“We’re innocent, but the weight of the world is on our shoulders
We’re innocent, but the battles left for us are far from over…”
—The Offspring, from the song “Not the One” (YouTube)
I first heard The Offspring’s Smash album when I was fourteen, and it blew me away. As a chaplain, I’d now label that formative spiritual experience entheos: a Greek word meaning "full of spirit/god," from which the word enthusiasm originates.
The Offspring also helped me appreciate punk music and culture. I've never felt comfortable with creedal or orthodox expressions of religion. (This discomfort is what attracted me to Unitarian Universalism in the first place.) At its core, Punk affirms and validates people who have experienced—and chosen to rebel against—the abuse and excess of authority. Punk also celebrates radical inclusivity while prophetically challenging people to confront structures of evil.
Just as The Offspring connected me to spirit all those years ago, my relationship with punks has broadened my understanding of Beloved Community. I empathize with the restlessness of punk culture and the spiritual malnourishment felt by many of the radically unchurched—because I've felt it too. And so two summers ago, I channeled my sense of communitas with punks—who have, at best, an indifferent relationship with religion—into serving as a volunteer punk chaplain at a music festival.
These punks of all persuasions and passions weren’t used to being heard and validated, especially by religious folk; I strove to provide witness and with-ness. Yes, I mused, Satanism is a legitimate spiritual direction if it's helping you. Yes, I affirmed, it was wrong for a priest to subject you to religious platitudes following your son's death, and you're right to feel angry. Yes, I enthusiastically agreed, the mosh pit can definitely function as a sacred space.
Last summer I returned to the Camp Punksylvania music festival with my friend, Jonathan Murray, where we provided a dedicated sanctuary: The Vent Tent. Some people sought reality checks; others sought spiritual advice. Still other people dropped in for the misting fan we provided as relief from the stifling heat.
As chaplains, we’re caretakers; we create spaces that provide ceremony, connection, and sanctuary. Nobody can stop the storm of suffering in the world...but for three days every summer, we can provide sanctuary to each other, and remind ourselves that everyone is worthy of finding Beloved Community.
Prayer
May The Great Influence remind us of its presence and instill in us feelings of connection, agency, purpose, meaning, serenity, and enthusiasm.