 -Pastor Melissa Fain- This is a continuing Lenten exploration of non-religious artists' take on religion. This is how I’ve suggested one engages these meditations.
Self Portrait of a Young Man (29000.344) About the ArtistRev Howard Fenster (1916-2001)- Born in Alabama, he was one of 16 kids. In 1930, compelled by the Holy Spirit, he took up preaching. To supplement his income, he was also a bicycle repair man. In 1961 he moved to Pennville. It was while he was checking a tire with some white paint, he felt the Spirit again. The paint on his finger looked like a face. He heard the Spirit tell him to paint. Already, he was frustrated because he believed his sermons went in one ear and out another. His only concern was his talent. He heard the Spirit again to do it anyway. That’s when he started his career as a folk artist. His work is almost exclusively sacred in nature. He’s been on album covers, music videos, and late night talk shows. He created over 46,000 individual pieces of art from 1961 until his death in 2001. About the ArtSelf Portrait of a Young Man (29000.344) When you have an artist that has so many pieces to see, what do you focus on? I decided to focus on a very specific self-portrait. This specific self-portrait is more than Rev Finster. This one also includes the Holy Spirit. “Where?” you might ask. Well, friends, in the words written on his face. Here’s the truth about hearing a message from the Spirit. If you’ve experienced it, you know. Really, that’s it. You can relate to others who have experienced it. There is no way to explain it, except to sound completely and totally nuts. Also, you learn the people who don’t get it, REALLY don’t get it. People think the Spirit’s call is really like picking up a nice hobby, or doing something where you have a natural talent. In reality, the Spirit call is almost never fun, or rewarding for that matter. It’s an act of sacrifice for the sake of the whole Body of Christ. For Howard Fenster it is a wild ride. For many, it’s not. My TakeI felt compelled to include Rev Fenster in this collection of writing, even though he never really stopped being a minister. Then I realized it wasn’t that he never stopped being a minister, it was that he never pushed against the corporate church beyond basically saying congregants' memories were easily lost. He wanted to preach in a way that would be lasting. He felt called to leave the church and paint his sermons.
I won’t lie. I was smug as hell when I first saw his work. First, I thought his theological reflections were adolescent. You saw them, and there they were. There wasn’t any deeper meaning. Second, I thought his artistic style was too simplistic. I could do that in a day, and not even blink. The final thought I’ll share after I tear down my first and second thoughts first. He wanted to preach in a way people would remember. Of course his messages had to be simple! What I want to do is different. I want to preach in ways that can’t be conveyed in words; messages that can’t be preached at the pulpit. This doesn’t mean I’m not going to let up on critiquing the theological message. A bad theological message can hurt way more than just the person who believes it. I am going to put away my superiority complex to want something deeper from a person who clearly had deep faith. It’s fine that his messages were simple. It’s necessary for his call. His style reminds me of how I used to draw in elementary school. I need to get down off that horse fast. We live in a world where painting hyper-realism is doable. We can use digital media to stop a moment. We can zoom in on said moment, and get variation of color in a way we never could. Really great artists can use these tools to make near photo quality paintings. That is a statement of their skill, not their art. It disheartens people into not even trying. Even Rev Fenster had his moment. He felt called to paint and told God he didn’t have the skill. Why would anyone even want what he’s making? Then he felt called to try anyway, and he did. I feel we need to encourage art in all forms. It not only expands our definitions of art, but it helps people see skill in others. This leads me to my third critique, and one I can’t reorder in my brain. It’s not smug. It’s just the truth. Rev. Fenster was a man. The longer I’m doing this, the more I’m seeing secular religious art being an easier path for men. In fact, the longer I’m doing this, the more I’m seeing women being put in support roles for men, so men can have an easier path. I have quietly been watching other art forms where the men seek help from women, and when the time comes for the women to get the same support? There are crickets.There are not fewer women in these fields because the women are less talented. There are fewer women because that door doesn’t go both ways. This makes even my hopeful expressions of art a bittersweet experience for me. It carries weight, and even a small added weight, wears one down after years of it being chained to you. I basically told a close friend a year or two back: If I have to quit now. That is not a failure. Even the biggest fighters go down during fights. They are not all wins. At some point, you either die or quit. If I quit before I succeed, that might not be my failure either. I was just worn down too much by others to make it. Like the portrait: It’s not my message, it’s God’s, and I’m not vain enough to believe the message would die with me. I am, however, realistic enough to my own limits, and how it is very possible to wear me down to them. I’m saying all this to help you see context when I say, I’m happy for him and his wild ride. I’m saying all this so you understand why I pray, “God, I’d be doing so much better if you hadn’t made me female. Why me?” See, his wild ride might speak to more than just me. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for. You might be chained to your own weight. You are allowed to appreciate someone for what they bring, while also pushing against it. How does Rev Howard Finster preach the Word of God to the people of God? -Pastor Melissa Fain- This is a continuing Lenten exploration of non-religious artists' take on religion. This is how I’ve suggested one engages these meditations.
What makes this piece different, is it's mine. I finished it yesterday. Today's post will look a little different from the other Lenten posts. The Art: I already knew the creators of religious art was oversaturated with men. I thought I'd go outside the church to find artistic expression and I'd find women. Only secular expression of religious themes are still over saturated with men. Basically, I wanted to see what women outside the Church thought about Church, as much as I was seeing what men thought, only I was only finding men. Just look back at all the posts so far. Amazing talent. Awe inspiring work. All men. In my frustration, I picked out one of the artists, and began a feminist critique through art of their work. About the Art: To really get what I'm doing, it is important to see the related piece. In this case, I chose Aaron Douglas's Creation. I love Douglas' work. It looks simplistic, but the way he uses simple shapes, and range is much much more complex than it appears. His Creation, shows a man looking up at the hand of God. It's a white god, and the stars themselves are white. As the viewer I thought, can he have those stars? Probably not. With these illusions to the flood, the rainbow and Father Abraham, it's a deep piece by an agnostic painter. I recently wrote on his piece titled: Noah's Ark. I picked Douglas for my critique for two reasons. First, I want you to look this artist up. I want you to see his work. He lived in the 20's. When he's visualizing segregation, slavery and oppression he's doing it as an African American who know it. He deserves more attention from all audiences. Secondly, my critique of him is the masculinity in all his work. He lived in a time where "man" meant all of humanity. He could stay masculine, and no one would have questioned him. That can't exist today. About the Artist: If I create something I truly love, I'm usually the most upset by it's creation. I've been doing this for almost a decade. There are backlogs of attempts to put myself out there. There are critiques meant to set something broken back to wholeness. I have been met with an echo. We all have. Some of us think our echoes are validation. Nothing changes if people who already agree with us, choose to agree with us more. I've been ordained for a dozen years. Like, literally 12 as of Feb 14th. I've worked in churches and religious systems since 99'. Twice as long as I've been ordained. As long as I don't rock boats, or don't take too much power, I'm safe. Well, I was safe. Well, I was never safe. I sealed my fate in high school when I led a group of fellow teenagers to walk out on the (who would eventually be) the General Moderator for the Christian Church, (Disciples of Christ). We walked out right when he began his sermon because he was hired as the senior minister, and didn't get along with the associate who happened to be a woman and the youth director. No one in the church knew, and not involving the church in a decision like that was my big problem. As time progressed, he was the one who owned the narrative, so the story became twisted. The story became that the associate led a coup d'etat to take down the poor senior minister. Only it appears the walk out did absolutely nothing bad to this minister. His hissy fit, throwing down the gauntlet to say it was him or her, got her fired, and hurt the church for a generation. He did gangbusters! That was my introduction to ministry. This associate was the first time I had seen a woman preach. I saw how she was treated, and I STILL felt called to go into ministry! Getting God's call is not the same as "finding your passion," or "doing what you always wanted to do." A real honest to goodness call will not often get you accolades or high paying jobs. It's taking on things no one wants to support. It's saying things that no one wants to hear. It's preaching to Nineveh. My take:Notice what is the same: There is a person looking up. There is an olive branch next to the person. There is the hand of god. There are stars the same color as the hand of god. The rainbow is hidden in both. There is water. There are squiggly lines.
Notice what is different: Douglas put the entire piece underwater. At least that's how I see it. The bubbles, and the waves tell me this is after Noah's Ark, but before the water's receded. That also puts the person in the chaos, because the uncreated world was in the oceans. That makes it even more poignant that the olive branch stands next to him. What's different is the person's gender and color. The man is black. The woman is white. I'm speaking from my context, and only my context. I'm a white woman. I'm not taking on anything that doesn't belong to me. God is white in Douglas's work, while god is a man in mine. Douglas's man is looking up at god. My woman is looking at a star, and wants to touch it. There is still the illusion to the flood, because Douglas's road was transformed into a creek in mine. I knew I couldn't put bubbles in the sky, so I decided for wind, only my wind became the spirit. Also blue, and completely by accident. It's filled with so much hope. I want her to get the star. I want the Abrahamic promise to belong to her too! Only, I fear the star will never reach her, or if it does she won't be able to use it. This painting is the truth, and what the truth holds depends on what we do with it. How does "New Creation" preach the Word of God to the people of God? -Pastor Melissa Fain- This is a continuing Lenten exploration of non-religious artists' take on religion. This is how I’ve suggested one engages these meditations.
