The Review Revolution: Improving Culture through Kvetching

Donna Freitas Hearts the Twible

This morning I logged into my email to find a whole host of messages announcing new followers on Twitter. The source of all this largesse? Blogger/novelist/religion scholar Donna Freitas has written a lovely entry called "Oh, the Bible Bores Me So" for Religion Dispatches. She talks about how she is bored to tears by the Bible but is loving the daily Twible. Thanks, Donna, for helping to spread the word!

And speaking of blogging, I've been AWOL from this personal blog partly because I am gearing up to blog for Beliefnet at least five times a week starting June 15. The blog is called "Flunking Sainthood," which is the title of my next book. It  will explore spirituality and culture in a broad-ranging way, with an emphasis on ordinary people trying to live out their faith and sometimes -- OK, often -- falling short. It's about the lighter side of spiritual failure, and will feature interviews, book reviews, commentary on films & television, updates on the Twible project, and a weekly column about Mormon life. Hope to see you there! The new blog will happen here. I'll be sure to cross-post any reviews here on The Review Revolution.

Mennonite in a Little Black Dress: Rhoda Janzen's Memoir of Going Home

When I worked at Publishers Weekly, my mailbox was constantly filling up with people’s therapeutic memoirs of recovering from conservative religions. These writers had left evangelicalism, Orthodox Judaism, Mormonism, Christian Science, you name it. All of these memoirs had a flavor of the counter-apologetic: This is why I left my childhood faith, and how my life has changed dramatically for the better since I came to my senses. Many were well-written, and some were thoughtful. But there was a sameness about them.

 

Rhoda Janzen’s memoir is different, and refreshing, in its affection for the Mennonites who raised and formed her. This is a woman who appreciates her family and her heritage even though she is no longer a believer, who holds her insular childhood religion up to the light of the larger secular world and finds in it many useful and beautiful things to carry her forward. The book doesn’t end with her coming back to the fold in a religious sense, but in a familial sense, she never really left.

 

I should back up and tell you her story, which opens with the demise of her marriage. Although a spendthrift himself, her husband Nick shows a remarkable practicality where Rhoda is concerned: when she asks his advice about a proposed hysterectomy, he reminds her of the family policy to throw out anything that hasn’t been used in over a year—organs included.  She has the operation, but it doesn’t go well, and during her weeks of recovering from a punctured bladder (fun!), Nick leaves her for a man he’s met at gay.com. In the ensuing weeks, Rhoda has a serious car accident and crippling financial problems—all of which is a whole lot funnier in the book than it sounds in this barebones relay of information—and heads home to California to recover in the arms of her Mennonite family.

 

I love the way she depicts her family. The portraits are hilarious, but they are not caricatures. Her parents are provincial in their Mennonite heritage, but they are also globe-trotting ambassadors for their faith and for social justice. Her sister Hannah is a model of intelligence, passion, and humor. Even her super-conservative brother gets mad props for allowing his daughter to pursue her love of dance despite its being verboten in Mennonite circles. This is a family of love.

 

The memoir includes some hysterical reminiscences of growing up Mennonite, from the eye-popping tightness of Mennonite braids to the top five “shame-based foods” in a Mennonite child’s school lunch. (By this, she means the most embarrassing and smelly foods that Mennonite kids did not want to be caught dead eating in front of their peers.) And while she has issues with the way her Mennonite childhood failed to equip her to challenge male authority (and may have enabled her disastrous decision to remain with Nick through years of his bipolar disorder and verbal abuse), she also credits her upbringing with a strong support system and unconditional love. And hey, she knows how to make 1,000 different recipes out of a head of cabbage. That has to be worth a lot.

 

Yo, Glenn Beck! Stop Hijacking the Mormon Faith

This morning, I read with delight Phil Barlow's comments in the New York Times, about how Glenn Beck's remarks against social justice do not represent the heart of Mormonism. I was (as ever) inspired by Phil's example; he is one of Mormonism's most thoughtful, kind, and intelligent ambassadors, and I am so proud to call him my friend. Phil managed to put into gentle words my frustration with Glenn Beck and all the self-centered jingoism he stands for.

My response was to write this brief op ed piece for Beliefnet about the ways that Beck has ignored the teachings of the Book of Mormon, the lessons of our history, and the example of our beloved current prophet, Thomas S. Monson.

I am tired of people assuming that Glenn Beck is representative of Mormonism just because he has a loud voice and a bully pulpit. He does not represent the best of who we are as a people. Mormonism is about how, when you are in the service of your fellow human beings, you are always in the service of your God. (Mosiah 2:17, The Book of Mormon)

Jana

Playing Video Games with God: A Conversation with Craig Detweiler on Gaming and Religion

The coolest part of my job is acquiring interesting new books about cutting-edge developments in religion. So I was especially excited when theologian/filmmaker/author Craig Detweiler approached me a little over a year ago with an idea for Halos and Avatars, a book about religion and video games--possibly the world's first-ever book-length exploration of the theological implications of gaming. The book hit stores last week; you can listen to the WJK Radio interview with the author here or check out his blog,  Purple State of Craig (lots of good recent film reviews, especially from Sundance). Here's a short e-conversation about the book.

