The 1999 film ANTZ was Dreamworks' entry into the computer animation market. They tried to get in on the market created by Pixar, but couldn't equal the quality, neither of animation nor of storytelling. In any event, ANTZ is the story of Z (Woody Allen), a worker ant who isn't happy with his lot in life. He's frustrated with the mentality of the colony, that any single ant isn't important, it is only the colony that is important. General Mandible (Gene Hackman doing his best Crimson Tide), plans to "save" the colony by destroying the worker ants completely, leaving the soldier ants alone and in charge.
ANTZ is a hymn to individualism. When Z tells the worker ants to stop digging (they've been tricked into digging a tunnel that will open into a river, flooding the colony), they respond, "On whose authority?" He says, "On YOUR authority! Think for yourselves!"
Christianity these days seems to be caught in a netherworld between the supposed rugged individualism of evangelicalism: "It's just me and my relationship to my God", and the supposed hive-mind communism (in the non Red-scare sense!) of the "emergent" church: "We discover God only in our discoveries about each other." It seems that there is Scriptural warrant for staying away from either extreme. When the rich young man asks what he must do to inherit eternal life (Matthew 19:16), he is asking a very individualistic question. Jesus responds with a thing he must do. So, eternal life is to be inherited by individuals. Indeed, God knows the individual hairs on our heads, does he not (Psalm 139)? Yet, Paul cautions that "there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:28). In other words, let's not get carried away by individualism, let's focus on the things that make us all the same: Our need for a savior.
Z decides, in the end, that to save the colony he needs to be true to himself. ANTZ seems to come to the conclusion that both indiviualism and communism are necessary. We can learn from each other. We seem to need to learn from each other. We don't feel fully human without each other. Maybe that's ANTZ's best insight, transposed from ant to human: We don't feel completely human when we're lone rangers. However, it's our complete humanity from which we so desperately need saving!
Indeed, it seems fitting to close this post by quoting Elwood Blues: "And remember, people, that no matter who you are and what you do to live, thrive and survive, there're still some things that make us all the same. You. Me. Them. Everybody. Everybody." (The Blues Brothers, 1980) Elwood goes on to sing, "Everybody needs somebody." Amen. Somebody to love us.
Great film no one has ever seen: The Big Hit, 1998 (Kirk Wong)
There is an intriguing post in the HBR that mentions some themes celebrated on this blog.
The first attention grabber is the section on motivation: “It is important to understand the basics of motivation. The stronger source of motivation is internal and not external, though external incentives can help as long as they are applied to the right people and properly aligned with internal motivators. However, external motivators are tricky.”
Religion is frequently focused on external motivation, usually in the form of demand or passive-aggressive suggestions or exhortation or practical and pragmatic advice. But these rarely have much staying power. However, motivation from within—triggered by constantly hearing about God’s one way love because of Jesus and by being transformed by the Holy Spirit—seems to bear some fruit and give life.This is what scripture teaches.Romans 2:4 says “God’s kindness leads to repentance” and Philippians 2:13 says “It is God who works in you to will and to act according to God’s good purpose.”
The second noteworthy point is on “fair” compensation: “Compensation should be reasonable because it is part of human nature to expect fair treatment when it comes to compensation, which should be somehow proportional to our efforts and/or results. This sense of a fair deal seems to be genetically anchored. Even primates respond with aggression or anger when they feel unfairly treated. This has been revealed by some fascinating research with capuchin monkeys. In their experiments the primatologists created a market in which monkeys were trained to give them a pebble in exchange for food. While 95% of the monkeys participated in that market initially, when relative rewards became unfair only 20% of the monkeys continued to trade... and some got so frustrated they simply tossed away their pebbles!”
This reminded me of the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Matt 20:1-16).The five sets of laborers arrived to work at 6am, 9am, 12noon, 3pm, and 5pm (nearly quitting time). They were all paid at 6pm and all received the same pay—one denarius—which is what everyone agreed to. It is not surprising that those arriving earlier and doing more work would envy those who did less, yet receive the same pay. I would have been furious if I worked all day and got paid the same as the slackers.But, I’m a slacker (or “chief of sinners” as Paul put it in 1 Timothy 1:15), and thankfully I get treated like a 5pm worker.
We want things to be fair and grace is not fair. When we are tempted to complain that grace isn’t fair we’ve forgotten the Good News that we are not saved because of our merit or worthiness, but because of His mercy and grace.
"[Iranian student Neda Agha Soltan] showed up in our Twitter feeds, then in our Facebook status updates: "is Neda," we wrote after our own names. And when people started Facebook groups inspired by her death, we quickly joined them, feeling happy that we'd done something, that we'd contributed. But whether our virtual virtuousness will result in real-world action is unpredictable, and has as much to do with human nature as it does with amassing enough numbers."
"'Click-through activism' is the term used by Chris Csikszentmihályi, the co-director of MIT's Center for Future Civic Media to describe the participants who might excitedly flit into an online group and then flutter away to something else. In some ways, he says, the ease of the medium 'reminds me of dispensations the Catholic Church used to give.'"
The article also discusses the fascinating results of an experiment undertaken by a Danish psychologist Anders Colding-Jorgensen, in which he started a Facebook group around a completely fictitious cause to see how many members he could attract. By the end of its first week, his group had 10,000 people:
"What surprised Colding-Jorgensen about people's behavior on his site was that the group was 'in no way useful for horizontal discussions.' Users wanted not to educate themselves or figure out how to save the fountain, but to parade their own feelings of outrage around the cyber-public."
2. A great little piece in Christianity Today about St Francis of Assissi, "Speak The Gospel: Use Deeds When Necessary" (ht Jeff Hual). The author, who published a biography of St Francis in 2003, maintains that St Francis not only never said the phrase in question (the inversion of the article's title), but that he was known as much for his preaching as his lifestyle. He writes:
"'Preach the gospel; use words if necessary' goes hand in hand with a postmodern assumption that words are finally empty of meaning. It subtly denigrates the high value that the prophets and Jesus and Paul put on preaching. Of course we want our actions to match our words as much as possible. But the gospel is a message, news about an event and a person upon which the history of the planet turns."
3. This morning's NY Times reported on the sudden resignation of Riverside Church's Rev. Dr. Brad Braxton (ht Caleb Maskell), less than a year after his appointment as rector. Par for the course as far as I can tell, but sad nonetheless. They explain:
"According to dissidents, Dr. Braxton went about [his mandate to bring the church into the 21st century] by bringing elements of evangelical tradition into church services. They said he called on worshipers to come forward and bear witness to their faith, favored the gospel choir over the church’s traditional choir, and preached at times what they considered a Riverside heresy: that Jesus and only Jesus was the way to salvation.
Some members of the congregation may believe that, said Constance Guice-Mills, a member of the church. “But his focus on personal salvation, on the individual, was diametrically opposed to the tradition of Riverside. Here, we believe you achieve salvation by doing social justice. Out in the world. And we have people from all backgrounds. Buddhists.”
4. I've been very impressed with the overall quality of the Michael Jackson think pieces published this past week: The Atlantic, The New Yorker, Slate, Salon, Roger Ebert(!), The Village Voice - I recommend them all. But the lady who in my opinion understood Michael most profoundly, who wrote about him with the greatest insight and whose little book On Michael Jackson [read it!] shaped much my thinking about MJ is Margo Jefferson. She wrote his obituary for the Washington Post, and if you only have time for one, go there.
