Years later (i.e., now), I found myself in enemy territory. The evil fans are much more obnoxious in their loyalty than I could have ever imagined. And, yet, aside from their allegiance, they are fairly normal and decent people.

One morning, I wake up, and it occurs to me: Had I been born ~78 miles north of my birthplace, I would have the same loyalty as these people. This wouldn’t just affect my t-shirt collection, it would affect my conception of good vs. evil. Geography determined my view of good vs. evil.

Anyway, one thing I can tell you about myself–the reason I’ll always consider myself a “writer,” even if I never get paid a dime to write–is that my own thoughts/beliefs/opinions/ideas tend to become clear to me as I write them down. Maybe you’ve had that same experience. It’s not always a pleasant experience. Sometimes I look down at what I’ve written, and all I can see is my own anger. That was the case with the phantom entry mentioned above.

Since deciding not to post that entry, I’ve read/seen a several things that have inspired me to go ahead and talk about this (two, in particular). First is a post by Donny Pauling, who sums up his point thusly:

TO RECAP:

then:
VOTED FOR ABORTION IN 1973: 6 OUT OF 9 REPUBLICAN APPOINTED JUSTICES

now:
HAVEN’T DONE A DAMN THING TO OVER RULE IT: 7 OUT OF 9 REPUBLICAN APPOINTED JUSTICES

These are some of the same thoughts I’d had when I was writing the original entry, and this is where I started getting angry. I got angry at two things. I got angry (a weird, sad kind of angry) at the number of abortions in the U.S., and I got angry at the Republican Party, who has used this issue to entice Christian voters for decades. I got angry at the many times I’ve heard Christian friends and family use the term “baby-killers” in reference to Democrats (I swear I’ve heard someone Charlie freakin’ Stenholm that name!). And to what end? Has any of the name calling, or any of the Republican voting, done anything to make abortion illegal? Or even less common?

So, I got all angry when I was writing, which is why I never pushed the button. While I don’t think it’s unhealthy for me to have some anger–and I’ve got plenty–towards the Republican party, it’s not the sort of thing I want to get involved with publicly. Or privately, really. I left a comment on Steve’s blog that might give you some insight into my feelings. Even writing that comment, and writing about it now, feels pretty vulnerable. Consider this, though: I’m a Christian who will be voting Democrat this year, and my father has told me–with both passion and sincerity, and as recently as this Summer–that he doesn’t think it’s possible to be both a Christian and a Democrat. That’s a powerful, awful feeling, and it’s part of the reason that I get angry, and part of the reason I don’t want to talk about it.

But, along with the anger, there’s this kinda sick feeling I get about it. Because I’ve been reading Children’s Literature recently (and, wow, The Mysterious Benedict Society was really great!!), I’m acutely aware of what that feeling is about. It’s about wanting revenge. It’s about imagining the feeling of getting in there and fighting as dirty as I’m capable of fighting (and I think I’m exceedingly capable). That’s why I didn’t post that entry.

And I wouldn’t have mentioned it now, were it not for Greg Boyd’s reflection on Obama’s recent speech. Brother Boyd has a way of talking about whatever it is I get pissed off about (although he’s yet to write anything about Boston sports franchises, which come in at #3) in a way that is both calming and challenging. He discusses abortion in his latest entry:

Consider the abortion issue. Americans obviously have very different convictions about the status of the unborn and about how to balance the rights of the unborn against the rights of women who become pregnant. One can wish we weren’t divided on these matters, but we are. Yet, every poll taken on this subject reveals that almost all Americans agree that the fewer abortions there are, the better. So why over the last thirty-five years have we made no progress reducing abortion rates in our country? It’s because of the politics of division.

Paranoid that if they give an inch their opponents will take a mile, leaders of the “pro-life” and “pro-choice” camps have continued to rally people at the extremity of our differences rather than around the convictions we all share. Instead of working together to reduce abortions, the two sides have demonized each other, perpetuating a hopeless gridlock that keeps us from achieving what we all want. This polarization helps certain wedge-issue politicians get elected and stay in power, but the ones who pay for it are the unborn.

I recommend reading the rest of the entry, it’s all pretty great. But when I read the phrase “the politics of division,” I was reminded of that sick feeling I get. That’s what that feeling was about, participating in the politics of division. The politics of division, obviously, divides us. As a result, we talk a lot about abortion, but what do we actually do about it that makes any difference at all? After thinking about that depressing rhetorical question, let’s ask ourselves what can actually do about it?

