This past Sunday I watched a portion of the Grammys and was taken aback by the powerful lyrics of Green Days's "21 Guns." The song led me to comment on Facebook that Green Day may well be one of our best theologians today. How could that possibly be? The thought will no doubt receive criticism from many, but I am compelled by the thoughtful words of Phyllis Tickle: "More theology is conveyed in, and probably retained from, one hour of popular television than from all of the sermons that are also delivered on any given weekend in America's synagogues, churches, and mosques." There is often more substance, raw honesty, and profundity related to how we percieve God and our world in an episode of "The Simpsons" or "Lost"--or in this case, a punk rock band's song--than in many of the sermons I've heard in my lifetime.
A friend of mine who took my comment seriously considered the lyrics and blogged about it, suggesting that the lyrics are a fine portrayal of the Christian notion of surrender. I think he's right on target, but I want to go a little deeper . [If you are unfamiliar with the song, the lyrics are provided here -- and I encourage you to watch the outstanding music video on youtube!]
"Do you know what's worth fighting for? When its not worth dying for?" Immediately and throughout, the song is a double entendre, calling for a truce, peace, and surrender, both on the personal level and the political. The chorus rings out, "One, 21 guns/lay down your arms, give up the fight/ throw up your arms into the sky, you and I." It is interesting that, in a culture where many people on both sides of the political aisle are tired of the fighting and death in Iraq (except for, perhaps, the "Christian" company that has a $660 million contract with the U.S. military to build gun sights), in a time when when anti-war protesting is higher than it has been since Vietnam, the idea of personal dependency, surrender, and choosing faith and trust over self-will and self-preservation are not given a lot of air time. This notion of giving up control, of a self that recognizes it is passive in the wake of what comes in the future, of the power of powerlessness, is the distinguishing feature of Kierkegaard's notion of human subjectivity. Kierkegaard offers the examples of Abraham in Fear and Trembling and Job in Repetition, both who gave up everything in a moment of madness only to impossibly receive it back again from Whom "all things are possible" and Who reminds us that "Whoever tries to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it."
The simple question raised by Green Day, "What worth fighting for?" is an incredibly profound question. I wonder how many people in the Christian culture wars enraged over the issue of homosexuality (whether for or against), for instance, have stopped to ask, "Is this worth fighting for?" Are my views on this issue "worth dying for"? Is it in my top 10 (or even top 100) list of theological nonnegotiables?
Still further, the song continually makes a point about the nature of our lives and the nature of faith. We all have been hurt, been pained, been betrayed. The list could go on and on of the things that have been done to us -- and the things we've done to others. Amidst it all, there could be a silver lining, not a reason for the pain and hurt, but a passion that proceeds from it. Green Day asks, "Does the pain weigh out the pride? . . . You're in ruins." And still later, "When you're at the end of the road / And you lost all sense of control / And your thoughts have taken their toll / When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul." We can try to think and reason about the meaning of what has happened in our lives, we can search for answers to the horrors and evil in the world, but such strivings often leave us wanting, even crushed in spirit, "and a crushed spirit dries up the bones," said a wise sage long ago. All of this leads to the profound statement by Green Day: "Your faith walks on broken glass." -- which Paul tells us, we see through "darkly."
Even more could be said. By the end of the song, Green Day touches on many more themes that could be developed such as longsuffering ("And the hangover doesn't pass"), repentance, forgiveness, and idolatry ("Did you stand too close to the fire / Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone"), redemption ("And you can't get another try"), brokenness and disappointment ("Nothing's ever built to last" and "Something inside this heart has died."), and resurrection, or the very Christian notion the life so often arises through death, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes ("When it's time to live and let die." As Jesus reminded us, only when a seed is put in the ground and "dies" that it produces fruit [Jn. 12:24; cf. Gal. 2:19]).
A Prayer to Live in Abundance Not Scarcity
3 years ago
3 comments:
So true.
I really appreciate your point about homosexuality being on the top 10 list. And much on the flip side how many things that should be on our top 10 list are we completely apathetic about (God being mocked, the holiness of God, lost people)? We fight so hard for prayer in school, but who really prays in school anyway? WE are so concerned about our "rights".
Where is does Ephesians 2:6-8 come in?
Where are we laying down our lives for one another?
One other thing, I have been realizing lately. As I watched two good friends loose their newborn daughter, I realized that really shitty things happen to everyone, everywhere. Choosing to believe in or not to believe in, blame, run from God makes not difference.
Saying there is no God does not take away the pain or the suffering. Trying to explain the pain is another exercise in futility not to mention arrogant.
But what I realized is the hope that we have in Christ is that God doesn't waste suffering. He uses it. He can give it a purpose. Not to say "this is why, this tragedy happened" but to say, "look what I will make out of it". Otherwise it is just pointless suffering.
Isaiah 61:3
"for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor."
A promise of dignity restored.
And by the way, I can't believe you even listen to Green Day, I mean they have tattoos and piercings, they are obviously evil.
