A List of Things Real People Have Said To Me Upon Learning That I Study Theology

by Lyndsey Graves

Here follows a list of things real people have literally said to me upon learning that I study theology, in order from most to least common (including for each an itemization of my internal reactions):

Oh, so you know a lot about rocks and stuff?

THhhhhhhhhh… AND now I’ve spit on you.

Wow, I really don’t know much about that.

Wait, were you thinking I was going to give you a test? Are you secretly planning to give me a test on law/medicine/construction later? Or are you asking me to tell you about theology? I can tell you about theology. It’s not so much about what you “know”, per se….

That’s very cool! What do you think about [topic that is absurdly general, obscure, or controversial]?

This is a trap! ABORT!!

Oh, well, I’m Catholic/Jewish/not religious, so...

So… what? So we can’t be friends? Please tell me we can be friends even though you perceive me to be useless to you.

Also, I don’t have a pet, but if someone told me they were a veterinarian, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t say, “Oh, well, I don’t have any pets, so…” Seriously, what does “so” mean?

*They begin backing away slowly, either conversationally, or even worse, literally.*

I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, it’s just that you asked and I WON’T HURT YOU, I PROMISE!

But why would you do that?

The hint of confused betrayal I see around your eyes tells me that you believe it’s self-evident that women can’t be pastors. But for all you know, I could be studying for my own edification while I’m waiting for the cookies to come out of the oven! So, you see, it’s kind of a rude question.

You know, I believe in God, but I also believe in science. And I just think religion has done a lot of damage to people’s lives over the years. I mean, people should be allowed to believe what they want; everyone doesn’t have to think the same thing or believe the same way, so I get upset when people try to make other people believe what they believe. We have a lot of problems in this world without people inventing religious problems and starting religious wars…[etc]…[etc]… I expect we will colonize the moon in the next few decades….

igh-hughhh… errrrrrrr……ah sheuuuuuuh…..o kaa……………………………………

[Um, you are a more interesting dental hygienist than most.]

For a few weeks I thought I’d just say I studied “ethics” (because I do), thinking it would be a more neutral subject than “God”. This was false. There were only three reactions to “ethics”:

*Long explanation of personal philosophy of near-complete moral relativism, followed by smug or dismissive look*

Wow, your argument just invalidated my entire field of study. I will need to be excused now to go look for a new one.

*Immediate, apparently uncontrollable confession of recent minor unethical decision or activity *

1. Wait, did I accidentally say therapist?

2. Has someone given people the impression that ethicists are also highly skilled in detective work, that we will discover what you have done, so this will all be easier if you just start talking now?

3. Um… are you testing me? Do I look like a judgey person?

* They begin running away at full speed, either conversationally, or even worse, literally.*

Come back! I’m so curious. I won’t judge you. WHAT DID YOU DO?!??

Next time someone asks what I study, I’ll probably say something uncontroversial, like “The Bible,” “Religion,” or better yet, “Your Mom”. 

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. If you'd like to support what we do, you can donate via the button on the right of the screen.

Photo credits:
Image #1 via Joker Island 
Image #2 via Artgate Fondazione Cariplo
 

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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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Ten Terrible Lessons I Learned From Super Mario Brothers

by Ben Howard

The following are 10 terrible but arguably true life lessons that I've gleaned from the classic video game Super Mario Brothers (and a little from its sequels).

1)      The more money you make, the longer you get to live.

Every time you get 100 coins in Super Mario, you literally get another life. That means that the richer you are, the more times you can fail miserably with the comfort of knowing you have the safety net of reincarnation.

2)       Drugs make life easier.

If you take the red mushroom, you become bigger and mildly invincible. The green mushroom gives you an extra life. If you eat the psychedelic glowing flower, you can SHOOT FIREBALLS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH. I'm convinced there is a direct correlation between this game and the 1960s.

3)      Whenever you meet something different than you, kill it.

In the original Super Mario Brothers there are only two characters you don't kill. Mario and Princess Peach. Everyone else must die in order for you to live happily ever after.
  
4)      Destroy everything you can; you might make money.

I can't count the number of headaches and near-fractured skulls I've had because I head-butt bricks floating in the sky above me hoping that money falls out of them.
  
5)      Women always need you to save them.

This is not a world for Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Katniss Everdeen. Unless you mean Super Mario Brothers 2, because Peach is awesome in that one. And Mario Kart. Long live Mario Kart.
  
6)      When you’re a star, nothing can hurt you. 

This is my favorite one. When, out of a mixture of luck and skill, you become a flashing, magnificent form of yourself, you can literally run over anything, kill anything, and do whatever you want with no repercussions. Except fly. You can't fly. 

7)      You’ll be rewarded for running through life as fast as you can.

Were you aware that there are "points" in Super Mario Brothers? Well, there are, and you get more points if you finish the level as fast as possible. Because speed makes everything better. Who needs to slow down or take a look around?
  
8)      Nature only exists so you can exploit it.

Or it means to kill you. You can either use nature (mushrooms, flowers, Yoshi, big vines, clouds) or it can kill you (every animal that isn't Yoshi, those spooky flowers coming up out of drainpipes).
  
9)      Turn your animal best friend into your slave so your life will be easier.

I'm firmly opposed to Yoshi's oppression. He was just a baby, right out of the egg, when you took away his free will. Note that every time you accidentally touch something dangerous he runs away in fear. I'm sorry Yoshi, I love you.
  
10)    Occasionally, there are shortcuts so you don’t have to deal with life.

If you've played Super Mario enough, you've learned that there are places in the game where you can skip entire levels or take secret passage ways to the end of whatever level you're currently playing. Basically, you learn that whenever there's something difficult in life, there's always a chance you can avoid it by cheating.

I know this is all ridiculous and I'm not actually claiming that Super Mario Brothers is dangerous or destructive for children. At the same time, it doesn't hurt to be reminded that mundane actions do mean something. Or at least, the constant routine of a mundane action might mean something.

For instance, when I drive to work in the morning in MY car by MYSELF that does something to me. It makes me think that I'm in charge and it makes me think that I'm alone. And I do that day after day after day after day. Do you really think it doesn't affect me? Do you really think it doesn't affect you?

This isn't a call to deconstruct every mundane action in your life, every movie you watch, every meal you eat, or every mile you drive, but maybe we do need to think about it a little. Be mindful about what our lives are doing to us.

One of the reasons I'm really passionate about liturgy and one of the reasons actually going to church is vital to my life is that they both reinforce a lifestyle of someone I want to be, someone who I believe I'm made to be. I want to be in community. I want to be someone who praises. I want to be someone who prays, and confesses, and shares in the crucifixion and resurrection. I want to be someone who embraces redemption. I need that voice in my life. I need to be reminded who I want to be.

Peace,
Ben

When he isn't exploring the naked cynicism of beloved video games, Ben spends his time researching the Madden Curse and its rich mythical back story. He's still angry about what it did to Shaun Alexander. You can follow his bizarre pursuits @BenHoward87.