Songs of Worship – Why We Sing To The Lord

By David W. Stowe
Michigan State University
February 11, 2017

This Saturday, Feb. 11, many Jews will celebrate Shabbat Shirah, the Sabbath of Singing, which commemorates one of the most vivid musical performances in the Hebrew Bible: the songs sung by Moses and his sister Miriam to celebrate the Israelite crossing of the Sea of Reeds (Red Sea) in their dramatic escape from bondage in Egypt.

This Song of Miriam exemplifies one dominant motivation for sacred music: collective celebration.

“Then Miriam the prophet, Aaron’s sister, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women followed her, with timbrels and dancing. Miriam sang to them:
‘Sing to the Lord,
for he is highly exalted.
Both horse and driver
he has hurled into the sea.’”

As a cultural historian, I have been studying the relationship between music and religious experience for two decades. Music has been crucial to religious experience across history and region.

Sacred music has a unique ability to engage both body and mind. It brings people together in expressing gratitude, praise, sorrow and even protest against injustice.

Why religion needs sacred song

More than three millennia after Miriam, singing continues to be a widely observed expression of thanksgiving and gratitude, whether or not couched in religious language or occurring in a sacred space.

Singing bhajans.
Vrindavan Lila, CC BY-ND

Jews and Christian sing psalms that celebrate the glory of creation and the god who created it; Muslims offer “na’t” in honor of the Prophet Muhammad; and Hindus chant “bhajans” to express their devotion to Shiva or Krishna. In many American evangelical churches, pop-influenced congregational singing, generally referred to as “praise music,” has replaced old-school hymns.

At the other end of the emotional spectrum, sacred music is the preferred medium for expressing mourning and lament. African-American churches commonly referred to such songs of trouble and grief as “sorrow songs,” in contrast to the more upbeat celebratory “jubilee songs.”

Indeed, the climactic final chapter of historian and civil rights activist W.E.B. DuBois’ classic collection, The Souls of Black Folk, is titled “Of the Sorrow Songs.” He offers an eloquent tribute to the power of the spiritual, when he says,

“And so by fateful chance the Negro folk-song – the rhythmic cry of the slave – stands to-day not simply as the sole American music, but as the most beautiful expression of human experience born this side the seas.”

Many Hebrew psalms are classified as laments and have been sung by monastics and lay worshipers, Jewish and Christian, for 2,000 years. Islam has its own tradition of lamentation dirges, called “nauha,” typically sung by Shiite Muslims in mourning for the martyrs of the Battle of Karbala in 680 AD, which initiated a bitter succession struggle that still resounds through the Muslim world.

The blues, which have so profoundly shaped American popular music – from jazz and rhythm & blues to soul – are regarded as a secular counterpart to the songs that arose out of conditions of chattel slavery, as the theologian James Cone memorably explores in his seminal study, “The Spiritual and the Blues.”

Just as the experiences of ecstasy and gratitude are heightened by giving vocal expression in collective singing, so the pain of injustice and uncertainty are relieved by vocal release through music.

Former President Barack Obama too broke into what seemed like a spontaneous rendition of “Amazing Grace” at the eulogy he delivered at the historic church in Charleston, South Carolina, following the mass murder of nine church members by a white supremacist in 2015.

Why should this be?

Sacred song is one of the most social aspects of religious practice. But it is also an intimate embodied experience. The singer draws meaning from her or his core being: She feels the sound being produced as she hears it.

Creating musical tone in one’s chest and throat provides sensuous pleasure, amplified by what sociologist Emile Durkheim referred to as “collective effervescence” – the collective energy generated when groups come together in a shared purpose. This concept has been explored extensively by sociologist Randall Collins in his work on interaction ritual chains.

Personally, I have experienced this most intensely while singing shape-note music, which might be described as the heavy metal of American roots music (with a Calvinist twist).

Why communal singing is joyous

Worth noting in the Miriam singing we began with is the way in which singing and dancing are conjoined.

Disembodied music of the sort we take for granted through MP3s and earbuds, or even sitting passively in a concert hall, is a recent historical development. The most intense experience of unity between body and music is called trance. “[Trancing]
is a profound mystery,” writes ethnomusicologist Judith Becker.

