Pinnacle Presbyterian Preschool curates an Atelier Exhibition at the cumulation of our school year to showcase the work from each of our classrooms. This is an opportunity for church members, preschool families, and educators from across Arizona to witness the capabilities of young children and the impact of quality early childhood education.

The overarching focus of this year’s exhibition is Reflection for multiple reasons. As a staff, this year has been defined by a reflection of our practices as two separate groups of staff attended study tours in Reggio Emilia, Italy. We’ve also revisited and reaffirmed our Values statement as the foundation for our professional development. 

Reflection was also at the forefront of our classrooms. From very early in the school year, teachers observed children’s strong interests looking out classroom and atelier windows, as well as an interest in the study of light and shadow. Many of these concepts are intertwined in the work featured in the Atelier Exhibition this year. We have challenged ourselves to honor and expand the intrinsic interests of the children to create impactful learning experiences.

The Atelier Exhibition opens in Fellowship Hall Sunday, May 14th, following the 10 am service with a special viewing time dedicated to church members and attendees. We hope you will make time to come over and see the incredible work on display. Furthermore, the art gallery in the church Sanctuary will be featuring work from a few of the preschool classrooms supporting the work featured in the exhibition. The gallery makes visible the beautiful spaces of our campus through the child’s perspective and will be displayed in the Sanctuary through VBS Sunday on June 18th. We are grateful for these opportunities to value and celebrate the youngest members of our Pinnacle community.

A couple of weeks ago I got to spend three days with the majority of Presbyterian pastors in the de Cristo Presbytery (southern Arizona) at a conference center in Green Valley, south of Tucson. In the midst of their annual retreat, I was there to lead them all about in an in-depth exploration of the book of Galatians. (For those who don’t know, I wrote my doctoral dissertation on the book of Galatians, one of the Apostle Paul’s more contentious letters.) The only person I knew beforehand was our Grand Canyon Presbytery pastor, Brad Munroe, who is also the pastor to the de Cristo churches. The other 22 folks were all new. (One person I knew of, because his sister is a member of our congregation.)

First of all, the setting was beautiful, ringed by the Santa Rita mountains to one side and the high desert grasslands of the Sonoran Desert to the other, we were all in the need of some time away. Over the three days, we walked verse by verse through the letter to the Galatians, unpacking major theological themes and obscure references that are almost completely lost to us in time 2000 years after its writing.

Now why would a bunch of full-time ministers be willing to go on retreat, only to be subjected to a seminary-level academic dive into the conflicts of the early church? Well, Galatians harbors snapshots of the tensions active in the first 30 years of Christianity, and some of these same tensions still plague us today: can people of different ethnic and racial backgrounds sit together and worship and sit in the same church, without divisions and factions breaking out? Well, this is what happened in the Galatian churches. Those who were formerly Jews and those who were formerly Pagans were worshipping together as followers of Christ. Then someone from the church in Jerusalem got word of this and came up to Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey) and said that it just wasn’t decent for folks to do this; these two ethnic groups should not comingle, even in the church!

Well, Paul, when he heard about it got quite upset (and that’s putting it mildly). He dashed off a letter to these churches to let them know that for all those who are baptized in Christ Jesus, “there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male and female, for all are one!” And Paul goes so far to say that if former Jews and former Greeks who are now one in Christ cannot sit together, eat together and worship together, then Christ died for nothing. Paul says, “You all are fighting over non-issues. The only thing that matters is faith energized by love.” It’s a message we all need to hear today.

So, our group of presbyterian pastors, men and women, equal in the gospel, wrestled over the implications of Paul’s letter for our churches today. And we got to spend time getting to know one another, eating together, playing games, laughing together, growing together. I feel like I made good friends in just three days. It wasn’t all easy though. Some folks wrestled with the idea that “Christ died to set all humanity free from the grasp of the present evil age.” 

“What does it mean Christ died for all humanity?”  Well, just that. Galatians tells us that all humanity was held under the grasp of the stoicheia tou kosmou (one of those obscurities almost lost to us. What we know is that this is understood as ‘the elements of the cosmos.) Christ, Paul says, emancipated the whole cosmos from the grasp of sin and evil. All humanity lives within the cosmos; certainly, all humanity has been freed. So, how come it doesn’t look like it?

Well, one participant in the conversation offered this analogy: it’s like Christ walked into a prison and opened all the doors and said, “Follow me out of here,” and only some of the folks chose to walk out with him. Other folks have just continued to live in their captivity, not aware or not caring that Christ had freed them. That image works really well for Galatians, a letter that is full of language and imagery of God’s liberating slaves from their bondage.

