In Which I Enrage Millions

By now the entire world is aware. Well, likely not the entire world, but at least the entire portion of the world that would have given two-shits insofar as they are already connected through industrialized technological communicative media. In order to move this along, I'll assume you are not aware even though you already are. 'Aware of what?', we'll pretend that you asked.

Steve Jobs, founder of Apple, has died

While it is unfortunate that anyone dies, it's not surprising. That's part of being human. It is also saddening when death occurs because of the way it impacts friendships and communities. We are relational creatures and form attachments to one another based on how we identify ourselves and others within those relationships. It is because of these inevitable relationships, that we often witness others using the words or deeds of the recently departed as testimonies to the worthiness of the life they lived. The very recent passing of Steve Jobs is no different. People have flocked to the technological resources and resultant social networks he helped to facilitate in order to express their opinions and feelings on the matter. This is not unexpected. One could argue that although I am not on the 'fandom' side of the Apple user-base, I am doing the same thing even now. Anyone who knows me and my penchant for opining on everything, would not find this unexpected either.

What I do find unexpected and alarming, is the language being used and (at least one of) the quotes that are being held up as testimonies to Steve Jobs' 'so-called' greatness. Many other industry leaders have praised Jobs for his inspirational qualities, for revolutionizing the way we live, for making the world a better place, and so and and so forth. Someone I am acquainted with in real life posted the following quote from Jobs.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most importantly, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” - Steve Jobs (since I'm a big nerd, I had to track down that this quote is taken from his commencement address to Stanford in 2005)

Whenever I encounter 'bumper sticker' statements like this, I cannot help but react. Society is inundated with statements of this nature. Statements like these are supposedly inspirational, revitalizing, empowering, clarifying, or whatever else you want to call them. I call them crap. Since this personal acquaintance is also a relatively committed member of my home church, and since they have a spouse who is currently a seminary student striving to become a ordained minister, I thought it best (though in hindset, impetuous) to respond from my systematic theological background. I quote from my own facebook comment to the posting of this quotation. "Oh [sic] behalf of systematic theologians everywhere, i would like to dislike this. dogma is not just antiquated philosophical drivel. my inner voice is in bondage to sin and cannot free itself. my intuition has led me astray in every instance thusfar. this man is no mahatma ghandi, martin luther, or jesus christ. he. ran. a. company. #makingEnemiesTonight #badPerson" (apologies for my inability to link directly to the post or this comment, they have since been deleted by the aforementioned acquaintance.) The response from my associate turned the conversation in a direction wherein Jobs was defended and praised for creating, stimulating, and developing the technological and artistic industry through the creations of his company. She tried defending his praiseworthiness by saying that much of the world's progress, which I and other members of first-world nations enjoy, was due to his praiseworthy attributes of inspiration, creativity, and so on...

I do not find this to be a good thing. Yes, I own an ipod. Yes, I enjoy the frivolous comforts of modern technology. Yes, I realize that it takes creativity and hard work to cause the creation of these technological pleasantries. However, just because someone worked hard to make something that we can enjoy, does not mean that we can or should derive hope from these things. Nor does it mean that our hope or identity is provided by their so-called 'freeing' nature. It absolutely doesn't mean that the person (or more realistically, people) involved in the creation of the things we enjoy is inspirational or revolutionary or someone who improves the world we live in. These so-called 'freeing' or 'beneficial' results we cling to are false. However shiny or entertaining or new or remarkable these products may be, they are idols. However enterprising or creative the makers of these products may be, they are not making the world a better place. These are not philanthropic efforts, they are capitalistic commerical products.

Steve. Jobs. Ran. A. Company.

He did not die for your sins. He did not rally millions against racial injustice. He did not serve the needs of the poor. He did not advocate for the voiceless or the oppressed.

He developed products in order to make money.

It was at this point where someone else attempted to converse with me on this matter. Instead of doing so by talking about the theological issues at hand, he did so by accusing me of having worldviews and 'churchviews' that I simply do not have. His understanding of my views of what the church is or what the church does reflect a complete disconnect from who I am or what I believe. It was hurtful. While I do not think his statements were intended as such, they were made in that sort of religious passive-aggressive manner that just makes you feel icky. Like when someone who you know doesn't think highly of you tells you 'God Bless You.' .... when you need a shower after they say something ... it was kinda like that.

I recognized the communicative disconnect at this point and wrote a rather lengthy (IMAGINE THAT! :P) retort in an effort to clarify matters. It was not responded to and then the whole 'thread' was deleted. I will attempt to reiterate its contents here.

