2021 Wrap-Up :: This Is (sort of) About Jam Bands

December 20, 2021 by Brent Thomas in Art, Bereavement, Chaplaincy, culture, Culture, Grief, Hospice, Misc., music, Pop Culture, Religion, Sorrow, Social Justice, Year-End List

The past couple of years have been hard for all of us. I started my Clinical Pastoral Education process in January of 2020 right before the Pandemic it. This was also right when I started working primarily as a Bereavement Counselor. As COVID tsunamied through our communities, I quickly transitioned to working from home. Normally, that’s fine. I have a big family, but I also have a private office, so I can actually focus on work.

But that also meant that my trips outside of the house greatly decreased. I have to go to my work office at least once a week to pick up and drop off mail, but other than that, I have to largely make excuses to get out of the house. And again, “normally", that’s fine for a home-body like me.

But I LOVE live music.

And, even with a large family, my wife and I make regular attempts to experience live. It is important to us. It is important to me. I can’t imagine life without it. Or at least I couldn’t. Until I had to. I saw two concerts in 2020, ending in February (TERRY RILEY!). I didn’t go to another live music experience until August of 2021 (NEKO CASE!). That’s a long time to go without live music; especially when (even as an Introvert), it’s something that energizes you.

And then, after seeing the terrific line-up of Lucinda Williams, Gov’t Mule, Avett Brothers, and and Willie Nelson, but before seeing Dead and Co., my wife and went to see Phish.

This post is not about what you think about “Jam Bands.” This post is about my experience at a Phish concert.

I love Phish. I love jambands. I love musical improvisation. I love being part of a group that is experiencing a once-in-a-life-time moment. The music will never be repeated again in that way. You can re-listen to it, but if you weren’t there, you weren’t there. It’s not the same. At least it doesn’t carry the same emotional weight. It might gain emotional weight as you re-listen in various stages of life, but if you weren’t there; you weren’t there.

My work as a pastor, a hospice chaplain, and as a bereavement counselor continually reminds me that life is fragile. It can’t be repeated. There are no do-overs (this is not about re-incarnation). One of the things I hear continually, time after time from the grievers I walk with is; I wish I’d spent more time with them; I wish I’d been more present.

In the words of Ferris Bueller, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

And seeing Phish live again for the first time in 20-something years forced this all upon me. There I was under the sunbaked stars with nearly 20,000 other people, most of all my wife, hearing music that would never be repeated the same way; experiencing a moment that was gone as soon as it was known. Such is life. Or, as Vonnegut might say, “So it goes,” or maybe “Hi Ho.” Whatever.

Live music, particularly any live music that incorporates improvisation is a reminder that life is about the here and now. If we spend all of our time focusing on the past, we will likely find ourselves bogged down with regret and sadness or glorifying our past; there’s no way I can ever live up to that again. Or, if we spend most our emotional time and energy thinking about the future, we (or at least I do) end up with nothing but anxiety.

But live music can help remind us that it doesn’t have to be that way. Whatever happened to us in the past; regardless of what we’ll experience once we exit the venue; there is the here and now. There is the band and the lights and the crowd and something special.

But that’s life, isn’t it? It might be a special moment, but it is special because it reminds us what is special about life. This is it. Do something. Do something for others. Create something. Protect something. Advocate for something. Get outside of yourself. Read. Write. Draw. Compose. Listen. Run. Hike. Explore.

“In a world gone mad a world gone mad There must be something more than this.”

Seeing Phish live again reminded me why I love live music. Because live music reminds me to love life.

FOOTNOTE (As it were):

This post is not about my favorite concert of 2021. I don’t generally like ranking things, but I’m comfortable pointing out if one stood out for me above others. So, if we’re talking about “that” concert for 2021, it was Erykah Badu. Seriously. If you haven’t had a chance to see her live, please do so as soon as you feel safe.

Browse my favorite albums of the year
Browse my “2021 Yearly Wrap-it-Up” which is really a ramble about seeing Phish
Browse my favorite books of 2021
Browse my favorite movies of 2021
Browse my favorite television of 2021
Listen to a nearly 5-hour very low quality mix of one song from each of my favorite albums of 2021 called “Soundtrack to the Collective Meltdown”

2021 Year In Review :: Favorite Television

December 20, 2021 by Brent Thomas in Christianity, Church, Culture, culture, Grief, Pop Culture, Prayer, Religion, Scripture, Sorrow, Television, Year-End List

As I mentioned in my movie roundup, I have a lot of kids, so a lot of my time is spent with kids. That doesn’t always leave a lot of time for other watchings, but here are three televisionings that really stuck out to me this year.

