For all the politicians' talk about "Main Street"...

In this morning's New York Times there is an article that strikes me as summing up all that is wrong in our priorities...when people ask (usually rhetorically) how we got where we are as a country, what happened to the way things used to be, why there are so many people protesting in the streets or using welfare or homeless or or or...this is the answer to why. The headline and first two sentences pretty well sum it up, followed by this paragraph buried in the middle.

Five Big Banks Expected to Plead Guilty to Felony Charges, but Punishments May Be Tempered
"For most people, pleading guilty to a felony means they will very likely land in prison, lose their job and forfeit their right to vote. But when five of the world’s biggest banks plead guilty to an array of antitrust and fraud charges as soon as next week, life will go on, probably without much of a hiccup."

(yes, this is true. In fact, it is so true that we have the largest prison population in the world, both per capita and in real numbers. In the last 35 years, we have built 22 prisons for every university. Families are torn apart and lives ruined by massive sentences for even small infractions that have been deemed felonies, and this happens at a much higher rate among ethnic minorities than among whites. It creates a cycle of poverty and prison that is difficult to escape from, especially as the stigma of having a family member in prison generally means that families get little or no support. It is not a stretch to suggest that the continued systemic racism in this country, the poverty rates that lead to crime, and the current protests and "riots" are all related to this reality.)

"Behind the scenes in Washington, the banks’ lawyers are also seeking assurances from federal regulators — including the Securities and Exchange Commission and the Labor Department — that the banks will not be barred from certain business practices after the guilty pleas, the people said. While the S.E.C.’s five commissioners have not yet voted on the requests for waivers, which would allow the banks to conduct business as usual despite being felons, the people briefed on the matter expected a majority of commissioners to grant them."

Umm...okay. So let's get this straight. Corporations are people, but they will be allowed to continue doing the very things of which they have been convicted. These companies are, according to the article, too important to be punished.

Meanwhile, black men fill our prisons. Not important, apparently. Never mind their importance to their families, to their communities, to the future of this diverse country. Never mind that small things that are counted as felonies get people put into prisons where, upon their release, all they have learned is anger and resentment and skills for bigger crimes, should they want to put that resentment into action. Never mind that we simultaneously perpetuate the myth of the absentee father in the black community, even while putting millions of people in jail. They are not important enough, not central to their community, not crucial for the economy.

The article calls this prosecution and conviction "an exercise in stagecraft." How many families, and communities, wish that their loved ones and breadwinners--often stopped on spurious reasons--could experience the courts as an exercise in stagecraft? (I can hear the protests now: "but how will we deter others from committing crimes????")

Of course, they'd have to make it to court, which is a fairly unlikely outcome. But still.

Imagine if we treated our people like our corporations.

Or imagine if we actually treated corporations--made up of people--the way we treat other people. Without regard for their importance to the community, without regard for their past or potential, without regard for their context or humanity, we will criminalize their very existence, create minimum sentencing laws that ensure the cycle of poverty for another generation, and then demonize them for being in debt, uneducated, and prone to violence. We would insist we're not corporationist, some of our best friends are corporations, it's just that they should have known better, shouldn't have closed the door, shouldn't have opened the door, shouldn't have let the light in one letter of their sign go out, shouldn't have been in that neighborhood. Since they didn't manage that, they deserve what they get, both them and their family/community be damned. After all, we need to deter people from doing what they did.

Next time someone asks what happened to the America they remember, this is what we should show them. We chose corporations over people. We decided to use the adjective "our" to mean banks, not children. We bought into the lie that big businesses are the core of our country's success, rather than that our people are at the center of American identity and prosperity.

We chose this. And, as every parent is constantly trying to teach their children: choices have consequences.
Unfortunately, the consequences fall primarily on them, meaning we will go on choosing it until the day someone wakes up and realizes that they are US.

Lest you think I hate baseball, apple pie, and mom....

I don't hate Mother's Day.

I think the celebration of mom is good and important. So good and important it shouldn't really be confined to a day defined by florists and greeting card companies, but whatever.

I used to love making my mom breakfast and drawing cards and coming up with little gifts (usually coupons for things like "cleaning my room without complaining"). Later I used to love going to pick out plants (tomatoes and peppers) and finding ways to gift them to her...mostly so we could eat them later, I confess, but also because she loved to grow them. I would give anything to be able to do that again.

Which is how Mother's Day is supposed to be celebrated, really. Notice that the very name of the "holiday" gives us a clue: Mother's Day. singular mother apostrophe s... possessive: My Mother.

My mother. Our mother. Each family that wishes to do so appreciating its mother(s), in a personalized and specific way.

Not a generalized celebration of all mothers. Not a generalized celebration of women on a day that we associate with motherhood, thus equating womanhood and motherhood. Especially not a generalized celebration of women while we still devalue the work of mothering and pay women 23% less than men for their work outside the home, all the while "complimenting" them on the sidewalk, teaching them to be afraid, and asking what they were wearing.

When we make Mother's Day into a generalized celebration of all the moms/women/mother figures, in many ways we water it down into unrecognizable slop.

This is also the reason Mother's Day is hard for so many people. Because what should be personal becomes so public and meaningless, and along the way we are forced into some stereotypical ideal of womanhood and motherhood. It obliterates our actual lived experience for the sake of profit (and more than a little sexism). (the latter part is true of Father's Day too, of course.)

So yes: If it is appropriate to your experience, tell your mother (or someone of any gender who has been a mother figure in your life) you love her. Give her something meaningful to her, if gift-giving is part of your family's love language. Make her dinner, bring her breakfast in bed, make up some clean-my-room-without-complaining coupons, or whatever it is. And if that isn't how your relationships work, then do whatever you need to do--binge watch Netflix, order pizza, go for a walk, whatever--without shame or guilt.

Don't confine this appreciation to one day.

Don't insist that your specific experience be generalized to the whole. Know that there are people who don't find much to celebrate in the mother-child relationships they have been a part of, and those who grieve what was or could have been, and those whose mothers were and still are the most amazing perfect people ever.

And don't forget to work for a world where women--mothers and not, single and partnered, gay and straight, young and old--are valued for the amazing people they are, and their work is compensated fairly.

Happy Mother's Day, mom. Happy Mother's Day, grandma. Happy Mother's Day, Martha and Sherri and Betsy and Kim and all of you who have stepped in to be my extras. I appreciate you all, and am so glad you have been a part of my life.



*we still won't be celebrating Mother's Day in church.

daydreaming of warm

With snow breaking down doors in upstate New York, and all 50 states seeing the below-freezing mark at the same time, and the ridiculous chill we've got going on here, I confess that my writing-muscles are frozen. I don't have anything much to say today besides this:

I wish I lived in San Diego.

