Apocalypse Now?

I just started reading David Dark’s book Everyday Apocalypse which, as far as I can tell, focuses on the various ways in which the dynamics of the future intrude into this present age. I say various ways because Dark has a much more sacramental view of the world than does your garden variety confessionalist (like me). For Dark, we experience spiritual realities not merely through the means of grace given to the visible church, but through the expressions of pop culture such as the music of Radiohead, TV shows like The Simpsons, and the stories of Flannery O’Connor.

A two-kingdoms guy he certainly is not, but still, he does seem to scratch where I itch.

Some excerpts on the nature of truly apocalyptic art:

The pictures and sounds and stories of apocalyptic expression are deliberately paradoxical in such a way that they tease the mind out of whatever old, self-justifying forms it has settled for.... Apocalyptic won’t flatter or privilege the powerful or congratulate us for our sincere intentions, but it will illuminate what is dark. It will passionately expose. It will make us see.

On the subversiveness of the apocalyptic:

Apocalyptic was and is the only language adequate to describe this new beginning while maintaining its practice as one of constant exodus. It keeps religion strange and ready to question the given "reality" of the day. Without apocalyptic, no questioning occurs and the biblical voice is easily edited (or censored) to the point that it appears to support whatever sentimental sap or suburban self-improvement program it’s pasted upon.

We indulge a historical deafness when we think of the Jewish and Christian movements as the uncritical endorsers of whatever societal structures currently hold the population captive. It was Augustine, after all, who described earthly kingdoms as large-scale criminal syndicates.

And on the farce of values-based entertainment:

Purposed domination [referring to Tolkien’s negative assessment of allegorical storytelling], we might say, is the method of propaganda. It leaves the audience with no room for "applicability," and the propagandist wouldn’t have it any other way. The tightly controlled "message," after all, was the point in the first place, not the dignity of the reader or the story (if we can even call it a story).... Given our current cultural climate, the media consumer does well to be wary of any product that has featured, foremost among its selling points, its so-called Christianness.... I’m personally convinced that such market-driven theology will be viewed, historically, with at least as much embarrassment as, say, the medieval sale of indulgences.

Provocative stuff indeed—but is Dark right?

My Life According to U2

Here's my version of Facebook thing that's going around....

***

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to people you like and include me. You can't use the band I used. Try not to repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think!

Pick your Artist: U2

Are you a male or female: Drowning Man

Describe yourself: Stranger in a Strange Land

How do you feel? Numb

Describe where you currently live: City of Blinding Lights

If you could go anywhere, where would you go? The Playboy Mansion

Your favorite form of transportation: Kite

Your best friend is a: Lady With the Spinning Head

You and your best friends are: Trying to Throw Your Arms Around the World

What's the weather like? Bad

Favorite time of day: 11:00 Tick Tock

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called?: Alex Descends into Hell for a Bottle of Milk

What is life to you: Running to Stand Still

Your current relationship: Party Girl

Your fear: Staring at the Sun

What is the best advice you have to give? Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me

Thought For the Day: Love Is Blindness

How I would like to die: Miracle Drug

My soul's present condition: So Cruel

My motto: Love and Peace or Else

Anything Else to Add? I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight

25 Random Things About Me

If you're on Facebook then you probably know about the "25 Random Things About Me" deal that has been circling around. I just posted mine and thought, for fun, that I'd post it here as well. Have fun watching your estimation of me dwindle....

1. I am a failed child actor, having been represented by one of the top kids’ talent agencies in Hollywood.

2. You know that thing Mel Gibson’s character does in Lethal Weapon 2 where he rolls a coin over the top of his knuckles? I can do that (it’s easiest with a British pound or a Hungarian hundred-forint coin).

3. Speaking of Hungarian, I speak Hungarian, and do it every day in my head.

4. I sometimes like to dress in women’s clothing, but only when the moon is full.

5. I have been listening to U2 for 2.5x longer of my life than I spent not listening to them. I sometimes wonder if I like a U2 song simply because it’s by U2. Contrariwise, sometimes I wonder, when listening to a song by another band, whether I would like it better if it were performed by U2. Is this what being “in love” means?

6. I was kicked out of Calvary Chapel because I began to affirm the doctrines of grace and deny the pre-trib rapture. Speaking of which, I really, really dislike Calvary, but I also really, really miss it.

7. I am almost completely incapable of hearing white noise. In a restaurant, if someone says something about the song being played over the speakers, I most likely will not have noticed that any music is playing at all.

8. I was arrested as a teenager for fleeing the scene of an accident.

9. I sometimes talk to my friend about whether or not, if one of us were tasked with killing the other without being caught, we could pull it off.

10. My wife often tells me that she’s convinced I may secretly kill her, and that she has hidden notes around the house telling the police that I was the one behind whatever “accident” took her life.

11. I really hope my wife doesn’t accidentally die, because I will be going to jail for a long time. Plus I'll miss her.

12. I can spin a book on my index finger, and keep it spinning without the help of my other hand, for pretty much as long as I want.

13. There are certain movies that I can no longer watch because I know every line by heart. Fletch comes to mind.

14. Speaking of Fletch, if you ever bring up the movie with me and say (as almost everyone does) that the funniest part is where Chevy Chase is dreaming about playing for the Lakers, and the announcer says, “[Fletch is] six-five, with the afro six-nine,” I will smile and nod my head, while inwardly thinking that you have no right to ever watch Fletch again.

