Image Description: A butterfly on a plant with blue and black wings. Public domain image.
I was thinking about the butterfly effect this week, and specifically, I was wondering, is that really real?
Do you know which thing I’m talking about? Sometimes, it’s also called Chaos Theory. Ultimately, it’s a realization that very small actions can lead to very large effects, particularly as they create a series of changes in large systems. The butterfly effect gets its name due to Edward Lorenz. He demonstrated that the flapping wings of a butterfly in one part of the world could ultimately lead to a tornado weeks later somewhere else. Thankfully, this doesn’t happen all the time; otherwise, we’d have tornados and hurricanes everywhere. But the point is this: Tiny, minuscule changes can create complex results in large systems.
It’s pretty astounding, actually. It means that every thing — every action, every interaction — is affecting a whole, enormous host of other things.
In a tumultuous time, don’t underestimate how positive actions can lead to large scale results. Even tiny ones have an effect. Each and every day, what we do matters. What we do this very day matters.
So what kind of change is possible, not only when we act alone, but when we act together?
Image Description: Five post-it notes are placed in a stack, though offset so it looks like they are rotating (from back to front, pink, orange, yellow, and blue). A question mark is on the blue post-it note on top. Public domain image.
There are times when we find ourselves mulling over the very same themes in our thinking.
There are times when we feel weighed down by longstanding frustrations that rarely seem to shift.
There are times when it feels like things are stagnant or unmoving.
So. . . What if we ask a different question?
This is something that a friend of mine says often, and I really appreciate it.
What if we do that? What if we ask a new question? Could that open up new possibilities – creative pathways or new angles of relating?
Maybe that seems like a small thing, but it’s actually a large thing. Frameworks affect how we view situations, feel, and express hope.
So what if we try it? Might it open up something different?
Here’s another song I really love. Sometimes, people write music, poetry, or prose that can speak into a large variety of life directions. This song is like this, so may it encourage you in whatever direction you need.
“If you’re loved by someone, you’re never rejected.
Decide what to be, and go be it.”
Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise
There’s a darkness upon me that’s flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what’s wrong and what’s right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I’m frightened by those that don’t see it
When nothing is owed or deserved or expected
And your life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected
If you’re loved by someone, you’re never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it
There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I’ll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out
There’s a darkness upon you that’s flooded in light
And in the fine print they tell you what’s wrong and what’s right
And it flies by day and it flies by night
And I’m frightened by those that don’t see it
There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I’ll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out
There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I’ll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out
There’s a darkness upon me that’s flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what’s wrong and what’s right
There’s a darkness upon me that’s flooded in light
And I’m frightened by those that don’t see it
Image Description: A person is sitting with a laptop on their lap; the screen has an image of a galaxy.
As I’ve been doing pretty frequently these days, I led a worship service over Zoom yesterday morning. Many communities are using this platform, but I’ve noticed that each congregation utilizes it with slight differences in order to fit their own worship rhythms and preferences.
Many congregations have chosen to mute everyone during collective prayers and liturgy while one or two people speak the words aloud. This way, we don’t hear everyone’s voices at once, speaking out of sync with time delays. Muted people can speak aloud at home, but we don’t hear their voices.
Of course, we lose a sense of the collective sound in the midst of this also. The congregation I was with yesterday enjoys speaking prayers all together, all aloud, with the time delays.
I enjoyed and appreciated this too. There were times when I let all of that sound wash over me in a sense. This was especially true when we prayed the Lord’s Prayer together. I spoke the words, but I listened even more. I heard the phrases overlapping with one another as they were voiced from many places. And this felt like a true recognition of prayer over distance. We can feel surrounded in a sound like that, and when we’re physically alone, this is a lovely gift.
“I wonder, what can I share from my walk?” I asked myself.
Questions shape what we experience. We often see and perceive what’s before us in particular ways because we’ve asked asked a specific question.
While walking alone, I looked for beauty in my very-familiar-to-me neighborhood. Because I asked that question, I noticed new things. I wanted to take a photo of something beautiful and share it.
I saw some sunflowers. I’ve never walked in their direction before, even though they are in view from the route I travel nearly every time I walk through my neighborhood. I snapped a lovely image and shared it with several people.
Sometimes, we need small glimpses of beauty, and we shouldn’t underestimate the ways they can lift people’s spirits or help us feel connected to each other. I had not thought of this in a long time, but years ago, my friend called me and left a really lovely voicemail. With her permission, I shared it on my blog. I’m going to share it again.
She said,
“I feel so happy every time I have to drive this way because sunflowers are in full bloom now. We have these huge fields and fields and fields of sunflowers being grown as crops, and they’re just so pretty. Unfortunately, they’re not ever in a place where I can pull over and take a picture because they’re on the freeway, and there’s not much of a shoulder. But I wanted to tell you about that, because I thought that is something that would also bring you joy like it does me.”
On behalf of the Interfaith Round Table of Washtenaw County, I had the pleasure to partner with a new local community of faith leaders, Interfaith Pride – Washtenaw, to create an Interfaith Pride Celebration. The theme was, “Each Unique, All Beloved.” It aired live on Facebook and Youtube last Thursday night, and it can be accessed now in both places.
I could not be more pleased about how it turned out. As Anna Taylor-McCants, the pastoral intern at St. Mark’s Lutheran Church, says in the introduction, “Our intention for creating this event is to bring together LGBTQIA+ affirming religious, spiritual, and faith traditions across the Washtenaw County area. Our hope is that whoever you are and wherever you are, you will experience a flavor of the Divine, of the Holy One, that nourishes your soul. Tonight, some of us will be celebrating together, and others of us will be lamenting together. And for some, I hope this is a beautiful worship experience. Thank you for being on this journey with us.”
These segments are so beautiful. I provided one as did members of my Chosen Family. I’d love to share this with you today. There is an ASL interpreter throughout, so feel free to share this with your Deaf friends too.
A few years ago, a video about Prince’s 2007 Super Bowl performance made a resurgence. (See above). People passed it around social media and remembered his great life and presence. AndI love this video.
I cannot get enough of it as a moment.
What I mean is that some elements of the experience happened apart from anyone’s decision or control. Namely, lots and lots of rain. But Prince and his team also embraced those elements to synergize a moment of creativity, connection, and electrifying energy. At Super Bowl XLI, Prince sang ‘Purple Rain’ in an absolute downpour. It was magical.
Along with sections of the performance itself, the video above includes interviews with Half Time Show designers and managers. They agree this performance was truly a remarkable moment. In their own words, they share what made them so impressed:
Prince embraced a situation of potential inconvenience,
and completely transformed it.
Prince demonstrated confidence on the stage,
and performed music written by others.
Prince rolled with a great deal of spontaneity,
and launched it into the world as if this is exactly what should happen.
It all leads to the finale. As Prince wraps up “The Best of You” by Foo Fighters, he flashes this foreshadowing look across his face that something special is about to happen. And then it does. Fireworks explode, and standing in the downpour, Prince captivates the stage even more as he starts to sing, “Purple Rain.” The crowd goes wild.
Then he pulls the crowd into the creation of the experience too. They sing along with him, and suddenly, everyone is participating in this strange yet magical moment. They are drenched but connected with wonderful energy.
It’s beautiful.
There’s an ancient Greek word for moments like these: Kairos.
Kairos is a type of time. It’s different the most common conception of time, which more clearly matches the Greek word chronos – time which marks things linearly i.e. one event leading naturally to the next, as the past leads to the present, etc.
But Kairos is a form of time which marks a significant moment.
Some might even call it a sacred moment.
Kairos is not measured by length in seconds, minutes, days, or years.
It isn’t about length or anything linear at all.
It’s about an experience.
Kairos an opportune moment where everything comes together.
It isn’t a measurement, but a recognition,
a realization that a moment is to be embraced and savored. Kairos is a moment to be fully alive.
In those moments, what can else can we do but take it all in and say thank you?
That’s what one of the interviewees says in the video: “When he did do ‘Purple Rain,’ that was one of those times where things just work magically, and there’s nothing you can do but say, ‘Thank you.’”
Image Description: Snowcapped mountains with elk in the foreground. They are foraging for food in the snow. Public domain image.
A couple years ago, I was driving home after an out of town meeting. Some folks like long drives because it allows them to think. I admit I usually just get bored. These days, during a pandemic, I have not filled up my car with gas since March. I mostly stay home and take walks. My car is getting a big break and so is my time spent driving.
On this night, however, I was less bored, and instead, I arrived in place of thinking. Specifically, I ended up in a lovely place of remembering. I was listening to the radio when U2’s song, “But I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” came on. That song always transports me to another time and place. I instantly see the mountains on a drive upward from Salida, Colorado. I feel a sense of belonging with gratitude.
More than ten years ago, I traveled to this place on an annual ski trip with college students. There are so many memories connected to these trips. Laughter. Inside jokes. Texans seeing snow for the first time. And… that particular time I became seriously injured (I don’t even remember most of the day) and a whole community surrounded me with care in ways that astounded me.
And I remember feeling belonging — such a rich feeling of belonging.
Every year, some odd student would be tasked with creating a playlist. We would pop in a CD (a CD! remember those?) and listen to music as we drove up the mountain in a caravan of two or three vans. Several songs had to be included each year (The Who’s “Baba O’Riley,” Barenaked Ladies’ “If I Had a Million Dollars,” and Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song,” which we had to play specifically when we turned into the parking lot of the ski resort). Good trips have good traditions.
But then the playlist creator o’ the year would add other songs of their choosing. One year, or maybe multiple years, “But I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” was on the CD, meaning we listened to it several days in a row as we drove up into those mountains and prepared ourselves for full days of skiing.
I suppose the title is a bit ironic because I have such deep sense memory of listening to that song and having a feeling of arrival. I was a very young seminary student, just barely out of college myself, and I knew I had found some of my best friends. And along with it, there’s that feeling — do you know it? — of resting in the realization that this is your group. These are my people. I remember feeling such a visceral sense of gratitude to be gathered with them and to know what this kind of group-belonging feels like.
So all these years later, I drove home in Michigan on a night when it was cold, dark, and oddly foggy, and when that song came on, I could still feel that exact same feeling. And I cried. And I loved it.
Image description: A circular clock with roman numerals; it’s surrounded by ripples as if it was dropped in water.
I’m pondering timescales and the ways that change is connected to time. If we want to participate in the creation of lasting change, we might…
. . . work for seven generations beyond ourselves, as the Haudenosaunee nations have taught us.
. . . feel through one day, for as Jesus says,”Do not worry about tomorrow. . . Today’s trouble is enough for today.”
. . . live fully in the present, as this time has been given to us for significant impact and enjoyment.
. . . expect that today’s work ripples meaningfully into the future, perhaps in valuable directions we cannot even anticipate.
. . . recognize that our liberation is bound up in the liberation of others, and our lives are intimately connected to the devastation and deliverance of the past and future.
. . . trust that collective intentions toward justice are truly moving in the direction of justice, even if we cannot see this at its completion, and that future expressions of justice call forward our work for today.
