It's freaky movie month here at the xhurch, and having always fancied myself a horror buff, I realized recently (while browsing an "all time best" list) that there are countless titles—many classics even—that I've never really seen.
A handful, as it turns out, I only think I've seen—an effect of having walked the Hollywood Video horror aisle umpteen times in my pre-teen years.
Fast-forward to the present and a trip to the back room at Movie Madness is all it takes to realize the oceanic depths of the genre.
But The Omen, how had I never seen The Omen.
The less you know going in the better, I say:
The Omen Children Of The Corn Suspiria Pet Sematary Jaws The Exorcist Rosemary's Baby The Shining The Thing Let The Right One In Phantasm
I'm thinking about energy savings and efficiency a lot lately. The xhurch is getting cold. But I'm just talking like 55 degrees-cold and it already feels coooold. I'm trying to imagine 40's or god-forbid, 30-anything. So I'm looking at heating it, but I gotta find a way to do it affordably. Weather-stripping and frugal usage I think will be the key. At a minimum, I'll have to heat the place enough to keep the pipes from freezing, but I also have to work, and you can't type very well in Bugaboos.
I guess the point is, that I'd kinda planned on roughing it this winter. Wearing a parka and sleeping with a scarf tied around my head, where dreams of sweet Spring would surely be dancing. Well, it's October, and while I haven't said uncle just yet, I can anticipate saying it real soon. So I called NW Natural, and they gave me a good tip. Ceiling fans. Do I have them? they asked. Why, yes. Yes I do. This will help keep the warm air from simply rising and collecting in the 3,200 cubic feet of vaulted ceiling space, 9 feet above where it's of any use to me. And so, while turning on the fans seems like a counter-intuitive thing to do in the winter time, this just may help keep me a little warmer on a budget.
The whole "Ground Zero Mosque" controversy has been sensationalized. I've thought to cover it here, but why stoke the fire. Plus, if I allowed every public interest story with a religious motif to obligate me, I'd be committing myself to a life of solitude and digital abandon.
That said, the recently released artist's renderings for the proposed Park51 community center (formerly, Cordoba House) have spurred my interest. What they depict is a strikingly contemporary design, featuring an irregularly-patterned, honeycomb-like facade (reportedly based on abstractions from traditional arabesque patterns), and a crystalline interior that, as the above linked AP article put it, "could be an annex to Superman's Fortress of Solitude."
But aside from the somewhat adventurous look of the proposed community center/prayer facility, I'm interested mostly by what the look has to say about the mood of the building's proprietors. Clearly its meant to signal a break from the past. But in what direction does it point? And to what extent is its modernized aesthetic merely an appeal to secular society? Essentially, how much can the immutable doctrine of Islam really be expected to change?
What a fantastic resource. What an immaculate website. If I weren't so un-enthralled by data sets, I would spend all day here. This is data design at its best. Crisp. Clear. Impeccably organized. Behold the elegance of the drop-down charts found here.
I'm made to think of Edward Tufte, who has some fine books on this stuff. I'm sure he'd approve.
So yesterday took a turn for the fortuitous. First, I encountered this Slate article by Hitchens, which got me thinking about the "sort of free pass" that secular white America gives to black religious contingents.
Hitchens says:
"Many other charlatans have benefited from the clerical racket, and the most notorious of them—Jerry Falwell, Ted Haggard, Jim Bakker, Jimmy Swaggart—have been white. But there is something especially horrible about the way in which the black pulpit gets a sort of free pass, almost as if white society has assured itself that black Americans just love them some preaching. In this fog of ethnic condescension, it is much easier for mountebanks and demagogues to get away with it."
(A well elucidated point, I'd say. Something I've thought about but never put a finger on.)
That same evening I caught up with my friend Simon who happens to be reading God Is Not Great (and enjoying it, it sounds). In the book, Hitchens references a documentary: Marjoe. Simon watched it, said I might like it. He was right.
This film is somewhat mesmerizing. The title's namesake, Marjoe (a combination of the names Mary and Joseph), is a charismatic preacher, but a completely disingenuous one. Raised by professional evangelists who had him trained to spew the gospel at the ripe age of three (seriously, the results make Joe Jackson seem like a slouch), Marjoe went on to rebel and leave his life of church-itude behind, mixing instead with the free-spirited milieu of The Sixties. After some time, and after 'normalizing' to some extent, Marjoe returns to his life of preaching—only this time with a film crew.
Together they precede to dupe church honchos and followers alike, raking in ill-won donations, and exposing the ungodly art of religious charlatanism. It's really something to behold.
In one of the film's most memorable scenes, Marjoe gives a rousing (albeit characteristically canned) sermon at a mostly black Pentecostal church where the energy is downright effervescent. It's this scene that caused me to think back on the Hitchens article.
There's something so pure and genuine seeming—not about the preachers at black Pentecostal churches (at least not the ones featured in Marjoe)—but about the overall energy put forth by the congregation, the band, the gospel choir, the little old ladies with their little old lady hats and their hands in the air. It seems to defy the prejudices I have for other, stuffier, more stifling models of religious assemble, where instead of joyful outbursts you get solemn pageantry.
Now, I'm not excited about people continuing to delude themselves in either of these time-honored fashions. But for my money—or rather, had I to choose a church to preserve for posterity—I'd choose the Pentecostal faith for its sheer vitality and evident catharsis. What can I say, it plays on my sympathy. Part of what I think Hitchens was getting at.
Hey all. Sometimes I feel like a big jerk on this blog. Then other times I feel like so totally justified. These are growing pains people!
Anyways, onto the most recent improvements around the ol' church (for those who are curious).
Finally got that kitchen sink installed (actually, that got finished a couple weeks ago).
Just this past week however I managed to find a temporary home for six of the fourteen pews that have been congesting the nave (i.e., my living room) for the past month.
The eight remaining pews will at times be a burden, but will also come in handy in certain applications. A blessing and a curse, as I like to say.
I think I'd like to start another weblog to deal exclusively with the church project. A place where others can feel encouraged to share their stories of church rehab/reuse. I think it will be called xhurches. I think a coffee table book will eventually follow. Or a coffee table digital-data-display ebook download, or whatever it ends up being when I finally get around to it.
Consider this an open invite to share any knowledge of church adaptations. I think I'm aware of two others in town. Gonna follow up.
