Culture Watch

Wayne A. Holst 11-01-2002

Mohandas K. Gandhi, political liberator of India and Hindu spiritual master, sought to translate Jesus' Sermon on the Mount into a practical political philosophy.

Charles A. Kimball 11-01-2002

A propensity toward evil within religious communities always provides warning signs, says Charles Kimball, professor, Baptist minister, and expert analyst on the Middle East.

Danny Duncan Collum 11-01-2002

Bruce Springsteen dives straight into the pain…and the ambiguity.

The Editors 11-01-2002

Alcatraz is Not an Island is a powerful documentary (which airs Nov. 7 on PBS)

Ryan Rodrick Beiler 11-01-2002

When this book was published, the Committee to Protect Journalists had just named the West Bank as "the worst place to be a journalist." 

Andrea Jeyaveeran 11-01-2002

I don't usually read memoirs. There are just so many of them out there, and the whole genre seems to have become self-indulgent or uninspired.

Mark Lewis Taylor 11-01-2002

Since Sept. 11, country music stations have blared songs like Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the U.S.A." and Aaron Tippin's "Where the Stars and Stripes and the Eagle Fly"

Molly Marsh 9-01-2002

Father John McNamee is a priest in the Philadelphia 'hood with a tough job.

Julienne Gage 9-01-2002

Spokane Indian Sherman Alexie often snaps "that's personal" during interviews, yet the characters in his books and films closely follow his own life growing up on the Spokane Indian Reservation...

Beth Isaacson 9-01-2002
Two Roches and Zero Church

Leaving out my all-time favorites Carlos Santana and John Coltrane, whom I've written about for Sojourners, here are a few cultural artifacts I'm currently excited about.

Bethany Versluis 9-01-2002

"Fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need.

Bob Hulteen 9-01-2002

What's the sound of a policy wonk clapping? I don't know.

Rose Marie Berger 9-01-2002

John H. Timmerman's incisive look at poet Jane Kenyon could use a snappier title because, more than a "literary life," it is a quintessential modern American spiritual journey.

I'm reluctant to mouth off about something like the 30th anniversary of the Watergate break-in and all that followed. It makes me feel old.

Chris Rice 9-01-2002

Chris Rice, a former columnist for Sojourners, chronicles in Grace Matters: A True Story of Race, Friendship, and Faith in the Heart of the South his years living in Antioch...

That sentence is the title of historian Bill Malone's new book about country music (the subtitle is Country Music and the Southern Working Class). Before that, in 1981, it was the title of a hit record by country music neo-traditionalist Ricky Skaggs. In 1951, it was recorded by Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs. But long before any of this, it was (and still is) a common piece of folk wisdom among lower-class white people, especially in the South.

For many people of other regions or social classes, the saying may sound odd, counter-intuitive, and even un-American. In America, we're often told that "getting above your raisin'"—transcending the circumstances of birth—is the main point of existence. If Abe Lincoln had stayed in the log cabin, who would care? If Elvis had become a sincere but flat-broke folk singer, we wouldn't know his name. Americans don't buy stories about virtuous poor boys who stay poor, and we're offended at the suggestion that there might be something wrong with individual self-realization. The impulse to rise above our origins is buried deep in our national DNA. Immigrants have always come here to escape poverty and persecution and become rich and powerful. The right to perpetual self-invention might as well be enshrined in the Constitution.

The heretical wisdom embodied in "Don't get above your raisin'" suggests that roots, family, communal identity, and solidarity are all more important than individual striving or success. This is a way of thinking that most American intellectuals would associate with "traditional" or "pre-modern" cultures. But Malone, a professor emeritus in history from Tulane University, is also a good old boy from East Texas who knows that the preference for group loyalty and solidarity has lived on in modern America among rural people and blue-collar workers. In Don't Get Above Your Raisin', he argues persuasively that, in the last half of the 20th century, country music, which expressed the daily concerns of white Southern working people, broke out of the Southern region to become the cultural voice of America's white working class.

Teresa Blythe 7-01-2002

The Truth is out there. In these postmodern times, when the very nature of truth is called into question, it has been great to know that someone believes the truth actually exists. As extraordinary FBI agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder keep the faith, so do we.

I want to believe. A poster with this slogan hangs in the X-Files office. Kind of a modern take on what the father of a demon-possessed boy said to Jesus before the healing: "I believe. Help my unbelief." The desire to believe is sometimes the best we can do.

Trust no one. Reminiscent of Jesus' statement to the rich young man, "No one is good but God." The spiritual lesson here is not the imperative to "trust no one," because often on The X-Files trust is crucial to survival. Even though there were plenty of people and entities not to be trusted, the real spiritual lesson from the series is "be careful who you trust."

Government denies knowledge. In X-Files mythology, the government is in cahoots with a powerful secret cabal that hides "the truth" in order to keep the public from becoming panicked or disillusioned. The X-Files exaggerates, but there is a lesson here. Those who joined the civil rights movement to fight government-sanctioned racism, or gave sanctuary to refugees fleeing U.S.-backed insurrections in El Salvador, and who now plead for restraint in the new "war on terrorism" know that government PR cannot be taken at face value.