When God Was a Beatle (or, What the Church Can Learn From Bonnaroo)

by Jacob Campbell

It’s a Friday night and ninety thousand people are lifting their hands and singing in unison with a god. In front of me is a young man, smoking pot as he sings; beside him, his girlfriend ingests a certain substance to enhance her experience. To my left, there is a gentleman forgoing underpants, and to my right, a man in his 60’s seems to be reliving a profound moment from his youth. Behind me, there are teenage girls with their inhibitions eclipsed by this surreal experience. And here I am, a Bible teacher from the south watching Paul McCartney leading this eclectic crowd through “Hey Jude.” 

Since that night, I have been ruminating on the significance of the event. This man, and to a larger extent, the Bonnaroo Festival itself, accomplishes something very few faith communities do: creating communal experience and a judgment-free community.

Make no mistake, musically speaking, Paul McCartney is a god. There is arguably no other singer/songwriter that has been more influential in the 20th century. In the 1960’s, people went insane over the Beatles and I’m here to tell you, in the 2010’s, nothing has changed. McCartney commanded the crowd like no other performer I’ve seen at the festival in my five years, save maybe Springsteen. Maybe. Sir Paul edges the Boss by sheer pedigree in my humble opinion. 

But from the opening chords, this crowd sang almost every word with McCartney. Instead of singing to him, with him stepping away from the mic so the crowd can be heard, they sang classics, word for word, with McCartney. What if Christians viewed worship not as something done to God, but something done in communion with God? What if we began to consider God’s role in communal worship as an active participant, rather than a passive recipient? To me, that presents an entirely new angle from which to view worship. 

It’s like playing a team sport: you try your hardest for your teammate so that both of you find fulfillment together. It was obvious that McCartney enjoyed singing along with the crowd. Do we think it is that different for God? Do we really think God likes being the stoic recipient of another laborious version of “How Great is our God”? Or is it more likely that God was right there dancing with David behind the Ark? David did that naked, I might add; he’d have been right at home at Bonnaroo, just give him a glow stick. I believe God wishes to be energetic about faith with us.  


The more fundamental aspect is this: this Bonnaroo community is bound by a common love from the start, a mutual adoration for McCartney and his music. They are all already on the same team. His music brings everyone together, and I mean everyone; I don’t even really like the Beatles and I was caught up. Imagine if the church began to view everyone - not just members, but all people - as on the same team. Are not the words of Paul echoing here, “For all have sinned …and all are justified…”

Sadly, the church seems to be accomplishing the opposite. Division reigns between denominations, social and political issues divide generations within churches, and more and more people, outsiders and insiders alike, are put off by what they see when they look at much of Christianity. Intolerance and judgment are the idols of contemporary American evangelicalism. But in the crowd at Bonnaroo, conservative Christians were singing arm-in-arm with same-sex individuals. For a few brief hours, something greater was able to transcend cultural differences and create true community. 

A friend and I were talking after the festival about how it generally takes a few weeks to get our “judgment filter” back, the part of our brains that says people who do drugs are inherently bad, or else some other prejudice we view the world by, likely revolving around homosexuality. We both concluded that it was probably in our best interest to leave the judgment filter off year-round. 

You can’t blame lost people for acting lost. Jesus validated people for their inherent humanity-they were a part of God’s creation, worth redeeming and welcoming into God’s community. God, through Jesus, was not about putting up walls. He was about inviting people into a journey alongside him. God’s story, filled with his love for his creation, is the binding force for all humanity. Bonnaroo has taught me something that the church never did: God loves all people, not just the ones that are “in the church.” In those four days of music each year, barriers are torn down and people of all different walks of life come together and treat each other with kindness.

I do believe that the culture in churches is changing. It’s slow, frustrating, and messy. I know too many people who are turned off by church. Sadly they equate faith and religion, mainly because churches themselves have equated the two. Too often their view of church has been one of dogmatic rule-following rather than a loving, open faith community. 

We are made to worship; whether it’s in a church or at a festival, we get caught up in adoring things and people. God is calling us to worship and commune with him. He is creating a kingdom that is a place of love and kindness and no judgment. I think the community he is fashioning is going to look a lot more like Bonnaroo than most American churches. Because when we acknowledge the things God wants as the things we want, we let go of our prejudices and we hold onto Love. And love is all you need.

Jacob is a father, husband, and teacher from Chattanooga, TN.  He runs, does yard work, plays video games, and tries to be a good person with marginal success in all of it. You can follow him on Twitter @Jake43083.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.

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Opening Day: The Spectacle of Sport as Religious Festival

by Adam Metz 

I was one strike away from seeing a no-hitter for the first time, but, in the end, the game didn't count. It was April 6, 2007 in Cleveland, OH - Opening Day for my Cleveland Indians who were taking on the Seattle Mariners. My wife was about eight-months pregnant with our second child so we splurged on parking right across the street from the stadium. Our son was two years old and bundled up in his Ohio State winter coat, and an unusual spring snowstorm blew in off the coast of Lake Erie. It was colder than any football game I had ever been to. But it was tradition - our third consecutive trip to Opening Day, and so we made the most of it.

