The Meaning in the Music

by Hännah Ettinger 

I grew up listening to four musicians.

Stephen Curtis Chapman, Out of the Grey, John Michael Talbot and Bob Bennett.

I mean, those are pretty okay bands, but that gets kinda boring after a while.

I did also listen to a lot of Hillary Hahn playing Bach, but that’s another story. It involves a LOT of pliés. So, anyway, four bands.

And then I went to college.

Everything changed. I met this guy named Napster and we had a violent love affair.

I caught up on music from the 90s in about two months and it was a mindfuck. A couple months later I listened to all of the U2 I could get my hands on. A friend played the Beatles for the entire course of an eight-hour road trip one way, and then on the way back we listened to three Rush albums. I joined my school’s chapel choir and we did Mozart, Fauré, Bach, Rutter. I got super into Katy Perry and Good Charlotte and Rutter’s Christmas carols. I introduced my younger brothers to honkytonk country music (because I’m an evil big sister like that). My sister (and roommate) and I listened to Wicked and Godspell on repeat all one summer and drove our parents insane with our round and round renditions of “Loathing” on bad days and “Day by Day” on good ones. I even had a phase where I was super, SUPER into French rock opera.
 
My love of music has always been complicated.

These days, I can’t stand most worship music--partly because my family was always involved in worship team at church, so those songs bring back all the memories. But partly because it makes me feel panicked.

Worship services, in the church where I grew up—which was a cult, but looked like your average non-denominational church with a sort-of rock band to kick the service off—were sort of treated like performance displays, and it wasn’t just the band that worked to perfect the holy rock star pose. We were all expected to cultivate the same air and demeanor--during one service the pastor was talking about ways to worship with appropriate expression (we were pretty charismatic), and he pointed out a couple individuals (by NAME) as examples to emulate—their posture and gestures were apparently the most sincere expressions of worship in the congregation.

Maybe this is why I found sanctuary in the Episcopal tradition. Worship isn’t a show, and the music is secondary. No one is looking at me to see if I’m raising my hands during the Doxology. No one’s looking at me, period.

But I still passionately love music--especially live music. I’m still a sucker for really awesome music videos, and I’ve branched out a lot from the four, white, Christian, acoustic bands I grew up listening to.

My current favorites are loud, confident individuals who love themselves as they are--these are the folks I listen to late at night on my way home from work, with the windows down and the night sea air hitting my face as I drive down the highway.

I heard a sermon once where the pastor talked about the music you listen to being a reflection of the company you want to keep. I hated the sermon because it was filled with legalism, but on that point, maybe he’s right. These are the people I want to be friends with, the people whose confidence and joy I want to be possessed by.

I’m not sure what music will mean for me in the future. I’m not sure if I’ll ever learn to play an instrument without having a panic attack from daddy issues.

But I’ll definitely throw a fantastic dance party in my kitchen with these good folks any night of the week. 

Hännah's Dance Playlist

Janelle Monae - Dance Apocalyptic

Laura Mvula - That's Alright

Mika - Elle Me Dit

Stromae - Papaoutai

Beyonce feat. Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche - Flawless 

Hännah Ettinger lives in Los Angeles. She writes and works as a bookseller, and has an opinionated orange cat. You can read more of her work at her blog Wine & Marble and you can follow her on Twitter @haettinger.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology. If you'd like to support what we do, you can donate via the button on the right of the screen.

Image Credits:
Image #1 via genvessel
Image #2 via Mickelangelo
Image #3 via Jingjing Cheng

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How-To Theology

by Lyndsey Graves

"Any one who thinks about God is a theologian."

My teachers were always saying this. I went to a Christian university where everyone is required to take a minor in religion, and the first session of Intro to Theology was always an attempt to get a roomful of Communications or Chemistry undergraduates to care.

The theology professors' point was, if you think about God, you are already a theologian; it's up to you whether you're going to be a good theologian or a bad one. I like this point of view, even if it caused some of my honors-program comrades and me to take our sophomore selves a little too seriously.
 
I've been a "career" theologian for three years now. I declared the major with the intention of pursuing a Ph.D. in something theology-related, and I haven't since wavered in that intention. I leave this week for Boston to pursue my Master's in Theological Studies, and I worry a little that the grad school gauntlet will somehow cause me to forget the basics I've already learned; so, today, some pointers for the happy, tea-sipping armchair theologian and the frantic, pasty, study-carrel-bound theologian (read: myself) alike.
 
1. Pray.

Never say anything about God that you wouldn't say to his face. Evagrius Ponticus said in the fourth century, "The theologian is the one who prays truly, and the one who prays truly is the theologian." Pray as much as possible. Pray during lectures. Pray while you're writing. If you don't know what to write, write a prayer. Pray when you don't like God. Pray when you don't believe in God. Pray when you're lost. Pray when you're happy. Pray when you're walking. Pray when you're taking a break from theology. If you're sick of praying, tell God about it.
 
2. Aim for humility above all else.

As you do theology, are you learning to serve? Is it teaching you to love your enemies? Or is it teaching you to correct, dismiss, or deride others? If theology isn't making you a better person, go back to step one. Learning about God should never cease to remind you just how small you are - and deflating your ego is prerequisite to making an actual difference in the world.

3. Listen to the past.

Embarrassing as the Church Fathers and Mothers (or whoever embarrasses you) can be, they were here first and they're probably smarter than you. Christianity is a historical religion, and if you claim to be continuing a tradition someone else started, it's important to know what the tradition is before you start blustering about "improving" it.

