Telling the Story in Different Ways

In perusing the reading list from 2009, anyone with eyes for it will notice that some comic books/graphic novels made the list. I've been reading Neil Gaiman for years now, and finally decided to check out The Sandman rather than wait and see if Gaiman will ever put the story into prose.

On the one hand, you could make the argument that, since I can easily read each of these volumes in a single sitting, they're more illustrated short story than books. But having gone through most of the series now, I'm afraid I'd disagree with you. For one thing, saying you're reading a comic book doesn't really do justice to the act: the words combine with the art to make something more than text, especially something as exquisitely artistic as The Sandman. For another thing, the story's the main point, and Gaiman is, in my opinion, one of the greatest storytellers of the present day, and he seems to be getting better the longer he does it. If you haven't read American Gods, Anansi Boys or Neverwhere, you're missing a lot of really, really good fiction.

It comes down to this: if you can tell the story, tell the story, in whatever medium works best. We in the church could benefit from focusing a bit less on our preferred medium of being and focusing a bit more on telling the story of Jesus in whatever medium works best. Not everyone can be a Neil Gaiman. Not everyone can be a Stephen King, Barbara Kingsolver, Marilynne Robinson. But Stephen King can't preach like Barbara Brown Taylor, either - and who's to say that there isn't an artist out there with the gifts and skills to tell the story of God and God's people with the same beauty, fascination and devotion as the folks who put together the wonderful world of The Sandman?

Some write songs. Some craft sermons. Some build stained glass. Some write icons. Some paint church bathrooms. Some balance budgets. Some teach Sunday School. Some sit by hospital beds. All tell the story of God in one way or another - and all are called to tell the story in whatever medium works best.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Yes, Sir, That's My Baby

So, here's the good news: Kristin has found a part-time job working in youth ministry at Collegiate Presbyterian Church in Ames. The staff is great, she likes the office and her co-workers, things are good. So, great, right?

Well, yes. They're good folks, and we realized this when Kristin went in on Friday to sign some papers and get things rolling on the payroll stuff. Ainsley, of course, came along for the ride. She walked into the office with Mommy and was, of course, an instant hit; our little girl is pretty much our best public relations ploy at the moment. That is, until you put her down and let her walk around and see what's what.

There was this statue of Jesus somewhere in the office, and naturally Ainsley wanted to investigate. So, under Mommy's watchful eye, she walked over and patted it on the head. It promptly fell over. And broke.

That's right: my kid broke Jesus.



When I was five years old or so, my aunt & uncle bought their first house and we helped them move in. It was a split level with fairly modern construction, including an open staircase and railings. To a five year old farm boy, of course, such things are meant to double as a jungle gym. Within ten minutes of arriving in the house I had pulled their railing out of the drywall. Fifteen years later, the same aunt and uncle moved into a new house in the same city, and we again helped them move. This time, I was just walking downstairs when I stepped wrong, grabbed the railing for support and again pulled their railing out of the wall. (When we moved into our new house in Ames, we invited the aunt & uncle to return the favor when they came for a short visit - and they politely declined.) I've got a reputation for breaking something the minute I get going in a new house/job/etc. It's nice to know that my kid is now known for making the same destructive first impression.

But that's not the worst of it. At the time, the office administrator just watched the statue topple and said, "That's really funny." Sort of bemused about it, you know - kids just break stuff sometimes. But when Kristin returned to attend her first staff meeting yesterday, she discovered that Ainsley had not just broken a statue - it was a sculpture done by Christian Peterson, a local artist of some repute whose works are all over the campus. I'm assuming it's a reproduction, because the staff was still laughing about it yesterday, but seriously, I'm beginning to feel like the Topper - "That's nothing. My kid broke Jesus!"

Friday Five: The B-I-B-L-E

Does everyone remember the old Sunday School song?

The B-I-B-L-E,
Oh, that's the book for me.
I take my stand on the Word of God,
The B-I-B-L-E.

I have been working on an expansive language version of the Psalms and the Liturgy of the Hours/Divine Office/Breviary. (For you non-liturgical gals and pals, that's a set of prayers for morning, noon, evening, etc., mostly consisting of Psalms and other biblical texts).

