For the next month, I'll be attempting a special Sabbath of sacred silence. A total vow of silence will not be possible, mostly because I will be in numerous situations that require basic communication: Bible studies, volunteer situations, and more notably, I'll be preaching. However, since this is probably my last chance to even come close to a life of intentional silence for a while, since it seems that employment is looming near, I will take the month of August as a special time of reflection.
The purpose is simple: I want to be open to seeing the in-breaking of the kingdom of God in this place in a way I have not seen in months. Marcus Borg describes sacred silence in his book, The God We Never Knew, as this: "Silence may be understood as the appropriate response to the presence of the sacred, or as waiting and listening for the Spirit, or as the experience of the communion with the Spirit. By stopping the flow of words and sounds, silence invites us into a wordless world. It also conveys the sense that something is present that is worth attending to" (119).
I also have a long history of taking intentional time for silence in my life, a fitting reversal of the many hours of practice and non-stop sound that punctuate and frame my life as a musician. Now as a preacher, I find my many and endless-flowing monologues and dialogues to be as empty sometimes as the many scales and etudes and concertos that once took up my time. Perhaps I've simply talked myself into a corner, into a place of dimness that desperately seeks vision. I know my tendency to criticize- I know what it looks like to see the powerful put unending burden on the poor, to turn away from the suffering of the poor, the ignore the deaths of the poor. I criticize because I hear so few other voices speak on behalf of the poor, who are now officially called "the entitled" in this country by our wealthy politicians. Because my heart can hardly break any further, I commit the next month, and indeed the rest of my life, to finding those places of the in-breaking of the kingdom, those people, who cry out with prophetic voice- those people whom God has ordained to speak truth to power.
My hopes:
-to find a new spirit, a new heart of compassion for all God's children
-to find the humanity in all people
-to remember how to listen deeply
-to find the Sacred in the ordinary
-to meditate in silent prayer
-to cultivate a sacred imagination
-to see the kingdom of God
-to relearn how to speak
-to learn the art of quiet and embodied subversion against the powers that separate us from God
Marcus Borg, in the same chapter, also discusses compassion in a way I've never really considered: "Compassion is not just a means of spiritual transformation but an end in itself. It is the central ethical value of the Jesus tradition, as well as the central quality of God" (126). Therefore, compassion- as informed by the triune God- is the central goal of this month, and indeed my whole life.
While I will still preach and volunteer and mildly participate in groups, as I have agreed to do, I will otherwise remain silent in this time. My only writing and online presence will include reflections about this sacred silence. My hope is that by September, I will see God (everywhere around us) and live.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
debt-ceiling news coverage
Reading the play-by-play news on CNN about the debt ceiling is a little like getting to the end of a B-movie involving an American (good-guy), a Soviet Russian (bad-guy), and a bomb. We all knew back at 20 minutes that the bomb would be down to 4 seconds, 2 seconds, a half-second, before the good guy manages to cut the red wire (or is it the blue wire?) and averts the disaster....because that makes for intense movies, right? But in this analogy, I'm finding out that the traincar/bus/whatever housing the bomb is actually the US economy, and the good guy has voices in his head saying, "maybe if we let the bomb go off, it won't be so bad!"
Or maybe the media is playing this whole thing up too much as a B-movie and less like...the...weather channel. And why is the Soviet Russian always the bad-guy in these B-movies? I preferred Despicable Me, where the Russian villain (Steve Carell) turns out to be the hero.
Or maybe the media is playing this whole thing up too much as a B-movie and less like...the...weather channel. And why is the Soviet Russian always the bad-guy in these B-movies? I preferred Despicable Me, where the Russian villain (Steve Carell) turns out to be the hero.
Friday, July 8, 2011
performance anxiety
As a musician and perfectionist, I really struggled with performance anxiety in college, and now I think I know why: it was all tied up with my theology. I admit now that I am a recovering musical fundamentalist.
I once felt horrible guilt for all the usual things: not practicing enough (not reading my Bible enough), not performing as well in public as in the practice room (not "walking the walk"), not treating my teacher with enough respect (more focused on myself than on God). Much of this observation was going on just in my head, but sometimes other people took noticed and were happy to inform me that I was not a good musician (Christian). Sometimes other fundamentalists who pretend they have it altogether make themselves feel better by putting others down. "I'll pull the splinter from your eye while I neglect to acknowledge the plank in my own eye." The real downside of guilt is its cyclical effect of self-hatred and cynicism. Set low expectations, and one will always manage to make it to the end of the day and feel just enough comfort to make it to tomorrow. Still, it seems that contempt would hold one to seek a higher level, a better standard for oneself. Without contempt and guilt, afterall, we'd all just become lazy and then "anything goes."
But there was a beautiful thing that happened in my life: I went to seminary and embraced my depravity. As a Christian and as a person, I grew in stability, but as a musician, I did the unthinkable- I completely stopped practicing (gasp!) and almost never played for my first year. After having sometimes 5 performances a week the year before, rehearsals like crazy, and not enough time in the day to keep up with all the practice, I dropped almost all of it. I still taught lessons and played occasionally in chapel, but really I embraced all the negative stereotypes we musicians place on ourselves. I became "the quitter" who couldn't make it. In fundamentalist terms...I gave God the finger.
So did I end up being a lazy, sloppy, good-for-nothing musician, the way fundamentalist Christians think they will become if they let their guard down for one millisecond and dare to question God? At first- kinda. My left hand forgot where it was supposed to go for a while. When I did play for chapel or community orchestra, I would tell my left hand where to go and it would go somewhere else sometimes. But truthfully, by embracing the total depravity of being the worst kind of musician, I learned to accept who I am- human, flawed, beautiful in a special way, God's own beloved musician. I stopped looking at these "rules" of perfectionism as a sort of oppressive law that might just save me from hell, and I started seeing them as a compass for how to show God's love to other people. Because I love God and I am learning to love myself, I want to do what is right and up-building for the community. Think of it as Calvin's "third use" of the law.
Some days are good and some are still bad. However, bad days aren't ones where I have it out with God and demand to know why bad things happen to the people I love- bad days are when I fall back into the pattern of fear and guilt, and I attempt to retreat into the practice room of shame and hatred. Good days are when God and I are in active relationship, whatever that may look like. Increasingly, the bad days are fewer and less common.
Since moving to Iowa, I have been practicing violin once a day, everyday, for a few weeks. It's an exercise in calmness and meditation. I fix things, I work on technique, but it's in an environment of peace, rather than of war and pain with myself and God. Calvinism has not only shone light on the myths of guilt for me, but it's also allowed me to see that sometimes I don't have choices in life. Knowing that some things are predestined helps me to see where I do have choices. It's empowering. It's Good News. While I did not start playing violin at a young age with the best teachers, I do have this time now to practice technique, to cultivate the love for music that is already there, and to express that love to God and neighbor. Thanks be to God!
I once felt horrible guilt for all the usual things: not practicing enough (not reading my Bible enough), not performing as well in public as in the practice room (not "walking the walk"), not treating my teacher with enough respect (more focused on myself than on God). Much of this observation was going on just in my head, but sometimes other people took noticed and were happy to inform me that I was not a good musician (Christian). Sometimes other fundamentalists who pretend they have it altogether make themselves feel better by putting others down. "I'll pull the splinter from your eye while I neglect to acknowledge the plank in my own eye." The real downside of guilt is its cyclical effect of self-hatred and cynicism. Set low expectations, and one will always manage to make it to the end of the day and feel just enough comfort to make it to tomorrow. Still, it seems that contempt would hold one to seek a higher level, a better standard for oneself. Without contempt and guilt, afterall, we'd all just become lazy and then "anything goes."
But there was a beautiful thing that happened in my life: I went to seminary and embraced my depravity. As a Christian and as a person, I grew in stability, but as a musician, I did the unthinkable- I completely stopped practicing (gasp!) and almost never played for my first year. After having sometimes 5 performances a week the year before, rehearsals like crazy, and not enough time in the day to keep up with all the practice, I dropped almost all of it. I still taught lessons and played occasionally in chapel, but really I embraced all the negative stereotypes we musicians place on ourselves. I became "the quitter" who couldn't make it. In fundamentalist terms...I gave God the finger.
So did I end up being a lazy, sloppy, good-for-nothing musician, the way fundamentalist Christians think they will become if they let their guard down for one millisecond and dare to question God? At first- kinda. My left hand forgot where it was supposed to go for a while. When I did play for chapel or community orchestra, I would tell my left hand where to go and it would go somewhere else sometimes. But truthfully, by embracing the total depravity of being the worst kind of musician, I learned to accept who I am- human, flawed, beautiful in a special way, God's own beloved musician. I stopped looking at these "rules" of perfectionism as a sort of oppressive law that might just save me from hell, and I started seeing them as a compass for how to show God's love to other people. Because I love God and I am learning to love myself, I want to do what is right and up-building for the community. Think of it as Calvin's "third use" of the law.
Some days are good and some are still bad. However, bad days aren't ones where I have it out with God and demand to know why bad things happen to the people I love- bad days are when I fall back into the pattern of fear and guilt, and I attempt to retreat into the practice room of shame and hatred. Good days are when God and I are in active relationship, whatever that may look like. Increasingly, the bad days are fewer and less common.
Since moving to Iowa, I have been practicing violin once a day, everyday, for a few weeks. It's an exercise in calmness and meditation. I fix things, I work on technique, but it's in an environment of peace, rather than of war and pain with myself and God. Calvinism has not only shone light on the myths of guilt for me, but it's also allowed me to see that sometimes I don't have choices in life. Knowing that some things are predestined helps me to see where I do have choices. It's empowering. It's Good News. While I did not start playing violin at a young age with the best teachers, I do have this time now to practice technique, to cultivate the love for music that is already there, and to express that love to God and neighbor. Thanks be to God!
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