Having explored some of the theological implications in the sermon below, and still sorting out my personal feelings about the guy, it seemed like time for the ongoing Mbird tribute to focus on Michael Jackson's music. His Thriller and pre-Thriller heyday are being very well-covered in the media, so I thought we'd take the strength-in-weakness route and look at seven songs from his underrated post-Thriller period. Here goes:
1. Eaten Alive. As far as I know, the only song Michael ever wrote with the Bee Gees. This one was recorded in 1985 by Diana Ross, with Michael on back-up vocals, as a follow-up to that other infamous MJ/Diana single, “Muscles” (which may well be the worst/most embarrassing song he ever wrote – which is really saying something, if you consider 1984's “Centipede”). But "Eaten Alive" is a great single with great 80s production, full of his signature innocence-tracked-by-evil magic.
2. Streetwalker. An outtake from Bad, why on earth this was left off the final tracklist in favor of “Just Good Friends” or “Speed Demon” is beyond me. The chorus ranks up there with his all-time catchiest.
3. Monkey Business. A leftover from Dangerous, and again, better than at least a third of the stuff that made the final cut (“Keep The Faith”, “Can’t Let Her Get Away”… ugh). Much funkier than most of the New Jack Swing he was recording at the time – think late-period Jackson 5 – it would’ve given the record a much-needed moment of light-heartedness. It’s also a real thrill to hear Michael sing the phrase “lord have mercy” with such panache.
4. Tabloid Junkie. The best of the non-single tracks from HIStory Vol.2, the song not only boasts about fifteen great hooks, it contains that record’s sole trace self-deprecating humor. And it’s hard not to relish the line where he sings, “with your pen you torture men, you crucify the Lord”.
5. Morphine. Sadly prophetic and one of the wildest things Michael ever recorded, verging on heavy metal. The real surprise comes just before the 3-minute mark, when the headbanger stuff gives way to a beautiful baroque bridge with the heart-wrenching lyrics, “Demerol, Demerol, oh God, he’s taking Demerol." Which, of course, is the drug that killed him. In Guns N' Roses parlance, this is Michael’s “Rocket Queen”.
6. Whatever Happens. After “You Rock My World”, this is my favorite off of the otherwise sub-par Invincible. Carlos Santana of all people helps out on this track, turning up the menace factor to 11. Again, no one sings about danger like Mike.
7. We’ve Had Enough. As silly as it may sound, I consider this big-production number from the 2003 Ultimate Collection boxed set to be the best anti-Iraq War song out there. Essentially a re-write of “Earth Song” (not a bad thing in my book), it ends with Michael pleading over an enormous Gospel choir, “Just let God decide!” Priceless.
Stay tuned for a similar list covering the Jackson 5 years. And while you're waiting, check out the unbelievable claymation "Speed Demon" sequence from long lost Moonwalker film:
Part 4: Saved by Grace Back in May, Mockingbird began a series examining the intersection of the lives, the faith, and the music of the members of U2 (whose new worldwide tour opens tonight in Barcelona!). (You can read the earlier posts here, here, and here.)
The series was born out of the observation that the personal journey of the band—in particular that of Bono, and to a lesser extent, The Edge—traces a narrative arc that is mirrored in the lives of so many Christians. That is, some crisis in our lives turns us into seekers, people looking for love or mercy (ultimately, a quest for a gracious God). Then, once we find God, we turn into “serious Christians,” committed churchgoers, and faithful Bible study attenders. This stage is often accompanied by an overt piety (Jesus fish bumper stickers) and exacting moralism (throwing away all your Grateful Dead/Jay-Z/Pantera CDs). This stage lasts until we fail. Then our own inability to live up to what we perceive to be God’s standards (or those of “Christianity”) causes us to re-think our religious lives. This is where the faith of many people shipwrecks. Or is reborn.
In our fourth and final installment of Mockingbird’s look at U2, we’ve now reached the place where the band re-discovers God’s grace in the face of Jesus.
U2’s albums in the late 1980s and 1990s reflected their Christian roots, but more often conveyed deep doubt than ardent confidence in Christianity. The obvious track in this vein is “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” from 1987’s Joshua Tree. But check out this snippet from the track “Wake Up Dead Man” from 1997’s Pop:
Jesus, Jesus help me I'm alone in this world And a messed-up world it is too. Tell me, tell me the story The one about eternity And the way it's all gonna be. Wake up, wake up dead man (x2) Jesus, I'm waiting here, boss I know you're looking out for us But maybe your hands aren't free.
But four years later, in 2001, U2 released All That You Can’t Leave Behind. The album contained a song entitled “Grace,” which began with this:
Grace, she takes the blame She covers the shame Removes the stain
It’s last line is this: “Grace makes beauty/Out of ugly things.”
Talking about this song, Bono said this:
“...the most important thing [about the people I mention in “Grace”] is that they personify my favorite word in the lexicon of the English language. It’s a word I’m depending on. The universe operates on karma, we all know that. … There is some atonement built in: an eye for an eye… Then enters Grace and turns that upside down. I love it. … Christ’s ministry really was a lot to do with pointing out how everybody is a screw-up in some shape of form, there’s no way around it. But then He was to say, well, I am going to deal with those sins for you. I will take on Myself all the consequences of sin. Even if you’re not religious I think you’d accept that there are consequences to all the mistakes we make. And so Grace enters the picture to say, ‘I’ll take the blame, I’ll carry your cross.’ It’s a powerful idea” (U2 by U2, p. 300).
Having found grace in Jesus Christ, Bono seems now able to integrate the good and bad in his life. Take this quote, where he describes his new take on life and work:
“I thank God on a daily basis for my life in U2 because not only did this job put my talents to use, it put my insecurities and weaknesses to use. That’s the miracle for me.”
There are echoes here of the great Reformation insight that we are both saved and sinners, that we are totally justified (by a God who justifies the ungodly) and still weak human beings who fail daily. The Gospel allows us to be honest about this reality, to breathe, and to enter into a place of freedom where God does the work, and we mostly just watch.
This week marks yet another story of the secret lives we are capable of living due to the falleness of our human nature. Down here in South Carolina, Governor Mark Sanford, a man who has staunchly stood up for family values, was busted for having an extramarital affair with a mistress from Argentina he has known for 8 years and with whom he has been romantically active with over the past year. Suspicious thoughts started circling the local airwaves when state officials and politicians could not reach the governor for severaldays earlier in the week. His staff announced that Gov. Sanford was hiking the Appalachian Trail and that communication between the governor and his office was sparse, if any.
Come to find out, Sanford was not on the Appalachian Trail, but rather down in Argentina visiting his mistress. Setting politics aside, my heart broke for this man who is the father of four young boys, an active Episcopalian, and a well-loved public figure here in South Carolina. I was saddened to think what all this man had been going through internally in order to convince himself that he, as the governor of one America’s 50 states, could actually sneak off to Argentina without anybody knowing. I thought of major figures such as Bill Clinton, Ted Haggard, the list could go on, who have been well-known and well-loved public figures and busted for the secret lives they lead.