Paul Byrd was on the mound for the Indians, and through four and two-third innings, he had not surrendered a single hit. The snow was really coming down hard by this time, but Byrd had two strikes against the batter, meaning if he could get him out, and if the game had to be canceled, it would go down as a victory for the Indians who had scored in the previous inning. (In Major League Baseball, the losing team must have batted five innings for a game to be considered official). Busy trying to stay warm, Byrd's flirtation with a no-hitter was nearly lost on all of us in the fact that we were getting covered by the repeated snow squalls piling up on our ball caps. However, with two strikes, and the snow becoming nearly a whiteout, we all stood knowing that if Byrd could get this out, there was a good chance victory was ours! 

And then the unthinkable happened . . . Lou Piniella, manager of the Mariners, took a slow jaunt to talk to the umpire, and the next thing we knew, the umpires were calling the players off of the field. With one strike standing between us and an official game, Piniella had forced the hands of the umpire, and the game was never completed. None of the statistics from that game ever counted. Byrd's no-hitter wasn't meant to be. Neither was our Opening Day tradition that year. The next day, we were half way to Cleveland before we found out that the makeup game scheduled for that day was cancelled too. They ended up opening their home schedule in Milwaukee, WI. 

This year, Cleveland's home opener is on Monday, April 8, our family has our tickets, and by the way this spring has begun, I wouldn't say that another April snowstorm is out of the question. This will be our ninth straight Opening Day in Cleveland. All three of our kids have been there every year which probably sounds . . . weird. I guess it is. 

But there's something special about Opening Day. Even though six years ago we froze our butt off, it still summons images of spring and warmer weather. When you have winters like we do in Ohio, you need that optimism. It also makes me think that, just maybe, this is our year! Optimism abounds, not just with the weather, but thinking about the team's success. Do you know the Indians haven't won a World Series since 1954? So why not 2013? 

Opening Day is our first time to look at the new off-season signings, the rookies, and to see if some of the older players can keep their momentum going from last year. It's our family's annual festival . . . our pilgrimage. A few years ago, when our kids started school, we faced a dilemma: whether or not we should allow them to miss school for the sake of the tradition. In the book From Season to Season: Sports as American Religion, Joseph Price has an interesting article where he compares the Super Bowl to a religious festival. I think that Opening Day has become our family's religious festival - so we decided that the tradition superseded school. 

We don't worship the Indians or anything (I've even come to terms with how politically incorrect their team name is), but I'm realizing that our sporting events and traditions appeal to us at a religious level. In those parts of the Book of Leviticus we always skip over when we're doing a read-through-the-Bible-in-a-year program, the Mosaic Law prescribes the festivals that Israel is to celebrates: the Feast of Weeks, Feast of Trumpets, etc. What seems to have taken their place in our culture is the spectacle of the sporting events. Our rhythm of life largely follows the ebbs and flows of these events. 

Spring brings March Madness and a kind of first fruits celebration alongside the opening of the baseball season; the NBA and NHL Finals usher in the summer and a kind of Feast of Trumpets; the MLB All Star game still remains a summer Sabbath (one of my favorite fun facts it that the day before and the day after the All Star game - are the only days of the entire year when there isn't a major league baseball, basketball, hockey, or football game being played); the start to college and professional football season is a kind of Day of a Atonement where all the aggression on the football field bears witness to our sinful nature; and the Super Bowl remains chief of the festivals - a kind of New Year's celebration. 

It's unfortunate that we've created this dichotomy between the sacred and secular when it seems like so much of our world is a complex matrix of both. Sports may be the chief example. Sin is as prevalent in sports as it is anywhere else in our culture, but there is much there that is good as well. This Opening Day, my family will make our annual pilgrimage to a baseball game in Cleveland and we'll have baseball on our minds. But that's not all we'll have on our minds. Stanley Hauerwas offers a thought on the magnitude of the game of baseball: "It is not surprising that we will learn much about ourselves as Christians - what it means for us to survive as well as flourish as God's people - by attending to the relationship among our faith, baseball, and God." 

This year, Opening Day comes just on the heels of Easter. This year, our family will reflect on the renewal taking place in nature, the optimism of a clean slate for a new season, and hopefully convey to our kids that the message of Easter - of resurrection and life always being more powerful than crucifixion and death, is a message that finds relevancy even in baseball. Progressive Field isn't church . . . but I am convinced that there is much to be learned about God there. And so, Ms. Campese and Ms. Sheppard, you will just have to excuse our children from class that day, we have something important to teach them.

Adam is the minister of the Alum Creek Church of Christ in Lewis Center, OH where he lives with his wife Mary Beth and their three children: Clark, Clementine, and Cecilia. He is nearing completion of his Doctorate of Ministry at Fuller Seminary. His first love is working with teenagers, and he is trying as hard as possible to keep from growing up. You can find more of his writing at Theological Vacillation and  you can follow him on Twitter @CrasslyYours.

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