Recently in etcetera Category

As of right now, we've officially moved our blog from http://blog.vg-r.com to our main site at http://www.vg-r.com. If you'd be so kind, lease update your bookmarks. Thanks!

As many who have followed our story know, we've been dealing with excessive credit card debt for most of our marriage. I accrued most of it in late high school and early college, when, for reasons unknown to me then, I was offered amounts of credit I was certainly not qualified to receive or to manage.

Here's a piece I recently wrote for Uncompressed, a student publication published by the Student Activities Office at Calvin College. I'm beginning to organize my thoughts on how social conditions affect art, specifically music and its ability to be a medium of import in broader culture.

Click below to read the article and, if you've got a minute, I'd love to hear your feedback.

Rob and I have noticed that two particular words do not appear in the Microsoft Word dictionary, hence the squiggly red spellcheck line every time we type them:

• worldview


• commodified

Interesting. Perhaps I should see if the program rejects the term "open source" as well...

so Rob and I have been trying to joing the ranks of daily bicycylists, which has been delightfully rewarding and challenging. our commute to work is about 5.5 miles each way and just hilly enough to feel like decent exercise.

we've found Trek's Navigator 100 to be a great choice for this type of riding, with sturdy and versatile racks for carrying up to 50 lbs. worth of laptops, groceries, books, potluck dishes, etc. we ride on the street to protect walking pedestrians, but also to hopefully make the streets a safer place for cyclists to be by encouraging cars to be aware of us (though I wouldn't go so far as the cyclist I saw the other day cutting in front of a car in the left turn lane at a red light).

one of my particular issues has been attempting to bike in professional clothing, particularly skirts. obviously some skirts won't be practical for biking (if they're too narrow and inflexible that I can't even get my leg over the bike, for example). but in more bike-progressive places, women find ways to maintain their fashion aesthetic while honoring their desire to cultivate the earth and their neighborhoods. now I wouldn't necessarily call myself a fashion diva (though a diva in another context, for sure), but this site was helpful. and here's a quote from a blog I found in my research that makes me want to live in Copenhagen:

"Social Documentary in High Heels", is one way this blog has been described. It's about bicycle culture in Copenhagen, Denmark. 35% of the population - 550,000 people - ride their bike to work or school each day. Bicycles are such an integral part of our culture and there are many aesthetic aspects on the streets at any given moment.

and here's some advice that delights me: "Be smart. Be aware. Be stylish. Stay awkward."

yes, stay awkward. you already look kind of dorky in your helmet, but awkward is necessarily 'in' in the biking world. I'm already making plans to sew some triangular 'earmuffs' that will velcro into my helmet as a means of preventing my ears from aching on cold morning rides.

and yet another step--or should I say: ride--in the right direction for me will hopefully be biodegradable vegetable-based bike chain oil. may seem a bit obsessive, but in the effort to move away from fossil fuels as a means of getting around in a more sustainble way, it doesn't really make sense to slather my chain in a petroleum product.

I must confess that biking introduces a new category of consumerism with all of the gadgets that are available, but if I'm going to drool over something I don't have, might as well be fenders...

so here's a detailed rundown of our...vacation. I'm still getting used to that word. we've never actually gone anywhere 'just because' in our entire marriage. it's always been for some occasion or to visit someone or to have a meeting. but we camped near Saugatuck for two nights last week and it was WONDERFUL.

we camped at Ely Lake Campground, which is a county park located on some very sandy seasonal roads. at times, it felt like we were driving on snow. there were (quite stinky) pit toilets and a hand pump for water and some rambunctious raccoons who actually OPENED our cooler on the second night, which we had stupidly left out. but it was pretty and quiet and really cheap--only $10 a night. we had a whole camping loop to ourselves...

