conjectural navel gazing; jesus in lint form

lunchable reflections

Yesterday afternoon the choir from North Shore Baptist participated in the local interreligious Thanksgiving service. The Edgewater Community Religious Association (ECRA) is the sponsor. Here in our little corner of Chicago we have quite a few different religious groups. The musicians alone represented nine communities of faith: Emmanuel Congregation (synagogue); St Ita's Catholic Church, St. Gertrude's Catholic Church (this year's host), Immanuel Lutheran, Ebeneezer Lutheran, the Sikh Community, North Shore Baptist Church, and the Ismaili Center (Moslem). I love this service. Two years ago I was one of the instrumentalists on a rendition of This Land Is Your Land. There I was, a Baptist with a mandolin, playing a folk tune with an Lutheran pastor, a Catholic priest, and the cantor from the local synagogue. It was wild fun.

This year was especially beautiful to me. It is finally more and more common for the communities to bring themselves, and not a watered down representation of themselves. Now Thank We All Our God (we Baptists), Hodu L'Adonai (synagogue), Cantate Domino (St. Ida's), Gurbani Kirtan (Sikh), O Lord, Increase My Faith (those funky Lutherans), I, the Lord (St. Gertrude's), Hamd (Ismaili), Take Up the Song(synagogue), and For the Fruits of This Creation (all choirs) are the songs that were sung for one another as an offering to God. I loved every minute of it. No more "We don't want to offend you by saying the name 'Jesus.'" Nope. Now we let it all hang out and the generous gift of the particularities of faiths is what feeds. It is amazing.

I know I am a sentimentalist. This is a given. But sitting there as Moslem children sang to Hebrew children was about all I could take. It was not staged. It's just how people were sitting. Then the Hebrew children got up and returned the favor. To me, this is a hopeful sign. Maybe, just maybe, our communities can come together in other meaningful ways. Maybe, just maybe, we can build bridges and tear down walls.

For me, it is as if these gatherings served as a steam valve. So often I get cought up in the insanity of my own tradition. I get cought up in the arguments, the debates, the politics. But this, this wide vision, frees me somehow. It's generosity gives context to my own tradition. It causes me to wish to be more Baptist and not less. Because a Baptist on their own should be just as generous as the collective witness yesterday afternoon. There is no room in one's life for intrigue and squabble if one is busy being a Baptist. No, there is only room for moments of God's generosity and praise. The rest is dross.

Finally, the topper on the service was the presence of Judge Joan Humphrey Lefkow (recent Tribune article). Every year someone is asked to read Lincoln's 1863 Thanksgiving Proclamation. This year she was asked and accepted. Her husband and mother were brutally murdered in the basement of their home just a few doors down from North Shore. She has always been somewhat active in the Edgewater neighborhood. But since that event, the community has adopted her. Every now and again you will see her in the neighborhood with her escort. The family no longer lives in Edgewater. But they visit. It is good to see her around. And yesterday she looked great. She is simply brave.

Thanksgiving, indeed.

Posted by tripp at November 21, 2005 01:12 PM