Identity in Moana

I watched Moana for the first time yesterday. I'm kind of ambivalent about it, since I can think of some good and some bad messages, and as a 32-year-old, wasn't all that captivated by the story (though I appreciated the quality of the animation).

Maybe because the setting is more tribal and not so Western, and maybe because of Disney’s motif of sort of refuting some of its earlier fairy tales, I was partially hopeful that this would be a story less about following your heart and more about courageously and sacrificially submitting to the leadership and community you were born to.  I was disappointed. 

It wasn’t the demi-gods or coconut-demons or fire-monsters or reincarnated/ghost grandmas that most concerned me about this movie; it was that message of how to find out who you are meant to be: Disregard your parents and authority figures.  Be inspired by stories and legends.  Find some distant ancestors whose way of life is most appealing to you, and believe it’s an integral part of you.  Don’t prepare; just literally let yourself be thrown into something, and then pursue it with all the publicly rebellious determination you can muster. 

One thing that complicates this for a Christian is that some of Moana’s discernment is based on the spiritual encounters she has.  There is no true God and Savior Jesus Christ in this movie, so other things stand in for the role He plays in directing our lives and gracing us to fulfill our “destinies”.  If the water-spirit that is so influential in Moana’s journey were actually the Creator God of the Bible, her story would be less concerning.  But it isn’t, and I believe that there are other spiritual forces in the real world, not only in fantasies, that stand-in for the place God ought to have in our lives.  And these beings are not good, not neutral; they are in evil opposition to the loving Lord of the universe.  What kind of message is it sending us and our kids to trust these kinds of spiritual experiences to direct us? 

Moana did keep in mind and heart, always, how to serve and care for her people.  This is one of the better aspects of the “find your purpose” theme.  I was telling my brother that if they’d written the story of her father encouraging her to be different from him, while holding these same values of service to the tribe, I’d be way more excited about all of it. 

Also a positive, in Moana, Disney has released another film that demonstrates the need for teamwork.  Moana and Maui each come to realize that they are more effective with each other’s help, and that the other does really need them in order to save their world. 

I think I am actually most intrigued by the character of Maui, who wrestles with his own identity questions.  When we first meet him in person, we quickly recognize a dominant trait of arrogance, but later we learn that this is sort of a cover, a compensation for a deep insecurity.  The complex ways these issues affect his choices are fascinating; and over-all, I think they send a good message to audiences. 

In the end, Moana does have a suitably communal argument for everyone having something to contribute, be it a peculiar chicken, a teenage girl, a demi-god with or without his hook, an experienced leader, or the village crazy lady – and the value of embracing what others have to offer. 

To God be all glory. 

"You wore blue."

"I remember every detail. The Germans wore grey. You wore blue."

"Yes. I put that dress away. When the Germans march out, I'll wear it again."

~ Casablanca

One of the things I love about Ilsa is that she is a character.  We see only these few glimpses, and it seems like she is always dependent and following, but what kind of woman captures Rick’s heart and inspires Laszlo?  It’s the woman who wears blue the day the Germans march into Paris.  She isn’t mourning, isn’t hiding.  We know she was afraid.  But she is celebrating hope, I think – a confidence that the city-conquering Nazis will not be victorious in the end – not if brave, faithful men and women stand against them. 

But.  She has put that dress away.  She will wear it again when the Germans leave.  That will be a day also for celebrating hope – hope fulfilled, hope overcoming. 

It would not be right for her to get the dress out early, before the Nazis are defeated.  Doing so would turn the original defiant hope into an image of how naïve she had been – despairing retrospection. 

It would not be right for her to get rid of the dress.  That would be like throwing hope away, or like saying hope has nothing to do with the outcome. 

Do you have anything you have “put away”?  Do you laugh when you promise that you will wear it again? 

To God be all glory.

Moneyball Review

Moneyball is a movie about a man who almost single-handedly made baseball even more boring than it already was.  Yet I loved it.  I am not a baseball fan; the only way you can get me to watch a game is if I’m only giving it cursory glances in between laughing with my friends, enjoying the energetic atmosphere of a ball field.  The back of a baseball card, covered in stats, means nothing to me. 

But the back of the card is exactly what powered Billy Beane’s revolution of the baseball world.  Facing the daunting financial competition and the discouraging patterns of building stars only to have them bought away, the general manager of the Oakland Athletics (great name, huh?) decided to think outside the box.  Instead of replacing his best players who were transferring to other clubs, he set out to build a team. 

The team-based experiment drew me in, as did Brad Pitt’s excellent performance as Billy.  Moneyball centers on him and his life, his doubts and courage and confidence, all subtly motivated by his desire to improve the game he loved, especially for the little guy.  Funny moments balance with touching.  Family, friendship, rivals, and enemies populate the Oakland world of Billy Beane, circa 2002.  He set out to gather partners who didn’t think so traditionally about big money and big names – while still reaching out to the old school veterans that had built his ball club.  The social dynamics in an endeavor like that – contrasted with the window into the trades and deals worked by general managers in the fast-paced, high-stakes business of baseball across the country – made for a really interesting movie.

Restraint from showing too much of that slow-paced nuance of the actual game of baseball also helped the movie to expand its appeal beyond baseball fans while still capturing the “romance” of the sport.  Rated PG-13 only for language and minimal drinking/tobacco use, I didn’t find it hard – though I was surprised – to enjoy Moneyball.  Thanks to my friend, Nick, for persuading me to go with him and his wife to watch it.  

To God be all glory.

Control and Contingencies Part 2

There is a movie called Leap Year, rated an edgy PG.  This in-control woman (whose control issues are a response to an out of control childhood) is tired of being disappointed and waiting on her boyfriend to propose.  They’re living together already, but she still dreams of commitment and forever-love.  So she decides to take advantage of an Irish tradition and propose to her boyfriend herself, on Leap Day, in Ireland where he is at a conference.  So she sets out to surprise him.

But there’s a detour of more than her travel plans.  Miss get-her-done responds to a series of difficult situations with great skill.  But when things keep going wrong, and she can’t do anything about it, she finds herself in need of being more reactionary but in a trusting way instead of a plan for every contingency sort of way.  This reveals some flaws in her relationship with her boyfriend, and also in her plan to deal with it.

Guiding her both geographically and psychologically is an Irish pub-owner with wounds and disappointments of his own, but with much more common sense.  He isn’t so good at trusting, either, but at least he knows it’s the way to go.  Sit down, pull out an apple, and wait.  There’s a castle ruins near the bus stop.  Why not climb to the top?  You might have to put up with some rain, but the walk is worth it, right?

Being thrown together, forced to work together to accomplish their goals, the heroine and her guide start to fall for each other, despite her mission to propose.  (Yeah, it's another one of those movies.)  For one thing, the guide has confidence that if the boyfriend wanted to get married, he would have asked, and that rather than chasing him down and trapping an unwilling husband, the girl should reconsider entirely.  But they also start to reach out in totally selfless ways, taking interest in each others’ lives and motives.  There is realistic resistance, but a persistent direction towards understanding and friendship.

Near the end, the beautiful American doesn’t have to propose because her boyfriend asks her to marry him himself.  Mr. Irish Guide has his bit of disappointment, but he’s benefited from the experience, from the friendship, from being forced - through her - to think about his own choices in life.  In a way, he’d been holding out just as much as she had.  Things are not quite as happy for the heroine, who finds out that the proposal was brought on not by real desire to get married, but by social pressure from people selling them an apartment together.  She stands in the middle of her dream home and realizes that she has everything she wants and nothing she needs.  So she flees.  What makes a person leave everything they know and have dreamed of?

This time our heroine, who feels she has learned something but still hasn’t really learned, flies to Ireland pursuing another man.  In the middle of his pub, she confesses the way the time she spent with him changed her life, and invites him to “not make plans” with her, just to see where this “thing” goes.  But Irishman, common-sense, slightly cynical, guide-guy pub proprietor rejects her proposal.