Where I could see this every day if I wanted:

And where I could visit Mickey...

And generally not hibernate under the covers and the cats for a minimum of six months a year. I mean, I have the most comfortable bed, and the snuggliest cats, and the prettiest bedroom, but still. As much as I love this, I would rather it be 75 and sunny than -3 and gray.

repeating myself

I'm sure I've blogged about this before, but it bears repeating again and again and again and again:

PLEASE, for the love of God and all that is holy, can we stop using second person pronouns to talk about our own experiences?

Latest offender was an article I shouldn't even have been clicking on during a Saturday night sermon-tweaking session anyway. (because, well, I shouldn't have been on the interwebz to begin with, but also because of the content.) It was titled something like "what I learned the year my mom died" or some such. It was a young woman reflecting on her experience at the one-year anniversary mark.

There was nothing wrong with her content. Except that she presented it in points worded basically like this: "I learned that you _____."

no, honey, you didn't. YOU learned that YOU ____....you didn't learn anything about me.

Some of her points were similar to things I learned after my mom died. Others were things that didn't resonate with me much. Which made the use of second person pronouns all the more irritating.

Why can't we just talk about our own experiences, using "I" language, and let others extrapolate if they wish, rather than using this figure of speech that basically implies we should be having the same experience? It drives me crazy.

In the year or two since I've been noticing this more, I have learned that I'm likely the only one this bothers. And that people get really crabby if I correct them. And that *I* get really crabby if someone goes on and on about what "you" (meaning me) should/do/learned/see/know/whatever. It makes me almost tune out whatever their point is, it's so distracting.

Please: speak for yourself, and let me hear your story and determine how I might find myself in it (or not). Saying "I" isn't going to kill us, and it will make things a lot more clear.

politics, or theology?

There's lots of chatter this week about Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, which just voted to leave the PCUSA and go to ECO. The vote was overwhelming (93% in favor of leaving). Paired with last week's news that First Presbyterian in Houston's vote to leave failed by 36 votes, it's an interesting study in denominational politics.

Of course, the way MPPC is spinning it is as about theology, not polity. And they are entitled to believe that. Especially with quotes like this one:

...citing a 2011 PCUSA survey that suggested 41 percent agreed with the statement, “Only followers of Jesus Christ can be saved."

I took that survey. And I am one of the 45 percent that marked that I disagree with that statement. Here's why:

It's un-Reformed.

Because the primary theological principle of the Reformed tradition is the Sovereignty of God. There is no way I was going to mark "strongly agree" on something that said "only followers of Jesus can be saved." Because to say that is to limit God's sovereignty. What if God decides to save someone who is not a follower of Jesus during their earthly life? Or is not a follower of Jesus in the way I think they should be? Can God save them? Absolutely yes. It is not my place as a fallible human being to limit God's power.

Jesus said "I have other sheep not of this fold" (John 10). The confessions say that we are to have "good hope for all" (Second Helvetic Confession, chapter 10). How then could we presume to answer an unequivocal yes to any question that states what God can or cannot do?

So yes, Menlo Park is right that this is a theological break. Because they have decided what God can and cannot do, and that is a break from the historic Reformed tradition. I wish them well as they seek another path. May all of us, whatever path the Spirit places us on, find ourselves daily in the presence of God.


**there are of course a variety of factors involved in this decision, ranging from property ownership to LGBT issues to a desire not to be burdened by other mission foci than their own. But this theological issue is the one they have cited as the heart of the problem, so I have taken them at their word.**

State of The Church

I hesitate to write this, for several reasons. Among them: I do not want to be perceived as writing only about the congregation of which I am a part, because I am not. The Church (capital T capital C) is much bigger than we are, and I see these things in both my own denomination and in The Church (especially the American Church) in general. I do not want to be arrogant--my perceptions are just that: mine. I do not want to create drama…there's enough of that already.

But I also see things I think need to be said.

Every January, the President gives a speech on The State of The Union…and he inevitably says that the state of our union is strong. Even when that is patently untrue, every president says it.

So what about the state of The Church?

Here is what I see in The Church.

I see a lack of trust--of each other, of the leaders we believe God has called for us, and of God.
I see a lack of resources--in part because we choose to spend our money, our time, and our energy elsewhere, and in part because there are fewer of us than ever.
I see an urgent desire to return to the way things used to be, when things seemed more predictable, church attendance was culturally mandatory, and the church was the center of social life.
I see an urge for every congregation to be all things to all people.
I see an inability to handle disagreement or conflict without triangulation, gossip, withdrawing, and withholding grace.
I see a pervasive spirit of comparison--constantly trying to figure out how we can be like this or that other church that seems to have all the people and all the money.
I see an unfulfilled longing for true community.
I see us holding tightly to the things we desire, and ending up with no hands free to grasp what God desires.
I see us hurting each other when we don't get our own way.

And I see imperfect people learning from other imperfect people who followed Jesus (through scripture, through study groups, through prayer).
I see people singing together even though that's not something our culture does anymore.
I see people spending their nights staffing a homeless shelter.
I see people longing to share how their lives have been changed.
I see people who write cards to every person who visits, or gets sick, or has a birthday.
I see people who read Scripture together and pray for guidance on how best to explore that reading in a worshipping community.
I see people who discuss hard theological questions out in public.
I see people who get dirty in order to grow food for others.
I see people who give hours and hours (along with dollars and dollars) to make a building a welcoming space for people who are cold, who need a rehearsal space, who need a safe place to admit their addiction, who want to learn, who need a place to eat and sleep.
I see artists who use paint, music, dance, and words to express grace.
I see people who know they can walk through Church Doors and find help.
I see people who advocate for justice in every imaginable arena.
I see people who don crazy outfits and sing terrible songs in order to help kids become friends with Jesus.
I see people who have known great joy through their church and want others to know that joy too.

Most of all, I see the face of Jesus in each of those people.

So…while the picture may seem bleak from the outside, or from the perfectionist side, or from the view of someone who wishes that all of us lived in the Kingdom of God right now, the reality is that all those people, in all their small and large acts of faithfulness, are what makes the church. The Church is not a building, not a governance structure, not an institution--the church is a Body made up of many members, and it's those people who remind me, one by one, that the State of the Church, while it could be stronger, is actually pretty darn good.

Don't get me wrong, we have room for improvement--just like the Union does. But the foundation is there, if only we'll build on it.

assumptions

Yesterday at church we got a call from a young man who was looking for a place he could do 10 hours of community service. Before Thursday.

…

…

And already at this point in the story, everyone to whom I've told it has made some assumptions about this young man.

When I add in his name, which (let's just say) is not a "typical American name" (even though it is), the assumptions solidify. If I told you his skin color, we wouldn't even need to say anything more beyond "required community service" and we'd have a complete picture in our minds.

