Doing a random vanity search on Google for my blog--to see if anyone was reading this darn thing--I came across two sermons which footnoted this very blog, A PDF from Saint Stephen's and one from Kingwood Bible.
Whenever I think I'm speaking into a vacuum, it seems like God always finds delightful and meaningful ways of encouraging me to keep writing. To HIM be the glory.
But, if you do use me as a source in a sermon, please let me know. It would mean a lot.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
The Desire for Narrative
Yes, this is a repost. I apologize to anyone who signed up to my RSS feed or Feedburner and got this article sent to them again. The reason I'm reposting this is that it got buried under a school assignment and I don't think many people got a chance to read it. It's a long read, but I think it's one of the most important posts I've ever written. So if you have the time, please read it and leave some comments.
Lately I have had a lot of ideas knocking about in my head about the prevalence of existentialist ideas in modern thought. I haven't quite gotten around to blogging about these ideas, but after reading a particularly distressing Wired article I thought I should write a bit.
In Thomas De Zengotita's brilliant book Mediated, he discusses how modern life is characterized by a mediation; instead of experiencing and learning about the world directly, we increasingly tend to interact with it through an intermediate source. A obvious example can be found in almost any natural disaster. Very soon after the disaster occurs, it slips from becoming a tragedy to an event. The coverage becomes the focus of our thoughts and discussions. The debate about the disaster becomes the event itself. One critic described the premise of the book like this:
Stories have always been a central aspect of human relationships and cultures; we always have and always will tell stories. Stories are part of the way we learn about the world and our place in. But never has there been a time where there have been so many stories told, so often, so ubiquitously. At any time of day, an average person in most countries can turn on the TV and be presented with hundreds of stories covering thousands of conflicts. Movie theaters and home rentals make it almost as easy to watch stories on the big screen. Newspapers, magazines, and books all are filled with narratives.
Setting aside the monstrous narrative beasts that are TV, film, and books, our cultural stories are so interwoven into our lives that pieces of them can be found on billboards and on Internet ads. The on-going "real life" narratives of celebrities are perfect examples of this. We might start "reading" their story on the Internet, and find pieces of it on the evening news, over coffee with a friend, from a billboard which features the latest film staring the celebrity, and so on. Our lives are utterly and completely filled with narratives. And not simply "stories," but narratives of the kind De Zengotita has in mind.
When people share personal stories, they rarely take on the larger-than-life, ontological aspect that written, filmed, or otherwise "created" narratives do. In such creative narratives the protagonist is always at the center of the universe, and there is nothing mundane or banal about their existence or actions (if you've been wondering, this is the bit about the influence of existentialism on our modern lives). Everything they do is imbued with meaning because they are enacting a story. Actions which might appear to be dull (going to work, mowing the lawn, brushing teeth, etc...) in this narrative are actually just as meaningful as major plot twists. And important actions and events in the narrative take on transcendent meaning and purpose--winning against all odds, getting the girl, setting things right are all accomplishments which are greater than the sum of their earthly parts.
Do you know that feeling you get when you walk out of a movie theater after seeing a film that draws you into its world? That feeling of foreignness that lingers for a few moments, challenged by the sun light and trivial world of reality? That is the fading residue of the illusion of transcendence that compelling narratives give us; they are able to persuade us that the events of the story are of such cosmic significance that the external world of modernity appears as a cheep substitute.
In a post-Christian world, the importance of the individual must be established and upheld by some means, and narratives are the most efficient means to do this. We are all important. Why? Because we are all performers in the story of our lives.
Only there is a problem.
Life, by in large, is dreadfully dull.
In the real world, the act of brushing our teeth is not imbued with cosmic purpose, although it might win us friends. Mowing the lawn is a chore. And most of us are not faced with the kind of singularly important conflict that is the defining feature of most stories. Our conflicts tend to be mundane, and once resolved, they lose their significance rapidly.
But humans are remarkably adaptive creatures, and taking cue from the millions of narratives which we bath in daily, we tend to make narratives when none present themselves--often to the detriment of ourselves, the world, and truth. If you've ever talked to anyone between the ages of 12 and 20, you'll know what I mean. Teenagers are wonderfully adept at creating drama in order to give their otherwise petty daily actions profound meaning.
I don't use this as an example of how foolish teenagers are, because no age group is immune to the thirst for narrative; all groups act out in one way or another--teenagers are just easiest to pick on.
In the past, this desire for narrative always had one very big limitation: no matter how hard you wanted to be someone else, some character of your own creation, you would always be you, stuck in the "real" world. Aside from a few exceptionally strange people who are pathological liars, actors, or spies, it just was not feasible to actually create our own character. You could take actions which would fill your life with drama, but you would still be stuck with you. That is, until the Internet.
Thomas Montgomery, a 45-year-old father of two daughters, married to his wife Cindy for 16 years, recently plead guilty to shooting his rival in an Internet love-triangle. Wired magazine published this article accounting the entire story. Be warned. It is graphic and depressing. One day he simply decided to be someone else, so he made up a new identity and went online. He managed to trick a "17 year-old" girl into believing that he was an 18 year-old Marine. Even after this identity was reveled to be a hoax, he continued to be a "performer" in his own self-made narrative. The result of his seemingly childish (he was playing make-believe wasn't he?) actions were horrifyingly disastrous. Jealous of a 22 year-old co-worker who began carrying on a (digital) relationship with this 17 year-old-girl, Montgomery shot him in the parking lot where they worked.
I don't bring this up as a scare tactic, or to suggest that all people who try to narrativize their lives will end up murdering someone, but what should be clear is that there is something innately wrong about living the life of a character. The Internet affords us the ability to do what was once insane or impractical: we can all be characters, actors, stars. Not real people with real interests and concerns, but characters who closely resemble us. Our websites contain the trivial facts about us that interviewers drag out of affected celebrities, as if the most important aspects of our lives were what kind of foods we like, who we'd like to meet, and what our favorite movies are.
Consider Myspace for a moment.
There. Now you've got it.
See how pervasive this is? And who is immune?
But what is the source of this? Two truths. First, all people innately recognize that they are important and that certain events in life have transcendent purpose and significance. Second, all people desire to live lives that account for this innate importance and transcendent events, even if it requires absurd and obscene actions--life is meaningful, and if there is no rational reason to believe so, then all that is left are our narratives which feign meaning.
Lately I have had a lot of ideas knocking about in my head about the prevalence of existentialist ideas in modern thought. I haven't quite gotten around to blogging about these ideas, but after reading a particularly distressing Wired article I thought I should write a bit.
In Thomas De Zengotita's brilliant book Mediated, he discusses how modern life is characterized by a mediation; instead of experiencing and learning about the world directly, we increasingly tend to interact with it through an intermediate source. A obvious example can be found in almost any natural disaster. Very soon after the disaster occurs, it slips from becoming a tragedy to an event. The coverage becomes the focus of our thoughts and discussions. The debate about the disaster becomes the event itself. One critic described the premise of the book like this:
"Influenced by the media-inspired "culture of performance," we now live our lives as if we are performers practicing method acting, he maintains. We go through the motions of expected reactions to everything from the 9/11 terrorist attacks to Princess Diana's death to documentaries of the Kennedy assassination and the civil rights movement. The Internet, satellite television, and a host of technological products and services now give us the impression of participating in current and historical events to such an extent that we can barely distinguish the varying levels of what de Zengotita categorizes as ranging from the real-real to the unreal-real."De Zengotita does not extensively explore why we desire to be performers in the world; I would posit that it has much to do with an over-saturation of narratives.
Stories have always been a central aspect of human relationships and cultures; we always have and always will tell stories. Stories are part of the way we learn about the world and our place in. But never has there been a time where there have been so many stories told, so often, so ubiquitously. At any time of day, an average person in most countries can turn on the TV and be presented with hundreds of stories covering thousands of conflicts. Movie theaters and home rentals make it almost as easy to watch stories on the big screen. Newspapers, magazines, and books all are filled with narratives.
Setting aside the monstrous narrative beasts that are TV, film, and books, our cultural stories are so interwoven into our lives that pieces of them can be found on billboards and on Internet ads. The on-going "real life" narratives of celebrities are perfect examples of this. We might start "reading" their story on the Internet, and find pieces of it on the evening news, over coffee with a friend, from a billboard which features the latest film staring the celebrity, and so on. Our lives are utterly and completely filled with narratives. And not simply "stories," but narratives of the kind De Zengotita has in mind.
