Posts

Posted on

Drawers, Labels, and People Categories

By Amy Spiegel

Over the years, I have talked with many moms whose daughters are preoccupied with one thing or another. For some it’s Barbie; for others it’s Dora; for my daughter, however, it’s the seasons. You might call Maggie our seasonal alert system. It only makes sense, really. We teach kids the months of the year, assigning three to each season and say “Now these months belong here and during this time the weather is like this.” Of course, as adults we know that there are more subtle distinctions and that spring eases May into summer and fall into winter; that there will be a few chilly days in July and a few sunny days in February. But this is not the case for five-year-olds, at least not ours anyway. With great frequency, usually in connection with picking her clothes for the day, Maggie will ask “Mommy, is it [insert much anticipated next season]?” Now this is tricky because if I respond with, let’s say, “Yes, it’s summer, sweetie,” then whatever the temperature outside, Maggie immediately runs for her suit and heads for the sprinkler, ready for a day of fun in the sun. If I try to qualify my answer, she is quick to rebut my qualification by pointing to the calendar and saying “But it’s June! That means summer, which also means swimming!”

I suppose in some ways, we are all like Maggie. We like to put everything (and everyone) in tidy categories. We like to label people so we can know what to expect, sorting people like kitchen utensils, by purpose and appearance. “Forks and knives to the left of the sink in the silverware drawer.” And Crazy Cousin Eddy in the “Relatives to be Avoided at Thanksgiving Dinner” drawer.” In certain respects, this type of categorization is helpful. You certainly don’t go looking for a friend amongst the “People I Always Argue about Politics With” drawer or potential spouses in the “Wouldn’t Trust With my Pet Hermit Crab” drawer. Still, it can also act as a barrier in relating to people whom you might otherwise enjoy getting to know.

Sometimes rather than putting other people in such categories, you find that you have placed yourself in one or two mislabeled drawers. This fact struck me, recently, while reading for my upcoming book club meeting. The book is an interesting work of historical fiction, set at the end of WWII on the island of Guernsey in the English Channel. The characters were all charming and entertaining until the shrewish Christian lady entered upon the scene to ruin all their fun and give faith a bad name. I meet this character often in various works of contemporary fiction and cinema. Yet, having lived my entire life associated with church or another, I can honestly say I have never encountered her or the type of pharisaical maliciousness she displays. That is not to say I have not encountered fallen and flawed individuals and heard many accounts of rudeness and insensitivity, but the majority of committed Christian folk I know are pilgrims like me, doing the best they can and quite aware of their own failings. Of course, there are the all too public exceptions, but isn’t that true of any group?

The novel I mentioned earlier deals with a great many Germans but doesn’t equate all of them with Hitler. So why not extend the same benefit of the doubt to those who profess their sinfulness and are seeking to be transformed? Whenever I encounter such characters in books or films, my first instinct is one of shame and apologetic embarrassment. But why should this be when although I have sometimes behaved badly toward people, it has rarely been a conscious, much less malicious, act. I often fail to live up to the standards of Christ but when I (like many of those I know) am confronted with my wrong deeds, I seek forgiveness and repent. The church is supposed to be full of sinners, for where else can we go?  And why is it that those outside of the church seem unwilling to accept the fact that we freely acknowledge our own limitations? Sadly, I think it is because to do so would mean taking us out of the drawers labeled “Hypocrites and Bigots” and thinking long and hard about what drawer we actually belong in. Or if we aren’t all ignorant at best and prejudiced at worst, what does that mean about the drawer you are living in?

To me, one of the greatest tragic scenes in literature occurs in Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables when Javert has triumphed in his capture of the “criminal” Jean Valjean, but in doing so he is confronted with something that he has no category for. He is able to recognize the transformation of Valjean from thief to upright citizen but is unwilling to accept that transformation and would rather die than define Valjean as his equal or, worse, his superior. I am no Jean Valjean, but we do have a few things in common. We are both recipients of undeserved grace; both humbled and transformed by the sacrifice of another. It is interesting to me to compare the portraits of Christians coming from contemporary literature and those long past. In many of the classics (e.g., Dickens, Austen, Gaskell, Bronte), there are examples of the type of religious folk represented in more contemporary works. But they are shown for what they are—wolves in sheep’s clothing. And other examples of true sheep are given to balance the scales. Perhaps contemporary writers need to take a break from organizing their drawers and get to know the contents a bit better before making too hasty an assignment. Perhaps, too, we need to make our own purpose more clear and apparent. Let us not go quietly into the “Crazy, Mean Religious People” drawer. Let us refuse to be discouraged by those who wish to believe that there are no Christians worth knowing. But all the while let us love our neighbor as ourselves is such a way that there is nowhere to put us but in the “People Who Love and Care for Those Around Them” drawer.

