You can learn more about Richter’s work here. I first learned about his work in this film, which focused on his abstract painting. But the image above, Betty, is captivating for its color, depth, and mystery; it is a painting I’ve viewed again and again.
This much discussed report by Bari Weiss, “The Miseducation of America’s Elites,” is worth a look. Her findings are troubling. Disturbing. Unsettling. But are they surprising? I don’t think so.
There’s a long debate that spans history about education–what it is, how it is done, who is responsible for doing it, and what its proper end should be. One end of education is socialization. The advancement, preservation, discovery and transmission of knowledge, imparting wisdom, and moral formation are other ends. Some educational traditions and institutions combine aims.
It is hard to read Weiss’ reporting on Harvard-Westlake, an elite private school in Los Angeles, and not conclude that socialization is of vital importance, if not for the school, then certainly for the parents. These parents choose to send their children to this school, even if their children tell them “they’re afraid to speak up in class.”
The parents are afraid to speak up, too. They’re concerned about the ideology that is being taught but not enough to go elsewhere. They’re willing to suffer discomfort to gain the connections. It’s a trade.
Weiss also reports on dynamics at a comparable East Coast school; the same logic holds.
These parents, who insisted on maintaining anonymity for this report, may not like what’s taking place at their schools. But they’re willing to accept it if they continue to believe that participation in these schools will help their children–and them–to benefit socially.
Ideological trends tend to continue until people find the courage to object. What is allowed will continue.
Alan Jacobs raises the right question, “But there’s one question that I think everyone reading such stories should ask: Will the students believe what they are taught? “
Weiss reports, “The idea of lying in order to please a teacher seems like a phenomenon from the Soviet Union. But the high schoolers I spoke with said that they do versions of this, including parroting views they don’t believe in assignments so that their grades don’t suffer.”
They already don’t believe it; they know how the game is played.
Jacobs observes, “I suspect that such a system is less likely to produce True Woke Believers than to produce young people who are thoroughly cynical about education and about the dishonesty and hypocrisy of educators. And that might be a worse outcome.”
I think he’s right on both counts, concerning both what such a system will render and that such an outcome is worse.
My son said, “He’s really talented.”
It’s a cool trick, anyway, good for conversation and some thought about the history of the United States.
Ronaldinho’s juggling, particularly his play off the crossbar, demonstrates incredible skill, mastery with the ball, and evidence of consistent, steady, diligent, and focused practice. I showed this clip to my kids and we talked about how one comes to possess such mastery in sport and in other arenas of life.
If you watch the entire Ronaldinho highlight package, you will see a player who demonstrates freedom on the pitch, the kind of freedom that arises from command and discipline over skills and competencies that he has come to possess through the means and modalities of training.
I once heard Dallas Willard say that there is much we can learn about spiritual formation from sport, particularly when an athlete is seen to perform at the highest level. Any person who displays such grace, creativity, fluidity, and effortlessness, any person who delivers in a clutch moment or who displays brilliance does so largely because they have been well prepared by training, practice, and the exercise of various disciplines that have become part and parcel of their chosen sport.
There is natural ability, of course, and intelligence. But that natural ability has been harnessed, refined, and channeled toward particularly ends, which the occasion of a game creates space to then reveal.
So it is with the spiritual life. I don’t know what the equivalent of playing with the crossbar might be. But there is a parallel.
Mature people, who in their spiritual lives have grown in likeness to Christ, awe us not because they appear to work so hard, but because they make it look fluid, natural, easy. They are free, free in their spirit to respond freely to the Spirit. Their mastery stems from being mastered by the Master, schooled in holiness by Jesus himself, who freely gave himself so that we might be redeemed.
Nothing about this reality comes without great cost. The Christian claim that we can live lives that are pleasing to God is not rooted in human potential, but rather a divine act, a work of God, and the operations of grace. Humans respond. God has enacted the reality that we can receive and enter. The transformation that results is driven by the Spirit’s action.
In pastoral experience, and in personal experience, I’ve come to see that this transformation takes place over time. And even as one grows, as one matures, there are missteps and mistakes, failures and outright rebellions. But as one continues to trust Christ, as one continues to grow in their knowledge of him, they come to see that it is undeniably true that if it is the Son who has set you free, you will be free indeed.
Bible nerds might say Psalm 119:105.
Stories, proverbs, aphorisms, histories, epistles, myths, fables, tales, narratives, cultural assumptions, sayings are not only conveyed by the written word. The spoken word and visual media, photographs, electronic media, memes, other conveyances of the digital age, etc. all shape our vision, defining what we see.
What do you think of this image?
What does it capture?
What does it miss?
I think of Christian spiritual formation and the discipline of study and of the reading of Scripture, though I think the gaze shouldn’t be downward, but outward. Notice that the light is directed first toward the reader and taken in before it is directed outward, and that there is no light at all until the book is opened.
The Baptist Standard has done a nice job piecing together data from LifeWay Research on church attendance trends in the wake of the pandemic. What did they find? Church attendance is down. That’s no big surprise. How far down is it?
A few key statistics:
A majority of African American Protestant pastors (60 percent) say their congregations did not meet in person last month.
Mainline pastors (31 percent) are more likely than evangelical pastors (7 percent) to say they did not physically gather in September. Denominationally, Methodists (22 percent) and Presbyterian/Reformed (23 percent) are more likely to say they did not meet in person than Lutherans (12 percent), pastors in the Restorationist movement (10 percent) or Baptists (9 percent).
Social distancing may be easier in churches, as most pastors say their congregation has less than 70 percent of pre-COVID crowds.
One in 10 churches (9 percent) say their attendance in September was less than 30 percent of what it was in February before the pandemic spread to the United States. Another 20 percent say attendance was between 30 percent and less than 50 percent of what it was.
A third of pastors (34 percent) say it has reached 50 percent to less than 70 percent of previous levels. For 1 in 5 (21 percent) attendance is between 70 percent to less than 90 percent.
The mainline/evangelical split isn’t a shocker. What’s sobering is the percentage declines in attendance, especially considering that most church buildings do have space to make accommodations according to social distancing guidelines and that sensible measures such as wearing masks or tailoring liturgy to limit congregational singing are both reasonable and quite easy to implement. Several churches in our area, including the congregation I am part of, have chosen to meet outside, even before the cooler temperatures of autumn had arrived. Some mornings it was sweltering, but we gathered anyway.
This survey doesn’t tell us everything, only a few tidbits about who is meeting, who is not, and a few implications. I wasn’t surprised, nor did I really care much, to be told that one of the biggest changes church leaders have made in the wake of the pandemic has been to forestall a capital campaign or a building improvement project. That means very little to me.
There are wider considerations. Not every state has had the same regulations in place; politics, I’m certain, are a factor, and there is something to be said for church leaders who have actively promoted public health measures. Some states have employed Draconian measures; technocrats have tossed aside liberty. Government can overreach, and in some places, it most certainly has.
Polity differences matter, too. Baptists people are congregational, and thus, their people are more likely to put more pressure on their pastors to meet. Methodists, on the other hand, have an episcopate structure. Parishioners in those contexts may care that there church isn’t meeting, but know their pastor serves under the appointment of a bishop and cabinet. Decisions to refrain from meeting could be more regional than they are local.
African American pastors and their churches may not be meeting due to disproportionate effects the pandemic has had on their parishioners.
There are discipleship factors as well, though they would be nearly impossible to sift. For some, the pandemic might have relieved social pressures that kept some active in church, while their normal preference would’ve been to invest their time in other ways. COVID-19, then, has been a wonderful excuse not to meet, an easy out.
Down here in Waco most church leaders I know are back to meeting in some way, shape, or form. People wear masks, remain physically distanced, and have asked volunteers to increase efforts in the areas of sanitation. That’s good. That’s wise.
But I also know that people are tired of COVID. They’re ready to get back to normal. I think it will be tough to strike the right balance, to remain vigilant, while also opening avenues for congregational togetherness, fellowship, and corporate worship.
