Ode to Birthdays

“We’re Adults. When did that happen? And how can we make it stop?”

Postman Quotes

I’m currently in the process of writing an academic paper on classical education as a subversive entity in our postmodern world. It was originally going to be a paper on David Hicks’ Norms and Nobility, and that book is certainly still a huge influence, but I naturally tied that book with Neil Postman’s work on the detriment of technology to our culture, Amusing Ourselves to Death. But since that book is not really focused on education, I decided I would get Postman’s book The End of Education: Redefining the Value of School. I’m about half way through today, and I love it. I should probably read Postman’s Teaching as a Subversive Activity and any of his other books on the subject before fully being satisfied with the paper.

For the purpose of this blog, however, I want to comment on a few of my thoughts on Postman. He certainly defeats the myth that all smart people are Christians. That’s probably a stupid thing to say, but it has amazed me to no end that Postman rejects the Christian story even though he has so much truth in his writing, and he uses Christian language a lot, for instance, regarding the story of America, he says the first chapter opens, “In the beginning, there was a revolution.” Unlike many people who use Christian language, his does not seem to do a disservice to it. And in fact, reading just the prologue and the first chapter of The End of Education, I was struck with the similarity of Postman to Stanley Hauerwas. For instance, this quote:

“With some reservations but mostly with conviction, I use the word narrative as a synonym for god, with a small g. I know it is risky to do so, not only because the word god, having an aura of sacredness, is not to be used lightly, but also because it calls to mind a fixed figure or image. But it is the purpose of such figures or images to direct one’s mind to an idea and, more to my point, to a story– not any kind of story, but one that tells of orgins and envisions a future, a story that constructs ideals, prescribes rules of conduct, provides a source of authority, and, above all, gives a sense of continuity and purpose.” pp. 5-6, bold emphasis mine.

His first chapter is titled, “The Necessity of Gods,” and as he explained in that quote, he uses the word god synonymously with the word narrative. His whole first chapter is about different myths. He thinks that it is dangerous to just embrace one myth, however, which will promote fanaticism, and so is arguing that the public schools embrace a variety of good myths. What makes a myth “good,” on a technical level is if it survives, or works, and on a metaphysical level if it has a transcendence to it that instills purpose.

The need for a transcendent force in education (including a sense of morals and ethics) is the central theme of my paper, in light of the scientific model of education that is only concerned with efficiently making mass amounts of facts accessible, and has a lot to do with accumulating skills for a life of economic success. In Postman’s words,

“The faith is that despite some of the more debilitating teachings of culture itself, something can be done in school that will alter the lenses through which one sees the world… What this means is that at its best, schooling can be about how to make a life, which is quite different from how to make a living.” (p. x) bold emphasis mine.

This is very similar to Hicks’ view that we have been so concerned with what can be done that we have neglected whether it ought to be done. Postman says that the story of science gave us both understanding and power… and now the story of technology has just given us power.

Having been educated in a classical school (albeit flawed), I think the hope can be in this model of education, especially Hicks’ version, known as moral classicism. Pushing forward a story that provides a purpose for students is the biggest subversion that can be offered in a culture of hopelessness and despair. Here is one last quote from Postman:

“What is relentless is our education, which, for good or ill, gives us no rest. That is why poverty is a great educator. Having no boundaries and refusing to be ignored, it mostly teaches hopelessness. But not always. Politics is also a great educator. Mostly it teaches, I am afraid, cynicism. But not always. Television is a great educator as well. Mostly it teaches consumerism. But not always. It is the ‘not always’ that keeps the romantic spirit alive in those who write about schooling.” pp. ix, x. bold emphasis mine.

Silly Rabbit, Trix are for Kids!

John Piper would rephrase that, “Silly women, Church is for men!”

The assumptions this video makes about women is astounding. It wouldn’t be enough to simply say, “The Bible says women can’t be in leadership, so women I think your ministry is going to be defined in some other way.” That is erroneous, but respectable at some level. Yet Piper does not say that. Instead, he tells women to pray for leadership, to pray their children into leadership, to not waste their life on soaps or feel overwhelmed at a stage in their life when they have three (or was it six?) kids under the age of six. Does Piper believe that women are good for anything except praying and popping out babies? The more kids you have, the more likely it is that at least one of them will be a boy!

Piper’s advice assumes a clearly subordinate view of women, which is lucky for him, since he happens to be a man. Women are supposed to love their leadership, and help that leadership with their gifts. Which is certainly true. But Piper does not acknowledge the submission goes both ways. He seems to think women don’t have any gifts, and would prefer to watch soaps than be involved in the church, or if they do happen to be creative and articulate, that creativity and articulateness needs to be limited to prayer. Has Piper ever actually talked to a woman?