It’s the kind of movie that could have ended unhappily and still been meaningful.  The filmmakers timed the scenes well so that I got to imagine such endings, the implications, and how I still feel satisfied, like there was a message that was useful anyway, experiences not wasted even if the end wasn’t happily ever after.

But she’s standing on a beautiful cliff on the coast of Ireland and he comes after her, and tells her he doesn’t want to not make plans; he wants to make plans.  And he gets down on one knee.  In the end it isn’t the having a dream that’s to be rejected – it’s an empty dream, a selfish and shallow life, that doesn’t deserve all that effort and pursuit.  Make plans to deal with contingencies together, with more to guide you than a destination. 

To God be all glory.

Divided the Movie Review

Made by a young pair of brothers, Divided the movie is the film version of the Family Integrated Church propaganda.  Careful oversight was given by Scott Brown, of the NCFIC, and he was also interviewed extensively in the documentary.  The film follows the research of Philip  Leclerc into the fruits, philosophies, and history of the youth ministry church model. 

Divided consists mostly of interviews.  It begins by talking to the authors of Already Gone, Britt Beamer and Ken Ham, who discuss the statistics about youth leaving the Church and at what age they stopped believing orthodox Christianity.  One problem they identify with modern youth ministry is the lack of substance being presented in lessons and sermons at events.  This leads to man on the street shots of students after a Christian concert, and surveys of various youth leaders and conference directors for youth pastors, showing the pervading philosophies of being relevant and giving the students an emotional experience – intentionally not dealing with points of Christian doctrine beyond Jesus’ love and sacrificial death. 

Some former pastors and youth leaders are interviewed about why they left the youth ministry model (much as the filmmaker’s parents had chosen to do).  An enlightening testimony suggested that teaching the “right things,” worldviews and Christian theology, still resulted in a majority of students leaving the faith by the end of high school.  This presents a contrast to the first segment, where the flawed worldview of average youth ministry was uncovered.  One church planter stated that if you just read the Bible, you would not think of doing church the way we do it today; his church is trying to function more biblically, and one aspect of that is to eliminate youth ministry. 

Next is what I see as the strong point, the most useful part of the documentary, dealing with the history of age-segregated church, beginning with the origins of Sunday school classes for children.  The rest of the movie seems unlikely to enlighten or persuade anyone, as the philosophies of each side (pro-youth ministry and pro-family-based discipleship) are not tested against a biblical standard. 

Afterward, Philip Leclerc interviews a series of leaders in the Family Integrated Church movement, who point out that the Bible’s prescription for discipling children is that their parents train them up, and that youth ministry – separate from the main meetings and activities of the church – is never mentioned in the Bible.  Questions are brought forward, like the argument that since parents are not taking responsibility for training their own children in the fear and admonition of the Lord, if the Church doesn’t, the youth will fall through the cracks. 

I found a few things lacking in Divided.  At the end of the movie, I felt that the criticism against youth ministry was directed at its fruit: people who abandon belief in God and the Bible.  But the alternative put forward is not judged by the same measure.  I remain curious how successful family-centered discipleship and family-integrated churches are at retaining the next generation.  The filmmaker’s mentors are full of ideals which they claim are biblically based.  If the fruit is different from what statistics show for youth in the past several decades, this gives us hope.  If the fruit is the same, perhaps more is going on than negligent parenting and segregated churches. 

The movie relies on the worldview of its audience to refute the postmodernism of most youth ministries which is put on display in the first half of the film.  Though presented as the unwanted results of age-segregated ministry, we are left to judge what is wrong with the youth interviewed based on our own notions – whether we would judge them for their style of music or dress, for their poor communication skills, for holding to false doctrines about creation, for caring about authenticity and relationship, for lacking discernment, for laziness, for postmodern relativism.  And if we only notice a couple of these, perhaps we are absorbing the rest of their subtle messages as true – or maybe we are judging everything they say as wrong because of the other things they are packaged with. 

This highlights the next difficulty I had with the movie: some of the youth and youth leaders made really good points about what is valuable to people, what they expect – even need – to find at church.  When a student says he is looking for people who will tell him the truth and be real with him, and that he values a mentor for being involved in his life, surely the Church could learn from those needs.  A woman who leads training for youth pastors points out that they need to be relevant to the everyday lives of kids.  True – who has more relevance to the ins and outs of a young person’s life than the family he lives with?  Who is more real to him than his own parents?  But this point was not made, this challenge not extended to parents who are choosing to take up the biblical mandate to be spiritual leaders to their children.  Also, those concerns recognized by the representatives of youth ministry are really universal needs, not applicable just to teenagers, but also to adults. 

Throughout the movie, the experts skirt the issue that the way we do church is fundamentally unbiblical.  We have not sought God’s design for our gatherings and Christian life.  The Church that was intended to be a community has become an institution full of programs, and people fill slots and categories and statistics instead of being directed by needs and gifts in the Body.  Perhaps parents are abdicating their spiritual roles because the Church isn’t allowing discipleship to happen among its members, leaving parents ill-equipped to train their children – but also leaving pastors ill-equipped, unsupported by the edification they are supposed to receive from the rest of the Church. 

Finally, there is the question of whether people who are middle school, high school, and college age ought to be considered adults, invited and expected to contribute their spiritual gifts (if they are believers*) to the unity and edification of the whole church just as the rest of adults ought to be (but often are not).   I say “the rest of” because until the last hundred years, people in their mid-teens and beyond were counted adults.  In the very least they were not considered children.  And on the assumption that youth ministries are dealing with children rests the crux of the argument made by the Family Integrated Church proponents.  They argue that parents own the responsibility for the spiritual growth of their kids.  But if they’re not kids, in the biblical sense to which the commands would apply… 

And even if they are children, if they are saved*, they are members of the body of Christ and the instructions about Church should apply to them.  They ought to receive instruction and admonition from any believer who is so gifted and led.  Parents are responsible, and not to shirk their duties towards the children God has entrusted to them, but they are not alone, and do not own exclusive rights to their child’s discipleship.  Perhaps they ought to do “catechizing” and “worldview training” at home instead of expecting it to be done at church. 

I appreciate the call Divided puts out to parents to fulfill their God-given roles in the family.  The documentary shows the variety of people who believe in family integration, and the different reasons people practice it.  Exhorting the Church to be unified by ending age segregation is a great start.  When asked about children whose parents are not believers (the original target of Sunday schools), Family Integration proponent Scott Brown suggested an intense, personal solution: sound families should bring those children into their home during the week to witness to them and disciple them (sending them back to their own families with deference to the parents’ authority), and have those children sit with their family during church meetings.  The family is upheld as an important player in education and morality.  Ultimately, Divided exalts God for designing well, however dismal the results of man’s corruptions of church and family.

To God be all glory.

*If a child is not yet a professing follower of Christ, should he be required to attend Church gatherings with his parents?  Should he be allowed to participate if he is there?  

Review of Emma starring Romola Garai

This cinematic remake of Jane Austen’s Emma is delightful, from the music to the shadows.  It is less comic than the version starring Gwyneth Paltrow, focused instead on watching characters develop.  I think that Emma is the most realistic of Jane Austen’s novels, the most relevant to an average person’s life.  Other renditions of the potrait of humanity in Emma do not leave this out.  However, Romola Garai and Jonny Lee Miller delve deeper. 

Emma has never been challenged, never been exposed to new places or new ideas.  She honestly thinks she is always right.  And she wants to excel.  As the movie progresses, she discovers she is lonely.  Playing with one’s own creations ends up dissatisfying, however painful it is to relate to real, independent people.

Mr. Knightley has also been content with his life, set in a routine that keeps him happy enough.  Everything he’s known could change, though.  Disruption is not impossible.  And what if he is wasting his life?  On the other hand, should he want to change something, is it even possible?  He cannot control Emma, this he knows – Emma who is ever declaring that she shall never marry.  What will give Mr. Knightley the confidence – or desperation – to try to win the heroine’s heart?

Surrounding the main characters are all the other inhabitants of Highbury: Miss Bates, Mr. Woodhouse, Mr. and Mrs. Elton, Mr. and Mrs. Weston, Jane Fairfax, Harriet Smith, and Frank Churchill.  Each is shown with their own struggles with identity, love, and managing their friends.  Staying in Highbury or leaving it has shaped their lives.  They all fear change, while simultaneously fearing that change may never come again.  Can good friends help them endure whatever life sends their way? 

Watch as Emma goes from playing with dolls under the table, to arranging flowers, to arranging matches, back to arranging parties and managing a house – and her own heart.  See Mr. Knightley through the window, gradually approaching Emma’s loneliness.  Experience the light and seasons shift.  Feel the restrained emotion at the ball.  Dream of what might be.  And fall humbly into the beauty of what really is.  

To God be all glory.  

Avatar

I posted a blog earlier this week that mentioned Avatar, and I was planning, when I wrote the entry a month ago, to balance it with a description of the value in Avatar: heroism. But I didn't write the post while I had the thoughts, so there isn't one. Just this.

To God be all glory.

Quietness and the Profane

"But let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price." - 1 Peter 3:4

Quietness is hard for me. I like to talk. I like to be busy. When I long for God, I long for His action – for evidence that He is involved in my life. That verse, “Be still and know that I am God,” is comforting, commanding, and challenging. Stillness is also something I am not good at.

Most of the time I pray for quietness, to feel at peace. I want that inner contentment and focus. Lately I’ve been realizing I need to behave peacefully, to be intentional about being quiet. And it seems too common, too human an effort, to apply this to how I talk. But it isn’t. I need to practice biting my tongue when I have nothing edifying to say. To first ask myself, “Have I listened?” Is my need to talk a need to bless and build up others, or is it something selfish and impulsive?

These are the things I was thinking about while I watched the movie, Avatar. Reflecting the vulgar culture common to the military and Hollywood, the film employs cussing. Such words are, in context, meaningless grunts of emotional expression. Because they are cuss words, they also indicate that the speaker is at a state of minimal restraint and no respect for his audience. He is speaking because he feels he must, not because he wishes his hearers to understand.

Even when the vocabulary itself is not profane, the dialogue is not very deep. Often I got the impression that the main character, Jake, was jabbering because he was used to talking, not because he had something to say. He would speak in English when no one around could understand. The natives, aliens to us, were always making noise: hissing at enemies, crying out with enthusiasm for war, ululating for unexplained reasons, chanting repetitive hums at religious ceremonies. I wondered why the moviemakers would put such scenes in the script. Partly I believe they were imitating cultures that are foreign to Americans as a mere device to convince us the tribe was “primitive” and unfamiliar. On the other hand, maybe the writers and director function in that way themselves, and see nothing unusual about a noisy movie that says nothing.

Indeed the movie itself spent over two and a half hours showing off imaginative landscapes, fanciful machines, and big fires. There was a story, but I didn’t find it captivating and this is why: I don’t think they were saying much of anything. Imitating storylines that worked in other movies, Avatar was an unconvincing performance of people learning to live by impulses, to fulfill themselves as told by their bodies, not by any transcendent principles. They spoke, acted, felt, and thought because they wanted to – which if any of those things had been possible without purpose, would not be profane. But each of those things does have value and direction, given by the Creator. Even in a myth, where storytellers are not describing the true world and its true God, they must bow to this truth or be found profane before the Creator they are imitating.

And I must either speak as the oracles of God or, as Job, place my hand over my mouth. God is the original. If I do not reflect Him well, I am an abomination, an insult to the sacredness He has placed on words, on thought, on feeling, and on work.

To God be all glory.

New Emma Movie

On January 24, January 31, and February 7, PBS's Masterpiece Classic will be airing the new BBC Emma starring Romula Garai and Michael Gambon. I'm looking forward to this one. Emma is the independent and fickle heroine bent on matchmaking. Watch with her as she learns what real love and charity are all about. It should air at 9:00 PM on each night, but CHECK YOUR LOCAL LISTINGS! The first episode is 2 hours, and episodes 2 and 3 are each 1 hour long. In Denver, Masterpiece airs on KRMA Channel 6. Beginning February 9, you can also purchase Emma from PBS at their shop for about $35 or on Amazon for about $25 (pre-order).


You might want to also tune in the following week, February 14, for the short and delightful Northanger Abbey. Give an hour and a half to giggle and sigh over the silly but likeable Catherine Moreland and her hero, Henry Tilney. See my full review here.


Also to update you on my Jane Austen movie preferences, I could not excuse myself for failing to point you to the good adaptation of Persuasion, BBC's 1971 miniseries starring Ann Firbank. It is old, but much closer to the book. Live for the moment when Mr. Elliot's notice of Anne reawakens Captain Wentworth's attention, or that letter, the perfect letter, at the end of the story.


April, 2010 - I LOVE this movie!.  See my review of Emma starring Romola Garai.  


To God be all glory.

Adjacent Islands

I was watching a movie with my brothers last night, and the scene was one of those notorious "opportune moments." The hero had a chance to confess his love - or tell the truth - or something useful, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. But he had planned ahead and brought with him a little gift, which he laid on the table between himself and the lady.


My brother summed their plight with the poetic description: He laid a gift on the moment's grave.


Tonight I was reading the dictionary - not just to read it, but as one does when one is trying to get somewhere in those pages, and must journey through dangers and distractions like those of Odysseus. (I'm such a terrible speller of Greek; is that right? I am only newly acquainted even with the story of Odysseus, and most disappointed in his character.) My brother is reading The Federalist Papers, great essays on government and history and economics, which employed the word "temerity." It happens to mean foolhardy or brash, but before I discovered this, I saw a picture.


To be honest, I almost always get caught by pictures, and carried away by root words. That is the way dictionaries have with me. This picture was of a little hog-like rodent, and the caption was like a Boggle-champion's dream: tenrec. How simple. How very likely to occur in Boggle. How unheard of. Honestly. Have you ever heard of a tenrec?


No? Well, I suppose that is to be forgiven, since it, like so many interesting creatures, makes its home on Madagascar. The tenrec is a hedgehog-like mammal that eats insects (thus the nose looking like a pig's, though it could have looked like an anteater and made itself more obvious). Our dictionary's entry reported that this beast inhabits Madagascar and the adjacent islands.


Adjacent Islands!!! Who ever thought? Almost an oximoron! I mean, we're not talking about islands connected at low tide but not at high. Maybe they were connected during the ice age. But then they weren't islandS; they were AN island. So my meticulous brother commanded (he's the one with leadership skills) that I look up "adjacent." And it turns out that "adjacent" has as its first definition, "to lie near." Still, I think that "Adjacent Islands" would be a great title for something. The image is so poetic.


Movies are almost always on in my house, maybe coming from so many of us enjoying long movies, or maybe because there are so many of us who think we need our own turn at choosing the program. Tonight there was yet another movie, and it was simply horrible, because the message of the movie was that when grown ups lie to children, the children owe it to them to sort of believe, because they want to believe, and miracles happen when you believe... The end of the movie had very little to do with this subject, as it consisted of the main little girl receiving three separate pairs of roller skates for Christmas. The last pair came from a blind man. And the little girl responded that she had a gift for him, her arms now full of metal and wheels. The most natural thing to expect her to give was a pair of roller skates. But then we pictured a blind man skating down the road... Don't give such gifts to blind men!

Oh! I signed up for all sorts of restaurant email updates, and have coupons and freebies rolling in! Mostly they just want to give me something free with purchase, but I have plenty of choices! There is something so pleasing about having a coupon in one's purse. Tonight I used a Kohl's discount they sent in the mail, and saved a whole $1.50! The best sign-up's so far are Coldstone Creamery, Red Robins, and Lone Star Steakhouse. Wendy's gives a coupon for a dollar off. But I'm still waiting to see what happens on my birthday. I'll let you know.

