The White Stuff

Corporate narcissism dictates that generations eagerly anticipate a book to define them. For Generation X, it may have been the novel of that title by Douglas Copeland (1991), which was arguably supplanted by David Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (2000). Christian Lander, in what is now the book version of the blog everyone's heard of, doles out high praise for Eggers:

"Honestly, I'm not afraid to call this the book of our generation. He captures all we are and aspire to be."

This is not, of course, what Christian Lander actually thinks of the book, but his advice on how to impress another white person should the book come up in conversation (which it inevitably will, because "just as hunters will mount the heads of their kill," white people boast about the books they've read). Haven't tackled Eggers? No worries. Let Lander be your guide:

"It is an old white person trick to steer conversation away from books that you have not read."

And now that I'm onto such tricks, I can assert that those who think Stuff White People Like passé but have not read the book are under-informed. It's better than the blog (I stole my post-title from the back of it), though I imagine The New Republic is still not amused. Furthermore, because of its bullet-point format and multi-million-hit blog base, it's possible that many more young upper-middle class left-leaning "white people" will encounter Lander than either Copeland or Eggers; hence he may be poised to supplant them in communicating all that a generation "is and aspires to be." And when you read the book, you'll know that's not a compliment to said generation.

Dead Again

In his article on The Death of Protestant America, Jody Bottum's star witness is Bishop James Pike. Pike's British counterpart was Bishop J.A.T. Robinson, and for that there's not Jody Bottum, but Harvard preacher and professor Peter Gomes. The occasion is a series of essays assessing Robinson's onetime best-selling Honest to God, which insisted traditional theology was outmoded. Gomes is more complimentary than critical. After lauding the chapter on situational ethics (which Rowan Williams dismisses), Gomes permits himself a snipe:

"Neither Roman Catholics nor evangelicals could take much comfort in this, addicted as they are to absolutes and standards... (p. 78)"

How far should we take Gomes' reasoning here? Is the history of Catholic moral thought, nothing to sniff at, to be dismissed as snuff? Is Evangelical ethical engagement, responsible for minor advancements such as, I don't know, the abolition of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, to be categorized as a nicotine fit?

In the same volume assessing Robinson, Alister McGrath claims that, considering the trajectory of Anglican theology, "Bishop Spong is the new Bishop Robinson." But did we really need an Evangelical like McGrath (they're addicted to absolutes, you know) to tell us this? Why not hear it from Spong himself:

"When one reviewer referred to me as the American Bishop Robinson, I was deeply touched... I increasingly found myself occupying the space in which John Robinson once stood... I have been privileged to walk, however ineptly, in [Robinson's] footsteps."

Bottum's essay hits hard, but the Christian faith assures that death is not only bad news; there can be resurrections. But when Gomes, a winsome and entertaining preacher with 26 honorary degrees, carelessly dismisses nearly all of world Christianity (get your mid-2008 estimates here), he not only provides more evidence for Bottum's thesis, but ensures that the American Protestant Lazarus, whom Jesus loves, stays bound.

No Country for Mayhem

Denise and I saw Batman with our dear friends Jim and Jill (who specifically requested their immortalization in this blog entry). I could say that the Joker serves nicely as the face of postmodernity (notice how he hates narratives of any kind), but that would offend many, so I won't say that.

Instead, a one paragraph film contextualization and analysis: The Oscar-party nihilism of No Country for Old Men gave us the coin-flip killer; a serial murderer who not only "got here the same way the coin did," but gets away as well. The Dark Knight gives us the exact same trope, but places it in a somewhat coherent moral framework where such evil can, as it must, be defeated. Why do I feel like the American screen has been strangely cleansed?

update: A discerning analysis from Thomas S. Hibbs:

"...the film does not succumb to The Joker's vision. It is not nihilistic; it is instead about the lingering and seemingly ineradicable longing for justice and goodness that pervades the film. As Batman put it in the original film, 'Gotham is not beyond redemption.'"

At one point in the article Hibbs wisely calls it the Batman myth.

Nameless Lands

Whatever one might say about studying Byzantine art, it takes you places. Following Cyprus (pics), and after a research seminar at an Orthodox Monastery near Serres which went beautifully, it was off to see the frescoed churches of Kastoria (pics). After this Denise and I met in Thessaloniki. We then journeyed back to the monastery so that she could finally meet the nuns. Everyone should know nuns.

We then headed north to places that cannot be named. One might call our first stop Macedonia (pics), but when one has Greek friends (Greeks prefer to keep the name Macedonia for themselves), it's best to say FYROM, the "Former Yugolslov Republic of Macedonia." The Macedonians retort that "Greece" should be FOPOG, the "Former Ottomon Protectorate of Greece." It's a complex issue, and I don't mean to make light of it (even if one of the Macedonian political parties is actually called VMRO-DPMNE "Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization-Democratic Party of National Unity"). To avoid any such controversial acronyms, I'll stick to cities.