Sometimes, pastors need to step away from the fervid work of the church to study scripture together, and to be refreshed to go back to their congregations with the gospel of God’s faithfulness, energized by love and for love, to proclaim liberty to all who seek to walk out of whatever prison binds them. The joyful work of the kingdom goes on, so that we may all harvest the fruit of the Spirit. (Read Galatians, and you will understand.)

The use of AI (Artificial Intelligence) has sparked significant debates about its impact on the future of our society, and in the case of art and music, on creativity and intellectual property. AI has been steadily transforming various industries, and the field of creative arts is no exception. 

For the sake of brevity of this blog post, I will focus solely on the use of AI in creative arts, and not engage in the conversation about the societal concerns and myths connected with the AGI (Artificial General Intelligence). If you'd like to participate in a more philosophical conversation with Drs. Avram and Jensen, there is a Courageous Conversations about AI and Religion coming up on Sunday, May 7 at 11:30 am at Pinnacle. 

Let me present some general public cons about AI-generated art first, followed by my personal responses: 

1. Loss of human touch: Some argue that AI-generated art lacks the soul and emotion that comes from human-made creations. They express that AI may dilute the unique qualities that make art a deeply human experience. 
Take a note of the AI-generated cover photo for this blog. This is not a photograph of a real person. It has been synthesized from millions of real photos, and it was generated by an engaged process of creative and descriptive text prompts from its author. It is our personal decision how to classify and consume this type of art.  

2. Intellectual property concerns: The use of AI in creative art raises questions about who owns the final product and whether the AI-generated work is truly original or simply a derivative of existing creations.
To my knowledge, there are no processes in place to credit copyrighted works which are used as a basis for the AI-generated output at this point. However, as with all new technology, it is a question of time for this to happen, and it will require a thorough and engaged process. 

3. Ethical considerations: AI-generated content can sometimes inadvertently perpetuate biases present in the training data. This raises concerns about the potential for AI to reinforce existing stereotypes and inequalities in creative fields.
ChatGPT has been recently addressing these issues, and I don't foresee this to be an easy process. AI can be only as free of bias as all humanity is at this point. It reflects us, and we are far from perfect.

4. Job displacement: The rise of AI in creative fields can potentially lead to job losses for artists and musicians as AI technologies become more advanced and capable of producing high-quality work. 
In my opinion, the use of AI in creative arts is inevitable. In the near future the artists and musicians will divide into those who embrace AI, use it as a quality tool to enhance their work, and into those who don't. 

Personally, I am very intrigued about using AI in the field of choral and instrumental church music. The reason for it is an actual need which comes from my daily work and experience. It is an involved and time consuming process to find, create, adjust, arrange, or edit music selections in order to deliver worship music which: fits the scripture, responds to the mood of the day, current events, is of high quality, has the appropriate lyrics, is written for the ensemble I have on hand, etc etc etc. Worship music, with its many facets and a need to reflect the current coexisting variety and diversity of styles, requires a medium which will keep up with the societal and cultural changes. 

I would open-mindedly engage with a version of AI software which could become a tool to deliver high quality music selections for worship. For example, imagine that I feed a music composing AI software the following text prompts:

"Write a 4 minute composition for an SATB Adult choir, intermediate level, accompanied by an organ, cello, oboe, and harp, with a soprano solo part, in a mixed style of J.S. Bach and John Williams, which would have words in English based on Maundy Thursday scripture from John 13:1-17, 31b-35 "  
or 
"Write a 5-minute piece in a mix of Gospel and Caribbean styles for a tenor soloist, unison Children Choir of 30, with SATB supporting Adult choir, intermediate level, accompanied by piano, electric bass, tenor saxophone and drum kit, which would use the words in English based on Pentecostal reading from John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15"

Imagine that the (not-existing-yet) software delivers a few compositions I can choose from and tweak them to my liking and needs. It would save me a lot of time, deliver exactly what I need, and enhance our worshippers' experiences. I don't believe this software would eliminate the need for church music composers, rather it would restructure their work. In fact, many composers could use it as a tool to speed up their composition process, to better connect with their audience and understand churches’ needs, and, if embraced, could potentially lead to fresh and fascinating outcomes. 

The only two issues remain: do we have fair processes for these types of changes in creative arts, and are we ready for them? 

* This blog has been written as a creative collaboration between the author and ChatGPT.

We know Benjamin Franklin for famously saying that two things in life are certain, but I’d like to add a third; death, taxes, and the messiness of relationships.

