Riding home on the bus this evening, I was reading a book – trying to make the most of my time – when a woman a few seats up exclaimed how beautiful the sunset is. I looked up from what was admittedly an enthralling read (on mindful silence, nonetheless) and to my subdued, high school romanticism there across the sky lay the most breathtaking sunset I had ever seen. It beamed bruised blood orange before subduing into a pastel gradient that at last adumbrated the foreboding saturated stratus clouds. I was eminently present in the distance – not wanting to look away.
Then a degenerate thought crept into my mind: I should take a picture and capture this radiance for all time. Yet I hesitated, critical as I am about reproduced art and the beauty of a captured image as being inauthentically inferior to the unanticipated and thus unprimed transcendentalism of the pregnant moment. I hesitated, yet pulled my phone out anyway. I fumbled through the dallying commands to pull up the camera – being sure to look up with every operation so as not to lose the moment. But the moment was already lost the instant I looked away, entering a new moment and betraying my embodying gaze as my eyes readjusted to what was right in front of me. Sure enough, by the time the camera function was engaged, the bus was already rolling. I tried to snap a picture but it came out blurry.
I tried to retain the picture of the image in my mind, but it was already lost to inefficient descriptors – trying in vain to reconstruct what words always fail to precisely signify. Near my stop the bus came into line of sight with the sunset again, but now it had morphed into a goldenrod aura set atop an apricot horizon. Just as delicious, yes, but a totally different sunset; and I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.
Because it's not right in front of us, it's easy to look away to our foreground. But by doing so, we lose focus so that if we return and attempt to re-gain focus, the object in the distance, not being subject to our immediate, intimate scrutiny, may very well have changed. So too with life.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Work and Play
Hospice workers report that one of the top regrets of people on their deathbeds is working too much and not spending enough time with their family. In the spirit of “living more”, what exactly, if not work, would people do? Looking outside right now it is sunny – a nice day for a brisk walk. But were I to walk, I would likely be thinking of the work I need to do. If my work was done, then I could walk calmly – a serenity produced from a sense of accomplishment. We relax and partake in recreational activities as contrast to our time working. We can only enjoy them with respect to work, for if we had no work to do and had all the time to do recreational activities, then boredom would surely afflict us sooner or later. We are not such a ludic species that, even if independent of economic factors, we could spend all our time reveling and enjoying. Living life, as the superlative phrase has come to mean, signifies breaching one’s comfort zone and doing fun things. But breaching one’s comfort zone can only happen with respect to having a comfort zone, and likewise doing fun things only has meaning with respect to things that aren’t fun. Thus the live-your-life imperative demands that we balance work and play – recognizing the role and necessity of each. It’s not simply that work gives one purpose and play gives one diversion; but that work necessitates play and play necessitates work. Only through appreciating the binary dynamic can, I think, one truly become content with one’s life in the face of a society that demands both that we continuously strive to climb the ladder of achievement while also exhorting us to take the time to enjoy the boons life offers. The best boons of all, if they don’t remove us from the world, teach us how to live meaningfully inside it – those that make sense of an otherwise latently entropy-yoking system.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Another Brick in the Wall of the Tower of Babel
There exists an ideology of the American Dream – a creative symptom of the Protestant Work Ethic brought to the New World. It has since taken the form of what sociologist Robert Bellah, echoing John Locke, calls utilitarian individualism, or the idea that one should maximize self-interest respective to an intended telos. It is this ethos that built America into the “stuff dreams are made of”, yet unmoderated and unchecked, it has degenerated the dream from a recipe for success to plutocratic-controlled socioeconomic stagnation.
Yet there is a solution to this problem – and it is a problem – of which the Occupy Wall Street protests are only the beginning. The first step is the same as with Alcoholics Anonymous: getting people to admit that there is a problem. Except it must be admitted not just by those adversely affected, but also by those who do the affecting. This is called social responsibility.
But this obviously is not so easy, for why would individuals act against their own interest? Basic economics have long demonstrated that there is a symbiotic relationship between the now proverbial 1 and 99% in the exchange between consumers and owners of the means of production: if consumers don’t consume, then producers don’t make money. An article “What happened to upward mobility?” in last week’s issue of Time adduces academic research that income inequality and lack of social mobility are deleterious to everyone, not just those at the bottom. So why would the 1% stand in the way of their own interest?
