Christmas — Clayfire Curator

An Epiphany

by Jodi-Renee Adams | December 29, 2011

Denver hosts a parade of light-filled floats the first weekend of December to kick off our Christmas season. It’s a rather time-honored tradition and crowds are packed onto the curbs of the parade route every year. A few years back, I took my then three-year-old son to his first Parade of Lights. We stood opposite the historic clock-tower with it’s red-light lined peaks and every window glowing. His eyes and mouth were fixed in a look of perpetual astonishment; but when Santa came around the corner, with the dancing gifts and snowflakes, the animated penguins, and his genuine spirit of joy, every person jammed onto that curbside came alive. Regardless of age, life-journey, class, race, religion, social group, for a few moments everybody believed in something bigger, something beautiful. Everybody could foresee a time of peace, of togetherness, of mystery and magic. And I wept. Not because of Santa or Christmas or my baby boy’s sweet reaction—but because of the overwhelming presence of heaven. The kingdom was there, quiet and hidden, but seeping into every pore and sound and scent on that street.

I think I also cried because it was not too long ago that this kind of experience would never have made it onto my radar as a sacred encounter. My spiritual categories were so entrenched that I lost sight of what it meant to be enchanted. I might have even “prayed for” those lonely, hurting people who were confusing GOD with the experience of Christmas. Because, of course, I knew what they were really looking for. Ouch.

It’s hard to not wonder how many times I still miss GOD-Who-Is-Bigger or settle for GOD-Who-Makes-Me-Feel-Okay or the safe and expected GOD-Who-Fits-Inside-the-Christian-Culture-Box. You know, the one who grows big churches with “hip” worship. One thing I’ve learned is that the GOD-Who-Is-Bigger isn’t really in the business of making me feel better or reconciling the situations of my life, but often meets me in ways that are subtle, disturbing, and gently lifts my chin from gazing at myself and my ideas of what it means to be “spiritual” to a vision of all that could be out there. There’s an invitation by the GOD-Who-Is-Bigger to genuine self-discovery and Divine-discovery and world-discovery and love-discovery that simply can’t happen when we play it safe or “culturally relevant.” In other words, it’s an invitation into Epiphanies.

I certainly came from a Christian culture that said GOD is big enough to heal my wounds (both literal and metaphorical), to come through when everything else is failing, to “defeat my enemies” (whomever and however I interpreted that), to legislate morality (as defined by Christian culture, not necessarily Scripture), or to act in the blatantly-Christian supernatural. But this GOD was still only big enough to fit into my world—instead of inviting me to get lost inside of GOD’s world; and certainly, once I knew The Truth, there was no need for free-thinking openness or looking about the world with curious longing. This was never more evident than in all of my favorite worship songs and defined worship experiences. It was never more evident than in the lack of profound creative revelation and thematic grandeur. And yet, how cool did I think I was with my anti-tradition, pop-Christian music and my normalizing appreciation for Pink Floyd!!

Perhaps a large part of our spiritual crisis in America is due to the smallness of the GOD we profess and reflect in the day to day of our lives, to our lack of curiosity and to our missed Epiphanies. That’s a pretty big accusation. I get it. I’m not asking you to agree with me, I’m simply asking you to think about it.

Here’s what I learned from a bunch of wise guys: I’m learning to let go of my smug insight into what GOD does and doesn’t look like even as I stroll blindly past the manger bearing the Incarnate. I’m learning to confront myself: How open am I, really, to encountering the GOD-Who-Is-Bigger, even if that GOD doesn’t fit into my cultural or pre-defined categories? And am I willing to worship there?

May the GOD of Surprises, the Deep Well of Mystery, the Divine Spark enlarge your world and your experiences this week. May this GOD illuminate you with Epiphany. May we all mirror that light to those we serve. Through Christ Jesus.