The movie from last night (Wednesday) was Sense and Sensibility. There are 4 versions I know anything about. The earliest was made by BBC in the 70's or 80's, and according to my brother, who picked it up by mistake, is acted by robots who sit on teeter-totters sideways trying to converse with each other. Next in importance/quality is a strange version made in India. In fact, I believe the English is dubbed. Not anywhere near as good as India's Bride and Prejudice. Now we come to the competitors. In the 90's, Emma Thompson wrote the screenplay for Sense and Sensibility. She also starred as Elinor. Alongside her were Hugh Grant and Kate Winslet, the latter reporting that she scarcely had to act; her personality was so much like Marianne Dashwood that Kate simply had to play the part. That movie is beautiful. Funny. Sad. Thoughtful. With the exultantly happy ending highlighted by the perfect score. I have my objections. Hugh Grant - he's not handsome, and his stuttering is annoying. Colonel Brandon (I should know his name) isn't very handsome, either, and Jane Austen movies aren't known for their realism, so we should aim for attractive. Finally, the version we were watching is the latest BBC adaptation, made in 2008. It is about 3 hours long, with pretty scenery. Other than that, the characters are poor imitators of the really good Sense and Sensibility. Andrew Davies failed to convey emotion with his screenplay, and I don't think most of the actors understood their characters. The movie has its moments of interest. Anyway, the actor who plays Colonel Brandon was recognized by all watching, but we couldn't place him, so I looked him up. IMDB is great! I have been spending a lot of time there lately, for one reason or another. The actor is David Morrissey, whom I recognized from The Water Horse. Ah, the relief of answers!

Have a good night. Don't waste your day.

To God be all glory.

Slow Going?

“Hello down there! Slow going?” – Inigo Montoya, Princess Bride

Slow going down here in the blog world. I have two book reviews to post, and a blog written up about laughter, even one about football.

“This is not as easy as it looks.” – Man in Black, Princess Bride

My blog is published on two different host sites: Blogger and Wordpress – neither of which have been cooperative recently. Blame might be shared by my own laptop and internet provider, as well. And when I have been on my computer, late into the nights and early mornings, my work has been directed towards by business, the one linked on the sidebar here but rarely mentioned. It has a new name, new look, and even some new products coming just as soon as I can get the pictures taken.

“I don’t suppose you could speed things up?” – Inigo Montoya, Princess Bride

Three years ago I started this business, hoping to learn a lot about business and accounting without going to school, needing something to do with the extra money I had lying around, and of course wishing to earn enough income to stay home full time. Self-discipline is something I can do, but only with encouragement. And sometimes, when things are just too hard, I actually need help.



“Throw me the rope.” – Man in Black, Princess Bride

Some of my good friends have been encouraging me lately. They also have their own business. We had a long talk about believing in our products, about wanting to make sure that we’re not selling junk, but to be willing to settle for marketing goods and services that won’t revolutionize the world. My brother asked me why I think people should have what I’m selling. Questions like that make me think, and usually when I think, I get answers, which turn into the blurb about each item that appears on my website.

Assistance has come in concrete ways, too. Several of my friends have advertised for me and referred acquaintances to my business. The friends above are going to print my government-regulation-required care and contents tags. And my brother even offered to help with some HTML for my webpage.

“I do not mean to pry, but you don't by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?" – Inigo Montoya, Princess Bride

One of the other goals for my business is to build relationships with customers (thereby changing the world – I just can’t escape that motive!). Sometimes all it takes is opening the conversation, however unexpected or odd.

“I’m not left-handed either.” – Man in Black, Princess Bride

Running a business is a risk. Putting my creativity out in the world for judgment is scary. I could lose money. I could waste time. But there is power in the unexpected. That’s what I’m trying to offer on my website. For sale is an eclectic supply of handmade and home-designed accessories that are unlike anything the rest of the marketplace has to offer. Some taglines I’m using or toying with are: “Mi~Re~Do: Reviving Declining Melodies” and “Buy Mi~Re~Do. Tilt your perspective.” By thinking through the practical and aesthetic worth of my products, I’m trying to change the way my customers think about – and live – ordinary life.

“Get used to disappointment.” – Man in Black, Princess Bride

Still, it’s been three years, and though I’ve sold several items on Ebay, and ventured into Etsy, I have almost zero client base. I have designed several business cards, and been too timid to hand them out. Marketing is nonexistent. And my room is overrun with unsold inventory.

“I’d just as soon destroy a stained-glass window as an artist like yourself…” – Man in Black, Princess Bride

Artists and dreamers cannot be kept down. We will keep creating, used to our disappointments but pushing forward anyway. Companies will succeed because they persevere where others failed, and offer goods that others don’t. When Buttercup cried, “We’ll never survive!” on the margins of the fireswamp, Westley the eminent business coach countered, “Nonsense! You only say that because no one ever has.”

To God be all glory.

There is Good in Him

The politics of Star Wars are interesting. The philosophy, though?

I was watching Revenge of the Sith the other night, a tense and moving film filled with individuals in conflict. Obviously Anakin is torn between what he wants and what he fears. Padme loves Anakin but can’t believe who he’s become. Obi Wan has to fight evil, though it is manifest in his pupil and friend. The Jedi want to follow the Jedi-way, but evil is too powerful to be left alive that long.

The prophecy, about the “chosen one”, is the one common theme in all of the movies. Anakin is to restore balance to the force. Balance is just the half-full way of describing this tension. As Padme lies dying, she tells Obi Wan that there is good in Anakin. Luke repeats this in Return of the Jedi, and ultimately, appealing to this shaft of goodness is what saves the galaxy.

While I watched a few nights ago, Anakin Skywalker’s seduction by the Dark Side, I laid a finger on something that has always bothered me, a fundamental difference in philosophy between George Lucas and me. For Anakin, there is no going back. He never repents for what he has done, even at the end of Episode VI. In Episode III, after disarming Master Wendu, leading to his death, Anakin’s whole being looks like he wishes he could repent. “What have I done?” he cries out. As though unable to control who he is or what circumstances limit him, the young Jedi hates who he is becoming yet boasts in it. The wickedness in him is just as important, just as valid, as the good. In the end of the story it is not a turning from his identity that causes the change, but the resurgence of a different part of his character.

That is a hopeless, gnawing life. The truth is, Anakin wasn’t good. Neither was Darth Vader. Goodness could only really come by acknowledging the wrong, and turning from it to something truly good outside himself. Without that, there is no forgiveness, no redemption. Without that, good versus evil is ultimately irrelevant. Which matches the philosophy of the Jedi, who claim that “only the Sith [bad guys] deal in absolutes.”

To God be all glory.

The Collective

A friend was telling me about a book the other day. She said that in the first page not only had the author stated his thesis; he had also persuaded her of its truth. The following hundred fifty pages were spent reiterating the point and adding evidence with which to convict the audience of the need for the final third of his book, advice for applying the concept. My friend has always been more interested in writing that was more practical than philosophical, and essentially agreed with the premise of this book before she began to read it. So she sloughed through the repetitive, unnecessary chapters getting quite bored and wondering if the book was worth her time.

And today, while I pondered her conversational book review, I realized something. When I read, I cannot wait to share what I have learned with someone else. I want to discuss the statements, to criticize them or exult in them, to take every piece of information from the book and draw conclusions from it. I am rather bored by a book that is a list of how-to steps, because inevitably my situation is omitted, and I chafe under the restrictions of specifics. As a little girl playing with legos, I always altered the instructions that came with the little car kits. During a lecture, I much prefer taking my own notes to filling in blanks. When I read, I am not merely receiving what the author intended; I am springboarding from there to further conclusions, adding the information to everything else I know and experience, in order to richly apply the new ideas.

