Author: rtrube54

Review: Doppelganger

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Doppelganger: A Trip into the Mirror World, Naomi Klein. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2023.

Summary: Naomi Klein, a liberal activist and writer finds herself being confused with another Naomi, once a feminist now become an anti-vax advocate and darling of the extreme right.

Last summer, an anonymous pretender created a fake version of a social media page I curate, stealing a picture of me and posts I had made to the page. An alert follower contacted me and reports from me and followers stopped further posts that day. But the page remained up for several months until it was removed, attracting only about ten followers, thanks to the vigilance of people following my page. Still, I was outraged and felt that a part of me was violated, that my “brand” (my page uses the same name as this blog) was being stolen and perverted. Having an online “doppelganger,” even if an inactive one, and how easily it could happen, was disturbing.

Naomi Klein faced this situation in a subtler and more disturbing fashion, one that could not be eliminated by a report. Naomi Klein is an activist, academic, and writer who has focused on big corporations and their invisible control of our lives as well as writing about climate change. Naomi Wolf, a one-time liberal feminist, pursued a parallel career around a different set of issues. Then in 2019, she published a book filled with factual inaccuracies that was pulped. She was widely excoriated in the liberal establishment, suffering a kind of death. Except that she rose from the ashes during COVID-19, spouting a number of the spurious claims and conspiracy thinking of the alt-Right, becoming a darling of Steve Bannon…and being confused with Naomi Klein. Klein was stuck with trying to figure out how to say “not me.” At one point, Klein became so obsessed with following Wolf’s online antics, and her transformation, that she withdrew into a world of screens until her husband rescued her.

The experience led to her trying to understand both her own reaction to this doppelganger (who even looked something like her). Klein had always been “anti-brand,” she thought, especially of “Self as Brand” until she realized that she had built a “brand” that she wasn’t defending very well. She asks the question, “What aren’t we building when we are building our brands?” and she realizes what a convenient retreat this can be when faced with daunting challenges like our warming climate.

Looking more deeply, she realizes that her doppelganger has confronted her with a mirror world. Where she would be concerned about the corporate stripping away of privacy accelerated by our smartphones, she watches Wolf and anti-vaxxers fixate on “vaccine passports” as opening the door to our private lives. She describes a process termed “diagonalization” that destroys old left-right distinctions by playing on shared fears and concerns–“what are they putting in our food?” to “what are they putting in those vaccines?” The mirror world trades in a shared fear of the Shadow Lands, an underground effort to abuse our children and co-opt our lives. Klein observes trenchantly that these Shadow Lands, such as fears about the vaccines, covers up huge profit margins and a basic neglect of vaccine equity. A Canadian, she chronicles how truckers both caravanned in protest to indigenous child deaths in boarding schools and trucker shutdowns in Toronto over COVID regulations–often the same truckers.

She raises uncomfortable questions. We rail against Nazis and yet if we are living in a former colonial power country, our country presided over similar atrocities. The Mirror World challenges our illusions. Writing pre-October 7, she wrestles with Israel’s settler colonialism and the Shadow World built to sustain it (I wonder what her thoughts are since?). In the end, she raises equally uncomfortable questions about herself, indeed, any self. Can we hold onto a sense of identity or self? Is this not changing for all of us?

In the end, she concludes, “A bigger part of being human, though, and certainly of living a good life, is not about how we make ourselves in these shifting sands of self. It’s about what we make together.” I’m troubled by this conclusion. I could see this being taken any number of ways. I’m sure Hitler’s Germany and the settler colonists were also not just thinking of themselves but what they were making together. Equally, this was the rhetoric of Marxists and Mao.

I find myself thinking that Klein describes the post-Christian society foreseen by William Butler Yeats, in his poem, “The Second Coming.”

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

If there is no center that will hold, if all we have are “the shifting sands of self,” then I find myself praying “Lord, help us” and indeed, “Come Lord Jesus.” Klein is courageous enough to ask some very hard questions. I wonder if we all will be courageous enough to wrestle with the implications of what she asks.

Review: The Beatles

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The Beatles: The Biography, Bob Spitz. New York: Little, Brown, 2005.

Summary: A biography of the band from its beginnings, rise, Beatlemania, studio work, and demise, with mini-biographies of each of the Beatles, their manager, Brian Epstein.