15. One of the girls I dated when I was younger went on to become rather famous. Yes, you’ve heard of her.

16. One time I sleepwalked to the point of actually leaving the house. I know this because I woke up with all the newspapers from my neighbors’ driveways at the foot of my bed.

17. I have a weakness for teen dramas, and am ashamed to admit that I know who L.C., Marissa Cooper, Peyton Sawyer, and Serena Vander Woodsen are.

18. I have really awesome views on cultural matters, but I rarely live up to them. Still, they’re really awesome, you should totally listen to me talk about them some time.

19. For example, I am philosophically completely in favor of public education, but I have no plan to send my kids to public schools.

.

20. I secretly feel bad for people who see the Republican candidate and the Democratic candidate as representing the spectrum of the American people’s views on issues. They agree on the “what” and only disagree on the “how” (and that’s what the debates are about).

21. I think it’s because I saw Wyatt Earp before I saw Tombstone, but I have always felt that the former was a much better film. In fact, I inwardly wonder whether people who don’t share this assessment are kind of shallow.

22. I’m not sure which years of a person’s life count as when you “grew up.” I went from age 6 to age 16 during the 1980s and from age 16 to age 26 during the 1990s, and I am more inclined to say that I grew up in the ‘90s than in the ‘80s.

23. I had elective surgery in my early twenties, but am too embarrassed to ever tell anyone what it was for.

24. I get a lot of grief from people because my favorite albums from the ‘90s don’t include bands like Nirvana or Pearl Jam, but they do include stuff by Oasis or The Verve. But I have concluded that this is because I was living in Europe for most of the ‘90s and was more shaped by that continent than this one. (Oh, and I miss living in Europe and think about it every day.)

25. I know “the numbers” from ABC’s Lost by heart. If you do as well, then you’ll be able to figure out which 5 of these random things are false.

Oh, One More Thing, Hollywood...

Has any one of the countless people who work in movies and television ever taken even a moment to consider the logistics and near-impossibility of pulling off that maneuver where the person you're trying to attack goes into their bathroom, looks in the medicine cabinet mirror and sees only their own reflection, opens the medicine cabinet, and then closes it and suddenly sees your reflection behind them just before they're killed?

Let's walk our way through this one, mmkay? Say I want to kill you for some reason (perhaps you irritated me, to give one example). I follow you home and, instead of clipping you as soon as you get out of your car, I instead wait until you're safely inside. I then break into your house without being detected (and chances are slim that I luck out and happen to get in through the bathroom window, but more likely I end up breaking into a bedroom and then have to sneak to the bathroom, assuming I even know where it is since I've never been to your house before). I then hide somewhere, presumably the shower, praying to God (or Satan) that you have a shower curtain and not a semi-transparent sliding door. I sit there for hours waiting for you to need to use the bathroom, hoping like crazy that you choose to use the one I'm hiding in so I don't have to wait two or three days. Then, when you finally do enter, I suddenly consider the horrifying possibility that you may need to, err, "drop the kids off at the pool" if you know what I mean. Either way, I'm banking my whole plan on your deciding to actually open the medicine cabinet for some reason, because if you don't I've just wasted hours for nothing. But now comes the tricky part: I have to somehow silently open the shower curtain and, within seconds, position myself behind you so that you'll see my reflection once the medicine cabinet is closed. And let's not forget that if your entire wall behind the sink is a mirror (like in every house I've ever been in), or if the medicine cabinet has no mirror on the door, or if it's on the wall to the left of the sink, the whole plan is jeopardized. But assuming all those factors miraculously converge, I still have to kill you (which I could have done much more easily if I just ran you over with my car five hours earlier when I had the chance).

Stop having people try to kill other people like this is what I'm saying.

An Open Letter to Hollywood

Dear Hollywood,

I’ve been watching movies and television for most of my life and, well, let’s just say I’ve been growing increasingly unhappy about a few things, and I think it’s high time we clear the air about the disturbing trends I have been noticing.

Let me say by way of preamble that I understand that programs and films are not meant to be completely realistic. I get that—if we wanted complete realism we wouldn’t go to the movies at all, we’d just live our boring lives. But that being said, some serious changes need to be made.

First, I think we, the American public, have had quite enough of the whole guy-falls-off-a-cliff-or-a-building-and-yet-somehow-manages-to-grab-hold-of-a-branch-or-tiny-cleft-in-the-rock-and-dangle-there-for-twenty-minutes thing. Have any of you Hollywood elites ever tried doing this? Even if you hang by one hand from a pull-up bar—and actually plan on doing it—you can’t last for more than a few seconds. So are we really to believe that someone can just happen to latch onto something as they’re free-falling? Yes, Peter Jackson, I’m talking to you.

And while we’re on the topic of free-falling please, please, please stop having people do stuff while they’re plunging toward the earth. There would be way too much wind to grab something, operate something, or fight someone.

