From the archives: Grief, loss, and flattened faith

First posted March 2013; edited slightly

I recently read a Globe and Mail essay that left me both aching for one hurting soul...and wondering how Jesus would respond to his pain.  

The author said that although he believed that his Christian faith was solid, he got the wind so knocked out of him by the senseless death of his mentor that, within another year or so, he had "stopped" being a Christian.

I don't know this person, so I can't guess how deep his faith went, or the amount of grief he had to deal with.

But if the same logic applied to all Christian believers, then there would have been no Christian believers.  Ever.  Because that's exactly what happened on Good Friday.

Of course the disciples had the Resurrection to boost them up, a few days later, just as we have the promise of eternal life.  But all the same, would they ever forget the grief, failure, abandonment, betrayal that that Friday meant?  Yes, they saw Jesus alive--but did that end all their questions about the God who allowed His Son to suffer?  

If the same logic applied to me, my faith would either have been still-born...or killed off as well.  In some ways, it has died, more than once, through sin, stupidity, apathy, failure, disappointment, discouragement, betrayal.  (Sometimes other people's, sometimes mine.)  I've seen Christians I trusted charged with criminal acts.  I've known others who should have been and weren't--which was worse.  I've seen Christian marriages, those that were an example to me, fall apart because of addictions; and ministries break apart over greed and power struggles.  I've often felt, like the author of the essay, that if we lose whatever or whoever most symbolizes Christ to us, then is there a point to continuing?

It seems that the body of Christ, once again, failed to see, to offer support and help where it was most needed...or maybe it was there, and this grieving Christian just didn't see it or couldn't receive it.  I don't know.  But after the last friend has gone, the last mentor or reason to stay in the church has been taken--each Christian is still on his or her own journey.  Whether with welcome (or unwelcome) company, or alone for a stretch, the road is our own.  If that sounds like something from The Pilgrim's Progress, that's exactly what's on my mind, because that "Christian" had a mentor and best friend senselessly taken from him as well...and yet he continued on, I think, in part, to honour the memory of one he had loved.  And for a much greater reason: because it was his journey.

They therefore brought [Faithful] out to do with him according to their law; and first they scourged him, they they buffeted him, then they lanced his flesh with knives; after that, they stoned him with stones, then pricked him with their swords, and last of all, they burned him to ashes at the stake.  Thus came Faithful to his end.

Now, I saw that there stood behind the multitude a chariot and a couple of horses waiting for Faithful, who (so soon as his adversaries had dispatched him) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through the clouds with sound of trumpet the nearest way to the Celestial Gate.  But as for Christian, he had some respite, and was remanded back to prison; so he there remained for a space.  But He who overrules all things, having the power of their rage in His own hand, so wrought it about that Christian for that time escaped them, and went his way.  And as he went, he sang, saying:

"Well, Faithful, thou has faithfully professed
Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest.
When faithless ones, with all their vain delights,
Are crying out under their hellish plights.
Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive;
For, though they killed thee, thou art yet alive."

Book Review: The Ecumenism of Beauty

The Ecumenism of Beauty. Edited by Timothy Verdon (Paraclete Press / Mount Tabor Books / ISBN 978-1-61261-924-8 / 128 pages/ full-color illustrations / Hardcover / $28.99) [Published May 1, 2017]

www.paracletepress.com
Paraclete Press, Mount Tabor Books: Brewster, MA, and Barga, Italy

"The last fifty years have seen a rediscovery of the role of the visual arts in the lives of all Christians. In tune with this ecumenical age, this book shares the belief that beauty and art can bridge differences." (from the publisher's description)

At the risk of just doing a cut-and-paste book review, I want to share the vision behind this book:

Other contributors to this book include Orthodox, Anglican, and Protestant artists, scholars, and clergy who will participate in a two-part symposium, The Arts and Ecumenism—What Theology Risks in Artistic Creation. Part one will take place in May of 2017 in Paris, Strasbourg and Florence. Presentations will discuss Catholic and Protestant approaches to art through history, theology and liturgical contexts...The US portion of the symposium will take place in October, 2017, in New Haven, CT, at the Yale Institute of Sacred Music on the topic of Sacred Arts in North American Context, and in Orleans, MA with academic presentations, musical performance and an art exhibit on the theme: The Word in Color, Action, Music and Form.

It sounds like some big and important things are going on this year! The Ecumenism of Beauty is a sort of preview of what will be shared at these events, including photographs of the works of art that will be discussed. After reading the book of Clyde Kilby's essays earlier this year, I was really looking forward to reading how some of those ideas might be playing out in the meeting point between today's church and today's art.