For this art, I’d like to ask you to listen to the song without seeing the imagery. Press play, and don’t watch. Let the music take you in. When you come back to it after reading what I’ve written, watch it. About the Artist:Omar Thomas (1984-) Born in Brooklynn, New York to Guyanese parents, he moved to Boston in 2006 to earn his Masters in Jazz Composition. He won the ASCAP Young Jazz Composers award in 2008. He is hailed for his ability to capture emotional intent in his work. About the Art:Thomas was commissioned by the JMU Wind Symphony to create a memorial piece in remembrance of the 9 lives lost during the 2015 Charleston AME Church shooting. The piece is angry, sad, confused, and ultimately hopeful. It uses the Black National Anthem, Lift Every Voice and Sing, as it’s muse. My take:My undergraduate degree is a BA in Music. Music was my balm when my personal world was a minefield. I sang and played my soul out. That’s why it might surprise you to know that it is extremely difficult to get a song to bring me to tears. I’ve been sad while singing. I’ve cried while singing “Amazing Grace” at a funeral. A few tears slipped while I sang “Let there be Peace on Earth” the Sunday after 9/11. Those were less the songs, and more what was happening for those songs to be played.
Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings rips me apart every time. It really doesn’t matter what mood I’m in, or how many times I’ve heard it. The edges of my eyes get misty. I feel it. Now there’s a second. “Of Our New Day Begun” is a mourning wail. It is the musical version of a Lament if I’ve ever heard it. More than that, if you are anywhere in the mourning process, this song sings, and sounds to your specific place in that journey. Maybe it has just begun, and in that case, this song is raw. It plays your nerves like violin strings. Maybe you have finally begun the sacrificial journey, willing to bring what can no longer be before God. In that case, it screams. It is an angry rebuke of a broken creation. Maybe you have found the light after brokenness. You are in the midst of thanksgiving. In that case, it brings out the happy tears. It’s a joyous celebration that something new has been created, while still lamenting what can never be again. This is, in a very real sense, a Lenten song. This is, in a very real sense, a modern Psalm. This is, in a very real sense, what I was talking about with Dr. Pemberton, when I said not all speech uses actual words, or if it does, it’s more about what those words mean, not what they are actually saying. It’s times like this I begin to understand why I felt called to get my dinkey music degree (because a BA in music is a BA in basket weaving without an education focus or something to back it up) was vital to my call as a minister. Seminarians are inundated with words. Ministers study with language. Meanwhile, my first conversations with God lacked vocabulary. Now I’m trying to show you, and I see how difficult it can be to see communication beyond words if you’ve never thought beyond them. Learned back when I was tied to the lyrics of someone else’s song, that the notes sing too. True, they too were someone else’s notes, but they said more than the words. “Of Our New Day Begun” says more than words too. We need only listen. How does this piece preach the Word of God to the people of God? -Pastor Melissa Fain- This is a continuing Lenten exploration of non-religious artists' take on religion. Noah’s Ark https://www.wikiart.org/en/aaron-douglas/noahs-ark-1927 About the artist:Aaron Douglas (1899-1979): Was born and raised in Topeka, Kansas. He was the most influential artist of the Black Harlem Renaissance. In 1924 he moved to Harlem, and continued his art, teaching, and becoming an art critic. His style was within the art deco genre, and synthetic cubism. His bold and simple color pallet uses range to draw attention to specific parts of the painting. About the art:About the art: Noah’s Ark is a classic Biblical story of Noah being the last redeemable person on the Earth, and God saving that person, while destroying the rest of humanity. It is a big do-over. Painting over the canvas to start again. It’s one of those stories that is unbelievably horrific, yet we paint pretty images of the story in our Children’s Bibles and on baby’s nursery walls. My take:Douglas has quickly become one of my favorite artists. It’s because of him that I even chose to take on this project. He is not afraid to use religion to speak to broader stories, especially in the African American context. I love his use of light. You don’t have to have an art degree to know where he has placed the focus. In this piece it’s two-fold. First, there’s the Godlight shining on Noah. You see him giving orders, as the last minute preparations are being made on the Ark. Only, that light doesn’t radiate out. There are two places the light radiates. First, there’s God, stopping short of touching anything but Noah. Nothing is going to stop the rising waters, and you can see them in the background. Devastation is going to come, and God will not stop it. Then there’s the real focus. In the background, if not for the waters, as far back as you can get, there is a worker making last minute fixes to the boat. That