Christendom and the Kingdom of Heaven; or, Pop Music in the Hereafter

Glad to be here among such fine folk, and so on.

As I have stated in the comments of a few posts, I did not initially join this collaborative project because I lacked (and lack) any certainty about the relationships among and between Christendom, the kingdom of heaven, "the secular world," politics, nationalism, regionalism, religion, etc. Lacking that, I had (and probably have) no real assertions to offer. So I stuck with a few questions and dubious criticisms in the comments sections. Trent Suedeπgraph has consistently tried to pull me out of my vague disagreements into a more clear stance–the better to bring me down, I imagine.

“I certainly agree that the two kingdoms are not nearly as disparate and divisible as most Protestants would like to believe.”

This was my latest vague throwaway. Trent suggested this was casuistry. If I knew what that meant, I imagine I'd agree. Wikipedia tells me casuistry has something to do with arguments made from case-studies. In any case (pun!), that sentence is certainly one of those things that sounds like a hefty statement until you realize it's actually a meaningless deflection. I drink better beer than most people. I am more fun than most Calvinists. I'm more intelligent, well-rounded, and modest than other grad students. All true statements, by the way.

Unfortunately for all of us, Suedeπgraph π convinced me to be a little more specific about the kingdom of heaven. And because one's position "ON CHRISTENDOM," if you will, depends in large part on what one thinks of the kingdom of heaven, here I am.

I imagine we all agree that there's such a thing as the kingdom of heaven. Yes? Good.

We likely agree also that not everyone and everything is in it. Next we have to ask what constitutes part of the kingdom of heaven and what does not.

That question is too large for a comment, too large for a post, too large for a book, too large for our little minds. I'm not suggesting that God is uncertain about who–and what–is the kingdom of heaven, and who and what is not. I am suggesting that from our view–which happens to be the only one available to us–the lines are pretty fuzzy. Nevertheless I will venture a few undeveloped, and possibly incoherent, ideas.

In theory the "who" issue is quite simple. The body of Christ is the kingdom of heaven. And we can come up with some fairly reasonable ideas about who the body is–those who confess with their mouths that Jesus is Lord and believe in their hearts that God raised Him from the dead. Essentially, we who believe that Jesus is Lord, with all that that entails, are the body of Christ. Specificity on the issue ("he's in; he's out") is another thing entirely, and I will fight anyone who says otherwise.

I'm more interested in the possibly less pressing "what" question. I tend to think the kingdom of heaven includes creation beyond man. As creation fell with Adam, so it is being and eventually will be redeemed with Christ, and we believers are part of that redemption (indicated in Romans 8).

What is creation? Well, obviously, we're talking about the six days.

But does creation include what Dr. Birzer (among many others, no doubt) refers to as sub-creation? Are the things that we make with our minds and hands part of creation, since we fashion them out of God's creation? If they are part of creation, and if indeed God's creation will be redeemed with and in some way through the redemption of the sons of God, then the things that are made by us and perhaps even by those who are not in the kingdom will be redeemed too. I am less than certain about the nature of "subcreation," though I don't think it's an entirely unreasonable idea.

If that is the case, virtually every pursuit on this earth is connected to the kingdom of heaven. In this mundane world, we not only do all for the glory of God but also recognize that all that we do is somehow reflected in the kingdom of heaven. Our sub-creative work is not only intended to bring persons into the kingdom. In some sense it is the kingdom. This is, by the way, a foundation of the parish, in which one's life in this mundane world revolves around the church community.

I am not certain what this means for "Christendom," though it does imply that our political order has some connection with the hereafter on this earth. At the moment I find myself somewhat less interested in political orders, somewhat more interested in the cultural implications.

I may be venturing into casuistry again, but I suspect that "most evangelicals" do not believe in a kingdom of heaven that involves anything from this life except the souls (and also for some the bodies) of human beings, and I certainly don't believe the evangelical community imagines sub-creative work being present in the hereafter. Otherwise we wouldn't have the Religious Right trying to destroy the last puny barriers set up to prevent the total consumption by fire of the last blessings of the earth. Otherwise we wouldn't have Christian bookstores stocked with books and music that evangelize, yet without any subtlety or art. These products are good only as (a) tools for self-help/inspiration, (b) tools for evangelism, and (c) tools for making money off well-meaning schmucks.

Evangelism and inspiration–not bad things, these. What I mean, though, is that apart from such ends most of the latest products in any given Christian bookstore are not generally worthwhile.

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John Jeremiah Sullivan writes about a Christian-rock festival:

These were not Christian bands, you see; these were Christian-rock bands. The key to digging this scene lies in that one-syllable distinction. Christian rock is a genre that exists to edify and make money off of evangelical Christians. It's message music for listeners who know the message cold, and, what's more, it operates under a perceived responsibility—one the artists embrace—to "reach people." As such, it rewards both obviousness and maximum palatability (the artists would say clarity), which in turn means parasitism. Remember those perfume dispensers they used to have in pharmacies—"If you like Drakkar Noir, you'll love Sexy Musk"? Well, Christian rock works like that. Every successful crappy secular group has its Christian off-brand, and that's proper, because culturally speaking, it's supposed to serve as a stand-in for, not an alternative to or an improvement on, those very groups. In this it succeeds wonderfully. If you think it profoundly sucks, that's because your priorities are not its priorities; you want to hear something cool and new, it needs to play something proven to please…while praising Jesus Christ. That's Christian rock. [. . .] And here, if I can drop the open-minded pretense real quick, is where the stickier problem of actually being any good comes in, because a question that must be asked is whether a hard-core Christian who turns 19 and finds he or she can write first-rate songs (someone like Damien Jurado) would ever have anything whatsoever to do with Christian rock. Talent tends to come hand in hand with a certain base level of subtlety. [. . .] So it's possible—and indeed seems likely—that Christian rock is a musical genre, the only one I can think of, that has excellence-proofed itself.

I love that last sentence: "So it's possible—and indeed seems likely—that Christian rock is a musical genre, the only one I can think of, that has excellence-proofed itself."