So I have been thinking a lot about the Bible recently, and how we encounter it as God's Word--or don't--in our lives, prayer, and ministry. (Great minds think somewhat alike this week, as yesterday's Ask The Matriarch post dealt with ways to help as many people in a community as possible engage with a scriptural text in preparation for Sunday worship).

So, in that spirit, I offer my first Friday Five. I'm looking forward to hearing everyone's experience and reflection on these B-I-B-L-E questions:

1. What is your earliest memory of encountering a biblical text?
This is going to sound really funny, but I my earliest memory is the Zacchaeus story and, of course, the song that accompanied it in Mrs. Eaton's Preschool Sunday School class. The reason I remember it, though, is that my middle brother was always small for his age and I always thought of MidBro when I thought of Zacchaeus (because they were both wee little people in my young mind).

2. What is your favorite biblical translation, and why? (You might have a few for different purposes).
I'm a dedicated user of the New Revised Standard Version. I think it balances scholarship, vernacular and poetry as best as one could hope. Sometimes it gets a little clunky, but proper reading and attention to context (not to mention a good dose of Biblical education on the part of we pastors for our congregations) should alleviate any serious problems.

3. What is your favorite book of the Bible? Your favorite verse/passage?
Romans 8 has been my "life passage" ever since Pastor Roger, the executive director at Nebraska Lutheran Outdoor Ministries, spent an entire summer preaching on it, especially verses 31-39. Today, I'm also challenged by and enamored of Ecclesiastes, that wonderful Eeyore of an Old Testament text.

4. Which book of the Bible do you consider, in Luther's famous words about James, to be "an epistle of straw?" Which verse(s) make you want to scream?
I don't have as much problem with the Bible as I do with the way we interpret the Bible. I think Luther overreacted to James, to be perfectly honest. If one book DID make me want to scream, it would be Revelation - so many people think it's a puzzle or mystery to solve, rather than a word to comfort, challenge and sustain us as we look to the creation's fulfillment in God's good time. The millions upon millions that have been wasted on the Left Behind series and other such nonsense makes me scream, for sure!

5. Inclusive language in biblical translation and liturgical proclamation: for, against, or neutral?
I'd say neutral on the whole. I have no problem with the NRSV (which OT Professor Makr Throntveit of Luther Seminary has been known to joking refer to as the "Neuter Revised Standard Version") replacing "brothers" with "brothers and sisters" and the like - I think that's a responsible rhetorical move. But I'm not so wild about removing every gendered pronoun in reference to God - sometimes the result is clumsy and actually draws more attention than the original. I do agree with one of my homiletics professors that God the Holy Spirit seems beyond gender, and God the Creator might be a more accessible title than God the Father, but Jesus as Son of God doesn't leave a lot of room for debate. :-)
I will say this about liturgical proclamation: I do scream when people in my denomination think that there's some sort of conspiracy on the part of our liturgical writers to lead people into heresy by seeking non-gendered language. One gentleman accused our new hymnal of being "intentionally inaccurate" by using a Psalm translation that tries very hard to be non-gendered. The intention, of course, is to be accessible to the widest possible audience. Do we miss the mark sometimes? Possibly - but wouldn't the forgiving response be more fruitful? If I remember right, Paul had something to say about the fruits of the Spirit, and gossip-mongering was not on that list!

Bonus: Back to the Psalms--which one best speaks the prayer of your heart?
Oh, so many to choose! Do I go with Psalm 121, my grandmother's funeral psalm? How about Psalm 46, on which Brother Marty's great hymn, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God, was based? Maybe Psalm 8 with its wonder that God should even notice humankind? For today, though, I'll go with Psalm 139, Beloved's favorite and mine as well. I've always thought that The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was the best of Lewis' Narnia Chronicles because of the way it alludes to the image of "sailing past the edge of the sea;" for a landlubber like me, it seems a most exotic voyage, and one I wouldn't want to take without my God to watch over me.

The image is the frontispiece of the Gospel of John from the Saint John's Bible.

A Cultural Friday Five

This week's Friday Five from RevGalBlogPals:

I have spent the week at Summer School studying the Gospel and Western culture, we have looked at art, literature, music, film and popular culture in their myriad expressions. With that in mind I bring you the cultural Friday 5.
Name a
1. Book
2. Piece of music
3. Work of art
4. Film
5. Unusual engagement with popular culture and tell how these cultural encounters have helped/ challenged you on your spiritual journey.

