When I wrote my first work on religion and popular culture, Virtual Faith, more than thirteen years ago, I did not conduct the research with any kind of sophisticated qualitative-theological consciousness, a consciousness that has rapidly become something like the gold standard, or at least one gold standard, in practice-based theologies. I worked, rather, largely from social science and religious studies research (about popular culture and generational identity) in correlation with theological concepts (mostly theologies of culture and hermeneutical and philosophical theologies — the stuff of my graduate studies at the time) — rendered intelligible for a “crossover” audience of academics and educated lay readers. That is to say, even though I did study music videos closely and give my own interpretations of them, I did not foreground that “qualitative” process and instead was focused mostly on working through concepts and ideas that related to (whether arising from, carried by, or funding) spiritual practice in contemporary culture.

I have been thinking about the staying power of what I call such “philosophical research” in practice-based theology in the midst of the strong turn toward social science methods for theology. Philosophical research is, in a sense, a very traditional way of writing theology for pastoral questions. This research is written at some critical remove from a pastoral situation, or else a pastoral situation becomes the occasion for a reflection that steps back to consider broader and deeper issues that might bear on a pastoral situation. But in this research, there is typically no fresh “data” presented about the actual practice at stake; no new qualitative or quantitative information is introduced in the research. But that does not mean that actual practice, action, or performance is absent. Practice is the occasion for the philosophical exploration, and a new practice – however changed, renewed, or even transformed – is the intention of the philosophical exploration. It is meant to try to make an intervention in the thinking of the academic or pastoral worker, wagering that this particular way of carrying the argument about what to do will in fact be persuasive for the goals of ministry or culturally-interested theology.

And so while I call it philosophical research, it is not abstract argumentation for the sake of mere clarification of ideas or unaccountable rumination. It has action as its target, and therefore theological rhetoric as its instrument. It has to consider how to make the case with sufficient academic sophistication to meet the canons of critical reasoning in theology, and with sufficient pastoral richness to meet the exigencies of pastoral action in the real world. Or as the Indigo Girls put it, to help us take our lives (less) seriously.

To call it philosophical research does not mean that one necessarily uses “philosophy” in the sense of a discipline distinct from theology, as if one has to be quoting Immanuel Kant or Hannah Arendt. Remember that philosophy was at one time seen as a partner for theological study, and indeed that for much of the tradition, philosophy is not separated out from theology.

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One of the first musical acts that got me thinking about the complex relationship of “rock” and “theology” — beyond the world of “Christian rock” anyway — was the Indigo Girls. Recently the online multimedia journal of practical theology Practical Matters featured a video interview/conversation with Emily Saliers of the Indigo Girls and her father Don Saliers who teaches liturgical theology at Candler School of Theology.

The interview, titled “A Song to Sing, A Life to Live: A Conversation about Musical and Liturgical Imagination with Don and Emily Saliers,” includes discussion of music and the theological and moral imagination, the relationship between “sacred” and “secular” music, the role of music in movements for social change, music’s place in the “liturgy wars,” the relationship of musical analysis and musical practice, and much more. And they even play a little music together.

The interview also gives a good introduction to themes apparently taken up in their co-authored book A Song to Sing, A Life to Live: Reflections on Music as Spiritual Practice (Jossey-Bass, 2006) which has now made its way to my “wish list.”

Michael Iafrate
Parkersburg, West Virginia

Almost exactly ten years ago, I had just moved to Georgia, and I was sitting in Javamonkey cafe in Decatur, writing my PhD dissertation, and noticed that Amy Ray of the famous indie-folk group Indigo Girls had just walked in. She was obviously recognized by many of the locals, but was left alone. A few days earlier, I had been working at home and saw out the window a woman across the street hauling guitars to a small storage trailer hitched to a van. I soon found out that neighbor was none other than Michelle Malone, a rising star in the indie-rock-folk circuit.

Last night those neighborhood memories came back to me, when my wife and I saw Michelle Malone and the Indigo Girls live in a sold-out show at the elegant Music Hall in Tarrytown. Both bands write inordinately singable, memorizable, emotionally involving songs with a depth of heart, feminist punch, political savvy, and importantly, guitarish prowess. Not to mention vocal gifts that are among the most exquisite of their generation of women rock artists, or any rock-folk musicians whatsoever today. The result is beautiful, moving, rousing song after beautiful, moving, rousing song, whether the more earnest and socially conscious folk style of the Indigo Girls or the more gritty lost-and-foundness, and sometimes sexually provocative jammy blues rock of Michelle Malone. And both bands share out some exposed entrails of Christianity regularly in their music. Their songs seem to reflect and speak to those who find that they must deal with Christianity in their lives, for better and worse, and who cannot find institutional church life making sense in their lives. (As is well known, one of the Indigo Girls, Emily Saliers, is the daughter of Emory University theologian Don Saliers. The two wrote a book together a few years ago, A Song to Sing, A Life to Live: Reflections on Music as Spiritual Practice (Jossey-Bass, 2006).)

I have seen Michelle Malone in concert at least a dozen times, and am going to see her again this coming Wednesday in New York City. I had never seen the Indigo Girls live before. One of the remarkable things about seeing both of them is just how many verses, choruses, or entire songs the audience will enthusiastically sing along with them — and how distinctively female those gladsome and strong voices are. I had the feeling last night, as many hundreds of women, who were easily the majority in the audience, belted out song after song with the Indigo Girls, especially from their first several albums, that this is music that is genuinely a part of many women’s salvation — in the various ways that salvation might be defined.

While in Atlanta, and in the years since, I have met many women for whom the music of Michelle Malone, Amy Ray, and Emily Saliers has been an essential traveling companion. The advocacy of all three women for lesbian and gay political (and spiritual) equality is also an essential part of their musical and theological importance, and of their meaning for many fans. The Christianity one often finds “in” their music, is of the “secular Christian” sort that I have tried to discuss at various points on this blog. I have embedded one video from each that give some sense of the kinds of Christian themes that circulate through their music. I have also put in one of them performing together the Rolling Stones’ “Wild Horses.” It is not too much to posit that between them and their fans, new secular theologies get fostered.

Tom Beaudoin

Hastings-on-Hudson, New York