nevermind the bricolage

The Great Stink+Pure Filth

I came across a remarkable essay by Stassa Edwards in Cabinet magazine about the 'Great Stink of 1858. It concerned the overflowing of the river Thames into the streets of London and the unleashing of a putrid stench stemming from the long-term practice of dumping waste of all kinds-animal, industrial and human, in the summer of 1858.

The essay explores the modern city and its relation to human waste, to dirt, to shit--there's a great line, "The Great Stink was, perhaps, an unwelcome metaphor for London's paradoxical modernity: it was the epicenter of a world power, its citizens could fundamentally change human knowledge, but all of this could be ended by a plumbing problem. and that is exactly what the great stink was: an epic plumbing catastrophe nearly two thousand years in the making."

Without stretching a metaphor too far, I am fairly convinced that after a couple of thousand years Christianity has a plumbing problem as well--it is over-flowing with shit--the detritus of centuries of dumping crap into the river of faith. Dogma, doctrines, ideas and metaphors that undermine the perception of what religion is, what it's functions are, how it works etc. Towards the end of the essay Edwards writes,

"Perhaps the Great Stink is an urban madeleine of sorts--not the sweet-smelling spongy cake that Proust envisioned, but a foul-smelling, deformed inversion of it. It invades the senses, creating memories of sensory revulsion. It reminds us of how quickly our smart city existences can devolve into primitive conditions."

One could argue that the rise of fundamentalisms in the early 21st century are indicative of the devolution of religion into a primitive, barbaric state.

Anyway, the essay prompted me to begin to address some ideas that I've been kicking around in my head for at least a couple of decades, just some niggling thoughts that I have wrestled with over the years related to what it means to have faith, to live a life impacted by religion, and a notion that the sterile, sanitized version of Christianity that most of us have experienced is an elaborate veneer masking a smell that needs to be addressed.

So I'm giving a series of talks called, Pure Filth, which will explore things like vulgarity, disgust, the unclean, the profane, the dirty and everything we tend to avoid but which are in fact, everyday realities and experiences for all of us in life--and maybe this will tease out another way of thinking about religion, or maybe it will just be a load of crap.

The very provocative image at the top is by Odd Nerdrum, entitled, Ecce Homo.

(Village Church 343 S. Church Lane, LA 90049 at 11:45am Sundays)

clouds illusions

I've been teaching a class on theology and media, focusing primarily on television and digital media, exploring the acceleration of change and the theological implications of living mediated lives. As I come to this class every eighteen months or so I am aware of how quickly things shift and change. We now find ourselves in the era of 'cloud' technology, the digitality of the present/future seems to be this strange notion of the cloud-our information, our lives, disappearing into internet vapour and no longer living on our computers.

Surely one of the more interesting dynamics of digital living is the growing disconnect with materiality when it comes to our stuff--our music library is made up of files rather than tape or vinyl, our photos are digital, our letters and communications are e-mail, text, tweets-seldom tangible, mediated via machines--mobile devices, laptops, ipads etc. And then there is the cloud-we are intensely suspicious of this sudden appearing, because like much of digital technology it appears to us in a finished form and we are caught up in it before we even know what's really go on and our thoughts about it are usually retroactive-it's only when it works against us rather than for us that we realize its dark side--the recent leak of celebrity nude pics, hacked from the cloud basically--you might delete something from your phone, but it's not gone, nothing  is ever 'gone', it's stored in the cloud which surrounds us, consumes, subsumes us in its vaporous nothingness.

Now it seems to me that there is something of a connect here with some forms of theological reflection. There is a history of 'cloud theology,' be it works, like The Cloude of Unknowyng, the anonymous Middle-English book on contemplative prayer, or Nichols Cusa's 'cloud of impossibility' which addresses the concept of learned ignorance (not-knowing to put it in contemporary terms perhaps), a sort of return to Socratic inquiry.

Cloud computing places everything within our reach but removes it from our grasp-we have to access it through a process, it doesn't live on our devices, they become tools of access. 

