My own reading mixtape

The past few years my reading habits have swung on a drastic pendulum between borderline obsessiveness and willing ignorance. While in Seminary I read like a mofo and I liked it. I read for work and in my spare time I read for fun. There was a lot of reading going on! Then . . . I decided I didn't want to read anymore, I wanted to "live." I felt that I had been primarily living cereberally instead of existentially and there was some truth to my critique. So, I stopped for awhile. Eventually I began reading again, but nothing overtly theological as before - instead a gigantic biography of Bob Dylan, the autobiography of Johnny Cash, and The Wilco Book. This past fall I had the desire to read more theological material again for the first time. Perhaps it was no coincidence that many of the books I was now reading on Eastern Orthodox spirituality placed an emphasis on the human person and "incarnational living" (which I admittedly do a poor job of). At any rate, the last few weeks I have been re-reading Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. I've enjoyed the book a lot more the second time around partially because I'm a little older, have a better translation this time, and now am Orthodox myself, which gives me a better context for many of the characters actions in Orthodox Russia. The author places this quote in the mouth of one of his characters, Elder Zossima:

"There is only one salvation for you: take yourself up, and make yourself responsible for all the sins of men. For indeed it is so, my friend, and the moment you make yourself sincerely responsible for everything and everyone, you will see at once that it is really so, that it is you who are guilty on behalf of all and for all. Whereas by shifting your own laziness and powerlessness onto others, you will end by sharing in Satan's pride and murmuring against God. I think thus of Satan's pride: it is difficult for us on earth to comprehend it, and therefore, how easy it is to fall into error and partake of it, thinking, moreover, that we are doing something great and beautiful."

My int ital reaction to this quote is one of affirmation; I feel edified and encouraged. It doesn't take long though, before I begin to reconsider. How is this possible? It is at the very least a challenge to my own individualistic sense of accomplishment. I don't believe what Dostoevsky is trying to say here is that there isn't any difference between a regular ol' sinful Joe like myself and a mass murderer, because I think there is. I'm pretty sure there's a difference between myself and Mother Theresa as well. However, saying as much is not mutually exclusive with what I believe his main point to be here: that the first step toward God is humbling myself before Him. It is only when I can call myself along with the Apostle Paul -- "the worst of sinners," the sort of sinner who takes some responsibility in all sin, no matter how grievous -- that I receive Love and can properly love my fellow man.

Joy

"And yet, from it very beginning Christianity has been the proclamation of joy, of the only possible joy on earth. It rendered impossible all joy we usually think of as possible. But within this impossibility, at the very bottom of this darkness, it announced and conveyed a new all-embracing joy, and with this joy it transformed the End into a Beginning. Without the proclamation of this joy Christianity is incomprehensible. It is only as joy that the Church was victorious in the world, and it lost the world when it lost that joy, and ceased to be a credible witness to it. Of all accusations against Christians, the most terrible one was uttered by Nietzsche when he said that Christians had no joy . . . Christianity was the revelation of the gift of joy, and thus, the gift of genuine feast. Every Saturday night at the Resurrection vigil we sing, 'for, through the Cross, joy came into the whole world.' This joy is pure joy because it does not depend on anything in this world, and is not the reward of anything in us. It is totally and absolutely a gift, the 'charis,' the grace. And being pure gift, this joy has a transforming power, the only really transforming power in this world. It is the 'seal' of the Holy Spirit on the life of the Church -- on its faith, hope and love."

-- Fr. Alexander Schemann, For the Life of the World

It's not too good to be true; it's so good it has to be true.

The Body of the Dead Christ In the Tomb

I hope that my intentions are pure in posting a picture of this painting -- that this is not an immature attempt to shock or sensationalize, but to fully point toward the life-giving cross by also acknowledging its tragedy. That in this event death was truly overcome by death.

The following excerpt gives some background on Hans Holbein the Younger's painting and the full article is linked here:

"Portraits apart, this is perhaps Holbein's most striking image. Since Dostoevsky's observations in the nineteenth century, which dwelt on the forbidding aspects of physical decay and bodily corruption, the painting has been seen as the product of a mind steeped in the apocalyptic horrors that were unleashed by the first phase of the Reformation. But what is known of Holbein's phlegmatic interpretation of the human condition belies this interpretation. Modern authorities suggest that Holbein intended to stress the sheer miracle of Resurrection and its imminence, since the minutely-observed level of decay in the gangrenous wounds suggests that we see Christ's body three days after death."

And a quote from Fr. Alexander Schmemann in For the Life of the World:

"Yes, as we have already said, Christianity was on the one hand, the end of all natural joy. It revealed its impossibility, its futility, its sadness -- because by revealing the perfect man it revealed the abyss of man's alienation from God and the inexhaustible sadness of this alienation. The cross of Christ signified an end of all 'natural' rejoicing; it made it, indeed, impossible. From this point of view the sad 'seriousness' of modern man is certainly of Christian origin, even if this has been forgotten by that man himself. Since the Gospel was preached in this world, all attempts to go back to a pure 'pagan joy,' all 'renaissances,' all 'healthy optimisms' were bound to fail. 'There is but one sadness,' said Leon Bloy, 'that of not being a saint.' And it is this sadness that permeates mysteriously the whole life of the world, it's frantic and pathetic hunger and thirst for perfection, which kills all joy. Christianity made it impossible simply to rejoice in the natural cycles -- in harvests and new moons. Because it relegated the perfection of joy to the inaccessible future -- as the goal and end of all work -- it made all human life an 'effort,' a 'work.'"

The E Street Fire

A few weeks ago, The Arcade Fire released their highly anticipated second full-length album Neon Bible. Since I make a habit of keeping up with what music critics think is cool, I had purchased their debut album Funeral, which was widely hailed as the best rock record of 2004. Written in the midst of the deaths of several family members (three of the seven band members are related; front-man Win Butler and his wife Regine Chassagne, along with Win's brother Will), Funeral is notable for its unique instrumentation and is a highly emotive and personal recording that allowed for the catharsis of the band's personal grief and anguish during this period.

Neon Bible is a natural maturation from Funeral. Where Funeral seems oblique or obtuse both musically and lyrically, Neon Bible has a much wider appeal without compromising the unique sound of its predecessor. It is primarily directed not toward the personal themes of Funeral, but addresses the proverbial "big subjects" in life -- God, faith, the Iraq war (of course), Western materialism -- and is served up with a foreboding if not slightly cynical/melancholy undertone. My ears hear the musical influence of Boy-era U2 and Bowie. However, the biggest influence is perhaps the most unlikely considering the vast differences between their respective fan bases: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, who have their collective fingerprints all over Neon Bible.

Really though, the comparison between The Boss/E Street Band and the Arcade Fire isn't that much of a stretch; they really have their share of similarities. Both bands have close to double digits in group members, can come across as melodramatic and condescendingly self-important, have ridiculously high energy performances, and to use a cliche, attempt to break down the barrier between performer and audience. In fact, the Arcade Fire often begin their encores acoustically from the back of the venue. In recalling the Arcade Fire show I attended in the fall of 2005 at First Avenue in Minneapolis (where Prince shot Purple Rain), the band, to use a David Letterman term, blew the roof off the dump. After a shaky start, the final medley of "Wake Up"/Rebellion (Lies) was astounding. During one portion of the show, one of the band jumped up onto the balcony of the small theatre armed with a drumstick in hand, wailing away violently at anyone in the audience member who attempted to get close.

Now if you see Little Steven pull similar punches at the next E Street show -- it was no accident.