Sound and Silence

In silence, there is fullness. In the retreat center, silence in the hallways was an extension of hospitality. In Buddhist monasteries, meals are shared in silence with the intention that you are fully attentive to the people with whom you are sharing the meal. In the Quaker tradition, there is freedom given to speak or not speak, but silence is room-giving, creating space for people to recognize the Holy Spirit.

In studying “church and music”, I recognize the irony of focusing on silence, the absence of music, but the practice of silence in worship intrigues me. Paul Westermeyer explains the analogy of Eastern liturgy (the form of public worship) being “seen as related to the regal court in which time is unhurried.” He writes in Te Deum,

“One does not rush into the presence of the ruler of the universe….”

In contrast, “Western liturgy can be seen as related to the legal court where time and juridical action are of the essence.” The West has a preoccupation with brevity that is not just a phenomenon of modernity.

Wrapped up in this reflection are more questions:

• What are we losing when we fill our environment constantly with sound?

• What does being present with others mean if silence reflects attentiveness?

• How is silence welcoming?

• In worship, how do we balance the gift of silence with the Word and music?

Blessing of the Shawls

I spent the weekend in retreat with twenty others who knit and crochet prayer shawls. In retreat, not in workshops or seminars. Wisdom was shared but not in guided discussions of assigned topics. Instead, we gathered in the chapel of the retreat house to knit and pray together, we celebrated Holy Communion together, we ate together. But the rest of the time was spent in whatever ways feed your soul. For some, that meant gathering together to knit communally. For me, that meant sleep and time to be quiet, physically and mentally.

Coincidentally, while I was at the Franciscan retreat house, I discovered a legend about Saint Francis that I had not known. The legend says that in the barren mid-winter, Francis approached an almond tree and said, “Speak to me of God!” and the almond tree broke forth into bloom.

The only way to witness to God was in its aliveness.

The second image that I carried with me as I left the retreat was one of ‘meeting Jesus’. It is in the encounter that we are changed. It is in the encounter with other members of the body of Christ that we can enter into dialogue and learn; it is in the encounter with others whose needs we can meet that we can learn to be servants and to be served.

We closed the retreat with a blessing of the shawls and the needles, yarns and hands that would be used to make more shawls in the weeks and months to come.

To you, O Divine One, from whose hands
comes the work of creation, so artfully designed,
We pray that our work may be done in companionship with you.
May our work sing your praise as songbirds do.
May our work add to the light of your presence
because it is done with great love.
May our work speak like a prophet of old
of your dream of beauty and unity.
May our work be a shimmering mirror of your handiwork
in the excellence of its execution,
in the joy of doing it for others,
in our invitation to others to share in it
and in its bearing fruit for the world.
we come to you, our Beloved, with ready hands.

Priorities

For the next two weeks I'll be on campus at Luther Sem for the January 'intensive. Ten days, two classes, not a lot of sleep.

However, my last minute run for supplies wasn't for toothpaste or highlighters. I went to the store early this morning to pick up a few extra skeins of yarn. I know I can find toothpaste and office supplies in Minnesota.

It crossed my mind that this intensive, having been to campus twice now, my suitcase, or rather what's not in it, reveals a lot. Besides yarn and knitting needles:

• No food. The dorm has a regular kitchen and the cafeteria is open for most weekday meals. The corner market has anything I need on a whim, and there are enough people with cars that we can get real groceries if wanted. This time of year, I don't even have to worry about the refrigerator being overstocked - the dorm windowsills provide instant refrigeration!
  
• Hot pot, one cup coffee filter gadget and cup. Fresh ground hazelnut creme coffee and bags for hot tea. Some things should not be taken for granted. I will have to find honey.
  
• No running shoes. There is a gym, but I'd rather take a regular walk around campus and for that, I need my boots. Besides, it's not like I exercise at home - why would I expect to change that routine at school?
  
• Pictures of my family. I didn't bring these on my first trip and it helps to have them, even if I can access files on my laptop, too.

Well, flight is in 2.5 hours, so I better take my bag and what's in it and head to the airport.

Ending Ten Months of Silence

Wow. My last post is February 2009 and now it's January 2010. Happy New Year!

It isn't that I didn't learn anything interesting in that time. But it must have been more like drinking from a firehose than I realized because I didn't share any of that learning here.

In the spring semester I encountered systematic theology and was fortunate to be study with Dr. Paul Sponheim at Luther Seminary. We explored what statements we will make about God and volumes of what others have said including Carl Braaten, Robert Jensen, Elizabeth Johnson, and Ted Peters. I found my voice and the words to express what I understand about God, and a far-deeper appreciation for the mystery of God and all I do not, cannot, and may not ever, understand.

Alongside that coursework, I studied the Pentateuch. I confess: I spend more time in the Scripture when I have a class that digs into it. Beyond the commitment to the Shema that I posted about, I was also inspired by a new understanding that the Law was given as a gift to God's people, not as oppressive rules and regs. Reading the detail with which the Levites undertook their worship, I realized I had not appreciated the richness or intricacies of the traditions in Judaism.

The summer brought new studies that revealed a wholly new understanding of catholicity and mission in the church, and a long, slow swim through centuries of church history and the Reformation. I discovered the basis for many of the Episcopal traditions I experienced as a child, and then got to see their origins first-hand, visiting Oxford and Westminster in England in the late summer.

Before the fall semester intensified, I had the chance to meet and listen to Marcus Borg who was speaking at a local congregation. Heart of Christianity was one of the first books that helped me find expression for the encompassing love of God and I really enjoyed hearing him in person.

The months since then have been consumed with completing four months of clinical pastoral education (CPE). It was a transformative experience but one that I began very much feeling like a child playing dressup in a white labcoat. I was surprised at the void I felt from the absence of Lutheran traditions, enriched by sharing the experiences with colleagues, grateful for the blessing of being with families who celebrated their loved ones' lives, and yet heartbroken by some of the losses we experienced together.

As intense as CPE was, it was balanced against the foil of continuing coursework that dove deeply into the New Testament, exploring Matthew and Jesus' parables. It made me wish for more classes on the individual books of the Bible because the focused study creates an understanding of the book as a whole work, instead of the piecemeal glances we get in Sunday services, and the discussions allow more reflection and more opportunities to really soak in the texts.

With the new year dawning, I am headed into a new intensive at the seminary, new coursework and new discoveries. One of the classes - the Church and Music - has already put into words something I could only feel: "...the faith of a community comes to life in its music-making. In music, the faith and life of a people take flesh.”(Westermeyer, Te Deum, 5)

With each step, my awe and adoration for God deepens, as does my gratitude for his love for all his creation.

I'll close with a G.K. Chesterton quote that was shared with me in the New Year:
"The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul."