We know the scene: 
the room, variously furnished, almost always a lectern, a book; always the tall lily.
       
Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings, the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,whom she acknowledges, a guest.

But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
       The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.

         God waited.

She was free to accept or to refuse, choice integral to humanness.      
           
 ____________________

Aren’t there annunciations of one sort or another in most lives?

         Some unwillingly undertake great destinies, enact them in sullen pride, uncomprehending.
More often those moments when roads of light and storm open from darkness in a man or woman, are turned away from in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.                                 
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.
                  ____________________

She had been a child who played, ate, slept like any other child–but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence fused in her, indivisible.

Called to a destiny more momentous than any in all of Time, she did not quail,
only asked a simple, ‘How can this be?’ and gravely, courteously, took to heart the angel’s reply, the astounding ministry she was offered:

to bear in her womb Infinite weight and lightness; to carry in hidden, finite inwardness, nine months of Eternity; to contain in slender vase of being, the sum of power–in narrow flesh, the sum of light.
 
Then bring to birth, push out into air, a Man-child needing, like any other, milk and love–
but who was God.


This was the moment no one speaks of,
when she could still refuse.

A breath unbreathed,
                                Spirit,
                                          suspended,
                                                            waiting.
                  ____________________

She did not cry, ‘I cannot. I am not worthy,’
Nor, ‘I have not the strength.’
She did not submit with gritted teeth,
                                                       raging, coerced.
Bravest of all humans,
                                  consent illumined her.
The room filled with its light,
the lily glowed in it,
                               and the iridescent wings.
Consent,
              courage unparalleled,
opened her utterly.
 

  What is popular music doing in our Sunday morning worship service?  I’m thinking of a couple of recent examples: Lynn singing Aimee Mann’s “Save Me” a few months back or Sean singing Marc Cohen’s “The Things We’ve Handed Down” on Father’s Day. What does it mean to have recording artist level renditions of pieces like this rubbing shoulders with hymns, choir, scripture readings, and prayers?

  To me it’s as simple as this. We believe and say that faith changes our lives and meets us closest to home, with the things that matter the most. We come to worship and plop ourselves down and take inventory: this is the me that’s here today, feeling tired or burned out in this way, or excited and thankful in that way, or upset in a some nameless way. This is where I need God to meet me. Popular music, at its best, has a way of putting a finger on exactly some such conditions. It blurts out or embodies some elemental moment in life. Its power is to represent that experience so we freshly recognize it in ourselves or are stunned to see it revealed so nakedly in another. We lose track that the faith whose expression has been encased in the form of the church’s greatest hits, its oldies, is directly related to those moments, not some special “made for church” problems.

Talk about being saved may have walled itself off in a narrow precinct policed by ideas of judgment and afterlife. But Aimee Mann takes us straight out of that ghetto:

You look like... a perfect fit,
For a girl in need... of a tourniquet.
But can you save me?
Come on and save me...
If you could save me,
From the ranks of the freaks,
Who suspect they could never love anyone.

 'Cause I can tell... you know what it's like.
A long farewell... of the hunger strike.
But can you save me?
Come on and save me...
If you could save me,
From the ranks of the freaks,
Who suspect they could never love anyone.

We can get caught up and embarrassed with the thought “This song is about romance, or sex and the only way it is slipping into church is that we are closing our eyes (and plugging our ears) to the obvious and talking loudly and nervously about metaphors." The point isn’t that the song isn’t about human love; it is that the raw longing it expresses---the fear, for instance, that I may not be able to love and be loved—is exactly what faith is about. On the most encompassing level we can know. It may not only be about what Aimee Mann is singing about. But it’s not different from what she’s singing about. Frederick Buechner said vocation is about finding where our deepest gladness meets the world’s deepest need. We Jesus trailers think faith is about where God’s best news meets our most honest selves. Music like this helps us bring our most honest selves to that appointment. A piece of music like this lays it out there: “this is the way it is with me.” At least sometimes. Like any prayer or sermon, it might not be dramatically true for everyone on that day and time. But it is an example of how we honestly are. And it poses the good question: what does the rest of what we are doing and saying here have to do with that?