One of those “where were you?” moments for those of us of a certain age is “where were you when The Beatles appeared on the Ed Sullivan show for the first time?” I was a fourth grader, watching them on my grandparents television while the adults tut-tutted about the “long hairs” and their music. Inside, I was fascinated, as were all my classmates, especially the girls, who talked endlessly about “my favorite Beatle.”

The 2005 “biography” of the Fab Four brings back all those memories and so much more–much that was fascinating and some that I’d rather not have known. Spitz traces the history of the band from its beginnings with John Lennon and The Quarrymen, the meeting with Paul McCartney, the Liverpool years and the various combinations of musicians including the fan favorite drummer Pete Best whose home was a favorite hangout until he was unceremoniously ditched and Ringo brought on board on the eve of their fame. Spitz writes abbreviated biographies of each of the Beatles and their manager, Brian Epstein.

We learn how formative their time in Hamburg was and the significant advance they made under Brian Epstein’s management. Spitz takes us through all the things he did to polish their image, how they became “The Beatles,” his efforts to get them recorded and promoted, and the mistakes he made in setting up recording contracts. As their records hit the charts and they toured Great Britain, we see them reach the “toppermost of the poppermost.” Then Ed Sullivan. America. Beatlemania with its surging crowds, shrieking and swooning girls, and ever-increasing danger to the Beatles leading to their end of touring in 1966.

Spitz takes us behind the scenes and we see the genius of the songwriting duo of Lennon-McCartney as well as the eventual strains in their relationship, the guitarwork and growing skill of George and how Ringo not only provided the musical foundation for the band but also a certain emotional glue. We learn what it was like to record at Abbey Road. We observe the self-effacing genius of George Martin, who never profited beyond his modest salary, helping with the innovative work on albums like “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.”

Spitz reminds us of the trip to India to learn meditation as the band sought both to grow spiritually and mend the growing artistic and personal rifts that would ultimately lead to their demise, particularly after Yoko Ono entered the scene, helping further alienate John from the others. We read accounts of the final recording sessions and the release of “Abbey Road” and their last live concert on a London rooftop, where amid all the tensions, they momentarily recaptured the joy of making music together.

Then there is the seamier side. The drug use beginning with amphetamines, marijuana, and eventually LSD, and in John’s case heroin, from which he was often strung out and increasingly erratic. The women. So many “birds” to have sex with, as was the case with many rockers. At one point, all were being treated for gonorrhea. There is the brilliant and sad Brian Epstein and his closeted gay life, including rough sex leaving him beaten and robbed, and his growing despair as he felt he was losing control of the Beatles, leading to his death, whether accidental or suicide, from an overdose of drugs. While they were rich, through Epstein’s mistakes and their own debacle with Apple, they foolishly lost millions.

There is the tragic. Going back to Hamburg days, the death of onetime bandmate Stu Sutcliffe, the firing of Pete Best and the way it was done. The betrayal of Lennon’s wife, Cynthia, and Paul’s girlfriend, Jane Asher. The end of the band itself, chronicled in agonizing detail. And later deaths: John, George, Linda Eastman McCartney.

This is a huge biography, coming in at 983 pages, including photos and notes. Yet it is a fascinating read that gives one a sense of the hard work it took to become “The Beatles” the genius of Lennon and McCartney, the trauma of Beatlemania, the behind-the-scenes accounts of the making of each album and so much more. At the same time, we see them as all-too-human, flawed and forming young men thrust into the fame and fortune they’d dreamed of but were not prepared to handle. What is astounding is to consider that most of the output of The Beatles took place over just seven fraught years, from 1963 to 1969. Yet they changed rock ‘n roll forever. Spitz gives us the “crowded hours” of that epic journey.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Reed’s Arena

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Some of the acts that played at Reed’s Arena

It was fifty years ago this week, on February 11, 1974, that fire broke out at Reed’s Arena, located at 25 Oak Hill, at the bottom of Oak Hill on the Southside. A motorist spotted the fire and called it in at 11:40 pm. As the fire department poured gallons of water on the roof, an intense fire, blue at times, consumed the building as a crowd of 200, including Mayor Hunter watched. At 12:07 am, the wall on the Marshall Street side collapsed. Only a smoking hulk was left with a loss valued at $300,000, including a large stock of skates. The building was never rebuilt.

The building was a one story brick and concrete block building built in the 1920’s and known at that time as the Oak Hill Auditorium. It was used for many years for high school, athletic, and civic events. Later McKenzie Muffler operated out of the building. There were a number of small businesses located around that part of Oak Hill. Somewhere in the 1950’s, it appears that it began to be used as a skating arena.. By the 1960’s or earlier James Reed began operating it as Reed’s Arena. The building was owned by McCullough Transfer at the time of the fire.

