Zuckerman is an American sociologist whose book studies the spiritual (or aspiritual) outlook of Nordic Europeans—specifically Danes and Swedes—and how the decline in their religious concerns is reflected in the state of their society. Zuckerman conducted his research mostly in Denmark primarily through lengthy first-person interviews. He relates portions of these conversations throughout the book, with little emphasis on statistics and data (though that is interspersed), making the study highly readable and quite compelling. One of Zuckerman’s primary undertakings in this study is to refute the oft-touted theory that if a nation “turns its back on God,” then moral chaos and disastrous consequences will certainly ensue. According to Zuckerman, nearly the opposite is true: he finds Denmark and Sweden to be pleasant, safe, and prosperous societies despite (or perhaps because of) their lack of religiosity. Coming from my own American Capitalist Jesus-saturated culture, I read the discourses with great intrigue. One remarkable passage struck me almost as science-fiction. A thirty-nine year old atheist named Christian related the following account about a surprise confession he received from a friend:

…suddenly one night we had a few drinks and then he said to me, “I have a confession to make.”…and then he told me that he believed in God. And I was quite surprised. I never thought in my whole life that…well, he was getting pretty loaded, you know, and then he had this urge to tell me….[It’s] unusual. I never expected anybody to tell me something like that. That was—I almost fell down off the chair. I said—[pantomines an expression of shock]—and I didn’t know how to react, and then he said to me, “I hope you don’t feel I’m a bad person.” So he said that to me and I said, “Oh, of course, you can believe whatever you want as long as you respect me,“ I said to him. But it was something he had kept for a long time, and finally he got the mood, you know, and it was after a few bottles of red wine, you know. It was a confession…”Now we are so good friends, I can tell you this because this is my inner secret,” you know. -p.54

You know? No, I didn’t. Society Without God will cause me to reevaluate some of the common arguments I’ve heard so often about God and politics. How do you feel about the influence religion has on society in your country?

I have more core beliefs than I have imagined recently.  Sometimes it takes a big change to shake you up and see what has always been there.  I have a grasp on what I feel is important for me and my family in church.  I have faith in myself and the leadership of my church to continue pushing my family in the right direction.

Has Religion Run Its Course?

http://brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/q-r-evangelism-and-evangelists.html#more

I am pleased to report I had no instances of wanting to throw the book against the wall this week while reading Brian McLaren’s latest offering, A New Kind of Christianity. (Although I was challenged to repent of my us vs. them mentality and characterization of Calvinists—touché!)  Instead, I was inspired and reignited by McLaren’s discussion of ten questions he identifies as those perplexing many Christians today.  He asserts that the conversation we have about these issues can (and will) reshape the future of our faith and our ability to function within it with integrity.  I wholeheartedly agree.  I’m sure there will be plenty of book reviews to devour if you need to know all the details of the book before (or without) reading it.  I’ll spare you the outline, and hit a few personal highlights.

Two overarching premises that begin the book were extremely helpful to me:  1) a concise and accessible overview of Greek philosophy and a description of how its belief system has come to dominate our understanding of God and the Christian story, and 2) a plea for the image of “community library” to replace “constitution” as the dominant metaphor for our approach to reading scripture.  (I especially appreciate the articulation of this “constitutional reading” approach which I have never had adequate vocabulary for expressing.)  With these tools as a presupposition, I saw the other questions from new angles and with fresh perspective.  McLaren selectively intersperses Biblical passages and exegesis throughout, and his comments have the weight of sound study and a gentle pastoral voice.  I was particularly moved by his very simple but profound description of the purpose of the church (p. 164): “…to form Christlike people, people of Christlike love. It exists to save them from the great danger of wasting their lives, becoming something less than and other than they were intended to be, gaining the world but losing their souls.”  (In a nod to McLaren’s quest for common ground, I was struck at how similar this vision is to a call often issued from esteemed Calvinist pastor John Piper.)

I found great sensitivity and wisdom in McLaren’s exegesis of the story of Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch as a starting point for our discussions about sexuality and the sexual “other,” rather than the decontextualized verses often thrown around on this topic under a constitutional reading.  His astute insight regarding “my Father’s house” in John is also worth pondering.

There is much to like here.  More importantly, there is much to contemplate…and to act upon.  McLaren has no shortage of critics, his words continue to stir up.  I count myself among those already convinced of his vision, and I hope the reading of this book will result in more “converts” to the quest.

There were days when I was grateful for everything that London and life in the West offered—stability, a fast and uncensored Internet, and the luxury of worrying about toxicity in Hourmazd’s toiletries rather than in the propaganda murals on the street.  On other days…I felt unbearably lonely….In Tehran, the constant presence of relatives had meant that I had the pleasure of company, intellectual stimulation, and reassurance that was more steady than any parenting book, as well as time to shower, and even occasional moments of idleness.  I was poised and rested, and I actually found both working and mothering fun.  In London, I became the sort of woman, the sort of mother, who suddenly needed many extraneous and costly things—yoga classes, child-care gadgets, an agency-certified nanny, a housekeeper, bottled baby food—just to get through the week without becoming an exhausted wreck.

 And on a trip back to Iran:

We stayed with Arash’s parents, who were elated to welcome the grandson they had seen everyday for nearly a year and then not at all.  Hourmazd delighted in the company, finding incentive to turn his babble into near words, and was entertained enough to abandon his attention-thirsty naughtiness.  Watching my transformed little son play, I wondered whether this is how it was supposed to be—big families living together, generations under one roof, a whole community of well-intentioned relatives helping raise one another’s children.  I believe that children show you what they need in order to be happy, and if Hourmazd’s behavior was any measure this is what he needed: cousins, aunties, honorary aunties, and grandparents to be in his life every day, not just twice a year for a week.  Maybe I needed it, too.

 There are many accounts of unhappy living arrangements in Iran in this book.  This is mostly a singular, emotional-born reflection, but an important one nonetheless.  I am curious to know what others think on this topic, or if you have given it any thought at all.  I’m sure myriad things play into our personal views: cultural norms, relationships with family, our own personalities and desires, the number and temperament of our children….on and on.  I don’t expect this to be a conundrum with a solution, but I benefit greatly from the insight and discussion of others.  Comments are welcome from singles, childless, and men as well.

What do you think?