communion — Clayfire Curator

The Pre-9/11 Firefighter in the Sky

by Eric Herron | October 4, 2011

I’ve always liked firefighters. Despite the fact that I was not one of those little boys who wanted to be one when I grew up, they still held for me that same intrigue as do airline pilots, crane operators, and spiderman. As I grew older, my intrigue turned to sincere – but vague – appreciation. Like, it’s comforting to know that when things catch on fire, there are people to call who know what to do about it.

It wasn’t until after September 11th, 2001 that I felt true gratitude for the ones who risk their lives when danger threatens. What changed?

Nothing. Nothing changed, except suddenly, everyone with a TV screen was given the best (really worst) possible reminder of the firefighter’s job and the risk and sacrifice involved. One catastrophic event birthed thousands of related stories – stories of successful rescues and tragic losses, many of which revolved around the men and women who save the public when the public can’t save itself.

As the visibility of firefighters rose in the public eye, so also did the public’s gratitude for them. Through poignant and horrific accounts, we have realized the debt of gratitude we owe to those who ‘protect and serve’ us. The recognition of this truth has led to all kinds of actions honoring and thanking those with rescuing roles beyond Manhattan.

In one such instance, last week a realty company in my neighborhood held its annual tribute barbecue honoring firefighters and police. Apparently, none of the public servants honored at this lunch in Pasadena, California were in New York on that fateful day ten years ago. Still, because of one notorious event, police and firefighters in cities like mine all over the country, gather even today to “show appreciation for those who risk their lives each day… while they are still here,” to “go out of their way to say thanks,” and to express gratitude in the form of a free and “nice meal.” (Quotes from the news article, “Pasadena business holds annual 9/11 tribute honoring firefighters, police” by Brian Charles in the Pasadena Star News.)

I think we treat God like a pre-9/11 firefighter. We all know God is there. Hardly anyone would ever say anything bad about the Lord. We generally agree that God is ready to “save” us in times of trouble. Some of us even aspire to be like God – when we grow up! And, as with pre-9/11 firefighters, we do not express the gratitude that God deserves. Simply knowing God is there and choosing not to say anything bad about the Lord is not the equivalent to giving thanks, though we often act as if it is. Where is true thanksgiving for God? How do we curate worship that prompts a “post-9/11” kind of gratitude – the kind that is truly and tangibly thankful on a regular basis?

As with our cultural example, grateful hearts beat faster for God when quickened by remembrance. Here are some related essentials toward developing a deeper sense of ongoing gratitude in your congregational worship.

Remembering God’s past work. The bible contains a record of God’s past faithfulness. The more we use it, the more we remember how God saves. God’s salvation – more than anything else – prompts heartfelt thanksgiving. We need to see God’s storied faithfulness acted out. We must hear the stories read. We should read them ourselves. We ought to hear the thoughts of others about these stories and have the opportunity to ask questions about them.

Communion/The Lord’s Supper/The Eucharist (which literally means “thanksgiving”) should be a regular part of our worship. If your tradition doesn’t share the cup frequently, consider doing it more often. If you engage it weekly, spend some time rethinking your approach – the words, prayers, songs, even the symbols. Imagine which changes might revitalize the effectiveness of anamnesis (“recollection”) in this ritual meal.

Remembering God’s current work. Our lives, today, are a living testament of God’s faithfulness. The more we communicate with one another about the content of our lives and the way God daily “saves” us, the more our hearts will find it easy to embrace true gratitude. We need to hear more testimonies – live testimonies, video testimonies, written letters read before the group. Spontaneous testimonies can yield a large harvest of thanks, despite the inherent ‘risks’ of this form.

We should be allowing more of the larger culture’s stories into our gatherings, as well. We need to hear, not only the stories as big as 9/11, but also the tales from our towns and neighborhoods.

These approachs and more can remind us of God’s important role in our salvation, and convert our “vague appreciation” into deeply felt thanks. What else could you add to this list? How does your faith community remember God’s work and what kind of response does this bring about in your context?

Categories: Formation

The Fourfold Pattern of Newborns

by Eric Herron | March 17, 2011

One week ago, my wife Nathalie and I were blessed with twins. A boy (Zane Ezekiel, 9:07 am, 6 lbs 7 oz, 18.5 in) and a girl (Penelope Jade, 9:13 am, 6 lbs 5 oz, 18 in). We already have a two and a half year old named Asher Ericson. Enough time has elapsed since his infancy that we have forgotten a number of important details regarding infant care. For example, we have forgotten the answer to the question: When do I sleep?

Also, it has taken us the good part of this last week to remember the finer details surrounding the (few) activities of newborns. Essentially, there are four things that occupy the baby’s (and parent’s) time: waking, eating, changing, and sleeping, in that order. One might call this the “ancient fourfold pattern of newborns.”

