Completely Unrelated Fascinating Reading

I have decided to recommend two books to you, the faithful who read this blog. I would imagine that if you are willing to spend the time reading and contemplating this blog, you are willing to take my recommendations on some additional reading. Why is it that I only feel useful in conversations that revolve around literature? Anyways, the two books are wildly unrelated, but both are beneficial and enlightening.

The first book is Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut (New York: Dial Press, 2005–original copyright, 1969). This is my first Vonnegut book, and it will most assuredly not be my last. I first heard some discussion about him on the BurnsideWritersCollective.com. It peaked my interest so I asked an open-ended question to anyone reading the blog, and was recommended this particular book. It is an anti-war novel telling the story of a soldier (Billy Pilgrim) and his experiences through WWII.

Vonnegut is one of the most respected American authors ever to put pen to paper, and for some reason he has completely escaped my radar until rather recently. There is so much I need to catch up on! Perhaps I should have paid more attention in literature class. Oh well. Such is life.

There have been so many things that have struck me about this book. I here offer a quote that represents so well why I have enjoyed this book:

“Billy licked his lips, thought a while, inquired at last: ‘Why me?’ (to the aliens who had abducted him)
‘That is a very Earthling question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim. Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?’
‘Yes.’ Billy, in fact, had a paperweight in his office which was a blob of polished amber with three ladybugs in it.
‘Well, here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why.’” (97)

The second book is Through a Screen Darkly: Looking Closer at Beauty, Truth, and Evil in Movies by Jeffery Overstreet (Ventura, CA: Regal, 2007). This is a book my brother recommended to me, and I have not been disappointed. It deals with the idea of Christians theologically reflecting on movies as art. I have already dealt a little bit with this in a previous post. But here he limits his scope to that of movies, naming their power and function in the lives of Christians.

I am constantly encouraged by people who are actively involved in theological reflection on art. And I am especially passionate about movies. I love them. I just love them.

Again, here is just a little from this fabulous book that has really helped me to see clearly the task of theological reflection on film:

“…film is uniquely qualified to explore spirituality. More than any other art, it mirrors our experience in time and space. Reflecting our world back to us, it gives us the opportunity explore and revisit moments. Offering imaginative visions of alternative worlds, it helps us glimpse aspects of our own that we might otherwise have missed. Slowly, we begin to discover the universal in the particular, the timeless in the temporal, the miraculous in the mundane.” (77)

“What is it about fools that they become the characters who see God most clearly and respond to him most honestly?” (86)

“If dining at the table of movies becomes my primary focus, I am forgetting the purpose of the meal. It is served to give me strength so that I can return to my life stronger, healthier and closer to being whole.” (94)

So I hope this is helpful. More later.

Eucharistic Musings from a Church of Christ

I live in Abilene, TX. It is, in every way, a college town. There are three, count them, three, Christian colleges in Abilene. There is MacMurray, a Methodist school. There is Hardin-Simmons, a Baptist school and seminary. And then there is ACU, the biggest school in town, a Church of Christ school and seminary. So, needless to say, there is a lot of church going in Abilene. A lot. And, the universities greatly influence the ways in which church is done. Generally, people are much more open-minded theologically in a town like that.

But not all are.

So let me get kinda “Church of Christy” for a minute. If you are familiar with our services at all, the you will remember that we take the Lord’s Supper (Eucharist) every week. I really like that about us—and so do a number of liturgical scholars, which I think is pretty cool. I think it is one of the most theologically mature things that we do as a fellowship. And notice that this is an issue about which the overwhelming majority of us still agree. Huh, who would have thought that? The Eucharist uniting people?

No, I must be thinking of something else.

But along those same lines, if you know about us taking the Eucharist every week, you’ll most likely concede that it is almost always rather lifeless and boring when we do it. Most of the time it is hurried, and it is blatantly obvious that no real preparation has gone into it. It is often just another thing to check off the list, part of our mystical “five acts of worship” (whatever that means).

And what is worse is that so often we have taken the table aspect—the communal aspect—completely out of it. The ways in which we take of it look almost nothing like the way they did in the earliest centuries of Christianity. That is so sad to me. It is also ironic, because we claim to look exactly like they did! But I wonder how many of us actually still think that.

I recently read John Mark Hick’s Come to the Table: Revisioning the Lord’s Supper. Fanstastic book. I could not put it down—I read it in only a day or two. It really shook me up, and made me re-evaluate my own theology of the Eucharist. And it led to several realizations for me. One of which is that Churches of Christ should really do a lot more to rediscover the biblical witness and to appropriate it to our churches everyday. He even gives some helpful and practical suggestions for implementing a more biblical Eucharist in modern 21^st century Churches of Christ. I highly recommend.

But lets face it, many churches won’t change. Many are stuck in their routines, and won’t even think of deviating from them. I came from a background like this, and I shamefully judged others who were attempting to alter my way of doing things.

