RICK’S BLOG


PALM SUNDAY DANCE

PALM SUNDAY DANCE

Written By:

PALM SUNDAY.  I have some wonderful memories associated with this day and time.  My Dad was the choir director at my home church, for several years, and Palm Sunday evening was often the performance of the annual CHOIR CANTATA (usually one by John W. Peterson…for all of you folks who remember his standards from church choir repertoire in the 1950s & ’60s).  Also, Mom was the resident playwright and director for some truly awesome church productions, complete with soldiers, disciples and angels.  As an only child, I was usually involved in all of that, just because if Mom & Dad were at the church, so was I.  Later, when I was writing music, Palm Sunday and Holy Week became the times when some of my own music was performed at worship…some of those pieces are still some of my personal favorites.

Then, of course, my all-time favorite PALM SUNDAY was more than three decades ago when my oldest son, Cameron, was born (I think that was the only time in my life I’ve missed a Palm Sunday Worship Service). 

It may be just me, but growing up in a church family and experiencing Palm Sunday processionals as a child, just as the weather was warming up, enjoying the “dramatic” and “musical” events…it was (and still is) like Christmas in that no matter what else is going on in the world, this is a time set aside for celebration.

One particular Palm Sunday, during my college days in Seattle when my irreverence during serious occasions was maturing, was quite amusing.  During our worship we began with a processional from the back; first the choir (I was a tenor, in the back row), children with palm branches, and then the Pastoral Staff who were all participating in the worship leading.  Most of the staff at the time (I was the Office Manager at this point) were young, and then there was a more mature woman on staff as well, as our professional Church Counselor.  We all took our places and the service began.  The Senior Pastor stepped to the pulpit and addressed the full sanctuary with words of greeting and led in a responsive reading (the usual, from the Gospels, recounting the Jerusalem processional).

Suddenly, jumping from her seat next to the song leader, our Counseling Pastor, during a calm part of the reading, quickly moved to the center of the platform and started, what seemed like, an odd sort of tap dance (on the carpet).  Everything stopped.  We stared, during what seemed like hours, trying to figure out if she was having some sort of Pentecostal moment (surely not), or spasm, (a very fun and rhythmic one, if that was it) or just what.  When suddenly a small girl in the front of the sanctuary jumped up and yelled excitedly, “A dance!” as she started clapping and “dancing” along with our Associate Pastor.

Well, by that time, the confused congregation (especially those of us in the choir and close to the front) weren’t certain about what to do.  By that time our female Associate had stopped “dancing” and was watching the little girl.  She then moved down the couple of steps to the girl, took her hands and started to dance with her.  The pianist began to play the song we had just sung and some clapping began.  We began to get caught up in this strange, impromptu dance party, in the middle of what had been a carefully-planned worship service.

The whole thing lasted only a moment.  When the song ended everyone clapped, and our Associate moved to the pulpit to explain that one of the candles had lit a palm frond end on fire and a little ember had floated down to the carpet where it began to burn.  Our vigilant Associate was the only one who noticed.  Thereby, she jumped from her seat, scurried to the burning carpet and began stomping it out with her high-heeled feet.  It wasn’t apoplexy or the Holy Spirit…it was a small fire…which looked to us like a dance from a person for whom dancing wasn’t a part of her perceived nature.

But for that moment a misunderstood action turned into a spontaneous dance party and the agenda was set aside.

Two-thousand years ago, Jesus could have stopped the procession on the way to Jerusalem and given everyone a lesson in WHY He was entering Jerusalem, and WHAT He was going to do. But, for the crowds at least, He let it go, He let them celebrate.  They were misinterpreting what was going on, but Jesus didn’t stop the praise, and knew it was futile to try.  He also understood there is a time for everything, present circumstances don’t override expressions of joy.  In THE Kingdom, there is ALWAYS a reason to dance.

That is, I guess, what the pageantry, music and drama of PALM SUNDAY and HOLY WEEK are for me.  No matter what else is going on in the world, and much of the world around us is in chaos, because of who HE is, and because of WHAT is certain and sure in our future…it IS appropriate to interrupt the agenda and dance.


POT HOLES

POT HOLES

Written By:

I don’t know if you’ve seen the “11 Seasons of Indiana” (here they are, for your information):

  1. Winter
  2. Fool’s Spring
  3. Pot Hole Period
  4. Second Winter
  5. Spring of Deception/Pot Hole Season 2
  6. Third Winter
  7. Actual Spring/Pot Hole Season 3
  8. Summer
  9. False Autumn
  10. Second Summer (1 Week)
  11. Actual Autumn

…but POT HOLE SEASON seems to hang on (like a cough after a 60-year-old man’s cold) long after Winter and Spring have come and gone.

