Wisdom and Folly

Our five-year-old daughter Maggie is, to my great delight, a very independent self-entertainer. She can easily create and populate her own little worlds with all sorts of imaginative characters. (Before you become too envious, the creation of these “little” worlds often involves the dumping out of every drawer and shelf in her room, and cleaning up is not her strong suit.) She is greatly skilled in the arts of blanket fort building, block city building and, most importantly, paper cutting. So when a friend recommended a book chocked full of “easy crafts,” I happily procured the book for her. (It’s a great book made by Kumon—My Book of Easy Crafts available on Amazon for only $6.95 if you are interested.) Now if you don’t have young children, let me interpret “easy craft” for you. “Easy” can be translated as effortless for anyone over the age of twenty-five and therefore entirely too old for making a “craft” which can be translated as a task usually requiring a large amount of tape, glue, and string and which has no purpose other than occupying you, and occasionally your kid, and then will become a serious storage issue. So…in the late afternoon of a recent icy, gray day Maggie and I sat on the schoolroom floor cutting, taping, and stringing. We were creating a school of fish and hooks with which to capture them. I had finished a few fish, and Maggie was happily chatting about her plans. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she sweetly chirped to her new companions, “I’m going to catch some fish and put them in my boat to die so we can eat them.” The contrast between her innocent sing-song tone and the grimness of her words was startling and left me struck by the inevitability of death.

There are, of course, the rather obvious examples of death—the sanitized versions cleaned up and plastic wrapped in our grocery store meat department, the messy (and sometimes stinky) examples on the side of the highway, and the grim reaper waiting at the end of each of our lifetimes. But what struck me was that while we see death as something to be avoided and mourned, it is weaved into every facet of life. For one thing, in many cases, to live something else has to die. We are vegetarians (most of the time) but even we must kill plants in various forms in order to survive. Some of the world’s most admired animals couldn’t live without meat and often that meat looks really cute and cuddly right before it gets gobbled up. Death is even woven into our homes. The house or apartment in which you live was at least partly constructed by wood that came from dead trees. Obviously I wouldn’t put plants in the same category as animals or people but when you see a pattern recurring again and again, you have to consider whether God is speaking. And just what is He trying to say? 

Frankly, I am not really sure. Maybe God is giving us a gentle reminder of the end that is coming for us all. Like little post-it notes carpeting the face of creation reminding us that “This too shall pass.” This could add a rather grim dimension to our enjoyment of the world around us, but it doesn’t have to. Instead of being depressed by these tokens of the macabre, perhaps we should be grateful for God’s reminding us that death is waiting for us all. This knowledge can add an element of sweetness to each moment we experience, knowing that there are only a finite number of them. So the next time one of your house plants dies or you see a graceful gazelle bite the dust under the power of a lion’s jaws on a nature show, just remember that death is stalking you in the tall grass as well. And may it inspire us to savor life and, most of all, to better prepare ourselves for judgment day.

Want to see some really inspiring LIVE music videos?

Here is a performance by Nathan “Flutebox” Lee and Beardyman. I can’t decide if this is more remarkable as a music performance or as a circus act. Either way, it’s amazing.

Check out The Tallest Man on Earth performing for the NPR Tiny Desk music series. His name is Kristian Matsson, and he hails from Sweden. He’s a strong guitarist, singer and songwriter who is now promoting his debut album in the States. It’ll be interesting to see what becomes of him.

And this is OK Go playing their song “This Too Shall Pass” with a little help from, uh, their friends. These are the guys who made a You Tube splash a few years back with their treadmill video for “Here it Goes Again.” All of their videos are innovative, but ”This Too Shall Pass” is my favorite.

In my previous post I noted the connection between behavior and belief and how doubts about God are often rooted in disobedience.  But how exactly does this work?  Why should one’s moral conduct, whether good or bad, have intellectual ramifications?  Let me quickly explain two moral-psychological dynamics that account for this.

First, there is the phenomenon known as self-deception.  As many studies have shown, reason is not the sole determinant in belief formation.  A person’s beliefs can be altered by significant desires, fears, and other emotions.  In fact, people often act on their passions even when reason clearly points in a different direction.  So, to illustrate regarding an ethical matter, when a person forms an immoral habit (say, anything from pirating DVDs to extramarital sex), they will naturally desire to avoid admitting their actions are really immoral.  Consequently, a moral perspective or general worldview that condones such behavior will be more attractive to them, and the desire to avoid guilt and shame about it will motivate the belief that such theft or adultery, at least in the person’s present case, is not really wrong.  This is a classic case of self-deception—believing what one, in some sense, knows to be false.