Through the 1960’s and early 1970’s it operated as a roller rink and gathering spot for Black youth on the lower Southside. Dances were held there and especially after the closure of the Elms Ballroom, it became a concert venue for some of the top R & B acts in the country. Otis Redding was booked there in early 1966. Among the groups booked there in the 1970’s were James Brown, Kool & The Gang, The Chilites, The O’Jays, Parliament-Funkadelic, and The Impressions.

Young Jerry Poindexter, who learned piano at his mother’s side in church, got his start performing in a talent competition at Reed’s Arena after friends pushed him on stage. He won the competition, and later on spent 24 years playing with James Brown.

The Arena also served as a venue for other community events including a closed circuit live showing of the Muhammad Ali-Joe Frazier fight in 1971 with the 1500 seats going for $12 apiece. The report on the fire also mentions a Platinum Show Lounge on the site, also operated by Reed.

One of the challenges is that there is relatively little documentation of the history of venues like this that played an important part in Youngstown’s cultural life, as local historian Sean Posey noted in this interview. I knew of Reed’s Arena and no doubt passed by it but have no memories of the place and never passed by. From what I can learn, James Reed was an entrepreneur who ran a place that served as a gathering place for skating, dances, concerts, and more for the youth of the Southside. At the time of the fire, Reed vowed to go on but I can find nothing of his subsequent career. The destruction of Reed’s Arena by fire marked the end of a building that was a center of activity on the lower Southside for fifty years.

To read other posts in the Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown series, just click “On Youngstown.” Enjoy!

Review: How Ableism Fuels Racism

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How Ableism Fuels Racism, Lamar Hardwick. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2024.

Summary: An argument that ableism is an important lens through which to understand racism, because both create a hierarchy of superior and inferior bodies.

Lamar Hardwick is a pastor who lives at the intersection of racism and ableism as a Black pastor on the autism spectrum. Also, at the time of the writing, he is under treatment for a recurrence of cancer, with the attendant bodily disabilities this brings. As he has reflected on his own experienced, read scripture and researched American history, he is convinced that ableism not only fuels discriminatory treatment of the disabled but also racial discrimination. The connection is the idealizing of certain bodies as fit and superior. In the American experience, this has particularly centered on White bodies, especially male bodies.

Hardwick focuses on Judges 17: 1-6, in which a young man, Micah, steals a large sum of money in gold from his mother, then under threat of curse confesses his sin. Instead of punishment, his mother takes the gold and has it made into an idol for the household. When a Levite comes through, Micah persuades him to become his priest. From this incident, Hardwick discerns three stages of ableism: images, idols, and institutions. Instead of facing sin, we honor what we should grieve, make it an object of central concern, an idol, and then create institutions to support our idolatry.

Hardwick traces how this was done in the early settlement of the U.S., subjugating women and indigenous people, and importing slaves, considering them inferior human beings. Slavery was even defended as a blessing for the inferior slave! He traces ways churches supported this form of ableism, and have continued to do so, pleading for and receiving exemption from the ADA legislation of 1990.

He cites a statement of John Piper’s that equated disability with ugliness and how our idolatry of superior bodies upholds certain White and ableist ideals of beauty. I was reminded of a conversation at a social gathering where someone remarked on the attractiveness of Michelle Obama only to be confronted by a yuck face from one of the other (White) women.

He offers a particularly personal discussion of ableism, racism, and healthcare in terms of access, differences in listening to reported symptoms, and quality of care. He also discusses how ableism fuels racism in the church, and the important role Black churches have been in offering a refuge from ableist and racist treatment and in many ways have led the way in disability inclusion.

One of the most thought-provoking chapters focused on the disabled God. The resurrected Jesus still bears the wounds of the crucifixion, and in this, God is glorified. This contrasts with ableist versions of Jesus, blonde, blue-eyed, ripped and aggressive.

Hardwick also considers the world of work and ableist ideas of productivity, what he calls “grind culture.” The question arises of the worth of bodies that cannot meet the demand of the grind, and the different ways bodies of color and disabled bodies participate in the work of creation. He proposes elevating place-making above profit-making as one way to address this.

