I was anxious to see what the reviews were saying. It was this time last week when I caught a review from a Baptist-y news site I check. Someone had actually gotten a hold of the new U2 album (which IS as great as everyone's saying it is, but I'll spare you by not gushing about it here) and was reviewing it. But then I read the article. It starts, and I quote:
"This is the most thoroughly Christian thing they've done yet."
That was my initial reaction to the last two U2 albums in 2000 and 2004. In retrospect, that was just as true of the triad of albums U2 released in the 1990s, but I admit that wasn't what I thought on first listen to them. Their nuanced irony required a few more listens and a good bit of rewarding theological reflection to get there.
Once again, my early impression of No Line on the Horizon, to be released March 3 in the United States, has been, "This is the most thoroughly Christian thing they've done yet."
And I realized that didn't motivate me one way or another. Maybe I'm supposed to celebrate that this, the latest studio album from arguably the biggest band in music in the last 20 years is "more Christian than ever" but ultimately, I was non-plussed.
This is not because I think being natively "Christian" is a bad thing--after all, I am, in fact a Christian--a follower of Jesus Christ.
What I don't think is a good idea is adjecti-fying "Christian". Rob Bell says it pretty well in the perpetually blog-worthy
Velvet Elvis:
Something can be labeled "Christian" and not be true or good. . . It is possible for music to be labeled Christian and be terrible music. It could lack creativity and inspiration. The lyrics could be recycled cliches. That "Christian" band could actually be giving Jesus a bad name because they aren't a great band. It is possible for a movie to be a "Christian" movie and to be a terrible movie. It may actually desecrate the art form in its quality and storytelling and craft. Just because it is a Christian book by a Christian author and it was purchased in a Christian bookstore doesn't mean it is all true or good or beautiful. A Christian political group puts me in an awkward position: What if I disagree with them? Am I less of a Christian? What if I'm convinced the "Christian" thing to do is to vote the exact opposite?
Christian is a great noun and a poor adjective.
I think the reviewer meant well enough, but he fell into a trap that theological-minded and churchy-type folks like me so often forget. "Christian" is not a brand. It is not a way of
selling T-shirts or
breath mints,
music or
bizarre video games. (Yesterday I received an e-mail from a band-who-must-not-be-named asking me to vote for them for an "Artist of the Year" Dove Award--not from a struggling artist but a band whose last tour was sponsored by Chevrolet).
Some have
rightly lampooned the Christian
sub-culture and the sub-culture has given folks no shortage of material. To paraphrase P.T. Barnum, "There's a Christian born every minute" and the marketing Barnums are taking it straight to the bank. This isn't even to say anything about the politics, but since we're there, this is probably worth saying.
With James Dobson
stepping down from Focus on the Family, there is real concern among some that the "culture wars" are ramping up. But what if there never were any culture wars? What if it was a cleverly devised distraction to convince the believing masses that there was a spiritual war burgeoning--and they bought it?
What if, as Christians, we quit trying to produce Christian things--from mints, to band-aids to governments--and started using our gifts to articulate that which is beautiful and true?
What if we made really, really good art?
What if the enemy wasn't MTV, but our own failure to parent our kids?
What if our creative capacity was no longer stymied by whether or not something was "safe for the whole family?"
What if our preciously held faith had the integrity to say that we don't have all the answers--that we are grasping at mystery?
What if we had the guts to say that doubt and faith do daily battle and that many times "hope deals the hardest blows?"
What if the integrity of our work and service spoke better witness than a fish symbol in an ad?
What if we talked as honestly about own internal battles with pride, greed and lust as do that of our neighbor?
Maybe things would change. Maybe we would make art as good as U2 has (or maybe, if possible, even better.)
As for me, "I cannot help myself but hope."
