The Audience of God (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

We, the audience, had come from all across the United States to hear this choir sing, to see Dr. James Abbington lead, to absorb gospel standards and other pieces of black sacred music, to have our souls refreshed. Before us, high up in the choir area of the church sanctuary, stood a large, combined choir composed of folks from several local churches and from churches as far away as Fort Worth and Dallas; well-dressed men and women; dark suits, white shirts and ties, colorful scarves, long black dresses.

For the second night in a row, Dr. Abbington asked us, the audience, to become part of the show.

For those of us who had attended a far less formal gathering the night before, the announcement was not all that surprising. The previous night, after a full day of speakers and panels, leading scholars presenting and discussing on the state of black sacred music, those same scholars took to the stage. Accomplished musicians, all, they were expected to provide us with an evening of gospel greats.

And we were not disappointed.

As our performers for the evening arranged themselves around dual pianos, Dr. Abbington changed the dynamic. We found ourselves called on to sing.

Us. The audience.

I marveled at this. He seemed so certain we would just do as he said. What made him think we, the audience, would agree to this? Weren't WE supposed to be on the receiving end of all this?

But we did what he told us to do. We belted out "Oh Happy Day," "Marching to Zion," and "Every Praise (is to Our God)." Song after song, we sang. But that was not the end of it. Next, Dr. Abbington started calling people to come to the front to take the solo parts and the leads. In short order, there were more people standing between the lip of the stage and the front row than in the rest of the auditorium.

Now here we were, 24 hours later, and he was doing it again.

I was starting to think this was just a thing he liked to do, the way some rock stars like to tilt the microphone toward the audience so they can chime in on some parts. Maybe this was just his way.

Then he said something that put it all in perspective: "According to Kierkegaard, in church, God is the only audience; we are all participants in the worship."

While I think I have long had a similar understanding of worship, I've never heard it said quite that way: God is the only audience.

He is certainly the only audience that matters.

Moses forgot this. Angered at the bickering Israelites, he struck the rock with his staff to get the water they needed. In doing this, he disobeyed God's instruction to get that the water by speaking to the rock. And he paid the price. Afterwords, GOD said to Moses and Aaron, “Because you didn’t trust me, didn’t treat me with holy reverence in front of the People of Israel, you two aren’t going to lead this company into the land that I am giving them.” (‭Numbers‬ ‭20‬:‭12‬ MSG)

We are not, in fact, the audience. No matter where we sit or stand in the house of meeting, when we act as though we or someone else is the audience, we forget a basic truth about worship.

God is the only audience.
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Selected from a reflection on "Marching to Zion, the Pruit Symposium on Black Sacred Music" [Baylor University, October 2014]
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Something to keep in mind as we start the Advent season.

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu

First Sunday of Advent (November 30, 2014)
Isaiah 64:1-9
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
1 Corinthians 1:3-9
Mark 13:24-37

What I'm Reading Now - Part One: Graphic Chap Books

From time to time, someone asks, "What are you reading?" Most people can provide a quick answer. I, on the other hand, subscribe to the Stephen King school: “If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.”

I'm pretty picky. It has to be excellent to get my money. But still . . .

I read a lot.

So, I'm answering the question in parts. Novels, nonfiction, memoirs, religious texts, biographies, etc., will follow. Part One will be about something readers of Charles Dickens or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle should recognize: chap books. Both authors regularly used installments (chapters or "chaps") to sell their novels. You still see that, today, but it seems not as much as 125 years ago; nor even as much as 50 years ago.

That might be because we are looking in the wrong place. Dickens and Doyle saw a few illustrations accompany their chaps. Today, the graphic portion has achieved equal footing with the verbal. I call these "graphic chap books." These are not for children, and none of them are funny. There's not a comic among them. Will Eisner called this form "sequential art."

I call it excellent storytelling.

Horror: Rachel Rising
Alt History: Manifest Destiny
Crime: Fuse
Spy: Velvet
Dystopia: Lazarus
War: The Mercenary Sea
Steampunk: Galactica 1880
Pure SciFi: Letter 44
SciFi-Fantasy: The Woods
TV: Angel & Faith
Classic TV: Harlan Ellison's original Star Trek teleplay "The City on the Edge of Forever"

NOTES: "Firefly" fans, the parallels in "The Mercenary Sea" are intentional . . . and wonderfully done. Novelist Greg Rucka writes "Lazarus." To history fans, "Manifest Destiny" is the Lewis and Clark Expedition . . . but nothing like your U.S. history textbook!!

