Working at Worship

Writing on the original meaning and use of the word liturgy Nicholas Wolterstorff considers how “leitourgia never did mean action of the people. It meant action for the benefit of the people.” According to Wolterstorff the liturgy was actually considered “a type of public service.” (Wolterstorff, Major Themes in Reform Tradition, p. 274) Precisely because the liturgy is meant to benefit Christians Janet Walton heralds art as being one of the forms that should be utilized towards this public service. In her book Art and Worship Walton recognizes how the content of worship functions as a way of shaping God’s people. Liturgy, therefore, is not just a program to follow. Instead, Walton encourages churches to introduce “forms that will connect the revelation of God with the most poignant needs of the people who constitute the church.” (Walton, Art and Worship, p.56)

Indeed, Tim Keller relates how reason may tells us about truth, but we “really cannot grasp what it means without art.” Keller goes on to say how “the sensual expression of truth allows you to hear the truth, see the truth, to taste it, touch it, and smell it.”  (Keller, It Was Good, Making Art to the Glory of God, p.121-122) Yet the random insertion of art into worship many times reads as novelty, not revelation. Perhaps this penchant for novelty in worship can be bypassed if congregations begin to embody a theology of the arts. Part of this theology must take into consideration the corporate nature of art. Churches must ask what will inspire creative and regenerative corporate worship that will move beyond the doors of the church into the hearts of its people in order to shape their everyday lives.

By grace art bridges God to men and gathers people to one another. One must also consider the humanizing element of art which allows us to bring everyday experiences into worship. This makes worship and art more relevant, dynamic and contextual. Conversely, art in worship can certainly reverberate into our daily life. A theology of the arts recognizes the symbiotic relationship between theology and art. Thomas Franklin O’Meara speaks of the importance of this relationship when he relates how “Theology is the discernment of the presence of the ‘More’ amid sin and grace. Like art, when theology is only a symbolism, it is empty—devoid of prophetic, existential, and spontaneously transcendent dimensions, and ready to be passed over quickly.” (O’Meara, Art, Creativity and the Sacred, p. 215)

Quite frankly art is not the primary theological form we must consider when we talk about corporate worship. Consequently, we should ponder Marva Dawn’s assertion regarding art and worship by focusing on “the biblical picture of the Body of Christ [a]s the preeminent image for guiding this aspect of theological formulations. This metaphor primarily reminds us that Christ is the Head; he must remain the focus, and his self-giving presence determines everything that we do.” (Dawn, Reaching Out Without Dumbing Down, p.130) Art, therefore, is the medium that springs forth from discourse regarding how the incarnation, resurrection and ascension define elements of our corporate worship.

Richard Rohr wisely reminds us how God likes us despite our rituals. “God doesn’t need them, but we need them to tenderly express our childlike devotion and desire—and to get in touch with that desire.” Ultimately, true worship is God’s gift for his people.

Let’s work at worshiping our Triune God with all of our being.

--Maria 

The Job of Attentiveness

Brian Fee, Untitled

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any—lifted from the no

of all nothing—human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

--e e cummings from i thank You God

We recently attended a lecture featuring the poet and former chairman of the NEA, Dana Gioia.  If you are searching for a good articulation on the wisdom of art, Gioia is your man. Quoting Frost, Gioia reminds us how “poetry is a way of remembering what it would impoverish us to forget.” And, the former chairman made no qualms citing how impoverished our culture has become, now bereft of beauty. One example is the disparity between a WPA-era built public building, such as the local post office, and its contemporary version. This lack of concern for beauty illustrates how we have we lost confidence in its power.  And, isn't it interesting with the loss of beauty truth soon became untenable? We live in the time of the great no.

Art, however, lifts us from negation to tenderize the imagination. It opens eyes wider and ears deeper to encounter what is unimaginable. Through numerous experiences of cognitive tasting, touching, hearing, seeing, breathing  we develop and strengthen our beauty muscles. Beauty itself is a process. Gioia brakes down the movements into four steps: 1) Beauty causes us to linger. 2) In the lingering we experience pleasure. 3) This pleasure stems from capturing the true-ness of the object that has initiated the lingering. 4) Steps 1 through 3 are fleeting, reminding us we are not in control and that beauty is grace—a gift we have not earned.  Isn’t all of learning a gift?

Simone Weil believes the development of attention (such as in school studies) is “extremely effective in increasing the power of attention that will be available at the time of prayer.” (Weil, Waiting for God, p. 105) In our pragmatic obsession with the accumulation of information we have forgotten our aim in learning and the reliability of our senses to teach us how big God is. If Weil is correct, the attentiveness found and strengthened through our work can create the space of prayer.