“You lose your strong sense of self, you lose the sense of time passing, and may feel transported out of quotidian space.”

Communal singing is more joyous.
cristian, CC BY-NC-ND

Ordinary worshipers often get at least a taste of this when they sing in community. Communal singing plays a role in the release of oxytocin, the “cuddle hormone” instrumental in the pleasures of social bonding.

Music, religion and political protest

The Abrahamic faiths that trace their origins to the Hebrew Bible have a long history of linking sacred song to the struggle against injustice and oppression. This tradition comes out of the Hebrew prophets like Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Amos. Social protest is a strong thread in the psalms, which provided the central worship songs for Jews and Christians.

My most recent book studies just one text, Psalm 137, which includes the famous line,

“How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”

This is a psalm that mourns the plight of Judeans held captive in Babylon after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 587 B.C. This has been used as a rallying cry for religious and political movements for many centuries.

And indeed it seems that music may play a part in the mass protests of the Trump era. Secular spirituals like “We Shall Overcome,” with its roots in the black church, are always ready to be dusted off. But this time, Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land” has already been promoted by the political resistance as a reminder of the earlier, more inclusive vision of American nationhood. Lady Gaga even managed to take it into her Super Bowl halftime show without raising alarms. New versions of the Song of Miriam continue to be rewritten and sung, as songs that celebrate triumph over oppression or injustice.

As Becker says,

“You cannot argue with a song sung in soaring phrases, with drum rhythms you are feeling in your bones, surrounded by friends and family who are all, like you, structurally coupled, rhythmically entrained.”

Editor’s note: the original version of this story inadvertently identified the Battle of Karbala as having taken place in 680 BC instead of 680 AD.

David W. Stowe, Professor of English and Religious Studies, Michigan State University

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

The Plight of Christians in Pakistan

Breathing Without living: the plight of Christians in Pakistan

The nativity scene, organised and prepared by Christians in Peshawar just before Christmas. Photo: A. Khan

 

Altaf Khan, University of Peshawar

“The year 2017 will be one of peace and love,” Naheed Naz told me. “There is nothing in the scriptures about it, but Jesus puts feelings in your heart about what is going to happen. It is a matter of faith and we believe in it.”

I met Naz, in her 40s, and a nursing teacher with a Masters degree in Public Health, at the All Saints Church in the heart of Peshawar’s old city. She sounded optimistic despite the last days of 2016 bringing more turmoil in Pakistan for Christians.

Christmas messages were received with death threats and a Christian man was arrested on December 30 for allegedly desecrating the Koran. He currently faces the death penalty.

I could feel this tense atmosphere as I approached the All Saints Church on Christmas Day. The 19th-century building of Islamic Saracenic style reflecting in the brilliantly sunny day outside.

As I entered the church’s hall, the faithful were taking seats in anticipation of the Christmas mass. I had to come in through heavy security. The street where the church stands was blocked at both ends by sand barriers and guarded by security personal. On 22 September 2013, a twin suicide bomb attack during a Sunday mass at the church killed 127 people.

I asked Naz how the Christmas of her childhood differed from now. She recounted memories of her childhood and her sister’s: the letter to Santa, her mother and father who used to make their life loving and rich, and the moral values of love and peace Christmas used to bring. Naz lost her mother in the 2013 bombing.

A little later, as I sat in the church, I met Shafi Maseeh, 75, who also lost his son in the same terror attack. He had little to say. Shafi is the real prototype of a Christian in Pakistan. A janitor by trade, he had no good memories to share of anything.

Most Christians I talked to felt a loss of identity, isolation and a deep sense of alienation. There was no nostalgia for the past, nor any enthusiasm for the present.

In the All Saints Church, I was not alone at the Christmas ceremony. The local media had come too. Father Patrick Naeem was happy to see them and thanked the government, the media and the chief of the Pakistani army, while also asking journalists to respect the parishioners as they took photos of the ceremony.

One reporter asked me what I was doing there. When I told her I was going to do a story on Christmas and would like to interview her too she angrily replied, “I am not a Christian, do I look like one?” I was shocked for a moment. “There is nothing wrong with being a Christian,” I said.

Another reporter warned me as I was leaving the place: “Be careful, liberals are on the hitlist.” I just kept quiet.

