I've been reading Kevin Vanhoozer's book 'Everyday Theology: How to read cultural texts and interpret trends'. It's a great read, with much godly wisdom and practical theology. Vanhoozer's challenges us to consider how theology applies to everyday life. As Vanhoozer points out, there is nothing new about everyday theology; the Reformers had plenty to say about the relevance of theology for life, Calvin, for example, spoke of the Bible serving as our 'spectacles of faith'. But Vanhoozer argues that we don't just seek understanding in the Bible, faith can also 'seek understanding' in our everyday world. He suggests that we should embrace an additional form of literacy, learning to 'read' and 'write' culture. By culture he means "..the distinctly human world that persons create by doing things not by reflex but freely as expressions of desire, duty and determination." (p.23) Culture is understood as "the meaning dimensions of life". Every aspect of life signifies something about the values and beliefs that shape our culture.
Culture communicates meanings to us as we participate in it, and it offers us frameworks for interpreting the world in which we live. Culture also "..spreads beliefs, values, ideas, fashions, and practices from one social group to another." As well, he argues that it can shape, orient and form our hearts (or our spirits).
In 'Everyday Theology' Vanhoozer includes chapters written by his students who had been part of his cultural hermeneutics class, and who apply everyday theology to cultural texts in their world. The topics include the supermarket checkout, rap music, megachurch architecture, film etc. Here is a brief excerpt based on the chapter 'The Gospel according to Safeway: The checkout line and the good life'. In this description and analysis, theology is applied to to the shopping centre checkout, seeking to understand the objects, images, behaviour, sights, sounds, and the values and beliefs that are suggested by them.
What does the checkout line have to do with Jerusalem? In one sense, they overlap and compete, for there is a Christian vision of the good life, what we may call the good life according to the gospel. If the point of the good life presented in the checkout line is to become like a celebrity (or at least to dream about it), then the goal of the good life according to the gospel is to become like Jesus.
What emerges from a biblical consideration...is that...Sex, beauty, health, information, and wealth can all be good things in the good life of the gospel, but not if they are elevated too highly. The checkout line puts our loves out of order, an indication itself of how culture can have a subtle impact on our idea of the good life. In contrast, the good life envisioned by the gospel relativizes what the checkout line sets forth as essential.
Vanhoozer suggests a basic framework that Christians can apply to any representation of culture. I've paraphrased it below:
1. Try to understand the intent of any cultural text before we try to interpret it. By 'text' we mean any meaningful artefact of culture, including films, images, fashion, media, building, advertisement etc.
2. Ask what the meanings are 'behind' the text (what it inherits, reflects, interprets etc) and 'in front' of the text (what is it proposing for the world)?
3. Consider what powers are served by the cultural texts. Whose interests are served?
4. What does the text say about the world and what it is to be human; what anthropology does it suggest?
5. Endeavour to be comprehensive in your interpretation of a cultural text - find evidence that makes sense of the parts as well as the whole.
6. Attempt to discern what faith the text expresses directly or indirectly; what convictions does it suggest about God, the world and our relationship to both?
7. Consider where the text sits within the biblical schema of creation-fall-redemption; God's plan for his world and his creatures.
The following quote from 'Everyday Theology' sums up (for me) why and how we might use Vanhoozer's framework as an aid as we apply theology to everyday life:
"Thanks to the Spirit's ministry of general revelation to the fractured image of God that we are as fallen human beings, part of what culture says is true, good, and beautiful; other parts, however, are false, bad, and ugly. It follows that we must hearken to cultural texts as possible vehicles for appropriating new insights into justice and truth while at the same time maintaining Scripture as our normative framework of interpretation." (p.44)
Justine Toh has written an excellent opinion piece in the National Times that the editors titled 'God must be beautiful - it runs in the family'
I love the way she concludes the piece as she builds on the ideas of Prof Stephen Moore who argues in his book 'God's Beauty Parlour and Other Queer Spaces in and around the Bible' that there is a tendency to remake Christ to "ensure minimal disturbance to the status quo". Dr Toh writes:
"Beauty often makes us tremble at its sight. But in the context of our makeover culture, a physically attractive Christ who fulfils rather than challenges the beauty ideals of Western culture seems rather suspect. If, as Moore suggests, a good-looking Christ focuses our attention on outward rather than inward transformation, and personal rather than collective change, then perhaps our tendency to airbrush Him into perfection is an effective way to keep the real man (the real God?) at bay."
