Adopting a Tree and Other Types of Awe

At Spartanburg Methodist College, first year students take a required, one credit class that trains/reminds them of the techniques that can make them successful:  academic techniques, meet and greet techniques, involvement techniques.  There are many reasons why I love being at a liberal arts college, and this commitment to student success at every stage, and with a wide definition of success, is one of them. 

One of my colleagues teaches one section, and on Tuesday, she asked me, "Do you have your students adopt a tree?"  I smiled and said yes.  She said, "I saw that written in the calendars of a few of my students, and I knew they must be in your class."

I felt like I had been paid a great compliment.  Even better, I knew that my colleague meant it as a compliment.  I've said it before, and I'll keep saying it--it's WONDERFUL to be at a place where my creative approaches are seen as normal--admirable, too, but normal.  It's WONDERFUL to be at a place where I'm not the only one doing creative approaches.

These days, even people who aren't inclined to take creative approaches are experimenting, often in an attempt to come up with assignments that can't be fed into generative AI.

Today I will begin using the green, brown, and gray paint swatches that I got on Tuesday:

My English 100 students will take the swatches outside with them, to help them learn to describe the colors of their tree more precisely.  My English 101 students will do that, and we will also talk about the names of the colors on the paint swatches, in a way to think more poetically/with more imagination about colors.

Earlier this week, I had my classes try to write instructions:  get us from this classroom to the tree.  Don't just say, "Go outside."  What if we go to the door on the other side of the building.  They wrote directions and then tested them and then wrote about what they learned.

Granted, they weren't as tough testing each other's directions as I would have been.  But they seemed to be learning what I wanted them to learn, and they worked in different small groups than the peer editing groups.  This year, I am looking for ways to have them be in small groups occasionally, since I do think it has benefits, even if I'm not as big a believer in some of the practices, like peer editing, as I once was.

It's good for all of us to move away from the traditional model:  students in desk, teacher at the front, no one moving, not much student talking, too much teacher talking.  As the fourth week of classes comes to an end, I think I'm doing a good job of mixing up activities:  some individual writing, some instruction, some group work, some inside work, some outside work.

 These ideas could be adapted for church groups too (retreats, Sunday School, etc.).  So many of us have forgotten how to see; teaching ourselves to see again can inspire awe, not only for creation, but for our Creator God.

Power and Paper Towels

In my Chapel Visuals class last week, we did an exercise which I haven't had a chance to record here yet.  So, let me do that today.

We arrived to class to see a table, a chair, and 6 rolls of paper towels in front of the classroom windows.  We were told to arrange the objects in a way that said "Power."  One person would make an arrangement, we'd ponder it in silence, and then another person would get up and do the same.  We went in no particular order; we got up as we were moved to do so.

The first arrangement was a stack of paper towels on the table followed by a variation or two.  When it was my turn, I decided to do something different, using the window ledge and latches:

With each turn, we did more and more to think about what we could do.  For example, one person put the chair on the table.  We were deep into the exercise when someone unrolled part of a paper towel roll.  Then I created the following tableau:

What you may not be able to see:  the roll of paper towels that looks like it's suspended in midair is being held by the sheet of paper towels tucked into and around the two upright rolls of paper towels.

I didn't want to take too many pictures--I thought my picture taking might change the dynamic, and I didn't want to risk that.  Also, some of what we did would have been hard to capture.  For example, at one point, I made a tower of paper towels, which I knocked over by holding a roll of paper towels like a bat and whacking the bottom of the tower. 

We then tried to process what we experienced by using "I see ____" "I feel ____" and "I think ____" statements.

I wanted to record this exercise because it seems like one that could lead to some interesting insights with a variety of groups.  Is it a team building exercise?  Perhaps, depending on the dynamics of the team.  Could it lead to interesting writing?  Perhaps.

I also like it because it uses fairly cheap supplies, and it could be tweaked in a variety of ways.  Perhaps we could explore something other than "power."  Perhaps we could work larger or smaller.  Perhaps we could use scraps of cloth and threads and a pine cone.  The possibilities seems endless!

Jimmy Carter's Witness

I am not the only one sad about Jimmy Carter's cancer diagnosis.  And I am not the only one who is admiring the way he is handling it.

However, I am not surprised by his reaction.  The man has always exemplified grace under pressure.  And his Christian ideals have always undergirded his actions.  So I'm not surprised that his faith supports him now.

I loved his line from his press conference that he hopes the last guinea worm dies before he does.  If that happens, Carter and his Carter center can take full credit for that.  It's an easy pest to eradicate, but because it was so easy, and the possibility for profit so minimal, no one had done it.  But he's close--there are only 126 cases left in the world.  When he started his campaign, there were 3.5 million cases (from this NPR news story).

I'm glad that Carter has talked about his long, full, good life.  I'm glad that he's talked about his lack of fear and being ready for the next step in his adventure, while avoiding some of the stranger platitudes about Heaven.

He's been an amazing former president--an amazing human in general.  Some of his opportunities to be amazing have come from his standing as a former president, but many of us could have lived similar lives.  I love the stories of people who have gone to Plains, Georgia on Sundays when he's in town.  He teaches a Sunday School class where all are welcome; go here to see the schedule.  People who stay for Sunday School and church can stay to meet the Carters.  He's reported to stay as long as people are there who want to meet him.

I love that he's continued his Sunday School teaching even as he's been doing other amazing activities, like helping rebuild in the face of humanitarian disasters.  He's scheduled to go to Nepal soon, for example--even after his cancer diagnosis.

I hope he continues to have a vibrant life, but I am aware that he's in his 90's.  He won't live forever.  But I'm glad for his life of witness.  How I wish more of us could live this way!

