Here you go locusimperium
So this is the question that Luke originally asked me:
Been wanting to ask this for a while. What do you think of Stringfellow’s tapestry passage in
Imposters of GodA Private and Public Faith and how that might apply to high church ecclesiology of heavily budgeted architecture/cathedrals/aesthetics? I know it’s basically a justice vs liturgy question of priority (should the emphasis be more missions or rather liturgical formation), but what do you think?
I think you’re establishing a dichotomy that isn’t present in this passage. As Beck notes, Stringfellow’s emphasis here is on freedom, which is a consistent theme throughout his work — that is, the Gospel is a message of freedom from death (/powers/principalities/idolatries) that is also remarkably non-prescriptive. Stringfellow is less concerned with what you do, and more concerned with the location from which you are acting — is it one of freedom in Christ to resist the demonic?
One doesn’t need to sell tapestries or forsake cathedrals. Tapestries and cathedrals can be forms of worshiping God. But the biblical person (a favorite phrase of Stringfellow’s) must not believe that to sell a tapestry or to vacate a cathedral would diminish the church.
Everyday Apocalypse: The Sacred Revealed in Radiohead, The Simpsons, and Other Pop Culture Icons - David Dark
In the eighties there was a rash of books put out by Christian publishing houses all about finding God in pop culture. The idea was that, occasionally, television shows, movies, and…
According to a bumper sticker, “Whoever dies with the most toys wins.” There are no gifts to be given because there is no giver. We end up only with whatever we manage to get for ourselves. This story ends in despair. It gives us a present tense of anxiety, fear, greed and brutality. It produces…
So, Charles Wright became the U.S. poet laureate a couple of weeks ago. He really is one of my all-time faves. Here is a taste of some of his stellar and far-reaching work. This one is called “Future Tense.” I’ve probably made you read it before…
All things in the end are bittersweet—
An empty gaze, a little way-station just beyond silence.
If you can’t delight in the everyday,
you have no future here.
And if you can, no future either.
And time, black dog, will sniff you out,
and lick your lean cheeks,
And lie down beside you—warm, real close—and will not move.