Second, and more fundamentally, there are the cognitive consequences of sin.  As Notre Dame philosopher Alvin Plantinga has elucidated (see chapter 7 of his Warranted Christian Belief), sinful behaviors have cognitive ramifications.  The mind was designed to, among other things, form true beliefs about the world, and when functioning properly in a congenial environment, it tends to do just this.  Immoral indulgences disrupt cognition so that it cannot function properly, thus clouding judgment and skewing perceptions.  This is especially so in the case of moral and spiritual beliefs where personal pride and selfish desires are most likely to interfere.

Because of the potentially devastating dynamics of self-deception and the cognitive consequences of sin, we must take great care in living virtuously and diminishing the corrupting effects of sin on the mind.  Only by avoiding the negative cognitive effects of disobedience can the intellectual challenges to the faith be addressed in a clear-headed (and pure-hearted) way.

The practical upshot is that we must prioritize right living, and this is especially important when struggling with doubts.  Some such doubts are genuinely intellectual and may be addressed accordingly.  But others are rooted in vice, in which case the first order of business is repentance rather than apologetic research.  In light of this, I have counseled some struggling students to live “as if” Christianity is true, even when they have severe doubts.  By this I mean that it is wise to observe Christian moral standards even when questioning the truth of Christianity, because indulging in sin will only further confuse one’s thinking and invite self-deception.

I recall one instance in which a student came to my office, wracked by doubt and feeling that he was “living a lie” by acting as if he was a Christian.  I told him to continue to live by biblical standards just in case Christianity is true.  This way he wouldn’t have any regrets if his faith convictions returned.  Well, sure enough, his Christian beliefs did re-solidify, and he later thanked me with immense relief that he hadn’t done anything rash (in terms of immoral indulgences) during his spell of doubt.  I suppose there is something Pascalian in this approach, but then again, there is a Pascalian dimension to all of life, as we must “wager” about many choices we make.

The lesson here is that all of our behaviors, whether habitual or one-time experiences, impact our cognitive condition to one degree or another.  And our cognitive health in turn impacts what we are inclined to believe and disbelieve.  Thus, whether or not virtue is, as the saying goes, “its own reward,” it certainly has cognitive benefits, just as vice has cognitive costs.  The wise person will take this to heart.

As a general rule, I shy away from public events such as concerts, sports games, or any other occasion that involves a large group of people collecting in one place for the purpose of witnessing something entertaining. Doing so gives me the strange and unsettling feeling of inhabiting two worlds simultaneously. With one foot in the crowd and the other on the stage, court, or field, I am overcome with a light-headed, out-of-body sensation that I find quite disturbing.

There is one notable except to this rule and that is going to the movies. I love the entire theatrical experience and my love has only increased now that I have kids with which to enjoy the experience as well. (Sadly, Jim doesn’t share my love for movie theaters and would rather take his $7.50 and run, unless tempted by the latest M. Knight Shyamalan or Quentin Tarantino film). I like to arrive early in order to maximize my pre-show pleasure, since these trips to the theater are a rare treat. First there is the perusal of posters for upcoming shows and making mental notes for what flicks to add to my ever-growing Netflix queue. Then there is the selection of film viewing snacks, the careful flavoring of popcorn with a hot, yellow liquid we unconvincingly refer to as movie butter. And then the climax leading up to the actual reason for coming to the theater in the first place, to see a movie…the previews. Aptly named “teasers” this smorgasbord of things to come is a plan-ahead girl’s dream come true. I love to anticipate things and this string of glorified commercials is just the thing to assuage any bittersweet regret that soon the film viewing experience will be over. Now I can watch the movie knowing that there is another film coming soon that I look forward to seeing.

But lately I have found the entire experience a bit disappointing. So in the tradition of my less than traditional Top “Ten” lists, here are Four and a Half Reasons I Don’t Like Movie Theaters as Much as I Used To:

#4  The Snacks — I held my tongue when for no apparent reason, we suddenly became responsible for the “buttering” of our own popcorn but can no longer remain silent at the unjustifiably pathetic selection of candy. Anyone who has stood in line with three or more children, one of whom is allergic to peanuts, trying to get them all to agree on one treat to share, knows that the paltry array of sour gummy worms and sweet tarts just doesn’t cut it.

