Still can't seem to have any really good thoughts of my own
I haven't been living in a vacuum or anything like that. I have just been kinda busy trying to get better organized and more efficient. (Yeah, it only takes me several months to get going on those New Year resolutions. Let's just not even think about the diet one. Most of the ideas I have implememted in my new "system" were not mine, either.) I usually am so impressed that I feel like sharing after I read my Sojomail and today was no exception. I think this article was a lot more meaningful to me since our book study group just finished with a book that raised a lot of issues around our systemic consumption excesses....
Lent and 'pop' theology
by Will Braun
I was sipping a soda on the eve of Lent when it became clearer. The stars in my head - those specks of truth orbiting inner space - aligned themselves with rare clarity. The ancient rhythms of Lent presented me with a liturgical path leading beyond the consumer fatigue of our era, a gentle path of spiritual de-corporatization.
At that moment I recognized my willingness to not only fill my body with a substance of nutritional detriment, but to actually pay Mr. Coca-Cola for the self-destructive opportunity. It felt in every way like a matter of dignity. I was repulsed by the bottle in my hand. If I was making a donation of $1.39 to Mr. Coca-Cola in exchange for his plastic-packaged froth, he was smarter than I. I felt that change was not only possible, it was inevitable.
The decision to give up something for Lent had been made for me. It happened before guilt or duty had even stated their nagging case. The motivational force was other, and stronger. The forces of my inner universe placed the value of dignity squarely above the value of fizz. I would abstain from big-name soda (i.e., Coke and Pepsi products), and I knew that after Lent there would be little reason to revert to the carbonated ways of old.
What emerged from my experience was the realization of Lent as a liturgical antidote to consumer stress and excess.
I do not imply here that people who drink Mountain Dew or Dr. Pepper are bereft of moral fortitude. We are all indictable on multiple counts of less-than-noble consumption, and likewise all worthy of boundless grace regardless of our shopping habits.
Beyond compunction
Lenten self-sacrifice has tinges of earnest piety and religious compunction. It can feel like a moral "heavy." But there is something beyond this, a certain appeal. Despite relentless reminders of the benefits of having more, somewhere in the undercurrent of human experience we retain the knowledge that less can be more, that life abundant is not synonymous with life over-indulgent. This knowledge is "common sense," if you will - a shared sense of some bit of truth. And liturgy lures us back to this "common sense."
In our age of rampant rampancy, the relevance of a "less is more" undercurrent is obvious. What had been less obvious to me was the role of Lent as an ordained season of liturgical de-corporatization. My soda experiment showed me Lent can be the optimal time to ride the counter-consumer spiritual tide. If we get into the spirit of the season, the task of untangling our lives from the consumer web becomes a bit easier.
Rather than continually trying to conjure the willpower to do "the right thing," I like to think of being drawn into the flow and rhythm of the liturgical calendar - being carried along by a phenomenon beyond myself. Liturgy gently stirs us; it connects us with rhythms of change. It holds the possibility of matching ancient, ongoing undercurrents with nitty-gritty lifestyle challenges. I like to call it "practical liturgy."
De-carbonation of spirit
The perennial peeling away of consumptive layers need not start or finish with soda. The long list of candidates for the Lenten chopping block is conveniently provided for us by the advertising industry. For me soda was a good first experiment.
Since my final, fated can of soda I haven't looked back. Other than the very occasional glass of generic brand grapefruit soda, or a bit of ginger ale concealed in the party punch, I have not strayed. Nor have I been particularly tempted to. The de-carbonation of my being is a source of satisfaction and dignity. (The remaining consumer shortcomings in my life prevent the satisfaction from becoming self-satisfaction.)
Similarly, I feel better knowing not a penny of mine goes to the global cause of fizz. Coke, with its patented red and its sugary blend of mild cultural poison, is one of the most recognized brands on earth. The nearly 400 brands handled by the Coca-Cola Company show up in 200 countries. Its legacy is littered with environmental and human rights abuses. Its greatest redeeming quality is fizz. I am pleased not to be a part of it.
If liturgy hints at the deepest and highest layers of human existence, Coke's role in the human story is rather contrary.
However, the focal point of Lent is not corporate blame but Easter redemption. Lent looks forward to the mystery at the heart of life abundant. The practical liturgy of the season offers the possibility of peeling away layers that obscure our view of that life. And ultimately, the primal flow of Lent carries us toward the imminent eruption of life in the ongoing cycle of grace.
