"Scribbling in the Sand" -- CCM and Liturgical Catechesis Pt. IV: Steve Taylor

Go to Pt. III  Go to Pt. V

From the 1980s to the early 1990s, Roland Stephen “Steve” Taylor emerged in the CCM scene as a unique, prophetic and rare satirical voice. Dubbed the “Clown Prince of Christian Rock”, Taylor’s work is known for its topical themes, emulation of various musical styles, and biting but insightful critique of…pretty much every meaningful target for a Christian musician to comment on. Without going into too much detail, Taylor’s work particularly towards the end of the 90s fell victim to what is known as “the satire paradox”, in which satirical media is often only properly recognized as such by people who are already aligned with the message or ideology of the satire. Many conservative Christian media curators were put off by his work, particularly when he tackled such topics as abortion. This eventually led to his disillusionment with the Christian music scene (though he remains a devout Christian and has in recent years returned to CCM as a collaboration partner). He formed the secular band “Chagall Guevara” in the 90s and eventually returned to writing Christian music when he produced songs for the Newsboys, as well as a couple of solo projects with Peter Furler once the latter left the band.

Taylor is an interesting example to talk about, because his music is very decidedly non-liturgical for the most part. He doesn’t write “worship music”, and while his world-focused commentary is in some ways similar to Petra, he is much more topical and specific. In this respect, he does actually embody I would argue one aspect of liturgy: the lifting up of the needs of the world to God and for the community to see. In a way, his music resembles an irreverent litany.

A sample of his titles should give a sense of the tone of much of his work: “Steeplechase,” “Whatever Happened to Sin,” “I Blew Up the Clinic Real Good” (his critique of militant pro-life activists), “Since I Gave Up Hope I Feel A Lot Better”.

The song I want to examine, however, is atypical of Taylor’s satirical work but falls more in line with the later work he would do producing for the Newsboys and co-writing songs with their frontman, Peter Furler. The song is a haunting, poignant piece entitled, “Harder to Believe Than Not To”.

The song opens with an achingly beautiful sample of a choral piece by Rachmaninoff. The title and concept of the song itself are taken from a letter by Flannery O’Connor in which she responds to critics who were surprised that she was a woman of faith, critics who referred to faith as a “crutch”. O’Connor responded in her letter that it was “harder to believe than not to believe.” One beauty of this song is the way it weaves in other works of art and culture in an organic way that contributes to the song’s message. In this way, Taylor offers a blueprint for building upon a kind of Holy Tradition, something that more contemporary Christian artists could stand to emulate. We all exist in a context, whether we know it or not, and Taylor draws on the talent and thought patterns of faithful Christian artists while making the song his own.

“ Nothing is colder than the winds of change/Where the chill numbs the dreamer till a shadow remains/Among the ruins lies your tortured soul/Was it lost there
Or did your will surrender control?”

The song then moves to the plaintive chorus:

“ Shivering with doubts that were left unattended
So you toss away the cloak that you should have mended
Don’t you know by now why the chosen are few?
It’s harder to believe than not to”.

This song is both a critique and an exhortation. We are encouraged to consider that the life of faith will be costly, and that discipleship is not easy. But we are also encouraged to carry on boldly and bravely, understanding that enduring and persevering through trials (without inviting them) is a sign of faithfulness, not failure (as secular society and some prosperity gospel preachers claim).

Taylor also subtly but insightfully names the forces both inside and outside the church that seek to keep us from Christ our goal:

“ Some stay paralyzed until they succumb
Others do what they feel, but their senses are numb
Some get trampled by the pious throng
Still they limp along “

Before flowing into the final chorus, Taylor offers a sly but gentle jab at those who think faith is for the weak:

“Are you sturdy enough to move to the front?
Is it nods of approval or the truth that you want?
And if they call it a crutch, then you walk with pride
Your accusers have always been afraid to go outside”

This is a laugh at the expense of the darkness, and the words of a faithful person who knows that though the battle against evil and suffering rages on, God has already won the war. It is indicative of the “upside-down Kingdom”* of God’s economy, where weakness is strength.

In this piece, Taylor offers a liturgical prayer infused with kenosis, the emptying of the self in order to receive fullness from God. Brilliantly, the song not only provides a compelling formative model for self-emptying, but also frames such kenosis as, in its own way, revolutionary. Many CCM songs talk about humbling oneself before God, but it is sadly (particularly in American evangelicalism) done in a way that equates to self-loathing. Here is a perfectly poised counterbalance to that attitude, a song which rejoices in the foolishness of the Way of Jesus in the eyes of the world while simultaneously framing faithfulness as a source of spiritual strength. Contemporary churches would do well not to shy away from the prophetic, kenotic elements in their liturgy, and to employ gifted artists and musicians who have this kind of “iconographic vision”, a vision that sees all human endeavor not in worldly terms of power, prosperity and influence, but in Kingdom terms of weakness, humility and love.

*to borrow a phrase from Donald Kraybill, Anabaptist author and theologian.

