Back In Nature

I wasn't in church this weekend.  I was, however, with many members of my church on our first annual ski trip.  We went to New Hampshire.  Most of the folks who went are actual skiers who stay upright going downhill and look cool while they are doing it.  Good for them.  I am pretty sure I have never looked cool doing anything.  Anyway, on Saturday my wife (who always looks cool) opted for cross-country skis and took two of the kids for the morning.  I went snow shoeing with Son #2.  

There was a period in our lives not too long ago when he and I spent a great deal of time on snow shoes.  Here in this blog you can find numerous articles describing the year when I took sabbatical time and he took a year off from conventional education to hang out with me.  One of our big projects involved trooping around in the woods with me taking pictures and him working on projects (artistic and scientific) based in the natural world.  It was a great year and it was great to be able to spend some time this weekend re-living it.  We are both older, of course, and we have been back to the usual stuff for the better part of three years.  

We also took along Son #1 in the afternoon.  During that time we got lost and ended up in an adjacent wilderness area.  Also my trusty camera froze.  During the home-school year it saw a lot of action and I think there is some water in it now.  Eventually (obviously) we made it back and had stories to tell about what we saw.

Honestly---though I love being in church---it was great having the chance to spend the weekend this way.  My faith (as with that of most of the church's members) doesn't limit me worship in one set form and in one sort of location.  God is still speaking, after all, and God speaks in the slow walk through the snow with sons who have become good friends  (or daughters, I just don't have any).  The falling snow and the frozen stream provide reminders of this vast creation as well as the reassurance that for a short time we get to be a part of it.  For the other folks on our trip I can only imagine that the same sort of relationship and realization occurred while barreling down the mountain with the wind in both ears feeling the terrain under their skis and the rush of excitement as the run came to an end.   Pretty cool, right?

Thoreau begins his essay On Walking with the short preamble: 

"I WISH TO SPEAK a word for nature, for absolute Freedom and Wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and Culture merely civil, — to regard man as an inhabitant, or a part and parcel of Nature, rather than a member of society. I wish to make an extreme statement, if so I may make a emphatic one, for there are enough champions of civilization; the minister, and the school-committee, and every one of you will take care of that."

Even though he lists my profession among the champions of civilization I think we religious people need to do more of this.  I don't mean skipping church, of course, but instead of going out of the "civilized world" together.  A community of faith can learn a great deal both in the woods and in the cities.  We can grow in understanding anywhere we can experience something out of the ordinary and reflect on it.  

Then maybe learning will be transformed into doing.  Maybe we will find ourselves motivated to change our lives after experiencing the snowstorm up close or seeing both the joy and suffering in the life of someone else.

So...it was a good trip.  I can't wait for the next one...

I Have Seen Google +...And It's OK...

OK, so perhaps it is a bit early to start reviewing something that apparently most people don't know exists and that is still in testing mode.  However, I have been testing it and I have found it to be...well...OK....

I have been following its development in the news and online for a while now and knew I would want to try it.  I have issues with Facebook and wouldn't mind at all finding a different social networking option.  My problems with FB are many so I won't go into all of them now.  However, some of my biggest problems are addressed by Google + so it is worth bringing them up.

It has always felt to me that Facebook is best understood as an epic reunion party.  A good portion of the most enthusiastic users I know log on to find old friends and old flames in order to discover that they, too, have kids, go to the beach, and watch Little League.  Having never seen the attraction of normal reunion parties, this isn't a big draw for me.  At a virtual party like this our lives are flattened.  They become shallow. I have written about this before.  The past is drawn into the present and we end up sharing things with folks we only dimly recall (or have never met) that we wouldn't normally share.  We don't really know them anymore.  On the other hand, we choose not to share things with others because there are so many witnesses.  I am someone who likes to keep the past where it is.  I also like to know the people I am communicating with.

One related problem I have with FB is that we are all "friends".  This is the levelling thing again.  Most of my FB friends aren't friends, really.  Some of them were in the past.  Some (hopefully) will be in the future.  However,  a friend is someone who calls or writes or drops by when they are in town.  The friends (here I mean real friends) who don't do these things are usually people I live close to and see anyway.  Yes, I know that some friendships have been rekindled thanks to FB.  However, I wonder how much it contributes to making us lazy social slobs who don't ever get around to visiting.   Also, if you spent time with these virtual "friends", would you realize that there are good reasons why you don't call or write or visit?

Finally, FB theoretically can be used for networking around jobs, hobbies , and interests.  However, it seems like it is an "either/or" proposition.  I have a weblog (obviously) which I link to FB and, I hope, interesting things to say.  Every once in a while a colleague I have never met attempts to "friend" me, partly (I think) so that we can connect in clergy sorts of ways.  The problem is, that person never gets to see my web links and interesting professional thoughts because they have "hid" me and my inane chatter about the kids, etc.  No doubt others have hid me because they don't want the blog posts and shop-talk. That then requires two FB pages.  My Burbania Posts FB page has a whopping 14 members...

So along comes Google +.  Right now it is populated by the sort of people who find new computer things fun.  In fact, this process has made me realize that I am one of those people.  Mostly we write about being there.  It is like moving into the new dorm at college.  "Hey!  Check out the cool fridge!"  "Cable and Free-Wi-Fi!"  It is awesome, Dude.  We are also breaking things and waiting for maintenance to come fix them.  However, even in its limited buggy state, it isn't hard to see the potential for someone like me.

The big selling point is their use of "Circles". You can put people on Google + into affinity groups based on shared interests and how you know them.  Each circle can be added or removed from any post.  People can be added or removed from each circle.  So, if I have folks who I think want regular updates from the blog, I can put them in a category for it ("Colleagues", "Friends", "Eliot Church" depending on the topic of the post).  If they are more into beach pictures, that can happen, to ("Friends" and "Family" definitely, "Colleagues" not so much, though some are in both circles).  I will probably even add a "Burbania Posts" circle.  That way they can get blog posts and nothing else if I (and probably they) wish.  

Remember, you can add or subtract groups at will. You can also move people around.  The circles are not static.  That colleague you  have suddenly been spending lots of time with?  They can be friends, too.  That buddy from 8th grade who moved to town?  Let's see if they come to the picnic you invited them to.  It also makes things easy for those of us who need to maintain work/life boundaries (clergy, teachers, etc).  Not sure your students should see that picture?  Don't let their circle in (though that will require and level of organization that may be difficult for many).

So that is the difference I see.  I think there are going to be plenty of people who will not be interested in this sort of networking.  For them, the FB system works well and they have invested a great deal of time into that online persona.  Because some of them are, in fact, my friends and family, I will stick around FB.  However, I see the appeal of Google + and will use it, too.

Instead of a reunion party, Google is trying to make something closer to a denominational convention.  There is a big area where everyone can mill around.  There are also smaller areas for workshops and other gatherings based on affinity and interest.  There is even a place for people who want to sneak out to grab a coffee and just chat in real actual life.  The people in that last group are called "friends".

Swimming Transcendentalism

Life at the parsonage has been a bit crazy lately.  Summer is upon us and various programs for the kids have coincided with various projects of my own and of the family in general.  Also, there have been maintenance issues.  Right now contractors are digging up my garden to put in a pipe that will connect the ol' parsonage to the town sewer.  Losing the garden has been sad.  However, retiring the cesspool most likely put in a century ago when plumbing finally came to Eliot Church is such an overdue joy I can put up with re-planting.  Sadly though, all this action does mean that I am home on a beautiful day.  I would rather be swimming. 

