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the bucket list

It is not every week that one is preparing for a sermon and happens upon a movie that provides a fitting illustration of the passage, but screen and text collided rather nicely last Friday evening. I was diving back into the book of Ecclesiastes after a long hiatus for Advent and our usual January themes (word, prayer, church, culture), and just happened to be dealing with Qoheleth's realistic, but rather depressing observations about life in a dog-eat-dog world as described in 3:16-4:16. The author's dis-advantageous view of life is from "under the sun," described by Ryken as life "at ground level" or "life lived without God at the center."

Enter chapter four verse seven, "Again, I saw a vanity under the sun: one person who has no other, either son or brother, yet there is no end to all his toil, and his eyes are never satisfied with riches, so that he never asks, 'For whom am I toiling and depriving myself of pleasure?' This also is vanity and an unhappy business." Also enter Jack Nicholson, as Edward Cole, a self-made multi-millionaire in the medical industry as portrayed in the movie, The Bucket List. The film begins with Cole discovering he has cancer that will give him less than a year to live. It also begins with him sharing a room in his own hospital with another patient (he has to live by the same economical standards that have made him rich for publicity sake), Carter Chambers (Morgan Freeman), a life-long car mechanic who is given the same diagnosis. The movie revolves around the relationship these unlikely two establish in their last year on earth.

Nicholson's character, having experienced the failure of four marriages, the estrangement of his only daughter, and the forced concern of his employees and physicians, has everything money can buy and yet nothing. Instead of a room full of numerous cards and flowers from family and friends, the one object of affection is a gourmet coffee machine he has brought for himself that sits lifeless over his bed. Freeman's character, surrounded by a faithful wife, three loving children, and numerous grandchildren, wonders what he has missed in life due to the economic demands, and therefore limited choices these relationships have compelled him to make. Chambers begins to compile a list of things he would like to experience before he "kicks the bucket." Eventually the list is discovered by Cole, the one person in the world having the ability to bring the list to fruition, and from there the two begin a whirlwind trip around the world to fill in the squares on the list.

During the course of this circumnavigation (France, Italy, Egypt, Hong Kong, Tibet, etc) in Cole's private jet, the values of both men collide numerous times. Cole is coming to grips with everything he doesn't possess even while he lives for the moment, and Chambers is learning to value what he does possess after the moments lose their glitter. Through it all Cole scoffs at the idea of an afterlife (Ecclesiastes 3:21 "Who knows whether the spirit of man goes upward and the spirit of the beast goes down into the earth?"), while Chambers has faith, though in the end, it is just faith in faith--in something bigger than himself.

The movie itself is probably average. It is fun to watch Nicholson (whom you either love or hate) and Freeman, two of the very best, ply their trade on the screen together. Neither character is developed very well, the gravity of their condition is hard to take seriously, and some plot lines are just unbelievable. And yet, their relationship is entertaining to watch develop, the movie has some hilarious moments, and at the end of the day you get the message, though it doesn't get near the core of things. Interestingly enough, I liked it against the backdrop of Ecclesiastes because I think it is hebel illustrating hebel. Still, I recommend it with reservations...the language is salty (what does one expect from Nicholson?). There are a couple crude remarks and some sexual innuendo, though nothing overtly offensive. You can find a helpful review along these lines here, and numerous reviews here.

a more secularized religion

Here is an interesting read concerning a possible shift from a strict separationist doctrine between religion and the state to a more open attitude toward government proposed funding and endorsement of religion.  Winnifred Fallers Sullivan, illustrating her point by a lengthy treatment of a case brought by an atheist against the Veteran Administration's chaplaincy, argues the culture at large is more tolerant of faith-based initiatives and the general idea that every human being has a spiritual dimension. 

In the case cited, a person complained because they were subjected to a religious screening process when they sought treatment from the VA.  If an individual scores poorly on a Total Religious Index they are referred to a chaplain for spiritual healing.  No doubt an atheist fairs rather poorly on the scorecard and this poor bloke had some explaining to do.

Interestingly enough, Sullivan pins this shift in attitude upon (1) a more critical view of the scientific understanding of the person (medicine does not have every answer to a person's well-being) and (2) a move away from organized religion (the authority of orthodoxy) to the autonomy of the individual.  In the case she sites, the government is tolerant toward a chaplaincy removing a sacramental ministry and replacing it with clinical therapy.