Unfortunately, I can't give this book all the stars I would have liked to. If I have to nail down one reason, it's my probably unfair position as a Protestant trying to pass judgment on a book written by and published by Roman Catholics, in an area (visual art, particularly liturgical art) that is not something I am very knowledgeable about. As an under-educated but interested observer, the discussion didn't seem all that...ecumenical...to me. I've been part of a variety of churches, some more liturgical than others; so I'm not very opinionated on highly-decorated or less-decorated worship spaces. However, I found the overall tone of the essays somewhat dismissive of those who prefer to worship without what they see as visual distractions. Perhaps the authors felt those Christians would not have much to say on the subject of liturgical art, particularly in churches--which is, for the most part, the "beauty" referred to in the title.

I may come back to this book when I'm feeling less distracted myself. I did enjoy looking at the included art, though again some of it just puzzled me.

If liturgical and contemplative Christian art is something that excites you, you will probably want to get a copy of this book and also stay tuned in as the European and U.S. symposia take place.

Statement of disclosure: I was sent a free e-copy of this book by the publisher for purposes of review. Opinions given here are my own.

Orange butterflies and purple hymnals

Around 1973, I was in elementary school. I was also a member of our church's junior choir. The Roman Catholics were in the era of their folk/guitar mass, and over at the United Church, we kids were also singing Medical Mission Sisters songs and spirituals.Very ecumenical.

Our most-used music book was this one:

It took me awhile to find the title Folk Encounter online; all I could remember of the cover was "purple."

You-tube has helpfully provided a short medley from the much longer, now very scarce LP Folk Encounter Singalong. Enjoy.

It's Advent Not Christmas, Day 19

Gordon Giles, vicar of St. Mary Magdalene's Church, Enfield, North London, wrote an Advent devotional book a few years ago titled O Come Emmanuel.  In the reading for December 17th, he remembers the first time he preached in St. Paul's Cathedral, on a text from St. Luke's gospel about the Incarnation. The posts for today and tomorrow come from that reading.

"As is the usual custom in large cathedrals, the Gospel book is carried down the nave, so that it is read from within the body of the congregation after the Alleluias have been sung.  This done, the small procession makes its way back to the altar, and the preacher climbs the steps to the pulpit...While these very practical liturgical movements are taking place, it is traditional for the organist to improvise...

"On this August day in question, John Scott, organist at the time, was playing, and as the procession returned to the altar...he played gently, but recognizably, the first few notes of the tune of 'O come, O come, Emmanuel.' The congregation would have been taken by surprise, undoubtedly, it being summertime, but then the music moved away from the theme and built up, until after about two minutes the theme returned, with other notes flying all around, a trumpet blazing 'O come, O come, Emmanuel' through sparkling notes of summer...By this time, I was in the pulpit...looking down the length of St. Paul's, [and] I wondered if there really was any point in saying anything, for in a way it had already all been said with the voice of the organ."

Hidden Art of Homemaking: On cupcakes and ceramic unicorns, and something more

See, I ain't as cruel and vicious as I seem
Though I do like breaking femurs, you can count me with the dreamers
Like everybody else, I've got a dream...

Toll would like to quit and be a florist
Gunter does interior design
Urf is into mime
Attila's cupcakes are sublime
Bruiser knits
Killer sews
Ven does little puppet shows
And Vladimir collects ceramic unicorns...

~~ "I've Got a Dream," from Walt Disney's Tangled

Obviously the leisure pursuits of the "Pub Thugs" don't line up so well with their means of making a living.  This seems to me a bit of Disney fantasy, however.  Wouldn't Bruiser be busy enough scouting yarn and teaching sweater classes that he wouldn't have time for trouble and mayhem?  How can someone who cherishes ceramic unicorns go around smashing things?  It's also interesting that the songwriters chose stereotypically "feminine" hidden hobbies for the Thugs--we notice that they're not into woodworking, flyfishing, or hockey.  (No offense meant to male mimes or female hockey players.)

However...they do have a point: that anyone, no matter how unlikely, can have a hidden talent or knack for finding beauty that's just bustin' to get out...and for some of us, developing that talent may be what keeps us sane or out of trouble (or bigger trouble than we're already in).