The answer is that they don’t know it’s in their own interest. David Brooks in last Monday's New York Times column “Let’s all feel superior” called this myopia Motivated Blindness, in which individuals actively don’t see what they don’t think is in their interest to see. Barry Ritholtz came closer in his Washington Post article “What caused the financial crisis? The Big Lie goes viral”, calling out the plutocrats for cognitive dissonance, which is when a failed belief system is confronted by evidence of its implausibility.
His evocation of the Big Lie is key here, for this is a phrase that Hitler coined in his autobiography, Mein Kampf, and made the central tenet of his strategy for ascending to power and advancing his agenda. In fact, if you compare the current pro-Wall Street Tea Party and Republican agendas, they bear a striking resemblance to the US Office of Strategic Services’ psychological profile of Hitler in their absolute and uncompromisingly self-serving catechism. I realize any comparison evoking Nazism is acerbically hyperbolic, but I do so only to draw attention to the modest beginnings that allowed him to blitzkrieg his way through politics.
But Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek, who came to America to encourage the protesters during the early stage of the movement, hits the nail on the head in what he calls the fallacy of ideological fantasy. This builds on the Marxian (can we print his name in America without getting arrested yet?) observation that “they know what they do, yet they do it anyway.” This is to say that individuals recognize the inherent problem of conforming to a flawed system, but its ideology has so fully shaped their realities that they shirk away from that momentary, seemingly alien discomfort when their subconscious wants to prod their awareness with the truth it recognizes. But the mind’s power to believe is formidable, and it can convince itself of anything. This is the Big Truth that Ritholtz called for in response to the Big Lie.
The cornerstone by which the Big Truth can be heard has been laid in the form of OWS. Its resonance can be seen by how many cities across the world have citizens who have taken up its cause. And according to a LiveScience finding published in July, it only takes 10% of the population to espouse an idea for it to be accepted by the majority of the population. If the finding is true, then given 2011’s U.S. Census’ report, the critical mass for public opinion to be changed is 31 million Americans (not including those under 18, it shrinks to 26 million). If 9% of Americans (on the low side) are unemployed and divert their efforts toward advancing OWS, then we’re almost there. We just need, ironically, 1%.
Robert Bellah also posited an idea of civil religion, which, crudely put, unites all Americans not by our love of country, but by our allegiance to a superstructure far greater than ourselves. That ideal is, through the smoke and mirrors of politics, a common moral purpose toward the welfare of all citizens and consequently the nation as a whole. If I might extend Bellah’s religion metaphor, God in the practical sense is the President of our nation. Each and every group lobbying congress to advance its interests is, in a manner of speaking, a nation unto itself speaking its own language, sharing construction in a Tower of Babel to have its message heard. But with so many groups laying bricks and not unifying behind the one cause that really, underneath all different interests, brings them all together, then nothing will get accomplished. But if the churches and mosques, labor unions and PTA, and especially students on college campuses – who were so essential in resisting the Big Lie during the Vietnam era – congregated toward their mutual self-interest in support of OWS, then we might actually do our founding fathers justice in upholding their principles. As Bellah points out, when our individual sensibilities prove inadequate, we have historically resorted to those cultural traditions – religion, which transcends class boundaries; and civic organizations – by which to overcome our limited individual impact.
America was founded on political dissent; its imperative is our national birthright. As Thomas Jefferson wrote, “When wrongs are pressed because it is believed they will be borne, resistance becomes morality.” Thus protests naturally must occur when representative democracy fails to represent the will of the people.
Most importantly, we are all American before we are for a given political party. It is due time that we remember the American Dream that we were promised and unite toward making it realizable again by backing OWS. Otherwise, all in all, it’s just another brick in the wall.
Yet there is a solution to this problem – and it is a problem – of which the Occupy Wall Street protests are only the beginning. The first step is the same as with Alcoholics Anonymous: getting people to admit that there is a problem. Except it must be admitted not just by those adversely affected, but also by those who do the affecting. This is called social responsibility.