Note: This is the gist of what I've been thinking/trying to say on the Steve Jobs matter (not just in the event of his passing, but for throughout most of the iProductCraze

When people throw out adjectives and other such praise for Steve Jobs, they are using language that is filled with adoration and reeks of worship. This is not disconcerting when encountered in the largely secular sphere, for who expects CNN to be mindful of the religious connotations of certain words. But when we find it amidst members of the religious community, it is particularly troublesome. Some quick examples: The Jobs' family has called him 'a visionary.' Our president has echoed this sentiment and stated that "Steve was among the greatest of American innovators - brave enough to think differently, bold enough to believe he could change the world, and talented enough to do it." Obama also says that "[Jobs] changed the way each of us sees the world." Google CEO Larry Page said, "He always seemed to be able to say in very few words what you actually should have been thinking before you thought it." [http://gizmodo.com/5847151/reactions-to-steve-jobs-death] Although these are but a few of the reactions and come from industry leaders, rather than ordinary citizens, they too reflect the praise and admiration showered on the memory of Steve Jobs. Furthermore, although I understand that the reactions quoted above do not come from religious leaders or communities, they are united with many of those sentiments I have read from my religious friends insofar as they speak of identifying the worth of a person by what they do or what they make. Our culture loves to send the message that it is what you do that defines you (thanks so much Batman Begins :P). When we meet someone, we ask where they work. If you're a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon you're viewed with more esteem than a janitor, farmer, or teacher. This is likely what grinds my gears the most, particularly because I currently find myself unemployed. My point in all this is that the deeds and works which are being praised particularly in the case of Steve Jobs' passing, are not what constitute the worthiness of a human being as God's creation. They are not in reference to works of philanthropy (which, although my research of Jobs' philanthropy is remedial thusfar, doesn't seem to be much at all). They are not in reference to imago dei (you saw that coming didn't you). They are in praise of technological developments and the human spirit.

History already had this period of misguided adoration. It was the enlightenment.

Christians, especially Lutherans, do not praise virtues ... we praise fruits of the Spirit and the one Lord through Christ who gives these unto all people.

In defensive response to those hurtful statements by a fellow colleague, my assertions on this matter are not of my selfish egoism seeking to reform the church into my own image, as if a) I had any legitimate standing to do so, b) the church would welcome reform, c) we were even talking about matters contained within 'churchly or right-hand' kingdom. If you think my vision of the church is oppressive, you obviously know very little of what I consider the church to be.

Jobs might have been a nice person, or a brilliant technological developer, or savvy company leader, but he is by no means deserving of the 'inspirational' labels of glory that we keep ascribing to him.

Furthermore, this figurehead-esque appreciation of Jobs is ridiculous. He may have been the CEO of Apple. Apple may have put out technological products we might use and enjoy. But he himself did not sit down and program every line of code in every Apple product. He did not craft the circuitry or the sleak design of every single ipod or accessory we love so much. These products were the result of numerous (wo)man-hours. There is a massive human infrastructure involved in nearly every project. He lead them yes, and good for him. He may have been a nice guy or a good manager, but let's not equate the guy with Willy Wonka and forget about unrecognized Oompa Loompas (regardless of how incompetent they happen to be when we come across them in the Apple store or at the Starbucks).

So the guy died of cancer. That's tragic and many people suffer and die from cancer and other diseases everyday. So the guy was the figurehead at every damn iProduct #+1 announcement. Yay, some people like their shiny iProducts. Ultimately this guy didn't change the world. He developed the industries and pleasantries that the richer 2% of the planet enjoys when they need distraction from the lived reality of others. To revere, mourn, and discuss his life and work as if he were the second coming was ridiculous and idolatrous when each product was launched and it's equally so now that he has departed this mortal coil.

Response to "The Limits of Empathy and Why Men Can't Be Feminists"

Original Article: The Limits of Empathy and Why Men Can't Be Feminists

There are a number of issues that, in my mind, come to the forefront when I read your blog on this matter. I'm going to do my best to write on them in such a way that doesn't make me feel like I'm sounding like so many men I can't stand.

I'm going to try and summarize your blog in a sentence, just so I know what I'm working with and (although I hope I'm not misrepresenting your own words) at least you can read the impression I'm working with and to which I'm reacting.

You're asserting, from the experiences of being female and from recent(?) exposure to James Cone's liberation/power theology, that males cannot be feminist because of the way differences in shared experiences prevent a fullness of empathetic theological formation.

Out of all of this, I want to work with essentialism, empathy, and power. I'll start with essentialism. It seems to me that you're saying males cannot be feminist because there is a experience (or development thereof) that is essential to the female sex that prevents any degree of empathy on the part of males. I'm not sure if you're trying to say that there is a shared biological experience among females that necessitates and facilitates feminist theology or if you're saying that there is a shared ontological experience of encountering reality among females that does so. In either case, I find this to be rather offensive for two reasons. First, I am male and consider myself to be a feminist. To be far, this is what contributes to my interest in this post in the first place. Second, that this assertion works with a troublesome gender binary. With the increasing awareness of GLBTQ advocacy in our world, we can no longer operate with biological binaries as categorical determiners. Moreover, I would argue that working with the 'men are from mars / women are from venus' framework is equally troublesome.

Giving you the benefit of the doubt, if you're not saying that the biological differences between males and females prevents the empathetic formation necessary for feminist theology and if you're not saying that there are gender binaries operating that cause distinctly different perceptions of the world in males and females (which in turn also prevents empathetic formation), then it seems that you're saying there's something else preventing males from feminist empathetic formation. I will agree there there plenty of other possibilities that could prevent such empathy. Sexism, greed, power dynamics, scriptural interpretation etc. all contribute to the formation of individual and communal worldviews that build walls between the sexes rather than facilitate intercommunication between them. But even these troubling possibilities shouldn't be deemed as legitimate reasons for making a sweeping statement 'preventing' all males from locating themselves within the feminist historical movement. If physical biology and sociological preconditions aren't the experiences you say separate males from empathetic community with females in the feminist movement, what experience of being female do you assert 'prequalifies' a female for 'membership' within the feminist movement? What about being male makes 'sharing' such an experience impossible?