Pot Holes; the inevitable result of cold and moisture slowly, insidiously, working its way into the pavement and breaking it apart (there’s a sermon right there!).  Last year I replaced not one, but TWO tires due to those “satanic land-mines of doom”.

However, since I do believe that all Spiritual Truths have a Physical Metaphor, I looked (as I was standing by the side of the road last year waiting for AAA) for a lesson in the Pot Hole. Actually I didn’t have to use a lot of imagination.  The pictures are pretty clear.

POT HOLE SYMBOLISM – If one looks at a Pot Hole as the inevitable obstruction along the road of life – caused by whatever reason – then some metaphors immediately come to mind:

  1. Take Pot Holes seriously. If I hit one, it’s not just hole in the road, it could cause enough damage to hurt me, hurt YOU, AND make it impossible for me to get anywhere down the road.  Sometimes I don’t take “pitfalls” seriously enough.  Humans make mistakes. Life deals cards that are sometimes a good hand and sometimes not.  But if we don’t prepare for obstacles (before they happen), we don’t take the consequences seriously enough and are hit twice as hard.  Let’s not get so secure in our protection from God that we forget what life around us is like…and prepare for it.  Again, like the Apostle Paul says, “put on the whole armor…SO THAT WHEN THE DAY COMES…”

  2. I may not be able to prevent them, but I can sometimes avoid them. When it comes to poor choices or “walking close to the edge”, how many pitfalls in life could I avoid if I just avoided getting close?  Temptation not in my control is one thing (and, since we know Jesus was tempted, and Jesus didn’t sin, then temptation alone is not a sin), but what I call “tempting temptation” is MY responsibility completely.  The Apostle Paul tells us to avoid anything that would tangle us up and cause us to “lose the race”, that’s not always “sin”, it could be anything that slows us down from our primary objectiveWhen possible, avoid using the roads with pot holes…WHEN YOU KNOW ABOUT THEM.

  3. Pot Holes are easier to see in the daylight. But some folks just don’t understand what the concept. Jesus and the teaching in the letters of Paul, John, and Peter remind us to “walk in the light”, so that we don’t stumble.  It seems obvious, but some of us tend to like the danger of living on the edge, pushing the boundaries and find ourselves walking (driving) in the dark…unable to see the approaching danger.  Stay in the light.

  4. Don’t travel too fast. There is a fine line between confidence and recklessness.  By not recognizing, ignoring, or not caring about the danger of obstacles/pot holes I get complacent and start driving too fast.  Although I am personally guilty of driving my body and my life at reckless speeds sometimes, I preach (to myself and others) that to not be “in the moment” is to miss out on “God moments”.  I have a “mantra” I try to live up to, and one I preach/teach:

“Every moment has its time.  Every person has their place.
Do not brush by any moment, no matter how bad, or any person, no matter how uncomfortable.
In doing so, you may miss the miracle God has on His agenda for you,
and you may miss the opportunity to be someone else’s miracle.”

I will keep my eye on the ultimate goal, but I also need to consistently be aware of my current surroundings, not just because I’ll miss out on something good, but also so I can recognize obstacles as they approach, and see them for what they are.

  1. Sometimes you’re the follower. Sometimes you’re the leader.  This year I found myself suddenly on a busy Indianapolis road that was pockmarked with deep Pot Holes.  Having not driven on the road since Autumn I was unaware of the dangers and immediately got behind someone else who seemed to know the way better than I did.  I slowed when they slowed, I dodged when they dodged…it helped to have someone in the lead.  Later in the week I was driving to a notorious minor stretch of road with at least a dozen holes all together.  Behind me, and I mean RIGHT behind me, was a person not wanting to follow the speed limit (in Edgewood where the speed limit is the 11th Commandment) and I came to the place, tapped my brakes and went into the left lane to avoid the dreaded war zone.  I looked in my back mirror and saw the car begin to take the opportunity to pass me on the right…they immediately hit the first hole and stopped (unhurt) and slowly followed me the rest of the way, a safer distance behind.  Sometimes you follow.  Sometimes you lead.

  2. It helps if you’ve traveled that road before. Through the obstacle courses that are “Pot Hole Season” in Indiana, there are a few places I have now come to know and can smoothly turn, swerve, and brake, like a strong slalom skier in the Winter Olympics. Because I have to travel that road, and have been there before, I know where the pitfalls are…and I avoid them.  I’ve heard so often, and sometimes say, “I wouldn’t wish what I went through on my worst enemy, but I wish everyone could be where I am now, on the other side.” Another reason to not brush off even the bad moments is that hitting a pot hole teaches us, strengthens us…not only for ourselves, but to be there for someone else who is traveling down the same road.

