"Post-modernism is the new black"

I really hate to steal someone else's title, but it was too good.

It's a tradition I inherited from my father - reading the latest issue of the Economist every time I ride a plane. It's wonderful, really. It's an education. I am told that to study for the United States Foreign Service Exam, one should read each issue from cover to cover. I walk away with the feeling that I "really" know what's going on, which is good ammunition for Washington. Agree or disagree with their positions, they do argue their points clearly and logically, which is more than I can say for most publications.

My favorite article this time, somewhere in the air between Orlando and Dulles, was called "Post-modernism is the new black." With an ironic tone, it examines capitalism's response to post-modernism. The founders of post-modernism were socialists, and capitalism was one of the "meta-narratives" it attempted to deconstruct. (Of course, they were no friends of the communist meta-narrative either)

In so many ways, post-modernism is beautiful. It naturally appeals to me. It's a philosophy where everyone gets to make up their own dance. There's real independence without real expectation on people. It's quite selfish in some ways, but given it was born in Europe in the 1940s, this was better than the alternative. Every other philosophy - religious, political, psychological - seemed to have contributed to the two wars, needlessly killing millions. How appealing to forget about who's right and stop fighting! It's still appealing as the grand narratives of "democracy" and "fundamentalist Islam" are killing each other based on beliefs. Would it not be better if we just stopped believing? In some ways, it seems we'd live much easier lives. So says post-modernism, which criticizes every belief, every "meta-narrative" from Christianity to Freudianism to Nazism to Capitalism, meticulously deconstructing everything the ancients took for granted. They criticize as only the French and the Germans could.

Yet one of the grand narratives, says the Economist, has succeeded in embracing post-modernism for its own propagation. As belief has become less important, at least in any corporate sense, everyone has started to dance their own dance. And capitalism has responded. Everyone has a "will not to be governed." Everyone is "the artist of his/her own life." And there are all sorts of products that go with this. (Blogs being one of them) I wonder if this is best demonstrated by a commercial I saw many times last year (and honestly enjoyed). A cell phone company was advertising a combination phone and MP3-player. What is more post-modern than that? Don't give me your stuffy old definitions of what phones must do and how pop-music must be heard! Our generation can do anything it wants. Wer'e our own artists, thankyaverymuch. So the commercial shows a young, incredibly hip looking woman being "the artist of her own life." Walking down city streets, she listens to some awesome "chick-rock." She walking in a normal, confident manner. But every time she passes a mirror, her reflection (or in other scenes, her shadow) is dancing in a way that made me desire to be as free as her. Perhaps an MP3-phone could help.

You are your own person, and there's a product for each of you out there to help you express that. You are your own niche-market.

This is different than a lot of Christians I have met. I've worked in missions and associated with missionaries, many of whom feared post-modernism. When belief is viewed as un-important at best, or dangerous at worst (watch the movie Downfall and you'll understand why many Germans aren't too keen on believing in anything), it makes spreading Christianity different. Christianity is a meta-narrative. It claims God stepped into the world to save us from our own selfishness. It claims if we follow him we can act more like him and we will be able to live in a state of eternal peace. Following is not very post-modern. It means letting someone else be the artist of your life. When someone else is the artist of your life, he can paint some unpleasant pictures. Popes used his narrative to lead others on crusades against Muslims, killing un-told thousands. And we ask why religion is so un-appealing.

Thus, so many Christians face post-modernism with a sort of gravity soldiers must get when they must face bullets. With modernists, one could at least have arguments. One doesn't know where to begin with a "pomo."

Yet, I wonder if by embracing capitalism, many parts of the American Evangelical church have ministered in a post-modern way. "What's Jesus for you?" is a common question. It kind of sounds like "what can brown do for you?" What is God doing in your life? In a previous blog, I considered Saddleback's niche-market worship services. We can almost be the artists of our own church service!

Let's now consider how much of this is a good thing. I love how it opposes uniformity. Christianity is open to many different kinds of people, kinds of worship and kinds of gifts. There's no exclusive priesthood, even though a professional priesthood (or clergy, if you prefer) is necessary. Many parts, one body. We're often accused of being exclusive. Yet post-modernism reflects Christianity in this way: everyone gets to dance, everyone gets to play along. Your color, gender, and background, under this grand narrative of the dying-God, doesn't matter. We were pomo before pomo. Moreover, it has taken evangelism away from the argument and the track and more to the individual. It is forcing us Christians to know and love our un-believing friend. There is little converting from a distance with post-moderns, and those of us who have ministered to pomos are better for it.

There is, as always, some danger. CS Lewis often warns that each age is susceptible to certain lies, and that the members of each age need to compare notes with other ages (he recommends reading old books at least as often as you read new ones). Inclusiveness can give way to individualism, to selfishness. Many observers rightly note that many churches have lost the real sense of community they once had. When you are selfish, the church, the Bible and the needy become as important as my mp3-player. I go to church, read my Bible, pray and give to the needy based on my feelings. These are the food of Christianity. I need my Christian brothers and sisters as I need nourishment. I starve when I don't read my Bible. I get lost in myself when I don't pray. I lose out when I don't give to the needy - be it my own, relatively unimportant possessions (even now I fail to believe this completely!) or the eternal gift of the Gospel.

I go to a church that in some ways is less post-modern. Yes, it does give me ways to serve in ways that may suit me more than others, and the church itself may be a niche-group as many of us are in the same stage in life. But the worship service forces me to participate with other people. As hard as it is for a person who cherishes his freedom and independence to admit, I am not the artist of my own life, and I am better for it. God, through my brothers and sisters, through scripture, through prayer and through sharing, is painting a picture infinitely more beautiful than I could on my own. He constantly overcomes my resistance to it, and at my best, I rejoice.

Tannenbaum

Today I flew home. This will probably be my last Christmas in the house that I have known as home for more than 13 years. It was not a "homey" home - Florida architecture inhibits that, though my mother's excellent decorations make it more real. But it remains home. It's a place I could walk around blindfolded and still find my bed, the fridge, my books, the TV or the keyboard I am using now. My parents will move to be closer to the church they started. My youngest sister will be in college next year. Some other family will make memories here.

However, our Christmas tree will remain home, wherever we place it. Sure, it's not a live tree. But there is an ornament on every branch. The best part is, very few of them actually match each other. My mom started a tradition when I was born. She gives each of us a new Christmas ornament each year. They always had something to do with our personalities and interests, or events that occurred the previous year. 4 children and 26 years later, there's barely room for a popcorn chain. It's a mess. And it's beautiful.

You can keep your hotel Christmas trees. I understand some people really get excited making handsome, matching Tannenbaums to celebrate the season. Whatever floats your boat. I'll keep our family tree. Disorganized, inclusive, messy, beautiful.

I wonder if heaven will be similar. It will no doubt be beautiful, with beauty flowing out from the sun and the lamp which are God Himself. Yet every tongue, tribe and nation will be there. New bodies, new hearts, without sin, without ambition or competition. It will be crowded with a colorful influx of divine humanity Jesus once demonstrated. We may not match, but we will sing together, facing the Lord, our eternal light.

I'll stop myself before I overdo the analogy. My Christmas tree makes me feel at home. It also makes me long for Home.

A Christmas Poem

I am still in the Christmas spirit. As I write, I am listening to my favorite Christmas Album, "A Charlie Brown Christmas" by the Vince Guaraldi Trio. Somehow a boys' choir combined with beautiful un-intrusive jazz music seem to me the best way to put an American Christmas to music. It seems to accompany all the emotions of Christmas. Joy to the world, spiked with melancholy, as if the Christ-child knew the violence that awaited him.

Anyway, I am also still in the spirit of sharing other people's writing. I am reading "A Severe Mercy" by Sheldon Vanauken. I have mixed feelings about the book - I'll sort those out when I'm done reading it. However, I thought this sonnet he wrote about the Virgin Mary was appropriate for the season.

"The Heart of Mary" by Sheldon Vanauken

Dear sister, I was human not divine
the angel left me woman as before
And when, like flame beneath my heart, I bore
The Son, I was the vestal and the shrine

My arms held heaven at my breast--not wine
But milk made blood, in which no mothering doubt
Prefigured patterns of pouring out
O Lamb! to stain the word incarnadine

The Magi saw a crown that lay ahead
But not the bitter glory of the reign
They called him King and knelt among the kine
I pondered in my heart what they had said
Yet I could not see the bloody cup of pain
I was but woman--though my God was mine

NT Wright's thoughts on the Incarnation, Christmas

Being myself in the Christmas spirit, I wanted to write some thoughts on the incarnation. However, today I read NT Wright's thoughts, and they were both more astounding and edifying than anything I could write. That does not mean I still won't write anything. That does mean there are higher theologians and thinkers out there, and Advent may be a time to reflect with them. Check NT out at http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2006/decemberweb-only/151-42.0.html, and go tell your friends.

Merry Christmas to all!

Blood Diamond thoughts

I saw an excellent movie today. I really did not expect much. I've found many epics involving Leonardo DiCaprio long and dull (see "Gangs of New York"). "Blood Diamond" is fantastic. It was a long film that did not seem long. DiCaprio himself was fantastic (I never thought I'd say that, either).

As most of you know, it's about the war diamond trade. It is filled with disturbing images of violence done by the RUF. One of the major characters is a child who is kidnapped and brain-washed into a soldier. He shoots his first prisoner blind-folded.

I have an image about Africa that my friends who have been there are welcome to correct. In "Screwtape Proposes a Toast,"s written in the early 60s CS Lewis complains that though England (and the West in general) had become peaceful after two World Wars, society in general was becoming mediocre. Hell could feast luke-warm souls. In contrast, these war-torn parts of Africa has brought about some terrible people. The RUF fighters in the movie reminded me of that. Yet, for some reason, some of the most admirable present-day warriors for Christianity are Africans. I think of my friend Haswell, an African missionary in Italy who has never failed to encourage me. I think of my own church. We are part of the Rwandan Mission to America. Of course, the first thing I think of when I think of Rwanda is genocide. I was wondering if I would have to explain myself somehow whenever I would tell people about my church. A church of peace - and the first thought is genocide. I'm sensitive about any war-like images associated with the church.

My pastor told me the story of our church. The Anglican Mission movement in Rwanda was birthed after the genocide, when Rwandan pastors with the help of Prison Fellowship brought the ministry of reconciliation to both survivors and perpetrators. This led to revival. This led to a church mission which spilled into America, where I worship now.

Maybe when it's most obvious that we live in a fallen world is it most obvious who lives for Christ and who doesn't. Is that comfort for the suffering? I have no idea. Maybe it will be. We wish God would stop things. His way is often to redeem things. He's very committed to redemption. He died for it. And when it happens, some of us coming out looking more like him. That's certainly true for a lot of Africans I've met.

You'd really like this song

Something funny, but typical, happened today when I was meandering home from Metro station. I had just watched an excellent movie, and it inspired me to write a song. Let me tell you, it was an exceptional song. It had a groovin' African beat with all sorts of percussion instruments. It had a sweet acoustic guitar part that I probably would not have been able to actually play. It had beautiful words with a personal and political message.

I began to imagine myself singing it with a sweet, masculine honey/whisky voice (hey, a guy can dream, can't he?). I then began to imagine myself as an awesome, jazzy guitarist performing this song in a crowded, smokey night-club, where people in interesting clothes drank red wine, bourbon-cokes and dark, exotic beer. They all smoked Lucky-Strike cigarettes and listened to me with a purposefully un-revealed interest. My fantasy included a band filled with all my musical friends. We were tight, jazzy and innovative. The performance turned into a concert, for charity, of course. I began to imagine other songs, some of my own and a lot of my friends' song. I didn't have to be the star. Of course.

By this time, Albert's house (where I rent a room and living space with some great guys) was in view. Of course, my song was completely forgotten. It honestly might have been good, though I'd need to practice a lot more to pull the guitar part I had imagined.

I wonder if a real artist has to have a bit of humbleness, the kind you'd read about in the book of Proverbs. It takes this humbleness to focus on and appreciate the concept itself, not imagining yourself presenting it for praise and accolades, to recognize a piece of self-expression as a beautiful something that reflects a trait of our Creator, namely the ability create. Pride really does cometh before the fall.

Church Service a la Carte

Yesterday Dani sent me a link to all the different worship services at Saddleback church (Rick Warren's church in California). Here it is: http://www.saddlebackfamily.com/home/todaystory.asp?id=5700

church service a la carte she called it. Whatever church service to fit your mood, style and demographic (My moods change so frequently that I'd probably go to a different one each week). I'm certainly curious about the Luau themed service.

On the one hand, I love the spirit of the church striving to meet people where they are at. It shows how multi-faceted a church can be, and you can imagine the gifts and talents being used to serve the Lord here. In some ways, it must be quite beautiful. But I also feel this misses something. Before I go on, let me say that I don't want to join the ranks of the anti-_____ church crusaders. I've met people who were very much anti-mega church or anti-traditional church or anti-charismatic church or anti-large church or anti-big church or anti-country church or anti-seeker friendly church. If the good folks at Saddleback Church are serving the Lord with their whole hearts, I applaud them, just as I applaud the smaller, more traditional church I am attending. It's the following of Jesus that counts.

What I would miss at a church like this is the to serve the Lord with all sorts of different people. There's something very beautiful when all the demographics come together in the name of the Lord Jesus. It's also inconvenient. It means that some of us have to deal with styles of worship we don't like, people who make us feel less comfortable, differing political persuasions and skin colors. Church may not always be convenient to my specific emotional or stylistic needs. Yet in these disciplines, rituals, creeds, songs, sermons and sacraments, even on days when I want to move on to Sunday lunch, I develop a discipline that makes me a better person. It helps me, later on that week, to bear with less convenient people. Sometimes the church is God's sneaky tool to help me love others.

Of course, I'm not advocating choosing a church as a masacist would. Even as I write this, I reflect that my own church is meeting my specific needs, and for that matter, the majority of people fit my own demographic (young DC professionals who enjoy foreign beer). It's just that the habit of changing church services every time I change moods is not something I wish to promote in myself.