Pint-Sized Picassos and Human Identity

by Justin McRoberts

A pair of brilliant young girls in my neighborhood (ages 6 and 8) set up an art gallery in their garage. Hung on packing twine with clothespins and paper clips, most of the art is their own, though they also featured a few contributions from siblings labeled "guest pieces.” These young artists also made invitations, tickets and gallery-member wristbands to distribute throughout our neighborhood. My wife and I immediately took our tickets down the way to pay a visit. We made sure to go during the hours posted on the “Gradn Openig” sign outside. 

Handing in our tickets at the front desk, we received paper bracelets that allowed us gallery access throughout the day. Our bracelets, we were informed, also afforded us a 10% discount on featured pieces, 20% off guest work. We purchased one pencil drawing, one watercolor and then commissioned a second watercolor for my 4yr old son. He had noted a lack of truck-themed artwork and we decided to rectify that oversight.

Though they could have spent their free time consuming countless hours of children’s television, these girls chose instead to beauty to their neighborhood and their world. They chose to devote their time to the work and the wonder of creating.

I think these kinds of expressions, these deep desires that resonate within us, represent the best of who we are - in our better moments, and as our better selves, we use the raw materials around us and within us to make something truer, better and more beautiful.

We are makers, you and I.
We are creatures who create.
Unsatisfied with what is, we dream of better things and then we build them.
This is the best of who we are.

“The world is full of noise,” says author Andy Crouch, “but only humans make music.”

In his essential letter to artists in 1992, Pope John Paul II suggests, “The human craftsman mirrors the image of God as the Creator.”
 
Professor David Dark writes, “Something often excluded from our definition of being human is that we are makers.”

I see this truth about us at play in an endless list of creative expressions...

- the way our hands can take paper and steel and ink and fire to create a piece of art that evokes powerful emotions and thoughts in its viewers.

- the way our hands can rebuild a city twisted and broken by weather or war or tectonic shifts…

- the way our hands can take hold of a life crushed and defeated by chemicals or abuse and slowly, patiently, reshape, and restore a person to health.

By its very practice, the story art tells about us seems to echo the religious narrative of human life: that there is more to life than what we can measure or see. And not only do we get to experience that “More," we also get to participate in it… should we have the courage. The measurable, material world is exactly and only that: material -like unworked clay... a beginning, pregnant with potential in the hands of a powerful, creative being. In other words, both art and religion intrinsically proclaim that it is the act of making (and even unmaking) that defines the human experience of life rather than our matter or our circumstances.

My materialist friends tend to balk at my religious reading of the human experience, believing I add an unnecessary, Christian filter to everything, like the Instagram user who just can’t let well enough alone. I understand their concern, but I struggle to find anything in a materialist worldview that fully accounts for (much less affirms) the vibrant and vital story of a humanity unsatisfied with the world as it is. The instinct for survival just isn’t a large enough story. We clearly want and work for more than simple survival. We are not content with what simply is. In our better moments, we want to make better things from the lesser things we naturally have in hand.

“The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden, to till it and keep it.” - Gen 2:15

Being in the garden was a beginning.
The soil and the seed was a beginning.
That we were asked to do something with the things we were given is the beginning of human history, the beginning of the world.

For the artist, it isn’t enough to have clay and steel and paint. Holding these things doesn’t make one an artist; making something of them does. I’ve come to believe the same thing about being “human.” It is not enough to hold chemistry and history and circumstance in our hands - our humanity is dependent upon what we make of what we are given.

My blessings and abuses, wealth and lack are a beginning - a start.
What am I making from what I am given?
What am I building?
My materials might be paint or pixels, notes or measures, steel or clay…
Or they might be the fragments of a shattered past.

Regardless, I believe it is what I make, rather than what I have, that defines who I am, that tells my story true. 

Justin McRoberts is a singer, songwriter, blogger, pastor and teacher living in San Francisco He is also the mind behind the CMYK Project. You can follow him on Twitter @justinmcroberts and find more information about his other endeavors here.

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 here, you can donate via the button on the right of the screen.

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Christian Celebrity and the Already, But Not Yet

by Ben Howard 

A few weeks ago I wrote a post entitled “Christianity Needs Celebrities.” The central thesis was that cultural change is mediated through celebrity personas. Moreover, the structure and history of Christianity is celebrity-based and, as a result, Christianity not only needs celebrities, but needs to work to foster better celebrity representations.

