Merry Christmas, Ben Stein

I got a viral email today with some very nice sentiments, purporting to contain the text of a message Ben Stein read on the CBS Sunday Morning show. After a little research, it turns out that some of the message - the well-written, pithy part - does indeed come from Stein. The rest, while full of admirable sentiments, is falsely attributed to him.

Here is the original text, from Mr. Stein's website:



Herewith at this happy time of year, a few confessions from my beating heart:

I have no freaking clue who Nick and Jessica are. I see them on the cover of People and Us constantly when I am buying my dog biscuits and kitty litter. I often ask the checkers at the grocery stores. They never know who Nick and Jessica are either. Who are they? Will it change my life if I know who they are and why they have broken up? Why are they so important? I don't know who Lindsay Lohan is, either, and I do not care at all about Tom Cruise's wife.

Am I going to be called before a Senate committee and asked if I am a subversive? Maybe, but I just have no clue who Nick and Jessica are. Is this what it means to be no longer young. It's not so bad.

Next confession: I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are: Christmas trees. It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.

Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him?

I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we knew went to.

(Dated 12/19/05)

Historical Quotes About Music in Worship

My brother Peter, whose new blog, P-Squared, just went live, sent me this url from Expository Files today. Reprinted here:



Historical Quotes About Music in Worship

The following is a series of quotes and their sources that I think that some readers will find enlightening, others will find them disturbing, and others interesting. I imagine all will find them a little ironic. I am not going to comment on them at all. They really speak for themselves.

Thomas Aquinas, Catholic Theologian; 13th century: "Our church does not use musical instruments, as harps and psalteries, to praise God withal, that she may not seem to Judaize." Bingham's Antiquities, Vol. 2, p.483, London

John Calvin, Reformation Leader, Founder of Reformed & Presbyterian denominations: "Musical Instruments in celebrating the praises of God would be no more suitable than the burning of incense, the lighting of lamps, and the restoration of the other shadows of the law." Calvin, Commentary on Psalm 33, see also commentary on 1 Samuel 18:1-9

John Wesley, Founder of Methodist Denomination: "I have no objection to instruments of music in our chapels, provided they are neither heard nor seen." Cited by Methodist commentator Adam Clarke; Clarke's Commentary, Vol. 4, p.684

Catholic Encyclopedia: "Although Josephus tells of the wonderful effects produced in the Temple by the use of instruments, the first Christians were of too spiritual a fibre to substitute lifeless instruments for or to use them to accompany the human voice. Clement of Alexandria severely condemns the use of instruments even at Christian banquets." Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 10, p. 652

Martin Luther, Reformation Leader: "The organ in the worship service is a sign of Baal." Realencyklopadie Fur Protestantische Theologie und Kirche, Bd, 14, s.433 cited in Instrumental Music and New Testament Worship, James D. Bales, p. 130.

Charles Spurgeon, Baptist Author/Pastor: "We might as well pray by machinery as sing by it" and "Israel was at school, and used childish things to help her learn; but in these days when Jesus gives us spiritual food, one can make melody without strings and pipes... we do not need them. That would hinder rather than help our praise. Sing unto Him. This is the sweetest and best music. No instrument like the human voice." Charles Spurgeon, Commentary on Psalm 42

FINAL QUOTE (this is really the MOST important one on the whole page): "Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father." (Colossians 3:16,17).

By Jon W. Quinn
The Front Page
From Expository Files 4.2; February 1997



Thanks, guys. That's just great. Guess all that stuff in Psalms about the lyre, harp, drum, tamborine, etc. was just skipped over in your consideration.

Good thing all of these guys are dead, or I'd have to open a can.

The Big Update!

Anyone who says that the Age of Miracles has passed, that God no longer reaches His Hand into the lives of His people, is just not paying attention. Sometimes it comes in a whisper, sometimes a burning bush, but I’m convinced that it’s usually just a matter of timing too good to be accidental. Honestly, I just don’t believe in coincidence any more. Call it God-incidence.