I thought the major point the author was making to be compelling–that ableism furnishes the energy for racism in the distinction between superior and inferior bodies. At the same time, I wonder if the connection, if not conflation, of the two may mean overlooking the voices of persons with disabilities. Yet Hardwick offers important insights into the idolization and institutionalization of ableism. Most striking, and a field where I think further work is possible is the idea of the disabled God, the God who does not think the “disabilities” of the cross something to be “fixed.” People need not become White or able to be beautiful before God. The personal insights Hardwick adds from his fight with cancer sharpens his critique of ableism, even as it reminds me that to pray for him that the power of the disabled God would shine through his life.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.

Review: The Kingdom of Children

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The Kingdom of Children, R. L. Stollar, Foreword by Cindy Wang Brandt. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2023.

Summary: A liberation theology of the child that centers children in our theology and ecclesial life, arguing for their full humanity and their place as participants in the life of the whole church.

What place do children have in your church? Do you send them off to children’s church while adults do real church? Have we ever thought that we might learn from children? How much do children participate in the leadership of the church? Do we seek their input about curriculum and programs? How do we handle passages in scripture where children are featured, particularly where children in some way bring the word of God or act for God (think of Miriam and Samuel as children for example)?

R.L. Stollar raised all these questions for me in The Kingdom of Children. The book is subtitled “A Liberation Theology,” which for some may be off-putting. By this, Stollar centers the child in his theology, particularly the marginalized, suffering child. Like other liberation theologies, Stollar considers them as the image of God, even as marginalized, sometimes because of abuse, and often treated as less than full participants in the life of the Christian community. One of the most fascinating things is his consideration of God as child in the incarnation–the baby Jesus who does cry, pee and poop, who goes through the terrible twos “learning obedience,” who asserts his place to sit with religious teachers at twelve.

Stollar begins by looking at the situation of children both around the world and in the U.S., and how often they are vulnerable to abuse, even more if they are part of another marginalized group, and how they are often stripped of agency. This makes the case that child do need a liberation theology for them. Then he lists thirteen questions he thinks we must ask in developing a child liberation theology.

Several chapters are devoted to how we love children as we read the Bible, beginning with seven elements that need to be present including focusing on how children’s roles are featured, how we exclude children from stories, how stories where children are absent may imply a lot about children, and especially, that we need to read the Bible with children. He discusses how we read both the bad and good stories, the binding of Isaac as an example on one hand, and the stories of Miriam and Samuel on the other..

He turns from hermeneutics to theology, considering first the other gods as children and then Jesus as child. He considers children as God-to-us and particularly how we should not see them, including as vipers(!), subordinates, tools, blessings to collect (think “quiver full”), property, consumers, or as addenda to our lives. This is followed by chapters on children as prophets, priest, and theologians, particularly as theologians of play. One of the important insights here is to recognize that children, while not cognitively mature are capable of asking profound spiritual questions, having a spiritual inner life, and gaining insights that the whole community may benefit from.

To welcome children in this way is not to adultify them but to recognize their gifts to us as children. He argues that we need to see them as children, and understanding child development, at least in a basic way, is important for those who work with children. Stollar also presses us to think about how wide our welcome is: wide enough for the racially diverse? for those with disabilities? the neurodiverse? He contends for robust child protection systems to be in place for all children, but especially these groups, who are more subject to abuse.

Stollar concludes with inviting us to think about what it means for the kingdom to belong to children. One of the delightful features of this book is how Stollar practices this idea throughout, writing the book in accessible and not academic language and by providing an “including children” section in each chapter. I’m intrigued that Stollar even proposes including children in aspects of church leadership, especially in decisions that involve them.

I see the number of youth walking away from the churches they were raised in and can’t help wondering if the subtle ways we treat them as marginal, “junior” members that discounts both their human dignity and the work of God in their lives, contributes to this exodus. This book made me think about my own childhood. I actually think I was fortunate to have teachers and mentors recognized the work of God in me, who empowered me and others of us. It’s also making me think about the children in my own congregation and how we can welcome and learn from and empower them. I think Jesus would smile on this.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.

Review: Season of Beauty

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Season of Beauty, compiled by Editors at Paraclete Press. Brewster, MA: Paraclete, 2024.

Summary: A collection of scriptures and reflections of great Christian writers along with reproductions of great works of art for Lent, Holy Week, and Eastertide.

While we often think of Lent as the season of fasting, of abstaining culminating in Holy Week and the horror of the cross, there is also beauty in contemplating the way of the Savior, the life to which we are called as followers, and the glory of the resurrection.

