30 years after its 1982 release I finally got around to seeing the sci-fi classic, Blade Runner. Despite its age, I found the film, which is based on the book "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?", to be exceptionally relevant to our present age of questionable humanity. To situate it briefly, the dystopic plot resembles a kind of inverted Nazi Germany in which genetic engineers created a superior kind of human, Replicas, that are generally used for menial labor and dangerous missions on other planets. Banned from Earth for a vague reason (presumably fear of takeover), special police called blade runners hunt them down. The leader of a band of fugitive replicas, with blond hair and blue eyes, immediately calls to mind Aryan perfection as the Nazis might have idealized. This character, Roy, personifies Lucifer in his quest to meet his maker – that his maker might modify his biological structure to undo the four-year lifespan afforded to replicas as assurance that they won't overtake humans. Practically speaking, Roy desires to transcend his mortality by bargaining with God. Ascending into what the trope indicates should be heaven, Roy attempts to persuade Tyrell, his architect, to make the desired modification. Tyrell explains that it is impossible, for a living organization cannot be modified without immediately dooming it. He then caresses Roy's head as a father might sympathetically treat his "prodigal son". Realizing that he is powerless to transcend his mortality and that his other-worldly hope in beseeching God failed, Roy, now a lapsed ubermensch, seeks a Nietzschian "death of God". Roy gives Tyrell a kiss of death before gouging out his eyes – the windows to his soul – and ending Tyrell's life. As his maker's existence could no longer provide meaning, Roy had to destroy the source of false hope. Roy now descends from Tyrell's home ponderous of what meaning his life now has. He is met by the blade runner Deckard, whom he chases and playfully yet insidiously castigates – sporadically expounding on the ephemerality of life. Realizing his own imminent death as signified through unprompted contractions of his fingers, Roy places a stake through his hand in the manner of stigmata, effectively declaring his redemption. While Deckard is about to drop to his death, Roy catches him and, while Deckard cowers at Roy's mercy, he launches into a brief soliloquy on the transience of life and the imperative to live before finally expiring and releasing a dove from his hand. All moments are lost to time, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't make the most of it – as Tyrell previously advised Roy. In the end, Roy internalizes Tyrell's purpose for him in making the most of his remaining time as he makes the choice to save Deckard instead of culminating his destruction.
The theme of the reckless search for meaning and destruction begetting knowledge of creation plays out time and again throughout the great narratives of history and fantasy. We are presented with characters who so desperately want to live that they destroy everything in their paths searching for what purposive living entails. Then, when they finally realize it, they discover that they have destroyed the one thing that held the key to that realization through reification. It makes them all tragic heroes. They fail to realize, as Douglas Brooks has beautifully written, that life should be "an affirmation of the radical claim that the human experience is the point of having been born human. You are the point the universe has decided to make. Own that experience, receive that as the gift, never stop wanting to become more human: that is divine." Perhaps that is why so many of these tragic figures are cast as inhuman roles: to more aptly illustrate that we all aspire for humanity yet so few actually achieve it. Anakin Skywalker in Starwars; Agent Smith in The Matrix; Roy in Blade Runner; Ernest Hemingway in real life... the list can go on.
One of the appeals of seeing this dynamic play out on the screen is so that we don't have to do so ourselves. We are vicarious aspirants, not exactly living through others, but seeing how their stories play out so we can learn from them. It is the fan-crafted mythology that informs our lives as perhaps more temporally relevant retellings of classic motifs. Only through the perceived imminency of death and destruction does one have sufficient perspective to contemplate life. Georges Bataille reportedly spent hours a day for some time gazing at an image of a tortured Chinese man, quartered and bloodied, so as to inform his own isolated mortality. He writes that the man in the image "communicated his pain to me or perhaps the excessive nature of his pain, and it was precisely that which I was seeking, not to take pleasure in it, but in order to ruin in me that which is opposed to ruin." By this he means that he spent so much time studying the tortured image that, ignorant of such hopeless pain in his own life, he might come to know it vicariously and thus inform his lasting perspective on mortality.
