Before heading out of town for our family vacation I picked up the most recent issue of The Believer which happened to be the yearly music issue. I’d forgotten how odd (to me, at least) this magazine is but I enjoyed the interviews and essays, especially the one about Rev. C.L. Franklin, Aretha Franklin’s father and a force to be reckoned with. It was the interview with Antony Hegarty, the frontman for Antony and the Johnsons, that really caught my attention though. I’ve known of the band for a while, but knew almost nothing about Hegarty and was interested to read him explain, from a variety of angles, just how strongly he dislikes Christianity, the church, and Christians (“They’re just crazy.”).
Here’s a section from early in the interview where Hegarty makes a couple of points that, despite the hyperbole, are worth noticing.
AH: I’m not a Christian. I was raised Catholic, but I was really seduced by Christian imagery when I was younger… I don’t really feel like I’m in any kind of dialogue about the mythology of Jesus anymore. I don’t believe in the system that he was serving; I’m not hypnotized by it. I don’t believe that there’s somewhere to get to. These guys are so desperate to get out of Dodge- to get up to heaven as quickly as possible and pass through those pearly gates and be anointed and saved. I don’t have any wish to be saved. I’m perfectly happy being part of the natural world, and being an animal like the other mammals.
BLVR: That’s pretty healthy.
AH: I believe in that creation. But it’s not even about believing in it- I’m a part of it. I don’t want to be a part of that crazy male fantasy that they’ve superimposed on us and forced us to ingest like poison, covering us like filth. These horrible, constricting ideas, alienating ideas. Christianity and Catholicism are so noxious with alienation and trying so hard to separate us from what we are and where we are. If I believed in aliens, I would think, This must be some religion invented by aliens, because why are they so uncomfortable with being a part of the earth. What do they seek so desperately to divorce us from that?
Hegarty’s claims are worth noticing because he’s not alone in the beliefs that Christianity alienates people from their physical surroundings and introduces a consuming escapists mentality. While he’s not especially clear about it, I assume Hegarty came to these convictions about Christianity from some firsthand experience- the Catholicism of his childhood perhaps, or maybe more recent interactions with Christians of a certain confrontational variety. I don’t know, but it’s not hard to imagine how his opinions have come from real experiences.
Hegarty has a point about the tendency of some Christians to pull back from “the earth.” I’m not sure it’s fair to limit this to Christians, though the point remains that plenty of Christians have this reputation for good reasons. Some of us Christians are drawn toward the so-called spiritual in which we privilege certain religious activity and sentiment over, well, living. This isn’t a particularly sound expression of Christian theology. We are, after all, people whose Lord was raised to life bodily, who broke bread and ate fish after resurrecting. Likewise, we believe our ultimate future to be physical and not the unimaginative disembodied one so regularly portrayed.
I mean to say that Hegarty is incorrect in representing Christian theology even while he is, sadly, correct in describing some of our practice.
But then there is his lampooning charge about the pearly gates, about Christians being too heavenly minded to be any earthly good. As before, Hegarty is right to observe this tendency, though there is much he overlooks. (I don’t mean to be too critical; this was an interview after all and not a well-reasoned, nuanced arguement. However, his criticism of Christianity was especially biting and consumed a significant portion of the interview.) For one thing, Christians do look forward to heaven even if its not the version Hegarty imagines. As N.T. Wright has said in different places, Christians do believe in life after death, though we’re most interested in life after life after death. That is, we look forward to heavenly rest with our Savior even while anticipating Christ’s final victory in which the Kingdom of Heaven is brought fully to bear, relieving finally earth’s groans. We look forward to this day not as an escape but as a conviction of history’s direction and the belief that a time is coming when all will be right.
Also, there is the fact that many people – Christians and not – currently live under the most dehumanizing and oppressive of circumstances. For Hegarty or anyone else to claim that such people’s longing for heaven is but a desire to “get out of Dodge” is to overlook the extent of this earth’s pain. It’s true that some Christians overlook the goodness of this earth, but it’s also true that Hegarty and those who share his perspective can overlook the same earth’s badness for many of its inhabitants. For these women and men the hope of heaven isn’t escapism but the promise of mercy, justice, and full humanity.
