I like to think that I have logical, well developed reasons for liking and not liking the things around me. Yet when I really examined why I prefer what I do, the answer was not what I expected –  it was a little disappointing to be honest.

Donald Trump and country music have always held a special place in my heart alongside black olives, paper cuts, and other things I don’t like very much. But until recently I’d only assumed I really knew the reasons why.

Country Music

Music is a an important part of my life. I love to listen to music with my brother Luke who has a great sense for good songs. We enjoy the same kind of stuff. Genre is hard to describe, but it’s something like light, alternative rock. The other day we were listening to “High as a Kite” – Weezer by Weezer, and he said that song, that sound, was the best summation of the music he liked. Mine might be “Up & Up” – Coldplay. Whatever the case, it’s a far cry from the pop-country played on the radio.

Country music actually affects my mood – I just really don’t like it. And I thought that it was the content, namely the lyrics. I thought that the reason I found it distasteful was because the songs were written poorly, or about things I thought were stupid. Being a person who tries to write songs here and there, I pay a lot of attention to words. And for a long time I thought that was the reason I hated country music: it’s bad writing.

But when listening through a playlist I recently made, I realized that I didn’t know what any of the songs were about – I didn’t even recognize the lyrics. When I sit at coffee shops to do homework, there’s almost always music playing. If a song catches my attention, I’ll let my phone listen to it, then screenshot the title and comeback to it later. This was how I made the playlist, and it became obvious that I didn’t screenshot these songs because they were good lyrically…you can never hear words well in coffee shops. So it wasn’t the words at all.

I concluded that I dislike country music (and like other music) largely because of the vibe. All the songs on that playlist were songs I liked because of how they were sang, and how they were played. The vocalists are generally not aggressive, or overbearing, or arrogant. The song sounds like something I can trust. They fit my vibe: mellow, thoughtful, poetic. In country songs, I don’t hear those things that I like. So in the end, it was more my tastes than anything that told me what was good and right in terms of music. I still believe the music I listen to is far superior and more worthwhile than country, but perhaps the reason I think so is different, less arrogant even.

Mr. Donald Trump

I also like politics. When I went to Tri-County Tech, I was part of a club that mostly just met in a classroom to talk about current events. While there, I took a philosophy class in which we read “The Republic,” a book written by Plato about two thousand years ago. In it, Socrates describes his ideal leader, the philosopher king. This ruler is one without falsehood, who refuses to accept what is false and has a love for the truth. He isn’t money-loving or a boaster. He is graceful, high-minded, a friend and relative of truth, justice, courage, and moderation. (485-486). It makes me happy inside thinking of this kind of leader.

In my mind, Mr. Donald Trump is a country song. He too puts me in a bad mood. I fell in love with Socrates’ idea of the philosopher king, and this is clearly not Mr. MAGA. His speeches, his Twitter, his campaign jargon about “making (and now keeping) America great” almost make me nauseous. He is not intellectual – he is not mellow – he is not personable or well spoken. I think we could have picked a better face for our nation.

But when I stopped to think about it, I realized that I don’t actually know very much about Mr. Trump’s ideology or policy. I’ve heard his talking points (build the wall – make America great – get better trade deals), but I have very little idea what most of it means. I don’t know what it actually means to have him as our president, what he actually wants to do, or what he is actually about. Perhaps then it’s not so much his content, his policy. Just as with the country music, I am deeply opposed to his vibe. I don’t like how he says things. But from another mouth…who knows?

Conclusion

The bad taste that Trump puts in my mouth is not simply because I have studied his policy and found it wanting. It’s because I’ve heard him speak, read his words, and found them extremely distasteful. That’s not how I would speak at all. And I don’t like country music on my radio. That’s not how I would sing at all. But I’d wager that my decisions to like and not like things are about as reasonable as those who do prefer country music and Donald Trump.

It’s not to say that there are no right answers when it comes to music and politics, only that it’s all too easy to claim the moral high ground without really considering what has led you there. As the Dude would say, “It’s just, like, my opinion, man.” And sometimes I forget that.

I recently became fascinated with “Old Town Road,” which has topped charts and become a sensation. I’d heard it played several times before I looked up the lyrics and was somewhat shocked. But the longer I thought about it, the more curious I became. And I came up with three ideas of what this song might be about.

A Good Ole Cowboy Song

The obvious, first listen interpretation is that it’s just about a cowboy hauling horses around in a trailer. He’s trying to get to “the old town road,” and he’s ready to ride him some horses. It’s got Billy Ray Cyrus; it mentions horses, a porch, wrangler jeans, hats, boots, bull riding, and a tractor. This is just a trap artist trying to work in as many feel-good, pop-country vibes as he possibly can.

A Really Shady Song

Secondly, I thought that this song could be really shady, everything meaning something else. This guy has got him some “horses” that he can’t wait to “ride” until he “can’t no more.” He’s got “lean” in his bladder (a drink that involves mixing prescription cough syrup, codeine, and promethazine). He states, proudly, that he’s cheated on his woman. His life is about “bull riding and boobies.” So this cowboy is pretty…less than noble.

A Protest Song

Lastly, I thought that maybe this song was written as a jab at hip, redneck culture – that it was taking a shot at pop-culture “cowboys.” I listened to a Broken Record podcast episode where Malcomb Gladwell interviewed David Byrne about protest songs. Byrne notes that sometimes these protest songs are big pop hits that no one understands. “They’re made in such a way that they blend in with other music…if you didn’t listen to the words, you might think it was a love song or a big pop hit…and then you listen to the lyric, and you realize Oh, this was about something else.

You don’t even know how badly I wanted this third one, the satire idea, to be true. That this song could have been a mockery of pop-cowboys, only to become the anthem of pop-cowboys, would have been wonderfully ironic. The vocals sound like a mockery of the southern drawl. He boasts about his black boots, matching hat (from Gucci), and a pair of Wranglers on his booty. He’s “riding on a tractor,” his “life is a movie” (about bull riding and boobies). He even croons, “Can’t nobody tell me nothing, can’t tell me nothing.” (that’s a triple negative).

I thought, maybe he’s just writing a song to make fun of rednecks who can’t be reasoned with cause they just want to ride their horses and wear their garb. No one could actually write a song this stupid and be taken seriously. And now it’s become an anthem of the ones it’s making fun of. How fun!

And it wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. Gladwell’s podcast talks about a song by the punk band Black Flag called “TV Party.” According to Wikipedia, it was “a satire of boredom, drinking, and America’s obsession with television.” The song was supposed to be making fun of people who just wanted to sit around and watch TV all day. It said things like, “I wouldn’t be without my TV for a day, or even a minute, I don’t even bother to use my brain anymore, there’s nothing left in it. What actually happened was that crowds loved it – it was an anthem. They just wanted to scream about having TV parties.

After several days of wondering about the true nature of “Old Town Road,” I looked it up. And I found a video of Lil Nas X himself explaining the song. I was really disappointed. He said,

“It’s about getting to a better place than where you’re at and saying ‘forget you’ to everyone who doesn’t want to see you there…The horse is a symbol of not having much. Cause when the car came in, the horse is like obsolete. The old town road is like a path of success.”

He was serious the whole time. My hopes about this song being clever were dashed against the rocks of how incredibly pathetic our collective tastes can be. This song is actually about a cowboy who just wants to make money and cheat on his woman and wear Gucci. It turns out Lil Nas X bought the beat for thirty bucks from a guy in Europe, and he got the music from a Nine Inch Nails song (34 Ghosts IV). Essentially, he wrote a pretty ridiculous poem, paired it with some stuff other people made, posted it on Twitter, and became a sensation. This world is a strange place. Good luck with your newfound fame, Lil Nas X. But I had really hoped for more.

This is the last essay I wrote this past semester. I had been planning to write about Jesus’ proclamation “blessed are the poor,” but this seemed more exciting. The Professor said my sources were pretty irrelevant, and I should have examined the texts more. I thought my sources were great, but he probably had a point. Either way, here are my thoughts about that mysterious thing.

The Unforgivable Sin

            Several passages in the New Testament briefly reference a sin which will not be forgiven. In Luke, it is called “blasphemy of the Holy Spirit” (Luke 12:8-10 NIV). While it is unclear what this sin is, it seems to be connected to the breaking of a sacred oath – a corruption of being – a turning from the light of truth. There is a line in Robert Bolt’s play A Man for All Seasons in which Sir Thomas More says, “When a man takes an oath, Meg, he’s holding his own self in his own hands. Like water. And if he opens his fingers then — he needn’t hope to find himself again” (Bolt). The New Testament passages which speak about “the sin that leads to death” (I John 5:16-17) approach it in much the same manner as Sir Thomas More’s dire warning against breaking an oath. This blasphemy seems to be a corruption which will not be undone. This paper will explore this theme is three sections: hypocrisy, selling a soul, and a descent into darkness.

(Hypocrisy)

“I tell you, whoever publicly acknowledges me before others, the Son of Man will also acknowledge before the angels of God. But whoever disowns me before others will be disowned before the angels of God. And everyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven” (Luke 12:8-10).

At the beginning of this chapter in Luke, Jesus warns his disciples, “Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy.” He goes on to tell them, “do not be afraid of those who kill the body…fear him who…has power to throw you into hell” (Luke 12:1-5). With this as a preface, Jesus says that whoever speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven.

Here, the warning seems to be for one who, like Judas the traitor, is two-faced. Psychologist Dr. Jordan Peterson says, “If you’re not honest, you can’t trust your own intuition… and this is why virtue is a necessity. If you lie to yourself or to other people, you corrupt the structure that you use to interact with being” (Peterson). It is surprising how lightly Jesus seems to take speaking against the name of the Son of Man (his own name). Yet speaking against the Holy Spirit, he says, is another matter entirely. It is implied that those who could blaspheme the Holy Spirit are those who have been shown the truth, walked in it, and then turned their back. Like Judas, they have held righteousness in their embrace and then done violence to him they swore allegiance to. This blasphemy is the breaking of an oath entered into by humanity and divinity.

(Selling a Soul)

“See that no one is sexually immoral, or is godless like Esau, who for a single meal sold his inheritance rights as the oldest son. Afterward, as you know, when he wanted to inherit this blessing, he was rejected. Even though he sought the blessing with tears, he could not change what he had done” (Hebrews 12:16-17).

Along with the breaking of an oath, this sin seems also seems to be closely tied to the selling of one’s integrity for profit. Like Esau, who sold his inheritance rights for a meal, those who blaspheme the Spirit, i.e. commit treason, sell the integrity of their being for immediate gain. This transaction is a corruption with deep implications. We all come into the world in a sinful state. But to corrupt means to change; treason means to turn back away from that which you have loved and fought for. It is the highest charge to be laid upon man.

In a lecture titled “The Necessity Virtue,” Dr. Jordan Peterson says,

It’s been said that the most important event of the twentieth century was the Nuremburg trials [following] World War II [which] dealt with those…especially responsible for the horrors committed. In this trial, the standard defense…was, “I was ordered to do it.” However, the court denied human beings, regardless of their race, ethnicity, background, or beliefs, the legal right to use that as a defense…the argument was that there are some things which are so self-evidently…not virtuous, that if you engage in them, you’re existentially guilty; you’re guilty outside the bounds of your culture. (Peterson)

The Nuremburg Trials saw people from different languages, religions, philosophies, and allegiances unite to declare that every member of mankind is liable to some larger covenant than that within the bounds of his own culture. Those who sell their being, who allow themselves to be corrupted to the point that they delight in the torture their fellow man, are guilty of treason against our collective nature. They have sold their souls to a deep darkness. And like Esau, they may beg and plead, but they cannot change what they have done. And like Judas, they have corrupted their being. For Judas was with the Lord, he tasted of the truth, and he sold his friend (and thereby his own soul) for thirty pieces of silver.

(A Descent into Darkness)

“If you see any brother or sister commit a sin that does not lead to death, you should pray and God will give them life. I refer to those whose sin does not lead to death. There is a sin that leads to death. I am not saying that you should pray about that. All wrongdoing is sin, and there is sin that does not lead to death” (I John 5:16-17).

When John mentions the sin that leads to death, he seems to imply a change of direction. He says that the sin leads the one who commits it. While “All wrongdoing is sin” (I John 5:17), there seems to be a sin which is able to lead us, to drag us away to darkness. Peter tells us that those who “have escaped the corruption of the world by knowing…Jesus Christ and are again entangled in it and overcome [by corruption], they are worse off at the end than at the beginning.” He even says that they would have been better off never knowing what is right than to have known and turned away (II Peter 2:20-21).