When people share personal stories, they rarely take on the larger-than-life, ontological aspect that written, filmed, or otherwise "created" narratives do. In such creative narratives the protagonist is always at the center of the universe, and there is nothing mundane or banal about their existence or actions (if you've been wondering, this is the bit about the influence of existentialism on our modern lives). Everything they do is imbued with meaning because they are enacting a story. Actions which might appear to be dull (going to work, mowing the lawn, brushing teeth, etc...) in this narrative are actually just as meaningful as major plot twists. And important actions and events in the narrative take on transcendent meaning and purpose--winning against all odds, getting the girl, setting things right are all accomplishments which are greater than the sum of their earthly parts.
Do you know that feeling you get when you walk out of a movie theater after seeing a film that draws you into its world? That feeling of foreignness that lingers for a few moments, challenged by the sun light and trivial world of reality? That is the fading residue of the illusion of transcendence that compelling narratives give us; they are able to persuade us that the events of the story are of such cosmic significance that the external world of modernity appears as a cheep substitute.
In a post-Christian world, the importance of the individual must be established and upheld by some means, and narratives are the most efficient means to do this. We are all important. Why? Because we are all performers in the story of our lives.
Only there is a problem.
Life, by in large, is dreadfully dull.
In the real world, the act of brushing our teeth is not imbued with cosmic purpose, although it might win us friends. Mowing the lawn is a chore. And most of us are not faced with the kind of singularly important conflict that is the defining feature of most stories. Our conflicts tend to be mundane, and once resolved, they lose their significance rapidly.
But humans are remarkably adaptive creatures, and taking cue from the millions of narratives which we bath in daily, we tend to make narratives when none present themselves--often to the detriment of ourselves, the world, and truth. If you've ever talked to anyone between the ages of 12 and 20, you'll know what I mean. Teenagers are wonderfully adept at creating drama in order to give their otherwise petty daily actions profound meaning.
"It's like, I LIKE him, but he doesn't even know how I feel because that OTHER girl, Stephany or whatEVER her nam is is like always with him and I told her to leave him alone or else I would tell her brother about her little pills but she just pretended not to her me so I'm going to text him and that'll..."
I don't use this as an example of how foolish teenagers are, because no age group is immune to the thirst for narrative; all groups act out in one way or another--teenagers are just easiest to pick on.
In the past, this desire for narrative always had one very big limitation: no matter how hard you wanted to be someone else, some character of your own creation, you would always be you, stuck in the "real" world. Aside from a few exceptionally strange people who are pathological liars, actors, or spies, it just was not feasible to actually create our own character. You could take actions which would fill your life with drama, but you would still be stuck with you. That is, until the Internet.
Thomas Montgomery, a 45-year-old father of two daughters, married to his wife Cindy for 16 years, recently plead guilty to shooting his rival in an Internet love-triangle. Wired magazine published this article accounting the entire story. Be warned. It is graphic and depressing. One day he simply decided to be someone else, so he made up a new identity and went online. He managed to trick a "17 year-old" girl into believing that he was an 18 year-old Marine. Even after this identity was reveled to be a hoax, he continued to be a "performer" in his own self-made narrative. The result of his seemingly childish (he was playing make-believe wasn't he?) actions were horrifyingly disastrous. Jealous of a 22 year-old co-worker who began carrying on a (digital) relationship with this 17 year-old-girl, Montgomery shot him in the parking lot where they worked.
I don't bring this up as a scare tactic, or to suggest that all people who try to narrativize their lives will end up murdering someone, but what should be clear is that there is something innately wrong about living the life of a character. The Internet affords us the ability to do what was once insane or impractical: we can all be characters, actors, stars. Not real people with real interests and concerns, but characters who closely resemble us. Our websites contain the trivial facts about us that interviewers drag out of affected celebrities, as if the most important aspects of our lives were what kind of foods we like, who we'd like to meet, and what our favorite movies are.
Consider Myspace for a moment.
There. Now you've got it.
See how pervasive this is? And who is immune?
But what is the source of this? Two truths. First, all people innately recognize that they are important and that certain events in life have transcendent purpose and significance. Second, all people desire to live lives that account for this innate importance and transcendent events, even if it requires absurd and obscene actions--life is meaningful, and if there is no rational reason to believe so, then all that is left are our narratives which feign meaning.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Christian Music and Album Covers
I feel very disappointed that this has to be said, but Christian musical arts should not be selling their physical image on album covers, posters, or their myspace page. Being attractive, cool, or sexy is not a valid reason for other Christians to listen to your music, and it is so painfully antithetical to the Gospel that I am both angry and sad every time I come across it.
As consumers we should think twice before purchasing a Christian album which promotes the artist as an idol--a side note here, just because the artist is holding a cross, kneeling, or praying while they are posing seductively does not mean they are not trying to appear to be an idol. I understand that the commercial aspect of CCM encourages the artists to try to compete with secular artists who openly use sex or hipness-appeal to attract consumers, but how can you justify such a blatant attempt at becoming an idol Biblically?
If you are a Christian music artist, please consider the effect and purpose of your "image" is; remember that we should seek to give God glory, not ourselves. If you are a consumer of Christian music, please consider whether or not the artist is being marketed as an image (read idol).
By the way, if you think this is an isolated issue, please do a search for Christian music on myspace, particularly Holy Hip-Hop, but any genre will do.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
The Desire for Narrative
Lately I have had a lot of ideas knocking about in my head about the prevalence of existentialist ideas in modern thought. I haven't quite gotten around to blogging about these ideas, but after reading a particularly distressing Wired article I thought I should write a bit.
In Thomas De Zengotita's brilliant book Mediated, he discusses how modern life is characterized by a mediation; instead of experiencing and learning about the world directly, we increasingly tend to interact with it through an intermediate source. A obvious example can be found in almost any natural disaster. Very soon after the disaster occurs, it slips from becoming a tragedy to an event. The coverage becomes the focus of our thoughts and discussions. The debate about the disaster becomes the event itself. One critic described the premise of the book like this:
De Zengotita does not extensively explore why we desire to be performers in the world; I would posit that it has much to do with an over-saturation of narratives.
Stories have always been a central aspect of human relationships and cultures; we always have and always will tell stories. Stories are part of the way we learn about the world and our place in. But never has there been a time where there have been so many stories told, so often, so ubiquitously. At any time of day, an average person in most countries can turn on the TV and be presented with hundreds of stories covering thousands of conflicts. Movie theaters and home rentals make it almost as easy to watch stories on the big screen. Newspapers, magazines, and books all are filled with narratives.
Setting aside the monstrous narrative beasts that are TV, film, and books, our cultural stories are so interwoven into our lives that pieces of them can be found on billboards and on Internet ads. The on-going "real life" narratives of celebrities are perfect examples of this. We might start "reading" their story on the Internet, and find pieces of it on the evening news, over coffee with a friend, from a billboard which features the latest film staring the celebrity, and so on. Our lives are utterly and completely filled with narratives. And not simply "stories," but narratives of the kind De Zengotita has in mind.
When people share personal stories, they rarely take on the larger-than-life, ontological aspect that written, filmed, or otherwise "created" narratives do. In such creative narratives the protagonist is always at the center of the universe, and there is nothing mundane or banal about their existence or actions (if you've been wondering, this is the bit about the influence of existentialism on our modern lives). Everything they do is imbued with meaning because they are enacting a story. Actions which might appear to be dull (going to work, mowing the lawn, brushing teeth, etc...) in this narrative are actually just as meaningful as major plot twists. And important actions and events in the narrative take on transcendent meaning and purpose--winning against all odds, getting the girl, setting things right are all accomplishments which are greater than the sum of their earthly parts.
Do you know that feeling you get when you walk out of a movie theater after seeing a film that draws you into its world? That feeling of foreignness that lingers for a few moments, challenged by the sun light and trivial world of reality? That is the fading residue of the illusion of transcendence that compelling narratives give us; they are able to persuade us that the events of the story are of such cosmic significance that the external world of modernity appears as a cheep substitute.
In a post-Christian world, the importance of the individual must be established and upheld by some means, and narratives are the most efficient means to do this. We are all important. Why? Because we are all performers in the story of our lives.
Only there is a problem.
Life, by in large, is dreadfully dull.
In the real world, the act of brushing our teeth is not imbued with cosmic purpose, although it might win us friends. Mowing the lawn is a chore. And most of us are not faced with the kind of singularly important conflict that is the defining feature of most stories. Our conflicts tend to be mundane, and once resolved, they lose their significance rapidly.
But humans are remarkably adaptive creatures, and taking cue from the millions of narratives which we bath in daily, we tend to make narratives when none present themselves--often to the detriment of ourselves, the world, and truth. If you've ever talked to anyone between the ages of 12 and 20, you'll know what I mean. Teenagers are wonderfully adept at creating drama in order to give their otherwise petty daily actions profound meaning.
I don't use this as an example of how foolish teenagers are, because no age group is immune to the thirst for narrative; all groups act out in one way or another--teenagers are just easiest to pick on.