After a whirlwind application and interview process, I have accepted the position of Contemporary Worship Leader at Redeemer Lutheran Church, on the south side of Richmond. It’s a part-time job involving selection, rehearsal, and leading music at Redeemer’s 11:00 contemporary service.

It all happened very suddenly, after a long and stultifying build-up process. The story of this event is one of God closing door after door after door in my life only to fling this glorious window open so abruptly that the draft blew me through it.

Flash back to 2004. Having played drums and bass in praise bands at Christ Church Episcopal, I asked Keith Tan, the Music Minister, if it would be possible to switch to piano. I had a sense that God was building me up into a leadership position in music ministry, and I knew that I was going to need to get better at playing piano. The very same day, within ten minutes, in fact, the leader of my praise band asked me if I might be willing to split leadership duties with him. God-incidence #1.

Then, in spring of 2005, Christ Church needed an Interim Youth Minister just as I was graduating from VCU with an MFA and no job. Of course, a big part of the job (in fact, the only part of the job which I feel I did at all well) was leading the youth praise band. I quickly discovered that the kids responded somewhat better to worship music on guitar than piano, so I gave myself a crash course on guitar. I led the youth group for nine months, building up the youth music team to the point where they could lead music for entire worship services. God-incidence #2.

Fast-forward to December 2006. Having taught part-time for four months at the Center for the Arts at Henrico High School (and feeling very low about Richmond Shakespeare’s training program, which simply could not attract any students for love or money), I was told that Henrico was likely going to make my position into a full-time job for the 2007-2008 school year. It was dependent on funding coming through, but it was promising enough that I expressed official interest in the job. God-incidence #3.

In February of this year, Richmond Shakespeare and Shakespeare Festival/L.A. paid for me to attend STAA, the Shakespeare Theatre Association of America conference in Nashville, world center for contemporary Christian music. Loved Nashville, didn’t so much love STAA. I just felt out of place among so many people for whom the regard of Shakespeare resembled nothing so much as religious reverence. I love Shakespeare, but not like these people do. Add to that the fact that the Training department made absolutely no money whatsoever this year, due in large part to my ineptitude at promoting it. I was becoming more and more certain that the board of Richmond Shakespeare was not going to approve my salary in next year’s budget. This would be okay, though, if the full-time teaching job came through. I came home disturbed, convinced more than ever that I need to make more time in my life for my dormant music and writing interests. God-incidence #4.

After STAA, I met with Keith to talk about increasing my role in Christ Church’s music ministry. I juggled my schedule in order to start attending the Wednesday noon worship meetings, and had a big hand in planning and executing drama and music in worship during Holy Week. This was the most entirely satisfying week of my life in Christian service. I even had lunch with Keith to talk about what’s involved in being a professional music minister. God-incidence #5.

Then came last week.

Early in the week, the word came down from Henrico High: the funding was not going to come through for my position to be full-time next year. It was purely a numbers thing; there just weren’t enough IB drama students. My part-time position would still be there, the same as last year. God-incidence #6. Karen and I, who had been looking into buying a house at the end of the summer, finally came to the realization that we just don’t make enough money right now, and that we would probably be staying in our current rental house for another year. Bummer, but God-incidence #7. Dissatisfied with the prospect of continuing exactly the same frustrating, draining, low-pay schedule for another year, on Friday I looked at the Times-Dispatch’s classifieds for teaching or music work. Almost by accident, I came across an ad for a church looking for a part-time contemporary worship leader. God-incidence #8. I called the number and made an appointment to meet with the pastor, James Byork, the following Tuesday.