The interesting thing about cloud technology is that it’s not a place or location, it’s a highway system. Look at the Google data center in the image above-it's all tubes and pipes. The Cloud contains loads of information and files, but that reality only articulates itself when I go to my computer, launch a programme and resume work on something at the point I left it on my ipad earlier. And we are not really supposed to be thinking about this very much, even though every digital outlet from Apple to Google to Amazon is championing its benefits, we’re simply meant to realize that we can have our data where we need it, when we need it.

Socrates declared that "All I know is that I know nothing," which was the inspiration for Cusa's move to learned ignorance, the premise being that what we know is contingent and we cannot know things precisely because what we know of anything is through relations. For Cusa, the cloud is defined by blindness, darkness and ignorance (an apt metaphor it seems to me for our understanding of the digital cloud), and it is this cloud that we must deal with when we consider the sacred--the darkness itself, if you like, is illuminating.

 

The cloud confronts us with contradictions-both the theological cloud of unknowing and the digital cloud---we don't know enough but we are in relation, and we need to reflect on our not-knowing, our ignorance rather than jump to conclusions and simplistic answers.

In his wonderful book, Nudities, Giorgio Agamben writes,

"The ways in which we do not know things are just as important (and perhaps even more important) as the ways in which we know them...it is possible, in fact, that the way in which we are able to be ignorant is precisely what defines the rank of what we are able to know and that the articulation of a zone of non-knowledge is the condition and at the same time the touchstone of all our knowledge...The act of living is, in this sense, the capacity to keep ourselves in harmonious relationship with what escapes us."

It's virtually impossible not to enter the digital cloud these days, unless one opts out of all connectivities related to the Internet, but avoidance and resistance has seldom seemed the right move to me, and when it comes to digitality I think it is not possible, better then to take some time to frame our ignorance. The same would be true for me when it comes to issues of the sacred-a learned ignorance, and informed not-knowing might just be the pathway not only to fresh understandings but also out of old cul-de-sacs.

 

 

what happened to the soul?

 

One of the topics that I brought up early on in my latest theology and culture class was the issue of the self and the shifting terrain of the soul. The 'erasure of the self,' a term I used from Mark I. Wallace, is an issue of real importance to the realm of the religious in my opinion. Our understanding of what it means to be human, how we think or perceive of the condition of human nature, and particularly, the body and soul dualism that has generally been regarded as given. For most of our history in Western civilization we have operated with a classic view of the self, gifted to us by the Greeks etc., the idea that the 'soul' is subjective and exists outside of matter. There has been a lot of re-thinking of these concepts, and above is yet another from Iain McGilchrist, asking whether or not the use of the term soul has any value or currency in the world today--spoiler--he thinks it does, but redefines it nicely I think.

(There is a blank spot in the video because of music copyright issues but you can listen to the piece yourself via another source)

This lecture is part of an ongoing series created by the RSA to consider spirituality anew in the 21st century.

writing on the wall?

 

I have to admit that a part of me just cant take the tone of this ad which aired during last week's Superbowl. I didn't watch it on TV, unfortunately American football is completely lost on me, but I did see the ad a number of times online and was aware of the broad responses that pinged around the web, positive and negative, regarding the 'diversity' of America, which was too much for some people apparently. The co-mingling of America the Beautiful with lyrics praising coke was, well, sappy as far as I am concerned, but again, the level of patriotism and nationalism surrounding major sporting events is something that I still marvel at, but I was not surprised that they took this approach with the music. The very simple payoff for the ad was that a diverse America finds unity around coca-cola, probably more likely to find it around that than around other things like religion. Consider this image which came via the Public religion Research Institute, which notes the disparity of attitudes and practices around religion between generations. It's quite a stunning image really, no matter where you might place yourself on the grid, the writing is there on the wall--things need to change, if there is much chance of connecting organized religion with younger demographics. These figures do not reflect the more subtle issues and nuances that are also part of generational theories, because there are always anomalies, but nevertheless, there are some strong signs here that should not be ignored.

The growing trend towards non-affiliation is quite a thing when viewed in comparison. I have a conversation about stuff like this on a nearly daily basis, or at least it feels that way, with people for whom these realities are something they don't choose to face with much semblance of desire to do anything at all about it, and I doubt seriously if this image or these statistics will put much of a dent in the resistance, but you never know, perhaps this time it will.