Dr Justine Toh lectures in cultural studies at Macquarie University.
CASE has lots of resources online, many of which are available via the side bar on this blog. I thought I might do a regular post that reminds readers of the resources that are available on our webisite.
In her short article for CASE Justine Toh reviews the 2006 version of the horror movie The Omen and reflects on the way Horror movies depict God, the devil and the supernatural. In short, she suggests that it typically does it badly, but even so, she suggests that:
"Horror is unique as a genre because it accepts the existence of a supernatural realm implicitly, as Christian filmmaker Scott Derickson has maintained. But the spiritual essence of The Omen is weighed down with material concerns and the occupations of this world, rather than the promise of the next, whether that is salvation or judgment. This hinders and, strangely enough, helps the film’s usefulness in communicating ideas about a Christian worldview."
She concludes her piece by pointing out the obvious; people won't necessarily flock from horror movies straight to a church, but by portraying such a dark and dismal picture of man separated from the Creator, the horror movie might just inadvertently offer a testament to the need for God, "...the image of man absent the guidance, love and mercy of his Creator is pitiable indeed. There’s no need to frighten people into obedience. The sorry state of humanity absent God is testament enough."
Social and cultural movements often have associated music that contributes to identity and helps to define who the individuals and groups think they are. For example, in the 1970s Punk Rock burst onto the music scene with loud, simple and repetitive beats and at times 'dark' lyrics. The music often spoke of rebellion and a desire to reject mainstream thinking. With any musical movement we find associated cultural practices - the things people like, the experiences they share, the topics that become the focus of conversation, the rules of social engagement and so on. The Sex Pistols quickly developed a cult following as much for the anti establishment views as for the group's music. They often opposed mainstream cultural and social practices and beliefs. Their infamous song 'God Save the Queen' was no doubt intending to offend with lyrics like "God save the queen, She ain't no human being, And there's no future, In England's dreaming". When Johnny Rotten belted out the song in 1977 (in the Queen's Silver Jubilee year!) many were outraged at the attack on the Queen, not to mention the British people, whose conformity to the crown and respect for the monarchy was being belittled. There was widespread outrage, some radio stations stopped playing their songs, parents stopped letting their children go to their concerts etc. Of course, as is often the case, the group's infamy brought many new fans.
Music is clearly an important way in which people express their views of the world, their own allegiances, hopes, desires, loves and so on. But is it also a way in which we are shaped and moulded to understand and share the ideas, truths and falsehoods of songs? Could the very lyrics of a song shape one's thinking and view of the world? While I might just sound like another old bloke lamenting the dangers of popular culture, stay with me. I want to ask the question: Does it matter what we sing? This is a much-debated topic in any church - do the words matter?
In an article to be published in the next issue of Case Magazine that focuses on music (due out late June), Dr Steven Guthrie writes about our reasons for singing. He bases much of his paper on a letter written in the 4th century by the Bishop of Alexandria Athanasius (c. 295-373) to a friend, Marcellinus. In it Athanasius spoke of the Book of Psalms and the importance of singing them. Surprisingly, the first reason Athanasius offered for singing is not expressing ourselves in words and sound, but taking words in, im-pression. The psalms for Athanasius were a way not just to express our emotions, but also to understand and express the emotions of others. Guthrie reminds us that singing is an act of imitation not just expression. Athanasius wrote:
"He who recites the psalms....sings them as if they were written concerning him, and he accepts them and recites them not as if another were speaking nor as if speaking about someone else. But he handles them as if he is speaking about himself. And the things spoken are such that he lifts them up to God as himself acting and speaking then from himself."
While the above thoughts of Athanasius to a friend have great relevance for those of us who want to consider the value of singing Christian songs, they also seem to raise other questions about the impact of music on those who sing it. If we accept what Athanasius says (and I am persuaded at least in part), then what implications might this have for all of us as we immerse ourselves in secular music? Parents also might well want to ask themselves, does it matter what music my children listen to and sing? I think it does. Rather than our singing being just an opportunity for us to articulate words that we express to music, might they also shape us?
These thoughts have positive and negative implications for music. If you'd like to read all of Steven Guthrie's thoughts on singing the psalms as well as wonderful articles by Jeremy Begbie, Peter Dart, Rob Smith and Andy Judd look out for the next issue. Why not become an Associate of CASE so that you can receive Case Magazine quarterly.
