About Eric Herron

Eric is the Lead Site Editor for Clayfire Curator. He has also begun a missional experiment through his work with Church Resource Ministries (CRM). Pasadena, California is his laboratory. Eric and his wife Nathalie are part of the leadership team of Tribe, Los Angeles. They have a toddler named Asher Ericson and twins, Zane Ezekiel and Penelope Jade, born March 10, 2011. Explore some of Eric's original music at unkeptrecords.com

Epiphanipulation

We all want to see people ‘get it.’ As creators, we long for our art to be understood—especially with little or no extra explanation. As curators, we struggle to gather disparate elements and create new meaning with the express desire that the meaning we portray is not lost on those who come. We not only want worshipers to rudimentarily grasp our meaning, but to deeply internalize it. It is a pleasing bonus if the worshiper is surprised, maybe even startled with epiphanic understanding.

These desires are so strong for worship creatives that we will often go to great lengths to ensure an emotional impact is felt, an elusive intellectual concept is comprehended. We long for hundreds of little invisible light-bulbs, hovering over each and every gathered one’s head.

In this longing, we can cross over from simply creating powerful messages to crafting seductive manipulation. Where is the line? If we hope to instigate ‘epiphanies,’ what is appropriate and what is going too far?

Art that ‘goes too far’ might resemble image exploitation, using pictures that are mostly composed for ‘shock value.’ It might also involve unbalanced emotions—excess sadness or joy, extreme violence (as in The Passion of the Christ), exceptional stories with melodramatic details.

Worship events that ‘go too far,’ might involve spiritual manipulation in the form of misused scriptures—theologically squeezed for preferred interpretations. Manipulation in worship also takes the form of activities that allow for only one kind of participation, with the illusion of options. For instance, imagine a time of public confession in which people are invited to share at will, but are forced to sit in extended, uncomfortable silence while no one chooses to stand up and share. In this example, we are not attempting to manipulate individual emotional responses—as with manipulative art—but instead to humanly create a ‘spiritual environment’ that may not be what the Holy Spirit has in mind for the moment.

In all of these cases, we are hoping, striving for epiphany. Epiphany at any cost.

I don’t make it a habit of manipulating epiphany in worship, but I do recall one event in particular that perhaps may have crossed some lines. One of the first times I led a team in creating a large-scale Stations of the Cross event, we saw some very strong emotional responses by the worshipers who came. If one were to have stood at the exit—where the last chronological station was positioned—one would have witnessed a high percentage of people exiting with visible tears. I happened to speak to one woman as she was leaving. She said that when she first arrived to attend the event, she became angry.

Our team hadn’t foreseen such a large number of people showing up for this open house-style worship event. Because we were only allowing a few people in at a time to control the pace, nearly everyone who gathered was forced to wait outside in the frigid air for 20 min or longer before actually being allowed to enter the building and walk with Jesus to the cross and tomb. This woman said the cold waiting had brought up all kinds of anger in her. “How dare they make me wait to worship!” “Why didn’t they plan this better?!” she thought. By the time she had made it through the stations and been very graphically reminded of Jesus’ suffering via video, drama, images, recorded storytelling, and interactive art, she had realized her anger and felt “guilty” for the way she acted before.

I remember being quite satisfied (not in front of her) that our curation had caused such an epiphany in her heart and mind. However, upon further reflection, I’m wondering how much we—intentionally or not—manipulated her through our set up and the content of this event.

What do you think? Did my team manipulate emotions by making people wait in the cold before being reminded of the “real” suffering of Jesus? Or, was this physical experience of waiting an appropriate way to engage the whole person, beyond simply the intellect?

How much, as worship curators, are we allowed to ‘press the buttons’ of worshipers toward their own spiritual enlightenment? Or, is this too much like playing Holy Spirit?

Can you share with us a worship event or singular moment in which you may (or may not) have crossed the line between appropriately using art and manipulating worship?

Image © iStockphoto

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What are the results when worship brings ‘epiphany’ to your congregation?

Before Christmas, there was Epiphany.

While many emphasize the visit of the Magi on January 6, historically this event on the Christian calendar has also been associated with a number of other aspects of Jesus’ life and ministry. Epiphany has links to the first miracle at the wedding in Cana, Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan, and may have even been associated with the date Jesus was conceived, as well as the date he died.