This is problematic on so many levels.

We'll start with just two things:
1. When did community service become a punishment? And why? I have so many issues with that. Probably its own blog post.

2. Why is our first assumption--often our only assumption--that this young man must have gotten into trouble?

I remember being about his age and filling out my National Honor Society paperwork. At the last minute. And looking at the requirement for community service hours and wondering how to pull that off.

I remember being in seminary and filling out paperwork about myself and wondering if something I technically got paid for, but badly, could still count as "service to the wider church."

A couple of years ago the youth group was doing an Earth Day service project cleaning up trash in a local park, and nearly every conversation we had with community members using the park was about kids "serving their time," not about kids giving back or kids being good citizens or kids caring about their community. Afterward the youth and I talked about that feeling of being stared at like they're criminals, and the assumption that the only reason they would go clean up a city park is because they were paying off some kind of debt to society.

It's possible that this young man needs community service hours for a scholarship, for a Boy Scout requirement, for a club at school, or for his own church. Or it's possible that he's been in trouble--whether of his own volition or by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Why is one of those our go-to thought? (and let's not pretend it isn't…every conversation I've had about this situation has made clear what people's first thoughts are. Even mine, I regret to say.)

A few years ago I was at a David LaMotte event where he said something about "at risk youth" and how that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, because at-risk always means something bad. No one is ever at risk of being awesome.

What if we--ESPECIALLY those of us in the church, who have been admonished to think about whatever is good, to look for the image of God in one another, to bear one another's burdens--what if we first assumed people were at risk of being awesome?

That's a prophecy I'd love to see fulfill itself. And when this young man comes back to church after school today for another 3 hours, I plan to make sure he knows that's what I expect. :-)

words matter, part 2

There is a distressing language epidemic going on in American English right now.
I don't know if it happens in other languages, or in other parts of the English-speaking world. I'm sure it's been going on in the USA for a long time--it's part of our cultural linguistic idiom. But it's problematic and disturbing nonetheless.

The problem is this: talking about ourselves in the second person.

Maybe you're listening to the radio and you hear someone being interviewed, and you just have to translate whatever they're saying because you know they're talking about themselves, but they're talking as if they're talking about you.

See what I mean? that whole sentence was really about me, but I managed to write it as if YOU are the ones who spend all your time listening to interviews on NPR.

It's fairly innocuous when it's just something like this, but what if I was talking about how I organize my time, how I pray, how I understand the responsibility of pet ownership, how I find meaning and value in relationships, how I navigate the world as a single young woman? What if I was a parent, talking about how I manage parenting and working and having an adult social life? What if I was a major cultural role model, talking about how I see my responsibility to my fans?

All over the place, people are talking about all kinds of topics, many of them deeply personal or individual or at least contextually bound, and using the second person to do it. The result is that I end up feeling as if they're telling me I should do what they did--it's like constantly being told what to do, how to do it, how and what to feel when and where. Which is not what they mean at all, but the phrase "you just gotta..." followed up with whatever they actually do/did is insidious. Much like exclusive use of male pronouns for God or humanity eventually burrows into the subconscious, giving the impression that God is male and only men are full human beings, using this second-person idiom eventually leads us down the path of shame, copy-catting, etc.

We already live in a culture that constantly tells us we are not ____ enough. This sloppy use of pronouns is only making that worse.

I get why we do this. I get that it is hard to be vulnerable enough to simply own our story and tell what we do. I get that our fluidity of language can be hard to pin down, and that people will insist I'm being overly sensitive. But really: listen for a day to the pronouns you hear. You won't be able to help but notice how infrequently people speak for themselves using the first person singular pronoun. It's as if we can't stop ourselves from telling other people what to do, even when what we're really doing is telling our own stories.

So how about this: use I. tell your own story. I'll tell my own story. speak for yourself, and I'll speak for myself. Watch for that second-person instinct, and notice how it feels to use the first person instead. We might just find a lot more honesty, a lot more civility, and a lot more compassion when we speak for ourselves rather than always simply at one another.

words matter, part 1

That's right, I have so much to say I'm being merciful to my four readers and splitting into two posts.

Words matter. A lot. The words we use contribute to the reality we experience. In some instances, our words even create that reality.

We have become a people who are sloppy with words. We speak and write with unclarity, walking in circles until we've said nearly everything and nothing at the same time.

But sometimes we use words with perfect clarity, and that can be even more disturbing.

Case in point: here are two quotes from news stories from the past week.

1. "While we're not ruling anything out, we do not suspect terrorism."
2. "Dozens killed in a terror attack at Kenyan mall."

The first quote is what was said repeatedly about the shooting at the Navy Yard in Washington DC. The second, obviously, is the characterization of the tragedy at the big "new" mall in Nairobi. Both are mass shootings involving more than one gunman. Both were planned and carried out by people who intended to create fear even as they killed as many people as possible.

In other words: they are both terrorism. They were actions meant to create terror.

But we have relegated the word "terrorism" to mean "something foreigners do (to us)" and generally those foreigners are of darker skin tone--only rarely do we classify a light skinned person as a terrorist, and then only if they use a bomb. We have forgotten that the meaning of terrorism is "an act designed to instill fear."

And worse: somewhere along the way, we Americans decided that a mass shooting does not qualify for terrorism. (at least not when it happens here)
Maybe this is because they are so common and we don't want to believe we live in a place plagued with terrorism.
Maybe this is because there are powerful people and many dollars behind the gun lobby, and we don't want to create the impression that gun violence is on par with "real terrorism."

Whatever the case, the two news stories this week--news stories of shocking similarity in other respects--highlight that words matter, and we use them on purpose to create a particular reality. In this case, one shooting is essentially just another in a long line of regrettable but unstoppable tragedies, while another is the target of a multi-trillion-dollar war. Guess which one involved brown people?

I wish I believed that this was evidence of poor use of language, but I think it is evidence of the opposite: very intentional use of language designed to ensure that we remain in our bubble of exceptionalism, where we don't have to deal with the shortcomings of our society as it currently exists.

The people at the Navy Yard, and their families, were terrorized. The people in the Back of the Yards neighborhood, where 13 people (including a 3 year old) were shot during a basketball game at the neighborhood park this week, were terrorized. The people of Newtown were terrorized. The people of Aurora CO were terrorized. I could go on (sadly).

The people of our nation are being terrorized every day. Perhaps if we called it what it is, there'd be some action to change?

view from the X-Millennial bridge

Over the past several months, I have witnessed or been a part of a large number of conversations in which people, often Baby Boomers, lament about "young people." By "young people" they mostly mean everyone under 50, so...at least two generations (X and Millennial) are lumped into that category.