Well, it just so happened that I was leading Christ Church’s praise band on Saturday, God-incidence #9, and Keith suggested that I videotape our rehearsal to include with my portfolio. When I explained the camera to Paul Johnson, CCE’s rector, he said, “Andrew, you can’t leave. But of course you can use me as a reference.” Redeemer’s contemporary service is at 11:00, so I was able to play percussion and guitar at Christ Church at 9:00, get in my car, and drive south to Redeemer in time to worship with them at 11:00. It was a great opportunity to get a sense of their flavor of worship and to see and hear the music ministry in action. God-incidence #10. (A side note: I went to three different worship services last weekend, and not a single reader pronounced “Ananias” correctly. It’s “AN-uh-NYE-us.)

I came home from Redeemer and told Karen, “If we were church-shopping right now, we would have a very serious conversation about joining this church.”

Sunday, I spent much of the afternoon preparing for my interview. I agonized over a Statement of Faith and a Ministry Vision, printed and re-printed my résumè, and transferred the videotape to DVD. Monday was a 16-hour work day with a workshop and two tour performances of Twelfth Night, so I wasn’t able to prepare much in the way of rehearsed responses for my interview.

Tuesday’s interview meeting was a surreal experience. The number of philosophies we had in common, the needs of their church that I am uniquely suited to fill, the schedule; everything seemed to be a perfect fit from the start. Lump that all in to God-incidence #11.

The final piece was an especially interesting bit of happenstance. James Byork, the senior Pastor, had once needed to fill an organist/choir director position some time ago. Having interviewed several candidates, he was just on the verge of closing the search and making a selection when a young man approached him and asked if he could talk about the position. Jim metaphorically rolled his eyes, believing the search process finished, and reluctantly agreed to interview the young man. The musician turned out to be a recent graduate of Harvard with a degree in sacred music; he was the perfect candidate and held the job for several very productive years.

Friday, when I called to make the appointment, Jim was similarly convinced that the search was over and that he had enough candidates to fill the job. When the secretary informed him that she had made a 1:30 appointment with this Andrew Hamm character for the following Tuesday, Jim metaphorically rolled his eyes, believing the search process finished, and reluctantly agreed to interview the young man.

When Jim shared the story of the organist with me Tuesday afternoon, I was pretty sure he was going to hire me. God-incidence #12, right?

They wanted to hear me play a couple of my original worship songs (I chose “I Believe” and “Temple”), then they asked me to pull a song out of their song book and play it. I looked for “Step By Step,” which wasn’t there, and settled on “Amazing Love.” Just as I was finishing that song, I realized how great of a medley it would be with “Draw Me Close,” which I just transitioned into.

So that’s where I am. What else happens from here is still up in the air. Please continue to pray for me as I figure out what other job I’m going to have next year, and of course pray for guidance as I continue down this road.

Looking for God in All the Wrong Places

It’s an annual religious tradition. Every year during Holy Week, Americans gather at their site of worship to hear the re-telling of the ancient story. That’s right, we gather on the couch and turn on the TV to watch the annual network, CNN, and History Channel specials about that famous and controversial historical figure: Jesus.

Every year, it seems that we hear more and more about modern historians’ speculations about Jesus’ wife (or wives) and children. Every year, we hear more about modern scientists’ theories about the "swoon" theory, apostolic bodysnatching, or other explanations for Jesus’ apparent "resurrection." And every year, the Bible is reduced more and more to an increasingly dubious historical document, its inconsistencies making its spiritual value more and more questionable.

Nothing interferes with the understanding of the actual Jesus more than rigid examination of the "historical Jesus," particularly in today’s scientific-intellectual environment where nothing immaterial is even permitted to enter the discourse. C.S. Lewis wrote beautifully about the subject in The Screwtape Letters. Lewis' insights in the 1940s are frighteningly prophetic when read in 2007. Letter XXIII reads, in part: "Their 'historical Jesus'... has to be a 'great man' in the modern sense of the word--one standing at the terminus of some centrifugal and unbalanced line of thought--a crank vending a panacea. We [devils] thus distract men's minds from Who He is and what He did." Materialist thinkers who deny the resurrection because it has no verifiable, repeatable, scientific explanation are considered to trump theologians who argue that the verifiable, repeatable and scientific seldom has any transcendent value in actual human experience. Intellectual discussion is restricted to things material, with all things of a spiritual nature placed in a remote location and bound inside a box labeled "irrelevant."