Photo from http://www.terrymooreart.com

The Bricklayer (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

Recently, I recounted an oft told story about two men working with bricks. One was surly and perceived his work as only laying bricks. The other was joyful and perceived his work as building a cathedral. The story is often told as a way to illustrate that a positive attitude toward work can do wonders. We come away from the story thinking better of the "Cathedral man" than of the man who is simply laying brick. The story is designed to have that effect, to convey the idea that the surly bricklayer is missing something very important.

There is an another important point, however, that I never hear anyone state: the QUALITY of the surly man's work is never questioned. In fact, based on what we know, attitudes aside, when the two men finish their work, there will be a cathedral where once there was none.

There is nothing to say that we must always be happy, whistle while we work, or sing, "Hi ho, hi ho; it's off to work we go" every morning. Sometimes, maybe often, we just aren't in the mood for all that. Who knows, maybe the surly bricklayer was just having a bad day. All other factors aside, what matters in the final evaluation is the answer to this question: did each do his job correctly? If the answer is "yes," then, the cathedral gets built.

That brings me to this week's passage from Romans. People sometimes refer to this as the OTHER Love Passage, sort of lumping it with 1st Corinthians 13. But, these two passages could hardly be more different. The Corinthian passage is definitely the "Cathedral" perspective on love, while the Romans passage is, without doubt, the brick-by-brick approach. Corinthians provides us with the broad strokes about love, while Romans gives us the day-to-day nuts & bolts we need to put it into practice.

Perhaps you have wondered exactly HOW love is patient, is kind, does not envy, does not boast, is not proud, does not dishonor others, is not self-seeking, is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs, does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth, always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. The next time it crosses your mind to wonder about the PRACTICE of loving, jump over to Romans 12:9-21.

Then, you just DO IT, one brick at a time.

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http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 17 (22) (August 31 through September 6, 2014)

Exodus 3:1-15
Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45b
Jeremiah 15:15-21
Psalm 26:1-8
Romans 12:9-21
Matthew 16:21-28

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Don't miss this opportunity to "discuss the sermon in advance" (so to speak) at Lectionary Breakfast. As usual, we will gather Friday morning at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant at 8:00 for food, fellowship, and thrashing about in the Bible.

It's not holy ground; so, please, keep your shoes on. :-)

Enjoy the week!
Steve


Stephen C. Orr
Sent from my iPhone

How We Spend Our Days (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

"How we spend our days is . . . how we spend our lives."
--Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

There is a story told about a Nobleman who comes upon a construction site. It goes something like this: He sees that the two laborers have distinctly different demeanors. One has a sour expression on his face, moves slowly, and appears to want to be anywhere else. The second man could not be more different. His face holds a radiant smile; there is the appearance of purpose in his movements, and he is singing! Curious, the nobleman asks the first man what he is doing. The surly answer: laying brick. Crossing to the second man, the nobleman asks the same question. The joyful answer: building a cathedral.

Lately, I have been reacquainting myself with Annie Dillard. I'm re-reading Holy the Firm, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, and, of course, The Writing Life. When I go a few years without "checking in" on Ms. Dillard, I find I sometimes have forgotten just how insightful she is.

And I don't find anyone writing about our inner life, our place in creation, and the state of our spirits quite like she does. Witness this selection from The Writing Life, the longer version of the above quote:

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living."

It often comes as a shock to people that their day-in-day-out life IS their life. It might not seem like it in the moment, but what you do with each day accumulates into your entire life. All of us long for things that are not part of our every day lives --that's why many of us have bucket lists-- but when all is totaled up, it is what we actually DO, not what we long for, that becomes our life. A tapestry is, at its most basics, a bunch of threads.

The lives lived by Shiphrah and Puah, the Hebrew midwives we meet in this week's Exodus passage, might seem pretty unspectacular to an outside observer. Their work was to help deliver babies. Day in and day out, year in and year out. And yet, it is to these two women that came the challenge: do as told . . . or DARE to thwart the plans of Pharaoh to kill all the male Hebrew babies.

