Some "Folk" Music that Touched Me

Last night, I was searching in the iTunes music database when I stumbled across one of the most moving and majestic songs I’ve heard in quite a while. It is a song written and performed by Joni Mitchell called “Woodstock” from her 1970 album, Ladies of the Canyon. As the story goes, Mitchell wrote the song based on the reflections that her friends shared with her after attending the 1969 Woodstock Festival that took place in Bethel, New York on the land of dairy farmer, Max Yasgur. Mitchell was advised by her manager to not attend the event and wrote this song partially out of regret.

Mitchell’s first verse describes an imaginary (and symbolic) encounter and conversation between two travelers on a road towards Woodstock who happen to share a mutual search for a sense of identity, the meaning of life, and freedom for their souls.

I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him where are you going
And this he told me...

I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm
I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band
I'm going to camp out on the land
I'm going to try an' get my soul free...

From the first arresting lyric (“I came upon a child of God…”)- a line which alone could inspire an essay plunging the depths of its theology and conviction- I was ushered into the essence of the song by Mitchell’s shrill voice and the muted notes of her keyboard (the song’s only instrumental accompaniment).

She then proceeds to a chorus that strikes an awesome balance between mind-blowing scientific discovery (“We are stardust...billion year old carbon”) and heart-stirring religious metaphor that alludes to the Hebrew Bible’s myth of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. *

We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden…

...We are stardust (Billion year old carbon)
We are golden (Caught in the devil's bargain)
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

This chorus resonated with me mainly because it explored some heavy ideas that I studied recently in a colloquium course on the relationship between religion, theology, spirituality and science. Never before have I seen such ideas articulated in song.

In the second verse, Mitchell responds to the answer of the first traveler by voicing the concerns of the second traveler, who admits to feeling like “a cog” in a industrial society marked by pollution and consumption (a society very much like our own).

Then can I walk beside you
I have come here to lose the smog
And I feel to be a cog
in something turning

Well maybe it is just the time of year
Or maybe it's the time of man
I don't know who I am
But you know life is for learning

Mitchell continues with her third and final verse, which uses colorful language to describe a transformative vision of a peaceful society.

By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song
and celebration

And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky
And they were turning into butterflies
Above our nation

I experience chills every time the notes of Mitchell’s keyboard follow her voice to a higher octave as she sings the word “butterflies” in this verse. Her lyric of “the bombers…turning into butterflies” also struck me as a beautiful and inspiring vision that finds an interesting parallel alongside the 8th century Hebrew poet/prophet Isaiah’s vision of a day when the nations “will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks”; a day when nations “will not lift up sword” or “learn war” any more (Isaiah 2:15).

Overall, I was highly impressed with Mitchell’s spell-binding artistry. Throughout the song, her emotive lyrical content was animated and enhanced by her amazing vocal control, expansive range, and instrumental simplicity. Such minimalism enabled me to fully appreciate her ability to hit and hold those high notes that sent her poetic words into flight and then landed them gracefully in a lower range.

Being a visual artist/musician/poet/writer myself, I have found it challenging to write lyrics that articulate and pay homage to the tension that exists between doubt, discovery, fear, and hope; but Mitchell steps up to the challenge and succeeds. Mitchell's “Woodstock” is a majestic protest song that incorporates scientific and religious insight, nostalgia, social commentary, and the hope of a visionary.

This song led me to read more about Joni. In doing so, I found a resonance with who Joni Mitchell is. She is described by herself and by others as being an insightful, creative, friendly and somewhat introverted renaissance person who is able to function simultaneously as a visual artist (her professed first love), a musician and a poet in an age when many would pressure such individuals to focus on one outlet of creative expression and to discard the others.

