On Christianity in Structure

"What the artist has developed . . . is a telos that is less explicitly religious in its subject matter but more profoundly religious in its structure, a structure that not only pervades his subsequent work but underwrites his behavior as an artist and human being, guiding his thoughts, words, and deeds."

- Daniel Siedell, God in the Gallery, p. 58

I’m currently reading this book, and in Siedell’s analagy of a painting called Thing and Discovery by Enrique Martinez Celaya, Siedell made this observation. Yes! I said out loud (yes, I actually said it out loud, though no one was near to hear me).

CBA books are considered Christian or not by their content: Is the book about a Christian or about someone wrestling with Christianity? And this is legitimate. But so many of us want something more, something deeper. Many times, my writing is not about a Christian or about someone confronting the ideas of Christianity, but Christianity undergirds the structure of the story itself.

Which leaves me with the question: Does CBA have a place for this kind of writing?

Side note: I’m off to a retreat this weekend. I’ll be teaching a session on film called Popcorn Theology: Seeing God’s Beauty at the Movies.



Art and Christianity: An Interview with Dr. Reg Grant, Part VI

This is the final installment of my interview with Dr. Reg Grant, professor at Dallas Theological Seminary, actor, author, and tap dancer. In this podcast, we talk about the artist, depression, and the pursuit of joy.




Art and Christianity: An Interview with Dr. Reg Grant, Part V

(To enter February’s Artuality on furniture, click here.)

In this podcast, we explore two ideas of being a Christian in the art
world: (1) seeing beauty and truth in art created by Christians and non-Christians alike and (2)
pursuing excellence in our craft because we are Christians.

Theologian Alexander Scmemann said that Christians see Christ everywhere (as quoted in God in the Gallery by Siedell). Because of the Imago Dei and because of God’s desire to reveal his beauty, we can taste it from so many sources–though the sources may come from non-Christians.

But as Christians, and in this case, specifically as artists, we must also take seriously our call to image beauty and truth with excellence. Just because we are Christians does not make our art acceptable. Just as accountants must work to have correct numbers and teachers must work to clearly communicate, artists must pursue their field with excellence. This means both working on the craft itself as well as the theology, philosophy, and ideas of beauty that become art.




Art and Theology: An Interview with Dr. Reg Grant, Part IV

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a video blog/podcast. Here’s the next in the series of conversations with Dr. Reg Grant.

In this episode, he compares acting to Christianity.

The podcast is under five minutes

Art and Theology Podcast: An Interview with Dr. Reg Grant, Part II

In this podcast, I speak with Dr. Reg Grant, professor at Dallas
Theological Seminary, published novelist, actor, and apparently
tap-dancer. In this part, we continue our conversation about art and
truth.

The video is just over 6 minutes.

You can see Part I here.



Art and Theology Podcast: An Interview with Dr. Reg Grant, Part 1

In this podcast, I speak with Dr. Reg Grant, professor at Dallas
Theological Seminary, published novelist, actor, and apparently tap-dancer. In this part, Reg shares how two films affected his life (good timing with November’s Artuality on movies!), and we begin our discussion of
the artist’s pursuit of truth.

Dr. Grant taught me about story structure and arc and character development.

This podcast runs four and a half minutes.



Book Thoughts: The Violent Bear It Away by Flannery O'Connor

The Violent Bear It Away by Flannery O’Connor sets secularism against religious destiny.

Tarwater had been taken by his great-uncle years ago in order that he might be raised as an Elisha, a prophet in training to take the place of the great-uncle. When the great-uncle dies, though, Tarwater rebels. He burns his great-uncle’s house instead of giving his great-uncle a proper burial and runs away to the city to find his uncle, a man who’d also been taken by Tarwater’s great-uncle years ago. This uncle, Rayber, was reclaimed by more logical minds and is able to subdue this crazy religious passion. Now he wants to teach Tarwater to do the same.

Tarwater grapples with what his life now means. He rejects Rayber’s learning, but he also fights his great-uncle’s influence and his calling. When Tarwater’s great-uncle lived, he bestowed on Tarwater his unfinished business: to baptize the mentally-handicapped son of Rayber. Tarwater refuses at first because wants his own calling, not leftovers. Later he fights it as he fights the idea of being a prophet, of being strapped to religion and God. He’s repulsed by and drawn to Rayber’s son because of the call associated with the son (Bishop) and how the son resembles the great-uncle. 