In the past, this desire for narrative always had one very big limitation: no matter how hard you wanted to be someone else, some character of your own creation, you would always be you, stuck in the "real" world. Aside from a few exceptionally strange people who are pathological liars, actors, or spies, it just was not feasible to actually create our own character. You could take actions which would fill your life with drama, but you would still be stuck with you. That is, until the Internet.
Thomas Montgomery, a 45-year-old father of two daughters, married to his wife Cindy for 16 years, recently plead guilty to shooting his rival in an Internet love-triangle. Wired magazine published this article accounting the entire story. Be warned. It is graphic and depressing. One day he simply decided to be someone else, so he made up a new identity and went online. He managed to trick a "17 year-old" girl into believing that he was an 18 year-old Marine. Even after this identity was reveled to be a hoax, he continued to be a "performer" in his own self-made narrative. The result of his seemingly childish (he was playing make-believe wasn't he?) actions were horrifyingly disastrous. Jealous of a 22 year-old co-worker who began carrying on a (digital) relationship with this 17 year-old-girl, Montgomery shot him in the parking lot where they worked.
I don't bring this up as a scare tactic, or to suggest that all people who try to narrativize their lives will end up murdering someone, but what should be clear is that there is something innately wrong about living the life of a character. The Internet affords us the ability to do what was once insane or impractical: we can all be characters, actors, stars. Not real people with real interests and concerns, but characters who closely resemble us. Our websites contain the trivial facts about us that interviewers drag out of affected celebrities, as if the most important aspects of our lives were what kind of foods we like, who we'd like to meet, and what our favorite movies are.
Consider Myspace for a moment.
There. Now you've got it.
See how pervasive this is? And who is immune?
But what is the source of this? Two truths. First, all people innately recognize that they are important and that certain events in life have transcendent purpose and significance. Second, all people desire to live lives that account for this innate importance and transcendent events, even if it requires absurd and obscene actions--life is meaningful, and if there is no rational reason to believe so, then all that is left are our narratives which feign meaning.
In Thomas De Zengotita's brilliant book Mediated, he discusses how modern life is characterized by a mediation; instead of experiencing and learning about the world directly, we increasingly tend to interact with it through an intermediate source. A obvious example can be found in almost any natural disaster. Very soon after the disaster occurs, it slips from becoming a tragedy to an event. The coverage becomes the focus of our thoughts and discussions. The debate about the disaster becomes the event itself. One critic described the premise of the book like this:
"Influenced by the media-inspired "culture of performance," we now live our lives as if we are performers practicing method acting, he maintains. We go through the motions of expected reactions to everything from the 9/11 terrorist attacks to Princess Diana's death to documentaries of the Kennedy assassination and the civil rights movement. The Internet, satellite television, and a host of technological products and services now give us the impression of participating in current and historical events to such an extent that we can barely distinguish the varying levels of what de Zengotita categorizes as ranging from the real-real to the unreal-real."
De Zengotita does not extensively explore why we desire to be performers in the world; I would posit that it has much to do with an over-saturation of narratives.
Stories have always been a central aspect of human relationships and cultures; we always have and always will tell stories. Stories are part of the way we learn about the world and our place in. But never has there been a time where there have been so many stories told, so often, so ubiquitously. At any time of day, an average person in most countries can turn on the TV and be presented with hundreds of stories covering thousands of conflicts. Movie theaters and home rentals make it almost as easy to watch stories on the big screen. Newspapers, magazines, and books all are filled with narratives.
Setting aside the monstrous narrative beasts that are TV, film, and books, our cultural stories are so interwoven into our lives that pieces of them can be found on billboards and on Internet ads. The on-going "real life" narratives of celebrities are perfect examples of this. We might start "reading" their story on the Internet, and find pieces of it on the evening news, over coffee with a friend, from a billboard which features the latest film staring the celebrity, and so on. Our lives are utterly and completely filled with narratives. And not simply "stories," but narratives of the kind De Zengotita has in mind.
When people share personal stories, they rarely take on the larger-than-life, ontological aspect that written, filmed, or otherwise "created" narratives do. In such creative narratives the protagonist is always at the center of the universe, and there is nothing mundane or banal about their existence or actions (if you've been wondering, this is the bit about the influence of existentialism on our modern lives). Everything they do is imbued with meaning because they are enacting a story. Actions which might appear to be dull (going to work, mowing the lawn, brushing teeth, etc...) in this narrative are actually just as meaningful as major plot twists. And important actions and events in the narrative take on transcendent meaning and purpose--winning against all odds, getting the girl, setting things right are all accomplishments which are greater than the sum of their earthly parts.
Do you know that feeling you get when you walk out of a movie theater after seeing a film that draws you into its world? That feeling of foreignness that lingers for a few moments, challenged by the sun light and trivial world of reality? That is the fading residue of the illusion of transcendence that compelling narratives give us; they are able to persuade us that the events of the story are of such cosmic significance that the external world of modernity appears as a cheep substitute.
In a post-Christian world, the importance of the individual must be established and upheld by some means, and narratives are the most efficient means to do this. We are all important. Why? Because we are all performers in the story of our lives.
Only there is a problem.
Life, by in large, is dreadfully dull.
In the real world, the act of brushing our teeth is not imbued with cosmic purpose, although it might win us friends. Mowing the lawn is a chore. And most of us are not faced with the kind of singularly important conflict that is the defining feature of most stories. Our conflicts tend to be mundane, and once resolved, they lose their significance rapidly.
But humans are remarkably adaptive creatures, and taking cue from the millions of narratives which we bath in daily, we tend to make narratives when none present themselves--often to the detriment of ourselves, the world, and truth. If you've ever talked to anyone between the ages of 12 and 20, you'll know what I mean. Teenagers are wonderfully adept at creating drama in order to give their otherwise petty daily actions profound meaning.
"It's like, I LIKE him, but he doesn't even know how I feel because that OTHER girl, Stephany or whatEVER her nam is is like always with him and I told her to leave him alone or else I would tell her brother about her little pills but she just pretended not to her me so I'm going to text him and that'll..."
I don't use this as an example of how foolish teenagers are, because no age group is immune to the thirst for narrative; all groups act out in one way or another--teenagers are just easiest to pick on.
In the past, this desire for narrative always had one very big limitation: no matter how hard you wanted to be someone else, some character of your own creation, you would always be you, stuck in the "real" world. Aside from a few exceptionally strange people who are pathological liars, actors, or spies, it just was not feasible to actually create our own character. You could take actions which would fill your life with drama, but you would still be stuck with you. That is, until the Internet.
Thomas Montgomery, a 45-year-old father of two daughters, married to his wife Cindy for 16 years, recently plead guilty to shooting his rival in an Internet love-triangle. Wired magazine published this article accounting the entire story. Be warned. It is graphic and depressing. One day he simply decided to be someone else, so he made up a new identity and went online. He managed to trick a "17 year-old" girl into believing that he was an 18 year-old Marine. Even after this identity was reveled to be a hoax, he continued to be a "performer" in his own self-made narrative. The result of his seemingly childish (he was playing make-believe wasn't he?) actions were horrifyingly disastrous. Jealous of a 22 year-old co-worker who began carrying on a (digital) relationship with this 17 year-old-girl, Montgomery shot him in the parking lot where they worked.
I don't bring this up as a scare tactic, or to suggest that all people who try to narrativize their lives will end up murdering someone, but what should be clear is that there is something innately wrong about living the life of a character. The Internet affords us the ability to do what was once insane or impractical: we can all be characters, actors, stars. Not real people with real interests and concerns, but characters who closely resemble us. Our websites contain the trivial facts about us that interviewers drag out of affected celebrities, as if the most important aspects of our lives were what kind of foods we like, who we'd like to meet, and what our favorite movies are.
Consider Myspace for a moment.
There. Now you've got it.
See how pervasive this is? And who is immune?
But what is the source of this? Two truths. First, all people innately recognize that they are important and that certain events in life have transcendent purpose and significance. Second, all people desire to live lives that account for this innate importance and transcendent events, even if it requires absurd and obscene actions--life is meaningful, and if there is no rational reason to believe so, then all that is left are our narratives which feign meaning.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
There is No Peace? Part 2
The Hebrew word in both Jeremiah 6:14 and Ezekiel 13:10-12 for "peace" is Shalom.
In another example of how the English language is overrated, our single word for peace painfully fails to capture the meaning of the Hebrew word Shalom, which has more to do with completeness, rightness, and soundness than freedom from violence. With this definition in mind, I believe these two verse speak volumes on how we as believers should interact with culture and make art.