In the Gospel of Luke, chapter five, we read a well-known story. A story where Jesus first calls some of his disciples. In this very story, we get a glimpse of how relationships can be messy.

“Once while Jesus was standing beside the Lake of Gennesaret and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gotten out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore.”

The rabbi is telling the expert fisherman where to fish. How would you feel if you were Simon? Honestly, I’d be a little annoyed. Nonetheless, Simon follows through with what was asked.

Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to burst. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’s knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were astounded at the catch of fish that they had taken, and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon.

This story manifests the messiness and complexity of relationships. Although Simon may have been annoyed at Jesus at the beginning of the story, Jesus’ love for Simon was not compromised. We can find this to be true in our own relationships.

In our middle school Sunday school class, we are talking about life in a relational world (part of a larger teaching series by Fuller Youth Institute titled “Faith in an Anxious World”). We focused on the above scripture passage last Sunday. We talked about families and the impact they have on how we feel. The story in Luke is a reminder that although people we know, including our own family members, can get under our skin sometimes, we still need them.

Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

We often say that as Christians we are an Easter people. By this we mean that we seek to be ones who live into the hope of the resurrection. And while I definitely proclaim the good news of Easter, I also find that we sometimes move so quickly through Holy Week that we skip over one of the most important days of the Easter journey - Holy Saturday. If you are like me, you may have spent much of your life not knowing the importance of Holy Saturday - nestled between the dark irony of Good Friday and the eruption of celebration on Easter morning - or even that it has its own name and identity. In most Presbyterian churches we have no celebrations or commemorations of Holy Saturday in our liturgy. The liturgical silence, though, speaks volumes. Holy Saturday is a hinge moment for us in the church. As the sanctuary darkened to pitch black at the Good Friday Requiem service, no one could ignore the contrast with the adornment of flowers, white cloths, and shouts of “Chris is risen!" (and, of course, “Christ is risen, indeed!”) that would come on Easter with bonnets and pastel bowties.

When I reflect on the day leading us to the resurrection and the conquering of death and the transformation of creation I am more than ever drawn to the disciples of Jesus. I imagine their despair. The one they have followed has been killed. He is dead and buried. Their very purpose has disappeared behind the stone that sealed the crypt. Their calling has lost its purpose like a dinner table candle being snuffed at the end of a meal - the thin trail of final smoke, the only remnant of what had been a vibrant light in the darkness.

I think about the confusion that must have overwhelmed them. These followers had risked it all. They abandoned their fishing nets and families. They stood up to powerful religious leaders and turned their backs on tradition and expectations. In poker terms, they went "all in" on a hand that was now leaving them empty. They were stunned. So stunned that Peter, even though Jesus had warned him that he would do so, denies even knowing Jesus.

We step into Holy Saturday with the knowledge of what will come on Easter morning. We stepped into Lent with the knowledge of the glory of the empty tomb. Indeed, we cannot separate our experience as Christians from the knowledge of Easter. As Christians, we are, indeed, an Easter people, and we are an Easter people even on Holy Saturday and everyday.

For me, this means that the eyes through which I look at the disciples on Holy Saturday are loving and knowing eyes that want to hold and comfort these broken friends, knowing that even their pain will be gone in the morning. Sometimes, though, our Holy Saturday comes at other times in our lives.

Our Holy Saturday comes when we have a difficult diagnosis. It comes when we are in the midst of treatment. It comes when our job ends or our children are lost and confused or when the pressures and anxieties of our lives seem to overwhelm. Holy Saturday comes in our lives when all of the hopes and dreams and realities we have come to rely upon seem to come crashing down around us. And when our Holy Saturday comes, and when Holy Saturday seems to last for days and days or weeks or even for years, it is hard to see Easter. No matter how prepared we think we are, hope seems elusive and promises seem trite. No matter how long and how far we've walked with Jesus, his words fall silent.

And, yet, somehow, on Holy Saturday, experiencing the hinge moment where we've just mourned the death of Christ, and with full knowledge of Easter coming the next day, we mark it with no liturgy and no formal observances. Experiencing Holy Saturday might feel like the moment when you jump into a swimming pool, breath held, waiting to rise to the surface to take the deep intake of new air. The gift we have is that we know that Easter comes. But when you experience moments in your life when it can be difficult to see that Easter is coming, may you return to that hinge moment knowing that you are not alone and that the path of waiting is a path you walk in the tight embrace of our God as you wait for the risen Christ to leave the tomb empty.