The court is really supporting a more secularized religion.  In my experience in the chaplaincy, I have observed a continuing shift away from traditional pastoral care.  For example, chaplains are encouraged to take/teach classes on Suicide Prevention, Critical Incident Stress Management, and Substance Abuse among a plethora of other topics.  Leaders in the chaplaincy corps may have seen the strict separationist writing on the wall and moved toward a more secularized practice for purposes of self-preservation. 

It is interesting that the children of Aristotle may be rebelling a bit against a scientific solution to every human failure, but it is not surprising they would turn ever more toward self in search of a solution (the postmodern rebellion within modernism that David Wells speaks of?).  A secular religion is just paganism in nicer clothes rearing its ugly head against revealed religion.  The Church shouldn't leap too high for joy at this new found tolerance.  Sullivan rightly observes, "Indeed, from the perspective of many religious communities, aspects of these pastoral care regimes may seem a troubling de-mystifying and naturalization of religion."  I would say so.

Flotsam & Jetsam (9.13.06)

An extended quotation from Richard Weaver's Ideas Have Consequences, the fourth chapter entitled "Egotism in Work and Art":

The sin of egotism always takes the form of withdrawal.  When personal advantage becomes paramount, the individual passes out of the community.  We do not mean the state, with its apparatus of coercion, but the spiritual community, where men are related on the plane of sentiment and sympathy and where, conscious of their oneness, they maintain a unity not always commensurable with their external unification.

Such withdrawal, which has been given the disarming name of enlightened selfishness and which more often than not is inspired by the desire to be "equal," is pulverizing modern society.  And there is no precept in modern ideology with which to rebuke it; for, is not this equal man a kind of king, superior to the trappings of royalty, and cannot such a one do what he will with his life?....

Inevitably, there follows an increase of selfishness.  It is the simple nature of egotism to view things out of proportion, the "I" becoming dominant and the entire world suffering a distortion.  Once more we are face to face with the fact of alienation from reality.  No man who knows himself in his ab extra relationships can be egotistic.  But he who is cognizant mainly of self suffers an actual derangement; as Plato saw: "the excessive love of self is in reality the source to each man of all offenses; for the lover is blinded about the beloved, so that he judges wrongly of the just, the good, and the honorable, and he thinks that he ought always prefer his own interests to the truth."

Accordingly, self-absorption is a process of cutting one's self off from the "real" reality....

All of us, to one degree or another, are infected with this disease of the "self."  We are tempted, especially in dark days, to retreat each to our own secret place, and only to go through the motions in community.  We live in a world so infected by this plague that to be sick is to be normal.  The illness crops up in the Church, where one may hear the words, "It's not about you," but every syllable and action communicates the opposite sentiment--it is about you, and we'll design the product and package it nicely for our fickle consumers several tastes.

Well, it really isn't about us, and the Creator has placed within our grasp His Word and His Church to speak that truth into our lives.  The Word, discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart, urges us daily to cast the right verdict regarding self and be nailed to a cross.  Christ speaks truth into our lives, and correctly aligns us with reality as He, being external to self, is a fixed star upon which we may confidently navigate.  The Church, via Word, ordinance, and discipline, buttresses our journey with truth and places us in proximity with other travelers requiring us to know ourselves in ab extra relationships, as Weaver admonishes.

We must beware of the creeping symtoms of self-absorption that threaten to cut us off from reality.  It is no wonder we are admonished to "not forsake the assembling of ourselves together," and when finding ourselves in such community, to "pursue the things which make for peace and the building up up one another."  Let us truly say, "I love Thy Church, O God!  For her my prayers ascend; to her my cares and toils be give'n, till toils and cares shall end."

A Matter of Taste (pt 4)

While Joel and his host of compadres debate the reality of beauty, and while I bow and pay homage to the idea that meaning precedes taste (thank you Whitherbridges), we'll keep marching through the issues of taste as presented by Frank Burch Brown in Good Taste, Bad Taste, and Christian Taste.  Today, we'll take on two of the three elements of taste:  1) taste as aesthetic perception, and 2) taste as aesthetic enjoyment.

