To Do List or Not To Do List, That is the Congestion

 January and February are months of True Drudgery for me. My duties and tasks are overwhelming.  Is it this way for everyone, specifically in Jan-Feb?  

In 2024 I wrote myself a Jan-Feb To Do list, I guess so I wouldn’t be surprised by anything, such as:

• It’s January 15th!  Have you paid your quarterly estimated taxes? Due today!

• Church stats (this is actually 9 separate tasks). Forget the Feb GA deadline, YOUR deadline is January 26th!

• People are clamoring for retreat info.  Better send that email soon!

• Learn the music for the retreat!  Better practice some more!  And get that song lyric sheet done and printed.

• Why are the Christmas decorations not in the attic?  Eh?!

• Where is your email inviting voters in your precinct to the fundraiser for which the deadline is in 10 days?  Better get on that!

And so on.  

I completed these tasks.

There are 55 individual items on my list for these two months.  So far I have completed 24 of them.  That’s just the regular stuff.  I have also had a $#!t-ton of stuff to do in the grassroots category, all rushed and desperate-feeling, and not part of the 55 tasks.

I feel competent to do each task individually, but not competent to complete all of them during this short time period.  I even would enjoy doing some of them, if they weren’t bunched together.  

Most of these are not yet finished.  The deadline looms.

The Common Household Husband is facing huge stresses, real and equally overwhelming.

Add to this the anxiety of just living in these times.  

And the challenges that come naturally with aging.  

And the tasks that come with our paid jobs.  

And winter storms.  

And prolonged cold.  

And the grocery store always being out of raw-fresh-not-frozen turkey breast to roast at home.

Another 2 inches of snow overnight.
Windchill in the negatives.

Had to shovel a carveout to reach
the mailbox.

These are things that even an abundant supply of tea and dark chocolate cannot cure.

Sooner or later something in the Common Household was bound to explode.  Two nights ago it did.  Both members of this household uttered harsh words.  Used nasty tones to each other.  A door was slammed.  Both members of this household went to bed angry with each other.

The next morning, thanks to both members of this household being thinking and feeling human beings, we said our apologies to each other, and acknowledged that the unbearable stress is getting to us.  

This is all while we are adequately fed, clothed, and sheltered.  I cannot imagine the trauma of those being beaten down by our own government, literally beaten, shackled, threatened, tossed around, separated from family, racially profiled, subjected to illness, disappeared.  And murdered. All that is brought to us by several unfeeling, greedy, racist human beings, and moreover by their enablers who hope to profit.   Never forget that human beings are capable of what they are doing.  

All this is to say, please take care of yourselves and each other.  The Common Household Husband and I said out loud that we must recognize when the stresses are getting overwhelming for each of us, and take extra precautions not to act or react harshly.  

Please do gather in groups of people who will care for and look out for each other.  

Please do art.  

Please do music and singing.  Keep a song in your pocket. Here is mine for this year.

Find beauty.  Encourage each other.  As the scripture I heard today says:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.  - Philippians 4:8

Pie should be on that list in Philippians 4:8.

Snow Day

A family tradition

In our parts winter usually waits until January to truly arrive but the White Witch seems to be on the move.  We had about 4 inches Saturday afternoon into early Sunday morning.

The Common Household Son came over before the storm hit to wrap a present and help me put up the Advent-Hanukkah paper chain. Our interfaith family was in need of our own tradition for this time of year. This one has withstood the test of time, although some of the paper has disintegrated.   You can get a detailed description here.

The weather outside turning frightful, I set to work on a most enjoyable task – writing Christmas and Hanukkah cards.  The irony here is that Hanukkah cards are not really a widespread thing, but I like to send them, and since Hanukkah is often before Christmas, sometimes the Hanukkah cards are the only ones that get sent.  This time I managed to finish more than 40 cards.  It’s a whole production which I may or may not describe in a separate post.  

Then, another homebound activity - checking out the music for tomorrow’s worship service.  I have always sung soprano, but my range has been contracting as I age, so I sometimes try to sing the tenor line.  Singing harmony is a real challenge for me, as I’ve always played or sung the melody.  I spent some time at the piano enjoying playing through some Advent hymns.  It turns out this cozy music session was fortuitous.