How did you get the idea for Halos & Avatars, and why do you think the book is important?

My first book, A Matrix of Meanings: Finding God in Pop Culture ostensibly covers most forms of media including sports, advertising and fashion.  I had a student at Fuller Seminary who wanted to know why we didn't cover video games.  I didn't have a good answer.  We simply didn't get around to it, perhaps because we (my co-author, Barry Taylor, and I) aren't digital natives.   The student who pushed me, Kevin Newgren, actually has a chapter in Halos and Avatars on the power of BioShock to spark serious soul searching.    So I love when students challenge you...:)

When we hear "religion" and "video games" in the same sentence, it's usually because someone in the church is decrying games as time-wasters as best or violent harbingers of societal doom at worst. Why have Christians been so down on video games?

Rachel Wagner has a fascinating chapter in Halos and Avatars about how uncomfortable seemingly open-ended games may be to those who adhere to a closed canon.  We don't want to think about manipulating Jesus or altering the outcome of the game of life.   It all seems fixed in many religious mindsets.    So perhaps the volitional aspect of gaming that makes it so attract to young players actually makes it appear 'anti-institutional' or 'anti-dogma' to those passing on a seemingly closed set of beliefs or practices.I'm intrigued by how game designers may collapse the ancient tension between predestination and free will.    The game has a clear, foreordained outcome, but how you reach that end has myriads of possibilities.

What do video games have to teach us about the power of story and about the gospel?  

It was difficult to see something deep or thoughtful behind Pac-Man or Space Invaders.  The basic goals and storyline are so simple.   But most adults don't realize how quickly games have matured.   The scale of the stories is immense--much larger than the most ambitious movies in terms of size and complexity.   So many of us are just now waking up to the narrative power of games. The most popular games often have the most ambitious storylines. Halo is a great critique of blind faith.   It challenges players to dig deeper, to not accept everything you've been told at face value. Games also allow players to tap into a much larger struggle, often on a cosmic scale.   In Halos and Avatars, Dan Hodge writes about how video games offer players a chance to participate in "ultimate battles," to play an essential part in the grandest narratives we can imagine.   At their best, games offer us a taste of heroism and call us toward virtues of sacrifice, honor, and integrity.  At their best...

What do you think lies in store for the future of gaming and spirituality?

We're just finished a golden era in gaming.   The technical advances were immense.   But the next wave of games will have to do more than "wow" players.   They will have to combine eye-popping effects with enduring questions of humanity--why are we here, what is our purpose, how should we live.   Questions of responsibility have already crept into "God games" like Civilization and The Sims.   As we struggle with limited resources on the planet, a generation steeped in simulation game like The Sims will have already wrestled with those vexing realities. The gaming generation will offer a major challenge to religions rooted in sacred texts like The Bible.  How can a static text be translated into a dynamic document?   How can the thrills and chills of scripture be communicated to a generation used to actively responding to challenges?  That will be a serious hurdle for institutionalized religions...

And now, true confessions time: which games do you play, and how much?

All of us wrestle with limited time amongst all kinds of electronic entertainment--from TV and films, to Facebook and email.   So my game time corresponds to my kids' interests.   For my children, the Wii rules.   I've logged many hours of Mario Kart, competing for the Mushroom Cup.   And reliving Indiana Jones as a Lego character.   That is the strangest and coolest at the same time....  

I once read an article in some women’s magazine or other about the characteristics of people who successfully overcome hard things.  A lot of the advice was just what you would expect: don’t hold grudges; look on the bright side; count your blessings.  All pretty standard.  But there was one piece of wisdom that really stayed with me.  Successful and contented people, this psychobabble writer asserted, are those who can sometimes think of themselves in the third person.  For example, Suzy gets laid off unexpectedly from her job and is understandably bummed about this.  But what sets Suzy apart is her ability to say, “Suzy grieved the sudden setback in a much-loved career, but she knew that what her friends and colleagues were all saying was really true: she would find an even better position.”  In other words, happy people have the enviable ability to stand a little bit outside of their own stories and imagine themselves as characters in an unfolding drama.  Like all characters, they experience conflict, but since they are the heroes of the story and not the victims, they have confidence that they can take it all on the chin.

