Let Us Make God in Our Image, After Our Likeness 'Cause It'd Be Awesome

This might hurt your brain, but stay with me friends.

Imagine if he came the way we wanted him to? Imagine if Jesus answered the problem of evil with a punch rather than his paschal mystery?

He would've kicked the devil's butt. He would've been ripped, with muscles on top of his muscles. A combination of brains and brawn. Bolder than Bourne, slicker than Spider-Man, more convicted than Captain America and every move in slo-mo. The lance set to pierce his heart on the Cross would've bounced off and snapped like a toothpick! Nothing would break him. He'd have busted up the Romans and religious leaders in a Divine Smackdown the likes of which the world had never seen!

"Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven to consume them?" (Luke 9:54)

"Yes, I do. Let's kick some taḥat!" (Luke 9:55, revised)

Yes, if God were made in man's image... we'd all be wowed, then bored to tears. 

"That was awesome! What else is on?”

I saw the latest X-Men film this weekend, and it was awesome. Don't get me wrong, Rebecca and I will be watching this chain of films until we're 90 (because they'll still be making this franchise when we're 90)! Lots of fun, lots of flash and fireworks, classic good versus evil (though the characters are getting morally foggier these days, aren't they?) and then the credits rolled. Fade to black until another new translation of the same old, same old throws its glowing flashes on our sedentary faces. (There was a remarkable and refreshing gem in this X-Men film though.... wait for it ;)

Last night's movie, scheduled as a 9:10 viewing, didn't actually start until about 9:30. It was preceded by 20 minutes of previews. Most of these were coming attractions for the same perennial distractions. Stuff blowing up, slow motion acrobatics, killing, fighting, quelling evil forces with opposite force, which then ushers in a fragile peace until the sequel. Now, what I find reassuring as a "theological anthropologist" (my unofficial job title) is the recognition that bad needs to be broken. We must fight evil and rescue that which is good. This is a theme so deeply engrained in our stories. But "making right" has a better word and a more effective one than the firing of bullets; it's redemption. 

This word changes everything. and it all goes back to that paradigm shift when Christ first hit our "fault line" with the tectonic shift of gratuitous grace. Those aftershocks still reverberate throughout human history, backwards and forwards. Our realignment comes now by our allowing ourselves to be set into this new geographic configuration by faith, not fists. Retaliation and redemption are two very different answers to the problem of evil.

Point is this: There must be a fight. There will be blood. There must be. To quote the Princess Bride for the thirteenth time on this blog, "Life is pain... anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something." But it's all about what we do with the blood and pain and suffering that comes from that first punch. 

The amount of blood and violence and suffering in our blockbuster movies today is staggering, but honestly it's no more staggering than the battles and death in the Bible, especially, uh, the crucifixion. In this latest X-Men film, however, a powerful twist enters in and truly redeems suffering in a beautiful way.

In a climactic scene (slight spoiler alert here) between young Charles Xavier and old Charles Xavier, we receive a pearl of wisdom on how to treat our "enemy"... how to open up to a peace that just might have the power to stick, finally, after so much fighting; 




"The greatest gift we have is to bear their pain without breaking and it comes from your most human part, hope." 

- Charles Xavier

Wow. The scene has so much more to it, but I want you to go and taste it for yourself.

So back to Jesus... who is the quintessence of this kind of compassion (which means to suffer with).

Recall he came the way the Father wanted him to. He answered the problem of evil not with a punch, but with his paschal mystery. He took the punch, and let it penetrate him (literally in fact break him), through and through. "Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave... becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross." (Philippians 2:7-8)

This is the "movie" that continues to truly move me. And with an ever building sense of joy and Easter hope, all the while trying to unite my own personal small bit of suffering to his, I'm looking forward to the sequel!

"In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world.”

- John 16:33

Hooked

I'm sure we've all had movie moments that stick with us; scenes that combined character, catharsis, music and meaning into an unstoppable force that broke into our world and suddenly, lifted us up into theirs. Like modern parables, a great Truth was conveyed in a story and it bypassed our security systems. "Hey," we whisper to ourselves, "that's about me..."