man is going to die. In fact, all the people, apart from Noah, are working on their death. The man in the foreground is dragging a log. Perhaps it was a log holding the boat in place. Then there is a man carrying up supplies, or pitch to the boat. All three of them will be dead. That’s when I realized he painted Noah’s Ark to be a slave ship. Noah, in this painting, is not the “good guy” at all, just as God is not a loving God. As Christians, we are told where to focus. How dare we draw our attention to the footnotes or the margins. God and Noah. That’s it. Practically speaking, if Noah’s Ark is to be believed, Noah couldn’t have built that Ark on his own. It was, in the truest sense, slave labor. It was slave labor because none of the workers would have gained any fruit from their hard work. No wonder Noah got stupid drunk after the waters receeded, and it was dry enough to get off the boat. If you’re that Noah, in Douglas’ painting, you would have to see the immense loss you could have prevented had you looked in the shadows. How does Douglas’ “Noah’s Ark” preach the Word of God to the people of God? For another resource:
https://wwwnc.cdc.gov/eid/article/9/1/ac-0901_article -Pastor Melissa Fain- As I mentioned before, I’m going to explore artistic expression for Lent. Specifically, I want to look at how secular (or non-religious) artists explore the topics of religion in their work. A few ground rules:
About the artist:Zhang Haun: Born to a farming family in China, Zhang knew poverty and struggle at an early age. He is openly embarrassed by his country's political choices. His first performance piece, titled “Angel” took a baby doll, covered in blood. The baby was then taken apart by Zhang over a white canvas. After it was in pieces, Zhang attempted to put it back together again. The imagery was reminiscent of Tiananmen Square for the Chinese who were watching. About the art:One of Zhang’s preferred mediums is used sacred temple incense. He layers it to create sculptures. In this piece, temple ash is layered to create the image of Jesus and Buddha facing one another. When you first see it, it looks like a showdown of faiths. Buddhism vs Christianity. However, both are posed in peace. It’s not a showdown at all, but an acceptance. My take:Today marks the beginning of Lent with Ash Wednesday. If you are curious to know more about Lent and Ash Wednesday, I’ll drop previous posts at the bottom. Here’s how it’s important today: Ash Wednesday takes place after Shrove Tuesday, Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras. The fat and yeast is supposed to be literally used up because in High Church traditions followers are supposed to fast for the 40 days leading up to Easter excluding Sundays. On Ash Wednesday, there can be a worship. That’s where the palm leaves from the previous year's Palm Sunday (Also linked at the bottom) are burned to ash. The ash is put on the worshippers forehead in the shape of a cross using holy oil to make it stick. For today I want to focus on those palms. During Palm Sunday the palm fronds are often put before the altar in a joyous celebration; remembering Jesus entering Jerusalem on the week of his Crucifixion. As an adult, I realize how upside down that celebration truly was. Still, I had many fond memories of being a child bringing in the palm fronds on Palm Sunday. I was also a child who loved to pick flowers and smash them in my journals. They became fragile memories of a day I played outdoors, or spent time with someone I loved. I had also not left my palm fronds at the church, but took them home, and dried them out. (For those of you imagining a kid attempting to dry out palm fronds, don’t. It never went well, and they were always way too big to keep.) When I realized what they were doing with the fronds, I also realized my fronts were never included. My fronds were taken home, while the others sat in an attic drying out for the year, and then destroyed to ash. When I first understood what happened my much younger self was happy to not include my fronds. It would only be as an adult that I’d realize Ash Wednesday requires sacrifice. Personal sacrifice. If I wasn’t giving anything to the ash, then it wasn’t my ash to receive. Which brings me back to Ash Jesus. When I see him, his hands outstretched, built from the ash of long forgotten prayers, I see Ash Wednesday. Many of us assume Lent is about letting go of something for a bit. Perhaps you planned to say no to cola, or chocolate. Maybe this is the last thing you plan to read before avoiding the internet. That’s all well and good, but not really the point of Lent. Lent, like Advent, is about preparing for Christ. During Advent, it was a joyous celebration of life. During Lent, it is really about preparing for death. GONNA STOP YOU RIGHT THERE! EASTER IS ABOUT THE RESURRECTION! IF LENT WAS ABOUT THE RESURRECTION IT WOULD ALL BE CALLED EASTER! DON’T @ ME. Sorry. We like to paint over Lent with Easter, so I had to kinda yell that one out so it wouldn’t be lost. Preparing for Christmas is easy because most of it is taking on new things. Preparing for Lent is a journey of letting go. It’s incredibly difficult and just taking that first step is a journey within itself. It’s the understanding that