Don Miller recounts a transformation much like this in his deceptively simple new memoir, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Own Life.  The conceit of the book is that Miller’s failure-to-launch lifestyle gets a jolt when a couple of movie producers want to make a film of his first memoir, the million-copy bestseller Blue Like Jazz.  Miller presents his years since Blue Like Jazz as a fog of slight meandering (which doesn’t actually do justice to the relentless touring, blogging, promoting, and speaking he’s been doing since then, but that’s another story).  He throws himself into the movie project largely because he doesn’t want to face his new book deadline and has started ducking his publisher’s calls.  He wants the movie “Don” to be an action hero, to fight through an explosion, to get the girl.  So he’s chagrined when the producers tell him that the movie needs to be real enough to relate to the book, but that “Don” needs more character arc.  Real-life Don is too purposeless, too unfocused, to be a movie hero.

Told by the movie producers that every scene, every line of dialogue, needs to serve a larger purpose and drive the plot, Miller takes screenwriting lessons to heart and begins applying them to his rather directionless life. He also, characteristically, uses it all as an opportunity to ask big questions of God. “If my scenes weren’t going anywhere, wasn’t that God’s fault?” he asks.  “I hadn’t made me or anything.  God did that.  So how could I be to blame for my random and meaningless experiences?” But, he decides, only he can change himself.  What follows is a thoroughly American story of transformation, in which seemingly superficial changes (weight loss and exercise; selling the condo) signal much bigger changes afoot (taking a chance on love). Despite the pomo trappings, this is an intriguingly eighteenth-century conversion narrative by one who is Now Found.  At times Miller presents himself a bit too artfully as a treehouse-dwelling dunderhead of a big kid, exaggerating his own immaturity in the early pages, perhaps for effect.  But this makes the book’s satisfying ending all the more cheer-worthy, because he has truly traveled “a million miles in a thousand years.” 

If this book really were a movie, it would be part Adaptation and part Stranger Than Fiction, with a little bit of Rocky thrown in.  It’s a fun and at times illuminating read.  If you’d like to check it out, I have one extra galley that I am going to give away.  In the comments, let me know in 100 words or less why you liked one of Miller’s earlier books and/or can’t wait to read this one.  I’ll announce the winner on Friday.

Happy Halloween

I have a new essay up on Explorefaith.org about the Christian roots of Halloween.  I'm not completely pleased with it and it is running long (anytime you get a historian going about a pet topic, it's hard to get her to shut up).  But I remain fascinated by Halloween and its bedfellow, All Saints Day.  And that's not even to mention the Dia de Los Muertos, which I don't touch upon here.  Maybe next year.  At the very least I plan to chomp on some skeleton cookies.

In other Halloween news, Jerusha is going as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, and has managed once again to scrape by without succumbing to a slutty costume.  Check out here and here for some examples of the more, er, exciting Dorothy costumes we did not choose. 

Lent: It's That Time of Year Again

Whoa ho!  Lent has snuck up on me this year.  I can't remember it ever being this early.  And suddenly it is time to hunker down and get serious about faith and whatnot.  (Well, not before a fun Carnival pancake supper at my husband's church tonight.  And hey -- I just learned that the word Carnival means "farewell to meat" -- the idea being that Shrove Tuesday was the last time old-school Catholics could eat meat for a good six weeks.  Isn't that a cool etymology? I never gave that word any thought.)

As many of you know, Phil and I have tried many different kinds of Lenten sacrifices through the years -- giving up shopping, meat, sugar, chocolate, and I can't even remember what else.  This year we are going to be listening to the New Testament for about a half hour each day.  I am very impressed with the new audio Bibles-- fully scored dramatizations of the Bible done by casts of professional actors--and am looking forward to this time of focused reading (er, listening).  I have already started listening to The Bible Experience from Zondervan, and will alternate between that and the new audio NT from Thomas Nelson.  When it's all done I will be reviewing both Bible dramatizations for Books and Culture. Even though I've barely started, I can already tell you that listening to Scripture is an invaluable complement to reading it.  The Bible was intended to be understood orally, not read silently or privately, and there's something uniquely powerful about these dramatized audio BIbles.  They are completely different from the dry, stilted and-it-came-to-pass recorded books of yesteryear. 

What are you doing for Lent this year? 

Lenten Check-in

Well, we’re more than a week into Lent so far and I thought I’d give you an update.  So far, the only non-grocery things I have bought were all things for my icky chest cold, like Puffs and lozenges and that “Cool Burst” Tylenol P.M. that tastes absolutely revolting but really works at a) coating your throat and easing the cough; and b) knocking you unconscious so you’re oblivious anyway.  So, no non-essential consumption.

Not so for Phil.  The first weekend of Lent, Phil came home from running errands and sheepishly said he had to make a confession: he had purchased a new remote control.  “There was a rebate on this, so . . .it was practically free!” he explained.  “It’s almost like I found it by the side of the road!  And secondly, my poor sick wife can’t get up out of bed to turn on the television.  I was just thinking of you, you know.” Uh huh.