Image © iStockphoto

Categories: Formation

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

by Eric Herron | December 26, 2011

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:

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Categories: Q of the Week

Waiting for Christmas

by W. Zachary Taylor | December 22, 2011

As we swiftly flow from Advent into Christmas, there is limited time for reflection on the worship of the last four weeks. The meetings to evaluate how things worked, how people were affected, and what kind of transformation occurred in our community will take place next month. But now, as I take down the elements of the waiting room, the memories and conversations are still alive in this place:

Shocked reactions of people being handed a birth announcement that reads, “Congratulations, you’re expecting!” The snarky comments of white-haired women were definitely more humorous than the glares and “I don’t think so!” responses from fathers of teenage daughters.
The pastor openly and adamantly declaring from the pulpit, “You know what I learned from watching a pot of water and waiting for it to boil? That I hate to wait! I want worship to start on time. Oh, that was brutal.”
People rolling their eyes at being invited into the worship space by number, and making comparisons with the DMV.
The guy who asked, “Next week, can we watch paint dry?”

Then, there are the conversations about having a new understanding of Advent, making connections to the worship we might practice during our everyday waits, and genuine gratitude for the time and thoughtfulness that went into planning and implementing it all.

Applying the philosophy of worship curation in our context led to Advent worship that was engaging, revelatory, and transformational. It gave talented, artistic people opportunities to participate in ways that did not exist here before. It strengthened our faith community and invited the neighborhood around us to join our waiting. It also gave the musical groups a better opportunity to prepare for Christmas.

You may remember from my first blog post, that Advent has not meant much to people in our community. Well, that was because, in previous years, the last three Sundays in Advent were filled with Christmas programs of some kind. Musical preparation for actual Christmas services then became an afterthought. We often would cherry-pick from the various musical numbers that we had done over the previous weeks and musically regurgitate them in our Christmas services. To me, that was fundamentally messed up, but that was the tradition. By curating Advent worship this year, Christmas worship is organically becoming unique and meaningful.

With fewer Christmas programs during Advent this year, our musical groups have created new arrangements of our favorite Christmas hymns/songs. Our Multimedia Arts team is working to bring the outside in by projecting a starry sky on the sanctuary ceiling. I am particularly excited about processing to the outdoor winter garden and placing Jesus in the nativity set as we sing “Silent Night” during our candlelight worship gathering.

Having waited patiently (and impatiently), we now flow into Christmas with hope, gratitude, and excitement for the arrival of the much-anticipated Savior.

How have your community’s Advent practices influenced your planned celebration of Christmas this year?

Image © W. Zachary Taylor

Categories: Curation

The Same Gift Every Year

by Mandy Smith | December 21, 2011

As a child, I had a mad aunt who faithfully sent me the same gift every year—a coat-hanger carefully covered with crochet. When I was small I thought their pastel shades were pretty. At ten I held up the coat-hanger-shaped parcel and joked, “I wonder what this could be?!” By the time I added my thirteenth crocheted hanger to the rest in my wardrobe I noticed my clothes were getting too big for them.

The annual challenge for Christian leaders—and indeed, bloggers for worship websites—looms large over us. How to present something new? How to make the Christmas story fresh? Shepherds and stars and angelic baby boys are the themes of our songs, stories, movies and it’s hard to see them with new eyes. So surely it’s our challenge each Christmas, as leaders of the Church, to do something arresting, surprising and new? To make worshipers say, “Wow! I’ve heard that old story for years but I never saw it that way before!”

Newness in itself is not a problem. Doing something new for the sake of a greater purpose can be refreshing. But newness for the sake of newness often leads to distracting worship. Our audience is not dumb. They can tell when we’re missing substance or if we’re motivated by fear that we’re not cool or relevant.

So what would be wrong if, instead of investing our energy in coming up with something new, we invested it in doing something really old, really well. Life ensures that each year we ourselves, as worshipers, are new… or, at least, different. Just as the sameness of the coat-hangers in my growing collection revealed how I had changed, could the sameness of the Christmas story reveal the growth that has taken place in the past year? Could the familiar words collide in new ways with whatever is on our minds and in our hearts each year to reveal for themselves new depths of the story?

Can you remember a time a very familiar scripture passage revealed something new to you?
Is there a worship tradition you take part in each Christmas?
Is it somehow different each year? How?

Try a kind of Lectio Divina approach to the Christmas story. Present the same story in three different ways (read, sung, acted, painted etc.) with time for reflection between. Give worshipers an opportunity to share how the story intersected with their own life and with whatever questions they are currently asking God.

Categories: Curation

Dinativity

by Eric Herron | December 20, 2011

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.

Categories: Formation