#3  The Previews — In a perversion of everything I hold sacred about the movie theater experience, the thing that I once most looked forward to is now the reason I prefer to arrive late—to avoid the overly long, plot-spoiling previews. Was the profession of trailer editors suddenly taken over by a group of frustrated short film directors who have decided to ruin all of our fun and create mini-films rather than brief commercials? If the film industry wants to boost their sales in these hard economic times, perhaps they should consider reversing this trend and follow Hitchcock’s rule: showing less is better. There are several Hollywood starlets who might consider taking this advice as well, but that’s another post entirely.

#2  The Theaters — When I was growing up, back when a guy played the organ as the soundtrack and “talkies” were just a gleam in the brothers Warner’s eye, movie theaters were large enough to seat an entire Tibetan village and the screens were sized to match. Nowadays, the theaters have been chopped in half, all in the name of maximizing profit (as if ticket prices and snack gouging aren’t raking in enough dough). Some of the screens aren’t much bigger than our home TV, and that’s saying something.  

#1½ — Did I mention the snacks? It bears repeating. They are really, really bad.

#1  The Films — All of the above drawbacks might be tolerable if it weren’t for the fact that most of the films in theaters aren’t worth seeing. On the rare occasion that I can convince Jim to take me to the movies, it is difficult to find something we can sit through, let alone enjoy. There have been some notable exceptions of late—Slum Dog Millionaire, Inglourious Basterds, and The Blind Side—but on the whole the pickings are slim out there. I keep holding out hope, only to be disappointed time and again.

So, with a heavy heart, I have forsaken movie theaters, that is, until the next Shyamalan film comes out…or the next Tarantino film…or anything featuring men on horseback and women wearing long dresses with empire waists…or….  Okay, I haven’t quite turned my back on movie theaters yet, but I sure am tempted!

Over the years I have had discussions with many college students who struggle with doubts about their Christian beliefs or who say they feel their faith is “slipping away.”  Some of them seek me out in hopes that I can provide some reassurance or guidance as they work through this trial.  In such cases, I always probe to see if there are any personal or relational issues lurking beneath the intellectual surface which might shed light on their struggles.  Often I discover that the student is involved in some misbehavior.  For example, a few years back a male student, whom I’ll call Bill, shared with me that he was struggling with deep doubts about his faith—questioning the truth of Christianity while also wallowing in a general apathy about it.  As I gathered some background information, Bill told me that his longtime girlfriend had broken up with him and since then he found it difficult to attend church.  So I asked Bill when was the last time he attended a church service.  His answer:  “about eight months ago.” 

               “Interesting,” I said.  “And when was the last time you read the Bible?”

               “Probably about that long—at least six months.”

               “Hmm…  Bill, do you suppose the fact that you haven’t sat under the preaching and teaching of Scripture might have something to do with your doubts and apathy?”

               “Wow,” he said calmly, and without even a hint of irony, “I haven’t thought of that.”

In conversations with other students I’ve learned that when it comes to the impact of behavior upon beliefs, many of them “haven’t thought of that.”  Such cases are, you might say, examples of people failing to “work out their salvation,” as Paul puts it in Philippians 2:12.  The life of faith must be active and engaged in the spiritual disciplines (e.g., prayer, Bible study, fellowship, worship, service, sacrifice, fasting, confession, submission, etc.), or faith will die.  Sadly, those who fail to pursue the disciplines are, for this very reason, unable to see that they are the ones causing their own doubts or apathy toward the faith.  As Peter says, “they stumble because they disobey the message” (1 Pet. 2:8).  See also Pr. 4:19 and Pr. 19:3. 

In short, disobedience gives rise to unbelief.  This biblical truth is evident in such passages as Ephesians 4:18-19, where Paul says that certain Gentiles “are darkened in their understanding…due to the hardening of their hearts,” which in turn he explains by the fact that “they have given themselves over to sensuality so as to indulge in every kind of impurity” (Eph. 4:18-19).  On the other hand, obedience brings wisdom and insight, as Scripture also teaches.  God makes wise the simple and grants understanding to those who humble themselves (see Psalm 19:7, Psalm 25:9, Prov. 1:4 and Prov. 11:2).

