Richard has a strange and wonderful job: he makes songs for people to sing together.
A full-time freelancing composer, Psalmist, retreat leader and concert performer, he is committed to what he calls “adventurous and imaginative songs for the ever-evolving church.” Across Christian denominations and global faith traditions, Richard helps communities voice their heart.
Richard’s degree in Theology and the Arts and his experience as a spiritual director weave together a leadership style that is inviting, generous and empowering. His songs have been published by the UU, UCC, ELCA, UMC and PCUSA traditions.
Be welcome at Worldmaking.net and PsalmImmersion.com to connect with his music. Richard enjoys life with his wife Trishy and son Sam in Strawberry Point, Iowa.
Tucson-based songwriter Namoli Brennet has been touring the country with her own brand of moody and inspiring folk since releasing her first CD in 2002. Since then she’s played over 1000 shows and logged over 274,000 miles on her still-running 87 Volvo station wagon (“I have a great mechanic”, she says). Touching on often poignant themes, her music and lyrics ultimately paint a vivid and redemptive portrait. She’s a breathtaking and moving performer, and her sweet, road-weary voice is as quick to deliver her wit and humor as it is a turn of phrase. She’s been described as a cross between Lucinda Williams, Patty Griffin and Sheryl Crow, and Zocalo magazine called her music, “Gorgeous and introspective.”
Although the themes of identity and freedom weave their way subtly through her songs, being transgender is not the focus of Namoli’s music: “I know it’s kind of a quirky and interesting part of my story, but as a human being I’m interested in life, spirituality, meaning, social issues, justice, compassion…and these are the things I write about.”
Namoli’s 9th CD, We Were Born to Rise, was released in September 2011 and she’s currently working on a live CD with a release date in fall 2012. You’ll often find this prodigious musician in the studio dividing her time between engineering, producing and playing most if not all of the instruments on her recordings.
A 4-time Outmusic award nominee, Namoli has also won the Tucson Folk Festival Songwriting Award and was a finalist in the ISC songwriting competition. Her recent release ‘Black Crow’ garnered critical acclaim and was named one of KXCI FM’s top albums of 2010. Her music has been featured on NPR, PBS and in films including the Emmy-award winning documentary “Out in the Silence”, which details the struggle of a gay teen growing up in rural Pennsylvania.
Dr. Ysaye M. Barnwell, a native New Yorker now living in Washington, DC, appears as a vocalist and/or instrumentalist on more than thirty recordings with Sweet Honey In The Rock and other artists. She has spent much of her time off stage working as a master teacher and choral clinician in African American cultural performance.
Her workshop “Building a Vocal Community®: Singing in the African American Tradition” has been conducted on three continents, making her work in the field a significant source of inspiration for both singers and non-singers, a model of pedagogy for educators, and cultural activists and historians.
Dr. Barnwell has been a commissioned composer on numerous choral, film, video, dance and theatrical projects. Three axioms have proven significant in Barnwell’s life.
Meg Barnhouse grew up in North Carolina and Philadelphia. After graduating from Duke University and Princeton Theological Seminary she spent a chapter of her life in Spartanburg, SC, working first as a college chaplain teaching Public Speaking, Human Sexuality, and World Religions, trying not to get them mixed up. Earning her credentials as a Pastoral Counselor, she ran her own counseling practice while raising her two sons who are now in their twenties. She was active in the community, preaching and teaching in many churches, recording commentaries for NC Public Radio and “Weekend All Things Considered,” serving as Interim Minister in several congregations and helping to found the SAFE Homes Network for battered women. Along the way she earned a second-degree black belt in American Karate. She finished up that southern chapter with seven years as the minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Spartanburg. After two years as Interim Minister for the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Princeton, NJ, Meg is settled as minister at the First UU Church of Austin. She travels nationwide as a speaker, preacher, and singer/songwriter.
Her books, Rock of Ages at the Taj Mahal, The Best of Radio Free Bubba, Waking Up the Karma Fairy, Return of Radio Free Bubba, Did I Say That Out Loud? and Broken Buddha are compilations of stories from the radio and of her columns for the UU World online. Her CD, July Blue, is a mix of 12 original songs and 3 stories. The CD, Mango Thoughts in a Meatloaf Town, contains more original songs, including All Will Be Well. Her newest CD, Heart of Compassion, is a collection of Meg reading her favorite stories from her books.