This post has been written by Greg Thiele, an Associate of CASE and a regular contributor to the CASE blog
In 1945, English comic novelist Evelyn Waugh completed what was to become his most successful and popular work: Brideshead Revisited. Waugh, a Catholic, indicated that the theme of the novel was “the operation of divine grace on a group of diverse but closely connected characters”.
(It should be noted in passing that the Catholic understanding of grace differs – significantly, at points – from the evangelical one. There is not scope here to consider such differences; but in any case, the essential notion of grace – God’s free, unmerited favour and blessing – seems to be at work in the novel in a way that most evangelical Christians would recognise.)
The novel describes the dealings of the main character, Charles Ryder, with the aristocratic Flyte family. Ryder, a disillusioned WWII army captain, finds himself unexpectedly back at Brideshead, the Flyte family’s stately home, where, in flashback, much of the action of the novel takes place. He recounts his friendship, at Oxford, with the troubled younger son, Sebastian, and his relationship with other members of the family, including his eventual romance with Julia, the beautiful elder daughter.
The young Charles is an agnostic, dismissive of the “narrative” of the Christian faith, and finds the Catholicism of the Flytes incomprehensible. The Flytes themselves represent a wide range of levels of faith and piety. The paterfamilias, Lord Marchmain, had effectively been forced to convert to Catholicism in order to marry Teresa (Lady Marchmain). When we first meet Lord Marchmain, we find him estranged from his wife and living openly with a courtesan in Venice, with a deep hostility towards both his adopted faith and his spouse. Lady Marchmain, on the other hand, is “popularly believed to be a saint”. The elder son, also named Brideshead, and the younger daughter, Cordelia, reflect their mother’s faith. The other son and daughter, Sebastian and Julia, physically alike, are similar also in their problematic relationship with the family religion.
As Charles’s friendship with Sebastian develops, we find the latter sinking into alcoholism and depression: a result, it seems, of his inability to deal with the demands and expectations of his family – especially those of his mother – exacerbated by issues of personality and character. For Charles, the magical world of wealth and privilege which he had entered through his friendship with Sebastian evaporates when he is dismissed by Lady Marchmain, due to having given Sebastian money to support his drinking habit. “Henceforth”, decides the young Charles on leaving Brideshead for what he assumes will be the last time, “I live in a world of three dimensions - with the aid of my five senses”. The older Charles, the narrator, ironically affirms that he has subsequently learned that “there is no such world”.
Ten years pass. Charles is married, though estranged from his adulterous wife. It is thus that he meets, for the first time in many years, Julia, who by now thoroughly regrets her own foolish, early marriage to the absurd Rex Mottram – a self-made man and politician who is the butt of a good deal of the novel’s humour. Julia’s marrying Rex had entailed her officially rejecting her religion, due to his having already been married and divorced. Charles and Julia embark on an affair, and in due course find themselves living together at Brideshead.
The novel’s climactic episode involves the return of Lord Marchmain to Brideshead, and his eventual death (Lady Marchmain having died several years earlier). In scenes of heightening tension, watching her father die, Julia gradually comes to see that she cannot continue to live her life in rebellion against God: trying to “set up a rival good to God’s”, as she later puts it. Kneeling at the foot of her father’s bed, she prays that he will give a sign that he repents and accepts God’s forgiveness.
A priest is in attendance to administer the last rites – the same priest whom Lord Marchmain had some weeks earlier sent packing. Charles challenges the priest: “Father Mackay,” I said. “You know how Lord Marchmain greeted you last time you came; do you think it possible he can have changed now?” Father Mackay responds:”Thank God, by his grace it is possible.”
It is while witnessing Julia’s anguish that Charles begins to sense in himself the need to receive the same grace and forgiveness for which she is praying on her father’s behalf. Almost in spite of himself, he kneels behind the woman he loves, and prays the simple prayer:”O God, if there is a God, forgive him his sins, if there is such a thing as sin“. In a scene of extraordinary power and pathos, Julia’s prayer (and, we may assume, Charles’s) is answered.
Father Mackay’s parting words to Charles are illuminating: “I’ve known it happen that way again and again. The devil resists to the last moment and then the Grace of God is too much for him”.
Lord Marchmain dies, and Charles and Julia part forever.
Back in the present (“one grey morning of war-time”), his reverie past, Charles pays a visit to the small chapel on the Brideshead estate. There he prays (“an ancient, newly-learned form of words”), and begins to understand the purpose of the “fierce little human tragedy” in which he had played a part. The Holy Spirit is like the wind, blowing “wherever it pleases” (John 3:8) – and God’s grace will manifest itself in the most unexpected ways and situations.