And, beauty, as Gioia avers, is a reliable way to learn this attentiveness. Art speaks not just to the head, but grasps the heart, utilizes the body, and culls from the recesses of memory.  Thus, aesthetics assist Christ’s mission of restoring us to our full humanity. What does all of this mean for artists? Like Jesus, we bear this burden to restore human wholeness. Artists must pick up the mantle of leadership and forge, with the help of God, new ways of bringing beauty back into all of society.

i thank You God,

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

--Maria

The Church, the Artist, and the Handshake

“The door handle is the handshake of the building.”  Juhani Pallasmaa

Like a door knob, what does it signal when a church fosters an arts ministry? Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the shape and form of the arts ministry at Redeemer mainly because I’ve been fortunate to work in such a ministry, but also because I will move on to serve both the Church and the arts through formal studies at Fuller Seminary. I also recently had to articulate some of my musings for an article on urban arts ministry for Transposition, St. Andrew’s blog on Theology, Imagination and the Arts. Here, I write how the Church must encourage and theologically equip a growing urban movement. For “the city and its culture contributes to Gospel transformation as we continually die to self and become renewed, not just in our thinking, but also the way we go about life.” (read more)

If the door knob becomes the tell-tale sign of a building then how do we use this image with respect to the Church? Church, meaning not just the building, but also the gathered people of God. Furthermore, what does it mean for artists to be both welcomed and welcoming in regards to community life and the space it inhabits? As much as I hear that the local church is not a building, people need to inhabit a real space and this space should offer the signs and symbols of its community. The Word needs to become enfleshed by our acts and our art.

For the last couple of weeks Transposition has chosen to tackle this hefty subject of art and Church. It has gathered artists, pastors, scholars and asked them to reflect on or present examples of where and how art and Church intersect.  Transposition hopes you’ll visit the posted articles, videos, and essays in order to stimulate dialogue and inspire new works for and from the Church. Please visit the Art in the Church Workshop schedule of postings. 

The architect and architectural theorist, Juhani Pallasmaa, understand how shape and touch are interconnected. Artists are deeply aware of how we shape through our touch. The implications of this knowledge are staggering and should be shared with the Church. I bookend with a continuation of Pallasmaa’s thought from the line cited above: 

“The tactile sense connects us with time and tradition: through impressions of touch we shake the hands of countless generations.”

It is the call of the artist and the Christian to shake the hands of countless generations.

--Maria

Make The Cake And Eat It, Too.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking about Jesus in the manner of how he is all consuming.” Or, it was something in this vein the artist Melissa Beck articulated during my recent visit to her Pratt studio. Evidence of this statement filled my eyes as I perused one of her utensil pieces: a horizontal band of silver-plated forks happily glued to the wall by thick cake frosting.  I was ready to partake in order to taste and see how good God is.

As a new fan of this emerging artist there is one thing I must herald about Melissa’s work: It is not just a cerebral exercise, as most of contemporary art is these days, for it jogs our embodied vision utilizing touch, smell, and taste. Her art is a holistic experience and through her use of food and household objects she explores ideas of consumption along with its tension between abundance and scarcity. This is exemplified by one of her pieces entitled “Drawering Room.” Does the collection of empty drawers hint at hoarding or are they waiting to be filled? These themes have already been explored by CFW guest speakers such as O. David Taylor and Andy Crouch who remind us that in God’s infinite kingdom to gain means we must give away.

Thoughts on the infinite and the finite are further mediated through variations of constructed cakes. Melissa assembles both real cakes oozing with icing and more durable confections made of building materials such as wood, nails, and foam. Her choice of repurposing ordinary objects such as bread, ironing boards, and furniture are overtly charged with nurturing implications redolent of home, family, and community.  Some may see the work as sentimental, but I prefer to view them as markers pointing to the accessibility of an eternal home made possible by our all consuming Christ.

Take in God through the arts!

--Maria

Being Displays Itself

Being Displays Itself

We are people of the Word but our beloved text points to gathered sounds that ultimately utter God’s actions. From burning bush to a son nailed onto a tree—we hear activity. The whole biblical narrative from creation, fall, alienation to reconciliation exhibits, as von Balthasar relates, God’s “genuine unfolding of himself in the worldly stuff of nature, man and history.” (von Balthasar, Glory of the Lord). The bible is a divine-human drama that begs for a theology that is just as robust and dynamic.

