Live at Radio City by Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds, Part 1 [Theological Liner Notes]
August 22, 2011
I am pioneering a new sub-genre of theological writing, here. Maybe Tony Hunt would care to follow suit with some of his hipster indie music, or even Shawn Wamsley with some his angry music (if he can find some that isn’t of the devil).
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At first glance Dave Matthews may seem like an unlikely source for discourse on Christian spirituality. He grew up a Quaker, but in a 1998 interview Matthews spoke of how the death of his sister led to the losing of his faith, “I’m glad some people have that faith. I don’t have that faith. If there is a God, a caring God, then we have to figure he’s done an extraordinary job of making a very cruel world.” In 2001, he indentified himself as an agnostic. However, in some ways he and his music are natural places to turn. His songs are filled with theological references and biblical allusions; he is undoubtedly the heir to a long, venerable folk-rock songwriting tradition, which includes Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, and others, and which is deeply conversant in Christian scripture, theology and spirituality.
Focusing on songs from his seminal 2007 RCA release Live at Radio City which Matthews recorded with long time collaborator, Tim Reynolds, I want to explore some themes in the lyrics of Dave Matthews’ music which speak about Christian faith and practice, and to experiencing—or more accurately, confronting—God in surprising and authentic ways. Some of these themes are bluntly critical of certain aspects of Christianity, while others seem to document an authentic search for God, who appears in the music almost as an unrequited lover to agnostic Matthews.
Don’t expect to find anything systematic about theology a la Dave Matthews. We’ll be relying on two sometimes-competing hermeneutical principles. Sometimes Matthews makes overt references to God and the Church, several of his songs are directed at God specifically as agnostic prayers. These we will interpret in a straightforward way, relying on authorial intent. Other songs, however, allude to scripture or use theological language to speak about human relationships and experience without trying to say anything about Christianity or the divine. In these cases, we veer toward a hermeneutic of audience created meaning, reading God and the Church in where Matthews probably did not intend. If this methodology irks you, you should be reading Justice Scalia opinions, not this.
As an example of these two hermeneutical methods being used together in a single song, I will briefly look at one of my favorite songs on the album, “Two Step.” The song itself is about two lovers celebrating life in all its bitter-sweetness. The chorus offers this:
“Celebrate/ Celebrate we will / ‘Cause life is short, but sweet for certain/ Hey, we climb on two by two/ to be sure these days continue.”
“We climb on two-by-two” references the animals boarding Noah’s ark. By alluding to Noah’s mission of repopulating the earth after the flood, Matthews seems to be suggesting that it is our God-given duty to live, and enjoy life, and make babies. So we arrive at a two-liner theology of sex that isn’t too far away from where Matthews intended to go.
Within the same song we find these lines:
“Hey, my love/ You came to me like wine/ Comes to the mouth/ Grown tired of water all the time/ You quench my heart…”
Here, Matthews is obviously making no allusion to God or the Divine at all, but that doesn’t mean I am not free to rip it from its context and find in it a wonderful bit of Eucharistic poetry. Doesn’t Christ come to us, like wine in our mouth? I certainly grow weary of the blandness of a watered-down, purely symbolic understanding of Communion, and I certainly find my heart sated in taking the Eucharist. It’s a completely unintended interpretation—Matthews would probably be appaled by it—but still provides an accurate and poignant theological reference point.
So, you’ve been warned. I will play loose and free with lyrics.
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It is almost cliché to say that much of Matthews’ music is about love and sex (almost as cliché as it is to say that much of Matthews’ concerts are about pot). Many songs are very simply rhapsodies in praise of having sex with beautiful women (i.e. “Two Step” above). While some might find these conjugal hymns shocking, there is, with a few notable exceptions, nothing in the lyrics that explicitly denies biblical sexuality. In fact, they are a site of resistance, an oasis of refreshment for those of us who have grown up dealing with the puritanical, and quite simply repressive body-hatred of certain parts of Evangelical church culture.
On the whole, love for Matthews is a keystone thematic principle that transcends sex. Love is the only sure thing; the bedrock of life. For example, “When the World Ends” is a song about two lovers who will endure the end of the world in each other’s arms. Typical lyrics include:
“When the world ends/ Passion rising from the ashes,”
and
“When the world ends/ We’ll just be beginning.”
Matthews makes a bold claim here that love transcends catastrophe, even apocalypse. In the song “Oh,” we find a similar theme, but this song is written not about lovers but Matthews’ grandfather:
“The world is blowing up/ The world is caving in/ The world has lost her way again/ But you are here with me/ But you are here with me/ It makes it okay.”
Love makes anything bearable; disaster and suffering lose their finality in the presence of a beloved one.
In a third song from the album, “Eh Hee”, Matthews makes the claim that, “with the love that my mother gave me/ I’m gonna drop the devil to the floor.” Here love is martial. Love does not simply make evil bearable, love destroys evil. Back in the chorus of “Oh,” we discover that this love is intense, unstoppable, and gratuitous:
“I love you oh so well/ Like a kid loves candy and fresh snow/ I love you oh so well/ Enough to fill up heaven/ Overflow and fill hell.”
All three of these songs are speaking of human relationships with lovers, grandfathers and mothers; yet in each, Matthews’ images of love are couched in eschatological and theological language, leaving an opening for us to apply these ecstatic visions of love to God and to Divine love. When St. John writes that God is love, and when St. Paul writes that nothing can separate us from the love of God, did they mean to go as far as Matthews goes? Can the imagination of the Church keep up with Matthews’ imagination when trying to understand the unfathomable love of God? Does God’s love for all of us “fill up heaven, overflow and fill hell?” Some Christians’ definition of hell is precisely that place where God and his love end. And yet Matthews’ love for his grandfather transcends that boundary, as did St. Paul’s love for his kinsmen (Romans 8). If God is God, can his love for his children be any less?
When applied to love that God’s children are commanded to have for each other and the world, Matthews’ vision of love certainly stands in contrast to some prevailing notions in the Church. Whereas, like St. Paul’s, Matthews’ concept of love overcomes evil, some in Christianity at least appear to believe that love is optional and that hateful rhetoric, militarism and the tea party will somehow conquer evil and end suffering in the world. Can Matthews’ lyrics call the Church back to a place where indefatigable love for all people is truly our bedrock; where we stop striving with the weapons of this world and rely on the self-sacrificing love of Christ to transfigure everything with which it comes into contact?
Part 2 (coming soon, with reflections on “Don’t Drink the Water,” “Save Me,” “Eh Hee” & more!)
Graham Ward: A Minor Annotated Bibliography IV
July 31, 2010
Be it the gripping Torture and Eucharist, the insightful Mystical Theology or the symphonic On Christian Theology, books in the Blackwell series “Challenges in Contemporary Theology” have yet to not drastically shift my worldview after reading, and Graham Ward’s Christ and Culture is no exception (I can’t wait to read the rest in the series).
Despite the fact that this is a collection of previously released and delivered essays, there is a certain deep similarity in theme, style and content between them. These pick up on all the collective themes of Christology; “incarnation, atonement, the economics of the Trinity what it is to be human [and] the Church” (23) but do so in a manner steeped in discourses very distant to the sort of christology of predication that I’m used to reading such as hermeneutics, metaphysics and cultural theory. Topics like embodiment and the operation of desire also play a large role. (23)
Yet all revolve around very close readings of Scripture. Ward pays particular attention to St. Mark’s Gospel but Scripture is used thoroughly and uniquely all throughout this book. Even if one were to disagree with all of Ward’s conclusions, many of which are controversial, this book is hugely important as I see it for its christological and exegetical method(s).
Ward builds off Aquinas where in the Summa he says, “God is not known to us in His nature, but is made known to us in His operations. (Summa Theologiae, I.Q13.8). Therefore Ward asks not “who is the Christ or what is the Christ [but] where is the Christ” (1) … and I might add, “what is Christ doing?”