Revolutionary acts and the Scandal of Normality

Rolling Stone have put Pope Francis on the cover of their latest edition, thereby sealing his cool factor into the pop-culture psyche. It's remarkable how quickly this man has managed to capture the imagination of people who one would not expect to be interested at all. Even someone like TV host of HBO's Real Time, Bill Maher, whose disdain for all things religious seems to run pretty deep has sounded almost bullish about the man.

I continua to have concerns about the lack of substantive shifts on major policies within the church particularly around sexuality and gender, but I am also quite taken by his swift change of gears and the amazing results it has produced in the cultural perception of the office of a Pope and perhaps even of the church itself, at least in the short term.

The RS article is pretty thorough, say what you will about Rolling Stone's demise over the past decades into little more than another gossip/promotional rag driven by a culture of gossip, it still manages to offer really thoughtful articles on wide ranges of topics, and this essay on Pope Francis is no exception.

A fair piece of the article is devoted to his personal style and how it has been the catalyst for a sea-change in both perception outside and perhaps practice inside the church. The article acknowledges that so far Francis has produced little in the way of substantive doctrinal change, but perhaps argues that this is not really the way things will change anyway, an idea I found quite fascinating. There have been accusations even from conservative insiders that francis is more about style than substance, but Thomas Reese, a catholic analyst is quoted, saying that in the Catholic church style is substance, that a church of symbols responds to symbolic gestures better than other methods. It would seem that much of the world outside the catholic church agrees, symbolic gestures would seem to be well received, especially when they are so obviously in tune with the very real issues that many in the world face. It should come as no surprise really that francis has gained resonance because he has principally addressed and critiqued runaway capitalism, greed, disparity and the growing loss of concern for those being left behind in the wake of economic shifts and changes in the economies of the world. When tweets make the rounds over and over concerning last weeks snippet that 85 billionaires have as much wealth as half the rest of the world or something ridiculous like that, it makes sense that a pope who calls this for what it is-complete madness-would find a level of popularity. After all religion is generally presumed to speak for the poor and dispossessed, of course, the fact that people seem genuinely surprised when it does, goes a long way to demonstrating what the central problem people have with religion.

You should buy the magazine and read the article for yourself, but there were a couple of little quotes I would like to address because I think they are pertinent for anyone in the religion game these days.

Speaking of his ascent to the papacy, the author, Mark Binelli, notes that when he was archbishop of Buenos Aires, Francis has never been a very good public speaker, but once he became Pope, "his recognizable humanity comes off as positively revolutionary. Against the absurd, impossibly baroque backdrop of the Vatican, a world still run like a medieval court, Francis' election represents...a scandal of normality."

Recognizable humanity and the scandal of normality--two key factors in his ascent to 'people's pope' if you will. If you combine those two ingredients with his ability and experience of genuine human struggle and an understanding of the need for the church to represent something other than the moralizing, sex-obsessed, petty, vindictive, judgmental vehicle it has largely come to be for the most part(and I'm speaking here of the whole church, not just the catholic arm of it), you have the groundwork for, or at least the potential for serious change in the relationship between church and culture.

sexsexsexsexsexsexsex

Been doing a series of talks at church on life's big issues--money, sex, work etc. trying to break conversations out of their natural habitats and bringing other ideas into play. I am increasingly aware of how much we assume is given in any discussion of things, coming to terms with that is complex, because it requires a breaking up of the familiar lines and assumptions we have made about a particualr topic thus far. When it comes to tackling life, awareness of our own experience with something be it money or sex is a key element--our thinking shaped by our experiences. In churches money is addressed as though we still live in the 1950s--we pass offering plates but never ask the question who carries cash anymore? We assume the Bible is clear on money, when even what money was in bible times was a moving target and nowhere near the kind of thing it is today, etc.
Anyway, tonight we are talking sex, specifically how to think more about it-an idea courtesy of Alain de Botton--more in the sense of more richly rather than more quantitatively--we'll see where we get with this one. And we won't be starting with Adam and Eve.

millennials, whisky, and a whole bunch of other indiscriminate thoughts

 