If we are what we say we are–Christ’s Body on Earth–the possibilities are limitless. If we really believe in the power of God’s love, as demonstrated through Jesus Christ, how could we not make some kind of difference? How powerful can our hope be to a woman who feels hopeless? If we move beyond politics of division and do what we’re capable of doing, we might discover that abortion never had to be a political issue at all.

9. The Jam - All Mod Cons

8. Blondie - Parallel Lines

7. Devo - Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!

6. The Cars - The Cars

5. Talking Heads - More Songs About Buildings and Food

4. Kraftwerk - The Man-Machine

3. Big Star - Third/Sister Lovers

2. Elvis Costello - This Year’s Model

1. Wire - Chairs Missing

While I was in CPE, my nephew went from 4 months to 16 months. Ask him what he learned in the past year. Of course, he’s not around to complete sentences yet. [Warning: Cute baby anecdote!] Just last week I went out to eat with my parents and my nephew. The restaurant had TVs with Olympics coverage, and some children a couple tables over started chanting “U-S-A!” My nephew really wanted to join them, but he hasn’t learned to chant patriotically yet. Instead, he slapped his chest and yelled, “Mama!” (He pats his chest every time he says “mama,” because he’s mimicking my sister.)

Anyway, that’s kinda how I feel after CPE.

The past year has been the most demanding experience of my life, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, and intellectually. It was physically taxing, too, in its own way. But it was also the most rewarding and exciting experience of my life. By far. And as hard as it was, I loved every minute of it. Leaving it has been uncomfortable (contrasted to seminary, where I was just too grateful to finish to feel uncomfortable).

To tell what I’ve learned through CPE, I’d either have to be vague or way too revealing. And, since this is the internet, I’ll lean towards vague. If you want to know more, call me or email me or whatever.

The most basic and cheesy-sounding way of summing it all up is to say that I learned who I am. Many of the things I previously thought about myself were wrong. I even learned a lot about why I thought those things that I thought.

Another thing I can say is that I put together a lot of the stuff I learned in church and college and seminary. One example I can give is Baptist heritage, particularly that part of it known as the “Four Freedoms” (Bible freedom, soul freedom, church freedom, and religious freedom). I learned to claim my Baptist heritage and put its cooperative, collaborative spirit to use in ministry. That is a pretty incredible feeling. And it’s a pretty incredible feeling to know that I don’t have to strike the authoritarian pose in order to claim my pastoral authority.

Those two things–learning who I am, and calling on my Baptist heritage–go together, by the way, which is where even summing up the CPE experience gets a little sticky. Integration is kind of a goal of CPE. It’s not like school, where I can easily point to what ideas I learned from each class and each professor. Everything was all intricately linked in CPE, and it called back to habits I learned as a child, ideas I learned in seminary, and visits I had on the job only a couple days prior. It’s not easy summing something like that up.

Conscientious parents: f-word warning on track five.

You can kick and scream and flail around all you want, but it’s not going to change the fact that you never learned how to dance.

I was thinking it would be within the next few days, but the end is not yet.

But of that day and hour, knoweth no man.

*Only the first of the four images–Walt Kuhn’s “White Cockade”–was at the museum.

Which reminds me. Soon after I started listening to Miley Cyrus, I reevaluated my hatred for Coldplay. With all sincerity, I rate these artists equally: both have a handful of songs I really like, both have many more I don’t like, both play catchy music, and both sing bad-to-mediocre lyrics. More importantly, both carry social stigmas.

In one social circle it might be cool to like both, in some circles it might be cool to like one and not the other, and in an another circle it wouldn’t be cool to like either one. That last circle is where I have typically seen myself.

I will never be a huge fan of Coldplay or Miley Cyrus, based strictly on my taste for their music. But I can try to listen to both objectively, and to take them or leave them regardless of social identity. If I don’t like them, I don’t have to be vocal or hateful about it. If I do like them, I don’t have to be embarrassed.

I am not my iTunes Library.

Katy mentioned the people who claim–on Facebook, for example–that they like “everything” or “anything.” We’ve got reason to be suspicious of this claim. Surely, anyone who claims “anything/everything” can think of one or two artists they like better than most, one or two songs that they’d like to hear more often than others. But “anything/everything” avoids classification and outside judgement, and even reframes an indecisive lack of commitment as a cosmopolitan tolerance.

I’ve noticed a few variations on this claim. There’s the racist/classist–or at least rockist–exception that one likes everything “except rap and[/or] country.” There’s the over-explanation of circumstances under which one might want to hear a certain style of music (”rap when I’m dancing, country when I’m out with friends, pop when I’m driving,” etc.). I know a young woman who claims she likes anything, but hates music without lyrics. These exceptions avoid the pathology of “anything/everything” and help define identity with negative claims.

