Belated Week 7 Blog -- In conversation with a faith-based social worker

A couple of weeks ago I had a chat ('interview') with B.M. who works as a refugee settlement worker for a NGO in Brisbane. The organisation would meet even the narrowest definition of a faith-based non-profit organisation (exactly what defines a faith based organisation is highly contested ground). Although this organisation does not discriminate on faith-background when hiring employees, B.M. just happens to be a religious fit. In fact, she self-identifies as a faith-based or faith-motivated social worker. For her this doesn't mean a job in which one never has to navigate or compromise between corporate expectation and deeply held religious values. For her it is about developing skills, knowledge and networks, so that eventually she will be in a position to achieve seamlessness between her personal, religious and professional lives. 

Some interesting snippets from our conversation:

On compromise:

"there are times when I achieve not even close to what I'm supposed to in terms of getting tasks done, getting 'outcomes' etc, but one thing I see in the life of Jesus was that he had time for people and didn't brush them off just to get the next thing done"

I'd love to have the freedom and funds to do projects which may not necessarily have quantifiable outcomes""

On her ideal faith-based practice framework:

"I'd like to have a social work practice where I'm only accountable to God. Right now, I'm accountable to [my employer] and what they want to achieve, and we're accountable to [our funding body] and what they want to achieve. I would ideally like to be only guided by the question "God, what do you want me to do today." And I imagine the answer to that question would still include a lot of the stuff I do currently but the way of relating to clients would be radically different."

On how her position in a faith-based organisation compares to previous secular social work positions:

"A lot of the people who work for the organisation, in my eyes, are really Christ-like, even though they're not Christian at all.  The ethos of the organisation is based on certain Christian principles and I think those principles are attractive to people who don't identify as Christian or religious at all . Perhaps there's something of the original Christian culture still there"

On media coverage of asylum seekers:

"Every time I tell people I work with refugees, they'll go 'so what do you think about boat people?' or something and try to start this political argument with me. Honestly I feel [because of the extremely negative media coverage] that some people view it as 'traitorous' to our nation to help these 'illegals' as they see it….I think some people think refugees shouldn't be a part of our society and therefore they shouldn't be helped. Like, 'we need to help our own first'. You really do get the vibe from some people that you're a 'traitor to the nation' or something"

On the potential of the media to be a force for positive public reception of refugee issues:

"I think it takes more than media, I think it takes physical, real world rubbing shoulders with people. Maybe media can facilitate that. I don't know how, but maybe."

Buying and Selling Christianity

An interesting point made in this segment of The Gruen Transfer is about the internal outcomes of religious advertising, i.e. the effect on those who would already self-identify as religious adherents. I'm not sure why, but I have usually thought of religious advertising as being aimed at conversion -- the aim being an increase in the quantity of consumers rather than the quality of consumption. 

But both Jane Caro and Jeremy Nicholas make this point about the advertising campaign for Christianity shown in the segment: it targets and is most effective on an already captive audience of religious believers.

Nicholas talks about the function of the campaign as "shor[ing] up [the] user base."  (2011) Caro says, "[they're] preaching to the converted. People always say that like it's a bad thing to do, it's not... it's a really sensible thing to do…you can not take your core users for granted…that's when you start losing your followers to other religions or no religion" (2011) 

What is implied in these comments is that religious advertising, like all advertising, is not targeting extremes of the spectrum:  neither the ears of the firmly devout nor the firmly doubtful are sought after. The ears to hear belong to those who believe, but are for whatever reason, inconsistent or non-practicing consumers. 

The ad is reported to have been effective in as much as Christian churches reported an increase in attendees following the campaign. This increase in 'sales' may be related to the fact that the ad was broad enough to include all shades of the Christian brand. 

As Einstein points out in her analysis of a Christian advertising campaign that was attempting to sell a particular 'sub-brand' of Christianity (the United Methodist Church): "the strategy of bringing people to a category is appropriate if you are the leader in the category." (2011, 336) The ad on Gruen was not created by a leader in the category, but out of a partnership of all the sub-brands in the category. In was both multi-denominational and non-denominational; not selling church, selling Jesus.