Ultimately, I was inspired by Joni. I hope my creative works can embody and express my tensions, ideas, emotions and convictions as beautifully and as effectively as Joni does in this song.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who is impressed with Joni. Some of her admirers made a really good-looking and user-friendly site about her at http://www.jonimitchell.com/. The site features her biography, lyrics, interviews and an online gallery of her 256 paintings (paintings that she doesn't sell and rarely showcases).
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* NOTE: Being a theology student, I have to point out that while the Eden story in the third chapter of the Hebrew Bible’s Book of Genesis mentions a serpent it never mentions or identifies this serpent as being either “the devil” or "the satan (the accuser)"

QUOTE: Ernest Renan on Jesus' contribution to religion

"Never has any one been less a priest than Jesus, never a greater enemy of forms, which stifle religion under the pretext of protecting it. By this we are all his disciples and his successors; by this he has laid the eternal foundation-stone of true religion; and if religion is essential to humanity, he has by this deserved the Divine rank the world has accorded to him. An absolutely new idea, the idea of a worship founded on purity of heart, and on human brotherhood, through him entered into the world -- an idea so elevated that the Christian Church ought to make it its distinguishing feature, but an idea which, in our days, only few minds are capable of embodying."

- Ernest Renan (1823-1892), 19th century French philosopher and writer, taken from the fifth chapter of his 1863 book, The Life of Jesus (Vie de Jesus)

I'm a weak evangelist trying to be a better human

The idea of a personal, loving, intervening, responsive, and self-revealing God has never seemed farther for me than it is right now. It is becoming less and less-convincing for me.

Over the past few years, Christianity (as is often preached) has become almost impossible for me to believe. I can understand why the Gospel (as commonly preached) is so hard for many to believe in nowadays. Here, I paraphrase the 19th century European historian/philosopher Renan who once noted the irony that “the miracles that originally inspired belief in the gospel may eventually be the same things that keep later generations from believing.”

Likewise, it’s hard for me to take seriously the metaphysical and supernatural occurrences that seem to be so prevalent in the scriptures of the global religions yet so absent in life as we often experience it.

I would like to follow the simple, essential teachings of the human being known as Jesus of Nazareth, but not at the cost of believing incredible ideas and embracing the implications of a belief that condemns most of the earth’s inhabitants. I also don’t want a faith that is frightened, arrogant, or desperate. If anything, I am desperate for the truth and I try to be open to the many sources that it may come from (be it through science, archeology, experience, or the wisdom of another religious and ethical tradition). This makes me a weak evangelist, but I hope it makes me a better human.

A friend of mine who attends seminary with me and also maintains a blog of his own, makes a powerful point in his post "Pondering Holy Destruction". He says, "Any theology, if it is to be of any use, needs to have as a conversation partner the findings of the empirical sciences." I would also add that such a faith-if it is to be relevant- must be in constant dialogue with the complex (and often harsh) realities of human existence such as genocides, floods, stray bullets, body counts, etc.

How can we continue to pontificate and debate over metaphysical notions and otherworldly realms (that we aren’t sure even exist) while the suffering of our fellow humans (who we know exist!) takes place right outside our windows?

I appreciate honest, humble and helpful people and have found such people in a wide variety of religious traditions. However, I have less patience for those who insist on following their scriptural authorities despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. I understand their anxiety, but I no longer share it.

It seems to me that much of the world’s religious history is a testament to the power of the human imagination and the human need for meaning. The whole enterprise of belief seems to be so rooted in so much speculation that I find it difficult to imagine evangelizing to others with the claim that one’s religious tradition possesses the only, true way to understand reality. I believe that all of us ground our beliefs (and disbeliefs) in those things we want to be true about the universe.

Instead of debating and speculating about otherworldly realms, I think we should realize how interconnected all of our lives are on this earth and work to help and serve the real people we see everyday. The lyrics of John Lennon’s classic song, “Imagine” make more sense to me now than ever before.

Never forget: Ministry = Service

This morning, I was invited to sit on a panel with a handful of my fellow seminarians as part of a introductory workshop for prospective seminary students. But the panel didn’t start with me on it. I was originally invited to the event to perform one of my poems as an example of how artistic gifts can be used in both ministerial and worship settings. However, 15 minutes into the audience’s questions about why each panel member chose to attend seminary, it turns out that, one of the four original panel members had to leave early to attend another engagement. Within minutes, the moderator of the event asked me to join the panel. I complied.

