Hip Christianity has been around for a long time. In college, I used to walk past the hip evangelical Christian fellowship that met in the Student Union; they had the requisite praise band and pizza. I was part of the decidedly unhip ecumenical Christian gathering. Our budget didn't allow for pizza very often, and if a praise band showed up we would have probably asked if they knew How Great Thou Art. Our newsletter was (and I believe still is) prepared on a typewriter, pasted together, and published on whatever pastel paper was at the top of the heap. And not in an ironic way; the elderly secretary who'd been there for years simply preferred to do things the way she had since the 60s (save for the mimeograph; they did upgrade to a copier). We were also way, way smaller than the hipster groups.
It's a pattern I continue to encounter to this day. Yeah, there's more than enough unhip Joel Osteen type megachurches to go around, but there's also a ton of Generation X/Y ministries that are dripping with coolness. I finally got around to reading the NYT article about Mark Driscoll and his hipster version of Calvinism. A couple weeks ago I caught a piece called The Role of Design in Church Marketing, which is all about the preponderance of grungy elements in church branding. You know, to appeal to the cool kids. To show that being a a Jesus type doesn't mean being square.
I like good design. I respond to postmodern aesthetics. But I also cringe a bit when I encounter the hip church movement. I don't know if it's because I'm a cultural elephant when it comes to my church preferences, having grown up, trained, and served in churches that haven't changed much since the 60s. Or am I protective of the folks who aren't young and hip and keen on irony? Is adopting a hipster attitude and aesthetic the only way for a church to grow?
It makes me tired.
1.30.2009
1.27.2009
Magazine Grief
I love magazines. Enough that for one semester I was a magazine journalism major, with designs on a career at Utne or Bust or some other fabulous glossy.
It started in middle school, when I happened upon an issue of Sassy. Oh my gosh, I loved Sassy. I cannot overstate the impact Sassy had on my taste in books and music, and consequently, on my very personality. (See How Sassy Changed My Life for a pitch perfect portrayal of the magazine's allure.)
And then it was sold to the publishers of Teen Magazine, thanks to its ever-tumultuous relationship with the few companies bold enough to advertise for such a, well, sassy publication. For a few months it was Sassy in name only, but mirrored all the other teen drivel on the market. After a slow and painful death, my subscription was replaced by the ultimate purveyor of teen drivel.
So I do not have an ounce of Magazine Grief upon hearing that Teen Magazine has finally folded. I certainly have sincere sympathy for the people who are losing their jobs over it. Still, my inner adolescent is telling The Man, er, The Teen, she got what she deserved at long last.
I do have more than enough Magazine Grief to go around these days. A couple weeks ago the official announcement that Simple Scrapbooks, for which Elizabeth is a writer and editor and Marie is a contributor, is folding. Simple Scrapbooks - like Sassy - is one of those magazines where you feel like you get to know the writers and editors and designers. Scrapbooking is such a personal art form, it's inevitable that the personalities of the people involved are central to the project. I'm really sorry for my sisters and for all the people in the Simple community.
And then today I hear that Wondertime, the marvelous parenting magazine, is ceasing publication as of the March issue. Even though its ad sales went up 20% in 2008!? I hadn't even yet figured out the mystery of who got me a gift subscription recently. To my Wondertime benefactor: thank you, and I commiserate with you.
On top of my Magazine Grief, I have Magazine Anxiety. Will Disciples World make it? And the Christian Century? Brain Child? Paste? The only one I'm not worried about is Good Housekeeping, but even institutions seem to be on rocky ground in this miserable economy.
It started in middle school, when I happened upon an issue of Sassy. Oh my gosh, I loved Sassy. I cannot overstate the impact Sassy had on my taste in books and music, and consequently, on my very personality. (See How Sassy Changed My Life for a pitch perfect portrayal of the magazine's allure.)
And then it was sold to the publishers of Teen Magazine, thanks to its ever-tumultuous relationship with the few companies bold enough to advertise for such a, well, sassy publication. For a few months it was Sassy in name only, but mirrored all the other teen drivel on the market. After a slow and painful death, my subscription was replaced by the ultimate purveyor of teen drivel.
So I do not have an ounce of Magazine Grief upon hearing that Teen Magazine has finally folded. I certainly have sincere sympathy for the people who are losing their jobs over it. Still, my inner adolescent is telling The Man, er, The Teen, she got what she deserved at long last.
I do have more than enough Magazine Grief to go around these days. A couple weeks ago the official announcement that Simple Scrapbooks, for which Elizabeth is a writer and editor and Marie is a contributor, is folding. Simple Scrapbooks - like Sassy - is one of those magazines where you feel like you get to know the writers and editors and designers. Scrapbooking is such a personal art form, it's inevitable that the personalities of the people involved are central to the project. I'm really sorry for my sisters and for all the people in the Simple community.
