Bird Songs: Creation at Play

I have been feeling the need to get away and collect myself for a bit, so I decided to take this week and drive down to Toccoa, GA and spend some time with a group of my old college friends.  Toccoa is beautiful this time of year.  It is right on the edge of the southernmost Appalachians.  The area is full of dense forests, mountain streams, and plenty of waterfalls.

Yesterday I decided to take a walk in the woods and try to get some thinking done.  The forest canopy was thick and all along the way I was sung to by choruses of birds.  As I walked along the forest path along gentle streams and amidst wildflowers blooming, I could feel my spirits lifting just being outside in creation.

Maybe you believe in a higher power, maybe you don’t.  Regardless, looking at nature you’ve got to appreciate how excessive it all is.  There are so many textures, sounds, colors, it is mind boggling.  I remember reading once that the human brain must quickly develop an ability to focus on certain details, or else our minds would overload.  We are never, it seems, wholly conscious of everything that is going on, everything that we could be aware of.  A grown oak tree has millions of leaves.  The natural world has an absurd amount of detail.

I was taking all this in when I heard the laughter of my favorite bird, the Pileated woodpecker.  If you’ve never heard their call, it is really quite thrilling and nearly impossible to mistake (worth checking out online). The German theologian Jergen Moltmann once said, “Creation is God’s play, play of his groundless and inscrutable wisdom.  It is the realm in which God displays his glory.”  I can believe that when I hear the Pileat.  Incidentally, in the southern Appalachians, Pileated Woodpeckers were sometimes referred to as “The Lord God Bird.”

The creator was at play when he made the world.  It was frivolous, excessive, an act that needed no purpose, justification, or motivation.  From Moltmann again, the creator “did not have to create something to realize himself.  As we were saying, he has brought forth his creation to enjoy it.”  And the creation, in turn, enjoys itself.  Why does a Sparrow sing or The Lord God Bird laugh?  It sings itself.  It needs no reason to sing.  It sings to enjoy its song, to delight in its very existence.  The bird’s only purpose, if it can be called a purpose, is to take joy in its existence, in the existence of the creation surrounding it, and in the existence of its creator.  The birdsong is the vehicle which The Lord God Bird uses.  This is the demonstrative joy of existence.

But existence itself, the creation, is marred.  When we speak of joy we must inevitably speak of sorrow.  The birds have forgotten how to enjoy humanity and we have forgotten to enjoy The Lord God Bird.  Pain and death are realities, and they are found in birdsong.  For each laugh that The Lord God Bird lets out, there is another song of sorrow heard with equal frequency.

So we humans must learn remember to make song, to find joy in our very existence, in the existence of creation, and in the existence of the creator.  We do that through play, through creativity, through purposeful living, through listening to birdsong.  We also sing our sorrow, and there must be a place for that.  Andrew Bird, so aptly named, demonstrates demonstrative joy in existence.  I finally realized why I like him so much.  His lyrics may not necesarily have purpose or meaning that I can fully understand, but his songs are like beautiful games to me. Again, Moltmann says, “a game is meaningful within itself but it must appear useless and purposeless from an outside point of view.”  His songs pervade joy, and in an instant, sorrow.

I am sparrow, myself I sing.  No more is needed.  This post is a conglomerate of thoughts inspired by Jurgen Moltmann, Annie Dillard, Andrew Bird, and of course, The Lord God Bird.

young evangelicals: an identity crisis (part 2 – nature)

I fully intend to explore this topic more fully in subsequent posts, but I’m itching to get something out before I explode.  Aaron Pluim was definitely correct in his assertions that we write (or blog) in order to achieve some level of catharsis.  I write to clear my head most of the time.

Allow me to get back to the point: I’ve been thinking about nature ever since I was a child.  I was raised in the beautiful hills of upstate New York’s Finger Lakes region.  I spent hours and hours in the maple wood forest behind my house.  My dad’s hobby/art has always been vegetable gardening.  I grew up, consequently, and incidentally, much closer to nature than many of my counterparts:  a majority of Americans live in cities and suburbs.

