Welcome to the A.M.P. 2013!

A reflection as we spiral into the quiet of Advent: 

The A.M.P. has traditionally not featured many traditional Christmas and Advent hymns in our posts, not because we don't love them (we do!) but because they feel obvious: yes, Lo, How a Rose E're Blooming is one of our favorites, too. 

Yet hymns are also an integral part of how we mark the Advent and Christmas season as Christians, so this year we also wanted to start a conversation about some of your favorites (and favorite versions). Watch for these posts on the weekends, but here's one of my (Anna's) favorites to start:

  

This song is always haunting and powerful, but I love it that this version by Bifrost Arts feels a little bit messy and off-kilter, too. The singer's voice isn't trying to be polished, and the music drags a little bit along with her voice. 

This version feels earthy, and honest, like it's being sung by someone who might actually be inviting Jesus to come back and break in from the "realms of endless day" in ways that feel both terrifying and much-needed, in ways that bring both justice and total transformation. This is a song sung by someone willing to be flipped upside-down by the grace of God.

But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.  

                                              - Matthew 19:30

And an intro to this year's A.M.P. from both of us:

Before the Advent Music Project had a name, it was a series of Advent “mixtapes” we made in seminary for ourselves and a few friends. Those early collections were in response to our hunger for music that felt as meaningful as the hymns we sang on Sunday, but that mined the music on the radio for inspiration. We wanted to find strains of Advent in everyday life, and we found it everywhere.

So why do we keep doing this? After seminary, we realized that the hunger to look for Advent in the corners of the everyday didn’t leave us. We also realized that despite all the songs we’d already collected, Advent was still all around us, just waiting to be named. We’ve probably collected over 100 songs at this point, and we find more each year.

While we do this project for ourselves, we also wanted to share with others and start a conversation… thus the Advent Music Project was born, and each year it keeps expanding beyond our expectations. This year, our theme, “Shine On,” pushes against our tendencies to favor meditative, sometimes even mournful songs (in the vein of the hymn above or "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”) with a theme that emphatically invites celebration and joy-filled waiting. This year we’ll also occasionally expand beyond music, featuring short art videos or other media, and we’ll be crowdsourcing some posts that could use a whole chorus of voices (like yours!).

As usual, the heart of our devotions are music spanning from New Wave to Psychedelic Pop, Geechee to Hip Hop, and reflections that cast all these songs in the light of Advent. We aren’t shy about what we consider to be “Advent” music around here, so if you’re looking for your daily dose of angelic choirs, you may be in for a surprise. But if you’re looking to be upended by a song you’ve heard on the radio a thousand times, or introduced to an artist you’d never heard of or considered “Advent-y” this might be the place for you.

We’ll be posting regularly on A.M.P. Monday through Friday, with additional activity like the hymn project I mentioned above throughout the week and the weekend on Facebook. Follow us there for all the updates: https://www.facebook.com/adventmusicproject

May you find your way in this season filled with light. Shine On.

-- Lindsey and Anna

On your marks...

~ Welcome to the Advent Music Project 2012 ~

If you're new to our project, we mark the days from Advent to the New Year with a song-a-day advent calendar. We'll share our thoughts and also feature song ideas from readers. We hope to open up good conversations in the comments about what the words, songs, and symbols of this season mean to us both online and wherever you are. Read more about why we started this project HERE.

You'll notice that while many of the songs we choose are Christmas oriented, many more are not. Some may even surprise a little. We like treating our radios and playlists like treasure boxes that hold echoes of Advent in many places. So take a listen -- and tell us where you hear the sounds of mystery, grace, redemption, wonder, longing, and good news of great hope.

At the verge of the Advent season, we invite you to journey with us. 

Come in, come in!

a new rendition of a very old Advent song, by Rosie Thomas.

- Lindsey and Anna

Sat Dec. 24 - Things Hold Together (Dave Matthews Band)

Joseph went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.              -Luke 2:5-7

(Anna) Maybe this isn't the most reverent thing to say on Christmas Eve, but babies often remind me of Cracker Jack boxes. They may not all look the same, but there's really no telling what they'll become. Reprobate, saint, mediocre wishy-washer... they all just start out as, well, babies - complete with personalities but not yet shaped by the marks of fate upon their skin. So pause the manger scene for a minute and flash forward thirty or so years: what do we see now? Does it even really matter on Christmas night?

Yes, it matters, because if I can't get it in my head that I'm welcoming a child who isn't just going to sit quietly in a crib forever, but will one day be the pushy, annoying, rabble-rouser that doesn't just implicate people I don't like but who pushes back on me as well, well then I might as well just open my gifts and be done with it. But, if even for a fleeting moment, I can hold on to the fact that there is both something real and pure about the lavish gift of love and peace offered in that silent night in the manger, AND that there is something complicated, messy and uncomfortable about this baby's birth that will (and already had) upset the order of the world -- then I've truly held Christmas in my hands. When it feels almost impossible to hold this paradox in mind, I just remember that the almost-impossible and the nearly-incredible are what lie at the heart of the Christian faith - as this night where God who comes as a human and showers us with 'love, love, love.. all around' so wonderfully proves.

