40 years later

(I wrote this yesterday and then never posted it because of internet issues. Here it is anyway)

I wish that I was less sick and overwhelmed, so I could make a post about the 40th anniversary of Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.'s death. Conveniently, I'm working on some copy edits on my recently accepted article about King's last speech. I think that now is a good time to remember Dr King, as some of the same discussions he raised are coming up again - about issues of Justice, race and religion.

I think it's also important for us to remember that 40 years is both a long time ago, and not so long ago. I think some people take a message of reconciliation and hope to mean that the history of inequality and hurt doesn't matter anymore, but that's a history that many people lived and that still affects the opportunities available to people today. I recently had a conversation with my colleague Marcus about some of the discrimination he has experienced in the last few years that made me realize that we still have a long way to go as a society before that history is truly past. Make no mistake: we've come a long way when everyone has at least formal access if not actual access to the best schools and jobs in the nations, and when a black man and a woman are competing for nomination for the highest office in the land. But we also have a long way to go before those people are not derided for those very characteristics, and until technical access means truly equal opportunity.

Desert Island Discs: Sixpence None the Richer

A big turning point for me in musical taste happened when I was in high school. Through some weird connection, my dad got a pre-release version of Sixpence None the Richer’s selftitled album. I fell in love with it. The band quickly replaced my previous favorite musical group: Point of Grace (for the uninitiated, this is your typical CCM highly-produced soccermom pop. You know – with the synth strings and the modulation for the last chorus).

Loving Sixpence opened my musical world to all kinds of new, cool, artsy-folk-pop like my next (and continuing) favorite: Over the Rhine. I also got to see the band a few times in cool venues, like the Calvin FAC and Dimnet Chapel at Hope College before they hit it big with their uncharacteristic pop song, “Kiss Me.” I still wonder what would have happened if they followed up with one of the moodier songs from the album instead of the fluffy cover of “There She Goes” which got added to later editions of the album. In fact, in college I was annoyed that my copy had “There She Goes” tacked on to the end instead of letting the album close with strings and the lyrics “I will not let them ruin me again.”

Anyway, all that was to say that I would love this album forever because of what it got me as a fan of music – expanding my tastes to new and interesting music. But as an album, I think it holds together as quality regardless of my history with it. The combination of Leigh Nash’s sweet soprano vocals with minor chords and driving guitar and string riffs creates a pleasant rockiness, and unexpected moments of beauty and intensity. (Come to think of it, the heavy use of strings probably influenced my love of this album).

Most of the lyrical content on the album is about artistic frustration – it reflects the frustration the band had (and continued to have after their success) with record companies. Although as a teenager I couldn’t relate to the pressures of the CCM market, I could get angst, and some of the songs (“Easy to Ignore” for example) even have romantic angst. I mean, I was 15 when this album came out. The images and musical intensity of these songs still resonate with my older, somewhat less angsty ears.

The album isn’t just a big angst-fest, though, it features complex theological questions (like “The Waiting Room”) and an occasional journey into the fanciful (like “Kiss Me” and “I Can’t Catch You”). It reflects influence from central American poets, not only in “Puedo Escribir” – directly influenced by a Pablo Neruda poem, but also in other lyrical moments and references to the body, like “The Lines of My Earth.” Matt Slocum’s writing about an “artistic womb” and “Flames of knowing kissing me” weirdly resonates with some of the chicana literature I’m reading for class this week, actually. Regardless, the lyrics are rich and complex, with surprising images and pleasing rhythms. All things I still appreciate in a good song. I’m glad this album that mattered so much to me has held up over time.

Past Reviews:

Transatlanticism
Neon Bible
Details
Why Should the Fire Die
Achtung Baby
Ohio

More Than Watchmen Wait for Morning

Today’s church service was filled with more lament than a usual fifth Sunday in lent. This week the state of Georgia was touched by the murder of two college women, one at UNC, and one at Auburn. The father of one of these women is a member of my church. While I have never met Eve Carson, others in our congregation knew her, and were especially yearning for the resurrection of the dead today. It is amazing the ways that God prepares for our needs before we even know them. The lectionary readings were all about God bringing life when there isn’t any hope – Ezekiel and the dry bones, the resurrection of Lazarus, a Romans passage that ends “he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.”

