A Easter 6
BFC OL 2017
Exodus
15:1-3, 17-18, 20-22
May 21, 2017
If you have ever seen the amazing
animated sitcom, “The Simpsons”, you know that some of the recurring characters
are the overly helpful, friendly, cheery, churchy, and nerdly neighbors, the
Flanders. The patriarch of the Flanders
family is Ned whose customary good-natured response to any of Homer Simpson’s
often rude or cantankerous comments is, “Okily, Dokily!” Homer Simpson is not likeable. But Ned Flanders and his family, in all of
their friendly and cheery vanilla ice cream slurping, white bread snarfing, white
milk sipping perfection come off as insufferable. Probably the reason Ned and the family
Flanders are so humorous is because we all know of people like that in our own community. We had a family like that in our
hometown. And one Sunday that family sat
in the pew directly in front of the whole Mulberry clan.
You should know that my family,
although not the Simpsons but to the disappointment of my mother, not the most
well-behaved group around, consider families like this . . . target practice. To this day, we are a rather snarky
group. If one of my sisters or my
brother takes themselves too seriously in a group text, the rest of the group
will put them in their place. These
texts are interspersed with my mother pleading to the group, “Please be
nice.” In our family, such pleas seem to
incite less moral and more snarky behavior.
The scene is set.
Our version of the Flanders family, mother, father, and their two
well-groomed, brightly bespectacled children, people who take themselves very
seriously, are sitting in front of us on a particular Sunday. Yes, snarky comments were made. The whole Mulberry pew was shaking with
suppressed laughter. And, true to form,
my mother said the magic words, “Be nice.”
Blood in the water. More quips. More laughter. As the Flanders family heard our suppressed
laughter, they turned, smiled and began snickering themselves, as if they were
in on the joke. This led to even greater
shaking in the Mulberry pew.
All of this culminated with the
singing of the closing hymn, “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Now I grew up in a family, community, and
State where love of all things Lincoln was encouraged. In fact, my hometown is mentioned twice in
Spielberg’s “Lincoln” movie. Yeah, we
all noticed. We are all hardcore Lincoln
fans. So maybe when “The Battle Hymn of
the Republic” began to play, the Mulberry family became a little too serious
about the hymn volume? Ah, but the
Flanders family in front of us would not be outdone. They sought to top us with their volume. They were much more serious about the
hymn. Or were they? We increased our volume. They, in turn, increased theirs. Right there in church, “The Battle Hymn of
the Republic” was encouraging a family sing-off of epic proportions—all
reaching a crescendo with “glory” and “hallelujah.”
I’m pretty sure the
Mulberry/Flanders sing-off, although straight out of a sitcom itself, had
little to do with what it means to be church.
In effect though, I sometimes wonder if the Christian Church hasn’t
become about who not only can sing the loudest but about proving who is the
most righteous, who has the most sway, and whose family or group gets to carry
the day, sometimes who can say the meanest things in the most cheerfully kind
fashion. We become insufferable.
We have lost any understanding that
there might be something transcendent to which or for which we might express
spontaneous gratitude and praise. So
that what the church becomes, reflecting the wider culture and society, is about
me and mine. If Moses and Miriam broke
out in new songs that described a vital, liberating way to understand God’s
presence and power, they might be roundly chastised by congregational members
who are upset by an unfamiliar tune. Even
as we acknowledge our ever-greater diversity, we expect church and the one hour
and change on Sunday morning to be about me and mine, to reflect our needs, and
wants, and wishes every week. How are we
to grow in God? How are we to learn if
all that we desire is to hear our own voice singing with gusto over the top of
everyone else? If diversity of ages,
cultures, orientations, and preferences is given by God as a gift, why do we
act like the church is only faithful when our song plays?
The Protestant reformer, John
Wesley, wrote out rules for congregational hymn singing in the 18th
Century which let me know that the Mulberry/Flanders phenomenon was not and
probably will not be a new thing.
Although this is probably the favorite rule of the seven: “Sing Lustily – and with good courage. Beware
of singing as if you were half-dead or half-asleep; but lift up your voice with
strength. Be no more afraid of your voice now, nor more ashamed of its being
heard, than when you sang the songs of Satan.”[1] In other words, if you are belting out that
Katy Perry tune (you know, that daughter of Satan) during the week with joy and
vigor, make sure you are singing congregational hymns with joy and vigor.
Most of Wesley’s rules are
really about being a full-fledged member of the congregation and to recognize
your role in it. Congregational singing,
for Wesley, reflected how we were to be in everyday faith and life. Wesley’s brother, Charles, wrote over 6500
hymns so we know that the Wesley family believed strongly in the power of
church music in everyday faith and life.