We tend to forget that public figures, whether they are religious or political, are still human beings. We think that they are somehow exempt from the sin that plagues our very souls. The opposite is actually true in my opinion. I bet it is safe to say that these guys probably struggle with sin more than most do, due to the fact that they have to keep their earthly and humanly desires all bottled up because of “who they are.” As we all know, nobody wants to hear how we truly struggle because more times than not, it really looks like a mirror facing right back at us. That’s why we would rather hear a self-help sermon rather than a grace/atonement filled message. After all, we can ultimately control our bound wills right? It is unfortunate that while guys like Clinton, Haggard, and Sanford try their hardest to “maintain face,” they actually are suppressing their sin so much that it finally erupts and causes AWOL behavior such as what we heard about this week.
Where is the grace in all of this? I believe that the true grace is found in how the betrayed families react in all the mess. While the media has been relentlessly attacking Gov. Sanford for his mess-up, his wife has said the following: “I would like to start by saying I love my husband…I believe wholeheartedly in the sanctity, dignity and importance of the institution of marriage…When I found out about my husbands infidelity I worked immediately to first seek reconciliation through forgiveness, and then to work diligently to repair our marriage…I believe enduring love is primarily a commitment and an act of will, and for a marriage to be successful, that commitment must be reciprocal. I believe Mark has earned a chance to resurrect our marriage. Psalm 127 states that sons are a gift from the Lord and children a reward from Him. I will continue to pour my energy into raising our sons to be honorable young men. I remain willing to forgive Mark completely for his indiscretions and to welcome him back, in time, if he continues to work toward reconciliation with a true spirit of humility and repentance. This is a very painful time for us and I would humbly request now that members of the media respect the privacy of my boys and me as we struggle together to continue on with our lives and as I seek the wisdom of Solomon, the strength and patience of Job and the grace of God in helping to heal my family.” (Mrs. Sanford’s statement may be read in its entirety here)My hope is that Gov. Sanford’s family and the people of South Carolina can truly forgive Mark Sanford and move forward in grace. I look at my own life and realize that the areas where I struggle could (and do!) most definitely escalate to unacceptable behaviors, and they too could cause much grief and hurt. We are all capable of doing such ill will and we are all capable of living secret lives. The more we try and control the very sin that plagues us, the more it festers up and causes infection. The good news about living at the foot of the cross is that Jesus takes our sin, though he may never fully remove it, and forgives us. That one-way love he offers us is unconditional, regardless of what our bound wills may stir up.
“ALMIGHTY and most merciful Father; We have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended against thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done; And there is no health in us. But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable off enders. Spare thou those, O God, who confess their faults. Restore thou those who are penitent; According to thy promises declared unto mankind in Christ Jesus our Lord. And grant, O most merciful Father, for his sake; That we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life, To the glory of thy holy Name. Amen.” (General Confession, 1928 Book of Common Prayer)
We're all unhappy. That's the thing about life. -- Lindsay Weir, “Freaks and Geeks”
Mockingbird has been doing more articles on TV series lately, which I think is great. My biggest loves personally are British TV series from the 70s and 80s, which produced some of the best storytelling I've ever seen: Upstairs, Downstairs; I, Claudius; The Charmer; Prime Suspect; Paradise Postponed; and so on.
But there's an American TV series that came out ten years ago that is especially close to my heart. It's Freaks and Geeks, and that's what this week's MATM is about.
F&G is a story about high school. It's a TRUE story. It captures exactly what high school felt like for so many of us -- losers, misfits, scavengers on the fringes -- whether we were Freaks (burnouts, hoods, druggies) or Geeks (I think we all know what that means).
It's true because it captures the central fact of unhappiness at the core of our daily life, paradoxically leavened with moments of geeky or freaky joy (e.g rolling dice in a midnight D&D game). It captures loneliness and aching to be loved and NOT being loved back. It captures the idiocy of teachers and principals and guidance counselors and every other aspect of the Man (including mom and dad).
It's also really funny. In the first episode we get introduced to the three geeks who along with the freaks are at the heart of every episode. One of these (Sam) is a tiny little guy who is wildly in love with a cheerleader. He is trying to convince himself and his two buddies that he'll be able to take her to the prom. His equally geeky buddy Neil tries to explain why this is NOT going to happen:
"The dance is tomorrow. She's a cheerleader. You've seen Star Wars 47 times. You do the math."
It's a great series also because it achieves something against great odds. The series aired originally on NBC -- not HBO or Showtime. And so one of its challenges was to get you to believe in burnouts and druggies who never used profanity (NBC wouldn't allow it). Strictly speaking this is an artistic error -- these characters should be cussing up a storm. And yet the story is so involving and the actors so good that we forget it.
Here are three clips that will give you some feel for the show -- or if you have already seen it, will give you a huge rush of nostalgia. (And I really am exercising restraint here -- I trimmed it down from 30 clips.)
First, the opening credits are just awesome (with a great Joan Jett song "Bad Reputation"):
Next is a scene called Carlos the Dwarf, where the lives of the D&D-playing geeks intersect fleetingly with one of the lead burnouts. It's a lovely moment of how grace and imputed coolness can play out -- in both directions -- in horizontal human relationships.
Finally, here is a long montage of the entire series. If you have a few minutes, watch it to the end. It's very touching, and captures some of the joy and a lot of the melancholy at the heart of the show.
Postscript -- F&G was produced by Judd Apatow, and it was where he first showcased people (Seth Rogen, Jason Segel, etc.) who went on to appear in movies you've seen like Knocked Up, Superbad, and Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Although the series was cancelled before the first year was up, it now appears on Time magazine's "100 Greatest Shows of All Time" list, and Entertainment Weekly ranked it the 13th-best series of the past 25 years.
This is a very, very sad day. In tribute, here's something we ran last year, celebrating his work in the 90s. He will be deeply missed:
Michael Jackson has been back in the spotlight this past month to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Thriller. He’s riding a wave of nostalgia powerful enough, it would seem, to make people forget/ignore what he’s become in the intervening years. People love Thriller (and what Thriller represents) THAT much!
Part of me is very excited about this. I have been a BIG Michael Jackson fan for a long time, and it’s gratifying to see him recognized for something other than kookiness. And Thriller is awesome, an incredible piece of work.
But there’s “another part of me”(!) that, frankly, resents the revival and sees it as fair-weather friendship, one that fundamentally misses the boat when it comes to Michael Jackson.
What do I mean? For those of us interested in the practical ramifications of the Christian Gospel - a.k.a. how judgment, demand, scrutiny and conversely, love, forgiveness, and mercy play out in everyday life – there is NO more interesting case study than Michael Jackson. (No, not even Britney Spears!). And not Thriller-era MJ, I’m talking about Michael Jackson in the 90s. Dangerous-era, HIStory-era, Lisa Marie Presley-era, etc.
The 90s also happen to be my favorite period of his, when I would argue he produced his greatest music. I realize this is a controversial opinion, so let’s be clear: Michael Jackson is strange, strange man, full of contradictions, and a true megalomaniac. Deranged? Perhaps, I don’t know. I may have agreed with the not-guilty verdict re: the “allegations”, but I would never go so far as to label him innocent. Not knowing him personally, I don’t feel qualified to comment more than that. What I do feel qualified to comment on, however, is his art: his music, his dancing, and his videos, but especially his music.