The panel and I answered questions about how we balance our seminary workload with our personal life, how our families have responded to our decision to pursue advanced degrees in theology, how we incorporated our undergraduate studies with our advanced studies in unrelated fields, and how seminary has challenged us to expand our understanding of ourselves and the world.

During the panel session, one of the panelists- a female minister in the United Church of Christ- mentioned that the issues we wrestle with in seminary are really equipping us to better minister to those in our communities who struggle with their own concerns and questions. In short, we study so we can better serve others. For some reason, her words struck me like a sledge hammer. They reminded me that I am not the only person trying to make sense of these enduring questions of existence.

How could I have lost sight of this? How could I have forgotten one of my most treasured convictions: that we humans should help and serve one another? While not negating the important role that personal development, self-examination and enjoyment play in our lives, I do believe a commitment to help others is a crucial aspect of a fulfilling and meaningful existence. Therefore, I cannot become too insular in my focus. It is in serving others that we remain grounded in the realities of life. Many of the people who we will serve and serve alongside will not care anything about hermeneutics, historical criticism, Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, or Hegelian philosophy. Most of them will just want us to offer them our compassionate presence (and if they really want to flatter us, they might even ask us to share some thoughtful words).

The female panelist's words also reminded me that even though I have grown disenchanted with the traditional Christianized and clerical connotations of the over-used term “ministry,” I cannot forget that “ministry” is only a religious word that means “service.” Anybody can serve. You don’t have to be ordained, educated or “anointed” by a Supreme Being to serve. You only need to have an awareness of the needs and feelings of others. I hope that keeping this in mind will help to nuance the focus of my scholarship and the questions in my soul.

Breadcrumbs

Like the age-old bedtime story of Hansel and Gretel, I set out from home to explore and find a new way of understanding the world around me with the full intention of returning back to where I started with new insight. But I have since lost track of (and lost trust in) those “breadcrumbs” that originally marked my path. In other words, I am far from where I started. Comparing my earlier convictions to my views now, I probably wouldn’t recognize myself and would likely have opposed the person I've become.

Realizing this, I have no doubt that my friends and loved ones would mourn if I actually engaged in an honest and transparent theological and philosophical discussion with them, showing them that- in many ways- I am no longer the same person they once knew. I still retain a fear that such unbridled honesty would wreak havoc on those relationships; so, instead of giving full disclosure to them, I triangulate my deepest thoughts here on this blog- before a crowd that I cannot see; before an audience that may never respond. Writing here helps my sanity by giving me a safe-space to clarify my thoughts, but it also widens the distance between myself and those who are closest to me; those with whom I am afraid to share these thoughts.

They would likely mourn my departure from being a confident and apologetic believer and weep at my development into the hopeful, open-minded, skeptical and somewhat cynical man I am now. If they only knew how far I have come, I imagine my friends and family members would be concerned for my spiritual health and would want to know how I arrived at this stage of my journey.

As a matter of fact, I recall one friend’s inquiry when I shared with him one of my seminary essays that partially explained my view of the Bible’s authority in light of the latest scientific, historical and archeological evidence. He asked me, “So exactly when did you start to question the Bible’s authority and inerrancy?” I gave an answer about how, in my pre-seminary days, I began to find it increasingly difficult to reconcile the Bible's creation stories with modern scientific theories. I also told him how I noticed many passages in the New Testament contained conflicting understandings of Jesus' identity, essence and message. I answered quickly, but when I took time to reflect on the conversation, I realized that my start on this path had a variety of causes.

