No Pancakes For Me

from http://www.gratefulfoodie.com/
finding-balance-and-peace-in-reno-lime-spa/

Typically I observe Lent through adding something---especially increased and more regular devotional reading---rather than abstaining from something. That always felt a little more helpful to me. But this year I got a head start in abstaining from certain foods because, honestly, I’m too chubby, and I’ve gotten that way through letting anxiety get the best of me and relieving the stress through noshing. So I’m not even having pancakes and goodies on Fat Tuesday tomorrow for fear I'll get off track again.

I’ve had good reasons to be anxious, especially my mother’s death back in September which, although expected for a long time, was pretty devastating. Also, I’ve been working very hard to create a niche here in a still-fairly-new location. For me that has a lot to do with actively seeking opportunities and then trusting in and waiting for God. Waiting for God, though, isn't always easy!

Judging professional developments is a different kind of stress than the loss of a parent. I felt like I worked through quite a bit of grief last fall, but I’ve been avoiding a visit to my parents’ graves, and not just because it's a three-hour round trip. In some ways, I’m still sad about the sale of my childhood home in 2007, so this season is a good time to introspect. Lent is a spiritual time but for me (and surely for a lot of us) the spiritual isn’t inseparable from one’s physical and emotional wellbeing, too.

Even amid the grieving process, I do feel more “in balance,” however, than I did last year. I had too much on my plate because one of my responsibilities turned out to be more time-consuming and difficult than anticipated. I thought I was going to be all right as long as I didn’t volunteer for anything else. I’m pretty good at saying “no” if I need to. But sure enough, some extra responsibilities that I couldn’t avoid fell on my shoulders. What a frantic time; I'm still a little resentful about it.

When life gets out of balance, you feel like you’re in a car that is teetering off a cliff. If anything more is added, you’re going to be in trouble! (In cartoons and comedies, a tiny bird lands on the hood and that’s all it takes for the car to plummet.) You think you can get through the day, but something unexpected causes you to change your plans.

Even daily difficulties can become that “tiny bird on the hood.” When I was a kid, family and friends sometimes dropped by to chat with my folks. One afternoon a cousin visited Mom, with her kids in tow.  But the cousin was a very talkative person, the kind who scarcely pauses for a breath. Mom offered them snacks, and unfortunately they stayed quite a long time. The little boy used the bathroom and left it a smelly mess. After they left a couple hours later, my mom was stressed and tearful. All her goals for the day seemed sabotaged.

I think I’ll try to post a few thoughts this Lent concerning balance: for me, an essential aspect of wellbeing.

Alan Hovhaness' Music

San Francisco Peaks and US 66 at Flagstaff

This winter I’ve been turning frequently to the music of Alan Hovhaness (1911-2000), more so lately than some of my usual “standbys” like Ralph Vaughan Williams and Joseph Haydn. "Mysterious Mountain" (Symphony #2), for instance, is a favorite piece.

Hovhaness was of Armenian and Scottish families, a native of the Boston area who studied at the New England Conservatory and also Tanglewood. He was born Alan Vaness Chakmakjian but took the name Hovanes (his paternal grandfather’s surname) which he later spelled Hovhaness. His daughter attributed the change partly to the fact that people couldn’t pronounce Chakmakjian. Hovhaness was a precocious composer but apparently destroyed many of his earlier compositions, following criticism from Copland and others. But still he was quite prolific, with over 400 opus numbers, including 67 symphonies.

I discovered his works in a round-about way. I heard Thomas Picker’s lovely, melancholy piece, “Old and Lost Rivers” on the radio and immediately ordered the CD, which included John Williams’ “Five Sacred Trees” and Hovhaness’ “Mysterious Mountain” (Symphony #2). Taken with that symphony, which I'd never heard before, I subsequently found Hovhaness' “Shepherd of Israel” and “Psalm and Fugue for String Orchestra” on another CD, and went from there. And I also love “Alleluia and Fugue,” “The Prayer of St. Gregory,” his “Celestial Fantasy” and “Magnificat,” and other symphonies.

At the classical.net website, Robert Clements writes that Hovhaness was “stylistically a maverick, whose music reflects a love of Western counterpoint and a personal fascination with by Indian, East Asian and Armenian music more obviously than any contemporary musical thought.”