By 1990, Michael Jackson had been in the public eye for over 20 years, roughly since the age of 10. This includes the 1980s, when he may well have been the most famous person on the planet. And his fame was well-deserved: he was that rare celebrity whose creativity and talent matched his charisma. (People often forget that Michael wrote and co-produced nearly all of his major hits). But if his 90s output is to be taken at face value, the success brought with it unbearable pressure and scrutiny. Suddenly everyone (in the world!) was entitled to have an opinion about him. Judgment with a capital J!
Take the Free Willy song, “Will You Be There?”, released in 1991 on the album Dangerous. After a truly ridiculous choral intro, we hear Michael plead with a gospel choir for love and understanding, crying “I’m only human!” over and over. It’s powerful. The exhaustion continues in “Black Or White”, where he (and Slash!!) tells us, “I’m tired of this devil/I’m tired of this stuff/I’m tired of this business”.
The final masterpiece on Dangerous is “Who Is It”, another in his series of paranoid anthems (“Billie Jean”, “Smooth Criminal”, “Leave Me Alone”, “Ghosts” etc), where he confesses, “the will has brought no fortune/still I cry alone at night/don’t you judge of my composure/cause I’m lying to myself” and then finally, “I can’t take it cause I’m lonely!” It’s the sound of a man hanging by a thread.
Of course, elsewhere on the record is “Heal the World”, a song so sappy it makes “We Are The World” look edgy. (Sidenote: the absurd range in quality found on a Michael Jackson album, with nigh-perfect tracks alongside ones so bad they produce secondhand embarrassment, is one of the many ways he reminds me of Brian Wilson.)
As dark as Dangerous gets, it doesn’t hold a candle to the second disc of 1996’s HIStory. Which is ironic, considering that the first disc of HIStory (a defacto greatest hits) has got to be one of the most overt attempts at self-deification ever unleashed. The cover depicts our hero in statue form, for crying out loud! It’s not subtle.
But HIStory disc two, or HIStory Continues, is Michael at his most personal and vulnerable - his Plastic Ono Band, if you will. It opens with my all-time favorite MJ single, “Scream”. Over a chorus of breaking glass and slamming doors, he and his sister Janet yell, “stop pressuring me/just stop pressuring me/stop pressuring me/[you] make me want to scream” before finally begging, “somebody please have mercy cause I just can’t take it!” Woah.
I don’t see how anyone who’s actually listened to “Scream” could argue that it’s not operating on a deeper, more profound (albeit less fun) level than Thriller. Sadly, he made it impossible for us to just listen – we had to look too, and his appearance, by this time, had become way too bizarre. Just check out the video, where he unfortunately looked EXACTLY like the alien he was trying (not?) to portray:
The second track onHIStory, right after “Scream”, is another blast of disaffection called “They Don’t Care About Us”. Then comes the inspired “Stranger in Moscow”, the loneliest of all his lonely songs, where he mentions his "swift and sudden fall from grace" and asks, “how does it feel/when you’re alone and you’re cold inside?” As if that's not intense enough, he also makes reference to Stalin's tomb, the KGB and nuclear Armageddon. We're a long way from "Rockin' Robin".
Michael’s solution to all this pain and fear: Peter Pan-style retreat to childhood, a place he associates with the unconditional love, joy and freedom he's never known. I know I’m treading on (very) shaky ground here, but taken out of the courtroom context, doesn’t this seem to jive, at least a little, with Jesus’ words in Mark 10 about little children and the kingdom of God? On second thought…
I could go on - don’t get me started on the brilliance that is the Blood On The Dance Floor EP – but my point is this: when St. Paul tells us that “the letter kills” (2 Cor 3:6), he’s not kidding. The fruit of the law here, i.e. “thou shalt be the King Of Pop”, is alienation and loneliness, anger, depression, writer’s block and, yes, in all likelihood, more sin. A starker contrast to The Traveling Wilburys one could not find.
The burden of being Michael Jackson is something no one should ever have to bear. That he would crack up under that kind of pressure, that he would even try to transform himself into a different person, was a foregone conclusion. (Substitution, anyone?!). I’m just grateful his talent didn’t abandon him in his struggles. I hope he finds the mercy he’s dying for.
We 21st Centurians aren't the only ones to identify Christian/Gospel concepts in Art. How about 19th century Austrian Romanticist composer Gustav Mahler (7 July 1860 – 18 May 1911)? Witnessing his 90 minute Symphony No. 2 "Resurrection" is probably the most spectacular musical event of my life...so far (U2 comes to Atlanta this fall). Imagine a full orchestra, 150+ choir, 2 soloists, organ, and a second orchestra located outside the hall!
"Why the second orchestra?" you might ask. The second orchestra (operating via live video feed from the conductor) represents the response of Christ being called out of the tomb by the God the Father (the main orchestra). This call and response is very clear and surprising during the middle of the 5th and final movement. It's almost like 19th century surround sound.
Mahler came up with the idea for the ending of his majestic symphony while at a funeral. He heard a poem called Die Auferstehung (The Resurrection) by Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock.
And... "It struck me like lightning, this thing...and everything was revealed to me clear and plain."
Crank up your speakers:
Some lyrics from the video: O Schmerz! Du Alldurchdringer! Dir bin ich entrungen! O Tod! Du Allbezwinger! Nun bist du bezwungen! Mit Flügeln, die ich mir errungen, In heißem Liebesstreben, Werd'ich entschweben Zum Licht, zu dem kein Aug'gedrungen! Mit Flügeln, die ich mir errungen Werde ich entschweben. Sterben werd'ich, um zu leben! Aufersteh'n, ja aufersteh'n wirst du, mein Herz, in einem Nu! Was du geschlagen zu Gott wird es dich tragen!
Okay, in (hyper-literal) English: O Pain, You piercer of all things, From you, I have been wrested! O Death, You masterer of all things, Now, are you conquered! With wings which I have won for myself, In love’s fierce striving, I shall soar upwards To the light which no eye has penetrated! Its wing that I won is expanded, and I fly up. Die shall I in order to live. Rise again, yes, rise again, Will you, my heart, in an instant! That for which you suffered, To God will it lead you!
And, I might add: "Welcome, Happy Morning!" Age to age will say!
If there's a better articulation of human conflictedness/inner turmoil, I haven't read it. From Richard III:
Have mercy, Jesu! - Soft. I did but dream. - O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! - The light burns blue. - It is now dead midnight, Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh What do I fear? Myself? There's none else by: Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No - yes, I am: Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why - Les I lack revenge. What, myself upon myself! Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For only good That I myself have done unto myself? Oh, no! Alas I rather hate myself! I am a villain; yet I lie, I am not!