The question of what makes one human has dominated the philosophy of science fiction for over half a century now. For the replicas of Blade Runner, one of the cardinal aspects that designates their inhumanity is their inability to genuinely experience human emotions – although Roy cites fear of death as his motivation for seeking to transcend it. We can perhaps see a modern version of such inhumanity in the driven obedience such attention-demanding drugs as Ritalin and Adderall have on mechanizing children into memorization and robots of directed control to the tasks at hand. This practice, as an article in today's NY Times argues, stymies and stultifies the development of children in the interest of societal expectations, thereby dampening their creative [and therefore human] development. Children are effectively re-programmed, as are stray programs in the movie Tron, or they face its equivalent of de-resolution – failure to make oneself useful to the system and sinking into unmitigated poverty. At stake here is the beginning of de-humanization and robotization of our species in the greater interest of societal values. How much humanity can be sacrificed before a person is only recognized as human aesthetically, but not by one's actions? How far before such humans stop identifying as humans and see themselves more as automatons?
Faced with such questions and realities in which much human labor has been outsourced to machines, we must attend to the existence of clones. A clone is by definition an imitation of an image – a picture of an image. As with the replicas in Blade Runner, some do not even know that they are replicas, as being programmed with the memories of their images and not told otherwise, they have no reason to suspect not being human. Even more terrifying is that they bleed just like humans. They are thus indistinguishable externally – through human appearance and actions – and internally – through the production of human blood. This fact makes clones effectively terrorists, as W. J. T. Mitchell argues in his book Cloning Terror. They look and act, modern cultural stereotypes withstanding, exactly like us until they reveal themselves to be otherwise. Thus unrecognizable even through familiar recognition, clones most grotesquely pervert humanity not due to their inhumanity, but because they would drive us to be paranoid about our own and that of our neighbors.
In the same spirit that we often must find out what we dislike in order to find out what we do like, so too is the maxim true of humanity in the science fiction age. We learn what it means to be human by negative definition of those characteristics that defy our intuitive conception of humanity. I _____, therefore, I am human, as this brief essay has indicated, could best be filled with verb forms of inclination toward creativity and avoidance of rote activities, elicitation of complex emotions, and acute awareness of and discomfort with one's mortality. With such an understanding, however, we could contend that Roy, despite being a replica, is the most human character in the film. Malcontent with his militant programming and dreading his biological expiration, he creatively thinks to beseech God for more life – as numerous characters have done across mythologies. Though it is never overtly spoken and only signified through imagery and action, Roy alone yokes himself religiously. He alone demonstrates the human proclivity toward meaning-making that has been the occupation par excellence of humankind from the earliest recorded histories. And when he finds his maker inadequate, he follows suit of countless individuals who have discarded insufficient theodicies in search of better ones.
Unless this understanding of humanity is misinformed, then the parabolic nature of much science fiction would appear to be well met. That is, by painting a picture of flawed non-humans striving for humanity, the audience can relate to their own imperfections – how none of them is an ubermensch – with respect to striving for meaning in a broken world (the telos of homo religiosus). Identity is constructed through the creative power of naming. By vocalizing his insecurity, Roy informs his telos, yoking it toward action and shaping his existential identity.
This dynamic might better be explicated through Tron. At the end of the film, CLU, Kevin Flynn's tyrannical turncoat surrogate, exclaims that he created the perfect system just as Flynn instructed him. Flynn responds, "The thing about perfection is that it's unknowable. It's impossible, but it's also right in front of us the entire time. You wouldn't know that because I didn't when I created you." This is all to say an obvious and very blasé point: that to be human is to be imperfect; but to be content is to recognize the perfection of imperfectability. And to embrace this radical view of humanity is, as Douglas Brooks said earlier, divine.
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Sunday, February 19, 2012
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.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
What's Real about Religion Anymore?
This past Sunday, I went with a friend to her Baptist church. I had never been to one before, and she assured me that the people there were quite friendly and wouldn't attempt to proselytize me (which is why I usually give my "Christian" name whenever I go to church). She was right, but I had no idea how right she would be.
What struck me as odd wasn't the rainbow decorations and how LBGT friendly the place was -- it was surprising, but not offputting. It was the language used throughout the entire service. Everything was symbolic. Nothing actually "was" -- but rather represented an idea or ideal. Everything was fluffy. Everything that should have been sweet tasted of Splenda. Ever unable to turn my critical thinking cap off, I began to deconstruct what was transpiring and why the service felt so inauthentic to me.
In my musings I was reminded of Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation, in which he writes:
"...with their artificial resurrection in the systems of signs, a material more malleable than meaning, in that it lends itself to all systems of equivalences, to all binary oppositions, to all combinatory algebra. It is no longer a question of imitation or duplication, nor even parody. It is a question of substituting the signs of the real for the real, that is to say of an operation of deterring every real process via its operational double, a programmatic, metastable, perfectly descriptive machine that offers all the signs of the real and short-curcuits all its vicissitudes. Never again will the real have the chance to produce itself--such is the vital function of the model in a system of death, or rather of anticipated resurrection, that no longer even gives the event of death a chance."
While deeply abstract and intricate, Baudrillard contends (so far as our example is concerned) that the institutionalization of signification is vaccuous of identity and wreaks of the relativism indicative of our postmodern age. More over, something that signifies rather than simply is cannot be real, for it is nothing in itself. Instead, it only references something else -- an object long gone, far removed and "dead". By seeking to elicit the symptoms of the real by depicting what should be its characteristics, the church offers but a simulation of religion, not religion itself. Of course, this lends itself to Baurdrillard's claim that religion began when God died, so there never could have been religion as we think it to be, but only its ghost, its simulacrum.
I don't mean to debase the church I attended, but I can't help but find Baudrillard's argument compelling. Is it all just ritual devoid of content? Are we just going through the motions, trying to evoke the real that William James confessed or that Durkheim posited? Mystical experience and collective effervescence, without rubrics that seek to replicate experiences but rather originate them, may be the only way to resurrect and access the long-dead real that religion tries so convincingly to depict. A church service is at best an elaborate and habitual homage to a time passed. Perhaps there's truth to Serendipity's quote from the movie Dogma: "You people don't celebrate your faith, you mourn it." But I suppose Baudrillard would say that's really all you can do.
What struck me as odd wasn't the rainbow decorations and how LBGT friendly the place was -- it was surprising, but not offputting. It was the language used throughout the entire service. Everything was symbolic. Nothing actually "was" -- but rather represented an idea or ideal. Everything was fluffy. Everything that should have been sweet tasted of Splenda. Ever unable to turn my critical thinking cap off, I began to deconstruct what was transpiring and why the service felt so inauthentic to me.
In my musings I was reminded of Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation, in which he writes:
"...with their artificial resurrection in the systems of signs, a material more malleable than meaning, in that it lends itself to all systems of equivalences, to all binary oppositions, to all combinatory algebra. It is no longer a question of imitation or duplication, nor even parody. It is a question of substituting the signs of the real for the real, that is to say of an operation of deterring every real process via its operational double, a programmatic, metastable, perfectly descriptive machine that offers all the signs of the real and short-curcuits all its vicissitudes. Never again will the real have the chance to produce itself--such is the vital function of the model in a system of death, or rather of anticipated resurrection, that no longer even gives the event of death a chance."
While deeply abstract and intricate, Baudrillard contends (so far as our example is concerned) that the institutionalization of signification is vaccuous of identity and wreaks of the relativism indicative of our postmodern age. More over, something that signifies rather than simply is cannot be real, for it is nothing in itself. Instead, it only references something else -- an object long gone, far removed and "dead". By seeking to elicit the symptoms of the real by depicting what should be its characteristics, the church offers but a simulation of religion, not religion itself. Of course, this lends itself to Baurdrillard's claim that religion began when God died, so there never could have been religion as we think it to be, but only its ghost, its simulacrum.
I don't mean to debase the church I attended, but I can't help but find Baudrillard's argument compelling. Is it all just ritual devoid of content? Are we just going through the motions, trying to evoke the real that William James confessed or that Durkheim posited? Mystical experience and collective effervescence, without rubrics that seek to replicate experiences but rather originate them, may be the only way to resurrect and access the long-dead real that religion tries so convincingly to depict. A church service is at best an elaborate and habitual homage to a time passed. Perhaps there's truth to Serendipity's quote from the movie Dogma: "You people don't celebrate your faith, you mourn it." But I suppose Baudrillard would say that's really all you can do.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Rapture Happens, Millions of Hindus Missing
In an odd and unexpected twist of fate, Harold Camping, Herald of the May 21st rapture, expressed his complete surprise not that he wasn't raptured, which the world expected, but that thousands of Hindus in India and the rest of the world have been reported missing. "I'm flabbergasted" and "looking for answers," he told a San Francisco Chronicle Reporter today.
Camping, who has previously conceded that he was wrong in predicting the 1994 rapture, nevertheless maintains that the fact that he and none of his followers have been raptured is "absolute proof that [he] is correct. The rapture definitely took place, but there just wasn't a soul worth saving so it went unnoticed." But not in India.
In the Times of India and the Hindustan Times, reports of Hindus having vanished into thin air have shocked and rattled the subcontinent. Indian Prime Minister Manhohan Singh has declared a state of emergency and has cautioned that it does not yet know how many have gone missing, but that he estimates the number to be in the tens of millions.
Those missing have reportedly tended to be younger children, cow-herders, and religious holy men. In the Mathura region in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, nearly everyone has disappeared. The area is mythologically believed to be the birthplace of the Hindu god Krishna, but local authorities say that it is too soon to attribute a correlation between belief in Krishna and the disappearances.
When asked to comment on the numerous disappearances of Hindus, an ironic contrast to his belief that elect Christians would be raptured, Camping curtly said that he was "very surprised" and refused further comment. Michael Garcia, the special projects coordinator for Camping's Family Radio, offered: "Maybe this had to happen for there to be a separation between those who have [true] faith and those who don't." This would mean that the fluffy liberal idea that "it doesn't matter what god you believe in so long as you believe" is incorrect.
Von Harringa, president of Black Ministries International, commented that "[w]e're still searching the Scriptures to understand why it didn't happen." But judging by the fact that millions of Hindus have vanished and that every Christian remains accounted for, he could be searching in the wrong Book.
UPDATE 8:54 PM: On tonight's Family Radio, Herald Camping has explained the Hindu disappearance by citing that the "first shall be last and the last shall be first", explaining that the first are those who have had access to the Bible for the longest and the last are those who have not been exposed to it. This only serves to corroborate why so many Hindus have disappeared and Christians remain on earth.
Camping, who has previously conceded that he was wrong in predicting the 1994 rapture, nevertheless maintains that the fact that he and none of his followers have been raptured is "absolute proof that [he] is correct. The rapture definitely took place, but there just wasn't a soul worth saving so it went unnoticed." But not in India.
In the Times of India and the Hindustan Times, reports of Hindus having vanished into thin air have shocked and rattled the subcontinent. Indian Prime Minister Manhohan Singh has declared a state of emergency and has cautioned that it does not yet know how many have gone missing, but that he estimates the number to be in the tens of millions.
Those missing have reportedly tended to be younger children, cow-herders, and religious holy men. In the Mathura region in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, nearly everyone has disappeared. The area is mythologically believed to be the birthplace of the Hindu god Krishna, but local authorities say that it is too soon to attribute a correlation between belief in Krishna and the disappearances.
When asked to comment on the numerous disappearances of Hindus, an ironic contrast to his belief that elect Christians would be raptured, Camping curtly said that he was "very surprised" and refused further comment. Michael Garcia, the special projects coordinator for Camping's Family Radio, offered: "Maybe this had to happen for there to be a separation between those who have [true] faith and those who don't." This would mean that the fluffy liberal idea that "it doesn't matter what god you believe in so long as you believe" is incorrect.
Von Harringa, president of Black Ministries International, commented that "[w]e're still searching the Scriptures to understand why it didn't happen." But judging by the fact that millions of Hindus have vanished and that every Christian remains accounted for, he could be searching in the wrong Book.