As Church historian James F. White puts it, “The common theme of all these events is Jesus Christ manifesting God to humans.” (Introduction to Christian Worship, 3rd ed., 61.) Epiphany, from the Greek word meaning “manifestation” refers to this. The word Theophany—used for this holy day by Christians in the East—refers to this manifestation even more explicitly.

What does it mean to manifest something? A brief word study concludes that “manifest” as an adjective can refer to something that was previously unclear and is now made obvious to observers.

As a verb, to manifest is to show or demonstrate through actions or appearances.

As a noun, a manifest is a document that lists details about passengers and cargo in transit. A “manifesto” is a ‘public declaration of policy and aims’ especially of political nature.

What do we celebrate at Epiphany? We celebrate God, but not just a fuzzy reference to the person of God. We celebrate a ‘public declaration’ of God’s aims. We revel in God’s plan made more obvious through the missional and miraculous actions of Jesus.

Two weeks ago, when we discussed the Incarnation, we asked a question about the curator’s role in the process of manifesting God. The question was: Can you describe for us the last time you took an abstract theological concept and made it more concrete?

This week, we pose a related question—but one that focuses on the response of the worshiper to such epiphanies we curators attempt to facilitate. The question: Can you describe the last time worshipers in your group had an epiphany? Describe what happens in your context when seekers of God have some aspect of God clarified. Are hands raised and bodies prostrate? Are people ‘slain in the spirit’? Or, perhaps it is a less visible response. Worshipers stunned into a long period of silence? The sudden arrival of a ‘hushed intensity’ among the gathered? Maybe it is more verbal in your church. Spontaneous testimonials? Unplanned, public confessions?

Share with us what results when worship brings ‘epiphany’ to your congregation.

As for the poll, I haven’t been able to think of one this wee… WAIT… I’ve suddenly got an idea!  Here it is:

According to scripture, baby Jesus' visitors "from the east"... (choose 1 or more):

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Dinativity

Everyone knows that the advent of Jesus was around the time that we now call AD 1 (Anno Domini, “In the year of the/our lord”). Actually, some (that is, those hoity-toity types that don’t like notating general history with any reference to Jesus as God) now use CE (Christian Era).

Everyone also knows that dinosaurs existed between the Triassic period (245 million years ago) and the Cretaceous period (144 million years ago). Wait, did you know that? Even if you didn’t know that, at least you are familiar with the middle dinosaur period also known as the Jurassic period (approximately 208 million years ago) thanks to Hollywood and Michael Crichton.

Now, because of the wide discrepancy in time between the advent of dinosaurs and the advent of Jesus (give or take 230 million years) no one really ever stops to consider what might have occurred had these two existed at once on earth. I know I never had. Never, that is, until my son Asher started mingling his Fisher Price nativity scene with his growing collection of prehistoric reptiles (see photo above, click to enlarge.)

I know my son is only a pre-schooler, but at first sight of this monstrosity, I felt certain there were deep spiritual truths to be gleaned therein. Call it ‘supernatural inspiration’ or ‘accidental enlightenment,’ this dinativity provides for us a number of insights into the mind of God and additional reasons for which we can be grateful in this season.

First, take note of the ass that sits above the manger. According to Fisher Price, this is the spot upon which the angel Gabriel (currently middle, left) is supposed to reside. Instead, we find the angel helplessly writhing in pain after a swipe from the right claw of the T. Rex. This scene depicts the current disarray existing not just on earth, but also in the heavenly realm. As we long for Jesus’ second coming, we can look forward to the time when the spiritual powers and principalities will once again be in proper balance. Until then, we fight not against flesh and blood, but against all the unseen forces that threaten to tear down all that is good about our lives and our world. Until then, we must trek our addled lives on the back of asses waiting to be eternally buoyed-up on the wings of angels.

