I often wonder why it is that I am so drawn to apocalyptic thought in my research, not to mention why people seem to be paying more and more attention to the topic generally speaking (e.g., see this upcoming conference). What I consider my “bad romance” with apocalyptic  thought began in the summer of 2006 in a course on early Judaism taught by James VanderKam. I simply read 1 Enoch and it was like the intellectual engines turned on. But today, I read an article in the Washington Post (HT: James McGrath), that gave me some broader context for why my brain might be so drawn to this mysterious line of research.

In that article, Hank Stuever interprets the run of ABC’s epic and mysterious “Lost” as an indicator of our collective identity for the past decade. Steuver notes, “It was the perfect show for our frustrated ’00s era, in which no one had to answer for anything much — not for the real estate and Wall Street busts, the levee floods, the bad war intelligence.” Widening the net further, he assesses: “At its most essential, the show was about an airplane crash, told from every possible angle. That’s also our story — wounded by the events of 9/11 and the controlled chaos that came with new battlefields and the worst economy in 70 years.” And still further defining our decade with “Lost”: “We’ll go on living in the future; the people of ‘Lost’ will forever belong to the 2000s, which some are already calling ‘the lost decade.’”

I don’t know who these people are that call the 2000s “the lost decade” — when I googled it, I got some things about Japan and investments — but the idea strikes a chord with me nevertheless, even if for not all the same reasons it does with Steuver. Going back even earlier than 9/11, our culture’s understanding of the decade began with bewildering anticipation about whether the first moment of 2000 would bring about the end of the world. The fanaticism that surrounded Y2K served as one of the cultural backdrops of my first year and a half in college.

Still, I didn’t realize my intellectual calling (as an academic) until my senior year of college, which was indeed the year of 9/11 and the subsequent upheaval of global politics. Academically, I struggled to find a truly satisfying research area. Meanwhile, as our 2000s culture began to explore–for whatever reason–television shows and movies of apocalyptic import, my brain got sucked into it all. Replacing my teenage obsession with Friends (perhaps my deepest connection with ’90s culture), my imagination was drawn towards shows like Lost, Heroes, Jericho, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, and now V and FlashForward. “Lost” began the year before I entered seminary.

Without a doubt, I appreciate working with concrete social issues, such as gender roles or economic stratification, in my research. But in the deepest core of my intellectual passions, my ultimate academic search is for complex, hidden mysteries. There is something I love about living with more questions than answers. Is that “Lost’s” effect on me or my attraction to “Lost” or both?

In any case, when people are all concerned about whether we will be “satisfied” with finale, I have a difficult time relating. For me, “Lost” was an apocalypse — an invitation to a world of hidden mysteries. But to be honest, just as I found my attraction to apocalyptic literature by entering the world 1 Enoch, I am more satisfied simply entering the mystery than I am with any attempt at explaining the mystery. For me, the “Lost” finale need not connect all the dots. Rather, I will simply mourn the loss of my biggest cultural partner in my research. Thankfully, I don’t think our culture is done with hidden mysteries.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of experiencing the musical Wicked at the Pantages Theatre in Hollywood. Not only did it meet my need for fun musicals with great music and big laugh lines, but I was also pleasantly surprised at its profound social message and its implications for historical research.

For those who don’t know, the musical is basically the story of Oz before Dorothy showed up. The “wicked witch of the west” (whose name is Elphaba) is really misunderstood and, also, she was college roommates with the “good witch”.  I think my favorite quote from the musical came from the wizard:

Elphaba, where I’m from, we believe all sorts of things that aren’t true. We call it – ‘history.’

A man’s called a traitor – or liberator
A rich man’s a thief – or philanthropist
Is one a crusader – or ruthless invader?
It’s all in which label
Is able to persist
There are precious few at ease
With moral ambiguities
So we act as though they don’t exist.

The song that opens and closes the musical repeats the line, “No one mourns the wicked.” Elphaba was a social activist who became such a threat to the powers that be (i.e., the wizard), that she was labeled the “wicked witch”. Thus, killing her became a good thing–not cause for mourning.

These themes of labeling are precisely what I will be working with in my doctoral studies. One could add to the wizard’s list: heretic or saint; exterminated criminal or martyr. How do groups, such as the early Christians, define their “enemies”? What motivates such labeling and language? What are the implications?

At any rate, I was pleased to find a place in popular culture where ambiguity is celebrated and its historical implications are even mentioned explicitly. It was good fun too.

So, a couple people already commented on this video by Pastor Steven Anderson (Faithful Word Baptist Church, Tempe, Arizona). It’s so crazy, it’s hilarious. See posts about it by Tyler Williams, Loren Rosson, Paul Martin, and others.

Here are some of my favorite lines:

And God said a man is someone who pisses against a wall. . . No man in Germany pees standing up. That’s where we’re headed in this country, my friend. We got a bunch of pastors who pee sitting down. . . . We got a bunch of preachers, a bunch of leaders, who don’t stand up and piss against the wall like a man. And I’m gunna tell you something: that’s what’s wrong with America. . . . It’s because the editors of the NIV pee sitting down. . . . I’m gunna tell you something: I’m not gunna pee sitting down.

I knew there was a reason I didn’t like the NIV. Here’s the bit:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDxcyqeRc-4]

I am grateful that he doesn’t end his sermon by going up to the wall and urinating in front of the congregation. Personally, I’d rather listen to the folks at the Big Brother house talk about the Bible, which they did in their latest episode (the scene happens after 24 minutes and it’s just after the third to last commercial break). Jim West, on the other hand, thinks that “when people on Big Brother discuss the Bible it makes me want to pull my ears off and gouge my eyes out with a sharpened cattle prod. They must find the most ill-informed people on the planet to be on that show.” I thought it could’ve been a lot worse. Namely, it could have been Pastor Steven Anderson. You can find clips from the 24 hour live feed of the show on YouTube and here’s a clip of some more BB Bible Study (contains some offensive language):

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=qa9ehznCPc8]

To me, this shows a guy who is really interested in the Bible and paying attention to it chatting with someone else who thinks it’s worthwhile to read the Bible. They’re taking a note from Stephen Prothero! They may not understand everything or have the best hermeneutic, but at least they’re reading it.