Who's In Charge Here?

Matthew Hutson of the New York Times recently wrote an article about the proper use of power. He claims that when rightly wielded, power makes leaders more, not less, sensitive to their subordinates. The difference, he says, is whether one views power as freedom or responsibility. As I read Hutson’s list of factors that make a person in charge more likely to become servants than tyrants, it struck me that Jesus demonstrates all of them.

• Examples: People with power used it more beneficently when they learned that their predecessors had done so. "Very truly, I tell you, the Son can do nothing on his own, but only what he sees the Father doing.” (Jo 5.19) Jesus modeled his use of power on the example of the Father, who unleashed power out of compassion.

• Accountability: Those with power tended to be more compassionate when they knew they had to explain their decisions to others. “‘Father, glorify your name.’ Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’” (Jo 12.28) Jesus refused to seek the glory of the Greek philosophers because he knew he acted under the authority of the Father.

• Identification: Students who wrote about a personal experience of being evaluated showed an increased tendency to judge the work of others with sympathy. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin.” (Heb 4.15) Jesus judges us with mercy, because He judges us as one of us.

• Presence: The physical proximity of a shared workspace made bosses more empathetic. “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” (Jo 1.14) In Jesus, God occupied a cubicle of vulnerable human flesh in the workplace of this fallen world.

• Security: Leaders who feel secure in their power wield it selflessly.  "For this reason the Father loves Me, because I lay down My life so that I may take it again. No one has taken it away from Me, but I lay it down on My own initiative. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This commandment I received from My Father." (Jo 10.17-18) Jesus, conscious of a power he could not lose, embraced the freedom to lose everything else.

(For more information, see When Power Makes Leaders More Sensitive by Matthew Hutson.)

The Rest of the Story

Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him - that she is a sinner." -Luke 7.39

Radio commentator Paul Harvey made a name for himself by telling "the rest of the story." He would spin a yarn, take it up to an intriguing point, and then intone, "And now for the rest of the story." This innocent coda always contained a startling plot-twist that put the entire narrative in a new light.

Something like that idea runs through this little tale, which Luke alone preserves out of the many traditions of Jesus. Simon the Pharisee faults Jesus' prophetic bona fides because the Nazarene does not know "the rest of the story." If this man were a prophet: The underlying grammar silently adds the conclusion, "which he obviously is not." Because if he were, he would know the rest of the story - a lurid tale of trailer-trash-turned-talk-of-the-town. Jesus, however, feints Simon out of position with what appears to be an innocent parable about forgiveness: gratitude mirrors grace; thanks increases as a counterweight to debt.

Do you see this woman? In other words, "Simon, have you heard the rest-of-the-rest-of-the-story?" Jesus' prophetic chops go beyond awareness of sin to the forgiveness of sin. Jesus can rewrite her ending because he has already rewritten her beginning.

We can forgive the Pharisee for not realizing that he was only watching chapter two of the Soap Opera of a Scarlet Woman. His fault lies in the fact that he failed simply to assume the best: that there was more going on than he could possibly know and that the wise course was to trust Jesus' action, and even imitate it.

My friend Don Durham recently told the following story, doubtless set in a Waffle House or iHop, roughly the same kind of public/private chow hall in which Jesus' received this woman's worship:

"My omelet didn't have mushrooms. The bacon never came. It was hard to get water. I overheard the server's mother's day phone call confirming that her daughter had run away again. 'Yes ma'am, I enjoyed every bite. It was delicious. Thank you.'"

How many times have I been aware of the poor service but not overheard the phone call? How many times have I missed the chance to offer a happy ending because I remain unaware of the tragic beginning? "Love," says 1 Corinthians 13.7, "believes all things," or, as Eugene Peterson phrases it, "always looks for the best."

Next time around, may God grant us grace to ignore the sin and assume the phone call.

A Symphony of the Broken

The School District of Philadelphia owns one thousand broken instruments. Each one represents a student who cannot make music.

The District, along with Temple Contemporary, the Philadelphia Orchestra, the Boyer College of Music & Dance, and the Pew Center for Arts and Heritage have come up with a fix. First, they mounted each of violated violin, bent bassoon, and cracked cello on a wall at Temple University’s Tyler School of Arts. The display recalls the famous wall at the Azusa Street revival in Los Angeles where wheelchairs and crutches bore witness to miraculous healings. Patrons can view the display online and “adopt” a particular instrument by donating funds for its repair and upkeep.

Next, the group engaged the services of Pulitzer Prize-winning composer David Lang, who has undertaken to orchestrate a piece using whatever noise comes out of each instrument in its raw and unrestored condition. Later this year, professional musicians, elementary school students, and local amateurs will perform the piece on stringless violins, saxophones without mouthpieces, snare drums with busted skins, and dented French horns. Patrons can “adopt” a particular instrument and donate funds for its repair and upkeep. Proceeds will go to fix the damaged items and provide kits for future repairs. Lang calls his piece, “Symphony for a Broken Orchestra.”

Perhaps the most surprising thing is that, even in their damaged and derelict state, these instruments can still make beautiful music.

Christians love to quote Matthew 18.19, If two of you shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven. What we often miss, however, is the context of this promise, the setting in which Our Lord places this glittering gem. The larger passage concerns disharmony within the damaged body: if thy brother shall trespass against thee (v.15). It is worth noting that the word agree translates a Greek verb which gives us our word symphony: literally, “one voice.” Luke uses it to speak of the band whose tunes blare out as far as the distant fields at the prodigal son’s welcome home party. (Lk 15.25) Our Teacher states that the damaged hearts of imperfect believers can offer harmonious praise when disciplined by a single Composer and directed by a single Conductor. The worship of the local church soars on the score of the Symphony for a Broken Orchestra.

But here’s the thing about a symphony: The instruments do not all sound the same note, nor do the musicians vote on which notes to play. Instead, all take their individual direction from the composer and conductor whose wisdom sees how each part contributes to the whole. Submission, not majority rule, empowers a symphony. Even damaged instruments can make a joyful noise when governed by a single heart.

May God give us grace to be the Symphony for a Broken Body. Rather than hide our bent keys and twisted valves, may we boldly display our busted souls as resources for the Master Musician. Rather than discard our damaged souls, may we offer their altered voices to the overall chorus of praise. Rather than fix ‘em up and leave ‘em alone, may we continue to invest in the upkeep of restore hearts that will inevitably find themselves dropped, kicked, and scratched. And may we be humble enough to ask someone to adopt us, knowing the reality of our own dented spirits.

For more information, see https://hyperallergic.com/371857/symphony-for-a-broken

-orchestra-philadelphia/.