And come on, enough with the whole talking to people who really aren’t there thing. I understand that The Sixth Sense couldn’t have been made without this technique, so maybe M. Night gets a pass since he hasn’t been able to do anything decent since. But it’s everywhere now. Tommy Gavin gets into arguments and fistfights with his dead illusory cousin on Rescue Me, supposed genius Gaius Baltar somehow forgets that he’s in a room full of people every time Caprica Six wants to pop into his subconscious for a chat, and the entire cast of Lost is having long, drawn-out conversations with some dead person or another. Listen up, Hollywood: No one does this. It’s one of those overdone movie tricks that no one can relate to. So cut it out.

Hey, I know: How about someone actually says “Goodbye” to someone else when they end a phone call? Please, just once?

And when it comes to taking pills, trust me, you don’t need to actually open the bottle and look inside to figure out that it’s empty (same goes for clear alcohol bottles). You see, the little pills are hard and they make this rattling sound when they come into contact with the inside of the plastic bottle. So when you pull the pill bottle out of your coat and don’t hear that rattling sound, that means it’s empty. I honestly can’t believe I have to explain the process of pill-taking to Hollywood, but there you go. And one more thing: No one takes pills without water, so quit having people do it all the time.

Last thing, the process of pointing a gun at someone actually makes no sound, so enough with that whole “click” thing you always put in there. Half the guns these actors use have no hammer anyway, so all the clicking noise does is reinforce to us imbeciles that yes, that’s a gun that guy’s holding. Yeah, we see that.

And it’s been a while since I’ve punched anyone, but I sure don’t remember it making that noise it always makes on TV.

So anyway, Hollywood, if you would please rectify these problems I, as well as the rest of America, would really appreciate it.

Sincerely,

Jason J. Stellman

PS – Oh, and also do something about all the immorality you guys show.

The Visibility of Vinyl (Or, Put the Needle on the Record)

As many of you know I’m a bit of a music junkie, and I have been noticing a rather interesting trend as I read interviews with various artists about the state of music today. As unpredictable as it would have been a few years ago, there is a growing dissatisfaction among musicians toward digital music in general, and MP3s in particular. White Stripes frontman Jack White, when asked about the biggest challenges facing contemporary artists, said in a recent interview, “[The biggest challenge] is the fight against intangible music, the fight against invisible music.” He continues:

I hope that [in the next several years] there will be some balance between intangible music, invisible music and something that you can hold in your hand. A positive thing right now is that vinyl is staying alive, and record players are starting to be sold at stores again…. We can’t afford to lose the feeling of cracking open a new record and looking at large artwork and having something you can hold in your hands.

So many dots just begging to be connected….

Despite our Gnostic objections to the contrary, Adam Sandler’s character in The Wedding Singer was absolutely correct when he said, “We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl. Or boy.” Madonna was right and Sting was wrong, we’re not “ghosts in the machine” or “spirits in a material world,” but we are embodied, situated, corporeal humans who sometimes feel the need to “hold something in our hands,” whether it’s a new LP or a piece of bread and a cup of wine.

I cannot help but wonder if the sacramental instinct on the part of the confessional Protestant is not somewhat frustrated by our unfortunate inability to trace our visible churches back to the time of the apostles by means of an historical succession of bishops whose authority was conferred through something physical like the laying on of hands. I know, I know: neither Rome nor Constantinople—the two churches that do make this kind of claim—can match Geneva’s systematic and exegetical brilliance. But in the same way that we cannot but lament the near-disappearance of the 12" record due to the invisible MP3, so we must fight to protect the visible church from being eclipsed by the invisible one.

Vinyl skips, gets scratched, and cannot be downloaded, and likewise, the visible church is at times rather cumbersome and inconvenient. But so was that body that the second Person of the Godhead assumed, right? But we gotta believe it was worth the hassle.

Happy Buy Nothing Day!

***From the '06 archives, seemed appropriate***

In order to thoroughly depress myself, I've been reading a lot of social critics lately (everything from the more humorous stuff by David Brooks to the more serious Juliet Schor and Paul Stiles).In one such book I ran across the movement started by the good people over at Ad Busters called Buy Nothing Day. The goal is to convince people to set aside their materialism for one full day (the most popular shopping day of the year, incidently: the day after Thanksgiving). An intriguing proposition indeed....

But then it dawned on me that, as a Presbyterian, I don't just have one day a year to make such a statement to this consumer-driven culture, but I can do it every week.

The Lord's Day has been described as a chance for believers -- who are unashamed citizens of the kingdom of culture six days a week -- to plant a flag in Times Square each Sunday in order to protest the rank consumerism of this age by simply saying "No! Not today...."

After all, it's hard enough as it is for Christians to stand out and be different from the culture around them. But once we surrender the Lord's Day to "the tyranny of the clock and the gods who amuse us," it's almost impossible.

Look! There in the Wilderness: It's a Pilgrim, It's an Exile, It's... Patiently Enduring Man!

When I initially saw the trailer for the film Iron Man, I think I actually laughed out loud (and not the good kind of laughter, mind you). But to my surprise, it has received a 93% on the Tomato Meter, which culls together of all the reviews a film receives nationwide. Plus, I was told today that Robert Downey Jr.'s character doesn't actually have superpowers, he's just rich and can afford to invent the cool gadgets that make him a superhero (you know, like Bruce Wayne). So maybe I'll swallow my pride and see Iron Man after all.

Still, I think the whole "superhero" phenonmenon betrays a not-so-subtle theology of glory that is very American, not to mention evangelical/postmillennial. By contrast, Reformed confessionalists ought to feel a certain discomfort when such "super," "amazing," and "fantastic" expectations are imported into the Christian life.

