Knowing

In her poem “Tablets IV”, Dunya Mikhail writes:

The homeless are not afraid
to miss something.
What passes through their eyes
is how the clouds pass over the rushing cars,
the way pigeons miss some of the seeds
on the road and move away.
Yet only they know
what it means to have a home
and to return to it.

During my morning practice of reading and a savoring a poem, this stanza gave me pause.  The “knowing” of the homeless Mikhail writes about is not a knowing we would envy.  The homeless know what it means to have a home because they miss having one. But the “knowing” of this poem made me instantly grateful for my home, my life, the bed I sleep in each night.

I’ve been writing a lot this summer. I haven’t posted as much on this blog because I’ve been carefully crafting a book proposal that I’m hoping will turn into my first book.  The book is about the “knowing” to which I have been led by people whose lives are wholly different than my own—prisoners, immigrants, LGBTQ+, persons of color. I should add the homeless. As a white woman of privilege I don’t know what their lives are like—in fact I am quite blind to and ignorant of this knowledge.  But I can know.  And I should. Because from knowing grows understanding.  And understanding builds relationships.  And when we are in relationship with each other we can begin to meet the needs of those who, for far too long, have been pushed aside by society.

[Feature Image: Patrick Marioné]

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We have a song to sing, one note to the next

In an interview with Krista Tippett, cellist Yo-Yo Ma reflects on the transitions inherent in life while quoting Isaac Stern: “The music happens between the notes.”

“What does this mean?” Yo-Yo Ma pauses to ask.  “How do you get from A to B? Do you glide into the next note, is it a smooth transfer, or do you have to reach—physically, mentally or effortfully to go from one note to the next?  Could the next note be part of the first note? Or could the next note be a different universe? Have you just crossed some amazing boundary and suddenly the next note is a revelation?”

Making music is infinitely complex.  It takes mental and emotional and spiritual investment.  A meaningful life requires the same.

As much as we would like it to, life never stands still.  I am halfway through a summer where I have spent some blessed downtime focusing on my first book project.  The thought of the academic year beginning in a few short weeks makes my heart heavy. But Yo-Yo Ma has made me pause here to ask, “How do I move from one note of life to the next?”

In Psalm 98 the Israelites are encouraged to “sing a new song” while living in exile.  They were far from home, living in a foreign land with strange new foreign ways.  It was a painful, uncomfortable time.  Yet the psalmist encouraged them to sing.  Find your way to the next note, I imagine the Psalmist advising, and, find the way your notes connect to make your song.

According to the psalmist, we each have a song to sing.  Knowing this can be a comfort in the in between times when we find ourselves stretched, uncomfortable, depressed, or grieved.  Our lives have meaning and purpose, but how we make our way from one note of life to the next determines the melody we make.  It would serve us well, then, to lean in and listen; to be intentional in the in between times; to find our way with purpose, confident that our notes will eventually connect in a song that only we are meant to sing.

[Feature Image: Pogo1]

The Power in our Sound: Life Lessons at Suzuki Music Camp

Dr. Shinichi Suzuki

Dr. Shinichi Suzuki of Japan is famous for developing a unique method of teaching music to children. Suzuki’s method immerses children in music from a very young age and teaches them to listen for the phrasing, expression, notes and beauty. Suzuki children also learn music in partnership with their parent.

This week we are attending the Chicago Suzuki Institute—our daughter plays cello and our son, piano.  Suzuki teachers are known for their patience and kindness.  With all the ugliness in the world today, being around all this compassion and kindness has been a wonderful respite. I’ve also been amazed that the instruction my children are receiving this week teaches life philosophies that are good for us all.

Dr. Suzuki’s goal was not just to teach children music, but to build a better human being.  Suzuki himself said, “If a child hears fine music from the day of his birth and learns to play it himself, he develops sensitivity, discipline and endurance. He gets a beautiful heart.” Dr. Suzuki spent a lot of time setting up a student before they play, making sure they have the proper posture, that the foundation of their feet and back are ready to support them.  Every child deserves such patient, foundation-building.

Mr. Krigger’s Class

My daughter attends Mr. Krigger’s “Music & Movement” class.  I adore Mr. Krigger. He may be my most favorite human being.  He can control a room full of dancing, jiggling toddlers with the sound of his cello, his balloon animals and Mr. Krigger’s rules, a few of which are:

 

  1. Listen.
  2. If someone is not sharing the sound say, “Excuse me, but would you please share the sound?”
  3. Respect each other’s bubble of space.
  4. If you step on your neighbor, stop and say, “I’m sorry.”

“Why do you come to class?” Mr. Krigger asks.  All his children know to respond, “To help each other and make a beautiful sound.”

Ms. Tio, my son’s piano teacher advises him to make his presence felt, to express himself through the piano. “Do you know there is power in your sound?” she asks. “If you express yourself in a beautiful way your audience will be spellbound.”

Learning along with my children this week has reminded me that, in spite of horrific headlines, expressions of beauty are still evident in our world.  Yes, we need more kindness, patience, and compassionate foundation-building, but witnessing these children at work gives me hope that we can help each other and make a beautiful, powerful sound.

Tillich for Today’s Headlines

I took this picture while contemplating Tillich on a walk near my home.

A week of study leave has me returning to read one of my favorite twentieth century theologians, Paul Tillich, and his book Dynamics of FaithTillich was devastated by what he experienced in World War I as an army chaplain.  In war’s aftermath, his work sought to address the emptiness and anxiety of meaningless people felt.  He was a humanist and a lover of literature, poetry and art—which is probably why he is my favorite.  Tillich speaks of God in language like no other; his words are lyrical, poetic and hopeful. Turning to Tillich today, it is eerie to resonate with a man’s words about Nazi Germany, the idolatry of nationalism, and all its consequences.