He continues: “Hovhaness's mature style was first revealed in a work for piano and string orchestra entitled "Lousadzak" ("Dawn of Light"; 1944); which introduced Hovhaness's quasi-aleatoric Senza Misura technique (often called "Spirit Murmur") to a wider audience. In this technique, individual sections of the orchestra are instructed to continuously repeat a cycle of melody without temporal reference to other members of the ensemble. Most obviously, this technique (one of the most common components of the "Hovhaness style"), creates a gorgeous sense of rhythmic mystery from which (in "Lousadzak") the solo piano slowly emerges… at other times, the technique clearly foreshadows the work not just of modern minimalists such as Terry Riley and John Adams but also the entire Ambient/New Age school of composition…. Extensive travel throughout India and Asia casts an obvious shadow over much of his music from the fifties and sixties, coloring but not disguising the composer's distinctive palette … while the works of his ‘retirement’ (from the early seventies onwards) have tended to return more to Western models…

“The basic characteristics of the ‘Hovhaness sound’ are easier to recognise than define; but one of the most obvious ‘markers’ is the strong mystic/religious ‘feel’ to all his works. Another is Hovhaness's distinctly ‘vocal’ style (rather like Chopin, oddly) – even his orchestral work tends to sound as if it's being "sung"… an effect accentuated by Hovhaness's regular use of exposed solo lines over transparent string continuo….Hovhaness' music uses consonant harmonies, organised modally or chromatically rather than tonally; and balances out the rhythmless sound of Senza Misura …with an almost riotous love of counterpoint. …”

Here's the double fugue from "Mysterious Mountain": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7KqnvkR8kN0

"Plans for your welfare and not for harm"

For the umpteenth time, I’ve gone through a period of uncertainty about some difficulty, which eventually became clearer as time when on and things fell into place. Although I’ve always had a sense (hopefully a humble sense) of being led by God, that has never prevented me from expending tremendous emotional energy worrying and feeling bad about myself during times of uncertainty. I’m surprised God puts up with me; his patience with the Israelites at Messah and Meribah (Exodus 17) was tentative. My anxieties are---I hope----more in the category of “help me in my lack of faith” rather than the Israelites' outraged murmuring. (But they were, after all, out of water.)

I wish I’d bookmarked a blog post I read, about a man who was counting on the promise of Jeremiah 29:11-14: For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile. But after counting upon this verse for over a year, the writer was still unemployed, and he was still thinking about ways God provides for us, even amid apparent absence.

This is a wonderful passage. We often neglect the context. There is actually a very large biblical context. God is speaking to the people of Judah as they face years of exile in Babylon. But the horror of that reversal will not last forever; God is, in fact, already planning to restore God’s people in the land. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah tell of the people’s return and their reestablishment in the land. Christians also believe that Jesus Christ is part of that overall plan, for the promises of God to the people in Jeremiah, Isaiah, and elsewhere gain new meaning in the life and work of Christ.

So in an important way, that Jeremiah passage holds wonderful promise for Christians even if our lives are full of difficulty and God seems slow to help (or if God seems not to be helping at all, or is working in your life in ways you may not recognize for years). All the “everyday” miracles of God---access to God in prayer, reconciliation between God and us and between us and other people, the strength and grace we receive in fellowship and the sacraments and the preached Word, the power of the Holy Spirit in our lives and through the scriptures, God’s continual closeness in spite of our struggles and doubts and failures---are always available to us, even if the “special” miracles we hope for don't seem to be (or are not) forthcoming.

There are numerous New Testament encouragements to “hold fast” to one’s faith, and I think the idea is not so much that God will always solve problems right away if only our faith was strong enough. We do have to take care that we don’t become disappointed and doubtful about God if our problems are ongoing. Rather, the truth of God and the blessings of Christ outweigh life’s difficulties----so we shouldn’t let those difficulties diminish our affirmation of those truths, which (unlike our troubles and struggles) are permanent and eternal. Those truths are the greatest part of "our hope and our future."


But.... in spite of what I just said, I do believe that God works in our lives for good and brings blessings out of difficulty! These are affirmations and truths that we must balance a little, so that we don't rest our whole faith upon outcomes we anticipate from God, and yet we can and do trust upon God's goodness and provision. Remember that “faith” not only has to do with agreeing with certain doctrines; it also means “trust,” and God knows that our feelings of trust may falter because of things, great and small, that happen to us.