Transforming Sunday School and the Worship Service

My church, Trinity Lutheran Church in Pembroke Pines, Florida, is featured in this month's The Lutheran.  The issue's cover story is about transforming Sunday School, and our Worship Together service is one of the features of the article.

The article discusses the successes in transforming Sunday School, and I understand that focus.  I do want to stress that we didn't find the formula that's working now right away.

Our 9:45 service blends elements from Sunday School and a traditional worship service.  We have a liturgy that we follow most weeks.  Instead of a sermon, we have a puppet show or a reader's theatre or some sort of interactive approach--although occasionally we don't.  We break into small groups where we model a Faith 5 approach to faith development that families can practice in their homes.  Every other week, we have an arts/craft project of some kind.  We've just celebrated the second year of this approach.

Our church had been experimenting with re-making Sunday School for almost a decade before we came up with this approach.  Before I was a member, I was fascinated with the church's experiment with intergenerational Sunday School.  For a season after I became a member, we had fun with skits and improv in Sunday School.

But we found that there was an initial burst of enthusiasm, only to find that a few months later, we were down to one child or two.  We also found that those approaches took a lot of work in writing, preparing, and coordinating with all the volunteers.  It wasn't until we combined elements of Sunday School with elements of the worship service (like Communion, which we do every Sunday) that we found success.

We currently use resources from Faith Inkubators, which makes it much easier.  We have a team of lay leaders who take turns in developing the arts and crafts project and leading the service.  There's less risk of burn out when we share responsibility.

Our worship service is much more laid back, while at the same time being participatory.  The service has more in common with church camp services or Vacation Bible School than with the traditional service.  I confess to missing some of the high church style of traditional worship:  paraments that change, the hymns that remind me of my grandparents, the chanting of the Psalms.  But I love, love, love the sense of really knowing my fellow worshippers that our 9:45 service fosters.

And because we're a small worship group, we're very welcoming to visitors.  I worried it might be overwhelming, but people seem to jump right in.  We do make a point of telling visitors that they have more traditional options with our early service and our 11:00 a.m. service.  But often visitors come back to our service.

It wouldn't work for everyone in every setting.  And church history tells us that our approach won't always work for our church.  But I'm happy that it's working now.

My Church Is Featured in "The Lutheran"!

My church, Trinity Lutheran Church in Pembroke Pines, Florida, is featured in this month's The Lutheran.  The issue's cover story is about transforming Sunday School, and our Worship Together service is one of the features of the article.

Tomorrow's post will give more information about our approach, including some of the things we tried before we came up with the strategy that's working now.  I think it's important to stress that the failed attempts taught us a lot as we moved towards the intergenerational, participatory approach that we have now.

Here are some quotes from the article to whet your appetite:

“'The success of Sunday school happened at a time when people were satisfied relegating religious things off to experts — pastors or Sunday school teachers,' he said. 'The expert model doesn’t satisfy people the way it used to. Fortunately for us Lutherans we have this concept called the priesthood of all believers. We can help people identify their spiritual gifts and help them participate in ways they couldn’t before because [the experts] took over those responsibilities.'”

“'Instead of faith being just another something we do for an hour every week, it becomes a shared experience,' Kippen said. “'Parents come to see the church as their partner in raising faithful kids, and kids learn that church is not just what we do, but who we are.'"

"Despite the challenges, Shallue remains optimistic: 'I am not dispirited about the statistics at all. We have great opportunities to start thinking about new ways to do faith formation, rather than trying to do the same old [programs] harder and better.'”

And a quote from my pastor:  "'It’s a relational experience, unlike traditional worship, which can be passive and unengaging,' Spencer said."

The whole article is online, and well worth your time.  Go here to read it.

The Baby, the Manger, and Other Nativity Elements

In our Worship Together (intergenerational, non-traditional, very child friendly) service, we're often doing creative stuff, whether it's a drama of some sort (puppets!), singing, or some arts reaction to the story.  For Advent, we've been following the Advent stories, and yesterday, for our Arts segment, we made a crèche.

Yes, it could have gone terribly wrong.  But in the spirit of full disclosure, let me admit to liking those nativity scenes with strange figures, like a toy dinosaur.  If you're really interested, I wrote this post years ago which also has a poem I wrote on the subject.

But back to yesterday.  We were sent outside to get natural materials and then we'd make our nativity scenes.  Again, in the spirit of full disclosure, let me say from the outset that none of these pictures depict what I made.

I expected to be better at this project; after all, I've contemplated doing something similar before.  I love the variety of crèches that the monks at Mepkin Abbey collect.  I've thought of making my own as an Advent project.

I found part of a pod for a manger.  But what to use as a baby?  I found a cigarette butt, which led to a brief discussion of whether or not it would be appropriate to use.

I said, "I'm a poet.  I could make the symbolism work."  Luckily at that service, I'm surrounded by friends who are fond of me, so they didn't argue too strenuously.  But I did decide not to push the point.  I chose a dirt clump instead.

In the picture above, you can see my hands assembling my crèche.  I'm sitting at the head of the table.  I made a Mary by sticking tiny flowers in the end of a stick, and then I did the same for Joseph (yellow flower for Joseph, purple for Mary).  I thought I was pretty clever--until I saw what others had managed to do with similar resources.

As I looked at the nativity scenes made by other people, I was pierced by a sense of inadequacy.  I said out loud, "Remember, Kristin, it's not a competition."  My art teacher friend gave me a hug at that.