This is something of which to take note: how the mentally-handicapped Bishop resembles the great-uncle. It’s about the eyes, Rayber and Tarwater say. O’Connor uses the eyes as mirrors to the soul in the book. Characters, even minor ones, are described by their eyes. There’s something about the simplicity yet joy that Bishop and the great-uncle share. In some ways, I wonder if Bishop is a Christ-figure, an unlikely one, granted. (Then again, there’s nothing in Christ’s appearance that would draw us to him.) But everyone who touches Bishop experiences his love, even as they attempt to kill him. He plays a salvific role in his life and in his death.

O’Connor gives us characters that
aren’t exactly likeable. You don’t know who you want to "win," and you
don’t know what to expect, but you’re linked to them because you
understand both of them. You understand the religious fanaticism, and
you understand the secularism that pushes away all religion because
it’s dangerous. In the former, passion exists but only under the will
of God. In the latter, "freedom" means a loss of spirit, meaning, and
the capability to love.

Baptism becomes this central theme throughout the book.
Every time you encounter water, baptism hangs in the air. Even Tarwater’s name reflects it. Baptism is entwined with conversion and destiny, dare I say even predestination?

Let me say one word about destiny and predestination in this novel. It reminded me of the movie Evan Almighty (in a much heavier and darker sense, of course). In the movie, Evan (or Noah) fights his call, but no matter what he does, God persists. Does Evan choose to fulfill God’s will? Yes. At the same time, how much longer could he have fought it? What else would it have stripped of his life? And, when he acquiesced, we see him happy, living a fuller life than before, reunited with his family. I see the same ideas and themes in The Violent Bear It Away. Tarwater fights and fights the will of God. Could he continue to have fought it? Yes, but what else would it stripped of his life and well-being? Rayber provides a foil for this question. In fact, Rayber is literally deaf and blind–he cannot hear without his hearing aide, and he cannot see without his glasses.

The power of God
transforms even the most violent of acts. Death by drowning becomes the salvific act of baptism, purifying not only the baptized but the one who baptized. Fire, as well, purifies. It is Tarwater’s final act before giving in to his role as prophet. This, really, is the theme of the book: the power of God to transform.

Besides baptism, fire, and eyes, O’Connor fills her novel with other biblical images: bread, for example. The great-uncle always spoke of feasting on the loaves as a reward for his life (the loaves conjuring the story of the miracle of the feeding of the 5,000 with a few loaves and fish as well as representing Christ as the Bread of Life). Tarwater thought that bland and boring. But as the book goes on, he can’t eat anything else. He becomes violently ill when he does. he realizes when he was with his great-uncle, he ate well. Now, he hungers always and finally recognizes his craving for the same loaves his great-uncle did.

Indeed, how many times does O’Connor refer to biblical stories throughout her novel? I pity those who have little to no biblical literacy as they try to read this book. Even the title–it comes from Matthew 11:12, "From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away." (That one I had to look up.) This verse comes from a discource on John the Baptist. Jesus talks about the kingdom of heaven and John the Baptist’s part in it. John the Baptist is the Elijah foretold of at the coming of the Messiah. Jesus ends this pericope with, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear!" (Interesting regarding Rayber’s deafness.)

It’s amazing
how O’Connor’s mind works, how she delves so deeply into characters. Her writing is incredible. Her repetition of the word "violent" is like a leaky faucet. With every drip, it becomes more and more obvious. It becomes louder and louder. The Violent Bear It Away is not for the light of heart. It encounters you with violent scenes. It forces you to take on hard questions about God and Christianity. 




Art and Christianity: An Interview with Dr. Glenn Kreider, Part 4

This is the fourth and final part of my interview with Dr. Glenn
Kreider of Dallas Theological Seminary. In this conversation, we talk
about the importance of the physical redemption of the earth to our
theology of art.

This video runs under four minutes.



Art and Christianity: Interview with Dr. Glenn Kreider, Part 3

This is the third segment of my interview with Dr. Glenn Kreider,
professor at Dallas Theological Seminary, about art and Christianity.
In this part, we talk about facing the evilness in this world and
bringing in the hope of the day when God will set everything right.

And we talk for a moment about Sweeney Todd, my favorite musical!

The podcast runs under 6 minutes.

See Part One and Part Two



Book Thoughts–Coffeehouse Theology by Ed Cyzewski

At seminary, while I learned much from my systematic theology classes, I probably learned more theology through my cultural anthropology and missions classes. I realized in those classes that theology is not static. Previously, I thought you learned theology then applied it to your life. As I studied the history of the Church, missions, and the global Church, I realized that theology is a conversation between God and humanity, and because humanity changes and is limited by culture, the shape of the conversation changes.

This is not to say that Truth changes or that God changes, but if theology is the study of God (for the most simplistic definition), and how we study changes, then theology changes.

