What I Learned from Branford Marsalis

Last night Sarah and I got to watch The Branford Marsalis Quartet perform in Baldwin Auditorium at Duke University. It was as fantastic as you would expect from a set of world-class jazz musicians. Besides the excellent music, we took special pleasure in knowing that people sitting next to us paid over $50 a ticket while we got in for only $10. (Thank you student ID!)

The evening was inspiring on several levels. Other people have already written about how theology and ministry is like the improvisation in jazz music. I just want to note a few down-to-earth things that I appreciate about Branford's work and how that applies to life:

Sometimes you have to walk away from great things.
From 1992 to 1995 Marsalis had the best music show-biz job in the world: he was Jay Leno's bandleader for The Tonight Show. I have never been a fan of Jay (mostly because I think NBC made an enormous mistake in hiring him instead of David Letterman), but

Leno should get some credit for picking a classy and talented jazz musician. Yet even though Bradford had this great 5-nights-a-week gig, at some point he realized that playing the talk-show game was not the best he could be. He left -- not so he could be more famous, or make more money -- but to make the kind of music that he knew he was capable of. I bet none of you know about anything that he has done in the past twenty years, and yet he is doing what he was made to do and what no one else in the world can do.

You had to be there.
 Some experiences can't be reproduced by watching the highlights on the 11 o'clock news. In a culture where everything is now virtualized in cyber-space, live concerts remind me that some things are best done in person. Take church, for instance. Yes, we can listen to sermons online -- and some churches even celebrate web-based Communion -- but some things have to happen with flesh and blood people. In fact, I think this is one of the best things that Christian worship has going for it. Someday my children's generation will realize that their news feeds (and tweets and snaps and vines) are empty of substance, and the church will be waiting for them to show up, unplugged and in person.

Going long is OK sometimes.
We are always in a rush lately. We even want our songs boiled down and to the point. When is the last time you heard a radio station play anything longer than 4 minutes? But sometimes you need a quarter of an hour to have a real musical conversation and work out your ideas. (See clip below.)

Work with who you have.
The Marsalis quartet consists of himself on sax, a piano, upright bass, and drums. Last night he didn't have his regular bassist or drummer -- each were out of town on other projects. So he found two other musicians and worked with them to get a set of songs ready to perform. Shouldn't all of us be constantly looking for new people to train and mentor, in whatever line of work we are in? Isn't that especially the job of each pastor?

TV programming is terrible.
When there is awesomeness in this world in the form of The Branford Marsalis Quartet, why do we fill the airwaves with reruns of "reality" TV shows? Yes, you have to be there to get the full experience (see point above). But why can't cable networks broadcast jazz performances like this one? Or rock concerts? Or Broadway shows? Or plays?

Why I Wouldn't Baptize Justin Bieber

Last summer Justin Bieber--the Canadian pop boy-wonder--was reportedly baptized by pastor Carl Lentz in New York City. By now this is old news, but it fits with last Sunday's celebration of the Baptism of the Lord. When I first read about Justin's baptism, it got me to thinking about how I would respond to him as a pastor. If Justin had come to me asking to be baptized, I would not -- in fact, I could not -- perform that ceremony for him.

Jealous of that hair

That's not because I don't like JB's music, and it's not because I think he is being disingenuous. I couldn't do it because Justin has already been baptized. As a United Methodist pastor, I am not allowed to rebaptize someone. We teach that baptism is forever and doesn't need to be re-done. If someone is baptized as an infant and later renews their faith, then we have a ceremony for that called a Reaffirmation of the Baptismal Covenant. It involves public confession, prayer, and water -- but it isn't a baptism. I would have welcomed Justin to claim his previous baptism in this reaffirmation ceremony -- but in front of a congregation and not in a private pool.

This refusal to rebaptize puts United Methodists in disagreement with several other Christian groups. The difference usually comes down to the practice of infant baptism. Some Christians think that baptizing babies is invalid and unbiblical, claiming that the baptized should be old enough to make a public declaration on their own. If this is a part of one's practice and doctrine, then of course an infant baptism doesn't "count." A pastor from one of these traditions would gladly rebaptize someone like Justin, who had been baptized as a baby.

This blog post is not going to resolve the ancient debate about the validity of infant baptism. (And I'll not even touch the issue of dunking versus sprinkling.) I will just say that the Methodist position teaches that baptism is a celebration of a covenant that God makes with humanity -- one that is all about God's work on our behalf. A rebaptism can communicate that a single person's decision to seek renewal or cleansing is more important than the work of God's grace. A life-changing moment of repentance in life is indeed something that we Methodists proclaim and encourage. Our own founder, John Wesley, experienced God in a new and life-changing way after he was already an ordained minister. But in that moment of renewal we celebrate that God had already been pursuing us from the beginning. That's what our baptisms are about. A reaffirmation of that covenant love is very appropriate, and it places the focus on God's love instead of on a human decision.