A friend recently sent me this Morning Musing by Renda Brumbeloe. I don't know anything about Brumbeloe, but the piece's defense of certainty recalled some recent reading quite to the contrary. The book is Who's Afraid of Postmodernism? by James K.A. Smith, which we read for our Cultural Discerner group this spring. In his chapter on Derrida, he looks at the idea that it's impossible to approach a text without interpreting it--that is, that there's no way to achieve some kind of transcendent, perfectly clear understanding of any text (including the Bible) because language itself requires interpretation.

Often when we read--and biblical commentaries tend to be a great case study for this--we imagine that the text or the language of the book is something we have to get through in order to recover the author's original intention. In other words, the text becomes a hurdle that we have to jump over--or a curtain we need to pass through--in order to get to what is behind the text, such as the author's idea or the referent (the thing to which the text points). Sometimes we concede that such a process requires that bothersome thing called interpretation--as when we're reading a poem or C.S. Lewis's more allegorical works. Then we concede that there is a kind of code that needs to be broken in order to understand the text. But most of the time, we don't think we interpret; we simply read. In these cases we assume that the text under consideration is clear and therefore doesn't require interpretation. We might need some background or context, but once those pieces are in place, we don't need to interpret. Instead, the text takes on a kind of transparency so that we can simply see what it means. ... When I read the newspaper, I don't need to 'interpret'; I simply need to read. And most of us think that when we read the Bible, the same is true: yes, some passages are difficult, or the poetry of the Song of Solomon might throw us for a loop, but if we're reading Paul's Epistle to the Romans, things are pretty clear. We simply need to provide a commentary that gives us the background and context. Such a commentary is like a cloth that cleans the text to grant it the transparency that makes interpretation unnecessary. ... For Derrida, this is a naive assumption because it fails to recognize that we never really get 'behind' or 'past' texts; we never get beyond the realm of interpretation to some kind of kingdom of pure reading. We are never able to step out of our skins.

Later in the chapter, Smith acknowledges the primary reason many people (Christians in particular) find Derrida's ideas about interpretation disconcerting:

If the claim that there is nothing outside the text means that everything is interpretation, then the gospel would only be an interpretation. If it is only an interpretation, then that means there might be other interpretations. And if the gospel is only an interpretation and there could be other interpretations, we can't know if the gospel is true."

The problem with this fear, Smith points out, is that we often incorrectly equate truth with objectivity, and then interpretation becomes an enemy of truth. However, "the fact that something is a matter of interpretation does not mean that an interpretation cannot be true or a good interpretation." Smith doesn't say that all interpretations are equally good (nor does Derrida), but that we need to be honest about the fact that they are interpretations:

There is a level of interpretive difference that concerns fundamental issues such as what it means to be authentically human and how we fit into the cosmos. In this respect, for instance, Christianity and Buddhism have very different interpretations about the nature of reality. However, we need to consider these as deep differences in interpretation rather than glibly supposing that the Christian account is objectively true and then castigating the Buddhist account for being merely an interpretation. In fact, both are interpretations; neither is objectively true. ... To assert that our interpretation is not an interpretation but objectively true often translates into the worst kinds of imperial and colonial agendas, even within a pluralist culture. Acknowledging the interpreted status of the gospel should translate into a certain humility in our public theology. It should not, however, translate into skepticism about the truth of the Christian confession. If the interpretive status of the gospel rattles our confidence in its truth, this indicates that we remain haunted by the modern desire for objective certainty. But our confidence rests not on objectivity but rather on the convictional power of the Holy Spirit (which isn't exactly objective); the loss of objectivity, then, does not entail a loss of kerygmatic boldness about the truth of the gospel. Deconstruction's recognition that everything is interpretation opens a space of questioning--a space to call into question the received and dominant interpretations that often claim not to be interpretations at all. As such, deconstruction is interested in interpretations that have been marginalized and sidelined, activating voices that have been silenced. This is the constructive, yea prophetic, aspect of Derrida's deconstruction: a concern for justice by being concerned about dominant, status quo interpretations that silence those who see differently. Thus, from its inception, deconstruction has been, at root, ethical--concerned for the paradigmatic marginalized described by the Old Testament as 'the widow, the orphan, and the stranger.' To put it differently: Wall Street and Washington both want us to think that their rendering of the world is 'just the way things are.' Deconstruction, but showing the way in which everything is interpretation, empowers us to question the interpretations of trigger-happy presidents and greedy CEOs--in a way not unlike the prophets' questioning of the dominant interpretations of the world. As such, we are free to interpret the world differently.