Posted on

The Discipline of Fasting

By Jim Spiegel

Recent years have seen a significant increase of interest among evangelicals in spiritual formation.  Authors such as Richard Foster, Dallas Willard, and John Ortberg have led the way in reminding us that personal sanctification is not properly a passive affair.  Spiritual growth demands intentional practice, active exercise of the spiritual disciplines, such as prayer, worship, study, confession, sacrifice, confession, and frugality.  Each of these disciplines is useful for uniting the believer with God and building moral strength.  When used with the proper devotional attitude—aimed at growing in obedience in response to divine grace rather than to earn God’s favor—the spiritual disciplines are extremely powerful.  However, one of the most powerful disciplines remains tragically underappreciated by Christians today:  fasting.

Historically, fasting has been practiced by the great Christian leaders and theologians, including Augustine, Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox, John Wesley, Jonathan Edwards, and Charles Finney.  Biblical figures including Moses, David, Elijah, Esther, Daniel, Paul, Jesus and his disciples fasted as well.  Yet today I suspect that only a small minority of American Christians fast with any regularity.  This is a tragic irony given that one of the besetting sins of our culture is overindulgence.  If ever there was a time and place in history where the church desperately needed to develop self-control, this is it. 

In case you haven’t thought much about the discipline of fasting, let me address a few basic questions: 

1. What exactly does fasting involve? 

Fasting is the intentional abstinence from food, and possibly drink, for the sake of spiritual growth.  It can be extended to other contexts (e.g., technology, recreation, etc.) and can be applied to particular foods (e.g., meat, coffee, sweets, etc.). 

2. Why is fasting important?

Regular fasting:  a) builds moral strength (through the practice of self-control), b) trains us to maintain our focus on God through suffering, c) makes a statement of our moral-spiritual earnestness (especially in combination with prayer), and d) reminds us that our bodily comforts are not what is most important.  All of these benefits serve to make the believer more Christ-like in character, which of course leads to many other blessings. 

3. What is a good occasion for fasting?

Some common occasions for fasting include:

a) Seeking God’s forgiveness – Lev. 23:27 (Day of Atonement); 1 Sam. 7:2-6 (Israel’s repentance of idol worship); Jonah 3 (the repentance of Ninevah); Acts 9:1-9 (Paul’s repentance)

b) Seeking God’s counsel or blessing – Acts 13:2-3 (the commissioning of Paul and Barnabas); Acts 14:21-23 (Paul and Barnabas’ commissioning of elders at the churches of Lystra, Iconium, and Antioch) 

c) Seeking God’s strength – Matt. 4:1-2 (Jesus fasted when “he was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil”); Matt. 17:20 & Mark 9:29 (in some manuscripts Jesus says “this kind can come out only by prayer and fasting”).

But it is wise for Christians to fast even aside from these occasions.  Fasting is powerful for building self-control, and we all need to improve in that area. 

4. What about the problem of abuses?

Abuse is no argument.  The distortion of a good thing does not justify our throwing it out.  Sex, prayer, worship, and even religion itself are constantly abused, but we don’t properly reject those things.  However, two concerns deserve special attention: 

a) Eating disorders:  Those who have had this problem may be advised to avoid fasting for a time, to do so only with strict accountability, or to practice only selective fasting (e.g. refraining from sweets, meats, or other particular foods).

b) Legalism:  We don’t allow legalistic abuses of the other spiritual disciplines to discourage us from practicing them, nor should we when it comes to fasting.  But we should be on our guard against the legalistic mindset and pride which might ensue, especially if we are unique among our friends in fasting. 

5. What approach should I take in learning to fast?

Start with short fasts, one or two meals.  Do this dozens of times before going on to longer fasts.  You might want to begin by fasting once monthly and perhaps increase in frequency to 2-4 times per month.  Many people prefer to pray more often while fasting in order to maintain focus and request spiritual strength.  If you get discouraged as you learn to fast, this is normal.  As with all spiritual disciplines, observable benefits typically emerge only as a cumulative effect of repeated practice.