The past few days have been non-stop activity. Good stuff, this busyness: Good Friday and Easter Services to plan and lead, the highlight of the year for us with the transition from grief to celebration. We feasted around our table on Sunday afternoon with friends, delicious food, a lot of laughing, and an egg hunt in the back garden for Eliot and his friend. As good as these days have been there’s been little time to stop and, as I told Maggie and Michael on our way to Lincoln Hall last night, I’d been intensely looking forward to Monday evening with friends at the Lianne La Havas concert. I wasn’t disappointed. And if the smiles, nods, and enthusiastic commentary around our table was any indication, neither were the rest of our small party.
The coming days hold more good activity. I’m especially looking forward to the Wheaton Theology Conference and the three-anniversary of our young church on April 14. If you’re in the neighborhood, stop by and celebrate with us. We’ll have a piece of cake with your name on it.
Advent, the weeks leading to Christmas, is a time of anticipation- remembering the Israelites awaiting the Messiah and acknowledging our own waiting for his return. It’s a season with enough heft and depth to evoke and hold our grief. We remember the Israelits waiting and waiting for their deliverance. We remember the massacre of the innocents when word reached Herod of the infant King’s birth. And, in days such as these, we can’t ignore the incompleteness, the waiting-to-be-restored nature of our world. We also wait.
Most of what passes for Christmas music sounds vapid to my ears after the news from Connecticut. Instead, I’ve been listening to the beautiful and sad album from Hymns from Nineveh, Endurance in Christmastime. This is Advent music. Here’s the title track, with lyrics that seem tragically prescient .
We’ve lost our fathers. We’ve lost our mothers. We didn’t quite think it would be this hard to endure the christmas time. We’ve lost our siblings. We’ve lost our children. We didn’t quite think it would be this hard to endure the christmas time.
Who can defeat the time we live in? Who can defeat the time we die in? Where shall we go with all the memories of you in the christmastime?
We’ve lost our story and we’ve lost our glory. We didn’t quite think it would be this hard to endure the christmas time. So we carry our heavy load-lights and hang them on the tree and we didn’t quite think they could shine so bright so bright in this christmas time…
I love everything about this.
The Christmas album I’ve listened to the most this year comes from Hymns from Nineveh, the project of Danish musician Jonas Petersen. Unlike so much Christmas music, there is nothing precious about Endurance in Christmas Time; these are songs of exile and longing, with occasional whimsy and celebration.
I know there’s only a few day’s until Christmas, but this album will be relevant long into the new year. Here’s one of my favorite songs, “Christmas is Here,” which ends with this lovely refrain:
You are still here
And I’m still there for you.
And Christmas is here,
And swans appear
like snow in the air.
And suddenly we hear,
The kingdom is near
And Christmas is here…
How about another video edition of this weekly post? Have a great weekend.
- Our local CBS station ran a story, “A Talk of Two Black Churches,” that highlights a trend I’ve heard folks talk about in Bronzeville, where our new church is located. Many in the African American community are alarmed that congregations of older black churches are dwindling. The churches that sustained the community for generations.
- The good people at Leadership Journal are pulling together some video clips that show some of the different viewpoints within evangelicalism of women in church leadership: part one (Rose Madrid-Swetman), part two (Bill Kynes), and part three (N.T. Wright).
- Here’s a video advocating “The New Tithe” that I mostly disagree with and find really interesting. This may make an appearance during Sunday’s sermon.
- And finally, to make sure this entire list isn’t about church, here is the video for “Ghost Woman Blues” from the new album by The Low Album.
More than a few times this year I’ve found a Mumford and Sons song to be just the right pick-me-up.
Love that will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free; be more like the man you were made to be.
There is a design, an alignment to cry, at my heart you see, the beauty of love as it was made to be. (“Sigh No More”)
Maggie doesn’t always appreciate my taste in music, but she does enjoy these guys. Tomorrow evening, for our regular date night, we get to see this English band in concert. Should be a lot of fun.