Not only am I blending each new piece of media with the others of my experience; I am contributing to the community knowledge and awareness. Were I to read the book my friend was describing, I would not only be gaining information useful for my life, but also things that I could transfer to my friends, some of whom might benefit from all those tedious persuasion points. I could write about the subject here (except I already have, when I read reviews of the same book by other bloggers – sharing their knowledge with their community). Think about reviews and quotes, the work of one man in reading an entire volume in order to bring you a concise summary and sample.

Have you an idea of the impact on your world when you read a book or watch a movie or listen to a song – or even have an experience? We are, when living in community, all something like the feared and almost unstoppable Borg of Star Trek invention. Our understanding is assimilated into a collective. Except in our case, instead of our brains being hacked and joined to an impersonal super-computer, we are a collective by reason of our relationships: our compassion for others, and wisdom in choosing when to share and what. Communication is key.

Imagine a person who was reading, thinking, watching, and living – but who never communicated any of what he learned. Though his experiences would shape him and his decisions and so impact the people around him, how much more could they all benefit if he was using his time not selfishly, but for what it could offer neighbors, family, and friends? What I do not have time to read, watch, or do might be in the realm of the experiences of my acquaintance, who could give me the relevant parts or the most interesting parts.

Worse than someone who will not communicate is a passive member of the community. All he does is absorb media, blinking at a screen, fiddling with a video game, settling for mediocrity in all of his pursuits, never aspiring to innovation or improvement. Such a person is not contributing to the community, is wasting his potential, while benefiting like a parasite from the efforts of others. Even if he is a hermit, excluding himself from the community, by residing in the vicinity of communities (even in a macro situation like the large geography of a state or country) he will be the recipient of at least a few good things brought about by the selfless enterprise of others. A country is strong when the people are united. It will be profitable, creative, defensive, and resilient.

So, too, is a church that is united. God did not place His children as individual hermits to meditate on Him and reach full potential of godliness, testimony, or understanding. He placed us as a people, in an organism called the church, made up of many members that the world may see our love in community, proclaiming not that God is near them, nor that God is in them, but that God is truly among them. It is almost redundant to say that church is community. But it is counterintuitive to today’s citizen. He is taught to think of church as an institution, a collection of programs and “services,” which the religious attend and in which they ritually participate.

The Bible teaches that the people redeemed by Christ’s grace are to walk in the Spirit, to live by faith, praying without ceasing. We are saved individually, each bearing God’s image, each a man for whom Jesus gave His Life. But that salvation and faith and Spirit pours into the collective when the “members” gather. Then that which a person has read, learned, or experienced should be brought forward and discussed: questioned, projected, contrasted, added to the knowledge and circumstances of others, and then applied. What esteem we should have for those with whom we fellowship, embracing their words whether encouraging or correcting, for we are all benefiting from the voice of God on many ears!

To God be all glory.

Context Matrix

The other night I watched a movie with a friend. It was a thinking movie, the kind I love. Do people ever tell you a movie is "about" the plot? I mean, a movie or book is rarely about what happens. The events and characters are about something else. Jane Austen was kind enough to tell us in her titles what her books were about. Some people don't realize the subject of their art until they themselves step back to view the metaphor against the big picture.

This movie, it quoted Shakespeare. And even though I'm familiar with about two Shakespeare plays (a comedy - translate: happy ending and a tragedy - translate: everyone dies, but only in the end) and a sonnet, I've figured out that Shakespeare wrote about things. I don't always know what. And so to quote a line from Shakespeare is to imply the subject of his play.

Because my examples are limited, I'm going to use the one I can think of. In Hamlet, the title character arranges for a pointed stage drama designed to convict his mother of her sins. (He ruins the effect by talking straight through the play; Shakespeare should have better appreciated the power of art when left to speak for itself.) In this drama within a play is a woman who worries aloud about whether she is making the right decision. She hesitates to give into temptation. At the end of the play, Hamlet asks his mother for her review of the performance. "Methinks she doth protest too much," says the mother. And so we have a commonly quoted phrase of Shakespeare.

When someone quotes that line, they are often and most correctly implying the context, too. They're even bringing with them the end of the tale, with its vilifications and justifications. Being familiar with the anthologies referenced in works of art can go a long way towards comprehension. Another advandage to interpretation is to have already made a thought venture or two into the subject. The Matrix, I believe, is about fate. How powerful is the human will? Whether I agree with The Matrix's statements on this subject or not, I can more readily grasp those statements because I've spent a lot of time investigating free will and the sovereignty of God.

These references to shared philosophical questions, literary experiences, etc. make up a story-mosaic within the larger story. And it can be done in a movie, in a poem, in witticism, in art, and even in everyday conversation. A frequent form of Context Matrix is the inside joke phenomenon.

Image from DiyHappy

My brother writes poetry. Sometimes he just writes whatever is in his head that jumbles into verse form. Some evolutionists wrongly suggest that organisms acquire additional DNA information (to change them into new species) by sort of colliding with other organisms with different DNA (we have the eye factory organism over here, going through generations of natural selection to finally reach vision, and he'll share someday with the organism working out wings and flight). This is not a sufficient mechanism for biology, but it seems to happen in the thought realm of my brother's mind. But he isn't in control of his mental context matrix, of all the things he encounters in his life to fuel his thoughts and shape his experiences. I believe there is a designer at work on each of our lives, and sometimes before we are even aware, He is writing patterns into the mosaic of experiences. Those patterns come out like (good) toxocology reports on my brother's thoughts.



Let me tell you, though, that unless you know my brother on a day-to-day basis, interpreting his poetry is impossible. He doesn't care. For whatever it's worth to you, whatever the words mean to you, take them or leave them. I suppose a lot of art is like that, subjected to the needs and interests of the connoisseur.



I'm really bad at getting metaphors. There is probably a common representative language among poets into which I, for lack of study, have not been initiated. When I do catch on to a metaphor, I'm really excited.



One breakthrough recently is the willingness to admit my ignorance and ask for help in understanding things. (For years I've been trying to help my "blonde" - literal or figurative - friends appear smarter by teaching them to wait a while and see if they catch on before they admit themselves to teasing by that inimitable expression, "Huh?" Now they're teaching me to learn by being willing to ask.) Having a brother like mine helps. Sometimes, you just have to ask the source. Such was my plan of action for a blog I read.



A friend told me that his friend was disappointed in the lack of response to his blog. I've been blogging for two and a half years, and let me tell you, the blog world is big; finding an audience is hard. Out of compassionate curiosity, I found the blog and read it. It didn't make any sense. I mean the words made sense, but they were the plot, not the subject. Months later I checked it again. This time I was convinced that the blog was more than the product of bored hours of creatively mimicing archaic literature. The author was getting at something flying over my head at light speed. So I asked.



And today the author answered. By now I forgot most of what I read, so I have to re-read the post, too. Here it is: The Perilous Journeys of St. Upid I dare you to leave comments (on my blog as well as his) with what you think it's about.



My point here is that my friend understood his friend's blog because he knew the context matrix his friend was using. They've talked in unambiguous language about these topics. They've also both seen Monty Python, which may have helped me if I'd seen more of his stuff. That's your only hint.



To God be all glory.

Do You Look for Him Everywhere?

We got Prince Caspian for Christmas at our house. Some movies offer what no books can: moments of sight and sound and emotion woven together. My favorite in this movie is Peter, High King, sitting back against the table of Aslan’s sacrifice staring at a carving of Aslan’s face and realizing that in his humanness, Peter is insufficient. Peter fails. And Aslan is always faithful. Perhaps he imagines the look on Aslan’s face when Edmund returned, forgiven. Now Peter knows too. And has to go on.

At the beginning of Prince Caspian is another moment. If you’re not watching closely, you’ll miss it. For just a second the view that had been following Lucy and Susan beneath the rail-station arch pauses to focus on the lion statue beside it. The sight is full of memory, as though the roar from Narnia is trapped in that lion. For a while I ignore the scene’s progression and I think of the year between leaving the Wardrobe and now.