At one point in the novel, Lady Marchmain reads from one of G.K. Chesterton’s “Father Brown” stories, which speaks of God’s kindness and mercy in holding on to those who wander away from him: “I caught him (the thief) with an unseen hook and an invisible line which is long enough to let him wander to the ends of the world and still to bring him back with a twitch upon the thread”. Such is God’s irresistible grace. For those of us whom God has called, but who at various times in our lives have wandered far from him, such a thought - the essential message of Brideshead Revisited - is immensely comforting.
Carmen and I went to see Simon & Garfunkel in concert on Tuesday Night. This iconic musical duo responsible for so many great songs in the 1960s and 70s reunited recently for a limited 'Old Friends' tour of New Zealand, Australia and Japan (here). Whether this is the beginning of a more substantial reunion is unclear but we weren't going to miss the chance to see them together again. However, Art Garfunkel's last words on stage after the 3rd curtain call were "Ask us to come back and we'll do it again". So who knows.
The crowd as you'd expect was decidedly 'more mature' with probably 95% baby boomers and a sprinkling of younger fans who probably first heard Simon and Garfunkel on one of their parents' old vinyls. Or perhaps they'd followed Paul Simon's highly successful individual career post break-up, with highlights like his Graceland Album. I turned to Carmen a few times during the concert with comments like "are we that old?" (looking at the people in the next seats). "Yes!" was the quick reply. And "do they realise just how hard it is for this crowd to get to its feet?", "now that song woke a few of them up" and so on (she showed great tolerance). But what an incredible concert. They've lost little vocally and of course Paul Simon has lost nothing musically. This was a quality concert from beginning to end, with backing musicians who are amongst the best there are, some with 20-30 years performing with Art Garfunkel and Paul Simon as individual artists.
Melancholy, lament and hope
As I sang along to songs that I first loved as a 15-21 year old, and which were the accompaniment to Carmen and my teenage years, a few things about them struck me. Putting to one side the brilliance of lyrics and music, many of the songs suggest a maturity well beyond Paul Simon's years when he wrote them, and lots of them display a tension between melancholy (almost despair at times) and hope as the central implied voices seek truth.
The maturity of Simon's early songs is remarkable. A song like "Leaves that are Green" ('Sounds of Silence' album) displays it with poetic simplicity (full lyrics here). The context might be the ending of relationships but this is cast against the inevitably of time moving on and death being its final destination.
I was twenty-one years when I wrote this song. I’m twenty-two now but I won’t be for long Time hurries on. And the leaves that are green turn to brown, And they wither with the wind, And they crumble in your hand.
Many of Simon & Garfunkel's songs have always had a good dose of melancholy, almost darkness and despair at times. But the despair is well masked by the quiet confidence of youth that gives a sense that most things can be overcome. If there is despair, it is heard in the words of Simon's central voices, rarely 'his own'. While some of his songs are upbeat and bouncy 'light' pop numbers, like 'Feelin Groovy' (Garfunkel groaned when this was chosen as part of the 3rd curtain call - "I hate this song"!), many of his early songs are in the folk genres of the day and include sometimes pessimistic views of the world. Here are a few examples.
In the song 'I am a Rock' the central voice is that of the self-absorbed individual who makes himself into an island to avoid the pain that might result from relationships. It becomes obvious that Simon doesn't see this is as a sensible approach to life, instead giving implied support to John Donne's poetic dictum that no man is an island.
'Sounds of silence' is one of their most famous songs. It was released on their very first 'flop' album (Wednesday Morning, 3 AM) that sold just 2,000 copies, that was followed by their first break-up as a duo. But the recording company had it redone without their knowledge with electric guitar, bass, and drums. This effectively launched their careers. What the song means is open to debate, but with lyrics like the following you immediately sense its depth.
Hello darkness, my old friend I've come to talk with you again Because a vision softly creeping Left its seeds while I was sleeping And the vision that was planted in my brain Still remains Within the sound of silence
I think that Simon's has written about a wider search for truth, which is revealed perhaps via a dream. Perhaps it is his search, but we're never sure with most of his songs - is this about him or me? The punch line to the song in the last verse is that perhaps truth is found not in the words of historical prophets and great thinkers, but in the simple (but sometimes profound words) of the subway 'prophets'. Now you need to have lived in the 1960s and 70s to realize just how profound some graffiti was in contrast to the inane and mindless tagging of our present age. This was when the Cold War was raging, an age in which every American (and Australian for that matter) thought that a nuclear war was inevitable and that there was a good chance that we'd destroy the world in the process. This was a time when 2-10 words messages had considerable political and philosophical depth.