 Pot Hole Season isn’t one of my favorite times of year in Indiana, but I CAN say that I’m stronger for it.   My prayer is that you avoid the damage done by unavoidable pot holes in life, and that you may never be the cause of someone else’s obstacle in life.

Knowing that eventually the pot holes will be patched, the roads will be smooth, and all will be well (if only for a short time, till the next winter) also helps me get through.  Another lesson of the season is our constant message and lesson:

Everything will be OK in the end.  If it’s not OK, it’s not the end.

 “Weeping lasts for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”


PERSPECTIVE

PERSPECTIVE

Written By:

I am missing Marge and Tom in different ways and at different times each passing year. The grieving doesn’t lessen, it just changes. Marge and Tom are known to me as Mom and Dad.  I think of them every day and there is always some event, or something I’ve read or seen that prompts me to get my phone and call only to remember, a little after my automatic response, that they are not here.

When I visited with Mom and Dad, in Washington State, I ate well, enjoyed midnight conversations and picked up where we left off at the last visit.  And Washington…ah, Washington.  When people think of Washington State, (especially those NOT from Washington, like the Hoosiers I live with now) more than likely the iconic image of tall evergreen trees, mountains, the Puget Sound and the bustle of Seattle are the first things that come to mind.  However, I grew up on the other side of the state; the east side. East of the cascade mountain range that traps clouds and separates the lush green coastal forest from the fertile high plateau that covers the rest of the state.  The town where I was raised is dry, filled with sage brush and low-lying, wind-blown bluffs (or what Hoosiers call, “mountains”).  So, you see, to define Washington as Seattle is ridiculous.  Seattle is a small part of a state that is twice the size as Indiana.

Since I didn’t get to see Mom & Dad too often, it always took a little time to adjust to the inevitable fact that we all had aged.  One time I arrived at the small airport, my Dad was standing at the gate as I walked right up to him, he didn’t recognize me until I spoke.  As for them, I had (and have) a certain picture in my mind as to who my parents are and what they look like.  It hasn’t changed.  So there was a period of adjustment for me, at each visit, to realize that they were the same people…but more.  To have only known them in their 40s or 50s would be somewhat the same as meeting them in their 80s; they were more than they were in middle-age, and (as they would admit) a little less.  In the same way, even though I am their son, I didn’t really know them fully, as I found out at their individual memorial services.  I didn’t know them like their congregation knew them, or their friends, or the young couple of neighbors who came over every-once-in-a-while to fix, visit, and keep in touch.

States and people are simple concepts, compared to the concept of God.  States are finite entities compared to the infinite, they are “local” compared to “omnipresent”.  So why do any of us arrogantly claim to have exclusive knowledge of Him?

Is the majestic Mt. Rainier the definition of Washington State, or the life of a retired mail man the definition of Tom Vale?  Of course not, but those definitions are sometimes the limit of person’s perception and knowledge.  You may see the Space Needle as Washington and I see the Columbia River.  We are BOTH wrong if we think those things totally define the great state.  You may know my mother as a good cook, and I know her as my Mom.  We are BOTH right, yet neither of those things really and truly FULLY define her.

God is beyond description, and to complicate matters even more, He deals with each of us individually, specifically, and without prejudice.  To the blind who came to Jesus, He is the Healer, although He healed one through touch alone and another by spitting in the dirt and putting mud in his eye.  They both saw a different part of Jesus, but to divide the believers by claiming that Jesus ONLY heals through mud or ONLY heals through touch is to make God smaller than He is and to deny His greatness.

The Church does that sort of discrimination all the time: one congregation claiming that the God who does “this or that” is the only God, and any other definition is heresy.  If people and places are complex enough that one-hundred people might describe them one-hundred ways, then isn’t it just possible all of us only have a glimpse of what we try so desperately to define, not so that we will KNOW GOD (our one purpose on this earth) but so we can claim “right” against the “rights” of people who are not like us?  In doing so, we offend our Heavenly Father.

The best part is this, when we open minds and hearts to the possibility that someone might have discovered a part of God that we have not seen, then the hunger and thirst in our soul that longs to know Him and be known by Him grows; we are satisfied and stretched at the same time.  To narrow the personality of God is to narrow life to only the possible.  To judge another according to their perception of how God works is to dismember the ONE Body of Christ.