 

What did we learn by doing all of this?  We had a chance to talk about the figures in traditional crèche scenes, and looked at the 4-6 that people had brought.  We talked about how we came to have these scenes--who is present and who is missing.  We blessed the crèches and the people who had made them.

I think that any project like this one that engages our creativity is a good one.  And while not everyone would go as far as having a cigarette butt Jesus, it does makes us interact with a very familiar story in a new way.  Even if we go back to our traditional scenes, we'll be enriched by our time with our imagination.

Church as Artist Studio

Earlier this week, while talking to a group of friends, the one who's working on an MFA in Visual Arts remarked that her friend in the program was having great difficulty finding an affordable place to have her show.  One of the final requirements for their MFA program is to find the space and arrange for the show.  She's not finding many venues that are affordable and have a chunk of time available for a show.

In this time of empty spaces, why would anyone have trouble finding space for a show?  I immediately thought of churches.

Now I understand that using a non-traditional source, like a church, would have a whole different set of problems, like security.  But surely most churches could devise something.  The churches of my childhood often had a classroom or two that was underutilized.  There's the sanctuary, which could lend itself nicely to certain kinds of shows.  Some sanctuaries already have hooks and hangers in the wall for seasonal decorating.  Why not hang art in the off season?

Artists might say, "But I don't create sacred art."  Good news!  It doesn't have to be sacred to fit into a sanctuary environment.

Now I do know some artists who create works that wouldn't be welcome in that kind of space.  But I know far more artists who do abstract creating who could fit right in.

Maybe the problem is a different one.  Do artists get insulted when I say that their art would be welcome in a sanctuary?  Do they interpret that comment as me saying that their art isn't edgy enough?

In a sanctuary, the major problems with security are solved, as most modern sanctuaries are locked when not in use.  There's still the issue of people wanting to touch the art, but that might be the case in all but the most secure spaces.  I've been in many a gallery where I could touch anything I wanted, since the gallery workers were often otherwise engaged.

I think of a quilt show tradition that one of my former churches launched.  We draped quilts over the pews.  It was amazing, a wonderful transformation of the space that had been dominated by wood and stone.  We let people touch the quilts.  One year, I organized an afternoon poetry reading to go along with the quilt show.

Even if the sanctuary won't work, as I said before, there are other options:  classrooms, offices, a fellowship hall, long stretches of walls.  Most churches would be grateful for the extra traffic that an interesting art show could create. 

I know that many churches have transformed their buildings into early childhood ed spaces.  But even that wouldn't have to be insurmountable.

And for those churches that have lots of space sitting empty, why not transform those spaces into artist studios?  Artists would probably be happy to make a set donation to have studio space.  Many communities have a shortage of studio spaces:  why not be the answer to that need?

Our church has done a lot with our space, but the closest we've come to the vision that I have is the drama group for special needs kids that meets in our fellowship hall.  Our fellowship hall has a raised stage, so it's perfect for them.

The rest of our space isn't great for studio space, but it's the only church I've been in that isn't.  We don't have the warren of classrooms that most churches have in their education wings. 

I can hear howls of protests from certain corners:  "We need that space for Sunday School!"

Well, maybe the studios can be used on Sunday mornings.  Maybe the Sunday school classes can meet elsewhere.   Maybe sacrificing artist space for Sunday school isn't the best use of our resources.  Maybe Sunday school would be more effective if Sunday school was more like an artist studio and less like elementary school.

Maybe all sorts of church activities would be more effective if we used the artist studio as a model.  How could we transform worship so that it's more like a place where artists come to create and less like a space where sleepy parishioners come to observe?

Arts Meditation with Clay

Two weeks ago at our Create in Me retreat, we'd have been getting ready for our Friday night experience. On Thursday, we'd have done our arts meditation and the clay would be drying. By Friday night, we could carry our creations in a candlelit procession down the mountain.


What did we make? Pinch pot candle holders.

On our car trip to North Carolina, the passenger made the meditation kits (directions are below, if you want to make them for a larger group).


I loved dividing the 5 pounds of clay into smaller lumps. I found it oddly soothing. I tried making a pinch pot or two. They looked misshapen.

It was quite a contrast to our arts meditation that ended our first night session. We took the clay in our hands and closed our eyes. Our leader led us through the clay shaping process, while reminding us of how we're being shaped like clay. In so many ways are we being shaped like clay: in our relationships, with our art, at work, by way of our various disciplines (spiritual, physical, educational).

Here's the big surprise for me: the pot I shaped with my eyes closed was much more shapely and pleasing to the eye than the ones I made with my eyes open.

That result wasn't a surprise to my friend who makes her living as a potter. She said that vision often gets in the way. When we close our eyes, we can work with the clay that we have, not the clay that we think we should have. Our hands are better guides to what pleases in terms of shape, smoothness, balance, and all the rest.

Seems like a metaphor for much of life to me!

We had a toothpick in the kit, and we used it to put a word on the pot that seemed important.  It could be a word that we wanted to meditate upon or a word that we wanted light shed upon.

The pastor who led us in this exercise said she has campers write their names on the pot while she talks about how God knows their names.  If you didn't want to involve candles, it's still a powerful way of thinking about God as potter, humans as clay.

And the exercise seems like it would be a good one for classes of all kinds:  Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, arts and spirituality classes.

When I was the Vacation Bible School Arts and Crafts Leader last summer, I found that kids of all ages loved working with clay.  After our Create in Me retreat, I can report that grown ups love working with clay too.
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Directions for assembling meditation kits:

What You Need:

Sandwich bags that zip
Crayola Air Dry Clay (5 pounds = 30-40 kits)
Toothpicks
Thick wet wipes (not the pop-up kind)
tea light candles


The meditation kit consists of a sandwich size baggie with a small ball of
clay on one side of the baggie and two wet wipes, a tea-light candle and a
toothpick on the other side - with the baggie twisted or taped/tied in between -
so that the wipes stay clean & wet (otherwise the clay will soak up their
moisture). I put the wet wipes in one zip-lock baggie and added it to another baggie
that contained everything else.