I really believe He's here all over this room in a motor hotel in Wallace Stevens' town. I admit it's weird; and could--or could it?--not be so; but frankly I don't think there's a molecular chance of that. It doesn't seem hypothesis. Thank heavens millions agree with me, or mostly do, and have done ages of our human time, among whom were & still are some very sharp cookies. I don't exactly feel missionary about it, though it's very true I wonder if I should. I regard the boys who don't buy this as deluded. Of course they regard me no doubt as deluded. Okay with me! And not the hell with them at all--no!--I feel dubious on Hell-- it's here, all right, but elsewhere, after? Screw that, I feel pretty sure that evil simply ends for the doer (having wiped him out, but the way, usually) where good does on, or good may drop dead too: I don't think so: I can't say I have hopes in that department myself, I lack ambition just just there, I know that Presence says it's mild, and it's mild, but being what I am I wouldn't care to dare go nearer. Happy to be here and to have been here, with such lovely ones so infinitely better, but to me even in their suffering infinitely kind & blessing. I am a greedy man, of course, but I wouldn't want that kind of luck continued,-- or even increased (for Christ's sake), & forever? Let me be clear about this. It is plain to me Christ underwent man & treachery & socks & lashes, thirst, exhaustion, the bit, for my pathetic & disgusting vices, to make this filthy fact of paticular, long-after, faraway, five-foot-ten & moribund human being happy. Well, he has! I am so happy I could scream! It's enough! I can't BEAR ANY MORE. Let this be it. I've had it. I can't wait.
I was reminded this week of an article that appeared last December in the Guardian, entitled "Is 2008 the year the 'real meaning of Christmas' debate resonates?" The article concluded with this line:
While the government hopes festive spending will help deliver us out of economic gloom, the church is hoping the credit crunch will deliver us from the commercialisation of Christmas into the arms of God. Who's your money on?
Looking back over the six months that have transpired since Christmas, the evidence as to whether or not the credit crunch has delivered us into the arms of God is doubtful at best. In fact, an article appeared last week in TheEconomist entitled Church Attendance In Recessions: No Rush For Pews. What caught my eye was this:
On the campaign trail, Barack Obama famously claimed that blue-collar workers inPennsylvania clung to religion because of bitterness over lost jobs. Americans are now truly fearful, as unemployment has mounted and house prices fallen. Yet the theory that church attendance grows in times of economic crisis seems to be a myth.
The article goes on to quote Frank Newport, editor-in-chief of the Gallup Poll, as saying "to guess that attendance would increase [in recessions] is a common-sense assumption with no basis in data."
The prediction alluded to in the Guardian article has been made every time we experience a massive downturn in the economy – that the economic crisis will lead to a massive revival in Christian faith, and unfortunately, as the Economist article points out, the two have not necessarily translated.
This same prediction was widely declared during the Great Depression. But noted writer and Christian thinker Thornton Wilder said that if a true revival is to take place, then we must find "new and persuasive words to replace defaced and degraded ones" (hat tip to Dr. Paul Zahl). What Mr. Wilder was saying is that we have to reclaim the core concepts of Christianity from the kitschy phrases and concepts that have infiltrated and replaced our understanding of who Jesus is, what he did for us, and why it matters.
But I would argue the point a little differently than Mr. Wilder. I would assert that, rather than coming up with new and persuasive words, we need to reclaim the old words of our faith and a real understanding of their meaning. We don’t need to rethink what we believe, we simply need to rediscover it.
I was reminded recently of the wonderful children's book, The Runaway Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown. For those of you who haven't read it in a while, it's about a little bunny who decides to run away.
He tells his mother, "I am running away," and she replies, "If you run away, I will run after you. For you are my little bunny." So the little bunny schemes, "If you run after me, I will become a fish in a trout stream and I will swim away from you." And the mother never hesitates, "If you become a fish... I will become a fisherman and I will fish for you." And it goes on, and the little bunny becomes a bird, and a crocus, and a sailboat...and the mother becomes a tree, and a gardener, and the wind, and so on, always finding her little bunny. In short, it's brilliant! I'm no connoisseur of children's books, but I can't think of one that better describes our relationship to God. We run away, and he becomes like us to bring us back to him.
So, reading the Runaway Bunny reminded me of another favorite and classic children's book, The Little Engine That Could. Just thinking about it makes me feel nostalgic; the little bright blue engine, the colorful vintage pictures of the dolls, toys, the clown, the candy!
But flipping through it, I realized that now its message is lost on me. "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can..." conjured up uneasy memories of self-esteem workshops in middle school and a stressful feeling that I should ditch this post and get back to studying for an exam. It seems that life is just a little too real for the Little Engine for the thoughts occupying my head are less often "I think I can, I think I can" and more "Why didn't I?" or "No, I guess I couldn't". The pictures are fun, but I fear that I may have read the Little Engine a few too many times, and the Runaway Bunny not enough.
There are not many television shows as good as the HBO series The Wire. Some, such as Mad Men and Breaking Bad, are in the same league. Others would probably argue for Friday Night Lights and Dexter (this is a great dispensation for television!... someone must have found a way to cast off some sitcom shackles!). Whatever your poison might be, The Wire and I (for a synopsis, go here) have spent a great deal of time together.
Detective Jimmy McNulty is one of the heroes/anti-heroes of the series whose deft investigatory skills and genuine sincerity about his work are tempered by a high-functioning alcoholism, arrogance, deviousness, and a long line of broken relationships. He is the perfect real-life protagonist who is a jumble of mixed motives and not an impossible paragon of Aristotelian virtue from a Bill Bennett book.
The purpose of this little reflection is not to give the theological ramifications of the entire series but to share one poignant moment that I see as a representative of the common thread in all human longing. This particular moment occurs in Season 5 during McNulty's dramatic fall from grace following a brief stint in a healthy, happy relationship. He falls off the wagon and becomes the chief instigator of a very serious deception in the Baltimore Police Department. A man at low ebb with no friends and an alienated love-interest.
The scene unfolds as his girlfriend, played by the peerless Amy Ryan, returns home with her children after "going home to stay with mother awhile" (a euphemism... but you know what I mean) and they meet on her front porch. She is clearly upset as they speak (and rightly so... she has been hurt by him immeasurably). In a moment of unforgettable humility and vulnerability, he comes clean to her about the city-wide deception he has been perpetrating. "You know," he says, "you begin something like this thinking you are some kind of hero and then you realize..." SLAM! She slams the door in his face in incredulous rage and righteousness. The camera pans back to McNulty as he stands there silently, absorbing the justice that he has seen so many times.
You see the same question and answer in Breaking Bad when Walt White (a high school chemistry teacher who turns to cooking crystal meth for money to finance his cancer treatment and take care of his family) is locked in a trunk by a drug dealer. The New Mexico heat makes him delusional and he imagines (as the vicious drug dealer opens the trunk) that he sees his estranged wife trying to embrace him, saying, "I understand." The vision quickly dissipates and he is thrown to the ground by a monster of a man.
Where can I find a gracious God? That is the question asked here. And it is a question asked by people in the face of the immutability of the givens of life which Ecclesiastes 1:15 says are "crooked and cannot be straightened". It is a question sneeringly derided by a lot of current New Testament scholarship which finds itself unable (and, frankly, unwilling) to place itself within the experience of the people they study to minister to. It is the question that people consciously or unconsciously ask in their ultimately futile attempts to seduce justice with virtue. It is a question asked by St. Paul and Martin Luther.
It is answered by the Lamb of God on the cross. "For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:45 ESV) Thankfully, Mockingbird is a place you can go to hear this answer again and again.