Swimming is my preferred form of exercise.  However, I see no real reason to do it in a pool.  The pool always has a "fast lane" and a "slow lane".  Both are for folks who are getting their assigned laps in so they can be healthier people.  There is nothing wrong with that.  I am just not linear enough as a person to enjoy it.  Why isn' there a "treading water for a while" lane?  Perhaps a "pretend you are a whale" lane would add some zing to Adult Swim.  I drive the kids to the "Y" every weekday.  I believe I am qualified to assert that there is no place or reason there for an "admire the view" lane. 

So sue me for wanting swimming to be more stately and entertaining.  I will stay out of your way at the pool and go to the lake. This weekend we managed to get over to Walden Pond.  Many of you will remember it from literature.  Every once in a while the 'burbs make a lasting positive contribution to society.  Impressionism springs to mind.  So does Transcendentalism...OK it has been a while...

Lots has happened to the poor old pond since Henry Thoreau (with the help of his buddy Bronson Alcott) cleared a small piece of Ralph Waldo Emerson's Burbanian possessions to build his one-room house.  The plan was that Henry would play flute to the fishes, garden, write and walk to his friends' homes for dinner.  It worked out famously.  Fame has both preserved this area in the midst of development and attracted many, many visitors.

The pond is quite a bit more crowded than it was back in Thoreau's day.  It is a state park with a changing room, two small beach areas and a life-sized statue of the great man, himself.  There is also a mock-up of his cabin located near the parking lot.  The original cabin site is about half way around the lake near a large pile of rocks.  It turned out that Alcott's memory was a bit off when showing folks where the house was.  Thankfully this meant that the stone-offerings brought by Thoreau worshippers failed to obscure the actual foundation when it was finally located.

Anyway, it was a fantastic day for a swim.  The crowds stayed right on or next to the shore.  The wet-suited fast-lane folks jumped in, swam across the lake, came back, stripped off their wet suits and marched on to their power-bars or power lunches or whatever.  This left the middle of the lake for boaters (no motors, please) and random water-treading back-floaters like myself.  It was awesome. it was rejuvenating.  I was reminded, in fact, of a sentence describing Horace Bushnell written by one of his biographers, Barbara Cross.  "In isolation, a 'sweet sense of estrangement' crept over him, and he responded to the 'sublime cataracts' of the East Hampton ocean and of Niagara as to the 'divine music' which he heard in the 'lofty passes of the alps.'"  OK, Concord Massachusetts isn't an Alp.  Still, it was nice and with my eyes pointed to the sky and my ears in the water I could have been anywhere.

Walden isn't where I usually do my swimming, though.  The next day we went to Dug Pond, the town beach in my own municipality.  It was somewhat less crowded, but judging by the number of brief conversations and encounters I had there, it appears that I know a lot of teenagers and middle-aged men.  I must be old and semi-respectable (sigh).  The view is a bit different as well.  Instead of forest and wet-suits there were familiar faces and the emerging facade of our new high school.  You could hear the power-tools and the trucks trying to get it ready for the students of a year from now. Still, with your head in the water you could be anywhere. 

I like fresh-water swimming.  I like it up in Northern Maine where the water is cold and the crowds are thin.  I like here in town, too.  It isn't just exercise.  Watching the landscape and the people who enjoy it I am reminded that--along with William Henry Furness--I can "rejoice that we can so freely approach the infinite majesty of heaven, that in this vast and various creation we are not lonely and forsaken".

I think I am OK going to Dug Pond.  I wish I was there now...


Here is a link to Walden Pond for you non-MetroWesters.

Here is a link to Dug Pond, in case you plan to visit me this summer.

Here is Horace Bushnell.  Incidentally, for a more nuanced view of the man, I would recommend Gary Dorrien's work on liberal Christianity.  Cross wrote in 1958 and rather glossed over some of Bushnell's less liberal traits.  Also...yes, I really did think of that sentence about Bushnell while floating in Walden Pond.  I just read the book and that is the best sentence in it...

Here is  William Henry Furness.

So What Ever Happened to Sabbatical?

I am officially done with sabbatical now and--I must say--the end was pretty much a blur.  My "May Term" started out pretty well.  Norm and I had some projects lined up (for him and for me) and we started to slowly work them off.  However, it wasn't too long before we got word that my father-in-law, Craig Nelson, had passed away.  He had been sick for a long time.  Still, you are never really prepared when someone you love dies.  The second half of the month was spent in various stages of mourning.  We drove down to Maryland to be with my mother-in-law, Margaret.  Then, upon our return, we had to deal with our own feelings of loss while plunging back into "normal" life.  While I would rather that Craig was still with us, I am glad I was on sabbatical for this.  Most importantly, I am glad that I was able to be present for my wife and the rest of our family.

Now--with some sabbatical tasks abandoned or postponed--I am back at work.  I preached Sunday and then helped lead a discussion on grace in our congregations at the Council of Christian Churches in the UUA Annual Convocation.  It was a enlightening event and has given me much to think about.  It turns out I am not the only person who thinks that the presence of grace may the most important aspect of  our lives as faith communities.  The challenge is, of course, to keep that front and center when there are so many less spiritual concerns that call for our attention.

I am also planning summer services.  I officiate and preach about half of them. When I am present at summer worship, I serve as the musician in addition to other duties.   Therefore, I am working up a dozen hymns on the uke.  This Sunday is "Children's Sunday" and there are two more "regular" services after that.  Finally, I am trying to figure out ways that the congregation can provide more "points of (grace-filled) contact" for church members this fall.  We will try some sort of "Worship Lab" at a non-Sunday morning time-slot.  We may try some other things as well.  Perhaps a "Pub Theology" group. 

Norm is playing "catch-up" today. While we did manage some field trips to the US Naval Academy, The Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, There wasn't much time for more structured learning. Today this has been made somewhat more complicated by the presence of Son #3 who is with us on Tuesdays and Thursdays now that he has graduated from nursery school. Norm is writing a paper on the life of Samuel Prescott. If you don't know who he is, you can ask Sarah Palin about him. I am sure she knows by now...

I realize there are a few blog-posts in what I have been up to, but with family concerns taking priority, they have had to wait.  Once things calm down, though, I will have time to reflect on the year.  I learned a lot, I think, but I haven't quite figured out what.

Here are links to: The Maritime Museum,  The US Naval Academy, and The Met


Oh...and Samuel Prescott

"Un-College" Update

My colleague and friend Scott Wells has taken up the conversation begun in my previous post about alternatives to college education.  Scott has a much clearer mind than I and has some fairly concrete suggestions and categories to play with.  It is worth checking out here...but do come back...

I posted a comment on Scott's blog about something that has come up in the discussion here, namely the importance of the social element.  The word "social" doesn't begin to cover the depth of many of those relationships.  Every scholar needs a community of scholars they can share with.  They need people they can teach and also learn from.  This doesn't just happen in class, either.  In the theological hot house of Chicago's Hyde Park, many a doctoral paper (including mine) is (or was) developed, reviewed, and refined at Jimmy's Woodlawn Tap.