Like last year, my “favorite television” list includes Ted Lasso and Joe Pera. As I wrote last year, both shows were (for me), a shot of much-needed positivity.

But, to be honest, the show that stood out the most for me this year was a bit darker. Midnight Mass on Netflix captivated me on so levels. Regardless of what you think of vampire stories (SPOILER), this is a powerful allegory about spiritual abuse which is unfortunately quite timely.

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Ted Lasso:

Midnight Mass:

Joe Pera Talks With You:

Browse my favorite albums of the year
Browse my “2021 Yearly Wrap-it-Up” which is really a ramble about seeing Phish
Browse my favorite books of 2021
Browse my favorite movies of 2021
Browse my favorite television of 2021
Listen to a nearly 5-hour very low quality mix of one song from each of my favorite albums of 2021 called “Soundtrack to the Collective Meltdown”

I Can't Tell You How To Grieve, But I Can Be There With You

February 03, 2021 by Brent Thomas in Chaplaincy, Books and Reading, Counseling, Culture, culture, Grief, Hospice, Misc., Ministry, Religion, Scripture, Sorrow, Theology, worldview

One of the most difficult parts of my role as a Bereavement Counselor for a large hospice is when people ask me for advice. Somewhere along the line, many of us picked up the idea that there are certain steps that we can go through (this is likely due to the wide use of Kübler-Ross’ Five Stages of Grief). Though, I think much of the problem is that we believe that grief is a problem to be fixed.

Grief is not a problem to be solved, but a process we must go through.

In its grandest sense, grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change. You can grieve the loss of a job. You can grieve a divorce. You can grieve the pandemic. The problem we run into is that grief is both universal and unique. It is something each and everyone of us will face in life but no one processes grief in the same way.

The grief I most hear about in my work as a Bereavement Counselor is the loss of a loved one. In these cases, I think we can narrow our definition of grief to something like: Grief is evidence of love, or even more specifically: grief is love for someone special with nowhere left to go. Grief and love are inextricably woven together.

And since love is the source of grief, grief is an emotional process, not an intellectual one. It is not something we can think our way through; there are no steps to follow. We must allow our emotions to run their course. And since grief is love working itself out; grief is an emotional process:

There is no timeline. (if there is, it’s coming from you)
There is no comparison. (If there is, it’s coming from you).

Grief is universal and unique. It is something we all go through, but no one goes through in the same way. I know you want to know the next steps. I know you want to know when things will change. But I can’t tell you those things. The best I can do is walk through the valley of the shadow of death with you. I can companion you and I can watch for signs of unhealthy emotional processing, but I can’t tell you how to grieve.

For many of us, grief is also the process of self-discovery. Since grief love is the source of grief, and much of our self-identity is tied to our closest relationships, when we lose that someone, we lose part of ourselves. We must rediscover (recreate?) who we are now. Who are we without our person? I can’t answer that question for you. But I can walk through the valley of discovery with you.

I can’t tell you how to grieve. But I hope you fine someone who is willing to walk through it with you.

Sitting With The Brokenness (More About Grief, Kintsugi and The Art of Precious Scars)

February 01, 2021 by Brent Thomas in Bereavement, Chaplaincy, Counseling, Culture, culture, Grief, Hospice, Misc., music, Religion, Scripture, Sorrow, worldview

In 2019, I began exploring the idea of using Japanese art of Kintsugi as a metaphor for the grieving process.

At that time, I was serving as a Hospice Chaplain/Bereavement Coordinator/Volunteer Coordinator at a small hospice. Part of my job was offering ongoing grief support for the Bereaved. Much of the curriculum that I came across was either trademarked, overly religious for the groups I was leading, or just full of empty platitudes. So I started creating some conversation-starters for support groups on my own.

Somewhere during this time, I learned about the Japanese art of Kintsugi, sometimes known as “the art of precious scars.” If you’re not familiar with Kintsugi, you can read my original post or Google Kintsugi yourself.

Somewhere during this time I also began working through the idea that we must explore what it means to carry our losses forward with us in life in emotionally healthy ways. Kintsugi is a perfect metaphor for this. The mended pieces are beautiful because of their journey through brokenness.

Since that time, I have transitioned to serving as a full-time Bereavement Counselor for a large hospice. Day after day I talk to people trying to work through the grieving process. I have talked to hundreds, if not thousands of people fumbling their way through the loss of a loved one.