Posted on

Learning Obedience Through Suffering

By Jim Spiegel

This weekend I will am scheduled to speak at a church retreat near Knoxville, Tennessee.  My topic is “Growing the Church from the Inside Out,” and my focus will be on the role of spiritual formation in building the church, both in maturity and, secondarily, in numbers.  I give frequent talks on the spiritual disciplines and the concept of training for godliness (cf. 1 Cor. 9:24-27 and 1 Tim. 4:7-8).  This is a recurrent theme in Scripture, yet somehow it is a foreign concept to many evangelicals these days.  So I am always eager to speak on the subject, especially since I can count on a strongly positive response from audiences. Given the moral decay in the contemporary church, there is a deep need here, and judging by people’s responses, it is also a felt need.

One of the biblical themes I emphasize is the notion that we must be intentional about learning to obey, hence the critical role of such disciplines as fasting and sacrifice in order to build self-control.  I also highlight the role of suffering, unpleasant as it is, to discipline us and make us more obedient.  Regarding this latter theme, I have been revisiting one of the more fascinating (and cryptic) passages in the New Testament, Hebrews 5:8-9, which says regarding Jesus that “although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him…”  Now what does this mean?  Before venturing a positive answer, let’s first get clear on what it doesn’t mean.  It can’t mean that Jesus was ever disobedient or morally corrupt and that his suffering somehow brought him out of this condition.  Jesus neither had a sinful nature (because he was conceived by the Holy Spirit) nor did he ever perform sinful actions.

So what does this passage mean?  In what sense might a God-man “learn obedience”?  A few possibilities come to mind.  First, though morally impeccable, Jesus still might have had to develop the skill of obedience in diverse contexts.  One can only become proficient at resisting  certain kinds of temptation when one has actually been tempted in those ways.  And such virtues as self-control and humility become fully formed only when one has had to display them in a variety of circumstances.  Second, Jesus’ moral perfection would not rule out the need to practice obedience in the face of increasing degrees of difficulty.  Given his mission to be publicly humiliated and die an excruciating death, before ultimately conquering death through his resurrection, the suffering he experienced throughout his life no doubt prepared him to endure his torturous final hours.

Perhaps there are other ways to make sense of this passage, but one thing is clear:  suffering played a constructive role in helping even the God-man to grow in obedience.  And if suffering served Jesus’ moral development in this way, then how much more must we suffer in order to grow morally?

Posted on

Reflections on 9/11

By Amy Spiegel

The kids and I spent 9/11 in a typically American way, rushing from one place to another, all in the name of fun while scarfing down fast food containing more carcinogens that the residents of Chernobyl experience on daily basis. Our day culminated in a visit to the zoo which consisted of scurrying from one exhibit to the next, desperately trying to absorb more factoids than one really needs to know about the various species of penguins or the reproductive habits of gibbons. The end result: arriving home exhausted and cranky, declaring “Never again!”

But in between the hustling and scurrying, there were a few moments today that touched me in a distinctly American way. I had that moment this morning that I experience every year. The date suddenly hitting me; the date that used to mean nothing much but that now functions as a psychological marker for my generation. Just as my grandparents’ generation was branded by “Where were you when you heard about Pearl Harbor?” and my parents’ by “What were you doing when you heard Kennedy was shot?”, I will never hear that three number combination without remembering the smell of pancakes on a clear morning in September; the bewilderment and then horror; the feelings of vulnerability and fear.

twin towersSo this morning, Jim and I took some time to show the kids footage of the Twin Tower attacks. And, choking back tears, I told them the story of Flight 93 and the courage of firefighters and policemen who rushed “Into the Fire” as Bruce Springsteen puts it. And I explained why I honked as we drove under several overpasses, decorated with flags and signs commemorating the day. At one point, Bailey (our nine-year-old) turned to me and in an accusatory tone said, “No one ever told me there was a day.” I knew we had discussed 9/11 with him before, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t know about it. Rather, it was the collective remembrance that struck him.

I often feel conflicted when discussing patriotism with the kids. I have no problem praising the sacrifices of our neighbor (and his family) who has been deployed, leaving behind five children and a devoted, grief-stricken wife. But when you move from a micro to a macro level, it gets a bit tricky for me. Kids are so black and white, wanting to know who was the good guy and who was bad. The subtleties and complexities of national politics don’t always translate into such neat categories. But maybe they don’t need to. After all, a country is made up of a lot of little pieces, not one homogenous glob. Too often, we group people together in an effort, perhaps, to numb our conscience as we criticize that group to death. A country, a race, a religion is so much easier to peck to death than many unique individuals. This disease of generalization seems to plague our age when to swear allegiance to any one particular group is an act of elitism. I am by no means willing to sacrifice what is owed my country in gratitude and loyalty, but just what is it we owe to this place we call home? And what should be reserved for the greater good not to mention our heavenly home?