     Oh, and why not just play the Aimee Mann CD on the sound system during church? I wouldn’t rule it out—and most churches don’t have any good alternative. But that’s the consumer mode that is popular music’s normal setting (and ours). It’s a special gift to have Sean and Lynn, who can share it on the same musical level but with a heart for the connection we’ve just described, as an act of worship and community. Is popular music infecting our worship? I see it the opposite way around. I can’t hear Aimee Mann’s song ever again without thinking she’s in church. I think she's singing our song.

What a fascinating morning we had with Xochitl on Sunday (I can never look at those letters and hear the way it sounds: “So-chee”!). Her conversation with Sean in the morning worship was so down to earth about all the aspects of her mixed identity and the many ways they make her both an insider and an outsider - in the church like other places.  During their conversation and in the group discussion that followed, it was her passion for the Gospel of Mark that struck me most. She loves that book. No doubt about it.

                The passage for the day, Mark 7:24-30, brings out all kinds of thoughts.  The gentile woman (Jesus and she are insider/outsider to each other) asks for healing for her daughter and Jesus says “Let the children be fed first, for it isn’t right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” To which she snaps right back, “Yes, Lord; but even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”  Jesus capitulates, “For this saying you may go your way….” And she goes home to find her daughter healed. It sounds like Jesus did not heal in spite of the sass but because of it.  That’s the thing, Xochitl said. This woman would not be deterred. She knew Jesus had healing in there somewhere and she was going for it. Our group tiptoed a bit around whether Jesus has to always be the hero of his own story…whether he would be willing to look bad to make a point, or whether he could even be wrong as part of that whole huge project of becoming human to fix what’s wrong with being human.  But for Jesus and the  writer of Mark it’s pretty clear this act belongs to the woman.  Jesus may be God. But she’s right about how God ought to be, and he’s not.  Maybe what we see here is the danger of Jesus clinging a little too tightly to his role and place. If so, he certainly learned the lesson.

                I asked Xochitl how we could hope to bridge the gap between those in a congregation like ours and those in her pub church. The same beautiful building that is “storied” with memories of joy and peace for many inside it is “storied” for others with layers of pain and indifference….just as a bar that is lovingly called a “dive” may not conjure up a vision of church for some.  It’s the same good news for both, she said. And, after thinking longer, she said. It’s not about changing who you are, but it is about holding it more lightly. Today, thinking back, I see that as the lesson Jesus learned. Maybe I can.

                By the way, for some great further reflections on Jesus and the sassy woman, see Mary Luti’s reflections at http://sicutlocutusest.com/2012/09/17/what-if-jesus-and-the-syro-phoenician-woman/ .

S. Mark Heim is the Chairman of the FBC Council and Samuel Abbot Professor of Christian Theology and Andover-Newton Theological School.  He is author of Salvations: Truth and Difference in Religion, The Depth of the Riches: A Trinitarian Theology of Religious Ends and, most recently, Saved From Sacrifice: A Theology of the Cross (Eerdmans, 2006).

Xochitl Alvizo will join us this Sunday for a conversation about her work at the Boston University Center for Practical Theology and about Pub Church (Boston). Xochitl is no stranger to FBC, having partnered with us on gatherings with Peter Rollins and Brian McClaren.  

Xochitl Alvizo is a Ph.D. candidate in Practical Theology at Boston University with a concentration in Church and Community. She focuses on Congregational Studies, Ecclesiology, Feminist Theology, and the Emerging Church. Her dissertation research will involve a feminist analysis of the developing ecclesiology of emerging churches. She is in the ordination process with the (Christian Church) Disciples of Christ and co-founder of the Pub Church, Boston. She is also co-founder and daily project weaver of Feminism and Religion [www.feminismandreligion.com], an international online project that brings together a diversity of voices in feminism and religion at the intersection of scholarship, activism, and community. She was born and raised in Los Angeles, California.

Xochitl and I will have a conversation during the service and be available at 11:15a for further conversation.  As you might expect, I will ask her about "love without measure."

Our conversation will include reflecting on our reading for the day, Mark 7:24-37. Maybe

Begin with adults.

[Moving forward, I will use the term "students" in place of "youth". In my experience, using the term "youth" has a subtle minimizing effect which is easily abused by adults. This is certainly not universal or provable.  However, referring to my "younger friends" and to "students" has always felt more honoring.]