And even if we don't yearn to collect ceramic unicorns ourselves, can we find ways to open up those doors for those around us?  To give our spouses time, resources, appreciation for their interests?  Our children?  Our children's friends?  Are we opening up art, music, literature, natural outdoor beauty?  Even a little, occasionally, is better than NONE, and that's what a lot of children these days are getting--NONE.  Our family has a limited budget for concerts and plays, but we've taken advantage of low-priced and free options when they've come up.  One year Mr. Fixit and the girls took me out to lunch for my birthday--and then stopped off at a local college for a free lunchtime concert of Renaissance music.  But just focusing more on beauty (of all kinds) in our homes is sometimes the right place to start--as Edith Schaeffer explains.

Can we nurture creativity in our church congregations?  I've heard of innovative churches that have art shows...and how sad, when you think of it, that that has to be considered "innovative."  At the church we attend, our music director organizes evenings of instrumental music, often inviting talented musicians that he knows.  As the adult Sunday School co-ordinators for the same small congregation, Mr. Fixit and I have included sessions on Christian writers and other related topics; we also had a guest teacher this winter for a few weeks, a geographer who is completing a book about the ways that God reveals Himself through the natural world.

Can we go even further?  I know of Christian mission and outreach programs that involve art, music, crafts.   Some quilters have a program at a local correctional facility, and they get the women there involved in making quilts for teenage mothers and babies.  Everybody benefits.  I also recently browsed through a book about herbal crafts, and the author described her stint as craft leader of a church summer program.  There were no paper-plate atrocities in her craft room: she had the children making scented wreaths and other things with dried plants and herbs (many from her own garden), real crafts they could be proud to make and pleased to give someone else.

Many churches have traditionally used sports programs to give kids, guys, dads a way to connect.  Mr. Fixit remembers one childhood priest who often seemed more interested in his duties as basketball coach than he did the more spiritual end of things.   But could we also offer pottery?  Poetry?  Not that churches should become funhouses...or that we should pour our resources into building more glorious cathedrals...but that in whatever situation we call "church," in our everyday walk together as well as in times of worship, we could find ourselves in a place where people, believers and seekers, adults and children, discover something beautiful; where something that is too much lost, can be found.

That's my dream.

Open now thy gates of beauty,
Zion, let me enter there,
Where my soul in joyful duty
Waits for Him who answers prayer.
Oh, how blessed is this place,
Filled with solace, light and grace! 

 ~~ words by Benjamin Schmolk, translated by Catherine Winkworth

Linked from The Hidden Art of Homemaking linky for Chapter 4 at Ordo Amoris.

Quote for the day: on church, classes, Charlotte Mason, and real life

One of this week's thrifted books was This Beautiful Mess, by Rick McKinley.  I am not an adherent of the emergent church movement, so I am cautious about this kind of book; but I did find one passage in it that said more to me about homeschooling and Charlotte Mason than it actually did about church.

Here is the quote:

"Our dream at Imago is that one day you would come to church with your kids and travel through Learning Labs as families.  Think about it:  What if you walked into a church and instead of seeing a sign that says "Sixth-Grade Girls," you saw signs inviting your family to the garden, a science lab, an art studio, a media room, and on and on?  If the kingdom is being expressed in all of life, why wouldn't that kind of "church school" make perfect sense?"--This Beautiful Mess, page 109

Well, what we do when we spend time with other believers on Sunday mornings is worship. Mostly. Our church has Sunday School classes too, but I'm thinking we are there because it's a time of corporate, formal worship, not a time to work in the garden or do science experiments. However, I do like what it says about how we might do life and learning together aside from that time of formal worship. Your thoughts?

Worth reading: Charlotte Mason meets Vacation Bible School

As I've mentioned before, I've been involved with summer Vacation Bible Schools since I was old enough to sing "Fishers of Men."  I've posted about it most summers here.  This year our church won't be hosting one, for various reasons, and I think that's good, in a way; everybody needs a break sometimes, and VBS is a lot of work.  But generally I think we do a pretty good, non-screaming, non-stickering job of it.  When you have fewer fancy resources, you do tend to concentrate more on on relationshipsthan programming.

Veteran CM homeschooler Tammy Glaser posted recently about CM and VBS on the ChildLight USA blog, and I think she hit several nails right on the head.  Even if you have no experience or interest in VBS itself, the post provides a thoughtful look at how one class strengthened its relationships not only within the student group, but also with the teacher, the church body, and the community.  Lots to think about there for families, for homeschooling, and for churches.

