the parish

I've Lost My Irony Bone

I've advanced the theory previously on this blog that conservatives, be they political or theological, have lost the capacity for irony. That point was originally reinforced by W's insistence that science must never be used for the destruction of human life (this in the context of the stem cell debate). Ahem...what discipline does W think is responsible for creating weapons? And what are those weapons being used for? Anyway...

The announcement that Lifechurch.tv had started an internet campus was greeted with something less than shock by me. After all, if you're going to make faith a commodity, why not commodify it further? Makes sense, right? I mean, if you're going to say that people who watch your television program are "members" of your church, why not people who roll their asses out of bed of a Sunday and log onto church?

The "internet campus pastor" has a video blurb on the web site to explain why internet church is really church: "church is the people, not the building." Of course, and thank you for making my point. Church is the people, so how can a group of geographically scattered folk be church? How can people who log onto a computer in the privacy of their own home or bedroom or apartment or library be considered a church by any definition? Radical individualism triumphs in this model because each person by logging on becomes a member by virtue of logging on despite the fact that the nearest other member could be hundreds of miles away. Is the internet campus pastor so obtuse that he doesn't recognize the irony of his statement?

Can We Talk?

I learned to talk to people as an Army brat. You don't have much choice. Your dad or mom received orders, you leave your elementary, middle, or high school and move to a new place. You meet new people. You either make "friends" quickly or you are horrifically lonely. I was the member of the family sent out to scout the area. Meet the families on the post, bring back useful info, navigate the new relationships, and find the sites of interest. I actually enjoyed the task. Meeting new people seemed to come naturally. I tend to be a natural conversationalist. I'm not sure how young I was when I learned that smart and funny were worth twice as much as good-looking, and if you coupled that with asking people questions about themselves and giving them an opportunity to help you, you were gold, but I did learn it. I still love people. I love bars and coffee shops and restaurants. I love meeting servers and baristas and bartenders and serving wenches. My rapport with people was extremely valuable in the pokey. That's the subject of another post though.

I learned to fear people in church.

That was my epiphany last week as I struggled with the decision to forego Zoloft. Part of the decision to start taking it was predicated on the feelings of otherness generated by contact with church folk. There must be something wrong with me, I reasoned. Other people are content with church or church lite. Other people aren't always disaffected. Other people don't look at things the way I do. (This is NOT a plea for sympathy or commiseration.) Other people aren't afraid to speak freely in front of church folk. Or are they? Church is virtually the only place I know, other than academia, where you're not free to speak your mind. In those two places you are demonized, villified, and mocked (or just "othered") for believing or failing to believe certain things.

I told my Sunday School class this week that I wasn't sure people who weren't already committed to the idea of church as institution would ever find any value in navigating the minefield that is church folk. Why subject yourself to that sort of environment when you can speak your mind at the bar? Most church folk will say that the community is worth it, but is it? Why come to a place where you either conform or become "other" when you can be yourself, even in the context of difficult, redemptive relationships, outside the institution? I can't come up with a good reason to tell people it's worth it yet. Can you help?

Macs and Zoloft and...

This is my first post as a Mac user. The hot, computer-savvy, hairdresser wife bought a MacBook today and I'm using it to post. So far we're very happy with it. I was sick to death of turning on our PC and having security updates download. The ease of use stuff is b.s., but it's not that difficult to learn the differences.

We watched a movie I don't recommend tonight. "Stay" with Ewan McGregor, Ryan Gosling, and Naomi Watts, all of whom I enjoy as actors, normally. The movie is just bizarre and the ending is a gross copout, but there is a point in the film where Naomi Watts talks about trying to create (paint) while on Klonopin. True confession time: I started taking Zoloft about a month ago. I haven't taken it since '99. I was on it six months in '99. Church closed, divorce, etc. It was a good thing to do for six months. Not sure why I went on it this time: maybe I needed it, maybe not. But I've noticed the disaffection that makes me creative and witty and satirical, and sometimes an asshole, is gone. I don't think I can live that way. Not to be too spiritual, but shouldn't there be some level of disaffection all the time? This is not to denigrate those who take Zoloft or Prozac or any of the other anti-depressants under doctor's orders. Some folks really do benefit from them. I think they just take the edge off for me, and I think I need the edge left on. Is it coincidence that some of our more creative heroes were nuts? Isn't there some connection between creativity and disaffection? Yeah. Not saying I'm a genius, just saying I'd like some ideas to fill my brain again that I can put to paper. I'm done with the Zoloft. Forgive me if the blog gets a little more pissy in the next few weeks.

I'm sure you've noticed the changes to the look around here. More changes are coming. We're getting ready for the launch of wiredparish.com, so I'll be making this place a little more tied in with what Jon and I are doing with the podcasts. We just finished the first seven shows: four on One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic. Three on fellowship, service and witness. Our next series will look at The World is Flat in conjunction with powers and principalities talk from Berkhof and Yoder.

Oh To Be A Relevant Church

I've known about this directory for a while, but I've not blogged about it. Not sure why. I think I'm tired of talking about church. That's why my posts have thinned out over the past few months too. I think I'll start focusing more on religion and less on church. Anyway...