Many factors contributed to the adventure I have chosen for myself, including my life experiences, my personality, my art, my family, my schools, my friendships, my jobs, my relationships with others, my interests, my fears, my hopes, my influences, and my mistakes all played their parts in this epic of my life. Knowing this, I believe that even if someone else could read what I’ve read, experience what I’ve experienced, and walk where I’ve walked, they would probably come out with a different adventure- perhaps even a contrasting path to my own.

I imagine my friends and family would ask me what motivated me to stay on this course and what did I find on this path that disenchanted me from my former way of living? What kind of “breadcrumbs” could I leave to escort them from my former line of thinking to my current one?

To be honest, I wouldn’t know where to start at explaining my journey thus far. I wouldn't recommend it for everyone- I would only suggest it for those who invite such experiences. It has been a rapidly moving process and I have arrived here after long hours and dark nights of mental and psychological struggle. But I do know that once I opened myself up to raising critical questions about my former beliefs, the doubt and skepticism began to pour forth unremittingly (I recall that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had a similar experience when he began his religious studies in college). While this path is difficult, I still feel a sense of purpose. I have hope that something life-giving will emerge from this time of exploration and restructuring.

I originally began this task in order to discover what was really “essential” to the Christian faith. I wanted to use the machete of rational inquiry to clear the foliage of superstition from my world view in order to expose the hard truths about reality that I felt were so necessary to my understanding of the universe and my place in it. I believed that truth should be able to withstand rational inquiry. I thought that if the Christian religion was worth anything, its claims should be able to hold their own in dialogue with life's harshest realities and most daunting complexities.

At the time, some things I was taught as being crucial to the Christian faith didn’t sit well with me (not saying wisdom has to sit well in order to be true) and I wanted to pursue my suspicions and see if I had a case worth investigating. I had always been interested in the perspectives of other cultures, I had always felt I could learn from anyone, and I had also noticed that science and religion seemed to tell different stories about the world around us and within us. So I entered seminary to explore those aspects of my faith and the way religion has been understood and lived throughout history.

Years ago, I used to have some of the questions I am now pursuing in seminary, but once I became active in church life I began to stifle, suppress and protect myself from those questions and any triggers that would evoke suspicion towards my trusted authorities. If life presented a complexity beyond my understanding, I would default to my faith and my commitment to the idea of the Bible being an absolute authority for any and all questions.

But I didn’t like what I was becoming. I felt I was becoming close-minded, unloving and rigidly dogmatic. I felt trapped in a dualistic view of the world that simplified life into categories of "us" and "them," good and evil, "saved" and damned. I also felt that the Christianity I was being taught was too insular and otherworldly in its focus, too convinced of its claims, and too reactive in its involvement with the non-Christian world. I felt like this form of Christianity was ignoring a worthwhile world that existed outside of its stained-glass windows.

I wanted to know more about the interconnected world out there full of broken people, good intentions, corruption, common ground, mystery, exploitation, horrific cruelty, ecstasy, tragedy, humility, destruction, and profound wisdom. I knew there was an entire universe of experience waiting to be met with awe, wonder, compassion, service, grace and honesty.

This yearning to connect with ultimate reality continues to drive my scholarship. I am still committed to the pursuit of truth and understanding with the conviction that I must endure this stage of destruction in order to arrive at a place where I can function with the freedom to serve and live fully on the Earth.

May these words serve as the “breadcrumbs” for those who come looking for who I really am. May they also feed, if only for a moment, those continuing on the path to discovering who they really are.

Where My Search Leaves Me...

I am torn between my integrity and my commitment to my church. What do you do when you no longer convinced of a majority of your community's core beliefs? I try to hang in there for the people's sake- for the sake of practicing love and being accountable to others in community- but lately I've been feeling like I'm at a standstill. I don't want to disturb ideas about "God" or "ultimate reality" that others find meaningful but I also don't want to be restrained from seeking answers to my personal questions and exploring other perspectives about "truth." I struggle with this because I can't imagine evangelizing and going forth preaching certain doctrines as necessary if I am not convinced of them myself. So how does a skeptical seeker function in an church where evangelism is central? How does a skeptical seeker evangelize? Then again, maybe we don't have to. Perhaps there is more to the "good news" than doctrine and dogma. Perhaps, "the way" is about living fuller lives on the Earth as humans who think deep and love hard.

