Proselytized!

Haaken and I were playing with Duplo blocks this morning when the doorbell rang. I cringed when I walked into the living room and saw a couple standing at the door, probably in their sixties, dressed like it was still the fifties and they were arriving for Sunday dinner. Shit, I thought, I'm about to be proselytized. Against my better judgment I opened the door anyway. And sure enough, with rigid formality the man, dressed in a stiff gray suit (with stiffly combed-over hair to match) made a couple comments about the nice weather (at least we agree on something, I thought), and promptly launched into his message, which was every bit as adamant as his dress. Asking if I agreed that people don't take the Bible as seriously as they used to, he opened his own worn copy, read II Timothy 3:16 as if it were a incantation and this were an exorcism, and then pulled out his stack of Awake! magazines. The whole time, I'm trying to figure out how I should respond. Or rather, wrestling with how I wanted to respond and how I ought to respond. Because I wanted to be obnoxious. I kept trying not to smirk (somewhat successful), make a smartass comment on already having my ticket to heaven (successful), or cut to the chase and just say fuck off (successful--although some of the smirks that slipped onto my face came because the song playing on my speakers while the man was talking was Modest Mouse's Teeth Like God's Shoeshine, which musically and lyrically is essentially saying just that). Once he pulled out the magazines, though, I (politely enough) told him I wasn't interested (to which he responded "Just trying to do the work Jesus commands us to do"), and I suppressed another smirk as I shut my front door and effectively squelched my chances of becoming one of the 144,000.

I won't get into the valid reasons for my visceral response to this sort of "witnessing" and the brand of religion that brings it about. Rather, my thoughts after this incident returned to (surprise, surprise) the aforementioned essay I read last week in David James Duncan's God Laughs and Plays. Later on in "What Fundamentalists Need for Their Salvation," Duncan writes:

But to merely shun those trapped inside this ideology is also futile. Those who are not fundamentalists are too often satisfied with expressing derision, intellectual superiority, or revulsion toward them and calling it good. John of the Cross proposes a more difficult but promising course of action: "Have a great love for those who contradict and fail to love you, for in this way love is begotten in a heart that has no love. This is how God acts with us: He loves us that we might love by means of the very love He bears towards us." (49)

I am, as described above (and, I suppose, in the post below), fairly guilty of the derision, arrogance, and revulsion that Duncan cautions against. And in acting on these instincts, I find myself in a place that is not very different from those whom I am reacting against--thus missing that essence of Christianity, the "truly compassionate, self-abnegating, empathetic, forgiving, and enemy-loving" (45) imitation of Christ, which I claim to be trying so hard to find (and, ostensibly, live).

New Online Encyclopedia!

Sick of the liberal bias (and "silly gossip") of free online encyclopedia Wikipedia (where the "facts" are apparently obtained from sleazy sources such as NPR or the New York Times)? Just as Fox News has answered the call for an unbiased news source, Conservapedia is your new source of objective, just-the-facts, online knowledge. Just check out these refreshingly true (and thus unbiased!) definitions of Homosexuality, Global Warming, Atheism, and, my personal favorite, the origin of the kangaroo! The aroma of truthiness is in the air . . .

If in need of ethereality . . .

On November 20th Heima, a documentary about the magnificent Icelandic band Sigur Rós, will be released. The trailer, at least, would indicate that the tone of the movie (filmed in the summer of 2006 while Sigur Rós toured their native country) will be every bit as ethereal and breathtaking as the music. That said, check out the trailer, and if Sigur Rós ever plays in a town near you, see them (I was fortunate enough to do so a couple years ago, and the experience was sacredly surreal).