Dewey goes to Vacation Bible School

Every summer of my childhood, we went to a Baptist church's VBS. (Our church didn't have one.) As so many people remember from old VBS's: the cookies and Kool-aid flowed Deep and Wide, and the crafts were largely popsicle sticks. The theme for the week might be "Following Jesus," and I have no idea who published the materials but they--at least the stories for grade six or so--were pretty meaty. One year it was a version of Nicky Cruz's Run Baby Run, about gangs in New York; another year I remember reading missionary stories that must have been about John and Betty Stam, because I can still hear this Dr. McCoy voice in my head saying something like "Dangit, Jim, those Lisu are going to learn about Jesus."

What also sticks in my head is the person who taught us older kids for the last two years I was there. I remember two things about him: first, that I always admired the commitment this young man had that made him come back and teach us rowdy kids, year after year. The other thing I remember is that he was killed on a motorcycle a couple of years later. I've always felt sorry that I never got a chance to thank him properly.

I've helped with several VBS's since then, at different churches. I've noticed how they're changing. Especially I noticed at the big church we attended while Crayons was very small--I didn't help those years, just watched from the parent's point of view, and that was the first time I'd seen one of these new Wow curriculums with so many kids, music videos projected on big screens, and more screaming during the music than I'd ever seen in a church before. The crafts were still paper plates and tie-dyed t-shirts, but overall there was a new, slicker, more packaged feel to the whole thing. The themes are now more like birthday parties or library reading clubs: outer space, treasure islands, even (last year) an amusement park. Kids go here, leaders say this and that, and then it's on to the next station...am I wrong in feeling that it's all getting a bit too programmed? (Especially when you find out that every other church in town, and maybe more than that, will all be using the same curriculum...VBS must be about the only time all year that we all get so ecumenical.)
As a parent, I also have a bit of a problem with some of the "discipline the parents" language that appears in the Director Manual I was given this summer. "Some parents may want their preschoolers to [stay with] older siblings. Firmly insist that the [preschool] activities are the best ones for preschoolers." It's not that I'm arguing with that, I'm just not that impressed by being "firmly insisted" at.
The church we have been attending for the last three-and-a-half years is very small, and our VBS is not very big either. It also leans more towards the traditional Kool-aid mode than the frantic screaming and plastic memory toys--probably because our membership, and in particular our VBS leadership, is largely made up of an older generation. Our imaginative, energetic friend who has directed the VBS for three of the four summers we've been there was a teacher for many years, and she runs things according to her long experience with children--no matter what the books say to do. We also don't have a policy of "firmly insisting" that parents stay out or that children go where they're not comfortable.
But we're still using the Big Mega VBS Curriculum--or at least the parts of it we could afford. No music videos, although we did get a CD of the music. No plastic toys. We didn't even get take-home papers or worksheets, which in my mind is a plus anyway.
I was given the Preschool level curriculum to use, which was a bit of a problem since the seven or eight children I was teaching were all five or six years old. (The rest were in one big group for the elementary-age children. We didn't have any preschoolers.) I didn't need to teach the Bible story, since that was acted out during group time each day. We didn't have the additional DVD stories for them to watch. I didn't need to do crafts with them, since everybody made crafts together later in the morning. I didn't even need to do many songs, since everybody sang together at the beginning and end. This is all to say that most of what I was given was unnecessary, or in some cases too young for my class...I had to dig through the teacher's guides and pick out what was left.
What I was supposed to do with my group, each morning, was provide some kind of follow-up to the Bible stories, help them learn the memory verse and Bible themes for the day, and play games. I did find a couple of games I liked in the curriculum materials, but some of the suggested activities made me wince. I refused to have them go around in a circle and sing "Here we go round the burning bush." I'm sorry, that's not only silly but it seems somewhat blasphemous as well. (We also--collectively--decided NOT to serve a snack called "Berried and Raised" on the day we learned about Jesus' resurrection.)

Dewey fills in one morning for the curriculum's official hand puppet

Anyway--what did our class do? Played Freeze Tag--to get unfrozen, you had to shout out the memory verse. Played What Time is it Mr. Moses? (that felt slightly less blasphemous than dancing around the burning bush). Jumped along a number line marked with pictures to help learn one tricky memory verse. Sang a couple of songs I dredged out of my memory. Listened to a couple of picture books that fit with the day's theme. Crossed the "Red Sea" (a balance beam we improvised). Watched Ponytails do a magic trick, and talked about how God really did make wonderful things happen (no trickery). Played Hot Potato and said the memory verse. Watched Ponytails chat with Dewey about flashlights and missing batteries. And so on.
And the kids really did enjoy the Bayou theme, as far as we took it, and the dock area that some wonderful volunteers created (with real bullrushes to hide baby Moses in).