There is one body and one Spirit – just as you were called to one hope when you were called – one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.
EPHESIANS 4:4-6


AGE & INTROSPECTION

AGE & INTROSPECTION

Written By:

That’s what my life is now.  I know, that by some standards, I’m still young…but as my Doctor tells me; though my years may be 60 (soon to be 61), I’ve “burned the candle at both ends” long enough to now be an 85-year-old inside 61-year-old skin.  So, now that I’m on the other side of the hill, full moments, past and present; wrinkles, fat, and grey hair, bear witness to all those past intangible, full moments…with gratitude.

I, for one, am happy to know that I have now reached the point where I have lived longer than I will live in the future years…unless I live to be 113.  Having never been fearful of death, I don’t at this point have any desire to live longer than I should…and in fact, am happier to be the age I am than at any other time in my life.

God has been, is, and will been a friend to me, gone the “extra mile” and continues to shock me with His graciousness which I have still to figure out…as little as I have done for Him in return.

To be a Believer & Follower on the “other-side-of-the-hill” is to look back, to observe God and oneself from a distance, and continue to learn.

I climbed up the hill, aiming to reach the summit quickly…by travelling straight for it. In my rush to reach the pinnacle, to “grow up”, I missed some beautiful sights.  Sure, I had the strength then to grab an outcropping of rock when I needed to, and pull myself up.  Yes, I could look back at the sunset of each day and see what I had accomplished.  Sure, it’s good to have goals, make a plan and work the plan…but along the way I may have passed up times I didn’t need to move so quickly.  In my effort to go, go, go…I have missed the goal completely sometimes.  God’s request that I love Him is played out by loving those He has placed in my path…sometimes the path was more important than those who took up space on the path.

I find that now that I’m on the other side going down instead of up, I zigzag…partially to keep from falling.  Now the path is just as steep, but I am going down, not up.  I’ve learned, there is more to be seen and experienced by not racing down the hill.  And the truth is, I’ll reach the bottom when the time is right, till then I should enjoy the path and the people on it…not going straight down, but covering the entire width of the hill and all it has to offer.

When I climbed up, my goal was the summit. Searching for a “mountain-top” experience was often the goal of my younger self.  Now I realize that those experiences happen, are serendipitous and not always a result of planning. I accept them and enjoy them when they come, but as I now see the valley below, I realize that every part of the hill has something to offer.  The path is of God’s creation, He has gone ahead of me, and it is cleared and made especially for me…who am I to deviate from His map?  Getting OVER the mountaintop is the actual goal…partially because the air is so thin at the top, no one could stay there for long.

As my younger self ascended the hill, I had no choice but to empty my pack of things that were too heavy.  Now that I am over the summit, I’m finding that I do not even miss the things I threw out of my pack…and so, am only holding on to the things that might be helpful to someone else along the way.  I tend to be a hoarder, in part because the things I collect around me have meaning and are memory-holders.  But, in truth, middle-age has brought me to the learning stage that tells me how little I need.  And also, my joy, my life, my journey is more fulfilling (once again) when I pay attention to the people on the path…and it’s good to have things with you which connect you with  them.  That it may be something they need is just a part of why those things are necessary.  Connection with others is the important thing.

Now that I am closer to valley, I can see a gate.  The journey on the hill has shown me that there is more than one hill, but I couldn’t see that until I got “over-the-hill”.  When I was climbing, my thought was that my life would end once I got over the summit…now that I AM over the summit, I’m glad to see that there is still more, and there will be more…especially after I walk through the gate in the garden in the valley.

 Thanks to all whose paths cross my path, who walk the path with me, who have carried my pack for me, who have guarded me when I have slept and mended me when I have fallen.  To the ones who travel with me, by blood or by choice, I am who I am because of you and your love.  And to the Shepherd who leads and asks me to follow, I am just beginning to make out the melody you’ve been singing, and look forward to a continuing journey filled with many more years on this path, and unfathomable moments beyond the gate.

 


LEONARDO

LEONARDO

Written By:

We are approaching the Birthday of one of my favorite personalities in all of the world’s artistic history: Leonardo DaVinci (April 15th).  One of my personal heroes, Leonardo was one of those few sparks of miraculous talent who combined all the arts and sciences into one incredible, fluid existence.  His mind was capable of almost anything and his ability to question everything led him to seek out answers about creation that took scientists some hundreds of years to come to the same conclusions.

His work in art, architecture and mechanical engineering are well-known, but did you know that he was also a chef and a musician?  He was a theatrical producer, who created some of the most-discussed pageants (which included dance, song and amazing technical sets) of his time, for patrons with the right amount of money.  His works involved actual moving planets that danced with human dancers on a stage lit by candlelight and a backdrop of stars…all combined with music HE wrote, sometimes played on instruments HE invented.

One striking concept which Leonardo introduced to the painting world of the Renaissance was the idea, captured best in the Italian word, of “sfumato”.  No, it’s not a type of tomato…it means, “to go up in smoke”, or “mist” or simply “smoked”. 