After I finished this, a Facebook friend posted this Oswald Chambers quotation: "The meaning of prayer is that we get hold of God, not of the answer."

Kindness and Support

I just “joined” a Facebook group that is going to honor February 8 as a “random act of kindness day.” Sounds like a great idea. Any day is a good day for that, but it's also good to be intentional.

A couple weeks ago, I checked Facebook in the morning. I discovered I’d been tagged in a post on the University of Akron Alumni Association’s page. A former student wrote that I was his favorite teacher at UAkron, that he liked the way I let students get to know me, that he incorporated some of my teaching practices in his own teaching, and that I had sent him and his wife a wedding gift, even though I no longer live in Ohio. Some other students included their own positive comments beneath the post.

I sat and cried for a while, because although I don’t teach in order to get praise, I also don’t give myself much credit for the things I do and, in fact, I’d allowed some (unusually for me) negative course evaluations a few semesters ago to make me feel discouraged. (Isn’t that a silly thing that many of us do, we neglect the praise we get and focus upon the criticism?) When a dear friend called that morning toward noon for another reason, I was still verklempt, and she told me the same thing: I don’t give myself enough credit. Nevertheless, it’s wonderful---a wonderful act of kindness---when someone confirms that our work has, indeed, influenced other people.

All of us do fail many, many times to influence others in positive ways, and my own failures have spurred me to do better. Years ago, I attended a small Christian college. My positive experiences there influenced me to seek a deeper religious faith and become a professor of undergrads, among other wonderful things. But I did have three or four professors who I thought were very arrogant; one yelled at me in front of a large group, and another prof was witheringly critical of the work I submitted. My wife’s first husband, with whom I attended the same school, had a hurtful experience with another prof. For my own situation, I should’ve done two things at the time, which is to deal in some constructive, immediate way with the hurt I felt, and also to not let the hurt seep so deeply into my self-image. Again: sometimes we nurse hurts, as if we didn’t really want to accentuate the positive.

The benefit of that experience of mine was to become a certain kind of professor, one who tries to make some kind of appropriate, personal connection to students so that they know---within the professional relationship of student and teacher---that I care about their well being, as I felt that my primary professors at my college cared about me. When my wife Beth and I were still at UAkron, I got in the habit of sending graduation cards to students I’d had in class. One year the cost of cards and stamps was nearly $100, but that didn’t matter. Thanks to Facebook, I get to follow students careers and marriages, and I do send cards and gift cards to them on their special occasions.

I’ve used the first-person pronoun way too much in this post, because my main point is not about me but all of us: to whom can we show kindness and support to people? How can we “make time” amid our very busy schedules to be a potential blessing to others? Who might carry our harsh words in their hearts for many years, but who might carry our kind words and actions for years? Perhaps our words and actions could even be something they’d hold onto through rough times.

Rosa Parks Would Have Been 100 Today

The book "Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals," has this paragraph for today: "Rosa Parks was born February 4, 1913 [100 years ago today]. When she was forty-two, Parks refused to give up her seat on a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama, to a white passenger, which at the time, the law required of African-Americans. She was arrested for her act of civil disobedience and worked with others from the NAACP to start the Montgomery Bus Boycott. The resulting integration of city buses in Montgomery ignited the civil rights movement in the United States and inspired nonviolent movements for social change around the world."

Here's a piece from Time: http://swampland.time.com/2013/02/04/rosa-parks-at-100/

Parable of the Laborers

from http://www.amigoni.com

A book I’ve had since college is Joachim Jeremias’ The Parables of Jesus (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1972). As I looked through it again recently, a section in the old paperback stood out.

Jeremias discusses the parable of the laborers in the vineyard, Matt. 20:1-16. About the surprising action of the vineyard owner, he writes, “He sees that [the servant who worked an hour] will have practically nothing to take home; the pay for an hour’s work will not keep a family; their children will go hungry if the father comes home empty-handed. It is because of his pity for their poverty that the owner allows them to be paid a full day’s wages. In this case the parable does not depict an arbitrary action, but the behavior of a large-hearted man who is compassionate and full of sympathy for the poor. This, says Jesus, is how God deals with me. This is what God is like merciful. Even to tax-farmers and sinners he grants an unmerited place in his Kingdom, such is the measure of his goodness” (37).

