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I'm about a week and a half behind the election game here, listening to Barack Obama's "race speech" just now on youtube. As a hardline reactionist, I would generally be disposed to dislike any media item so hyped. (More than one ecstatic commentator immediately dubbed it "one of the best speeches in American history"). However, it would not be fair to judge the man exclusively by the imbecility of his groupies--I found the speech itself to be remarkably good, particularly in the calm, even-handedness that marked both content and delivery. Here is the first speech by anyone remotely near the White House in recent memory who didn't appear to be talking down to his audience, who appears to actually be attempting to elevate rather than either denigrate or do damage control on "the national conversation." All things considered, "A More Perfect Union" was an extremely decent speech. All of which is to say that for once a politician is talking in a way that resembles the baseline standard of what a politician should be expected to talk like.
Obama's creation was a "classy" one; effectively and effortlessly transforming his campaign's latest PR hurdle into a balance beam on which might bounce and twirl Great American Themes such as Love, Freedom, Opportunity, and Life. It was ever so graceful at every turn, making concessions to everyone and everything, getting us to put our guards down. I confess, against my better judgment I felt assured and reassured as I listened--it was almost as if the tall, thin, quiet, obscurely effeminate dad that I never had was stroking my hair as I drifted back into a pleasant slumber, having awoken to a terrible nightmare on a stormy night.
Grace and charisma, of course, have their limits of usefulness. Sweet sentiments and boundary-blurring reassurances which mesmerize us on stage may quickly sour when exposed to the harder, clearer light found just outside the convention center: Sure, talk to us about the integrity of the American Dream, with an allusion or two to the need for CHANGE. That "More Perfect Union" sounds pretty nice. And yes, of course we believe in the "Decency And Generosity Of The American People." And what would we do without "Hope In The Next Generation"? Sure, Mr. Obama, lead us onward in that "March For A More Just, More Equal, More Free, More Caring, More Prosperous America."
But let's not get too carried away. We shouldn't make the mistake of completely uprooting this speech from all context, forgetting its pretext and stimulus: the "incendiary" and "divisive" views of one Rev. Jeremiah Wright (Obama's former pastor), views that according to Barack "have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but [also to] denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike."
I took the liberty of reading up on the Reverend's views. Here's a nice summation, nabbed from (his Wikipedia entry):
"Where governments lie, God does not lie. Where governments change, God does not change... And the United States of America government, when it came to treating her citizens of Indian descent fairly, she failed. She put them on reservations. When it came to treating her citizens of Japanese descent fairly, she failed. She put them in internment prison camps. When it came to treating her citizens of African descent fairly, America failed. She put them in chains, the government put them on slave quarters, put them on auction blocks, put them in cotton field, put them in inferior schools, put them in substandard housing, put them in scientific experiments, put them in the lowest paying jobs, put them outside the equal protection of the law, kept them out of their racist bastions of higher education and locked them into positions of hopelessness and helplessness... The government gives them drugs built bigger prisons, passes a three strike law, and then wants us to sing God bless America. No, no, no, not God bless America, God damn America, that's in the Bible, for killing innocent people. God damn America, for treating her citizens as less than human. God damn America, as long as she pretends to act like she is God, and she is supreme."
And here:
If only Reverend Wright was running for office...
I understand the political pressures that require Obama to be a mediator and an ameliorator, to please everyone and thus distance himself from any voices anchored in objectivity or prophetic witness. To many, Barack Obama may be the best available presidential issue-resolution package. But sophistication and even-handedness don't lend themselves to "change" and Wright is the only one coming out of this whole media spectacle with anything resembling audacity.
As long as "political realities" necessitate that any vestiges of an ideal must be softened up and bent into the time-tested mold of vain optimism in order to survive in our nation's capitol, it will be impossible for me to really get excited about Obama's candidacy. Vapid whispers of progress, sweet political nothings, the sickly thin veneer of state religion--is it cynicism to hope for something more?
Showing posts with label Conversion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Conversion. Show all posts
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Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. says:
"Whom you would change you must first love, and they must know that you love them."
"Whom you would change you must first love, and they must know that you love them."
Conversion
Conversion means death. A person or thing loses all meaning and life in one frame of reference to be born new in an alternate universe. The former world still exists in all of its reality, but a passer-by in that world finds only a bluish corpse remaining where there was once a life.