And I keep coming back to the idea of Kintsugi being a perfect metaphor for what it might look like to carry our loss forward with us in emotionally healthy ways. I am reminded of a quote by Anne Roiphe: “Grief comes in two parts: the first is the loss, and the second is the re-making of life.”

I can’t remember where I came across a description of the process a Kintsugi master might go through when someone would bring a broken piece to them. They would spread the broken pieces out on a blanket and sit in front of them. They would just sit with the brokenness.

This feels unnatural. We want to hide our brokenness. We want to fix it. But grief is not a problem to be fixed. It is a process to go through. If grief is love for someone with nowhere left to go, then it is not a problem to be fixed. It’s natural to mourn and cry out that this isn’t the way things are supposed to be; to admit that things feel broken.

Grief comes in two parts: the loss and the re-making of life.

And when those Kintsugi masters would sit with the broken pieces, they were not just sitting with the brokenness, they would pick up the pieces, and feel them; trace the edges, and they would begin to envision what the piece might look like after it’s mended. How its brokenness would become part of its story in beautiful ways.

As we acknowledge our loss and brokenness, we must learn to not dwell on the past (the loss); we acknowledge it and its pain, but we set our sights towards an emotionally healthy future (the re-making of life.). This will look different for everyone but I believe that kintsugi can help us understand what it might look like to carry our loss forward with us in emotionally healthy ways.

Read the preface piece to this post: Grief, Kintsugi and The Art of Precious Scars

2020 Year-End Cultural Thoughts

December 23, 2020 by Brent Thomas in America, Bible, Church, Culture, culture, Grief, Prayer, Politics, Religion, Scripture, Social Justice, Sorrow, Year-End List

I have never been more disenfranchised from “American Christianity” than I have this year (though the previous 4 years leading up to this are not far behind.).

I have watched as many family and friends have given themselves over not only to blind allegiance to one political party, but to conspiracy theories and the dehumanization of those who disagree.

The religious tradition I grew up in (vanilla wanna-be mega-church influenced by Focus on the Family) often implicitly carried with it the notion that “to follow Jesus was to be Republican,” but that heresy has never been louder than 2020. People claiming to be “Christians” have not only supported the most divisive, vulgar, criminal, sexually immoral, irreligious president of our time (who tear-gassed a crowd of protesters so that he could take a picture with a bible in front of a church or re-tweeted one of his supporters shouting WHITE POWER at people protesting systemic racism) and have called in to question the very election they were counting on, all while claiming that being asked to wear a mask to protect their neighbors is an “infringement” of their rights.

This year has crystallized the heart-wrenching fact that many people cannot tell the difference between Americanism and Christianity, and if you question them, they will say you are neither. “Pastors” are claiming persecution when all they’ve been asked to do is the bare minimum to look out for others. (Read my piece “Love Your Neighbor, Wear A Mask (Americanism Is Not Christianity)”

Al Mohler has led other SBC seminary presidents in an ill-advised crusade against Critical Race Theory while allowing things like ESS (Eternal Subordination of the Son) to be taught in our seminaries. That, on top of a year when Mohler has refused to rename seminary buildings, he has been revealed to have supported chattel slavery, condemned Harriet Tubman, and admitted he has been influenced by the Lost Cause theory of the South. In his bid to become president of the Southern Baptist Convention, he has wholeheartedly given himself to the Republican Party without apology. (Read my piece “MLK, Trump, "White Moderates", Abortion, And Christian Witness In America”)

And all the while, we have seen the emboldenment of (White) Christian Nationalism erupt like Mount Vesuvius. The “Proud Boys” ripped BLM flags off of churches while the police stood by and anyone who believes in Systemic Racism is apparently a Marxist and hates America. (Read my piece “Nationalism is Anti-Christ” // from 2019).

And it’s hard to understand why so many “Evangelicals” continue to endorse this lying, conniving, sexual assaulting, conning, grifting president. The only answer can be that many American Christians have felt their position of cultural influence slipping away. Why else would you be mad if the grocery cashier doesn’t say “Merry Christmas” or if there are nativity scenes on public property? But these are the very things “pastors” like Robert Jeffress (whose church trademarked the “hymn” Make America Great Again) claim to be persecution. (Read my piece “The False Persecution Complex of American White Evangelicals” and yes, this one was technically from 2019).

I don’t know what 2021 will hold, but I don’t see the waters of Evangelicalism calming any time soon. And this makes me thankful and hopeful. God’s Church will prevail and not even Christian Nationalism, MAGA, or a sexual-predator, White-power president overwhelmingly supported by White Evangelicals will change that.