Taste as aesthetic perception: This is simply the task of recognizing the aesthetic qualities of something.  We all do this differently because our abilities to sense these elements are culturally shaped.  For example, in listening to a piece by Bach, someone who has studied Bach will hear it quite differently than one who has never been exposed to classical music.  Even the trained ear will hear it differently than one of Bach's contemporaries, because styles of performance, quality of instruments, and knowledge of particulars have evolved over the centuries since Bach composed.

But this reveals a common problem, we tend to be bound by our own experience...our taste has been shaped by our culture.  Brown details the reactions of a typical undergraduate class to a Bach contata, Wachet Auf (Sleepers, Wake).  Most students describe the opening as "peaceful," while Bach enthusiasts understand it to be an "exalted wake-up call."  Why the difference?  The students, who are born and bred in a culture of rap and rock, think all classical music is peaceful and serene, even boring.  The college audience, unless trained to understand Bach's work, are incapable of perceiving what he wrote.  Brown notes that with just a few minutes of instruction, the young listeners are able to listen to Bach in an entirely new way.

In a church context, this means "we must learn to transmit and share the languages of differing tastes."  We must engage in a teaching and learning process through the life-cycles of the congregation.  Instead of trying to watch a cricket game without learning the rules, we must take the time to understand the game.  Here Brown argues that some "popular" forms of music are not accessible to those with classical training because they are "uneducated in various forms of popular culture" and hear only "boring, noisy, or confusing patterns."   The sword cuts both ways.

Brown illustrates his point with the music video One of Us by Joan Osborne, lyrics by Eric Bazilian.  He argues for a complex level of meaning and imagery in a work that is "uniquely artistic and artfully theological" in a way very different than Michelangelo; however, to those with elite taste the song may be nothing more than kitsch.  He notes that while some in the CCM community embraced One of Us, others regarded it as "sheer blasphemy."  In an interesting observation, Brown notes that Osborne herself, knowing that identification with Christianity would be the "kiss of death for her sort of musical ambitions," began performing the song in ways that were described by one German reviewer as "most excellently lewd." Brown concludes, "To be unable to hear either the unsettling implications of some of the questions in One of Us or the serious religious inquisitiveness behind its questions is surely to lack a perceptive faculty important to having a taste for it."

Taste as aesthetic enjoyment (appreciation or the lack thereof):   Brown notes that Augustine reached a point in his life where he expressed satisfaction with the fact that he was no longer moved to tears by the singing of hymns.  He valued the songs for the truth in the words; he did not appreciate (his taste was corrupted) the truth as expressed in the music itself.  The embodiment of truth in music, and the corresponding ability to appreciate it (a taste well developed), can produce tangible results in the Christian community.

We are led to appreciate or reject a given piece of art by the work itself, its genre, and its context. "When there is dissonance between the perceived style of an artwork and the purpose it is meant to serve, a work that might otherwise please can actually disturb or disappoint."  Brown illustrates this point by referring to a Puerto Rican arrangement of A Mighty Fortress is Our God.  While a listener might appreciate the rhythms and beat of the Caribbean genre, the auditory cues give a sense of lightness to a theologically heavy text.  He says, "It was therefore by no means easy for us to enjoy this setting as Christian music, let alone as a musical setting of a text depicting God's capacity to defeat the greatest imaginable evils.  The incongruity between form and purported content seemed too great." He says later, "Is the kind of enjoyment called for by the medium actually undercutting the message?"  And even argues "that there is a sense in which no such rendition of A Mighty Fortress can adequately substitute for versions rooted more firmly in the tradition of the German chorale."

This does not mean that all religious truth should be limited to the style of traditional chorale music.  There are aspects of the faith that cannot be expressed in this genre.  All of this means that clergy, artists, and congregants must determine over time what kinds of expressions best fit religious purposes for optimum enjoyment.

Tomorrow:  Taste as Aesthetic Judgment.