Scholars also need friends.  This is something that I sometimes forget.  During my own undergraduate years I attended four different schools (yes, for financial reasons).  I met my wife, Allison, during my second stint at Bates College.  That said, I have very few other continuing relationships with people I met during that time.  There are a few Facebook friends and one college friend I have reconnected with through Facebook.  That's it.   I have (thankfully) been able to keep in touch with a few folks from both my seminary stints.  Some of them have become friends and remain important to me.  They still form an important part of my life as a learner as well.  The networks we form are important.

Any sort of "un-college" would have to find ways to address this need.  Homeschoolers have "co-ops" where families band together to teach and learn.  Not going to college doesn't necessarily mean not having access to communities of learning.  It may, however, mean working to build that community.

When Will College Cease to be Relevant?

So here I am in a place that, honestly, I never really thought about when I started a family.  I am just a few years away from the "great college hunt" for Son #1.  In the part of Burbania in which I live, it is an annual rite of passage for children--sometimes starting in their Sophomore year--to collect viewbooks, burnish their talking points and go out on the "college tour."  Ultimately this leads to a personal existential crisis and--finally--selection of the "perfect place" to spend the next four (or more) years.

The problem is that I have no realistic way of paying for this.  I don't mean in the sense of the boys not being able to go to the "schools of their choice".  I mean that I cannot afford any school.  Period.  Also, I do not see that situation changing in the near future.  My wife and I chose professions that help people.  The financial rewards are, therefore, somewhat limited.

One can ignore many of the issues around this odd distribution of wealth.  Our work is fulfilling, after all, and renting isn't all that bad.  However, in the case of college, it is a problem.  The question isn't whether we will go into debt but how much debt we are willing to take on.  There are three of the little dears, so we must ration--carefully--the family resources.  Perhaps they will live at home and study at one of the local state universities.  Perhaps they (and we) will have to take on more jobs to make it work.  I don't know.  It is an open question.

I also wonder how long we Burbanians are going to let this situation last.  I am well aware of how much better off my family is than most people are.  If we cannot afford the escalating tuition, how will other people?  Who is going to all these schools?  Is everyone going into debt for fear that their child is one step closer to homelessness without a degree from Bates? 

There is a sense from the media and from parents that there is nothing we can do.  According to common wisdom, college is necessary and, therefore, we must sacrifice what financial security we might have for the sake of our children.  Still, as tuition and fees increase, shouldn't there be a moment when we decide that Harvard is just one big scam?  There has to be a better way to gain the knowledge that college ostensibly provides.  These institutions may be pricing themselves into irrelevance.

I am serious here.  If tuition increases and becomes (increasingly) an exclusive club for those who can afford exclusive clubs, there will come a time when the rest of us find other options.  For example, why can't my children "homeschool" their undergraduate experience?  We are, as I have mentioned in other posts, members of the Boston Athenaeum, a private library with collections primarily focused in the arts and humanities.  My kids are bright.  They can do their own research.  Also, "a la carte" college courses taken as necessary could fill in gaps.  Even with occasional courses, membership in a library, and other costs, the expense would be much less and the education at least as good for a motivated student.

People in my generation (that would be GenX) graduated with mountains of debt.  It isn't at all clear that it was worth it.  Now another generation is learning the same thing.  What are the chances that smart people are going to repeat the mistakes of the past?  Wait...don't answer that. 

What I meant to say was that it only takes a few people to change the way we think about higher education.  All it takes is enough people to think outside the box to create a new paradigm in learning.  The argument that one has to go to college to be an intellectual  has always been a weak one.  The argument that a piece of paper from a large institution qualifies you for gainful employment may be weaker than we thought as well. Programs of self-education have the potential to create curious life-long learners.  Perhaps some of our children will give it a try...

James Joyce and Feats of Athletic Prowess

I always thought of Joyce as more of a sedentary creature.  You know what I mean?  I picture him drinking, smoking, and writing...perhaps sleeping when he must.  Still, this doesn't seem to faze the folks at the "James Joyce Ramble" in Dedham, MA.  Apparently it all somehow makes sense to honor Joyce while hosting a 6.2 mile race to raise money for Dana-Farber and Amnesty International.  This year my wife was running.  So I went and took pictures.

The mixed themes were embodied by the participants in the final product.  The race--which is certified as a qualifying race by some officiating body--was dominated by a group of truly fast people.  After them came the normally fast folks out for a good healthy competition.  Then there were walkers, going from station to station while enactors (the fourth group) read selections from Joyce's most important works.  Everyone had a good time, I think.  The distribution of folks, however, was still interesting.  One of the readers used sports metaphors to describe the reader-culture.  The "rookies," for example, are always stuck with Finnegan's Wake to see if they have enough stuff for the next year. 

It was this particular work that inspired the original founding of the race.  Back in the eighties, someone thought that since reading Joyce is such a workout, it went well with running.  Yeah...really.  That is the official explanation.  The race's mission statement reads, "Running is an expression of freedom and poetry, both of which embrace the deepest values of life.  The Ramble embraces these values as an expression of charity, a plea for human rights and a celebration of art."

While waiting for our wife and mother to run by, the kid's and I listened to this woman...

...read from Finnegan's Wake and this man...

...read from Dubliners in front of this house...

...which has serious structural issues but is the oldest house in Dedham and the ancestral home of some Vice-President.  Then she ran by...

...(clearly the happiest runner in the picture) and then we went home.

Astute readers will recall that yesterday was a Sunday.  I am back on sabbatical for one more month.  One of the great things about sabbatical is that we get to do things we cannot normally do.  My wife likes to run races.  Since so many races are on Sundays (a good day for non-clergy families), usually her options are limited by my need to be in church.  It was fun to be able to do this. 

Perhaps today I will go and make a Joyce purchase.  I loved Dubliners but--sadly--that is where my reading ends.

Incidentally her time was excellent.  Boasting is OK...right?

Post-Easter Blues



I always find it hard to get going the week after Easter.  Yes, the seasons have changed and we are all supposed to be spritely and vigorous.  However, it takes time for me to ramp up.  No doubt part of this is because of the toll Lent, Holy Week, and Easter can take on someone in my profession.  Every job has times like this.  It is the high-energy time.  It begins when many folks are feeling sluggish from their winter hibernation. It ends on the official "resurrection day".  That's a lot of pressure.  That's a lot of activity.  Of course, it is also allergy season....



Whatever the reason, I find that right after Easter I want to either hide indoors or climb a really large mountain in some less populated region.  I also would like a place with fewer cars.  I was raised a country-boy but don't particularly miss it except when each season changes.  The 'burbs just don't feel (and certainly don't smell or sound) the same as where I grew up.  I miss the connection to nature that comes from inhabiting a place where nature--not people--still holds the balance of power.



 Well, we didn't drive up to Maine.  We also haven't hidden in some far corner of the parsonage.  What Norm and I did manage to do was to drive about a mile away to the local bird sanctuary.  We just barely managed to beat the rain.  It was good to be there.  We walked on some of the trails we enjoyed during our winter hikes and marveled at the changes.  We spotted some birds and reported them to the office so they could go on the list.  It was nice to be out, even if it didn't quite meet all of our requirements.  Burbania is about compromise, after all.