Babies wake up. You might wonder which comes first, sleeping or waking? But, we have to start somewhere. I like to start with waking, because opening one’s eyes after slumber is like the dawning of a new opportunity. Waking up is a transition from the world of unconsciousness to the world of consciousness. Babies move from physical stillness to a flurry of movement. Waking is essential because it prepares the newborn for the next all too important phase called feeding.

Babies eat. If they are not nourished with the right food in the correct amount, they can easily become ill. The milk comes as necessary sustenance that cannot be replaced by something else. Coca-Cola is out. Prime Rib, not good. Even yogurt or cereal won’t do for toothless grins and immature digestive tracts. Burping comes with the feeding. As the baby’s back is patted, gas is expelled – the air swallowed by lips learning afresh how to suckle the nipple tightly. And, not to be crude, but soon enough, gas is expelled from the other end, too.

Babies have diapers and diapers must be changed. It is a rude fact of life. We eat, we digest, we excrete. Thankfully (for the parent), those infant excretions are less fragrant and less significant the that of a two-year old. Trust me on this one. I estimate that in one short week, we have used approximately 224 diapers (granted, we have twins). We change when they wake up, after they feed, even in the midst of a feeding. With each change comes a fresh start, as well as the opportunity to be dirtied again. After waking, eating, and changing, there is only one thing left to do.

Babies sleep. When a baby has had his fill, his miniature human body wants to doze. This is good since there is not muscle co-ordination to do anything else. Though a freshly fed, burped, and changed infant may lay swaddled, looking around in response to new sights and sounds, sleep inevitably comes. And when it comes, the baby is not the only one who finds pleasure in it. What parents might label as a “power nap” is necessary refreshment for what lies ahead. Sleep prepares the baby for the pattern to begin again, the next opportunity to awaken.

Penelope Jade and Zane Ezekiel

Sleep is the time when infantile bodies grow. Little muscles at rest, stretch, elongate at a rate that is many times faster than that of an adult. Fat cells multiply at a pace that would be horrifying to someone looking to shed a few pounds. The resting baby is a covertly active baby. She is on a mission and that mission is to grow!

Why all this baby-talk? Firstly, it’s pretty much all I can think about at this moment. More importantly, the ancient fourfold pattern of newborns reminds me of another ancient four-fold pattern.

From the earliest of times, and throughout diverse cultural settings and historical periods, one thing has remained virtually unchanged about Christian worship. It is this pattern that starts with Gathering and proceeds to Word and follows through Table and Sending. House churches do it. Roman Catholics do it. Baptists do it. Pentecostals do it. (Insert your own) do it.

Since the beginning of the Church, people have gathered in one spot, welcoming one another in the name of the Lord, and awakening once again to Christian community and the manifest presence of God.

Worshipers have ingested the Word in forms too varied to mention. We pray it, read it, hear it, discuss it, interpret it, preach it. This step nourishes our souls with encouragement, exhortation, instruction, and revelation.

At the Table we remember our changed-ness. We have been given a fresh start. Though we may soil our lives again and again, the Table remains available, the place where Christ’s body and blood are offered up, over and over in perpetuity. In the elements, we receive grace (or are reminded of grace, depending on your tradition) in preparation for the final step in the fourfold flow.

We have Gathered, Word-ed, Table-d, and now we are sent again, out beyond the community of believers into the world where God is already at work. As metaphors go, sleep is probably not the best picture of being “sent” into the world. Or is it? When viewed as the time during which we take our conscious spiritual practices and apply them unconsciously through habitual kingdom living, sleep is an apt picture of mission.

Our “sleep” should be the most active part of our worship for it is during this time – before we gather once again – that we live out the bulk of our lives, acting in ways that usher in the now and not yet kingdom.

The fourfold pattern remains in every context, though we may add content that is extraneous. When it comes to worship, this liturgical order – even as it may be realized through endless forms – is necessarily and always present.

Now pardon me. It is time for my next power nap.

image © Eric Herron

Categories: Curation

Someone Said

by Linda Parriott | March 15, 2011

Sacraments are our road maps home. God may not need them, but we do, and while they cannot make something happen, at least they make sure that we are in the right place if it should. Sacraments work, but it is hard to say how. They change lives, but it is hard to say why. The difficulty may lie in their proximity to the holy….

The great coming-home sacrament of all time is the eucharist…. In it, all the other sacraments are represented: we are forgiven, strengthened, healed, blessed, fed, and sent forth in a rite that sets us apart as God’s people in the world. Whether we take part in a quiet thirty-minute service with seven other people or a full festal celebration in a packed church, the eucharistic map remains the same. Step by step, it leads us into the presence and very being of God, where holy flesh and blood become our own.