It is my tradition to always
measure the snow with this ruler.

The next morning I measured the snow on the deck.  I usually like to measure in front of the house too, because we often have a mullet fall of snow - short in the front, longer in the back.  But I wasn’t going to put on my boots just for the sake of measuring.

I got the notice that the church music director was not able to make it to church at all.  But wait!  I played through the hymns just the previous day.  Knowing that very few people would actually be in church to hear it, I volunteered to play the music.

The perfect drip takes several tries.

I put some oatmeal on the stove.  Porridge (as my dear uncle of blessed memory called it) – the non-instant kind –  is just the ticket for a cold winter morning.  Then I achieved the perfect drip to keep the water pipes flowing, and went outside.  

The deer visited in the night.

The world is a special kind of quiet on a Sunday morning after a snowstorm.  

The Common Household Husband and I set to work shoveling the driveway.  In past years, the Snow Fairy has done this, sometimes at 3 AM, but the Snow Fairy is getting old and wanted help.  Together we got the job done.  We have never used a snow blower and I will keep using the traditional method as long as I can.  As we shoveled, the township snowplow/salt truck did its magic.

The Common Household Husband
starts at the other end of the
driveway, which is harder, because
of the snowplow snow.

There were a few slippery spots on the roadways to church but I made it just fine with ten minutes to spare.  There were a handful of people gathered – probably fewer than twenty.

Folks, it turns out there is a LOT of music in a worship service besides the hymns.  It turns out that ten minutes is barely enough time to get organized to play all of the worship music.  All that in between music, such as after the lighting of the Advent wreath, after the assurance of pardon, during the offering, etc etc, was waiting to be played and sung, too.  I was very nervous and muddled through, playing some interesting melodies and harmonies.  It is my strong belief that all musical mistakes are corrected on their way to God’s ears.  Maybe not on the way to the congregation’s ears, but God is the actual audience.

About halfway through the service I remembered that the Best Practice is to determine the key signature, time signature, and tempo before starting to play.  I was sight reading some of the music, and I’m sure it showed, but I was glad to be able to contribute to worship.  I did get to play a few of my favorite Advent hymns for some of the in between music.

While we were shoveling snow,
a huge flock of geese flew over head.
By the time I got my phone out for
a photo, they were gone, leaving
just the winter sky.

And that was our snow day.  Did you get snow this past weekend?  Was it enjoyable, or a chore?

Ashes to Ashes, Spoons to Spoons

Smash the patriarchy

 

How my Ash Wednesday went.

On Wednesday afternoon a kind person explained Spoon Theory to me.  The spoon is a metaphor for the mental - physical - spiritual energy each of us has in a day to devote to our daily tasks.  Imagine each of us is allotted a certain number of spoons for the day.  Some days, it can take a person, say, 5 spoons to just get out of bed; other days it takes that person zero spoons.  For some people, calling their Senator uses hardly any spoons; for me it’s a high spoon cost.  It always makes me nervous.

And then the kind person showed me what it says on her wall: “It is okay to run out of spoons.”  Given the frenetic pace I have been on, for political activity, I needed to hear this.  And it was refreshing to have Kind Person listen to me.

 

That blessed conversation ended.  I began to feel some nasty heartburn, something I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.  I realized that I had forgotten to take my heartburn medicine for three straight days, because I was distracted by the decline and fall of Western civilization.  Heartburn uses up some spoons, for sure.

That evening we set out for dinner and Ash Wednesday worship – my Jewish husband and I.  I wore the button (pin) that I have decided to wear everywhere.  It says, “No Kings” (see photo above).

We sat at a round table at a gathering of three local churches, eating delicious homemade soup.  Small talk with strangers is not my strong suit, but it is something society needs to help us get along.  At first we discussed the various soups - a safe and pleasant topic.  Then one person at our table – from a different church than mine – told us about his real estate endeavors - houses he has refurbished and rents out.  Excellent.  He has contributed to the common good through his business.  

