We sat down with Todd Fadel and asked him some questions about “play” especially as it pertains to worship design. His answers were honest, challenging, and well… just a bit playful. Included at the end is a short video to help illustrate the ‘elaborate game’ that was played at The Bridge on Easter Sunday.

Curator: The Wiki-pedia entry for “Play” calls it “a range of voluntary, intrinsically motivated activities that are normally associated with pleasure and enjoyment.” It also says that though play is typically associated with children, it is “imperative for all higher-functioning animals, even adult humans.” How would you add to or adjust this definition (or would you)?

Fadel: The definition of play grows broader and broader the more I attempt to confine it. It’s similar to love in this way. But I’ll share some of the discoveries I’ve made and it’ll be a hilarious try. Play is the fertilizer for spiritual growth in the company of other humans. To play means to believe in the intrinsic value of the experiment – the “not knowing what comes next.” Play is the ongoing process of offering and accepting offers. Play, as a tool, tricks our minds into making more daring choices than we had originally thought possible and allows us to risk more because we convince ourselves “less is at stake.” Play is the (occasionally haphazard) process of actively making room for the other.

Curator: What does Play have to do with worship?

Fadel: I personally feel that the most convincing evidence of “the fall” happening in history is the disconnect that us humans gravitate to when we, at some point, obtain knowledge of the uncertainties of our existence and, in response, seek out cold facts and figures to ease our panic rather than join in the dance we are invited to by our Creator.

Trust, in essence, is undignified. David, and every psalmist like him, lays out a template of what that undignified experiment looks like. Somewhere along the way, we’ve overlaid the portrait of our sternest critics onto the true face of this extravagantly experimental Being we are supposed to all be created in the image of. Children are vibrant examples of God-honoring psalmists, pure and simple, but in our attempts to appeal to our own fallen states we, as Ken Robinson puts it, “squander them pretty ruthlessly.”

Play can be a direct re-introduction into the world of uncertainty and as we learn to be comfortable with that world, we build a trust with God and everyone else [a trust] that resembles worship and honoring and finding meaning in the overlooked things.

Curator: Can you share one of your favorite past examples of Playing in worship from your own experience?

Fadel: We did an elaborate game on Easter Sunday two weeks ago. I wasn’t sure how it all was going to look. In preparation, some friends of mine sat down with me and we took a title, “It’s All In the Wrist,” and imagined the service going *wherever* our imaginations took us at that moment. Big things. Small things. Giant projected skillets with animated flipping pancakes. Everyone in wizard hats and sparkly wands. Poetry that was improvised and recited by children. Then, we reversed engineered what we had seen in our heads, breaking down all the elements down to the minutiae of what sort of teams would have to be assembled (and how they would be trained) to accomplish the things we had envisioned.

Truly, we came to Easter Sunday with some extremely open-ended elements and we learned an incredible lesson: that not everyone is ready for that sort of thing.

But what happened was that all of the people assembled made room for things to come alive and happen. They played. And though the experiment itself could have been tighter/cleaner/focused, it was the love and generosity of the people that showed through.

Many people were not thrilled with how open-ended it was, and truth be told, there were moments I was caught up in the enjoyment of experimentation and lost sight of the clear connection people were pining for. In those moments, I may have ceased playing and began merely posturing. All in all, we came away learning *so much* about what worship needs to consist of for our community to connect.

Curator: You are a fan of games. How important are games in the context of the worshiping community?

Fadel: I think games can function as a way to get at difficult things in an indirect way. Vulnerability is not easy. Imagine a worn-out cynic having the idea to play “peekaboo” with a 4-month-old. In order for peekaboo to work PROPERLY, the Boo-er must fully immerse themselves in the world of that child. That deceptively simple game brings the cynic to a level of vulnerability that they weren’t prepared for, but the joy/enthusiasm of the child draws it out of him.

In community, so much of what we do with one another consists of expression from an “advantaged position.” Often, we take this approach to avoid the pain and humiliation of someone taking advantage of our vulnerability (again). But when we all join in a harmless game, we make a decision to take the “disadvantaged position” and something alive takes shape. This is play – this decision to accept the offer of inclusion. It is all too easy to swat away the outstretched hand. We need to be cognizant of the ways we inadvertently perpetuate a culture more concerned with being dignified then inclusive.

Curator: Is Play in worship always fun or can it ever be serious and sombre?

Fadel: In play, whimsy is allowed to be sure, but so is intense grief. We can make room for both. My 31-year-old brother passed away of cancer two years ago, and when there was room made for me to mourn – wail – the loss, I saw the true value of what laying these foundations of playfulness and experimentation were. No one was afraid to wail alongside me. No one needed to provide answers, and, in that way, they provided genuine solace.

Curator: How would you respond to the naysayer who claims that Playfulness has no legitimate place in a gathered worship environment?

Fadel: Remember, back before you held your cards so close, what sort of dreams you used to dream? Remember the scent of bubblegum and how you marveled at aquariums and kites dive-bombing so close to the sand? These moments aren’t less valuable than the high-church moments we place on these high pedestals. In fact, climb up one of those pedestals and look down for a second. Then, jump and see what happens.

Easter Sunday, 2011 at The Bridge, Portland

Though we all have eyes
we will
not
see
until we resurrect
the still
born
dreams

---

Todd has spent the last 25 years as a musician, improviser, collaborator and instigator in one form or another.  Based in Portland, OR, he and his family helped birth pioneering US alt-worship community, The Bridge, in 1998.

There, he currently co-ordinates jalopy-gospel, arts/music collective AGENTS OF FUTURE, and has co-created over 50 punk-choir anthems, experimental films, collaborative workshops, multimedia improv games and various other hoopla with them for over a decade. His creative endeavors have landed him gigs playing piano for a grade-school choir, singing the national anthem at a local roller derby and leading communion for 15,000 Greenbelt festivalgoers in the UK.

His thoughts on play, visions for inclusive community and collaborative papercraft-ephemera have been showcased by publications like Sojourners and Worship Leader Magazine and resourced by Sparkhouse, Wild Goose Festival, Festival of Faith and Music and Crowder’s Fantastical Church Music Conference.