FBB on Elitism

You have to love the internet!  I emailed Frank Burch Brown regarding a definition for "elitism," and he was kind enough to shoot back a quick reply, as well as refer me to a later section in Good Taste, Bad Taste, and Christian Taste.  Here is his definition, and then I will quote at length from the text:

Thanks for your query, and I look forward to visiting your blog site.  In my TASTES book, on p. 158, second full paragraph, I explain rather fully my conception of what it means for someone to be an elitist in a negative sense, in matters of taste.  I would just emphasize that loving sophisticated and highly cultivated forms of art is not in itself elitist, in my view.  What makes one elitist is thinking that only those arts are truly commendable, aesthetically, and that the best art is inevitably found in the so-called "high arts."  That judgment is usually accompanied by a social bias as well, which reinforces the elitism.  My notion of ecumenical taste, and the rather complex chapter in which I discuss that, is intended to provide a fuller discussion of how one can be both inclusive and discerning without falling into the opposite traps of fiberless relativism (anything goes) or a special privileging of the tastes of one group (sometimes a socially elite). 

Elitism, as the term is typically used, is normally associated with "high-class" tastes; elitism in that sense has its counterpart in a populism that refuses to see value in anything other than popular arts.

I hope those thoughts are of some use!

Yours truly,

Frank BB

From the text:

Has my insistence on the importance of questions of quality and taste made my approach elitist, despite my disclaimers?  Not as I understand the concept "elitist." It is not elitist to believe that some aesthetic choices are better than others.  Every artist makes that assumption simply in choosing to make a given work, or how to make it better.  Nor is it elitist to believe that some artistic goals are more rewarding in kind and duration than others, however diverse those goals may be, and however conditioned by special communal interests and tastes.  Every kind of art, even the most popular, has its relative "classics," and every community also singles out particular kinds of art as the most admirable and enduring.  It is not even elitist to believe that some aesthetic styles are more promising than others for purposes of religious expression and exploration....What is truly elitist (and cynical besides) is to believe that popular arts are not concerned with questions of quality, or that they are strictly for the "masses," or that they must always be mere kitsch.  It is also truly elitist to think that "elite" and formal arts are always cheapened whenever they become popular and accessible.

Do we have any elitists among us?

On Relating to the World

There is an ongoing discussion at Mere Comments on the value of "Christian Movie Reviews" in publications.  This has broken out into a larger consideration of our relationship to the world.  S.M. Hutchens has a post worth the price of admission on the topic.

A Matter of Taste (pt 3)

Well, I am not going to try and finish chapter one today, there is just a bit too much to chew on, and this book might take quite some time.  I am sure there are sections to take in great sweeps, but these initial pages require due diligence.  The section today is entitled:  Preparing to Pursue Taste Theologically. 

Brown begins by encouraging us to think seriously about taste as a religious and theological issue.  We should not ignore the aesthetics of religious practice, nor should we "uncritically celebrate the spiritual assets of tackiness," though the church will survive tackiness.  He mentions the adage: De gustibus non disputandum est, but concludes that disputations about taste are inevitable and ultimately profitable.

He notes that matters of taste strike deep in our hearts.  We sense an immediate bond and sense of joy when we recognize our tastes are shared and affirmed.  However, there is alienation and a sense of misunderstanding when our tastes are not appreciated by others.  This may even lead to an inability to worship in the same church, or he says prophetically, "It may even strain the notion that we belong to the same church in a larger sense."  These tastes extend beyond the individual to our communities, and to spheres beyond our communities.  This will require us to be sensitive to tastes different than our own; however, Brown argues that love must not compel us to "happily tolerate, let alone promote, aesthetic carelessness or mediocrity."  The "worship wars" raging in our churches today reflect confusion about matters of taste, and tell us that we can no longer ignore aesthetics.

Continuing to argue for the necessity of serious thinking about taste, Brown notes that Jesus was a good storyteller of good stories, that the Roman Catholic Church has benefited from monks singing in tune for centuries, that Wesley was right to collect hymns free of "doggeral" and  "patched rhymes," and that many churches are architecturally beautiful.  He says, "Is it not...the case that these efforts of artistry, requiring discipline and taste, generally enhance Christian life?  And that diverse kinds of artistic excellence and beauty are part of the bounty of the religious life, not merely negligible products of human frailty that a gracious church must condescend to accept?"

Now here's the point, and I must quote Brown, "More pointedly: the evidence of scripture, tradition, and experience all suggest that art can sometimes mediate not only a sense of life but also a sense of grace and of the mystery that we call God.  And since art cannot mediate without the aid of aesthetic imagination, response, and judgment--without taste, in short--we must consider the perhaps surprising possibility that taste at its most encompassing is no less crucial to religious life and faith than is intellectual understanding and moral commitment." 