Landlord Guy then went on to complain about how the county executive raised the real estate tax by 36%.  “But no, she wouldn’t cut jobs or cut county spending.  Instead my renters have to pay 36% more.”  I said nothing.  I don’t know this man at all, so I felt it was pointless to start an argument about taxes.  Someone else at the table said, Did you hear that the USAID money has been restored?  Landlord Guy responded, “I bet Chelsea Clinton is real glad about that!  All that money from USAID goes straight to the Clintons!”  I could not listen any more.  I got up quickly and left the table without saying a word. 

I suddenly had no spoons left. I went to the sanctuary.

Shortly after I left the table, the worship service started.  As I was in line to receive the imposition of ashes, the woman behind me tapped my shoulder and whispered to me, “I like your pin.”  My “No Kings” pin.  I was grateful and thanked her.  This woman restored to me a spiritual spoon. 

No kings but Jesus.

A review of the book “Trouble I’ve Seen” by Drew G.I. Hart

A Common Household book review

Trouble I've Seen: Changing the Way the Church Views Racism, by Drew G.I. Hart.  © 2016.

I recommend this book to white American Christians. 

Dr. Hart points out the inability (or unwillingness) of white Christians in this country to be able to see life from the perspective of people of color. This inability supports prolonged systemic racism, both in the church and in the country.  In white American churches, racism is often only addressed every now and then, in a sermon here or there, based on some national event.   Hey, we mentioned racism on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, so now we can move on.

This book has tough words for white Christians to hear.  Will we have the heart and energy to persevere in looking at our role in the continuation of racism, in the face of such condemning words? I found it worthwhile to continue reading, and hope that you do, too.

This book makes the point, also seen in other recent books on racism, that racism goes much deeper than individual acts, such as “saying the ‘n-word’.  The perspective of white Americans, when it comes to racism, is shallow and short-termed, whereas the perspective of black Americans is more comprehensive and takes a long view of history.  Are we white Christians willing to try to change our perspective?

Dr. Hart shows how a “whitened” Jesus supports American empire and racism.  At the time of Jesus’ birth, “Rome was the ruling empire over the Jews, and consequently all of Israel understood what it meant to be oppressed – what it meant to live life with someone’s foot against your neck.”  (p. 59)  Throughout American history, white Christians have used a false understanding of Jesus to support oppression, rather than to free the oppressed.

But Jesus is a subversive. “In his life and ministry, Jesus found solidarity with the poor, with the oppressed, with vulnerable women, with the socially rejected and marginalized, with ethnic Samaritan outcasts, with the demon-possessed, and with the blind or physically sick.”  (p. 61)  Jesus stands against Caesar and against the existing social order.  We should consider that Jesus wants us to take a stand against the oppressive aspects of our existing social order, which includes systemic racism.

When trying to start a conversation with white Americans about racism, the author usually gets these kinds of reactions:  defensiveness, antagonism, color-blindness (“I don’t see color” is essentially an inability to recognize racism).  White people discount his experiences.  Sometimes he experiences someone who has good intentions, but who questions the author’s perspective on what racism is.   I think this intense emotional discomfort renders white Americans unlikely to persevere in addressing racism. 

Hart writes, “Dominant cultures have a way of disguising their own oppressive practices from themselves with strong proclamations of innocence and benevolence and universal principles of equality.”  This is amply described in another book I read this year - Mistakes were made (but not by me): Why we justify foolish beliefs, bad decisions, and hurtful acts , by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson , © 2007, 2015.  Humans have a basic psychological need to justify their own actions and to view themselves as worthy and innocent.  It is partly this basic human need and partly the socialization of the dominant white culture that prevents us white people from seeing racism.  It’s very hard for the dominant portion of society to see oppression.

The last chapter, “Where Do We Go From Here?” proposes seven “Jesus-shaped practices for the anti-racist church”.  I urge you to read all the way through to the end.

There is one criticism I have of this book.  There are a few pages in Chapter 3, “Leaving Behind the Whitened Jesus”, where I see anti-Judaism on display.  Hart espouses the theology that basically sets up all Jews in the earthly time of Jesus as idiotic bad guys because they failed to recognize Jesus as Messiah. 

