say that Aldi’s imitation A1 seems even zestier and more wonderful than the original.  (That could be because I haven’t had A1 in a while.)  And the knock-off brand is cheaper, too.

Third,² I’ve avoided baked potatoes for too long.  I’ve enjoyed them twice recently . . . with A1 sauce tonight!  Try it; you’ll like it.

Fourth, I would like to add that that I like sauces in general.  It’s not that I’m a connoisseur or a sauce-creator.  I mean, I’d love to have special sauces that only I know how to concoct, but I don’t.  I just like flavors, and dipping, and generally moist foods.

I think my affinity with flavorful sauces relates to a general distaste for the humdrum—in religion, in work, in cars, and more.  If it’s predictable, colorless, or flavorless, I’ll probably choose something else.

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¹ “Secondly” would have been improper and is, ironically, footnote #1.

² “Thirdly” sounds even more out of place, doesn’t it?  And it’s footnote #2.  Ha.

³ OK, I’ll quit.

WW: I tried (to be prompted)

I went to a Sunday School class this past Sunday.  It turned out to be not at all what I was expecting or what I would have hoped for, but that’s probably my fault.  I could have asked first what the text or topic was, but I don’t like to call attention to myself, so I just went.  And now, I repent.

It was too dissatisfying.  Too problematic.  I tried.  But not there again in the foreseeable future.

This personally sad statement is more sad, and more personal, because today, the day of posting, is my “new birth”-day.  It’s the anniversary of my immersion into Christ when I was nine.  It would have been right about this time of the evening.

~ ~ ~

Rewind to Sunday morning, 2/4
Having slept later than usual, sans alarm, I had just enough time this morning to get to a Bible class at the church I most often attend.  I’d only heard a month or two ago that there was a Bible class (it’s somewhat new here), and for various reasons, this would be my first try.

I almost talked myself out of it.  It would be a rush to clean up and get dressed and make it there in time.  I could make it, but it might be better if I just waited a week or so. . . .

Nah.  I talked myself back into it, got ready, and went.  You see, when I woke up with the idea in my head, I thought it might just be a thing of God . . . a “prompting” . . . or, the very least, something to help cure the spiritual doldrums and give me an opportunity to think, to read, to interact with people who are Christ-beings.

Back-stepping for a minute
I think of myself as someone who doesn’t fall prey to subjective Christian ideas too easily, and sometimes, I put the notion of “Spirit promptings” in that category.  I’d suggest that this tendency of mine is not necessarily good or bad, but I wouldn’t want it to take over completely.  That is to say, I wouldn’t want to be resistant to a bona fide prompting . . . nor would I want to hoist all sails to the wind, so to speak, and be carried about willy-nilly by something that might be the result of a large box fan instead of the Spirit-wind of God.

But I hoisted myself up and went to the Sunday School class.  And it immediately became clear that this class was going to be a discouragement, not a positive stimulus.

Then I began to wonder about a possible counter-prompting.  “Is this a sign that I shouldn’t go back to this church at all?  Am I so philosophically separate from this group that, when I go there, it’s just hurting me and my feeble attempts at living Christianly?”  I am almost always able to participate—with heart, mind, and voice—in a good portion of the thoughtful worship there.  Still, I was caused to wonder whether this church’s efforts, considered overall, are now more of a blockage to me than a boon.

Is this line of thinking now a prompting of God?

I have written next to nothing about “organic church” for a long time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.  The little Philemon group meeting in my living room is about 2/3 through its course now is the most diverse group yet.  Let’s just say I have to tippy-toe around a couple of things in order to ensure understanding and avoid offense, because of the radically different backgrounds in the room.  But the interaction has been encouraging, and the opportunity to have people interested in the letter in my living room just makes me want more of the same.