This lament has taken several forms, including but not limited to:

• young people are entitled, wanting things without working for them.
• young people are lazy, expecting everything handed to them.
• young people think they're special, because everyone always got an award.
• young people are apathetic and don't work for justice.
• young people don't listen. They think they know everything.
• young people don't appreciate what we did for them.
• young people are excluding us. We're still young on the inside!

There have been so many answers to the first several points here, I just don't even think one more blog post is going to matter. So, in short: the economy sucks, the world has changed, and it's no longer possible for most of us to get a job with insurance and a pension and a salary to support a whole family with just a High School diploma or even a Bachelor's degree. We're not lazy, we're working harder than ever just to pay the rent, and putting everything else on the credit card while we pray not to get sick. We're not entitled, we're looking for work that fits in with our two other jobs' schedules. I don't know where you saw everyone getting an award and no scores kept, but that's a fallacy so stop perpetuating it--when we were being noticed at all while you were climbing the career ladder, it was to be taught to play harder and run faster and be better so we could get into the best schools and have the best resumes so we could get a job. Not even a better job than our parents had, just a job, period. We have experienced some of the most competitive and pressure-filled lives, all just to live up to your expectations...only to end up unemployed because *somebody* (ahem) killed the economy and society with their runaway desires and entitlement. (if there are actually younger people, those squarely in the Millennial generation, for instance, who really did grow up with everyone getting an award and no one keeping score, who do you think started that? are you telling me that a whole generation of kids in the most individualistic competitive nation in the world suddenly went all ubuntu on us all by themselves???) And as for the working for justice part: I'm not even going to dignify that with a response beyond this: just because you don't see it doesn't mean it's not happening. It means you're controlling the media and don't want to see.

Now, to the last few points, where I really want to focus.

It's hard to listen when any of the above sentiments infuse nearly every sentence.

And when we're being told that "young people" are untrustworthy by the original purveyors of "never trust anyone over 30."

And when we are told we're lazy entitled worthless blobs by the same people who insist they're 30 on the inside.

It ends up feeling like people who realize they are no longer "young adults" are trying desperately to hold on to those glory days (even while still holding basically all the power and all the money and most of the jobs in our country) . Meanwhile, the rest of us are just supposed to wait in the wings until the two older generations have had their fun, lived their dream, found themselves, and gotten everything just how they like it. (but we'll be called lazy while we wait. and entitled for being upset that what we're left with is minimum wage jobs, crushing debt, broken systems, and a ruined planet.)

Let's be realistic: 50 is not the new 30. 50 is the new 50--as in, those of you who are 50 are making 50 brand new, doing 50 the way no one has ever done it before. You can do that without wishing you were 30. And you can do that without insisting that 30 year olds be the same as you were when you were 30 (or that you wish you were when you were 30). Because you know what? 30 is also a new 30.

And while we're at it: it is good and right for people who are experiencing life in a similar cultural and generational cohort to be together. (this is why the Young Clergy Women Project exists--because being a 20-something clergywoman is a very different experience than being a 50-something clergywoman, even if we were both ordained yesterday.) AND it is good and right to have intergenerational friendships, gatherings, and groups--IF those intergenerational gatherings are not primarily about one generation informing another about how they should be/act/think more like the other. (this is why groups like RevGalBlogPals are so important--because clergy of all ages and experience levels can learn and laugh and cry and pray and dream and work together.)

So here's the deal.
We are grateful for the amazing work done by those who've gone before us. We are grateful for the stories we hear and the doors that are open for us in ways they weren't for others. We want to learn from those who have blazed trails. We see that there is still work to be done, and we see where the battle lines have shifted along the way.
And we also recognize that the world today is strikingly different than it was a generation ago. We have other trails to blaze, because we're solidly along some that others worked on for decades. We have a rapidly changing globalized culture and technological reality that takes serious work to navigate. We can't have the same kind of American Dream that previous generations had, if we can have it at all. We don't use the same social outlets, trust the same institutions, or anticipate the same retirement (or any retirement...even if you have been retired since before I was born, that doesn't mean I'll get that...).

So how about everyone stop with the smugness. Every generation has challenges. Every generation learns things that the next generation ends up not needing to know, and forgets things that will be necessary to survival someday down the road. Every generation has amazing victories and horrifying mistakes that will echo down through the lives of the future. And every generation must see and create change--because if we keep doing the same things the same way, that's insane. Things change. The world has changed and is changing. 

Please: if you hear yourself starting with "we used to...", stop and ask what's changed since you used to do that. If you hear yourself going down the "I'm not old!" road, stop and ask why it bothers you to allow young adults to exist without you among them. Why does it matter so much that you're in a new life stage with all its attendant possibility (and, realistically, power and influence and relative wealth)? In other words: why do you insist that "young people today" need to "grow up/mature" but you don't? And young people: if you feel the eye-roll coming on, squash the urge and instead listen to the stories. 99% of stories contain a nugget that can work its way into the 21st century framework, or a thought that can break open a problem, or an experience that shines light on the next part of the road--IF you listen with the right lens.




PS:
this post probably sounds angry. I've written and deleted it half a dozen times over the last few months, but the conversations I've seen both on news articles and in groups I'm a part of lately pushed me over the edge. I am tired of people refusing to relinquish the adjective "young" even as they trash young adults, all while ignoring some serious economic and cultural realities. So I guess this is my really long way of saying SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE? SERIOUSLY. In my best 80s kid voice: can't we all just get along? Or is it literally impossible for people who wish they were still young to move on without ripping everyone else to shreds? Because that's what's happening here. One generation is building itself up by tearing the next down. just stop it already. (or, as I said in my sermon on Sunday: It is not okay for us to sacrifice one another on any altar. Not even the altar of our own whitewashed memory or the altar of our own self-esteem.)

the R's...or, "everyone needs therapy."

One of the things we (theoretically) learn in the process of growing up is the difference between reacting and responding. Many of us don't learn it until we spend time in therapy or serving in some sort of intentional leadership experience. But no matter how we learn it, it's a key part of being a mature adult human being: recognizing our reactions and then choosing how to respond.

Reactivity is a huge problem, though. Either we're not self-aware or other-aware, or we're clouded by something (fear, anger, pain), and when we see things, we act on our reactive assumptions.

For instance:
We see a black male teenager and lock the doors, assuming he's up to no good.
We see a woman in a short skirt and assume she has no self-respect and is "asking for it."
We see a person wearing a clerical collar and launch into a tirade against the evils of the church.
We see someone asking for money and assume they're just going to buy booze, then loudly tell our companion how much money homeless panhandlers "really" make.

In instances when we feel threatened, our reactivity heightens even more. We don't just lock the doors, we follow and then get out of the car. We don't just rant about the church, we throw things through the windows. We don't "just" catcall, we launch legislative efforts to control.