The idea of selling Jesus instead of selling Christianity or church-going, or a particular denomination of Christianity may fit into Marcel Cobussen's idea of para-spirituality. Cobussen describes para-spirituality as the "groping, hesitating, searching, not knowing…the insight that the spiritual is unable to contain itself within itself and therefore needs the para-spiritual." (In Ward 2011, 81) 

Situating Jesus within the context of  a "groping, hesitating, searching, not-knowing" spirituality is a way of speaking to an audience who of believers hesitant or reluctant to act on their belief. Selling a Jesus-y para-spirituality may work as a bridge between belief and the first step toward a purchase of practicing Christian spirituality.

References

Anderson, W., J. Caro, R. Howcroft, J. Nicholas and T. Sampson.  2011. "How do you sell religion?"  On The Gruen Transfer. ABC TV (broadcast  September 8, 2010). Television program.

Einstein, M. 2011. The Evolution of Religious Branding. Social Compass 58 (3): 331- 338. Accessed on April 7, 2013: http://scp.sagepub.com/content/58/3/331

Ward, P. 2011.Gods Behaving Badly: Media, Religion, and Celebrity Culture. London: SCM Press.

A Collection of Thoughts on Music and Affective Space, Break-Up Song Rituals and Christian Music Festivals

"music is fundamentally connected to habits of mind, to social organisation, and to modes of subjectivity" (Partridge 2012, 185)

I've been listening to a lot of extraordinarily bad pop music for the past week. I'd like to say it was practice-led research inspired by this weeks reading on popular music and religion. But it wasn't. I just have really terrible taste in music and recently got one of those fancy phones that doubles as an Ipod. Nevertheless, my recent listening habits have inadvertently been acting as empirical evidence of the "narcotic effects" of popular music vis-a-vis Adorno. 

Take, for example this:

I recently broke off a romantic relationship. My cathartic exercise in this time (as for many in the throes of heartache) has been been listening to an emotive break-up song on repeat. I will be walking past his office, I'll turn on the song, and I will feel sad and that will feel good. I'll turn on the song, scroll through old text messages, and I will feel sad and it will feel good. I'll think about calling him, turn on the song, I'll feel good and sad. In performing this ritual, I am as Frith explains "absorb[ing] the song into [my] own life." (in Partridge 185) I am using it to affect a space of catharsis. 

But the problem of placing myself in an emotional alliance with an object of popular culture is forgoing ultimate control over the affective space. Music, as Adorno notes,  "trains the unconscious for conditioned reflexes" (In Partridge, 184) The nostalgia and unresolved grief I have trained myself to associate with a certain song can be enjoyed as catharsis where I have control over it. Where I lose control over the time and place the song is played it loses cathartic power.  For example, I'll be out shopping or at a friend's place; and I'll be thinking thoughts like 'shall i get eucalypt-scented tissues, or regular ones?' and the song will come on and I will think of him and I will feel sad. It will happen, it is a reflex. But it will not be a cathartic experience. There will not be good-sad feelings, just sad feeling. Inside the ritual practice, the song has a purpose: I desire to feel a certain way, and the song helps to produce and satisfy that feeling. Outside of the ritual practice, the song still provokes that same sad-nostalgia-grief, but it is unanticipated, undesired and therefore not productive in the cathartic sense. The feelings lack resolution. 

In the essay 'Upon this Rock', John Jeremiah Sullivan writes of the time he attended Creation, the largest evangelical music festival in the U.S. Having passed through a high school 'Jesus phase', Sullivan attends the festival not entirely as an outsider looking in; he is still familiar with all the trappings of the culture: the language, the rituals, the music, but no longer immersed in their way of being.  He describes an experience from a night at the festival:

"I was a ways from the stage, but I could see well enough. Something started to happen to me. The guys in the band were middle-aged. They had blousy shirts and halfhearted arena-rock moves fro the mid-eighties. What was…this feeling? The singer was grinning between lines, like if he stopped, he might collapse…The straw slipped from my mouth "Oh, shit, it's Petra."  (2011, 26)