I suppose I shouldn’t complain about this as if it’s some kind of a new phenomenon. Paul, Peter and the first Christians faced skepticism of all kinds in the early days of the church. In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul wrote: "Jews demanded miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength." (1 Corinthians 1:22-25, NIV)

The apostles' inability to "prove" the facts of Jesus’ transcendent sacrificial death and resurrection was the least of their problems. It simultaneously amuses and infuriates me when modern thinkers dismiss the early church founders as having established Christianity in order to gain power for themselves and their heirs. It's amazing to me how often I hear this argument. Assigning later abuses of individuals and eras to the institution of "church," these high-minded "progressives" conveniently ignore the facts that the earliest believers were one of the most persecuted minorities in world history, that every apostle (save John, who was exiled) died a horrible, tormented death, and that people simply do not allow themselves to be tortured and killed for something they know to be a lie if denying it will save their skins. The fact is, Christians had no political power whatsoever for the first several centuries of the church's existence. The people founding this faith had absolutely nothing to gain in establishing a church based on a lie.

So it’s Good Friday as I write this, perhaps the first directly theological piece I’ve ever posted to this blog. I have avoided writing about faith for the same reasons I avoided politics for so long: because discussions of politics and faith seem to drive friends apart much more often than they bring them together. But the discussions of politics here have really opened my eyes, so I’m less afraid to bring the subject to faith than I used to be. If I profess to believe we can all gain from an open, respectful discussion of our disagreements, I should absolutely be open to talking about the central fact of my life: my belief in Jesus Christ.

But the defining moment was actually a silly little MySpace bulletin from Scott Wichmann entitled "And knowing is half the battle." The point was to ask your friends to answer questions about you, ranging from "What is my middle name?" to "What is your favorite memory of me?" and so on. What moved me was Scott’s answer to my question: "Who is my best friend?" Scott wrote about me: "Jesus (I'm not being sarcastic--I think your faith runs that deep)."

When I read that, I started to cry.

I think this is the best thing anyone has ever said to me ever.

One of the central prayers of my life is "St. Patrick’s Breastplate," a prayer-poem attributed to the famous Irish evangelist. It reads, in part: "Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me." The fact that Jesus was in the eyes of someone who saw me, someone who has not heard me talk much about the details of my faith, was absolutely one of the defining moments of my life.

Having come out of the closet as a conservative (albeit an atypical, occasionally liberal one), it’s time to be a whole lot freer about my Christianity.

So back where I started: It’s Good Friday, and the news networks are flooding the airwaves with the story of Jesus as they see it (and as they are permitted by their paymasters to present it). It’s the story of a social revolutionary who spoke amazing words, who challenged long-standing beliefs about how people should behave toward each other, and whose charisma founded one of the world’s great religions. (He just may have performed some amazing works along the way, but science has explanations for pretty much all of them by now.) Having aroused the ire of the local government, Jesus’ movement was brutally suppressed and its charismatic leader was tried, convicted, tortured, and then executed by crucifixion. (Legend has it that his body disappeared three days later, but this has been widely discredited by modern scholars, doctors and historians.)

The thing is, there’s no way to tell the story without some element of ridiculousness. If we Christians really look in the mirror and honestly evaluate the foundations of our faith, it’s impossible to avoid the fact that it’s awfully hard to swallow. There is, in fact, a segment of theologians who profess that the very act of believing in the extremely improbable facts of the Gospel is in itself a miracle. It’s a kind of divine circle wherein we believe enough to pray for the belief to believe in more.