The introduction alone is worth the price which not only concisely lays out his own vision but offers a substantive and wide ranging critique of Karl Barth, especially his christological dialectics which as Ward sees it, makes of Christ “either the absolute subject or the absolute object.” (12) (This seems not too unlike to some of Rowan Williams’ critique of Barth, cf. – “Barth on the Triune God,” Wrestling With Angels, pp.106-149) Briefly summing it up, Ward lays it out like this:
“Barth’s dogmatic approach to Christology (a) all too thinly defines the economies of salvation in which the gracious love of Christ finds a responding desire; (b) this finds expression in the thinness of his account of mediations (c) such that his mediating christology remains tied to specific cultural assumptions about the subject and nature; (d) this binds christology to the logic of dualism, itself a product of a certain cultural heritage in modernity; (e) this logic and these assumptions, on the basis of which we develops his dialectical method, render him unable to reflect upon his own cultural production of christology. The world is so lost, so secularized, so ignorant of God that both Christ and subsequently a theology of Christ operate above and beyond such a world, in contradistinction to it.” (14-15)
Of the Ward books I’ve read, this and his Cultural Transformation and Religious Practice were the ones that really captured my imagination. It is important in its own right (or seems like it to me at least) but also in that it renders such criticisms as “RO doesn’t deal with Christ or the Bible or discipleship seriously enough” in need of more evidence. And it also disrupts the all too common saying I hear, that Ward is some sort of exception to RO, “Ward I can take, Milbank I can’t.” Nevertheless, Ward would not want to be holed up on a “side” in contemporary theology.
I can’t wait to reread this one…hopefully I’ll make more strides toward comprehending the details.
Seminary V.III : Limits in Round Table Theology
April 8, 2010
Before a brief excersion in response to a friend, I was commenting on how seminaries should be purposeful about formation. How we do and do not educate will – I cannot emphasize enough the will – shape the future of our fellowship. There is no getting around it. “Knowledge is Power,” Foucault said, and I couldn’t agree with him more. Of course this has always been known and responsible teachers through the ages would have had no moral qualms about telling people how and even what to think, especially in early stages of learning.
Of late there has been a minor revival of so-called “classical education” largely in response to an essay written by the famous Dorothy Sayers entitled, “The Lost Tools of Learning.” I take this essay to be essentially correct and this (other) hyperbolic statement by Hauerwas properly frames where I am going with these next couple essays:
“As a way to challenge such a [liberal] view of freedom, I start my classes by telling my students that I do not teach in a manner that is meant to help them make up their own minds. Instead, I tell them that I do not believe they have minds worth making up until they have been trained by me. I realize such a statement is deeply offensive to students since it exhibits a complete lack of pedagogic sensitivities. Yet I cannot imagine any teacher who is serious who would allow students to make up their own minds.” —Stanley Hauerwas, “Christian Schooling or Making Students Dysfunctional,” in Sanctify Them in the Truth: Holiness Exemplified (Nashville: Abingdon, 1998), p. 220. HT: Faith and Theology
I’m preparing a very incomplete and theoretical curriculum for an entire seminary education that I hope to post in the next week or so. For now let us consider a significant if not the most significant aspect of formation (I’m here speaking as an Anglican but most any “Rule of Prayer” in continuity within the liturgical and spiritual tradition of the Church could work); the Daily Office. Any seminary worth its salt will pray, at the very least, the Morning and Evening Office. I’ve always found the “noon” prayer in the ’79 BCP to be lackluster and unfocused but of course the Compline as well as the Service of Light are both spectacular. It may not be of utter necessity that every student attend every single service, though I can’t imagine anything less than three weekday offices being at all adequate. Whatever the case it ought to be performed daily.
Going a step beyond this I think it would be a stroke of brilliance to incorporate the material of the Office directly into the taught classes. So hermeneutics, exegesis (same thing really) and Bible classes should teach from the Scripture readings each day. Instead of a class on “Pauline Theology,” or “Pauline Letters” or “The Synoptics,” a seminary could have a “Bible” track that spans the whole of the education which covers the same material that such a class would have, but is done in a wholistic manner.