The anti-Mulberry/Flanders rule is: “Sing Modestly – do not bawl so as
to be heard above or distinct from the rest of the congregation that you may
not destroy the harmony, but strive to unite your voices together so as to make
one melodious sound.”[2] That is a pretty good rule for not only
congregational singing but also community life, right? Maybe even living in a democracy? How often do we remember in our common life
together that harmony is different notes playing together? The etymology of harmony, in fact, is from a
Greek verb meaning “to fit together, to join.”[3] As our congregation becomes more and more
diverse, I hope we are seeing that as a gift of God, an opportunity to make
sweet harmony together. For if the
church does not represent this possibility to the world, how is the world to
have any hope?
Hannah Arendt, a German-Jewish
philosopher, journalist, and political theorist, was born in in 1906 and died
in 1975. She fled Germany with the rise of Adolf Hitler and ultimately became a
US citizen. Arendt famously coined the
term, “the banality of evil” using it in reference to the Jerusalem trial of Adolf
Eichmann, a lieutenant colonel in the Nazi-SS and considered one of the
architects of the holocaust. In modern
parlance, we often use “banality of evil” to speak of the way that evil is
unremarkable, almost a low hum that can go unnoticed unless we remain
vigilant. We simply follow orders and go
along to get along. What Arendt meant by
the term, “’the banality of evil’ was the inability to
hear another voice, the inability to have a dialogue either with oneself or the
imagination to have a dialogue with the world, the moral world.”[4]
The inability to hear another voice . . .
so that we might modulate accordingly, maybe even change our tune to achieve
some form of sweet harmony. If that is
to happen in the world, there will need to be organizations, systems, people
who are open to the diversity that God intends as a gift. It is difficult because it means we will have
to learn, and grow, and go through difficult process of becoming and
transforming.
Yesterday, I was honored to be present for
the ceremonial signing and celebration of the regalia bill which allows Native
people to own their identity by wearing something of their Native tradition in
graduation ceremonies. When you think
about the absolutely zany and original things we allow young people to tape on
their caps or wear or not wear along with their robes, this should have been a
no-brainer. Owning your identity with a
sense of pride should rank right up there.
But it wasn’t. It took tons of
work by Western Native Voice, high school students, legislators, allies, and
friends. What an incredible
celebration. Governor Steve Bullock
shared some beautiful words to summarize the occasion. He talked about when foreign dignitaries come
to these ceremonial signings how they are intrigued by the number of flags
Montana has behind the signers as they place their Dolly Smith Cusker Akers or
John Hancock on a bill. The number of
flags represent the Native American nations within our State. Governor Bullock said that those flags not
only represent a tapestry but a foundation of what it means to be a
Montanan. Wow, I thought. That could not sound more Biblically
Christian.
In an election that seems to be about who
is the most Montanan or has the best Montana values, wouldn’t it be nice if
there was some organization that was seeking to embody that, trying to be that,
working on incorporating that diversity.
I looked around and saw the fabulous Executive Director of Western
Native Voice, Marci McLean-Pollack, who worked so hard to make this an
incredible success, and soon to become a member of our church. I saw world traveler and soon to be 8th
grade graduate, Jodiah LaPlant there, becoming an active part of our youth
group and probably selling tickets today.
I saw the incredible regional leader, John Smillie and State leader,
Margie McDonald. I saw prophet Dan Cohn
there. I saw Josiah Hugs’s son Billy,
drum playing and singing with gusto there.
You may remember Josiah as one who gave a sermon in our church and leads
out the Wellbriety groups here.
Sometimes I think we are not trying to become that rich Montana tapestry
and foundation. Sometimes I think . . .
that’s who we already are . . . singing different notes together . . . in sweet
harmony.
Thankfully, we are not singing “The Battle
Hymn of the Republic” as our closing hymn because then I might have to show off
my bawling voice and out-sing all the rest of you. You are encouraged to sing lustily and joyfully. But I hope that we, as a congregation, can
grow into our own diversity by singing new songs that rhyme with our new
learning and growing in God. And the new
songs some of us sing might just be the old stand-bys sung by others so that in
the weeks that follow we sing the old stand-bys you have learned to sing,
teaching others a new song. My belief is
if we can be those different notes playing together, we create a harmony that
falls sweetly upon the ears of God. And
God’s smile becomes broad and wide, and I do believe I even hear Her singing
along. How often, making music, we have
found a new dimension in the world of sound, as worship move us to a more
profound: Allelulia! A deeper and more profound Alleluia. Amen.
[2] Ibid.
[3]
“Harmonia,” Henry George Liddell Robert Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/ptext?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.04.0057%3Aentry%3D%2315282.
[4]
“Interview with Lyndsey Stonebridge:
Thinking and Friendship in Dark Times: Hannah Arendt for Now,” OnBeing with Krista Tippett, May 18,
2017. https://onbeing.org/programs/lyndsey-stonebridge-thinking-and-friendship-in-dark-times-hannah-arendt-for-now/.
No comments:
Post a Comment