And then today I hear that Wondertime, the marvelous parenting magazine, is ceasing publication as of the March issue. Even though its ad sales went up 20% in 2008!? I hadn't even yet figured out the mystery of who got me a gift subscription recently. To my Wondertime benefactor: thank you, and I commiserate with you.
On top of my Magazine Grief, I have Magazine Anxiety. Will Disciples World make it? And the Christian Century? Brain Child? Paste? The only one I'm not worried about is Good Housekeeping, but even institutions seem to be on rocky ground in this miserable economy.
1.24.2009
1.21.2009
America, America
A strange, unfamiliar feeling swelled in my heart yesterday: patriotism, pure and strong.
Patriotism so pure and strong it was accompanied by a twinge of guilt and regret, that I've never before properly appreciated my country. A spotty education in American history, a genuine unease with nationalism, and an awareness of this nation's wrongdoings and weaknesses had rendered me pretty ambivalent about my citizenship. Even if, as Linford Detweiler pointed out, only America could have produced Johnny Cash.
I've practiced restraint on this here blog, recognizing that even though I make it clear that this is a personal space, unconnected to my role as a pastor, there is some risk in making my politics public. But to borrow a phrase from Elizabeth Alexander, I dare say it plain: I was thrilled with the results on November 4th. The inauguration of President Barack Obama fills me with deep hope and happiness.
But it's more than just a simple affirmation of his liberal politics, or a preacher's affinity for his gifted rhetoric. It's more than the unprecedented election of an African-American man to the highest office in the land.
It's that President Obama is revealing the United States of America to me. When I was listening to the speech yesterday, it was as though the scales fell from my eyes. I saw my country, a sweet land of liberty. I saw America, the beautiful. I saw, in the midday light, how lovely the stars and stripes of the flag really are.
I'm not going to give this feeling up. I'm going to hold onto it, cherish it, nurture it. When the clouds gather and the storms rage, when the president disappoints me, when we fail to choose our better history, I'm going to be obstinate in my allegiance to this country and its ideals. And when the pendulum of politics inevitably swings, I hope I can demonstrate the same graciousness so many conservatives have embodied lately.
Patriotism so pure and strong it was accompanied by a twinge of guilt and regret, that I've never before properly appreciated my country. A spotty education in American history, a genuine unease with nationalism, and an awareness of this nation's wrongdoings and weaknesses had rendered me pretty ambivalent about my citizenship. Even if, as Linford Detweiler pointed out, only America could have produced Johnny Cash.
I've practiced restraint on this here blog, recognizing that even though I make it clear that this is a personal space, unconnected to my role as a pastor, there is some risk in making my politics public. But to borrow a phrase from Elizabeth Alexander, I dare say it plain: I was thrilled with the results on November 4th. The inauguration of President Barack Obama fills me with deep hope and happiness.
But it's more than just a simple affirmation of his liberal politics, or a preacher's affinity for his gifted rhetoric. It's more than the unprecedented election of an African-American man to the highest office in the land.
It's that President Obama is revealing the United States of America to me. When I was listening to the speech yesterday, it was as though the scales fell from my eyes. I saw my country, a sweet land of liberty. I saw America, the beautiful. I saw, in the midday light, how lovely the stars and stripes of the flag really are.
I'm not going to give this feeling up. I'm going to hold onto it, cherish it, nurture it. When the clouds gather and the storms rage, when the president disappoints me, when we fail to choose our better history, I'm going to be obstinate in my allegiance to this country and its ideals. And when the pendulum of politics inevitably swings, I hope I can demonstrate the same graciousness so many conservatives have embodied lately.
This is my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
Here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine;
But other hearts in other lands are beating
With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.
My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
And sunlight beams on clover-leaf and pine.
But other lands have sunlight too and clover,
And skies are everywhere as blue as mine.
Oh, hear my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for their land and for mine.
(Georgia Harkness)
1.19.2009
What I Said on Sunday about Tuesday
Due to extenuating circumstances, I didn't have a chance to write this sermon until Saturday evening, which is not my ordinary m.o., and I think I would have done things a little differently had I more time. I also unfortunately slipped in a made-up word - "tranuscript." Gotta love those nervous pronunciations. Ah well. We'll be sending both video and transcript off to the American Folklife Center of the Library of Congress, as well as the Reconciliation Ministry of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Thanks so much to Allison & Anthony for being our unofficial A.V. team!
A Sermon on the Inauguration of Barack Obama from SBCC on Vimeo.
A Sermon on the Inauguration of Barack Obama from SBCC on Vimeo.
1.06.2009
Ten on Tuesday
1. I've started my photo-a-week project. I'm uploading them to my Flickr account, and there is a box in the sidebar which will display the most recent photo.
