Wednesday, May 15, 2013

And Deliver Us from Eagles




Two favorite hymns of people are “On Eagles’ Wings” and “His Eye Is on the Sparrow.”  The two hymns are both about birds.  Interesting isn’t it?  They are totally opposite variations of bird species.  The hymns reflect that difference.  “On Eagles’ Wings” sings of the Good Lord who is strong and valiant holding his children in the palm of his strong hand.  “His Eye is on the Sparrow” is a more pastoral message caring for all the little, helpless sparrows like a loving mother.  Eagles and sparrows certainly become an odd couple, don’t they?

Many moons ago when I was a baby pastor a colleague told the parable of eagles and sparrows in the church. I may embellish a little.  (The analogy fits most volunteer groups because it is about human nature.)  He said there are eagles and there are sparrows.  Eagles make the place look splendid.  Their noble stature becomes a reflection of the institution. Everyone driving by sees the eagles and takes pictures of the eagles.  Sparrows are in the background flittering around also needing to be fed.  Without ceremony they get their job done being fed and feeding one another.  But then the cameras are put away and the eagles end up scaring away the sparrows.  The sparrows begin to wonder if it is a safe place anymore.

I would say this is a universal condition whenever we gather.  It happens at St. Philomena’s Catholic Church, at Generic Lutheran Church, at the Grand Order of Buffaloes, at the Loyal Daughters of Jupiter, and at Suburbia Elementary PTA.

Oh, I have seen my share of eagles over the years. In my case, it has been at Generic Lutheran Church.  I’ve seen eagles scare sparrows out of study groups that were designed with the sparrow in mind.  I’ve seen eagles scare sparrows out of the choir loft; scare sparrows from junior leadership positions; scare sparrows out of kitchens, sacristies, parking lots, and garden spots.  The sparrows begin to wonder if it is a safe place anymore.

Enter the emerging church:  those are the untraditional communities of faith that don’t look like their parents’ iconic churches.  They are the communities made up of Gen-Xers, Millennial Agers and a scattering of Boomers, students and hipsters, social activists and unchurched people in search of community.  They are sparrows who have nested together.  If someone begins to sound like their eagle parent, they are called out for their offense to the nature of the community.  They are committed sparrows.  Sparrows rock!

We need eagles.  Eagles take on necessary leadership roles.  Eagles initiate programs.  Eagles know the history. Eagles might be bankrolling the organization.  But eagles need to be reminded that they are eagles.  Eagles need to soar humbly and lovingly otherwise they become too “eagle-icious.”

Why can’t we all be robins?

Friday, May 10, 2013

The Sound of Kaleidoscopes



I like to think I have a colorful personality.  Maybe there is a neurological quirk that explains it.  Some months ago while listening to Public Radio, there was a segment about  synesthesia.  It is a neurological condition by which the stimulation of one sensory system involuntarily stimulates a secondary sensory system.  I might be a dumb guy because I never heard of the condition but now, I find it extremely exciting.  Synesthesia is not a troublesome condition unless it goes to an extreme in an individual.  In fact, synesthesia can aid a person in their creativity and productivity.

I find the thingamabob intriguing.  I will call it a thingamabob because “condition” makes it sound like there should be a telethon or a 12-step program for synesthesia.  It is intriguing because I think as a child I experienced it.  For my 6th or 7th birthday I received two striped t-shirts.  One was blue and yellow and the other was red and green.  The blue and yellow shirt I called my 6+4 shirt and the other was my 7+3 shirt because those were the number that the colors represented for me.  Being the ever-transparent schoolboy, I explained the correlation to my family.  The explanation was received immediately with laughter and scoffing.  Thus, I repressed any further synesthetic connection between colors and numbers.

People with full-blown synesthesia tell of their mental processes.  As I have mentioned, some people might think of it as a malady.  I think the possibilities are endless. Usually thesecondary sense stimulated is color. In the radio interview I listened to, a young man told how music is a kaleidoscope of color.  Composing music for him is also a coordination of colors.  It raises the question if some of the master composers of the ages were also synesthetes. This makes me wonder if those people who play by ear (a talent I would kill for) have a form of synesthesia.  Golly, have those electric keyboards with color-coded keys screwed up any synesthete who could have been the next Liberace?

Other synesthetes connect numbers and colors.  These are people who do rainbow mathematics in far more advanced forms than my banal 6+4 and 7+3 t-shirts. The complexity of advanced mathematics must look like the largest box of Crayola crayons possible within their minds.  That would mean to me that an abstract subject like math becomes a little more concrete and visual.  On the flip side, there are synesthetes who see art (abstract and traditional) as numbers developing a pattern or a formula.  Again, may some of the great master painters have had a correlation of color and numbers.

Still other synesthetes give color associations to their sense of taste.  Different foods or tastes stimulate visions of color for the individual.  Broccoli may be green but will taste “violet.” Apples may be sky blue. One interviewee sampled a glass of chardonnay and said it was aqua. I could see an individual being a picky eater because they do not want their foods to clash.

Here’s my point:  synesthesia is a thingamabob far more than a condition.  Unless the thingamabob gets out of hand I would think synesthesia might really be a real enhancement to a person’s perception of life.  Meanwhile, I regret that my erstwhile visit to synesthesia had not been repressed.  It would have made balancing the checkbook much prettier.