In both of these verses, God is speaking through His prophets, condemning the false prophets who are convincing everyone that everything is alright. Often times when we as believers think about how we should filter what comes into our minds, we think in terms of major sins: if a book as a sex scene in it, I can't read it; if a film has profanity, I can't watch it; if a TV show is filled with violence, I can't view it. But what should be of much greater concern is how the world presents to us Peace, but there is no peace.
A car commercial subtly persuades us that the purchase of a vehicle will make our lives complete. Difficulties, problems, all will be set right if we own a car.
A romantic comedy, free from sex scenes and frank dialogue about sex, suggests that if a person finds that special someone, the one person they are meant for in the world, they will be complete. All fears will melt away once we have true love. Nothing will be too frightening once we have that one, perfect, companion.
A political candidate assures his audience that if elected, he will make our country secure, safe, and sound. The poor will be fed, the corrupt will be outed, and the economy will be mended. If only he is elected, then we can have economic, geopolitical, and domestic peace.
But there is no peace.
When we as believers engage culture, we need to remember that our peace comes from Christ, from His work on the cross, from knowing where we belong and who we are, not from anything in this life. It is a fundamental truth that all people long for peace, for Shalom, and that one of the best ways to turn a buck is to promise people peace. Whether it is advertisements, films, or songs, we must remember that these things are merely white washed walls, covering up the ugly, unbearable fact that there is no peace in this life outside of Christ. Everything else is a chasing after wind.
As artists, this idea of medium as prophetic utterance is just as meaningful as for the consumer of art. When we create, we must create in such a way as to show that there is no peace outside of Christ. Whenever we fail to do this, we are false prophets.
So often Christian art slips into portraying humanity, the world, and nature as healed and at peace with God, because if humanity is not at peace with God, then people are stilling sinning, and if people are sinning then there is still sin in the world, and if there is sin in the world of our art, then it must have representation. When we fail to show that the world, humans, even nature to some extent, does not have peace, we are false prophets, white washing the world, when only the blood of Christ can do that.
In a similar way, when Christian artists are so focused on creating for their own subculture that they forget to speak to the issues that face all people, they are giving their audience peace, not in Christ, but in Christendom. When we only sing songs of rejoicing, of bliss, of blithe, we are asserting that the peace of Christ has already taken us out of suffering; we are false prophets crying, "Peace, peace, But there is no peace."
In another example of how the English language is overrated, our single word for peace painfully fails to capture the meaning of the Hebrew word Shalom, which has more to do with completeness, rightness, and soundness than freedom from violence. With this definition in mind, I believe these two verse speak volumes on how we as believers should interact with culture and make art.
Ezekiel 13:10-12:
"'Because they lead my people astray, saying, "Peace," when there is no peace, and because, when a flimsy wall is built, they cover it with whitewash, 11 therefore tell those who cover it with whitewash that it is going to fall. Rain will come in torrents, and I will send hailstones hurtling down, and violent winds will burst forth. 12 When the wall collapses, will people not ask you, "Where is the whitewash you covered it with?"
Jeremiah 6:14 "They have healed the brokenness of My people superficially,
Saying, 'Peace, peace,'
But there is no peace."
In both of these verses, God is speaking through His prophets, condemning the false prophets who are convincing everyone that everything is alright. Often times when we as believers think about how we should filter what comes into our minds, we think in terms of major sins: if a book as a sex scene in it, I can't read it; if a film has profanity, I can't watch it; if a TV show is filled with violence, I can't view it. But what should be of much greater concern is how the world presents to us Peace, but there is no peace.
A car commercial subtly persuades us that the purchase of a vehicle will make our lives complete. Difficulties, problems, all will be set right if we own a car.
A romantic comedy, free from sex scenes and frank dialogue about sex, suggests that if a person finds that special someone, the one person they are meant for in the world, they will be complete. All fears will melt away once we have true love. Nothing will be too frightening once we have that one, perfect, companion.
A political candidate assures his audience that if elected, he will make our country secure, safe, and sound. The poor will be fed, the corrupt will be outed, and the economy will be mended. If only he is elected, then we can have economic, geopolitical, and domestic peace.
But there is no peace.
When we as believers engage culture, we need to remember that our peace comes from Christ, from His work on the cross, from knowing where we belong and who we are, not from anything in this life. It is a fundamental truth that all people long for peace, for Shalom, and that one of the best ways to turn a buck is to promise people peace. Whether it is advertisements, films, or songs, we must remember that these things are merely white washed walls, covering up the ugly, unbearable fact that there is no peace in this life outside of Christ. Everything else is a chasing after wind.
As artists, this idea of medium as prophetic utterance is just as meaningful as for the consumer of art. When we create, we must create in such a way as to show that there is no peace outside of Christ. Whenever we fail to do this, we are false prophets.
So often Christian art slips into portraying humanity, the world, and nature as healed and at peace with God, because if humanity is not at peace with God, then people are stilling sinning, and if people are sinning then there is still sin in the world, and if there is sin in the world of our art, then it must have representation. When we fail to show that the world, humans, even nature to some extent, does not have peace, we are false prophets, white washing the world, when only the blood of Christ can do that.
In a similar way, when Christian artists are so focused on creating for their own subculture that they forget to speak to the issues that face all people, they are giving their audience peace, not in Christ, but in Christendom. When we only sing songs of rejoicing, of bliss, of blithe, we are asserting that the peace of Christ has already taken us out of suffering; we are false prophets crying, "Peace, peace, But there is no peace."
There is No Peace?
This morning I read a passage in Ezekiel that struck me as addressing some of the most central problems with our culture and arts (both Christian and secular):
Ezekiel 13:10-12:
"'Because they lead my people astray, saying, "Peace," when there is no peace, and because, when a flimsy wall is built, they cover it with whitewash, 11 therefore tell those who cover it with whitewash that it is going to fall. Rain will come in torrents, and I will send hailstones hurtling down, and violent winds will burst forth. 12 When the wall collapses, will people not ask you, "Where is the whitewash you covered it with?"
Here's a passage with a very similar meaning in Jeremiah:
Jeremiah 6:14 "They have healed the brokenness of My people superficially,
Saying, 'Peace, peace,'
But there is no peace."
Before I explain how I believe these verses are extremely important to our understanding of culture and art, I would love to hear some other views. I'm going to wait a few hours, or days and see what some of you can come up with. How could these verses help us understand our roles as creators and consumers of art?
Ezekiel 13:10-12:
"'Because they lead my people astray, saying, "Peace," when there is no peace, and because, when a flimsy wall is built, they cover it with whitewash, 11 therefore tell those who cover it with whitewash that it is going to fall. Rain will come in torrents, and I will send hailstones hurtling down, and violent winds will burst forth. 12 When the wall collapses, will people not ask you, "Where is the whitewash you covered it with?"
Here's a passage with a very similar meaning in Jeremiah:
Jeremiah 6:14 "They have healed the brokenness of My people superficially,
Saying, 'Peace, peace,'
But there is no peace."
Before I explain how I believe these verses are extremely important to our understanding of culture and art, I would love to hear some other views. I'm going to wait a few hours, or days and see what some of you can come up with. How could these verses help us understand our roles as creators and consumers of art?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Others?
The more I explore the world of Christianity and the Arts, the more I find that I am in disagreement with other believers in the Arts, and about fundamentally important issues. Those who are the most vocal about Christian aesthetics, tend to have a theology which abuses the Arts for an unbiblical motive.
I'm not a Christian reconstructionalist, Dominionist, Liberal, or Emergent.
These differences are important because they all have a tremendous effect on the actual creation and use of art.
For many who are concerned with Christian aesthetics, Art is a vehicle for social and political change. In this crowd, the Great Commission is secondary to the physical needs of people, and Art is the method by which we can draw the Church's attention to those physical needs. Many who follow this view will scream to catch the ears of those ignoring social injustice, but shun the thought of speaking of Christ's work on the cross publicly.
For others, Art is a means of conquering the culture in order to help establish a Christian kingdom. If we retreat from the Arts, the secular world will have total control over it! Christ's kingdom is no longer spiritual in this ideology, it can be measured in album sales and popularity.
Then there are those who would have us make Christian Art so that we can retreat from the world. If we have our own songs, we will not have to be exposed to theirs. Art in this view is a aspartame solution, a poor and cancerous substitute which at best will make us gaseous and at worst will kill us. And the Art of the unsaved is seen as unredeemable waste, utterly devoid of the glory of God and incapable of communicating anything worthy of praise.
Or perhaps Art is used to communicate spiritual truth, since propositional truth is completely elusive. Here Art replaces the exposition of Scripture and is imbued with mystical meaning to fill some imagined spiritual void which the Word of God cannot speak to.