And that’s where the study of the "historical Jesus" must always fail. If Jesus was the Son of God, as Christians profess, then restricting investigation of Him to only the material and the historically verifiable is a fruitless endeavor. Of course, God is God of the material and historical as well as the spiritual, and examination of the material world is very instructive in learning about the nature of God. But omitting the spiritual from investigation of the nature of Jesus is like omitting physical sensation from investigation of the nature of the Sun. You can learn a lot about the Sun from looking at it and by reading thermometers, but if you don’t feel the warmth of sunlight on your face, you’re missing out on perhaps the most sublime detail. In short, you can’t learn jack about a spiritual figure while omitting the spiritual from the investigation.

Not that there isn’t a lot of history backing the Christian tradition up. There are simply no ancient texts with as many consistent copies as the books of the New Testament, and none for which we have copies as close to the date of original writing. And it’s not that I don’t care about that stuff; my faith is strengthened by works of historical Christian apologists, like Lewis' works and Lee Strobel’s The Case for Christ (a highly recommended read for anyone who wants to know more about the foundations of Christianity). But the foundation of faith is belief, not history.

Faith is a spiritual suspension of disbelief, and like theatre your spiritual life can only have any depth when you allow yourself to believe in something beyond what you can wrap your senses around. Faith doesn’t just happen; you have to decide to have it, work at it, exercise it, and pray for it. In the words of Firefly's Shepherd Book: "You don't 'fix' the Bible.... It's not about making sense. It's about believing in something, and letting that belief be real enough to change your life. It's about faith. You don't fix faith, River. It fixes you."

I’m going to be talking about spiritual matters around here much more from now on.

So this Easter, I invite you to remember that the story of Jesus is more than the story of a man who was killed for his radical beliefs. I invite you to remember that the totality of the story of God’s plan for our salvation, your personal salvation and mine, is so very much more than the sum of its parts. And I invite you to join me in a prayer for the faith to believe in greater, deeper, and more improbable things. The stuff on the surface can only take you so deep.

Adventures in Visual Art

Throughout my life as an artist, it has always frustrated me that I haven’t been able to demonstrate any real aptitude for visual art. I can find my way around most musical instruments, I’m a competent theatre artist in many areas, and I’m a pretty good writer, but I have never had the patience to draw. I just want it to look the way I want it to the instant I envision it. In fact, when asked what artistic skill I would most like to have, I always answer the same: I would love to be able to draw comic books. Sculpture is also incredibly cool; I have always been far more captivated by statuary, sculpture, and architecture than paintings or drawings. But I just don’t have the patience to do it.

So it came as quite a surprise to me how quickly I volunteered to create an artistic representation of one of the Stations of the Cross for Christ Church’s Good Friday. Even stranger, I instantly knew what medium I was going to use and what the overall look of the piece was going to be. I added my name to the list and took on the sixth station: “Veronica wipes the face of Jesus.”

Now, there was just no way I was going to be able to create some kind of realistic representation of a human figure. That’s just not my thing. I can barely draw stick figures, for crying out loud. So I needed some representational imagery of suffering and a moment of mercy in the midst of torment.

I went to Cheswick Park looking for wood. There were fallen branches aplenty, but it took almost 20 minutes to find something of the right length, thickness, texture, and shape I was looking for. From Target, I bought twine, some white cotton cloths, and an assortment of nails, screws, and hooks. I also got Volume Two of Family Guy on sale. I brought the whole mess home, spread newspaper on the table, and got to work.

Now, I’ve gotten emotionally caught up in creating artwork before. Something I’ve written will sometimes move me (a confession: I re-read “Goodbye, Abnormal Jean” several times after posting it), and my own music moves me quite frequently. Seeing plays I’ve written or directed performed is perhaps the greatest feeling in my artistic life. But I have never experienced anything akin to the feeling of driving nails into a piece of wood representing Jesus. Every single nail, screw, and hook caught in my throat. Draping the cloth over the un-mutilated right side felt like an act of mercy. I don’t know if this is how visual artists experience their work of creation, but it was amazing to me how caught up in it I became.

