Month: March 2013

Andrew Byers reviews Lillian Daniel’s When “Spiritual But Not Religious” Is Not Enough, which makes the case that the spiritual life “gets rich and provocative when you dig deeply into a tradition that you did not invent all for yourself”:

“Spiritual But Not Religious” is not a promotion of religiosity, legalism, or institutionalism. Nor is Daniel unworried about a meaningless ritualism that contents itself with going through the motions. Her intention, rather, is to present a spirituality thicker than the euphoric sensation brought on by a lovely sunset or by the smile of a giggling infant. Having labored for years amidst the trenches and pews of pastoral ministry, she knows all too well that a spirituality that can accommodate sunset hues but not cancer, grinning babies but not wails in the night, is woefully inadequate for the realities of an ex-Eden world.

The Spiritual/Not Religious category is not only insufficient for our sin-streaked realm; it is also grossly unoriginal. A spirituality divorced from communal life and eviscerated of a deep tradition is a predictable product of secular American consumer culture. It’s custom-made, says Daniel, for a “bland majority of people who find ancient religions dull but find themselves uniquely fascinating.”

Ed Voves highlights a new exhibit at the National Gallery of Art, Pre-Raphaelites: Victorian Art and Design, 1848–1900, about the innovative painters who “dreamed of reaching a better future by reviving the values of the past, especially of the Middle Ages”:

The three founding Pre-Raphaelites – John Everett Millais, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and William Holman Hunt … , idealistic art students in 1848, watched as political revolutions swept across the continent of Europe. They dreamed of a revolution too, but an aesthetic one inspiring a more equitable society for Britain… The Pre-Raphaelites shared several treasured ideals, but their painting styles varied greatly. The two transcendent themes, especially in their early work, were “truth to nature” and the power of religious faith. They aimed to depict the natural world with great fidelity, while evoking spiritual values as medieval artists had done.

(Image: John Everett Millais, “Christ in the House of His Parents,” 1849, via Wikimedia Commons)

Christopher Ryan paints a dark picture of the future of human sexuality:

Just as the 21st century saw friends replaced by Facebook friends, nature replaced by parks, ocean fisheries replaced by commercially farmed seafood, and sunshine largely supplanted by tanning salons, we’ll see sexual interaction reduced to mechanically provoked orgasm as human beings become ever more dominated by the machines and mechanistic thought processes that developed in our brains and societies like bacteria in a petri dish. Gender identity will fade away as sexual interaction becomes less “human” and we grow less dependent upon binary interactions with other people. As more and more of our interactions take place with non-human partners, others’ expectations and judgments will become less relevant to the development of sexual identity, leading to greater fluidity and far less urgency and passion concerning sexual expression.

It’s enough to make someone root for a major global meltdown:

Following the collapse of the consumerist, competitive mind-set that now dominates so much of human thought, we’d possibly be free to rebuild a social world more in keeping with our preagricultural origins, characterized by economies built upon sharing rather than hoarding, a politics of respect rather than of power, and a sexuality of intimacy rather than alienation.

In 1955, the first commonly prescribed tranquilizer, Miltown, burst onto the American scene, and “within a year, a staggering 1 in 20 Americans were regularly prescribed it”:

[Miltown] was a potent and prescription-only tranquilliser, most often used by women. Among American housewives, it became as fashionable as the latest style of dress or car. It was discussed at dinner parties and written about in lifestyle magazines. Miltown was, from its birth, bound up with ideas of glamour, framed as part of an aspirational lifestyle choice which Hollywood starlets and suburban housewives alike could indulge in. Celebrities promoted its benefits, and bowls of Miltown were even rumoured to be passed around like canapés at Hollywood parties.

Such anecdotes spawned a flurry of Miltown cocktail recipes for star-struck housewives to copy. There was the ‘Militini’, a martini with a pill replacing the olive. Or those more daring drinkers could try a ‘Guided Missile’ – a double vodka and two Miltowns. The jewellers Tiffany’s even produced ruby- and diamond-studded pill-cases, while Cartier advertised a silver charm bracelet with a convenient holder designed for a single Miltown pill. This was a medicine like no other – until it was surpassed by its descendant, Valium. By 1974, an astonishing total of 53.4 million Americans were taking Valium – a quarter of the whole population.

(Image: 1959 Miltown ad via Deco Dog)

They struggled against it just like we do today:

Our collective mythmaking about the Pilgrims and their pious conservatism does not make room for this image of the colony. Pilgrims are hard-working, religious, pious people to us, and Americans are intoxicated with this puritanical vision of past. We don’t see Plymouth as a party town, but as the birthplace of our best selves.

And yet alcohol was everywhere. The Mayflower had been stocked with more beer than water, as well as cider, wine, and aqua vitae, a form of distilled brandy. The first Thanksgiving included thanks for a successful barley crop, which allowed for the brewing of beer, and aqua vitae, or “strong water,” was used to smooth over discussions with the Wampanogs. Alcohol was essential to the survival of the colony, both as a drink and a currency, and a great deal of energy and time was dedicated to lawmaking and law enforcing surrounding the making, selling, and drinking of alcohol.