So here's how this reflection is going to go. It will involve 3,091 tiny pieces of plastic, 3' tall furry creatures from a 41-year-old movie, and the power we each have to make a difference in the world. It will be a long walk, so I hope you bear with me.
My Christmas present from my family was the Lego set that you see this Ewok standing within. It is an artistic representation of the Milky Way galaxy that is simply beautiful. It took several days to assemble and was 3,091 tiny plastic pieces in white, yellow, orange, pink, red, and purple. and shades of blue and purple. The designer podcast said that they chose the colors not to be scientifically accurate per se but instead to represent the temperatures as you move out from the galaxy's center. Here is the finished product, which is now hanging up in our basement family room.
It was also a meditative build - the tiny pieces required a lot of concentration to be sure they were put in the right places and in the ways that would create the patterns you see in the finished set. There was a real sense of losing myself in it as I built it and also a desire to take it slowly and enjoy the whole build. The uniqueness of the set is that it is made up of the craziest assortment of Lego pieces - normal blocks but also whisks, hair brushes, cones, carrots, plants, flowers, and the list goes on. It felt like the designers wanted to also send a message of diversity and uniqueness that all these crazy, different, and unexpected pieces all come together to make this final, beautiful project. When you step back and look at it from a distance, it just looks like this beautiful swirl of colors, but as you get closer, you see how these different pieces come together uniquely.
So, keep that in mind while I shift to another small thing. Ewoks. Ewoks are the small teddy-bear-like creatures in the 3rd movie of the original Star Wars trilogy, Return of the Jedi. Full disclosure - I've never been much of a fan of Ewoks. I felt that it was unrealistic that these tiny teddy bear creatures could defeat the Galactic Empire. Also, the rumors are that George Lucas was originally going to make it a planet of Wookies (much bigger furry creatures), which would have been much more believable. So, for the last 40 or so years, I've loved the movie but never enjoyed the Ewoks. And in fact, I've regularly mocked them.
Until Friday morning, December 27.
A month ago, a good friend put me on to a podcast called The Soundtrack Show, which is a deep dive into the soundtracks of some of the greatest movies ever made. I listened to all the Star Wars episodes and discovered things about the music I had never heard or realized before. So that led to a rewatch of the films during my morning treadmill times. I finished Return of the Jedi on the morning of the 27th. Maybe it was that I had just finished working with 3,091 tiny pieces over the last few days, but I saw the tiny Ewoks in a new way this time while watching the film (for the who-knows-how-many-th time).
In the film, the evil Emperor says he has foreseen how his plan will come together to defeat the Rebel Alliance. Still, he fails to see the smallest of creatures. If the Endor moon had been populated by Wookies, there's no way that the Empire would have ignored them the way they seemed to have done with the Ewoks. But the Ewoks seemingly were just left by the Empire to exist. If not for the Ewoks, the Emperor's plan would have succeeded, and the Rebel Alliance would have been defeated.
I indeed came to a new appreciation of the Ewoks upon this viewing.
But maybe it wasn't just 3,091 tiny Lego blocks and furry teddy bears from a 41-year-old film that stirred this. Perhaps it was also one of the most significant books I've read recently, which planted seeds for paying attention to the often unnoticed.
Several months ago, my wife told me I needed to read Jemar Tisby's book, The Spirit of Justice: True Stories of Faith, Race, and Resistance. I finally listened to her and started reading it a few days after the election was completed in November. The book is a compilation of short stories of people who boldly and courageously fought for freedom, human rights, justice, equality, and humanity from the beginning of the slave trade to the modern day. While I recognized some of the names (especially the "big names"), I hadn't heard of most of them. Some stories center on significant actions, but most are centered on actions taken by women and men that have unfortunately gone largely unnoticed by most. I read the book slowly, taking it story by story each day.
Much like the tiny pieces in the Lego set, each of those stories might not seem to connect one with another on their own. But when you bring them together, suddenly, you have something far bigger, powerful, more inspirational, convicting, and transformative. You see how Phillis Wheatley's 18th-century poetry connects with John Punch's conviction and how those tied in with Prince Hall's appeals and Benjamin Banneker's letters to Thomas Jefferson. You begin to understand how the seeds of resistance led to the founding of universities and Christian denominations that still exist today. Tisby lifts the stories of women becoming Christian leaders and pushing against established norms. He also tells the story of a man ironically (at least in the context of this reflection) named Robert Smalls, who commandeered a ship in Charleston's harbor and rescued not only himself but sixteen other enslaved people. And there are so many more when you look (and read) more closely.
I hope you don't hear me minimizing these courageous people by comparing them to plastic bricks or sci-fi characters. Still, there's a thread through all of this that is deeply resonating with me. The "big" actions don't make the most significant difference. The daily acts of faith, courage, imagination, and resilience are what make the difference (full credit to Jemar Tisby for those four aspects of boldness). It is the work that we do in the immediate circles right around us that can bring about transformation. There's a concept about the work that we do in the three-foot circle around each of us (Sharon Salzberg wrote about this on onbeing.org and Carrie Newcomer sings about it in her song Three Feet or So) that reflects this. I may not be able to make a difference thousands of miles across the world, but I can make a difference right where I am.
Jesus engaged this idea as well in his actions and in his words. In the people Jesus chose to follow him, none of those women or men were people of "note." They didn't have huge follower lists on the 1st-century version of Instagram and they weren't influencers of the day - they were just people willing to step out in boldness and with courage to follow. Jesus' followers were a crazy bunch of fishermen, tax collectors, and everyday people. And yet, God used them to change the world.
Jesus also told parables about tiny mustard seeds, grains of yeast, and seemingly insignificant coins as representative of the kingdom he was trying to help build. In fact, if you look really closely into the Milky Way set, you might see a mustard seed or a tiny coin. You might not see a grain of yeast, but the longer it hangs on my wall, the more likely it will be dust particles!
And really, this is at the heart of what God has been stirring in me through this year with my photos at the bench and my forthcoming book.
While 3 or 4 Ewoks could sit on the bench, and the bench is bigger than a mustard seed, a grain of yeast, or a Lego brick, something transformative has come about through this. For me, it has been about intentionally finding meaning in those moments for myself, sharing what I've been seeing, and inviting others to do the same in their (your) lives. This is one of my own acts of resistance against the forces telling us to be afraid of the world and specific groups of people. This is my speaking a needed message to myself and sharing it within my version of that 3-foot circle. I'm just one person, one pastor, one photographer but this is what I can do.
Grace, Peace, Love, and Joy,
Ed
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I read this entry into your blog immediately following about two hours of researching liturgical colors and parament design, so color was completely on my mind. I wondered how more colorfully diverse the Milky Way is than the starched prescription of liturgical color and thought maybe its time to push the boundaries a bit. I love that Easter has the elegance of white and gold and that the season of Easter culminates at Pentecost - Red. The energy of the Easter season swirls with energy from white hot to flaming red. There are variations of red through the season and it moves outward.
This is so beautiful and thought-provoking! Thank you for sharing, Ed. I'm also super impressed with the Lego portrait. I can't wait to see it in person. My "monkey brain" makes it hard, if not impossible, to participate in such meditative, meticulous activity; however, your reflection inspires me to try.