And the people bowed and prayed To the neon god they made And the sign flashed out its warning In the words that it was forming And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls And tenement halls" And whispered in the sounds of silence
His words suggest that truth should be obvious to us, that it is there on display every day as we walk through the subway. But of course like any good post modern song (before its time), the meaning is illusive. One of the things that is engaging about Simon and Garfunkel's songs is that they display paradoxes and discontinuities, dots to join, pictures to finished to complete the story. Poetry to be mined and enjoyed.
I'm not sure how I first heard or 'read' Simon and Garfunkel's work in the 1960s and 70s because I listened and sang as an atheist who saw no place for God in my world, no truth in the prophets. There was no God and Jesus was someone's ancient invention. There was no hope for the problems of the world that I saw in religion, but this changed at age 31 (you can read my story here) and my view of the world suddenly shifted.
Paul Simon's history is different to mine. He wrote as one who probably had a stronger understanding of God - given his Jewish heritage and having grown up in a strongly Christian country like America - and yet his songs seem to imply that he finds reliance on faith wanting. His songs have many biblical images and reference to God, but he doesn't seem to find his hope there. And yet, there is always this wonderful tension between the need for hope and the elusiveness of it in many of his songs. He is aware of the sometimes aimless wanderings of youth from one place to another, one person to another, one love to another, one pursuit to another, or even one cause to another. "Cloudy" in the 'Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme' album is a good example of this as it tells the simple story of a young man hitchhiking aimlessly around California.
Homeward Bound
But everywhere in his songs and the musical laments, crafted in melodies as well as in words, we come back time and again to the inner desire to be loved, to have purpose and to be at home.
When they sang 'Homeward Bound' on Tuesday night the significance of this song hit me as never before, for I listened not as a 17 year old, but as a 57 year-old more conscious than ever that my life is on a perpetual homeward bound trajectory. This 1966 song written by Paul Simon and produced by the great Bob Johnston is said to have been written at the Ditton railway station in Widnes (NW England) where Simon's was stuck. His song speaks of his longing to return home to his girlfriend of the time (Kathy Chitty living in Essex) but also to his home country of the USA. The desire to be at home, with people who love you, where all is certain and predictable is basic to all people. But the Bible teaches that this deep desire for relationship reflects a deeper echo of the call of our Jesus who would have us come home to him, for in heaven he has prepared a place for us and will bring home those who place their trust in (John 14:1-14). It is only here that we will be truly home.
Did the concert take Carmen and I back to the images and memories of our teenage and young adult years? Yes? Did it make us pine for a time when bodies were stronger, faculties more complete, our future ahead of us, the mistakes of later life not yet been made? No! For we are now people who seek truth not on the subway wall, not in the experiences of youth or later age, but in the timeless wisdom of God. And we believe that the prophets did speak this wisdom as they pointed to a time when there would be a new heaven and a new earth (Revelation 21), when we would bow before the throne of God as his children who have placed their faith in Jesus his son. Our ultimate citizenship is not in this world but in the next, for we are a chosen people who are sojourners and exiles in this world (1 Peter 2:1-13), our citizenship is in heaven and we truly are homeward bound. While Simon and Garfunkel's song reminds me of the challenges of this world, it also reinforces for me why I long for another. Home is (to quote Simon) where my love is waiting, but there is only one love that has ensured my heavenly home - Jesus. Isaac Watt's great hymn suggest the rightful response in 'When I Survey the Wondrous Cross' - Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.
CASE stands for the Centre for Apologetic Scholarship and Education. It is an activity of New College, located at the University of New South Wales, Sydney. CASE exists to explore the importance and place of Christianity in today’s world. It carries out Christian apologetics—the activity of defending the Christian faith, engaging with other world views and attracting ‘thinking’ people to the message of the Christian faith.
I am a Professor of Education at The University of Sydney, Australia. I have spent a large part of my adult life as a teacher, academic, researcher and senior university administrator. My interests are varied, including how children learn language and literacy, the nature and construction of meaning, curriculum, pedagogy, and adult learning.
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