So I brought it to Christ Church Tuesday night and left it in Josie’s office. I also wrote “BACK” on the back of it. I’m really quite nervous about this, I have to say. It’s a very abstract work in an environment where the representational image has been king for 2000 years. I have a sinking feeling that every single station (all done by parishioners) is going to be something with well-rendered human forms and then mine is going to be this hunk of wood with nails in it. I mean, for crying out loud, I had to write "BACK" on the back of it.

This whole story would be much better if I had remembered to take pictures of it before I turned it in. It also probably would have been better without the Family Guy reference.

"Answers to the Atheists" by E.L. Dionne, Jr.

A fairly good piece in the Washington Post today, appropos to the Easter weekend. It also connects with the recent discussion here about the anti-theistic power base of modern science / philosophy and its war against Christianity. I'm going to go ahead and re-print the whole thing.

Answers To the Atheists

By E. J. Dionne Jr.

Friday, April 6, 2007; Page A21

This weekend, many of the world's estimated 2 billion Christians will remember and celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

While some Christians harbor doubts about Christ's actual physical resurrection, hundreds of millions believe devoutly that Jesus died and rose, thus redeeming a fallen world from sin.

Are these people a threat to reason and even freedom?

It's a question that arises from a new vogue for what you might call neo-atheism. The new atheists -- the best known are writers Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins -- insist, as Harris puts it, that "certainty about the next life is simply incompatible with tolerance in this one." That's why they think a belief in salvation through faith in God, no matter the religious tradition, is dangerous to an open society.

The neo-atheists, like their predecessors from a century ago, are given to a sometimes-charming ferociousness in their polemics against those they see as too weak-minded to give up faith in God.

What makes them new is the moment in history in which they are rejoining the old arguments: an era of religiously motivated Islamic suicide bombers. They also protest the apparent power of traditionalist and fundamentalist versions of Christianity.

As a general proposition, I welcome the neo-atheists' challenge. The most serious believers, understanding that they need to ask themselves searching questions, have always engaged in dialogue with atheists. The Catholic writer Michael Novak's book "Belief and Unbelief" is a classic in self-interrogation. "How does one know that one's belief is truly in God," he asks at one point, "not merely in some habitual emotion or pattern of response?"

The problem with the neo-atheists is that they seem as dogmatic as the dogmatists they condemn. They are especially frustrated with religious "moderates" who don't fit their stereotypes.

In his bracing polemic " The End of Faith," Harris is candid in asserting that "religious moderates are themselves the bearers of a terrible dogma: they imagine that the path to peace will be paved once each one of us has learned to respect the unjustified beliefs of others."
Harris goes on: "I hope to show that the very ideal of religious tolerance -- born of the notion that every human being should be free to believe whatever he wants about God -- is one of the principal forces driving us toward the abyss. We have been slow to recognize the degree to which religious faith perpetuates man's inhumanity to man."

Argument about faith should not hang on whether religion is socially "useful" or instead promotes "inhumanity." But since the idea that religion is primarily destructive lies at the heart of the neo-atheist argument, its critics have rightly insisted on detailing the sublime acts of humanity and generosity that religion has promoted through the centuries.

It's true that religious Christians were among those who persecuted Jews. It is also true that religious Christians were among those who rescued Jews from these most un-Christian acts. And it is a sad fact that secular forms of dogmatism have been at least as murderous as the religious kind.

What's really bothersome is the suggestion that believers rarely question themselves while atheists ask all the hard questions. But as Novak argued -- in one of the best critiques of neo-atheism -- in the March 19 issue of National Review, "Questions have been the heart and soul of Judaism and Christianity for millennia." (These questions get a fair reading in another powerful commentary on neo-atheism by James Wood, himself an atheist, in the Dec. 18 issue of the New Republic.) "Christianity is not about moral arrogance," Novak insists. "It is about moral realism, and moral humility." Of course Christians in practice often fail to live up to this elevated definition of their creed. But atheists are capable of their own forms of arrogance. Indeed, if arrogance were the only criterion, the contest could well come out a tie.