I spend quite a lot of my life engaging with various aspects of religion, in two of my professions, one academic, the other ministerial I am continually engaging the complexities of what it all means. I try and read widely and broadly, engage with all sides of arguments, theories, etc., and I usually stay out of the arguments that emerge, usually because they seldom get anywhere anyway, so i don't really see the point. For some time now there have been these ongoing conversations within religion, particularly christianity over generational preferences and particular styles of worship etc. First it was boomers versus gen-xers, now it's the millennial discussion--what defines them, what 'they' like etc. Now, let me say up front that I think generational theory is mostly crap, it's essentially rooted in and borne out of the commodification of youth culture in the post-war years and is much a marketing strategy as anything else. Of course, there are differences among ages of people, but the idea that boomers like this, gen-xers like that and millennials something else is essentially a very flawed approach to anything in my mind. So much of this depends on so many things-geography, economics, for instance--you could argue that some supposed characteristics of gen-xers could to be applied in the U.K. to what would be regarded as baby-boomers because of a whole set of contributing factors such as the slow economic recovery of the post war years, the lack of a Vietnam-experience, latchkey kids--so many things--so I tend to be a bit wary of these generational studies, they are good for selling books and not much else as far as I am concerned--)I have also now lived long enough to know almost as many exceptions to every rule as the rule itself).

One of the conversations that has ebbed and flowed this year particularly, and perhaps more specfically because of a post that went viral from Rachel Held Evans and the shift toward more liturgical worship environments.

This came back around today as I read a post from my friend Tony Jones about what the church can learn about millennials from small batch distilleries. It is a smart and sharp post, as most of his posts are and he includes a quote from RHE in it,

"many of us," she writes, "myself included, are finding ourselves increasingly drawn to high church traditions-Catholicism, eastern orthodoxy, the Episcopal Church, etc. -precisely because the ancient forms of liturgy seem so unpretentious, so unconcerned with being "cool," and we find that refreshingly authentic." "What millennials really want from the church is not a change in style but a change in substance."

I realize that there was a particular context for this comment, related to responses from talks she had given about the state of things, and my thoughts stray from that a little, but i am not necessarily responding directly to her blog as much as to one of its statements, which she is not alone in voicing. There are many things I can say but let me begin by saying that I would agree that chasing 'cool' is always folly, I will also say that liturgical churches can be as prone to that as non-liturgical because that is about much more than style, ambition plays a factor, as does desire for impact in the environment, it is not always voiced in the same way in high-church environments but it is most certainly there, along with elitism, snobbishness, blindness and a host of other things that can haunt the institutional church of all persuasions. Admittedly 'cool' is more often associated with the artifacts of popular culture, but the idea of 'cool' has extended beyond that and has become a signifier. Trust me I have been in enough conferences on both sides of this aisle to say this with some emphasis. It is often more apparent in more contemporary churches because the desire for 'relevance' is voiced, but the counter to relevance is redundancy and liturgical churches face that in spades and their 'unconcerned with cool' liturgical approaches will not necessarily be enough to help them in my mind. 'Cool'  is an elusive facet of contemporary culture, it is, as I just said, one of our cultural signifiers, I am not saying it is necessarily good or bad, it just is a part of the wallpaper of late capitalist society, and it ignores the boundaries of liturgical practices. But I get it, you hear it more in contemporary environments, and the main problem with pursuing cool is that it can't be attained, it has to be conferred, which can lead to a sense of looking a bit desperate at times if it is a central drive.

I say some of this with some personal experience, I teach at an evangelical seminary, I minister in a progressive, liberal Episcopal church, I have planted and led and engaged in any number of non-traditional churches, emerging churches, alternative worship churches and conferences, etc. etc., and all of them have more challenges and problems than they know how to handle, and many of them operate along a spectrum of practices and ideas that are challenged by the world we find ourselves in, for different reasons perhaps, but challenged nonetheless, and the common problem in both, in my humble opinion, is precisely what is voiced in the quote--substance--they lack it, or perhaps more specifically they have the wrong kind of substance for the times in which we live. Lateral moves will ease some of the concerns worshippers may have for a while, but eventually, once the routine has set in, once the curtain has been lifted and essentially the same wizard is seen behind the curtain, a similar disillusionment will set in. The questions facing the world will not be addressed by unbridled pushes for cool and relevance, but they will not be served by redundancy either or simply by assuming that there is substance because something has an age/duration advantage.