Now, back to “Sunday School”
I used the term “Sunday School” at the top, because that’s how I heard the class referred to, not because I like the term.  In the back of my mind, I was assuming it would in some sense be a “Bible class.”  But that turned out not to be.  It was about the New City Catechism, which I’ve heard recited serially here for several years.  This church has just decided to go through the NCC again, for what must be at least the third time.  This class itself was meta-catechetical in that it wasn’t even really about the NCC but about the rationale behind using it.  The three references to the scriptures (2 Timothy, Matthew, and Deuteronomy, in that order) were brought in to support the idea of catechetical instruction, not in order to understand those texts themselves.  (Aside:  what they were doing in this class could be connected to the larger Sunday School history, which was until the late 1800s more generally educational but also included religious catechesis.  This historical building is an example of a “Sunday school” building used for the lower classes.)

The main take-away here is that I want to be engaged in digging in a text, not paying homage to a litany of theological statements.  For me, it’s worse yet to spend time propping up the idea of how we’re going to spend time paying the homage.  This experience was personally discouraging to me, although I could sense that most or all the others in attendance had a very positive experience.

One might think, “Well, maybe a lot of people in that church need such instruction.”  I’ve thought something similar in the past, because I have presumed there is a generally lower education level there than in most churches.  But that might have been an inaccurate assessment.  The cross-section of people in this class seemed articulate, and also scripturally and Christianly literate.  The comments were intelligent and on point.  They just weren’t dealing with points I was interested in.

The teacher, I might add, was quite good at doing what he was doing.  He is passionate, to a fault, about everything that comes out of his mouth.  He smiles, he asks good questions, he shows that he listens to people and knows them.  He words things well, with conviction.  But I won’t ever care to participate in the New City Catechism.  It is a superimposition (by one go-to author-preacher) that (1) presupposes and teaches a few things that I categorically disagree with, (2) overstates or misstates some others, while it also (3) offers some fine statements on other matters.

At any rate, I won’t go back to that class.  Not while it’s going through the NCC.

Postlude
For months I’ve been sharing earnestly about topics of the world in Tuesday Topics (“TT”) posts.  The title of today’s post starts with “WW.”  It could be “Wednesday Whining,” but I prefer to think of it is as “Wednesday Wishing.”

On a Wednesday when I was nine, I wished to confirm my belief in Jesus as my savior, so I went under the water as He had, and as Peter and Paul taught.  I wished to be, and immediately felt, clean, and I have never once regretted that decision.

On this Wednesday in 2024, I wish the particular class had done something else.  But more important than that, I wish for more, and better, Bible classes in churches overall.  And I wish—no, yearn—for Christian community.

It might seem cool, but . . .

It might seem cool to talk about grace, or to call your church or mission “grace-based,” but such an identity is unbalanced and can become unhinged. What about truth, in addition to grace? Eventually, the knowledge that Jesus embodied both grace and truth will sink in.

It might seem cool for Christians to show support for the so-called Jewish state, but that geopolitical entity is not inherently more important than any other one. That realization will come. If it turns out that there is some kind of “millennium” in the future, and some kind of kingdom iteration with Jesus sitting on a throne on this planet, that eventual scenario will have nothing to do with the nation-state of Israel as we know it.

It might seem cool for non-Roman Catholics to give attention to Mary, but that can go too far. Eventually, the thrill of anti-Protestant rebellion ought to wear off. For centuries, Mary has gotten too much attention, and it is entirely off-base to adore her or pray through her or to her.

It might seem cool to be assimilated into Christendom’s terminology, using titles like “Pastor” or “Elder” or “Father” ineptly, but that practice leads to more than meets the eye. It’s not merely showing yourself “above” things you think are non-essential. Eventually, if not immediately, unhelpful power structures will be instantiated into your church, too.

It might be cool to do or say any number of things, but cool is not always the best thing.

Locating and being “church”

Remember this?

“Here is the church”??  No, not really.  The lesson that distinguishes “church” from the building is one I’ve heard for so long that I can’t remember the first time.  “We are the church.”  This is why I still, almost to a fault, I always say “church building” when referring to the physical structure, no matter who I’m talking with.  I don’t use the expression “go to church” very often, either.