As for me, Christianity is more a call to rebellion than an insistence on narrow conformity, more a challenge than a set of certainties.

In " The Last Week," their book about Christ's final days on Earth, Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan, distinguished liberal scriptural scholars, write: "He attracted a following and took his movement to Jerusalem at the season of Passover. There he challenged the authorities with public acts and public debates. All this was his passion, what he was passionate about: God and the Kingdom of God, God and God's passion for justice. Jesus' passion got him killed." *

That's why I celebrate Easter and why, despite many questions of my own, I can't join the neo-atheists.

* The "Jesus' passion got him killed" or "Jesus' subversive message got him killed" point loses me every time it is brought up, and any theologian, historian or philosopher who makes such an argument instantly completely loses me. Jesus wasn't some social revolutionary whose mission was cut short by The Man; he was God on earth, the only sacrifice pure enough to expiate humankind's sin. Reducing Jesus' crucifixion to a social-historical event takes away the divine mystery.

I'm out of time. I should write more about this today, of all days. After school. ave your responses for that.

What's Next?

Here's what's on tap for the Hammster:

It's Holy Week, so I'm working on music for Christ Church's Easter services. I'm playing percussion and various instruments (mandolin and accordion, if I can figure out a cool way to include them) at all three services. I'm also playing drums and sound effects for the Easter Vigil, where they are using the Old Testament drama I wrote last year again. I've added another art to my arsenal, as I will be creating a visual representation of one of the Stations of the Cross for Friday's service. I should probably get started on that, huh?

The day after Easter, I leave for Los Angeles, where I will be training with Shakespeare Festival / L.A. for Will Power to Youth this summer. Five days in L.A., finishing with a flight home on Friday the 13th. Good thing I'm not superstitious.

And of course, the day after Twelfth Night closed, we had our first production meeting for the 2007 Richmond Shakespeare Festival. Yes, less than 24 hours after closing the downtown season, I had already started work on music for The Tempest. (I'm looking for a percussionist and violinist, if you know anyone.)

But of course the big news of the day:

It's Opening Day, boys and girls.

Baseball is so good.

Stop the Madness!

Thanks to everyone who has contributed to the last couple weeks' political debate. Scotty, Phil, Joey, and anonymous have all had some great things to say, and have made me think in different directions than I have.

I find it somewhat interesting that most of the stuff I write about deals with comics, theatre, sci-fi, movies, and music. For example, these are some topics I'm currently considering blogging: the death of Optimus Prime in The Transformers: The Movie (which just had its 20th Anniversary DVD release), Lego's super-awesome "Exo-Force" line, my new favorite TV show Heroes, a review of Steve Hackett's new album Wild Orchids, and the status of my upcoming Christmas album, Under the Star.

Why is that interesting? Because I may have more responses to the two or three political articles I've written than to everything else combined. Before I proceed any further, I want to take a moment to write something about political writing.

I have often held back from talking about politics on this blog for several reasons, and I want to mention a few of them here.

It's often been said that the fastest way to ruin a friendship is by talking about politics. I know it's often said, because I say it often, especially in my classroom, where so many of my students have their natural, healthy, high school drama students' anti-establishmentarianism firmly in place. Frankly, I want people to like me, not be angry, and most political writing makes people of the opposing viewpoint angry. I really don't want my friends to be angry.

