Bird Songs: Creation at Play

I have been feeling the need to get away and collect myself for a bit, so I decided to take this week and drive down to Toccoa, GA and spend some time with a group of my old college friends.  Toccoa is beautiful this time of year.  It is right on the edge of the southernmost Appalachians.  The area is full of dense forests, mountain streams, and plenty of waterfalls.

Yesterday I decided to take a walk in the woods and try to get some thinking done.  The forest canopy was thick and all along the way I was sung to by choruses of birds.  As I walked along the forest path along gentle streams and amidst wildflowers blooming, I could feel my spirits lifting just being outside in creation.

Maybe you believe in a higher power, maybe you don’t.  Regardless, looking at nature you’ve got to appreciate how excessive it all is.  There are so many textures, sounds, colors, it is mind boggling.  I remember reading once that the human brain must quickly develop an ability to focus on certain details, or else our minds would overload.  We are never, it seems, wholly conscious of everything that is going on, everything that we could be aware of.  A grown oak tree has millions of leaves.  The natural world has an absurd amount of detail.

I was taking all this in when I heard the laughter of my favorite bird, the Pileated woodpecker.  If you’ve never heard their call, it is really quite thrilling and nearly impossible to mistake (worth checking out online). The German theologian Jergen Moltmann once said, “Creation is God’s play, play of his groundless and inscrutable wisdom.  It is the realm in which God displays his glory.”  I can believe that when I hear the Pileat.  Incidentally, in the southern Appalachians, Pileated Woodpeckers were sometimes referred to as “The Lord God Bird.”

The creator was at play when he made the world.  It was frivolous, excessive, an act that needed no purpose, justification, or motivation.  From Moltmann again, the creator “did not have to create something to realize himself.  As we were saying, he has brought forth his creation to enjoy it.”  And the creation, in turn, enjoys itself.  Why does a Sparrow sing or The Lord God Bird laugh?  It sings itself.  It needs no reason to sing.  It sings to enjoy its song, to delight in its very existence.  The bird’s only purpose, if it can be called a purpose, is to take joy in its existence, in the existence of the creation surrounding it, and in the existence of its creator.  The birdsong is the vehicle which The Lord God Bird uses.  This is the demonstrative joy of existence.

But existence itself, the creation, is marred.  When we speak of joy we must inevitably speak of sorrow.  The birds have forgotten how to enjoy humanity and we have forgotten to enjoy The Lord God Bird.  Pain and death are realities, and they are found in birdsong.  For each laugh that The Lord God Bird lets out, there is another song of sorrow heard with equal frequency.

So we humans must learn remember to make song, to find joy in our very existence, in the existence of creation, and in the existence of the creator.  We do that through play, through creativity, through purposeful living, through listening to birdsong.  We also sing our sorrow, and there must be a place for that.  Andrew Bird, so aptly named, demonstrates demonstrative joy in existence.  I finally realized why I like him so much.  His lyrics may not necesarily have purpose or meaning that I can fully understand, but his songs are like beautiful games to me. Again, Moltmann says, “a game is meaningful within itself but it must appear useless and purposeless from an outside point of view.”  His songs pervade joy, and in an instant, sorrow.

I am sparrow, myself I sing.  No more is needed.  This post is a conglomerate of thoughts inspired by Jurgen Moltmann, Annie Dillard, Andrew Bird, and of course, The Lord God Bird.

young evangelicals: an identity crisis (part 2 – nature)

I fully intend to explore this topic more fully in subsequent posts, but I’m itching to get something out before I explode.  Aaron Pluim was definitely correct in his assertions that we write (or blog) in order to achieve some level of catharsis.  I write to clear my head most of the time.

Allow me to get back to the point: I’ve been thinking about nature ever since I was a child.  I was raised in the beautiful hills of upstate New York’s Finger Lakes region.  I spent hours and hours in the maple wood forest behind my house.  My dad’s hobby/art has always been vegetable gardening.  I grew up, consequently, and incidentally, much closer to nature than many of my counterparts:  a majority of Americans live in cities and suburbs.