Threats take many forms--the threat of physical harm, the threat of loss-of-power, the threat of having to change our perspective. Whatever the form, our reactions are usually in the same vein: do everything we can to maintain our position, the status quo, the safety of our bodies, minds, neighborhoods, values, histories, worldviews. It doesn't matter if those reactions are irrational, or how they affect others, or even what they say about us. When we are in reactive mode, all that matters is that our status quo is returned.

Add in firearms and there's a recipe for disaster.

But if you are a person with brown skin,  we'll take away your right to life instead. Or if you are a woman, we'll take away your right to health care, insisting you need to be protected from yourself by politicians, health insurance companies, and family members.

So what happens if we respond instead of reacting?

This is where real change happens. Not through following a kid through the neighborhood, picking a fight, then claiming self defense. Not in a court room. Not in a church meeting. Not even in the halls of Congress. Every single one of us needs to figure out what it would mean to respond instead of react--every time. To think before we open our mouths or our car doors or the floodgates of an internet comment.

Only if we figure out how to let the grown-up part of our brain respond will we be able to make any kind of difference. That means that when we see someone who looks different, we don't jump to assumptions but wait a beat, look for the image of God, and open a conversation. When we observe someone making a choice we would not make (but is not harmful to us or others), we recall that our task is not to ensure everyone is the same as I am, but that everyone has the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When we are threatened, we look for ways to respond creatively rather than reacting violently.

please note: this post is not about what we do when we see someone obviously engaging in dangerous illegal activity, hurting themselves or another person, etc. Watching someone commit a violent crime, jump off a bridge, break into a store, start a fire, litter, etc, while doing nothing is obviously not okay. Don't try to read this post that way. But also don't assume that what you see isn't colored by your lenses. Remember that video where a white girl was stealing a bike and people offered to help her, while when a black teen did the same people were calling the cops within seconds?

And always, always, we remember that we cannot control other people's reactions or responses. All we can control is how we respond. In other words, we cannot insist that other people behave the way we do if we are to respond to them as human beings. We cannot insist that other people's reactions to us or responses to our actions/words be what we think they should be. We cannot say "I didn't mean it like that" and assume that's going to make it okay.
Can those of us in positions of privilege (whether by virtue of our skin color, our economic status, our social status, our religious tradition, our citizenship...) choose to respond in healthy ways? Can we choose to stand up when others are using their privilege inappropriately? Can we choose to defend the people who do not enjoy the same privileges we do? Can we choose to insist on the full personhood of everyone, regardless of their status, color, or even behavior? Can we choose to take responsibility for ourselves, our words and actions, our reactions and responses, and then choose to act differently when we are called out on bad behavior, perpetuating stereotypes, perpetrating injustice, participating in devaluing of people or creation?

No one deserves to be treated the way many are being treated every day. No one deserves to die because of the neighborhood they live in, the snack they carry, the clothes they wear, the gait of their walk. No one deserves to grow up being taught never to run and always to defer to the person with the lighter skin. No one deserves to be thrown away because they are inconvenient for the rest of us.

Everyone deserves to be seen in all their humanity. Everyone deserves to have the image of God recognized in them. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect. The only way to get there is for all of us to learn to respond rather than react, and to remember that the only person we can control is ourselves--and a little self-control would go a long way.

To the many people insisting that race has nothing to do with Trayvon Martin's death, or that Paula Deen just used a word "they" use about "themselves," or that gender discrimination at work and in legislation is all in our pretty little heads, or that your LGBT friends should be happy with what they've got and stop having "parades of promiscuity," or that cutting food stamps will motivate people to get jobs (and yes, these are all related issues, filed under "privilege") : that's reacting. Reactivity always means either unreflective behavior or some perceived threat. I choose not to believe that any of my (few) readers are unreflective. I believe you are all able and willing to consider history, culture, worldview, politics, etc, when thinking about a situation or issue. SO: What is threatening about the perspective being shared by people of color, by women, by LGBT people, by the poor? What is threatening about the idea that all our fellow human beings deserve exactly the same privileges we enjoy?

Once we can name the real issue, can we respond instead of react, and thereby change the world?

Or, as Jesus says: love your neighbor as yourself.

the cost of society

In the USA, it's Tax Day--the day when millions of people who waited until the last minute panic about all the forms and whether they have they money to pay what they owe, or when they rejoice about the money they've loaned the government over the past year being returned to them.

For the first time this year I filed my taxes ahead of the deadline and paid on time. It's an Easter season miracle.

Tax season threatens to overshadow the Easter season this year (and most years, due to the vagaries of the lunar calendar!). It's the time when we traditionally complain about the complexities of the tax code, the fact that so many of us need professionals just to navigate the forms, and of course we like nothing more than to complain about how much money we give to the government and to lament the ways in which they mis-spend our hard earned dollars.

Of course, we all pay taxes every day, because most of us live in places with sales tax and gas tax and property tax and various vice taxes. We all have a stake in the tax reality. But today is federal (and state) income tax filing deadline, so we're focused particularly on one type of tax, which about half the country pays. I heard a really interesting story on the radio today about the history of taxation in the US, that included the little tidbit that the income tax, when instituted via Constitutional amendment in 1913, originally applied to only about 4% of the population--just the very wealthy. It was during WWII that the income tax expanded to apply to about 44% of the population--just slightly lower than today. Of course, in those days we weren't paying all those other kinds of taxes. But the story said that people paid it relatively willingly, because with a war on they could SEE where their money was going, and they knew it was important.

It's harder today to see exactly where money goes, I suppose. I'm sure there's waste and mis-spent money. I suspect that's a smaller amount than most of us want to believe. Because really, let's just be honest: living in a society costs money. It can be expensive to run a 350-million member community across thousands and thousands of miles, especially when that community is active in any number of other communities around the world. Do we need more transparency? Yes. Do we also need to learn to trust just a little? yes. (aside: as much as I would like to be able to designate my taxes for things I care about, or rather to NOT be used for things I find objectionable, the reality is that a system like that would be even more problematic on a government scale than it is on a church/non-profit scale...and the whole designated-giving thing has been a *nightmare* for the church. Can you trust us to use money where it's most needed, to do the most good? What would happen if we expected that from the government too?)