So what is church?  Where is church?  Voices from my past come to mind, but a new-to-me voice has just resounded with a similar message.  I have just watched the classic movie “On the Waterfront” for the first time.

The movie’s musical underscoring—at a few points, appropriately prominent—struck me as masterful, and no wonder, since it was composed by Maestro Leonard Bernstein.  But the acting and the dramatic story line would have been compelling even without musical support.  Here is a famous monologue (omitting the interruptions), spoken by a priest to the stevedores, after a mob-directed death of one of them:

Boys, this is my church!  And if you don’t think Christ is down here on the waterfront, you’ve got another guess coming.

Every morning when the hiring boss blows his whistle, Jesus stands alongside you in the shape-up.  He sees why some of you get picked and some of you get passed over.  He sees the family men worrying about getting the rent and getting food in the house for the wife and the kids.  He sees you selling your souls to the mob for a day’s pay.  What does Christ think of the easy-money boys who do none of the work and take all of the gravy?  And how does he feel about the fellas who wear a hundred-and-fifty dollar suits and diamond rings on your union dues and your kickback money?  And how does he, who spoke up without fear against every evil, feel about your silence?

You want to know what’s wrong with our waterfront?  It’s the love of a lousy buck.  It’s making love of a buck, the cushy job, more important than the love of man!  It’s forgetting that every fella down here is your brother in Christ.  But remember, Christ is always with you.  Christ is in the shape-up, he’s in the hatch, he’s in the union hall, he’s kneeling right here beside Dugan.  And he’s saying with all of you, “if you do it to the least of mine you do it to me.”  And what they did to Joey and what they did to Dugan they’re doing to you.  And you, you, all of you!  And only you, only you with God’s help have the power to knock ‘em out for good.

Here is a link to the entire speech, which occurs after a mob-directed death.

Truly, if we Christians don’t think we are the church everywhere, we are to be pitied.  (I’ll pass over the obvious issue with who in the movie is really a “brother in Christ.”)  As go the people, so goes the church.

Beyond the location of church and the identities of the people, the priest’s call for redemptive, purifying action is heard in this monologue like a trumpet.  And I, today in the real world, must hear that call.

 

 

Musings on anniversaries and days

Foreword
12/11 would have been my late parents’ 63rd anniversary.  They almost got to #57 together, and I miss them both.  I did purchase a poinsettia for my home, in recognition of what Dad would buy every year for his wife.  Sometimes, there were bunches of the beautiful red things all over. 

I also sent my sisters a snapshot of a recently unearthed love note Dad had written in the summer of 1960, 6 months prior to their wedding.  Apparently they had originally planned to get married on the 13th, a Tuesday—which would years later be the day of the week on which I married.  Incidentally, Tuesday is sometimes thought by Jews to be the ideal day for a wedding, because, in the Genesis creation account, the third day was doubly blessed by God.

On Tuesdays, feeling more agitated and anxious than blessed, I’ve been posting on world and life subjects, under the “Tuesday Topics” heading.  I might forgo that this week, in part because of a desire to think carefully about the way I’ll mark a milestone that’s not an anniversary per se.  Two more posts will bring me to 2,000 total on this blog.

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As we walk, run, or trudge through life, most of us mark various anniversaries.  I gather that it’s common to become more sentimental as one ages . . . and we might experience more feeling for such days as birthdays, wedding anniversaries (your parents’ and your own), and other special days.  National holidays might begin to take on more significance for some.  Certain faith-related holidays, perhaps.  And I sincerely hope that your spiritual birthday is very important to you.

Although I don’t remember my grad degree dates, I do know the date of graduating from Harding with a BA, because it was exactly 3 days after my first wedding on the 18th of December.  It is now 23 years after the last wedding anniversary shared with my first wife.  My marriages extended for 7-16¾ years and 14-15½ years, respectively.  I give date ranges, because I find each situation fuzzy; I know more about when the marriages were truly over than the papers indicate.