UPDATE 8:54 PM: On tonight's Family Radio, Herald Camping has explained the Hindu disappearance by citing that the "first shall be last and the last shall be first", explaining that the first are those who have had access to the Bible for the longest and the last are those who have not been exposed to it. This only serves to corroborate why so many Hindus have disappeared and Christians remain on earth.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Escape from Eden
It's not every week that Time Magazine does a cover story on one's master's thesis. While Pastor Rob Bell's new book Love Wins isn't the subject of my thesis itself, it speaks to the perceived paradigm shift in the Evangelical climate that I'm currently exploring. The premise of the book comes from a note Bell saw that basically says that Gandhi is in Hell because he wasn't a Christian. Naturally, given Gandhi's acclaim for good works and the incompatability of his religious disposition with the Evangelical credentials for salvation, this gave Bell cause to reflect on the imperative behind Evangelism's soteriology and *POOF* out comes Love Wins (not creatio ex nihilo, but *POOF* just for dramatic effect. Only God could create from nothing, obviously..). The book contends generously and thoughtfully that the redemptive work of Jesus may be universal, and therefore everyone gets saved. Hooray! Why would anyone have a problem with this is everyone wins?
Well, for starters, we live in a competitive individualistic culture that disdains the idea of everyone winning. We like winning over others, knowing that we are better, superior. We like the idea of middle class, knowing that there is something to aspire to, and something to avoid. Thus, Bell's suggestion of soteriological universalism not only doesn't sit well with many Americans, but they find it outrageous! Hell (no pun intended), its indiscriminate equal appraisal of all stinks remotely of socialism or communism (for those who don't know the difference). Maybe Bell is in league with Obama? Maybe we should check his birth certificate to see that he was born to Christian parents... I hope sarcasm can be conveyed via text.
Needless to say, the book has not had a very positive reception among Bell's pastor peers from around the nation. And with good reason. Of course, there is the logical theological implication that if one facet of Evangelical theology is undermined by calling it into doubt, then every other facet of Evangelical theology can fall under scrutiny. It's a serious concern, but given Christianity's history of recantations and adaption of its theological position – specifically relating to science (since it can be proven) – the hegemony will find a way to reconcile heretical ideas with dogma. And if it doesn't, defectors can simply form another church with reformed beliefs; isn't that why there are so many of them?
But this line of thought is only secondary to what's truly at stake. As R. Albert Mohler Jr., president of Southern Baptist Theology Seminary (as quoted in Time) fears: " When you adopt universalism and erase the distinction of between the church and the world... then you don't need the church, and you don't need Christ, and you don't need the cross. This is the tragedy of non-judgmental mainline liberalism., and it's Rob Bell's tragedy in this book too." What Mohler really is saying in the first part of the quote is that if Bell's sympathetic hermeneutic is true, then many pastors and others in the field will be out of jobs, as the shares of a private industry will have gone public. After all, religion is very much a business. Those who run it would do well to drive its demand that they can continue to profit off of supplying it. The pejorative reaction against Bell is a classic case of the what Robert Bellah in Habits of the Heart recognizes as the politics of accommodated interests superseding civic virtue (with the understanding that civil virtue might signify salvation for everyone...). The second part of the quote mentions the tragedy of "non-judgmental mainline liberalism". This could be taken in a number of ways, but I'm going to go ahead and say that NJML (for short) is competition and bad for business. Obviously, given the reduction of what I'll call Soul Capital (to borrow from Bourdieu), it's understandable that a Baptist leader might find the Other as tragic. Plus, until a survey comes out correlating how happy religious liberals and conservatives are with their traditions and in general, any defamation against the lack of merit in the other is moot
As quoted in Time: "Bell insists he is only raising the possibility that theological rigidity – and thus a faith of exclusion – is a dangerous thing." And so it is, as the Crusades, Pogroms, Inquisition, and numerous other Holy Wars have demonstrated to the point at which one would think someone would realize that exclusive religion is a bad idea – or at least comes with steep costs. And Bell does. Raised on C.S. Lewis as a kid, Bell is aware of the eschatological relativism illustrated in the epilogue of the Last Battle in the Chronicles of Narnia. Aslan's sacrifice redeems them all. So too does Bell propose to reform Evangelical theology so that it's no longer a contentious Us vs. Them binary, but simply an Us monism. As his book title concisely and aptly summarizes, love wins. But if people are too attached to their exclusive imperative of confessing Christ and reaping all the mythologized rewards associated with His confession, that's ok. It would be unbecoming of us in this age of tolerance, diversity and free thinking to impose such a myopic view on our citizenry. Even though many believe in the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ, we can safely assume that their piety is being channeled to Aslan anyway, thus we need not concern ourselves over ownership of the salvation conferred by Christ's sacrifice. After all, a couple siblings finding a talking lion on the other side of a wardrobe is just as plausible as a virgin birth, right?
