It all started with Henry Rollins from Black Flag, a hardworking punk rock band from the 1980s and beyond. There he was at the front of Dominion-Chalmers United Church, a brass celtic cross behind him, and a soaring sky-light dome above him. I should of known a force of nature was about to blast on to the stage when the guy who introduced Rollins warned us to use the facilities now! because the spoken-word performance would be two-and-a-half hours. I thought, "How can anyone talk non-stop for that long?" But it didn't take long to realize that Rollins could talk non-stop for hours as long as he had an audience that will listen. He talked about touring, playing in Black Flag, getting older, answering his fan's emails, making a documentary for National Geographic, wrestling crocodiles, drinking cow urine, political campaigns, homophobia, his opposition against the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, traveling to North Korea to see it for himself, and encouraging the young people in the audience to create the century they want. I felt like a power, a spirit I might say, was pinning me to my pew, raising my heart rate and hoping he'd never stop talking. That night I believe Rollins, a self-professed atheist, had more gospel in him than I do in my little finger.
That's kinda scary given I've been a preacher of the gospel for over 16 years. It was his energy, his sheer force of character, his no bullshit, no holds barred, truth telling. I'm glad I was there with my husband, a punk rocker the original time around who also happens to be the minister of this church. He was able to peel me off the pew and guide me like a blind woman to our car. All I could think was "that's the kind of preaching I'd like to be able to do."
Not sure what the Spirit's blowing around this warm June, but that was only a portent of what was to come. A few days later, I was in Toronto attending a conference and spreading the gospel of art as a spiritual vehicle. Nice, but an appetizer to the main course I had the next day.
Enter Paul Browning, a United Church minister in London, Ontario, who plays a mean piano, sings like a rock star, and cares a lot about Jesus. He talked about his last chance United Church, a church willing to go on an adventure with him. Before he agreed to go there, he gave them his vision. "When you're at a family dinner, who do you take care of first? The children. If your grandson tells you he's getting married to his boyfriend, and even if you don't agree with his decision, would you go? Yes, you'd go. In families, do you all like the same music? No, and that's okay. In families, do you all eat the same food? No. So if you want a healthy church, you'll accept each other as you are WITHOUT COMPLAINING!"
So Paul builds a church based on one rule -- the Golden Rule. You can believe anything you want as long as you treat others as you want them to treat you. Kindness and respect are the measure of membership. A woman came to him and said she was a Pagan. "That's okay," he said. They have Christians, Zoroastrians, Buddhists, atheists, agnostists, and not sures. They now call their church Trinity United Church and Community Centre. No one pays to use the space and free will offerings are only a suggestion. Music is supplied by a band and the service centers on the children for the first 40 minutes. Their local city Councillor recently praised them as a force for good in their neighbourhood, describing their ministry in his regular newsletter.
Four days later, I'm in Shakori Hills, North Carolina at the Wild Goose Festival. My ears are still buzzing from Henry and Paul and I feel there's a wild fire about to burn. Well, I was so right!!!!
Wild Goose is a celtic metaphor for the wildness of the spirit and man, it was definitely raw and raving. The number one message: people are tired of mean Christians. Phyllis Tickle said it. Brian McLaren said it. Frank Shaeffer said it. Phil Madeira, guitarist for Emmy-lou Harris and the producer of a great album called, "Mercyland: Hymns for the Rest of Us," said it.
In small group Bible discussions, it was said. Poetics were writing poems about it. One poet from Australia actually had a poem in which he confessed all the horrible things that Christianity had done.
The music by Agents of Future, from Portland, Oregon, and David Wimbish and The Collection, from Greensboro North Carolina, spoke of faith irreverently and poignantly. With pulsating drums and multiple instruments a la Arcade Fire, song lyrics were more shouted than sung. But oh, the passion, the joy.
Social justice, especially restorative justice in the American prison system, was on the front burner. So were the arts, praying with paint and canvas. Walking a peace labyrinth with a piece of barbed wire in your hand. And it was just downright fun. Beer and Hymns was magical as we sang at the top of our lungs, a hymn sheet in one hand and a glass of Fullsteam beer in the other.
Their were more dreadnaughts and tattoos and piercings than I've seen in a long time. And the children...they danced, and ran through a fire hose on their way to the slip and slide, played hide and go seek, and made prayer cards.
It was raw and a bit raving but people were fed up with Christians that think they have a right to all the resources in the world. At this festival, kindness and deep respect for others was the only rule. As Melvin Bray said at the beginning, "If you've come to this festival with a hard-line position that you want to get across, you should treat this gathering as a silent retreat." No one was there to convince or to prove they followed "correct" thinking.
A motley crew of wise elders, old hippies, aging punk rockers, recovering fundamentalists, families of all colours with children of all ages were here to blow all the barriers down. It might be a fleeting glimpse of what the new religious looks like but it all happened in the same month in three far-flung places.
Raw and raving and heart warming and wonderful and it's about time!
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