Who stands up to the most powerful man on the planet?

These two, that's who. Two childless women; childless in a culture that, at best, pities barren women, and at worst shuns them. Their desire for children so strong that they did the next best thing: help others to have them. What was already, in many ways, a life of service, becomes far more important in the face of the Pharaoh's decree.

Each new day, each new birth, added to the ones before, culminating into something I doubt either saw coming: a life in service to God. By continuing to help bring Hebrew babies into this world, they jeopardized their livelihood . . . and their very lives. God honored those lives. In time, because they feared God more than Pharaoh, God gave them families of their own.

Alan Lakein famously asked, "What is the best use of my time, right now?" My answer: creating the building blocks of my life, day by day, moment by moment, crafting them into a life worth living.

What we do each day becomes our life. HOW we live each day becomes our legacy.

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I hope you can join us, Friday morning, for Lectionary Breakfast. We still meet at 8:00 at the Waco "Egg and I." LB ends at 9:00, but the glow lasts ALL DAY :-)

Enjoy the week!
Steve

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http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 16 (21) (August 24, 2014)

Exodus 1:8-2:10
Psalm 124
Isaiah 51:1-6
Psalm 138
Romans 12:1-8
Matthew 16:13-20

My Thin Place (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

Unexpected. That's the word. Everything about that morning was unexpected.

First, it was cool. That summer had been one of the hottest in recent memory; days on end of triple digit highs. So, by "cool" I mean it was a pleasant morning to take a stroll in a short-sleeved shirt. Also, I was early. Unexpected. Because of the timing for the commuter rail, I often needed to hurry from the station to my office. But not that morning. The sun had yet to crest the buildings, the tall sides of the downtown canyon. The morning was still dawning.

I was completely caught off guard by the birds.

Rounding a corner, i suddenly found myself serenaded. So, so unexpected. On my right was a small pocket park, and its trees were packed full of singing birds. Even though there was no melody, the collected sound of their birdsong was surprisingly harmonious. I stopped and just let it wash over me. For several long minutes, I was completely wrapped in those blended voices.

Many people, when asked to identify a place where they feel closer to God, will describe things like high mountains, majestic waterfalls, a peaceful stretch of ocean, or a moment of absolute silence in an ancient meeting place. But, these "thin places" are individual. Sure, people often erect edifices to mark those places. Jacob did that, twice; once, on the west side of the Jordan River where he had a vision of a stairway to heaven, and again, two decades later on the east side where he wrestled with an angel as he was returning to the land promised him by God. Jacob did not expect either of those encounters; they were arranged by God, on God's timetable.

Not many modern people claim to have encountered God, at least not like Jacob did; up close and personal. In modern times, we tend to describe it as "feeling closer" to God, or, as one friend suggested, "not as far from God as I usually am." However you want to describe it, that unexpected birdsong serenade was my thin place. I felt that God was there, in that moment, sharing a portion of His creation with me. I was moved to do something I rarely do; I wrote a poem.

Sun still coming;
Short-sleeve cool;
Birdsong peals;
Buildings ring.

I know there are many people who make sometimes long, arduous journey's so they can visit some "thinny," places where others have claimed an encounter with God. And I mean no disrespect for their choices when I state that, for me, I think there is great value in waiting for God to make the arrangements, for Him to chose the place of encounter . . . and the nature of the experience.

There is no stone to mark that spot of urban birdsong. Only the poem, and my memory of the experience, remain. It was transient, an unexpected moment in an unexpected place.

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I hope you can join us at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant Friday morning. We're in at 8:00 and out at 9:00. And, for that hour, we have our own little thin place in the "Egg and I" meeting room. We spend time in God's word and draw closer to Him.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

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http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 13 (18) (August 3, 2014)

Genesis 32:22-31
Psalm 17:1-7, 15
Isaiah 55:1-5
Psalm 145:8-9, 14-21
Romans 9:1-5
Matthew 14:13-21

Why Do They Call It Maundy Thursday? (by Steve Orr)

Growing up in a very uncomplicated christian tradition, we didn't celebrate Biblical events as distinct days or nights of the year. We didn't have a church calendar to follow. We didn't divide the year into periods of Advent, Ordinary Time, Lent, etc. There was no Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, or Good Friday.