I really appreciate having things like roads and train tracks and policemen and fire departments. I want children to be educated so they can create an even better future for this country and this world. I want clean air and clean water, standards for our industries, and someone else to negotiate with the people from other countries about any number of things, from banana imports to nuclear disarmament. I believe it's our collective responsibility to care for one another and for the natural resources we have been gifted, and to ensure that we leave future generations a land and a culture worth living in, so I long for the day when tax dollars are used to help people get training, education, housing, food, and the resources necessary to help them stand and contribute to that future. I like having controllers who know where all the airplanes are, a corps of brilliant engineers who can keep traffic moving even on a drought-depleted Mississippi, and a National Guard ready to step in when there's a disaster or a need. I appreciate people who inspect bridges, fill potholes, and welcome me to beautifully conserved National Parks. I want people to be looking into just what the pharmaceutical and agricultural industries are trying to sell into our bodies before we can buy things at the store. I want laws that create the boundaries of a society in which we all thrive.

I expect a lot from the government. I don't think they always deliver, but I think they do a whole heck of a lot better job than 350 million individuals working on their own and for their own agendas. And remember: we're pioneering the BY/OF/FOR model of government here--so it's not just "the government" doing things with "my" tax money. I live in this society. I am an active participant in the government, through my vote and my voice. When we pool our resources, we can do amazing good. Let's hold our government accountable to working for the common good even as we pay the dues of civilization.

liberty

I can't go anywhere without seeing a car with one of these magnets on the bumper:

They started appearing about a year ago, and it turns out they were mailed out by the local Roman Catholic archdiocese to several thousand people in our area. Which explains why when I try to talk about them to people who don't live here, they have no idea what I'm talking about.

The trouble is, I look at that and even *I*, who can see the magnet, have a hard time understanding what they're talking about.

I mean, the whole point of religious liberty is that the statue of liberty doesn't stand for only one religious tradition. So why does she have a cross?

How come there aren't symbols for several different religions along those stripes?
...

...

...

...

...

Oh...right...because you don't actually mean religious liberty--you mean that we all conform to YOUR religion.

Newsflash: that has nothing to do with religion or liberty. That's only about imposing your way on the whole country, which is explicitly the opposite of the Constitution's guarantee of freedom of religion.

In other words, if this same image, but with a crescent instead of a cross, were plastered on 10,000 cars in northern Illinois, there would be screaming about infringement of our right to religious freedom. But if it has a cross, somehow that's okay?

Also, seriously? There is NOT a war on Christianity in this country. You know how I can tell? The Stock Market was closed for Good Friday. Seriously. Not for Passover, not for the prophet's birthday...for Good Friday. And people get off work for Good Friday. Including Congress, who go home for Holy Week and Easter week. There are some school districts that are still giving kids off Easter Monday. That's not even an actual holiday.

Looks to me like our religious liberty as Christians is alive and well. I'm concerned about the religious liberty of some of my neighbors and friends, though.

I am so tired of the level of cognitive dissonance with which human beings seem able to live. How do we not see the inconsistency of something like this? It's an untenable paradox, right there on the bumper of your car.

Pretty sure I'm going to need to find a way to send out 10,000 of this one instead. I mean, really.

mission...

I really hope we see the problem here....

It's no secret that I love church.
It's also no secret that sometimes I hate church.
It's the very definition of a love-hate relationship: I love the potential, the people, the wonder, the possibility, the vibe, the great things we do, the space for transformation, the message of kingdom life, and so much more...and I hate sometimes the things we get fixated on. So often The Church (this is true of pretty much every congregation I've ever been in, including a really big one) is busy thinking about how to get more people and more dollars inside the doors. Now granted, we do incredible things with your money and your time/talents/energy. And we need them, because there's lots to be done in the world. But sometimes it feels like we need the dollars and the people just to keep existing.

And then we get into these conversations, out in everyday life--where *finally* someone has asked us about church or life or something that allows us to talk about our faith, and we end up saying things like "well, I'm on the _____ committee." It doesn't matter what you say in the next sentence, I promise. Only the most committed of friends is still listening.


One of my favorite things about Missional Renaissance is the phrase "God is on mission."

Not like on the mission committee, but rather focused, on-task, keeping the work going.

Then the question is: are we on mission too? Are we on task? Or are we lost in our own plans, ideas, dreams, fears, expectations? Whose mission are we on?

I spend a lot of time trying to explore with people the idea that it's GOD'S mission and GOD'S church, and if we're not on mission then it doesn't matter at all whether we have the best Sunday School or the most engaging preaching or the flashiest service or the small groups that serve my needs. All that will matter is that we've left the Spirit somewhere, looking longingly after us as we go down a path we chose for ourselves, wondering if we'll look back and notice that she's beckoning us to another way.

Lots of churches--maybe even all churches (well, maybe not Quakers?)--are so invested in figuring out how to get people into the building that we've forgotten that God doesn't actually live inside the walls.** Meanwhile, God is waiting for the moment we set aside those things that are so important to US long enough to find out what's important to GOD.

Sometimes we may find that we're on the right track after all, and we can pick that project up and run with it, fueled by the steam of the Spirit.

Oftentimes I suspect we'll find that we're in uncomfortable territory, wandering into the unknown.

Which, I'm pretty sure, is a story in the Bible somewhere.....

God is on mission. Are we?







**note: I am not saying, in this post, that we don't care whether people come to church. I care deeply about whether people come to church--because I want for people to experience God in community, to worship together, to lift their voices in song (which we don't do anywhere else anymore), to seek faithfulness together. I am saying that sometimes those things happen outside the church building, because The Church is where The People are.

friendship

I use the word "friends" a lot. I think it's because I'm secretly a Quaker in my inward heart.

(that's right, I secretly covet the hour of silence, or near-silence, listening together for the movement of the Spirit...along with all the justice and peace stuff, the spiritual life, and the cool history.)

Anyway, most of my emails begin with "hello friends," I often call meetings or gatherings to order with "good morning/evening friends," and I preface parts of the liturgy (especially around the confession) with "friends."

I was doing this before Facebook, just so you know. Now "friending" or "defriending" is a normal thing, and we say we have 600 friends even if we may not ever speak to them face to face.

Anyway, I've been thinking today about the word "friend" because, well, it was in the news.

When I call someone a "friend" (and what I think the word really means), it implies that we have some level of mutual relationship. We support each other in good times and bad. We look out for one another. We've got each other's backs. We're ready to call the ex-boyfriend names, cry and eat ice cream. We're prepared to support in various efforts at different kinds of discipline (weight-loss, Lent practices, becoming better people, etc). We're there to answer the phone, to laugh or gently rib, to send photos and eat fondue and who knows what else.

But that mutual relationship also involves a really important component: friends challenge each other. We don't just let the other person devolve into destructive behavior without calling it out. We don't sit by while they do something dangerous. We don't watch while they hurt themselves or others. We don't let bad behavior slide just because we're friends. Real friends are able to say what they think (speaking the truth in love, anyone?), knowing that we'll still be friends afterward. We don't just support blindly, we challenge each other to be our best selves.