things that were good and loved at one point, cannot go forward. You can’t undo the incense that was burned. It was sacred and good when it was burned, but it can no longer be. It must be sacrificed to become something new. You can’t undo the slow decay of the palms. It was sacred and good when they were used, but they can no longer be. They must be sacrificed to continue on the journey. And that’s where the Church sits. Not at the story of Advent, but at the beginning of Lent. As the Church clings to the decaying relics of a previous time, we sit in decay ourselves. We press our memories, and refuse to bring them to God in sacrifice. Then, we don’t become a part of the final picture. Ash Christ cannot be ours until we choose to let go of what can no longer be; and become what God intends. We can’t live until we die. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. How does Ash Jesus preach the Word of God to the people of God? Previous posts:
Ash Wednesday https://www.figtreechristian.org/meditations/ash-wednesday https://www.figtreechristian.org/meditations/ash-wednesday2 www.figtreechristian.org/meditations/ash-wednesday-beginning-again Lent https://www.figtreechristian.org/meditations/lent https://www.figtreechristian.org/meditations/the-purpose-of-lent Palm Sunday https://www.figtreechristian.org/meditations/palm-sunday www.figtreechristian.org/meditations/palm-sunday-hosanna https://www.figtreechristian.org/meditations/palms -Pastor Melissa Fain- In March/April of 2020 I watched as countless people posted:
"This is the Lentiest Lent we have ever Lent." Then everyone reacted with a laugh emoji and moved on. What else was there to do? I feel the Christian Calendar exists, in part, to give us a way to authentically react to life. In an American culture, we've kinda lost the purpose of Fat Tuesday/Mardi Gras/Shrove Tuesday. In reality, it was preparing for a fast. It was a no yeast diet, and a no fat or red meat. Therefore, this being the day before fasting, all the yeast and fatty meats were to be used up so it wouldn't go bad. Now it's an excuse to overdo it, whatever each of us have to overdo. No one sees it as the first step to accepting loss, which is what it really is. You don't need me to tell you when you are ready for that step. You don't need to start that process today. Nor, if you do start that process, does it need to be over and done with by Easter. These things take years. You might need to spend this time "pretending Lent," and that's fine. Many of us would no longer call March/April 2020 the "Lentiest Lent we have ever Lent," We have gone through a collective loss, that somehow keeps taking. While there were many things about these past two years that were communal, how we process it is personal. If you are not ready to give up your version of yeast and red meat, that's you working on your own time. It's not for me or anyone else reading this to decide. No matter what you are planning to do this Lent: May God be with you on your journey. -Pastor Melissa Fain- Lent is just around the corner. March 2nd to be exact. I want to do something that will capture the spirit of Lent while also breaking their boundaries. Yes, you read that correctly. Boundaries need to exist. They tell us where our actions can hurt ourselves or others. When we don’t keep strong boundaries, we risk chaos from sneaking into our organization. But, boundaries also exist to keep power where power no longer needs to be. You can trap people to slowly or quickly kill them with boundaries. You can hide things you don’t want others to see with boundaries. I want to break boundaries that neither help or are useful. I’m going to spend Lent looking at secular expressions of God through artistic interpretation. Put another way, I’m going to look at artists that take on Biblical stories or images of God, to see how their work preaches. Listening to the Lord’s Song in a Foreign LandI remember I was starting a job at a Church. The secretary was showing me around and wanting me to be aware of the Christian music radio stations. By that point I had stopped listening to Christian music. It was too… something. It’s like when you first decide to make lifestyle changes to lose weight. After you’ve taken off those 15-50 pounds, you decide you are going to spoil yourself and go to a fast food place. It’s no longer the same, and you feel horrible after eating it. Not because you feel guilty, but you feel horrible because the food actually makes you feel horrible. Yucky. Christian music had begun to hit me wrong. It was too much of one thing, and not enough of something else. It could only play on sacred ground, but lacked the ability to sing on foreign soil. I needed to hear God in secular music, so I began to listen. I heard so much more relevant music from the Foo Fighters, and Weezer than from the Gaither Trio. I thanked the secretary, and then never listened to the station. Not even once. Painting the Lord’s Song in new tonesI believe if God is seeking me to preach in ways that are beyond the pulpit, I need to explore how others have done the same. If I could go between 4-5 artists, I might understand what God is asking me to do. If you want to follow along as I take this journey, I invite you to come here during Lent.