I also happen to feel that substance affects style to some degree, there are reasons things are done the way they are done, and those things can become transformational but can also become ossified, and because it is old, doesn't mean it is better or not consumed with similar aims and intentions as newer approaches, it is just voiced differently.

Richard Rohr has said in a number of places that sometimes it feels as if churches are focused on a god who seems more interested in the past than the present or future, and this can be intensely present in high church environments, shaped as they often are by a high-low cultural perspective which tends to elevate the past as naturally better than the present, and then we find ourselves moving into the elitism that can haunt liturgical churches at times--the appeal to credibility and legitimacy based on length of practice--reminds me a little of Jesus' comment to the pharisees that association with god by birthright doesn't legitimize anything, stones can become children of god.

I get it though, all that contemporary church stuff can drive you nuts, but there will come a day when you realize that in a liturgical environment the same shit exists, it just comes with a different face. I think that a factor in all of this is that we often react adversely to what has formed us, or we simply move beyond its scope and I think a lot of that is happening today--it's bit like that moment when teenagers go from thinking their parents are the coolest people who know everything to the sense that they are the world's most embarrassing people, I think we all do or have done that to some degree with pretty much every issue of our lives. This is sometimes part of our own maturing process where we break away from things, take new responsibility for our own lives and realize the world is bigger, that there are other ways, perhaps more personally appealing ways of experiencing things whether it be life or church, but it is a misnomer to think that a change of substance is necessarily what you are getting, it is first a change of style with the same substance that you are generally getting, the same substance from a different angle, from a different style. And let's just address this idea of 'performance' for a minute, if you don't think a liturgical service isn't theatre, isn't performance, you haven't been in enough liturgy planning meetings, there may not be video screens and rock star effects but trust me it's a show, its a performance, and there is actually nothing wrong with that in my mind. But the issue of substance is not addressed exclusively by style.

Some churches may have more ancient links, but they are peopled by those who live and breathe today, and they bring themselves to those places and spaces and they are contemporary human beings and even their enactment of the liturgy becomes a different thing, it is unavoidably so--chanting becomes a preferential option, a commitment to a particular version of the liturgy, rather than essentially a means of extending the voice without amplification or the other issues that gave rise to the chanting of the liturgy or eucharist--the vestments that were once intended to not make the clergy distract from the worship experience stick out like a sore thumb today, because nobody else in the world dresses in a like manner, and it is worth remembering that there was a time when liturgical dress was current with the dress of the day. The clerical collar, adopted in the late 1800s, and adapted from the black coat and white tie that had defined clergy in a world where most people were defined by 'uniforms of dress,' was intended as a means of separating clerics from emerging and increasingly secularizing society at the height of the industrial age, it had particular theological and cultural implications, and it heralded a hint of culture despising as Brueggemann might say, rooted in a form of Victorian piety (it's just one of the reasons I refuse to wear one, it is not representative of my view of either the relation between church and culture or my particular pietistic views). It is essentially only in the last 100-150 years that the gap between the shape, design, practices and habits of the church have moved away so dramatically from keeping pace with and responding to the culture and has created this traditional/non-traditional divide. At one point not so long ago, much of what we experience as ancient liturgy would have felt much more modern than we realize. Many liturgical churches invoke ancient liturgy, but much of it is influenced and shaped as much by 18+19th century approaches as anything else, so don't be taken in and think that you necessarily entering some gothic cave untouched for centuries-you might every once in while, but mostly its not that at all, its a style, it's an affect/effect, beautiful though it surely may be. 

All styles and approaches to worship can be lauded and critiqued, I am however,  like RHE, deeply concerned with substance and for me the challenge for millennials or boomers, or gen-xers, or zeroes, post-millennials or whatever, will not be addressed by lateral moves to different forms of worship alone, which I really think that has something to do with personal preferences and experiences of the sacred--and like everything, its always good to try new things, even if they are old things:) but the real substance won't necessarily come from either one, or perhaps it can and will emerge from any and all of them, but something has to shift first.