Of course, as we dialogue, we do so not only with our culture, not only with present global cultures, but with the historic church, which gives us a stronghold, or, if you will, allows us to stand on those giant’s shoulders.

You see, culture shapes the questions we ask. Look at the creeds. They answered specific questions raised during specific times. But that doesn’t limit their truth to that specific time.

We continue to ask questions. We continue to learn how we’re limited. So we continue to do theology.

As I Iearned this, I ate up books by authors such as Kevin Vanhoozer, Paul Hiebert, N.T. Wright, John Franke, and the like.

Which brings me to Coffeehouse Theology: Reflecting on God in Everyday Life by Ed Cyzewski. Ed’s book (and I must from here on call him Ed because I keep second guessing the spelling of his last name) offers a great introduction for lay people on contextual theology, or the study of theology with your context (or culture) in mind and with the context/culture of the writers of the Bible in mind.

I found I have a lot in common with Ed–our approach to theology, growing up in Jersey, and, of course, the Phillies (one win away from the title!). We’d probably both describe ourselves as pomo, although he goes to an emergent church and I don’t. And he gave his wife a Mac, something all husbands should do (hint, hint, nudge, nudge).

In the book, Ed covers a broad history of the West, specifically, how modernism affected Christianity and how postmodern affects Christianty. From there, he talks about how we as Christians need to approach theology and culture in order to know God better and be a prophetic voice in our culture (both aspects of transforming theology–my term, not his–transformative in us and through us in culture). He approaches cultural studies understanding that all cultures can negatively and positively affect Christianity, a view I appreciate. This look at history and present-day culture gives us the context in which theology is done (and has been done).

After looking at Western history and how it’s affected our theology in the past and present (with considerations of epistemology and language theory), Ed tackles the sources of revelation and how we can evaluate them and discern God’s mission for the Church from them. He begins at the center–God. God initiates the process or conversation and empowers us to participate. This is a great perspective as we look at the task of discovering Truth, knowing it’s far more infinite than we can know.

He moves to Scripture and the study of Scripture. This is a great section for those who wish to study their Bibles seriously but aren’t sure how to begin. Ed gives suggestions and tools for the job. As we study the Bible, we need to understand the culture in which the original authors wrote in order to better understand their intent. Another thing Ed asserts (and I amen!) is, "The Bible is more than theological truths or a book of rules on how to live. In the broadest sense, the Bible tells the alternate story we all search for, a story with ramifications that dramatically revamp how we live. It presents us with God’s story: hie pursuit of humanity throughout history in spite of disobedience and heartbreak" (p. 143).

He also stresses that while individual study is a good thing, we can’t forget communal study. We approach this Book as the body of Christ, and we need each other’s perspectives.

Which brings me to the next sections: the historical church (or tradition) and the global church as perspectives and voices in the discussion.

These are two things I’m passionate about. Ed notes that we don’t blindly accept anything and everything, but we have to realize that this isn’t my discussion. While we need to be relevent to our culture, we need to be mindful of the perspective of the universal church. We all wear cultural glasses that affect our views (sometimes clarifying, sometimes distorting). I need the universal church in my study.

This book is informative, helpful, and personal. Ed shares his journey of learning about the process of theology.

Only a couple of minor weaknesses: as he describes Western history, while he says he believes all cultures have good and bad (and lists both good and bad of modern and postmodern cultures), his tone implies a more disparaging view of modern culture and hopeful view of postmodern culture. Can I fault him for this, really? Since often I do the same? I think the problem is he views Christians in modernism as merely tagging along and keeping up (which doesn’t pay proper homage to the giants of theology from that period) while Christians in the postmodern period seem to be more interactive. I don’t think Ed would say this out-and-out. It’s just something that came through a tad bit.

Also, in his study of history, which is understandably broad given the purpose and time-constraints, I would’ve liked to have seen more direct sources–thinkers, theologians, philosophers of the times of which he spoke rather than relying more on present-day historians. And in speaking of postmodern times, I would’ve liked to have seen a few more case studies. I think there were a couple of times that were almost repetitive and would’ve allowed for these developments instead. He does have some case studies in the global church section, mostly his personal experiences.

But those are extremely minor weaknesses and mostly personal preferences. They don’t stop me from whole-heartedly recommending this book. I think it’s a must-have for lay leaders who teach Sunday schools, lead small groups, and disciple others. It would also make a great book discussion for small groups. (He has a companion Bible Study and Discussion Guide, although I haven’t looked through either of those.)

You can taste some of Ed’s writings and beliefs at The Ooze, on Emergent village, and at his blog, In a Mirror Dimly.