 -Pastor Melissa Fain- I have only done one Tuesday Review where I was asked to read a book and write about it. This is not that one. In this case: A friend saw a previous post I had written, suggested this book, and my husband bought it for me as a Christmas gift. I typically follow a very simple guide to reviewing something:
This one will be helpful, and unlike my recent reviews, it is a solid, good book. As I wrote previously, it is so refreshing to take a break from the brackish readings of the likes of Zacharias, and take a cool flowing trip through Pemberton. I plan to answer some questions in this review: Who is this book for? What makes it worthwhile to read? Where do I feel the tension has been released? In other words, where does it fall apart (just a little)? Let’s begin! Who is the book for?As a minister, there were times I felt I was reading a straight up commentary. Commentaries are typically what ministers use to get perspective on a scripture. I don’t just sit down and read commentary. I use it like I would an encyclopedia. If I wanted to know about a chapter in Luke, I’ll pick up a few of my Luke commentaries, and just read the section on that specific chapter. In that way, this book is for ministers. Now that I’ve read it, I’ll place it among my research section, and I’ll easily be able to find what I need when I eventually preach from a lament Psalm. As a person who has felt trauma multiple times, it was a warm hug. It is completely appropriate to get this book, read the first third, find your lament, read that chapter, and then read the final third. There were times I could only read a chapter, and then I had to walk it off. I haven’t had that kind of theological reflection of a writing in… well this was a first. There were times I spiritually needed this book. I believe there are others who could use it too, if they only knew it existed. As someone who has spent decades in the institutional building of a church, this book would make an amazing Bible study paired with “Act Normal: Memoir of a Stumbling Block,” by Kristy Burmeister. I need to get Act Normal in the Church. Kristy’s voice needs to be heard apart from the antiseptic messages, but within their bleached walls. Dr. Pemberton’s book is the perfect partner for that task. Her book is one long lament, and seeing it as such helps the reader take her words in. What makes this book worthwhile to read?Once you’ve actually sung true thanksgiving to God after suffering through lament, it’s so off-putting to hear thanksgiving severed from the reason to give thanks. To those still in the midst of lament caused by the Church, it’s not only off-putting, it’s down right scary. I have this sneaky suspicion that many of us want to lament, but we are afraid of how it will look. Any sort of shadow, or negativity is culturally seen as against God. This book clearly shows the untruth in that cultural theology. This is a voice who knows what he’s saying, because he has done the hard research to bring it all together. As much as I was angry with the chapter that discussed Psalm 137, the book landed the ending. Which brings me to one minor critique… Where is the tension lost?If I could summarize the book in one sentence it would be this: Trust God enough to speak the truth in your prayers. He couldn’t find the truth in Psalm 137, because he only heard the words being spoken, not the meaning beyond them. What baffles me, much of what he says in the very next chapter, if also considered for the previous chapter, would have made it all more palatable. It makes me wonder if 137 was part of what had already been written before he transitioned from someone who talked about lament, to someone who actually lived through it. (He mentions ⅔ of the book being written and gathering dust when he went through his own anguish.) I do invite you to read what I wrote on his take on Psalm 137, but I have one more greater point for this particular post. Talking to God has to start somewhere. It might even start with a lie. If we are so afraid that the only words spoken need to be truthful words, we could scare people out of praying all together. I would summarize prayer in this way: Prayer is bringing yourself, in all that you are, before God in sacrifice. It might involve lies. “I’m a good person,” sounds great on paper, but put that phrase in Hitler’s mouth, and we have a problem. It’s not about the words, but the meaning behind and beyond the words. Sometimes the meaning behind a lie is, “Listen, I’m uncomfortable being in this space, I don’t even know if I believe what I’m doing, but I’m willing to give it a try.” How are we to discount that prayer just because the physical words were a lie? ConclusionThis was a solid book that I would unhesitantly suggest to anyone going through a crisis. It sharpened my beliefs on lament, added to my spiritual journey, and left me in a moment of thanksgiving to God. What more can you ask for from a religious book?
On another note- it’s time to go back into the dung heap. My next Tuesday review is not going to be any of the things I mentioned above. Just as we need to sharpen good theology, we need to obliterate the bad. I’m reading a book on the Dugger family. God help me. -Pastor Melissa Fain- Over the past 6 weeks I’ve been reevaluating the meaning of the word “preach.” Let me lay out the groundwork first. From the moment I felt called to be a minister, I already had a more expansive definition of “preaching.” I wanted to be a Christian singer. I wanted the music notes, the inflection, and the words to preach. Part of this was my severe anxiety. I could stand in a room full of people and sing a song, and tell a story with the rise and fall of the notes. Only, that box didn’t fit me too long. I realized I wanted to say more than what the pre-written songs were saying. (I also felt most of the pre-written songs were garbage when it came to speaking God beyond fluffy sentiments.) I wanted to talk about God in spaces where God existed, but we were failing to even look. To find the lost coin in the darkness. So I began writing. I learned very quickly it was a very exclusive club that required the use of over-inflated words. Without saying so, they set the entrance fee to have a voice at their table. The fee was either having a fantastical story, a family member who was already in, or a stable middle-class-ish family.. Why do I say this? Because I was from a home where between both parents there were four divorces in my childhood. I went to three elementary schools, and lived in six different homes. There was no way to follow my educational progression because I didn’t stay in one place long enough to have any school really help me. I struggled in language arts. I struggled in math. If I wanted to be taken seriously as a writer, I better know the rules. I better write the correct lingo that Seminary Professors would understand, and people like me would not. I better be peer reviewed so I could be placed in a journal no one would read. I learned the lingo, but I don’t use it here. There is nothing worse in the world of writing than to waste your time talking to people who cannot possibly understand what you are trying to say. BUT- that also means I’m not going to be published. See, it’s exclusive. Either I sell my essence to get entrance and not have anything to really say (because, I sold the most important part of me to get the microphone). Or, I keep doing what I’m doing with no amplification at all. I don’t have a famous daddy so the second one it is. I believe the system scared me into being a manuscript preacher. (Pre-writing my sermon and performing it on a Sunday morning.) As I’ve forced myself to be off the cuff for virtual worship, I’ve suddenly realized how boxed in the manuscripts are. What I’m not saying about the word “preach.”I’m not using it like the phrase, “That’ll preach!” That phrase is used to say the action or words could be preached on a Sunday morning. It still puts preaching as something that can only happen in a pulpit on a Sunday morning. I’m also not talking about the phrase, “Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary use words.” That is a statement of social responsibility, not actual preaching. Finally, I’m not talking about the phrase, “Stop preaching at us!” That suggests there is nothing helpful in the act of preaching, and when the action looks like a sermon, it needs to stop. (Once again, looking like a sermon is something that involves words at a podium.) Truly seeing the wilderness in preaching.What I’m about to write is personally terrifying. I’ve seen glimpses of it, and it truly feels I’ve glimpsed the edge of God. It is the true vastness of the Wilderness.