Some may find that a shift in liturgical focus will be enough to meet their needs and desires toward the sacred, it hasn't been for me. I have spent the past thirty years in church of all shapes and sizes and I have to say that most of its 'substance' is completely lost on me, not only do I not believe it, I find it gets in the way, and surprisingly perhaps, I have met a lot of people who go to church regularly who don't believe it either, they just tolerate it, hoping that one day it will be different, hoping one day, something will be uttered that heralds the dawn of what we are all looking for--substance. I hear the same things iterated in all kinds of churches--they all have their varying preoccupations and focuses, but contemporary christianity is sorely lacking in substance in most environments where it is being expressed if you ask me, it always has a feel of "I've heard this before, and it didn't make much sense the first time, even less so now."

I think substance is what the church really needs to look at, not just the substance of its worship-that's too internal, I mean it's substance in terms of how it seeks to engage with the world, what it talks about, how it interprets both scripture, its practices and priorities, itself and culture at large. I come back again and again to the idea that christianity has all been said before and yet needs to be said anew--that one eras encounter with the gospel is not always enough for the next age. Neither the tendencies and preoccupations of conservative forms of christianity-liturgical, high-church or otherwise, nor the focus and concern of any kind of liberal/progressive church-traditional, non-denominational, contemporary or whatever, which have largely been shaped by late 19th and 20th century experience are at the core of the substance I long for.

Tony said in his post that millennials are hyper-conscious about where things come from, I agree, but again I don't think that this is an exclusively millennial dynamic, it is something that is occurring everywhere in our culture at the moment, there might be a preponderance of this among millennials but its not just them, it's a broader cultural response to the effects of living with disposable fashion, an attempt to manage constant change--it's like the work-wear trend in fashion right now--its romaticized, people are wearing it in the city, not on farms, it is an affect, the roots reconfigured to fit the contemporary world as much as anything else--sometimes brand new things transform the world. We live in a time where we both love and hate the new, again it's a phenomenon of our time, and it makes us a bit bi-polar in our approach to life.

The substance I seek is substance that addresses a world come of age to quote Mr. Bonhoeffer, not the ancient world, not the modern world, not the traditional church world or the contemporary church world, but this world--the post-freudian, post-darwinian, post-marx, post-liberal, post-secular, post-religious, post-christian, post-materialist, post-everything world, and only then will we be able to have a conversation about how to give it shape, in the meantime we are jsut moving things around, avoiding the most important conversation of all-that we need a new iteration, a new telling of the tale, one that is not simply an attempt at relevance or cool, nor marked by a blind resistance to the moment, but shaped by our time, reflecting the world we live in, not wish we live in, hope we live in, or want to live in. Until then I recommend going where you like but don't advance it as a model for what a generation is doing, because I think most of them are actually staying home and listening to Lorde.

Theology and Media Culture

On September 30th, 1929, John Logie Baird, inventor of the televisor, initiated the first ever live tv broadcast in London. A fitting beginning point for the Fall term's class on theology and media culture.

The class is going to focus on two principle media lenses--the first half will consider television, the second focusing on the digital shift and concentrating on social media. There is communication, media and cultural theory, plus theological methodologies, thinking about the way various media re-direct content, transform how and what we communicate. It's ultimately about joining dots between theology, culture and media exploring the interplays between various artifacts.

in between spaces

Much of my adult life has been wrestling with the complexities of religion, and how it plays out in my own life and the world around me. Last night at dinner someone asked me what my core value was, expecting I think, some kind of religious statement. To be honest, I felt a little stuck because for one thing, I don't really conceive of life in terms of 'key statements' that I live by, but also because I was aware that my 'core beliefs' if they exist, aren't necessarily that religious, which might be surprising given that my life has been so intimately wrapped up in religion. First I said, 'there is no god and we are his disciples,' but then I figured I should offer a bit more so I said something about that living a life of love will do you no harm, and followed it up with a coda that it won't do you any harm, but it will cost you--a bit of a bind really, what I meant was that I really believe attempting to live a life that is marked by graciousness and loving kindness will fuck you up, it will expose flaws deep in your psyche, will present daily challenges to ones sanity, will expose hypocrisies, weaknesses, and blatant bullshit like nothing else, and there will often be little in the way of positive result, because I think, as Amy Winehouse decreed, Love is a Losing Game--sure she was singing about romantic love, but I don't think its very different with any other kind of love.