Is Atonement Even Necessary?

The doctrine of the atonement has become a major issue of investigation for me as an artist/writer pursuing my Master’s in Theological Studies. It is major because so much Christian theology seems to hinge on it. At its core, the doctrine of the atonement is the belief that “Jesus died for the sins of the world.”

Popular notions advance the idea that God pre-planned Jesus’ death on the cross to serve as a satisfaction for the “sin debt” of the world- a debt brought about by the original sin of Adam and Eve as written in the Book of Genesis. Theologians throughout history have developed myriad ways of explaining the significance of this doctrine in Christian theology.

My skepticism towards this doctrine has really made me sensitive to how much it has been incorporated into the liturgies of the church and chapel I regularly attend. The hymns are full of references to this bloody transaction and it is deeply ingrained into the language of the communion ceremony.

Honestly, I find the whole notion and necessity of atonement for the sins of the world hard to believe. But I also realize that many people committed to "the Jesus path" consider it to be "good news." For many Christians today and in centuries past, it has served as a meaningful, powerful and life-changing idea. For some, it has been the sole reason they have committed their lives to the Christian faith in the first place. But I have found a few reasons to remain skeptical.

Drawing from the literary clues I find in the first three chapters of the Book of Genesis and evolutionary theory’s insights regarding the origins of biological life, I conclude that the creation stories of Genesis are myths that reflect the values and concerns of the ancient Hebrew authors- not actual history. Therefore, I see no reason why there would be any need to atone for sins committed by mythological characters.

I also find very little in my readings of the synoptic Gospels that even hints towards the idea of atonement being taught "from Jesus' mouth." I have only found one verse in Mark quoting Jesus as saying that "the Son of Man" would serve and "give his life as a ransom for many" and a verse in Matthew 26:28 where Jesus, sitting at a private Passover dinner with his disciples, talks about his own blood being "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins." The fact that Matthew’s gospel contains the only "last supper" account that even alludes to the idea of sins being forgiven doesn’t helps its case in my opinion.

Jesus taught a great many things that addressed a wide variety of spiritual, ethical, moral and social concerns, but I have been hard pressed to find him promoting an atonement doctrine in the parables he shared with listening crowds and in the prayer he taught his students/disciples.

In teaching "the Lord's prayer," Jesus advised his disciples to pray to God and ask for forgiveness daily. The way I see it, this doesn't seem to indicate any need for anyone to die in order for "God" to forgive them. God, as Jesus describes in the Lord's prayer, seems more approachable than the distant, holy and strict deity many of us have been taught to believe in. Plus, the idea of a God that would even require such a sacrifice strikes me as being more reflective of an ancient tribal (dare I say "superstitious") ritual where animal sacrifice was believed to appease the gods. Plus, this image of a God that requires such a sacrifice doesn't really square well with the image of God promoted by Jesus' story of the Prodigal Son.

For "atonement" to be so central to traditional Christian dogma, you would think that Jesus would have talked about it more often than he did. I suspect that many churches today base a majority of their atonement ideas on Paul's letters, other writings of the New Testament, and classic Christian theology as taught by Augustine of Hippo, Anselm of Canterbury and others.

But my scholarship and “gut feeling” lead me to believe that the doctrine of the atonement emerged mainly as an elaborate way to make sense of the senseless and tragic death of the wise and compassionate, Palestinian storyteller/prophet named Jesus of Nazareth- a human being believed by many to be a healer and viewed by his early followers as "the anointed one" (Messiah) or "the Son of God" (perhaps a title as opposed to a biological fact)- who was tortured and executed by the religious and political authorities of his day because he was perceived as a threat to their established orders.

That's my take on it (for what it's worth). I'm a student and I know I have much more to learn, but this makes sense to me.