Megan, you have left some very good thoughts. I really like your distinction between (a) "this is why this tragedy happened" and (b) "look what I will make out of it." (a) is the kind of theodicy that I rejected in my blog on Haiti. Indeed, the most moving pictures of the suffering in Haiti were not those who tried to explain it (like Pat Robertson) but those who did something about it (like the rescue workers and those who gave money), and even more profound, those victims who, after being pulled out of the rubble fell to their knees and sang songs of praise. If we look at suffering in light of (a) [which is a good summation of the study known as theodicy] we will run up against events of evils and horrors that, for all intensive purposes are pointless as you said, or “useless” to use Emmanuel Levinas’s term (a Jewish philosopher who survived the Holocaust). If one is going to try to make reasoned sense of Holocaust, he’s not going to get very far. Rabbi Irving Greenberg, the former chair of the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Council, said it well: “No theological statement should be made that could not be credible in the presence of burning children.”
I think all of this turns on the kind of God one believes in – which also influences (b) and how I interpret your phrase “God doesn’t waste suffering,” which could be thought to mean, “God has a purpose/intent for why this happened,” which really means “God’s omnipotent-omniscient control of the universe led/caused this to happen.” I, sorry to say, cannot believe in such a God (not that I’m saying you do, but it is a common view). And this is what Levinas means by “useless.” To say God “caused” or has a “purpose” for the death of 4 million Jews over the course of a few years or 200,000 Haitians in one day – many of whom were children – in order for someone or some people group to “get” some divine message is to speak of a god not worthy of being believed in (as if we could even get to the God’s-eye view necessary to fully grasp such a message!). When evil is so gratuitous – and when we are speaking of the priceless value of human life it instantly becomes so – it is hard to speak of a “purpose” or “reason.” If God had (hypothetically) wanted Israel to “get” a message from the Holocaust, was the death of 4 million really necessary? Would not just 50,000 (if that!) have sufficed (and if so, then all the other deaths were “useless,” in vain).
In contrast, I think suffering – and this is how I interpret (b) and the statement “God doesn’t waste suffering” – provides an opening for us to invite God into our lives, to realize that God weeps with those who weep, that God empties himself (Phil. 2), that he is not the orchestrator of the world’s ills but that he suffers with us. God hungers, thirsts, is naked, and as Jesus said, “Whatever you did for the least of these you did for me.” And as his brother said, “True religion is to serve the fatherless and the widow.” When we act, when we “do the truth” (to quote Augustine) – when our orthopraxy precedes our orthodoxy – we can be coworkers with God to help renew and redeem the world (“And we know that in all things He [the Holy Spirit] works together WITH those who love him to bring about what is good” – and alternate trans. of Rom. 8:28 you’ll find in the margin of your NIV). When we share in the sufferings of others, we act as host FOR God (“I am the light of the world/”you are the light of the world”) and host TO God. When we respond in hope and faith in the midst of suffering, we make ourselves a temple for the suffering God as the victim of the Holocaust, Etty Hillesum wrote, “You (God) cannot help us, but we must help you and defend Your dwelling place inside us to the last.”
When I write of God giving suffering a purpose. I am applying it to a very individual perspective. I do not support the notion that God sent the Holocaust to send the Jews a message. But I do believe that God can (and desires to) draw people (everyone of them) near to him through and as a result of, such tragedies. Christ rarely (if ever) made broad sweeping statements about whole cultures. He always dealt with one person's heart. When he spoke to the Samaritan woman, he did not lecture her on the distorted worship practices of her people. I don't think God is nearly as interested in sociology as we are. When Jesus healed the blind man (the one blind from birth) and his disciples asked him if he was blind because he or his parents sinned. His answer was neither, but so the "works of God might be displayed in him."
The truth is, the nature of God is a mystery. He is divine, omnipotent, omniscient, holy, yet human--acquainted with the bitterest grief, despised and rejected, full of compassion and mercy.
I am not sure if I am bold enough to even try to decide whether God allows suffering or simply (and I don't mean that patronizingly) suffers with us. It seems to decide either would be putting God in a box, that he will not be confined to.
And one could make the argument (though I am not necessarily) that believing God "allowed" things to happen for a greater "purpose" can bring them the same comfort and peace of mind that you have found in knowing that He weeps with those who weep. And your frustration toward them is mutual. So who's right?!? I'm just sayin'.
I guess if you are going to assert that the earthquake in Haiti was God sending a message (and may i interject here-that Pat Robertson said a really dumb thing, but I am not sure we should throw him in the Rush Limbaugh Asshole category just yet), you would have to apply the message to the whole human race, because Haiti (no matter your interpretation of history) is no more morally corrupt than the rest of us.
Again, sometimes I wonder if we spent less time looking for someone to blame and more time asking, "how should we respond."
And for the sake of this delicious discussion we are having...how would you respond to/explain the plague upon the Israelites after the Golden Calf?
ok, its ridiculously late and my baby just woke up with diarrhea, how's that for a conversation stopper! Please excuse my typos and any other incoherent thought.
Post a Comment