I've been hooked on the above scene from Hook for years now. In the movie, Robin Williams plays a much older, stressed, and well dressed Peter Pan; a Peter Pan who has forgotten who he is and subsequently become a merger and acquisitions lawyer (crazy, I know). He's married to Wendy's granddaughter and now his kids have been captured by the infamous Captain Hook.

The scene above is Peter's great awakening. At first we find him utterly confused, ripped from the "real" world of comfort and security into a fantastic place of dreams and magic. But what does he do? How can he live? All is wild and blazingly bright in this world, so unlike the foggy gray and ease and comfort of the world he came from.

The Lost Boys (those perpetual and unsupervised 5th graders) cannot fathom that this is their fearless leader, trembling as he is with fear before them in his suit pants. What's a suit?

A line is drawn by the new leader of the Lost Boys, and Peter stands alone on the other side. Then, dramatically, one little boy crosses over the line, into his fear. He takes Peter by the hand, pulls him down to his level, and touches his face. Pushing and pulling at his cheeks, peering into his eyes, the Little Boy is searching for the truly Lost Boy, Peter Pan. Robin Williams in this scene, manipulated like silly putty in the hands of a Child, cannot help but smile. A light breaks through his weary eyes and suddenly the Child before him whispers "Oh there you are Peter!" The music swells, the Boys rush to Peter's side and all begin the process of rediscovery with him. Eventually, after a long training period, Peter learns again how to fly.

Inspirations, insights... how does this speak to me?

I am lost. I need to be found again. I need the Christ Child to take me by the hand and pull me down to His level, to that place of humility, of smallness. I need Him to touch me and to push aside the worry and the anxiety and the sin and the weakness. I need Him to cross over that line and believe in me. And if I let Him have His way with me, I will hear those words "There you are Billy!"

And by His Grace I will learn again just how to FLY!

Faults and Flames and Forgiveness

I normally start my mornings at Malvern Prep with daily Mass (and I feel it when I don't). Typically, there are about six or seven of us, sometimes just three, with Fr. Baker offering up the Perfect Prayer. With such a small number of people, it's sometimes kind of "weird" giving the responses at Mass... you know what I mean?

Once in awhile you miss your cue, or a word is off, or your mind wanders and sometimes slips up without the blanket of hundreds of other voices covering over your own.

"...and also with you." (easy)

"... thanks be to God." (piece of cake)

"May the Lord accept this sacrifice at your hands, for the praise (glory?) and glory (praise?) of His Name, uh, for our good and ... for the good? of all His (the) Church... I think." (dang it)

One of the awkwardly beautiful parts of this daily Mass of sometimes just four souls (and all of Heaven of course, smiling at us in our awkwardness) is the Lamb of God sequence. I was contemplating it the other day. It was just before the Fire of Love descended from Heaven to consume our sins and set a flame like Prometheus in our hearts through the Eucharist, that me, Gary, and Fran said, three times...

Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, grant us peace...

Three guys saying this three times in a big, mostly empty, chapel first thing in the morning. Sometimes it's muffled, sometimes robotic. But the other day it zapped me.

There's a scene from the movie Good Will Hunting where the therapist (Robin Williams) says something three times (and then keeps saying it) to the wounded soul of Will Hunting (Matt Damon). "It's not your fault," he whispers.

To this tough on the outside torn on the inside young man, abused as a youth, he speaks these words again and again:

It's not your fault.
It's not your fault.
It's not your fault.

And Will Hunting, at first, says simply "I know."

Then it gets awkward. The good doctor, himself a wounded healer, keeps saying it... It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. Resisting at first, then angry, Will finally collapses in his arms as the terrible weight of guilt and shame and rage and bitterness at the abuse he suffered as a child breaks over him like salty waves. It's a heart-breaking and beautiful scene.

Back to the Lamb of God...