This concept of things in the distance fading into a mist, so that their details are lost (in contrast to the very detailed foreground) is evident in the background of his most familiar painting, la Giocanda or as we know it, Mona Lisa.  Here is a woman with a mysterious smile, and behind her there is a landscape that fades to dark, mist, smoke.  This effect was made by first painting the detail and then covering it with layer-upon-layer of thin painted mist.  This created ambiguity (“having more than one possible meaning”, “not clear or decided”), Leonardo believed, was more realistic to not only what the human eye could take in and focus on, but also was a philosophical statement of belief: there are some things that SHOULD remain and be accepted as ambiguous, as unknown. 

That philosophy was in sharp contrast to the belief of the day, during the Renaissance, that everything should be found, discovered, figured out and defined.  The Renaissance was the “age of man” and “age of reason” where humanism reigned supreme…there were no mysteries that humans couldn’t unravel.  But it took the artists to remind the thinkers that there are many, many things we will NOT be able to define.

I bring all of this up to say, there are some things in life, and especially in spiritual life, that are beautiful, true and good because they are ambiguous.  We live in a type of Renaissance today.  We believe that we are “enlightened” enough to define all things.  We, in the church, not only fall prey to this thought but sometimes argue with our detractors and rush to quickly give answers to all the questions the scripture seems to throw at us.

As we, at CENTRAL, are at the beginning of this journey through the scripture we together are running into many things we don’t understand.  Some of those things simply require some background and historic commentary to give us the perspective of life when the words were written and heard for the first time…so that we can translate them into the minds of a 21st-Century believe & follower. The Spirit is with us to translate, but there are times when all those resources will fail to give us satisfaction as to what was actually going on, what God was saying, and what the lesson is for us…and that is perfectly fine, and that shouldn’t shake our faith.

 Accepting the ambiguous, realizing that (as Shakespeare said well) “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, then are dreamt of in your philosophy.” (HAMLET).  There are passages in scripture that we may never figure out until the Age-to-Come, there are doctrines and philosophies evident in the times we read about, that are foreign to us.  And there are simply things that we will never understand.

As long as we keep the balance between SEEKING THE SCRIPTURE as God has commanded us to do: finding the Truth by study…and EMBRACING THE AMBIGUITY, and not using that as an excuse for NOT studying (i.e. “Well, I’ll never understand it so I’m not going to try.”), then we are doing what is required of us…using everything in our power to KNOW GOD, and accepting that there is no end to the journey.


THE ASHES

THE ASHES

Written By:

LENT: the sacred observance in preparation for the Easter Season and Easter Sunday specifically.

LENT, in the early church, was the time that new members prepared themselves for baptism into the membership (on Easter Sunday) through fasting, study and prayer.  It is a traditional time, in most mainline churches and some evangelical circles, for the recognition of our sins and our mortality; to get closer to God and sacrifice our physical wants for our spiritual needs.

I can remember, from early memory, seeing people on Ash Wednesday with ash on their foreheads and thinking (since it was generally just a few people) that they had bumped into something or accidentally gotten something wiped on them.  Kids at school would sometimes be dismissed from lunch and come back (obviously from noon worship services) with ashes on their foreheads, embarrassed and a little reluctant to speak about what happened at noon.

When I moved to Seattle, as a college student, I remember being downtown on Ash Wednesday one year, and seeing a slick-looking businessman carrying his briefcase, off to a meeting somewhere…with a smear of an ashen cross on his forehead.  Somewhere behind him in a crowd was a young mother with two small children, each with an ashen cross.  There was an older Hispanic man and his wife, a Chinese woman, a young black man working as a messenger on a bike, all with the ashen crosses that day.  And I saw, for the first time, the many faces of the children of God, all blessed with HIS cross on their foreheads.  People who didn’t know each other, and if they did, may not get along as we would hope but all of them under God’s care at that moment in time; the cross binding them together.  And as he hung on the cross, dying, Jesus saw them all…and more.

It is good for us to remember, this Ash Wednesday, and each day, that the faces, attitudes, ages, races, orientations, personalities, gifts, needs, and wants, of those who Believe & Follow Jesus, are numerous.  But we sing together in harmony not unison.  We sing the same song, but in a variety of parts.  We are many voices in the same choir…with one director.  We may not see eye-to-eye…but we will be face-to-face with the one who created us all…from dust, covered by the cross that signifies the price paid for our admittance to the feast.

Let us all try, for at least 40 days (if not more) to treat our fellow Believers & Followers of Jesus, and ALL humans as fellow members of the same loving family with the same loving Father…if we do nothing else this Lenten Season…that would be enough, and it might change the world.