I was feeling a little shaky earlier this week, and it took me a few days to sort it out. I could point to this or that as the reason, but really I know a big part of it is that on Monday morning, there was another shooting. This time the shooting was in a building near a fountain and park where my family and I have gone to play and hang out, and a few blocks from a library where we just were last week for an excellent-and-fun Storytime. We were planning to go again to that same library for that same excellent-and-fun Storytime on Tuesday morning, but it seemed like the best thing to stay home, out of the fray and mayhem of the recovering area, and so we did. And just that would be enough to make me a little shaky—that we didn’t go to a public library storytime because of a shooting.
Then you add to it the photographs and stories of the victims and their families in the newspaper this week, and the choked-up voice of the shooter’s mother on the radio on Wednesday, and it’s all just a little bit too…real. And then you add to that the sense of hopelessness that is palpable right now amongst people trying to pass what I consider totally reasonable gun laws–um, mandatory background checks on people who want to purchase guns? Banning assault weapons? These things seem totally reasonable to me! I feel like our elected representatives are being held hostage by the NRA. So that makes me feel shaky, too.
In Monday’s paper, the one that was printed and delivered well before Aaron Alexis entered Building 197, there was a front page article telling the stories of some of the victims struggling to recover from the April 15th Boston bombing. Halfway into the article, another survivor of the bombing is introduced—Jarrod Clowery. The article talks about how “Clowery’s early days as an inpatient were the darkest; besides his physical injuries, he was deeply depressed and heavily medicated. Then letters began arriving from all over the world, many of them from schoolchildren. ‘They saved my ass,’ he says. ‘I could’ve gone down a dark path.’ His perspective began to change. ….’I got to see in the hospital what we’re capable of in terms of love and compassion,’ he says…. ‘The bomb is one second of pure evil, despicable, the worst. But it’s followed by endless seconds of the good people can do.’”
I know that what I need—what my heart needs, my spirit needs, and my family needs—are more stories like this one. I do not need to absorb more details about what precisely went on, moment-by-moment, in Building 197 on Monday morning. Instead, I need to immerse myself in all the endless seconds of good that followed, that are still unfolding, that were and are already happening, all the time, the little and large kindnesses that create a mostly-civil, mostly-functional society. I need to just take a breath and sit still for awhile and recognize that, without ignoring how much pain there is in the world, in many places, right now, there is also great joy, love, beauty, grace, peace, and gladness. There is goodness, right here, in this apartment that I am tidying up, in the child and parent that are sleeping peacefully in the other room, in the beauty of the fall day that will unfold tomorrow and that has the possibility, still, of being transformative, in a good way, for all of us. There are countless, endless seconds of good that vastly outnumber the awful seconds of tragedy. Yes: we have so much work to do to make this world a more peaceful place. But that work must spring from love of this world, not fear; calm and grounded determination, not panic.
I want to live in the endless seconds of good as much and as often as I can. It is a constant mental adjustment for me, a continual tuning and re-tuning of the instrument that is my brain. If I remind myself to, I gently smile at people, I trust that the person driving behind me is alert and paying attention, I offer a kind word and a breath of patience to those who are helping me. We are all human beings with families and stressors and challenges. May we believe and live in “the endless seconds of good” so that we may, ourselves, contribute to the goodness in our world and reduce, in whatever ways we can, the oceans of pain.
So, evening fell on
you, didn’t it? And
what day. Did not
know what had
broken. You had
not expected it to
have gone so far,
the year. Did not
expect to have
rounded again from
light to dark on
this day. And it’s
surely some saint’s
day or other. Some
thing recurrent to
mark life’s measured
beat. To mark how
life, in some long
and startling
pattern, goes on.
Jon Arterton and James Mack live in Provincetown, Massachusetts. Both lived in Greenwich Village in New York City, two blocks apart, but didn’t meet until moving to Provincetown, where their mutual love of singing brought them together. Thanks to the “activism” of four courageous Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court judges, they were able to legally wed on April 16, 2005. They released their first CD in 2011 entitled “Legally Married… and the sky didn’t fall!”
Jon Arterton is a singer-conductor-vocal arranger-actor who began his musical journey as a choirboy at Washington’s National Cathedral. He holds a Master’s Degree in choral conducting and voice from The New England Conservatory of Music. He was the founder and vocal arranger of The Flirtations, the proudly gay a cappella group seen on HBO, Good Morning America and in the film Philadelphia. He toured with the group for a decade, singing in such places as Carnegie Hall and Yankee Stadium. He also holds an MFA degree in theater and appeared as an actor in The Utter Glory of Morrissey Hall on Broadway. Jon moved from New York City to Provincetown at the very tip of Cape Cod in 1993. There he conducts The Outer Cape Chorale, a 140-voice community chorus he founded in 2002. He gives periodic Singing Workshops, and serves as the Director of Music at Provincetown’s U.U. Meeting House.