It’s an intentionally provocative thesis, but I’m increasingly convinced that it’s an accurate one. Since I posted it, I’ve had a number of discussions with readers most of whom reflected a general discomfort and unease with the implications of the idea, even if they found the conclusion to be invariably true. With that being the case, I thought it would be useful if I elaborated on a few areas which I left out of the original post.

First, while I’m convinced that the iconography and nature of celebrity is a powerful force in society, and therefore a force in need of harnessing, I’m not convinced that this is inherently good. David Hume famously explored how you cannot derive an ought from an is, and I would argue that when discussing the power and utility of celebrity this is certainly the case. Having a celebrity driven culture or religion is not necessarily a good thing, though it is how I believe our culture and religion happen to operate.

This dichotomy is a constant struggle and is exacerbated by the central tension of the Christian faith, namely that the Kingdom of God has already, but not yet arrived. As a result, Christians often find themselves operating out of a struggle between an unrealized idealism and a cynical pragmatism. Though this tension pervades all of Christianity, and explains more about liberal/conservative divides than any particular tenant of faith, it provides a particularly tricky hurdle when contemplating the role of Christian celebrities.

I think this tension is central to the issues under-girding the nature of Christian celebrity, in fact I think its central to almost every aspect of Christianity. However, in order to explain this fully, let me ask you to hold that concept in your mind for a moment while I pivot from the theological to the sociological.

One of the most consistent sources of discomfort in my conversations was the use and embrace of the term “celebrity,” especially when used in connection with Jesus. While I simply used the term for its basic meaning of “well-known” or “noteworthy,” I’m nevertheless intrigued by the level of unease which greeted the use of the word itself.

I can only assume this is a reaction against the cultural baggage we associate with the term. We consider “celebrities” to be vapid, vacuous, extravagant, and image-obsessed. However, I’m curious about whether these connotations emerge from being a celebrity or from the community which observes and follows them. If it’s the latter, it would certainly explain the phenomenon wherein bands/authors lose credibility as they gain prominence (see Rob Bell/Mumford and Sons).

Instead, I’d suggest that the source of this discomfort finds itself not in the inherent nature of celebrity, but in the aspiration to this kind of fame and notoriety. I think we’re leery of people who want to be watched and consumed. And I think we’re correct about this, we should be uncomfortable with the aspiration to celebrity because the nature of celebrity can be incredibly dangerous and destructive.

I spoke about the destructive nature of celebrity briefly in the previous piece, but mostly left it out because I felt it deserved a longer treatment. While the power of celebrity can be useful, the fundamental flaw is that the role of celebrity, the journey from person to persona, inevitably strips away the humanity of the actual person behind the personification. To all but those closest to them, those who are acutely aware of the person, not the persona, a celebrity becomes only their iconography, only what they represent. From a distance person and persona cannot be parsed, nor can the actual human inhabiting the role of celebrity exert any real control on the way they are consumed.

I do not use that term lightly. Celebrity is about consumption; it is by its very nature destructive, and one could argue sacrificial. It is a service provided to the community which allows the community and the culture at large the ability to communicate through the symbolic use of the personified image. One could even argue that it’s the reason we compensate celebrities so lavishly. It may appear crass, but we are essentially paying them for the use of their humanity.

So yes, we should be uncomfortable with celebrity culture, in the same way that we are uncomfortable with all manner of destructive acts. Destruction is the antithesis of creation and of the “not-yet” kingdom towards which we often aspire. We should be uncomfortable with our acts of consumption and dehumanization.

But this is reality, and in reality nothing is ever quite so simple. These consumptive acts and this celebrity culture is still central to who we are as humans and who we are as Christians. It is the vehicle through which we tell stories and learn and communicate with the culture at-large. These darker aspects of celebrity don’t invalidate anything I said previously for the world still is how it is and not how it ought to be.

So here’s the crux of the matter: We see how celebrity functions as a vehicle for ideas and meaning and we see how it consumes those who fulfill the role, but we are also aware that this is the way the world functions. With that in mind, how do we respond?

I, for one, think Christianity requires celebrities; it always has, from Jesus to the saints to the speakers, writers, and pastors of today. But I think it’s a lonely place and a difficult role. I think it requires people who know that they will be loved and hated disproportionately, that they will find themselves diluted and misunderstood.

It’s probably not worth it, but it’s necessary.

Ben Howard is an accidental iconoclast and generally curious individual living in Nashville, Tennessee. He is also the editor-in-chief of On Pop Theology and an avid fan of waving at strangers for no reason. You can follow him on Twitter @BenHoward87. 

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. 

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Who We Are Instead: Last Resort and Allegiance

by Ben Howard

Where does our allegiance lie?