First we went to Skopje. As the slow and inefficient train pulled in, we witnessed an unusual sight that encapsulated our visit to the country. The enormous lit cross at the top of a mountain that overlooked the city was overlapped by a red crescent moon. I'm not being poetic; that's really what we saw. And lo, for the next several days we witnessed churches competing for visual prominence with mosques. Albanians, once largely Catholic, converted to Islam under Ottoman rule, and are a substantial Macedonian minority. The famous frescoes at the Church of St. Panteleimon at Nerezi (near Skopje) was the reason for our visit, and even there a brand new mosque now competes for prominence. And with a once-functioning monastery now serving as a tourist-destination and snack bar, I wouldn't be surprised which religious group gains the upper hand. Fortunately, Albanian Islam (comparable to the Turkish kind), is tolerant, so co-existence is currently the rule. Money, however (especially the 50 and 1000), sends a clear message as to what this country is all about.

After Skopje it was on to Ohrid, called the "gem of the Macedonian crown" for its beauty . It is also affectionately known as the Slavic Jerusalem. Here Cyril and Methodius first came to translate the Gospel into the Slavic alphabet that they invented, and here their greatest disciple, St. Clement, carried on the work. Having lost a baby by that name recently, Denise and I thought it fitting to visit the various churches and relics of Clement in this largely undiscovered (by Americans) lakeside town. Ohrid displays astonishing testimony to the vitality of Byzantine art beyond Byzantium. The Slavs had just enough distance from Constantinople to keep a (by this point in the trip) Byzantine-saturated art historian fascinated.

An Anti-Iraq
After this we journeyed north into to the city of Pristina in another country where even the name is a point of contention. Kosovo to most, but if you're a Serb, Kosovo-Metohija (Metoh means "church land.") Kosovo is currently the youngest country in the world, having declared independence this February. America has vigorously backed the new nation, with the 1776 analogy in mind. Serbia, backed by Russia, would no doubt prefer we had used our 1865 analogy instead. "Tourists are unheard of," trumpeted our guidebook, though we didn't feel at all out of place. While "Pretending to Be Canadian When Traveling Abroad" is among the stuff white people like (#105 in the book), in Kosovo there's no need. If anything, Denise (a Canadian) might have pretended to be American. Where else in the world does one see this?

I'm not going to indulge in my generation's tendency to claim to be an expert on complex international situations after only a brief visit. If anything, brief visits can distort one's perspective. What I can say is that things appear to have cooled off considerably from the recent conflict. For a defense of the Serbian side of the issue that is severely critical of U.S. policy, there's Andrew Cusack with extended debate in the comments. For a different perspective, there's Michael J. Totten who shows that Kosovo is no Wahhabist enclave. The pictures and text in this post of his are also illuminating.

I certainly hope my country is taking advantage of its respected status in Kosovo to push for religious freedom, and there are signals that this may be happening, even reports that Ibrahim Rugova, Kosovo's former president, converted to Catholicism towards his life's end. While the prominent Serbian Orthodox church in the center of town is not doing well, it turned out to be no problem at all for us to visit Gracanica (details here), which was the reason we came.

The youthfulness of Pristina was refreshing (as were the showers). The palpable desire for peace and stability is what leads me to call Kosovo an "anti-Iraq." Still, it is not controversial, only accurate, to point out that to be a Byzantine art historian in Kosovo means your textbooks, sadly, must include this.

How embarrasing it would be if one lived through the delivery of a speech like this, and didn't even read it. "We shall overcome." Sounds familiar, and rightly so. You didn't actually think such sentiments are ever fashionable when initially expressed, did you?

Pinchbeck Revisited

Frequent millinerd readers may remember my comment-box exchange with counter-cultural man of the hour, Daniel Pinchbeck. My long promised review of his now paperback book, 2012 , has finally appeared in this month's Touchstone (subscription required). While my fundamental disagreement with Daniel has not changed, what has (I hope) is my tone. This has much to do with our brief meeting in Princeton for coffee and conversation. Our amiable encounter made me feel all the more sheepish for my flippant initial critique. I was, regrettably, well too dismissive in my earlier post, though I quickly learned that in this I was not alone.