It does not need to be a lot of clay. The ball should be about the size that
would fit into the opening made if you touch your thumb to your index finger. At
least for me, that much clay easily makes a nice pinch pot that fits a tea light
candle inside with not a lot of extra clay to worry what to do with... The wet
wipes have to be the thick kind - not the "pop up" kind. They dry out too fast.

Now for the complication: the kits probably can't be made more than a week
ahead or they'll dry out - and even then you'd need to squeeze out as much air
as possible to keep the clay soft and the wipes wet. To be on the safe side, you could
put the meditation kits in another plastic bag or container.

Palm Sunday Creativity

Those of you who have been following this blog know that my church has been experimenting with a different kind of service, which grew out of experiments with Sunday School and family services and a yearning for more creativity.  We've been using resources from Faith Inkubators and creating our own. Along the way, we've taken turns leading.

Yesterday it was my turn to lead.  The resources that we planned to use were Good Friday resources.  But I wanted also to discuss Palm Sunday.  And as I started thinking about Palm Sunday palm branches and the crucified palms of Good Friday, I thought of that passage from Isaiah chapter 49:  16 "See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."  I've spent weeks thinking about ways to tie it all together, giving just enough Holy Week story so that people don't arrive at Easter with none of it at all, but not so much so that people who come for Holy Week are bored.

We're lucky down here that we have real palms--REAL PALMS GROWING ON TREES--in our yards.  Every year, as Holy Week approaches, my spouse uses it as a reason to prune the palm trees.  Yesterday, we took a bucket of palm branches to church.

It was great to begin by waving palm branches and talking about the meaning of the Palm Sunday celebration.  We also talked about donkeys and the ways that rulers usually travelled.

Then we talked about crucifixion--with a great picture by He Qi (to see it, go here and scroll all the way down; I'm realizing our picture was cropped). 

I must confess that I didn't talk about the atonement theory of crucifixion.  I'm not going down the path of Jesus is up on the cross because I was mean to my sister--no way, no how.  I did talk about the kinds of executions that Rome administered, that crucifixion was reserved for people who threatened the state, as opposed to say, stoning.

Then we talked about the Isaiah passage and our names being written on God's palms.  We're always on the mind of God because our names are right there.

For our art project, I had drawn 2 giant hands.  Yes, they looked like Homer Simpson hands--or the hands of aliens.  And when I traced them with what I thought was a black marker, the ink had turned green through the years.   Still, it worked for our art purposes.

I had a huge mug of markers, and I asked people to put their names on the hands and the names of people whom they love.  It turned into a beautiful project.

I was pleased with how all the different strands wove together.  I was extra pleased with how everyone responded.  One smart ten year old asked me about the robbers that were crucified with Jesus--I tried to explain the vagaries of translation, while at the same time thinking, I did not see that coming.

It was one of those mornings that I felt a Holy Spirit nudge--but is it towards ordained ministry or Christian education?

Of course, our experiments show that we can be doing both--the divide between Christian Education and Word and Sacrament Ministry doesn't have to exist.

Try a Tableau!

If you're looking for a more interactive kind of opportunity, but you don't have much in the way of drama geeks at your church, here's an exercise to try.  We saw it modeled at the Florida-Bahamas Synod Assembly this year, and it looked like it would work with a variety of groups, except for the very shy.

Instead of a skit or a puppet show, try a tableau.  Here's how it worked with our group.

We read the texts for the day.  We studied the parable of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son (the Prodigal Son).  Then the groups doing tableaus went off to discuss. 

Just the conversation leading up to the tableau leads to interesting insights, arguments, and conversations.  Which part of the parable leads to a good scene?  It's a scene that will be a still scene, after all.

And then, the tableau:  the participants stood in a frozen moment in the story.  I recall the father of the Prodigal Son embracing the returning son, while the faithful son scowls in the background.

It's a great exercise because it requires no movement (or not much, depending on how you want to do it), no memorization, no speaking in front of a group of people.  You might find that people are more willing to try experimenting with drama if they don't have to speak.  You don't have to have costumes or props.

Or you could have costumes and props.  It's a remarkably expandable exercise.

I love these exercises that could work with groups that have all ages and abilities.  I love these exercises that could work in all sorts of settings:  Confirmation class, Vacation Bible School, Sunday school--even a worship service for adventurous congregations.

What Tempts Us and Redeems Us, in Modeling Clay

At our church, our 10 a.m. service is designed to be more of a family experience, one where we approach the Biblical text from a variety of approaches; we've been using materials from Faith Inkubators, as well as doing some of our own projects.  We learn a song that's related to the Bible reading, and we learn to sign the song.  Some weeks we see a play or a puppet show; in alternate weeks, we study the same text, but use a different approach, often from a creative angle.

We've been studying the text of Jesus being tempted by Satan after 40 days in the wilderness.  Our pastor reminded us that in the Bible, 40 years is shorthand for "a REALLY long time."  I had a few minutes where I thought, hmm, that could explain all the missing years of the early life of Jesus.

But then we were off to our arts project.  We broke into small groups.  Each group had a pack of non-drying modeling clay in 4 colors.  We had a paper plate and plastic utensils, in case we needed help in shaping the clay.