Do we pledge our allegiance to our country? To our family? To our friends? Is there a moral code that undergirds who we are and serves as our ultimate allegiance?

These are the questions asked in the pilot episode of the new ABC drama Last Resort.

The show focuses on the captain and crew of an American nuclear submarine. With no prior warning and no known threat, the captain of the boat, Marcus Chaplin, is given an order to fire a nuclear weapon at Pakistan. However, when he receives the order, both the captain and his second-in-command, Sam Kendal, question its authenticity and refuse to fire.

When faced with the task of killing millions of people, Chaplin and Kendal do what no one in the military is supposed to do, they refuse to comply with a direct order. In response to their refusal, a fellow submarine is ordered to fire upon them in an effort to sink the sub.

Ultimately, Chaplin, in an effort to protect his crew from their own country, docks the submarine off the coast of a small island which he then commandeers as his base and new home.

Once again, this show is only a few episodes in, so there may be a litany of twists and turns in store that uncover different motivations for the characters involved, but so far the show's central questions concern loyalty, allegiance and hierarchy.

For Chaplin and Kendal, their allegiance to country is strong, but of relative importance when placed against their allegiance to humanity. When they are ordered to kill millions of people without knowing the reason, they ask. When their request is not answered, they say no.

I think Christians are called to hold their national allegiances just as loosely. Is it possible for a Christian to serve in the military or in government? Is it possible for a Christian to be part of the hierarchy? Part of the machinery of empire? Perhaps, but only if they are willing to say no when confronted with orders or choices that violate the humanity of themselves or others.

Some of you may have noticed that I said humanity there and not faith. It was a purposeful choice of words. As a Christian I do not need to defend my faith or my God, they will defend themselves. However, I am called, by my faith and my God, to defend other people; the helpless, the defenseless, the widowed, and the orphaned. I am called to defend and fan the flames of the image of God found in each and every person, including the image of God found in me.

My allegiance is not to a hierarchy or an empire, it is an allegiance to my community and my God. It is a hope that my faith will not force me to betray my community and that God will not abandon me or those I love. So I hold my citizenship loosely, just as I hold my association and allegiance to any institution loosely. I will participate and cooperate with them, but if I am forced to choose. I will pledge allegiance to God and those in his image.

Peace,
Ben

You can follow Ben on Twitter @BenHoward87 or email him at benjamin.howard87 [at] gmail.com.

Also, you can subscribe to On Pop Theology via RSS feed or email on the top right corner of the main page.

The Election Chronicles: An Introduction

by Ben Howard

I've addressed politics here a few times, usually out of frustration. I've talked about Chick-Fil-A and fear, and I've also talked about the way hatred infiltrates us to the point where we become the very problem we seek to eliminate.

I know I often come across snarky and dismissive about politics. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that I place little if any trust in politicians to do the right thing, and that I'm deeply ambivalent about democracy in general as a functional form of government from a Christian perspective. If you want reasons for that, you can ask me in private, because that's not the reason for this post because today I'm putting on my optimism hat.

In an atmosphere that can only be described as suffocatingly divisive, I want to see if we can have a discussion with some degree of clarity. Today, I'm beginning a series entitled "The Election Chronicles." Starting on Monday, I'll be breaking down the reasons why you should vote for Mitt Romney, Barack Obama (Tuesday), a third party candidate (Wednesday), and finally, why you shouldn't vote at all (Thursday).

However, before I start writing these pieces I want to include you in my thought process. I want to know why you think I, or anyone, should choose one of those four options. 

One rule though: they have to be positive reasons why I should support a candidate/position. Just so you know, a positive answer does not contain the word oppose. I want to know what you are for, not what you are against.

Also, keep in mind that I want this discussion to be from a distinctly Christian perspective. If your reason for voting helps America, but hurts everyone else, that's not a good reason in this conversation. I want to know why supporting this candidate would make humanity better. How would supporting this candidate support the emergence of the kingdom of God?

I know there isn't a perfect answer. That's okay. We'll probably disagree. That's okay too. I promise I'll still love you.

Leave your thoughts in the comments, or you can contact me via Facebook, on Twitter @BenHoward87 or email me at benjamin.howard87 [at] gmail.com.

I look forward to hearing what you have to say and having this discussion with you.

Peace,
Ben

Also, you can subscribe to On Pop Theology via RSS feed or email on the top right corner of the main page.

Playoffs, Drama, and Jesus

by Ben Howard

I’m going to say something really controversial. I mean this will be more controversial than anything I’ve said about any topic since I started writing this blog. Prepare yourself.