Before fleshing out in detail the three elements of taste, Brown asks his readers to consider cultivation of an "ecumenical taste," able (1) "to recognize and indeed relish certain aesthetic and religious differences without regarding them as inevitably and permanently alienating; (2) to learn to discern, as an act of love, what others find delightful and meaningful in art that has little appeal to oneself or one's group; and (3) to notice, both more precisely and more generally, points in life and worship where aesthetic aims and religious aspirations (or aversions) are wedded to one another, and thus to see how spiritual growth can have a properly artistic and aesthetic dimension subject to criticism, cultivation, and education."  This is how he counters elitism, and I think this may be where some stumble.

A Matter of Taste (pt 2)

Chapter One:  Good Taste, Bad Taste, and Christian Taste

These chapters are long and thorough, so I will probably have to break them up a bit.  Let me give you the subtitles through the first chapter so you can grasp Brown's train of thought:

I.  The Religious Problem with Questions of Taste

        -Taste perceived as irrelevant to religion
        -Artistic taste seen as theologically suspect
        -Taste regarded as prejudice and elitist
        -"Taste" irretrievable?

II.  Preparing to Pursue Taste Theologically

III.  Features of Taste for Theological Reflection

        -Taste as aesthetic perception
        -Taste as aesthetic enjoyment
        -Taste as aesthetic judgment
        -Excellence in taste

IV.  Aftertaste--and Foretaste

Brown begins by noting how believers tend to trivialize matters of taste compared to matters of theology and morality.  Jesus didn't drive people out of the temple because they had done a poor job of interior decorating; he didn't teach his disciples how to sing in four-part harmony.  Nothing is gained spiritually by being a connoisseur of religious art, so why be concerned about matters that only cause embarrassment and divide?

He does a quick survey of church history to demonstrate that many theologians disregard beauty entirely, or place it only on a lower level of spirituality "due to its entanglements with the senses, materiality, and worldly imagination."  Ever since the Renaissance patronage for the arts has gotten increasingly secular as art and artists retreated from the church (Kandinsky, Eliot, and Schoenberg being notable 20th c. exceptions).   

However, there is a stream of Protestant thought that values some aspects of the arts:  Bach as the "fifth evangelist;" Luther using music as a means of proclamation; and the arts as a revealer of man's depravity: art glimpses Canaan from a distance, even it is not able to dry our tears in the griefs of life (Bavinck).

Of course the onslaught of postmodernism has all but destroyed art as supplying any meaningful "text" for spiritual contemplation and appreciation.  Art is anti-theological; deconstructed, it contains no metaphysical authority, power, or truth.  Aesthetic judgments are political: "prejudiced signs and tools of status, class, and entitlement."

This leads to the criticism that matters of taste are hopelessly discussed because they inevitably boil down to a theologically and morally unacceptable elitism.  Brown contrasts two views by recommending two authors and their works:  White Soul: Country Music, the Church and Working Americans by Tex Sample, and Why Catholics Can't Sing: The Culture of Catholicism and the Triumph of Bad Taste by Thomas Day. Day argues that bad taste is bad for spiritual life and advocates a view building on Brown's:  a nonelitist analysis of taste.  This tells you where we are going.

Brown concludes this first section in chapter one by emphasizing the importance of matters of taste to religious life despite the fact there is little in Christian habits or theological training to encourage it.  He says: "Religious life and thought are nevertheless far more conditioned...by matters related to taste than has commonly been acknowledged....no other term [taste] so readily combines a concern for aesthetic delight with a concern for imaginative discernment...that...can be good for life, morally and spiritually, and communally as well as individually....We are in search of a concept and theology of taste that is both spiritually challenging and nonelitist.  It is my own judgment that, in an era in which imagination, sensory experience, and embodiment have become more theologically respectable, reconsiderations of taste might well contribute to new theological understandings of faith, community, and spiritual growth."

I should be able to finish chapter one tomorrow.