(Lindsey) Every good story has a conflict. Great works of literature, Disney movies, the good story of a friend, they all have something with which the main character must contend: bad guys, hardship, or even her/himself. But this story, this baby, brings our literary preferences pretty close to home. It flips the script. Jesus (as baby, man, God)  is the conflict, the scandal, the sticking point upon which the world's way of being trips and topples - and is the conflict over which we still trip and tumble and are upended.

The story of this night unfolds into the life of Christ - among a long list of characters: 'less-informed authorities,' cynics, jeering neighbors, demanding family members, those who seek violence as a means to peace, people who love their traditions more than anything, and those who will not risk. I have at times inhabited many of those characters in the stories of my own life. But this story is not (only) a great literary work, a moralistic tale, or the story of a friend - this story is more. It is an axis of wonder, a place that we return to year after year, a mysterious truth that we spin round and round. The wonder of it is this: that the conflict and chaos, the resolution, the love, the frailty and the fear are all present as God's grace embraces the world. That in spite of (or, I believe, because of) this complexity, both present in the world and present in us, the Creator came to walk among these 'characters' -- and comes still to walk with us now: the uninformed, the violent, the cynical, the fearful.

And so we fall silent on this Christmas Eve in the face of a love that is bigger than we understand. And we dwell for a moment in the wonder that God, in whom all things hold together, became a small baby and reached out to embrace all things in the hold of grace.


May we be embraced by wonder as Grace is born again to us tonight.

                           - Anna and Lindsey

Mon Dec. 19 - Making it Through (Over the Rhine)

We've been reckless, we've been good,
doin' most of the things we should --
but the picture is much bigger than we knew...
               - Over the Rhine

Here's what I like about Advent: it puts things in perspective.  At all times of the year people get sick, have surgeries, fight with family or spouses, break up with girl or boyfriends, lose jobs, get great news, give birth, feel lonely or frustrated or lost... but it all seems to matter more with the backdrop of Advent and Christmas.  Things take on a weight and a poignancy that rarely gets equaled elsewhere in the year.

In this final week of Advent, the Advent Music Project is considering, How do we dwell into this Christmas-tide?  My first instinctive response: We dwell into Christmas by dwelling into everything else - especially the difficult stuff -, too.


In our church communities we often have this urge to leave the unruly, disquieting issues of world affairs, broken relationships, and scattered hopes back at the beginning of Advent when in fact, that is exactly what we should bring right into the center of the quiet manger scene.  As somebody was observing the other day, that "peaceful" manger-scene we carry in our collective imagination is really a moment of quiet in what's truly been a chaotic, stressful story involving an unexpected pregnancy, discernment in a marriage, travel, overbooked lodgings, and then... labor.

We usually politely ignore this last part of the story, maybe because it's disconcerting to think of Mary not looking perpetually calm and beatific, but I'm pretty sure that was not the expression she wore when Jesus was, you know... "about to emerge."  I actually find this rather helpful, since I can get panic and confusion, dismay and even a little fear (let's remember Mary was likely between 13 and 15 years old, after all) ... it's the peacefulness that I sometimes have a hard time embodying.

Last December I worked every single day between Thanksgiving and Christmas managing a book store.  There was no "Advent," there was CHRISTMAS... yelled in my ear for almost a month.  So I can tell you, my physical and emotional fatigue walking into a late-night Christmas Eve service (the first time I'd been to church that season) was extreme.  I had literally been forcing myself to not think about how miserable this month was making me, and suddenly I was in a dark room with people who wanted to sing and think about Jesus... and proceeded to surprise myself by crying during the whole service.

Maybe this sounds crazy to you.  Maybe you've yet to experience a really terrible Christmas season, and God bless you if so. Or maybe you know exactly what I'm talking about, only much worse.  I've talked to people who were sitting in inpatient behavioral health units during Christmas, people who were undergoing surprise chemotherapy at Christmas.  It happens.  All. The. Time.

What I love about We're Gonna' Pull Through is that because the issue they need to "pull through" never gets identified, it can become all of our issues.  I love that there's some humor in here, there's some solidarity, there's some small admission of hope:

maybe, sorta', kinda'

if I really had to say,

something good is on its way...

We're Gonna Pull Through - Over the Rhine (lyrics HERE)

This is the permission we need: to dwell into the difficult places we can't just leave behind in Advent, we can't just stop feeling and we can't just fix.  Life isn't that simple, and the picture is always 'bigger than we knew.'  Instead, what we can do is give ourselves some space to deal with what we're ignoring without trying to solve it, and then... lay it in the stable door.