Paraclete Press has just published a wonderful collection of readings from scripture, from saints of old and contemporary writers and poets accompanied by an extraordinary number of art reproductions printed on quality paper and a sewn in ribbon bookmark. The readings span Lent, Holy Week, and Eastertide with over half the book devoted to the latter two.

There are a number of Gerard Manley Hopkins (my favorite poet) and Christina Rosetti poems. reflections from The Cloud of Unknowing, Julian of Norwich, Emilie Griffin’s “He Kept On Walking,” Kathleen Norris’s “Hints of Resurrection Abound” and a long version of “Saint Patrick’s Breastplate.”

An example of text and art (publisher’s website)

All of this is accompanied by gorgeous reproductions of art. I appreciated the inclusion of Briton Riviere’s The Temptation in the Wilderness. an El Greco of Mary Magdalene, Ilya Repin’s Last Supper, Thomas Cole’s The Pilgrim of the Cross at the End of His Journey., and Jan Cossiers, Jesus Appears to Mary Magdalene.

I could go on. But the beauty of the design of this book, tastefully laid out with texts and images, is to invite our quiet contemplation, our personal pilgrimage through Lent, Holy Week, and Eastertide (including Hopkins “May Magnificat”).

This indeed is a “treasury” I hope to return to year after year, so rich are the works within.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.

Review: Loving Disagreement

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Loving Disagreement, Kathy Khang & Matt Mikliatos. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2023.

Summary: Moving beyond impasses or civil discourse to loving one another in Christian community while honestly engaging our conflicts through the working out of the fruit of the Spirit in our lives.

I’ve often found things are little different, and sometimes worse, in Christian community, when it comes to conflict. Often we’ll paper over differences with niceties and placations while we inwardly seethe. Or we just walk away. Or we just keep lots of things off the table and relate at very superficial levels. At its worst, we’ll line up everyone in the church on sides and demonize the others until we split the church.

Some propose the ideal of civil discourse, the best we can hope for in “civil” society. This means rules of engagement separating issues we disagree about and people we respect, reflective listening, avoiding ultimatums, looking for common ground. Kathy Khang and Matt Mikliatos believe we can do better than that in the Christian community because of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit and the fruit this results in that give us the capacity to love across our differences.

The authors, who never met each other in person before writing this book together, practice what they preach. They come from very different cultural backgrounds. They alternate chapters on each of the fruit of the Spirit and ask questions of each other that tease out different perspectives that enrich the discussion. We see the two of them practice this at the very beginning of the book. Matt had initially been approached about writing the book, then Kathy had been proposed as a co-author. Matt thought Kathy would never do it and says, “I decided not to mention it to Kathy. I planned to politely decline for both of us.” Only when a mutual friend asked, “why are you saying no for Kathy” did he reconsider. In the introduction, we read how they process this, how Matt realizes the hurtful impact this has even though intent was good, and how Kathy has often had brothers speak for her as a woman and person of color. What Matt didn’t know was that this was a project she did have energy for. They model embarrassing honesty and grace, and something more–they discover a shared vision for something more than mere civility.

Reading the book, while I appreciated the unpacking of the meaning of each of the nine fruit of the Spirit, what I most appreciated was the dialogue between Matt and Kathy at the end of each chapter. Rather than the “Yes, but…,” that characterizes many dialogues, their are appreciative reflections and searching questions: how can I grow in love toward people I find the most challenging? do you have any examples of a conflict being resolved well and resulting in peacemaking? can speaking truth be kind and comfortable? what is the difference between the “niceness” that makes other people comfortable and the kindness that allows for clear action?

Along the way, discussions of fruit expose dysfunctions in many evangelical churches. The chapter on goodness lays bare the difference between goodness and the legalism many of us grew up with. They explore the difference between joy and toxic positivity. The chapter on self-control not only explores control of body, mind, and emotion but how we deal with anger and when we need to be angry.

Perhaps the key idea in this book is that Christ-shaped Christian community is worth fighting for. Instead of mere niceness or civility, there are times we need to get our disagreements out in the open, even while determined to stay in the ring out of love for those who are called into this same community. We will mess up, need to apologize, and forgive. And the world will see something compelling. The world knows how to fight but it doesn’t know how to love while fighting. The world has seen plenty of fights split people up. It hasn’t seen people fighting to stay together. That’s the kind of loving disagreement that Khang and Milkiatos says the Holy Spirit makes possible. They challenge us to ask, might we do better?