Piper has a death-grip on control. His fear-based language is apparent when he says that there are some women-dominated churches that have driven men away. Well, maybe it shouldn’t be put at the blame of the woman (weird, does that sound familiar? “That woman you put here with me…”) but recognized as a way in which the church has conformed to the men-dominated culture. The culture was able to be dominated by men because they defined power as physical strength. Does Christianity claim the same thing? If so, if the strong are powerful, then it would make sense for men to be in leadership. Yet Christ’s gospel tends to be a gospel of reversals– the weak are strong in the picture of the church.

It is a pity that many women would be certainly fine with Piper’s assessment of them. It is the church’s role to bring women up to their full potential (the same goes for men), not subordinate them.

“That’s Not Fair!”

When I was younger and would get punished for something wrong I had done (and believe me, this happened often) I would usually mutter, “That’s not fair!” under my breath. However, I was wrong. The problem was that it was fair.

Yet what if my childish sense of justice was on to something. What if justice isn’t as much about fairness, punishment, and vengeance, but about unfairness, reconciliation, and grace?

Now I am not advocating that parents stop punishing their kids. There is an aspect of punishment, especially for children in the process of being trained, that is similar to a doctor breaking a bone so he could set it. It is a necessity if the person wishes to be restored to proper health. However, my use of the word “restored” is the previous sentence is intentional. When one has the power to choose the consequences for the specific situation as a parent does, one should keep in mind that the one who has done wrong is fundamentally, essentially, and naturally good. The wrong they have done is only a virus, or a parasite of the goodness. To punish them to such an extent that one alienates the child from himself as punishment (as sometimes happens– for instance, if the child says, “I hate you!”), that is acting as if the child is fundamentally bad, and not allowing the restoration to take place. Restoration can only take place in relationship. Often it is more often than not a reaction out of a self-preserving fear.

I would advocate, as difficult as it is, a nobility that stems not from self-preserving interests, but from modeling ones life after Christ. Christ again and again saw the good in people and trusted them into not sinning anymore. If he had reacted with condemnation and judgment upon those who had done wrong, they would have been prone to despair and anger and would have rejected him, because they knew they could never get better on their own. But with His help, with his trust and his healing, they could be disciplined to be better. It required vulnerability on his part and a lot of faith… but he knew that they were created good. And his purpose was to restore them to that goodness. Is it not the work of his church to continue that ministry?

Another Pilgrimage

I discovered this morning another project that invites the reader to go on a pilgrimage with a famous writer.  George Orwell. But, instead of reading his story in a book, the reader gets to hear Orwell from his own mouth– through his diaries, posted on a blog every day, in real time exactly seventy years after they were originally written. Here is the link:

http://orwelldiaries.wordpress.com/

And a further more personal note on pilgrimages. I have often wondered if the order of books that one reads is in itself a type of pilgrimage. For instance, how differently would a certain book impact me if I had (or had not) read an entirely separate book before hand?  Once such book I’m reading currently is Colossians Remixed. Many of the discussions on Postmodernism I have already read multiple times, in some cases, often in books that are referencing it. What if I had read this book first, or what if I hadn’t read any of the others? Not to mention, my particular setting from which I am reading greatly affects how I encounter the book.

This is the same for writing as well… I began writing a paper in May, after just reading What Would Jesus Deconstruct? and Solomon Among the Postmoderns, and so my paper was heavily influenced by Derrida’s deconstruction. However I abandoned the paper for multiple reasons, and now, after starting from scratch, the books most heavily influencing the paper are Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death and Being Consumed by William Cavanaugh. Very different outcomes, that’s for sure, especially since the paper is about education. And none of the books listed would be categorized as books about education.

“The Life You Save May Be Your Own: An American Pilgrimage”: Book Review

The language of journey is not one unfamiliar to the postmodern sojourner. Globalization has made travel accessible to the average man like never before. Our late-capitalist culture is in fact structured by an emphasis on mobility, often accompanied by a detachment from people and places in one’s individual dream of success.

Paul Elie’s use of the word is quite different however in his book, The Life You Save May Be Your Own: An American Pilgrimage. Instead of viewing an individual’s story of success due to his profound detachment from everything except himself, Elie weaves four individual stories of contemporary Catholic writers together: Dorothy Day, Walker Percy, Flannery O’Connor, and Thomas Merton. One might not see much that these four have in common except the era in which they wrote, the fact that they wrote, and their Catholic faith; they each came from very unique backgrounds and wrote in a very unique way. Yet Elie uses both their similarities and dissimilarities to form an overarching story, recognizing particular themes that characterized their lives at certain stages and writing those lives together thematically.

He uses the notion of “pilgrimage” to recognize the fluidity of the events of their stories, and does not summarize their lives in such a way that makes them seem larger than life, thus buying into the Hollywood idea of “fame,” but instead displays the unique blend of life that is both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.