Our assignment:  use the clay to make something which represented a temptation for us.  We put those items around the edge of the paper plate.  Our group created a screen (which could symbolize T.V. or the computer), a boat (oh, the temptations of a big ticket item), a controller (like your old Atari controller, which represents the need to be in control), a teardrop (my contribution, which represents how prone I am lately to fall into despair and hopelessness), and an exclamation point (which represented how modern life can feel like rushing from one stressful event to another).

I was intrigued by the fact that no one in my group talked about food temptations.  In my younger years, I'd have created something representing a high calorie treat.  These years, when I have little time to bake, it's easier to avoid those temptations.

We used the rest of the modeling clay to make a cross, which we put in the middle of the paper plate, rising up from the paper plate.  The cross, of course, represents the way in which our temptations are ultimately put to rest.  We will continue to be tempted, but we're forgiven.

Our group noticed that the cross didn't want to stand up, and while we reinforced it with more clay, we talked about the symbolic aspects.  I love the idea that we had a cross, a symbol of the power of the Roman empire, and all sorts of other powers and principalities, but it cannot stand forever.

Here again is another arts project that can be used in any number of settings:  Sunday School, worship service, and retreats.  It seemed to work well with all ages, from our youngest toddlers to our elderly folks.  It has the benefit of time flexibility too:  it could be a quick exercise or something more leisurely.  All in all, it's another good addition to the creativity toolkit.

 

The Christmas Pageant and Worship

In churches across the nation, it's Christmas pageant season.  In some churches, the pageant is a separate event; in some, it's part of the worship service.  I've even been at churches where the Christmas pageant is presented in the place of a worship service.  I have some problems with that last one, but to mention them in any context feels grinchy, so I'll go in a different direction.

Bookgirl has written a great post on her recent experience.  She worked in interesting ways to get the congregation involved, so that the pageant was more worship, less an audience watching a play.  She concludes, "I was thinking more along the lines of 'Messy Church' or 'Interactive Prayer Stations,' and I will still do that on the 23rd during the church school hour, but this ended up being an intergenerational worship service without even meaning to be."

This comment made me wonder what our Christmas pageants would look like if we designed them to get the whole congregation involved.  Would we enter the story more thoroughly?  Would we discover aspects we had forgotten or never known?

Our church has a pageant-like event as one of the Christmas Eve services, and my pastor is planning ways to involve the congregation more.  It may end up being less like a pageant and more like improv.  I think that would be a very good thing.

I have memories both fond and painful of childhood Christmas pageants.  I wrote a poem about it, which I'll post below, which first appeared in The South Carolina Review, and I included it in my first chapbook, Whistling Past the Graveyard.  I wonder if my experiences still resonate with 21st century readers/pageant participants.  In some churches, I suspect they do.

I predict, however, that as we move towards the future, we will no longer recognize these Christmas pageants of my youth, where Mary had to be dark and the angels fair, where difficult children wear the animal costumes.

I had a glimpse of this future on Sunday.  We did a short play, where we had a male angel Gabriel, a female narrator, and a male Mary.  How curious to hear the angel say "Behold you will conceive in your womb and bear a son."  I thought, really?  A womb in our male Mary?

The last line of our play has the angel reminding us that anything is possible with God.  We're so used to the Advent stories that we forget how impossible Gabriel's vision would have seemed to Mary.  Maybe I'll play with that idea in a future poem.

But here's my Christmas pageant poem which looks back to the Christmas pageants of my youth:


Medieval Christmas Pageants




The Sunday School pageant director embraced
the medieval ideals. Mary would have dark
hair and a pure soul. Joseph, a mousy
man who knew how to fade into the background.
Every angel must be haloed with golden
hair, and I, the greatest girl, the head
angel, standing shoulders above the others.

It could have been worse. Ugly and unruly
children had to slide into the heads and tails
of other creatures, subdued by the weight
of their costumes, while I got to lead
the processional. But I, unworldly foolish,
longed to be Mary. I cursed
my blond hair, my Slavic looks which damned
me to the realm of the angels.

I didn’t see Mary’s role for what it was: bit
player, vessel for the holy, keeper of the cosmic.
I didn’t understand the power of my position.
I could have led an angel uprising, although the history
of angel uprisings suggests that though whole new
worlds emerge, so do new tortures with the triumph.
I could have imparted messages of God’s plan,
spoiled all the surprises. I could just appear,
scaring mere mortals into submission.

Instead, I smoldered, smarting
at the indignities of mother-made wings
and long robes to ruin my long legged run.
I internalized the message of the culture
which didn’t offer starring roles for girls,
no head angel power for us.
Instead, the slender, the meek, the submissive
girl got the prize, the spotlight focused
on her kneeling knees, her bowed head.
I tried not to sing too loudly, to shrink
my Teutonic bones into the Mary model.

Advent 1: Light and Metaphor and Extinction Events

Our Worship Together service tries to provide a variety of ways for people to interact with the Biblical text for the day:  small group discussion, sermon-like presentation, a piece of art for people to consider and discuss, a song, signing some of the song, puppet shows, and small-group discussion.  Some days, we do an additional small group exercise; a few weeks, we did a haiku exercise that I wrote about here.

Our Bible reading for yesterday, the first day of Advent, was John 1:1-3, an excellent introduction to metaphor.  God as word:  certainly I can relate to that.  But if I was a painter, would I want God to be described as paint on a canvas?  We talked about this a bit in our small groups as we completed yesterday's art exercise.

We had a big sheet of paper on which we wrote all the things in our world which give light:  flashlights, the sun, light bulbs, things like that.  We were allowed to write and/or to draw.