Concerning power, it seems that a decent portion of your argument here is grounded in the historic manifestations of the distance between the haves and the have-nots, particularly insofar as males have respectively personified the former and females the later. You are arguing, unless I'm missing an implicit essentialist assertion, that because males have historically embodied positions of authority and females have not, "between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us. (Luke 16:26)" Moreover, you assert that the driving male interest in feminist is really only a means of getting past male guilt for any intentional or unintentional participation/support of sexism. I find this to be terribly offensive. I will agree however, that because of the doctrine of sin, our best intentions are marred by our own self-interests. Nevertheless, any Lutheran theological assertion that all masculine intention to support/participate in the feminist movement is _only_ driven by the desire to remove guilt from one's self (admittedly ignoring the blessed exchange's relevance here) cannot really be Lutheran at all simply because it ignores the presence of the simul within the human creature. As I mentioned on twitter, this statement you make is just as offensive as saying that white people are only interested in causes to abolish racism in order to feel less guilty about being white. In response, you brought up the point that GLBT supporters are not known as GLBT, which despite being true merely illustrates that this whole argument comes down to a matter of semantics. Although there may be instances wherein this 'guilt confrontation' is the driving factor in attracting/keeping certain individuals within larger political movements, saying that this is the norm is offensive both to the individuals and to the movements themselves. Feminism does have its moments when it is about confronting the guilt males have to take in their systemic abuse, neglect, etc. of females. But in addition to the critical importance of the feminist movement, it also has constructive importance as well. Making sexuality a definitional characteristic of feminism does not serve the movement's constructive thrust. It states what the movement is not and does not assert what the movement is.

I too have read Cone's work (some of it) and I will agree that power dynamics and the differences between those who have and those who do not play a big role in communal formation and solidarity when it comes to racial or sexual liberative theologies. In a sense you're mad-libbing the Christian mantra from Mark 10. Instead of selling all that one has and giving to the poor, which given the relationship between money and power is valid, you're putting in gender, power, position of authority, etc. in the place of money. On the face of things, this seems well and good. However there are irrevocable characteristics that mediate our physical existence as well as our relationships to one another. Despite Jesus' words about removing eyeballs or limbs, I cannot 'give away my maleness' especially if we confess that gendered humanity is created imago Dei. Nor should I have to locate myself in the midst of a binary (or otherwise divided) system of Christian anthropological reformation given that the very nature of Christian community is one in which the distinctions of race, sex, and power do not hold chief importance. These accidental (Aquinas' not State Farm's) characteristics play a part in the kingdom but only in a vocational sense.

If your concern with power is not with some sort of inherently corrupted nature it imbues onto human beings (as if we needed any help in that area), but rather with the construction of liberative feminist community, then I am especially confused by what role (if any) you think males have in this endeavor. If I, as a male, cannot be a feminist because of biology or historical association with power, then how can I be understood as an ally? Aren't those particularities (for good or ill) still at play in my role as an ally of the feminist movement? If males are not participants within the historical movement of feminism, then how do you even begin to talk about instances when male participation has already taken place?

In the end, it seems that your interest in excluding males from 'membership' within the feminist movement is not one that seeks to better the movement in itself but rather seeks to find a specialized locality for your own particular importance within a larger movement. We all like to feel like we're needed. But saying that redefining the parameters of my particular subset of a demographic is somehow helping the larger demographic is incorrect. In the long run, making a definitional statement about a larger community in order to change its communal contour to adhere to my own particularity, is a disservice to the community I claim to support and perpetuates disingenuous membership therein.

Thinking About Brokenness

This is written in response to a query from a friend of mine. Upon further reflection, I figured I might as well put it out there as a Jacksonian Contemplation/blogpost.

My experiences of brokenness have, for the most part, been with institutions, disease, and my own self.

A) Institutionally, I imagine my feedback is going to be eerily similar to that of most peoples you may have talked to who also have affiliations with the seminary or Lutheran Church. Or ... organized religion in any form. My own experiences were with my personal sense of call and being completely misunderstood or disregarded as 'valid' in my pursuit of that call. Brokenness, in this instance, deals primarily with my personal sense of expectation from the church body and the way in which those expectations were not met. As in any sense of brokenness, you can blame either the 'subject' or the 'object.' Because I have such wonderful self-esteem, I blame the 'object' in this instance (namely myself). I do however have friends and family members who choose to blame the 'subject,' namely the church as an institutional body.

B) While I myself do not have a direct experience with disease, I have witnessed someone very close to me suffer needlessly from it and finally enter the peace of death. Brokenness in this sense, is something I understand to be attached to the world on a natural level. It is something inextricably linked with creation and altogether unfathomable in any real rational sense. Disease happens. Famine happens (albeit when it is the fault of a despot, things are a little more 'rationally explainable'). Natural disasters happen. People suffer. People die. People are also born into these situations. People live through them. People choose them as instances to offer aid to others. The wheels on the bus go round and round. Brokenness, i've come to realize through this experience, is self-perpetuating. One could make this case for epidemic diseases that spread through just about any physical means possible. I don't think brokenness necessary is limited to self-perpetuation through singular means however. The brokenness of watching someone physically and emotionally deteriorate from disease can effect those who witness in such a way as to pollute or infect their own intellectual or spiritual worldview. Brokenness is wrapped up in the problem of evil and once that problem is encountered in such a personal way ... it becomes infectious in its problematicness (yes i made up a word).

