On Pop Theology Podcast: Episode 28 - The Church Is Johnny Cash

by Ben Howard

Ben and Jesse embark on a wacky, meandering, and occasionally insightful look into the world of pop music and how it relates to the church. Over the course of the episode we'll talk about the fight between style and content, the transition from innovative to hip to cliche, why we like things that are subversive, and why Lutherans are like kale. Join in, relax, and enjoy listening to our semi-narcissistic ramblings.

You can download the podcast by clicking here. Or you can subscribe to the podcast by searching "On Pop Theology" in the iTunes music store. If you download the show through iTunes, please be so kind as to rate and review us. We want your feedback and it helps the show to grow.

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Peace,
Ben

If you have any questions, comments, or if you just want to say hi, you can contact us at onpoptheology [at] gmail.com.

You might also like:   

• On Pop Theology Podcast: Episode 27 - A Diverse Church For People Just Like You w/ Christena Cleveland
• On Pop Theology Podcast: Episode 26 - But I Don't See You As Asian w/ Bruce Reyes-Chow
• On Pop Theology Podcast: Episode 25 - Sad Is Just Happy For Deep People

Bad Music Theology: “I Knew You Were Trouble” by Taylor Swift

She is super serious...and pouty

by Ben Howard

Now we bring you Bad Music Theology, one man’s quest to over interpret bad music in a quixotic attempt to make vaguely mediocre theology.

Once upon a time a few mistakes ago
I was in your sights, you got me alone
You found me, you found me, you found me
I guess you didn't care, and I guess I liked that
And when I fell hard you took a step back
Without me, without me, without me

In the opening lines of the song, Taylor makes an interesting theological turn. She seems to be talking about a crisis in her life that is the result of some sort of sin, but instead of discussing the ideas in terms of individual acts, she personifies the sinful nature which she finds herself battling against.

She represents this personification of failure as a stalking predator, who had her in his “sights” and got her “alone”. Next we see the baiting relationship as the personification entices Taylor with its illicit promises before removing those promises as she takes the bait.

And he's long gone when he's next to me
And I realize the blame is on me

In retrospect Taylor realizes the folly of this course of his action, acknowledging her own culpability in her pain…

'Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
'Til you put me down, oh
I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble 

Just look at the desperate loss in her eyes

Ah, what agony, what ecstasy! The knowing and willful ignorance of a situation you should have avoided in the first place. But oh, who can resist the temptation of metaphorically flying “to places I’d never been” only to find yourself “lying on the cold hard ground” listening to layered Dubstep to simulate the earthquake of emotions you’ve experienced. Was there e’er of tale of such woe? Eh, it is Taylor Swift, it seems apropos.

No apologies, he'll never see you cry
Pretend he doesn't know that he's the reason why
You're drowning, you're drowning, you're drowning
Now I heard you moved on from whispers on the street
A new notch in your belt is all I'll ever be
And now I see, now I see, now I see 

In a quest to restore her lost dignity in the face of her own disappointment, Taylor attempts to hide her pain. She seems lost, lonely. Here we see the plight of the modern church which has overly emphasized the shame one should feel in the face of failure. Instead of sharing her pain with her friends, family and community, Taylor finds herself “drowning” in tears, hiding from the world. She hears rumors, whispers, and watches as she is reduced to a “notch in your belt.” Only now does she truly see, see, see.

He was long gone when he met me
And I realize the joke is on me, yeah! 

It’s not a joke Taylor. Oh no. This is no laughing matter. Yeah!

I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
'Til you put me down, oh
I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble 

With her recognition and anger reaching a fevered pitch, Taylor continues to reflect on how she could have been so taken in by this, this, thing, this personification of wanton desire. Oh how she, “knew you were trouble when you walked in.” She feels shame and she feels troubled. 

And the saddest fear comes creeping in
That you never loved me or her, or anyone, or anything, yeah 

Taylor comes to the profound realization that she is not the ultimate victim in this situation, but that her confused, angry, personification of evil and sin can never feel warmth, can never love anyone. Poor personification. *tear*

Taylor with a jaunty hat

I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
'Til you put me down, oh
I knew you were trouble when you walked in (you were right there, you were right there)
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble 

I think this is where Taylor goes off the rails, and the rest of Christian thought as well. Instead of reflecting on the sadness inherent in this personification of evil, Taylor redoubles her own cries of anger, heartbreak, shame and victimization. With the ability to finally uncover new metaphysical understandings of how the world functions in its brokenness, Taylor, like the wider Christian world, succumbs to the shallow desire to focus on self in the interest of protection.

I knew you were trouble when you walked in
Trouble, trouble, trouble
I knew you were trouble when you walked in
Trouble, trouble, trouble

All nuance is lost as Taylor rides off into the sunset reducing the personification of sin which has given her so many problems to mere “trouble, trouble, trouble”. Ah, if only we were to wrestle with the true implications of this pain and not dismiss it all as trouble.

Peace,

Ben

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

 

Contact us at onpoptheology [at] gmail.com. 

A Swiftian View of Relationships

by Jonathan Harrison

Unbeknownst to our readers, yesterday kicked off the first annual "Taylor Swift Week" here at On Pop Theology. Over the next few days, your favorite writers of On Pop Theology will discuss our favorite Taylor Swift songs through the lens of upper-middle class, semi-cynical, left-leaning (except for Josh), kind of educated, twenty-something Christian men.

