The first is a quote from U2 sermons blog (quoting, in turn, Douglas Blount):

…for U2, “all roads to the Gospel lead first through the blues… gospel without blues leads to self-deception.”

… which, I guess, is the up-swing of what we’ve said previously.

The second is William Edgar’s suggestion (during the talk Heaven in a Nightclub) that jazz is able to express true joy because it has faced up to the darkness and despair in life. In contrast, a lot of current praise music only gets as far as happiness.

Maybe we can link these two fragments together: In a recent interview, Simon Mayo suggested that one of U2′s attractions is their joy. And certainly, for me, little praise music reaches the joy of, for example, Magnificent. Perhaps this is the result of a willingness to take the road that passes ‘first through the blues’.

Or, to be seasonal, we find the full joy of Easter Sunday only when we’ve truly engaged with the darkness & despair of Good Friday. (For more on this, see Robin Parry’s post on Tenebrae.)

We do not know how to think theologically about sorrow, we do not know how to make space for it in communal worship, we lack the doxological vocabulary to bring the whole of our human experiences before God and so instead we simply bury them.
…
Do we lack the faith and courage of Old Testament saints to lament? To refuse to keep any dimension of our human experience from God but to come before him as we are – in our joy and our pain?

Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

It seems to me that this sums up the cynicism that comes from commericialism identified by Dick Keyes (see last post) and some of the distrust of postmodernism (see another previous post).

And what do we take from this? Perhaps that people want honesty. We know that the world is broken and, if we are going to trust, we need people to acknowledge this. We don’t want a glossing over that implies ‘try my option and everything will go smoothly’.

As Christians, we might try to ignore the brokenness of life in the mistaken belief that this makes what we have more attractive. Perhaps the example of commercialism points us this way — ensure life looks rosy with your product and everyone will want it. But we need to be careful not to fall into step with the wider culture and we need to be honest.

One reason, the Biblical story can be trusted is that is faces up to the pain and brokenness and doesn’t look away. To quote Colossians Remixed

The biblical embrace of pain refuses to cover up or deny suffering. … the biblical trajectory … highlights ‘absence’ — the absence of justice and shalom, and in the lament tradition even the absence of God.

If we want to produce art that reflects the biblical tradition and connects with those cynical from commercialism and untrusting from exploitation of the big stories then we have to face up to the absence and brokenness.

Of course, as we have to continually keep in mind, this is done in the context of the existence of God, the God who is ‘intimately involved with the suffering’, who is the true hope. We cannot feel the absence if the presence is not hoped for.

(Before I start, I’m not saying it is healthy to stay on the negative side, only that there is a place for art that looks in that direction — OK?)

First point is from an mp3 interview with Dick Keyes, his concern is commercialism (and cynicism). He points out that commercialism focusses on an unreal rosy picture of life — drink this can and your life will be OK. Consequently, we are suprised when bad things happen to us; we can’t cope and become cynical. Obviously this isn’t necessarily limited to commercialism — it can apply to Christians if we try to do the same thing. (Which raises the question, why we, as Christians, have the tendency to look away from the brokenness — are we following the wider culture? Just a thought…)

What is the answer? Perhaps, we can get a clue from Pete Lowman’s article If There Really Is a God, Why Don’t People Notice? – A Media Studies Approach (Which is great, by the way, and deserves a post of its own, if I get the time.) Let’s try this quote:

the media reshape our perception of what is normal or acceptable… Actually, this is how Bible reading should work: we read, say, an old testament narrative, we then encounter something similar in real life, and we apply the categories from the clarified narrative we have absorbed in our Bible study across to understand the real-life situation: `Ah, this is a little bit like the story of Abraham… and in the biblical story this was right, that was important… and therefore this is what I should do.’ The Bible supplies our norms. But in our society, immersion in the intensely-presented alternative (unreal) universes of media shapes our understanding of what is normal and appropriate, gives us categories to apply (consciously or subconsciously) to understanding our own experience. `What’s going on here in my life reminds me of what happened in the movie; and then what happened was….’

We need art, songs, imagination-formation that encompasses all of life, both the good and bad bits, from a Christian perspective. Otherwise, when bad things happen we have no reference points to guide us. So, either we collapse or we fall back on reference points from other sources.

Perhaps, this helps us see the value of the Bible bits that we tend to avoid. You know, the depressing Psalms, Ecclessiaties, Lamentations. They might not give cheery answers, but they engage with brokenness while retaining a God-sourced perspective. They provide a model of people in tough places who are still keeping the big Mission-of-God picture in mind. So, they can form our imgainations in ways that allow us to see God in those situations.

If we produce art that only fits the neat middle-class Christian optimal vision of life, then we miss out on this. Since art forms our imagination, we need to see the importance of art that recognises the significance of the fall as well as the hope. Of course, the point we need to get to is where we can hold both together at the same time…