Or Art is a tool for reaching the lost. A disingenuous and insincere platform for evangelism that is too close to propaganda for my comfort. Much like setting traps for the lost, they make art that closely resembles that of the world to lure unbelievers into their midst and convince them that they need not sacrifice any of the amusements of the world. And by repetition of Christian-esse over the familiar sounds of the world, they can subtly persuade unsuspecting heathens to convert. How similar to radio jingles this approach is.
This is not meant to be yet another Internet jeremiad over the "problems" of the Church. My hope is to find more believers that seek to make art to glorify God and edify man. I openly acknowledge that some of these views of art have resulted in great contributions to Christianity and the Arts. And nearly all of these views have kernels of truth to them. But I am disappointed to find so few believers interested in the arts in a way that is Biblically sound and aesthetically excellent. Perhaps I'm just looking in the wrong places.
I'm not a Christian reconstructionalist, Dominionist, Liberal, or Emergent.
These differences are important because they all have a tremendous effect on the actual creation and use of art.
For many who are concerned with Christian aesthetics, Art is a vehicle for social and political change. In this crowd, the Great Commission is secondary to the physical needs of people, and Art is the method by which we can draw the Church's attention to those physical needs. Many who follow this view will scream to catch the ears of those ignoring social injustice, but shun the thought of speaking of Christ's work on the cross publicly.
For others, Art is a means of conquering the culture in order to help establish a Christian kingdom. If we retreat from the Arts, the secular world will have total control over it! Christ's kingdom is no longer spiritual in this ideology, it can be measured in album sales and popularity.
Then there are those who would have us make Christian Art so that we can retreat from the world. If we have our own songs, we will not have to be exposed to theirs. Art in this view is a aspartame solution, a poor and cancerous substitute which at best will make us gaseous and at worst will kill us. And the Art of the unsaved is seen as unredeemable waste, utterly devoid of the glory of God and incapable of communicating anything worthy of praise.
Or perhaps Art is used to communicate spiritual truth, since propositional truth is completely elusive. Here Art replaces the exposition of Scripture and is imbued with mystical meaning to fill some imagined spiritual void which the Word of God cannot speak to.
Or Art is a tool for reaching the lost. A disingenuous and insincere platform for evangelism that is too close to propaganda for my comfort. Much like setting traps for the lost, they make art that closely resembles that of the world to lure unbelievers into their midst and convince them that they need not sacrifice any of the amusements of the world. And by repetition of Christian-esse over the familiar sounds of the world, they can subtly persuade unsuspecting heathens to convert. How similar to radio jingles this approach is.
This is not meant to be yet another Internet jeremiad over the "problems" of the Church. My hope is to find more believers that seek to make art to glorify God and edify man. I openly acknowledge that some of these views of art have resulted in great contributions to Christianity and the Arts. And nearly all of these views have kernels of truth to them. But I am disappointed to find so few believers interested in the arts in a way that is Biblically sound and aesthetically excellent. Perhaps I'm just looking in the wrong places.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
"Worship Wars" and Money
Warren Smith wrote this great article called God, Mammon, and the "Worship Wars". I strongly recommend reading it. Essentially, he briefly outlines how the rise of the "worship wars" coincides perfectly with the establishment of CCLI (Christian Copyright Licensing International). He also points to the fact that this organization brings in approximately $40- to $50-million per year to copyright holders. One reason why you might be more likely to hear a modern worship song over a classic hymn? The aggressiveness of marketing connected with the multi-million dollar "Praise and Worship" industry.
Be sure to read Bill's blog on this article where I was first introduced to it. He has a lot more thoughtful things to say.
Be sure to read Bill's blog on this article where I was first introduced to it. He has a lot more thoughtful things to say.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Art and Entertainment Continued
In this discussion of Art and Entertainment, someone quoted a professor who suggested that art should entertain, but mostly it should make us think or point us towards change. Entertainment on the other hand does not challenge our deeply held beliefs and tricks us into thinking that we are thinking about something. Here is my reply:
There are some works of art which have not challenged any commonly held belief in me but confirmed them. For example, the Great Gatsby didn't challenge anything I believe about the human desire for perfection and the infinite, but it rendered it in a beautiful and compelling way.
On the other hand, growing up watching the TV show Happy Days, my belief in what it meant to be in "love" or in a relationship was changed. The show constantly presented teenage dating relationships (with physical contact) as cheap, harmless, fun, and morally acceptable. This had an impact on the way I viewed women for the next few years until I realized that my standards were shaped by a TV show rather than the Word. So in this case, something that was clearly not art made me change my beliefs (and I was aware of this change).
So on a practically level, I can't say that I've found your professor's ideas to be reality. Works (like the Great Gatsby) which seem uncontroversially art must by this definition be labeled entertainment, and works (like Happy Days) which seem uncontroversially entertainment must by this definition be labeled art.
On a theoretical level I think these definitions are problematic as well. If art must move someone to change, would a work of art reveling in the majesty of God's creation be entertainment? If the viewer already understood that the world was beautiful and a painting would only reinforce that belief, would it be entertainment? Consider the design of the Israelite Temple. How did the depictions of animals (I believe there were animals...)and fruit change people or bring them to change?
It seems to me that if artists would follow these definitions then they would have to restrict themselves to topics that would produce change, and then art becomes utilitarian and didactic. Much modern art is guided by the philosophy your professor suggested, it is focused on accomplishing a specific end in a person. The result of this idea is that most art now days is political or directed at some social problem, since these topics are the best way to produce tangible change.
And much Christian art is overtly evangelistic, didactic, and shallow because it is focused on "change." So often when we see a work of Christian art it presents itself as a visual alter call. I'm not, of course, suggesting that presenting the Truth of God's Word is wrong in art, far from it! But I am saying that if artists focus too much on changing their audience they are not likely to be able to speak to their audience on an intimate enough level to compel them to change. When artists focus on producing works that cause change it is usually at the expense of properly rendering something about the world. No specific examples come to mind except that old claymation show David and Goliath (which was funny) which was so didactic that the characters seemed inhuman and artificial. Sincerity is almost always the cost of utilitarian art.
So while I think these are interesting definitions that I should probably spend more time considering, I think there are some serious problems them as I understand the definitions.
There are some works of art which have not challenged any commonly held belief in me but confirmed them. For example, the Great Gatsby didn't challenge anything I believe about the human desire for perfection and the infinite, but it rendered it in a beautiful and compelling way.
On the other hand, growing up watching the TV show Happy Days, my belief in what it meant to be in "love" or in a relationship was changed. The show constantly presented teenage dating relationships (with physical contact) as cheap, harmless, fun, and morally acceptable. This had an impact on the way I viewed women for the next few years until I realized that my standards were shaped by a TV show rather than the Word. So in this case, something that was clearly not art made me change my beliefs (and I was aware of this change).
So on a practically level, I can't say that I've found your professor's ideas to be reality. Works (like the Great Gatsby) which seem uncontroversially art must by this definition be labeled entertainment, and works (like Happy Days) which seem uncontroversially entertainment must by this definition be labeled art.
On a theoretical level I think these definitions are problematic as well. If art must move someone to change, would a work of art reveling in the majesty of God's creation be entertainment? If the viewer already understood that the world was beautiful and a painting would only reinforce that belief, would it be entertainment? Consider the design of the Israelite Temple. How did the depictions of animals (I believe there were animals...)and fruit change people or bring them to change?
It seems to me that if artists would follow these definitions then they would have to restrict themselves to topics that would produce change, and then art becomes utilitarian and didactic. Much modern art is guided by the philosophy your professor suggested, it is focused on accomplishing a specific end in a person. The result of this idea is that most art now days is political or directed at some social problem, since these topics are the best way to produce tangible change.
And much Christian art is overtly evangelistic, didactic, and shallow because it is focused on "change." So often when we see a work of Christian art it presents itself as a visual alter call. I'm not, of course, suggesting that presenting the Truth of God's Word is wrong in art, far from it! But I am saying that if artists focus too much on changing their audience they are not likely to be able to speak to their audience on an intimate enough level to compel them to change. When artists focus on producing works that cause change it is usually at the expense of properly rendering something about the world. No specific examples come to mind except that old claymation show David and Goliath (which was funny) which was so didactic that the characters seemed inhuman and artificial. Sincerity is almost always the cost of utilitarian art.
