Jesus, Please Come Today

I haven’t blogged much lately.
Well, yes I have,
but not here at Liturgy House.

It certainly hasn’t been
for lack of something to say (or write)
about worship and Liturgy.

Life just seems to be so busy lately.
Really.
It seems like time
is just starting to zoom on by.
Time is literally flying
and it seems like I just don’t have enough of it
(time)
to write all the things
that are dancing in my head,
to do all of those projects
I really want to do.

I heard this song on the radio yesterday.
This song motivated me to blog
here at Liturgy House.

Now,
first of all,
let me say that I am not a particular fan
of contemporary Christian music.
It’s not that I don’t like it.
Well,
for the most part
I don’t.
Simplistic chord structures,
repetitive pre-schoolish type melodies.
Now,
that might be the classical pianist in me talkin,
but I like music with a little bit
“music” in it.

. . and then there are some texts
that are so superficial. . .
I think one of the reasons
I favor the Gospel of John
over all of the other books of the Bible
is because the text is so layered with meaning. . .
And the hidden messages of John’s Gospel
arise as your life changes,
as you grow and become.
It’s a text,
a very poetic text,
layered and layered
with meaning.
Now,
that might be the poet in me talkin’ now. . . .
. . . but as is oft the case,
I digress.
My point is that in contemporary Christian Music
we often get a very, very
very simple text
that doesn’t go beyond
or much deeper than face value.

And then there is quite a big difference
between Christian Music
and Liturgical Music.
Sadly,
so many in my field
just aren’t aware
or don’t have a clue.

Having made all of the criticisms
I have made above
let me also say
that there is some really great
contemporary Christian music out there.
But just because it is great Christian music
doesn’t necessarily mean
that is it great or appropriate liturgical music.

As Catholics,
we worship in community.
Some Christian music
has us worship as individuals.
Oh,
we might all be in the same church
at the same time,
but sometimes the music
puts us into private
individualistic
little worship,
in the same church with everyone else,
but separate and apart,
though physically all in one place.

Now,
having said all of the above
sometimes I think
I just think too much.
Seriously.
I mean,
a poet never runs out of words to say.
Remember,
I may be a pastoral musician
via public persona,
but I am a poet at heart.
And poets never run out of words.

The other thing
is that sometimes
people who are involved
in a particular ministry
find it very difficult
to be ministered unto
in that same ministry.
Know what I mean?
The musician
has a hard time
letting other musicians
minister unto to them.

I have been in this field
for almost 30 years.
I truly believe
my criticisms and concerns are valid.

Yet it is also true
that I don’t find it easy
to let others use music
to minister to me.
I find I’m very critical
of the text,
of the musicianship,
of it’s use at the particular time,. . .
. . . i.e.,
I think too much.

Enough words.
I heard a song yesterday
(which I had heard many, many times before)
that literally moved me to tears.
I think a part of the magic of music
is not everything I rambled about above.
A big thing about music
is where you are. . .
. . in life,
in your joy,
in your sorrow,
in your happiness,
in you sadness,
in your relationships
with God and with others. . .
when you hear the song.

. . and so,
this song made me cry.
. . . it also motived me
to blog here . . .

“Jesus, please come. . .
. . please come today. . .”
A VERY simplistic text,
very basic musically,
but a very real prayer. . . .

Faith on the Edge - Reflections on the Christmas Season

“Faith on the Edge.”
That’s the title of a book
Written by one of my favorite theologians,
Leonardo Boff.
Faith on the Edge:
Religion and Marginalized Existence.

I can’t help it.
Leonardo Boff writes
As if he accompanied me in my ministry,
In my day-to-day life.

I know, I know.
He was the one silenced by
The then Cardinal Ratzinger.
To tell the truth,
I think that’s one of the things
That has made Boff so brilliant.
Tell someone “they can’t”
And they do it (whatever “it” may be)
Much more superbly.

Anyhow,
My Advent reading this year
Included a reread of “Faith on the Edge.”
Then,
I spent Christmas in the inner city.