JAZZ: PLAYING WELL WITH OTHERS

JAZZ: PLAYING WELL WITH OTHERS

Written By:

As we approach this last Sunday before Lent, sometimes called “Shrove Sunday” – but what we at Central know as “MARDI GRAS SUNDAY” – my thoughts go to one of my favorite places on earth, New Orleans French Quarter.  I’m looking forward to a trip there after Easter. Although I’ve only seen a small part of this major city in southern Louisiana, it is a place that appeals to my love for culture, music, history and great, great food!

Bourbon Street, and the Quarter (and surrounding neighborhoods), are interesting places, to say the least. During the day the sounds and sights contrast to the sounds and signs of life that engulf you once the sun goes down.  I can only imagine what it is like during Mardi Gras, having never experienced that…and am not planning to be there for Mardi Gras (too many people).

As it is, there is a variety of live music playing from every open door and window as you leisurely stroll down the street, as the nightlife begins (that would be around 10pm!) but finding what I wanted to listen to has become somewhat difficult.  Amazingly the “first love” of The Quarter; American Jazz, has come down to two clubs on Bourbon Street.

My favorite place is a club to relax and listen to some of the finest playing of jazz standards I have ever heard live, it was the MAISON BOURBON (which saw the apprenticeship of Harry Connick, Jr. for one of many musicians who began their careers in this historic watering hole) where an ensemble was playing to a very grateful group of people from all around the world (the table next to me was filled with Russians, and a couple tables over, some Japanese).

Jazz is an interesting style for musicians that requires technical prowess, a theoretical mind and the ability to “swing” with the flow of the song, while improvising counter-melodies following the same harmonic pattern as the melody of the song.  Not only does each instrument present a different tone and style of its own, but each also represents the nuances of each player.  Each player has a “role” also: at different times an instrument may support the whole ensemble, staying low, staying soft, accentuating the rhythm…and then may, through the subtle direction of the band leader (who might be anyone in the band) take the lead and be the soloist for a while, as the other players support them.

The ensemble plays the same song, but each instrument takes harmonic, rhythmic and counter-melody choices to interpret the song freely.

However, it’s not a “free-for-all”, in fact it is only through constant playing together and practicing that a group would find a way to know each other’s styles and techniques, to be able to follow the breathing and singing patterns…it’s almost more like DANCING, rather than playing.

Each player and instrument has its own role to play according to the way the instrument is constructed.

St. Francis’ prayer begins with the words, …make me an INSTRUMENT…  What is it like to be an “instrument”?  Perhaps the best illustration is exactly what I observed.  To be an instrument used of (played by) God is to be something unique, something that by design may be different that the surrounding instruments.  God may play me differently than you.  There are times when you may be called to play “up front”, sounding the melody or improvising your own tune around the melody that the entire congregation of faith plays.  Then there are times when you may be required to step back and support someone else in their solo or melody.  All the while, the song continues, moves forward, rises and falls as each player shows their virtuosity and gifts.  All of this is only possible when “practicing” together, learning each other’s rhythms and styles, getting used to working TOGETHER as one unit, while still presenting each other’s individual gifts.

For the rest of the world, observing and listening, it is a beautiful thing, not a cacophony of noise, but a seemingly intricate song familiar AND new at the same time…

…as beautiful as listening to five guys jam on Bourbon Street.

“Lord, make me an instrument…”


THE ORCHESTRA PLAYER

THE ORCHESTRA PLAYER

Written By:

A good friend from church sent me a link to a wonderful clip with Imogene Coca and Sid Caesar from “Our Show of Shows”.  The link is below if you want to see it and have a good laugh.

When I was a High School student, I played percussion in the local symphony orchestra and the High School band/orchestra.  In the band, I played a variety of drums, but mostly “triples” and we played through most of every song, if we had measures of rest it was usually not for more than 4 to 8 measures of counting.

However, when playing symphonic music, even with the variety of instruments that a percussionist is playing during one piece, there is a lot of counting empty measures.  Sometimes the percussionist may play a crash cymbal at the crescendo of a phrase and not play again for 200 or more measures, then play one or two strikes on the triangle.  Sometimes the percussion enhances or echoes another instrument during the piece, sometimes a drum gives a little extra and added pulse to the orchestra for movement.  Sometimes it is the color that is added: sleighbells or woodblock.  And once-in-a-while, when the moon is blue, the percussionist gets a solo line.

That’s what it’s like to play, not only in the percussion section, but in ANY section of a symphonic orchestra: sometimes you harmonize, sometimes you amplify, sometimes you echo, sometimes you solo, and many times you are silent.  The composer and the conductor see how it all works together…but they are oftentimes the only people who see the whole picture…and balances it out for the ears of the audience.