Whether it's a literary device or the conditioned reflex of the unconscious, or a little of both, Sullivan jettisons from this moment to an explanation of his "bout with Evangelicalism," (2011, 32) which ended about 13 years earlier at a Petra concert. Describing his 'falling away', Sullivan summarises unresolved feelings surrounding his loss of faith saying, "and one has doubts about one's doubts." (2011, 33) The ritual of the concert in this context provokes an unsettling feeling of doubt: and causes its subject to re-experience unresolved emotions relating to his religious experiences.  It's a little like hearing your break-up song in the supermarket. The song (or the band) become, as Partridge suggests, sites of regression. (2012, 184) In that moment, you seem to lose your agency. It is a reminder that as much as one can ritualise popular culture for one's own uses, it has its own ways of using/constructing us. 

References

Partridge, C. 2012. Popular Music, Affective Space and Meaning. In G. Lynch, J Mitchell and A. Srhan. Eds. Religion, Media and Culture: A Reader. 182 - 193. London and New York: Routledge

Sullivan, J.J. 2011. Upon This Rock. In Pulphead. 3-42. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. 

Incarnations of Christ

In last week's reading Morgan and Elizondo discuss the way in which culturally appropriate expressions/mediations of the divine are a gateway for religious conversion. This week, inspired by Deacy and Harvey's article on cinematic and American constructions of Jesus, I have collected a few of my favourite incarnations of Jesus that have been used to appeal to different kinds of American religiosity.  

Pic Credit:
http://jewmanist.com/2011/10/04/obama-is-not-a-brown-
skinned-anti-war-socialist-who-gives-away-free-healthcare/

Liberal-Leftie-Social-Activist-Guy 

This Jesus is emphatic about all issues of justice and equality, including but not limited to: healing the earth, ending poverty, ending homelessness, saving the rainforests, women's rights, civil rights, cutting military spending, cutting the military altogether, fair trade, ethically made products, peaceful protests, ending human trafficking, equal-love-equal-rights, equal distribution of wealth, democracy, community, taxing the rich, world peace.

Who's holding a placard at the picket line with Jesus?

Probably Shane Claiborne, Brian McLaren and Dave Andrews

More about liberal Jesus:
In the news, on Facebook, or here 

Pic Credit:http://outsideperception.wordpress.com/

Ass-kicking-man's-man

He's a little like the Darius Cobb image discussed by Morgan: beardy, brawny, with lots of primal energy. He's an adventurer, an outdoorsman, a hunter-gatherer type who can take care of himself and his tribe under the most trying conditions. At heart, he's a lover not a fighter, but if the fight is righteous he'll take up arms to triumph over evil, because a God-man's got to do what a God-man's go to do. 

Who kicks ass with Jesus?
Probably Mark Driscoll, Bear Grylls, Paul Coughlin and of course Chuck Norris.



More about macho Jesus:

In the news, again and again. Brass knuckle rosaries sold separately.

Pic Credit http://www.zazzle.com/jesus_is_my_valentine_shirt-
235871026576489002

Ultimate-Husband-Boyfriend-Type 

Sold only to women. This Jesus is the ultimate lover/boyfriend/husband/ male partner He will never leave you heartbroken, he'll always listen, he'll take you on romantic dates, he'll talk about his feelings, he'll never pressure you to have sex, he'll make you feel special, he'll love you no matter what. He'll always think you're beautiful, he'll always tell you you're beautiful. He'll never tell you you're fat. He is handsome, wise, and he'd be a great father. Your total happiness and emotional well-being are are the first and only priority of boyfriend Jesus.

Who's doing dinner and a movie with Jesus?
Not this lady, but probably Sheri Rose Shepherds, Kathy Troccoli and Shannon Ethridge

More about boyfriend Jesus
He might not be that into you according to DIvinity schools, christian bloggers and everyone at Jezebel.

