Amos 5:1-17. A targum

Hear these words of lamentation, oh you who are so comfortable.

Destitute, with no more power to earn are the accomplished.

Evicted, having defaulted on their mortgage are the entitled.

For this is what God says,

The retirement plan that once held thousands now holds hundreds,

The health care plan that once covered everything now charges you by the pill.

For this is what God says,

Seek me and live.

But do not look to your wise investments,

And do not enter your safe communities,

Or look for security from systems that upheld your privilege.

For your investments are lost,

And your safe communities have been flooded.

Seek God and live,

Or God will come to destroy al that gives you a sense of security,

And nobody will be there to protect you.

Ah you that turn laws into loopholes 

And make a mockery of justice.

Seek uprightness and not easy comfort,

That you may live,

So the Lord, the provider of all security will be with you.

Hate injustice and love love,

Establish compassion in your courts.

It may be that the God of your immigrant ancestors

Will be gracious to you all

This is what the God of the universe declares,

On all the cable news networks there shall be wailing,

And every Facebook post will be a call for help.

They shall call the bankers to mourning,

And those who tell sad stories to wailing.

In the big box stores there will be wailing.

For I will move through the midst of you,

Says our God. 


Disorientation and Welcome

I like to plan. I appreciate having an idea of what is going to happen and I presume others appreciate these things too. I want to put people at ease so that they will know what is going on and what to expect. I believe it is a welcoming and hospitable thing to do.

And yet, I also know that my preference to plan and to anticipate what will happen can muffle my ears and blinder my eyes to what is actually going on around me. Expecting one thing to happen means I am not willing to engage when some other thing happens.

Feeling disoriented is, well, disorienting and it is not comfortable. It leaves me vulnerable to the unknown. I experience this also on behalf of the guests who come to visit The Hermitage. For some retreatants this is their first time here and it may be their first encounter with deep silence. A key part of my job of welcoming is to orient them to how things happen here and what to expect – to remove their own disorientation and dis-ease (whether it is real or projected.)

I remember a pilgrimage my wife and I took to Ireland. Travelling is hard for me, because there are so many unfamiliar things and all my planning can’t prepare me for them all. At the first gathering of our pilgrimage group our leader named the disorientation that many (all) of us were feeling, and the importance of accepting and living in that disorientation. That disorientation is necessary if there is going to be any kind of reorientation.

And so, I need to learn to allow some space for disorientation for our guests and for myself. The next time a guest arrives late for Saturday morning centering prayer after we’ve finished the introduction, (although I feel uncomfortable with the individual’s possible disorientation), I will pray that this be a time of reorientation – both for the guest and me. I will pray that we both are able to simply receive God’s reorienting welcome.

On People, Podcasts, and Being an Introvert

For nearly a year I have worked at a job where I need to be present to people in a way that I’ve never before been. As the Guest Services Coordinator at a retreat center part of my job is to be present to people – on the phone, via email, and in person. Even if there is not a lot of conversation – and being a gently silent retreat center, there usually isn’t a lot of conversation – I am conscious of being present to our guests. I am attentive to their reservation requests and the questions that usually follow. I am attentive to when they arrive and whenever possible, going out to greet them as they walk from their car. I am attentive to them as they join the staff for conversation after morning prayers. I am attentive to them as I prepare and serve meals taking into account guests’ dietary needs.

And my attention to people is not limited to our guests. My work colleagues include my wife and another married couple and our relationship is deeper than merely work-mates – and these relationships require deep attention.

This work of being attentive to people is in strong contrast to my previous job. In my previous work “behind the scenes” in a library, being attentive to others was not part of my job description, and not often part of my work life. My relationships with my colleagues were usually good but largely functional. I also spent a good deal of time working alone.

And podcasts?

In my previous job, and off the job, I listened to a lot of podcasts. While I tended to avoid overly long, overly chatty podcasts, I had people speaking in my headphones for several hours each day. I really enjoyed hearing interesting people tell stories, conduct interviews, and solve crime or science puzzles. There were a lot of people with a lot of words.

Since transitioning to this new work life, I’ve found my interest and desire to listen to clever and the wise words piped into my ears has significantly declined. The talk-filled programs now tire me more often than engage me. I feel bad about this, because I appreciate these podcasts and their creators, but I just don’t have it in me to give my attention to all those people and all their words. It’s not them, it’s me.

It’s not that the headphones have left my head. By no means. Spotify now pipes all sorts of sounds into my ears. But its all music. I’ve noticed that much of the music I’ve been listening to lately either has no words, or the lyrics are in a language I don’t understand. I’m also playing a ton more guitar.

As an introvert I am intrigued to see how I am responding to/coping with a job that involves me putting myself out for people. I love our retreat guests and am honored to offer them my attentive hospitality. And, this attentiveness to the people before me doesn’t leave space for me to give my attention to the people and their podcast world.

