I don’t normally turn to movie critic Roger Ebert for thoughts about religion, but a friend of mine recently sent me a link to a Chicago Sun-Times article Ebert wrote remembering Gene Siskel, his movie-reviewing colleague, who died in 1999.

Ebert has always been an excellent writer, and the piece is a compelling reflection, on the 10th anniversary of Siskel’s death, upon their history together. But there was one passage in it that struck me as particularly noteworthy, especially as someone always looking for thoughts about religion in the mainstream world. Ebert called attention to Siskel’s devout Judaism:

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His parents had started one of the early synagogues on the North Shore after World War II. “I had a lot of long talks with my father about our religion,” Gene told me. “He said it wasn’t necessary to think too much about an afterlife. What was important was this life, how we live it, what we contribute, our families, and the memories we leave.” Gene said, “The importance of Judaism isn’t simply theological, or, in the minds of some Jews, necessarily theological at all. It is that we have stayed together and respected these things for thousands of years, and so it is important that we continue.” In a few words, this was one of the most touching descriptions of Judaism I had ever heard.
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That’s a profound observation, I think — that one of the most important aspects of faith are the traditions it gives families, and the way it connects people today to people from centuries ago (“we’ve stayed together and respected these things for thousands of years, and so it is important that we continue”). Regardless of theological beliefs, he’s saying, religion is a good, beneficial thing because its practice binds people together into community.

I agree. But it’s also a lightning-rod statement, of course, because there are plenty of things about that idea that will get people angry. Sure, that’s a nice thing to say about Judaism — it’s important to keep those traditions strong, and to know that Jewish boys in ancient Palestine were learning and reciting the same prayers as Jewish boys in 2009. It’s cool to know that early Christians were saying the Lord’s Prayer and observing Communion, just as Christians do today. We can get behind that statement because it applies to our team, but my guess is that a lot of Christians and Jews would get behind it only if you apply it that way.

What if you extended it? How many of us would say that Muslims have stayed together and respected certain traditions for the last 1500 years, and it’s important that they continue to do so? It’s hard to say that if we think Muslims are wrong in their beliefs, or deluded in their faith.

And I know a lot of contemporary, non-liturgical Christians who look at even Christian tradition as lifeless and empty. They would read Siskel’s statement and think it was, well, stupid. The importance isn’t necessarily theological? they would think. That’s nonsense. The traditions are only meaningful because of the theology behind them. Without theology — without orthodoxy, without right beliefs — it’s just a bunch of meaningless actions.

And with respect to Judaism or Islam, they might scoff at the idea of “continuing” a tradition just for the sake of continuing it…because, as a Christian, we’re supposed to believe that the other guys are wrong. And why continue something that might be wrong?

So I guess I’m not really here to offer any conclusions or praise for Siskel’s statement, or Ebert’s response to it. But it’s thought-provoking. It causes me to question both the traditions of my own faith and the why it may (or may not) be important to continue them. It causes me to look at my motives and ask how far I can agree with that statement: only in regard to my own faith? Or with other religious traditions as well? How far am I willing to extend grace and see beauty and purpose in religious practices? Only as far as the borders of Christianity? Or beyond it?

I’m interested in your thoughts. What role do the traditions play in faith? How important are they? Are they as important as theology? What is your reaction to Ebert’s recollection of Siskel’s statement about faith?

Today is Ash Wednesday. This is the beginning of the traditional Christian season of Lent and a fasting day for many liturgical Christians, and it’s becoming more of an emphasis among evangelicals and Protestants like me. I thought about doing a post today about why I observe Lent, but then I remembered I wrote that post already last year. But many of you who faithful readers are relatively new, and may not have seen it. So I’m going to re-post.

Forgive me. It’s a Lenten thing to do.

I also added links to the writers mentioned below, in case you want to read more. Because you should.

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(originally posted 2/6/08)

By virtue of my background, membership, and my current church attendance (though, perhaps, not my theology), I am a Southern Baptist. Thanks to our Anabaptist heritage — which threw out anything smacking of popishness back in the 17th century — I knew nothing of the church calendar during my formative religious years. So Lent wasn’t just de-emphasized. In my church, it didn’t even exist. Easter was a big deal, and the church office was closed on Good Friday, but that was it. Ash Wednesday? Not a word. It passed by every year without notice.

I learned more of it as I hit my twenties and began to expand the boundaries of my faith. I read Catholic writers like Merton and Nouwen and Manning and Protestant writers like Yancey and Peterson and gradually I learned the significance of the Lenten season as a way to turn one’s mind toward repentance, to practice self-denial, and to prepare for Easter.

It was my little sister, though, who really got me thinking about it. She shipped off to graduate school in Syracuse and began attending more liturgical churches. (As you might expect, Southern Baptists don’t have too strong of a presence in upstate New York.) She came home one spring break and fastidiously got up every morning and made some green tea. Instead of coffee. We Boyetts are heavy coffee-drinkers, so this was news.

Micha had given up coffee for Lent. I was intrigued, and did some research. Fasting during Lent was a way to acknowledge (with great humility) the self-sacrifice of Christ on the cross. In observance of Lent, Christians gave up something they loved — coffee, sweets, alcoholic beverages, shopping — in order to a) practice a mild form of self-denial; b) replace it with something of benefit, like prayer or scripture reading; and c) remember Jesus and remain conscious of his death during the weeks leading up to Easter.

It sounded like a valuable spiritual practice (as opposed to being some scary works-based Catholic thing all good low-church evangelicals ought to ignore). And lately I’d been noticing how Easter kept sneaking up on me. Suddenly it was there, without warning…which never happens with Christmas. Christmas never sneaks up on us, because we begin preparing for it as soon as we get the dishes washed after the Thanksgiving meal. I realized that was the role the Lenten season played: it made me anticipate the coming of Easter, which made the celebration of the resurrection that much more meaningful. (What a dumb sentence that was. As if something I do can actually add meaning to the resurrection. But you know what I mean. I hope.)

So that year I decided to observe Lent by fasting from something I knew I would really miss: listening to my car’s radio and CD player while driving. No NPR. No sports talk radio. No music. Just silence.

Guess what I did with that time? I prayed. For my kids, my wife, for my own spiritual journey. I found some good prayers of confession that fit the Lenten season and I prayed them. Sometimes, I just enjoyed the quiet. It was nice. And that year, Easter didn’t sneak up on me. I knew when it was coming. I had been thinking about it and preparing for it for a month-and-a-half.

That’s why I observe Lent. The self-denial is good for me, obviously, but more than that, it gets me ready for Easter. It shifts my attention to Jesus, and that’s a good thing. It’s something I need. It’s something we all need, whether we’re Catholics, Episcopalians, or casserole-eating Southern Baptists.

Links: Historical background of Lent (Christianity Today)

An excellent piece at Slate.com about the growing Protestant enthusiasm for Lent.

A comprehensive overview at CRI/Voice Institute.

Back in 2006, I traveled to the Dominican Republic with Tom Larson, the founder and then-President of Healing Waters International. (I wrote a 5-day travelogue for Relevant, which you might be interested in reading: Day One. Two. Three. Four. Five.) I’ve written about Tom on my blog before, and you can click here to read a little about it and see a silly Denver Post photo of him and his wife, Dana.

Anyway, Tom and I hit it off immediately on the trip. Both of us had a background in advertising and copywriting, among other traits, and we became good friends. I haven’t traveled with him again, but I’ve spent time with him at his home in Denver, shared several meals with him and his family, and kept in touch. Tom “retired” from the administrative aspect of his Healing Waters work a year ago — he’ll admit he was in way over his head, a copywriter trying to run a multinational non-profit — in order to write more and advocate on behalf of the organization.

He has spent much of his time since working on his personal memoir of the last several years. I’ve read several chapters of the manuscript, and it is an intensely compelling read. His road is not a typical one, unless you consider the transition from pot-head advertising professional to Christian missionary to founder of an international clean-water organization to be a well-trodden path. Tom has had a crazy and inspiring life, fueled as much by human failures as by a deep passion for God and ministry.

The parts of the book I have read are deeply honest about these failures, about how Tom stumbled into the mission work and the founding of Healing Waters, and about how God used him despite his flaws. When I read him, it feels very much like reading Anne Lamott, had Anne been a missionary in the Dominican Republic. Funny, dry, profound, and peppered with words you don’t normally find in books about God. Also there’s the title of the book: For Love of God and Beer.

Tom and I have been in touch as he’s tried to market the manuscript, and despite the strength of his writing, it’s been difficult to get the attention of the few publishing houses he’s spoken to. Christian publishers aren’t interested in books about God that have cuss words in them — despite Tom’s authentic faith. Those are hard to sell in Christian bookstores. The “beer” in the title doesn’t help either.

But the flat-out religiousness of Tom’s journey is kinda scary for the mainstream publishers, too. Tom feels strongly, though, that to edit or censor the writing is to tell an inauthentic story, and I agree. Nevertheless, both of us are convinced that there’s a market for this kind of book — there’s always a market for great writing (proof: Anne Lamott) — and he’s come up with an interesting idea to discover that market.

He created a website, and has built it around the prologue for his book and a survey. The survey will hopefully help him accomplish a couple of things: 1) It will discover how people feel about his style of writing, and whether or not they are interested in reading more. And 2) it will help him gauge how many people are offended by the beer part and the cussing parts and whether or not that would discourage them from buying his book. A good sample of people taking the survey and answering honestly provides some ammunition to give publishers. The whole survey is anonymous, by the way.

Because I like Tom and I believe very strongly in his writing, I’m doing my part to help. I’d like you to join me. Here’s what you can do:

• Go to Tom’s website, GodandBeer.com, and read his prologue. (Warning: it contains some strong language, for those of you who might be offended.)

• After you’ve read the prologue, take the survey. (Warning: it also contains a small amount of strong language, along with a bunch of questions about beer… for those of you who are Southern Baptists.)

• Spread the word. Invite your friends to read the For Love of God and Beer prologue and answer the survey questions as well. Link to it on Facebook, and Twitter, and your own blog.

I’ll greatly appreciate it. So will Tom Larson.

Good writing needs to find an audience. You can help make that happen.

We’ve arrived on almost-final artwork for the covers of my new Pocket Guide books, which are scheduled to release around late July/early August this year. As someone who makes his living as both a writer and designer, I’m pretty picky about cover art — if the Jossey-Bass crew is reading this, they’re probably groaning and rolling their eyes at each other right now — but I like these covers and am excited for the books to release.

We’re in the middle of final copyedits to the manuscripts. After that we’ll transition into the production stage, with the manuscript being typeset and placed in the actual page layout. Which means it’ll stop looking like a Word document and start looking like a book. Always a big step.

In other news, I emailed the finished manuscript for O Me of Little Faith to Zondervan last night. Is that you cheering? I think it is. Only it occurs to me that you might be cheering because this blog post isn’t about pants.

Anyhow…new Pocket Guide covers:

Wanna read more about the upcoming books?

• Pocket Guide to Sainthood
• Pocket Guide to the Afterlife
• Pocket Guide to the Bible