Then there are those who will list dozens bands as their favorite music. These people paint a broad picture without painting themselves in a corner. It’s both specific and evasive. It makes a strong claim without any strong commitment.

I’ve also observed, recently, that there seem to be just as many people who are afraid of being classified as trendy or snobby as those who are afraid of being unhip. The backlash creates just as much anxiety as the trend.

I want to emphasize that this is not a generational thing. When I was visiting my parents recently, American Idol sparked a dialogue about music. My dad claimed that popular music changed a lot more during his youth than during mine, that he and I had more in common than he and my grandfather. I shattered that argument. I raised my eyebrows and said, “Hip-hop?” He looked embarrassed when he heard his own retort, which was, “Well, that’s not even music.” I ended the conversation by saying, “See?”

In other related junk (books, movies, TV, etc.), the connection is not so intense as with music. Yes, I know that when I list all indie films as my favorites, I’m saying something about myself, but not something that feels so intimate. Same with books and TV shows. I’m guessing that Nickelback t-shirts outnumber John Grisham t-shirts, that G Unit tattoos outnumber “Good Luck Chuck” tattoos, and that Evanescence bumper stickers outnumber “According to Jim” bumper stickers.

To make this more personal, I have made several claims about how I like iCarly and tween TV in general. If I told you that I’ve been watching Hannah Montana, you might roll your eyes and dismiss it as a socially acceptable quirk. If I told you that I’ve been listening to Miley Cyrus, your response might be more critical. To be sure, I’m more embarrassed to listen to Miley Cyrus than to watch Hannah Montana, even if the chances of getting caught are equal.

On that note, another phrase to consider is “guilty pleasure.” This phrase is almost exclusively applied to music. What’s guilty about it? I don’t know.

I’m not trying to be judgmental. I’m just as guilty as anyone, and I’m not even saying it’s a bad thing to connect identity with taste in music. It’s just the way it is (or the way it seems to be, from my observation). The question remains: why?

Anyway, one thing I was thinking about is how the National Geographic Channel has started calling itself “Nat Geo” (or so I hear–I don’t get cable, and “Nat Geo” is not on the cable package that they have in the break room at my place of employment…I think it might be a Supreme channel or whatever the f-word it’s called these days. Premium, I mean. Sorry, I was mixing cable up with pizza.). Nat Geo? What up with that, National Geographic? That’s a rhetorical question. I know what up with that. I know exactly what up with that!! “Nat Geo” is an attempt to lively up yourself. I get it. I even appreciate it. And good try, and all, but not good enough. Y’all shoulda gone with “Natty G!” (exclamation point included). “Nat Geo” is kinda hard to say, and it reminds me of the way my parents refer to American Idol simply as “Idol.” It sounds contrived, whereas “Natty G!” sounds like something your homeboys call you (I’m guessing your homeboys are, like, The Discovery Channel and PBS, huh? Which brings me to another idea: how about just sticking with the %*##@? script and calling yourselves “National Geographic.” Don’t worry, we won’t confuse “the Channel” with the magazine when we see you on the %*##@? television!).

Speaking of name changes, how about this Adam Jones guy? He was going by “Pacman” forever–and seriously, could there be a cooler name than Pacman Jones…other than Ron Mexico–and now suddenly it’s “Adam.” Look, I know you need to change your image, but you’re going the wrong way. Adam is a step back. You’re trying to escape the past, and Adam is, like, as far back as names get, not just for you on a personal level, but for all of humankind. When The Apostle Paul had his Road to Damascus thing, he didn’t go back to an older name, he moved forward with an all new name. That’s the way you should go. I recommend NatGeo Jones.

In semi-unrelated news, Carl’s Jr., why is the apostrophe-ess after “Carl” and not “Jr.”? And what was that mess y’all spread on the Sirloin Burger? Horseradish? Whatever it was, if I’d known it was gonna be on there, I would’ve opted for any other food in the universe, because that was the worst tasting thing ever. Seriously, I can’t remember ever being so thoroughly disgusted by the way something tastes. Gross, gross, gross. Not just kind of bad. I gagged after taking a bite of y’all’s fancy hamburger (Fancy Hamburger would be a good name for a fast-food place. Or a band. But probably not a defensive back, or an educational cable network.).

In conclusion, I shall henceforth be known as Sir Loinburger.