Now if Reformed amillennialists could sponsor their own superhero, it would be a huge box office flop. Picture, if you will, (drumroll please)... "Patiently Enduring Man." In addition to the "P.E." embroidered on his otherwise unremarkable chest, he would known for his ability to stand in long lines without getting too annoyed, sit in the waiting room at the dentist's office and calmly read two-year-old issues of People magazine while waiting for his name to be called, and basically be content to plod his way through largely ordinary and humdrum life.

And while Batman is portrayed on the big screen by Christian Bale, and Spiderman by Toby McGuire, Patiently Enduring Man would be played by Michael Gross, the guy who starred as Mr. Keaton on Family Ties.

You see, as woefully unsexy and unappealing as the virtue of patient endurance may be in the world's eyes, it is what the believer in this age is called to exhibit. And if such a calling just isn't "authentic," "urban," or "contextual" enough, it's best you bow out of the game now, rather than run the risk of facing the same fate as that archetypal Patient One, whose gig was such a box office flop that they crucified him for it.

Ten Great Films of the New Millennium

Yes, I realize that I am bumping up my Friday Feature to Wednesday, but I will be in Oregon for presbytery from Thursday until Saturday, and I know what pop culture buffs you all are. So without further ado, here are my ten favorite films of the new millennium:

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy: Unlike many, I am willing to forgive Peter Jackson for his modifications to Tolkien’s story (with the possible exception of Legolas’s varial-kickflip-ollie-to-frontside-smith-grind on an Orc shield down the steps of Helm’s Deep in film two). The stand-out actors, in my opinion, are Sean Bean as Boromir, Bernard Hill as Theoden, and of course, Elijah Wood as Frodo. I’m not sure if I like Fellowship of the Ring or Return of the King better, but I am leaning toward the former.

Memento: This is obviously the work of Christopher Nolan since, like all his films, its protagonist suffers from short-term memory loss, with the color footage taking place in reverse sequence and the black-and-white footage occurring in proper chronological order. I love judging films by their directors.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford: This film was simply amazing. Casey Affleck should have received, at the very least, a Best Supporting Actor nomination.

Garden State: Natalie Portman has been a favorite actor of mine since I saw her in Leon (called The Professional in the U.S.). Zach Braff, who wrote and directed it, basically rises from the dead as the film progresses, going from a medicated zombie to a young man who confronts his past and falls in love. Plus, The Shins play on the soundtrack.

Before Sunset: This film just rips your heart out, doesn’t it? I hope they continue to revisit this project as Ethan Hawke and Julia Delpy grow old.

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: Though this only showed on Showtime, I am counting it as a proper film. It chronicles the last gasp of the Sioux, and does a wonderful job of putting a human face on both the victors and the victims. If you’re prone to white guilt, stay away.

Napoleon Dynamite: Pure genius. “Back in ’82 I coulda thrown a pig-skin over that mountain.”

The Departed: Great cast, great acting, and the scene in which they’re driving to the final showdown as Dropkick Murphys’ “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” is playing—well, it makes you wanna drink and fight.

V for Vendetta: Terrorism never looked so cool, and neither did a girl with a shaved head.

Juno: I wish Ellen Page had been old enough to play Lindsey Weir on Freaks and Geeks. Sure, there are times when this film is a bit too self-conscious and clever, but I loved it anyway. My favorite line is when Juno’s father says, “Geez, Juno, I thought you were the kind of girl who knew when to say ‘when.’” and Juno responds, “I don’t really know what kind of girl I am.”

Honorable mentions: High Fidelity, Batman Begins, 3:10 to Yuma, The Village, Michael Clayton, Snatch, Ocean's 11, and Serenity.

When Irony and Iconoclasm Intertwine

One of pop media's greatest weapons is the art of subversion. Comparing the U2 of the '80s with the U2 of the '90s is a perfect example of what I mean. The former were earnest, heart-on-our-sleeve do-gooders who felt it their duty to remind us, often, of just how evil a place this world really is.

But the U2 of the '90s was the exact opposite. They were cocky, gauche, and ironic. They embodied, down to their eyewear and platform shoes, the rock 'n' roll stardom they once sought to avoid. When asked in 1991 what their forthcoming album would sound like, Bono replied, "It sounds like four guys chopping down The Joshua Tree." Though they lost their vision a bit with their Popmart tour, the ZooTV era of '92-'93 was all about satire, mockery, with plenty of Ecclesiastes and The Screwtape Letters thrown in for good measure. Of stardom, Bono sang:

"They want you to be Jesus,
They're going down on one knee;
But they'll want their money back
If you're alive at thirty-three."

My point is that sometimes truth can be communicated more effectively by a smirk than a megaphone. Sometimes crawling into a culture and subtly mocking its idols from within is more interesting than standing without and casting sanctimonious stones. In a word, with his program The Colbert Report, Stephen Colbert is a greater ally of the Left than Al Franken could ever be with his book Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot.

You can't watch Alec Baldwin's character on 30 Rock without feeling a tinge of pity for anyone that in love with the free market (and himself). You can't listen to Bright Eyes' "At the Bottom of Everything" without seeing the vanity of having to run "in this endless race for property and privilege to be won." And you certainly can't listen to "Love Is Blindness," the last song on U2's Achtung Baby, without feeling the hopelessness of having "all the secrets, but no one to tell."