Jim has shared an insight which as helped me to reconcile a bit of this tension. He was talking about our nation’s history not as a nation but as a collective of individuals many of whom came seeking religious freedom, a better life for their children, willing to make great sacrifices to ensure the rights of others. When you consider all the particular lives that make up the history of our nation, the mosaic takes on a beauty of its own that no one picture could ever capture. It’s like I told the kids at the zoo “If you look closely enough at anything God has created, you will find something beautiful and complex, something well worth studying.” So it’s all for one and one for all this 9/11. Let us all strive to make our piece of “We the People” something beautiful and worthy of study.

Posted on

UnChristian: A Book Review

By Jim Spiegel

I just finished reading UnChristian (Baker, 2007), a book authored by David Kinnaman, President of the Barna Group.  In the book Kinnaman presents the results of several years of research into what outsiders to the faith think about Christianity.  A common reaction among those he surveyed is summed up in the book’s title.  Outsiders, says Kinnaman, “think Christians no longer represent what Jesus had in mind, that Christianity in our society is not what it was meant to be” (p. 15).  By “outsider” Kinnaman means anyone who is not a “born-again Christian,” including atheists, agnostics, and devotees of other faiths.

bookUnchristianAccording to Kinnaman’s research, Christians in our society are increasingly viewed by outsiders as hypocritical, judgmental, anti-homosexual, sheltered, and too political.  For example, 85% of American outsiders ages 16-29 described Christians as hypocritical. 87% called Christians judgmental.  91% described Christians as anti-homosexual.  And 75% said Christians are too involved in politics.  Thus, says Kinnaman, “Christianity has an image problem” (p. 11).  More than this, he emphasizes, if this trend continues our faith will increasingly be regarded as irrelevant.  The practical upshot of this study, according to Kinnaman, is that we Christians need to do things a lot differently.

Kinnaman’s book devotes entire chapters to each of the above negative descriptors.  Chapter three deals with the perception of Christian hypocrisy—the notion that there is a significant gap between Christians’ beliefs and behavior.  This subject is especially interesting to me, since my first book was devoted to this complex and challenging issue.  However, I was disappointed to find that Kinnaman’s treatment of the issue is rather shallow from a moral-theological standpoint.  While his survey results are certainly interesting and potentially useful, some of the assumptions he brings to the subject are problematic and ultimately undermine the force of his claims.  For example, some of his data suggest that “Christians are increasingly permissive in their moral beliefs” (p. 53).  Specifically, among born-again Christians ages 23-41:

  • 33% believe viewing pornography is morally acceptable
  • 44% believe sex outside of marriage is morally acceptable
  • 59% believe cohabitation is morally acceptable

Now this raises two crucial questions.  First, given these moral convictions (or lack thereof), why should it surprise us that the behavior of born-again Christians is also morally lax?  That’s not hypocrisy but a sad sort of consistency between belief and practice.  Second, just what is meant by the designation “born-again Christian” in these Barna polls?  Here is Kinnaman’s answer:  “To be classified as a born-again Christian, a person has to say he or she has made a personal commitment to Jesus that is still important and that the person believes he or she will go to heaven at death, because the person has confessed his or her sin and accepted Christ as Savior” (p. 46).  Kinnaman uses this definition in his surveys for subjects to self-identify (as either born-again or not) and, presumably, to identify others (as born-again or not).  He recognizes that this approach is “not perfect,” but he doesn’t see just how flawed it is.  For one thing, this definition completely ignores the biblical emphasis on obedience as definitive of genuine saving faith (see John 14:21-23, James 2:14-26, and Gal. 5:22-23).  To use this unbiblical definition as the crux of one’s research into Christian behavior and perceptions of Christians is, to say the least, problematic.  Using such a restrictively belief-oriented concept of faith could only exacerbate the disturbing findings in Kinnaman’s poll data regarding the perception of Christian hypocrisy, not to mention some of the other negative descriptors discussed in his book.