We also signed Norm up for  homeschool classes at the sanctuary.  This is good.  He has taken them before and misses his friends.  These classes--held in various locations and on various subjects--are very important social outlets as well and educational ones.  Norm is considering a second year of homeschool.  A lot will depend on whether he feels he can see other kids.  Homeschoolers spend little time at home, actually.  A lot of it is spent with fellow-students.  A lot of it is spent in nature.  Which reminds me...its time to plan for summer camps...



Sacred Spaces and the Folk Chapel

     The congregation recently gave me a generous graduation gift in honor of the completion of my DMin. Part of the gift was a stole with pine trees on it.  The other part was meant to help defray the costs of a vacation.  Recently we made use of this second part. 

     Many folks like to go south during the winter.  Honestly, I have trouble seeing the attraction.  My family likes to go out in the snow.  You can't beat the winter.  Retreating from it just makes you more isolated.  Therefore instead of some warm spot like Florida, we went north to Stowe, Vermont.  It is one of our favorite places.  We stayed in town at one of the many motels, but we spent much of our time on skis and snowshoes.  The kids love it.  We love it, too.

     Of course, even though it was a vacation, I couldn't completely remove my minister hat.  On one of the days, I took Norm and Son #3 on a hike to the Chapel at Trapp Lodge.  The chapel was built by Werner von Trapp to commemorate his coming through the Second World War in one piece.  Part of this story is, of course, told in (or adapted to) the "Sound of Music" movie.  In real life, Werner was one of the Trapp kids who escaped Austria and the Nazis.  He was also a musician and a farmer.  During the war, however, he served in the 10th Mountain Division.  He was, not surprisingly, happy to get back home.

     The chapel is an interesting place.  It is small. It fits only four or five people at a time.  There is no electricity, so all the light comes from the "windows" along the walls. The images inside are mostly Christian.  There are crosses, as you can see in the picture.  Also, a strangely beat-up Gideon Bible lies on the table.  There is a place to put your written prayers, too.  In that sense it reflects the religion of the Trapps at the time it was built.  Though there is no reason to believe that the family is more religious than any other, the main lodge has quite a bit of religious imagery in the public spaces as well.  It isn't overwhelming, but there is enough for a minister to notice without trying too hard.

     However, there is another vibe that works its way through the chapel scene that, I think, is what continues to make it a sort of pilgrimage spot for a variety of people.  It is set in a beautiful location and its presence accentuates the spiritual element of the natural world that surrounds it.  That is, it transcends sect and helps us reach the religious sense that exists in all humans regardless of their interest or creedal affiliation.  One of my mentors in the ministry--a Presbyterian--once told me that all Mainers are at least half pantheist.  He meant it as a compliment.  I am pretty sure that it was true when he said it and that it is true today for many folks.  People who live in Northern New England may have an easier time of seeing this dimension of their lives than folks from Burbania.  Still, deep down, Burbanians have this tendency, too.

     Perhaps it is true, though, that rural people are bigger chapel builders.  There is certainly less fear of being considered different.  Having some sort of shrine outdoors can make one stand out a bit.  In my time in Maine (all my childhood and a good chunk of my adulthood) I have encountered a great many shrines and markers that folks have put up for the purpose of devotion.  I have built a few myself.  I don't see that happening as much where I live now.  There is the expense of owning a large enough piece of Burbanian land.  There is the effort of construction.  There is also the sense of faith as being intensely private.  If there is any outward sign of a religious life, it is usually kept inside the Burbanian home. 

     Also, there is a greater connection to the land in rural places.  There just is.  Working outdoors, or knowing a large number of people who do changes your relationship with the earth.  That relationship has grown with time and with contact in a way that a few camping trips and a lift ticket cannot replicate.  Our relationship with the earth benefits more from "quantity time" than "quality time."  This can be said about many other kinds of relationships.  If we are really half-pantheists at heart, it would make sense that shrines and chapels would be built by those most comfortable with the imagery and the language of the natural settings these objects rest in.

     It should be noted that many of these shrines that I have seen are not built by terribly religious folks.  Or, rather, they are terribly religious (as most people are) but they are not big into organized religion.  People who go to Werner's chapel may go to church or synagogue, but I bet most do not.  It still means something to them.  It still brings them closer to the Divine, whatever that might mean for them.  Chapel building is a form of democratic folk worship.  We should be doing more of this, even in places where the societal structure is less flexible than it is in Stowe, Vermont.

     Incidentally, it would be a great place for a wedding.  I bet it would cost a whole lot of money unless--of course--it was a "guerrilla wedding.".  I always wanted to do one of those...

Poetry and Preaching

Before I moved to Burbania I wrote a lot of poetry.  This isn't a lament for days gone by.  It is a statement of fact.  The poems weren't very good but I wrote them to make sense of some things that were going on at the time.  I also wrote them in order to practice writing in what is essentially a medium built for sound.  Some of the key elements of poetry (meter, imagery, word choice...less so rhyme--at least for my particular style) are also important in the act of preaching. 

Nine years of poet's writer's block means I am not qualified to talk too much about poems.  However, I can say quite a bit about sermons.  I have found that the written sermon can be treated in a number of ways.  By "written sermon" I mean the actual notes that are taken into the metaphorical pulpit for the purpose of sermon performance and delivery.   I also mean the various preparation techniques used by "noteless" preachers.  If someone tells you they don't prepare for preaching they are either not very good preachers, or incredible liars.

Some see the sermon as an essay or lecture that is spoken but essentially written.  This, I think, is why sermon collections continue to be published by people like Peter Gomes.  They are interesting even in the written form.  It helps, of course, if you are--like Gomes--also a good writer.  Others see the sermon as a poetic form.  If you have been in church for a long time, you may even remember hearing a poem actually delivered as a sermon.  The fact that I have found these to be quite bad--both as poems and sermons--may be why I try not to do this myself.

What I do think, however, is that what we bring with us to the preaching act on Sunday are the notes and meter for a spoken art form.  This is true for a great deal of poetry as well.  It is also true whether the sermon is written word for word as a  "sermon text" as much as with any other mode of preparation.  In this sense one's poetic skills are incredibly important as is the preacher's gift at speaking in the actual idiom of her hearers.  There is some great poetry that takes a few readings to truly understand.  If this is the case with a sermon, it is a failure.  The preacher gets one shot.

As a preacher I have spent a great deal of time on word choice and rhythm.  I have worked on making a thoughtful presentation seem "natural" to my listeners.  Imagery--particularly geographically based--has been particularly helpful to me.  Speaking the language (and I don't mean "English" or even "American English" but "MetroWest Boston English") has been essential.  Sometimes I am able to pull it off.  Sometimes the sermon never quite comes together.  However, if I am to effectively invite people into the imagined world of the sermon, then it remains the goal. 

Not surprisingly, every great preacher has a different style.  I have been impressed by people like Samuel Longfellow, for example, whose sermon style still allows for access to a modern reader today.  The same can be said for Henry Ward Beecher.   There are also many sermons that were probably great at the time that do not translate well.  I find Emerson difficult and need to study the context to get the message.  This is through not fault of the preacher, by the way.  It may just be me.  Quite possibly, the very time-place specificity is what made it great.

Anyway, I want to thank my friend Dawn Potter for posting on this same subject.  Dawn is a poet (you can find her book about "Paradise Lost" in the margin of this blog) and, therefore, more qualified than me.

Return of the Staybattical Part IV: The Once and Future Church

It is a snow day...again.  I just finished shovelling out the driveway and feeding my charges (that is, my children).  Now to get to all the various tasks that inhabit the day. 

Some of those tasks will have to do with Staybattical and, in particular, the research I am doing around the future of the church universal.  It is on my mind these days as the Eliot Church works to restructure its governance, mostly while I am gone.  They have some great ideas and they have gotten me thinking.  This is a topic that dominates the writing lives of many fellow-bloggers so I write on it quite a bit less frequently.  Still, it is something I am working on.  The future of the universal church, after all, influences the future of the particular church I serve.

What I see is what many people have noted over the years.  Society is changing and the church is having a hard time changing with it.  Some folks feel the solution is theological, others political.  While there are certainly issues in these areas that need to be addressed, I tend to think of big problem as structural.  The fact is, the church as an institution has become stiff and brittle.  It cannot adapt to current situations as well as it used to.  That sense of "we have always done it this way" is killing us. 

It isn't theology alone that needs to adapt today. The way that we go about our business also needs changing.  For example, we have church services at a time that is inconvenient for most people.  Even the Saturday night times popular in some circles don't work for most folks.  Our busy weeks make it hard to wake up for anything on Sunday other than the sacred duties of youth sports.  I have serious issues with the Burbanian sports culture--just scroll down to my previous post.  However, I also believe that we cannot speak to those folks who are not present.  The same goes for Saturday night.  People are tired and want some unstructured time.  For many people (thanks to work, other activities and, yes, youth sports) this is the only time in their week when they don't have to go anywhere.  Is it really pastoral to fill that block in, too?

In the future, if the church is to survive, it will need to find ways to go to where the people are.  It will need to get back to its roots and work harder to fit into the communities it serves.  Buildings and clergy may need to be put aside for some communities.  For others they may be necessary but different in form and job description.

Ministers, I think, may ultimately be the a greater stumbling block than property.  I have been thinking lately of the old "circuit-rider" model that was popular in the 18th and 19th centuries.  We could do this today.  In this model,  clergy would have a series of communities that they would travel between throughout the week. 

Now, of course, many ministers--myself included--have served "yoked" parishes.  However, the job (after the careful counting of hours-per-congregation) has been pretty much the same as the one I have now with a single parish.  What I envision is something different.  I once suggested, for example, that one might serve a series of "house churches" as preacher and consultant and journey between them.  Distance will be less of a problem than it was.  Now we have cars, after all, so it cannot be as hard as riding a horse.  We also have phones and email.  There are fewer bandits. The problem, I think, would be congregational expectation.  The job would be different.  There would be less time.  Ordained-and-trained clergy would be more like "bishops" addressing specific areas of church life and providing quality worship.  Other things would fall to the members.  Here we come against congregational expectations.  A church--whether the minister serves for ten hours a week or sixty--often expects the exact same service from that minister.  This is true even though these expectations may interfere with what could be a rich internal ministry of lay people reaching pastorally toward each each other.

 Well, that is all for now.  When I have written about these subjects in the past, I have gotten some interesting responses and hope that I do again.  For example, many ministers of churches that rent have assured me that it is not a walk in the park, either.  Still, it is good to float ideas and see what, if anything makes sense for the institutional church.  We are at a crossroads--in Burbania at least--and a new direction will be chosen for us if we do not choose one for ourselves.

Athenaeum Flood

The Boston Athenaeum flooded yesterday.  According to the general email and the Athenaeum website, it started with a plumbing problem on the first floor--the "public" section where much of the art (and the Children's Library) is kept.  Then the water seeped down into the basement stacks.  They library be closed for a while as they assess the damage.  Possibly thousands of books will be affected in some way.  Water is the bane of libraries--even dampness--so the books will need to be taken offsite and (hopefully) dried out enough to return to circulation.  The library, itself, will need to dry out, too.

The Atheneaum is a private library with a large reputation and an impressive collection of books--mostly in the arts and humanities--that cannot be easily gotten elsewhere.  I have always admired it.   It serves as a lighthouse for those pursuing disciplines that often fall out of vogue.  These days the arts and humanities suffer in the public eye for the frequent absence of immediate financial return.  This fact alone makes it important to have institutions of scholarship, education, and  preservation that are like this.  They help to show that contemplation is not dead and that broad, dynamic thought is still essential to the American life.

I joined this year as part of my staybattical.  Partly, it was because I thought it would be good for Norm, and it has been.  Mostly, however, it was because I wanted access to the sort of works that I would need for my research into transcendentalist Christianity, preaching, and the creative act.  They have some great material, some of which I have referenced in my previous posts. 

My athenaeum year has been a wonderful experience.  I have found the collections to be fulfilling, the silence to be gratifying, and the architecture inspiring.  In fact, I think I will keep a membership next year.  One of the more pleasant side effects of my Fridays with Norm is that, while he does his own work, I sit in one of those first floor chairs (or sometimes on the second floor) and outline my sermon.  There will be plenty of sermons to outline in the future.

There are, of course, other attractions.  If I just wanted to write, after all, there are plenty of desks closer to the parsonage.  In addition to the books, there is art.  One of my favorite seats, in fact, is the one right below John Singer Sargent's portrait of George McCulloch.  There is also the beauty of the space, and there is the location to consider.  Occasionally I gaze out the window at the view of the Granary Burial Ground.  The cemetery, itself, is quite the spectacle  It is busy in the summer and fall with tour guides in period costume giving the talk about Paul Revere's two gravestones. It is a  a grey, cold, quiet in winter. All of this helps elevate the soul and brings it closer to Creation.

Reading an old book from the Athenaeum--the kind they keep in the basement stacks--puts one in touch with history, too.  The book on my desk as I write this still has its original circulation card.  There are a number of illegible signatures along with a number of legible dates: June 4, 1886, October 11, 1886, September 13, 1888, October 8, 1894, December 2, 1897.  The list stops then.  I wonder who has read this book before me?  Who were they?  What were they like?  The book's topic would indicate they were most likely liberal clergy.  I hope its fellow-books have survived the deluge.

The library is private, but you can join.  If you are under 40, an individual membership costs $115 and a family membership is $175.  If you are over 40, then it is $230 and $290.  It is is worth it, believe me.  It may also be worth making a donation, if you can.  After all, there will be quite a lot of cleaning up to do and, honestly, many people benefit from the library's existence even if they don't belong themselves.  Just think of all the papers that have been researched and written there.  Imagine all the sermons.

Of course, once you join, it is hard to leave.  Fellow-member Nathaniel Hawthorne claimed to have shared the reading room for some time with the ghost of Unitarian minister Thaddeus Mason Harris a "small, withered, infirm, but brisk old gentleman, with snow-white hair, a somewhat stooping figure but yet remarkable alacrity of movement."  Rev. Dr. Harris' portrait still (hopefully) hangs on the first floor...

Here are links to

The library's website (it will open on the membership page)

And Thaddeus Mason Harris (from the Dorchester Atheneaum website, I do not know if he was also a member there)

Hawthorne, I think you all know...

The Treasures of the Snow Revisited

As we sit and work, or sit and dream, a day comes in which stillness falls.  A hush is on the earth; a gray sky is overspread above; an uneasiness is in the air which is not wind.  Go to the window and watch. 