What I probably should have said is I am just trying to be a slightly nicer person, because that's the truth--there are so many arseholes in the world, and I don't want to be one if I can help it. I have let go of so many lofty religious aims, mainly because I don't think they work in people's lives, they just become baggage and I don't really think about life in terms of religious conceptions--redemption, salvation etc. it doesn't interest me to approach things that way. I have been thinking a lot about repentance lately, there have been a series of stories in the lectionary gospels that have utilized this idea--to me it means seeing what you have chosen up to now to not to see (because I think we spend our lives editing what we see-in ourselves, in each other and in the world around us)--and then doing something about it--I don't want to dress it up in language and ideas that have followed that thread for so long that they have nullified its invitation--in Jesus' accounting it seems that the people who have the hardest time with the concept are the ones who proclaim it, those who presumably have 'repented' but they haven't they have entered into some kind of religious blindspot-the 99 he jokes who have no need of it--as if 99 even exist-those to whom they direct their calls for repentance are already seeing differently. Why is religious so often such a blinder to reality? This is a question I ask more and more.

On Mark Vernon's blog recently there was a link to a new project being conducted by the RSA that I think looks quite interesting. It's called, The Brains Behind Spirituality, it is definitely worth a read. I realize it addresses these issues from a British angle, and that the American situation is somewhat different, however, I think there are resonances addressed in this initial article that make its finding of interest. The essay names something that I think should get more attention--contemporary spiritual embarassment--a lot of people I encounter wrestle with this on a regular basis--to claim spirtitual affiliation is often attended by hearers with visions of rabid fundamentalists etc. and having to clarify what one means by that over and over can be wearing. Anyway, the article is helpful I think and the findings will be interesting to engage with next year.

 

metal church

I came across this mini doc about a metal church outside Bogotá, Colombia, called the Communidad Pantokrator that meets every Saturday to rock out in the name of Jesus. The video was posted on Vice.com, which is perhaps fascinating in and of itself. I am not sure if this kind of thing is new to them or not, rock and roll churches like this have been around for a while. What I find most interesting is that in spite of the music and dress, the theology itself, what the church talks about, is pretty conservative and mainstream Christian stuff, there is nothing radical about the church's message, other than one can like metal and Jesus, which, I suppose, carries a certain amount of challenge in a perhaps more religiously conservative, largely Catholic, country like Columbia. In fact, the only thing that makes this church in any way dissimilar to any other church is it's musical component, it still functions like a traditional church--complete with sermon and pulpit and preacher. It's church for those who can't go to (regular-i.e. not metal music driven) church, not an alternative approach to God.

Obviously, what is happening there resonates to those within the comunity, although I can't help but wonder if the embrace of the theology is not more a simple acceptance of what goes with the territory of religion--a trade-off to get what you want, which is a church that plays your kind of music and allows you to dress like a metalhead and allows you to 'worship Jesus.' The pastor in the story, speaks of being told by other pastors that he is off track, but it seems to be because of the music, because, of the small amount of theological content shown on the video, I can't imagine there would be too much critique.

What they all seem to want is community, that was my overall takeaway from the interviewees, they just want to belong somewhere, and the music fandom is a means to that end.

 

That these debates about music and sacrality continue is a bit of a mystery to me. I understand that metal is a genre of music that is troubling to those raised in different musical climes, but I think you could argue that metal music and the audience that assembles around it, which is essentially borne out of post-industrial dislocation, isolation, alientation and frustration at the status quo, might actually present opportunity to engage people, but unfortunately, there is little cultural awareness and music like this is generally simply demonized, and let's face it, Christianity that takes these populist forms tends to make a lot of room for the work of the devil--like a Christianized version of star wars-competing forces; light and dark; good and evil, where the devil seems to be on a par with God. To me, a place like this would be a great place to talk about the absence of God, but I don't live there so...

Theology like this remains much of the wider face of modern Christianity--it is about salvation and Jesus being your everything and meeting you in the tough places of life, asking nothing but 100% worship in return, it is palliative religion, but more of a band-aid than a cure, not knocking it, it's just not my cup of tea.