So while I think these are interesting definitions that I should probably spend more time considering, I think there are some serious problems them as I understand the definitions.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Art and Entertainment
When I finished writing my epic, 130-or-so page thesis, I thought my life would slow down quite a bit. But I have found that teaching two 8 unit classes over the summer is a lot of work. I plan on getting on here more and posting more creative writing and nonfiction, but until then I thought I would share a few posts I made to forum concerning the difference between art and entertainment. Someone posed the question, "What is the difference? Where do you draw the line? When is something both?":
Linguists talk about being prescriptive and descriptive with language and grammar. Some linguists tell people what a word should me, how it should be spelled, or how a sentence should be punctuated, and others simply describe how people define words, spell them, and how they use grammar. Typically, prescriptive linguistics is not helpful for languages or linguistics because languages are almost impossible to control, but in the case of the arts and philosophy, I firmly believe that prescriptive linguistics are beneficial.
In the case of differentiating between Art and Entertainment I think we need to ask ourselves what we want these words to mean before we talk about how to apply them. For example, some people want to define art as anything that expresses the art's emotions, but if that is true than "flipping the bird" or honking your horn at a careless driver would have to be labeled a work (or act) of art. Most people that define art in such a way don't fully consider the ramifications of such a definition.
How can we define Art and Entertainment so that the words are most useful in discussions and personal reflection?
I choose to think of entertainment as that particular time of media which encourages and/or produces passiveness. We can see this concept work out in our language. A person can be the objecting of entertainment, "That show is entertaining him." But we cannot do the same with art, "That painting is arting him." The implication is that in with entertainment something is being done to us, and we do something to art (I.E. we attempt to understand it).
Where this issue gets complicated is with the use of "entertaining" as an adjective to describe a work of art. If something causes us to be pleased, if it produces joy or exuberance, and if it is exciting, we might call that work of art "entertaining," but this does not mean it is entertainment (at least in the sense that I would like to use the word).
A great work of art might capture your attention, cause you to laugh, and yet still force or encourage you to be active. For example, Huckleberry Finn is extremely entertaining, but Twain's commentary on the cruel nature of man (or at least man in a government or organization) is profoundly compelling. Thus, we could say that this work of art is also entertaining, but it would be misleading to say that it is entertainment.
What is interesting to me is that much of the difference between a piece of media which encourages us to be passive and one that encourages us to be active is not necessarily inherent in the work itself, in general it is merely our cultural or personal disposition towards a type of media. For example, when I sit in front of the TV I might begin to disengage my mind because I have been culturally predisposed to "receive" TV rather than engage it. Likewise, when I go to a museum I prepare myself to analyze the paintings, to engage them, because I have been culturally conditioned to believe that paintings are things people wrestle with. Therefore, I believe that the heart of this issue lies not so much with the individual works, but with our attitude as consumers.
As believers, I firmly believe that we have no right to be "entertainment" because to be entertained connotes passiveness, and we must always be vigilant to take every thought captive. That does not mean that I think that television or animated films are wrong for Christians to engage; instead I believe that we have an obligation to treat all "entertainment" as art and take an active role in understanding it's message, themes, concepts, and underlying assumptions. If we take the same approach to viewing sitcoms as we do to viewing works of high art in a museum, we will gain a better understanding of the world we live in, we will be more well guarded from ideas and worldviews which are antithetical to our Faith, and we will be able to give honor and praise to those works which are deserving of it.
Linguists talk about being prescriptive and descriptive with language and grammar. Some linguists tell people what a word should me, how it should be spelled, or how a sentence should be punctuated, and others simply describe how people define words, spell them, and how they use grammar. Typically, prescriptive linguistics is not helpful for languages or linguistics because languages are almost impossible to control, but in the case of the arts and philosophy, I firmly believe that prescriptive linguistics are beneficial.
In the case of differentiating between Art and Entertainment I think we need to ask ourselves what we want these words to mean before we talk about how to apply them. For example, some people want to define art as anything that expresses the art's emotions, but if that is true than "flipping the bird" or honking your horn at a careless driver would have to be labeled a work (or act) of art. Most people that define art in such a way don't fully consider the ramifications of such a definition.
How can we define Art and Entertainment so that the words are most useful in discussions and personal reflection?
I choose to think of entertainment as that particular time of media which encourages and/or produces passiveness. We can see this concept work out in our language. A person can be the objecting of entertainment, "That show is entertaining him." But we cannot do the same with art, "That painting is arting him." The implication is that in with entertainment something is being done to us, and we do something to art (I.E. we attempt to understand it).
Where this issue gets complicated is with the use of "entertaining" as an adjective to describe a work of art. If something causes us to be pleased, if it produces joy or exuberance, and if it is exciting, we might call that work of art "entertaining," but this does not mean it is entertainment (at least in the sense that I would like to use the word).
A great work of art might capture your attention, cause you to laugh, and yet still force or encourage you to be active. For example, Huckleberry Finn is extremely entertaining, but Twain's commentary on the cruel nature of man (or at least man in a government or organization) is profoundly compelling. Thus, we could say that this work of art is also entertaining, but it would be misleading to say that it is entertainment.
What is interesting to me is that much of the difference between a piece of media which encourages us to be passive and one that encourages us to be active is not necessarily inherent in the work itself, in general it is merely our cultural or personal disposition towards a type of media. For example, when I sit in front of the TV I might begin to disengage my mind because I have been culturally predisposed to "receive" TV rather than engage it. Likewise, when I go to a museum I prepare myself to analyze the paintings, to engage them, because I have been culturally conditioned to believe that paintings are things people wrestle with. Therefore, I believe that the heart of this issue lies not so much with the individual works, but with our attitude as consumers.
As believers, I firmly believe that we have no right to be "entertainment" because to be entertained connotes passiveness, and we must always be vigilant to take every thought captive. That does not mean that I think that television or animated films are wrong for Christians to engage; instead I believe that we have an obligation to treat all "entertainment" as art and take an active role in understanding it's message, themes, concepts, and underlying assumptions. If we take the same approach to viewing sitcoms as we do to viewing works of high art in a museum, we will gain a better understanding of the world we live in, we will be more well guarded from ideas and worldviews which are antithetical to our Faith, and we will be able to give honor and praise to those works which are deserving of it.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Silly Liberals
You all know that I avoid talking politics at nearly all cost, but I had to share this article I read in Adbusters called The American Left's Silly Victim Complex. Be warned, there's quite a bit of bad language and frank discussion of sexual things. This is easily the best description of the American (Daily Show) Left and their problems I have ever read. I laughed out loud, several times. Taibbi essentially shows how liberalism has become mediated. It's a lifestyle choice for the rich, not a political organization fighting for the rights of the poor. While there's very little that I agree with the Left on, I for one would rather see a liberal movement that is sincere about their desire to see economic justice than the ineffectual, narcissistic slug that it currently is:
If you aren't adversely affected or offended by foul language and sexual references, go read it.
"What makes the American left silly? Things that in a vacuum should be logical impossibilities are frighteningly common in lefty political scenes. The word “oppression” escaping, for any reason, the mouths of kids whose parents are paying 20 grand for them to go to private colleges. Academics in Priuses using the word “Amerika.” Ebonics, Fanetiks, and other such insane institutional manifestations of white guilt. Combat berets. Combat berets in conjunction with designer coffees. Combat berets in conjunction with designer coffees consumed at leisure in between conversational comparisons of America to Nazi Germany."
If you aren't adversely affected or offended by foul language and sexual references, go read it.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Transforming Culture Conference
Check out the Transforming Culture Conference David Taylor is organizing for April 2008. Unfortunately for me, Texas is a bit far, but it looks like it's going to be an awesome event.
Friday, June 08, 2007
"How the West Really Lost God" Article of Note
This morning I read a very interesting article in at the Hoover Institution website called How the West Really Lost God By Mary Eberstadt. Essentially, it challenges the commonly held assumption that marriage and child birth, the standard family, is an outgrowth of religious faith rather than the other way around. It's a bit complex, but worth the read. What strikes me about Eberstadt's hypothesis is that perfectly corresponds with the idea of marriage and family life as a sort of living metaphor or general revelation. This quote from the article captures this idea:
The idea that the most compelling witness to the world might be the support and existence of a healthy family challenges my own prejudice towards more classical apologetics.
"It appears that the natural family as a whole has been the human symphony through which God has historically been heard by many people"
The idea that the most compelling witness to the world might be the support and existence of a healthy family challenges my own prejudice towards more classical apologetics.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Worship Project update
Yesterday, I wrote an arrangement for "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross," a favorite hymn of mine. It looks like that will be the second hymn that will go on the CD, along with "Doxology."
I plan on recording some of the music starting next week while I fine tone the vocal melodies for the four songs I have so far. I still have to write the lyrics for the original songs. And I really need to write a Praise song to keep things balanced. Pray for me about all this, that it would not be a work of pride or selfishness, and that it would be actually good.
-a.n.
I plan on recording some of the music starting next week while I fine tone the vocal melodies for the four songs I have so far. I still have to write the lyrics for the original songs. And I really need to write a Praise song to keep things balanced. Pray for me about all this, that it would not be a work of pride or selfishness, and that it would be actually good.