That is a lesson to be learned by those of us in a “community of faith”, where we each have a role, a gift, a “part” to be performed within the whole of this “symphony of faith.”

Each of us, for the most part, receive a copy of our own part.  To believe that we are looking at the ENTIRE SCORE is as ridiculous as believing that the timpani is the only instrument playing in Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.  There are times when what WE do enhances or harmonizes with another “player”.  There are times to echo what is playing in some other section of Body of Christ.  There are times when the entire symphony plays together, and we are a part of that magnificent crescendo.  There are times when we need to sit, wait, and be silent as other players perform. And then there are times when we are the soloists, and the other players support us.  The One who wrote the song is the One who knows how and when everyone should play their part.  And the conductor follows the instructions set by the Composer.

It is that way in the Kingdom.  We are, for the most part, playing a part that we alone can see.  We don’t know anyone else’s part until we hear it, even then, it is not our job to do anything but assure that OUR part is played when it should be, and that we don’t play when we shouldn’t…so that that symphony is heard by the world in the way the Composer intended.

Sid Caesar & Imogene Coca – Your Show of Shows – Classical Musicians

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeV9t2pqHWA

 


MOZART

MOZART

Written By:

One of my favorite plays and films is AMADEUS.  It has been one of my favorites since I first saw the film in the theatre, in 1984.  In college I performed in a 2-person opera, with original translated text from PUSHKIN’s poem about the young composer (played by me) and the older Salieri…the Russian poem, set to music by Russian composer, Rimsky-Korsakov.  This Pushkin poem first introduced the idea that Antonio Salieri poisoned Wolfgang Mozart out of jealousy…it is a fantastical, though probably altogether fictional, idea. The two singers never sing TOGETHER in the entire opera.  This idea was taken up by playwright, ‎Peter Shaffer, and later turned into a film.

It is remarkable to think about this man, Mozart’s genius mind:  operas, symphonies, sonatas and more…all written and orchestrated by him since the time he was the age that I started playing the piano: age 5.  The movie is a fictional account of a segment of his life, but there are several “nods” to reality in some truly extraordinary ways.

Wolfgang did indeed write every note of every instrument in his head, FIRST.  Once edited and revised in his head, then he would take the pen and write it on the paper.  There are not many scores, if any, that show changes or edits.  Once, the night before one of his operas was to have its premiere, the concert master (first-chair violinist) frantically rushed to Mozart’s home and informed him that there was no Overture in the orchestra parts, Mozart had written the entire 2.5-hour opera but no Overture for the orchestra to play.  Mozart calmly gave him a glass of wine, asked him to make himself comfortable and then proceeded to write out the Overture, one part at a time, from memory, while carrying on a conversation with the concert master.  He didn’t even waste time writing out the entire score until much later, since he himself was conducting.  Once, to make a deadline, he wrote out parts (not copied from the score, but written from memory) all night while his wife kept him awake by singing German folks songs!

The man was a gift from God, and if it weren’t enough that his genius was astounding, the music produced from his genius was and is absolutely beautiful; a gift to every ear, educated or not.

Although the storyline, which includes the composer Antonio Salieri (a contemporary of Mozart and in reality a friend and colleague), as an antagonist whose supposed jealousy causes him to poison Mozart (at least that fiction is inferred).  But, in the script, Salieri has a valid question regarding his own talents, which he views as gifts from God, and Mozart’s greater talents.

His question is: Why do You (God) choose such a profane, rude and crass vessel (Mozart) for such incredible gifts…especially when I (Salieri) have given you my heart and soul and have not received the same?

The real Salieri may have indeed wondered about this and asked God.  Salieri was the most popular composer of the era and place, when the young Mozart stepped onto the concert scene, and although Wolfgang probably wasn’t even half so much as crass as the character in the movie, he was, by all historic accounts, a “free spirit” who did not view the rules as applying to him.  And again one asks the question: Why does God choose to speak through seemingly unholy instruments?  OR why does God choose whom He chooses…for anything?

It is not an inappropriate question, David asks it all the time in the Psalms.  I don’t think God is offended by our questions of why “good things happen to bad people” or why the gifts of that which is good, beautiful and true in art, are given to those whom we feel are undeserving.   However, there IS an issue when WE believe it’s fine to judge who is worthy of God’s grace and gifts, ourselves.

FIRST – we are NOT God.  Choosing who to bless and who to use is HIS prerogative, NOT ours.

