Making a (small?) difference

Jamie Smith’s blog  refers to a NY Times column by David Brooks, in which Brooks reviews new musical, “The Book of Mormon.”  The whole review is interesting, as Brooks argues against the “lowest-common-denominator” kind of spirituality embraced by the pluralistic, vaguely spiritual, well-educated American middle classes, in which all religions are acceptable as long as they are teaching us to be kind to each other and promote world peace through tolerance.

Brooks suggests instead, that theological rigor and particularity is necessary for many reasons. This one in particular stood out to me:

Rigorous codes of conduct allow people to build their character. Changes in behavior change the mind, so small acts of ritual reinforce networks in the brain. A Mormon denying herself coffee may seem like a silly thing, but regular acts of discipline can lay the foundation for extraordinary acts of self-control when it counts the most.

As Smith points out, this is exactly what he argues in Desiring the Kingdom. And while it made me feel slightly guilty (my giving up Facebook for Lent didn’t exactly last til Easter) it did inspire me that the small things we do can make a big difference. We are tempted to think that these little things don’t matter because we view them in isolation. (It’s only one person I treated that way, only one negative attitude, only one bitchy comment I made…) But in reality, these small habits interlink, reinforce each other and create patterns of behavior that become the foundation of our character, who we are.

The things we habitually practice are as important as the things we try to refrain from. The seemingly small spiritual disciplines we carry out as believers, such as attending church services, reading the bible, singing our theology, fasting, speaking words of encouragement, all add up to create and reinforce our ways of being in the world as the people of God.

As Smith says

…what comes to mind is Pascal’s advice after his infamous wager: “Can’t find yourself able to believe?,” Pascal asks. “That’s OK. Just fake it for a while. Go to Mass. Try on the rhythms of a believer. Practice your way into faith.”

It’s encouraging to realize that the rituals,  routines and rhythms we are so familiar with are not mindless and repetitive, but a vital part of shaping who we are, especially when times are hard and answers are scarce. We are instructed to keep doing these things because they make us into who we were always created to be.

Considering the difference our practices and habits can  make also means re-examining how we faithfully inhabit our culture as disciples of Jesus. My friend Aaron Rathbun has compiled a list of resources that highlight ways in which we can live intentionally and unplug from systemically unChristian institutions and practices. I highly recommend you check some of them out here.

Sing your freedom

“The crowds joined in attacking [Paul and Silas] and the magistrates tore the garments off them and gave orders to beat them with rods. And when they had inflicted many blows upon them, they threw them into prison, ordering the jailer to keep them safely. Having received this order, he put them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks” (Acts 16:22-24).

Have you ever been in a completely unfair situation? You were trying to do the right thing and still, somehow, you  found yourself trapped,  snared by circumstances beyond your control.

Wounded, disappointed, damaged, you are detained in the dark; feet in chains, freedom denied.

“About midnight, Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them, and suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken. And immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s bonds were unfastened” (Acts 16:25-26).

At the blackest point of the night a glimmer of hope appears: you find your voice. You open your mouth in prayer and song. I don’t know what exact words you use, whether you cry out in lament and sorrow, or rejoice in faith, or rehearse God’s faithfulness.

But God moves the  earth in response and the very foundation of what has been locking you up is shaken to the core.

And the most beautiful thing accompanies this miracle – there is not only freedom for you, but also for everyone around you. You have unknowingly sung songs of deliverance over a whole community.

He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed…

Open your mouth  in a God-song today and see what happens.

I dare you.

How Emptiness Sings, Christa Wells

Click here to listen

Brother, he’s suffered like a tree taken down
Wept as he witnessed his dreams carved out
And how can a man just keep walking around
With his heart full of holes

But ooh,
His bow is on the strings
And the tune resonates in the open space
To show us how emptiness sings:

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom,
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.
Hmm, hmmm

Sister carries her loneliness
In a hidden hollow inside her chest
And sometimes all that she wants is an end
To the long, long night

But ooh,
Her bow is on the strings,
And the tune resonates in the open space
To show us how emptiness sings:

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom,
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.
Hmm, hmmm

I haven’t been asked yet to walk the hard roads
Still there’s a sense of deep loss in my soul
In the middle of a party, I’ll just want to go
Home.

But ooh,
My bow is on the strings,
I’m beginning to learn where to find the words
To the song that emptiness sings
Ooh, bow is on the strings:

Glory to God! Glory to God!
This is how emptiness sings, oh,
This is how emptiness sings
Hmmm, hmmm

 

You can read the story of this song on Ann Voskamp’s blog, A Holy Experience.

Driving in the dark

It has been said that life “is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way” (E. L. Doctorow).

Now me, I like to see far ahead. I am a big-picture, zoomed-out, bird’s-eye-view, need-to-see-the-entire-map kind of person. I am motivated by wider vision, seeing the meaning beneath the surface, finding the hidden purpose. But…

…sometimes the journey must carry on through the night, where these things are not visible. Everything is hidden: scenery, pathway, destination. There is light enough only for what is right in front of you.

You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.

You can see enough to read the signs as you pass them. You can see the white lines illuminated beside you to keep you on the right side of the track. You can see enough road to make the correct turns as and when they come up.

It takes a lot more concentration to drive at night. You are tired and have to focus much harder to see what’s there, to keep going in the right direction.

But it is possible. You can make the whole trip that way if necessary. The Light provided is enough.

We who are your closest friends

By Phillip Lopate

We who are

your closest friends

feel the time

has come to tell you

that every Thursday

we have been meeting,

as a group,

to devise ways

to keep you

in perpetual uncertainty

frustration

discontent and

torture

by neither loving you

as much as you want

nor cutting you adrift.

Your analyst is

in on it,

plus your boyfriend

and your ex-husband;

and we have pledged

to disappoint you

as long as you need us.

In announcing our

association

we realize we have

placed in your hands

a possible antidote

against uncertainty

indeed against ourselves.

But since Thursday nights

have brought us

to a community

of purpose

rare in itself

with you as

the natural center,

we feel hopeful you

will continue to make unreasonable

demands for affection

if not as a consequence

of your disastrous personality

then for the good of the collective.