I saw Kobe Bryant on Conan the other night. I've never really liked the 4-time NBA Champion...and I've never been quite sure why. However, in his push up to this year's Finals, several NBA writers hit the nail on the head: Kobe seems to have invented himself as a person; he doesn't seem real. He can't just be. Some have suggested that this is due to the fact that Kobe was groomed for superstardom from a very young age, tagging along with his NBA father (Joe "Jellybean" Bryant) and living in Italy as Bryant, Sr. played there for much of Kobe's childhood. He knew he would play in the NBA as a pre-adolescent, never considered going to college, and had to have his parents co-sign his first multi-million dollar contract (he was just 17 at the time).
Then, in the Western Conference finals, Kobe debuted the "Gosh I'm so intense" face (above left), and the Kobe critiquing hit a new high. Where was this face for the first eight years of his career? Did he practice it in the mirror? Why was he all-of-a-sudden trying to convince us that he was an intense champion? Couldn't his legendary work ethic speak for itself? What was he trying to prove?
And then I saw him on Conan. The musical guest was...you guessed it, Incubus. Well, you only guessed it if you knew that an incubus is a sex god that "lies" with women whilst they sleep. In any event, I thought it was funny that Kobe and Incubus would appear together. Incubus' breakout album is called "Make Yourself." Released in 1999, this excellent album's title track includes the lyrics:
If I hadn't made me, I would've been made somehow... If I hadn't assembled myself, I'd have fallen apart by now. If I hadn't made me, I'd be more inclined to bow. Powers that be, Would have swallowed me up But that's more than I can allow. But... If you let them make you, they'll make you Papier-Mache. At a distance you're strong, until the wind comes Then you'll crumble and blow away.
As you can see, Incubus is advocating the exact behavior that got Kobe into trouble. This "making yourself" is always a transparent excersise that leads to suspicion and distrust. The truth is that we ARE papier-mache, and when the wind comes, we DO "crumble and blow away." It's also ridiculous to think that "if [we] hadn't assembled ourselves, [we'd] have fallen apart by now." Who among us HASN'T fallen apart, and cursed our "assembler?"
Kobe is a great champion and a wonderful athlete. He must be mentioned amongst the greatest basketball players in the history of the game. And yet, he seems to have few friends. He seems to always be working so hard on "making himself" that he makes those of us who recognize that we are papier-mache uncomfortable. We would rather root for someone who is "like us": ready to crumble and blow away at the coming of the wind.
Here at Mockingbird we use the terms "theology/theologian of the cross" and "theology/theologian of glory" quite a bit. As a result, we thought they would be the perfect terms to explore this week.
In order to do so, I want to reference the late, great theologian Gerhard O. Forde. I think his definitions of the two terms found in his excellent work On Being a Theologian of the Cross (an in depth look at Martin Luther's Heidelberg Disputation) are just about perfect. SO, away we go!
Theologians of Glory – “operate on the assumption that what we need is optimistic encouragement, some flattery, some positive thinking, some support to build our self-esteem. Theologically speaking it operates on the assumption that we are not seriously addicted to sin, and that our improvement is both necessary and possible. We need a little boost in our desire to do good works. Of course the theologian of glory may well grant that we need the help of grace. The only dispute, usually will be about the degree of grace needed. If we are “liberal,” we will opt for less grace and tend to define it as some kind of moral persuasion or spiritual encouragement. If we are more “conservative” and speak even of the depth of human sin, we will tend to escalate the degree of needed to the utmost. But the hallmark of a theology of glory is that it will always consider grace as something of a supplement to whatever is left of human will and power. It will always, in the end hold, out for some free will.” (Forde, p. 16) – in short a theologian of glory sees the cross as a means to an end rather than the end itself. He/ she is interested in progression to glory as opposed to death and resurrection.
Theologians of the Cross– “operate on the assumption that there must be – to use the language of treatment for addicts – a ‘bottoming out’ or an ‘intervention.’ That is to say, there is no cure for the addict on his own. In theological terms, we must come to confess that we are addicted to sin, addicted to self, whatever form that may take, pious or impious. SO theologians of the cross know that we can’t be helped by optimistic appeals to glory, strength, wisdom, positive thinking, and so forth because those things are themselves the problem. The truth must be spoken. To repeat Luther again, the thirst for glory or power or wisdom is never satisfied even by the acquisition of it. We always want more – precisely so that we can declare independence from God. The thirst is for the absolute independence of the self, and that is sin. Thus again Luther’s statement of the radical cure in his proof for thesis 22: “The remedy for curing desire does not lie in satisfying it, but in extinguishing it.” The cross does the extinguishing. The cross is the death of sin, and the sinner. The cross does the ‘bottoming out.’ The cross is the ‘intervention.’ The addict/sinner is not coddled by false optimism but is put to death so that new life can begin. The theologian of the cross ‘says what a thing is’ (thesis 21). The theologian of the cross preaches to convict of sin. The addict is not deceived by theological marshmallows but is told the truth so that he might at last learn to confess, to say, ‘I am an addict,’ ‘I am an alcoholic,’ and never to stop saying it. Theologically and more universally all must learn to say, ‘I am a sinner,’ and likewise never to stop saying it until Christ’s return makes it no longer true.” (Forde, p. 17) – in short a theologian of the cross sees the cross as the end where we die to our sin with Christ and are raised a new creation with Christ. The work is truly finished as Christ promised and there is no moving on from His cross.
"From the moment they wake up in the morning, to the moment they lose consciousness at night, Americans are in near-constant visual contact with bright, pulsating rectangles," said Dr. Richard Menken, lead author of the report, looking up briefly from the gleaming quadrangle that sits on his desk. "In fact, it's hard to find a single minute during which the American public is not completely captivated by these shining…these dazzling…."
"I'm sorry," Menken continued. "What were we discussing again?"
The review of this rediscovered gem comes from none other than Mbird confidante Josh Sherman:
A friend put "The Useful Sinner" by David Hawkins in my hands last week, and the story of grace found within its modest 100 pages absolutely floored me. It's out of print, but if you can possibly locate a copy, it is well worth the trouble [ed: see below for more details]. The book tells the author's own powerful story - that of an accomplished corporate lawyer whose adulterous affair with his boss' wife becomes public and the miracle that occurs when he eventually comes clean with his wife - she forgives him.
While the consequences of Hawkins' transgression take a considerable toll on his marriage, children and career, the experience allows him to encounter God in a new and special way. He is converted. Here is an excerpt from the opening chapter:
Driving home from our hunt I prepared the words I would use to confess. [My wife] Louisa was in our bedroom sitting by the fireplace. I told her about the relationship and said that I was no longer involved. I then asked her what she wanted me to do. After a brief interrogation, Louisa said she did not want me to leave. She asked me to kneel and pray with her. I do not remember the words she spoke. I only recall a clear sensation that a long fall into blackness had been arrested. Louisa's faith has always been deep. It would, however, be a serious mistake to picture her as meek or mild. She is bold and outspoken, and while her reaction to my damning admission was probably not out of character, it was not what I expected. It was my first taste of grace. There were no excuses to be made, but I expressed my bewilderment at how I could have done such a deplorable thing. Louisa listened, found her Bible and search around until she found these verses which she read to me: I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing. These two sentences expressed clearly the struggle I had lived for a year and a half. My response to these words was not spiritual, it was logical: this matches my experience and in my frame of reference it is therefore true. It was a starting point and a mere neutral truth which positioned me where I was as nothing more than another human who had lost the struggle with his conscience.