About two months ago, I privately marked a sad 5-year anniversary, because that day had been a distinct sign that my second marriage would not recover.  (Who knew that I would ever really notice Columbus Day?)  Speaking candidly and personally, more and more anniversaries are occasions for sadness and attempts to forget.

For many years I remembered the exact date that I uncovered a sordid, unbelievable¹ thing, but I should have focused more on the antidote for that venom:  the song I wrote for the anniversary that year is sufficient to have ascertained (then) and to recall (now) the desires my heart.  Today is the 31st anniversary of that very day, and that was less than one month after the above-mentioned discovery.²

I do not remember the dates that three particular employers and I came to difficult partings, but I surely see some of the faces:  liars like Karen and Debbie; power-hungry, deceptive, or two-faced people (MP, SP, SJ, DO, GS, CE, BB, and others).  The kind people in those places (such as Tony and Chrystal and Penny and Doug and Rachel and Craig and Susan and Mercedes and Sarah and Gene and Justin and Stephen) can hardly, despite their goodness, overcome the unkindness, hypocrisies, and lacks of insight shown by the bad actors.

On a more positive note:  for years, I had remembered incorrectly the date of my immersion into Jesus the Messiah, but I corrected myself.  It was February 7, and I have tried to mark that day every year.  It is one of the two most important days in the year for me.  The other (not my birthday) goes painfully disregarded pretty much every year.

I remember my second formerly-dearly-beloved’s birthday more than my first one’s.  Perhaps that is because her birthday in 2018 was another distinctly negative turning point, and I take about one-quarter of the responsibility for that.  The horrendous reality is that it was a third party who caused that issue, and that fact was essentially ignored, along with the relational reality that allowed me to believe what the other woman had said in the first place.  Of course there are complicating factors, but misrepresentations and lies were spread about me that are still coming to light.  Another markedly evil “influencer” operated under the guise of counsel, functioning both as a distraction and a wedge; an astonishing “180” ensued.  January 1 will mark 84 years since my dad was born, and we just passed the six-year mark since he died in late 2017.  I’m glad he never knew what would happen the following year in my family life.

January 3, 2024 will mark five years since I returned, rejuvenated and hopeful, from a 4-day therapy trip, only to be told that my marriage would be ending.  The month of March will bring another 5-year anniversary, but maybe I won’t think about it too much.  All the horrors, ramifications, and senses of loss resulting from unfaithfulness are still very real.  I’m as confident as I can be that I will never love again, and for that I blame many things, for example,

• the terrible brokenness of the world
• my own idiosyncrasies and general sinfulness
• vocational injustices and negative occurrences that led to deeper depression on my part
• the vacuous irrelevance of churches
• marital unfaithfulness
• the corrupted morals than can be the result of even a modicum of power and influence
• and more

Of course I do remember every year the anniversary of my son’s birth.  It was not very easy to get him into the world, and he was most welcomed and loved by both of us.  Still, the irony of what’s going on these days will never be lost on my ragged, forlorn spirit.  I do a lot, but I always feel inadequate, never more than partly successful as a not, and always alone.  Most days, I’m able to celebrate his life; every year, May 18th does provide special opportunities.  I certainly don’t ignore his birthday (as I prefer with my own), but I do skip over Facebook birthday reminders—not because of the birthday people themselves, but because anniversaries give me pain, and it’s easier to bypass all of them.

Birthdays and anniversaries.  Days and seasons.  They are often better left unobserved, at least in my case.  I show up for Thanksgiving and a little bit of Easter and Christmas.  But there are so many wounds associated with the specific days . . . such an unsettled feeling in my soul . . . such a need to move past the days instead of moving into them.

Romans 14 famously leaves room for observing, or not observing, special days.  Many Christians of my heritage majored in the practice of not observing, and I later tried to bring balance to that, e.g., by leading “Joy to the World” in July and in December.  These days, I still don’t care about the liturgical calendar, and the only reason I’d tend to mark a specific “Christian holiday” is to point out excesses and mis-directions, such as with Reformation Day or the observed Mary’s birthday.