Here, the tides have turned. Standing there in the chapel, we come to a realization that it is, in fact, our fault. It's because of me and my family tree that Love was crucified on a tree. And we need to own that fact. That's why every Mass starts off with the penitential rite. I have sinned! I messed up! Throughout my life I've added many a sour note to the symphony of God's original plan, and sometimes it's led many a fellow musician into discord and dissonance. So we take the time to look at this scribbled parchment and we turn it over to the Master Composer. And get this.... He rewrites it all.... using our notes (I love how He does that!). They are transformed, washed clean in the blood of the Lamb in a beautiful paradoxical spin cycle that can only be done by the Whirlwind of Love that is the Trinity. He takes away the sour notes of the world, the wounds and weeping and grants us peace. "By our very wounds we are healed," so the Talmud tells us.

It's unbelievable. I think that's why we need to say it three times.... he takes away our sins, and the sins of the world. He grants us peace. And we collapse into His Heart at the great and intimate encounter that is the Eucharist... and every morning we get to stand in that Flame of Love, to consume and be consumed, and all our faults and failings become the kindling for that Fire of Mercy.

The Red Pill or the Blue Pill?

The Matrix was a film trilogy that captivated many (including me!) a few years back, by tapping into the deepest questions we have as humans: Why are we here? Is there more than just this life? What is the Truth of our origins? Where can I find it?

Unfortunately, as the series moved forward, it became a tangled cacophony of too many philosophies and theologies. In the end, it was just another brand of gnosticism wrapped in shiny 20th century special effects (oh but what sweet special effects!)

Despite the philosophical fogginess in these films, there were some incredible "teaching" moments. One of my favorites happens in the initial conversation between Neo (the Chosen One who slowly discovers his purpose) and Morpheus (the sage character who leads Neo out of the darkness of deception).

Morpheus: ... Let me tell you why you're here. You're here because you know something. What you know, you can't explain. But you feel it. You felt it your entire life. That there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is, but it's there. Like a splinter in your mind - driving you mad. It is this feeling that has brought you to me. Do you know what I'm talking about?

Neo: The Matrix?

Morpheus: Do you want to know what it is? (Neo nods his head.)

Morpheus: The Matrix is everywhere, it is all around us. Even now, in this very room. You can see it when you look out your window, or when you turn on your television. You can feel it when you go to work, or when go to church or when you pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.

Neo: What truth?

Morpheus: That you are a slave, Neo. Like everyone else, you were born into bondage, born inside a prison that you cannot smell, taste, or touch. A prison for your mind. (long pause, sighs) Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself. This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. (In his left hand, Morpheus shows a blue pill.)

Morpheus: You take the blue pill and the story ends. You wake in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. (A red pill is shown in his other hand) You take the red pill and you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes. (Long pause; Neo begins to reach for the red pill) Remember -- all I am offering is the truth, nothing more. (Neo takes the red pill and swallows it with a glass of water)


Glimmers of the Truth on the silver screen?

No doubt.

Isn't there, for all of us, an inherent sense of something being "off" in the world, in our own hearts, in our relationships. Something we can't seem to name exactly... but we know it's there...

"But you feel it. You felt it your entire life."

We should ask ourselves "Is this how it's always been? Should we ever expect Something More?"

"Like everyone else, you were born into bondage, born inside a prison...."

Original Sin. The break in our origins as persons made to give but given in to grasp at the gifts and promises God wants to give us. But our culture is constantly tossing the wool over our eyes, filtering values, watering down truth, trying to erase our memories of that Original Grace, that Garden, that peace and love that runs deeper than lust. In the words of Pope John Paul II, it's the "heritage of our hearts" and it has real "salvific power."

In other words, it can save us. It can liberate us from the prison of sin. But it's not in a pill we can take, or a program we can attend, or even in a self-help section at the bookstore. It pours out freely from the Father through the Son in the Holy Spirit.

But it is the self that must seek the help, must look up, look out of the stony place in the heart and beg for the chisel and the hammer that can break us and set us free.

So we do have to make a choice. And therein lies our greatest power, our deepest identity. We are free to choose. And here is the other favorite scene of mine, taken from the final installment of the Matrix Trilogy; there is an epic battle at the film's conclusion where Neo must face Agent Smith and defeat him. Neo is beaten down, nearly destroyed and seemingly the odds are against him. Smith stands over him in what looks like the moment that will end all things.

Agent Smith: Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something? For more that your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose... You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist?

Neo: Because I choose to.