2. This early baby name list turned up in Juliette's room the other day:
This must have been made prior to the day when I was five months pregnant and suddenly knew that the baby's name was Juliette Louise. Before that, we were sort of wavering because we didn't think the nickname Julie sounded good with our last name. The other funny thing about this list is, of course, Ben's suggestion, Crying Sadness. He had written Dolores Louise down, which is a lovely name, but I nixed it because it means sorrow. He handed the list back to me with the new possibility. I think that was the end of the baby name discussion for that night.
3. Juliette started walking December 1st. This was taken December 4th. She's fast and furious these days.
(Practically) First Steps from Katherine P. on Vimeo.
4. Erica sent me an email yesterday about how the new toy safety legislation will affect the handmade, natural toy companies that have not been mass-producing lead- and phthalate-ridden toys. The big companies can absorb the costs of the new mandatory testing; the little companies will likely go under. It makes me sad and mad. The Handmaid Toy Association is organizing a petition and encouraging people to contact their congressional representatives. Visit their website to learn more.
5. I received a classic letter from my Mama yesterday, full of completely random media clippings that don't make sense until you read the accompanying letter, which was written on a photocopy of a picture of my uncle when he was a baby. It reminded me of the package we got in December, which included a couple Christmas gifts and six individually bagged servings of oatmeal, so she would have proper breakfasts during her upcoming visit. Because we don't have oatmeal in California...? Tee hee.
6. Speaking of their visit...
Reason #1,742 We Miss Grandma and Grandpa from Katherine P. on Vimeo.
7. I got a haircut on Sunday afternoon from a stylist who looked like she wasn't old enough to drive. I immediately related to her, recalling the days when I used to be accused of being a nineteen-year-old pastor. While she was shampooing my hair with those delectable Aveda products (50% off coupon meant I got to go to the swanky place), I was debating whether or not I should commiserate with her. But then I decided the best commiseration of all would be to not say a word. (I should also admit that for a moment I wondered if she would know what she was doing, and guiltily realized that if people entrust me to lead funerals and such, I could certainly give her the honor of trimming my bangs.)
8. I'm not preaching Sunday. Oh, it feels good.
9. I am thinking about participating in this really cool project my sister told me about. The American Folklife Center of the Library of Congress is encouraging preachers to record sermons that comment on the historical nature of the 2009 Presidential Inauguration. Calling all preachers...
10. Happy Epiphany!
2. This early baby name list turned up in Juliette's room the other day:
This must have been made prior to the day when I was five months pregnant and suddenly knew that the baby's name was Juliette Louise. Before that, we were sort of wavering because we didn't think the nickname Julie sounded good with our last name. The other funny thing about this list is, of course, Ben's suggestion, Crying Sadness. He had written Dolores Louise down, which is a lovely name, but I nixed it because it means sorrow. He handed the list back to me with the new possibility. I think that was the end of the baby name discussion for that night.3. Juliette started walking December 1st. This was taken December 4th. She's fast and furious these days.
(Practically) First Steps from Katherine P. on Vimeo.
4. Erica sent me an email yesterday about how the new toy safety legislation will affect the handmade, natural toy companies that have not been mass-producing lead- and phthalate-ridden toys. The big companies can absorb the costs of the new mandatory testing; the little companies will likely go under. It makes me sad and mad. The Handmaid Toy Association is organizing a petition and encouraging people to contact their congressional representatives. Visit their website to learn more.
5. I received a classic letter from my Mama yesterday, full of completely random media clippings that don't make sense until you read the accompanying letter, which was written on a photocopy of a picture of my uncle when he was a baby. It reminded me of the package we got in December, which included a couple Christmas gifts and six individually bagged servings of oatmeal, so she would have proper breakfasts during her upcoming visit. Because we don't have oatmeal in California...? Tee hee.
6. Speaking of their visit...
Reason #1,742 We Miss Grandma and Grandpa from Katherine P. on Vimeo.
7. I got a haircut on Sunday afternoon from a stylist who looked like she wasn't old enough to drive. I immediately related to her, recalling the days when I used to be accused of being a nineteen-year-old pastor. While she was shampooing my hair with those delectable Aveda products (50% off coupon meant I got to go to the swanky place), I was debating whether or not I should commiserate with her. But then I decided the best commiseration of all would be to not say a word. (I should also admit that for a moment I wondered if she would know what she was doing, and guiltily realized that if people entrust me to lead funerals and such, I could certainly give her the honor of trimming my bangs.)
8. I'm not preaching Sunday. Oh, it feels good.
9. I am thinking about participating in this really cool project my sister told me about. The American Folklife Center of the Library of Congress is encouraging preachers to record sermons that comment on the historical nature of the 2009 Presidential Inauguration. Calling all preachers...
10. Happy Epiphany!
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