With these words William Channing Gannett calls us to contemplate the storm.  He makes it sound so peaceful--even though he goes on to describe the snow as a sort of occupying army.  Somehow I think he wasn't the one responsible for the kids when they stayed home from school!  My wife works from home, so she doesn't have the day off.  This does influence the nature of the day.

Norm put in a couple of hours this morning as Son #1 did the homework he didn't do last night.  Then they went outside to build a snow fort, throw snowballs, etc.  I shovelled the walk and the driveway, took pictures, chipped in a bit on the fort (in a supervisory role) and then got right into the administering of "time-outs".

Son #3 has veered from fragility to truculence to outright rebellion all morning.  He doesn't want to be outside or inside (in opposition, of course, to where the rest are most happy at any moment).  He wants to watch TV and play video games.  Who are these people who get to sit by the window with some hot chocolate and watch the snow fall?  I think I know, and I think I have a way to go before I am one of them.

Anyway, the storm has postponed a potentially more interesting post about a couple of parenting books I just read.  I am sure I will get to them at some point.  They are all about how we should let our children raise themselves a bit more than we do.  I am all for that.



The storm, by the way, is fantastic.  The snow is piling up on the trees and the frozen river and the road.  This sabbatical I am really enjoying the show that winter has put on for us.  Every day the landscape changes.  Every day I have tried to get out into it and this has been good.  Again I wish I had Gannett's gift for language so that I could tell you all about it, but I don't.  Suffice it to say that I have always gotten pretty tired of winter and its difficulties in the past.  This year--with the extra time--it has not been the case.  This winter I have weekends (thank you Labor Movement!).  It has been a long time since I have had so many strung together.  Perhaps this time with nature will be the best part part of staybattical.   It wouldn't surprise me in the least.

Here is a bit of the "occupying army" part of Gannett's essay
A few heralds clad in white come floating down, turning this way, turning that way, like scouts seeking for paths and camping-places.  Then, of a sudden, the thick, dull sky is alive with trooping forms!  The ways of the air are filled with the army of Snow!  Their tread is not with sound, but second by second they arrive, and alight, and possess themselves of the hills and the hollows.  The fields grow silent and white with their gleaming camp.

I would say that they have pretty much taken over here in Burbania...



Return of the Staybattical Part III: Old, Dead, Liberals

There are times--like this morning--when it is hard to get going.  It is cold outside.  The trees, the road, the houses, and the people are all varying shades of slate-grey.  The dim outlines of the many school buses that ply their trade though the Burbanian morning are moving slowly, making the horrible noise of metal grinding against itself.  Ah Monday, when all that has been delayed reminds you of its tedious presence.

Later on Norm will wake up and we will get to work.  There will be more reading and writing for him.  There will be phone calls for me..  At some point, however.  I will get a few moments and will be able to indulge in the least systematic element of my staybattical.  Namely, the reading of old dead liberals.

Regular readers already know about this tendency.  I have gotten a membership this year in the Boston Athenaeum and have sought to make it my theological playground and frontier.  However, since I have kept the whole thing casual (picking books based on whim, mostly) my reading is rather scattered and unscientific.  At B.P. I have tried to take note of passages or ideas that might interest others.  Past posts are filled pithy quotes from random religious liberals and their mostly long-out-of-print books. 

They are all religious liberals, of course.  I am a Parish minister after all, and the purpose is to get a better sense of the thought and thinkers that have informed the thinking of the sort of people who make up my congregation.  Not that folks need to know their names, but I should know them.

The Eliot Church, being affiliated with the Unitarian Universalist Association and the United Church of Christ, is both liberal and explicitly Christian.  Not all members claim to be Christian, but that is not unusual in the UCC or (obviously) the UUA.  Our UCC half, however, does require us to come to terms with what Jesus means to us and the answers vary.  The point is, not all of these liberals I am reading are of the "Emerson Fan Club" sort that I might be expected to read were I somewhere else.  Currently I am reading works by Frederic Henry Hedge (one of my faves), Harry Emerson Fosdick, Henry Ward Beecher, and the somewhat problematic Horace Bushnell.  At some point they all will be quoted and discussed here at Burbania Posts.

Actually, I have most recently been reading a small book written by William Channing Gannett entitled "A Year of Miracle".  It is a collection of four essays, each corresponding to one of the seasons.  The first essay is the best and takes its text from Job 38:22 (King James Version for all you KJ fans).  Here is his (Gannett's, not Job's) beginning...

If a sunset were as rare as a comet, the people would all be out upon the hill-tops--astronomers with their telescopes, poets with their pens, artists with their brushes--to capture what they could of it, and give it immortality.  Or, if only once a year the eastern skies held sunrise, we should be out of bed betimes that morning to watch the gold and crimson pageant passing up the sky.  But because these glories face us every day, we are color-blind to them.  Still worse with glories that are near as well as frequent.  We envy a friend starting for Europe, going where there is "so much to see," we say--Alps, cathedrals, and old art: as if a year spent in the nearest pasture would not crowd our mind with miracles, if only we had eyes to see with!

"Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow?"  Probably not: for he who asked the question spoke of a treasure-chamber, rare in Bible-lands, but opened to us anew with each December...

Man he has a way words...

Learning the Charles



Yesterday, after jumping through some hoops in the early morning (mostly work on paragraph construction).  Norm and I went for a hike in a nearby nature preserve.  It was cold, but not too cold, which meant we were fine to stay out until lunchtime.  We brought a bottle of water and a sort of "travel kit" of art pencils, small sketchbook, and loose leaf photocopy paper to see if we could find some image to record.  We are learning about art and nature.  We are interested in the ways "creation" creates and inspires.

We took our time and found a variety of things to interest us.  There was deer fur on a tree and nearby off the path.  There were deer prints (and dog prints and people prints) in various locations.  We found a rotted stump and some interesting moss. There was ice clear enough to look through, though there was some distortion--like plastic swim goggles that have been left for a while on the wood stove--that only added to the interest. 

Finally we ended up by the Charles River, much smaller and quieter than it is in the city.  This is Burbania, after all.  There we sat down on the mostly frozen ground and spent time sketching the far bank.  We were learning about perspective, mostly, and light.  Neither my picture nor his came out looking the way the far bank did.  I added some mountains and a small barn (further evidence I need to get back up to Maine).  Norm added a house, a snowman, and a small boat.  Still, the lesson was learned even if a bit of artistic license was taken.



Getting out is important for grown-ups and for kids.  So is the absence of structure.  One of the goals I have for this time is to let Norm find his own way to learning certain subjects.  I would do more of this than I am, in fact, if I wasn't concerned about him going back next year.  For those who may not know, there is in the world of homeschoolers something called "unschooling" and if this were a multi-year project rather than one that will last (most likely) twelve months, I would be all over it.  The fact is, kids will learn on their own if you let them.  Contrary to popular belief, they do not have to be "molded" by adults.  Norm has been working hard on the subjects he selects and he learns about other topics as they intersect with his particular subject.  Geometry, for example, is big when figuring out perspective.  When we call it art, he studies it and he gets it.

I see this in the other kids as well.  Son #1 does his homework and jumps through the hoops, but what does he fill his free time with?  Things he likes. Yes, that means "flickering box" sometimes, but he has put in epic hours on the trumpet.  Why?  I know he wouldn't put it this way (he is twelve) but I think the music moves him more than other things right now.  Give your kids space and they will decide what to do with it.  Remove obstacles such as TV and computer.  Strip away all the programming that you hope will get them into Harvard, or their own big cubicle, or onto the the varsity squad (or even just make them "well-rounded" or "fulfilled") and they won't curl up in the fetal position on the couch. 