Boff writes:
“A point of view
is the view from a point.
Change the point
And you change the view.
There are various social loci
(commitments and practices),
and each affords
(and blocks out)
various views of reality. . .
. . .In the center
things are softer.
On the periphery
Things scream at you.
In the center,
Mechanisms of exploitation
Are invisible.
On the margins
You can see them
With the naked eye . .”
(Faith on the Edge, p. 40)

In the center
We tell a quaint little story
of Mary and Joseph
Seeking lodging.
On the margins,
We not only reenact the Gospel passage
With the Posada,
We live it, quite literally,
With fear of INS
Being in the parking lot
Across the street from the church
On Christmas Eve.
Yes, my dear friend, Leonardo,
On the margins you can see them,
These mechanisms of exploitation,
With the naked eye.

In the center
We use a doll for the Baby Jesus.
A doll:
Silent, predictable, passive.
This is, in no way, a criticism.
This is simply an observation.
The center uses a doll for the Christ child.
On the margins
We, quite literally,
Venerate the Christ child.
On the margins
We kiss the child of the nativity
(The baby Jesus from the church’s nativity),
that child who was born in a homeless shelter.
On the margins
We embrace the child
who would later become a refugee.
On the margins
We bless the child
Who would later be condemned
Simply because
nothing good comes from Galilee.

In the center
We sometimes behave as if
Writing a check will make things happen.
While our checks may buy Christmas poinsettias
To adorn our churches,
The check will not water them or tend to them.
On the margins
We sometimes have a better understanding
Of Laos ergon (the work of the people),
Picking up a broom

because petals are dropping to the floor
Or watering the flowers

simply because they need watering,
Not waiting to be asked for help,
Not waiting to be invited to participate,
But doing the work
Because the work needs to be done.

In the center
Our children’s participation in the liturgy
Must compete
With basketball, pom, dance, etc.
On the margins
It’s really not Christmas
Until and unless our children get involved.

And what is “Holy Family?”
In the center,
We favor the shorter version of the Gospel
And omit the section in brackets.
On the margins,
The elderly woman,
The prophetess named Anna,
Is not optional
but integral to the story being told,
to our story being told.

In the center
Epiphany means
We add three kings to the nativity set.
On the margins
Epiphany means all are welcome,
Even if we come from other lands,
Even if we speak differently,
Dress differently,
Worship differently.
In the center
We focus on
Gold, frankincense and myrrh.
On the margins
We understand that the magi
Made a long, arduous and necessary journey.
And we totally understand
Why the magi had to go home
By another route.
In the center
We will bless our doorways
With the initials of the three kings.
On the margins
We understand
What it means
When that same door remains closed.

In a later chapter
Boff writes of the two eyes of theology
(theologia ante et retro oculata),
One before and one after.
While writing this blog entry
I thought that my faith seeks understanding
With both eyes on the present,
With one eye on the center
And the other in the margins.
But after careful reflection
I realize that this is not the case.
The center,
It seems to me,
Tries hard to conserve truth
With an eye on the past.
And the margins
Celebrate truth
With an eye on the present.

The Good News
Is always alive, active.
The Gospels aren’t just historic documents,
They are living.
Theology seeks to understand
And this makes the Gospel
Alive and vibrant.
The Gospel
Isn’t either/or:
Either Historic
Or
Living.
They Gospels are both/and:
Historic and Living.

The Church, too,
Is both Her Center
And Her Margins.

Theologia Ante Et Retro Oculata
Thank you to the Little Lamb of Christmas,
For now I see.

I remain ever grateful
To the Merciful One
Who grants me the opportunity
To walk steadfastly
Between and within both worlds.

. . and yet. . .
because I see
and because I walk easily
between and within both realities
(the center and the margins)

I also see the challenges before me. . .

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

About the photo:

My Nativity set

Made in Mexico of Corn Husks

About the book:

Faith on The Edge

Religion and Marginalized Existence

by

Leonardo Boff, O.F.M.

Translated by

Robert R. Barr

Harper & Row, Publishers, San Francisco