Review: Land of My Sojourn

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Land of My Sojourn, Mike Cosper. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2024.

Summary: The narrative of a former church leader who stepped away from a toxic leadership culture, the disillusionment that followed, and how reflections from a sojourn in Israel helped him process and find restoration.

Many who read this review will recognize the name of Mike Cosper as the host of the widely listened-to podcast series The Rise & Fall of Mars Hill, part of the podcasting work Cosper does for Christianity Today. In reading his new book, Landscape of My Sojourn, I couldn’t help wonder if what made Cosper so effective as host of the podcast series was that he had lived inside a church situation with some striking similarities to Mars Hill Church under the leadership of Mark Driscoll. In his new book, Cosper narrates his experience as one of the founding pastors of Sojourn, a “ragamuffin” church in Louisville, Kentucky, eventually connected to the Acts 29 movement Driscoll spearheaded.

He recounts heady early days as a leader of worship, and the development of a toxic leadership culture as the church developed into a multi-site congregation. He describes the feeling of always being “one good conversation away from getting things right and making things healthy.” Except it never happened. And then one day in 2015, in the midst of a “re-org,” he looked at the new proposed organization chart, only to find he was not on it.

That wasn’t quite rock bottom. After leaving the leadership of Sojourn, whose lead pastor eventually stepped down due to charges of leadership abuse, Cosper launched a media-focused non-profit to help Christians in the marketplace. After writing what he thought was a commonsense Christian reflection following the release of the Access Hollywood tapes of Donald Trump, he learned that first his lead investor, then others were pulling their money. Following closely on the departure from Sojourn’s leadership, he found himself in a place where none of the familiar touchstones of his faith made sense anymore.

Shortly after all this, Cosper had the opportunity for a “sojourn” in Israel. Visits to different places, and reflection on people like Peter and Elijah who had encounters with God, allowed Cosper to process both what had happened in his life and encounter God afresh for himself, beginning a process of restoration in his life. Each chapter of the book focuses on a particular place and encounter, interwoven with Cosper’s experience at Sojourn Church.

He begins with Mount Tabor, the Mount of Transfiguration and Peter’s desire to just stay there, remembering the halcyon days of Sojourn’s beginnings. He reflects on the heroic encounter of Elijah on Mount Carmel, and the desperate hopes of evangelicals, hoping our heroes are on the side of right and will bring a transformed culture, only to see one after another fail. He visits Mount Hermon, near where Peter confesses Jesus as Messiah and entertains illusions of the Messiah’s conquests and being in the vanguard. He considers Sojourn’s own pretensions to conquest, how they crumbled, and yet how God was quietly at work, as was Jesus, in changing lives.

The Mount of Olives reminds him of Palm Sunday, what seemed a triumphal procession, and how the crowds turned on Jesus. He reflects on the warfare metaphors Mark Driscoll used and how influential these were, and yet how wrong to the kind of king Jesus is. He describes the giant olive trees of Gethsemane, the twisted roots capturing the agony of Jesus, alone while the disciples slept. He considers the dysfunctions of sojourn’s leadership and the times, like the disciples, he was sleeping, and the agony to find himself alone. At Golgotha, he revisits the ways, like Peter that he had lived in denial, and the dissolution of his career and many of his friendships, and the departure of the senior pastor and the last time they spoke. At Sinai, he recalls the whisper of God to Elijah and that, like Elijah, he is not alone. Finally, by Galilee, at Capernaum, he recalls the post-resurrection encounter of Jesus with Peter, the questions that ask of Peter, are you still with me, even after the death of heroic dreams and denials? He’s wary, after all he’s gone through of glib suffering-to-glory narratives, even as he wants to believe.

The end of the book finds him back in Louisville, worshipping at what was once a satellite Sojourn campus, now its own church. He still believes, but with wounds. He describes himself still on the journey, sobered, not taking anything for granted, “still here, making this journey. Through the land of my sojourn.”

I found this book a powerful narrative, both as an inside look at a toxic leadership culture, and an account of coming through painful disillusionment. It’s honest about the losses and betrayals, the denials, and restoration that enables one to go on, not without wounds, but by faith. Because of the vulnerable character of the book, I think it can offer help to others who have faced disillusionment with the church and are tempted to throw in the towel. Cosper’s “I’m still here” makes no false promises but simply walks in the steps of Elijah and Peter, who decide to carry on in faith when dreams and illusions (including self-delusions) have died.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — John DeMain

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John DeMain, Music Director, Madison Symphony Orchestra. Photo by Peter Rogers. Used with permission.