Jesus [says] “You will not see me until you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!’ (Luke 13:35).  Most of his listeners would have been anticipating a visitation from God as Jeremiah prophesied, and many would have also expected a messiah who would come and deliver them from their unrighteous oppressors.  This would happen in Jerusalem.  Yet when the time came, they did not recognize God in the flesh.

            Isn’t that something?  They could not recognize that it was God manifested in Jesus. They attended synagogue and served the torah their whole lives.  Yet when God took on human flesh, somehow Jesus looked nothing like many people’s projections of the divine one.  (p. 70)

I don’t like this theology, nor its mocking tone.  I think it is a dangerous and wrong theology (a view I probably got from reading Jewish New Testament scholar Dr. Amy-Jill Levine, and from being married to a Jew).  I believe that Hart is trying to make the point that the Jews (“God’s people”) in that time could not recognize their own complicity in living counter to God, just as today’s white American Christians cannot recognize their complicity in racism.  But I think that Hart’s condemnation of all Jews in first century Palestine is condescending and wrong.   Is it even true that “all Jews” in that time did not recognize their role in society’s ills?  Is it even true that “all Jews” were living “counter to what God was doing on earth as manifested in Jesus Christ.”?  The gospels tell us that many Jews did believe that Jesus was the messiah.  Most of the first Christians were Jews. 

And the Jews who didn’t believe that – who can fault them?  The Christian claim that a man is God is completely anathema to Jewish theology.  In many ways, Jesus did not fulfill the traditional qualities of messiah.  Can we give first-century Jews some credit for actually sticking to their principles?  Also, let’s recognize that the gospels are polemic documents which portray the enemies of early Christians in the worst possible light.  Given the anti-Semitic history of the Christian church, I really wish Hart had not put this damaging theology in his otherwise excellent book.

Maybe Hart’s theology here just shows that the gospel of Luke is anti-Jewish, but these pages left a bad taste in my mouth, and I thought that making first-century Jews the bad guys is not necessary for Hart to make his larger point that we white Americans need to recognize how we contribute to racism – either intentionally or unintentionally.

Again, I recommend that white Christians read this book – it’s time for us to do this incredibly hard work (just don’t adopt the theology on pages 69-70).

New Life for Dry Bones

I sat down at the table.  The man next to me muttered, “Might as well hang me now.”  The woman to the right of me picked up the block of clay in front of her and started kneading it enthusiastically.  I looked at my block of clay and waited for instructions, like a proper Presbyterian.  Yep, that’s the gamut of likely responses in an “Arts in Worship” workshop at the Next Church national gathering.

I was eager to attend this workshop, thinking it would give us ideas on how to incorporate various kinds of art into our worship service.  It turns out we were going to make art ourselves!  How fun!  Or how threatening!  Or both!

Despite the fear, I immensely enjoyed responding to scripture through painting, even though I have zero artistic skill.  I feel a great longing to be creative in connection with worship. I think that I am the only one who feels this way.  To paraphrase the prophet Ezekiel, ‘my bones are dried up, my hope is lost, I am cut off completely.’  God’s creative breath of life is in our worship, mostly through music, but perhaps we are missing out in not exploring other forms of creativity.

A longer description of the workshop is below, for those who are interested.

How do you like to express your creativity?  If you are part of a worshiping community, would you be willing to participate in an art project as part of worship?  Or would you make sure you had to be out of town that day?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Details

As the workshop started, we were encouraged to fiddle around with the block of clay in front of us.  We had no instructions regarding the clay.  We continued to work with it if we wished, as we started the discussion.  There were two tables, with about 8 people at each table.

Some of our clay creations.
Mine is that thing in the forefront that is supposed to
 be "spilt milk".  It is not spiritually significant, but just
sort of ended up that way.

First we discussed how non-artistic adults generally feel about doing art.  Art (and any creativity, really) is viewed as fine for kids, but adults just don’t go there.  This workshop was about why adults should go there.

The workshop leader must have had a time machine on my life.  She described exactly what happened to me in second grade art class, when we painted a scene on a tile.  I was quite pleased with my scene of ducks and grass.  The art teacher denigrated it; the words are long forgotten, but the feeling is not.  Almost all of us encounter something similar on the way to adulthood.  Our human capacity for judgment and comparison takes over, and those of us who don’t have artistic talent stop making art at all.  It’s just too scary and painful to endure the judgment from others and ourselves.