Many of the classes could be taught this way. After learning the grammar, such a class could serve “double duty” as a “Greek Reading” class. A teacher could take the NT passage and teach how to grammatically structure that passage. Etc…to infinity. It seems to me that the connection between the Office and the classes could be made in any number of creative ways.
One weakness is obviously the current Lectionary. Anglican liturgical expert and spectacular blogger Derek Olsen says that the point of the Daily Office Lectionary, as compared to the Lectionary for use at the Mass, is to read and learn the Bible, not to be mystagogical. There is of course a place for that but not here. I still dig a two-year structure but it could stand to be more consistent in how it proceeds through books. The entire OT and Deutero-canon every two years, NT about once a year, and the Psalms once a month or month and a half seems both substantial and doable. The books should be read from beginning to end with no cutting out the non-liberal-protestant parts as it does now.
I am assuming that doing the dishes, cleaning the bathrooms and feeding the poor also fit into the general life of the Seminary but those are less “educational” in the same sense that I am talking about here.
Using and Abusing the Old Testament
September 11, 2009
Warning: This is not a well thought out research project. It is a matter of personal rumination, that I want to discuss with the group for the sake of gaining insight. Consequently, expect to find personal bias, agitation, incredulity, and hilariousness herein.
It has always perplexed me to see how scitzophrenically Christians utilize the Old Testament. As one who spends a fair amount of time training people to interpret Scripture, watching the sloppy implementation of sound hermeneutics being lobbed “Hail Mary style” at the Old Testament is much like watching the bocce event at the Special Olympics (now, if you are a bocce player, a special olympian [James?], or just sensitive – get over it. I think the analogy works on many levels).
I know what many may already be thinking, “Okay, fine, you’re so smart – why don’t you just tell us (Oh, Great and Wonderful Hermeneutical Rhetorician – [henceforth GWHR]) how we ought to be interpreting the Old Testament?” However, the sophisticated and intelligent reader will immediately know this would be the worst thing I, the GWHR, could attempt for several reasons not limited to, but including… /1/ Nothing I am capable of producing would encompass the greater history or tradition of Christian Scriptural exegesis (does such a hermeneutic even exist?), /2/ The internet trolls would seize my post and proceed to argue over whether to make soup or pancakes out of it.
The trouble with trolls: they love picking at minutiae, but rarely have anything productive to contribute to an ongoing dialogue.
/3/ I am not annoyed about any particular hermeneutic, I am annoyed at our seeming inability to systematically apply ANY hermeneutic to the Old Testament.
Really, the crux of my complaint contends with the catastrophic conceit that no one really knows what to do with the Old Testament, so they just do whatever the hell they please with it. When did the Old Testament become the cecal (read, “appendix”) of Christ’s Body? We have some exegetes claiming that the Old Testament (especially the Torah) is totally in effect, some claiming that it is only partially in effect, some claiming that it is null and void, and some claiming that only elements which adhere to God’s person matter. With all of these hermeneutics, you would think that some could find one and stick with it. Nonetheless, such machinations of the interpetively literate seem to escape even the cleverest of them.
I watch in utter horror as some (many times the same person, if not the same group) will use the Old Testament to prove that homosexuality is an abomination, that tatoos are a sin, that polygamy was not part of God’s plan for marriage, that we should not pay a 10% tithe, that the United States’ war on Iraq was justified, etc. etc. The problem, of course, is that this is the same person/group utilizing three different hermeneutics in order to manipulate the outcome that they want. All those who agree please join me in a collectively exasperated, “WTF?” With all of this inflamation from ego, culturally derived ethics, and personal self-soothing, Christ’s body will surely suffer appendicitis. Will we then have to just cut the Old Testament off in some kind of Marcion inspired bris before we suffer a rupture?
(I hope the more perspicacious among you will enjoy the added level of irony accorded to that last bit of rhetoric - allow the GWHR to include this explanation for the trolls: its funny because I talk about chopping up phalluses [weiners], and such a practice finds justification in the Old Testament, which is what we are going to chop).
This is a link to a discussion going on over at AGThinkTank that I believe demonstrates my point well. Go, my lovelies, read it and ponder the fate that we will ultimately suffer, and then discuss among yourselves. How do we solve such a conundrum? Is a solution even desirable?
What The Hell Is A Post Evangelical Tea Party?
July 31, 2009
A simple google search for “post evangelical” will return a plethora of commentary on the term (some of my favorites: the very straight forward wikipedia entry, the standby internetmonk, an open source theology thread from 2003, and our fellow ccblogger notes from off center).
It would be very silly of me to launch into a comprehensive series of posts on the idea when so much has already been explained by those more capable (and internet savvy). However, the term displays prominently at the top of our blog right next to ‘tea party’ as if we all sit around counting doilies and discussing Mr. Darcy all day long and as far as I can tell, we’ve never actually sussed out just what that means.
I am especially guilty since it would seem I consistently use this slippery word as an adjective for my position on various issues right now and just smile coyly to myself as people sitting across from me as they scramble to figure out if that’s a postmodern, emergent, postdenomentational missional thing or whether I just made it up on the spot. (In truth, it gives me an inherent sense of superiority to be “post” whatever the person is whom I’m discussing things with. Post-girlfriend anyone?)
For some odd reason probably having something to do with either Shawn Wamsley or my slick redo of our sidebar, our traffic has increased in recent weeks and I’m delighted that many of our new readers and commenters come from worldviews outside the Christian sphere. If you’re new and reading this, I hope this post is useful for you.
Everyone who contributes to this blog came to Christianity in an Evangelical movement in the United States. None of us have remained.
This is the simplest use of the term on this blog and if nothing I say after makes any sense, I suggest we just stick to it. Some of us have found new movements to join, some have left conventional Christianity altogether and others are lost somewhere in the clouds.
Our reasons for leaving are as variable as our tastes in beer, which is to say, surprisingly not quite so varied—however, full of tiny quirks unique to our own persons. Shamelessly borrowing formatting from the wikipedia article because I’m on vacation and too tired to be creative on my own, I’d like to list some of these frustrations to which many of us can attest (I’ve also decided to add Exclamation points because most of us live in Minnesota where people really don’t show enough emotion):
1. Politicization of Faith!
The G Dub years were hard for me. I was a loyal supporter before I could even vote but by the end of his eight year reign, I couldn’t figure out why people kept telling me he was Christian, and why that necessarily meant I had to vote for him. An astute reader of the blog might observe that we still discuss our political convictions using Christian rationale, just often from the other pole. I would counter that such explanations are often more complicated than simple blind “good vs. evil” comparisons and that likely a particular politician we might support involves our reasoning of “shared goals” rather than “shared convictions.”
2. Unreasonable view of Scripture!
One of the two issues on this blog that will never quite go away. I don’t have much to add here. Look around, you’ll find it.
3. Inadequate Response to Homosexual Christians!
The other of the two issues that is never far from our recent comments list. There are a variety of stances on this issue on our blog—which is something, I’m proud of.
4. Militant Exclusivism and Preoccupation with Eschatology!
For those of us who grew up in a church or movement with a vibrant missions or Evangelistic focus, this issue remains difficult. Just what does it mean to share the good news? Am I accountable if I don’t “witness” to every single person I meet? Does hell exist? Are Christians the only people who go to “heaven.” And just what is heaven? And hey, what about my Muslim friends, I like them and I think that their faith is pretty cool and I’d rather they don’t change to be completely honest. Can God make a rock so big he can’t lift it?
5. Emphasis on Personal Piety over Social Responsibility!
Disgusted by mega church opulence and prosperity nonsense, post evangelicals are afflicted by the tension between holiness and justice. Maybe those hippies who joined the Peace Corps instead of the missions trip were on to something. And seriously, just how does my memorizing another scripture verse help people dying from Malaria in Africa?
6. Disconnect From Church History!
I’ve discussed this elsewhere. Old stuff matters and Evangelicals seemed determined to separate themselves from it.
7. Separatism and Alternative Culture!
More a personal pet peeve of mine. I can’t stand alternative Christian culture, music, movies, books etc… I find it to be a cheesy and crude attempt at unnecessary and harmful separation from “the world.” Seriously, why are Christians so weird?