1. As far as books go, there is much in my faith that springs directly from the books I've read. One that has come up in my reflections prior to nearly every funeral over which I've presided is Speaker for the Dead by Orson Scott Card. Yes, I know it's science fiction and certainly not orthodox, but I find in the character of Andrew "Ender" Wiggin much to admire in terms of pastoral honesty. When Ender "speaks" the death of someone, he describes them as they are, not in the glowing, saintlike terms so many of us (myself included) tend to use as we eulogize the dead (eulogy being, of course, "good words" in Greek). The entire Ender series, in fact, deals with ethics, politics and faith in thought provoking ways; I've rarely felt more engaged by both story and philosophy.

2. When I entered the University of Nebraska I intended to be a music educator, and even after I felt drawn to ordained ministry I continued to be active in the music department. I spent three years as a member of the Wind Ensemble and played lots of great music, including the Nebraska premiere of Johan de Meij's Lord of the Rings Symphony in its entirety. But the piece that continues to bring me to tears and joy is David Maslanka's Symphony 4 for Wind Ensemble. Here are selections from Maslanka's notes on the piece:

The roots of Symphony No.4 are many. The central driving force is the spontaneous rise of the impulse to shout for the joy of life. I feel it is the powerful voice of the Earth that comes to me from my adopted western Montana, and the high plains and mountains of central Idaho. My personal experience of the voice is one of being helpless and torn open by the power of the thing that wants to be expressed -the welling-up shout that cannot be denied. I am set aquiver and am forced to shout and sing. The response in the voice of the Earth is the answering shout of thanksgiving, and the shout of praise.

Out of this, the hymn tune "Old Hundred," several" other hymn tunes (the Bach chorales "Only Trust in God to Guide You" and "Christ Who Makes Us Holy"), and original melodies which are hymn-like in nature, form the backbone of Symphony No.4…

Out of chaos and the fierce joining of opposite comes new life and hope. From this impulse I used "Old Hundred," known as the Doxology – a hymn of praise to God; Praise God from Whom all Blessings Flow, Gloria in excelsis Deo – the mid-sixteenth century setting of Psalm 100. Psalm 100 reads in part:

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord
with gladness; come before His presence with singing... Enter into
His gates with thanksgiving and into his courts with praise: be
thankful unto Him, and bless His name.

3. Salvador Dali's The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus has always intrigued and challenged me. There's a majesty to this painting, especially when one considers that the original is more than 14 feet tall. The imagery is complex and I'll admit that I know little of the analysis needed to fully appreciate this work of art. But it reeks of both grandeur and empire, which would obviously seem to speak to our modern context, wouldn't they?

4. American Beauty is not a happy film. It isn't inspiring, fulfilling, redemptive or even remotely enjoyable in the traditional sense by which I measure movies. But I've yet to discover a film that better captures the absolutely hollow nature of so many 20th and early 21st century Americans. Gorgeous on the outside and without substance within - isn't this why, in a time of unrivaled prosperity, we suffer more depression than anyone else?

5. I really don't have any engagements with popular culture - we don't run in the same crowds. J But I did have an unusual engagement in theater this summer: I played the atheistic journalist E.K. Hornbeck in our community theater's production of Inherit the Wind. Hornbeck was based upon Baltimore's H.L. Mencken, the critic who wrote scathing reviews of the "Scopes Monkey Trial" to a national audience. Even though I don't share Hornbeck's distaste for matters spiritual, I did find myself relishing the pointed barbs he loosed against hypocrisy, religious zealotry and ignorance; even though Hornbeck wasn't a sympathetic character, he was definitely interesting to play and (I hope) observe from the audience!

Bonus: Is engagement essential to your Christian faith, how and why?
Yes, I think so. I've always said that my primary sermon aid is a daily newspaper, though I'll admit I'm growing tired of the self-serving aspect of the media, especially the television media (are you listening, CNN?). I would say rather that engagement is essential to ministry - it's like learning the dialect in a foreign country, so that you can communicate more clearly.