For my part, I loathe just about every single praise and worship tune I hear. It’s all saccharine: sweet and tasty, but the aftertaste is there to remind you that what you’ve just consumed is fake. P&W tunes operate out of an emotional construct, which is unsustainable in both human and spiritual relationships. My argument isn’t always with the content of these songs (often being very scriptural), but rather with the method of delivery and what one hopes to incite in the worshiper.

Any art involving words — if it is to have any lasting, enduring affect — must appeal primarily to the intellect. It should give you cause to pause, to relate, to grow, to ponder. It should be actualized. All too often, the point of P&W is to get you excited, to pump you up and get you going. And then what?

I say I loathe “just about” every P&W song I hear, because occasionally I run across a good one. The music I hear when I’m with a local young adults group always seems to fit the mood of Eucharistic Adoration, and is extremely well done.

I haven’t posted this quote by Flannery O’Connor in a while, but I’m always reminded of it when I encounter terrible Christian art:

The sorry religious novel comes about when the writer supposes that, because of his belief, he is somehow dispensed from the obligation to penetrate concrete reality…But the real novelist, the one with an instinct for what he is about, knows that he cannot approach the infinite directly, that he must penetrate the natural human world as it is.

UPDATE: My buddy (the newly-minted Br. Benedict — woohoo!) brings up a good point with the “me me me” theme so prevalent in P&W.

One of the places Jeremy Pierce’s satire falls short is that he doesn’t acknowledge the larger theological sense of what the “me/I/my, etc” means in the Psalms. When I pray the psalms — and I do, five times a day, as I promised my bishop I would — the “me” isn’t Josh Miller. “Me” isn’t even the original composer of the Psalm, in the traditional narrative sense.

The “me” we refer to when we pray the Psalms through a Christian context is Jesus Christ, addressing the Father. Thus, in my prayer, I unite with Christ as he unites with the Father. It becomes relational inasmuch as I incorporate myself into the mystery of my adopted sonship, through the Son Jesus Christ.

In the end, then, the Psalm really isn’t about “me” even when it uses the term. It always points toward Jesus Christ, who points towards the Father.

In every good icon, notice where Mary’s hand leads. She’s the preeminent example of what it means to be Christian for a reason: it was never about her.

UPDATE (x2): Instead of simply providing negative examples, I thought I’d post a positive example of a song that might be considered P&W (in a gospel sense) which does precisely what these songs should do.

Unfortunately, not every songwriter is Bob Dylan, and not every songwriter is capable of crafting a work whose lyrics about God aren’t easily interchangeable with the word “baby.”

Great performance by this kid, by the way:

What never ceases to grind my gears about this whole deal is that some continue to think the Church’s position on female clergy is a matter of policy, such as mandatory celibacy for diocesan priests, and thus subject to change.

It isn’t. Even if, somewhere down the line, the Spirit appointed a pontiff sympathetic to the cause, he would have as much power to change this dogma as he would the Christian dogma on the Trinity.

We live in strange times. On the one hand, there is a legitimate, constant need to defend Truth and Virtue in the public square. On the other, there’s this disingenuous notion that if you clamor loudly enough for something, you can change Truth and Virtue.

Looks entertaining, in the kind of way which has allowed me to enjoy the wacky, quaalude-driven world of William S. Burroughs.

To which I automatically say, “Of course!”

But then the article starts, and I do a facepalm:

One of the world’s foremost neuroscientists is about to tell some of the world’s foremost theologians the bad news: God may exist, but the human brain is simply not capable of knowing that for sure.

Gorsh! O RLY?

Of course, “the world’s foremost theologians” have been saying the same thing.

For thousands of years.

It’s a simple logical deduction. The brain is matter, and that which is material cannot deduce the totality of that which is immaterial. And if we were able to pin down God in a lucid moment of “Aha! I understand the totality of God’s nature!” then what we would be describing is decidedly not an infinite, limitless being.

I’m willing to give neuroscientist Greg Northoff the benefit of the doubt; it sounds like he’s just explaining the limited potential of the brain in this matter.