But this obviously is not so easy, for why would individuals act against their own interest? Basic economics have long demonstrated that there is a symbiotic relationship between the now proverbial 1 and 99% in the exchange between consumers and owners of the means of production: if consumers don’t consume, then producers don’t make money. An article “What happened to upward mobility?” in last week’s issue of Time adduces academic research that income inequality and lack of social mobility are deleterious to everyone, not just those at the bottom. So why would the 1% stand in the way of their own interest?
The answer is that they don’t know it’s in their own interest. David Brooks in last Monday's New York Times column “Let’s all feel superior” called this myopia Motivated Blindness, in which individuals actively don’t see what they don’t think is in their interest to see. Barry Ritholtz came closer in his Washington Post article “What caused the financial crisis? The Big Lie goes viral”, calling out the plutocrats for cognitive dissonance, which is when a failed belief system is confronted by evidence of its implausibility.
His evocation of the Big Lie is key here, for this is a phrase that Hitler coined in his autobiography, Mein Kampf, and made the central tenet of his strategy for ascending to power and advancing his agenda. In fact, if you compare the current pro-Wall Street Tea Party and Republican agendas, they bear a striking resemblance to the US Office of Strategic Services’ psychological profile of Hitler in their absolute and uncompromisingly self-serving catechism. I realize any comparison evoking Nazism is acerbically hyperbolic, but I do so only to draw attention to the modest beginnings that allowed him to blitzkrieg his way through politics.
But Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek, who came to America to encourage the protesters during the early stage of the movement, hits the nail on the head in what he calls the fallacy of ideological fantasy. This builds on the Marxian (can we print his name in America without getting arrested yet?) observation that “they know what they do, yet they do it anyway.” This is to say that individuals recognize the inherent problem of conforming to a flawed system, but its ideology has so fully shaped their realities that they shirk away from that momentary, seemingly alien discomfort when their subconscious wants to prod their awareness with the truth it recognizes. But the mind’s power to believe is formidable, and it can convince itself of anything. This is the Big Truth that Ritholtz called for in response to the Big Lie.
The cornerstone by which the Big Truth can be heard has been laid in the form of OWS. Its resonance can be seen by how many cities across the world have citizens who have taken up its cause. And according to a LiveScience finding published in July, it only takes 10% of the population to espouse an idea for it to be accepted by the majority of the population. If the finding is true, then given 2011’s U.S. Census’ report, the critical mass for public opinion to be changed is 31 million Americans (not including those under 18, it shrinks to 26 million). If 9% of Americans (on the low side) are unemployed and divert their efforts toward advancing OWS, then we’re almost there. We just need, ironically, 1%.
Robert Bellah also posited an idea of civil religion, which, crudely put, unites all Americans not by our love of country, but by our allegiance to a superstructure far greater than ourselves. That ideal is, through the smoke and mirrors of politics, a common moral purpose toward the welfare of all citizens and consequently the nation as a whole. If I might extend Bellah’s religion metaphor, God in the practical sense is the President of our nation. Each and every group lobbying congress to advance its interests is, in a manner of speaking, a nation unto itself speaking its own language, sharing construction in a Tower of Babel to have its message heard. But with so many groups laying bricks and not unifying behind the one cause that really, underneath all different interests, brings them all together, then nothing will get accomplished. But if the churches and mosques, labor unions and PTA, and especially students on college campuses – who were so essential in resisting the Big Lie during the Vietnam era – congregated toward their mutual self-interest in support of OWS, then we might actually do our founding fathers justice in upholding their principles. As Bellah points out, when our individual sensibilities prove inadequate, we have historically resorted to those cultural traditions – religion, which transcends class boundaries; and civic organizations – by which to overcome our limited individual impact.
America was founded on political dissent; its imperative is our national birthright. As Thomas Jefferson wrote, “When wrongs are pressed because it is believed they will be borne, resistance becomes morality.” Thus protests naturally must occur when representative democracy fails to represent the will of the people.
Most importantly, we are all American before we are for a given political party. It is due time that we remember the American Dream that we were promised and unite toward making it realizable again by backing OWS. Otherwise, all in all, it’s just another brick in the wall.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost
I used to really enjoy hip hop, but I haven't avidly listened to it in about a decade. When asked why not, I would usually attribute this to it largely having little content anymore. After the 90s, beats displaced lyrical content and street cred as the selling point for a song – and even for an artist. If you pushed me harder, I might tell you that there is nothing original being produced in hip hop anymore. The trope of growing up in the hood and making it, while resonant in their own American Dream sense, have become blasé to my desire for originality. And the all too common motifs of sex, drugs and guns has become has long since ceased to perk up our desensitized ears.