In the end, this is where the fabled peace of that manger-scene comes from: from a mother who lays aside her pain and her fear for the future to look into the eyes of new and marvelous life.  From a father who lets down his guard and dwells into the moment with them.  From a child who carries all the hopes of a thousand generations as if it were weightless because it is carried in love.  This is where we lay down our hearts and realize that it is this releasing, even for a moment, that allows us to make it through.  This simple act gives us the grace of perspective - a reminder that these things do matter, and that there's hope for it all.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.
                      - John 14: 27

May we remember that the manger scene isn't a place to keep out our real lives, but a place to fearlessly invite the mess of the world that we may receive healing, peace, and grace from the God of Love.

                           - Anna

Tues Dec. 13 - Riffing on Love (feat. Over the Rhine)

In this third week of Advent we are moving into a time of real anticipation: the Christmas and Advent carols are starting to feel more "right," the tinsel is glittering, and there's a feeling that the time is drawing near: we are truly making ready for the wonder and peace of Christ's birth to enter our lives once more.  This week, the Advent Music Project explores: How do we make ready?  What do we do (or not) to prepare for the Coming Light?

The Trumpet Child is one of my favorite Advent songs.  The image of a young Jesus calling in the Reign of God with a jazz solo is an image that's hard to top, of course:

The trumpet child will riff on love

Thelonious notes from up above

He'll improvise a kingdom come...
                                      -- Over the Rhine

Nonetheless, the genius of this song's image is that it plays with the wonderful alchemy that is great jazz music: improvisational jazz is a musical style that is deceptively spontaneous and chaotic.  It's true, the exact flow of notes are created on the spot, but always in a framework: the other musicians have their parts, know the cues to switch keys or let someone else lead, and know the structure to the song.  The best improv musicians are the ones who know how to riff on a theme or a format - not just go off on their own.  So in the end, improv is actually about mutuality, cooperation, and listening as much as it is about raw talent and creativity.

The Trumpet Child by Over the Rhine (lyrics HERE)

Improv is a great metaphor for God's power and intentions in the world: God is both sovereign and mutual, creative and cooperative.  God's promises are the solid framework, God's actions switch the keys, but within that structure both we and God and the forces of the natural world are "improv-ing" the present together.  The good news is that our reality is neither utter chaos nor set in stone: there's room for transformation, surprise, and even delight.  True, creativity and freedom can be messy (all good artwork usually is) and sometimes the notes grow discordant, but in the end, God's promises accompany us, the stories of God help us imagine new notes, and the Holy Spirit constantly guides us.


"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
                                         - Jeremiah 29:11


Maybe one way to anticipate and make ready for what God is revealing among us is to embrace our own creative and improvisational abilities.  As someone was saying to me today: sometimes life give you exactly what you'd never want, but the trick is to figure out how to change the rules, transform the game, and make what seemed to give no life flourish.  It's not easy - this is no cute "lemonade from lemons" proposition - but if God is transforming this world, may we not have faith that our own daily riffs and improvisations are a necessary part of the piece?

May we embrace our creativity and openness; our mutuality and listening; our dreams and curiosity in these days, preparing our hearts for the Advent of Christ - 'riffing on love' along with God and all of Creation.

                                    - Anna

Sun Dec. 12 - Trusting the Future (The Davis Sisters)

"Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life...[and] the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month.  And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.  No longer will there be any curse.  ... There will be no more night.  They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light..."
          - Revelation 22: 1-5

Let's talk about the Second Coming for a minute.  (Stay with me!)  As a progressive Christian, I have to admit that even writing these words makes me a little squeamish: there's WAY too much cultural baggage on this train.  Yet abandoning any talk of God's ultimate promises because of those Christians who revel in gleeful violence and self-congratulation may actually be the bigger sin.  So call it what you want: Christ's Return, the Final In-Gathering, Love-Made-Manifest-in-All-Creation... I'm going to take my faith and the pain of the world seriously enough to say that the power of God's love is in its tenacity: Love has ultimate hold of this world, and will not abandon or let us go.  

Many of the Advent songs in our first week seem to hit a similar note: "we need you God because things are pretty messed up around here!" and maybe this feels too much like Lent. But while Advent isn't Lent, Advent isn't a big party, either. Advent lives in a very strange and wonderful in-between place: in-between hope and somber waiting, in-between already and not-quite-yet, in-between eager anticipation and humble thoughtfulness.  