These events are told in such a way that it brings to mind a journey, a procession, a pilgrimage. This pilgrimage, unlike the language of the postmodern sojourn, is one of commitment, of sacrifice of self, of love of neighbor. And by recognizing the communal nature of each individual in the story, the reader is not wholly separate from the story, and is invited to become a sojourner too, aligning herself with the struggles and triumphs of those in the book that are both particular to the place and time in which the subjects experienced them, but are also proverbial enough that one can see herself in each event as well.

The role of reading/ writing contributes to this, partly because the four people discussed are authors themselves and were extremely well-read, which links the reader simply because she is reading the book. It is even a greater point of interest if the reader finds writing an enjoyment as well, for it is well known that the best writers are also very well read. Also the author is fully present (albeit invisible) throughout the book as an author/reader himself.

This book is a work that is a unique blend of history and autobiography yet is queerly lacking any sense of theological agenda while not shrinking from discussing the religious, spiritual, Catholic identities of the authors.

One review that I particularly appreciated was written by Andrew Moore, who summarizes the book and gives specific key points about each author.

http://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.cgi?path=41871088455808

I agree with him that Elie did not take advantage of the Catholic faith of his subjects to explain what exactly it means to be Catholic, especially since the title is supposed to suggest this book is not just for Catholics, but non-Catholics and any American in general.

The beauty of story, and a well-written story at that, is that it attracts the heart of all who read it, and encourages them to step out and live such a story themselves.

Happiness

“No man chooses an evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.” ~Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.

Perseverance

According to Thomas Merton, Perseverance isn’t “a matter of getting a bulldog grip on the faith and not letting the devil pry us loose from it…” it is a matter of letting go rather thank keeping hold. “I am coming to think that God (may He be praised in His great mystery) loves and helps best those who are so beat and have so much nothing when they come to die that it is almost as if they had persevered in nothing but had gradually lost everything, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but God.”

~Thomas Merton, in a letter to Dorothy Day, February 4, 1960. Quoted in The Life You Save May Be Your Own, by Paul Elie, (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux; 2003). p. 301.

Who Needs some…. Wonderflonium?!

This is a hilarious video with surprisingly good writing and music. It may seem long at first, but you’ll enjoy it, I promise!

http://www.drhorrible.com/mushortio.html

The Shack: A Book Review

I have always had an instant, gut reaction against the word “Papa.” So when I received a copy of The Shack for my birthday, and the note on the inside said, “Spend much time with Papa,” I had to mentally coach myself to accept the frame of mind behind the statement, even if I disliked the word for “God” my friend had used. I figured it was just a pet name that the giver of the gift used, and chose to share with me. Well, no thank you, I thought, I’ll call God something else, thanks.

But as I began reading the book, I realized the use of the word “Papa” was not an arbitrary matter of opinion. The word is intrinsic to the narrative of the story. Because my reaction to the word was very similar to the main character, Mack’s reaction, and he too had a close friend, his wife, who used the word regularly.

So I was forced to interact with my disdain for the word. I have no problems viewing God as “Father,” and even “Abba” is foreign enough that even though people have translated it as “Papa,” I can appreciate the ancientness of it and the intimacy of it. However, the word Papa brings to mind too many Laura Ingalls Wilder books, books that pictured a perfect family atmosphere, with loving parents and adoring brothers and sisters (despite the hardships of the setting around them). That picture always brings to head bitterness and envy that I direct at anyone who ever had the gift of calling their father “Papa.”

But as I read the book, my friend’s exhortation rang true for me. Spend time with Papa. Because, despite the logical inconsistencies of the situation, that is exactly what Mackanzie Allen Phillips sets out to do. Putting aside his anger and frustration at the unimaginable pain he was experiencing, pain that he projected on the God he knew to be all-powerful, he relinquishes control of his pride and enters a place of deep sorrow, guilt, anger, and hate, a place where his lack of control is epitomized. And he is met by God there. His leap of faith is definitely rewarded in totally unexpected ways. My traditional Christian language that I’m using to describe the situation seems inadequate in the face of how surreal the situation described was.

And as the narrative progresses, the distinction between Mack and myself slowly disappeared. Even though I was surrounded by noise and distractions as I read it, I could put all my surroundings aside and find myself in the shack with God, a God I didn’t want to imagine, a God who wasn’t safe, who didn’t fit into my preconceived notions and who didn’t let me control our interactions so I didn’t get hurt. This God invited me to let go of everything and seek relationship and love with him, the triune God who modeled love so completely in the persons of God the Father, the Son, and the Spirit.

This book might not be something I intellectually grasp my head around, or even agree with, but that’s not the point. The point is that God is there, always, waiting for me to seek relationship with him, to model my life after his, and to love him and his children. And even if situations like the ones described by Mack are at the least few and far between, an act of humility would be for us to realize that we can not see everything. There is a real that exists to be seen, but it can only be glimpsed the closer we get to Christ.