Well, for starters, we live in a competitive individualistic culture that disdains the idea of everyone winning. We like winning over others, knowing that we are better, superior. We like the idea of middle class, knowing that there is something to aspire to, and something to avoid. Thus, Bell's suggestion of soteriological universalism not only doesn't sit well with many Americans, but they find it outrageous! Hell (no pun intended), its indiscriminate equal appraisal of all stinks remotely of socialism or communism (for those who don't know the difference). Maybe Bell is in league with Obama? Maybe we should check his birth certificate to see that he was born to Christian parents... I hope sarcasm can be conveyed via text.
Needless to say, the book has not had a very positive reception among Bell's pastor peers from around the nation. And with good reason. Of course, there is the logical theological implication that if one facet of Evangelical theology is undermined by calling it into doubt, then every other facet of Evangelical theology can fall under scrutiny. It's a serious concern, but given Christianity's history of recantations and adaption of its theological position – specifically relating to science (since it can be proven) – the hegemony will find a way to reconcile heretical ideas with dogma. And if it doesn't, defectors can simply form another church with reformed beliefs; isn't that why there are so many of them?
But this line of thought is only secondary to what's truly at stake. As R. Albert Mohler Jr., president of Southern Baptist Theology Seminary (as quoted in Time) fears: " When you adopt universalism and erase the distinction of between the church and the world... then you don't need the church, and you don't need Christ, and you don't need the cross. This is the tragedy of non-judgmental mainline liberalism., and it's Rob Bell's tragedy in this book too." What Mohler really is saying in the first part of the quote is that if Bell's sympathetic hermeneutic is true, then many pastors and others in the field will be out of jobs, as the shares of a private industry will have gone public. After all, religion is very much a business. Those who run it would do well to drive its demand that they can continue to profit off of supplying it. The pejorative reaction against Bell is a classic case of the what Robert Bellah in Habits of the Heart recognizes as the politics of accommodated interests superseding civic virtue (with the understanding that civil virtue might signify salvation for everyone...). The second part of the quote mentions the tragedy of "non-judgmental mainline liberalism". This could be taken in a number of ways, but I'm going to go ahead and say that NJML (for short) is competition and bad for business. Obviously, given the reduction of what I'll call Soul Capital (to borrow from Bourdieu), it's understandable that a Baptist leader might find the Other as tragic. Plus, until a survey comes out correlating how happy religious liberals and conservatives are with their traditions and in general, any defamation against the lack of merit in the other is moot
As quoted in Time: "Bell insists he is only raising the possibility that theological rigidity – and thus a faith of exclusion – is a dangerous thing." And so it is, as the Crusades, Pogroms, Inquisition, and numerous other Holy Wars have demonstrated to the point at which one would think someone would realize that exclusive religion is a bad idea – or at least comes with steep costs. And Bell does. Raised on C.S. Lewis as a kid, Bell is aware of the eschatological relativism illustrated in the epilogue of the Last Battle in the Chronicles of Narnia. Aslan's sacrifice redeems them all. So too does Bell propose to reform Evangelical theology so that it's no longer a contentious Us vs. Them binary, but simply an Us monism. As his book title concisely and aptly summarizes, love wins. But if people are too attached to their exclusive imperative of confessing Christ and reaping all the mythologized rewards associated with His confession, that's ok. It would be unbecoming of us in this age of tolerance, diversity and free thinking to impose such a myopic view on our citizenry. Even though many believe in the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ, we can safely assume that their piety is being channeled to Aslan anyway, thus we need not concern ourselves over ownership of the salvation conferred by Christ's sacrifice. After all, a couple siblings finding a talking lion on the other side of a wardrobe is just as plausible as a virgin birth, right?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)