The topic of nature has had renewed personal interest with me because of several recent developments in my life.  For starters, I just moved from the southern Appalachians of Northeast Georgia (where I spent four years of college), to an urban setting just outside of Pittsburgh.  I can no longer walk out my door and encounter nature in the form of running water and mountain trails.  I’ve also been reading Annie Dillard and Wendell Berry, who both talk frequently about creation.

In Dillard’s For the Time Being I encountered a certain term for the first time: panentheism. Unlike traditional theism that espouses that God is totally separate from creation, or traditional pantheism that equates God with creation, pan-en-theism appears to be some form of hybrid.   God has created all things, and is in all things, while at the same time preexisting creation and remaining distinct from creation (wow, wrap your head around that…so much for plain talk about religion!).

I don’t really know much about panentheism.  I’ve started discussing the topic with some eastern orthodox believers.  I think, and you’re welcome to correct me, that the eastern and oriental orthodox christian  traditions hold to beliefs comparable to panentheism.  I also think, incidentally, that Wendell Berry holds a comparable stance toward nature.

So what?  Well, think about it, doesn’t the notion that God is part of his creation (which makes sense from a creator/creation, artist/art standpoint in my mind), and that the creation is somehow part of God, have drastic implications on how we treat the natural world?  Wouldn’t we quit poisoning the planet?  Wouldn’t we sorrow for what we’ve done to God’s living, including plants, animals, and his physical creation?  God created the world and called it good.  An artist creates a painting and finds value in it.  In both situations, a part of the creator has merged with the creation.  To trash the creation is to insult and reject a part of the creator.

Perhaps it is the protestant traditionally theistic view of God and Nature that has allowed us to become so divorced from the natural world.  If God created the world and no longer has a vested interest in its vitality, then why wouldn’t we rob creation to shit (which is what we are doing, and whats worse, we’ve come so far we don’t know how to revert–that is pointing the finger at myself here too).

That’s enough for now…

young evangelicals: an identity crisis (part 1)

Alright, so I’ve  learned that some people actually read my blog.  That gives me some satisfaction (even though half read it because they know me, and half stumble upon it by accident).

I’ve been thinking about the topic of young evangelical identity lately as a possible paper topic for a conference being held at my Alma Mater.  Carson Clark, a friend of mine who is organizing the event, asked me to participate, though I’m not sure I will.

Regardless of whether I submit a paper or not, the idea of young evangelical identity has been fermenting in my mind recently.  Since graduating from a very conservative evangelical Bible college, I have had some time to think.  For me, and for several of my friends, attending a Christian college like Toccoa was one of the most difficult experiences of my life.  Surrounded by Christians I found myself feeling alone, especially when it came to issues I found important (reverence, art/aesthetics, pacifism/non-violence, social issues, environmental concern/sustainability, church history, racial reconciliation).

Over the course of college, I had several friends who felt the same way.  One converted to Anglicanism, one to Catholicism, and one is seriously considering Eastern Orthodoxy.  I knew of several others who considered themselves post-modern Christians (whatever that means,  I guess they were aligning more with McClaren, etc.).  At the same time I was reading material like Irresistible Revolution by other young evangelicals who were calling themselves a New Monasticism.  And then there were my friends who left the faith completely…With my interest in the anabaptist faith then, here were a handful of young evangelicals that I knew, or knew of, who were literally flocking to everything save the faith they were raised in.

This past month I had the opportunity to visit another fairly conservative Christian college out in Indiana.  I was intrigued to discover that there were several folks out there having the same conversations and issues regarding the evangelical faith they were brought up in.  I stayed for four days with a couple of guys, one was in the process of being confirmed in the catholic faith, the other was working as a catholic minister, both were raised evangelical protestant.