I’ve received many wonderful article ideas from friends who live or used to live in Youngstown. This idea came from a friend living outside of Madison, Wisconsin. He’s attends a number of the concerts of the Madison Symphony Orchestra. He raves over the leadership their Music Director, John DeMain has given over the past thirty years of his tenure. He thought I should write about him because he grew up in Youngstown.

So I dug into Maestro DeMain’s story and discovered that his experiences in Youngstown established the whole arc of an amazing music career that included a Grammy and a Tony Award, premieres of several major works, as well as his many accomplishments with the Kenley Players, the Houston Grand Opera, a brief stint with the Youngstown Symphony, and his long and fruitful tenure in Madison, as well as numerous guest appearances with major orchestras throughout the world. So, I was surprised and delighted when he spent an hour this past week talking about his musical journey as a young man in Youngstown..

John DeMain grew up on the Southside of Youngstown, living on Southern Boulevard, just north of Midlothian. His musical career began at age two when he sang a boy soprano part in the Lady’s of Mount Carmel church choir. A solo for his kindergarten class led to him being featured in the Rotogravure section. He continued to sing and his parents decided to buy him a piano to develop his musical abilities. After three years with a piano teacher, he learned all she could teach. She connected him with Hermann Gruss and his wife Blanche, who continued his instruction after Hermann died, through high school.

As a young boy of nine, he performed as a singer in a joint Youngstown Symphony and Playhouse production of Amahl and the Night Visitors. He had early experiences of observing Michael Ficocelli, founder and first director of the Youngstown Symphony, and also diocese music director and John’s band teacher. John observed Ficocelli conducting and substituted for him when he was absent. He worked under Lillian Stambaugh who was the pianist for a production of Paint Your Wagon at the Youngstown Playhouse at age 13. The following year, at age fourteen, he conducted music with a pit orchestra for Brigadoon at the Playhouse. He spoke of “bossing around people old enough to be his grandparents…and loving it.” He did this for three years. During these years he also accompanied productions at Cardinal Mooney and briefly served as a rehearsal pianist at the Kenley Players. He also accompanied for opera students and was observed by Lawrence Lawler, a benefactor who took him to see the Met when they were in Cleveland

In the summer of his junior year, while a student at Cardinal Mooney, he entered a piano competition with the Youngstown Symphony, performing Beethoven’s First Piano Concerto. He was amazed to find out that he won the competition, beating out a student from Juilliard and debuting with the Youngstown Symphony. He credits this as an important factor to winning admission at Juilliard with Adele Marcus, the teacher of the student who he beat out in the competition. He earned Bachelor’s and Masters Degrees from Juilliard. His time in New York exposed him to the vibrant New York and New England musical scene, including a chance to conduct The King and I. He also returned in the summer as assistant conductor for the Kenley Players. He then served as the Music Director for the Kenley Players from 1965 to 1975 and spoke glowingly of John Kenley. We realized that our paths had actually crossed. One of my high school dates was at the Kenley Players production of Man of La Mancha with Giorgio Tozzi. He directed that production and told me about the huge staircase designed by the set designer.

He went to serve as conductor of the Houston Grand Opera in 1975 and immediately became involved in one of the signature productions of his career, a staging of the full score of Porgy and Bess. After the initial 1935 production, much of the content and distinctly African-American and jazz influences were cut from the production. These were restored by the Houston Grand Opera and the result was that the 1976 recording, conducted by John DeMain, won Grammy, Tony and the French Grand Prix du Disque awards in 1976. When they brought the production to New York, Leonard Bernstein told DeMain that this was the Porgy and Bess production that he had waited forty years to hear. In all, he has performed the opera over four hundred times.

John DeMain told me that this was the musical achievement he was proudest of and mentioned two others. One was the premiere performance of John Adams Nixon in China in 1987 and the other, the premiere of Leonard Bernstein’s opera, A Quiet Place. DeMain’s work on Porgy so impressed Bernstein that he asked DeMain to conduct a new production of West Side Story, after which he wanted DeMain to premiere his opera.

It was during his time with the Houston Grand Opera that he also served as an Acting Music Director of the Youngstown Symphony, during the mid-1980’s. After seventeen years with the Houston Grand Opera, DeMain became the music director of the Madison Symphony Orchestra in 1994. At that time, the Orchestra played in the old Oscar Mayer Theatre and consisted of section chairs from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and student musicians. He instituted blind auditions, a standard practice in top professional orchestras and now draws players from throughout the country. He also led the orchestra in performances of the complete Mahler Symphony cycle.