We'll Understand it Better acknowledges that we actually "live" Advent every day of our lives.  In the trials of daily life and our unknowing about the future we grow uncomfortable, so we try to create explanations, tactics, rules, boundaries.  We also try to take ecstatic prophetic visions like Daniel and Revelation and turn them into road maps and recipes.  But maybe what we need to survive in an Advent world is less absolutist theology and more trust in God's intentions: In Advent we practice trusting the future instead of dissecting it.

"We'll Understand it Better By and By sung by The Davis Sisters -- full lyrics to traditional song HERE

Maybe the most revolutionary thing we can say as progressive Christians about God's final promises for the world is that WE DON'T KNOW what it will look like; but we do know what it will feel like.  It will feel like the overshadowing of history by Love: scary and real and gorgeous (and deeply humility-inducing) - and ultimately... healing and grace-filled.  The wait for this time is an ache of need and a humble remembrance of our own brokenness.  The wait for this time is also full of humor and grace, love and peace-filled waiting because we trust the future, and live as though God's promises are already being revealed among us.

May we practice our trust in God's future, remembering that God's love in Christ is not a cold stone of violence but amazing song of wholeness.  And one day it will reveal the honesty and glory of all Creation.  Amen and amen.

                                   - Anna

Sat Dec. 3 - Those Everyday Christmas Blues... (G. Love)

"Christmas Blues, don't know what to do,
I'm all alone, no one t'tell my troubles to
It's just another lonely Christmas, without you.
Christmas... I'm feelin' down,
Looking through my window, for you to come around-- 
but the only thing I see is the snow that's fallin' down..."
                     - G. Love "Christmas Blues"


For those of us who are deeply committed to social justice, we sometimes run the risk of ignoring the holy everydayness of ours and others' lives. Let's not get so lofty in our talk of religious and existential longings for justice and God's peace during Advent that we forget all the "ordinary" stuff for which we also long and wait.  Health, jobs, centeredness, patience, relationships, wholeness... relationships.  I say it twice because after all, for most people in the U.S. who were raised secular or casually Christian, Christmas is primarily about enjoying holiday cheer via parties, feasting, special events and present-giving.  In other words: fellowship.

Even when our family, friends and loved ones drive us crazy, they leave their mark on our holidays.  Even when we have had to walk away from family brokenness, create our home-places elsewhere, or reclaim our solitude as a sign of strength, we still operate on the power of our human connections.  We are social creatures, and festival and holidays are things that, hopefully... sometimes... on a good day when the wind is fair... bring us together.

And while I may roll my eyes a lot of romanticized holiday pop songs for being silly or just plain creepy (can anyone say 'date rape'? I'm looking at you, "Baby, It's Cold Outside"...) it makes a lot of sense that we should name the desire for companionship, love and closeness with family and friends during a season where it's mostly just cold and dark.  I'll Be Home for Christmas, isn't just saccharine sentiment.  Most of us would rather not be nursing broken relationships, or be alone or lonely during the holidays, and I like songs that take that a little seriously, and a little tongue-in-cheek:

"Christmas Blues" by G. Love and Special Sauce

"yes there are times in life when we all need a second chance
yes there are times in life when we just can't stand to stand alone,
-- in a empty home --
So Happy Christmas, wherever you might be...
and on this Christmas time, I hope that you're thinkin' 'bout me --
Happy Christmas, Baby..."

So let's not be afraid to name the common, mundane, everyday things we hope and long for during these days of Advent as well.  Certainly, we keep them in perspective with the most dire and pervasive issues in our world, but they are needs as real as anything else, and have their place in the order of things.

May we be gentle with ourselves in our daily brokenness and everyday dreams, and yet and still dare to draw close to friends and family this Advent: for companionship and love, for fellowship and grace, to share in the festive birth of Christ together.

                                                - Anna

Sunday Nov. 27: One Day (Matisyahu)

“For [all] creation waits in eager longing…” Romans 8:19

            Advent means “coming.” We wait for the advent of many things. We wait for the advent of world peace, we wait to be reconciled with that relative we have not spoken to in so long, we wait for our healing to come, we wait for an end to violence on our streets, we wait through the loneliness of lengthening winter hours... we wait to feel loved, to be better, to encounter the Divine; for freedom from fear, for acceptance; to be heard, to feel safe, to have enough. We wait.

            It is part of our human condition: people from all walks of life wait for - long for - healing, peace, safety, love. This waiting necessitates some sense of hope; for Christians this hope is rooted in the promised return of Christ and the redemption of the world. But that comes a little later. For now, at the onset of this season, when we reflect on what is coming/what is not yet here, let us pause at the waiting, and wonder together: what does our waiting have to teach? What may we glean from the practice of waiting?

            As we listen to this heartsong of hope from an Orthodox Jewish man, what does it means to wait together with all creation? For what are we waiting?

For what are you waiting this Advent season?

May we wait in the darkness of these shortening days, dreaming together of the coming light.

                                                  - Lindsey