Tillich defines faith as the “state of being ultimately concerned.” We, as human beings, have faith in many things—faith in family, money, education, institutions, the strength of our military, our nation. Tillich’s definition, though, raises the question of what is the “ultimate” or final state of our faith? What have we placed on top?  Whatever we humans prioritize as our ultimate concern influences everything else.

For instance, Tillich writes:

If a national group makes the life and growth of the nation its ultimate concern, it demands that all other concerns, economic well-being, health and life, family aesthetic and cognitive truth, justice and humanity, be sacrificed.

Our nation’s new isolationist mantra, “Make America Great Again,” comes to mind as I read this warning from Tillich with the sacrifices of truth, justice and humanity playing out daily in the news.  I, like many of you, am at a loss for what to do about this evil except find ways to recognize, address and overcome the seeds of isolationism, racism and white supremacy within myself and actively resist it in the society of which I am a part.

In light of this week’s news of children separated from their parents and locked in detention centers along our Southern border and the U.S. backing out of the United Nations Human Rights Council, my prayer is that we, as a nation, might give ourselves to something larger and higher than our own or our nation’s welfare—something more like Jesus’ ultimate concern from Luke 10, that leads to life, rather than tragedy, injustice and death.

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself. Do this, and you will live.

Luke 10:27-28

We are all “Cracked Pots”

Rev. Shannon Johnson Kershner was Monmouth College’s 2018 Baccalaureate Preacher.  Shannon was called to be the pastor of Chicago’s iconic Fourth Presbyterian Church in March of 2014.  Ever since hearing this news, I have been cheering for Shannon and celebrating her success.  Very few women serve as senior pastors of churches over 5,000 members.  With amazing grace and extraordinary talent, Shannon has broken what we women clergy refer to as the “stained-glass ceiling” in church leadership.”

While she was on campus, I interviewed Shannon on our college’s radio station.  I asked her about her religious and spiritual upbringing, how it feels to be a breaker of  ‘stained-glass ceilings’, and what advice she had for our new graduates.  The interview, like Shannon herself, was full of grace.

In her Baccalaureate sermon, Shannon reflected on Paul’s words from 2 Corinthians 4:7 “But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.”  “We are all just a bunch of cracked pots,” Shannon told our graduates, “cheap jars, fragile and porous.”

“Clay jars in Paul’s day” Shannon went on to explain, “were the most imperfect vessel one could choose.  Whatever one was carrying would just spill all over the place because those vessels were literally cracked pots.  They were absolutely inefficient and a bad choice for carrying anything valuable.  Any yet it is precisely into our cracked pot selves that God has purposely chosen to place the treasure of God’s grace and the promise of of God’s healing and wholeness for the world.”

Shannon appreciates this description of us as clay jars because “it acknowledges the truth that none of us has it all together.  Nor should we ever expect to.  This verse gives me some breathing space.  The Good News is that we do indeed contain a treasure, but it is rooted in something much larger than ourselves.  The world’s healing and justice does not just rest on our shoulders.  God’s got you and God will work through our cracks and imperfections to shed extraordinary light on the world.”

Listen to my interview with Rev. Shannon Johnson Kershner by following this link to WPFS–Proud Fighting Scots Radio.

Follow this link to watch a video of Monmouth College’s 2018 Baccalaureate Service and to hear Rev. Kershner’s sermon which begins at about the 40 minute mark.

Diversify your Summer Reading with Free Books!

Dear book lovers:  This offer was too good not to share!  Celebrate World Book Day with Amazon Crossing by downloading free Kindle books by authors from North Korea, Greece, Sweden, Japan, Turkey, Russia, Indonesia, Spain and Chile.  This offer is good until midnight tomorrow (April 24th.) I’ve downloaded them all and am really enjoying The House by the River by Lena Manta from Greece.  The story is taking my mind all over the world!

Follow this link to download your free books today!

More Bass; Less Treble

I’ve started reading a poem a day from the Poetry Magazine to which I recently subscribed.  I keep the magazine on the nightstand beside my bed so I will reach for it as soon as my alarm goes off.  When I get the chance, I reread the poem throughout the day, sometimes out loud, to find and feel its rhythm.  Every morning I wake up craving my new poem.

In a brilliant panel on “Making Room for Essayist Thinking in Hard Times” at this year’s Association of Writers and Writing Programs conference, I listened to Heather Lanier quote pastor Rob Bell:

Progressive Christian pastor Rob Bell describes a yearning specific to our culture right now: “I call it the bass note,” he says. “We are craving bass notes right now. The treble is the squeakier, higher frequency note, and then there’s the bass note. And something about modern culture, and something about the way the Internet has worked on us,… the way in which blips and squeaks are coming at us faster than ever, the way in which news is sensationalized, the headlines that demean actual news and journalism and reporting, this TMZing of our world, it’s sped everything up so that everything is happening right here in this moment. Have you seen this snapchat? It can easily disconnect you from things that are older than five minutes. Life can become all treble, no bass.”[1]

At the end of her presentation, Lanier encouraged us to spend time with the bass notes—with things that resonate deeply and take a long time to make.  Like trees and books, Lanier suggests.  Like poems, children, art galleries and churches, I’d add.

How about you?  What bass notes do you crave?  What resonates deeply within you?

[1] Bell, Rob. “What is the Double Down.” The Robcast. May 14, 2017. https://robbell.podbean.com/e/what-is-the-double-down/

[Feature Image: Squeezyboy]