The topic of nature has had renewed personal interest with me because of several recent developments in my life.  For starters, I just moved from the southern Appalachians of Northeast Georgia (where I spent four years of college), to an urban setting just outside of Pittsburgh.  I can no longer walk out my door and encounter nature in the form of running water and mountain trails.  I’ve also been reading Annie Dillard and Wendell Berry, who both talk frequently about creation.

In Dillard’s For the Time Being I encountered a certain term for the first time: panentheism. Unlike traditional theism that espouses that God is totally separate from creation, or traditional pantheism that equates God with creation, pan-en-theism appears to be some form of hybrid.   God has created all things, and is in all things, while at the same time preexisting creation and remaining distinct from creation (wow, wrap your head around that…so much for plain talk about religion!).

I don’t really know much about panentheism.  I’ve started discussing the topic with some eastern orthodox believers.  I think, and you’re welcome to correct me, that the eastern and oriental orthodox christian  traditions hold to beliefs comparable to panentheism.  I also think, incidentally, that Wendell Berry holds a comparable stance toward nature.

So what?  Well, think about it, doesn’t the notion that God is part of his creation (which makes sense from a creator/creation, artist/art standpoint in my mind), and that the creation is somehow part of God, have drastic implications on how we treat the natural world?  Wouldn’t we quit poisoning the planet?  Wouldn’t we sorrow for what we’ve done to God’s living, including plants, animals, and his physical creation?  God created the world and called it good.  An artist creates a painting and finds value in it.  In both situations, a part of the creator has merged with the creation.  To trash the creation is to insult and reject a part of the creator.

Perhaps it is the protestant traditionally theistic view of God and Nature that has allowed us to become so divorced from the natural world.  If God created the world and no longer has a vested interest in its vitality, then why wouldn’t we rob creation to shit (which is what we are doing, and whats worse, we’ve come so far we don’t know how to revert–that is pointing the finger at myself here too).

That’s enough for now…

the unexamined life and contemporary art

Socrates asserts it in Plato’s Myth of the Cave, “the unexamined life is not worth living.” A life that is approached thoughtlessly is pointless, banal, and asinine. This seems to be an idea that is foreign to our culture (21st century America), and I think this can be best demonstrated in the way we approach art (by art I am referring to almost all human creation intended for an audience. This includes fine arts as well as common arts in the form of our television programs, popular novels, and contemporary music.  While I would certainly not call pornography art, it falls under the category of human culture and can be included in this discussion.). I’m not here to bash anyone’s favorite television show, or pop-artist, or whatever, but I wonder how often we stop to look at what contemporary art is saying?

Of course, this question precludes the notion that art does, in fact, say something.

How does one determine whether art is saying something or not? In other words, how does one determine whether art has meaning or not? I would venture to say that we determine whether art has meaning in the same way we determine whether life itself has meaning, through interpretation. To say whether or not life has meaning without examining evidence from the surrounding world is a preposterous, thoughtless, and ignorant thing to do. Likewise, to say that art does or does not have meaning is equally ludicrous. Before judgment can be made on either the meaning of life (or absence of), or meaning of art, they must be examined.

I’ve had this discussion with some of my friends, and some of them sort of get this smirk on their face and then suggest that art is not meant to be thought about. “I don’t watch movies, read books, or listen to music to think; I approach art and like art that makes me feel good; I can’t explain why I like it, it just moves me.” Granted, maybe my analytical temperament might cause me to approach art differently than some people, but isn’t the way we approach art indicative of the way we approach life? If life can be interpreted in order to find meaning or the absence of meaning, can not, and should not, art too be interpreted to find meaning or the absence of meaning?