I have my public speaking students report on the news in every class. I forgot to do it in my later class this Friday, so we put it at the end of class instead, and as my student listed these killings among death and war elsewhere in the world, we all felt stunned and saddened, even though our eagerness for spring break made the class open with a sense of excitement. We generally have time for discussion after the news report, and a student remarked that she feels guilty for the way she reacts to these tragedies briefly, and then returns almost immediately to her life – homework, friends, etc. We talked about that difficulty – we all want to be compassionate, sincere people, but if you truly felt every tragedy in the news, you would be paralyzed with sadness. I wish that I could have told them about the gifts of the Christian tradition – that it gives us a way to respond. We lament and hope. We cry out from the depths, like the Psalm 130 writer, but we also say, with him, “My soul waits for the Lord, in his word I hope. My soul waits more than watchmen wait for the morning.” This pattern of tears, prayers and hope are built into the life of the church. Lent is when we wait and pray. But sadness is always around us, demanding that we remember to wait for the Lord.

rhetoric is news

It's unusual for humanities scholarship to make it into the mainstream media, but check out this Slate article about a Rhetoric and Public Affairs piece on Obama's rhetoric.

Coins and God in the US

Last semester I wrote a paper about newspaper coverage of congressional bills adding “under God” to the pledge, declaring “In God We Trust” the national motto and putting it on currency. I noticed that they were carefully vague about the theological meaning of these moves, and embraced any monotheism, and that it was also set up as a clear way to differentiate our Christian Democracy from Atheist Communists. I argued that it was an interesting case of 1950s civil religion, and shed light on how those changes came to be and the relationship of religiosity and patriotism in the mid-50s, and that it offered interesting insights into lay-theories of the rhetoric of material objects.

Today, I read that congress is still worried about the words on coins. In some ways the arguments are the same – our identity as Christian is important, it should show up on material elements of our national culture. The argument now lacks the boogeyman of communist atheists, however, and instead accuses a vague enemy (even the mint itself) of trying to remove or forget God, given the motto’s less prominent position on these new coins. The whole thing still seems a bit silly, and I wonder what drives law-makers to worry about the design of coins instead of, say, people who are sick and can’t afford treatment. There are a couple of possible sources: first the paranoia of the Christian right – anything that feeds into their persecution narrative helps them get attention and money. Also, the presidential race has seen much less attention to typical religious conservative issues. Squabbles like this are an easy way for congressmen like Brownback to get a symbolic victory and pacify their restless constituencies.

Still, it’s weird that this same issue is coming up now, when in the past it appeared after WWII and after the Civil War. What does it mean that these kinds of national identity issues are coming up in the midst of an unpopular foreign war? Are we in some ways imagining ourselves into peace-time by behaving as though the war is already won?

Hat tip: I got this story from Pandagon.

Sympo '08: what I will remember

While I expected to post a few intellectual chewing points, I must admit that the things I’ve been pondering from this year’s symposium have been more visceral. While I certainly have had some interesting and useful intellectual moments, I am sitting in the airport now thinking about what it means to come back to a place that was home, and the ways intense experiences make you feel close to people.

After emailing for months, trying to plan an alternative, interactive, multisensory worship service with others in Grand Rapids, Ann Arbor, and Glasgow, we finally met together for a stirring music rehearsal, and hours of final decisions and details to transform a lecture hall into a place of worship. It was odd and wonderful to find myself joking around while tying yarn on dowels with these new friends. At one point, everyone busted out their favorite Stanley Hauerwas story. Only at a worship conference. After our service on Friday, we had a panel discussion on Saturday afternoon in the same space, and Doug mentioned that you don’t think of a room in the same way after you’ve made it into a place for worship. I don’t know when I will visit the commons lecture hall again, but I think I will remember standing in a dim corner, watching images light up a sheet hung from the ceiling, leading singing.

I also spent most of the first day in Grand Rapids in a strange time warp, visiting places and seeing people who had been my everyday life, but aren't anymore, and have changed, just as I have. It was beautiful to realize that I was welcomed and loved, and to also see how we all grow and change. I was proud to be able to bring back some of the things I’ve learned in grad school, and to offer something back to the community that helped me grow so much when I was in college.

I hope to also comment on some of my intellectual thoughts, but I must admit that I’m a bit behind preparing for class. It was worth it, but I need to get back to real life eventually.

Obama at Ebenezer Baptist

I'm breaking my own rule and posting twice on one day to suggest that you all read or watch Barack Obama's speech at Ebenezer Baptist in Atlanta yesterday. It's a great bit of oratory, and a good example of why I am so excited about Obama for president. Here's an excerpt:

For most of this country's history, we in the African-American community have been at the receiving end of man's inhumanity to man. And all of us understand intimately the insidious role that race still sometimes plays - on the job, in the schools, in our health care system, and in our criminal justice system.

And yet, if we are honest with ourselves, we must admit that none of our hands are entirely clean. If we're honest with ourselves, we'll acknowledge that our own community has not always been true to King's vision of a beloved community.

We have scorned our gay brothers and sisters instead of embracing them. The scourge of anti-Semitism has, at times, revealed itself in our community. For too long, some of us have seen immigrants as competitors for jobs instead of companions in the fight for opportunity.

In the whole speech, Obama underscores themes of communal action for justice using the examples of the Civil Rights movement and Jericho (he has drawn on Joshua before, in Selma). He talks about compassion, conviction and the need for all of us to work together - as a community - to make a better life for everyone. He calls all of us to expand moments of personal compassion and connection into social action. Inspiring.

Desert Island Discs: Transatlanticism

I’m taking another break from reading, because it’s been ages since I posted a desert island pick, and Morgan just did one, which reminded me.

I was thinking “what do I love that I haven’t covered?” and then I remembered Transatlanticism. I’m a big fan of Ben Gibbard’s songwriting and voice. Some people that I know say they like his songs better in cover versions, because they don’t find his voice appealing. I disagree. While I do have a deep love for the Iron and Wine version of “Such Great Heights,” I love the Postal Service too. In fact, I thought for a bit about choosing a Postal Service album instead, but I’m not always in the mood for all the beeps and boops. Transatlanticism, on the other hand, I love most of the time. I love the way the instrumentation makes the songs seem stark and alien. I love the way Gibbard’s lyrics take you by surprise sometimes, like “the glove compartment is inaccurately named/ and everybody knows it” or “do they collide?/ I ask and you smile./ With my feet on the dash/ The world doesn't matter.” I think his delivery has just the right amount of emotional weight.

Sometimes the words in combination with the stark arrangements do make the songs achingly sad. I remember when I first got into this album it was a Christmas break and I was reading a sad novel, Hey Nostradamus. Fortunately, I was emotionally stable at the time, because sometimes the repetition of “I need you so much closer” can make me feel really sad. But artistic sad, a kind of sad that is beautiful, so I don't mind. And the whole song “Passenger Seat” makes me feel so wistful, especially the last stanza, and the solo piano ending.

All this intense emotion can push Death Cab songs over the edge into overwrought. Sometimes “Tiny Vessels” strikes me that way. I’m willing to take the occasional overstep, though, if it produces one “Passenger Seat” every once in a while. That song is emotional perfection.

Past Reviews:

Neon Bible
Details
Why Should the Fire Die
Achtung Baby
Ohio

Blogging Sympo '08: Preview

I’m getting really excited about attending (and presenting at) worship symposium next weekend. I’m part of a panel about media in postmodern/emerging worship. I think it has a few more buzzwords in the title. Anyway, the other people on the panel are pretty great, so that will be a good time. I’ve also been involved in planning a worship service long distance, which has been a challenge, but I can’t wait to help lead the service on Friday.

As part of my preparation (and to avoid school work) I read through my blog posts from the last time I was at Symposium, three years ago. I usually think that I’ve come so far in the last 3 years as an adult and as a thinker, but reading these posts reminds me how the stuff I thought about my last year at Calvin are in many ways trajectories I’m still thinking about and developing. Here are the posts:

Creeds and Prayers

Sabbath-Keeping

All of Life

It’s my plan (for now anyway) to try to steal a few moments to blog while I’m in Grand Rapids this time, too. Promising posts is always dangerous, so I won’t, but those are my intentions.

thoughts from the first week of class

Our first day of class with Dr Condit last Thursday was inspirational in a lot of ways. A lot of the ideas we talked about in class (and will this semester) have serious significance for a religious perspective. This week Dr Condit explained her general purpose/framework for the class, and we discussed part of Walter Ong’s The Presence of the Word. Celeste was explaining the way the entire intellectual tradition (Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Derrida etc) is obsessed with figuring out the meaning of things. What if our central question was not “what do words mean” (especially now that Derrida has demonstrated that meaning is never static)? What if instead, we asked “What do words do” and “How do they relate us to each other?”

This change of orientation, I think, would also transform the way we approach Christianity, the Bible, and worship. Instead of interrogating the Bible for rules, we would ask how it relates us to God and its characters and each other. Instead of expecting to “get something out” of a church service, we would arrive expecting to DO something, to enact a relationship. If Christianity was presented not as a set of propositions we assent to for salvation, but instead as a set of relationships that we appreciate, and try to fulfill, how would it change the way we live? How would it change the way we talked to others about faith?