I wonder how many of us miss that aspect of the vineyard owner; we focus on the mercy of God, which is Jesus’ point, but we think that the owner is indeed being arbitrary in his goodness. We miss the owner’s compassion and sympathy. In addition to teaching God's goodness and open-heartedness---God comes to us and responds to us whether we come early or very late to faith----the parable also raises questions for us about our attitudes about the poor, about hard work, "getting what we deserve," need and wealth.

Here's the parable (NRSV): "For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire labourers for his vineyard. 2After agreeing with the labourers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. 3When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the market-place; 4and he said to them, 'You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.' So they went. 5When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. 6And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, 'Why are you standing here idle all day?' 7They said to him, 'Because no one has hired us.' He said to them, 'You also go into the vineyard.' 8When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, 'Call the labourers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.' 9When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. 10Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. 11And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, 12saying, 'These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.' 13But he replied to one of them, 'Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? 14Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. 15Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?' 16So the last will be first, and the first will be last."

Temples of God's Spirit

Leading up to Lent, and the prospect of fasting or giving up a particular thing (probably some kind of food), made me think of the relationship of bodies, identities, and God's Spirit. A classic passage in this regard is Paul's rhetorical question: “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own?” (1 Cor. 6:19). An earlier passage of Paul’s is 1 Cor. 3:16-17, reminding the people of the same thing.

The context is different from the usual church problems---members were visiting prostitutes, eating meat offered to idols, and so on. But in reworking the Jewish traditions about the Temple for his Gentile Christian church, Paul was helping the Corinthians realize they were disrespecting their bodies and therefore God.

How do you disrespect God by mistreating your body? Unlike eastern religious traditions, the Christian teaching about the Spirit is different from an idea of an inherent divine nature (like the doctrine of Brahman-Atman in Hinduism). Rather, the Spirit (in contrast to the soul) is a divine gift, a presence within us that God sends. To say that we are “temples” harkens back to the temples of Israel, like Solomon’s splendid temple, where the glory of God resided in a special way. When the glory departed because of the nation’s sinfulness, the results were catastrophic (Ezekiel 8-10). Ezekiel, though, envisioned an everlasting return of God’s Spirit (Ez. 37:26-27). Christians interpreted this passage as the giving of the Spirit to believers following Pentecost (Acts 2). So when Paul says the Spirit of God dwells in our bodies (that is, within our very selves), he’s talking not about a general spirituality, nor about the soul, but a very powerful and significant presence of God, now dwelling within us.  

We can take great comfort in Paul’s teaching here: God has chosen us as sacred places in which the Spirit resides. “God don’t make no junk,” as the saying goes, and each of us are precious to God.

In his teaching here, Paul alludes to slavery and the purchase of slaves for a master. That image is hard for us to accept today, given the horrible history of American slavery. But we can think of it in a related way: when the Israelites were slaves in Egypt, God selected them as his own people and rescued them from slavery. In Christ, God has chosen us as his people as he chose the Israelites in Moses’ time.

There is also a familial image behind Paul’s words. People know us as individuals but also know us in connection to our commitments and relationships. My wife is president of a midwestern university. We get joking questions if my title is “first man” or “first husband.” Although my role as an adjunct instructor at the university is much more modest, I represent the university, too, as a teacher and as the president’s spouse. Although I have my own identity, it is closely connected to my identity with my family, my work place, as well as a Christian writer and generally as a Christian. Many of us have the same kind of set of mutual connections and mutual responsibilities. That's not to say we'll never fail or disappoint. Likewise, we still have to affirm  but still, we’re conscious of a sense of belonging to God and to one another, interconnected by the work of the Spirit.

I think of several questions about Paul's teaching. When we affirm ourselves as God's temple, how are we true to this saying today (without simplistically making physical fitness, wonderful as it is, a kind of religious obligation)? How do we affirm our individuality in connection to our commitments and mutual responsibilities (setting priorities, avoiding the trap of "groupthink," and so on)? How do we glorify God (helping others love and honor God, too) in our personal identities and our social contacts and commitments? How will we seek the Spirit's guidance during the upcoming Lenten season?

(These thoughts are an "outtake" from an earlier project.)