C) I often wonder how many people would intentionally and instinctively 'locate' brokenness within their own selves. Lutheran liturgical use of confession and forgiveness has lots of this 'my own grievous fault' language in it. But much of my lived interaction with other Lutherans indicates that more emphasis is placed on the simul iustus rather then the peccator. One could say that this observation is itself broken, a means of feeling 'proud' that I recognize my own sinfulness. Nevertheless, I do locate brokenness within myself primarily. Even before I start worrying about the problem of evil or natural disasters. My own personal inclinations, instincts to do/think/say wrong, are things of which I am keenly aware. My location of brokenness within the self, is not limited to interpersonal sin. I am aware of the physical brokenness of flesh, as I suppose we all are, of orthopedic/orthodontic/dietary/pulmonary problems over which I have no control. Even if one accepts this 'self-oriented worldview' as valid, it is still labeled as 'broken' by Lutheran Confessions with respect to its incurvatus in se. Yay, I get to feel bad twice! What I have discovered to be the problem of brokenness (in regards to locating it within the self), is that when one orients themselves outwardly toward God and the neighbor, one is still really shitty at being a good Samaritan. The brokenness isn't just an orientation you can toggle from 0 to 1. It's indicative of personhood and existence on this side of death.

Assuming (ha!), I could make any conclusions out of all this stuff, I'm going to try a bit of summation. In my encounters with brokenness, whether experientially or existentially, I find myself instinctively drawn to blame either the subject or the object of these encounters. In other words, when brokenness happens it's either the fault of God, Satan (if one's inclined to believe in the cosmological entity, another person, an institution, a systemic force, or of one's self. Within the very act of placing blame, one could see the resultant infectious nature of brokenness as having entered into the self. Personally, I understand the blaming of brokenness on something/someone as a defense mechanism. In an encounter with brokenness, we find ourselves drowning in the inexplicable. Brokenness feels familiar and in a sense comfortable due to its integral relationship with existence on this side of death. Nevertheless, it also feels unnatural. When we are confronted by its 'ought not be so' unnatural nature, we are compelled to make sense of its senselessness. So, although we can say that blaming brokenness on God, Satan, sin, or whatever is a defense mechanism, I think that to do so is a matter of defending ourselves from despair by means of explanation and not rationalization. As to the gender perspectives on all this, I do not know. Ontologically, I can only speak from the male perspective and even then am limited to my own particular existential context. I suspect, that genders have a variety of encounters with brokenness (experientially and existentially) but I also suspect that the struggle with 'ought to be' and 'identity' is common among us.

Then again, I could be wrong.

Speaking & Hearing

Greetings again vague ethereal realm that may or may not be populated by audience members,

I have been thinking a lot lately. No doubt this is due to a recent personal decision to give up on academic study, at least for the next couple (read: 5-10) years. As is the case with any change, the shift from one semi-stable perspective into a new potential volatile perspective usually necessitates some degree of anxiety. For me anxiety comes as a two-fold wave of simultaneous introspection and external examination. I think about myself and I think about others.

Within this two-fold wave, there is an enormous tendency to be judgmental. I find myself hurling insults at myself (insert cliche Freudian analysis here) and I also find myself thinking spiteful things about others (insert divisive sin analysis here). In some small degree, I think there is something beneficially therapeutic about this judgmental phase. It helps to burn off the anxiety but is definitely unhelpful insofar as it also is likely to build up more of anxiety's problematic element. I should probably note that I don't think anxiety itself is a problem. History has shown us many instances when anxiety has brought about a beneficial production or reduction within individual or communal life. It may be that the pruning within an anxiety phase, of one's own regrets or one's misgivings of others, could be beneficial as part of the introductory portion of a new project in one's life. Nevertheless, the way this anxiety has presented itself for me, in the aforementioned introspection and examination, has compelled the writing of this particular blog entry. In other words, this was the longest and most unconstructive introduction ever.

One of my relationships has recently kicked off this introspection/examination in particular. Someone I know (Person A) is having a significant amount of trouble with a particular issue in their life (vagueness is on purpose). They (Person A) recently communicated their frustrations to another person I know (Person B). Person B however, is also struggling with the same issue. It is debatable whether Person A knew about Person B's shared anxiety in this matter. Nevertheless, I know that Person B feels particularly hurt and upset that Person A didn't recognize the sharedness of their plight and instead chose to contour their communication in such a way that presumed either exclusivity or a greater degree of intensity. In other words, Person A emphasized their problem so greatly that Person B felt like their experience of the same problem meant nothing (either in the grand scheme of things or in the eyes of Person A).