Then again, it makes one wonder what Bono was really saying when, every night on that tour, they followed "Love Is Blindness" with their closing song, "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You."

Ten Good Shows of the Oh-Ohs

The usual disclaimer applies: This list is not a tacit endorsement of plane crashes, crooked cops, outplaying/outwitting/outlasting, or the mafia.

1. Lost: Possibly the best program on television. Now that they have a finite amount of shows before they'll call it quits, I am expecting them to stick to the story and stop wasting our time with people like Paulo and Nikki (what do you take us for anyway?).

2. Alias: A perfect example of a show that didn't know when to quit. Once Michael Vaughn told Sidney he wasn't really Michael Vaughn, I quit watching. But the first few seasons were killer. Ms. Bristow, I feel your pain.

3. Battlestar Galactica: Post-apocalyptic stories fascinate me, as do ones where our servants become our masters. This one has both. Starbuck has even grown on me.

4. Arrested Development: So good, and so sad no one figured it out in time. Sigh.

5. The Office: The British one is way better. There, I said it.

6. 24: Just because I liked the first few seasons of this show does not mean I endorse anything the CIA has done since its inception. How's that for an unexpected disclaimer?

7. The Shield: Not many show bring out the good ol' moral dilemma like this one does. Come on, admit it: You liked Shane despite what a scoundrel he was.

8. The Daily Show: Stewart/Colbert '08. 'Nuff said.

9. Survivor: How many seasons has this show run? Seventeen or something? And it's still intriguing, not to mention the most genius format for a reality TV show ever. I hope Ozzie wins.

10. The Sopranos: Despite the lack of good ol' fashioned family values, this show is really good. One thing I especially appreciate is the fact that it does not, in any way, shape, or form, glamorize the lifestyle it depicts. Bada bing, bada boom, fuhgetaboudit.

Honorable mentions: 30 Rock, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Rescue Me, Dexter, Firefly, and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Great Albums of the Oh-Ohs

Beginning with this week’s Friday Feature we turn from the Nineties to the Oh-Ohs, or whatever they’re called. We begin with what are, in my humble opinion, the best albums of the first 4/5 of the present decade.

1. Chutes Too Narrow (The Shins): The guys sort of got onto our radar via the film Garden State (though I was already listening to them, of course, but it was nice to have the rest of the culture catch up to me). This album, their sophomore effort, is probably their best, as it captures the best elements of Oh Inverted World (their debut) and Wincing the Night Away (their most recent).

2. Show Your Bones (Yeah Yeah Yeahs): Karen O is the new Joan Jett.

3. The Crane Wife (The Decemberists): It was a toss-up between this album and Castaways and Cutouts, which was the first of theirs I heard. They’re so unique, combining cool instruments (like cellos and hurdy-gurdies) with Colin Meloy’s macabre lyrics, often involving phalanxes, dirigibles, and killer plays on words like this one: “Within sight of the baroness, seething spite for this live largesse; By her side sits the baron, her barrenness barbs her.”

4. Our Endless Numbered Days (Iron and Wine): Hushed, subtle, and oh so beautiful. Makes ya wanna grow that beard.

5. Quiet is the New Loud (The Kings of Convenience): The best of Lo-Fi. Plus, since I didn’t include anything by Feist I had to give Leslie a shout-out here since she sings with these two Norweigan guys.

6. In Rainbows (Radiohead): Not only is this their best effort since OK Computer, but they totally messed with the entire music industry by releasing it independently on their website for however much their fans felt like paying. I love anarchy, especially in the U.K.

7. Neon Bible (Arcade Fire): This band from Montreal has like ten people in it or something, and in concert they are so entertaining, switching their diverse and sundry instruments at random. They're one of the few bands whose stock rose significantly after seeing them live.

8. Hot Fuss (The Killers): What the heck is "Somebody Told Me" about anyway?

9. I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning (Bright Eyes): I love this line from "At the Bottom of Everything": "We must blend into the choir, sing as static with the whole; We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul; And in this endless race for property and privilege to be won, we must run, we must run, we must run." The satire is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

10. Boxer (The National): Thank you, ACD, I am forever your humble servant for telling me about these guys. Singer Matt Berninger is like a Leonard Cohen for the new generation.

Honorable mentions: Accelerate (REM), Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga (Spoon), Seven Swans (Sufjan Stevens), Runaway Found (The Veils), Our Ill Wills (Shout Out Louds), Favorite Worst Nightmare (Arctic Monkeys), Final Straw (Snow Patrol), How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb (U2), Transatlanticim (Death Cab For Cutie), American Idiot (Green Day), A Rush of Blood to the Head (Coldplay), Rock Steady (No Doubt), Brushfire Fairytales (Jack Johnson), Stadium Arcadium (Red Hot Chili Peppers), Make Up the Breakdown (Hot Hot Heat), Turn on the Bright Lights (Interpol), and Yours Truly, Angry Mob (Kaiser Chiefs).

What's Better: Pizza or iPods?

When the question is asked whether something is "good," the query is so general that it is virtually impossible to answer. Since people love it when you answer a question with a question, an honest reply would be, "Good at what?"