James Mack was born in Memphis, Tennessee and raised Southern Baptist! In high school, he was president of the Bible Club. He went to a Southern Baptist University to become a preacher, but when he came out in his early 20’s he decided to become a choir director instead, and transferred to Memphis State University where he majored in voice. He soon moved to New York City and began a career in men’s fashion as a store manager and buyer for Paul Stuart and Ermenegildo Zegna. James moved to Provincetown in 1997and began singing in the choir at the local Universalist Unitarian Meeting House where he met his future husband Jon. He is now a chaplain at the Meeting House where he performs weddings and commitment ceremonies.
Really, WTF? Has people shooting at strangers become a sort of national pastime? Are we supposed to get used to this? Worse yet, have we gotten used to it? Really, what am I supposed to say? Once again we are in that place of knowing that people have been killed and injured for no apparent reason.
This time it was in the Washington DC Navy Yard rather than a school or a movie theater or a foot race. Once again a shooter is dead. Once again we are scared, grieving, confused, angry. Once again we are looking for explanations, wanting to know who to blame, wanting to know why, wanting some reason to think that this won’t happen again. Once again the horror is real and deep, and the answers frail or non-existent. So what are we supposed to say to make sense of it, to fix it, to make meaning out of the horror?
Damned if I know. I could blame our national obsession with guns, and I do. But these shooters could very well be military personnel, and any conversation about getting guns out of the hands of the military seems like a non-starter. I could blame the glorification of violence in our society, and I do. But I could hardly claim that any given movie or video game or song lyric is to blame for any of these violent incidents, and I wouldn’t be willing to institute censorship even if I thought it might do some good. I am always perfectly open to blaming racism, poverty, social inequality and environmental degradation for a broad assortment of troubles, but I’d be hard put to bring any of them to bear in this particular instance.
And so, once again, we’re left with nothing to do but grieve. No less for the dead and injured in this tragedy than for the last one – or the one before that, or the one before that. I do not believe that we are supposed to simply accept such brutality as part of everyday life. We will lose some of our humanity if we become so habituated to the violence that we just shrug our shoulders and move on. But there is no one right way to grieve. All I can suggest is this:
Hug your child or your spouse or your friend or your cat or your dog or your pillow. Go for a walk. Breathe. Breathe again. Call someone who you would miss if you couldn’t talk with them again. Light a candle. Breathe. Breathe again. Practice non-violence. Walk away when you get mad. Breathe. Breathe again. Hold those who are wounded and dead in your heart. Open your heart to their families. Hold all the unknown others lost to violence in your heart. Open your heart to their families. Hold all the people who are grieving in your heart and know that you are not alone, that there are open hearts everywhere holding the grief and confusion and pain together. Breathe. Breathe again. Breathe again.
AGAPE* has inspired youth from Brooklyn to Bosnia with his relational ministry “Hip Hop Outreach.” Combining rapping, dancing, storytelling and his fluency in Spanish, this Minneapolis-bred music minister connects with his listeners in a way that they really “get it.” In recent years, AGAPE* has worked with critically-acclaimed producer Ant (Atmosphere, Brother Ali) and grammy-award winning Billy Steele. On his recent CD “Rise Up,” he tackles issues of faith and justice with help from Chris Brown’s producer Ra Charm. While AGAPE* loves performing in football stadiums, his main gig is rocking church basements and youth gatherings. He would love to help old ladies in your church throw their hands in the air like they just don’t care. Have your people call his people!
http://www.hiphopoutreach.com/
The British social anthropologist Mary Douglas had this to say about institutions:
Inside a religious body you get sects and hierarchies, inside an information network you get bazaars and cathedrals, it is the same, call them what you like. They survive by pointing the finger of blame at each other.
That about sums it up, doesn’t it?
Douglas is most famous for her theory of dirt: She claimed that human groups form solidarity by what we consider disgusting. For example, if your group considers eating sheep’s eyes disgusting, you’re unlikely to become very intimate with the group next door that considers sheep’s eyes a delicacy.
Douglas claims that human groups, or “institutions,” allow those inside the institution to point fingers at those outside the institution. As we stand inside and point fingers, we develop group cohesion: there’s an inside and an outside.