Spiritual understanding is not just an intellectual matter but is also deeply moral.  This is why it is crucial that doubts be addressed with spiritual formation in mind.  In my next post I will note some of the psychological dynamics involved in the playing out of this biblical truth.

Brief comments on film by Amy.
Some old, some new.  Domestic films and foreign too.

(500) Days of Summer:  A friend saw this movie a while back and told me she was still trying to decide whether or not she liked it. After having seen it, I know what she means. I think part of the problem is that it is too cute to be a serious drama but too dramatic to be a romantic comedy. The soundtrack is amazing, and the acting is good; there are just a few moments that take you out of the film and throw off your suspension of disbelief. Still, with all the swill coming out of Hollywood, this definitely rises to the top, however faint that praise might be.

Ghosts of Rwanda:  If you are as ignorant as I was about the horrible genocide that occurred in Rwanda in the Spring and Summer of 1994, this Frontline documentary is the film to see. I felt frustrated at times by what seemed to be the filmmaker’s desire to blame those in the West who did little or nothing to stop the violence more than those who actually committed the acts. This could very well be my Western guilt talking, and certainly more could and should have been done. The film does do a good job of praising those who bravely acted to save others.

The Brothers Bloom:  A clever wanna-be. I couldn’t decide if this film was trying to tell me something about the meaning of life or trying to tell me that there is no meaning at all. I seem to be having this experience a lot lately in film watching, and one might begin to question whether it is the movies or the viewer that is the problem. It reminds me of a remark I heard once about Angela Lansbury—when every time an old lady shows up at a dinner party someone ends up dead, you have to start wondering about the old lady and not the guests. Back to the topic at hand, The Brothers Bloom was a good ride. Just don’t stop to think about it too much; or think about it a lot harder than I did.

Honorable Mention:  Foyle’s War—I just can’t get enough of this BBC murder series set in England’s southern coast during WWII. I usually figure out whodunnit before Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle does, and then I try to recall the other BBC series in which I have seen the supporting cast members until he catches up with me.

Dishonorable Mentions:  All About Steve and Extract—What is up with movies having better soundtracks than scriptwriting? Both of these were “ugh” worthy.

Somewhere in between:  The Princess and the Frog—I took Maggie and Andrew to see this one, and they enjoyed it. Overall, it was pretty good but I was taken aback by the creepy demon henchmen of the voodoo bad guy. In the end, I would rather have saved the popcorn and candy money (not to mention the actual price of admission) and waited for The Tooth Fairy. I have a serious weakness for Dwayne Johnson.

I love football, particularly of the NFL variety.  So for fans like me, this is the most exciting time of the year, as the playoffs begin next week.  Of course, post-season play is the most exciting time in any sport at any level, but in the NFL it’s especially thrilling, because it’s a single elimination tournament culminating in the single most viewed sporting event of the year—the Super Bowl.

I follow the NFL closely—well, at least as closely as one can without the benefit of television or lots of free time.  I do manage to watch a few regular season games, usually those featuring one of my favorite teams—the Colts and the Saints (a great regular season for both of these teams, and their fans, by the way).  And I’ll be sure to watch all of their playoff games in the coming weeks.

Yesterday, while playing fetch with my dog, my thoughts drifted off to football.  Not random daydreams, my thoughts were inspired by the fact that my dog is quite a nimble beast—fleet of paw and amazingly elusive.  Watching him romp in the yard is a treat, as he can stop and start on a dime and instantly accelerate to a full sprint.  As a young, 50-pound standard poodle, he might be rather ordinary, but compared to humans his athleticism is impressive.

So the thought occurred to me that has occurred to many football-loving dog-owners:  How would an NFL team fare against my dog, or any dog for that matter, if they had to run him down on the field?  Of course, this premise has been the subject of a few silly films over the years.  But consider this:  If dogs were allowed to play in the NFL and if a dog such as my standard poodle could be given the IQ of, say, a human 7-year-old, then that dog would be the MVP of the league.  In fact, he would easily be a Hall-of-Fame player.  How so?  Well, no one could catch him.  Even the best NFL defenders would look inept trying to tackle him.

What position would he play?  Clearly you wouldn’t want to play the dog at quarterback or wide-receiver, where good hands are a must.  Nor would you want to give a dog the task of blocking or kicking, for obvious reasons.  So, granting our canine friend the right to carry the ball in his mouth (which isn’t illegal by NFL rules, as far as I know), the position of running back becomes an obvious choice.  Also, kick or punt return duties would be a possibility.  In any of these positions, once the dog gets possession of the ball, forget it.  He’s gone—leaving a trail of flailing defenders in his wake.