Then we had two pieces of paper, one white, one black.  On that paper, we drew an image that represents Christ.  We were allowed to go with something traditional, like a manger or a cross.  Or we could be more metaphorical.

My group was composed of 2 English major types, 1 scientist, and 3 teenagers (actually, one may be in his early 20's).  We had no trouble coming up with a variety of possibilities.  My contribution?  I said that Jesus is like an asteroid.

My group asked me how I came up with that idea.  I talked about Apocalyptic Planet, the book by Craig Childs that I'd been reading which talks about a variety of extinctions that the planet has experienced.  I talked about the asteroid that crashed into the earth and how that asteroid is thought to be responsible for the extinction of the dinosaurs.  The extinction of the dinosaurs made it possible for smaller mammals, like humans, to find a foothold and achieve prominence.

We agreed that the violence of that event was problematic.  Jesus wipes out the big animals, like the dinosaurs?  I said, "Jesus comes to wipe out the dinosaurs of hate to make room for the animals of love to take hold."  We had fun discussing it, along with other possibilities.

In the end, our group artist drew a lamb standing on an asteroid.  We cut out the image and did a shadowbox kind of thing with the two colors of paper.

Why white and black?  We talked about colors that reflect light and colors that absorb light and what that has to do with Jesus and the way we respond to him along with the way he responds to us.

I must confess, it's the art exercise in which we participate that I remember most vividly.  Putting together a drama that demonstrates a Bible story (the house built on sand, the house built on rock) or writing a haiku or drawing an image--that stays with me longer than a sermon, longer than a song, longer than the discussions that led up to the finished project. 

My brain is not alone in responding that way, but I'm not going to explore the neuroscience here, simply make the observation.  It's worth thinking about, though, as we craft our worship services, our Sunday Schools, and our Confirmation classes.  Vacation Bible School seems to be already on board with this idea of a text that we learn about from different directions in a given module. 

Why has it taken so long to transfer these lessons to other ways that we hope to shape Christians into better disciples?

Forgiveness Haiku

For almost half a year, my church has been experimenting with what we're calling Worship Together, designed to be more of a family service.  I first wrote about it here.  After the first month of our new service, I wrote a post about the advantages to the service here and the disadvantages here.

Yesterday was one of the days when the family service felt like the more successful things we do.  I don't go to the early service at 8, but it's always been sparsely attended.  I go to the "blended" service at 11, after the family service at 10, because my spouse sings in the choir.  It's interesting to attend both the family and the blended service.  Yesterday, although the 11 a.m. blended service had more people in attendance, the Worship Together service felt so much more vibrant.

Yesterday, the energy level at the Worship Together service was palpable.  We sing one song, usually one that we work on for several weeks.  We learn both to sing it and to sign it.  Yesterday, we were finally pulling it all together; we were able to sing and do most of the signing.

The singing and signing time was only one manifestation of the energy.  We break into small groups to model the kind of behavior that we'd like families to do at home, ideally each day.  We talk about the highs and lows of the last week, and we talk about the Bible reading--hopefully we make connections.  We also pray for each other and bless each other. 

Some weeks, we also do an additional interaction with the Bible text.  One week, when we studied the reading about building a house on sand and a house on a rock, we did a dramatization with items given to us and items we found.  I remember that day swirling a piece of blue cloth as I impersonated the storm.  I swept aside the structure made with paper cups on "sand."  I was careful not to knock down what we'd built on a "rock."

Yesterday we wrote forgiveness haiku.  After having a Psalm about forgiveness, a song, one of Jesus' parables about forgiveness, and several weeks of suggestion, we had lots of material.  We wrestled with the central element of haiku--how to get what we wanted to say in just 17 syllables.

It was great. We counted out syllables on our fingers. We discussed the most powerful haiku possibilities. We did some revising. Everyone could do this project, from the smallest children to the older adults.  It engaged us in a completely different way than singing or creating a drama or having a conversation does--and that's the value of our approach, the way we explore a topic from all sorts of directions.


We had three groups, and each group wrote a haiku on a larger sheet of paper, and if there was time, we could do additional decorating.  We then presented the haiku to the larger group.

This project would work well in Sunday Schools and for retreats too.  If I'm the Arts and Crafts Director for next year's Vacation Bible School, maybe I'll think about incorporating haiku.

My pastor has created a lovely video which you can see by going here.  If you want to hear the haiku, go here.

Friday Night Drums

Last night, I helped my spouse who was invited to a Lutheran church to lead their youth in a drumming workshop.  The night had its roots in a workshop that we helped with back in September of 2009; see this post for more on that experience.

I've said before how grateful that I am that we have such a wide variety of percussion instruments (well, instruments of all kinds):  2 djembes, a doumbek, several shakers, and several small drums.  We borrowed some drums and a tambourine from our church, and we were set.  My spouse brought his violin and an electric keyboard and showed how even a non-percussion instrument could be used in a more rhythmic way.

The church had a HUGE group of children, about 40, all gathered on a Friday night.  I asked if they all show up on Sunday morning.  The pastor said only about 5 of them do, but she said, "Church doesn't just happen on Sunday morning."  Indeed.

My spouse and I were the only white folks there, but we were welcomed warmly.  The children were all fascinated by the drumming.  My spouse taught them a smidge of music theory, mainly just a tiny bit about time signatures.  But mostly, they wanted to bang on drums.  I was glad that we had almost enough for everyone; no one sat too long without an instrument to experience.

My spouse also stressed that good percussion instruments are all around us.  He showed the kids how to play spoons, and he brought some empty containers to compare how they sound to regular drums.  Yogurt tub vs. djembe--which is better?