-a.n.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Worship Songs Update...
I've started work writing the worship album. So far I have three songs in the works.
First, I have a song that is not really meant for communal worship, but instead is more of a psalm, a personal song to God. It's about the experience of discovering or learning of someone's sin, particularly when that person does not seem to desire to turn from it, and then comparing that feeling of disappointment and sadness with my own sins. We'll see if the song manages to rise out of the bathos (emo) style that my description seems to suggest.
The second song will be a rendition of the Doxology. Maybe that will start the album. I made an arrangement of it on the guitar that I'm pleased with, I think that it better captures the intent of the lyrics better than the traditional way it is played. But we'll see how it comes out.
The third song is an attempt to express the burden, weariness, and frustration that comes with life in a fallen world, while at the same time glorifying and trusting in God's divine Will. I just finished reading the Psalms, and I found it interesting how often David felt the need to express his weariness to God. My wife remarked that in the modern Church we tend to ignore any idea of people being burdened or weary, unless the song suggests that all the burden and weariness is relieved in this life by Christ. But we see not only David, but even in the New Testament Paul talking about their burdens. So this song is an attempt at expressing this element of life without slipping into self-pity; striking the balance between acknowledging the difficulty of living for Christ in a fallen world, and not romanticizing the struggle.
The next song I'm going to start working on is a praise. I need to be careful that this project is for God's glory, and not a mere reaction against what I see as poor worship in the Church. Art that is only a reaction against other art tends to be too extreme.
As I record each of these songs I'll post them on my personal music myspace account, as opposed to SoberMinded, here: non.
First, I have a song that is not really meant for communal worship, but instead is more of a psalm, a personal song to God. It's about the experience of discovering or learning of someone's sin, particularly when that person does not seem to desire to turn from it, and then comparing that feeling of disappointment and sadness with my own sins. We'll see if the song manages to rise out of the bathos (emo) style that my description seems to suggest.
The second song will be a rendition of the Doxology. Maybe that will start the album. I made an arrangement of it on the guitar that I'm pleased with, I think that it better captures the intent of the lyrics better than the traditional way it is played. But we'll see how it comes out.
The third song is an attempt to express the burden, weariness, and frustration that comes with life in a fallen world, while at the same time glorifying and trusting in God's divine Will. I just finished reading the Psalms, and I found it interesting how often David felt the need to express his weariness to God. My wife remarked that in the modern Church we tend to ignore any idea of people being burdened or weary, unless the song suggests that all the burden and weariness is relieved in this life by Christ. But we see not only David, but even in the New Testament Paul talking about their burdens. So this song is an attempt at expressing this element of life without slipping into self-pity; striking the balance between acknowledging the difficulty of living for Christ in a fallen world, and not romanticizing the struggle.
The next song I'm going to start working on is a praise. I need to be careful that this project is for God's glory, and not a mere reaction against what I see as poor worship in the Church. Art that is only a reaction against other art tends to be too extreme.
As I record each of these songs I'll post them on my personal music myspace account, as opposed to SoberMinded, here: non.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Jacob's Apartment-By Comic Artist Joshua Kemble
My good friend, and the artist who made the "Points, Thoughts, and Stories" album cover, Joshua Kemble, has just posted the first few pages of the graphic novel he is working on called Jacob's Apartment. In it, the main character struggles with his faith as his father passes away and Christianity seems insufficient to answer some of the most important questions life raises. The conclusion of the first scene is powerful. I highly recommend reading the first few pages he's posted. While you're at it, check out his already published and critically acclaimed first comic, NUMB.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Sing Him a New Song?
I recently got the chance to speak to a Jr. high and high school group about Christian art and how it is our responsibility as believers to make the best works possible to glorify God. After giving the talk I was convicted about my rule as a worship leader. I don't have an official rule, but in the Bible study my wife and I attend I typically lead the worship. I've long felt that there needs to be new worship music written in the Church, music which better glorifies God. So I decided that since my thesis is (basically) finished, I should work on writing some new songs. For the last hour I played the guitar and tried to come up with something, but everything I write sounds superficial, phony, mediated, trivial, or irreverent. I want to write something that evokes that loving awe we should have for God, something which isn't focused on "me" and "I," something that sounds like it is humble before the Lord instead of just saying it is. I don't know where to start. Any ideas? Help? Pointers? Advice?
For some of my other thoughts on this topic, read this old blog post.
For some of my other thoughts on this topic, read this old blog post.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Mumbles Hip-Hop Reviews Points, Thoughts, and Stories
This review is a little disappointing. No one can accuse us of denying the bad reviews. Although, technically we get a 7/10, the language suggests otherwise. However, it does end on the optimistic note that they believe the next album will be better. What do you'all expect, this is our first album!
"The album consists of nice instrumentals and a mixture of west coast and alternative Hip Hop. Noneuclidean and Offbeat both provide very positive raps and their lyrical content is very poetic and they demonstrate that in each track the art of story telling and opinons."
Read the Entire Mumbles Hip-Hop.com Review here.
"The album consists of nice instrumentals and a mixture of west coast and alternative Hip Hop. Noneuclidean and Offbeat both provide very positive raps and their lyrical content is very poetic and they demonstrate that in each track the art of story telling and opinons."
Read the Entire Mumbles Hip-Hop.com Review here.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Discovering Truth in Literature
It is one of the most fulfilling feelings in life to read a passage from a book, hear a lyric, or see a painting which perfectly captures some deep truth about life that you have always felt but have never been able to articulate. Today, in the Antelope Valley where I live, it is dark, gloomy, and overcast. I think I have always felt a deep melancholy when night falls and the world around is flooded with false lights struggling futilely against the darkness. It seems to have inherently held a symbolic meaning for me, suggesting the hubris of man and yet also his desperate desire to live life indifferent to, or in denial of human and natural corruption. I was reading Thomas Hardy's The Return of the Native today and was surprised to find that Hardy finds this same symbolism in man's war against the night:
Moreover to light a fire is the instinctive and resistant act of man when, at the winter ingress, the curfew is sounded throughout Nature. It indicates a spontaneous, Promethean rebelliousness against the fiat that this recurrent season shall bring foul times, cold darkness, misery and death. Black chaos comes, and the fettered gods of the earth say, Let there be light. (The Return of the Native)When I find art perfectly reflecting Truths like this, Truths that I cannot express in direct language, it reaffirms for me the purpose, and value of art.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Review/Article on the Road
The following is an article I wrote and shopped around to see if I could get it published. I figured since the Road was just given a Pulitzer, someone would be interested in an article, but no luck. I'm tired of getting rejection letters, so I'm just going to post it here. Enjoy!
Toni Morrison, Cormac McCarthy, Philip Roth, Don DeLillo, John Updike. Which of these authors is not like the others? Last year, the New York Times put out a list of the “Best Work of American Fiction of the Past 25 Years.” Toni Morrison’s Beloved earned the top honors, but the first runner-up was Blood Meridian, perhaps the most brutally violent work of all of American literature, written by a reclusive resident of Texas named Cormac McCarthy. Before the New York Times published this list, McCarthy’s greatest claims to fame would likely be the film adaptation of his novel All the Pretty Horses (the novel version of which was an honorable mention on the list along with two other McCarthy novels) staring Matt Damon and the repeated claims of aging literary critic Harold Bloom that Blood Meridian is one of the best works of American fiction of all time. According to Bloom, and many others, McCarthy will likely become as well known as Morrison, Roth, DeLillo, and Updike in the coming years. What is so surprising about this is how greatly McCarthy’s works differ from those of the other great contemporary American authors. While Morrison attempts to wrestle with what it means to be haunted by the past, the events and effects that slavery and racism brought about, with what it means to be African-American, McCarthy writes about American soldiers who scalp Indians for the Mexican government without any commentary on colonization, oppression, or race relations. While DeLillo explores the new, commercialized horror of living in a world completely submerged by the media and late-capitalism, and ironically laments the mediation of death and the futility of dieing authentically, McCarthy strips the world of all superstructures and ideals and focuses on one question: why live? In the author’s latest work The Road (which was just chosen by Oprah for her book club and awarded a Pulitzer on Monday), he moves further ideologically from his postmodern contemporaries and seems to make a claim for the importance of religion in both our personal and intellectual lives. In doing so, he crafts a gripping tale of survival and the transcendent importance of a father-son relationship.