Whereas the Word, Logos, might refer to either the spoken or the written word, in my little theological box it has only been known to refer to the written word, that is the word that has been canonized, frozen in time, the word subject to detached discussions about context and intent.
An oral tradition seems rather attractive right now; will that is still breathed into a word-y, practically useful existence but not yet butchered on the pages of a book; will converted into a more fluid, lively word.
Jean Vanier wrote from personal experience about the natural process of institutionalization that occurs in every wave of communal energy and excitement. Meaningful movements always come about in resistance to a current, dead order but they always end up institutionalizing: Expressionism. Punk. The Jesus People. Every counterculture. Every business that comes into success by effectively serving a group of people only to end up serving nothing but the bottom line.
The predictability of the emotional highs of Pentecostal worship sets off my internal inathenticty alarm. I can understand how many people are bothered by the fixed-ness and non-emotionally-dependency of more traditional liturgical forms, but institutionalizing communal energy and always-escalating cathartic releases seems like a bit of an oxymoron to me.
Why is my future will so resistant to my present will? Why do all my desires burn out so easily? Recording thoughts in a journal (or blog) becomes my vain, sometimes frantic attempt at rigor-mortisizing the present state of mind into something durable, something capable of exerting its force beyond the next hour.
Optimists always look for some degree of practical change in the process of institutionalization. Though it is sad to see the underground become overground, they always look for the transformation and evolution of the larger system. But it's hard for me to see. I'm not ready for the death of what exists now.
The Word is alive. Does it always have to die in order to become active?
Whereas the Word, Logos, might refer to either the spoken or the written word, in my little theological box it has only been known to refer to the written word, that is the word that has been canonized, frozen in time, the word subject to detached discussions about context and intent.
An oral tradition seems rather attractive right now; will that is still breathed into a word-y, practically useful existence but not yet butchered on the pages of a book; will converted into a more fluid, lively word.
Jean Vanier wrote from personal experience about the natural process of institutionalization that occurs in every wave of communal energy and excitement. Meaningful movements always come about in resistance to a current, dead order but they always end up institutionalizing: Expressionism. Punk. The Jesus People. Every counterculture. Every business that comes into success by effectively serving a group of people only to end up serving nothing but the bottom line.
The predictability of the emotional highs of Pentecostal worship sets off my internal inathenticty alarm. I can understand how many people are bothered by the fixed-ness and non-emotionally-dependency of more traditional liturgical forms, but institutionalizing communal energy and always-escalating cathartic releases seems like a bit of an oxymoron to me.
Why is my future will so resistant to my present will? Why do all my desires burn out so easily? Recording thoughts in a journal (or blog) becomes my vain, sometimes frantic attempt at rigor-mortisizing the present state of mind into something durable, something capable of exerting its force beyond the next hour.
Optimists always look for some degree of practical change in the process of institutionalization. Though it is sad to see the underground become overground, they always look for the transformation and evolution of the larger system. But it's hard for me to see. I'm not ready for the death of what exists now.
The Word is alive. Does it always have to die in order to become active?
Hell house
Jonathan Perry from the Boston Globe says that Hell House is "a candid and often fascinating documentary about a Pentecostal church in Dallas that assembles an elaborate haunted house each year to scare teenagers into attending services."
Perhaps it is telling that two of the critics compiled on Rotten Tomatoes compare the subject of the film to a Jack Chick tract come to life.
Having never heard anything about this recent (2002) documentary, I watched it with my housemates on Halloween. It was really good. Definitely one of the best documentaries I've ever seen. The filmmaker has incredible access to the inner workings of the "Hell House" production and captures some really amazing moments. The cinematography is nice and is made even better due to the fact that it was shot on film.
Perhaps it is telling that two of the critics compiled on Rotten Tomatoes compare the subject of the film to a Jack Chick tract come to life.
Having never heard anything about this recent (2002) documentary, I watched it with my housemates on Halloween. It was really good. Definitely one of the best documentaries I've ever seen. The filmmaker has incredible access to the inner workings of the "Hell House" production and captures some really amazing moments. The cinematography is nice and is made even better due to the fact that it was shot on film.
PETA, paranoia, vegetarianism, blah, blah, blah...