And every Sunday was Easter.

Oh, I eventually came to understand that others celebrated Easter as a special day to commemorate the resurrection of Jesus from the grave. But it was a long, long time before I developed any understanding of all those other dates and events. It was high school before I learned about Ash Wednesday. And I was married, a father of a teenager, and living in New England before I ever even HEARD the term, "Maundy Thursday."

I remember that day, clearly. Upon being told we would be gathering at the church building to have an evening meal on "Maundy Thursday," I immediately asked what that was. I got the strangest look . . . followed by one of those "you know!" kind of answers people give when they only know part of the answer.

On "Maundy Thursday" christians gather on the evening before Good Friday to share a meal and recall the last meal Jesus shared with His disciples before His arrest, "trial," and death on the cross. We christians tend to refer to that as "the last supper," and, by imitating the breaking of the bread and the drinking of the wine, it is the model for our communion.

So, I quickly understood WHAT it was and why it was on Thursday evening. What no one could tell me, though, was why it was called "Maundy." Here is what I eventually learned: "Maundy" has nothing to do with "last suppers" or foot-washing (something else that occurred at that last meal). What it references is something Jesus said to them near the end of the meal: “I give you a new command: Love each other. You must love each other as I have loved you. All people will know that you are my followers if you love each other.” (John 13:34, 35 NCV)

The term, "Maundy" derives from the French word for mandate or command. We've been celebrating the "last supper" (or as I call it: "The Feast of the New Covenant") for millennia. But I can't recall the last time someone pointed out during a communion service that we are also celebrating "The Feast of the New Commandment." Each time we partake, we are to do so in remembrance of Jesus, and that includes His new command, His mandate.

Love each other.

The Cowboy Coming to You (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

There was a bit of a commotion in our Central Texas community the other day.

It happened about the time everyone was headed back from lunch.

The bull, lighting out for the territory ahead, was giving it his all as he sprinted down a very busy street. Behind him, lasso and whip at the ready, raced a man in a red pickup truck . . . followed by three (or possibly four) police cars.

It WAS a sight.

As entrancing as that parade was to local drivers and the folks finishing their burgers and fries, the most interesting part of the story came at the end.

That's when two "animal control cowboys" arrived to corner the fella and wrangle him into a trailer. His flirt with freedom at an end, the bull was returned to his owner, only a little worse for the wear.

And as one local police sergeant noted, “The good thing about living in Texas is that it’s not too long after you call a cowboy that you get one coming to you.”

That brings us to two of this week's Lectionary scriptures: the Exodus 17 passage where the children of Israel tested God, and Psalm 95 which refers to that event. When Exodus 17 opens, the Israelites have experienced the wonder and power of God again and again and again: the ten plagues on Egypt, including the miracle of the Passover; the pillar of cloud and the pillar of flame; the dry crossing at the Red Sea and the destruction of the Egyptian army; undrinkable water cured; free meat every evening to feast on and manna every morning with which to make bread.

And yet, after all of that, when they grew thirsty, they insulted God by complaining as if they had never witnessed a single miracle. They had seen His power, LIVED it, but acted as if none of it had ever occured.

Is it any wonder that God came to loath them?

The police in my community called on animal control cowboys when faced with the need to round up an errant bull. They made that call because they KNEW those cowboys were available and ready to accept the challenge. There was every confidence that a cowboy would soon be coming to do what needed to be done.

That's because we live in "cowboy country." We know they are there, that they are capable, and that they can be depended on in time of need. We have seen their abilities and have no concern about them handling our needs. Our experiences with relation to cowboys has led to our faith in them to address our cowboy needs.

In the same way, the Israelites lived in "God Country." They had been living there for some time; yet, when the need arose, they couldn't muster a tiny bit of faith, even with all their experience with Him, to trust God for their need.

If you have seen the power of God in your life, imitate our local police in your faith; trust that when you need God's help that He already knows and has an answer on the way.

You have a cowboy coming to you.

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We're rounding everyone up Friday morning at 8:00 for feed and a little scripture grazing. Join us if you can. We'll be at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant.

Cow folk welcome.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

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http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu

READINGS FOR THE WEEK
Third Sunday in Lent (March 23, 2014)

Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 95
Romans 5:1-11
John 4:5-42