What will we choose today in the many encounters we'll experience? Will we reach out of the prison of the self, the lens of lust and grasping and egocentricity that we've been told is the only reality? Or will we dig deeper into that heritage of our hearts, that Original Innocence God created us in? Will we choose to reach up and out and into the Other? Into the New Grace that streams down from the Cross?

He has the power to take us out of ourselves.... finally. Do we believe?

"Remember -- all I am offering is the truth, nothing more."

Fearless and Finally Free

I just finished watching the movie Fearless (thanks for the recommendation, Tom B!). This was to be the renowned martial artist Jet Li's last film. And what a way to end...

I'm a sucker for a super-kick'em-up movie. Not one that glorifies violence, however, but one that confronts the reality of violence and deals with it in a way that shows discipline, courage, and self-sacrifice. Films like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Hero, and House of Flying Daggers all portray characters who have learned great secrets, cosmic truths, and lessons about mercy and compassion through their discipline (be it Wu Dan or Wushu). The character Huo Yuanjia that Jet Li portrays learns these lessons well. So well that they lead him to a truly heroic end in the film, as he moves from an arrogant fighter who "will not be defeated" to a symbol of humble strength and endurance for all of China.

Huo learns his most valuable lesson after a self-inflicted exile leads him far from home. Ruined, broken and despairing after the death of his family, he is rescued by poor mountain villagers. An aging grandmother and a young, blind woman named Moon nurse him back to health. As his strength returns, however, so does his competitive and arrogant spirit. He is put to work in a rice field with two other men, and just as he begins to settle into the rhythm of planting the tiny green rice seedlings, he pushes himself past the other men as if it were a race. As Huo's back is bent and he scurries to plant more seedlings, he notices that the men have stopped in their tracks. They are standing upright with eyes closed, facing the bamboo forest as it is suddenly caught up in a gentle wind. He sees that the entire village in fact has suddenly stopped their work to drink in the soft movement of the wind in the trees. Ignorant of the grace of the moment, he shakes his head and buries it back in the "rice race." The next morning, it turns out, all of his seedlings had to be replanted. They were packed in so tightly that they would never have grown. "They need space to breathe, like people do," the young girl tells him. Later, we see Huo again.... this time a deep contentment in his face. The rhythm of the mountains and the discipline of the fields has taught him well. He stands upright and faces the forest, as a breeze catches the bamboo and moves them.

Priceless moments. We should drink them in, looking up from our "rat race" today to glimpse these higher motions, these cosmic seasons that hold the seeds of answers for us. Look up! Watch the skies. We know not when the Wind of the Holy Spirit will stir up something new.

Beauty that Burns: A Filmable! I was recently watching one of my favorite films, Hero. It's a patchwork quilt of stories, all woven around the same characters. Each story is from a different perspective, and in each retelling the figures are robed in a different color. Jet Li, the renowned martial artist (and he is an artist) is a central figure. In the style of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, this film is visually stunning. It is a feast for the eyes. It's a heart-breaking story of sacrifice, honor, love for country and letting go. I think the Truth gets muddied along the way, and the conclusion seems to affirm a Communist China. But glimmers of the Good are seen along the way. In one poignant episode, a calligraphy school becomes a place of martyrdom when an army comes to shut down this oasis of Chinese culture. The white-bearded headmaster stands his ground and calls to his pupils to return to their places just as a swarm of black arrows descends upon them like locusts. Jet Li, who is called Nameless, and the mystical character Flying Snow, step out of the humble school and into the barrage of deadly darts. With what can only be described as a poetic dance, they deflect the arrows and save many lives, sheltered within the school, safe again to practice their art. And their art is the art of making words, of tracing letters, of passing on the knowledge of these characters etched in sand. I wonder if with the countless amount of words we spray onto screens these days, how many will stick? How many will stay the test of time? Just a question to ponder. Do our words improve upon the silence, or do they not? Do they build up or are they like arrows that pierce and tear down?

Faces and Places

I was in the city yesterday; met Rebecca for lunch and then ran some errands. Actually, I walked some errands. And there is nothing like a walk through the city; there's the traffic and the noise, sure. Some beautiful architecture, shops, etc. But the best part is when you look up and allow the great wave of human faces to wash over you.