One of my dear friends had the opportunity to spend a semester at Oxford, England. Surrounded by faith-friends and the sites of our favorite literature, my friend whose strength is imagination was four months in legendary England. Now she is home, just in time for Christmas. She grew while she was away, I know. And maybe we all could have predicted how her return would affect her: “It’s like stepping back out of the wardrobe,” she says. I see four children tumble onto the wood floor of a clean old attic.

And I want to ask her, “Do you look for Aslan everywhere you go?” I mean, you might hear a tune and think of fauns, or see some architecture like Cair Paravel’s. A turn of phrase might bring back the voice of an old friend. Just looking at the face of one who was with you there could bring it all back. But mostly I think that those who have returned from Narnia would have learned to watch for Aslan.

Of course Aslan is only a type of the true Lion, my King forever and Redeemer coming-back. Jesus is the ever-present, always active One whom I can always seek. Do I look for Him everywhere?

It always reminds me of John, the disciple Jesus loved. After three years of a close relationship – three years walking and talking and eating, crying and laughing, with God Himself! – this man says good-bye to his Friend. Buoyed by the hope translated to the gospel he would write decades later, the hope of presence and return and friendship and comfort, he marched on through life. But I wonder if sometimes he didn’t sit in the darkness and miss his Savior with all that he was. Imagine his excitement to literally be a part of Revelation, to be in those visions, to see again One – hesitantly, as though John had pictured this moment so many times that he might only be dreaming again – like the Son of Man. Familiar face, glorified, more like the few moments on the mountain than the months in the dust. And John is back, Jesus speaking to him, comforting him, rewarding his hope. But there is more to do. John’s work on earth is not finished. He is sent back to write the last words of the hope of new testament.

Sent back. Held back. Cannot follow. Kept waiting. Watching. Can’t sleep because you’re standing on the walls, straining eyes to see. Can’t despair because the words are true, Jesus is coming back. Must follow, because readiness is imperative for the return of the Bridegroom. Readiness that glows with anticipation and faith-full faithfulness.

Do you look for Him everywhere?

To God be all glory.

My Life in Ten Pictures Fall 2008

I have been camera crazy this year, filled with intentions of having one of those beautiful blogs filled with artistic pictures that speak effortless, silent poetry. Life has kept me busy, stunned me with its picturesque every day. This is my small sample. Me in one of my creative Christmas outfits. Here in Colorado the weather has scarcely ventured above freezing for two weeks, so I'm a little bored of my usual sweaters, inspiring creative ensembles.

There's another cause, too. In December, for several reasons, we should cancel laundry: 1. We are buying new clothes for Christmas parties anyway. 2. We are receiving new clothes at Christmas. 3. We are never at home, so laundry is impossible. 4. There's going to be enough guilt from all the candy and baked goods we eat, and all the New Year's Resolutions we instantly break. Why add unfinished laundry?

(To be honest, my laundry is all caught up as of about an hour from now. And I really don't get new clothes at Christmas or make New Year's Resolutions. Nor do I feel guilty about my sugar intake.)

For my birthday I hosted a party at which we watched the movie, Penelope (starring Christiana Ricci, James McAvoy, and Reese Witherspoon). The bright contrasting colors inspired me. For my parties I usually have either candles or flowers. These were too perfect, and looking exquisite in the daisy vase a friend gave me for my high school graduation.

Aren't the colors so vibrant?

Fall lingered in Colorado. I'm glad I have pictures to remember it by, not only because it was beautiful, but also because now it's so cold that I can't believe the Indian Summer we had.

See. Winter.

For weeks I went around with my camera in the passenger seat of my car so that when I found beautiful colors, driving through the right part of old Denver, I could snap a shot at a stop sign! It turned out great!

This old house was so charming as I drove that I took a picture of it, too. Denver is a lot nicer place when you see the cozy residential areas near downtown.

It can be a frustrating place. There is something nostalgic about railroad crossings, I admit. And I'm glad I had my camera, because otherwise the wait that day would have been intolerable. Trains are such dirty, slow, loud vehicles!

Speaking of waiting, that is one of only two things that I have done this season. The other is enduring impossible stores with gifts impossible to find or afford. I'm ready to stop waiting in lines and in traffic and behind trains and for people to come or go or catch up. My idea of nice waiting is to be curled up in front of the Christmas tree with a book, Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby crooning in the background, a nice plate of fudge and a cinnamon roll handy.

These are some of our family's signature cookies. Admit it. You never want just one of those regular-sized cookies. So instead of making you go back until you've had three or four, we put the whole serving into one cookie. They're amazing. And my 11 year old sister is a pro at making them, attributed to her procrastinating style.

Mom tried to recreate the salad she likes from Chik-fil-a. It was so bright and pretty that I had to take a picture.

That's all.

To God be all glory.

Companion Notes on Remains of the Day

The following is a sort of running commentary on the movie, Remains of the Day. I wrote it while watching the movie. The movie is subtle and deep. I don’t get poems. I like them if they are clever or rhyme, but not if they’re too deep. So when I do really start to catch on, I get excited. This movie is like a poem. If you can grasp the meaning by just watching, you might not be too entertained by this blog post. It’s full of spoilers and observations about the plot. Another aspect of this essay is that because I wrote it during the movie, it alternates tenses. If I speak in past tense, I’m referring to something that happened earlier in the movie, but which I was just pulling together later. If it’s in the present tense I am either making a point about the theme of the story or discussing events unfolding before my eyes on the screen. Rather than making the tone consistent throughout, I have preserved the original, hoping that the natural flow will communicate more about how my thoughts were developing. I’m essentially inviting you to view the movie with me.

“I’m not leaving. I’ve nowhere to go. I have no family. I’m a coward… I’m frightened of leaving and that’s the truth. All I see out in the world is loneliness, and it frightens me. That’s all my high principles are worth. I’m ashamed of myself.” Emma Thompson plays the housekeeper in Remains of the Day, opposite butler Anthony Hopkins. She’s not afraid of confessing who she is. In fact, I’d say she’s more afraid of not telling who she is.

It’s a movie all about loneliness: on one side about trying to feel nothing or at least to show no feelings. Actions and words went together to prove dignity, the hallmark of British society. The main characters never talked, then encountered people who do. How do you adjust to the demise of aristocracy as a philosophy? What the butler, Mr. Stevens, had always known as abstract turned out to be affecting personal lives.

(Mr. Lewis is an interesting thread to follow. He’s an American way ahead of the gentlemen in the democracy and equality world. The way he uses rhetoric is too direct for them. Initially he makes enemies everywhere. People think he doesn’t care about England or Europe. In the end his view of politics is proven right, and he also turns out to be very fond of England for its real value. It is he who preserves Darlington Hall. He represents America, I think, across nearly a century of its history.)

It isn’t that the butler can’t express himself or can’t feel anything. He just exercises self-control. His loyalty was misplaced. He chose self-control because his goal was dignity. By the end of his life, he’s second-guessing the direction he chose.

In the movie Lord Darlington explains why he wants to help Germany. He had a friend who fought on the side of Germany in the First World War, and afterwards was so devastated by its effect on his country that he committed suicide. Mr. Stevens watched a similar thing happen to his boss over the course of the movie. He feels obligated to honor the memory of his former employer and helps do as a free man what he couldn’t do as Lord Darlington’s servant.

Near the beginning of the movie, Miss Kenton the housekeeper comes into Mr. Stevens’ parlor bringing flowers and representing passion and life. She does her job well and respectfully, but offers a whole different approach to dignity, one that is more open and faithful to herself. She represents the other side of loneliness, the kind that feels alone even when she’s with other people.

Mr. Stevens never says what he means, following the example described by his father: the butler in India shot a tiger in the kitchen and entered the parlor a moment later to say dinner would be served at the usual hour, by which time there would be no discernible traces of the incident. All this calm, polite conversation to convey the death of a ferocious animal in the dining room.

