Thirty years ago, British rock band Iron Maiden declared their refusal to be reduced to information – to be rendered into a number and stripped of their identity. In the present day, thinker Neal Gabler has assiduously diagnosed the most prevalent symptom of the information age as just that – obsession with attaining information irrespective of its importance or practical value. Informationists is the term he uses to refer to such novel brand of consumers – at least novel so far as it has become pandemic phenomenon.
We – those of us who subscribe to and engage in social media exchange – are all informationists. We cannot escape it, unless we refuse reality. We cannot escape that which yokes us constantly... the need for information – like insatiable, obsessed fiends – we devour voraciously and leave trace amounts of it as a byproduct in our boastings of cultural – or rather, informational capital. Cliché though this example is, we share in 140 characters or less – insufficient to present an argument or back up claims – but only helpful in directing attention toward deeper sources of information. We participate by funneling traffic to a third party site, that others might be exposed to something we found compelling enough to broadcast. But who actually takes the time to digest and ruminate over the swallowed information before thoughtlessly and robotically regurgitating it out for hungry chicks or worse – forgetting about it since most of it is, by relative definition, useless?
If we are living in a post-idea world, as Gabler states, then what actually could be left to generate innovation? Saying that is tantamount to saying we live in a post-life existence. And maybe we do. The truth is, innovation has for the most part evolved to take a different form. Rather than novel, revolutionizing concepts and technology, innovation has largely been delimited to software development for extant hardware, or the equivalent of such a metaphor for other spheres. It seems the exponential growth of our techno-culture is fast reaching the asymptote of complacent status quo – or at least slowing down.
In the movie Wall-E, the narrative illustrates how self-contained narcissism can thrive through a system designed to cater to the personalized needs of everyone. For a long time, narratives have been wonderful mediums for allegorical cultural commentary. Sometimes, however, the allegory is too real and resonates startlingly close to home. This is one of those times. This is the direction we're heading, replete with developed software for facial recognition while one is shopping so as to customize the experience and maximize purchases. Food delivery already makes it possible for someone to never actually have to leave home.
Resistance is futile. The Borg made this assertion abundantly clear in the early 90s. There can be no retrogressing with technology like we can with religious ideologies. It's far too profitable anyway for the government or anyone in a position of power to seriously consider something so outrageous as banning it. So what is left to be done; or is this really just a high brow critique of the promulgation of low brow culture?
I know it's passé, but here's a idea: post considerately – both for content and for the time of your derivative consumers. If you can't beat them, join them. The old adage still applies. But that doesn't mean join the rampant whoring of information; it means if you choose to partake, at least do so sensibly in a manner that transcends self-awareness but actually brushes up against a virtual awareness of others. In an age when we socialize from the isolation of our home computers, it's still important to deny solipsism from taking hold and acknowledge at least the fabled presence of other Users.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
A Religious Political Rally in Texas, or Another Sunny Day in Hell
I came to The Response – Texas governor Rick Perry’s “call to prayer for a nation in crisis” – because my mentor told me it would help situate my thesis on the shifting soteriological beliefs of Evangelicals. But after attending and asking plenty of questions, I don’t even know what to think. As a Jew in Bible Country, I was in way over my keppie.
As I made my way through the throng of believers (Americans) at Reliant Stadium in Houston, Texas (New Jerusalem?) Saturday, I stopped in my tracks as I heard the unmistakable trumpeting of a shofar, a ram’s horn traditionally blown during Jewish High Holy Days and in Biblical times to signify the start of a war or procession. Tikee-ah! No, it wasn’t Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. We’re still about a month away. What was going on? Sharu’ah! I zoned out as I droned through the human thicket, hoping that my time in graduate school had granted me enough Biblical literacy to figure out what was happening.
Nothing. I turned to my Catholic friend, a professor of religion, who exclaimed, “Duh, this is from the Book of Joel. They think they’re ushering in the end of the world!”
“Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy hill. Let all who live in the land tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming” (Joel 2:1). Oh I get it: Zion has become America, and Texas is the mythic city upon a hill upon which heaven will meet earth? –Maybe through a subjective, self-righteous hermeneutic. I wonder if the rest of the world’s Christians believe that? But for all of Christendom’s historical and especially modern proclivity for eschewing the Hebrew scriptures in sermons, preachers tend to only evoke them when it serves their purpose such as mentioning homosexuality, abortion, or prophetic material regarding end times. There is also the assumption that the New Testament provides Christians with an “authoritative interpretation of the Old” after the premise that the Old came to fulfillment with Jesus Christ, thereby removing the need to cover superseded material. Some say divine allegory, I say selectively convenient eisegesis.
I make my way through a lax security and through the entrance. The numerous signs for “prayer teams” and the color-coordinated bowling shirts declaring congregational allegiance often with not so witty witticisms on the back made the whole event seem like more of a try out for the spiritually elect than a unifying prayer for America.
I arrive in the stadium proper a little late. A resounding hallelujah is heard from the upper deck as I pass the Maui Wowi shaved ice concession stand. My prior experiences with paying for parking, cheering and concessions tell me I should be in for a good show.
As I advance further into the arena, evocative Christian music sounds forth. Take me out to the ball—game. Take– me out to the park! I can’t tell which teams are playing, as all the festive shirts seem to evoke the same one: Team Jesus.
Even with the different colors and slogans it’s not hard to recognize the affinity. Maybe it’s an outward display of which church can bring the most supporters and thus demonstrate their devotion? Maybe it’s just easier to keep track of one’s kin? A man walks by with a brown shirt that says infidel on the front and has an American flag on the back.
Thousands of fans have come for their spiritual entertainment.
Another shirt proclaims: “my God is bigger than your God.” It seems out of place, even there, in an event of, by and for Christians. Perhaps he’s lost in a sea of moral relativism.
There are people selling themed shirts on the outskirts. Food or drink cannot be brought in but can only be purchased from approved venders. How to feed the 5,000? Didn’t Jesus overturn the tables and throw out everyone who was selling and buying in the temple? I struggle to understand how Jesus’ lessons have materialized in such an aberrational form: Would he want this? How would he react to such a fray assembled in his name? The Bible doesn’t ever mention him gathering his followers to pray for Judea (or Rome?) or any other land.
Hands are outstretched to receive the spirit. Some people lie prone in their reverence. Others sway like Hassidic Jews at the Western Wall. Every single person there seems to be completely oblivious of anyone else present. Collectively, they are left to their own self-expression. I couldn’t help but wonder if the displays were genuine or put on for others to exhibit one’s faith – one’s religious capital.
For whom is it real? Does it even matter? I spot one man sporting a Jewish talit, the prayer shawl worn and earned by becoming b’nai mitzvot. Why in the world would a Christian choose to wear a Jewish prayer shawl? For the first time since setting foot in the palaestra, I’m surprised to find myself offended. The yarmulkes… fine. There is precedent for Christian head-covering, but usually only among Catholics and Orthodox… and clergy at that. But a talis? I can’t fathom where the guy got the idea. Must everything sacred be co-opted? Was the covenant not enough? I have no words.
A woman pantomimes a ballet-yoga – scooping and parting her arms. Other women begin to join her on the floor – dancing and waving around. Two of them, seemingly unaware of each other, gradually lock hands and begin twirling each other before transitioning into a high school slow dance. The background song assures the audience that “he loves us.” An inward and outward display of religiosity: a demonstration to others and proof to oneself that Jesus is with them.
In another setting, perhaps in another life (or maybe just outside of church), this same archetype of women are those rolling on ecstasy, dancing rhythmically. All that were missing were glowsticks. As a fellow scholar next to me glibly remarked, “The hippiness is like Woodstock, only not… and with presumably less rape.”
Rick Perry takes the stage. He tells the phalanx of warriors for christ what they need to hear to affirm his identity as one of them and his role as their leader: “The only thing you love more [than this country] is the living Christ.” We all should pray for “the American Dream and pursuit of finances” to get closer to our “first love.” Jesus through America. America through Jesus. We are a nation of Christians. We are a Christian nation. What about everyone who isn’t? What about those without an ascribed role (not saved?) in this encompassing Us versus an implied conquered or impotent Nobody typology? What about me? I’m sure there would be a place for me too if I would but convert. After all, they didn’t check my cross at the door.
As other speakers took the stage, the circular message was clear: The Church must model the way for a united nation. “God can use the church to fix America.” The church must be delivered in order for America to be delivered. It doesn’t take a political pundit to recognize the America = Church rhetoric. What better way to pander for votes than to equate religiosity with patriotism? In America’s hyper-religious society, there isn’t. There is no sincerity in politics – only the leveraging of power and influence.
For all the controversy that The Response has drawn, I don’t find fault with a political leader organizing a prayer meeting as an expression of his faith. Questionable, yes, but he was well within the confines of the first amendment. However, I do find problematic the implicit message given Perry’s presidential ambition that if we vote to elect Perry, he will work as an agent toward American revivalism by following his religiously motivated agenda. A nation of Christians. A Christian nation. If what I witnessed on Saturday is any indication of the kind of America Perry would like to actualize, then the oppressive humidity of Houston forebodes many more sunny days in Hell unless we as Americans actively work for otherwise. Prayer is great, but without works, it’s insufficient in effecting change.
As I made my way through the throng of believers (Americans) at Reliant Stadium in Houston, Texas (New Jerusalem?) Saturday, I stopped in my tracks as I heard the unmistakable trumpeting of a shofar, a ram’s horn traditionally blown during Jewish High Holy Days and in Biblical times to signify the start of a war or procession. Tikee-ah! No, it wasn’t Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. We’re still about a month away. What was going on? Sharu’ah! I zoned out as I droned through the human thicket, hoping that my time in graduate school had granted me enough Biblical literacy to figure out what was happening.
Nothing. I turned to my Catholic friend, a professor of religion, who exclaimed, “Duh, this is from the Book of Joel. They think they’re ushering in the end of the world!”
“Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy hill. Let all who live in the land tremble, for the day of the Lord is coming” (Joel 2:1). Oh I get it: Zion has become America, and Texas is the mythic city upon a hill upon which heaven will meet earth? –Maybe through a subjective, self-righteous hermeneutic. I wonder if the rest of the world’s Christians believe that? But for all of Christendom’s historical and especially modern proclivity for eschewing the Hebrew scriptures in sermons, preachers tend to only evoke them when it serves their purpose such as mentioning homosexuality, abortion, or prophetic material regarding end times. There is also the assumption that the New Testament provides Christians with an “authoritative interpretation of the Old” after the premise that the Old came to fulfillment with Jesus Christ, thereby removing the need to cover superseded material. Some say divine allegory, I say selectively convenient eisegesis.
I make my way through a lax security and through the entrance. The numerous signs for “prayer teams” and the color-coordinated bowling shirts declaring congregational allegiance often with not so witty witticisms on the back made the whole event seem like more of a try out for the spiritually elect than a unifying prayer for America.
I arrive in the stadium proper a little late. A resounding hallelujah is heard from the upper deck as I pass the Maui Wowi shaved ice concession stand. My prior experiences with paying for parking, cheering and concessions tell me I should be in for a good show.
As I advance further into the arena, evocative Christian music sounds forth. Take me out to the ball—game. Take– me out to the park! I can’t tell which teams are playing, as all the festive shirts seem to evoke the same one: Team Jesus.
Even with the different colors and slogans it’s not hard to recognize the affinity. Maybe it’s an outward display of which church can bring the most supporters and thus demonstrate their devotion? Maybe it’s just easier to keep track of one’s kin? A man walks by with a brown shirt that says infidel on the front and has an American flag on the back.
Thousands of fans have come for their spiritual entertainment.
Another shirt proclaims: “my God is bigger than your God.” It seems out of place, even there, in an event of, by and for Christians. Perhaps he’s lost in a sea of moral relativism.
There are people selling themed shirts on the outskirts. Food or drink cannot be brought in but can only be purchased from approved venders. How to feed the 5,000? Didn’t Jesus overturn the tables and throw out everyone who was selling and buying in the temple? I struggle to understand how Jesus’ lessons have materialized in such an aberrational form: Would he want this? How would he react to such a fray assembled in his name? The Bible doesn’t ever mention him gathering his followers to pray for Judea (or Rome?) or any other land.
Hands are outstretched to receive the spirit. Some people lie prone in their reverence. Others sway like Hassidic Jews at the Western Wall. Every single person there seems to be completely oblivious of anyone else present. Collectively, they are left to their own self-expression. I couldn’t help but wonder if the displays were genuine or put on for others to exhibit one’s faith – one’s religious capital.
For whom is it real? Does it even matter? I spot one man sporting a Jewish talit, the prayer shawl worn and earned by becoming b’nai mitzvot. Why in the world would a Christian choose to wear a Jewish prayer shawl? For the first time since setting foot in the palaestra, I’m surprised to find myself offended. The yarmulkes… fine. There is precedent for Christian head-covering, but usually only among Catholics and Orthodox… and clergy at that. But a talis? I can’t fathom where the guy got the idea. Must everything sacred be co-opted? Was the covenant not enough? I have no words.
A woman pantomimes a ballet-yoga – scooping and parting her arms. Other women begin to join her on the floor – dancing and waving around. Two of them, seemingly unaware of each other, gradually lock hands and begin twirling each other before transitioning into a high school slow dance. The background song assures the audience that “he loves us.” An inward and outward display of religiosity: a demonstration to others and proof to oneself that Jesus is with them.
In another setting, perhaps in another life (or maybe just outside of church), this same archetype of women are those rolling on ecstasy, dancing rhythmically. All that were missing were glowsticks. As a fellow scholar next to me glibly remarked, “The hippiness is like Woodstock, only not… and with presumably less rape.”
Rick Perry takes the stage. He tells the phalanx of warriors for christ what they need to hear to affirm his identity as one of them and his role as their leader: “The only thing you love more [than this country] is the living Christ.” We all should pray for “the American Dream and pursuit of finances” to get closer to our “first love.” Jesus through America. America through Jesus. We are a nation of Christians. We are a Christian nation. What about everyone who isn’t? What about those without an ascribed role (not saved?) in this encompassing Us versus an implied conquered or impotent Nobody typology? What about me? I’m sure there would be a place for me too if I would but convert. After all, they didn’t check my cross at the door.
As other speakers took the stage, the circular message was clear: The Church must model the way for a united nation. “God can use the church to fix America.” The church must be delivered in order for America to be delivered. It doesn’t take a political pundit to recognize the America = Church rhetoric. What better way to pander for votes than to equate religiosity with patriotism? In America’s hyper-religious society, there isn’t. There is no sincerity in politics – only the leveraging of power and influence.
For all the controversy that The Response has drawn, I don’t find fault with a political leader organizing a prayer meeting as an expression of his faith. Questionable, yes, but he was well within the confines of the first amendment. However, I do find problematic the implicit message given Perry’s presidential ambition that if we vote to elect Perry, he will work as an agent toward American revivalism by following his religiously motivated agenda. A nation of Christians. A Christian nation. If what I witnessed on Saturday is any indication of the kind of America Perry would like to actualize, then the oppressive humidity of Houston forebodes many more sunny days in Hell unless we as Americans actively work for otherwise. Prayer is great, but without works, it’s insufficient in effecting change.
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