Pakistan’s Christian minority

There is no definitive figure, but Christians make up roughly 1.6% of the population of Pakistan, as many as Hindus, according to the latest official statistics.

Christians mostly converted from Hinduism to escape the caste-dominated Indian society before the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947. But changing religion didn’t help: the roots of discrimination based on caste run deep in both Indian and Pakistani society.

The Christmas ceremony is an event on its own as media gathered to film.
A. Khan

The plight of Christians has persisted for decades, but there has also been a rise of hatred against Christians since the late 1980s, when the dictator Zia ul Haq introduced Pakistan’s blasphemy law, particularly used to persecute Christians.

A double oppression

Pakistani society is still marred by racism and questions of caste, even among Muslims, despite the Qur’an setting out radical equality for all.

Across South Asia, Muslims remain divided up by various hierarchical systems. This long trail of caste-related injustice goes back to the beginnings of subcontinental societies and seems impervious to the intrusion of other sources of identity such as the nation state or religion.

So the Christian community reels under a double oppression of racism, based on the low castes many Christians come from, and religious intolerance towards their belief system.

But even among minorities, Christians are particularly singled out, for a number of reasons. They are visible: they live mostly in urban areas and are often employed in low-wage jobs. They are also the poorest of the community.

In December 2015, the Capital Development Authority of Islamabad submitted a report suggesting that the Christian “ugly slums” of the capital be destroyed to keep the city clean. The CDA, in this unprecedentedly stupid move (“their Trump Moment” as the English daily Dawn put it), argued that the campaign of destruction would preserve Islamabad’s aesthetics and maintain its Muslim-majority demographic balance.

The proposal was rightly contested by political parties, activists, and NGOs and thwarted by the Supreme Court, but it was a worrying sign of just how poorly Christians are thought of by the Pakistani elite.

Adding insult to injury, Christians in Pakistan are also seen as representatives of the US and other Western powers who are often held to be responsible for the plight of Muslims around the globe.

Christianity in politics

The plight of Christians is linked to the political foundation of Pakistan and the much criticised Two Nation Theory which became the basis of Partition in 1947. Partition aimed to create a state for Hindus (India) and one for Muslims (Pakistan).

Christians are historically considered to have positively contributed to Pakistani statehood, thus helping the development of the Pakistani society, but today they, along with other non-Muslims, are forbidden from holding high office.

The Christian vote in Pakistan is around 1.3 million, second to the Hindu vote, which is around 1.5 million. While the Hindu vote is mostly concentrated in the Sindh and Punjab regions, Christian voters are more scattered. Since the minority vote is restricted to a few electorates, political parties are not generally interested in serving them, though there is a lot of lip service to minority issues.

Minority representatives protest the problem of segregation from mainstream politics. There is no doubt that the electoral system adds to the problems of already frustrated minority communities in Pakistan. Minorities don’t have the right to place their own candidates in elections. They can vote for any Muslim candidate in their constituency from within the general seats, and they also have the right to vote for a minority candidate, but they don’t have the right to choose these. They are instead given minority seats for which tickets are allotted by mainstream political parties.

Fractured communities

While talking to various Christians, I observed very little sense of community. All identity revolves around the personal and in Pakistan, that is steeped into the psychology of status.

Christians in Pakistan are faced with both victim-blaming from without and the self-loathing it generates within the individual.

Continuous repression as a community within social and political life in Pakistan has led some to blame themselves for their problems. Self-incrimination, a shallow sense of belonging to the mainstream and the loss of the social self were often apparent in my conversations for this article.

“Our people are not serious about their studies; they don’t save money,” a priest who works as a waiter at my university’s student accommodation told me. “I do save, though I am usually in debt, while keeping my needs to the minimum.” When I asked if it is because of the loss of hope that some Christians struggle in school and work, he replied, “No, I have made it from a janitor to a waiter. My boys are going to school. Isn’t it an environment conducive to success?”

Living with contradiction

Christians are often the recipient of local charities. “Yes, we like them, because they grew up with us,” a high-level political activist in Peshawar told me. “They clean our homes and we give them our used clothes, and also food. They are good people. We also offer them gifts on Christmas. We just did this year, too.” The activist was also a trader in the market in front of the All Saints Church.