[Mockingbird has been fortunate enough to procure a number of copies - email us at mockingbirdnyc@gmail.com if you are interested. We could not recommend this little volume more highly! More quotes coming soon...]
Some Monday morning surfing suggestions: 1. Head over to mardecortesbaja.com for a stirring report from my father on Jack Kerouac's humble origins. [PZ has become a semi-regular contributor over there]. The first paragraph reads as follows:
Our son Simeon says that faith is summed up in something he calls the "Nazareth principle". This refers to the question in the New Testament where someone scoffs at Jesus the carpenter by asking, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?"
The idea was that Nazareth was a city, in the region of Galilee, which was known for its "mixed-blood" and therefore suspect practice of Judaism. Because the carpenter/prophet came from Nazareth, didn't that disqualify him from being the real thing?
Yet as Simeon says, in life -- time after time -- the best things come from the unlikeliest places. And this "Nazareth principle" extends to the fact that out of trouble and wounds, disappointments and closed doors, come often the actual breakthroughs of personal life.
2. While there, be sure to check out his review of Roald Dahl's short-lived 1961 television show Way Out. The particular episode which caught PZ's attention was "Soft Focus", the summary of which is just too good not to reprint here:
"Soft Focus" is 29 minutes of Barry Morse playing a photographer who has invented a retouching agent for his portraits of people, which has the side effect of retouching their actual faces. Thus a little boy loses an ugly birthmark which "Dr. Pell" has erased in the lab. Then, too, an actress whose face has been scarred is able to be beautiful again with the help of Dr. Pell. Dr. Pell's wife, however, Louise, is involved with her husband's young assistant. Louise doesn't know that her husband knows what is going on.
He begins to 'touch up' a photograph of her. She starts to age. (He touches up his own photograph, too, to make himself look younger.) When she begins to look about 50 or so -- and she looks awful -- her boyfriend jilts her. Enraged and abandoned, she enters her husband's studio and right in front of his eyes, pours the whole bottle of solution on his portrait. He screams, and in the climax, which no one who saw it in 1961 ever forgot, he turns towards his gloating wife, and towards the camera, with half his face wiped away, a perfect blank.
3. Finally, run don't walk over to rcrdlabl.com and download the first official release from our very own Trevor Giuliani's upcoming debut album, Subcontrario (In Stereo), due 7/21. The track, entitled "Wasting Your Town", is available for free and will blow your mind.
It's been a while since anyone at Mockingbird has talked about the link between theology and extraterrestrials. Too long. So here's a web site you all may want to check out. I can do nothing better than give an extended quote from the first page.
================= I was in a supermarket recently searching for a brown mustard-and-conditioner in one. It was while I was reading the ingredient label on a jar of Gouldens Dry Scalp Formula that I looked to the children's book rack and there spied the title "My Little Golden Book About God"....
You cannot imagine my horror, however, when my eyes met pages filled with saccharine, pastel artwork depicting cold-eyed androids that were clearly not of our realm. In a Beautiful Mind moment of schizophrenic clarity I saw the book for what it was: not a gentle introduction to life's most profound curiosity, but a primer for the parasitic offspring of an invisible invasion!
For the safety of our race (if any still remain) I have translated this book in the hopes that a resistance may arise. Read the baby powder-scented Final Solution of our enemies from beyond, otherwise known as The Little Golden Book About Zogg.
Last week while choosing a movie to rent, I stumbled upon one that I have been wanting to watch since its release last year, the French film I've Loved You So Long. I had thought it was a romantic comedy, but I was completely blown away by what it actually was - a story of despair and redemption, of our own inner prisons and the freedom of unconditional love, of law and pure gospel, of the grace that breaks into our world as light into darkness. I abreacted twice with tears.
The story is a mystery that unravels subtly and intelligently, so I will try not to give away too much. However, I will say this about the storyline: Juliette, the main character, is haunted by a heinous act that she committed many years ago. She moves in with her sister Léa (and her family) and tries to start her life anew. But we soon find out that Juliette's extremely painful memories have robbed her of the ability to relate to other people. She shuts off every person who tries to approach her in love. The movie tells the story of Juliette's intense and overwhelming emotional grief and her humble efforts at re-establishing herself in society, reconciling with her family, and re-learning how to live despite her past. It also tells the story of Léa, who without any reserve, accepts and loves Juliette, attempting to understand the incredible weight upon her sister and give her time to heal individually and with other people.
Juliette's story is the universal story of regret seeming more powerful than hope, of the burdens of the past enslaving us to believe that love and faith are useless - whether they be disappointment and disillusionment in relationships, broken and unfulfilled dreams, specific things we have said or done, or just the pervasive feeling of complete desperation because we cannot seem to "get over" something - and that we are doomed ultimately to death and pain.
As the psalmist writes "Be merciful to me, O Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief. My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning; my strength fails because of my affliction, and my bones grow weak" (Psalm 31:9-10).
Even Jesus was "despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and familiar with suffering" (Isaiah 53:3). In one scene in the movie, Juliette and her friend contemplate Emile Friant's painting "Pain." The robes of the mourning women in the painting, with their engulfing darkness and the endless hole of death in the forefront, illustrate the ceaseless depths of Juliette's anguish, much like the suffering we often feel and cannot overcome.
However, just like the film's title, the movie is not primarily about the pain Juliette feels, but about the redemptive love that comes into her life from the outside and changes her heart to know freedom and grace. The French title "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime" can be translated both as "I've Loved You For So Long" and as "I Loved You A Long Time Ago." The redemptive love of Christ is both these at the same time - for God so loved the world that He gave His only son at Calvary a long time ago, and, because of the resurrection, He is alive and has loved us since before we were formed in the womb. God is a God who redeems us when we are still sinners, who loves us and gives us life when we deserve nothing but death.
So, the Gospel is in this movie as much as it is in reality. Christ, who invites us to come near to Him and to give Him our burdens, offers forgiveness at the feet of His cross. Our powerlessness and our sin open the way for God to pour his grace into our brokenness so that we would depend and trust on Him rather than on ourselves. Ours is a true love, a true hope and a true salvation because it does not rest on us, but on the living God, Jesus Christ. Now, go see the movie!
David Browder just wrote a great post about the human way of doing things (all about rewards for virtue, punishments for vice; AKA the Law), and compared it to the inscrutable and offensive grace of God which seems, in human terms, perversely attracted to unbelievably messed up sinners. A lot of times we agree intellectually with the idea of God's grace for sinners--until we hear about a particularly bad sinner. Then we begin to choke on grace because it's not fair. This is especially true when we are on the hurtful receiving end of someone else's sin.
Anyways, this all put me in mind of "God Will," a great Lyle Lovett song from his first album way back in 1986. It gets at the radical difference between God's forgiveness and the human tendency towards law-enforcing and grudge-bearing. It also points to the fact that for humans to forgive, it really takes a work of the Holy Spirit. That is, God needs to change you on the inside.