8. Other Stuff!
Which I’m sure you guys will add in the comments.
Finally adding “tea party” to our blog tag line was really a throwaway thing I did when first designing the site. I suppose you could say its lighthearted or a reference to our mutual friendships and enjoyment of imbibing things but really, I just threw it in there on a whim.
Is the Devil in the Details?
November 25, 2008
Did the Devil lead worship in heaven, complete with a Taylor acoustic guitar with Fishman electronics? Was he there in the first place? Did he get thrown like a skydiver with no parachute?
I want to avoid a whole discussion on the history of this figure, but it is worth noting, even taking into account the developed tradition in the New Testament, that every reference source I have looked at stresses the ambiguity of the figure and his “personhood,” role and actions in the whole Biblical narrative.
My primary point in my recent post was that the passages in the prophetic books of the OT, primarily Isaiah and Ezekiel, did not and do not intend to speak about “The Satan, The Accuser, The Serpent, etc….” I base this off of the reality that the passages in question are dealing with real kings of real kingdoms. The Satan is nowhere mentioned, and the texts do not at all even hint at a “satan” figure. I would venture to argue that the passages loose any significance and meaning when they are taken metaphorically to speak of another “supernatural” figure other than the king in question or in addition to the king in question.
Picture if you will, a people dispossessed of their land which they were promised by divine right by YHWH the one God is Israel. The prophets had been telling them that the King in question was gonna do some damage if they did not repent of their sins. But, even though doing YHWH’s bidding, in the end these kings too would be judged for their arrogance and pride, as they were putting themselves in the position of god (a well known and well documented Ancient Near Eastern practice). So in the end Israel, and more importantly YHWH would be vindicated by judgement on the prideful kings.
Now try in that social and religious climate to suggest that the prophet actually meant (or God meant?) another malevolent spiritual figure unconnected to the narrative and I will say that one is reading between the lines in a big way. If authority lies primarily in authorial intent, then I would venture to assert again that the OT prophetic passages are not at all referring to “The Accuser” and that any subsequent interpretation of them in such a manner is using a different hermeneutic than I would deem reliable.
Perhaps Jeremy, we will have to agree to disagree 
Or, make your case, iron sharpens iron right?
More Proof That Fundamentalists Do Not Read Their Bibles II
November 21, 2008
I have been reading through much of the Prophetic books lately. I recently finished Isaiah (I know, I know…I’m pretty holy) and I was struck time and again as I read over certain passages that I had heard interpreted in various ways over the years. Now, I make no claim to be an Hebrew Bible Scholar, in fact the OT scares me half to death (you never know if it really happened, or when it happened), but I am pretty sure that 99% of the “end-times” doctrines taken from the OT fail on a basic, even “literal,” level to take the books seriously as what they are…Timely words for the community of Israel. Now perhaps we can get into a discussion on the sensus plenior of Scripture sometime (oohh, Latin. Jeremy, whatcha gonna do about it?), but at the very least one needs to let exegesis have it’s day.
That being said, I do not know how Isaiah 14.1-14 ever got used to talk about Satan falling from heaven. This is obviously talking about the real, on earth, human, King of Babylon. It is not at all talking about an “angel” or whatever. So yeah…let’s read the Bible literally and stop talking about “The Devil falling from heaven” as described in Isaiah.
Which brings us to the other passage, Ezekiel 28.1-19 Here again, the writer is focused on the King of Tyre. That is, the real, on earth, human, King of Tyre. On can easily get this by looking at the first few verses, where there is the purposeful title “Son of Man,” that is “man.” An intentional title as in the next verse you see that the king said “I am a god” The lament which is sung over the King of Tyre draws from extra-biblical Eden stories and likely other Near-eastern mythologys. Notice that there is extra material here that is not in Genesis. Though it uses mythological language, the theme is the very physical and present King. Otherwise the judgements on him for his arrogance lose any meaning and frame of reference.
So there you go, taking the Bible seriously, even “literally,” reveals that “satan” did not “fall from heaven;” at least not in the OT, perhaps at some other point we can look at Luke 10.18
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