Relevant Magazine has a church directory. The instructions at the top of the page say: To find a RELEVANT church in your city, choose from the list below." Please note the all caps on RELEVANT. That makes it a double entendre, for those of you who are too dense to get the tie-in with contemporary church vocabulary. So, I dutifully clicked on Oklahoma City. Based on the selection of choices I've determined that the readers of Relevant have no idea what makes a church RELEVANT. In order from top to bottom the churches are best described as:

• Alternative/Artsy
• Vineyard/Baptist
• Charismatic/Word of Faith
• Charismatic/Word of Faith for old people
• Southern Baptist
• Southern Baptist/Fake Emergent
• See to believe this one/I don't know what to call it
• Nazarene
• Hydra-headed megachurch
• Southern Baptist/Seeker Sensitive
• Nazarene/Wannabe hydra-headed megachurch with golf cart limousines
• Church of Christ, non-instrumental
• Pentecostal/Charismatic
• Word of Faith megachurch/Wannabe hydra-headed megachurch

Basically, I think it means someone at the listed churches puts their church info out there. I don't know why I would want to find a church that's listed on Relevant Magazine's church directory. Perhaps someone out there who has used the tool in the past can help me understand. It must go something like this: "I like Relevant Magazine; I like Jesus; I want to worship Jesus with other people who like Relevant Magazine; I should look for a RELEVANT church in my area." But such a cafeteria of church choices: Southern Baptist, Church of Christ (those two don't even like each other), pabulum-dispensing megachurches, kooky charismatic, strange old-line Pentecostal, fake Emergent, Word of Faith...how does someone know what it means to be a RELEVANT church? A composite worshipper would appear to be someone who thinks the Bible is inerrant and infallible, thinks women are generally inferior, speaks in tongues occasionally, believes in healing, believes God gives us stuff because we have faith, doesn't like instruments in church unless they do, believes in eternal security except when they don't, believes holiness is about not drinking, and thinks church clipart is important for a web site. Wow. I want to hang out with people who love Jesus and Relevant Magazine too.

It's too far to walk!

So we're driving by a certain church tonight that fancies itself a nascent version of the hydra-headed megachurch. They reported having about 400 members last I heard. I might have mentioned their last advertisement about their Saturday night service. Their Saturday night service didn't seem very busy tonight; maybe 25 cars in the parking lot. However, that didn't stop the wannabe megachurch from providing two golf cart limousines in their parking lot. Two. With two bench seats in each one. Could have held six or eight people. They were cruising the lot looking for members or visitors who were unable to walk twenty or thirty yards to the front door.

The lot is designed in such a way that the absolute maximum distance you would have to walk is 75 yards. I'm serious. 75 yards. For that excruciatingly difficult walk the church provides two golf carts. Now, bear in mind that 75 yards is the maximum distance. On a night like tonight when there are 25 cars in the lot and the max distance you'd have to walk is 100 feet, I have no idea why you'd have golf carts. It could be that this church provides so many Krispy Kremes that their membership is now incapable of walking 33 yards, or it could be that they are trying to pamper their members. Whatever the case, I find it difficult to believe that a church would shell out the cash for two two-seater golf carts for a parking lot that requires a 75-yard walk at most.

The irony of people who purport to worship a God-man that walked everywhere he went riding a golf cart 30 yards or less is not lost on me, as I expect it won't be lost on you.

SOWREAP

It was one of those awkward moments that screenwriters insert into the dialog of a quarter-life crisis or coming of age movie, the kind that makes everyone a bit uncomfortable, squirmy even. The beautiful blond was driving a Lexus with a vanity plate, SOWREAP. The dumpy, unattractive brunette worked behind the counter at the carwash. The beautiful blond was there with her equally beautiful fiancee. They were having her car detailed for their upcoming wedding: "He doesn't want to drive off in a dirty car," the blond explained. The fiancee went outside with the detail manager, and then the moment happened.

"Where did you go to school?" The blond asked.

"North," the brunette said.

"I thought you looked familiar," the blond said.

"Yeah, I recognized you too," the brunette answered. "What year did you graduate?"

"'97."

"Me too."

"We were in the same class," the blond said. "What's your name?"

The two exchanged names and with all the social, financial, and aesthetic differences so obvious between them, they tried to make small talk. These two girls who never spoke to each other in high school, who lived in different worlds a few miles apart, and who had vastly different opportunities and privileges attempted to bridge the gap because they graduated from the same school and had to kill a few minutes at a carwash. It was painful to watch. Eventually, the brunette did what I knew she'd do. It's what we all do--explain why we're not where we want to be when we're faced with someone who makes us feel less than successful or beautiful or smart or worthwhile.

"Yeah, I took a break from school. I worked here for about five years, and I came back a few weeks ago. I don't know why I took a break from school. I'm almost finished."

The blond related her educational background (B.A and M.A.) and then her good fortune in landing a great job. The fiancee came back in. The two said good-bye and the brunette offfered a "Congratulations" for the upcoming wedding.

What struck me more than anything was the vanity plate though. I mean, you don't really believe you've reaped a Lexus because of something you've sown, do you? Or, like the other vanity plate I've seen frequently, Matt633, you don't really believe that seeking God's kingdom leads to a Cadillac? This isn't just prosperity Gospel stuff. That bugs me too, but this is different. This is failing to recognize how much of my life is circumstantial. Did the brunette behind the counter also reap a minimum wage job? She's never going to be attractive, and in our culture that means fewer opportunities. Sorry, it just does. Does the beautiful one know how many doors are opened just because she's beautiful? Does she know what affluent parents and being born white do for her? Reaping and sowing? Really? And what kind of twisted theology equates a Lexus with reaping God's harvest? I'm afraid that Christians demonstrate more and more that they have no prophetic insight.'

I understand that one of them worked hard in school to achieve her M.A. before she was thirty. That's commendable, but I can't help but wonder what financial situation in her life made that sort of educational opportunity possible. As someone who has also earned a M.A., I understand that without the hot, hard-working hairdresser wife I would still be sans M.A. What if I'd had a wife who refused to work while I went to school? What if the blond didn't have affluent parents or grandparents? What if she'd had to work at 7-11 while she put herself through college? I don't know why this bugs me so much. I think it's the vanity plate.

I Never Saw It

Postmodern Negro notices a racial issue in the DaVinci Code that all of us seem to have missed. I'm such an idiot.