Yes, it’s a silly suggestion that conjures funny mental images.  But it also raises some interesting questions, both about football and athletics generally.  First, what does it say about football as a sport that a dog with the IQ of a first-grader would be a dominant player, probably the greatest the game has ever seen?  I don’t have any answers to proffer here—at least not yet.  I simply pose the question for your consideration.

Second, this is a good reminder that much of human athletic achievement, as impressive as it is in so many sports contexts, is a species-centric thing.  True, only humans can play tennis, golf, baseball, hockey, and many other sports.  But when it comes to running, jumping, swimming, and some other basic athletic skills, the animal kingdom puts us to shame.  It isn’t just cheetahs, horses, and greyhounds that can outrun Olympic gold-medal sprinters, but even cats, raccoons, and squirrels can do so.  And I suppose there are thousands of species of fish who can swim faster than Michael Phelps.

So the next time you’re blown away by the speed, power, or agility of a professional athlete, you might want to put his or her ability in broader zoological context.  And when you’re watching your favorite team in the NFL playoffs in the coming weeks, just consider how much better they would be if they had my dog returning kickoffs.

It’s been another exciting year, and we want to thank you all for reading and, if applicable, posting comments on our blog.  Once again, we would like to close out the year with summary remarks about good and bad stuff related to film, music, books, politics, and family. 

Best Film Experiences:

• Jim:  Slumdog Millionaire, Inglourious Basterds, and The Blind Side. Three very different films with one thing in common: a compelling story.  See my March 2 post for extended comments on Slumdog, and our joint review of Inglourious Basterds in our October 29 post.  As for The Blind Side, I confess that I went to see it begrudgingly, figuring it would subject me to two hours of eye-rolling melodrama.  On the contrary, this simple but powerful film had me in tears the entire evening.  And I’m no sentimentalist…
• Amy:  Jim chose the ones you’ve heard of, so here are a few older ones you might not have seen: 1927 Academy Award winning Sunrise.  I am not a big fan of silent films but this one is amazing, a perfect movie. Another oldie but goodie is The Red Shoes.  Finally, Murder!  I am slowly working my way through all the works of Hitchcock and this was one I marked off the list this year.  It’s classic Hitchcock, which is to say, suspense with heart and soul.  Finally, this one isn’t an oldie, but since I spend a great deal of time watching children’s films I will give a shout out to my friends Charlie and Lola.

Worst Film Experiences: 

• Jim:  Little Children—Three of my pet peeves in contemporary Hollywood films are:  1) stilted dialogue, 2) gratuitous sex scenes, and 3) plotlines that encourage viewers to root for a character to commit adultery.  Well, this movie features all three of these vices.  Some thematic originality or insight into truth might have helped to redeem the film despite these flaws.  But, alas, this one was disappointing down to the last, contrived and implausible, scene.
• Amy:  The Reader, Japanese Story, and Summertime are three that standout in their badness.  There are bad movies which are flawed in one way or another (poor writing, bad acting, etc.) and then there are movies that are faulty on a deeper level; like people who are really smart that you enjoy being with as long as you don’t think about what they are actually saying.  These films would fall into the latter category.

Best Musical Experiences of the Year: 

• Jim:  Wilco (The Album).  Jeff Tweedy & Co. have been making great music since the mid-90s, and their latest effort is more of the same.  2009 is also the year that I discovered the Kings of Leon.  Thanks to Jason Fortner for his insistent introduction to the beauty of the Followill brothers’ musical world.
• Amy:  It isn’t a specific album but I loved my Christmas music this year. One of my faves included Sufjan Stevens Songs for Christmas, “What Child is This” by Andrea Bocelli, and Mary J. Blige and Emmylou Harris’ Light of the Stable.  They all strike the chords of awe, sadness, and rejoicing that I love about the season.

Favorite Songs of the Year:

• Jim:  “Breathe” by U2.  This song slaps you in the face, spins you in circles, then sits you down and caresses you into ecstasy.  What begins as an almost tuneless rapid-fire narrative resolves into one of the most melodically satisfying songs in the U2 repertoire.  Check out that entrancing combo of cello and guitar as well as the memorable lyrical images—e.g., “people born of sound” wearing songs “like a crown” and “the roar that lies on the other side of silence.”  Oh yeah.
• Amy:  See my comments above about Christmas songs.