Following God-patterns employs imagination and theologian von Balthasar explores the Christian drama like a theatre critic trying to make meaning of a play. For Christ has radically changed the stage of history. The pagan dramas between human and divine entities so central to the ancient world has shifted. Through Christ “the dialectic of immanence and transcendence, nature and super-nature” can now find hope for reconciliation. (Von Balthasar, Theo-Drama, p. 129) Christ has invited all actors to take the stage and enflesh the Word through their lives.

Just as the torn temple curtain reconciles us to the Holy, the incarnated Jesus also removed the actor’s mask for God to draw near. This also means the Christian actor has the choice to follow Jesus into the tragedies of life. The passage into the dark abyss of the human psyche can only happen because of Christ’s own journey in and out of hell. As von Balthasar relates, “Christianity, with its inner dramatic tension… can take all theatrical aspects into itself in even the darkest moments” only because Jesus travailed through death.  (Von Balthasar, Theo-Drama, p. 82)

Observable transformation and authentic hope erodes the meaninglessness we find in much contemporary drama. With Jesus our stories become interwoven with the Christian story and some of these narratives need the stage to fully express its theological import. Theater allows us to publically incarnate these stories with the potential of ushering in his presence. 

Imagine a God who would write us into his drama. Be an actor on his stage.

--Maria

Kingdom Waiting

I’m always amazed how Jesus’ parables convey a kingdom not estranged from this world, but very much bound to it.  Despite the eschatological-end times dimension found in Matthew 25, the three stories within focus on the work accomplished in the present.  

In the first narrative we come across ten virgins awaiting the bridegroom in order to enter the wedding festivities. The wise maidens carry extra oil for their lamps. They are able to join the celebration unlike the five who missed the procession due to their search for fuel. The Scout Motto be prepare can be invoked here. The parable of the talents is the second narrative. A master, about to embark on a long journey, entrusts three servants with talantons, dispensed in proportion to their proficiencies.  Here, the good servant multiplies the wealth of the master.

The last tale ushers the listener into the future as the Son of Man sits as king on his throne. Here, we watch him separate people as a shepherd segregates sheep from goats. Those positioned to his right are ones who cared about earthly matters: they fed, clothed, cared.  Yet we must remember these humanitarian concerns are fueled by anticipation for the coming bridegroom, master, king; thus rendering them kingdom works.

Kingly people live life fully in the present, shaped and marked by a future. What, then, does it mean for the wise artist to be prepared? Are we hording, neglecting, or diminishing our talents or are we investing our time and energy to multiplying what the master has apportioned? And, most importantly, does our wisdom and entrepreneurial skills work to re-establish the best of humanity?

If Jesus is the good king his priority becomes care of his kingdom. A thriving kingdom provides the basic needs for its inhabitants; therefore, by seeking human flourishing through our practice of medicine, economics, law, or art, we become kingly servants.

It took the life, death, and resurrection of Christ to re-establish humanity. Let’s follow his lead as we wait for him, the bridegroom, master and king.

--Maria

Time Continuum

Space-Time Configuration

What does the worker gain from his toil?  I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to the end.  Ecclesiastes 3:9-11

Time present and time past

Are both perhaps present in time future,

And time future contained in time past.  T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets

Investing time in the studio always yields benefits. The work focuses or branches out into new forms. Pleasurable discoveries shifts the expenditure of our time, expenses, energies as we grasp towards that elusive something. The pursuit is future-oriented, but to obtain it we must be fully vested in the present, all the while sustained by positive past experiences of accumulated processes of art making.  

Yet sometimes the need to create is mere burden. No explanations needed for He has also set eternity in the hearts of men. We experience something good when we make art. And just as our studio practices hones the work, it is a pattern parallel to God’s perfecting of the cosmos through time, space, the particular, through Christ. We cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

What does this mean for artists? First off, eternity is continuous with our present world. Time present and time past are contained in time future. And time future double backs into time present: our time. God is with us through his promised Spirit, the hallmark of a new age. This means we don’t have to get it right the first time. Just as the whole of creation is groaning waiting for God to perfect it, our art is practice. One day the grunts and groans will eventually give way to true worship of the Triune God. Christ has already set the Spirit life in motion--we have the firstfruits of the Spirit awaiting the future redemption of our bodies. He has made everything beautiful in its time.