Dear Orthodox Progressives

I love you. I really do. And for the most part I love your work. Many of you have given me hope as a queer Orthodox Christian that not only is there a place for me in our tradition, but that our tradition is in fact very much about the sacrament of the human person, and the love that emerges when all of us, gay, bi, trans, and queer, live into Christ’s resurrection life. Your thoughtful, kind and luminous words rehabilitated church for me when I left the arid, rigid evangelicalism of my youth. You help me to stand strong in the face of the demagogues, the Orthodox fundamentalists, Byzantine imperialists, and all the people who seek to distort our beautiful faith in service of their own arrogance and fear of the other.

So I hope you know I appreciate you. And we need to talk about who you are, who we are, and where we’re going. We need to talk especially about the notion of respectability.

We are part of a conciliar tradition. What that means in the modern world is increasingly difficult to define, but I do feel that one of the strengths of our tradition is that we place a high value on consensus, contemplation, and harmonious accord before moving forward. This ethos has made us much more resistant* to splits and schisms, and has generally preserved a certain degree of humility among our leaders. That said, one of the things I feel we forget is that part of waiting for the Holy Spirit to “confirm” our councils and decisions as godly is that we need to step out in faith and give the Spirit something to work with. The Spirit did not tell the Apostles to stay in Jerusalem after they received the baptism by fire, but they heard the word of God to go to the ends of the Earth. We are still a part of that motion of bringing the good news to all people, and if we remain static then we are not doing our part to offer up the world for the life of the world to God.

Why am I talking about this? I’m saying it because I’m concerned that there is a tendency among Orthodox progressives to stagnate and balk at the work of faithful Christians (Orthodox and otherwise) who use more radical approaches to try and speak prophetic truth about God that we deeply need to hear. Nik Jovcic-Sas of Orthodox Provocateur carried an icon of the Theotokos with a rainbow halo gradient in a Pride parade in Belgrade, Serbia. This unsurprisingly sparked a conservative and fundamentalist backlash. More surprisingly to me, it sparked a progressive backlash. Many of you said that he was “profaning” the sacred icon by blending it with the rainbow. Some have even attacked Nik’s character and theology as being antithetical to Orthodoxy. I am troubled by our willingness to turn upon our own people. Would I have done a protest in the way Nik did? I don’t know. I’m not in touch with the Slavic Orthodox communities in the Old World. As a convert primarily running in American Greek circles, my witness to justice and inclusion will necessarily be shaped by the situation of my community. But given the long history of violence against LGBTQ+ people in Serbia and elsewhere, much of it sanctioned or even led by the Church, forgive me if I feel it’s a bit gauche to condemn someone who is clearly trying to witness to the love of Christ in a way that is very visible and frightening to the oppressive powers that be.

We may not agree with someone’s approach, but think of it this way. Radical activists are on the front lines of the fight we’re all engaged in, to make our church more clearly reflect the transformative love of the gospel. We don’t all have to be fighting on the front lines. There is much to be said for creating hospices for the wounded, for holding space within a more traditional understanding. But the forces that seek to oppress us don’t care whether we’re using their language or not. They will come for the Orthodox moderate who writes thinkpieces on re-evaluating the role of women in ministry and measured historical pieces on adelphopoiesis just as vehemently as they will attack the “Orthodox drag queen”. Look at what happened to Fr Robert Arida. Consider the backlash that Met. Kallistos Ware, a bishop, has received for what are really very mild critiques of the church’s pastoral approach to LGBTQ people.** Radicals create a space of freedom, liberation and hope we can all operate in. There are many gifts, but the same Spirit. Not all of us need to be doing what Nik is doing. But all of us need to come together and support especially those who are pushing and expanding the boundaries of what Orthodoxy can be. Those people make it safe for the rest of us to do our more introspective, thoughtful wrestling with the Truth. But if we force the radicals to conform to our ideas of what isn’t “rocking the boat”, we leave ourselves open to censure once those radicals are pushed out of the public eye. When it no longer is socially acceptable to make Pride icons or talk about the possibility of sanctity in, say, non-monogamous or non-marital relationships (for example)***, when no one will speak up for the radical, then the conservative bishops and hierarchs will begin to come down hard upon the moderate-progressive, and soon instead of the vibrant, multifaceted truth of Christ we will only have the cold voice of traditionalism, fundamentalism and idolatry.

I know my words may land harshly on some of us. I hope it’s clear that they are offered in a spirit of love, and exhortation to greater good works. We have all of us a part to play, but we need each other. I pray that we might all abide in God together, and never forget that we cannot truly make our church better unless we are willing to fight for the dignity and inclusion of all people, especially those whose ideas of church are more radical than our own.

Sincerely,

A Layman of the Eastern Church

*Though not immune, there are Orthodox splinter sects, whether we wish to acknowledge their existence or not

**This is not a call-out or a criticism of Met Kallistos’ remarks to the Wheel Journal. I really respect his willingness to speak out. I bring this up to call attention to the fact that he has suffered a disproportionate degree of backlash, and has likely avoided censorship primarily because of his high ecclesial rank. If even bishops aren’t safe, then what hope do priests or laity have if the space for prophetic critique is taken away?

***For the record, my own views on these matters are complicated. The point here is not to state an opinion one way or the other, but rather to say that these kinds of conversations can’t be silenced if we’re going to have a chance at surviving the onslaught of suppression, queerphobia, xenophobia and dead traditionalism. We may not agree with the answers that some of our siblings in Christ arrive at, but so long as they are pushing to make the Eucharistic assembly wider and more inclusive, it is imperative that we listen and come together.