Christians often feel the same way. “The political parties don’t care for us,” the priest at Peshawar University said. “Some politicians do, though. They offer us gifts on Christmas. I also got my package. They change the carpets of our church every now and then. This is good.”

In the present environment of hopelessness and fear, the only option left for Christians is to learn to live with Pakistan’s deep contradictions – discrimination from the state, but charity from politicians.

Centuries of continuous repression have left many without any sense of identity within their home country. Many Christians here just want to breathe – being able to truly live is a distant dream.

Altaf Khan, Professor, University of Peshawar

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

What’s Missing in The Teaching of Islam

 

Kishwar Rizvi, Yale University

There has been much misinformation about Islam. Reports in Western media tend to perpetuate stereotypes that Islam is a violent religion and Muslim women are oppressed. Popular films like “American Sniper” reduce places like Iraq to dusty war zones, devoid of any culture or history. Fears and anxiety manifest themselves in Islamophobic actions such as burning mosques or even attacking people physically.

At the heart of such fear is ignorance. A December 2015 poll found that a majority of Americans (52 percent) do not understand Islam. In this same poll, 36 percent also said that they wanted to know more about the religion. Interestingly, those under 30 years were 46 percent more likely to have a favorable view of Islam.

These statistics highlight an opportunity for educators. As a scholar of Islamic art and architecture, I am aware that for the past 20 years, educators have been trying to improve the teaching of Islam – both in high school and college history courses.

The problem, however, is that the teaching of Islam has been limited to its religious practice. Its impact on the arts and culture, particularly in the United States, is seldom discussed.

What teaching of Islam misses

In high school history books, there is little mention of the intertwined histories of Europe, Asia and Africa in the middle ages and the Renaissance. There is even less mention of the flowering of art, literature and architecture during this time.

In a world history textbook for New York public high schools, for example, the “Muslim World,” appears in the 10th chapter. In condensing a thousand years of history – from the seventh to the 17th century – it focuses only on “Arab armies” and the rise of early modern Muslim empires.

Palatine Chapel borrowed from the art of the Fatimids.
Al-dabra, CC BY-NC-ND

Such narrow focus misses out on the cultural exchanges during this period. For example, in medieval Spain, the Troubadour poets borrowed their lyrical beauty from Arabic. Arabic was the courtly language of southern Spain until the 15th century. Similarly, the 12th-century Palatine Chapel in Sicily was painted and gilded in the imperial style of the Fatimids, the rulers of Egypt between the 10th and 12th centuries.

Such exchanges were common, thanks to the mobility of people as well as ideas.

The point is that the story of Islam cannot be told without a deeper understanding of its cultural history: Even for early Muslim rulers, it was the Byzantine empire, the Roman empire and the Sassanian empire (the pre-Islamic Persian empire) that provided models. Such overlaps continued over the centuries, resulting in heterodox and cosmopolitan societies.

The term “Middle East” – coined in the 19th century – fails to describe the complex social and cultural mosaic or religions that have existed in the region most closely associated with Islam – and continue to do so today.

How the arts can explain important connections

So, what should educators do to improve this literacy?

From my perspective, a fuller picture could be painted if identities were not to be solely defined through religion. That is, educators could focus on the cross-cultural exchanges that occurred across boundaries through poets and artists, musicians and architects. Both in high school and university, the arts – visual, musical and literary – could illustrate the important connections between Islam and other world histories.

For example, a class on the Renaissance could explain how the 15th-century Italian painter Gentile Bellini gained famed at the court of Mehmet II, the conqueror of Istanbul. Mehmet II commissioned Bellini to design an imperial portrait that was sent to rulers throughout Europe. His art presents a wonderful example of the artistic exchanges that took place between early modern cities such as Delhi, Istanbul, Venice and Amsterdam.

It might also help students to know that the Dutch painter Rembrandt collected Mughal miniature paintings. Silks from the Safavid empire (the Iranian dynasty from the 16th to 18th century) were so popular that Polish kings had their coat of arms woven in Isfahan.

This exchange of art continued into the Age of Enlightenment, a time when ideas around politics, philosophy, science and communications were rapidly being reoriented in Europe. A class on the Enlightenment may highlight the fact that writers like Montesquieu turned to the Middle East to structure a critique of their own religious institutions.