The city is a microcosm; a world in miniature. I saw busy men busily walking, talking into their plastic devices, women without haste pointing out flowers to their babies, and the elderly sliding along at an even slower pace, perhaps in an effort to teach us that life moves fast enough already, no need to push it along. Turning a corner onto Market Street, another wave breaks over me, and I see broken men slumped over plastic bags, full of our discarded treasures. What stories could they tell? A pair of young faces, sitting on a corner near a store, looking weathered, tired, tatooed, and thoroughly pierced. The young man held a sign: "Travelling - anything can help." I wonder where they want to go?

I want to look deeply at each person; I'm amazed at the uniqueness of everyone, of every shade and texture and color on this coat of many colors that is humanity. But no one makes eye contact in the city. Not for more than 2 seconds anyway (I timed it, 2 was the record). We don't have the time, or we are caught up in our own stuff, and we're not thinking. Or it's just the natural response to an overwhelming amount of activity; the world is too much with us, and we put up walls to keep ourselves safe.

There is a film called Powder (it's been awhile since we had a filmable! See previous post on Filmables). In the movie, a young boy is given the gift to read hearts. He knows what thoughts are stirring deep in the souls of the people around him. Many are afraid of Powder; it's the fear of the unknown, the fear of being known. But one young girl looks him in the face. "What are people like... on the inside?" she asks.

"They think they are alone," he tells her. "They feel separate.... but they are not."

As hard as it is, and I struggled with this yesterday, we must look into each other's eyes. We must return to that innocence, that openness that we had as children, who always look, who see, who watch the faces on the bus and the train. Slowly, prayerfully, carefully, always mindful of the wounds in ourselves and others, let's build up this One Body. Listening to the desire that rests in all of us to know and to be known. St. Augustine said "The deepest desire of the human heart is to see another and to be seen."

We are one. One body, one diamond that turns in the Hand of God, throwing off a multitude of refracted light and beauty. Only our own fear and sin can dim that light, separating us from God, from each other, from ourselves.

Lord, let your Face shine upon us and we shall be saved!

In the Eye of the Storm

Filmable #1 (film-a-bul; a modern day parable/spiritual lesson taken from movies.) Star Wars Episode 1 Let's sprinkle a little holy water on this one. Especially on the character Jar Jar Binks. I'm not sure George Lucas was actually lucid when he wrote in that character. Anyhoo, the scene I'm recalling has a powerful lesson on prayer if we look closely. The Jedi Masters Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi Wan are facing off in a terrific lightsaber battle with the evil Darth Maul. It takes them through a series of corridors that continue to be sliced in half by forcefields, occasionally blocking their attacks on one another. In a pivotal scene, a shield drops down between Qui Gon and the enemy. With this mandatory pause in the battle, we find two different reactions in the warriors. Darth Maul begins to pace back and forth behind the flickering shield, like a ravenous beast in a cage. Qui Gon, the Jedi, bends to the earth on one knee and closes his eyes, gathering his will and focusing his energies into a moment of rest. What a lesson in prayer. In the midst of our daily battles with selfishness and pride, with the barrage of demands that come upon us sometimes from all sides, how important is that moment of recollection, often in the middle of the fight!

Films Can Further the Gospel

Back in December of 2002, Zenit.org ran an article quoting the president of the Pontifical Council for Culture as saying that movies should be regarded as "an irreplaceable vehicle" of evangelization. YES!!! Cardinal Paul Poupard said we must "listen to men's culture and start again from the beginning, for love of God and of one's neighbor." Despite the often vulgar and violent aspects of many films, he said the cinema "is the most wonderful instrument to dream of and grow in ideals." Given that "traces of the spiritual dimension are found in the cinema," our obligation "is to enlighten and nourish this trace of meaning," the cardinal continued. (full article here) I like to say that Jesus used parables, spiritual lessons wrapped in stories, and today we can use films (with a dose of holy water sprinkled on) to teach the same lessons. But instead of calling them parables, I call them filmables. So, keep your eyes peeled (what a creepy expression) for the first one next week!