But not all churches are like that. Some are changing. And I am constantly amazed and impressed by them. I respect churches so much that are trying to get back to the Bible—something most of us claim to do, but few of us actually try to do. And one thing that I never really realized is the fact that even within these churches that are progressively atlering the ways in which they do things, there is still internal debate. It is almost impossible to have universal agreement on an issue within a church. And I know that it is wildly naïve to not see that, but it is true. I did not. I guess I just thought that they all just one day decided to do something different and everyone was cool with that.

Boy was I wrong.

The other day I went to a church that normally takes the Eucharist in a moderately traditional “CoC” way. But this particular Sunday the leadership decided to change things up a little bit. Instead of having a few select men (why it is always only men has been a constant mystery to me—but that is another post!) stand at the front and then pass the trays of crackers and juice to every other aisle—alternating with the man on the opposite side of the row of pews, this particular Sunday the elders stood at the center of the aisles and the people came to them. It was done much in the style of the Episcopal tradition. The methodology was changed this week to enhance the communal aspect of the Eucharist—a perfect example of trying to return to the biblical witness. I really liked it and was encouraged by it.

But (and there is always a but) there were two older people behind me as I stood in the line. And instead of hearing them talk about Christ, his sacrifice, its ramifications, or at the very least, about the fact that for once at church everyone was looking around during the Lord’s Supper, that it felt a little more like a group experience, I only heard complaining. One said, “This is not organized.”

The other piped up with, “This is not saving time.”

Then after it was over, while there are others that were still eating, they walked up to the preacher and instead of saying, “Christ lives,” “Blessed is the body broken,” or anything like that, they said, “Do I get a vote?…” and proceeded to complain to him—while the service was still going on! I gained so much more respect for this preacher after having watched that.

Now I am not necessarily saying that the way that church took the Eucharist that day was the best way possible. There were probably better options, But come on! At least they were trying something new. They were attempting to change the way the church saw the Lord’s Supper by taking of it in a little different way. I thought it a noble and appropriate cause.

Why is it that churches have such a hard time doing something new? Maybe that is the question, the point, of this post.

It would take way too long to unpack the theology that was expressed by those people, but a few questions will have to be asked: What was so disorganized? What do they mean by organization? Is their complaining in any way tied to a skewed reading of 1 Corinthains? Oh, and why are they trying to save time? What does that even mean? Save time. I guess there are more important things that they needed to do with their time, so they are more than welcome to sacrifice time spent checking in that silly little bread and wine shaped box on the checklist we call worship.

Or maybe this post means nothing at all. Just me venting. I don’t know. Allow me some unneccessary synicism?

Viva La Documentary

So I am in Cuernavaca again. I know, big surprise! But this trip is a little different than those that I have taken in the past. Instead of going primarily to work with a church, I am going to be making a documentary. I know it is a little weird, but hear me out. Mitchell (my brother) and I have tried to think of a way that we would be able to tell Cuernavaca’s story—in its own words. I asked for his help in allowing me to share what I have learned here with all of you. And we thought, What better way to do that than with a film? Isn’t that the medium with which our culture feels most comfortable? So we decided to shoot a 15-20 minute piece (whose title we are not yet revealing) about the church and the city that surrounds it.

The film is (at least at this point) going to set out to accomplish basically two goals:
1. It is going to introduce the audience (both American and Mexican) to an established church plant that exists without missionaries. It is going to briefly answer the question, What does a foreign church plant (that was envisioned, planted, and supported by American churches) look like years after its establishment and the exodus of its missionaries? What kinds of struggles are they dealing with? What do they need from us—if anything? Etc.

2. The film is also going to introduce the audience to the social injustices of the community surrounding the church. It is going to answer the question, What are some of the issues with which the church could become involved in order to bring about a kingdom ministry? What is meant by the term “social justice”? (This will be answered by showing what social injustice is an allowing the audience to answer for themselves what justice is.) What are some practical ways that the church could become more actively involved with its local community in an effort to be Jesus to it?

I think this last aspect will accomplish two things within the church in Cuernavaca. The first is that the church will begin to embrace its role as kingdom bringer to its community. This will lead them to where Christ’s church has always intended to be. The second is that it will provide a communal/congregational vision for the church. It will help them to focus on something other than survival.

What the film will not address is the question of how—really about anything. The film is not here to answer as many questions as it is to pose appropriate questions that audiences can answer for themselves. I once heard someone say, “So this film is like teaching people to tie a shoe?” My response was, “No. We are trying to teach people that there is a shoe that needs to be tied—we’ll let them figure out how to tie it.”

What I would like is to see this film as a discussion piece—not trying so much to teach something, as to allow the viewer to create his/her own answer to the questions and to share them with the community in which the film is viewed and with us (the filmmakers).

What do you think of this idea? Does it sound beneficial? Does it sound like we are taking on too much?