He talked about how drums are made by indigenous populations.  We have one small drum that is covered by a hairy skin (usually real skins used in drumming are scraped clean).  Some of the children refused to touch it ("A goat?  That was a real, live goat??!!"), while others couldn't wait.  He talked a bit about Latin rhythms and African traditions.

And then, we ended by singing.  My spouse planned to do more with "We are Marching in the Light of God"; after all, it's can be sung in many languages all at the same time, it can be sung in a round, it can have people sing soaring bits behind the main song.

But the pastor and I simply sang it through, in English, several times, along with my spouse (and likely some of the parents who watched the whole workshop), and the kids drummed.  It was the highlight of my week, at least my week after my sister and nephew left.

As we sang, I felt my voice soar, which was amazing, since only recently have I started singing without caring what I sound like.  It's not a song that I've sung often (unlike, say, Christmas music), and yet, I felt like I was hitting all the notes.  I loved singing with the pastor--her voice and my voice worked well together.

I got the feeling that I only rarely get when I'm singing:  my rib cage expanded, and I felt like I could feel my body in terms of space and cavity and sound echoing against the bones.  That doesn't sound very pleasant, but it was incredible.  It reminded me of the feeling I get when I sing in the stairwell at work.

After the workshop, my spouse stayed to work with some of the kids who were more interested in the drum kit than in the hand drums.  I carried drums to the car and watched the kids play with hula hoops and chase each other around the church grounds and work on liturgical dance.

And then we drove home.  I sang all the way home.  I offered prayers for this church that's so different than mine, much more of an inner city church surrounded by urban blight.  I will continue to pray for these children, who are so enthusiastic, but who have so many obstacles to overcome.

This post is already quite long, so I'll save my thoughts on drumming as spiritual practice for a later post, and my thoughts about children and their fragile place in the world for yet a different post.  I may write later at more length about the idea that the Holy Spirit is calling us to something with this experience; my spouse has been finding fairly cheap instruments for sale on Craig's List and eBay, and the kids were SO enthusiastic yesterday.  I have this vision of music ministry of a different sort, a music ministry that takes instruments and song to children of all sorts.

Inscribing the Names

My 6 year old nephew started CCD classes this year.  His first night was tough.  He cried and cried.  His parents weren't allowed to be in the room with him.  He cried some more.

I've heard him crying.  It rips me up.  But to be fair, the sound of almost anyone crying rips me up.

I'm my nephew's godmother (or, as to be more accurate, his Christian Monitor, since I'm not Catholic, and he is), so I really want this CCD experience to go well.  I took an oath at his baptism!  For days, I spent time thinking about what I could do, from this distance of 1000 miles, to ease this transition.

I thought about some kind of talisman, something he could carry with him, something that he could touch that would give him courage.  I wanted it to be ready for the 2nd night of CCD class, so my options were limited.  I had to create something that could be finished fairly quickly.

Here's what I created:

I chose a butterfly shape and cut out 4 layers of colored paper.  I wrote the names of people who love my nephew on the butterfly.  In the center:  God, Jesus, Holy Spirit.  I left room for him to write some names.

I wrote a card to explain the butterfly and to suggest that he write some more names.  I told him that the butterfly could remind him of how many people love him.  I said that I hoped it would help him be brave for CCD class, because he could meet a lot more people who will love him in CCD class.  I told him that I understood how he was feeling, that going to new classes and meeting new people can be tough.

My sister reports that my nephew took the butterfly with him and that the 2nd night of CCD went smoothly--no tears!  Of course, he also had a new friend, so that helped.  I'm just happy that his second night was so much better regardless of who gets the credit.

What I like about this art project:  it's easy!  And colored paper is so cheap.  It's a project that could be easily adapted for any number of classes or purposes.  It could be decorated elaborately or not at all.

I like the idea from Isaiah 49: 16, of our names being inscribed on the palms of God's hands.  The idea of inscribed names inspires me in all sorts of ways.

May inscription inspire you too.

Of Rainbows and Work and Sunday School

It's been a long several weeks at work. I've been getting all my annual evaluations done, even though they're not due until Oct. 1. In light of all the uncertainties, it seems wise to get them done.


Our annual review process involves observing the faculty member teaching a class, preparation of lots of paperwork in advance of the annual reivew process, a meeting with the worker who's being evaluated, then more paperwork and some electronic forms and then the copying and the filing. August and September were already going to be busy months for me, as half of my department has a hire date of Oct. 1. With all the other disruptions, it's even more hectic this year.

Wednesday evening, thunderstorms rumbled through. My office is close to an outdoor patio, and I sometimes go outside, just to take a break from staring at screens. It's a fairly protected space; last night, I stepped outside to see what the weather was doing.

I turned to go inside, and part of my brain said, "Wait! Is that a rainbow?"

I turned back and scanned the sky. Sure enough, a rainbow!

My rational brain knows that rainbows are a result of water droplets and light fracturing into colors of the spectrum.

My optimistic brain sees a rainbow as a good sign. I remember all those Sunday School lessons that presented rainbows as a symbol of God's grace, a promise that we're protected.

For those of you preparing to teach your Sunday School classes and wondering if your students will retain anything that you teach them, I assure you that they will.  We can't always anticipate what our students will hang onto, of course.  But something will stick with them throughout adulthood.

I'm grateful that I don't see rainbows as a simple trick of light and water.  I'm grateful to be surrounded by evidence of a carefully constructed planet, a creation full of signs and wonders.

A Report on Our New Family Service: The Benefits

You may remember that I wrote a blog post in early June about our new approach to worship which we're hoping speaks to the needs of families with children.  We know that many families can't devote an entire Sunday morning the way that families once did.  Many families have an hour, and that's it.  With that in mind, what can we pack into that hour?