God is good, but he's mostly good at saving me from my sins, not for helping me understand how to replace my muffler. The Christian religion is good, but mostly at preparing a people for the age to come, not for cleaning up the present one. Pizza is good, but it's pretty much only good for eating, not for playing MP3s.

So turning from pizza to art, how do we determine which art, or music, or films, are good? Well, we often hear that various forms of art are "good" when they corresepond to reality, biblically defined. OK then, what does this tell us about someone like Picasso, whose art is often less realistic than impressionistic? And don't get me started on Bob Dylan, who can't carry a tune if his life depended on it. What I'm saying is that sometimes the disconnect between art and reality is the whole point.

If art is not intended to be overtly didactic or preachy, then may it not simply describe rather than prescribe? Anyone familiar with U2's Zoo TV Tour understands the power of an artist's wearing another's shoes (or in this case, sunglasses) in order to subtly mock and subvert a culture's idols, often without their getting the joke.

So when you look at René Magritte's depiction of a wooden, saxophone-shaped thing with a bowl on one end in his painting entitled "This Is Not a Pipe," how ought we to respond to it? On the one hand he is right, it is not a pipe but a painting of a pipe. But on the other hand, is his intentional subversiveness dangerous for the Christian who believes that Jesus once held bread in his hand and said "Hoc est corpus meum"?

If common grace is a legitimate category, and if Van Til was right about unbelievers borrowing capital from the theist's worldview in everything they do, then perhaps we actually sell ourselves short when we equate the non-holy with the unholy, the profane with the destructive, and the secular with the "bad."

Thou Shalt Not Kill People Who Like Bach

In his widely-acclaimed book All God's Children and Blue Suede Shoes, Ken Myers argues for objectivity with respect to our standards for evaluating various forms of art. He writes:

"In an age of egalitarianism and relativism, it is easier than ever to regard matters of taste as wholly private and personal. I like Bach, you like Bon Jovi, praise the Lord anyhow. But is aesthetic judgment purely a subjective and neutral matter? Is 'beauty' exclusively in the eye of the beholder? Is something 'beautiful' just because I like it, or does it have some objective quality rooted in creation that allows me to recognize that it is beautiful?"

There is no doubt that there are objective standards rooted in creation. For example, just about every culture we know about thinks that murder is wrong. Despite the fact that they have no access to special revelation, the works of God's moral law are written upon their hearts, enabling them to recognize that moral standard without needing to be taught it.

Assuming that "thou shalt not kill" is a fair example, it would seem that in order for the argument for objective standards to be at all meaningful, the standard in question must be one that most people can recognize by virtue of natural law. After all, we have a label for those morally color-blind people who fail to see such standards: we call them "sociopaths."

Some questions that proponents of Myers's view need to answer, then, include:

1). If standards for music are as rooted in creation as standards for morality, then are those who fail to like Bach as culpable as those who fail to not kill people who like Bach?

2). Is it simply a coincidence that the objectively good forms of artistic expression by people like Beethoven, Shakespeare, and Rembrandt are almost all produced by white, western Europeans? Are there any Oriental, African, or Middle-Eastern contributions to the canon of the objectively beautiful?

3). Why is the overt expression of violence repudiated when produced by "homeys," but it is the bedrock of the "western canon" when produced by Homer?

4). Do you think Mona Lisa is beautiful? Not the painting, but the actual woman in it (you know, the one with no eyebrows).

5). How, pray tell, can I get my hands on a copy of the rulebook that lists the universally-applicable criteria for beauty?

Some Great Nineties Films

This week’s Friday Feature lists ten amazing films of the nineties. And to make the usual disclaimer, listing a film does not mean I therefore endorse all of its content, any more than reading Macbeth is a tacit shout-out to regicide.

1. Braveheart: Virtually flawless, and that without CGI. A friend and I saw the midnight sneak preview in Budapest and were just blown away. Mel Gibson as William Wallace is great, but Robert the Bruce steals the show: “My hate will die… with you.”

2. Twelve Monkeys: Best time-travel movie ever, especially because it’s one of the few in which the past cannot be changed. And Brad Pitt is brilliant.

3. The Big Lebowski: What made this a-here story that Sam Elliot unfolded so perfect was that the plot was so convoluted, and The Dude was about the most ill-equipped person to deal with it. This film, for me, will forever be associated with the “Big Lebowski Night” that a few of us seminarians celebrated with Darryl Hart, which consisted of, among other things, In ‘n’ Out Burger, White Russians, and a bowling tournament featuring the Nihilists vs. the Caucasians, complete with a Big Lebowski Cup which Darryl made out of a Folgers can and stick-on letters.

4. Forrest Gump: Call me sappy, but I love this movie. Only a great film can make you nostalgic for a period of time during which you weren’t even alive (not that I need more reasons for nostalgia, mind you).

5. The Usual Suspects: So unique a film, so unexpected an ending. And what a cast.

6. Good Will Hunting: If you’ve not seen the extended scenes on the DVD, you must. It’s hard to believe that Matt Damon and (pre-toothjob) Ben Affleck were unheard of until this film came out. In my opinion, this movie represents the best work from either of these actors (though for the latter that’s not saying much). And is it me, or could you slay a thousand Philistines with Minnie Driver’s jawbone?