They will step up.  They will explore.  They will impress you with their vision.



The Flickering Box (or why Blogging is Tedious and Dull)

Yesterday the kids and I made another step toward reducing our "flickering box" time.  I have noticed that, in spite of being on sabbatical, my evenings are booked to the extent that I cannot  to do all the things I want to do (mostly uke-playing and book-reading).   The reason for this is technology.  I love TV.  I kind of tolerate the computer.  In both cases, however, time gets eaten away and I am not sure whether it has been well-spent.

The various reasons for cutting back on TV are fairly well-documented so I won't discuss them here.  What I really wanted to talk about was the other flickering box.  The one I am on now.  Of course, computers have saved us a lot of time.  I use it for sermon (and other work-related) writing, emails, Facebook, researching homeschooling materials, and finding something to do on the weekend.  I am not so sure, however, that it is terribly efficient.  I am not so sure that it is terribly healthy either. 

I like the way Facebook, for example, enables me to find old friends and keep up with current ones.  I find it strange, though, in that it bends time in a way that makes me both the person I am today and the person I used to be.  Is it really a good idea to try to keep in touch with everyone you have ever known or met?  I have found old friends through Facebook and reconnected with them.  This has been a good thing.  Still, many relationships (romantic or otherwise) end for good reasons.  Why don't we just let them end instead of placing an icon on our public identity?  Why do we want to be permanently both this person (who we are now) and that (previous, possibly now unrecognizable) person at the same time?  I don't know, but we seem to.  Will I stop using FB?  Probably not.  It gives me an odd feeling sometimes, that's all.

I am pretty convinced that computers stunt creativity as well.  Back when I was younger, I was one of those people who would write poetry and essays for friend-produced literary magazines that lasted three issues.  Do you remember those?  Most of the ones I wrote/published for were of the cheeky "storm the barricades" type.  That is, we didn't take ourselves too seriously.  Among the poems and short essays we made ample use of the visual forms of collage and doodle-by-ballpoint-pen.  We would give these publications to our friends and leave them at libraries on the brochure table.  Our entire budget was what we put on the photocopy card.  I miss that.  I don't just miss the camaraderie.  I miss the medium.  I remember early in my ministry writing for the old Universalist Herald, partly because the aesthetic was almost the same.

Now, I have been blogging for around seven years.  Is it as fun as self-publishing the old way?  No.  Is my circulation higher?  No.  Is the final product as well thought out?  Is the format more exciting?  Is blogging more likely to be tedious and dull?  No...no...and...yes, obviously.  I don't plan to stop blogging, but, really, its limitations are making me scream...

 Last night, as I was hanging out with the kids I thought about what we have lost as a society and what I have lost as an individual to the enforced uniformity of technology.  It is quite a lot.  The flickering box is making us all the same.  I don't want to be like everyone else.  I don't want you to be like everyone else, either.  The question, then, is what to do about it.

So I am thinking about producing a 'zine.  That is, a micro-publication.  It would--as per tradition--be published according to its own flow and time schedule.  It would not be online.  It would be produced via photocopier when I felt like it and mailed to whomever wants one.  Maybe other people would contribute.  Maybe not.  That is kind of how it works.

Does anyone want one?  If you would like to get it, please let me know.  If I don't know you, please send an address.  I am serious. You may not hear from me right away because it is a slacker medium but I mean it.  Wherever two or more are gathered and all that.  Let me send you a letter...

Oh...and does anyone know where I could get a mimeograph machine?  That would be awesome...

Return of the Staybattical Part II: Homeschool Edition

Today Sons #1 and #3 return to their normal non-vacation rituals and duties.  The elder is off to his Junior High and the younger is on his way to daycare.  Son #2 (aka "Norm") is, of course, continuing our one-year homeschool adventure.

One of the deals we made with each other was that when I was at work, he would work on subjects that could fit our mutual schedules.  This has meant a great deal of math.  Math concepts--at least at this level--are fairly simple.  The tricky part is getting them inside us so that we no longer have to think about them.  This requires plenty of repetition and practice, which meant that Norm could practice while I was working.  No he gets more leeway in his work. 

His choice (not surprisingly) has been to focus on the humanities.  We will continue with art and music, something made easier by the acquisition of plenty of art supplies over Christmas.  Also over Christmas we entertained the cousins with our three-piece (trumpet, uke, and drum) combo by playing holiday classics.  We couldn't find a band for him to belong to.  We tried to get him into band at his former school but the response was a rather firm "no".  So the non-traditional combo, along with drum lessons will have to suffice for the year.

Most importantly for keeping up with his school-mates (remember, this is for only one year) are our plans to catch up on Norm's reading and writing skills.  Norm reads a lot for fun.  Certainly this was the case over Advent as my workload increased.  Now, however, we need to work on the more formal building blocks that come with literacy: spelling, grammar, writing, and reading comprehension.  Some of these will be easy for him.  I hope (and suspect) that the others will be easier than he thinks thanks to their overlapping nature and his own enthusiasm.  Either way, there is a stack of carefully marked workbooks on my desk and we crack them open today.

A few people each week--particularly over vacation--express the belief that they would never be able to homeschool their kids.  The reasons are varied.  There are personality differences, the need for time away from parenting duties, and more practical--logistical--reasons like the requirement for most working parents to have their children away so they can work.  These are all valid.  Many people also claim not to have the right "skill set" for teaching kids in general and their own kids in particular.  These skill sets, of course, can be learned.  However, I understand this hurdle as well.  Basically, homeschooling is about a re-ordering of priorities and family structure that can be hard or even impossible for many families that would be otherwise interested or sympathetic.

At first I would have said that everyone could do this.  Now I am not so sure.  It is a lot of work.  It takes a great deal of my time.  It requires patience, which is not natural for me.  However, Norm is learning and--with the exception of math--is enjoying it!  I am learning, too.  I am not merely learning in warm and fuzzy ways.  I am learning (or re-learning) fourth grade!  It is amazing what we forget, or what we ignored the first time.  Perhaps it will stick better the second time around.

Well, class is about to start and I must go.  No doubt there will be more to write on this subject later...

Beginners

I hope the new year is getting off to the start you hoped it would be.  I spent time with family and friends over the last couple of days and it was quite nice.  For many people this is the end of the holiday season.  I will hang on until Epiphany, when (I believe) I and a few other folks will be bottling a Porter and an IPA to get us through the rest of the winter.

I don't make resolutions based on this holiday (New Year's, not Epiphany).  I am enough of a church animal at this point in my life that I do that on the first Sunday in Advent.  So while others are making them, I have reached the time when I start to forget them.  Actually, I have a suggestion for folks who are looking for something in this area which--not surprisingly--is the real subject of this post.... 

Why don't you resolve to become a beginner?

In my (admittedly messy) car, I keep a copy of "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" by Shunryu Suzuki.  It is what I read when I am early for something.  In it he tells us that "In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's mind there are few."  It is a good thing to remember, of course, but it is hard to do. 