4. Use all of yourself.

Don't be afraid of what your emotions or your experiences have to tell you. Stay in touch with them as you exercise your rational side, too.

5. Consider your sources.

The "Wesleyan Quadrilateral" is really helpful here, until people start talking about it as if Wesley made it up. Yet I think the best, truest, most long-lasting theology has always been formed in - and informed by - the space between Tradition, Scripture, Reason, and Experience. There is an enormous amount of tension in that space, which is why various theologians and traditions have often tended towards one side or corner of the quadrilateral; but if any element is ignored entirely, you're missing out on part of the gift of God's self-revelation.

6. Talk to other people. 
I do mean this in the sense that you should listen to a variety of perspectives - very few people are completely wrong about everything, and it especially never hurts to hear from someone with very different experiences from yours.  Listen to other people before you jump to defend your pet point of view. Ask old people, homeless people, children, as well as more experienced pastors, scholars, and Christians.  And every once in a while, maybe even give others the benefit of the doubt.

But really, I think it's even more important to talk to your friends. They are your safe space and your bullshit-detector rolled into one. Without those casual, down-to-earth conversations over a game of disc golf, you run the risk of turning from human being into theology-bot (it's the saddest Transformer): you may be textbook-correct, but no one wants to touch you. Besides, eventually you'll get stuck in some kind of existential quagmire from which only a good friend (theologian or not) can pull you out. Also, some sort of vice is essential to these conversations - either a beer, a pipe, or a large pile of junk food. Any disagreement about Calvinism may require all three.

7.Test it out.

If it doesn't work, it's wrong. We're talking about God, yes, but this God made the universe, loves it, and is all in it. It's surprisingly easy to deceive yourself, and sometimes a lot of other people, when you're hovering around in abstract-land. So never forget: if your grand idea doesn't make sense in the real world, it's useless. Don't forget to at least visit the real world and pay attention to how your big words and lofty sentiments relate to the people around you who have never heard of prevenient grace or the Arian controversy.
 
8. Worship. 
It's trendy these days to talk about how you don't need church to have a relationship with God, or about how community is more important than Sunday morning, or about how all of life is worship so if you don't want to go somewhere and sing then you don't have to. But theology and a relationship with God, don't just consist of personal study, something you've labeled "community", and a neighborhood service project. There's something mysterious about worship - doing nothing but praising God with other people - that is important and powerful and changes you on a level beyond all the words you're playing with. Don't skip it.

I could probably go on, but I can use all the help I can get - What would y'all add to this list? 

Lyndsey lives in Boston, MA where she is pursuing her Master's in Theological Studies at Boston University. She enjoys Community, Mad Men and Beauty and the Beast and her spirit animal is a sloth. She would like to know if this is some kind of interactive theater art piece. You can follow her on Twitter @lyndseygraves and you can find more of her writing at her blog To Be Honest.

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

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Why Twitter Marks the End of Church Pews

Today I'm putting up a guest post from Dixon Kinser.  Actually, it's a post taken from the archives of his blog So Indie It's Embarassing (http://dixonkinser.blogspot.com/).  Sadly, he doesn't post much anymore, but there's some fantastic things there.  Enjoy!

Peace,
Ben
------------
by Dixon Kinser

It is my opinion that when Christian’s gather for worship the rituals they undertake function as a kind of training. What they do together gives shape, form and imagination to the kind of people they are trying to become. This is as true for the obvious elements of Christian worship (preaching content, song selection, giving, confession, prayer for the church and the world etc.) as it is for the more oblique ones (room orientation, seating configurations, vestments etc.). It is these oblique ones that I think will be most affected by a technology like Twitter.

Twitter is, of course, a relatively new technology that allows the user to update a personal web feed with what they are doing at any given moment. It provides a new and interesting way to communicate to be sure, but it is also indicative of the larger culture trends toward virtual relationships. These are the kind of relationships that are facilitated in spaces like MySpace and facebook and use email and twitter their means communication.

These media make it is possible to converse with many people, all over the globe on any given day but never look at another human being in the face. Even worse, these technologically based relationships can actually supersede the real thing (ever had somebody ignore you while you were talking to them to respond to a text?)

All this brings me to my point.

As our culture moves into more and more virtual forms of communication (for a scathing critique of this reality see the film Wall-E) will the church’s practice of meeting together become increasingly both counter cultural and crucial.

Christianity is a living way of life that requires relationship with other human beings. The kind of formation we seek (I am a Christian so I put myself in this camp) happens most authentically in community when face to face with other human beings. As more and more technologies crop up that draw us away from looking at other people in the face the more important the churches practice of relating to other people “in person” will become.

And this is why Twitter could very well be the death knell of the church pew. We all know that worshipping in pews requires very little face-to-face interaction. Yes we subvert this with some of our practices (passing the peace etc.), but for the majority of our community training we only see the back of our neighbor’s head. Will the increased need for face-to-face time in worship in response to our cultures increasingly virtual relationships finally call for the end of pews?

We need to look at one another and one of the technologies working against us is the church pew. Architecture is one of the intangibles of our Christian formation and its augmentation can really make a difference. Could this be the time?

It’s not like the pew has been around since the time of Jesus or anything. It’s usage came into vogue as another communication technology rose to prominence – the printing press (ever notice how a Basilica’s pews are shaped like the layout of a book?) Perhaps its demise at the hand of another communication technology is just the right kind of poetic beauty.

Or is it irony.

Peace,

D