The Sounds of Pentecost

I’m increasingly attentive to the presence of sounds/hearing in the Christian scriptures, and today’s story of Pentecost is filled with them. From Acts 2

  • there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind

  • and began to speak in other languages

  • And at this sound the crowd gathered

  • each one heard them speaking in the native language 

  • And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language?

  • let this be known to you, and listen to what I say

  • and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy

  • Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.

This exemplifies that God’s presence is often an aural experience. It is in the various sounds, and the listening to the sounds that the presence of the Holy Spirit is made manifest.

This isn’t to diminish the beautiful and power visual imagery of the tongues of flame - and the joyous and powerful red of this Sunday, but the first indication of the Spirit was sound, and the result of the Spirit was more sound.

Notes on "Music and the Generosity of God"

Music and the Generosity of God, by Gerald C. Liu. Palgrave Macmillan, 2017

When and how does sound become music? And what does the ubiquity of sound tell us of God? These questions are pondered in the most fascination “Music and the Generosity of God” by Gerald C. Liu.

He states the basic theme of his book, “I propose that the generosity of God manifests in the music of sonic ubiquity. Where music never ceases, God gives.” (p. 3) Through exploring the person and work of John Cage, especially his piece 4’33’’ Liu invites the reader to encounter our sonic landscape as music, and this music is an ongoing gift of an ever generous God. Liu place a wonderfully strong emphasis on sound/music as a means of God’s expression, and our encounter of God. “God may manifest beyond measure in current encounters with the music of sonic ubiquity, especially for those unable to grasp the elocutions of speech or other discursively tied ways of communicating holy grace and love.” (p. 10) “Sonic ubiquity” is a recurring concept in this book which develops into the idea of “given music.”

It is hard for me to imagine people not familiar with Cage and his most noteworthy piece, but for those people, John Cage was a composer of what could be considered avant-garde or experimental music. He was also deeply influenced by Zen Buddhism. Performance of his 4’33’’ entails performer(s) not “performing” on their instruments for four minutes and thirty three seconds (although Cage says the piece can be performed for any length of time.) The music of the piece is all the sounds that the audience is exposed to during the time of the performance.

Unsurprisingly, initial response to this piece was uncertain and often unwelcome. Theological response to Cage’s 4’33’’ was disdain. “For [Nicholas] Wolterstorff and [Jeremy] Begbie Cage musically undermines God’s intention for humanity to create and order the materials of the earth.” (p. 16) Music, for them, can only be properly and intentionally human authored sound. “Begbie emphatically claims that God has freed human beings to create music purposefully, not randomly, and that music only happens when human intent is present.” (p. 123) Begbie’s idea of music can only emphasize preconceived ideas of order, and these ideas of order are so culturally based that his approach will crush non-dominant ideas.

Liu counters Begbie stating that “Cage uses his ‘freedom’ and ‘intent’ as an author (to use the language of Begbie and Wolterstorff) to frame what otherwise would go unrecognized – that music is everywhere sounds are.” (p.17)

Cage, perhaps reflecting his Zen influence, understands music with a stance that that doesn’t try to grasp, control, or preserve the music that is heard. It is also important to remember that Cage’s piece is not about the absence of sound. “The quiet withdrawal of 4’33’’, however, does not emphasize rest or silence against sound. 4’33’’ asserts that sonic ubiquity gives music superabundantly and without limit.” (p. 54)

Liu and Cage’s understanding of the generosity of the ubiquitous sonic environment is deeply dependent on the listener’s capability to receive it as such. As Cage writes in a letter to a friend that recognizing the sonic density of his piece depends on “our own emptiness, our own receptivity; we receive to the extent that we are empty to do so.” (letter to Helen Wolff quoted on p. 54).

“Confounding the expectations of its listeners, 4’33’’ promotes hearing musical content that is ‘hidden in plain sight’ and that saturates their entire field of audibility. It displays unbounded, free sound. This same sound announces a more radical freedom, a giveness, a giving of God, or what Christians micht call ‘grace’ or ‘love’ perceived within but irreducible to audible content.” (p. 81)

This is an academic book, and the presence of French philosophers and “phenomenology” were littered throughout the book. This is not particularly familiar territory for me, but John Cage and his ideas of music and sound were familiar to me and this helped make the book feel more accessible – and truly it was an enjoyable read.

Reading this was a great gift as I delve deeper into understanding the relationship between sound and theology – or more precisely and personally – my experience of God through sound. The discussion of the superabundant generosity of music, and a stance of open receptivity resonated deeply within my own experience. This generosity and receptivity encapsulates my understanding of the human/divine relationship at its best. God is the ever abundant giver and we are the receivers – who are not merely receivers of divine generosity but also participate in it as co-creators. We are part of the divinely offered “given music” of our world.

“With or without human awareness, God gives in music: noticeably and unnoticeably, impossibly, indulgently, and even overwhelmingly.” (p. 124)