7. Se7en: I’m still shuddering, especially about how eerily correctly a serial killer can understand and interpret natural law (excuse the profanity, all you Barthians).

8. Fight Club: OK, this is the last Brad Pitt film, I promise. Though some see Tyler Durden as the butt of David Fincher’s joke, I like to think that that honor belongs to you, the American consumer.

9. American Movie: You probably haven't heard of this one, but you must see it immediately. You will swear after ten minutes that it is a "mockumentary" akin to Waiting For Guffman, but, unfortunately, it is very real. Words fail to capture the horror and glee that we felt when DRD's own "ACD" found this film on VHS at some thrift store while we in seminary and screened it for us. Long live Mike Schank, vot-ka, and scratch-off lotto.

10. The Matrix: Ever feel like Neo, and that "there is no spoon"? If you see this film while simultaneously reading Orwell’s 1984, I’d say you need a healthy dose of Vosian eschatology to cure your depression.

Honorable mentions go to Reality Bites, Dances With Wolves, The Shawshank Redemption, Rounders, Before Sunrise/Sunset, The Sixth Sense, and Donnie Brasco.

Art: Take It, Leave It, But Don't Redeem It

Continuing our look at the relationship of the Christian to popular culture and media, I now turn to those who insist that the "missional" believer (or church) must embrace the genres of film, television, and music in order to "speak the language of the culture."

Appeal for this position is often made to I Cor. 9:19-23 where Paul claims to "become all things to all men in order to save some." Unfortunately for the "contextualists," Paul's demographic sensitivity is rather wanting, as seen in his placing all of humanity in one of two broad categories (Jew or Greek). It's kind of the equivalent of a missions conference holding a seminar called "Ministry to Non-Whites."

More damaging to the "incarnational" approach is the incarnation (the one of Christ I mean). One would think that something like, say, God becoming a human would be sufficiently accomodating without my quoting Panic! At the Disco in my sermons in order to "connect with the kids."

To our point, then, I would argue that it is a tad ironic that those who laud "authenticity" would advocate the believer's consuming pop media simply in order to build a bridge to people that wouldn't otherwise exist (anyone remember Mr. Rosso?). Just admit it: if you thought your dad was lame for saying "like, totally" to you when you were a kid, then it's a pretty safe bet that when we say "mos' def'" to ours the response is a similar rolling of the eyes. What... ever.

And finally, I often wonder why it's just white culture whose art is co-opted for missional purposes (either in its bourgeoisie, high-brow, wine-and-cheese expressions, or in its bohemian, arthouse, po-mo variety). I could be wrong, but if there are hip hop- or flamenco-inspired worship services in the PCA, I've never run across them.

Maybe Oscar Wilde was right, and "all art is useless." If art could talk, perhaps it would say, "Take me or leave me, but please don't redeem me."

Little Kwik-E-Mart on the Prairie

As I mentioned last week, some Christians take the view that the proper approach to pop culture is to abstain from it altogether. Whether it be television shows like Lost, films like Juno, or music by bands like Death Cab For Cutie, if the subject matter is not wholesome and family-oriented, then it must be the (only other) alternative: destructive.

Some thoughts....

First of all, for those with tender consciences (the modern-day equivalent of those in Paul's day who abstained from eating meat sacrificed to idols) it would seem that the best approach to pop media is to not participate at all. "Happy is the one," says the apostle, "who does not condemn himself in what he allows."

Still, some questions need to be answered. For example, is the purpose of art to edify us in Christ? If so, then Lost or Juno don't exactly do the trick. But if not, then the degree of sanctification a program or film produces is incidental to whether or not it is worth watching. And while we're at it, can something like "sanctification" happen by the medium of film in the first place, or does it happen through the media gratiae, the means of grace? What I'm asking is, is there a tertium quid (third way) besides edification or destruction where pop art may find its purpose?

Further, is "wholesome family values" a proper ruler by which to measure the appropriateness (or lack thereof) of pop art? Have we conflated having nice, wholesome families with God's design for us in Christ, thereby insinuating that Christ died in vain? And if the answer is that art is appropriate when it points us to God's overarching telos for his creation, then does that only happen by citing positive examples, or can it happen negatively by means of counter-examples? In other words, can we "grow" equally by watching The Simpsons as we can from watching Little House on the Prairie? And just because a story is set in a context a hundred years ago, does that means its admittedly more repressed expressions of sin are any less sinful?

Will the Christian Family Bookstores in a century from now be looking back wistfully at such wholesome tokens of Americana as the Griffin family's Quahog, the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, and Colonel Kwik-E-Mart's Kentucky Bourbon?

Some Nineties TV Favs

A brief disclaimer: The inclusion of a program in this list is not an endorsement of all its content (any more than watching a baseball game betrays a tacit approval of “stealing” [of bases or other items]).

1. The X-Files: From the inversion of the traditional gender stereotypes (Mulder being the intuitive one, Scully the scientist) to the fact that it made “alien-human hybrids” a normal topic of conversation in the breakrooms of the mid-nineties, this show, despite it lasting a couple seasons too long, was awesome. Gotta love the Smoking Man.

2. Seinfeld: From “master of my domain” to “yada yada yada,” from “sponge-worthy” to “not that there’s anything wrong with that,” any show that can inspire so many catch-phrases deserves its rightful place in pop culture lore.