I’ve heard some really silly biblical arguments as to why we should be gathering in spite of the risks, fatalistic accounts that negate human responsibility and involve strange and sinister conceptions of God’s sovereignty. I’m well aware that there are biblical commands to meet together routinely, and there are Old Testament commands that contain wisdom with regard to the observance of a weekly day of worship. But Sunday gatherings for worship are more the product of church tradition than they are an explicit biblical command, and the nature of our public gatherings can widely vary based on the leading of the Spirit and the needs of the community. Much more could be written on this topic, certainly.
On the other hand, some people think that it is wisest, and that there is little harm, in foregoing the worship gathering. I disagree. I think there is a level of risk, but not enough to forego public gatherings tailored to our present moment. My read on our region is that we are in a place where it is reasonable to meet together weekly, to do something. If churches aren’t meeting regularly, then pastors should be adjusting their approach to ministry, shepherding their people by reaching out, making phone calls, maybe even stopping by on doorsteps and having front yard conversations from several feet away. Zoom has limits. Physical presence matters.
The months ahead could look very different, not only because of a change in weather, but also due to a change in political climate. But the losses that have taken place this year will require hard and diligent work to recoup. The harvest is plentiful. The workers are few. Pray that God would raise up workers to labor in his field.
Much has been written about the shy Megatron voter, but this household ain’t skeered.
Don’t know who Megatron is?
The past couple of days I’ve enjoyed Frederick Wiseman’s Boxing Gym, a 2010 documentary filled with fascinating characters and enrapturing sights and sounds. Manohla Davis, in a review of the film in The New York Times, wrote, “There are no frills here, just men, women and children of assorted colors, means, grace, beauty and abilities meeting among the heavy bags and peeling posters, their fists and feet drumming different time signatures.” The film was shot at Richard Lord’s Boxing Gym in Austin, Texas. Lord’s Gym has a Facebook Page. They also have a website. I took a screen shot:
My kind of place. Here’s the trailer for the documentary:
I watched the documentary on Kanopy. If you get a chance to see it for yourself, I recommend it.
Months ago my kid put together a craft at church, a brown paper bag with a nice drawing of Earth. I wondered what it could be. Was his class collecting food for the needy? My thoughts immediately turned toward some kind of care giving. The world is a big place with a lot of people, and a lot of needs.
I asked him what the bag was for. He explained, “If there is something that distracts us from God, from praying or reading the Bible or something like that, we can put that thing inside.”
I needed examples. He mentioned the Nintendo Switch.
Ah, the things of this world.
I asked, “If I were reading the Bible in the morning, and if you were being too loud or goofy, could I cram you into the bag?”
These are the kinds of dad jokes that are as annoying as they are endearing, serving to bind us together with the dual adhesive of distaste and love.
WordI, who live by words, am wordless when
I try my words in prayer. All language turns
To silence. Prayer will take my words and then
Reveal their emptiness. The stilled voice learns
To hold its peace, to listen with the heart
To silence that is joy, is adoration.
The self is shattered, all words torn apart
In this strange patterned time of contemplation
That, in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me,
And then, in silence, leaves me healed and mended.
I leave, returned to language, for I see
Through words, even when all words are ended.
I, who live by words, am wordless when
I turn me to the Word to pray. Amen.
– Madeleine L’Engle, The Weather of the Heart
Prayer can lead us through words to silence, beyond words to contemplation, and through contemplation to the Word of God. If you find yourself in silence when you pray, you have options. Stay awhile. Or keep going. God is working in the silence, and the Spirit intercedes for us through wordless groans (Romans 8:26-27).
I liked this little poem by L’Engle. I know what it is like to fall silent. I know what it is like to feel the insufficiency of words. I also know what it is like to be surprised by what I find in the deep quiet, a sense of being awestruck, an infilling of joy, and an experience of being delightfully “healed and mended.” I “try my words in prayer.” More importantly, though, I have been taught to find in words the capacity to “turn me to the Word.” That’s an evidence of grace, for which I am thankful.