Also, we can lull ourselves into thinking we are doing this when we are not.  A beginner approaches a subject with curiosity, enthusiasm and openness.  Sometimes we try this approach with subjects we just know too much about to really experience with a beginner's mind so directly.  This is when we pay someone to come to work and tell us to "think outside the box".  Often this involves filling out boxes.  This is when we resort to the self-help books as well.

I think the better way to a beginner's mind comes from actually being a beginner at something.  Yes, I am talking about hobbies--sort of.  However, sometimes it is something else, volunteer work, activism, even, perhaps, a career change.  Not all hobbies will work either.  If you resolve to "take up cabinet making" for example, the goal is to become as good a cabinet maker as you can.  You can certainly cultivate a beginner's mind and become a good cabinet maker, but it is a different goal.  In this case, the question isn't "am I making a good cabinet" but instead is, "is this cabinet making thing still super cool?"  Perhaps the best thing to do is find something that you can accept you won't ever be an expert at.

For my beginner's mind exercise I have the uke.  Ukuleles are not really conducive to expertise.  There are great masters, of course, but they study really hard and, for the most part, still maintain a strong sense of irony concerning what they do.  That is, they do it for kicks.  There is a reason why the most famous uke players are comedians, after all.  Bringing my own limitations to an instrument that already has limitations itself  means that I can only get so good.  I do not plan to compose inspirational (or other) music.  I do not plan to work my way to semi-legitimacy in a bar-band (though that would be funny).  I just hack around on it and play it in public settings where its natural charisma is more important than its tone or range. 

The point is, I will always be a beginner and this fact helps me to be a beginner elsewhere.  For example, the beginner's mind has helped to open up new possibilities in my preaching.  The uke has helped me to do this. It has punctured the "expert bubble" more than once.  As you know, I do a great deal of preaching.  I have a doctorate on the subject and a regular gig at the Eliot Church.  However, it is hard to be the Rev. Dr. Adam Tierney-Eliot who knows a lot about preaching when I am leading the congregation in singing "White Christmas".  I have to loosen up.  In that loosening comes new ideas and new perspectives and growth.  That is...more beginnings.

Do you see what I am getting at?  To maintain your "beginner's mind" in all areas of life, why not add an area in which you will always be a beginner?  It will probably not be the same one I chose (and I am choosing others as well).  That's not the point.  Find something you are interested in but that you have chosen not to do in the past because you were afraid you wouldn't be good at it.  Then explore doing that thing not so you will become an expert but so that you will have the experience of something new and exciting.  That is real outside the box thinking and it will come back to serve you well in your future expert endeavors.

Perhaps not something that could get you killed, though.  I mean, really, skydiving?

Return of the Staybattical Part 1

Christmas is over...more or less.  We are in the midst of the "twelve days" and there is, of course, the double threat of New Year's Eve and New Year's Day when you go to bed (if you are as much of a fuddy duddy as me) in one year and then wake up in the next year.  While these are good holidays and I plan to make the most of them, the big stuff is out of the way so I return now to my staybattical until the end of February.

It was a good idea to set up the sabbatical in "chunks".  Yes, it prevented me from doing grand things that I wasn't going to be able to do anyway (no retreats, no yak herding expeditions, etc).   However, returning to work after the month of October has enabled enabled me to refine my goals for this time.  I tested some things out and now I have some--granted anecdotal--information that I can use over the next few months.  This is the biggest chunk of time, so it is important that I can make the most of it.

With this in mind, I told the Parish Committee (think "church board", but quite a bit more "churchy" in its culture than many boards) that I would be focusing on a few specific areas.  Each of these overlap, but thanks to my Advent work-time I have been better able to tease out the parts that go in each area.  Today I will address the first, and perhaps most obvious area...

A) Faith, Worship, and the Arts:

Readers of Burbania Posts are well aware, I think, of my interests here.  The magic uke has made appearances in nursing homes, as the primary accompaniment on Sunday morning, and as a part of my sermon.  Less obvious would be my renewed interest in some of the liturgical arts, like poetry that can be used in worship, and ritual that expands the palette offered in many congregations while also maintaining the "feel" (and telling the story) of the specific congregation I serve.  I will continue to explore these issues while also keeping in mind the flaws in much of the resource material out there.

 Yes, flaws.  I have found that a great deal of the work around the arts and how they intersect with religion doesn't quite answer the questions I have.  Granted, this is my bad as the question, itself, is a bit amorphous.  I am trying to address two areas under this heading during the next two months.

     1) God and Creativity:  Good theist that I am, I believe that true acts of creativity are ultimately inspired by God and bring us closer to God (or "gods" or "goddess(es)" or "the ultimate" or "the Divine" or Allah or...well you get the idea).  The question for me is, in that sense, a personal one.  I write sermons which differ from lectures (and the should differ from lectures) in this explicit seeking of connection to the Divine.  This year I am exploring other media (music, photography, poetry and other writing).  Sometimes I am participating in the creative act myself as a beginner.  At other times, I have been seeking out those who have some mastery of their craft.  The question for me is whether my theology of preaching is expandable.  Can it become a theology of creativity?

     2) Art and Worship:  There are a few colleagues of mine who have been cast over time as the "sensitive music in worship workshop" ministers.  Each has a strong fan-base of other colleagues that really gets into them (or one of them) and their work.  This isn't really a problem.  In fact--though my personality doesn't allow me to be quite as much of a groupie--it is a good thing.  However, I do think that at times what is taken from these (actually often quite deep) practitioners is rather shallow.  "Music moves people.  I am moved by music.  Why don't I sing my sermon or just invite Rev. Music-Workshop to do a service at my church?"  There has to be more to it than that! 

I also find--as with any person or institution that is able to propose a "plan"--that there is a certain tendency to make sweeping statements that may be true in the planner's experience but may not be true in another setting.  Why, for example, should a fairly traditional congregation be interested in contemporary worship music?  Is there really a "deep spiritual hunger" for this? Are they really missing anything?  Or is it that there was a workshop that got a minister psyched?  I have too often seen communities that do worship well beat themselves up because they don't do the "cool new thing" well.  I like Heavy Metal.  I like various ironic and alternative strains of folk and country.  Should I beat up on Metallica (or should they beat themselves up) because they don't sound like the Waco Brothers?

There is a great deal of material--both in book-form and in the air--that accepts the fact that "the arts" (and I include the art of preaching and worship in that category) help us to connect with something great than ourselves in ways that are both intuitive and emotive rather than simply--not "merely" but simply--through rational and logical means.  Less time is spent figuring out what this connection might mean other than a warm fuzzy feeling. 



Even less is said about context.  What does the experience of worship mean for me (as an individual) and us (as a congregation).  What "Amazing Grace" for example, means to one worship community may well be quite different from what it means to another.  It may affect me differently when I play and sing it privately.  The degree of difference may be quite wide if it is played by me (semi-competently) on the uke (a less traditional worship instrument) as a sing along (non-professional performers and collaborative worshippers) at a nursing home (non-church setting) rather than at an orthodox (small "o") Christian church.

The question I am trying to ask and answer has to do with the problem of organic worship which may be the overall question for me as a pastor.  Well...at least the organic part.  In this first area, then, I am asking "how can a community of faith make its arts offerings reflect their own faith and culture?"  I will take this broader question of the organic church up again in my next section...perhaps tomorrow.

Coming Someday Hopefully Soon: Section B: The Life and Culture of the Future/Present Church.