I think playoffs are stupid.

*watches a beer bottle flash by his head and crash against the wall*

Yeah, I know, pretty shocking. That’s the kind of thing you might hear on an ESPN show that was being needlessly provocative, but unlike Stephen A. Smith, I actually believe it.

You tell which of these options sounds like a more reasonable way of determining a champion. A team plays each other team in the league, once at home and once away, at the end of the season the team with the best record wins the league.

Or, a team plays 162 games a season, most of them against teams in the same division, the rest against teams in the same league, except for 12 scattered around to random teams in a different league. Then the best teams, provided they win their division, or win a wildcard spot which includes another one off game, play in a 4 week tournament in which they have to win 11 games in order to be champion.

Pure simplicity and reason points towards option one, European club soccer, over option two, Major League Baseball.

So why do playoffs persist? Why are sports fans adamant about adding playoffs to college football? Why is the college basketball tournament a billion dollar enterprise?

I have a theory.

Playoffs exist for the same reason that romantic comedies and action movies exist. We don’t just want champions, we don’t just want heroes, we want dramatic champions and dramatic heroes. We want champions who go the very brink of defeat only to stare defeat in the face and laugh at it.

We thrive on the drama that shapes the event even if its manufactured.

Since the church is made up of people, it operates the same way. Conversion stories are dramatic, being raised in the church is boring. Soaring emotional ballads where we tell Jesus we love him are dramatic, hymns are old and boring.

In manufacturing the drama we miss the point that while there are certainly ecstatic highs and lows in life, they are not the thing that defines our existence. Beauty and peace and contentment are things we find in the everyday, not in the so-called “mountain top experience.”

We are not a people in search of a faith and a tradition that provides us with thrills, but instead a faith that shapes us into humans the way we were created to be human.

We focus so often on the drama of Christ, the violence of the crucifixion the crescendo of the resurrection, that I wonder if we miss the deeply profound simplicity of Jesus as human. The Word made flesh who dwelt among us.

There is nothing wrong with the soaring heights of a dramatic story, but it does not define the story. The story is the whole, not just the ending. Jesus is the entirety of his life, the incarnation, the teaching, the parables, the prophecies, the love, the crucifixion, the resurrection and the ascension. None of those is a microcosm of the story, they all work together.

The story of the church is the same. It is every bit and every piece. Not just the big moments, but the little ones and the average ones as well. Every bit is part of the story, not just the memorable parts.

A season makes a champion, not just a game.

Peace,

Ben

When he isn’t railing against the implications of playoffs and drama, Ben likes to watch playoffs and drama. I mean, seriously, its exhilarating. You can follow him on Twitter @BenHoward87 or email him at benjamin.howard87 [at] gmail.com.

Also, you can subscribe to On Pop Theology via RSS feed or email on the top right corner of the main page.

Why I Pay Attention to The People From Twilight

by Ben Howard

In the past few weeks I've clicked on at least three stories about how Kristen Stewart cheated on Robert Pattinson. Well, it might be more like 5...or 10. I can't really explain why I'm interested in the personal life of this celebrity couple. I'm not even a fan. Combined, they've made one movie that I actually liked (the first half of Water for Elephants and the second half of Snow White and the Huntsman).

So why do I care? Why does their personal life intrigue me? Why do I find it “humanizing” when Stewart offers what seems to be a heartfelt apology (in public) or when Pattinson goes on The Daily Show and shares some melted Ben and Jerry's with Jon Stewart? These aren't rhetorical questions. Seriously, why do I care?

The concept of celebrity and society's response is entirely fascinating to me. One of my favorite authors, Chuck Klosterman, had an interesting series of thoughts on this topic in his book of essays, Eating the Dinosaur. He argues that we turn celebrities into icons of meaning, essentially living metaphors, and then use these metaphors as cultural currency.

Everyone understands the cultural weight and value of a Kristen Stewart, or a Britney Spears, or a Lebron James. We use them to communicate. Klosterman actually argues that this is why celebrities deserve the money they make, not because they entertain us, but because we purchase the metaphorical meaning of their lives. If Britney Spears doesn't make millions and millions of dollars, we might feel bad when we use her to represent whatever negative stereotype we feel like discussing.

The same thing happens in politics. Mitt Romney and Barack Obama are no longer human beings who want to be president, they exist as a constellation of ideas and positions; ideological proxies with far less control over their own meaning than they're probably comfortable with.