But there is a day coming.

Afterword

Great Day!
Great Day.  The righteous marching!
God’s gonna build up Zion’s walls.
– Negro spiritual

Zion will be built up figuratively, I take it.  Regardless, there’s a day to look forward to, to observe as it comes, and to lean into.  Until that Great Day, the anniversaries simply mark points in another year that lead to death in this life.

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¹ As time passes, it becomes almost normal to find out about extramarital affairs.  In my case, back then, it truly seemed unbelievable.  No one would have suspected that that would happen do those two people.  Oh, for a time in which marriage could again be what it was meant to be.  And more realistically, I would hope simply for a light to go on inside the many who were unbelievably half-headed in their manifestations of virtuous “grace.”

² A stark memory looms:  I was once accused with the words “you’ve changed my life forever,” but the precursor to my decision to divorce had already changed my life forever.

Visual distraction in conducting: elbows, shoulders, and sight lines

Too much motion, specifically of the larger joints and hinges such as shoulders and elbows, inhibits clear, helpful conducting.

This truth is understood at the adage level in the conducting world, yet ignoring this truth proves to be a downfall of far too many.  Or, as a colleague put it, echoing good conducting instruction, “less is more.”  Don’t move too many things too much!

If you want precision and clarity, use mostly wrist and fingertips.  On the other hand, if you want to indulge yourself in afterbeats, showing that you have no gestural control, use more elbow and shoulder.  Worse yet, use your hips and ankles and knees repetitiously.

It bears emphasis yet again:  when the music needs rhythmic precision and stability, don’t flail your elbows and move your shoulders a lot, constantly showing the division of beat and generally indulging yourself.  That is unhelpful and visually “noisy.”  On the other hand (pun intended), rather than risking such visual distractions, consider using only your right hand when the ensemble needs beat clarity, and confine the motion to your wrist.  Some of the best and worst conductors, unaware, demonstrate that they need these reminders.  (I wish I could find or make good demonstration visuals.)

Does this really matter?  Yes!  The proof is in the music-making, and proof there is.  Things start to tear apart rhythmically, and at least one cause exists.  When a well-trained ensemble is having trouble with rhythmic precision, the issue is generally traceable to too much conductor motion in the elbow and shoulder, or to the lack of ability for musicians to hear across the group, or both.

I have sat under five different conductors during the past two months and have watched others.  Two have shown that they understand these ideas.  One shows that he hasn’t paid attention to it for a while, likely not having seen recent video of himself.  Another used generous motion but was not in a need-to-be-precise situation.  Yet another is perhaps the worst offender I’ve seen in a decade.  There are many offenders, believe you me, so that is no light statement.  (I haven’t watched video of myself from November yet, so I might just be embarrassed!)

Further on visual and motion concerns in conducting:

All gestural noise should be kept to a minimum.  Actually, the ideal would be absolutely no “noise,” that is to say, no non-meaningful, superfluous gesture.  Only gestures that actually indicate something about the music should be used.  But the ideal is not attainable, so I offer two specific sub-goals as examples:

One:  eradicate superfluous motion.  In common time (4/4), it is all too common for the conductor to add an extra sweep or swirling gesture between beats three and four, constituting visual noise.  The goal should be to have no beat stand out above other in a pattern—i.e., beat two should have the same emphasis and shape that beat three has, etc.—so that expressive gestures at specific points in the music may actually be noticeable.  The downbeat naturally enjoys some emphasis, but in most artistic styles, even that might at times be minimized for the sake of the mature flowing of lines and phrases.  Certain spots in music do, of course, call for emphasis, and judicious use of nonstandard gestures can be very expressive.  The idea here is that a normal beat pattern should be balanced, without any asymmetrical incursions.