Jim’s Favorite Sports Moment of the Year:  The season-long dominance of the Saints and Colts (two of my favorite teams), both of whom earned home field advantage throughout the NFL playoffs.  I’m not naïve enough to think both will make it to the Super Bowl (#1 seeds almost never meet in the championship).  But I’m hopeful that one of them will play on Super Sunday.

Jim’s Most Disappointing Sports Moment of the Year:  The Detroit Tigers’ squandering their division lead on the last day of regular season.  It wasn’t so much a moment as a week-long, fated collapse.  Ugh.

Amy’s Best Eating Experience of the Year:  New Orleans’ restaurant Mona Lisa’s eggplant parmesan.  Spicy marinara sauce, crispy eggplant in a creative setting with friendly folks.  And the service is great—at the Mona Lisa everyone is treated like a regular.

Amy’s Worst Eating Experience of the Year:  “Zucchini and Basil Soup.”  In an attempt to cleanse our bodies of toxins, Jim and I did a cleanse diet which excluded all cheese, eggs, wheat, soda, and basically anything you might enjoy eating.  The diet was actually not that bad, but this cold “soup” was definitely the low point.

Most and Least Satisfying Reads of the Year:

• Jim:  Antony Flew’s There is a God, in which the former atheist chronicles his journey to belief in God and masterfully summarizes the three main considerations which prompted him to embrace theism.  I’ve also greatly enjoyed the Arts and Letters Daily blog.  My least satisfying read was Kwame Appiah’s Cosmopolitanism—an attempt to salvage shared moral values while affirming cultural relativism.  I kept waiting for an argument, but it never came.  And until the very end I hoped Appiah would rescue his project from incoherence.  My hopes were never realized.
• Amy:  Elizabeth Gaskell’s Ruth, Charles Dickens’ Little Dorrit and Same Kind of Different as Me were all inspiring.  They just don’t write them like that anymore.  I didn’t like The Girls from Ames.  Also, on three separate occasions, I began reading The Shack, but I couldn’t complete it.  Bad theology and even worse writing.

Political High Point of the Year:  Our hopeful sides want to celebrate the seemingly grass roots movement afoot in our country against government expansion and irresponsibility.  But our cynical sides tell us that it’s all just more talk that will, in the end, be undermined by profiteering.

Political Low Point of the Year:  The revelation that (now former) Green Czar Van Jones was a Marxist…or perhaps the revelation that (now former) White House communications director Anita Dunn was a Marxist sympathizer.  Or (speaking of Marxism?) perhaps the real low point was the health care bill.

Most Outrageous News Events of the Year:  The balloon boy hoax (what can you expect from a couple who would name their kid “Falcon”?) and Bernie Madoff (an appropriate surname, until the Ponzi schemer artist got busted) and climategate (when scientists feel they have to fudge numbers, this should give pause to even the most dogmatic believers in their theory).  Ah, the hits just keep on coming, don’t they?

Our Kids’ Most Memorable Statements of the Year:

Bailey:  “I think cussing is just adults’ way of whining.” 

Sam:  “Dad, just try to name a breakfast cereal I don’t like.”

Maggie:  “I think the wind is God whispering ‘I love you.’”

Andrew:  “I never want to get married, ‘cuz you have to kiss someone every day.”

Most Satisfying Shared Experiences of the Year: 

• Jim:  Walking around the French Quarter together at the ETS conference in November.  Also, our August vacation in Houston with the incomparable Newcomb family. 
• Amy:  Our various bike rides together as a family; also, seeing two of our kids become communicant members of our church and sharing the communion experience with them.

New Year’s Resolutions:

• Jim:  To get to bed before midnight more than half of the time
• Amy: To put Ranch Pringles behind me once and for all

Happy 2010 everyone!  And happy new decade as well!!

As another Christmas rolls around, Amy and I have been struck again by the sheer beauty of the story.  The God of the universe condescends to take on human flesh and even humbles himself to the point of joining a rather pedestrian family.  And, as Amy noted in her last post, the irony of the Christmas story is wondrously exceeded by the Easter story, as the Christ is murdered—by us, the ones he came to save—but, in the most beautiful moment in human history, he rises from the dead, defeating death itself in the process and earning salvation for his elect, who were powerless to save themselves.  Truly, in terms of aesthetic richness, the Gospel story is incomparable.