Van Gogh, Howard Finster, and Aaron Douglas. They are all artists. More than that, they are all preachers in their own right. Van Gogh created The Potato Eaters after he was let go as a missionary. He was let go because he gave up his lodgings to the homeless. That’s when he found his true calling as a painter. The Potato Eaters preaches to those who fired him for living into a social Gospel. Howard Finster was a pulpit preacher who felt his congregation wasn’t listening to what he was saying. He left the safety of the church, and followed the call to start creating. He became famous for his art. Aaron Douglas was agnostic, yet the way he captures Biblical narrative from an African American perspective was way before James Cone and “God of the Oppressed.” He spoke to truths the power in the Church would have blacklisted had they realized what he was doing. These three artists were brought to my attention from three different circumstances. It reminded me of who I am, and who I am called to be. When I said I was leaving the denomination, I had someone publicly (while also being kinda discreet) suggest it was all too dangerous. The danger wasn’t for my safety. The danger was what I could do without boundaries. The words lacked understanding of the deep danger so many had found themselves outside the church, and the necessity to break those boundaries to meet them in their danger. I have always known the boxes never fit me. I think those who really know me, also know that fact. Yet, I always tried to cram myself into these boxes like they are something that should continue to exist. How could I say, “The language of God is more than words,” and not hear what I was saying to myself?! I’ve, most recently, been praying to stay a minister. You might think that is strange for a person like me to pray. I’ve been in ministry since high school. Over 20 years now. Why would I, of all people, fear I would be called away from it? I can feel the call to not be in the pulpit. My whole life, whether I realized it or not, being in the pulpit in a church has become my definition of being a minister. Meanwhile, in a complete contradiction I constantly talk about other forms of ministry. I raise up the Chaplains. I adore the missionaries. They are ministers. I also didn’t realize I had limited the language of ministry, while contradicting myself in it’s practice. God smacked me upside the head with three painters, and reminded me of my brief moment in music ministry. God told me my boxes were too small. That’s what scares me, and knowing I’ve been doing it the whole time. I’ve been preaching with art. I’ve been preaching with action. I’ve been preaching with the song of inflection. I’ve been telling God’s story to the world outside the pulpit and with more than words, for way longer than I’ve even realized! People ask for my songs in their forign land. I get angry when they ask for it, because they won’t consider it worship. Why am I singing the Lord’s song to people who don’t see it for what it is? So my prayer to God is returned to just worship God. If others see, fine. So I do. At that point, I have to read the scriptures where the entire thing sounds stupid. I have to see Naaman completely frustrated that he’s asked to clean in dirty water. I must see how foolish it all looks, because it all looks like futility. No one from inside the box wants me outside the box, because I’m in danger of breaking the box. So those inside the box are fearful of what I might do, and those outside the box think it’s cute. And all God’s trying to tell me is that my ministry is not at a podium! Fine, God! Sure! But, can you tell the people who pay your servants? All your funds are tied up in buildings, and pulpits. How long? We, as a people, can’t sit in silence for 30 seconds without needing to blurt something and I’ve been doing this for years. Is my decade enough? How about two decades? Three full decades when I’m 61? No! 64! Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I’m 64?! At the same time, knowing I can paint, sing, dance, act and create worship… wow it makes the traditional worship look so tiny and unimportant. Yeah, the wilderness is scary, but once you’ve lived in it for a decade, how could you go back? My Boss has basically handed me the tools and told me to go have fun, and part of it is knowing, that’s what I’ve been doing all along! God knows me, and has given me a job that fits my skill set. My definition of preaching is just right. It’s yours that is too small. -Pastor Melissa Fain- A few weeks back I wrote about a book I was currently reading: Hurting with God, by Dr. Glenn Pemberton. For multiple unforeseen reasons, I’m not done yet. I have four chapters left, and I’m loving the journey. Many days, I’ll read and then just walk it off. When those days happen I’ve found God in the text, and the two of us just have to end the reading in a silent prayer. For those of you I’ve piqued your interest, when I get through the final four, I’ll write out my review. Right now I want to talk about something I truly believe he missed. When you know, you know...As I was reading I felt he got the point, but more like a cancer doctor having found cancer in someone else. He knew where to look, and what it looked like, but there was always this hint of something being missing. In my mind, the answer will always be found in Psalm 137. Psalm 137 is the most uncomfortable Psalm in the entire Bible. If you don’t know why, let me let the Psalm speak for itself: (CEB) 1 Alongside Babylon’s streams, there we sat down, crying because we remembered Zion. 2 We hung our lyres up in the trees there 3 because that’s where our captors asked us to sing; our tormentors requested songs of joy: “Sing us a song about Zion!” they said. 4 But how could we possibly sing the Lord’s song on foreign soil? 5 Jerusalem! If I forget you, let my strong hand wither! 