Here are the lyrics:
Who keeps on trusting you When you've been cheating And spending your nights on the town? And who keeps on saying that he still wants you When you're through running around? And who keeps on loving you When you've been lying Saying things ain't what they seem? God does But I don't God will But I won't And that's the difference Between God and me
So who says he'll forgive you And says that he'll miss you And dream of your sweet memory? God does But I don't God will But I won't And that's the difference Between God and me
Throughout our lives, we have all been exposed to stories about hidden gems of human beings who have been serendipitously discovered by those with the power to better their lives. Usually, they have a rare but prodigious gift that is presented as having the potential to make the world a better place. I'm thinking here of Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting, Shaquille O'Neal in Blue Chips, Jamie Foxx in The Soloist, and the list goes on and on.
These stories always warm the heart at first, but then a realization sets in. I am not a mathematics prodigy. What about Ben Affleck? I am not an athletic 7-footer who weighs 300 pounds. What about the nameless guy he dunks over? I wouldn't even know how to correctly hold a cello. What about the schizophrenic homeless man with no talent other than finding the next heroin fix? What inherent virtue do they have that will attract the halls of power?
This is not a reflection on doing more social justice. Frankly, I find sermonizing on that to be a little bit nauseating these days. This is a reflection on justice itself. More specifically, the benefits of virtue and what is attracted to virtue (virtue being a catch-all term for gifts, right living, etc.). The way the world works is the way the world has always worked. It is ingrained in you and in me. A specific quality, gift, or trait that enables survival, fame, power, money, companionship, love, etc. The inherent good attracts the good. Conversely but consistently, the inherent bad attracts the bad: alienation, abandonment, punishment, aloneness, imprisonment, execution, and death. This is shorthand for justice.
It is the basis for all human activity. Justice. Virtue. Traits. Reward for obedience. It is the basis for all relationships and all religions except for the true meaning of Jesus Christ (which only re-asserts itself about once every few centuries, it seems).
This all occurred to me in a new way during the Susan Boyle to-do. If you have been lost at sea these past couple of months, she is a middle-aged Scots woman of nondescript appearance who has a lovely singing voice. She rocked the world with her tremendous performance that can be seen here. A "diamond-in-the-rough", she was called by all the elites who deigned recognize her. The halls of power took notice and her trip to fame began.
Instead of dwelling on the problems that took place in her rise to fame, I began to think about another character. She is actually a fictional character but she produces real-life reaction in the viewer. Breaking Bad is a show I watch (and would recommend only for those with strong stomachs... especially this season). This character is a woman who is addicted to crystal meth. She has a lover who is addicted to meth as well and a little boy who is neglected and malnourished. This woman is fairly grisly in appearance and kills her lover in a quite gruesome way. The slightest memory of this character never fails to repulse me. And yet...
Romans 5:6-10 For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life.
What is this? Justice and virtue turned on its ear to be replaced with grace, mercy, and alien righteousness? This does not compute. God through Jesus Christ came for His lost sheep who have no virtuous lever by which reward can be expected? In fact, love sought out evil like a heat-seeking missle and embraced the unembraceable. Vice, in other words, attracts the only One with any true virtue.
For those who haven't seen the movie (it is 14 years old!), Toy Story is a tale about the secret lives of Andy's toys. Whenever Andy leaves, a whole unknown toy world comes to life. This is a world of staff meetings, checker games, friends, and Plastic corrosion awareness meetings. Andy's favorite toy is Woody, an old pull-string cowboy. Woody enjoys a charmed life of love and personal prestige. Yet in one day he loses all of this as Andy is given a new Buzz Lightyear Space Ranger toy for his birthday. Woody is a character that has lost his place in life. Buzz has supplanted him as Andy’s favorite toy and Woody is discarded to the toy chest. But Buzz is oblivious of the benefits of being Andy’s favorite toy. He thinks that he is a real space ranger who needs to return to the mother ship.
There's so much to say about this movie: it touches the deep issues of loss, preaching and the nature of evil. But I want to highlight specifically the relationship between Andy and his toys as the pure Gospel message.
As demonstrated so clearly by Woody and Buzz, the toys derive their value externally through the love and attention of Andy. The most important thing in Woody's world is the place he holds in Andy's heart as his favorite toy. But as Buzz Lightyear's delusions demonstrate, Woody and Buzz are just toys. Woody isn't really a cowboy and Buzz really isn't a space ranger; Woody can't round up cattle and Buzz can't fly.
When Buzz is confronted by the shocking reality that he is a toy, he is thrown into despair. He says, "I'm not a space ranger. I'm just a toy, a stupid little insignificant toy." Yet Wood (the preacher) urges him saying, "Being a toy is a whole lot better than being a space ranger. . . Look, over in that house is a kid who thinks that you are the greatest. . . you are his toy." Buzz looks down on the sole of his boot and sees "Andy" written on permanent marker. Immediately, Buzz springs into action. He is saved from his despair through the assurance that he belongs to, and is loved by, Andy.
In the same way, our value is only found through being loved by God. As Luther said in the Heidelberg Disputation, "Rather than seeking its own good, the love of God flows forth and bestows good. Therefore sinners are attractive because they are loved; they are not loved because they are attractive... This is the love of the cross, born of the cross which turns in the direction where it does not find good which it may enjoy, but where it may confer good upon the bad and needy person."
Weekly meetings resume Weds, July 8th with a new series called "Good News For People With Big Problems". 7:30-9:30pm in NYC. Venue to be announced. Stay tuned for more details.
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The 1999 film ANTZ was Dreamworks' entry into the computer animation market. They tried to get in on the market created by Pixar, but couldn't equal the quality, neither of animation nor of storytelling. In any event, ANTZ is the story of Z (Woody Allen), a worker ant who isn't happy with his lot in life. He's frustrated with the mentality of the colony, that any single ant isn't important, it is only the colony that is important. General Mandible (Gene Hackman doing his best Crimson Tide), plans to "save" the colony by destroying the worker ants completely, leaving the soldier ants alone and in charge.
Christianity these days seems to be caught in a netherworld between the supposed rugged individualism of evangelicalism: "It's just me and my relationship to my God", and the supposed hive-mind communism (in the non Red-scare sense!) of the "emergent" church: "We discover God only in our discoveries about each other." It seems that there is Scriptural warrant for staying away from either extreme. When the rich young man asks what he must do to inherit eternal life (Matthew 19:16), he is asking a very individualistic question. Jesus responds with a thing he must do. So, eternal life is to be inherited by individuals. Indeed, God knows the individual hairs on our heads, does he not (Psalm 139)? Yet, Paul cautions that "there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:28). In other words, let's not get carried away by individualism, let's focus on the things that make us all the same: Our need for a savior.
Z decides, in the end, that to save the colony he needs to be true to himself. ANTZ seems to come to the conclusion that both indiviualism and communism are necessary. We can learn from each other. We seem to need to learn from each other. We don't feel fully human without each other. Maybe that's ANTZ's best insight, transposed from ant to human: We don't feel completely human when we're lone rangers. However, it's our complete humanity from which we so desperately need saving!
I was reminded recently of the wonderful children's book, 
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