Another chapter, entitled “Get Saved,” treats the perception among outsiders that Christians are so consumed with making converts that they are not sincerely interested in those who do not share their faith.  Here Kinnaman is at his best, and his data reveals what we should have known all along.  Evangelism is often a turn-off to most outsiders, particularly when a Gospel presentation “method” of any kind is used.  Most people can tell whether someone is interested in them for who they are rather than merely being the object of their evangelistic “pitch.”  However sincere such efforts might be by those who devise and teach them, the cumulative effect is that two-thirds of young outsiders believe that Christians who share their faith don’t genuinely care for them.  It’s hard to imagine a perception that could more significantly undermine the Christian quest to make converts.  This fact should prompt us to reconsider how we might better fulfill the Great Commission. Some other data revealed by Kinnaman should do so as well:  more than two-thirds of Americans say “they have made a commitment to Jesus Christ at some point in their life” (pp. 74-75) and “in America, the vast majority of people (even outsiders) are exposed to the message of Christianity many times throughout their lives” (p. 74).  Apparently, the problem is not lack of exposure to the Gospel message but lack of sound training in Christian living or discipleship of those who have made a commitment to Christ.  Kinnaman’s data also reveal that only 3% of self-identified Christians possess a biblical worldview (defined in terms of belief in such things as the moral perfection of Christ, the omnipotence and omniscience of God, salvation by grace, the reality of Satan, moral absolutes, and the authority of Scripture).  This, too, underscores the need to focus on proper discipleship of those who already believe rather than aggressive evangelism of those who do not.  This lesson, at times hinted at by Kinnaman, should have been emphasized in UnChristian.

In chapter five Kinnaman discusses the perception that Christians are anti-homosexual.  Along the way, he rightly distinguishes between being “against homosexuality” and being “against homosexuals” (p. 96), which is of course an application of the “love the sinner, hate the sin” maxim to this issue.  Unfortunately, Kinnaman fails to consistently apply this distinction throughout his discussion.  No doubt there are many outsiders who interpret any opposition to homosexuality as opposition to homosexuals.  Knowing what percentage of those surveyed fall into this category would be very helpful.  Evidently, Kinnaman did not seek this data—data which could potentially show that Christians are essentially being blamed for holding a biblical view on homosexuality.  This is not to say that there are no Christians who do effectively hate homosexuals as opposed to simply believing the lifestyle is immoral.  But by failing to survey in light of this distinction, Kinnaman’s results conflate the two categories and thus create the most negative impression.  To be fair, however, most of the “biblical responses” to homosexuality proposed by Kinnaman (pp. 104-107) are sound, and we would all do well to follow his guidelines (e.g., to acknowledge the complexity of the issue, to treat others respectfully when dealing with the issue, to show compassion to those who struggle with homosexuality, etc.).

Chapter seven deals with the common perception that Christians are “too political.”  As Kinnaman puts it, outsiders “think of us as motivated primarily by political goals and as promoting a right-wing agenda” (p. 154).  Now let’s consider these two perceptions in turn.  To say that evangelicals, as a group, pursue a “right-wing agenda” just doesn’t fit the facts, as Kinnaman himself notes, “among the evangelical segment, only a slight majority are registered Republicans (59 percent) . . . .  the Christian community is more diverse, less cohesive, and less unified than is typically assumed” (p. 160).  It would appear, then, that the perception that we’re all about right-wing politics is simply mistaken, perhaps partly reflective of the leftist predilections of many survey respondents.  As for the perception that Christians are “motivated primarily by political goals,” this seems to be a more legitimate concern.  As Kinnaman rightly observes, Christians should never rely on politics to solve problems that only God can solve by changing human hearts.  Kinnaman’s research also reveals that outsiders sometimes declare “that Christians seem ugly and rude toward political opponents” (p. 169), and there is simply no excuse for this.  But as I read this chapter I couldn’t help but think back to the late 1980s when the “religious right” movement began, through the influence of Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell, among others.  In those days evangelicals were excoriated for being apathetic about politics, and these Christian leaders set about to changing this.  Now evangelicals are blasted for being “too involved.”  Oh well, you just can’t win.

Finally, in chapter eight Kinnaman deals with the perception that Christians are judgmental, noting that survey data shows outsiders “believe Christians . . . [try] to justify feelings of moral and spiritual superiority” (p. 182).  Once again, although Kinnaman makes some helpful observations, the entire discussion is confused by a failure to make a critical distinction.  There are two senses of “judgment.”  (See my 8/3/08 blog entry for a detailed discussion of these.)  There is judgment in the sense of condemnation.  This is the sense of the term in those New Testament passages where Jesus tells us not to judge, lest we be judged ourselves (cf. Mt. 7:1-5).  And this is the sense in which Kinnaman uses the term throughout the chapter, as is evident in his statement that “to be judgmental is to point out something that is wrong in someone else’s life, making the person feel put down, excluded, and marginalized” (p. 182).  But there is another sense of the term, and that is judgment in the sense of moral discernment.  This is the sort of judgment that is not only permissible but mandatory for the Christian, as Jesus tells us in Luke 7:43 and John 7:24 and as the apostle Paul makes clear in 1 Corinthians 5.  One can only wonder how Kinnaman’s poll data might have been improved by alerting respondents to this distinction.

