It is the pathos of modern philosophy and theology to try to figure out the nature of modernity and late modernity on the basis of which mythological Greek figures things correspond to. Nietzsche’s notion of Dionysus against Apollo (and “the Crucified”) has become a standard way of talking about the matter. Also common is to talk about the movement way from Promethean modernity into Dionysian postmodernity.

In his erudite diagnosis of modern culture, Hoekendjik argues, in contrast that the image of our age is not Dionysus, but Sisyphus. “Previous generations found their symbol in Prometheus, the undaunted revolutionary who has dreamed up a new future for mankind and who now is going to bring it about, striving boldly after the divine crown. . . . Our generation is in the process of exchanging this symbol for another one: Sisyphus, the ‘hero of absurdity,’ who mockingly plods along, although he knows that the whole business does not contain a single promise.”Contrary to understanding the late modern age as a period of unbridled exultation in pleasure and excess, “this sisyphean existence is marked by incessant boredom.” (p. 49)

This goes along with David Bentley Hart’s incisive comment that “the precise symbol of this anesthesia [of modernity], perhaps, would be not wine (which speaks of creation’s goodness and tends to disorient the acquisitive rapacity of a keen mind) but aspirin (which speaks of the world’s oppressive glare and thins the blood).” The notion that the late modern life is one of over-jubilation and excessive gratification is skewed. The pathos of modernity is a life of yawning impotence. Viagra, anyone?

Again, as Hoekendjik says, “This yawning boredom lies behind so much busyness and noisy ideology. It is often as if in an opera we hear the whole chorus sing fortissimo, ‘We are marching! We are marching!’ but nobody advances. We will not understand the bragging song if we do not notice that in the meantime everybody in boredom is marching in place; we don’t understand the ideology quite right if it escapes us that it is often used merely as a hand to cover the yawning mouth. We overestimated the rebellion if we forget that it is the resistance of a conformist, who really discovered a long time ago that it is all so meaningless. It is the scream of a trapped animal.” (p. 50)

The person of the modern age is a listless wanderer who trudges around, moving from one stupid pleasure to the next, never enjoying much of anything in the process. This sort of sentiment is captured perfectly by Stewie Griffin in “Family Guy.” In the process of trying to win a bet about being able to pass as the coolest kid in a high school, he takes on the persona of “Zac Sawyer” who just transferred in from “rich, expensive, car driving, sex having high school.” Upon being told that “that’s sooo cool” he replies “No, it’s lame. Everything’s lame.” At once he is received as the coolest kid in school. And there you have late modernity in a sentence.

I continue to be struck by how prescient J.C. Hoekendjik’s work is in regard to the nature of Christian mission and modern culture. One could even argue that he diagnoses the much joked about condition of the modern Christian hipster culture–which is, of course a sort of social-cultural ricochet of late capitalism in the West.  When speaking of the rise of the late modern subject, he argues that “we can sketch his profile with a bit of guessing when we try to portray him as a rebelling conformist.” I can’t think of a better definition for the cultural ethos of our time.

He goes and specifies this in some important ways. The paradoxical idea of rebellion and conformity embodied in one person is absolutely central to understanding the (Western) late modern subject. What is key here is that “rebellion” signifies something quite different from “revolution.” Our age does just fine producing rebels who continue to consume and constitute a very manageable citizenry–the one thing they are not is revolutionaries. The rebel, in contrast to the revolutionary, absolutely depends on the survival and stability of the status quo, in that it provides the rationale and context for his rebellion. In short, a rebel has to always have stuff to bitch about.

In contrast, “rebellion is the opposite of revolution. Revolution presupposes a historical plasticity: the belief that things can be different and the hope that we can bring that other day near.” It is precisely this notion of faith and hope that has been lost–and is thus being interestingly tapped by the American fans of Obama right now. But note, even the rhetoric of hope and change that is currently being embraced in America does nothing to mitigate the ultimately anti-revolutionary nature of the culture of late modernity. “Wherever one looks, one notices an impotence to revolt. . . . Even when idols are recognized, they are not cast aside once and for all, but are left standing so that again and again they can be slapped in the face.”(p. 48) This is, perhaps, the most stinging indictment of just about everything that passes for social criticism, Christian or otherwise.

Perhaps theology bloggers most of all should feel the sting on that one.