I’ve heard it suggested that all art is propaganda, in that it propagates certain ideas. Whether one thinks this is true or not, the only way to determine it is to attempt to interpret the art in question. Before one can say, “this piece of art doesn’t say anything” one must attempt to listen to, see, or read what the art in question says.

This is an area that the Church in America, to my experience, has neglected. I’ve never heard a sermon on this; I’ve never heard it discussed in a Bible study. I’ve heard Ravi Zacharias, Peter Kreeft, and certain other Christian philosophers and intellectuals discuss this, but it seems like these ideas have not really filtered down to the everyday Christian. Why is this important? Christians are people who claim that life is infused with meaning. Life itself, the created world, is said to proclaim the very existence of God (Psalm 19). Paul seems to suggest that if we interpret the created world correctly, we we have no excuse to deny God’s existence. If the very earth can be interpreted because it was created by God, how much more so can human creation be interpreted! Not to mention, we are told abhor what is evil and to hold fast to what is good (Romans 12:9), that the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true (Ephesians 5:9), and we are told:

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

How are we to know whether something is good unless we attempt to interpret it? No one who wants to live a meaningful life can approach life without examining it. How much more so should a Christian, who claims that there is meaning in life, and that this meaning is knowable, approach life in a thoughtful way. The way we examine art is indicative of the way we examine reality itself. One cannot believe in true existence without believing that life, and art, must be interpreted.

Christians and Government

Today in my History of Theology class a discussion concerning the separation of church and state came up, in the context of an introduction to dominion theology. It was an incredibly interesting discussion, and the subject has been on my mind for most of the day. I found myself disagreeing with my prof and about half the class. Overall I would guess our class was 50/50 on the issue, half thinking that Christians in the government can effect morality via the governing authority, the other half rejecting that notion.

To me, the notion of affecting a nation’s morality via the ruling authorities is a proposterous idea. This “top-down” mentality doesn’t work with morality any better than it does with economics! (The trickle-down theory just doesn’t work practically!) The movements that have had lasting effects on our country’s politics and morality have been bottom-up, grass-roots movements. Look at the temperance movement, the women’s suffrage movement, and the civil rights movement…In each case, it was the little people making the change.

When I pointed out in class that the Jesus and his disciples, and the early church for that matter, were grass-roots, I had a classmate try to tell me that the incarnation was a “top-down” approach. Maybe what he meant by this was that Christ came down to the nothingness of humanity from his place as God, but I don’t think that is what this classmate meant. Christ did make himself nothing, and his example is the PERFECT example of effective change from the bottom up!

Jesus of Nazareth had every opportunity to set himself up as the emperor of the world. The Jews of his day, including many of his followers, were expecting the messiah to come and start an earthly kingdom, a “top-down” kingdom that would change the world. They were looking for political liberation and self-determination. But that is not what Jesus had in mind. Instead he turned the tables, and flipped things upside down. How did he start a movement? With an eclectic group of uneducated peasants from a captive nation! And what was his method for changing the world? Dying. Christ and his gospel are the antithesis of a “top-down” approach.

It was a great day when Constantine made Christianity legal in the Roman Empire. I imagine many Christians were joyful and thankful that they could serve God openly at last. The centuries of persecution were finally over. That peace was a great thing. But, didn’t the church thrive under such persecution? Look at the book of Acts… What about today? Isn’t the church thriving in China and other places hostile to the gospel? Is the church thriving in our present day Constantinian empire (the USA)?

I am not sure that I have fully resolved this next idea in my head, but it seems to make sense to me. The ability for Christians to live and worship freely is a great thing, and not something to be taken for granted. It has not always been this way, and will not, most likely, continue to be this way. But, at the same time, persecution is good for the church. It forces the church to rely on God, it weeds out the nominal, and it is a powerful witness to the world. Maybe tranquility for the church is nice for this world, but maybe it is not beneficial for our spiritual condition. Do not trials develop perseverance, character, and hope?