To suggest that this is a revolutionary concept, or a triumphant moment of victory for science over theology, however, is a completely disingenuous move. As a matter of fact, score one for the theologians who had this covered ions ago.

For evidence, start with one of my favorite theologians. Start with Aristotle.

I have studied both neuroscience and theology; would that we could say the same about others who write on such things.

I’m also concerned about the Twilight series because of what it seems to represent, both from a literary and a cultural perspective. Since Goldman addresses the issue of sex, I’ll table that issue and look at one that really grinds my gears: the depiction of the vampire.

It’s Meyers’ depiction of the vampire that ultimately bothers me the most. Vampires are evil creatures. Most depictions put them in a league with the damned, demons and other residents of the underworld. Once human, they are now Something Else, and it is generally accepted that this Something Else is irredeemable.

What’s most important about the vampire is that they may look human, but their humanity has been destroyed. Some of the most intelligent vampire figures ever crafted are locked in a constant battle with a desire to regain some of their humanity, against the ever-present reality that they can never be what they once were.

Even the “good” vampires are objectively evil figures, insofar as anything can be, when evil is a perversion of the good. This is why vampires like Bill of True Blood and Ann Rice’s creations appeal and captivate. There’s no going back, and the vampire struggles to come to terms with that.

Twilight vampires don’t fit the tradition. At times, they seem more human than the humans. They’re vegetarians. They don’t feed off of human beings. They’re physically beautiful, perfect in every way. They… sparkle.

And personality wise, they remind me of emo kids always wrapped up in the pettiness of teenage problems. Difference is, they occasionally break out of their life-for-us-is-hard whining to battle werewolves and interact with other vampires.

Looking at a Twilight vampire, who wouldn’t want to be one of these guys? They’re not monsters, not objectively evil creatures. They can live forever, and seem to retain the fullness of their humanity. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.

It’s an ironic – yet fitting – artistic move for Meyers, who crafts her ultra-human vampire in an age where that which has always been considered morally problematic is now acceptable, even lauded. The vampire no longer serves as a cautionary figure; he no longer stands as an example of the darkest parts of human nature and perversion: the vampire is now something it’s fine to be.

A perfect (though unintentional) commentary on the state of our ailing cultural, political, and moral values.

I leave you with this video, which wraps up everything else wrong with the series:

]]> http://quidsit.com/?feed=rss2&p=1196 0 http://quidsit.com/?p=1190 http://quidsit.com/?p=1190#comments Sat, 10 Jul 2010 16:55:28 +0000 Fr. Josh Miller http://quidsit.com/?p=1190 Thanks to David over at Cosmos-Liturgy-Sex for saying all that needs to be said about the University of Illinois’ decision to terminate Dr. Kenneth Howell.

The University of Illinois taught me a lesson first-hand, so it is not surprising that it continues to perpetuate that lesson: academic liberalism (and indeed, modern liberalism in general) is a façade constructed to push a set of ideals. It’s all about respecting other people’s opinions, until those opinions happen to conflict with the party line.

And when the party line is breached, look out. It becomes sinister, wicked, underhanded — and Amen, Amen I say to you — evil. Meanwhile, the Catholic viewpoint is proclaimed openly in a spirit of charity and love, always with regard to the intrinsic dignity of the human person, regardless of where they fall on any moral spectrum.

I would hope that Dr. Howell might find a job at a Catholic school, but this might be difficult. The game is the same, only a little less visceral. The seminary system is a good option as well, but the pay isn’t so great.

He hits on one of our mutual hobby horses, namely that “love” is not an emotion: it’s an act of the will.

Imagine how different the world would be, if we simply had rightly ordered love?

BONUS!:

This has no theological message. I just love Conan stuff.

+10 to Fr. Barron for incorporating Dylan’s recent comments regarding irreverence in an interview for Christmas in the Heart.

My two cents: blasphemy in this day and age is boring. Any attempt to provoke prompts a huge yawn from yours truly.