So what exactly is a Christian response to this kind of celebrity culture? A culture that twists people into characters and turns reality into a warped version of a stage? The easy answer is that Christians should avoid this kind of culture, but that seems naïve. It smacks of the fearful, simplistic response of those who argue that being “in” the world and not “of” the world means little more than running away in terror when the ugly parts of reality rear their heads.

In fact, the more I consider the issue, the more I'm convinced that Christianity and its subcultures are deeply enmeshed in this culture of celebrity. Doesn't the Christian culture create it's own celebrities and line up behind them for our ideological grudge matches? How many people respond to Rob Bell as an embodiment of theology instead of as a person? Or John Piper? Luther? Augustine? Paul? Peter? Jesus?

In Orthodox theology, the incarnation of Jesus is essential. God became human. Yes, he was a great teacher. Yes, he died and was resurrected, but first and foremost, God became human...like us. St. Athanasius says that, “God became man so that man might become God.” The idea of Jesus is beautiful, but we need the human Jesus even more than the idea. In Jesus we have the intimate connection between humanity and divinity.

That's what we strip away when we turn people into celebrities and movements and ideologies and iconography. We dissolve humanity into meaning as if humanity has no meaning in and of itself; no value apart from what it portrays or represents. It does. Our humanity is what connects us with the divine.

Remember that next time you watch a movie or sports or TV. These are people, much like you, some talented and some less so. And remember it when you read a book or go to church. Whether the author or preacher is wise or simple, brilliant or stupid, they are human and humanity is made in the image of God. Jesus was human. Just like the actors in Twilight.

Peace,
Ben

When he isn't deconstructing the entire premise of his blog about the meaning of pop culture and those involved in it, Ben is trying to think of philosophical work-arounds so he can write something about the “essence” of Taylor Swift. You can follow his mental gymnastics @BenHoward87.

The Paradox of Superman

Today a guest post borrowed from my friend Steven Lefebvre.  Steve writes a blog called Adventures in Emerging Young Adulthood and posts news on his band Steven Bradley and the Parishioners at stevenlefebvre.com.

One last thing, if you're in Nashville, tomorrow night at 7 pm we'll be watching and discussing 50/50 in the Youth Room at St. Bartholomew's.

Peace,

Ben

--------------

by Steven Lefebvre

There’s a scene in the movie Kill Bill where the antagonist, Bill, gives a poetically dark monologue about Superman and it’s the ending of which that has been racking my brain all day today:

Now at the end of this monologue Bill turns to the protagonist, Kiddo and tells her she was born a killer and will always be a killer, etc. etc.  That’s not the part that gets me though.  It’s what Bill doesn’t say in this monologue that has me stuck. 

Yes, Superman sees humanity as weak and cowardly, but Superman, who is not human, still chooses to save us.  Now the obvious answer is that he was raised by humans and therefore feels deeply connected to his adopted parents.  But if you read many of the Superman publications this is in fact the tension of Superman: why should the alien Superman save humanity?  In Superman novels time and time again, humanity is letting Superman down, giving their allegiances to Lex Luther or some other entity of evil that promises them safety and prosperity.  Even in the Hollywood-ized Christopher Reeves movies, Superman lives in his fortress of solitude and can never have Lois Lane as his own.  Superman has nothing to gain from us, and yet, time and time again, when humanity is in trouble Superman comes to the rescue.

Is this the Kingdom of God?  In a transactional, consumer world, where motivation is congruent with personal gain, is doing the thing that makes no sense, the place where God grows and the ways of death cease?

If we have been wired to believe that you do only what gives you the biggest return then doing good for the sake of others must seem alien or even foolish.  But yet, people still do good things.  Everyday.  Whether it's conscious in their minds or crammed away deep in their sub conscience people work against the empire of selfishness, power, personal wealth, and societal status to do good.  But even I, a 'professional' christian am constantly having to fight my desires to join the status quo and build my own empire.  After all it is sexier and being adored is quite a rush. 

But, where would Metropolis be without Superman?  What if Superman followed this so-called status quo?  What if Superman required Metropolis to pay him back, could they ever repay him?  Certainly not!  But yet we’d rather have Superman than no Superman at all.  Even if it doesn’t make any sense at all for Superman, we still want Superman.  Superman is good.  And if Superman is good why don't we do likewise?

Perhaps, we all try to do something today that doesn’t make sense.  Care for a child that isn’t yours.  Give money without taking any credit for it.  Be kind to a stranger, even if they aren’t homeless.  Perhaps, this may be a way to get out of the flow that doesn't seem to be going anywhere...

Shalom 

You can follow Steven on Twitter @stevenlefebvre.  You can follow me on Twitter as well @BenHoward87