I have noted numerous problems with UnChristian, but I do want to emphasize that there is much that is valuable in Kinnaman’s study, most notably in (1) giving us a sense of some outsiders’ negative perceptions of Christians, (2) providing insights regarding certain cultural trends both within and outside the church, and (3) highlighting some areas in which we Christians really do need to improve.  If nothing else, the book is worth reading for these reasons.  But I lament the fact that UnChristian could, and should, have been a much more insightful and helpful book.

Posted on

Snapshots

By Amy Spiegel

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

Sunshine Cleaning — I was expecting a bit more having been a big fan of Amy Adams since the days of Junebug (though I must confess to having a special place in my heart for her in Enchanted; I even have “Happy Working sunshine cleaningSong” on my iPod). This story of two sisters starting their own biohazard removal and crime scene cleaning business is definitely entertaining, and I appreciated its strong sense of family so perhaps I shouldn’t punish it for not meeting my high expectations. It reminds me of Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (also starring Amy Adams; maybe I am not as big a fan as I thought). It’s a good story but leaves you feeling a bit hollow. Have you ever gone on a date, and at the end of the evening you had a good time, but you are quite sure you will never call the person again? This was my evening with Sunshine Cleaning. Nice knowing you. Moving on.

The Counterfeiters — I must ask the insensitive question: Do we really need another film informing us that the holocaust was a terrible event, not a pleasant holiday from sanity? Though thoughtfully crafted and very well acted, there was some heart missing from this film that I can’t quite put my finger on. Based on true events, the movie tells the story of concentration the counterfeiterscamp prisoners who were forced to further the Nazi cause by producing counterfeit currency. The main characters fall into three basic categories: (1) the squirrelly conservative capitalists who don’t protest being forced to aid the Germans in their scheme to destroy the British and American economic systems but are outraged at the thought of working with criminals and political radicals; (2) the cynic who claims to be only out to survive but proves himself a greater humanitarian than those who look down on him (some of the Nazi officers fall into this category as well, just with a little more cynicism and a little less humanity); and of course, no film is complete without (3) the devoted communist who is willing to stand by his principles no matter what the cost. It is enough to make one wonder, if all communist are so swell, why doesn’t Marxism play out a tad better in the long run? Must be all those capitalist middle classers, darn ‘em! Despite its faults, this movie is interesting from a historical perspective and probably worth the rental.

the long way roundThe Long Way Round (and Down) — I never thought I would love (and I do mean love in the addicted, can’t get enough, when-are-the-kids-going-to-bed-already sense) a film about two guys riding motorcycles all over the planet. But if you like travel and/or motorcycles, you will love The Long Way Round and its sequel. Just beware of the potty mouths of Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman.

Mentions, Honorable and Otherwise:  I Love You, Man — Raunchy but somehow surprisingly wholesome in a strange, manly sort of way.  Julie and Julia — Amazing performance by Meryl Streep (which almost seems redundant), and Amy Adams is great (again). Poorly edited, in that it is too long but still a good flick. Note to the makers and editors of this film: we the public truly and thoroughly understand that you, the film making industry truly and thoroughly despise all conservatives and in particular John McCarthy. C’mon, it’s a movie about food. Do we really need to politicize it? Leave out the blacklisting business and you have a much better film. Inglourious Basterds — More to come on this one, but let me just say this: if you haven’t seen this film, stop reading and run to the theater. Now!

Posted on

Soaking up the Flavors of Your Soil

By Amy Spiegel

I don’t consider myself much of a keep-on-the-sunny-side-of-life person, but lately I have noticed an emerging trend that has me feeling more in touch with my inner Pollyanna. Living amongst the cornfields of Indiana, one encounters the local farmer’s market and occasional roadside stand. I have passed the same “Fresh Strawberries—two miles” sign for the past three years and still manage to buy the moldy ones from the grocery store. This summer, however, I am feeling a new sense of obligation and solidarity with the proprietors of the numerous stands that have cropped up seemingly on every street corner and highway intersection.