Note also, the baby Jesus, upside-down, but still in his crib of hay. I believe this is a profound allusion to the “upside-down” manner in which Jesus chose to save the world. He did not come as a political leader as many Jews assumed he would. He did not come in power and might as many others of the day would have hoped. He came as a tiny, defenseless, frail human baby. He was even subject to the knocking about by monstrous reptiles (had they actually existed in AD 1). The dinativity reminds us once again that in this world, it is not the first, the brightest, the prettiest, or the most successful that will find a similar spot in the kingdom of heaven. Christ came for the lowly, forlorn, down-trodden, sickly, weak and the poor ones. The kingdom that teenage and grown-up Jesus proclaimed is consistent with this dinativity message. For more on this, see Donald Kraybill’s seminal tome, The Upside-Down Kingdom.

Regard Mary’s position. She is on her back, no doubt initially ending up there from startled amazement at the sight of the Brontosaurus. Or perhaps she was knocked down by the wind of a tail-swat from that enormous creature. The point is, she has chosen to remain there. Face to Heaven. Arms upraised. If we were to hear the soundtrack of this grizzly scene—in addition to Queen Latifah’s addictive beat—we might also hear words similar to those recorded in Luke, chapter 1 coming from the mouth of Mary: “His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.” It’s like Mary suddenly realizes that God’s mercy doesn’t just extend as far back as the book of Genesis. It goes further. Upon her recognition of the millions of years that came before and the true breadth of history through which the Trinity sustained, blessed, and acted in His creation, Mary magnifies the Lord.

By now, it ought to be clear why God chose in his infinite wisdom not to allow the advent of dinosaurs to coincide with the advent of Jesus. If you haven’t already finished your daily devotions, take a moment now and thank the Lord for his wisdom and his grace. Thank him for his decision to keep modern humanity and prehistoric reptiles at a healthy, 230 million year distance from each other.

Finally, if you have a 3 year old (or 4, or 5 year old), run out before it’s too late and get them a Fisher Price nativity scene. Why don’t you also pick up a couple prehistoric reptiles. You never know what spiritual lessons might be lurking just around the corner.

Image © Eric Herron

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The View From Your Pew

Date: December 4, 2011

Time: 8:05 am

Location: 7834 Eastern Avenue, Baltimore, Maryland, USA

Church: St. Peter Evangelical Lutheran Church

Caption: Praying together.

Photo © Ed Kay


Send us the view from YOUR pew. We’re looking for images of your community at worship. Some more examples here. Submit yours here.

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Do you use non-sacred Christmas music in December worship?

For many people, Christmas is nearly synonymous with music. How else would we know that the season is upon us, except that Starbucks starts rotating its yuletide playlist before the last bit of Thanksgiving turkey has even reached our lips? And, there is a standard repertoire of this music that one hears on radios, TV’s, and piping through mall speakers everywhere. Interestingly, it is a mix of sacred and secular music.

There is no other circumstance that I can think of in which songs about God—even worshipful songs—and songs about pop culture are intermingled on the same playlist. For example, it is a common experience that as you’re searching for that perfect, last-minute gift, you hear: “Santa Baby,” “Silent Night,” “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas,” and “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” in succession, blasting from the retail store speakers.

When you think about it, it really is kind of an odd juxtaposition. Last night, driving home from picking up dinner, I flipped on the local oldies station. It felt almost surreal hearing Brick House by the Commodores:

The clothes she wears, the sexy ways
make an old man wish for younger days
She knows she’s built and knows how to please
Sure enough to knock a man to his knees

… immediately followed by Kenny Rogers and Wynona [Judd] singing:

Mary, did you know, that your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know, that your Baby Boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know, that your Baby Boy is heaven’s perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you’re holding is the Great, I Am.

The mixing of sacred and secular Christmas music often goes unnoticed in general culture. But, in our worship contexts, we wouldn’t get away with such contrast. Or would we?

The church I was at today had a healthy dose of sacred Christmas music, including: “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” and “How Great Our Joy.” At the very end of the service, a gifted teenager performed a special postlude. It was a very jazzy, piano solo of the song, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

With the option to mix sacred and non-sacred music for Advent and Christmas events, what does your church choose? Do you use non-sacred Christmas music in December worship? If so, what is your rationale?

Or, do you choose keep the secular holiday tunes on the ‘down-lowly’ in December? What are your arguments for banning Mel Tormé, Irving Berlin, and Nat King Cole from your services?

When it comes to Christmas music in worship, our church uses...

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And, just for fun, here’s RollingStone’s reader’s poll for the ten best Christmas songs of all-time. (Only one of them is sacred!)

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