So when Miss Kenton enters his room, he says that he prefers his room private, unchanged, and (seeming to refer to flowers but actually not) free of distraction. The relationship between the butler and housekeeper is reminiscent of Elizabeth and Darcy’s conversations in Pride and Prejudice. Until she got to know Darcy, he seemed rude and unfeeling. Once Miss Kenton likewise makes the patient and attentive habit of knowing Mr. Stevens’ character and tastes, she can, rather on faith, begin to interpret what he says or doesn’t say as a sort of code for his true meaning. Given her openness, he has the great advantage over her: the comfort of knowing when she agrees, security of being aware when she doesn’t, and even delight when her position entertains – all while, at first, safely hidden in his own opinions.

But she begins to see through him, utilizing Plato’s “plot is everything” to observe his life. She notices he doesn’t like pretty women on staff, and speculates, “Might it be that our Mr. Stevens fears distraction?” She has an excellent memory, and so no doubt began to understand what he had thought of her when she first entered his study with flowers years earlier. He didn’t trust himself.

Passion is a distraction from duty. Or is the other way around?

“Please leave me alone, Miss Kenton.” He wants to be alone, at least partly. And he wants her to physically pry the book from his hands, to talk and guess and look into his face for the answers he dare not show but can’t hide. He freezes, utterly conflicted for a moment, craving and fearing her closeness.

“We have each other. That’s all anyone can ever need.”
– Miss Hull on marrying without money.

Miss Kenton finds that being together in the same house isn’t enough. She might content herself with friendship, but he can’t. He must have formality or surrender to love, but he doesn’t know how to do the latter. She can’t bear the rejection, which is worse than loneliness.

She hurt him. She loved him and she hurt him. Maybe that’s why she left.

He didn’t owe her anything. She knew he didn’t, but she hoped anyway. That made her tears all the more bitter and self-reproaching when he couldn’t let himself admit he was in love.

Why does Miss Kenton do these things? She sees the outside world as lonely, in contrast to the house and servants (though Mr. Stevens sees the house as lonely). She above all fears loneliness, and works and sacrifices so that she won’t feel alone. This is why she eventually leaves. Though Mr. Stevens knows she is not alone, he makes the mistake of not telling her so. And she flees to what seems a sure thing, an offer of marriage to a man who says he loves her.

She is too needy for a marriage, and her husband didn’t always say what he meant, either – even when he first said “I love you.” The movie ends with the question of loneliness still hanging.

To God be all glory.

The Matrix Review

I watched the Matrix for the second time last night. Actually I sped it up a bit, skipping the scenes with interminable punching, kicking, and creepy stuff (like the bug). This movie was the constant topic of conversation for a few months when I was in high school. Friends said they had to see it several times just to get it.

Many years removed from its debut, the Matrix is not difficult for me to understand. Maybe our concept of computers has changed, or the plot has been so absorbed into common philosophy that it is no longer shocking and new. Either way, watching it the second time was pleasant. I got to enjoy the exceptional writing, the whole thrust of the story being set up by small comments early in the movie.

The Matrix is about fate and choice. For example, near the beginning of the movie, Neo asks, “Why is this happening to me? What did I do?” The answer is nothing. Things happen to us outside of our control or choices, and quite often whether we deserve them or not.

In the story, there is an Oracle. She predicts the future: that a special human will be found; who will find him; how the people will know. This special human is supposed to rescue humanity from the Matrix. There is a strong idea of fate in this. Even if it were naturally possible to predict the future, she was predicting a supernatural event, the appearance of a human being with super-human mind power.

The mind is important in the story. Almost everything that happens is mental, through the Matrix. And the epic conflict is the irrepressible human mind (or spirit) that is not bound by a programmed response as machines are. Humanity can survive and once again prevail because the mind is creative and adaptive.

Yet the mind is not the ultimate reality in the story. (Spoilers of a ten year old movie coming up.) At the very end of the movie, Neo dies in the Matrix. Anyone else who dies in the Matrix dies in reality, too. The body cannot live without the mind. And the mind inside the Matrix cannot keep so much a hold on reality that the death blows cannot reach it. Nevertheless, the physically and mentally dead Neo responds and revives as a matter of will. There is something else in him that will not die, that will not submit to what the mind senses. Ultimately it is that will, informing the mind, which enables him to overcome the Matrix.

That’s the framework. But inside the story, as events unfold (a beautiful word image for an idea of fate), these various perspectives on the will, the mind, the feelings, all interact. One character would rather live based on what makes him feel good. All of the questions represent a belief about truth. How do you know truth if what you’ve experienced and believed your whole life is a lie? How can you tell you’re not suffering a lie again? What is your definition of truth, and does it matter to you?

The Oracle tells Neo not to worry about a vase, which he curiously turns to see, and knocks it off. Is this pure prophecy, or manipulation based on possible futures? The Oracle also gives Neo the impression that he is not the One (special human able to defeat the Matrix), but tells him that he will have to make a choice between his life and the life of his mentor, Morpheus. The mentor is trying to give his life for Neo. Whose will wins? Why? While Neo believes he isn’t the One, he’s actually proving that he is. His motivation, his will, is stronger than what he believes in his mind.

Neo makes decisions based on what is right. He goes to save Morpheus because it is the loving thing to do. We can never let a sense of destiny interfere with what we know is right. He lets Trinity escape the Matrix first out of love as well. And these are the decisions that define his fate, that empower his will.

Machines may be the epic enemy in this movie, but they aren’t the bad guy. However much they try to convince you that they care about something, that they feel emotion and make choices, it’s all a façade, an intimidation tactic. No, the real bad guy in the story is the man who wants to live by his feelings instead of by truth and justice. It is he who is willing to betray his companions, even to kill them and sacrifice the human race.

What defeats him is the justice and sacrificial love and determination of two brothers. The bad guy shoots at one, whose brother jumps between him and the next shot. The second brother dies. Greater love has no man than this… Brother number one survives to defend the lives of his friends by necessary force. Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man…

The story isn’t all that new. A pure heart sacrifices itself for love. The will is superior to the feelings. Love conquers all. Truth and love are inseparably connected. It’s this very fact, that the story isn’t new, that it is filled with eternal truths, which make The Matrix such a good movie.

To God be all glory.

Sphere by Michael Crichton Book Review

I first looked up Michael Crichton after discovering the time travel adventure, Timeline. Starring all sorts of wonderful people with wonderful accents and wonderful hair (including the now-famous Gerard Butler), Timeline placed a team of archaeologists in the hands of an innovative company that had developed the technology to fax 3-dimensional objects – except they accidentally faxed them to the past. The movie addresses questions of fate, of the impact of tampering with the knowledge in the past, and of whether modern enlightenment is really superior to the technology and wisdom of the past. Given the choice, where would you spend out your life?

Fascinated by the story, I saw that the book had originally been written by Michael Crichton. The list of other movies based on his books was incredible. I’d seen several, all thrilling adventure movies with real intriguing plots at the same time. His imagination lived on the edge of reality, whether it was science fiction or fantasy or the cutting edge of technology. Included in his list are: Jurassic Park, Timeline, Congo, and Twister. He also writes for the TV show ER, though I never watched that.

Then I began to notice that his older books are frequently found on used bookstore shelves for very good prices. I bought a few. The first one I began had a horrible opening scene, quite inappropriate in content and language. Maybe I shouldn’t have spent money on them. I put that one well away.

A few months later I read that Frank Peretti’s favorite contemporary author is Michael Crichton. If Frank Peretti likes him, all his books can’t be like that. And who ever heard of movies cutting the content or language? Rather the contrary. But I’d seen several movies that were mostly just intense. One of the books I own is Timeline itself, a beat up mass paperback edition. I’ve read the first few pages.

Generally speaking, I’m having a hard time justifying novels since graduating high school. In high school there was all this mandatory non-fiction reading and literature (sometimes really boring literature), so I occasionally needed an easy-read novel to lighten things up. Now I read entirely what I want. So usually I might as well read something new, edifying, and educational. In fact I am a much bigger fan of history now that I’m reading books focused on a few years, decades, or centuries rather than the history of the whole world.