Goethe found inspiration in Persian poetry.
kaythaney, CC BY-NC

A poetry class could similarly show connections between the German author Wolfgang von Goethe’s writings and Islam, as exemplified in his “West-Eastern Diwaan,” a collection of poems. This epitome of world literature was modeled after classical Persian poetry in its style, and inspired by Sufism, the mystical tradition in Islam.

Most students are open to seeing these connections, even if it might require overcoming their own preconceptions about Islam. For example, when I teach my class on medieval architecture, students are surprised to learn that the two oldest continuously run universities in the world are in North Africa (in Fez – a city in Morocco – and Cairo).

Indeed, it is not easy to disentangle contemporary politics from historical fact, to teach more fully the culture and diversity of a religion that is almost 2,000 years old.

Perhaps educators could learn from a recent exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York titled “Jerusalem 1000-1400: Every People Under Heaven.” The show illustrates how Abrahamic religions – that is, Christianity, Judaism and Islam – borrowed freely from each other in the realm of art, music and literature. Jerusalem was home to diverse populations and the arts played an important role within its religious and political life.

Muslims in America

It’s not in the past alone. We see these connections continue today – here in America, where Islam is an intrinsic part of the culture and has been for centuries.

From the Mississippi delta to the Chicago skyline, Muslims have made contributions, which might not be so obvious: West African slaves in the South were central to the development of the blues. Its complex vocalization and rhythms incorporated the rituals of Islamic devotion many of them had to leave behind.

The same is true of architecture. A quintessential example of modern American architecture is the Sears Tower in Chicago, which was designed by the Bangladeshi-American structural engineer Fazlur Rahman Khan.

Muslim contributions to art and architecture don’t just reflect the diversity of America, but the diversity of Islam in this country. Muslims in America comprise a rich tapestry of ethnicities, languages and cultures. This knowledge is particularly meaningful for young Muslim Americans, who struggle to claim their place in a country in which they are sometimes made to feel like outsiders.

Educators, especially within the arts and humanities, have an important role to play in this religious literacy, that helps students understand the unity in the diversity. After all, as the most popular poet in America, the 13th-century Muslim mystic Rumi wrote:

All religions, all this singing, one song.
The differences are just illusion and vanity.

Kishwar Rizvi, Associate Professor in the History of Art Islamic Art and Architecture, Yale University

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original articl

Jubilee – by Rev. Dustin Bartlett

Jubilee
by Rev. Dustin Bartlett

I’m always surprised by how many Christians who are otherwise well-versed in the Bible have never heard of Jubilee.  Are you familiar with Jubilee?  Before you say, “Yes!” – I’m not talking about the lamest of all X-Men.  No, Jubilee is the ultimate reset button.  It’s a year of rest, renewal, and a clean start.

According to the Bible, every seventh day is a Sabbath day – a day of rest.  People aren’t supposed to work on the seventh day of the week, but instead spend that time in reflection, prayer, and leisure.  In the same way, every seventh year was supposed to be a Sabbath year.  Farmers weren’t supposed to plant any new crops, or prune their vineyards.  The land, itself, was given a year of rest.

But Jubilee represents the ultimate Sabbath year.  After seven sets of Sabbath years, on the fiftieth year, the trumpet announced Jubilee.  In the year of Jubilee all debts were forgiven, all slaves were set free, and all property which had been repossessed to pay off debts was returned to the family from which it was originally taken.  Jubilee was the ultimate fail-safe in preventing the rich from getting richer as the poor got poorer.  Every fifty years, the national economy was reset!

I always think it’s interesting how many business owners will refuse to make a cake or arrange flowers for a gay couple “because it says so in the Bible,” yet none of them are ever clamoring for a chance to erase all their invoices every fifty years.

Seriously, can you imagine what would happen if Christians chose Jubilee as the part of the Bible they insisted their political candidates support!  Can you imagine evangelical Christians only voting for candidates who would promise to uphold the sanctity of Jubilee, and have all debts forgiven and all repossessed property returned every fifty years!

The year of Jubilee is what Jesus was referring to when he preached a sermon in his hometown and said:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Luke 4:18-19)

I realize that a resetting of all debts every fifty years is probably not practical in our modern, global economy.  But I do think it’s worth noting that God was so concerned about the problem of the rich getting richer at the expense of the poor that God basically exercised the nuclear option to take care of the problem.  God cares about the poor and the powerless, and judges us according to whether or not we care too.