Will Braun is editor of the new Geez magazine, coming fall 2005 (www.GeezMagazine.org). He writes from Winnipeg, Canada.
Lent and 'pop' theology
by Will Braun
I was sipping a soda on the eve of Lent when it became clearer. The stars in my head - those specks of truth orbiting inner space - aligned themselves with rare clarity. The ancient rhythms of Lent presented me with a liturgical path leading beyond the consumer fatigue of our era, a gentle path of spiritual de-corporatization.
At that moment I recognized my willingness to not only fill my body with a substance of nutritional detriment, but to actually pay Mr. Coca-Cola for the self-destructive opportunity. It felt in every way like a matter of dignity. I was repulsed by the bottle in my hand. If I was making a donation of $1.39 to Mr. Coca-Cola in exchange for his plastic-packaged froth, he was smarter than I. I felt that change was not only possible, it was inevitable.
The decision to give up something for Lent had been made for me. It happened before guilt or duty had even stated their nagging case. The motivational force was other, and stronger. The forces of my inner universe placed the value of dignity squarely above the value of fizz. I would abstain from big-name soda (i.e., Coke and Pepsi products), and I knew that after Lent there would be little reason to revert to the carbonated ways of old.
What emerged from my experience was the realization of Lent as a liturgical antidote to consumer stress and excess.
I do not imply here that people who drink Mountain Dew or Dr. Pepper are bereft of moral fortitude. We are all indictable on multiple counts of less-than-noble consumption, and likewise all worthy of boundless grace regardless of our shopping habits.
Beyond compunction
Lenten self-sacrifice has tinges of earnest piety and religious compunction. It can feel like a moral "heavy." But there is something beyond this, a certain appeal. Despite relentless reminders of the benefits of having more, somewhere in the undercurrent of human experience we retain the knowledge that less can be more, that life abundant is not synonymous with life over-indulgent. This knowledge is "common sense," if you will - a shared sense of some bit of truth. And liturgy lures us back to this "common sense."
In our age of rampant rampancy, the relevance of a "less is more" undercurrent is obvious. What had been less obvious to me was the role of Lent as an ordained season of liturgical de-corporatization. My soda experiment showed me Lent can be the optimal time to ride the counter-consumer spiritual tide. If we get into the spirit of the season, the task of untangling our lives from the consumer web becomes a bit easier.
Rather than continually trying to conjure the willpower to do "the right thing," I like to think of being drawn into the flow and rhythm of the liturgical calendar - being carried along by a phenomenon beyond myself. Liturgy gently stirs us; it connects us with rhythms of change. It holds the possibility of matching ancient, ongoing undercurrents with nitty-gritty lifestyle challenges. I like to call it "practical liturgy."
De-carbonation of spirit
The perennial peeling away of consumptive layers need not start or finish with soda. The long list of candidates for the Lenten chopping block is conveniently provided for us by the advertising industry. For me soda was a good first experiment.
Since my final, fated can of soda I haven't looked back. Other than the very occasional glass of generic brand grapefruit soda, or a bit of ginger ale concealed in the party punch, I have not strayed. Nor have I been particularly tempted to. The de-carbonation of my being is a source of satisfaction and dignity. (The remaining consumer shortcomings in my life prevent the satisfaction from becoming self-satisfaction.)
Similarly, I feel better knowing not a penny of mine goes to the global cause of fizz. Coke, with its patented red and its sugary blend of mild cultural poison, is one of the most recognized brands on earth. The nearly 400 brands handled by the Coca-Cola Company show up in 200 countries. Its legacy is littered with environmental and human rights abuses. Its greatest redeeming quality is fizz. I am pleased not to be a part of it.
If liturgy hints at the deepest and highest layers of human existence, Coke's role in the human story is rather contrary.
However, the focal point of Lent is not corporate blame but Easter redemption. Lent looks forward to the mystery at the heart of life abundant. The practical liturgy of the season offers the possibility of peeling away layers that obscure our view of that life. And ultimately, the primal flow of Lent carries us toward the imminent eruption of life in the ongoing cycle of grace.
Will Braun is editor of the new Geez magazine, coming fall 2005 (www.GeezMagazine.org). He writes from Winnipeg, Canada.