In 2004, he helped open the new Overture Center for the Arts, home to nine different Madison arts organizations and an amazing Concert Organ. Maestro DeMain told me that he thinks the concert hall acoustics, already celebrated, continue to become more resonant as the wood in the hall seasons. The symphony will celebrate its 100th year in the 2025-26 season. DeMain, who just turned 80, announced that he will step down at the end of that season so that a new director can take the orchestra into its next century. As he prepares to step down, he leaves an organization that is fiscally sound and enjoys the largest arts endowment in Wisconsin.

He will continue to be involved for now as artistic director for the Madison Opera but also hopes to do some travel and teaching but does not anticipate another music director position. In January 2023, DeMain received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the National Opera Association.

John DeMain’s amazing career began in Youngstown. He was a childhood prodigy as singer and pianist. He was conducting ensembles before he was in high school, experiences that solidified for him his love of conducting, even though up to that time, he’d had little formal training. He’s achieved an amazing body of work and we may be justly proud of this musical director who began as a young man from the Southside of Youngstown.

To read other posts in the Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown series, just click “On Youngstown.” Enjoy!

Review: Prophet Song

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Prophet Song, Paul Lynch. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 2023.

Summary: A mother tries to hold her family and life together as Ireland descends into authoritarian rule.

Paul Lynch’s Prophet Song, winner of the 2023 Booker Prize is a tough read in two respects. One is seeing the unraveling of a democratic society through the disbelieving eyes of Eilish stack, an educated, middle class mother who works for a biotech company. It is disturbing becausew of how close to home it strikes.

The other respect is the text, written without paragraphs with dialogue without quotation marks. Yet this running text reflects increasingly unsettled and anxious perceptions of Eilish, fusing dialogue, emotions, and interior thought. We sense her movement back and forth from disbelief to concern, from hollow assurances that even her children don’t believe to rising fear, from clinging to the hope that her “disappeared” will come home to the realization that no one taken by the government comes home, from the illusion that she can preserve her home and way of life and that their only hope is flight. It’s the increasingly frantic and instinctive thought of one who loses husband, two sons, her job, her respect as “traiter” is spray-painted on her car and home, as her neighborhood becomes a battleground between the regime and the resistance, and finally her flight with her daughter and infant son, having to pay “fees” at numerous checkpoints as she they try to flee. The running text takes us inside her mind and we live the growing terror with Eilish.

It all begins when the National Alliance Party takes over the Republic of Ireland, declares emergency powers and suspends the constitution including writs of habeas corpus. The reality comes home when her husband Larry, a leader in a teacher’s union, goes out to a protest–and never returns. Her eldest son Mark has to go into hiding to avoid the drafting of 17 year-olds. He joins the resistance. After infrequent communications on burner phones, Eilish hears no more, but persists in hoping he will come home. Then, after a list of draft-dodgers, including her son, is published, she learns her services are no longer required. Meanwhile, her father, across town, is descending into dementia. Yet, in his occasional lucid moments, he tells her she must take the children and leave.

Subsequently, her neighborhood becomes front lines in the battle between the Party and the resistance. Power and water are intermittent and the gone. Buildings around suffer bombardment. Yet she uses all her resources, including money from her sister for her to get out of the country to survive. She can’t let go of hope that her husband and son will come home. Only when another son goes missing does she realize that she must save the two who remain–if she can.

The story takes us into the powerful disbelief that democracy really can’t unravel and how rapidly a society can consume itself when it does. We also see how powerful the urge is to try to hold onto home, onto some shred of normalcy. We glimpse how bad things must get for someone to flee from home and become a refugee. When Eilish’s neighborhood becomes a warzone, her running narrative gives the reader of what lived reality must be like in Gaza and other warzones.

Paul Lynch takes us to a place those of us in the West resist going. We join Eilish in denial that it can happen here–that our institutions, the rule of law, our education, jobs, and suburbs will protect us. He forces us to look into the dark abyss through the eyes of Eilish to recognize the vulnerability of all of this when we embrace unfettered power rather than the less “efficient” processes of the rule of law and democratic legislative processes. His book reminds us that the possibility of effective resistance after the fact is far more perilous than resisting beforehand, as inconvenient as that may be. Is this book a “Prophet Song” for us?