GOOD interpretation, according to Derrida and Smith, takes place within community--in Smith's case, a Church community where "the same Spirit is both author of the text and illuminator of the reading community."

A friend recently sent me this Morning Musing by Renda Brumbeloe. I don't know anything about Brumbeloe, but the piece's defense of certainty recalled some recent reading quite to the contrary. The book is Who's Afraid of Postmodernism? by James K.A. Smith, which we read for our Cultural Discerner group this spring. In his chapter on Derrida, he looks at the idea that it's impossible to approach a text without interpreting it--that is, that there's no way to achieve some kind of transcendent, perfectly clear understanding of any text (including the Bible) because language itself requires interpretation.

Often when we read--and biblical commentaries tend to be a great case study for this--we imagine that the text or the language of the book is something we have to get through in order to recover the author's original intention. In other words, the text becomes a hurdle that we have to jump over--or a curtain we need to pass through--in order to get to what is behind the text, such as the author's idea or the referent (the thing to which the text points). Sometimes we concede that such a process requires that bothersome thing called interpretation--as when we're reading a poem or C.S. Lewis's more allegorical works. Then we concede that there is a kind of code that needs to be broken in order to understand the text. But most of the time, we don't think we interpret; we simply read. In these cases we assume that the text under consideration is clear and therefore doesn't require interpretation. We might need some background or context, but once those pieces are in place, we don't need to interpret. Instead, the text takes on a kind of transparency so that we can simply see what it means. ... When I read the newspaper, I don't need to 'interpret'; I simply need to read. And most of us think that when we read the Bible, the same is true: yes, some passages are difficult, or the poetry of the Song of Solomon might throw us for a loop, but if we're reading Paul's Epistle to the Romans, things are pretty clear. We simply need to provide a commentary that gives us the background and context. Such a commentary is like a cloth that cleans the text to grant it the transparency that makes interpretation unnecessary. ... For Derrida, this is a naive assumption because it fails to recognize that we never really get 'behind' or 'past' texts; we never get beyond the realm of interpretation to some kind of kingdom of pure reading. We are never able to step out of our skins.

Later in the chapter, Smith acknowledges the primary reason many people (Christians in particular) find Derrida's ideas about interpretation disconcerting:

If the claim that there is nothing outside the text means that everything is interpretation, then the gospel would only be an interpretation. If it is only an interpretation, then that means there might be other interpretations. And if the gospel is only an interpretation and there could be other interpretations, we can't know if the gospel is true."

The problem with this fear, Smith points out, is that we often incorrectly equate truth with objectivity, and then interpretation becomes an enemy of truth. However, "the fact that something is a matter of interpretation does not mean that an interpretation cannot be true or a good interpretation." Smith doesn't say that all interpretations are equally good (nor does Derrida), but that we need to be honest about the fact that they are interpretations:

There is a level of interpretive difference that concerns fundamental issues such as what it means to be authentically human and how we fit into the cosmos. In this respect, for instance, Christianity and Buddhism have very different interpretations about the nature of reality. However, we need to consider these as deep differences in interpretation rather than glibly supposing that the Christian account is objectively true and then castigating the Buddhist account for being merely an interpretation. In fact, both are interpretations; neither is objectively true. ... To assert that our interpretation is not an interpretation but objectively true often translates into the worst kinds of imperial and colonial agendas, even within a pluralist culture. Acknowledging the interpreted status of the gospel should translate into a certain humility in our public theology. It should not, however, translate into skepticism about the truth of the Christian confession. If the interpretive status of the gospel rattles our confidence in its truth, this indicates that we remain haunted by the modern desire for objective certainty. But our confidence rests not on objectivity but rather on the convictional power of the Holy Spirit (which isn't exactly objective); the loss of objectivity, then, does not entail a loss of kerygmatic boldness about the truth of the gospel. Deconstruction's recognition that everything is interpretation opens a space of questioning--a space to call into question the received and dominant interpretations that often claim not to be interpretations at all. As such, deconstruction is interested in interpretations that have been marginalized and sidelined, activating voices that have been silenced. This is the constructive, yea prophetic, aspect of Derrida's deconstruction: a concern for justice by being concerned about dominant, status quo interpretations that silence those who see differently. Thus, from its inception, deconstruction has been, at root, ethical--concerned for the paradigmatic marginalized described by the Old Testament as 'the widow, the orphan, and the stranger.' To put it differently: Wall Street and Washington both want us to think that their rendering of the world is 'just the way things are.' Deconstruction, but showing the way in which everything is interpretation, empowers us to question the interpretations of trigger-happy presidents and greedy CEOs--in a way not unlike the prophets' questioning of the dominant interpretations of the world. As such, we are free to interpret the world differently.

GOOD interpretation, according to Derrida and Smith, takes place within community--in Smith's case, a Church community where "the same Spirit is both author of the text and illuminator of the reading community."

So an ice cream truck just drove by our house playing "Bury Me Not" in the tinkling bell style that is their wont. To appreciate the irony, I've reproduced the lyrics below:

"Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie." These words came sad and mournfully From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On his dying cot at the close of day.

The cowboys gathered around his bed
To hear what their dying cowboy said.
"Oh, grant--oh, grant--this boon for me:
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.

"By my father's side let my bones be laid,
On the lone hillside in the maple's shade,
Where my friends may come and . . . me.
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.

"It matters not, so I've been told,
Where the body lies when the heart grows cold.
But grant--oh, grant--this dying . . . ,
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.

"Don't listen to enticing words
From men who own large groves and herds.
Oh, comrades brave, take warning, pray;
Don't leave your home for the lone prairie.

"Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,
Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me,
Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind sports free.
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.

"Oh, bury me not," and his voice failed there.
They paid no heed to his dying prayer.
In a narrow grave just six by three,
They laid him there on the lone prairie.

You can also listen to a 1959 recording (MP3) while trying to imagine what we just experienced.

Someone close to me baited me with this rant, saying, "I'm sure you will have an opinion." So here's my response:

I would say that blaming the media for unhappiness is just more evidence of the spoiled brat mentality the author is ranting against. How many times did we get stuck in gaper's block traffic on the way to and from [Florida on a recent trip]? The media isn't responsible for people slowing down to gawk at an accident, so one could argue they're just giving us what we want by focusing on bad news. I'm not saying the media isn't broken, but we have to admit there's something wrong with us as individuals, too--we can't just pin it all on the evening news. The author asks how we can have so much, but be so unhappy--maybe because it's not all the "stuff" he lists that makes us happy (televisions, houses, restaurants). And maybe we feel physically secure, but mentally and spiritually assaulted by more vague enemies like consumerism, chronic depression, anxiety, narcissism, paranoia etc.--things that all of the police and volunteer soldiers in the world can't protect us from. If we're seeking "happiness" (I would say "contentment" is a better goal), bigger armies, more weapons, better cell phones and larger houses aren't going to work, as we have seen. Peace within ourselves and with our neighbors and solid community with God and others to sustain us...we can seek these things in any country in the world, from any level of economic prosperity. Ironically, it's the false "pursuit of happiness" that keeps us from the true pursuit of contentedness in God.

Any other "opinions"? Issues that remain for me: the misuse and watering down of the notion of "blessing", as well as the way in which poor logic and writing such as this receives such a wide audience due to the internet. I suppose I'm perpetuating that problem by linking to it here, but I'm interested in a larger question of how such circulated rants reinforce abstract blame and hatred, particularly among self-identified Christians.