Million Dollar Assisted Suicide

Al Mohler deals very effectively with the theme of assisted suicide in the Clint Eastwood film Million Dollar Baby.  An excerpt: 

Beyond all this, the worldview of "Million Dollar Baby" represents a direct repudiation of Christianity's respect for the dignity of human life. Compare this movie to the real-life story of Joni Eareckson Tada, who triumphed over her own paralysis and has become a witness, both to the Gospel of Jesus Christ and to the true dignity of human life, even among those who have suffered disastrous spinal injuries....The Christian worldview leaves absolutely no room for assisted suicide, euthanasia, or any other form of what the secular world increasingly embraces as the "good death"....Helping a friend to die is not a heroic act. True heroism consists in affirming human dignity and in lovingly calling hurting people out of depression, not into suicide.

Particularly timely with the events surrounding Terry Schiavo currently.

A Matter of Taste (pt 1)

Good Taste, Bad Taste, and Christian Taste: Aesthetics in Religious Life by Frank Burch Brown is a book I have been working through.  I picked this volume up some time ago and set in on the shelf for later.  Our recent talk on the Christian and culture caused me to take up and read. I'll just give a brief synopsis of each chapter's content with a few comments.  Here is an introduction.

The Author: Frank Burch Brown is the Director of the Master of Arts in Church Music program and the Frederick Doyle Kershner Professor of Religion and the Arts at Christian Theological Seminary. His professional achievements include composing several commissioned works and serving as a visiting fellow and scholar for the faculty of divinity at Cambridge University.  He earned his PhD in religion and literature from the University of Chicago.  Here is an article on recent trends in church music by Brown.  Here is a lecture he gave on the differences between sacred and secular music.  Here is an interesting reading list on the broader topic of theology and the arts.

Prologue (Religious Taste):  Burch begins the prologue with the obvious, though in our day controversial premise, that taste is intimately tied to matters of morality and religion.  Taste enables us to experience the sublime or the terrible; it makes religious experience tangible, whether we are considering a painting of the Transfiguration or reading Dante's Inferno. Though philosophers have tended to limit taste to the ability to make judgments about whether something is beautiful (Kant), Burch sees essentially three aspects to taste:  1) perceiving (apperception), 2) enjoying (appreciation), and 3) judging (appraisal).  So taste "has to do with the various elements of aesthetic discernment and response."  Though we immerse ourselves in the first two activities (especially as Americans), we tend to ignore the third.

We think of aesthetics in terms of experiencing something for the pure enjoyment.  It is rewarding to study the intricate design and detail of a snowflake.  We take delight in the harmony, order, geometry and fragility without associating it with religion or morality.  However, when the organist on Sunday chooses to play a slow version of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” instead of a piece by Bach during communion, we become aware that aesthetics goes beyond experience and enjoyment.  In a narrower realm, aesthetics requires a taste that is morally and religiously (even liturgically) informed.  So aesthetic response comes in varying degrees of complexity.

Burch argues for an aesthetic taste that is neither elitist nor indiscriminately relativistic; however, he acknowledges there is such a thing as bad taste.  And since aesthetic taste has such a critical bearing on matters of corporate religion and personal spirituality, contributing to much of what unites and divides Christian communities, he pursues a critical pluralism that nurtures an aesthetic taste that is diverse and discriminating.   It is essential for a believer to develop this taste since it “can contribute to spiritual and moral virtues central to Christian life, including the capacity to love the neighbor, to enjoy God, and to love and worship imaginatively.” 

Here are some of the questions Burch attempts to address in the book:  What, if anything, makes one style of art secular, another sacred?  What are the values and limitations of popular styles as compared with classical or traditional, whether in church or in secular culture?  What is wrong (or right?) with importing into a house of worship various kinds of music and media that are “worldly” in origin?  By what criteria can one make a judgment?  How can conflicting values—religious, moral, and aesthetic—be addressed by churches in a pluralistic context?  Are certain kinds of spirituality, and of spiritual taste, more mature than others?  Does the mature Christian need to have mature taste?  Etc. 

Here are the chapter headings:  Good Taste, Bad Taste, and Christian Taste; Art in Christian Traditions; From the Love of Religion to the Love of Art; The Taste for Art and the Thirst for God; Kitsch, Sacred, and Profane: The Question of Quality; Ecumenical Taste: The Case for Music; Making Sacred Places, and Making Places Sacred; Styles and Stages of Faith.