Trust and Okay

One blog leads to another: the always-thoughtworthy Wittingshire posted a quote from George Wiegel, and Wittingshire was linked to by The Paragraph Farmer, which I got to by following the Deputy Headmistress's Sunday Hymn Post. Okay, those are the credits: this is the bit of the quote I liked:

"A thoroughly secularized world is a world without windows, doors, or skylights: a claustrophobic, ultimately suffocating world."

Imagine never hearing the soaring words of Holy, Holy, Holy--Reginald Heber's words, or Nolene Prince's chorus from Isaiah 6:3, I don't care which--I always hear both of them flying out the windows, through the skylights, up past our small selves here. It's the poetry of the words as well as their literal meaning that opens those windows, though. Otherwise we might as well just have "What a mighty God we serve, what a mighty God we serve." Not the same at all.

Again from one blog to another: Lawrence Henry wrote this in the American Spectator, the JunkYardBlog commented on it, and the Deputy Headmistress picked that up as well.

"IT IS AN INTERESTING PARADOX. Churches devoted to rigorous, difficult theology -- real Christianity, in short -- have largely adopted praise music, mainly to get people in the doors. In doing so, they have denied their parishioners an intimate connection with the art, the music, the poetry, and the history of the faith of our fathers, embodied in hymns.

"Mainstream churches, which have left Christianity behind for liberation theology, "peace and justice" theory, deconstruction, and modernism, still cling to the hymnbook, to the hard work of teaching choirs to sing in harmony, and to the expense of maintaining pipe organs.

"If only they took as good care of the faith."

I won't get into the issue of who's practicing "real Christianity." But I do know exactly what they're talking about. Church-wise and music-wise, I have been almost everywhere. I grew up in the most mainstream of mainstream, heavy on Isaac Watts and the Wesleys, with a midweek helping of holy roller on the side. Since we've been married our places of worship have varied from strictly-pipe-organ (did you know Lutheran hymns are older and harder than "the norm?") to have-to-audition praise team.

The congregation we've been part of for the last while was actually formed partly out of this same question of worship style and content: those who rebelled against "My All in All"/overheads/praise bands, among other things. Since we meet in a rented assembly room, singing is accompanied by a piano and led by a song leader (there isn't usually a choir). Ironically, "My All in All" is included in the hymnal they chose; I think we sang it a couple of weeks ago. That hymnal is full of other little surprises, too: every so often I get hit with a chorus I haven't sung since the '80's and never really wanted to hear again. But generally we're on the same track: the hymns we sing at home often get sung at church as well.

Occasionally I've thought that I should make a list of my favourite hymns. Just in case, you know? But I think the list would be too long--so almost anything in The Mennonite Hymnal would be fine, with a couple of exceptions. With apologies to The DHM, I'd have to request that if this particular squirrel ever goes paws-up, the rest of the fur-bearers would please refrain from singing Be Still My Soul. I like Sibelius and I used to like that hymn until they started using it at every single funeral. Blech. Every time I sing it now I get depressed.

But I have one more thing to throw in here about hymns, in case you think I've gone too far off the original point. And it has a lot to do with that last paragraph: I wasn't kidding about wanting hymns--real hymns--at my funeral, whenever I eventually get to shed this mortal coil. I don't care if every person there has to stumble through the words and doesn't know the music, I want some songs with meat on them. How can you get through any kind of a crisis without knowing that "on Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand?" This is something we've lost as a culture, especially during the worst times: being able to cling not only to the words of Scripture we know, but the poetry of the Psalms and hymns that has been written over and over on our hearts. How many families are there who hang up the phone after good or bad news and reach for the hymn book? Crayons once goofted on the name of the hymn "Trust and Obey." She called it "Trust and Okay," but I think that's closer to the truth of what I'm saying.

When I sing, "With ever joyful hearts, and blessed peace to cheer us," I think of the pastor who wrote those words during a plague. When I hear about "sorrow and love flow mingled down," I know something of Christ's love for us during our worst times. When I hear some of the "get people in the doors" stuff--I don't hear anything. It's not that older hymns are just macaroni and cheese to me, a matter of emotion and familiarity and comfort; it's not just style and taste. It's what they are filled with that goes flying away from me myself, past what I know, to something bigger than I am.

God is here within us,

Soul, in silence fear Him,

Humbly, fervently draw near Him.

Now His own

Who have known

God, in worship lowly,

Yield their spirits wholly.

--Gerhard Tersteegen, 1729