When we are afraid to speak up about something a friend does with which we disagree, or about bad behavior we witness, then that's not really a friendship. It's not mutual. It's a shallow relationship based on making each other feel good without much basis in reality--the reality that all human beings are flawed, and sometimes we need accountability.

Accountability may not be popular, but we need it anyway. I need it, you need it, whole nations need it...and that's what friends are for.

I *AM* a feminist

There seems to be an epidemic of women, especially women with a platform, declining to be feminists. They use their platforms--whether it's a stage or a blog with an audience or a position in a major corporation or a turn on the floor of the legislature--to insist that they are not feminists and do not want to be feminists.

Which has a certain irony to it, since feminism is what makes it possible for them to go to school, wear pants in public, have jobs other than secretary-kindergarten teacher-nurse, and enjoy their platform that speaks to people across gender lines.

Last night's Oscar experience brought this all to the fore, again, because...again...the junior-high-humor focused primarily on degrading women. Which, for the record, is not funny. It is not funny to identify incredible actresses by their breasts. In fact, it's shameful that we still think women have to get naked to sell movies, and they'd better be tall slender (mostly white) women if they want to get the job. It is not funny to call on tired stereotypes of women as grudge holders in an attempt to get a laugh. It is not funny to make jokes about eating disorders and the "fashion" that so often requires women to "get the flu" before a big event in order to fit into the dress. It is DECIDEDLY not funny to make jokes that cast a talented young girl as victim of statutory rape, nor to refer to her with disgusting epithets.

see? not funny.

Until these things are seen as the horrific commentary on the joke-maker that they really are, we still need feminism.

Not to mention that until women make as much money as men for the same jobs, we still need feminism. Until women can wear what they choose without being blamed for men's infidelity or for their own rapes, we still need feminism. Until our legislative body is representative of our population, we need feminism. Until our advertising finds way to sell products other than putting a scantily clad person (woman or man) in the picture, we need feminism. Until we have healthcare and childcare that take care of the whole population, not only well-off men, we need feminism. Until the predominant image of a successful person is not always a white man in a business suit, we need feminism. Until it's okay to talk about God with words other than "He" and all of humanity beyond "man," we need feminism.

In other words, until women and men are treated equally, and until the underpinnings of our cultural narrative recognize equality, we need feminism.

To be clear, feminism is not man-hating. Feminazis and bra-burning are propaganda of people who are holding desperately to their power, fictions created by men who insist that "allowing" women equal rights somehow diminishes men.

This is, frankly, not true. In fact, the opposite is true. As long as anyone, in and of themselves--of any gender or ethnicity or sexual orientation or socio-economic status or religion--is seen as less-than, is an easy and obvious target for jokes, is blamed for society's (or the church's) ills, is perceived as a threat to the status-quo, we are all diminished.

And yet women fall into the trap--we have allowed the rhetoric to become truth inside us, believing that the fight is over, the victory won, or that only bitchy power-mongers are feminists, or that if we stand up for ourselves then we deserve whatever we get. We have become accustomed to politicians and pundits making decisions about our bodies, our marriages, our healthcare, and our labels/nicknames. We have allowed ourselves to believe that if only we are nice and pretty (and thin, and white but tanned) then we will be loved...but not before. We have bought into the idea that if we want to choose to stay home and raise a family, we're letting down women everywhere and so have to be defensive all the time. We have believed that everything in life is a zero-sum game and we are somehow taking things away from others.

These are the lies feminism tries to counter. (interestingly, they are also the lies Jesus tries to counter. a coincidence? unlikely.)

I appreciate the work that was done by first wave feminists who labored so that I can vote. And believe me, I vote.
I appreciate the work that was done by second wave feminists who labored so that I can wear what I want, including trousers in a public place; so that I can get an education in any field I choose (a right not afforded even to people in my mother's generation); so that I can work in a job that I am interested in and fulfilled by; so that I can speak out in public places; so that I can choose whether and when to have a family; so that I can travel, and have a credit card and a bank account and a mortgage, all without my father's permission.
And I appreciate the legacy and responsibility left to those of us in the third wave: we may not be fighting exactly the same battles, and we may not be doing it in the same way, but we are still needed. Feminism is not a quaint movement of the past.

And I am not willing to benefit from the movement without also taking it up so that others might do the same. To set aside the word "feminist" I would also need to set aside my education, my jeans, my job, my blog, and my passport. I doubt any of the women who have so publicly derided 21st century feminism want to do any of that...so why are they so quick to lay down the word?

merry christmas v. happy holidays

We are in the middle of the very first week of Advent--the four weeks of waiting and preparation that lead up to the celebration of Christmas (a season beginning December 25 and ending January 6--not a season beginning October 1 and ending December 24). Please note that Advent Preparation and the usual understanding of "preparing for Christmas" are not the same thing. Advent has nothing whatsoever to do with shopping, wrapping, decorating, or cooking, and has everything to do with prayer, fasting, silence, darkness, and quiet hope.

And again there is nonsense about what greeting people use during this season. There are people boycotting certain stores because they won't say Merry Christmas. There are bumper stickers proclaiming that we're "keeping Christ in Christmas." (aside: it would have been interesting to see how many of those bumper stickers we might be able to count in the mall parking lot on Black Friday.)

So let's be clear about a few things:

1. It's not yet Christmas, so the greeting "Merry Christmas" is technically, from a Christian perspective, inappropriate. Christmas does not begin until Christmas Day. Period. Feel free to wish me a Merry Christmas on January 2, though, because I'll still be celebrating.

2. "Merry" Christmas? Really? The best greeting we could come up with for the season celebrating that God became human, took on flesh and lived among us, is "merry"? oh, right, "merry christmas" is a greeting that came from the consumer culture, not from the church.

3. The word HOLIDAY is a conflation of the words Holy Day. As in, these are holy days. Christmas is one of our seasons of holy-days. As is Advent--in fact, Advent may be some of the holiest days. When someone wishes you "happy holidays," they are actually, linguistically speaking, saying the most correct thing they could possibly say during this season (regardless of whether they realize that or not!). Another ancient meaning of the word "happy" is "blessed"--so, blessed holy days to you. Isn't that beautiful and wonderful? I want people to offer me that blessing as often as possible. And during a season that offers so many difficulties--for those with different economic circumstances, those carrying grief, those who work long hours to make our cultural christmas possible--why not offer the blessing of holy days, rather than an insistence on mere merry-ness?

Happy Holidays.

random yet fun

When I'm doing things around the house (cleaning the kitchen, cooking dinner, lounging on the couch) I often listen to podcasts.