Our new worship service sometimes feels like church camp, and I mean that in the best possible way.  There's a messiness, since we're not sunk into a rhythm yet.  There's an inventiveness.  It doesn't feel like regular church.

We've been using resources from Faith Inkubators.  We're using material from their Bible Songs Sunday School curriculum; we chose to start with the Psalms, which have an interesting connection to the Gospel lessons in the New Testament too.  Many of us could create the resources, like the Powerpoints, the songs, the dramas.  And yet, we all have full-time jobs, so it's good to have some ready-made resources.

I am getting this Holy Spirit nudge as I look at VBS curriculum and Sunday School curriculum.  How does one get to be on a team who does this for a living?  Could that be my new career direction?  Because let me tell you, I'd love to write curriculum and devotions and prayers for a living.  I'd love to teach others, should a seminary out there need me to join their faculty.  I'm ready for any MFA program that wants to put a spiritual writing component into their course offerings and needs someone to design it and teach it.  Here I am, Lord, send me.

But I digress.  Back to our current project.

We've done 3 weeks, so far, of our new service, and we've gotten enthusiastic response.  Our 2nd week was a VBS service worked into our new approach.  It, too, worked out well.  We've inserted some learning-by-modeling-behavior time into our new service.  We break into small groups and talk about our highs and lows of the week and how we see the Bible passage in our weekly lives.  We pray for each other.  We bless each other.  Some of that feels more comfortable, and some less so.

Let me be the first to admit that I'm not a small group discussion person.  But others have commented about how much they like that part.  Our hope is that maybe families will return to the practice on a daily basis, like at dinner time, or at least once or twice in the coming week.

We have a song as part of the package that ties into the theme, and we do the sign language that comes with the song too.  Each song, so far, has been in a different style.  We've had a meditative one, a Gospel tinged one, one that sounds like Elvis riffing on Psalm 23, and one that's pure pop.  Fun!

At some point, when we need something different, we may do a creative project here or there.  We'll see.

So far, we've had about 35-45 people at our Family service.  For a new service in the middle of summer, we're calling that a success.  We usually worship 15-25 at our traditional 8 a.m. service and 100 at our 10:45 blended service.  So, 35-45 at this new kind of service seems like a positive sign.

We first offered this kind of service as an alternative to the high mass Easter service or sunrise Easter service.  Imagine our pastor's surprise when more people attended the alternative family service than the high church Easter service.  I think it was the final sign he needed that it was time to pursue this idea more assertively than he had in the past.

Of course, our church has a history of embracing new programs and services enthusiastically, with attendance dropping off after a month or two.  It will be interesting to see what's happening through the fall.  I shall report back!

A New Approach to Worship

At the end of this month, our church is going to experiment once again with our approach to worship and Sunday School:  what will happen when we mix them into one, hour-long event?

Long-time readers of this blog will know that we've experimented before.  Long ago, we experimented with intergenerational Sunday School (go here and here to read more).  It was wildly successful for the first year, less so in later years.  We experimented with Sunday School Improv, using drama to teach (go here for links to these entries).  We've done a lot with puppets.

We've also experimented on the worship side.  We tried to infuse each Sunday in Advent with a creative project for the youth to do (go here for more).  We had a family service for Easter that our pastor tried to make more interactive.

I think our pastor had been having thoughts of trying something new for a long time.  We have noticed that our Sunday School programs go great guns for the first few months, and then attendance drops radically.  We have decided to stop fighting a battle we won't win:  most people are not going to spend 3 hours in church on a Sunday (Sunday School, church, coffee time).  If people only have an hour on a Sunday morning, then how much can we pack into that hour?

Of course, I will be documenting this process.  We hope to combine some of the best elements of what's worked in both worship and the Sunday School side, along with some elements from Vacation Bible School.  We have a huge contingent of former drama geeks for such a small church, so there will be drama of all sorts.  We have music folks.  We have people like me, who want to do more to infuse creative arts beyond music into both worship, Sunday School, and daily lives.

And of course, there will be Communion, both of the Eucharist kind and the fellowshipping kind.

It will be an interesting hybrid.  It will likely be messy at times.  We will create our own resources, but because we know from past Sunday School experiences of the kind of time this takes, we will also use resources that already exist.

Tomorrow I'll write a bit more about the Easter family worship service and what worked in that service.

Return to Regular Church

In between travelling and a visit from my sister and nephew, it's been a month since I worshipped at my home church. Today I plunge right back in. It's my week to do an improv Sunday School. We will be focused on cool women of the Old Testament, excluding Ruth and Esther. I will probably focus on Miriam the most. I just don't have much to say about Deborah, and the other women of the Old Testament are problematic. I don't really want to explain Bathsheba or Jezebel or the woman who cut Samson's hair to preschoolers and elementary school children.

I have learned an important lesson. It's important to have coloring pages. Some of our children would rather color than do anything else.

I've been fighting off a cold all week, so I'm not at my high energy best. A bad day to be having a low energy day--not only do I lead Sunday School, but I'm Assistant Minister. I shall muddle through somehow.

I've been to several mountain tops, both literal (Lutheridge!) and metaphorical (Mepkin Abbey!). It's always a bit hard to return to suburban church life, regular work life, the daily chores of upkeep.

So, my prayer for today:

Please God, grant me the wisdom to lead children towards your sacred text. Let me illumine them, whether through improv or coloring pages or song. Grant me the energy needed to be Assistant Minister. Let me not infect others with my germs, but only with my love.