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After the publication of his earlier book, Breaking Open the Head Pinchbeck was proclaimed some kind of guru, a reputation he still enjoys. But following 2012 there was a degree of concern, even disowning, by some of Pinchbeck's colleagues on the Left. The Village Voice was ruthless:

"We have indeed reached a great precipice if the brightest vision a once progressive critic can offer is anointing himself a culture hero. When those who should be just ahead of the curve blast off desperately into the stratosphere, this is a cause for real - if not apocalyptic - alarm."

The New York Times lamented that whereas William Burroughs once transferred drug effects to prose successfully, Pinchbeck often just resorts to CAPS. "Pinchbeck insists the crisis he's trying to help us solve is global," the review continues, "but throughout '2012' there is ample evidence that the crisis is Pinchbeck's own." As reported in my initial post, Pinchbeck's lifestyle even causes Rolling Stone to play the concerned parent: "Two followers who posted frequently on Pinchbeck's online discussion board - both of whom made pilgrimages to New York to meet him - committed suicide in the past few years." And the kiss of death came from Reason Magazine. "He frequently sounds like that other apocalyptic tribe, the Christian fundamentalists."

While the siren song of the New York Times crowd is nearly impossible for many Christians to resist, it would still be regrettable were we to perpetuate, as I did, this dismissive attitude. Chew-outs from the Left are largely based on Pinchbeck's taking the supernatural seriously. How could any Christian follow suit? Consider this passage, where he relates his disillusionment with Manhattan materialism:

"No scientist, as of yet, had figured out how consciousness emerged in the brain - but we were assured that it was only a matter of time before that last detail was ironed out and our three-pound jelly of gray matter yielded up its ultimate secret. Our best minds were working on it around the clock. We could rest assured, as well, that there was no life after death, no continuity of soul or flight of spirit. All that was superstition. What was not superstition was what was factual, quantifiable, tactile; whether nuclear bomb, body count, or skyscraper. Oblivion was not superstition. It awaited us after the music of our allotted time ended and we sucked our last breath."

To take Pinchbeck seriously is not to suggest every New Age manifesto need be scrupulously refuted, for 2012 is no refried Celestine Prophecy. There is some supernatural disillusion as well. Pinchbeck is as critical of the New Age as he is of traditional Christianity. A few examples: After growing skeptical of his relationship with a New Age healer called - you guessed it - "The Mother," Pinchbeck breaks the umbilical chord.

"I disliked the New Age obsession with healing. Healers... start with the notion that there is a sickness, there is a patient, there would be a long drawn-out process of recovery that might not ever quite end in a cure. It seemed to me that healers took control of the narratives of their patients in this way, stripping them of agency, feeding their egocentrism and fantasies of victimization."

The claim of another New Age priestess to be "receiving transmission from an Arcturian mothership located somewhere around the Big Dipper" was, Pinchbeck admits, "too much even for me."

And then there's by far my favorite passage, where the Burning Man bridges get burned.

"The avowed spirituality of West Coast hipsters, which appeared so glamorous and enticing to me at first, increasingly seemed a shallow lifestyle choice - a new form of congratulatory consumerism, a better way to get laid. Dressing in fake Day-Glo furs and dancing at all-night trance parties was not impressive as a spiritual discipline."

In short, 2012 is largely a book about disillusionment with materialism and spiritualism. What the book leaves us with is a bizarre collage of theories with which Pinchbeck is not yet disillusioned (Jungian psychology, interpretation of quantum theory by non-scientists, the Frankfurt School, Nietzchean desperation, anthroposophy, crop circles, Mayan mythology, alien abductions, Amazonian shamanism, and a pinpointed apocalypse).

If his book tells us anything, it is that Daniel Pinchbeck is on a schedule of disenchantment. This is not an insult, but a compliment. There are many things worth giving up on, and Daniel has a track record of seeing through them. Pinchbeck himself admits that his efforts in 2012 are "perhaps tragically misguided." I'd say he's on schedule for fresh disappointment around the time when he tells us the world will end, December 21st, 2012. Then, and well before, one disillusion-proof deity - who like the plumed serpent Quetzalcoatl claims to unite heaven and earth - awaits.

Update:
Incidentally, It would be small-minded of me to exclude the possibility that in finding Christ, Pinchbeck would be fulfilling any and all good he has found in Quetzalcoatl. According to this book on the Virgin of Gaudalupe, the flowers on Mary's mantle

"can be identified with a Nahuatl glyph or symbol for Venus, the Morning and Evening Star. Venus as Morning Star was associated with the god and culture-hero Quetzalcoatl, who after his self-immolation was taken up into heaven as the Morning Star. Quetzalcoatl's teachings were so beneficent and his mythic role so life-giving, that he can be understood as one of the 'seeds' of the Gospel which God has planted in all cultures."

To Christ through Mary? It wouldn't be the first time.