Pic Credit: http://www.dobi.nu/yourscenesucks/indiejesus/

Sensitive-Misunderstood-Artist-Thinker

A friend of Liberal-Leftie-Social-Acitivist-Guy: shares his concerns, but spends less time trying to save the world and more time talking about its problems and turning them into art. Tells a lot of great stories and has compelling ideas but he's unlikely to push any one idea too hard because although he's spiritual, he's not religious. Lives a kind of bohemian life, hangs with a diverse range of people but still doesn't quite belong anywhere. He remains forever an enigma, a mystery, not of this world.

Who's has a room at Jesus' artist commune?

Probably Rob Bell, Lauren Winner, and the team at Relevant. Occasionally Bono might drop in.

More about Jesus the Hipster:

Where else but Tumblr and Twitter? 

A Personal Reflection on Weibel and Graham

"Writing is the ideal medium for practicing transcendence and yearning for it. If religious is a technique of transcendence, then writing, as a medium of transcendence, is the ideal medium for it." (Weibel 2011, 33)

In the final year of my creative writing degree I completed a project about writing and reading. There were two parts. The first was a creative work, a diary of my adventures in reading over nine months; the second, an exegesis, examined methods for writing about literature beyond traditional critical approaches. It mined the possibilities of diary/memoir as forms suited to personal and critical analysis of literature, and took the creative work I produced as an example. As a thesis/exegesis, the document was not terribly successful. Its logic was circular, its terminology unclear, its purpose ill-defined: it was hastily thrown together. 

Writing the creative piece was an experience of the kind described by Weibel: it was transcendent. It very difficult to step aside from the practice of, and yearning for transcendence that was the experience of writing and rewriting the diary to examine it as a text for the purpose of the exegesis. Thus the circular logic, the lack of precision, boundaries, definitions. It wasn't that the text had become a holy scripture, but rather the process of creating seemed of itself sacred, inviolable.

In the diary I wrote, I used the novels I was reading just as  Graham explains: "as ways of rehearsing and examining questions of belief, meaning and spirituality" (2007, 68). And so the piece I wrote was as much a reflection on the content of the novels and the process of reading and writing,  as it was a deeply personal self-reflection; a literary embodiment. Borrowing form Graham's vernacular I might say that I used he resources of culture to examine questions of ultimate personal/existential importance, and then turned the process of examination into a new material source. But that doesn't seem to capture the sanctity of the experience in the same way as it does if I borrow Weibel's language. 

Here is my attempt: In the novel there was the stored-up spoken word captured from the body of some other human that I will never know face-to-face. I have been able to meet him across barriers of time and space and take his word, incorporate it into my body, allow it to travel through me, examine me and pass out of me into my own words, onto my own page. I participated in this process of flesh becoming word, becoming flesh becoming word. It had all the power of a religious experience, and one's own religious experience is very hard to examine with anything approximating objectivity. Which made writing my exegesis very difficult indeed. 

References

Graham, E. 2007. '"What We Make of the World": The Turn to Culture in Theology and the Study of Religion'. In G. Lynch, Ed. Between Sacred and Profane: Researching Religion and Popular Culture. London and New York: I.B. Taurus &Co. Ebook.

Weibel, P. 2011. 'Religion as a Medium - the Media of Religion'. In B Groys and P Weibel, Eds. Medium Religion: Faith, Geopolitics, Art. 30 - 43. Koln: Verlag der Buchhandlung, Walher Konig. 

Reflections on Meyer and Ong

"The sensational form evolving around the icon was to be replaced by a new sensational form evolving around the book" (Meyer 2012, 163)

From Meyer's writing on the evolution of religious sensations, I am following the suggestion that the dominant form of media for mediating the transcendent evolves alongside technology. Where there was no printing press, and no literacy, image (rather than text) was the sacred form that made the transcendental "available to the senses." (ibid, 162) 

Television becomes an ubiquitous media and thus is "called upon to authorise religious sensations as true…the power of God has to appear on TV" (ibid, 164) I follow Meyer in so much as I agree that television (and also the internet, or social media more generally) is a authoritative form for the mediation of religious sensations. But where her article led me was to wonder whether it has become the dominant form -- has it replaced the book? 