Though I am no economist, I assume that these folks are trying to supplement their incomes, and selling veggies by the roadside is a good way to do this. (For Jim and me, it is selling books on Amazon. Anyone interested in a gently used copy of Dave Barry Talks Back?)

farmer's market 2Certainly I don’t wish economic ill-will on anyone but I have to say that I have immensely enjoyed this new phenomenon. In the past, I have had conflicting feelings with regard to Mom and Pop establishments. While I enjoy their quaint atmosphere and their aesthetic sensibility, the price tag for quaint and aesthetically pleasing has felt a bit steep. Being a tried and true capitalist at heart (at least on this side of the pearly gates), I have often let my wallet rather than my heart lead me directly to the chain grocery store that shall not be named but that starts with a “W” and ends in “Mart.” I have tried to soothe my conscience by taking the children on field trips to this amazing independently owned and operated toy store and Target though I am not sure how much they appreciate being brought to stores full of toys and other such goodies only to be told “Put that down! Don’t touch anything. No, you can’t have that. It’s too expensive!”

No such conflict exists, however, for the new improvised businesses. First of all, there isn’t as much overhead, so prices are increasingly more reasonable. Though I love a bargain, I find the human element is almost equally compelling. There is something very humanizing about buying your produce from the person who actually planted, grew and harvested it. I could swear the food tastes better because I have shaken the hand of the person who put it in the earth. It is so difficult to see the source of things in this country. Made in one place (more than likely not the United States), distributed in another, sold somewhere else. Buying something out of your neighbor’s trunk or stopping to buy food in the actual location in which it was grown gives one a sense of community that is priceless.

The best part is that it is completely organic (no pun intended). No government organization is spearheading the movement. No bureaucrat is overseeing its progress. It’s just Louise selling blueberries to Marge who has been selling her Mary Kay for years. The selection might not be as broad, but you gain something that isn’t for sale, a sense of community. Not the manufactured sense of community you can buy into when you move into some trendy suburb but community that bears a great resemblance to the produce for sale at “Gary’s Vegetable Stand.” It is by no means perfect but has a flavor of its own. There are a few bad apples in the bunch but the overall experience is worth the risk. I like my vegetables like I like my people—with a few imperfections showing so you know they are for real. Too often we buy some glossy imitation of a fruit (not to mention friend) only to discover it (or he or she) is rotten on the inside.

One of my favorite romantic comedies is French Kiss, starring an adorable pre-plastic surgery Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline. In one scene, Kline, whose family owns a vineyard in France (as all good romantic leads do), explains to Ryan how wine is affected by the flavors in the soil. You can literally taste the earth in the final product. I suppose that is true of our local produce as well as ourselves, unless you live like a potted plant. So this week, go out to “Gary’s Veggie Stand” and take a bite out of life. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.

Posted on

Obama’s Fading Celebrity Factor

By Jim Spiegel

As President Obama has been taking heat for his economic policies and health care plan, his approval ratings have plummeted.  According to the most recent Rasmussen poll, Obama’s approval index rating has now dipped to -14, as compared to his +28 rating earlier in the year.  Whereas in January 65% approved of the job he was doing, now that number is at 48%.  This is a dramatic change of national opinion since Obama took office just seven short months ago.   But no one should be surprised at this.  As American politics has morphed into a celebrity show (even as celebrities have become politicians), this has changed many aspects of our political process.  And one of the more outstanding impacts is in the turbulence of public opinion regarding those who hold public office.

ObamaCelebrities, of course, are here one day and gone the next.  Today’s most popular singers and TV stars are quickly forgotten, even reviled as passé seemingly overnight.  Once a star isn’t “cool” anymore, he or she is dismissed.  Or if, like Ozzy Osbourne or Paris Hilton, they refuse to be dismissed, they become objects of public ridicule.  So when politicians leverage the entertainment world and take their campaigns to late night TV, effectively becoming celebrities themselves, it should not come as any shock if in a short period of time the public turns on them because, well, they’re just not “cool” anymore.  And because they cannot be so easily dismissed or forgotten, since they (usually) serve their full terms, they must suffer public ridicule—almost as a matter of course, notwithstanding the merits or demerits of their policies.

Long before the 2008 election I predicted Obama would win, if only because he was the more telegenic of the two candidates.  (Since 1960 the more telegenic candidate has won in every U.S. presidential election.  So much for substance when it comes to American presidential politics….) I also expected that the Obama “cool” factor would wear off early in his term so that his policies would have to stand or fall on their own merits.  Obama’s declining approval ratings and the furor over his health care plan have confirmed this.  It appears that from here on out very little will come easy for this president, amazingly despite the Democrat majority in both houses of Congress.  It will be interesting to see how he negotiates the rough road ahead when his celebrity currency of “cool” has all been spent.

Posted on

Journey to the Center of the Knot

By Amy Spiegel

As the mother of four, ideas of dating, commitment and marriage are often on my mind and the topic of discussion between Jim and me. True, our kids are a little young (okay, really young, since most of them still require some assistance in the bathroom).  Nevertheless, my motto, sadly, seems to be “It’s never too early to worry about future events that are just as unlikely as likely to occur.”