This event triggered my internal/external analysis in such a way that I'm now wondering about how it is that we speak and hear. Obviously these things are contextually governed. Speaking can be tailored by our education, region of birth, emotional framework, etc. Hearing can be tailored by these things as well as by our societal construction and experiences within (or without) relationships. Now I don't want to end this blog or train of thought by appealing to the cliche 'contextual' answer. That really seems like a cop out to me. So what I have been wondering, is if there are aspects of our individualized contextual makeup that carry throughout our communicative hermeneutics. Do I have a certain way of feeling within communication, that although it is created and informed by certain interactions through my life or genetic familial inheritance, maintains consistent throughout my communication in such a way that it no longer reflects who others were in my family tree or who others were _to_ me, but actually indicates who I am in and of myself? And does this sort of 'consistency as identity' apply for others? Can it be utilized as a (tentative at best) intra-communal paradigmatic map?

Concerning the 'triggering instance' mentioned earlier, Person A is strong willed. Person B is too, but needs nurturing in that strength in order to be forthright in their communication. I keep returning to these characteristics as indicative of the way these two people speak and the way in which they hear. Hopefully you can see where the problems would arise.

I remember in my undergrad speech courses and in my premarital counseling, that we were told of how rehearsing is a horrible way to go about interpersonal communication. When you talk to me about how you're going to go grocery shopping, and instead of listening I'm rehearsing my response to you about how my last grocery shopping experience went, messages aren't received well. I'm not necessarily saying that rehearsal is the problem in the 'triggering instance.' But I have been thinking about how I myself go about rehearsing.

Often times I catch myself rehearsing in my interpersonal conversations. Other times, rehearsal functions well as a preparation for future interactions. Where I find it functions best however, is when I'm trying to make sense of my own thoughts. When I am trying to sort out the myriad of voices all clamoring for the microphone, I find it best to rehearse the various hypothetical reactions. What happens if we let this part of me run this particular instance or what about vice versa? Usually this helps to resolve some problems before they actually arise. However, there is always the problematic exception.

I've mentioned this exception in the past, because it usually arises in my marriage. Don't get me wrong, my marriage is freakin' great. This is merely an illustration. Sometimes I'll think to myself, 'I should tell Sarah that I haven't paid the power bill yet.' Then she'll ask me, 'Didn't you pay the power bill?' and I'll go 'You know I haven't I told you that already,' when in fact I hadn't. There is a strange instance wherein my mind rehearses a scenario and assumes the scenario has communicatively taken place when in fact it has not. Ultimately (at least concerning this really contrived blog post) I think the solution to this problem of communication within my marriage is also the answer to the 'triggering-problem' I've been pondering.

I think communication works best when we honestly make our implicit assumptions into explicit communication. If I assume you know about me not paying the power bill yet, and I don't explicitly state that, when my assumption is wrong, the situation breaks all over. When Person A assumes that Person B hears their argument as they intend it, and Person B doesn't, the situation breaks and feelings are hurt. Conversely, when Person B assumes that Person A intends to ignore their perspective on an issue and doesn't communicate that, Person A is not allowed to honestly and forthrightly characterize themselves.

So where does all this go, in terms of how we speak and hear? I think we need to communicate in such a way that is informed chiefly by the awareness that 'life is short.' We don't get all the time in the world to cycle through the possible combinations of interlinked assumptions. Even if we did have that time, it would still be unfair to assume (again) that the other party would be faithful enough to us to stick around while we blundered through speaking and hearing. When we honestly communicate with one another, about what we know, don't know, assume, or ignore ... we're not only setting up a framework where communication has less opportunity for disconnection. We're also communicating a sense of value and priority toward the other person, that our relationship with them is so important to us, that they are so important to us, that we dare not risk sacrificing time with them over misconceptual squabbles. Whether we communicate that value and priority explicitly or implicitly, I think it is the most important thing we have to speak to one another. When we are blessed enough to hear it for ourselves, life is definitely worth living.

The Resurrected Life: Vampires, Zombies, and the Love of God

This was written and submitted for publication in Luther Seminary's student newspaper, The Concord.

At the time of submission, Halloween is upon us. Hay rides and pumpkin carvings delight children and families. Target tempts our bellies with an impressive variety of candies. The abandoned space once occupied by Circuit City now inhabits numerous goblins, princesses, and spooky props. A variety of fans don the costumes of their particular favorite characters from video games and literary or cinematic works. For those unimpressed by the sparkling day-walking vampires of the Twilight series, costumes of deteriorated corpses and bloody flesh allow children and adults to personify zombies from their favorite movies or video games. The fictional and mythological presence of vampires and zombies is rather prevalent. We find them in the Twilight series, the Resident Evil series, Dracula, Night of the Living Dead, True Blood, etc. Max Brooks wrote a book instructing readers on how to survive in the event of a zombie apocalypse. AMC will soon be televising a show about a zombie infested world entitled, The Walking Dead. If we are to imagine a post-apocalyptic world inhabited by vampires, zombies, or other varieties of the undead, it is hard to believe that their presence could possibly be more unavoidable than it is already.

Beneath the jovial merriment of Halloween’s festivities, beneath the shiny crinkle of delectable treats, this season betrays our cultures preoccupation with death. Vampires and zombies, whether we find them attractive for their shock value or out of mere guilty pleasure, embody our societal and cultural preoccupation with death, eternal life, and the human soul. For the most part, both are classified as undead and are popular particularly because of how they draw us into an imaginative universe of existence that is beyond death. These fictional undead do more than speak of our cultural preoccupation with whether life exists beyond death, they also speak of the nature of that ‘semi-resurrected life.’