There is no Biblical precedent for student ministry other than perhaps (1) Jesus' affinity for children, (2) God's affinity for the marginalized, and (3) Jesus Disciples who were likely all in their teens. Student ministry begins not with a Biblical mandate, but in the heart of an adult who cares about specific individuals.  A student ministry begins with a group of adults who share a desire to meet the unique needs of students in a particular context as an expression of gratitude.  

• What are the unique needs of students in your church, your neighborhood, your community?
• What needs might you be unique qualified of gifted to meet? What needs are you NOT in a position to address?

Make a point to go out into your community and ask people, especially students. No one person will give you the key, but you may be the only person asking many people. Also, ask people who know you well what they think you are good at and if they think it's a good idea for you to get involved with students. In general, if you are in a time of major transition, you are unlikely to have the emotional margin to build friendships with students. In fact, you are likely to hurt them by unconsciously seeking to get your own needs met through them.

Dear Friends,
I am pleased to announce that The Gallery at FBC is on its way, and things are happening! Right now there is an ongoing exhibition of hand sculptures entitled, "We Create". It began as a supplement to the creation story, when Melissa and I spoke during Kids' Time a few weeks ago. We linked God's creation of the entire universe with his hands to the idea that hands are a very powerful symbol, and we can create anything with our own hands. We created replicas of the kids' hands using a mold and plaster. It was a very exciting process, especially when Melissa and I were able to uncover the hands later in the week as we freed them from the mold!

I took this idea of powerful hands another step further by physically linking them from the bookcase to the "sky", now appearing in the gallery. This link seeks to explain our connection to God as individuals and as a community. The way in which the string is tied onto one finger mimics how one might "keep a promise" to maintain a relationship with God.

Coming soon is a chance for FBC members and friends to partake in a show entitled, "Small Victories". This show of small works in a variety of media will encompass the other half of the gallery, and it will unveil the small victories that we depend on to survive our stress-filled days and to keep moving forward. Anyone can apply by sending me an email at nsbellucci@gmail.com.

The opening for this show will take place on October 20th, following the Newton Centre Harvest Fair, beginning at 4pm. It will include musical performances, poetry, and food!

Finally, I just want to thank everyone who has been so supportive with the development of the gallery. It has allowed me a new outlet for creating, and I see it as an opportunity for others to grow as well. I look forward to finding new friends in art!

Sincerely,

Nina Bellucci

"Bring the boy to me." - Jesus

Churches have worked hard at engaging adolescents for as long as there has been adolescence….which may not be as long as you think. "Adolescence" as a theory does not appear until the late nineteenth century and is defined as a period of "storm and stress" between the ages of 12 and 24.  While "youth ministry" appears in the form of Sunday school and the YMCA before 1900, it is not until the post war boom during the 1950's that "adolescence" moves from idea to fact. Rock music also arrives in the '50's. 

The unprecedented number of adolescents combined with post-war economic prosperity creates, for the first time, a youth or adolescent culture.  Teens would soon become the demographic with the largest amount of disposable income.  As adolescence grows as a cultural phenomenon, so does the anxiety of adults.  Fueled largely by anxiety, "youth ministry" closes the 20th century as a small industry with millions of dollars spent on programs, training, staff, camps, and trips designed to help adolescents.

Despite the development of youth ministry as a field, defining the outcomes of youth ministry has been a question of debate.  When is a youth ministry effective?  Churches with busy youth ministries attract people, especially anxious parents of early adolescents.  However, people and programs driven by the busy-ness of subterranean anxiety can undermine an adolescents opportunity to enjoy a rich life of faith.  Additionally, acknowledging that participation in youth ministry as an adolescent does not translate to church participation as an adult is important for churches to consider.

How would you measure the anxiety level of your family or primary community?
How would you know if your family or primary community was "anxiety driven"?

A distraught father had moved from anxiety to despair and describes his son's condition to Jesus. Jesus replies, "Bring the boy to me," and his son is healed.

If it were only that easy. One note of encouragement, though.  Apparently, the boy's healing is not based on behavior, alignent with his parents doctrine, of even "faith" at all.  What this passage offers is a glimpse into a way of approaching "youth ministry" which releases communities from anxiety causing expectations and an entry point into a life of "spiritual hospitality".