The Road follows the story of a father and son (who remain nameless throughout the novel) as they learn how and why they should survive in an utterly desolate world. The father and son make their way south through a wasted earth (destroyed by some unspoken disaster), avoiding bands of cannibals, and searching for canned food, all the while questioning if they are the “good guys” or not. The Road might sound more like a 70’s B-movie than a work of great fiction, but that’s all part of McCarthy’s genius: he is able to place his characters in settings that are typically used to explore social or political issues and yet never address those issues. We don’t know what happened to the earth, all we are told is that there was “a series of low concussions” and that the father started filling his bathtub right away. McCarthy carefully leaves nearly all possibilities open: it could have been a natural disaster, a meteor, a nuclear war, just about anything. Each of these possibilities opens up a set of related political issues that would necessitate commentary, and I doubt any of his contemporaries would have passed up such a chance were they in his shoes, but McCarthy has bigger fish to fry.
It is easy to read The Road as an exploration of nihilism, or at least extreme pessimism, if you ignore the father/son relationship. The landscape of the novel is a wasteland like no other: brutal, ugly, gray, and a mere shell of the world that had been. The man and the boy are perpetually hungry, cold, and alone. The reader is propelled through the narrative by a sense of impending tragedy. But amongst this darkness shines the light of the boy and his father. There are essentially three worldviews presented in the book: the mother, the father, and the boy. The mother of the boy kills herself before the story takes place because she believes that they are doomed: “Sooner or later they will catch us and they will kill us. They will rape me. They’ll rape him. They are going to rape us and kill us and eat us.” The father believes that life is worth living, but only to keep his son alive. Finally, the boy challenges both of his parents worldviews by believing in a Christ-like, love-thy-neighbor philosophy when his neighbors are cannibals. He rejects the rationalist beliefs of his mother and the humanist stance of his father, and in doing so makes a claim for the validity of faith---Christian faith at that, in the modern world.
The boy was born into the demolished world; his only connection to the culture and society of the past is his father. What is so striking about this character is that he remains the moral center of the novel without having ever been exposed to the ideas of morality and ethics from modern culture. In fact, much of the novel is comprised of the father acting to keep them alive and the boy questioning whether or not the actions were moral, whether or not the acts made them the “good guys.” In this role, the boy seems to function as a Christ-figure (a fact that is not missed by the father who once suggests to a destitute old man that the boy might be a god: “What if I said that he’s a god?” (145)). At one point in the story, the cart which they use to carry all their supplies is stolen by a starving bandit. The father catches the thief and forces him to strip down and put everything he owns in the cart. The boy protests, “Papa please dont kill the man,” knowing that without food and covering he will die. But echoing the Old Testament ethos of an “eye for an eye,” the father contends that his actions are just since the thief, “didnt mind doing it to us.” After they leave the man to die, the boy cries and confronts his father:
The boy here urges his father to have a Christ like love and turn the other cheek. To which the father replies:
This claim to be “the one,” the “I am,” in the context of this conversation clearly establishes the boy’s symbolic representation of Christ. By the end of the novel it is apparent that McCarthy wants to suggest that Christianity, albeit an unorthodox version, might be the only way to live (or to desire to keep living) in our world filled with violent and selfish people.
The Road might be one of the best works of apologetics published in 2006; it is also a captivating tale of a father/son relationship and a suspenseful horror story. It seems that one of the greatest authors of our time is not an atheist member of the postmodern intelligentsia, but a reclusive old man in Texas who writes of bloodshed, death, violence, truth, love, and faith.
Toni Morrison, Cormac McCarthy, Philip Roth, Don DeLillo, John Updike. Which of these authors is not like the others? Last year, the New York Times put out a list of the “Best Work of American Fiction of the Past 25 Years.” Toni Morrison’s Beloved earned the top honors, but the first runner-up was Blood Meridian, perhaps the most brutally violent work of all of American literature, written by a reclusive resident of Texas named Cormac McCarthy. Before the New York Times published this list, McCarthy’s greatest claims to fame would likely be the film adaptation of his novel All the Pretty Horses (the novel version of which was an honorable mention on the list along with two other McCarthy novels) staring Matt Damon and the repeated claims of aging literary critic Harold Bloom that Blood Meridian is one of the best works of American fiction of all time. According to Bloom, and many others, McCarthy will likely become as well known as Morrison, Roth, DeLillo, and Updike in the coming years. What is so surprising about this is how greatly McCarthy’s works differ from those of the other great contemporary American authors. While Morrison attempts to wrestle with what it means to be haunted by the past, the events and effects that slavery and racism brought about, with what it means to be African-American, McCarthy writes about American soldiers who scalp Indians for the Mexican government without any commentary on colonization, oppression, or race relations. While DeLillo explores the new, commercialized horror of living in a world completely submerged by the media and late-capitalism, and ironically laments the mediation of death and the futility of dieing authentically, McCarthy strips the world of all superstructures and ideals and focuses on one question: why live? In the author’s latest work The Road (which was just chosen by Oprah for her book club and awarded a Pulitzer on Monday), he moves further ideologically from his postmodern contemporaries and seems to make a claim for the importance of religion in both our personal and intellectual lives. In doing so, he crafts a gripping tale of survival and the transcendent importance of a father-son relationship.
The Road follows the story of a father and son (who remain nameless throughout the novel) as they learn how and why they should survive in an utterly desolate world. The father and son make their way south through a wasted earth (destroyed by some unspoken disaster), avoiding bands of cannibals, and searching for canned food, all the while questioning if they are the “good guys” or not. The Road might sound more like a 70’s B-movie than a work of great fiction, but that’s all part of McCarthy’s genius: he is able to place his characters in settings that are typically used to explore social or political issues and yet never address those issues. We don’t know what happened to the earth, all we are told is that there was “a series of low concussions” and that the father started filling his bathtub right away. McCarthy carefully leaves nearly all possibilities open: it could have been a natural disaster, a meteor, a nuclear war, just about anything. Each of these possibilities opens up a set of related political issues that would necessitate commentary, and I doubt any of his contemporaries would have passed up such a chance were they in his shoes, but McCarthy has bigger fish to fry.
It is easy to read The Road as an exploration of nihilism, or at least extreme pessimism, if you ignore the father/son relationship. The landscape of the novel is a wasteland like no other: brutal, ugly, gray, and a mere shell of the world that had been. The man and the boy are perpetually hungry, cold, and alone. The reader is propelled through the narrative by a sense of impending tragedy. But amongst this darkness shines the light of the boy and his father. There are essentially three worldviews presented in the book: the mother, the father, and the boy. The mother of the boy kills herself before the story takes place because she believes that they are doomed: “Sooner or later they will catch us and they will kill us. They will rape me. They’ll rape him. They are going to rape us and kill us and eat us.” The father believes that life is worth living, but only to keep his son alive. Finally, the boy challenges both of his parents worldviews by believing in a Christ-like, love-thy-neighbor philosophy when his neighbors are cannibals. He rejects the rationalist beliefs of his mother and the humanist stance of his father, and in doing so makes a claim for the validity of faith---Christian faith at that, in the modern world.
The boy was born into the demolished world; his only connection to the culture and society of the past is his father. What is so striking about this character is that he remains the moral center of the novel without having ever been exposed to the ideas of morality and ethics from modern culture. In fact, much of the novel is comprised of the father acting to keep them alive and the boy questioning whether or not the actions were moral, whether or not the acts made them the “good guys.” In this role, the boy seems to function as a Christ-figure (a fact that is not missed by the father who once suggests to a destitute old man that the boy might be a god: “What if I said that he’s a god?” (145)). At one point in the story, the cart which they use to carry all their supplies is stolen by a starving bandit. The father catches the thief and forces him to strip down and put everything he owns in the cart. The boy protests, “Papa please dont kill the man,” knowing that without food and covering he will die. But echoing the Old Testament ethos of an “eye for an eye,” the father contends that his actions are just since the thief, “didnt mind doing it to us.” After they leave the man to die, the boy cries and confronts his father:
Just help him, Papa. Just help him.
The man looked back up the road.
He was just hungry, Papa. He’s going to die.
He’s going to die anyway.
The boy here urges his father to have a Christ like love and turn the other cheek. To which the father replies:
You’re not the one who has to worry about everything.
The boy said something but he couldnt understand him. What? he said.
He looked up, his wet and grimy face. Yes I am, he said. I am the one.
This claim to be “the one,” the “I am,” in the context of this conversation clearly establishes the boy’s symbolic representation of Christ. By the end of the novel it is apparent that McCarthy wants to suggest that Christianity, albeit an unorthodox version, might be the only way to live (or to desire to keep living) in our world filled with violent and selfish people.
The Road might be one of the best works of apologetics published in 2006; it is also a captivating tale of a father/son relationship and a suspenseful horror story. It seems that one of the greatest authors of our time is not an atheist member of the postmodern intelligentsia, but a reclusive old man in Texas who writes of bloodshed, death, violence, truth, love, and faith.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