6 Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I don’t remember you, if I don’t make Jerusalem my greatest joy. 7 Lord, remember what the Edomites did on Jerusalem’s dark day: “Rip it down, rip it down! All the way to its foundations!” they yelled. 8 Daughter Babylon, you destroyer,[a] a blessing on the one who pays you back the very deed you did to us! 9 A blessing on the one who seizes your children and smashes them against the rock! Have you ever really been physically hurt? You broke a bone, you closed your finger in a car door, you accidentally amputated a body part? Did you notice how people reacted to your reaction to pain? For me, who has done all but amputate a body part, my screams were met with support and love. Why? Because, as a people we get physical ailments. Well, I’ll walk that back a little, we don’t always get physical ailments, but we know the reaction to them, and look for that as a sign someone needs help. Meanwhile, spiritual and mental needs do not get the same reaction. I’ll walk that back a little. Many parents can hear those mental and spiritual screams from their kids, and know when they are screaming, “I hate you, Mom!” they don’t really mean those words. We allow it for kids, because we justify it to ourselves. It’s because they are young. They are speaking from raging hormones and a shortsighted worldview. We use our kid’s scream to set the parameters for what we will listen to. Instead of treating the spiritual and mental scream as a sign that the person needs help, we tell them to “Grow up!” Or, we throw platitudes out like it’s somehow going to cover it over so we can move on. “Everything happens for a reason.” “It will only make you stronger.” Maybe the worst of them all, “You really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Reading Pemberton to get to Psalm 137I often think ahead on a book. In the genre of fiction this is not a good thing. I have a very active imagination, and my story is usually more compelling than what I eventually read. I might be better just putting fiction down ½ way through reading, and just play out my own endings.
In non-fiction, thinking ahead is like understanding the notes that must follow in a musical piece, and preparing for the rise and fall of the linguistic music. When I know the piece is garbage, I try to find something redeemable in the writing. When I love and agree is when I dig in and tear apart. That’s what really makes my words a difficult read. We live in a world sectioned off into absolutes. We no longer critique our colleagues. This has made our arguments weak; brittle. It has given the most poorly formed arguments a false sense of correctness. I push against the voices I agree with, to strengthen those voices and, ultimately, myself. Pemberton had three possible solutions to seeing Psalms like 137 in the Bible:
Before you rage quit. This is right, in the same way a cancer doctor talking about cancer is right. It’s missing the biggest number that was never given. To know God gives space for the primal yowl of true suffering. When we cry out in pain, it’s not about the words, but what those words mean. I sometimes think the creation of books has made us miss the many levels of language. Visual language. Inflection. Action. Sounds other than words. All of these things speak, but we only pay attention to the words themselves. When I was 19 my dad accidentally hit a dog. We pulled over. The dog was barking and biting at us. He was very hurt, and dying. Those sounds and bites were the dog not understanding what was happening to him, and telling us he was hurt. I don’t condemn the dog for speaking sorrow and pain and that manner. Why do we condemn the same thing from one another? When Pemberton ends the chapter saying this was about having words to pray for the suffering, I say no. They can never be the words of someone who isn’t living in that pain. Think of all those moments where we scream out in pain. Would you want someone imitating that to show solidarity? No. If you’ve lived it, you know. You can read Psalm 137 and understand the primal yowl. If you haven’t lived it, it is space to understand the language in a new way, and see 137 as a primal yowl. I let this Psalm speak- not because I believe the words, but because I see the suffering beyond them and let them publicly cry out in that pain. You are loved. God sees you. God hears you. |
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