Two:  limit extraneous prep beats.  Generally, one preparatory beat is sufficient to start a piece.  However, most conductors fall into the pattern (again, pun intended) of giving multiple preparatory beats.  I often give an extra beat myself, and sometimes intentionally.  If the tempo is unusually fast, or if the entrance occurs on a fractional beat, an additional prep beat might be called for.  The principle on which I stand, however, is that even young musicians typically do not need more than one or two beats in order to start effectively, in tempo.  They might think they do, and even some adult musicians will often ask for a full measure of “counting off,” but people actually do just fine without this, and less visual (or sonic) noise translates to more focus on the music itself.  The idea that music needs counting off or a prep is unsupported by reality and is usually traceable to needless insecurity on the part of the conductor, the players, or both.

Yes, the above is true even for elementary-age players.  A director¹ might be afraid that Janey drummer or Johnny trombone player won’t get the instrument ready, or someone might drop a mouthpiece, or the whole band will lose focus or wave at Mom, so the director puts both hands up, looks around, says things like “are you ready?” and “here we go” and “one . . . two … one, two, three, four”) in advance of the start.  This practice trains young musicians not to pay attention to the conductor’s hands, and it also wastes valuable instructional time.

Sight lines are important.  All musicians should be able to see the conductor’s hands and face.  While even non-musicians could get that question correct on a test, musicians themselves ought to attend always to the basic idea of the line of sight.  If someone or something is blocking it, do something to change it!  Often it’s just a matter of moving one or two musicians six inches one direction or the other.  The music stand should also be positioned so it is directly between the player’s head and the conductor.  Looking sideways to see the music will involve peripheral vision more than necessary.

Moreover, the conductor should take care not to let his/her hands repeatedly drop below a natural horizontal plane near the waist.  In a pit orchestra, where the conductor is typically seated, the horizontal plane should be kept higher so that players beyond the front row may actually see beats.  There is some divergence of opinion as to the ideal horizontal plane.  Some wind conducting icons advocate for a plane as low as the waist, feeling that this encourages deep, relaxed, full breathing.  Others advocate for a higher plane, capitalizing on proximity to the conductor’s eyes.  If the central point of my gesture is closer to my face, other nonverbal communication may be enhanced.  Over the years, I have gravitated to a higher horizontal plane, thinking more of sight lines than air flow, but I am not at all sure that’s best.

I learned some of these conducting principles first at sympsosia in the 2000s with Allan McMurray, then at CU-Boulder.  They have been born out time and time again in real-life experience, both as a conductor and as a player.  The main thing here is that those who are liberal or excessive with motion are doomed to repeat rhythmically imprecise history.

Afterword
Now, I wonder whether anything about gestural noise and sight lines might be transferred to other areas.  Of course!  Public speakers such as preachers, all classroom teachers, and pretty much anyone communicating to anyone should pay attention to sight lines.  Preachers may not be bad with visual noise, but they’re re often particularly bad with speech crutches and other sonic noise.  The goal is to reduce the distracting or unhelpful stuff that doesn’t matter, toward the end that the real stuff may be attended to all the more.  Conductors are doing important work with other musicians, and it only makes sense that what they do is worthy of attention.  Now, if preachers are doing important work, too (and not all of them are), they should also work to reduce the periphery.  This will shorten the sermon time, too!

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¹ Here, I have used the term “‘director,” because in this case, the music teacher is functioning as a program director and as an administrator of children who have instruments s/he doesn’t trust them to handle, not as a gesturally sensitive conductor of music.

Hee Haw and heigh-ho

For the third time in seven years, I’ve had a basement flood.  This one actually came in two phases and was far less catastrophic (so far), but I’d call this bad luck.

The first time, it was the result of a busted valve on outside spigot.  $1000+ of damage, including electronics, and lots of messy work.

The second time, it was a busted water main uphill, and water and mud rushed in.  Less damage but still lots of work, and that was a year ago, and I still haven’t fully cleaned the silt in corners.  A general lack of motivation could be the culprit here, or apathy, or the sense that it might happen again anyway, so what’s the point?

And it did.  Today, it seems to be a backed-up neighborhood drainpipe that has been causing some leakage.  So far, only a couple of gallons on portions of the floor and some ruined rugs.  But three times in seven years?  C’mon.