Secondly, since forever belongs to us, time is not a burden. One of the characteristics of our culture is the weight of time. We never have enough of it so we weary ourselves with too much work, too much play. The more we invent time saving devices to increase leisure, Colin Gunton notes the less capable we are of being able to dwell “in the body and on the good earth.” (Gunton, The One, The Three, And the Many, p.77). In God’s timelessness, he sets patterns of living: birth, death, plant, pick, kill, heal, extirpate, build up. Life does not happen all at once for we are to dwell in each zone discovering its merits and faults.

Isn’t this what we also learn in the studio? Idea, concept, action, introspection, more action, wait for the paint to dry, curse, smile, scrape off the paint, start again with the marks of the old refined by the new. What does the worker gain from his toil? John Dewey remarks how “Every work of art follows the plan of, and pattern of, a complete experience, rendering it more intensely and concentratedly felt.” (Dewey, Art As Experience, p.54) Artists, think of your art making practice as a sensitizing or priming agent for the ultimate experience of eternity.

Let the future break into the present; make art.

--Maria

Not As The Flowers

It was not as the flowers,

each soft Spring recurrent;

it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled

eyes of the eleven apostles;

it was as His flesh: ours.

-John Updike, Seven Stanzas at Easter, Stanza 2

The lilies that will adorn our churches this Sunday are redolent of fresh life, yet for Updike this symbol is much too subdued. Christ’s resurrection signals so much more: we can forget about Easter fineries, for we will one day wear Spiritual bodies. And just like the angel at the tomb in John Updike’s poem, Seven Stanzas at Easter, we will be weighty, “opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen, spun on a definite loom.”

The resurrection indicates a new way of being. A life animated by the Spirit, tabernacle in a physical body— the earthbound people of God. Easter for artists signals the re-creating capacity set into motion by our Triune God: the Father’s undying love, spurs the Son’s self-giving, and the Spirit’s creative activity overcomes death for all. For artists this dynamic movement reverberates into our own lives as we continually advocate and sacrifice for art to then experience some semblance of renewal. If our God re-creates out of brokenness, even death, please consider this Easter what this means for your art. “Let us walk through the door:”

The stone is rolled back; not paper-mâché,

Not a stone in a story,

But the vast rock of materiality that in the slow

grinding of time will eclipse for each of us

the wide light of day.

-John Updike, Seven Stanzas at Easter, Stanza 5

--Maria

Longing And The Spirit Life

Fresh Pair of Eyes

'Cause I want to be seen
With a fresh pair of eyes
The single white tree
In a black hood of disguise

I want, I want to be seen
With a fresh pair of eyes
The single, the single white tree
In a black hood of disguise

I miss God, I miss God
I miss God, I miss God

-Brooke Waggoner

Longing is one of the visceral affects induced by Wim Wenders’ film Pina. Pina Bausch’s choreography beautifully, and at times with forceful asperity, depicts the body reaching for what lies beyond. Leaving the theater one cannot help but address our hollowness set beside such hallow-ness.

I miss God, I miss God
I miss God, I miss God

The songstress, Brooke Waggoner, also elicits yearning. Longing comes from diagnosing what we miss. Like the Psalmist, we need to voice our apprehensions acknowledging God all the while. To be spiritual means to live and work in the realm of the Spirit—God’s own presence in the world. Through Jesus we are given the Spirit in order to grasp God’s holiness and righteousness. This happen in spite of how we live in the mire of our own muck. When we receive mercy, we know God is near.

The Spirit gives us “a fresh pair of eyes” to enable true relationship with the triune God, with others, and with the physical world. Steven Guthrie relates how “Apart from God’s Spirit, we sink further away from our humanity.” (Guthrie, Creator Spirit, p.36) According to Guthrie this is why the Spirit allows us to see God through artists like Pina Bausch who is able to trace and recover genuine human movement. God’s Spirit does not de-humanize, instead it reorders and transforms our human desires so that we may see Him. In fact, it is because of Jesus’ humanness the Spirit can reveal what has been missed under sin’s "black hood of disguise."

The Spirit life, therefore, is a life dependent on our triune God. Our work must be handed over to Christ’s renewing love that reconciles all things. Cultural renewal comes out of Spiritual restoration. Perhaps Ms. Waggoner also comes to this realization when she croons in her song Wonder-Dummied how “I tried my best alone but it got me nowhere and I can’t do it on my own.” True longing erupts in God’s accepting presence for we finally sense our own inadequacies, “Oh to be of the purest of pure in his arms,” Ms. Waggoner aches:

But I’ve never felt this feel so heavy
And I’ve never felt this feel so low
Yeah it is a wake inside my whole soul
But you are my strength I won’t stand alone

The Christian artist works in the medium of painful longing for we are given the Spirit who directs us ahead to what should be, what can be, what will be. This is why Colin Gunton understands the Spirit’s action as eschatological. The Spirit works to perfect “the particulars by relating them to their source and destiny.” (Gunton, The One, The Three, And The Many, p. 212). Let us not be overwhelmed by the heaviness of longing, but relate it back to its source and destiny for ultimately it is God we seek.