My hypotheses is that this is a nationwide trend.  Young evangelicals are leaving the faith in droves.  They are becoming catholics, anabaptists, emergents, anglicans, eastern orthodox, and new monastics in order to become better disciples of Jesus.  I’m not sure all that is involved in this radical departure from the faith of our youth, but I have some ideas which I hope to explore in later posts:

• The American evangelical protestant expression of Christianity seriously lacks an appreciation for mystery, beauty, and art: Most (if not all) of the people I’ve met firsthand who have left the faith, have been artists of one kind or another.  I think this is a serious issue and I’ll explore that later.
• The American evangelical protestant expression of Christianity has all but aligned itself with outright support of unjust and economically motivated wars, and our American culture of violence and “right to self-defense” (I think this trend is slowly changing).
• The American evangelical protestant expression of Christianity has adopted the American ahistorical culture.  We are disconnected from the previous generation, and every generation prior to our own.  “Church History” means, all to often, studying the Book of Acts.  We have little or no knowledge of the saints or much of the rest of Christian history.  This has created a movement wide identity crisis: we call ourselves evangelical but we don’t know what that means or where we come from (though we call it Luther and brag about the 95 Theses).
• The American evangelical protestant expression of Christianity is divorced from nature (again, like the predominant American culture).  As Wendell Berry has wisely, and simply, put it, “Land that is used will be ruined unless it is properly cared for.”  The story of America has been the exploitation of our natural resources, and of all people, God fearers should be most appalled by the damaging of his creation which is under our care.

I’ve been thinking about seeing

This past week was spring break. I drove down to Orlando with my girlfriend to spend a few days together with my brother and sister. It was a much needed break from school. I brought all kinds of homework with me (and managed to do none of it) as well as one book for pleasure. I decided on Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. Dillard might be one of my favorite living American prose writers.

Pilgrim is a series of reflective thoughts that Ms. Dillard has while living by Tinker Creek in Virginia. It is brilliantly written and filled with profundity. It is unpretentious, easily accessible, but deep as anything I’ve read. Although not spiritual in nature, its theology is profound. Dillard packs nuggets of truth in a stealthy way that takes your breath away.

In chapter two, entitled “Seeing” I read this paragraph that made me literally stop and pause. I read it while waiting for Deanna at the airport, and I had her read it while we drove in the car together.

I’ve been thinking about seeing. There are lots of things to see, unwrapped gifts and free surprises. The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside from a generous hand. But–and this is the point–who gets excited by a mere penny? IF you follow one arrow, if you crouch motionless on a bank to watch a tremulous ripple thrill on the water and are rewarded by the sight of a muskrat kit paddling from its den, will you count that sight as a chip of copper only, and go your rueful way? It is dire poverty indeed when a man is so malnourished and fatigued that he won’t stoop to pick up a penny. But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days. It is that simple. What you see is what you get.

What a great way to start of Spring break. For the past week, I’ve been surrounded by pennies, by little things that have been planted in my life that bring life. My sister had a baby two months ago, and my little niece Shannon is an awe inspiring little creature. Every child is a wonder!

Tuesday Deanna got up at 5:00am (are you kidding me? On Spring break?!), drove an hour and a half, and planted ourselves on the Atlantic shore just to catch the sunrise. Unfortunately it was cloudy, but man we had a great time watching the world brighten up, and that on a cloudy day!

Later that same day we went on a hike and watched birds, a family of raccoons, beautiful butterflies, and trees that looked like they could come alive and teach us great mysteries.

Yes, the world is full of wonder, but we so seldom look at it. I’m presently struck by a memory I have of walking down a sidewalk in Aliquippa. I was on my way to visit Cecelia. The sidewalk was crooked and bent, broken and in disrepair. But out of this cement ruin there was a great big maple tree, growing practically out of the sidewalk itself. I imagine a small maple seed falling into a crack, and then years and years later, it burst forth into this magnificent tree. Human infrastructure can not hold back the power and wonder of nature. And there is so much we do not know about the tiniest maple seed!

And I’m reminded of Cecelia, who I was going to visit that day I saw the maple tree. Cecelia is a 56 year old women I met in Summer 2006. She had a stroke some years back so she stays inside most of the day. I met her one day when I was angry to be passing out fliers, hot from being in the sun, and fighting a cold. The last thing I wanted to do was to knock on another door and talk about day camp, but I begrudgingly knocked on her door, hoping no one would answer. But I met Cecelia that day, and fell in love with her. She has become a grandmother to me (all my grandparents died when I was very young). How many Cecelias are there out there that we pass by every day?

I’m trying to learn how to see.