Monday, August 31, 2015

Practice. Practice. Practice.


I always listen to the host of the News and Classical station on WPR as he or she announces the next piece of classical music.  I like to learn about the music I’m listening to, and, even more fun, I like to pretend as if, by already knowing the shared musical trivia, I am a classical music genius.  So, I perked up one afternoon as Lori Skelton’s voice came over the waves.  I was all ears about the upcoming sonata.  That is, until I realized it was a flute sonata.
Ugh I thought Who knows anything about the flute?  Well (as I had already mentally interjected) quite a lot of people know about flute, including my very own piano teacher who would likely kick my butt if she knew I was looking down on that instrument.  Fine I thought Anyone can like flute, but I’m not required to.
By the time I’d finished this internal dialogue about whether I was a terrible person for not liking the flute, the music had started.  After several minutes of trying to get a foothold in some kind of musical analysis of the piece, I realized something that really amazed me.  The flute coming through my radio was the smoothest sounding thing I’d heard in a long time.  This especially amazed me because I’ve heard new flautists play, and it can be anything but soothing.  If there is one thing I know about flutes (and, yes, there may only be one), it’s that breathing breaks can disrupt even a well-practiced piece.  
As I continued listening, I thought about all the times people, including myself, disregard the value of something because of a lack of understanding.  That is, a person can recognize what something is or the purpose it serves (a flute sonata for people who enjoy the sounds of a flute sonata) without understanding the work that went into creating it.  So much beauty and worth is missed when things are taken at surface value.  A hand-made gift, a passing report card or a well-planned going-away party could easily be taken for granted by someone who buys the best gifts, gets straight A’s without an effort or who has never practiced hospitality.
Practice is one major difference between living a truly rich life and a life of instant - and fleeting - gratification.  Let’s revisit the analogy of music.  Yes, it is quite possible to enjoy music simply by clicking a mouse and downloading the latest album from your favorite artist.  Music can evoke powerful emotions and enliven us in ways nothing else can.  But wouldn’t it be nice if we understood just a little bit more?  Once we know what kind of sounds we enjoy, what kinds of tempos make our blood flow and even how to create new music, ourselves, our experience is richer, deeper and more meaningful.  
Of course, the ability to make music takes a lot of practice - most people don’t wake up being Mozart (except, maybe, Mozart).  But once we dedicate ourselves to practicing something we love, not only do we learn a skill we enjoy and can share with others, but we learn something bigger.  In practicing something, we learn to appreciate all the things in life that take more than the flip of a switch.  I could appreciate that flute sonata, not because I understand how to play flute, but because I understand that the level of practice and dedication I use in my own life - in knitting, in playing piano and in having faith - is the same for the person playing music for me.
Faith is one of the most difficult practices to have, but also one of the best and most rewarding.  It is challenging because faith is not something of which we perform drills, test or touch with our hands.  It is not a skill or a talent or a gift reserved for a select few.  But having faith enhances our lives and strengthens us, despite and because of all life’s challenges, to do the work of God in our world.  May we find a way to practice our faith in a way that will help our world and open our eyes to understanding one another.

Monday, August 24, 2015

New Beginnings


As another school year begins, students pack up their home lives, purchase books and supplies and say goodbye, for now, to summer.  Teachers finalize rosters and syllabi and set up for the first weeks of class.  It is a busy time and it is easy to get caught up in making sure everything is in perfect order.  We do so much to make ourselves feel ready.  Where can we find God in such a busy time?  
God is in newness.  The Bible is full of stories and images of newness.  Not least of these is the new life we find in Christ through Baptism. In the Lutheran and Episcopal traditions, Baptism is a Sacrament - an outward sign of an inward grace (to paraphrase a common definition).  The literal waters of baptism physically wash the baptized person, reflecting the way God’s grace, although invisible, washes away our sin and makes us new.
I think about the newness of Baptism and the newness of a school year because of our efforts, as humans, to reconcile the tangible and the invisible.  We see beauty in external markers of how we feel inside.  For school, new books, school supplies and dorm essentials present us with physical ways to start afresh.  This tendency and desire to balance internal and external is true in our faith lives, too.
Baptism is the perfect example.   We think of Baptism and all of the stuff that comes along with it - a baptismal font, a tux or white dress, a cake, a church, a minister.  These things range from seemingly essential to obviously trivial, but are any of them absolutely necessary for baptism?  The answer is no.  These items are meant to serve as guideposts for the act of baptism, but when the tangible requirements are not available or possible, God’s grace happens anyway.  
It is when we get caught up in the tangible requirements, no matter how essential (the textbooks, the ministers), that we lose sight of the gift of newness we have been given.  Yes, please buy your textbook for Chemistry 101 and show up to church a little earlier than the sermon on the day of your baptism, but don’t struggle with the tangible things so much that the real gift of the experience is forgotten.
Ready or not, the school year is approaching, and with it comes a new opportunity to learn and to find God in every experience.  May you remember your baptism, or another way God has given you new opportunity, and give thanks for the grace which is given unconditionally.