I will note that in our book (due out September 30 2013), we actually advise AGAINST this kind of thing, because the spiritual practice of being in the moment, simply being present to what you are actually doing rather than distracting yourself by multi-tasking, is super important. Yes, I'm admitting that my own spiritual practice is lacking sometimes. Though I think we could probably make a case for the spiritual practice of podcasts, too. (okay, it's a stretch. But I probably could do it. It would just take longer to rationalize.)

So anyway, I often listen to podcasts around the house and office. When I was painting the bathrooms this summer, I listened to a LOT of podcasts. When I cook dinner for Wednesday Night Dinner (which I'm not doing these days, but I did a lot in the spring), podcasts. When I clean my office (hahahahahahaah!), podcasts.

Some of my favorites are: Stuff You Missed In History Class, How To Do Everything, RadioLab, God Complex Radio, and of course the usuals (Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, On Being, This American Life).

I have learned a ton of random stuff from podcasts. I love hearing biographies of people I've never heard of or people I think I know about, I love the random prank ideas (of course I'd never use any of them...), I love the "listener mail"--letters/emails/facebook notes from people around the world writing about stuff they do and things they wonder about.

Today Stuff You Missed In History Class posted a podcast on a topic I asked about. I haven't listened to it yet, but I'm super excited!

Where's the "listener mail" feature of church, I wonder?

memo to politicians of all parties

Dear politicians,

Since you seem to have forgotten, let me remind you of your job.

Your job is not to ensure that someone of the other party serves only one term.

Your job is not to spend money making yourselves look good or your opponent look bad.

Your job is not to cater to the K-Street lobbyist.

Your job is not to do whatever it takes to make a lucrative career out of your public office.

Your job is not to spend the GDP of several countries trying to get re-elected.

Your job IS:
to serve the American people.
to serve the best interest of the country as a whole.
to serve the greater good of the community who elected you.
to serve as a beacon of hope and help in a system that leaves people behind.
to serve with, not against, your colleagues in various offices so that we get the best possible solution (not no solution) to whatever issue is at hand.
to find ways, creative and conventional, to ensure that no one does end up left behind in a country we are fond of calling "great" and that we claim so much pride in.

I can see how you would get confused about the meaning of the word "serve" and the purpose of your position in our government, and I can see how difficult it can be to remember that not one moment of your job is about you. Even clergy have difficulty remembering sometimes, and you get paid a whole lot more than we do, so it's harder to remember.

I don't care who sits in what office as long as everyone in every office is willing to work for the greater good. Unfortunately, that so rarely seems to be the case.

But seriously: your job is not about you or your party, it is about America. So stop working so hard for yourself and start working for us. Stop your self-centered vision of doing nothing other than blocking the other guy, and start working for us. That's why you're there--period.

Sincerely,
the voters.

singing--together

One of the great things the church has to offer the world, in my opinion, is a place to participate in making music. There are no longer very many places in our culture where the average person can make music with other average people. Music has become such a commodity that we expect either to consume it by ourselves via iPods or to consume it in a concert hall--it's not something we *do* ourselves unless we are professionals.

Except in church.

At church, everyone can (and should!) sing. Everyone can clap or hum or sing at the top of their lungs. Together we make a joyful noise--sometimes more noise, sometimes more tuneful, but always beautiful in its way. A large part of that beauty comes from the fact that we are making it together, not simply consuming it. (Please note I'm not talking here about "special" music--music not meant for the whole congregation to create together--which is obviously different, though still not intended for consumption, exactly, it's also not a communal creation with every person participating--it's a communal creation of the choir or band or ensemble. I get that. I also get that it has other issues, which are for another post sometime.)

I love both old and new hymnody--I'm not one to shy away from a new hymn or a new tune or a new instrumentation (ask around and RCLPC and you'll probably find plenty of people who wish I would shy away a little more often!). But the reality is that the purpose of music in the church is for us to participate in it...which means that when we do learn something new, it has to be something we can all participate in, whether or not we can read music, whether or not we can remember a tune after hearing part of it once. It needs to be accessible. If it isn't, it's nothing more than an opportunity for the "professionals" to perform and the congregation to consume.

And this is exactly where we run into trouble when we start to have "contemporary" worship (whatever that means) or "new" music. I love a lot of the stuff being done by people in the church all around the world. But if you stand up front and ask people to sing along, it better be something we can all pick up on and join in relatively quickly (like within one verse...if it has verses...). Otherwise you aren't enabling people to worship through creating music together, you're enabling people to stand there while you play and sing for them, and that's not the same thing.

So today I was watching the live feed of the Next2012 conference opening worship (yes, I'm kind of a dork, but a friend was preaching and I'm a sucker for worship) and the musician, who was a seminary classmate of mine, was leading people in singing. I don't know for certain but I would bet that he is the author and composer of two of the songs they sang this morning.

Now, when I say this next thing, remember that I wasn't there so I'm going off what I felt and what I could hear through the internet streaming feed. It may have been different to be there--and I hope people who were there will chime in.

The two new songs I heard, and to a certain extent the two hymns he led, were not singable. They had random-feeling tunes with lots of skips and jumps and a range most of us couldn't sing, especially first thing in the morning. With only guitar and one voice (a voice often singing a descant or solo rather than the tune) to follow, it was almost impossible to sing along. At home, I definitely could not, and I couldn't hear many voices singing in the space either. (for comparison, when they were able to sing a verse of a familiar hymn, or say unison prayers, I could hear clearly the crowd's voice(s).)

It's not that I don't think the songs were great--I do. They were appropriate to the text, theologically sound, and musically interesting and beautiful to listen to. Troy is a great musician. But they didn't seem like songs for a congregation to sing together. They were songs for people who knew what was going on to sing, and people who didn't know what was going on to listen.

And at it's heart, that's the problem I have with "contemporary" worship--it seems like it's for people who are already in the know, and if you aren't then you can't be included until you know this secret musical language. It's not something you can simply join in and get carried along by the experience of making music together.

It is possible to find and to write music that is not a tune from 1743, not accompanied on the organ and still have it be singable. It's possible to find and write music that's led by a band and have it be simultaneously musically interesting, singable, and theologically sound. I know because we do it every week. (It's also possible to have an organist lead those tunes from 1743 and have them be spirit filled.) Now if only the NEXT thing in the church could be to strengthen our community building through music making, rather than simply making it another opportunity to perform.

*note: I use "contemporary" in quotation marks because, while it's often used to describe a particular style of worship, it's actually a misnomer. Since worship is happening now, it is contemporary, no matter what style it is. There are not good words to describe worship styles, at least not what we do at RCLPC--some of it has a band, some has the organ. Both include old hymns and brand new songs. Both involve congregational singing, prayer, silence, preaching, etc. The primary difference is in instrumentation. It's possible, people, I promise. It just takes work. But does the presence of a band at 830am mean that the worship at 930 or 11 is not contemporary? No. Hence the quotation marks.