SECOND – We don’t have all of the information.  We cannot see people’s hearts, we cannot know what they are capable of in the future, any more than we know what WE are capable of…we cannot see as God can see.

THIRD – The moment we usurp God’s role (by judging who is worthy and who is not) we place ourselves in the place where God should be.  We cease being FOLLOWERS…and there is a difference between BELIEVING (which even Satan does) and FOLLOWING (which one can’t do, if they continually place themselves in front of the One they are supposed to be following)

FOURTH – the assumption that someone else is being “blessed” or “gifted” when they are seemingly unworthy, while we stand un-thanked, unheeded and unnoticed once again is an example of our impatience in thinking that the story is over.  In the end (or beginning, as I see it) all truth, all blessings, all rewards will come to those who have, in God’s eyes, earned them…until then we are still in the middle of the story.

Holiness and purity are not always necessary to communication of beauty, truth and goodness.  After all, some of the most Godly and beautiful creations and art have come from some truly ungodly and pagan individuals, while some of the most Godly are not always the most talented…what’s THAT about? And what does that teach us about God?

In scripture AND in life.  God gives, and gives and gives…not to some but to all.

MATT 5:43-48 “You have heard that it was said, Love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven. For He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward will you have? Don’t even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing out of the ordinary?  Don’t even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

We also know EVERYTHING that is good, beautiful and true comes from God, no matter WHAT the vessel.

JAMES 1:16-17 “Don’t be deceived, my dearly loved brothers. Every generous act and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights; with Him there is no variation or shadow cast by turning.”

So how should we react when, like Salieri who seeks to do right and be blessed by His action sees another who, by Salieri’s measure, is unworthy of the gift?

We thank God for the gift.

We apologize to God for believing that our good works will go unrewarded…just because we don’t have the reward yet.

And primarily, we thank God that His grace goes beyond our own ideas of mercy…after all, there was time (and will be again) when we do not deserve the greatness He so generously pours on us.


THE PRIME OBJECTIVE

THE PRIME OBJECTIVE

Written By:

As THE ALLEY THEATRE, here at Central, puts up the second-to-the-last show of the season, I watch all the players onstage and the crew backstage as they prep, rehearse and polish.  I really enjoy theatre, as I have for most of my life.  It is a reflection of life, and a teaching tool like none other.  But everyone must know their roles clearly, even those who aren’t “actors”.

I’ve watched certain characters play their roles as they moved on and off the stage during other productions in other companies.  At one somewhat moving and emotionally-charged drama I started analyzing exactly what it was that caused me to find certain players “riveting” while others were simply “fine”.  What I found was the actors who understood their characters’ “prime objective” and acted accordingly were the most interesting to follow.  Every acting decision was precise, they moved with authority, clarity and purpose.  The others were merely reciting their lines.

For an actor, the “prime objective” is what drives the action of the character they are playing.  One character’s PO (prime objective) might be to “get the girl”, and everything that actor does, even those things unrelated to “getting the girl”, stem from the PO.  There may be “minor objectives” along the way, for instance: avoiding another character or pretending to be someone they are not, but the PO is still the driving force for the character, it is the definition of that character, it gives the character purpose and meaning and sets the character’s priorities.  A character’s PO allows for that character and others to “connect”, emotionally, onstage…and that human depth of connection is what separates good theatre from great theatre.

What is YOUR “Prime Objective”?  Do you have an overriding purpose that defines the direction of your life?  Most people do…although they don’t realize it.  A Prime Objective may define itself FOR you, if you’re not careful.  Is your life directed by just trying to survive?  Is your Prime Objective to enjoy every minute, at all costs?  Is your Prime Objective to feel secure by having your life arranged, filed and your bank filled?

For those of us who follow Jesus as the Way, the Truth and the Life…He has told us what our Prime Objective is: “to know God.” (John 17:3 “This is forever life, that they may know You, the One True God, and the One You have sent – Jesus the Messiah.”)    The direction to “get to know God” comes from a “Stage Director” who understands clearly that if “knowing God” is our Prime Objective, then all other objectives, relationships, and plot twists, will fall into place and everything else will be put into perspective.  This “Spiritual Stage Director” understands that “knowing God” is a lifetime pursuit, a grand plan, an energizing force…and so, the “life” is found in the journey.

The danger for any actor is NOT choosing or knowing what their character’s Prime Objective is…when that happens, they are at the mercy of the other actors onstage, they are at the mercy of the script…they wander in uncertain circles…and the audience soon forgets they were even onstage during the show.

Again I ask, what is YOUR Prime Objective in life?  Whatever it is, it will define every scene, every relationship and every outcome…even to the final curtain.  My advice…listen to the Director and LIVE the story, as opposed to just being IN the story.