Please join us at InterArts Fellowship on April 16^th when Brooke Waggoner, along with William Edgar, will help us to further examine the Spirit Life.

--Maria

Remember

Many view artists as misunderstood loners writing with wadded balls of paper around their feet or as painters wearing paint-smattered smocks, wild hair, frantically muttering to themselves. Nicholas Wolterstorff gives us a more inclusive view “Art—so often thought of as a way of getting out of the world—is man’s way of acting in the world. Artistically man acts.” (Wolterstorff, Art in Action, p.5)

According to Margaret Kornfeld these actions can assist in knowing God. Our “God is a God who wants to be remembered and has created our bodies—with complex neurochemical systems—so that memory is possible.”(Kornfeld, Cultivating Wholeness, p.86) Writing to pastoral caretakers Kornfeld reminds them that “Our bodies remember through our senses.” Art performed for and by a community, say like a liturgy, aids memory, gives direction, breaks down walls of hostility.

Natalie Angier on assignment for the New York Times Science section participated in a symposium on the evolutionary value of art. She notes how looking at the breadth of history the action of art has been a “profoundly communal affair of harvest dances, religious pageants, quilting bees.” Furthermore, she recalls how “passionate town rivalries… gave us the spires of Chartres, Reims and Amiens.” Moreover, it is through shared art experiences people are united together and are “persuaded to treat one another as kin.”

Angier goes on to describe how the lofty origins of art start from the “intimate interplay between mother and child.” The “visual, gestural, and vocal cues that arise spontaneously and unconsciously between mothers and infants” are aesthetic “operations of ritualizations.” (“The Dance of Evolution,” NYTimes) In other words, the human capacity to create art and liturgies are utilized by mothers everywhere, through all time. It’s interesting to note how Angier writing from an evolutionary framework establishes art as a relational operation. “Artistically man acts” because he is responding to its creator.

If the secular world can recognize the aesthetics as a fundamental catalyst for community and relationality why haven’t Protestants fully utilize this particular category of being? Shouldn’t Christians use all possible means to aid our memory of who we are in Christ? Perhaps, then, more embodied activities need to be enacted in our corporate worship. The artist Robert Adams speaks of memory from another perspective: “The thing the artist is trying to give you is a reminder of those rare times when you did see the world so that everything seemed to fit—so that things had consequence. The majority of evidence is for chaos, let’s face it. Most of the time things don’t seem consequential. But the value of art is that it helps us recall transforming times that are of such a quality that they last.”*

Worship allows us to respond to God’s work in our lives. Through a community’s set of symbols and actions they recall how life makes sense despite its perceived chaos. Good Christian liturgies happen to display theology; thus teach theology alongside the sermon, maybe even deepens it.

Artists, please help Christians remember.

--Maria

*PBS art:21 series

Water in the Desert

“And all mankind will see God’s salvation.”

This is John the Baptist’s ministerial tagline taken from the prophet Isaiah. Make straight paths, fill in valleys, lower mountains, all of these feats now possible by human ingenuity. But these accomplishments begin with a voice in a desert proclaiming the impossible is now evident: God is near. Culture is made through our longing for eternity.

Like John, artists are called to barren places to proclaim through word and deed God’s active and baptizing presence in the world. Here, little hope grows into highways and byways to God. Through our hands we smooth the rough places: one designs a bridge, while another writes a song that speaks into the heart of our universal pain. Either way Christians are called to be actively constructing wonders that reflect God’s salvation.

Isaiah and John the Baptist are usually associated with Advent for they make the bold proclamation that God will show himself in this world. In many ways artists are like these prophets. In the wilderness we live life preparing our communities for a final face to face with our Savior. Through our creations we acquaint, acclimatize, baptize, presage what ought to be, what can be, what shall be. Therefore, artists and prophets:

You who bring good news to Zion,

go up on a high mountain.

You who bring good news to Jerusalem,

lift up your voice with a shout,

lift it up, do not be afraid;

say to the towns of Judah,

“Here is your God!”

-Isaiah 40:9

This Advent become like John and Isaiah. Testify concerning Him through your art.

--Maria