Hello on a Friday the 13th,
There is so much happening in our world presently it is difficult to find a moment to breathe, or at least that is how it seems. Is my looking at all of this my version of doomscrolling or is it something more? I would like to believe that I am doing more than simply scrolling through things. I am wondering if it is because I am retired, and while I have things I am working on, there is little doubt that I have spent more time reading content and watching things like Congressional hearings, which is not something I have done in the past. My focus on what is happening nationally and internationally has always been something I find fascinating, but I do not remember a time where I read it with such perturbation and dread as I currently am. Perhaps that is why I am wondering if it is nothing more than doomscrolling. And yet, I find myself wondering if that is exactly what those in power hope . . . if it creates such angst perhaps they will walk away believing it is no use. While, once again, I will admit to being somewhat of a political junkie, I have always been intrigued by the American experiment of democracy; I have been attracted to it much like two magnets of opposite polarity, wondering how individuals from the founding of our country up until present day choose to work toward being elected to state or national office.
I think for much of my lifetime we were lead to believe in the benevolence of those elected officials to do what is best for the American people who have elected them. There was generally a foundational sense that we had a goodness, a duty, to do what was best for each other, and for the other. There was a trust, or perhaps even a faith in the principle that hard work created opportunity and that was the essence of the American dream. Of course, that was something I readily accepted as a white middle class (even if it was lower middle class) kid from Iowa. I have often stated, “I did not always get what I wanted, but I always had what I needed.” As I aged, I realized the importance of that lesson. Seldom do things happen exactly as we hope, but if we can learn to be appreciative and content we would do a lot to help ourselves, both in the moment as well as in long term expectations.
When I first met with Bishop Harold Weiss, the bishops of the synod to which I had been assigned, he asked me what I thought about receiving a call to a parish that referred to themselves as “a church of the red book.” What this referred to was a parish that had refused to adopt the LBW, a hymnal that was now a decade old. Additionally he asked how I would work with worship and my attitudes about prelation and liturgics. In all honesty, I was unsure what he asked, but a quick Rolodex of terms connected me to a prelate. So I suspected he was asking about how I understood worship. Perhaps both my work at seminary and my previous stint on a Lutheran Youth Encounter team prompted his question. Hoping I understood his question, I started with the idea that churches, specific congregations, had traditions they held to, often not even knowing why, but they held on to them tightly. I noted that if I came into a parish and turned things upside down, demonstrating no appreciation for their practices, they would have little appreciation for me. My answer was acceptable. I have revisited that exchange many times, examining the significance of tradition, of one’s history and how it establishes identity for them.
I believe in the significance of tradition and precedent for exactly those reasons; it provides a sense of identity, of predictability, and ultimately of safety. All of attributes are beneficial, but when does tradition become less than? That is something I struggle to answer, because of the dynamic nature of our society, be it in our own families, our litle corner of the world, or to the more expansive national identity or our place in the global community.
As I write today, it is now the day before Lent begins. Tradition and transformation are steeped in this day. While I did not grow up Roman Catholic, the significance of a Lenten discipline is something I have done since college. For many years, I would abstain from something during that 40 day discipline; however, at one point I transformed from giving something up to doing something for someone each day. The discipline is there, but the consequences are much more positive. The tradition remained, but my transition to doing something positive versus some sad withdrawal from something created a transformation that did not throw out the intent, or at least I hope not. As I consider my traditions, their transitions, and how I have been transformed, there is still a connecting thread. The prefix of trans, from the Latin refers to something that has moved across, exists beyond, and has passed through. There is a movement, and there is a direction, but I believe there is an underlying connection to the place before. Change is inevitable, and often occurs in such small increments, it is unrealized until something profound occurs. Much like the weathering of a building, we notice the changes, but we accept them as ordinary, as a given (like the proverbial death and taxes). What allows for transformation to be sometime positive? What allows the holding on or the connecting to tradition be something positive versus something impeding progress? These are complex questions and often fraught with emotion, furthering their complication. The require careful reflection, both self-examination as well as a willingness to be honest about our fears and fragilities. And being honest with ourselves is never easy. It requires a complete willingness to face of limitations, admit our mistakes, and a willingness to confess to the other. As I face the forty days of Lent, the penitential act of confession requires humility, but allows for reconciliation and forgiveness.
Lately, I have struggled with a number of things I believe break tradition, ignore precedent, and as evidenced by myself, created division, all of which are disconcerting. I have responded to the profound disunity less charitably than I do, and that has caused both others and myself pain. Even now I find a need to slow down and step back, taking the time to examine my understanding of tradition, of how our world changes, and where I fit in it all. Thank goodness for the season of Lent and its focus on spiritual renewal – something one can never do too often.
Thank you as always for reading,
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 