At every step, we practice some discipline of the church. From the opening acclamation to the dismissal, every element of the service has something to teach us about our life with God and one another. Practicing them over and over again, we build up the muscles of our hearts, souls, and minds, exercising our ability to respond to the presence of the holy in our midst.

Barbara Brown Taylor, The Preaching Life, p 72-73

Categories: Someone Said

Chapter 5. A New Language For Worship: Describing Curation Practices

by Mark Pierson | February 16, 2011

I have really enjoyed the comments and to-and-fro discussion that last week’s post generated. I am not sure how much of that was motivated purely by the possibility of winning a copy of the book, but that doesn’t matter to me. It’s in the interactions, the push and shove of ideas that I learn. So thanks to everyone who “pushed and shoved” over the last week. I appreciate it.

We are at chapter 5 in the book. If chapter 4 was about getting the big rocks in place, this one’s about the no-less-important, medium-sized stones. It’s less philosophical and more practical. Probably the most practically-oriented chapter in the book. Certainly these are the elements I would most often call on when I curate.

I don’t plan to go through everything I have already written. I would like to explore the practice I most use, that of reframing.

This is the task of taking an element or artifact not usually used in worship and using it as part of a worship event. Or it may involve taking a common worship element or artifact and using it in a different way. An example of the former might be using a clip from a video of a fashion parade, a recorded song from the catalogue of Eminem, or ice-cream for communion. The latter would include using a Benediction to start a worship event.

I have had two very different responses to my story in the book of using water for communion. I explained that I did this for a number of reasons including the issue some of our community had with alcohol addiction, the way water soaked through the history of the city I was living in, and that city’s current, very long period of serious drought. There were also the numerous New Testament references to water of life, streams of living water, etc.

A public response via Amazon was the first, and took umbrage. The pastor in question did so very graciously and generously, and I have only respect for the way he presented his view. The core of his concern was that, “[t]o depart from bread and wine is simply not acceptable.” He would countenance no reframing of the communion.

I didn’t want to argue with him as there is nothing to be gained by doing so, and much to be lost. What is acceptable to reframe and how it is reframed depends entirely on the church community context in which the curator is operating.

What is acceptable in all the communities I have recently been part of – water in place of wine or grape juice – was clearly not acceptable in the Lutheran contexts in which he was curating.

The second response came by email yesterday and reminds us of the realities of curating worship. The writer, who has given me permission to quote her, said,

I borrowed the idea of the grape juice being replaced by cool, refreshing water and being drunk from ordinary drinking glasses and a big cob loaf of bread. When one of the ladies arrived she asked if we had run out of the normal communion “thimbles” as I had trays of glasses set up on the communion table. I don’t think she believed me when I said no.

Yes, it did take time to set it all up, yes there was a lot of washing up to do (glasses) afterwards, but two weeks later people in the congregation are still talking about what they needed from Jesus. I had the (stations list) from page 42 on the screen, so people could return to their seats and sit quietly and look through the list.

It totally broke the tradition of people being served row by row as they remain seated, and it reinforced what I had preached about in relation to the body, parts of the body, unity in diversity and so on from 1 Corinthians 12 earlier in the service.

This was done in a very traditional Baptist Church setting. Horses for courses. One is not right and the other wrong. Both are right. Curating must never be about driving, convincing, upsetting or annoying people. It’s about being and doing the best we can to help the people we are curating for to engage with the Trinitarian community that is God, “heart, soul, mind, strength.”

In a response to last weeks blog, a commenter named Sam talked about the opposition he had from some of the leadership when he wanted to bring change – even change that had been asked for! Curating worship is a very tricky art. The stakes are high. The risks are high. The potential outcomes in transformed lives are also enormous.

And so far we’ve only talked about the practice of reframing!! There are many other ways you can get into trouble. There are also many other ways you can help your people to better engage with God. With some wisdom and care you may be able to walk the fine line between transformation and offense.

I’m hoping you might have something to add from your own experience. Maybe you can describe for me in the comments below some reframing or other curation practice that has worked or has failed for you?

Hang in there. You aren’t alone.

Categories: Curation

Someone Said

by Linda Parriott | February 15, 2011

Sara Miles tells the story of how a piece of bread, a sip of wine radically transformed her:

One early, cloudy morning when I was forty-six, I walked into a church, ate a piece of bread, took a sip of wine. A routine Sunday activity for tens of millions of Americans—except that up until that moment I’d led a thoroughly secular life, at least indifferent to religion, more often appalled by its fundamentalist crusade. This was my first communion. It changed everything… I took communion, I passed the bread to others, and then I kept going, compelled to find new ways to share what I’d experienced. I started a food pantry and gave away literally tons of fruit and vegetables and cereal around the same altar where I’d first received the body of Christ.

From Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion, xiii

Categories: Someone Said