The third instance has a relationship to the second, not to mention that the city did a dredging job on the drainage ditch about 3.5 years ago, and that whole situation is still a problem, pertinent on this very day.

There is a lot of evidence that things just aren’t done well around here.  Street maintenance gets short shrift to new sidewalks that no one uses.  (Hey, we got a grant, so let’s whitewash it!)  Evidence of poor-quality construction abounds.  A great many properties are poorly maintained or not maintained at all.  No wonder there is a much higher incidence of fire company sirens in this town than I’ve ever experienced before.  One family has been burned out twice, in two different houses.  I’ve had an arm’s-length connection to two or three other people who have lost their residences to fire.   An acquaintance’s business was closed for nearly a year due to fire.  Neighbors two doors away had a fire that severely damaged a smaller portion of their house.  It seems there is a fire siren every two or three days—in a town of less than 9,000 people.  Lots of bad luck.  But at least there is luck of some kind?

If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.
Gloom, despair, and agony on me.

– excerpt from a Hee Haw song (1970s)

Also, if it weren’t for bad assemblies, I’d have no Christian togetherness at all.

All established-church gatherings in my recent memory leave a good deal to be desired, and some go completely off the rails.  While that sentiment not going to win me any points with anyone, it’s currently my truth.¹  The reason I keep going to these gatherings is because something tells me I need to.  I continue to need even the slightest bit of spiritual stimulation or any hint of worship that can pop up in my soul, so I keep heading toward any kind of Christian togetherness I can get.  I have to make all the effort myself, and when the efforts seem to be counter-effective, I have to wonder. . . .

Really, in a church of 400 (like last week, 1.25 hrs away near where I had to be an hour later), can’t you find a leader who can get closer than a half-octave away from the right pitch of the song, so all the parts can be sung without strain?  And do you really want the used-car salesman rushing me when I walk in, and finding me a couple minutes later to try to shove a visitor card into my hands?  “No, thank you.”  Don’t make me part of your program so you can report that you handed out four visitor cards today, 25 last month, so you can order more . . . and get a younger deputy trained and added to the handing-out program.  Anyhoo.  I’d thought it would be a good place to visit last Sunday, but it was some bad luck, really.

I can actually think of one assembly that had no overt “bad” to it in the last few months.  But that was an hour away, and we know people there.  Generally, if it weren’t for bad assemblies, there would be none at all.

An acquaintance writes often about how wonderful and loving and on fire his church is.  I tire of that, because I haven’t experienced anything like it, really.  A quarter-century ago, church was something I basically looked forward to and participated in, but it was no flaming ball of wonderfulness.  Carefully now, I do retreat in my head to Cedars days.  At the church I knew well for many years, a good number of assemblies felt pretty good, by and large, but I was a different person then, with less baggage.  Moreover, I was doing a lot of leading and having a good deal of influence, so I was observing more from an involved, in-charge standpoint that doubtless skewed my perception.  There was some sporadic worship and the rare morsel of challenging teaching.  There were some good, rewarding relationships, a few of which even carried through the week.  But almost none of that has proven to be lasting in any sustaining way.  Some of the worst pain has been experienced at the hands of Christians from there.  I guess it’s just bad luck.

But is it?  Whether it’s the apparent proliferation of house fires, the repeated need to repair streets in the same spots, the incidence of basement flooding, or less-than-desirable church assemblies, maybe luck is not the issue.  There are probably other underlying causes.

But it’s 7 minutes till 10:00 on Sunday morning.  Heigh-ho, heigh-ho.  Dear Lord, I’m still trying.

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¹ I use the expression “my truth” advisedly, knowing it can hint at wispy postmodernism with no absolutes.  Actually, I mean to acknowledge the inner, toilet-bowl-circling thoughts and feelings that occur in my head and heart when I’m in an assembly “proper,” and certainly a lot of those thoughts and feelings are purely my stuff to eradicate, accept, or otherwise deal with.