3. Space Ghost Coast to Coast: The concept is just brilliant: take old Hannah Barbera cartoon footage and edit it to make it into a talk show on which contemporary celebrities are interviewed. I loved the one where Space Ghost asks Michael Stipe of REM, “Hey Michael, is that you in the corner?” “Yes,” Stipe replies, “that’s me in the corner.” If you don’t get it, just move on.

4. Friends: The chink in the armor was Courtney Cox (she’s way better playing a witch than a nice girl), but the cast as a whole was superb. Chandler became a bit annoying once he fell in love with Monica, and Ross got a bit too goofy for my taste, but it was a great show nonetheless. My favorite line of the series was when Ross, who had moved and now needed to ride the train to work, remarked that he’d “been given the gift of time” to read while commuting. “That’s funny, because last Christmas I was given the gift of space,” Chandler replied. “We should, like, put them together and make a continuum.”

5. Freaks and Geeks: That little Jewish kid’s a riot. I just wish Ellen Page had been old enough to play Lindsey.

6. ER: OK, I get it that Dr. Ross left his day job as a pediatrician to star in movies like Ocean's Eleven and O Brother Where Art Thou?, but he could at least have shown up for Dr. Green's funeral for crying out loud. In all seriousness, this show kept my interest until about five or six years ago. Great cast(s), good character development.

7. Mystery Science Theater 3000: I’m still kicking myself for not coming up with this idea first. Under the right circumstances, the running commentary I provide on horrible films is top-notch. It’s just one of the services I offer.

That's all, folks. Cut me some slack for not listing ten, I was overseas serving the Lord during most of the decade while you all were sitting on the couch watching TV....

Abstinence, Indulgence, and Speaking the Lizingua Francizzle

Well, I'm a bit bored with Sam Harris, and if the dearth of interaction is any indication, so are you. Ever the one to chameleonically adapt to the whims of the people, I'll take an open-ended haitus from dissecting Letter to a Christian Nation and turn our attention to something that our Friday Features have got me thinking about.

Let's talk about the Christian and pop culture.

There are a few schools of thought with respect to this issue. There are those who see no middle ground between abstinence and abuse. For these folks, any indulgence in secular culture, be it film, television, or music, is threatening and potentially harmful to one's spiritual life. Curiously, this rarely applies to non-Christian books (provided they're old) or sports. But I digress....

Others embrace the whole pop culture thing, often under the guise of what they call "incarnationalism" or "contextualization." By this they mean that since Jesus embodied the gospel in a form that his people could relate to and understand (i.e., that of a Jewish man), we must follow his lead and seek to speak to our culture in its own lingua franca and with its own adopted forms. As long as they're white.

Still others either refrain from pop culture for non-spiritual reasons such as taste, time, or lack of interest, or engage in it for equally non-spiritual reasons such as, well, liking it.

What do you think? Is "this much" too much, or is "too much never enough"? Are certain media acceptable while others out of bounds? How may one's engagement in pop culture, or lack thereof, benefit/harm his spiritual life? Are there discernable and/or distinct trends among evangelicals and the Reformed?

And can we ignore the role our eschatology plays in all this?

Ten Killer Albums of the Nineties

For our Friday Feature we will transition from the Eighties to the Nineties. Now I realize that some of you are, well, old, but please try to keep up, mmkay?

1. OK Computer (Radiohead): No need to defend this one I trust. Plus, "Exit Music (For a Film)" is really haunting and beautiful.

2. Urban Hymns (The Verve): What happened to these guys? "And I'm a million different people from one day to the next...", what a great line.

3. Achtung Baby (U2): The best song on this album, which is also the least appreciated, is "So Cruel": "Between the horses of love and lust we are trampled underfoot."

4. Nevermind (Nirvana): I was never a huge grunge guy, but I'd never live down the abuse if I left this one off. Plus, after Kurt sang "here we are now, entertain us!", we all knew that what would never entertain us again was guys in lipstick and spandex.

5. August and Everything After (Counting Crows): Their only really good album. Didn't this guy date, like, all the girls from Friends at one time or another?

6. Jagged Little Pill (Alanis Morrisette): Love her or hate her, Alanis brought a scary dose of girl anger to the airwaves (that guy from Full House is still holed up in a bunker I bet). She paved the way for Fiona Apple, Tori Amos, Sarah McLachlan, and all those cool girl singer/songwriters who enjoyed such success until 1998 when someone put on a schoolgirl uniform and went "Hey-yey-yey-yey-yey-yey!"

7. (What's the Story) Morning Glory (Oasis): Long live the fab four redux.

8. No Need to Argue (The Cranberries): Dolores O'Riordon has such a unique voice, and she's pretty fearless. Listen to "Zombies" and you'll see what I mean.

9. Tragic Kingdom (No Doubt): How can I not include these fellow Orange County locals? Who else would immediately recognize the words from the beginning of Track 14 ("Remain seated please. Permanecer sentados por favor") as being from the Matterhorn ride at Disneyland?

10. Third Eye Blind (Third Eye Blind): These guys went way downhill after this one, but their debut's a keeper for sure (for "Semi-Charmed Life" alone, although the whole things great).

Honorable mentions go to Tidal by Fiona Apple, Dookie by Green Day, and Before These Crowded Streets by The Dave Matthews Band.

OK, discuss....