Further complicating the matter is the fact that I am a socially conservative white heterosexual Fundamentalist Christian male. This makes me the majority in many places in the country, but a very very small minority in every field I work in: theatre, music, and teaching. In theatre in particular, it is just assumed that everyone in the community is of a like mind about certain social and political issues. Well, sometimes I am and sometimes I'm not, and both the assumption that I feel a certain way and the open attacking of the opposing perspective (in green rooms, rehearsals, meetings, etc.) makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable. I feel like I have to be in the closet or I'm going to be ostracized. Open Bush-bashing, in particular, is de rigeur at both of my places of business, and regardless of my feelings about the man, I have a very old-school sense that the office of the president is due more respect than that. I absolutely hated President Clinton at times, and never believed him, but I went out of my way to speak of him with the respect he had earned from years of incredibly grueling and difficult public service.

So I have historically tried to keep my beliefs my own for the sake of survival. I do know of cases where conservatives, and Christians in particular, have been blacklisted (or I guess redlisted) in certain performing arts communities, and I know for a fact that it would have been much easier for me to get a university teaching job if I were a black lesbian Buddhist. I was told straight-up that they were looking for a black woman at one school I applied to. Not only is that illegal, it's incredibly stupid to tell someone who might sue you for discrimination that you're discriminating against him. Moron.

When I talk about something political on this blog, it isn't to vent, it isn't to glorify my perspective, it isn't to slurp a party, and it certainly isn't to get people mad so they write mad responses that I can shoot down self-righteously. If you'll look at my scant political postings, I hope you'll see a pattern, and it's this: I feel like someone needs to write about something that isn't being reported by the mainstream media. Cases in point: 1) the massive amount of fallacious and insulting implications in the Michael J. Fox campaign ad, and 2) the assumption that the Democratic victory last Tuesday was gigantic and sweeping when it was, in point of fact, far less than it probably should have been.

When I write about politics or social issues, my intention is almost never "I'm right and you're wrong." My intention is to provide perspective, and to say "You're probably not getting this angle or this piece of information, and you really should see it." I don't write about serious issues unless I have done a lot of thinking, praying, and research into them. And I'm not not not going to be writing about issues that I know do nothing but polarize, such as abortion, gay marriage, and the death penalty.

Here's my core belief when approaching sociopolitical debate: I think that honest discussion between opposing viewpoints is probably the single most important thing a republic needs to function. I also think that we have not had much of any honest discussion since the Kennedy administration, and pretty much none whatsoever since 2000. There are culprits on both sides.

For honest discussion and debate to take place, three things need to happen:

1) Both sides need to assume that the other side believes what they believe because they genuinely think it's right. We must assume that our opponents have thought it out and have made their decisions on what to believe in good conscience. Imbuing the opposition with sinister motives is totally counter-productive, almost always inaccurate, and impossible to prove unless you've developed telepathy and haven't told anyone. (If you have developed telepathy, please don't tell me. My mind will go to complete filth as soon as you enter the room.) Don't get me wrong, there are bastards out there on both sides of the aisle. I'm not talking about defending Mark Foley or William Jefferson, both of whom are demostrably corrupt nincompoops. I'm talking about ideas. (Hee hee hee. "Poops.")

2) Both sides need to be able to look in a mirror and say, "I may be completely and totally wrong on this one, and it is my responsibility to listen to opposing ideas with a genuinely open mind."

3) Both sides need to actually listen, and not just wait for their turn to talk.

So I want to hear what you, gentle readers (all three of you), think I should do. My impulse is to take a vacation from political writing for a while, focusing instead on the aforementioned music and toy-related subjects. But it's possible that social issues may be something we want to keep talking about. I have really felt blessed and flattered by the number of intelligent, passionate, respectful responses to the Michael J Fox and Election articles, and no one has insulted my mother yet...

Don't get me wrong, this is my blog and I'm going to write about what I want to write about, but if you're taking the time to read, your thoughts are something I want to hear. If you don't want to post them as a reply, feel free to email me at andrew@richmondshakespeare.com.

And come out to the Alba Emoting workshop, PLEASE. Attendance is very light for the Training Department, and I'd like it to grow rather than vanish.