McManus has penned quite a few good quotable quotes or sentences here.
His opening paragraph is good:
"When life doesn't make sense or when we give up trying to make sense of life, we find places to run and hide. Usually religion is accused of being the place where people go to escape reality. I'm not going to argue with this. Overall I agree with it. I would suggest, though, that it's not the most popular place to go anymore.
"There are two places where I find people retreating. While a healthy faith openly embraces mystery, allowing room for the unknown, our new places to escape attempt to eliminate everything that is uncertain."
Part of me doesn't want to agree with the premise that religion is a place to escape reality. It's easy to say, "For some people it is," delegating those "some people" to the stupid class. But that's too easy. I guess I could agree with the concept of running to God as a strong tower to lean on and take comfort in the shadow of His wings, so to speak, during a time of trouble or testing. Honestly, all of us come to places like that from time to time. Even the toughest and strongest of us grow tired and weary. What I don't like, though, is painting Christians as dumb and dumber -- the stupid class. The problem with that is I happen to know some believers in Christ who are brilliant and much smarter than I am. People I would be glad to put on a platform and say, "Listen to him or her talk." It's not that people are dumb for running and retreating. I don't see myself running from un-answered questions or retreating and hoping that the difficult questions that I can't answer will go away.
While I certainly don't have all the answers and while there are definitely questions that drive me to seek answers, I don't willfully classify myself as a "pretend it's all true and hide from any conflict or doubt" kind of lad. So, maybe that is why I have a hard time swallowing the opening statement. I'm allowed to disagree with McManus, of course. I love the line about "a healthy faith openly embraces mystery." That's good. It makes sense, too. Pretending we know it all is just, in the end, really dumb.
I can remember times of pretending. Sometimes it's when talking to someone with a "difficult to understand" accent or a low volume level of speaking. After asking them to repeat something once or twice, it becomes almost unbearable to ask again. Smiling and pretending I've got the jist of what they're saying becomes a convenient, but deceptive way out.
I remember talking to someone recently and thinking to myself, "Gosh, I wish they would stop talking." I hoped against hope (and what does that mean, anyway?) that they couldn't read my mind, because it wasn't a pleasant thought. I politely let them talk and talk, trying my best to focus on what they were saying.
Another problem with pretending is the person that pretends they know it all pushes those around him or her past their tolerance level and they then become unbelievable. This know-it-all is tuned out by those around him or her, because they perceive (most of the time correctly) that this person just likes to hear him or herself, holds him or herself in high esteem, and has placed a higher than should be value in their importance and even knowledge level.
There was an intern at HM many years ago named Jonathan Nolte. During one conversation, he brought up Coheed and Cambria. At the time (oh, between 2003 and 2004) they were a relatively new band. Something inside my head was clinging to an imaginary band that used the name Coheed. I even said something about, "Yeah, I know what Coheed sounds like." It could've been a real memory, but in answering the question or being a part of the conversation with him, I feigned knowing what the band sounded like. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized that I was wrong. I guess I felt it would be too awkward to say, "You know what? I take that back. I do not know what they sound like." I felt like, 'Man, Jonathan knows. He knows right now that I just lied.' I can still remember that conversation, because it bothers me. Now, whenever someone asks me if I've heard of such and such band, I'll err on the side of doubt and admit that I haven't heard of such and such. Sometimes my brain is fuzzy and I'll listen to a sampler CD I picked up at SXSW or from my Magnet Magazine subscription and/or I'll hear some buzz band way early in their career, but I won't remember three days later what they sound like or I'll confuse that memory with another band. But now, as a result of catching myself in what I'll call "a lie," I would rather say, "No, I am not sure what they sound like" to another music enthusiast, even if I may have heard them once, than to confidently say I do. I might lose some scene points by stating this, but I feel a heck of a lot better erring on the side of honesty than in dishonesty.
Part of me enjoys exploring and hearing new music -- which is rewarded when it's a great artist (like The Polyphonic Spree is a good example), but it can be so much work, too. Sometimes it's one other song I don't like, reminding me of the many average or mediocre indie music I'll listen to on a regular basis. It's nice to have a conversation with someone who knows what kind of music or bands I'm talking about. I'm sure it goes both ways. It's also fun to help another person discover a new band that they haven't heard. I'm sure it's the other way around for the person I'm talking to, as well. Even though I had heard a few songs by Band of Horses, when my neice brought them up in a conversation about exciting new bands, my mind was drawing a blank. Instead of trying to sound like I knew what they sounded like, I admitted that I didn't. That stunk, because I was kind of thinking about how poor my memory was and disappointed about that much more than the "uncool" and the scene points that were being subtracted from my account. haha
Posted by Doug Van Pelt at December 31, 2007 10:01 AM