Ben has yet to OK this, so Taylor Swift week may not last past today. But for now. Day 2.

Mercifully, I don't listen to the radio, so the subject of Ben's post yesterday is lost on me. In the realms of pop music, my favorite songstress--Miley--unabashedly entered her Billy Idol phase two weeks ago, so I have no plans to begin listening to the radio until Miley stops smoking salvia or Lady Gaga writes another decent song. I'm guessing neither is going to happen anytime soon.

Between you and me, I've only heard one Taylor Swift song. That song happens to be Taylor Swift's cover of the Wham! Christmas classic "Last Christmas". The mere fact that Taylor Swift covered Wham! probably opened up a worm hole in the universe that destroyed a peaceful and scientifically advanced civilization. 

No one should cover Wham!, ever. But it happened, and high school history teachers should teach about this occurrence so that future generations will not repeat the mistakes of their elders. Oh who am I kidding. Future generations are fueling this madness.

If you're wondering what this whole post has to do about Jesus, I have no clue. I was going to type something about how a Swiftian view of relationships isn't healthy, and how we all invest way too much in the opposite sex when it comes to our happiness. Society seems to feed off the notion that relationships = happiness so much that someone can write 15 different versions of the same song, and still be absurdly, absurdly popular as an artist.

Of course, all pop songs resemble one another in a way, so you can't fault someone for writing something that sells and sells well. Still, I wonder why, as a society, we're so fixated on who's dating who, and when and why they break up, especially when it normally has nothing to do with us. 

I also wonder why society tells us that we can't be happy unless we have a significant other, but as someone with a significant other, I might be a little hypocritical making that judgment.

Anyways. Can't anyone just, you know, be good to Taylor Swift so she'll have something positive to write about? All this negativity I'm not experiencing is bringing me down. You can do this Taylor. Be strong.

Jonathan Harrison is not really sure what he just wrote has a point. Sorry Ben. This will probably adversely affect hits for a few months. He also read a tweet last week that said "Hitler had millions of followers; Jesus only had twelve", so if you happen to follow @jonateharrison on twitter, please unfollow him ASAP.

Also Libranding. 

Like, Seriously, They Aren't Getting Back Together

by Ben Howard

Apparently, Taylor Swift and a rather unscrupulous neer-do-well are never ever ever ever getting baaack together. The only way she could be more serious about this would be if she said they were never getting back together times infinity. Multiplication is super serious.

So what are we to make of young Ms. Swift's petulant pop platitudes? Well, quite a lot actually.

I've never been a fan of exaggeration. I mean, I exaggerate a lot (everything is the best thing ever!), but I'm not exactly a fan of myself at those times. For instance, I've always found it curious when MTV or some other hype machine bills some unknown up-and-comer as a “superstar”. It always felt like they were trying to convince themselves to be excited. If my parents don't have a vague notion of who they are, they probably aren't a “superstar” yet.

As per Taylor Swift, Shakespeare said it best, “The lady dost protest too much, methinks.”

Everybody does it. In moments of vulnerability it's only natural to paper over the cracks with a thick layer of confidence no matter how shaky that confidence may be.

In our most vulnerable moments we say the stupidest things and make the most naïve promises.

“Everything will be okay.”

“I'll never do that again.”

“We are never ever ever ever getting back together.”

Ultimately, I have to confess that it's a sign of immaturity, but it's an immaturity that papers over our deep dark fear that we have doubts. We doubt ourselves, we doubt our friends, we doubt our beliefs.

And we think, if we just yell loud enough, if we just tell ourselves what we so badly want to believe one more time, then maybe we won't doubt anymore.

This is the part of our program where we realize that I'm taking a pop song way too seriously, and while I thank Taylor and her catchy hit for getting us to this point, it's time to jettison the booster rocket. Godspeed Ms. Swift.

Back to the actual point.

Our culture is incredibly uncomfortable with doubt and the resulting ambiguity that comes along with it. It clouds our economy, our politics, our faith, everything.

When I see people post incredibly ardent, sincere political or religious status updates or tweets, or even when they just make statements when I'm talking to them, I'm beginning to wonder if they're trying to convince me that they're right, or if they're trying to convince themselves.

It takes a lot to embrace your doubts; to admit that you really aren't confident in your own abilities, and that you just might not trust yourself to make the right decision.

It takes a lot to say that neither Romney or Obama has the cure for the country. It takes a lot to say that your religious tradition just might be wrong. It takes a lot to say that all of those beliefs and ideologies and everything you've intricately woven into your life might be a little more fluid than you've previously let on.

Somewhere between the knowing and the not-knowing, between the cocky, self-assured confidence and the arrogant, outright denial, that's where we find faith. True, honest, humble faith.

There we find a faith that freely admits that it cannot prove the things that it believes even though it really wishes that it could. We find a faith that admits that it does not answer every question and does not make every problem go away; a faith that has hopes and dreams that are not shattered by the brokenness and failure that we see around us.

It's a faith that knows you can never ever ever ever have it all together.

When he isn't taking catchy pop songs waaaay too seriously, Ben spends his time scouring old episodes of Sesame Street in hopes of finding the meaning of life. You can follow his delusions of philosophical grandeur on Twitter @BenHoward87 or email him at benjamin.howard87 [at] gmail.com.