In the realm of vampire lore, we can see a preoccupation with consumption. Whether a vampire is of the more ‘noble’ sort and only feeds on wild animals or it ravages local villages biting into the jugular of any passing unfortunate soul, it is impossible to speak of vampires without talk of feeding. More often than not, fictional portrays of these immortal blood-suckers are done in the context of a grand castle or lavish lifestyle. Consumption is not just portrayed in the drinking of platelets but also in the expensive surroundings of Dracula and his ilk. Moreover when vampire fiction attends to relationship (or lack thereof), there is an unspoken message of consuming and owning the life of another. Perhaps what vampire-lore says about our human condition is that, whether in property or relationship, we wish that the finality of death could not prevent our quest to acquire things or people. Perhaps the allure of death in vampire fiction has to do what the things or the people we wish we could hold onto and the tension that arises when that desire is faced with the unavoidable finality of human existence.

Zombie-lore, with its mobs of undead prowling the streets looking to feed on brraainns, would seem to be about consumption as well. For goodness sake, there’s even a Cake Boss episode wherein the bakery constructs a monstrous (no pun intended) zombie cake for a party.
Although we’ve witnessed many a horror movie or pub-crawl with zombies seeking to consume human flesh or alcohol, more often than not the depiction of the zombie ‘life’ is at the end of a shotgun. The whole point of numerous zombie movies or video games is to eradicate the
zombie infestation before the hero is eaten alive. Video games and cinematic representations love to highlight the variety of ways in which this ‘acceptable killing’ can be done; by shotgun, chainsaw, sporting equipment, or even hedge trimmer. Zombie-lore, with its fascination on killing the all-consuming mob, may actually be a critique against capitalistic consumerism. It may perhaps, be a reflection of the human desire to exert will over another, or to fight
the unceasing onslaught of death with everything we have.

So what is the Christian response to this cultural preoccupation with death? We must realize that scripture is not without its similarity to the popularity of undead fiction. Lazarus walks out from the tomb, stinking to high heaven. The resurrected Christ allows for so-called doubting Thomas to place his hands directly into His flesh. But in contrast to popular culture’s portrayal of life after death, the Christian message must be particularly distinct. The resurrected Christ is more than just some sparkling transfigured deity. The resurrected Christ is not solely about the business of consumption. The resurrected Christ is no longer concerned with holding death off at the end of a pitchfork. The theology of the cross informs us to look for the glory of Christ, not in the sparkling glow on the mountain side, but in the suffering, weakness of death itself. The resurrected Christ, having conquered death, is about the business of consumption but only consuming the sin, suffering, and filth of our fallen humanity. The resurrected Christ is in the business of declaring the unworthy righteous and offering His benefits unto humanity. The resurrected Christ needs no shotgun, pitchfork, or garlic to fight off death. He has already conquered the entirety of
death, taking nails and spear into himself.

The resurrected life, although we do not yet see it in our flesh, is one we confess and hope for in faith. This resurrected life, which we have through Christ alone, is not one of consumption or destruction. It does not seek its own ends through the exertion of will over another. Rather it waits in patient hope, willingly receiving daily bread and all that is needed for this life from the gracious hand of God. Death holds sway over our physical and temporal life. Although we may suffer and grieve under its finite realm, we need not retreat into the fictional illusion of ‘undead comfort.’ Instead through water and Word, bread and wine, we are to taste in see that the Lord who has conquered death in order to make us His own, is indeed good.

Sentimentality & Returning

A friend of mine recently posted a video on facebook. By itself, this isn't a big event. It happens all the time as facebook has somehow become the friend-circle bulletin board of the age. For me however, this video was rather meaningful. How it was/is meaningful is something rather difficult to describe. When we talking about something being meaningful or having meaning, it seems that no two definitions are alike. There are entire PhD dissertations on semiotics and I don't recommend you read any unless you need to catch up on your sleep.

Some people talk about something being meaningful to them, as if it were simply a brief interaction between themselves as a subject and the 'something' as an object. They look at the graffiti on the side of a building as they drive by and think to themselves, 'yeah that's meaningful to me, because i share that worldview.' In these instances, meaning is something that describes a brief connection and interaction between one's self and a recognized similarity of worldview, interest, etc. that may be inside or outside of one's 'situation in life.'

There are others however, who speak of meaning in an enveloping way. Meaning, for them, is something that takes hold of their being and envelopes their entirety within itself. In these instances, meaning is a subjective force that takes hold of their objective reality, governing and shaping them into something different (for better or worse).

For me, I think meaning is a combination of the two. Meaning is something of a mutually subjective interaction for me. In it I find an opportunity to identify aspects of my own life, history, and personhood, and to analyze and speak to those aspects in a deconstructive and constructive manner. But at the same time, meaning is something with which I often myself alarmingly out of control. A song lyric, a painting, a theological insight, a chord progression, etc. Any of these things has the distinct possibility of setting me on my rear-end. Meaning uses these and numerous other vehicles to grasp me, envelope my being, and transform me into something new, different, and hopefully better than I was before.