Apostate churches are not born out of persecution, but are born out of the church growing comfortable. I think there is plenty of evidence for this with the Israelites in the old testament. The entire narrative of the Old Testament seems to be the Israelites sinning and doing evil in the eyes of the Lord, being taken captive (much like persecution), and then repenting and serving God again before the cycle begins again.

So what does this mean practically? I’m not sure… Should we pray for persecution? Maybe… at the very least we need to be careful not to take our comfort and prosperity (read laziness and obesity) for granted. Days of comfort often end abruptly.

Anabaptists, Pentecostals, and Homophobia

I never finished The Politics of Jesus, though it is definitely on my list of books to read. I am an expert at returning books late to the library and unfortunately The Politics of Jesus was well overdue so I needed to return it. In its place, I checked out A contemporary Anabaptist Theology as well as Artists, Citizens, Philosophers: seeking the peace of the city, an Anabaptist Theology of Culture. I’m further along in this second book and I am finding it quite fascinating. I’ll post more comments on it hopefully as I get further along.

In addition to familiarizing myself with the Anabaptists, I watched the riveting and controversial documentary Jesus Camp this week. For those of you unfamiliar with the film, it is a documentary about an extremely charismatic pentecostal children’s camp in North Dakota. Critics of the camp argue that they are manipulative and forcefully indoctrinate their children with right wing conservative propaganda. Although I think most critics are a touch harsh, I must admit that their were parts of the film that made me feel uncomfortable, namely when a group of children prayed over a cardboard cutout of George W. Granted, however, I am not the biggest Bush fan anyway. Regardless of my opinion about this particular pentecostal church, I find myself having to remind myself that this particular church does not represent a majority of Pentecostals, and it certainly doesn’t represent all evangelicals.

In an ironic bit of Jesus Camp Ted Haggard is captured preaching against homosexuality and mentioning that “sin will find you out.” Obviously this film was shot and released before the current scandal hit the media…I was listening to Tony Campolo’s thoughts on the whole issue when I heard him mention Haggard’s meth addiction. I didn’t remember hearing about it before, and as Tony pointed out how ridiculous it is that evangelicals (as a majority) are not outraged about his use of meth, I found myself agreeing. Why are we so homophobic? Why are we not as equally outraged by Ted Haggard’s addiction to an elicit substance as we are his homosexual actions? As I talked to one of my professors about this, it was brought to my attention that our difference in opinion on this subject is most likely due to our beliefs on sin. As a result of this conversation, I now have a lot more questions about sin. Is there an hierarchy of sins? Are some sins worse than others? Why have evangelicals (in general) picked homosexuality and abortion as their “worst” sins while neglecting the atrocities of war and injustice to the poor (this last one which is mentioned biblically far more than these others)?

The Politics of Jesus pt.1

I’ve been reading through The Politics of Jesus by John Howard Yoder, and I must say, it has been quite thought provoking. For anyone interested in a good, serious diologue with pacifism, this is probably the best biblical approach to it that I have read (granted my reading on the subject is certainly not exhaustive).
If there was ever a man who could have waged a just war, it was Jesus of Nazareth. If there was ever a man who had just cause for war, it too was Jesus of Nazareth. If there was ever a man who had the authority to wage a just war, again, it was Jesus of Nazareth. Finally, if there was ever a man who had the power and military following to win a just war, it was Jesus of Nazareth.
Yet, as easy as it would have been for Christ to usher in his kingdom through armed conflict, he chose to die instead. Why is it then that we as Christians today fail to see our own death as a serious possibility for ushering in God’s kingdom? Why do we argue for ‘just war’ when our savior so seemingly set the precedent for our socio-political action in his death? Yoder puts it like this, “Jesus’ rebuke to the unseeing pair on the road to Emmaus was not that they had been looking for a kingdom and should not have been. Their fault is that, just like Peter at Caesarea Philippi, they were failing to see that the suffering of the Messiah is the inauguration of the kingdom.”