But I was cleaning my room a couple days ago, reorganizing some of my books again (I’d used their container as decoration for a Pigfest), when I came across one of Michael Crichton’s books, Sphere. The front cover featured divers swimming around several underwater spheres, and boasted an upcoming motion picture (which is decades old now, and I’ll guarantee you without even checking that it was rated R). The scene on the cover never happens, and totally misconstrues the title. The back was more accurate, indicating some sort of alien novel. I opened to the first page.

Not bad. I set it aside. Now last week I finished the book about Iceland. I had a million things to do, and no free time. So the beginning of this week was spent in rebellion against responsibility and hard work. I’m getting over it. During the hours in which I finally had nothing scheduled, I curled up with Sphere.

To my delight, part of the plot actually does deal with time travel (and I’m such a fan of time travel!). Basically a half-mile long spacecraft is found at the bottom of a shallower part of the Pacific Ocean. Based on the coral growth, scientists estimate that the ship has been submerged for three hundred years. But it isn’t rusted, or even damaged as if from a crash. The conclusion is that it must have materialized there after voyaging through time. A team of US Navy and US scientists is assembled to investigate the Anomaly.

Throughout the book Michael Crichton deals with the question of intelligence, especially contrasted with soul and emotion. The end of the book reveals the paradoxical union of these, and the consequences of neglecting one over the other. Even the individuals on the team represent different aspects of humanity, with our desires and interests, strengths and weaknesses. As sort of a subconscious defense against being too involved in the story, I enjoyed observing what the author was getting at. I observed his craft and motivation as though he was one of the characters. That is the best way to solve mysteries before the author tells you, to collect the clues and notice the connections. Except I lost. I didn’t realize. Oh well.

The book spends a fair amount of time talking about evolution, both biological and intellectual. When discussing the possibility of alien life and the probabilities of its attributes, this is bound to come up. Whence comes life? Why is life the way it is? Can something be alive and not have a body, or not have DNA, or not have emotion? Might there be life that is indestructible? What if it’s thought and communication systems are completely foreign? What if the alien life is intelligent, but evolved mental science rather than physical? They could be blobs that don’t have to sculpt a sculpture; it just is how they think it to be.

Several difficulties with evolution are also mentioned, but skimmed over. I thought it was interesting that the biologists were attributed with the theory that alien life is unlikely, while physicists and cosmologists believe it is likely. The answer Michael Crichton gives is that the physicists and cosmologists imagine a bigger world than what they see. They imagine other dimensions, possibly even other universes. In the twenty years since Sphere was written, a shift has taken place. The sciences heavily dependent on math and probability boast fewer believers in alien life. Biologists are almost desperate to find alien life for two reasons: it would indicate an as yet undiscovered law by which life is more likely to evolve (something to add to chance and natural selection) or it would grant more validity to the increasingly popular theory that since we don’t have any evidence (or enough time) for life evolving here on planet earth, perhaps life was planted here by aliens who evolved a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away where they keep all the evidence.

As to whether I can recommend this book, I’d have to say no. There are some strong content issues in just a few places, some crass language and a lot of mild profanity and a profusion of using God’s name as a curse word. Additionally there is a lot of violence and “disturbing images” – more disturbing when I read because generally I don’t close my eyes for parts that get too scary while I’m reading. At one point I remember thinking, “Wow. I get to see a giant squid. Jules Verne only wrote about one, and the movie versions, they’re all fake… Wait a second!”

Ok, so if you are going to take my recommendation and not read the book, but you’re interested in the conclusions of the ideas presented, highlight the invisible text below:

The main character of the story is a psychologist who specializes in anxiety. He is the one who compiled the team of geniuses to hypothetically meet with alien objects or life (never expecting them to actually be needed). He typically voices the need to heed and control emotions, both in themselves and in each other.

Most of the story takes place in a touchy artificial environment 1,000 feet below the surface of the ocean, in which they are trapped by reason of a hurricane. So everyone is a little anxious, living in tight quarters and needing to make sure everything is done properly.

In the spaceship, by one member’s impulsiveness, they discover some pretty advanced technology, crafted by Americans fifty years in the future. A lot is made of the fact that even our technology today would seem like magic if we brought it back a hundred years or more to brilliant scientists on whose work our technology was built. They’d have to be caught up on our advances in physics and such to even begin to comprehend.

The team learns from the cooperative computers on the ship that the voyage was made to enter a black hole just beyond Pluto, which induced time travel. Black hole theory is explained in layman’s terms using a bowl, and apple, and a ball bearing.

Along the way the spacecraft seems to have picked up an intelligently-designed object, a 30-ft. sphere with “cabular grooves,” which end up concealing a door they can’t open.

Eventually the door is opened without any apparent reason. The smartest man on the team, and youngest scientist, a mathematician, figures out how to get into the sphere, and spends three hours inside, after which he will explain nothing of his knowledge or experience. He is simply exhausted.

Soon after they start experiencing strange phenomenon, like the discovery of three unidentified species of sea life in an area that had been barren of life on the sea floor. They lose a member of their team to jelly fish. And things get worse from there. A giant squid comes around, claiming the lives of most of the team. Those who are left are a mathematician, a biologist, and the psychologist. (mind, body, soul)

In the meantime, the sphere has made contact, projecting first number codes, then letters and words and sentences onto their computer screen. He says his name is Jerry. He can hear them, enjoys talking to them, and doesn’t understand questions about where he came from. They gather as events pass that he is the cause of the “manifestations,” including the giant squid. He wants to talk, and when they wish to talk privately, he gets angry. He turns hostile through the giant squid, which attacks the habitat and individuals, even luring one person with a sign of attention and intelligent playfulness. His hostility grows to the point where he says “I will kill you all.” Not a comforting thought when dealing with an all powerful unknown being. But are they?

What eventually works for the team is the instructions of one of the psychologist’s professors. Don’t try to understand everything. Do something. If that doesn’t work, do something else, no matter how crazy. It’s a pretty good way to quickly tackle the unknown. Especially when this line of reasoning reveals that rather than dealing with an alien entity that doesn’t understand what he’s doing, they’re really suffering the effects of the sphere, which enables those who enter it to manifest whatever they imagine, to manipulate reality. This was the union of thought and emotion: imagination.

The first to discover this was the underappreciated super-genius, who felt lonely his whole life, and restrained from demonstrating his full genius. But he was a man despairingly afraid, and his fears came to life. (In fact his logical brain reasoned that since there was no reference on the spacecraft to the discoverers of the technology in the past – the team discovering it now – that the team must all die in the ordeal, before ever revealing anything about the spacecraft to the world.) The second person to (secretly) enter the sphere was the concrete biologist, who required constant reassurance, connection, and control. She imagined offenses and constantly considered herself the victim. She turns out to be semi-suicidal and bent on self-torture. Finally the psychologist himself enters the sphere and has a mental conversation with his dark side. His weakness is to discredit the importance of logic, to rely on feelings. His survival means more to him than almost anything. Ultimately, though, it is his beliefs that save them all. He believes humans are worth helping. Emotions can be controlled and are worth controlling. He had been the one saying “Stick together,” and so he could not desert.

Was the sphere some cosmic test? Was the sphere itself a form of life? Did an alien (or future human) intelligence want to know how a human would react to getting whatever he wanted? Is that what imagination is for? How powerful is the imagination? Maybe the sphere accidentally had that effect. Maybe its intentions had nothing to do with humanity.

In the end the three survivors (mortal enemies mere hours before) cooperatively and unanimously decide to imagine the sphere and their past week’s experience out of existence. They come up with a new story to imagine in its place, and so it is done. The world ends up having no knowledge of time travel until they boldly voyage for the black hole fifty years in the future.

PS: I looked up Sphere on the internet. Lo and behold it did cut content from the book, and ended up with a PG-13 rating.

To God be all glory.