More of Mr. Duncan

This weekend I began a book of essays by David James Duncan (Montana flyfisherman, self-described Christian mystic, and author of two of my favorite works of fiction, The River Why and The Brothers K) entitled God Laughs and Plays. Like his two above-mentioned novels, this collection of "churchless sermons" masterfully combines Duncan's fine writing style with wise reflection, much humor, and an articulate appreciation for the natural world. Here's an extended quote from a chapter somewhat provocatively entitled "What Fundamentalists Need for Their Salvation:"

Most of the famed leaders of the new "Bible-based" American political alliances share a conviction that their causes and agendas are approved of, and directly inspired, by no less a being than God. This enviable conviction is less enviably arrived at by accepting on faith, hence as "higher-than-fact," that the Christian Bible pared down into American TV English is God's "word" to humankind, that this same Bible is His only word to humankind, and that the politicized apocalyptic fundamentalist's unprecedentedly selective slant on this Bible is the one true slant.

This position is remarkably self-insulating. Possessing little knowledge of or regard for the world's wealth of religious, literary, spiritual, and cultural traditions, fundamentalist leaders allow themselves no concept of love or compassion but their own. They can therefore honestly, even cheerfully, say that it is out of "Christian compassion" and a sort of "tough love" for others that they seek to impose on all others their tendentiously literalized God, Bible, and slant. But how tough can love be before it ceases to be love at all? Well-known variations on the theme include the various Inquisitions' murderously tough love for "heritics" who for centuries were defined as merely defiant of the Inquisition itself; . . . the missionaries' and U.S. calvary's genocidally tough love for land-rich indigenous peoples whose crime was merely to exist; and, today, the Bush team's murderously tough love for an oil-rich Muslim world as likely to convert to Texas neocon values as Bush himself is likely to convert to Islam.

Each of these crusader groups has seen itself as fighting to make its own or some other culture "more Christian" even as it tramples the teachings of Christ into a blood-soaked earth. The result, among millions of nonfundamentalists, has been a growing revulsion toward anything that chooses to call itself "Christian." But I see no more crucial tool for defusing fundamentalist aggression than the four books of the gospels, and can think of no more crucial question to keep asking self-righteous crusaders than whether there is anything truly imitative of Jesus--that is, anything compassionate, self-abnegating, emphatic, forgiving, and enemy-loving--in their assaults on religious and cultural diversity, ecosystem health, non-Christian religion, or anything else they have determined to be "evil."

For two thousand years the heart of Christianity has not been a self-pronounced "acceptance of Jesus as my personal lord and savior": the religion's heart has been the words, example, and Person of Jesus, coupled with the believer's unceasing attempt to speak, act, and live in accord with this sublime example. (44-46)

Stylin' T-Shirts

There is a big (devilish?) part of me that really,really wants one of these . . .

Muscle'n Flo

On Tuesday I went to see a band from Portland, Oregon called Menomena. I've been enjoying their album Friend and Foe all year, and seeing them live only augmented my appreciation for the band (as all concerts ought to, but too often don't). Menomena is a democratic band in that it consists of three guys who share songwriting responsibilities (assisted by a computer program called Deeler, which was designed by one of the band members), trade instruments during the show, and split the singing duties. They met at a Christian high school in Portland, where they played in a self-described “Christian Pearl Jam-sounding band.” Awesome. Although I suppose there are worse options with which one could fill the "Christian ----sounding band" blank (e.g. that CCM juggernaut of the 90's, dc Talk, which has been described--accurately, I might add--as a "Christian Color Me Badd-sounding band"). The guys from Menomena have clearly matured past that inclination towards such a blatantly derivative style, as their music sounds remarkably unlike any other band I've heard. And with that introduction, they also happen to have some thoughtful lyrics, such as these from Friend and Foe opener "Muscle'n Flo:"

Well here I stand
a broken man
If I could I would raise my hands
I come before you humbly
If I could I'd be on my knees

Come lay down your head upon my chest
feel my heart beat feel my unrest
If Jesus could only wash my feet
Then I'd get up strong and muscle on . . .

I can relate to this.

On a lighter note, here's a pretty amusing article from Pitchfork by Menomena drummer Danny Seim, entitled My Favorite Cassettes (I Was Allowed to Listen To), Age 7-15. You really ought to read this, particularly if you grew up listening to cheesy Christian music.

And finally, here is a video of Menomena playing "Muscle'n Flo" in some guy's basement: