Doug Pray produces documentaries. Hype, Pray’s behind the scenes account of the Kurt Cobain/Nirvana story, was a favorite at the 1995 Sundance Film Festival. Depicting the angst of Seattle-grunge renown, Hype also captured something of the larger cultural transition from early-eighties upbeat to nineties cynicism.

In 2001, however, Hype is already an anachronism. Twenty-something rage and cultural dismantling - so hip just an eye-blink ago - seem now as musty as Woodstock on Memorex or Sarah Brightman on PBS.

Enter a new Pray documentary: Scratch. Straight from both Sundance and Cannes film festivals, Scratch hit the nation’s theaters this summer. A driving, fantasmic journey into the incessantly resilient, re-creative world of urban DJs, it was well worth the price of admission. Here are musical archeologists (aptly called “diggers”) who literally excavate stashed LPs for raw material, whether Leadbelly, Rudy Vallee, Doris Day, Marvin Gay, or The Moody Blues. The treasures unearthed are diced into musical fractals, then re-presented. Yet, this is much more than hip art form, more than a thumping, celebratory, screeching mosaic of vinyl modernity. It is reclamation in motion. restitution at its most ingenious, and about as far from Hype’s wrecking ball as one can get. From scratches of a past deconstructed come murmurings of hope: history choreographed, cultural refuse reborn. And, as such, the art of the hip-hop DJ is but one brick in a cultural reconstruction that no one expected.

In an article entitled, “The Past is Soo…Like...Yesterday: Marketing to the Post-Ironic Generation,” twenty-something writer Graham Hall heralds western culture’s passage out of Nirvana-esque angst and demolition - out of what we typically generalize as “postmodern” - into a wizened, fledgling hope.

“We are bored with sitting on the sidelines and observing. Instead, we have decided to do something real and useful…we have grown out of being critical, because we now realize that it does not lead to real satisfaction. Rather, satisfaction can only be gained from creating and embracing ‘real’ experiences…

Young consumers lead the way in seeing through the irony and self-reference of 90’s marketing. They have tired of the old marketing conventions. Now they seek brands, which reflect their optimism, endeavor and creativity…

The Gap is the pre-eminent exponent of this school right now. Their whole offer, from the quality-at-a-reasonable price to the store environment, to, (especially), their advertising, speaks of freedom, openness, non-prescription, and creativity. Their dancers are an icon of individual skill and optimism. There is nothing cynical or negative here…and we align with it, because this reflects how we ourselves feel…Macintosh and VW also offer entry into this world of a creative future free from the cynicism of the past…

So, good news, for all those who didn’t get around to really understanding (postmodernism)… In my humble opinion, postmodernism is dead. Collectively, we are putting our toys back in the toy box and getting on with our lives… The past is over, so get over it. The future is here already.”

For some of us who’ve just boarded the postmodern train, this statement, even in its obvious hyperbole, comes as quite a jolt. We just bought two hundred yards of black draping to replace all the silk ferns and outfits. Now what?

Fortunately, there is a message here that goes way beyond mere cosmetic implications. Hall continues:

“Postmodernism is no foundation for a fulfilled, rewarding life. Postmodernism is a response to something, but it is not a solution (in and of) itself. It is a commentary, not a text, and people, everybody, needs a text to live by. They need a narrative to live within which can give their lives meaning…”

Hall seems to be heralding not so much the total demise of irony and cynicism, but the yearning for a “center” in the midst of it: a ray of light in the darkness, a saga of hope to buffer the inevitable suspicion that permeates the deconstructed landscape.

The return to text – to unifying narratives - is a surprising, and, at this point, almost imperceptible shift. Yet, Hall’s is not the only voice documenting it. In his article, “The Search for Meaning in a Global Civilization”, Vaclav Havel reports on the return to the archetype:

“…the relationship to the world that modern science fostered and shaped now appears to have exhausted its potential. It is increasingly clear that, strangely, the relationship is missing something. It fails to connect with the most intrinsic nature of reality, and with natural human experience. It is now more of a source of disintegration and doubt than a source of integration and meaning. It produces what amounts to a state of schizophrenia: Man as an observer is becoming completely alienated from himself as a being. Classical modern science described only the surface of things, a single dimension of reality. And the more dogmatically science created it as the only dimension, as the very essence of reality, the more misleading it became. Today, for instance, we may know immeasurably more about the universe than our ancestors did, and yet, it increasingly seems they knew something more essential about it than we do, something that escapes us. The same thing is true of nature and of ourselves. The more thoroughly all our organs and their functions, their internal structure and the biochemical reactions that take place within them are described, the more we seem to fail to grasp the spirit, purpose and meaning of the system that they create together and that we experience as our unique "self."

What makes the Anthropic Principle [the concept that, from the countless possible courses of its evolution, the universe took the only one that enabled life to emerge] and the Gaia Hypothesis [the organic and inorganic portions of the Earth's surface form a single system, a mega-organism] so inspiring? One simple thing: both remind us, in modern language, of what we have long suspected, of what we have long projected into our forgotten myths and what perhaps has always lain dormant within us as archetypes. That is, the awareness of our being anchored in the Earth and the universe, the awareness that we are not here alone nor for ourselves alone, but that we are an integral part of higher, mysterious entities against whom it is not advisable to blaspheme. This forgotten awareness is encoded in all religions. All cultures anticipate it in various forms. It is one of the things that form the basis of man's understanding of himself, of his place in the world, and ultimately of the world as such.”

Frank Senn, in his work, Christian Liturgy: Catholic and Evangelical, further expounds on this theme of archetype, of restored text:

…If the world has come apart in postmodern nihilism, the church must redo the world. It must provide an aimless present with a usable past and hope-filled future….The church has to proclaim the biblical story clearly and critically to a world that has lost its story…

“Postmoderns tear down. They don’t know how to build.” So says Mark Driscoll, pastor of Mars Hill Fellowship in Seattle. I often hear pastors speak about starting postmodern ministries. It has become almost “de rigueur” labeling, replacing the must-have “Gen X” of a few short years ago. But there are deep problems with the use of this juxtaposition. Technically, postmodern ministry is an oxymoron. This may be self-evident, but how can the Body of Christ minister - how can it care, bring healing and the gift of reconciliation - if it has, in postmodern fashion, mislaid the Narrative, and with it, the protagonist of the Narrative? We may have responded to this accusation, knee-jerk, by re-sorting “postmodern ministry” into “ministry to postmoderns.”

Fine enough. But, even as we make that distinction, even as we tote the Gospel – the Grand Narrative – along with us into a narrative-hungry era, we dare not miss the wider cultural shift from deconstruction to reconstruction, from dismantling to re-creation. If we believe Hall, Havel, and Senn, we are entering the twilight of the postmodern transition much sooner than we imagined – the post-postmodern. In this uncharted now, it is no longer enough to proclaim what we are not; no longer enough to bring in the wrecking ball and flatten our forebear’s institutions (either the stained glass or gray warehouse variety). In a world of nascent hope, people need more than fractured stories, even more than told stories. Increasingly, the world is crying out for lived stories and a passionately viable present.

This, perhaps more than anything else, has been the plague of early postmodern ministries: an immersion in deconstructionism to the point of stalemate; a vehement anti-modernism marinated in negation. As if the past three hundred years have yielded nothing of value. As if that which is linear, strategic, left-brained, and eloquently reasoned has no place in this new landscape. How naïve can we be? Deconstructionism may have exterminated any lingering illusions about objectivity. And humanism as we have known and lived it maybe over. Three cheers.

Yet, deconstructionism’s corollary - inherent subjectivity - does not mean the end of the scientific method. Nor does decontructionism’s progeny - cynicism - obliterate human potentiality. This side of triple-forte angst, we homo sapiens can now embrace the reality of our created-ness - our place in the generative story - and all the limitations that go with a decidedly subjugated position. Modernity gave us ourselves and nothing but ourselves. Hall and Havel's course-corrected modernity - in which the archetype of Supreme Being returns - would, in theory, give us more of our true selves, a re-contexted but no less gifted, regenerative race. In theory. Senn’s redeemed modernity gives us our true selves in fact, the ultimate recontexting; a Romans 1/Hebrews 10 reconciliation to the Creator with the power to turn the cynic’s whispered, guarded dreams into reality.

What impact should all this have on us as leaders, reaching out to the “whispering cynics” in our communities - those post-humanist and increasingly, post-ironic cultures emerging around us? The first order of business is to change our focus. We’ve spent the better part of a decade tearing down modern Christianity. Now it’s time to leave the rhetoric of negation and get to work, to put the hammer to the nail and get on with the business of building. Of course, the shift from demolition to construction will require us to be courageous in the face of failure and critique – the inevitable chastening that comes with creation. The question is, can we actually admit and accept our own limitations, our myopia, our (gasp!) functional modernity?

A tandem area of need is to go deeper into everything we are and do in our ministries. It is not enough to demonstrate the trappings of substance, whether that is labyrinths and candles, or coffee house banters. Many of us – in the well-worn tradition of our boomer elders - bypassed the disciplines of theology, philosophy, history, and sociology. It’s time to learn the “trade” from the inside out and stop fooling ourselves about our ability to both comprehend and bring meaning to people in our communities. It is all too easy to play the hip dilettante, to grab quotes from pre-modern mystics, to cut and paste sermons with movie clips from Gladiator. What do we really have to say if our entire world is measured in pre-digested sound bites? Lived and lasting change is not born of the quick and easy pastiche. It is born of deep connection, whole person sinewing – mind, spirit, emotions, bodies - to the Incarnate One Who invades our histories (yes, even the Enlightenment), disturbs our philosophies, and has eternally raised the bar for human interaction.

Fortunately, if we choose to mature - to move from a fast-ministry, dot.com orientation into communities of depth and presence - there will be inevitable alterations in our strategy. No longer will we target people by age, assuming that no one over thirty-eight can possibly “get it.” No longer will we burn bridges back to denominations and parent ministries, but rebuild and cross them with frequency. It is, after all, a powerful thing, to sit at the feet of those who have gone before us and listen to their stories. Can somebody say, “humility?”

No longer will we forge relationships with artists just so we can say we have Ansel Adams-esque photography on Sunday mornings or a former MTV-producer on the string. No longer will we treat people as units, massaging and misusing relationships just so we can turn up the dial on our congregation’s cool factor. Rather, we will be engaged with people simply because they are loved by God and sovereignly designated our neighbor.

Finally, we will no longer be willing to accept a legalism cloaked in the jargon of grace, even a legalism that is techno-savvy, cutting edge, and pajama-casual. The post-post modern is looking for true hope, not more “pull yourself up by your bootstrap” lists, no matter how much “Real Life” packaging we give them. Get ready. Even now, people in our culture are beginning to consider it a crime when they are pointed back to themselves.

The Truth is out there. The Truth is here. The Truth is Jesus. Let’s give them that.

Article used by permission from REV MAGAZINE Nov/Dec 2001 www.onlinerev.com