Ong claims that "writing was deeply interiorized by print." (97) Has television and computerised media been interiorized in the same way? Have these forms, as Ong claims of writing, "transformed human consciousness" (78)? I would argue not. As important as these technologies have become, and as ubiquitous as they are becoming, they have not existed long enough: they are still highly visible as technologies, they are still exterior. Thus, while they have begun to alter religious practices and the experience of religious sensations, they have not the vatic quality of writing because we are aware of their 'createdness' - their humanness. 

While the book maintains it's dominance, Meyer is right the presence of God on television, or on the internet, authorises religious sensations as true. I would view it as a supplementary authority. A necessary development, a source of supporting evidence. 

But perhaps the speed at which these technologies are interiorized will occur more rapidly than writing. I can not know what it is like to be child in a world where the Ipad/Iphone/laptop computer/personal television has always existed. To me these things still seem a bit like intrusions. But no doubt the process of transforming consciousness has already begun.

References

Meyer, B. 2012. Religious Sensations: Media, Aesthetics, and the Study of Contemporary Religion. In G. Lynch and J. Mitchell with A Strhan. Eds., Religion, Media and Culture: A Reader. Londong and New York: Routledge. Chapter 14: 159 - 170.

Ong, W.J. 1982. Writing Restructures Consciousness. Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word. London and New York: Methuen. Chapter 4: 78 - 116

The Childhood of Jesus

Since my virgin reading of Coetzee (it was Boyhood in 2008, the first chapter was set reading for a course on memoir) I have approached him with a kind of fundamentalist reverence and intensity. (Not unlike this guy).

So, I thought it appropriate that my first post on a blog created to chronicle my wandering thoughts on writing and spirituality consider the publication of his new novel, the Childhood of Jesus. 

The premise of the novel is this: a man, Simon, has arrived in a new country as a refugee. He has a boy, David, in his care.  Not a son or a relative of any kind, merely a child he came across on the ship ride to the new country. They are trying to get on with the business of living in this new country, Simon is also trying to find the David's mother.

The most intriguing aspect of the novel so far is the nature of the new country. There is free healthcare, free transport, work for the willing, the people are pleasant (but not overly friendly, not passionate) "full of goodwill," Simon says. Physical needs are met, but for Simon it is an arid emotional landscape. A place with very little feeling. Feeling, we are lead to believe, is a remnant of the old world to be un-learned if one is to get along in the new country.

This is not something that Simon is willing to accept (at least not yet). Simon finds a woman he feels, intuitively knows, to be David's mother. He gives David over to her. Simon's neighbour, Elena, questions this method of decision-making:

"'You followed an intuition?'

'More than that. A conviction.'

"'A conviction, an intuition, a delusion -- what is the difference when it cannot be questioned? Has it occurred to you that if we all lived by intuitions the world would fall into chaos'

'I don't see why that follows. And what is wrong with a little chaos now and again if good follows from it?'" (102)

Perhaps I am drawing a long bow, but this could be taken as an example of the conflict between an essentially religious perspective and an essentially rationalist perspective. While Simon has not appealed to a supernatural force as the locus of his intuition, I would describe the absolute faith in his conviction as representing a religious perspective. Simon has invested ultimate trust in his conviction/intuition and acts accordingly. Elena argues that where reason can not intervene, feelings/intuitions/convictions are tantamount to delusions and lead only to chaos. While Simon does not dispute the potential for chaos in a universe of intuition, but he does dispute that chaos is invariably bad. 

What I'm most interested in here is the connection that can be made between the extreme rational perspective, and the emotional vacancy, the passionlessness of the new world. Elena is a fully adjusted new-world citizen and places little value on intuitions or sensation. (After she and Simon have sex, she says to him, "See, it does not advance us."). Simon has all the longings for the feelings of the old world, where one experiences feelings, and these feelings are a valid locus for the direction one takes in life. The source of his feelings is not attributed to a higher power (and therefore the consequent action not authorized by a superior being) but if I accept Simon's position as essentially religious, I must be willing to consider that from a religious perspective, an extreme rational-secular society may be full of goodwill, but it may also be lacking in feeling, lacking in passion, lacking in colour.

References  

Coetzee, J.M. 2013. The Childhood of Jesus. Melbourne: Text Publishing