Here is Tyson's dinner prayer booklet, free for you to download. Go ahead, look it over! Despite entirely cynical preconceptions, I couldn't help but feel relaxed and warmed this sentimental little booklet.
On the other hand, here's an interesting video from inside one of Tyson's chicken processing facilities.
I am not so bothered by the visual, visceral sensation of a conscious chicken's head popping off in the rubber gloves of a weary factory employee. After all, eating meat has always involved the toleration of a certain amount of violence. It's the image of that moving belt loaded with hundreds of dead chickens, a few live ones freaking out--a mass-processing system that treats millions of living beings in every way as inanimate "food units" for their entire (short) lives.
What disturbs me even more though is how you and I deal with the disconnect between our personal comfort level and the reality of industrial meat production. I think that most of us have seen something like this at some point but we have to push the image to the back our minds, to the very edge of our consciousness, in order to contentedly eat a chicken breast. Maybe we westerners have been doing this in many areas of life ever since we had to start questioning the giddy utopianism of endlesss technological progress sometime in the middle of the 20th century, ever since we became vaguely and obscurely afraid that our lives might be negatively transformed by the elaborate systems and environments we've engineered for ourselves.
If we chose to look under the hood, we would most likely be disgusted by feces-littered pens crowded with obese chickens with clipped beaks. We might have to consider the unpleasant possibility that our international system of food production and transportation would find ways of perpetuating itself even after it ceased to be the most efficient, cheap or healthy solution. But why should I consider such complicated questions when I can easily opt for the comforting vision printed on the packaging of my chicken breasts? "Look, this food was raised on an idyllic village farm where happy, healthy animals wander around on the sun-warmed earth under the gaze of a watchful, benevolent farmer."
Corny marketing is not convincing, it's just an extremely convenient anesthetic for the chafing of our various ideals against the world as it is.
On the other hand, here's an interesting video from inside one of Tyson's chicken processing facilities.
I am not so bothered by the visual, visceral sensation of a conscious chicken's head popping off in the rubber gloves of a weary factory employee. After all, eating meat has always involved the toleration of a certain amount of violence. It's the image of that moving belt loaded with hundreds of dead chickens, a few live ones freaking out--a mass-processing system that treats millions of living beings in every way as inanimate "food units" for their entire (short) lives.
What disturbs me even more though is how you and I deal with the disconnect between our personal comfort level and the reality of industrial meat production. I think that most of us have seen something like this at some point but we have to push the image to the back our minds, to the very edge of our consciousness, in order to contentedly eat a chicken breast. Maybe we westerners have been doing this in many areas of life ever since we had to start questioning the giddy utopianism of endlesss technological progress sometime in the middle of the 20th century, ever since we became vaguely and obscurely afraid that our lives might be negatively transformed by the elaborate systems and environments we've engineered for ourselves.
If we chose to look under the hood, we would most likely be disgusted by feces-littered pens crowded with obese chickens with clipped beaks. We might have to consider the unpleasant possibility that our international system of food production and transportation would find ways of perpetuating itself even after it ceased to be the most efficient, cheap or healthy solution. But why should I consider such complicated questions when I can easily opt for the comforting vision printed on the packaging of my chicken breasts? "Look, this food was raised on an idyllic village farm where happy, healthy animals wander around on the sun-warmed earth under the gaze of a watchful, benevolent farmer."
Corny marketing is not convincing, it's just an extremely convenient anesthetic for the chafing of our various ideals against the world as it is.
“ ”
Thomas à Kempis says:
"Blessed is that simplicity that leaves the way of hard questions and goes in the plain and certain way of the commandments of God."
"Blessed is that simplicity that leaves the way of hard questions and goes in the plain and certain way of the commandments of God."
In 1979, Mother Teresa was awarded both the Nobel Peace Prize and the Balzan Prize for promoting peace and brotherhood among the nations. Upon receipt of the former she was asked, "What can we do to promote world peace?" Her answer was simple: "Go home and love your family."
I suppose this comment is in danger of being dismissed as rather trite. Except that:
1. Mother Teresa was extremely hardcore.
2. Loving your family well is probably more difficult than founding a successful and reputable charity organization.
I suppose this comment is in danger of being dismissed as rather trite. Except that:
1. Mother Teresa was extremely hardcore.
2. Loving your family well is probably more difficult than founding a successful and reputable charity organization.
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