In truth though, I'm disappointed to say that there never was much of anything original about hip hop except the style itself and its art form as a normative outlet for black expression. Maybe I'm over-reducing it. But in terms of content, the beats have all been sampled, and even the lyrics call to mind those of blues – the cultural antecedent to hip hop. Even the messages in what are regarded as some of the deeper songs are repackaged to a generation not only that hasn't been exposed to their earlier forms, but doesn't even know they exist. The result is a culture that keeps re-inventing the wheel and as such never really makes much progress.
Take the recent song "No Church in the Wild" by Jay Z, Kanye West and newcomer Frank Ocean. It's definitely catchy, but it's hook is what get people talking:
"Human being to the mob/
What's a mob to a king?/
What' a king to a god?/
What's a god to a non-believer?/
Who don't believe in anything?/"
Woah, pretty deep right? It's saying that there's a hierarchy in the world that everyone is subject to, but non-believers throw it all off because they don't subscribe to the same system of values that orders the universe. Or, looking deeper, the object of each line has the capacity to supersede its subject... a mob can overthrow a king, a king can command his subjects to worship a different god, the non-believer can have a religious experience by the grace of God. Analysis aside, this isn't really new. Machiavelli has discussed this classically, as have other thinkers. But what makes this song so profound to a number of people is the fact that they likely weren't exposed to the literature in which such sentiments have historically been expressed. And if they were, hip hop (knowingly or not) repackages such truths in a concise, catchy and mnemonic form.
I suppose there has to be merit in this. In the literary tradition of writing with one's audience in mind, so too must the vocative mediums of truth and cultural expression similarly adapt to an audience that not only doesn't know history, but doesn't have the attention span to learn it. Maybe history is irrelevant as long as its truths are preserved. But what are truths without context, and what is context without resonance? As Galadriel tells in the opening of Lord of the Rings, "...some things that should not have been forgotten were lost." One merely has to read or see this trope played out in its numerous extrapolations in book and cinema to see how it ends. Or, if one lacks the patience to read a book or watch a movie, just listen to any real ballad. The real message is inscribed in the riffs between verses.
In truth though, I'm disappointed to say that there never was much of anything original about hip hop except the style itself and its art form as a normative outlet for black expression. Maybe I'm over-reducing it. But in terms of content, the beats have all been sampled, and even the lyrics call to mind those of blues – the cultural antecedent to hip hop. Even the messages in what are regarded as some of the deeper songs are repackaged to a generation not only that hasn't been exposed to their earlier forms, but doesn't even know they exist. The result is a culture that keeps re-inventing the wheel and as such never really makes much progress.
Take the recent song "No Church in the Wild" by Jay Z, Kanye West and newcomer Frank Ocean. It's definitely catchy, but it's hook is what get people talking:
"Human being to the mob/
What's a mob to a king?/
What' a king to a god?/
What's a god to a non-believer?/
Who don't believe in anything?/"
Woah, pretty deep right? It's saying that there's a hierarchy in the world that everyone is subject to, but non-believers throw it all off because they don't subscribe to the same system of values that orders the universe. Or, looking deeper, the object of each line has the capacity to supersede its subject... a mob can overthrow a king, a king can command his subjects to worship a different god, the non-believer can have a religious experience by the grace of God. Analysis aside, this isn't really new. Machiavelli has discussed this classically, as have other thinkers. But what makes this song so profound to a number of people is the fact that they likely weren't exposed to the literature in which such sentiments have historically been expressed. And if they were, hip hop (knowingly or not) repackages such truths in a concise, catchy and mnemonic form.
I suppose there has to be merit in this. In the literary tradition of writing with one's audience in mind, so too must the vocative mediums of truth and cultural expression similarly adapt to an audience that not only doesn't know history, but doesn't have the attention span to learn it. Maybe history is irrelevant as long as its truths are preserved. But what are truths without context, and what is context without resonance? As Galadriel tells in the opening of Lord of the Rings, "...some things that should not have been forgotten were lost." One merely has to read or see this trope played out in its numerous extrapolations in book and cinema to see how it ends. Or, if one lacks the patience to read a book or watch a movie, just listen to any real ballad. The real message is inscribed in the riffs between verses.
Monday, October 10, 2011
iGrieve
I wrote this last week, but didn't get around to posting until today.
I never knew Steve. Not personally. Yet I grew up on Apple. My dad's black and white Macintosh SE in our basement was my first exposure to a computer, something I use every single day. A mac, of course.
Steve has inspired me since I was old enough to be inspired by things. In the same room that the Apple II was connected to the old printer with those things on each side of the paper that you had to tear off, there was a poster on the wall – the only "decoration" in the entire room. It said "Think Different" on it. Those two words have stuck with me and sustained me throughout high school, college and graduate school. I remember my parents encouraging me to "Think Different" all my life. I've been tempted to drop out like Steve many times – to pursue my own ideas wholeheartedly. I only didn't because in addition to imparting the value of thinking different, the other main value my parents ingrained in me was education. Yet even in the academy, I am the "that guy". You know who he is. He's Steve.
It's kind of crazy to think about it – how despite never having met Steve or even being personally connected to him, I am who I am today because he dared to challenge the status quo. He dared not to sell a product, but an ideal – truly the only thing worth buying [into] these days. He has been a living beacon of hope for an entire generation of Americans. Now he joins the greats like Edison and Franklin in the history books – to be learned about in school by future generation of Americans.
And I don't know why, despite never having met him, that I have tears in my eyes as I write this. I can't say I'll miss him. I never knew him. Yet I've always looked up to him. Now, I suppose, I literally will continue looking up to him.
It's premature at this point to speculate what he will be remembered for the most. He changed the world with numerous innovations in Apple and Pixar, and set an example for CEOs everywhere by refusing a "normal" salary. But I think his greatest contribution to humanity has been simply himself. He is a brand in and of himself. He has inspired an entire generation of Steve Jobses, and who knows what impact he'll have on future ones?
I'm proud to be a Steve Jobs. If it wasn't for him, I'd probably think I was someone else.
So here's to the crazy ones, the misfits... the famous commercial that solidified the Apple brand as being tantamount to brilliance. It's time Apple released it with his picture in it as well.
Thanks for everything,
I never knew Steve. Not personally. Yet I grew up on Apple. My dad's black and white Macintosh SE in our basement was my first exposure to a computer, something I use every single day. A mac, of course.
Steve has inspired me since I was old enough to be inspired by things. In the same room that the Apple II was connected to the old printer with those things on each side of the paper that you had to tear off, there was a poster on the wall – the only "decoration" in the entire room. It said "Think Different" on it. Those two words have stuck with me and sustained me throughout high school, college and graduate school. I remember my parents encouraging me to "Think Different" all my life. I've been tempted to drop out like Steve many times – to pursue my own ideas wholeheartedly. I only didn't because in addition to imparting the value of thinking different, the other main value my parents ingrained in me was education. Yet even in the academy, I am the "that guy". You know who he is. He's Steve.
It's kind of crazy to think about it – how despite never having met Steve or even being personally connected to him, I am who I am today because he dared to challenge the status quo. He dared not to sell a product, but an ideal – truly the only thing worth buying [into] these days. He has been a living beacon of hope for an entire generation of Americans. Now he joins the greats like Edison and Franklin in the history books – to be learned about in school by future generation of Americans.
And I don't know why, despite never having met him, that I have tears in my eyes as I write this. I can't say I'll miss him. I never knew him. Yet I've always looked up to him. Now, I suppose, I literally will continue looking up to him.
It's premature at this point to speculate what he will be remembered for the most. He changed the world with numerous innovations in Apple and Pixar, and set an example for CEOs everywhere by refusing a "normal" salary. But I think his greatest contribution to humanity has been simply himself. He is a brand in and of himself. He has inspired an entire generation of Steve Jobses, and who knows what impact he'll have on future ones?
I'm proud to be a Steve Jobs. If it wasn't for him, I'd probably think I was someone else.
So here's to the crazy ones, the misfits... the famous commercial that solidified the Apple brand as being tantamount to brilliance. It's time Apple released it with his picture in it as well.
Thanks for everything,
Sunday, August 28, 2011
An Informed Idea ≠ An Idea about Information
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.
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 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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