It’s amazing how just taking a wee step off the consumer treadmill can open your eyes to how pervasive it all is.  What has surprised me most is how sensitive I am right now to advertising – it is everywhere!  And the catalogs keep pouring into our mailbox.  Most of them go straight into the recycling bin now.  I did succumb last week to reading the Rejuvenation catalog and dreaming about light fixtures for the bathroom we’re going to remodel this year. 

It’s hard to read a magazine or even open my own email without getting bombarded with ads.  I seem to get email ads at least once a week from Coldwater Creek, Talbots, Travelocity, American Airlines, Flowers.com, Pottery Barn, Levenger . . . and about a kajillion publishers who are hawking their new books. 

Spiritually, I feel like I’m coming up short so far this Lenten season.  I haven’t balanced the Lenten sacrifices effectively with additional time in prayer or devotional reading, so at this point, Lent feels pretty darn dry.  But it’s early days yet, and I’m still settling in.  How are you all doing with your Lenten disciplines?

Silly Episcopal Hymns

And here we were thinking that the evangelicals had all the silly hymns.

Sandwiched between a Mormon sacrament meeting this morning and a Presbyterian installation service this afternoon, Jerusha and I caught an Episcopal "contemporary" service where Phil was playing the piano.  He sounded terrific.  The hymns, however, were downright funny. 

It seems that when Episcopalians go slumming, muscally speaking, they like to sing songs that sound like the ones evangelicals do, only with more anglicisms.  There's no other explanation for a song like this, whipped out to commemorate All Saints' Sunday.  It ranks right up there with "Earth and All Stars" as one of the top hymns to make me burst out laughing in the middle of the service:

I sing a song of the saints of God,
Patient and brave and true,
Who toiled and fought and lived and died
For the Lord they loved and knew.
And one was a doctor,
And one was a queen,
And one was a shepherdess on the green:
They were all of them saints of God -- and I mean,
God helping, to be one too.

To be fair, the words we sang were slightly modernized (uh, modernised), but I swear to God that shepherdess was in there. You also have to realize that the hymn is sung at a rollicking pace that leaves you breathless and not a little anxious that the bloke sitting next to you is actually a saint, and I say, weren't you just sloughing off and wondering what's for lunch while he was being patient and brave and true?

The goal of the hymn, written in the 1920s by a British mum with the unfortunate name of Lesbia Scott, is to help children understand something important: saints are not merely those who lived a long time ago in a galaxy far away.  They're not just names in a history book. They're all around us:

You can meet them in school, or
In lanes, or at sea,
In church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea,
For the saints of God are just folk like me,
And I mean to be one too.

Which is why, when Catherine of Siena shows up at your door at 4 p.m. on the dot, you'll want to serve her tea and scones.  Just don't be surprised if she doesn't eat anything.

My favorite part, though, is this one:

And one was a soldier,
And one was a priest,
And one was slain by a fierce wild beast:
And there’s not any reason—no, none in the least,
Why I shouldn’t be one too.

Oh, please, Mummy, why can't I be devoured by a wild beast? Those saints of old had all the fun.  I want to be eviscerated too! Pleeeease, Mummy!

I know the Episcopalians in America have been worried lately about all the conflicts: gay marriage, a female presiding bishop, etc.  It's been hard to think of a good tagline.  But I have a suggestion:

Episcopalians: Great preaching.  Very silly British hymns.

Happy Halloweenerschnitzel

I'm quoted in an article in yesterday's Orlando Sentinel about the rise of alternative Halloween celebrations among evangelical Christians.  (Interestingly, Mark Pinsky cut out the really controversial thing I said, which is that these "fall harvest festivals" are completely and delightfully pagan.  Everything comes full circle, doesn't it?  All Hallow's Eve meets Oktoberfest.)

Speaking of Mark Pinsky, if you haven't yet read his new book A Jew Among the Evangelicals, be sure to pick up a copy.  Amidst all of the snarky books out this election season about American evangelicals, his stands out for its respectful tone and determination to view evangelicalism as a diverse, complex religious movement.  It can also be really funny, despite the somber and dull cover.  (Don't judge the book by its cover.)

And also on the topic of Mark's books . . . those of you who are fans of The Simpsons will be happy to hear that his book The Gospel According to the Simpsons is getting a second edition in the spring, with lots of new material and an afterword that traces how Groening's treatment of religion has influenced other animated shows like South Park and The Family Guy.  The second edition is timed to coincide with the 400th episode of the series (400! Impossible) and the new Simpsons feature film that comes out next July.  (You can try to get info at foxmovies.com, but the movie link doesn't seem to be working.  Homer must have crashed the power plant again.)