 

At the crossroads of fear and creativity

Then we talked about confronting that fear and leaping into creativity. Making art unleashes freedom, joy, and wholeness, and that’s just for starters.  If you believe that you are created in the image of God (the original creativity maven) then exercising your creativity is an excellent way of showing it.  Why should only kids be able to do this?!  Why should only those with innate artistic talent be able to do this?!

In our workshop it turned out that the clay was just a warm-up to our main activity – painting a large banner.  Like most art, our painting was to be based on other art, and was to follow rules.  We were instructed to base our painting on our response to the Bible passage about Ezekiel’s vision of God breathing life into dry bones (Ezekiel 37). 

The blank canvas for the banner

We had a few minutes to discuss what images the passage evoked in us.  I think this discussion helped a lot, when it came time to start painting.  But before starting to paint, the rules: 

- First, paint on the space in front of you.  Paint your own response to the passage.

- After a few minutes, everyone is to move two spaces to the left and continue painting.  You may not erase, obliterate, or cover up what the person before painted in their spot.  You may embellish and extend their painting, or start painting in a new spot.  After a few minutes, go two more spaces to the left and extend that person’s painting.  Finally, return to your original spot and fill in spaces as you see fit.

- No talking!  This meant we could not collaborate. We could not form a committee to plan what to paint, or where.  (That is extremely unPresbyterian.)  It also meant we could not offer any evaluation of each others’ art.  We could not issue comments on our own efforts.  This was crucial – no compliments, no criticisms.  A compliment of one person’s art could be construed by someone else as an implicit criticism of their own art.  (“You liked her art, but didn’t say anything about mine.”)

- The workshop leader told us where the top of the banner would be.  She also said that there were pieces of tape running across the canvas, and she had prepared our canvas by painting blue over the whole canvas. After our art expressions had dried she would be pulling off the tape, creating bold lines across our art work.

We started painting.  At first I felt that familiar sense of self-criticism.   I started by drawing a kindergartenish slab of grass, thinking of "the fruitful land" from the passage.  Being more of a “words” person than a “drawing” person, I wondered if I could dare to write a word instead of just painting shapes and colors. I dared.  But which word?  I chose "fruitful".  I felt I should paint it upside down (my area was at the top of the canvas) so that the word would be displayed right side up. This was challenging.

Someone else enhanced my painting by outlining the words in gold
and adding other colors to the green part.

After a bit it was time to switch spots. I was perplexed after switching. It felt wrong to mess with what someone else had painted. It almost felt as if that spot was now sacred.  Instead of painting within that person’s area, I tried to extend from that area, reaching more into the middle of the canvas. 

By the time we switched again, I was feeling more bold, and reached into the middle to start a new shape. I painted the words "new life" in the middle of the canvas. Then I decided to paint a cell to represent a form of life and honor my sweet Younger Daughter and her interest in cells.

That greenish blob above the word "spirit" is my cell

When we were finished we had a great sense of ownership and accomplishment at having created a work of art together.  I do not know or care if it is beautiful in the eyes of the world, but it is ours, our expression of the scripture.  When our canvas was displayed in the worship space the next day, I again felt like a kindergartner, proud to have my work up on the refrigerator.

 

Our banner hanging in the sanctuary

Another group's banner

I just have to add that I believe that it is good and right to have beautiful art, created by truly talented professional artists, in our worship spaces.  It can be appropriate to evaluate sacred art and display what is inspiring.  In fact, if we non-artists are to do art, we need the professional artists, who figure out things like how big the canvas should be, what kind of paint is best, how long to let it dry, how to display it.

Professional art: Abraham
Tiffany stained glass window

Professional art (close up).
We amateurs just can't do this.

Professional art: wood carving

Our workshop group did not create our banner in order for it to be evaluated or compared to professional art.  It is valuable in that we ourselves made it as an expression of our connection to holiness.  For me personally, it felt like new life for my dry bones which are longing, aching, yearning to be creative in worship.

The third and fourth groups' banners