So, as we begin a new year, take a moment and read Leviticus 25, and reflect on this ancient Biblical mandate.  Jubilee means that, in order to have a clean slate and a fresh start, you can’t hold on to the advantages you may have accumulated over others.  Every so often, you’ve got to hit the reset button.

Have a jubilant New Year!

Cowards Attack Christian Worshippers Outside St Mark’s Cathedral in Cairo

 

Washington, DC

December 11, 2016

The United States condemns in the strongest possible terms the terrorist attack today on Christian worshippers outside St Mark’s Cathedral in Cairo that has killed more than 25 people and injured dozens more.

Secretary Kerry spoke this morning with Foreign Minister Shoukry to express our deepest condolences to the families of the victims and our best wishes to those who must now recover from their injuries.

As the Secretary also made clear, the United States will continue to stand with the people of Egypt as they face threats from terrorist organizations and work to achieve a stable, secure, and prosperous future.

Spiritual Disciplines, Part 2: Scripture Study by Rev. Dustin Bartlett

Spiritual Disciplines, Part 2:  Scripture Study

by Rev. Dustin Bartlett

Welcome back to my three-part series on spiritual disciplines.  You can find part one, “Ending with Examen,” about the Examen prayer here.

One of the most important spiritual disciplines for Christians, as well as in many other faith traditions, is spending time reading and studying the sacred texts of the faith.  For Christians, our sacred scriptures are found in the Bible.

As a pastor, I’ve had a lot of people – good, churchgoing Christians – tell me that they don’t know very much about the Bible.  This becomes a reason to not study the scriptures – as in, “I don’t know enough about the Bible to understand what I’m reading, so I’m just not comfortable reading it.”  Unfortunately, this is also the reason they don’t know very much about the Bible in the first place!  Kind of a Catch 22 situation.

Although it’s true that knowing about the historical context of the scriptures, knowing the ancient geography and political arrangements, and knowing the original languages of the Bible does help to understand the scriptures better, there are plenty of good methods that allow anyone to read the scriptures and listen for a Word from God.

One that I’m fond of is often called the African Bible Study, because it was developed by evangelists and missionaries in Africa to help Christians who lived in remote and impoverished villages where educated clergy were rare.  It’s a series of three questions used to investigate the text.  Simply read a story in the Bible, and then ask yourself, “What is God doing in the story?” Next, ask “What are God’s people doing in the story?”  Finally, ask yourself, “What does this mean for us, as God’s people, today?”  It’s a great way to let the Bible guide your actions and the actions of the Christian church based on what God and God’s people did before.  And note, sometimes (read: often) God’s people didn’t get it right the first time!  Thank God for second chances!

Another popular method is the Lectio Divina, which is a part of the wider movement of Benedictine spirituality.  It’s a four step process.  First, read the passage slowly and reflectively.  Read it more than once if you’d like.  Pay attention to any words or phrases that might leap out at you.  Second, meditate on what you’ve read.  Think about the ways that the text connects to you and your life.  Third, pray to God a prayer which has been inspired by the reading and meditation.  Even if it’s a simple prayer like, “God, I don’t understand this passage; help me to understand.”  The final step is contemplation, and depending on your point of view it’s either the easiest or the most difficult.  That’s because this is not something that we do, but something God does.  Sometimes after reading and praying, you’ll sense a presence, hear a voice, feel the movement of the Spirit.  This is God using the message of the scriptures to affect change in us.  We can’t force this.  We can only receive it.

I hope these methods help you if you feel like studying the scriptures is too difficult.  But most of all, if you feel like you don’t have the expertise, then don’t do it alone!  Christianity is not a singular endeavor.  It takes place in the context of communities of Christians.  There are plenty of people and churches that would love to help you delve into the scriptures.  My own church, the Custer Community Church, has three different weekly small group Bible studies and a monthly Pastor’s Bible Study.  Whatever community you’re a part of, you’ll find that the most rewarding Bible studies are the ones you do with sisters and brothers.

Come back next week for the final installment on spiritual disciplines:  “Faith 5 with Family.”