In The Republic, Socrates describes the ascent towards being as coming up out of the darkness of a cave and into the light of day (Plato). This is the slow renewal of what was first in darkness. The account in I John paints the sin that leads to death as the descent back down into the depravity of the cave. No one can be faulted for being born depraved; we did not choose our condition. Yet when a man has gone up out and seen the light of day, tasted the truth, felt the warmth of righteousness, for him to walk back down is a sin of another nature.

It must be understood that returning to the cave, i.e. committing the unforgivable sin, is not the same as visiting the shadows where the sunlight is shortly diminished. Believers sin all the time. This does not mean that they cannot be forgiven. When one turns away from the light, a light that’s warmed him and which he’s sworn by, and walks back to the darkness where he came from, he commits a sin which corrupts his very being. If we hope to remain in the light, we do well to remember the words of Sir Thomas More who said, “When a man takes an oath, Meg, he’s holding his own self in his own hands. Like water. And if he opens his fingers then — he needn’t hope to find himself again” (Bolt).

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This is a story and my theory of everything – we all have one.

This past weekend I went to Ohio for a wedding. After the singing, vowing, eating, and dancing were over, we went to The Book Loft in downtown Columbus. It had several floors and dozens of rooms with books on every subject imaginable. You could get lost in there (I did). There was so much to look at that it felt like you could never stare long enough to take it all in. But as we walked down a narrow hallway away from the history of the American military, I noticed a certain painting hanging on the wall. I knew within five seconds of seeing it that I had to have it. It made perfect sense. It was as if Leonid Afremov had listened to me explain the way I see the world and then put it on canvas. He calls it Bewitched Park.

We traveled back home after a wonderful weekend, and I brought the painting into my room. Instead of dropping $25 on a frame, I decided to just try and make one. As per usual, Grandpa left his shop unlocked and said I could use whatever I could find. So Aleisha and I cut and planed and glued and guessed for about two hours and emerged with a wooden frame.

While we were hanging it in my room, she asked why I liked the painting, why I had to have it. I didn’t have a very good answer immediately. But this is why.

I spent a lot of my life believing that when I was a good boy, things went well for me – and that when I was bad, things went poorly.

That when I make good choices, God lets me feel good inside – and when I make bad choices, God makes me feel bad inside.

That if I could be faithful, I could feel close to God – and if I strayed away, I wouldn’t feel his presence anymore.

I kind of believed that the good way was a straight (narrow) path illuminated by the light. As long as you stay on the path God has laid out, the light will shine on you, you’ll have peace, and you’ll feel close to God.  The last two years have been a long series of un-learning this way of thinking. I have come to believe that I am the man with a black umbrella plodding through Bewitched Park.

I had to have this painting because the path cutting through Bewitched Park looks more like the one I’m on than the one I used to believe in, the one where if we walk straight we get shined on all the time. I had to have this painting because the man in the painting has to use an umbrella to keep from getting soaked in the rain.

Two years ago, my explanation for the darkness I felt was something like I must have strayed from the path. Now, I’m coming to believe that I don’t get too much a say in how bright things are along the way – I must choose only to keep walking and pray for the light. When the way goes through open fields, I run. When I feel peace inside, I thank God. When the light shines on me, I feel alive inside and smile.

And when the way goes into the dark woods, I can only say, It’s dark as hell out here. But I see no way through these woods except this road. I do not control the sun, and I didn’t plant these giant trees blocking out all the light. I am anxious, afraid, paralyzed, and lonely. But I will wait for the light and walk on, ducking down under my black umbrella.

My theory of everything is that we ought to dance in the light and walk through the dark with the knowledge that we cannot reach the light-switch. If you are warmed by the light, you ought to give someone a hug. If you are cold in the dark, you should reach out your arms. In Bewitched Park, you’re never too far from the bright lights shining to the left or the dark woods looming to the right. And the path through one usually leads to the other.

I have decided that in the dark woods or in the bright light, faith is what’s required of me. Faith and walking on. I’ve lived in fear for too long.

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We are crooked souls trying to stay up straight,

Dry eyes in the pouring rain, yeah well,

The shadow proves the sunshine, the shadow proves the sunshine,

(Switchfoot)

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