So where is all this going? Well, I suppose it's fitting that I link you up with two videos that seem to prompt the entire discussion. Here's hoping I can quickly figure out the embed-ing. After the embedded videos go through, I'll say more.

Video #1 - Voices of Gotham - Keep the Whole World Singing


Video #2 - Vocal Majority & Ambassadors of Harmony - I'll Walk With God


The first video was posted by a friend of mine from my undergrad years. We've both spent a decent amount of time in vocal ensembles, some of that time together, and have a similar view of music's meaning and significance. Part of that musical meaning and significance will be explored here, but probably not to the extent which it deserves. The first video is basically the theme song for the Barbershop Harmony Society, which (and I'm dating myself here) used to be SPEBSQSA. SPEBSQSA, for all you people who are acronymically (is that a word?) challenged, stands for the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of BarberShop Quartet Singing in America. Yes, that's a mouthful.

The second video is a response posting by myself back to this friend of mine. It is of two combined barbershop choral ensembles singing in a rehearsal room at the 2010 Barbershop Harmony Society International Convention in Philadelphia. I first heard the song in question on a CD I have wherein one of these aforementioned choral ensembles, The Vocal Majority, sings the song with The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I've also heard the song performed live by the University of Illinois Varsity Men's Glee Club.

Now where sentimentality, as a carrier of meaning, comes into all of this, is in regard to the memories that both of these songs stir up in my past. I've had a pretty extensive life exposure with barbershop singing. My personal stories on the matter will be left for either a comment inquiry or another time. In any case, I remember the songs and the experience of singing alongside others. My experiences of singing have been extensive as well, whether in church choir, college choir, the shower, etc. In this case, in the examination of the sentimentality of barbershop singing, there seems to be an interesting tension for me. Barbershop singing represents a tension between the things I love about singing and the things I loathe about singing. Some of these things are actually on both lists. Since i'm such a pessimist, we'll start with the loathe-list.

First) I loathe groups that find themselves hindered in their quest for betterment by their willingness to coddle or accept anyone in their ranks. This loathing obviously doesn't represent the Christian or Lutheran side of my sociological beliefs. I understand there's a certain degree of hypocrisy there. In any case, I find myself loathing this sort of 'openness' because too much time is spent helping people with the learning curve and not on the improvement of the cohesive unit that, for the most part, seems to have a larger level of commitment to the group than the learning-curve-newbies tend to have. You have to stop in the middle of working on united vowel formation to help the guy who can't figure out which dot on the page he's supposed to sing. It gets tiring and unless you're a driven vocational educator ... takes all the fun out of the experience.

Second) There's a rather high degree of choreography involved in barbershop singing. None of which is really exemplified in these videos. In any case, I am not a 'mover' or a 'dancer.' I barely have rhythm. I also tend to notice that when ensembles, like those shown in the TV show Glee (since nearly everyone has some idea of what that means), do their little dance numbers alongside their singing, the singing suffers. I participate in and join choral ensembles for the singing, not for the occasional choreographed niceties.

Also, and this goes more along the lines of 'movement hinders sound' point from above, when Barbershop singers sing, they move their heads around a lot. There's lots of 'oh yah bob your head with the beat and show enthusiasm in your facial movement and raised eyebrows and ...yawn' going on. When this is a choreographed enthusiasm, I don't like it one bit. When it's natural, and the accidental result of neighbor Jim getting really into the moment/camaraderie, I find it grating. I'm the kinda guy who attends choral performances to listen to the music. I don't go there to watch dozens of people bobblehead their way through a number.

And now for the love list, which you'll notice, has the same items as the loathe list, but from a different perspective.

First) I like that barbershop choruses allow anyone and everyone to attend their rehearsals. Yes, there is a certain degree of auditioning and attendance/fees if you want to become a member of a chorus/chapter. And I realize that shoots my first 'loathe' item in the foot. But the thing I love here is that anyone can attend the rehearsal whether you want to join or just revisit what it felt like to sing in a group. The songs, for the most part, are not that hard. There are enough 'classics' so that you can not feel too lost in the haze. The openness of Barbershop Rehearsals is a soothing thing. I find it odd that their openness seems to evoke a much more sentimental reaction in me than the openness of say, a church. I think this relative difference is due to the fact that when someone stumbles into a church to 'try it on,' 'relive the past,' or 'hear the old old story,' there is a rather large roll of the dice as to whether any of that intention will actually be satisfied. Barbershop rehearsals, seem to have a rather large 'success rate' in making you feel good in the sense of shared participation/camaraderie.

Second) I love the enthusiasm of barbershoppers. Singing is something that gives them happiness. It's evident on their faces and they sing. Their erratic body language in their rehearsals evidences this enthusiasm. It's adorable. At the same time it's .... a little nauseating. It can be annoying from the perspective of the audience member, but at the same time there is something adorable about seeing the unity of passion and enthusiasm. One could be very cynical about the whole thing, saying that this unity is only for the purposes of bravado and machismo. My idealism tends to get the best of me on this one though.

The sentimentality and the meaning of this for me, has to be more than nostalgia. It is indeed that. There is something I have remembered and cherished about singing in such an ensemble of unified passion. I have tried to get back to a similar sense of community, most recently in college. The combination of my own personal desire for academic and personal development led me to try and cultivate the nature of the ensemble and my membership therein. This, in retrospect, may have been a problematic sense of projection. Maybe an over emphasis on my own subjectivity in the matter of meaning making.