But, it doesn’t stop there.
Douglas thought that first we off-load responsibility for our actions onto an institution, then we begin to allow the institution to think for us. As a matter of fact, Douglas believed that our institutions operate exactly opposite from the way we generally think they do: we think institutions make small, rote decisions for us; but, actually, we allow institutions to do the big thinking for us, and we stick to the small stuff (–you know, such as consuming too many calories and avoiding exercise. Stuff like that.)
Because . . . it’s not easy bearing personal responsibility for the things that institutions such as government do. Yet, if we intend to lead an examined life, we must look in the mirror and ask ourselves what benefits we get from those things we off-load onto institutions.
Let’s think about government . . . oh, say, the United States government: bad immigration policy; institutionalized racism; millions of working poor; gun “freedom” that kills thousands per year, and poorly regulated industry, to name a few problems. Now, ask yourself, What benefits do I get by being in that group?
It’s disturbing.
It’s disturbing because Dr. Douglas is not saying, human beings form institutions and then wag their fingers at outsiders when they aren’t thinking about it or when we get lazy or when we fail to change wrongs. She isn’t saying those other people do that. She’s saying that’s what ALL institutions do. It’s disturbing because a basic fact of human nature is that we form groups, then we lose any ability to act morally concerning those things we have given away to an institution. Then we benefit from the immoral actions.
Now, you can say, “Oh, well, she’s just a crazy leftist feminist postmodernist, so, you know how THEY are!”
Or we can say, “hmm, that’s interesting! How can we use that human propensity both to better understand institutions that we don’t like, and those we do?
How can we use that idea to create institutions that encourage the sort of human action that we see as positive, rather than the sort that we see as negative?
I know you’re already way ahead of me on this . . . ideally, Unitarian Universalist congregations are places where people are not only encouraged, but required to question assumptions. Places where we encourage finger-pointing at systemic injustices, not at the people who may or may not be perpetrating the injustices, for whatever reasons . . .
If we look at Mary Douglas’s ideas from this perspective, they aren’t quite as crazy. Or quite as ivory tower!
Take, for example, immigration.
Consider for a moment that, as nations go, Mexico is not a a poor one. As nations go, the average Mexican is somewhere in the mid-range of income and social well-being for human beings on the planet. It isn’t that Mexico is poor, by international standards, but rather that the income disparity between Mexicans and North Americans is large–as a matter of fact, the disparity is the largest of any two bordering nations on earth.
That goes a long way toward explaining why people might consider crossing a border. To me, anyway, it’s hard to point my finger at a group of people trying to do that.
How have we–and let’s listen to Mary Douglas and include all of us–how have WE—the institution called the USA–responded to the immigration issue? Rather than facilitating the flow of people back and forth across the border, we have tried to stop the flow–we are still following that policy.
Now, I’m old enough to remember when the border was porous. People came here for summer work, then went back to Mexico–they went back home–for the winter. People can’t do that anymore. Because we have spent billions of dollars to stop them. They’re stuck here.
What would you do, if you found yourself stuck in a foreign country, no way out?
First you would go to the embassy, right?
Then you would start calling on your support network . . . family and friends.
Then you would get out your credit cards . . . see if throwing money around might help . . .
What if your loved ones were across the border?
How long would it take before you just took off walking . . . ?
I have a challenge for you: listen to Mary Douglas and get outside your comfort zone. Call yourself on one of your prejudices . . . . Call your own bluff on one of the “institutions” where you sit comfortably and point fingers from . . .
Maybe it’s the institution called race. Maybe it’s the institution called social class. Perhaps it’s the institution called education. Perhaps you wag your finger at close-minded people.
Whatever.
Try reminding yourself this week that, as psychologist Steven Pinker puts it,
“Our minds are organs (like the lungs), not pipelines to the truth.”
Our minds are organs, not pipelines to the truth.
Try it. Actually realize that your brain is an evolved organ and has its limitations. And your brain is NOT an institution.
This week, call yourself on one of your prejudices. Call yourself on one of the things you get away with because of an institution you belong to. Step outside your comfort zone. Actually listen to someone who your prejudice tells you can’t have ANYTHING valuable to say.
Instead of pointing a finger and even wagging it a little, sit back and listen.
Try it.
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Quest for Meaning is a program of the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF).
As a Unitarian Universalist congregation with no geographical boundary, the CLF creates global spiritual community, rooted in profound love, which cultivates wonder, imagination, and the courage to act.