For all of its spiritual significance, the aesthetics of Christmas (as with Easter) should not be overlooked.  Indeed, the spiritual and aesthetic dimensions of the Gospel are inseparable—a point emphasized by Pope Benedict when he recently met with hundreds of creative artists.  See my post on this on the EPS blog.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Our daughter Maggie, age 5, loves classical music. Now, please don’t take this as obnoxious mommy-bragging. She has chosen this genre completely on her own. But to balance that statement, I will add that our three-year-old’s favorite song is “Smoke on the Water” and the older boys are huge Weird Al fans. Anyway, for the last several months, Maggie has been somewhat frustrated in her ability to enjoy the likes of Bach and Beethoven due to the fact that her CD player is broken. The radio still works, however, so we often tune in NPR for her as she is going to sleep. Recently, however, we discovered an all-Christmas station and this has replaced Performance Today for the time being.

Listening to endless renditions of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” and “It’s Beginning to Look A lot Like Christmas,” I have noticed something rather unexpected about a great number of Christmas carols:  Many of them are really, really depressing. Now of course you have many that are upbeat to the point of irritation, but they seem to be in the minority. “I’ll Have a Blue Christmas,” “Pretty Paper, Pretty Ribbons of Blue,” and “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” are just a few of the oldies but goodies; there are also many newer, more hip yet equally disheartening Christmas songs out there. Perhaps the people in charge of programming have a rather pessimistic view of the holidays which compels them to disproportionately tilt the scales in favor of the somber, but I’m not so sure. Even more explicitly religious carols are more solemn than celebratory. Maybe we are supposed to be a little sobered by the events surrounding Christ’s birth. Maybe there is more of Good Friday present in the stable than we care to admit.

Of course, there are many reasons why we might try to obscure the more gloomy aspects of the Christmas story, turning it into a Disneyesque, sanitized version of the truth. For myself, I find this time of year horribly depressing already. It’s overcast most of the time, cold but with little snow. Immediately upon returning from Thanksgiving, I hauled out the ole Christmas decorations and after deciding that the tree and nativity weren’t enough to raise my serotonin, I cleared out several shelves of Christmas lights at Dollar General, cooked enough Christmas cookies to feed several squadrons of elves and commissioned the kids to create a wide variety of Christmas crafts. (Nothing says “Celebrate the birth of the suffering servant” like a wreath made out of marshmallows and an M&M Christmas tree.). Now before having done much reflection, I would have said this feverish decorating frenzy stemmed from a great devotion to celebrating Jesus’ birth, but now it seems all about me and very little to do with the person of Jesus. Certainly the circumstances of his birth read more like something out of Charles Dickens rather than any invention of Walt Disney—poor family without shelter; young mother with a reputation in tatters, etc.

My kids love hearing the stories of their births—how we rushed to the hospital for some, how we thought others would never decide to exit the womb, and so on. What would Joseph and Mary tell Jesus about his arrival? How they were tired and homeless, without friends and family in a strange town? How it was obedience to a much hated foreign power that drew them to the place of his birth, not the latest medical technology? Did they understand that 33 years later, their first born son would travel the same road to deliver himself into the hands of that same authority? Of course, they knew he wasn’t just their son. He was God’s. Sent for their sake, as well as our own, He had his own agenda to fulfill in obedience to the Father.

When we sing songs rejoicing over the birth of Jesus, we rarely have in mind the Son of God dying on the cross for our sin. For it is quite a sorrowful thought to see that helpless babe surrounded by filth and poverty because we are incapable (and unwilling) to save ourselves. As we gather together this Christmas to celebrate Jesus’ Birthday let us rejoice in great humility. Let us commemorate Mary’s desperate cries of labor, tears of joy and sorrow mixing into one flow: Joseph’s humiliation and pride as he welcomed God’s son into such a humble backdrop. And may our hearts fill with gratitude and repentance as we ponder the words of William Chatterton Dix’s in one of my favorite Christmas carols, “What Child is This? Why lies He in such mean estate where ox and ass are feeding?  Good Christian, fear; for sinners here the silent Word is pleading.  Nails, spear shall pierce him through, the cross be borne for me, for you; hail, hail the Word made flesh, the babe, the son of Mary!” Let us remember the miracle of his birth always keeping in mind the sorrow of his death and the victory of his resurrection. What child is this indeed!