Perhaps it's merely a matter of me becoming enveloped in a similar nostalgic environment and letting the experience overtake me so that meaning is a more organic process. Regardless of what I choose, there is definitely something entrancing about the whole consideration. So ... there's that.

Individual Worth & Communal Affiliation

Today some news became available. Dana College will be closing its doors. (source links: 1, 2) This may seem insignificant to many of you. It also may be of great significance to others. (obvious sentences are obvious) To me, it is significant but only in a minor way. As some of you may know, Dana College (link) is my alma mater. I have fond memories of the place and horrible memories as well. My fond memories have more to do with individual people than with it as a communal or even educational institution. But as I have been reading the facebook posts and tweets of my friends, associates, and fellow alumni, I have been thinking about the role school plays in the formation of the individual.

Yes yes, we can all safely say that schools and other institutional bodies influence the formation of the individual. Such a statement is sociology 101. We're aware of how they inform and form us to be better (or unfortunately in some circumstances, lesser) than when we entered their midst. My concern here does not have to do with this genetic sense of institutions passing traits onto the individual as 'offspring'. Rather, I seek to explore what it means to be an alumni or ex-patriot of a community.

I have noticed variance in the ways my fellow alumni and associates regard Dana College. For some people, it is a cherished near-hallowed ground about which they will verbally fight tooth and nail for a perceived (or actual) integrity which they feel obligated to defend philosophically (or financially). For others, it is a milemarker that they have passed, signifying a time and place in their personal, social, or romantic development that only needs recollection insofar as it informs the overall development of their identity. Loyalty is variant amongst us all.

And yet I cannot help but wonder (how's that for a Sarah Jessica Parker phrase), what does it mean to call oneself an alum? I suspect that to call myself an alumni of Dana College is to philosophically, historically, and even religiously locate myself within a stream of communal development. When I make this affiliation (verbally or even just by virtue of the act of graduation), I am connecting myself not only to those in the past, those who have founded the college, attended its classes, instructed its students, and graduated from its halls, but also to those who will encounter this place in the future, those who will reform its leadership, attend its courses, instruct its students, and graduate in the years to come. When you read up on teachers, authors, senators, lawyers, and prospective leaders of government or industry, you are bound to hear of their C.V. (Curriculum Vitae), which includes the list of institutions at which they have attended or taught. We place a value on where someone has been instructed or where they have instructed others. The historical, geographical, and philosophical location of ourselves and those we cherish is important and informs the way we regard them and ourselves (for having encountered them).

So what do alumni do when their alma mater ceases to exist? How does that influence the formation/continuation of personhood? I'm not saying that my understanding of self will deteriorate now that Dana College is closing. There are others however, who might feel that way. I suspect it is not unlike familial death. There are members of our family with whom we are integrally knit together (mother, father, spouse, etc.) And if these members were to die, we would find our understanding of self, as a relational creature, to be irrevocably affected by that change/cessation of relationship. There are however, other members of our family with whom we may not be so integrally knit (step-parents, second cousins, etc.). If these members were to die, we might find ourselves affected and join our sympathies with those who mourn bitterly. Nevertheless, for ourselves these relationships of a lesser qualitative degree would not hold the same emotional sway over our own heart and mind.

It would be lovely to end this post here. To say that, well Dana College was the sort of relationship that one might have with a step-parent and really doesn't hold any sway over my present emotional, philosophical, or relational development. Such is true. However, we must revisit the matter of associated validity. If I, by virtue of saying I am an alum, am locating myself within or among the past/future development of a institution and its constituents, what does that reciprocating value (the worth, or lackthereof, placed upon one's self with such an affiliation) do when the development ceases? Is my value (or lack thereof, depending upon your perspective) as an alum of Dana College decreased (or increased?) by its closing? I wonder how often these contemplations occur in the mind of the educated (or uneducated, assuming you can transplant this hypothesis to a non-academic sector). Yale hasn't closed. The University of Illinois hasn't (although one could debate it's future).

... It perplexes me. Not in an emotional sort of way. Just curiousity. In the end, I think one can still locate one's self within the historical, philosophical, relational developments of an institution or community even once such an institution or community has ceased to exist. However, I think that in some cases (maybe not my own personal instance), such a cessation compels a growth of one's subjectivity and independence in order to facilitate their development and self-identification apart (though not necessarily entirely so) from the community/institution in question. We all identify ourselves with our historical development (family, friends, schooling, employment, living accommodations, etc.) but there is more to self-identification than these affiliations. There is a utterly subjective sense of self that must be identified and explored. This subjective self may have surprisingly substantive or lacking connections with our historical affiliations, but it must be examined on its own and not with continuing re-visitation of its communal/institutional predecessors.

Postscript: If one backs away from this 'conclusion?' and seeks to move in a more theological direction with its suppositions, there are shocking and alarming conclusions to be made concerning the place and affiliation of the faithful individual apart from the worshipping/confessional community. I do not wish to make these theological/ecclesiological conclusions, as I do not agree with their ramifications in the slightest, but would at least like to acknowledge their alarming nature.

from one onto the other.