One of my ministry gifts is being able to see things with fresh eyes. One of my favorite parts of motherhood is watching my girls learn things and experience them for the first time. Seeing through the eyes of a child is truly wonderful. I often use the technique of defamiliarization in sermons to let us get at old stories and reveal something new.
In central Kansas, we are in the calm before the storm. Pastors in NY and other overwhelmed places are writing out and saying that first come the online worship services and the questions about how to be community. But soon those concerns change to “How do I comfort the dying when they are quarantined?” “How do I comfort the widow in quarantine?” “Do I livestream a funeral??” As Joy Harjo writes, “What shall I do with all this heartache?”
I have hope in many things: the Reign of God, the resurrection of the dead, transformation of the self to be more Christ-like---and we know that sort of hope does not disappoint.
I, however, have little hope that Wichita will be spared death and devastation. Perhaps we have flattened the curve and improved the odds. I pray so. I do not, as of yet, know anyone who has tested positive. I do not know anyone who knows someone who has died. But, I expect, by Easter that will no longer be the case.
I’m a part of a number of pastor groups, and they are freaking out about what we are supposed to DO. I suspect there are a number of motivators for doing and doing---guilt over not gathering for worship, worry about finances, the tendency of pastors to over function for others rather than working on our own emotions. Melissa Florer-Bixler called me out (nicely) in prayer group (also in this article, but not by name) reminding me that my function is as Pastor and Shepherd and not entertainer.
OK, that brings me to Easter.
I am seeing SO MUCH material online about how to do bigger, better, more elaborate Easters as if to somehow make up for not physically gathering. Build at home altars. All-day, paper-Jesus scavenger hunts for kiddos. Drive-in movie church. Elaborate recorded productions. Communal zoom breakfasts. Giant sidewalk chalked art pieces.
People are scared and they are reacting not in a Sabbath-way, but in distraction, as if doing and doing can somehow allay our fears. How American is it to react to all this by trying to have MORE?
It is a denial of our humanity, a denial that we are running a marathon and not a sprint, denial that everything is indeed not okay.
Moreover, it is more about the socio-cultural aspects of Easter than the biblical Easter. Jesus is our savior--_not production and consumption, not spectacle or even four-part-harmony. Our worth is not in how many bricks we can make for Pharaoh, but in our Imago Dei.
AMBS professor Safwat Marzouk shared:
My proposal is a stripped down, first-century Easter. A celebration, yes, but a celebration by people in quarantine. Scared people. Tired people. People in need of the hope of the resurrection. Jesus rising from the dead was and is Good News, and those first hearers of that news were persecuted and martyred and lived under the threat of death. They were not hunting eggs in pastel dresses. (I have not yet researched how the early Anabaptists did Easter, but it’s probably an informative model.)
I propose that rather than compensating with activities to fill our time, or snazzy compilation videos, or reinventing everything, we truly experience the Good News of the resurrection in these bodies and in these circumstances. Bodies that may be experiencing deep grief in two weeks.
Part of the Good News is that grief and joy, sorrow and hope coexist.
Let’s rejoice as we are led and weep as we are led, but let’s not manufacture something. Instead, let’s peel back the layers of manufacturing that make us think that Easter must be celebrated in a certain way and instead defamilarized ourselves. Let us see the story through new eyes.
" Defamiliarization is the artistic technique of presenting to audiences common things in an unfamiliar or strange way in order to enhance perception of the familiar."
 |
|
Title |
I have hope in many things: the Reign of God, the resurrection of the dead, transformation of the self to be more Christ-like---and we know that sort of hope does not disappoint.
I’m a part of a number of pastor groups, and they are freaking out about what we are supposed to DO. I suspect there are a number of motivators for doing and doing---guilt over not gathering for worship, worry about finances, the tendency of pastors to over function for others rather than working on our own emotions. Melissa Florer-Bixler called me out (nicely) in prayer group (also in this article, but not by name) reminding me that my function is as Pastor and Shepherd and not entertainer.
OK, that brings me to Easter.
I am seeing SO MUCH material online about how to do bigger, better, more elaborate Easters as if to somehow make up for not physically gathering. Build at home altars. All-day, paper-Jesus scavenger hunts for kiddos. Drive-in movie church. Elaborate recorded productions. Communal zoom breakfasts. Giant sidewalk chalked art pieces.
People are scared and they are reacting not in a Sabbath-way, but in distraction, as if doing and doing can somehow allay our fears. How American is it to react to all this by trying to have MORE?
It is a denial of our humanity, a denial that we are running a marathon and not a sprint, denial that everything is indeed not okay.
Moreover, it is more about the socio-cultural aspects of Easter than the biblical Easter. Jesus is our savior--_not production and consumption, not spectacle or even four-part-harmony. Our worth is not in how many bricks we can make for Pharaoh, but in our Imago Dei.
AMBS professor Safwat Marzouk shared:
My proposal is a stripped down, first-century Easter. A celebration, yes, but a celebration by people in quarantine. Scared people. Tired people. People in need of the hope of the resurrection. Jesus rising from the dead was and is Good News, and those first hearers of that news were persecuted and martyred and lived under the threat of death. They were not hunting eggs in pastel dresses. (I have not yet researched how the early Anabaptists did Easter, but it’s probably an informative model.)
I propose that rather than compensating with activities to fill our time, or snazzy compilation videos, or reinventing everything, we truly experience the Good News of the resurrection in these bodies and in these circumstances. Bodies that may be experiencing deep grief in two weeks.
Part of the Good News is that grief and joy, sorrow and hope coexist.
Let’s rejoice as we are led and weep as we are led, but let’s not manufacture something. Instead, let’s peel back the layers of manufacturing that make us think that Easter must be celebrated in a certain way and instead defamilarized ourselves. Let us see the story through new eyes.
Comments
Post a Comment