Perhaps my worries stem from witnessing friends and family with older kids struggling with an aversion to dating when the subject relates to their teenage children. Of course, our oldest boys are developmentally at the stage where they are still quite certain that girls have cooties and would rather die than do anything other than pull their hair and run the other way. And our five-year-old daughter is at that glorious stage where she is torn between marrying her daddy and one of our college student friends. But I feel I can see just around the bend of the road ahead and anticipate the day when girls will suddenly be cured of their cooties and daddy won’t seem quite so appealing. So in the spirit of an ounce of prevention, I must confess to having fostered, especially in my boys, the idea that dating is for the birds and marriage is something to be put off like going to the dentist—you have to do it sometime, but there’s no need to be in a hurry about it.

tying the knotAn article in the latest issue of Christianity Today has me rethinking my assumptions, however. The article by Mark Regnerus, entitled “The Case for Early Marriage,” challenges conventional wisdom with regard to marrying at an early age. I am not sure what I think of the article’s argument but it has me wondering if there are some contradictions between my strong views on the importance of family and my discouragement of dating. When I think of any of my kids dating seriously in high school or early college, I am filled with trepidation. I have often told them that every commitment you make narrows your possibilities, so you have to think very carefully before committing to a relationship. Once you are in, you have certain obligations to that person that shouldn’t be neglected, a none-of-the-guys-go-steady-‘cause-it-wouldn’t-be-right-to-leave-your-best-girl-home-on-a-Saturday-night sort of approach. I want them to experience “life” before settling down, but what am I teaching them about the meaning of that life if I am saying “life” means freedom, lack of commitment and pleasure while family, responsibility and obligation are the anti-climax.

Jim and I recently had an enlightening discussion over dinner with a student friend—the one Maggie is determined to marry—and talked about the generational differences and how they contribute to widely differing approaches to vocation. Our young friend talked a lot about finding meaning in the journey rather than it all being about the destination. While I resonated with much of what he expressed, I couldn’t help but ask myself, if it is all about the journey, how does that reflect on my current location? As a stay-at-home mom, my journey is far from picturesque. Without a meaningful destination, most of the mundane things I spend my time accomplishing are without purpose. I should be really depressed, but I’m not. Far from it, I take pride in the fact that my hard work is a service to those I love most. I may not be “free” to see the world but my responsibilities bring a deeper meaning to my life that I wouldn’t trade for all the frequent flyer miles in North America. Of course, getting married isn’t the only type of commitment you can make. (One only has to join a church, commit to a deep friendship or volunteer for ministry to discover that.)

Now this doesn’t mean I am ready to start double dating with any of my kids this weekend, but it has informed my perspective on what I used to see as the impending doom of watching my kids discover love of the romantic variety. And hopefully, some day—many, many years from now—they will find true freedom in tying the knot.

Posted on

Midlife, Mortality, and Faith

By Jim Spiegel

I recently turned 46, which happens to be the average age of onset of midlife crises for American men.  As for signs of this event in my own life, so far so good.  I haven’t experienced any sudden impulses to change my career, purchase a yacht, get a tattoo, or skip out on my wife for a younger woman.  But I must admit that the last five years or so I’ve found myself doing more assessment of my life to this point and my goals for whatever time I have left on this planet.  And being a philosopher, of course, I’ve also been reflecting on just what a midlife crisis is. 

The phrase “midlife crisis” was first used by psychologist Elliott Jaques in 1965 to describe that phase of psychological and behavioral turmoil which is experienced by about 15% of middle-aged adults in Western societies.  (Interestingly, some Eastern cultures, such as in Japan and India, show no evidence of midlife crises.)  Classic psychological symptoms include feelings of self-doubt, disappointment over goals not achieved, and obsessive preoccupation with staying young.  Such feelings sometimes prompt extreme behaviors, from extravagant purchases to adulterous liaisons.

Psychologists have proposed a variety of theories as to the ultimate causes of midlife crisis, regarding everything from Jungian self-actualization to the “sandwiched caregiver” effect of having to simultaneously care for children and aging parents.  But from what I’ve seen there is insufficient attention paid to the simple fact that it is often during midlife—in one’s 40s and 50s—that one is first acutely struck with the fact of his or her own mortality.  Whether it is hair loss, menopause, loss of youthful appearance, decline of athletic ability or, most likely, some combination of such factors, the imminence of one’s earthly demise becomes increasingly apparent during this period.

So how does one respond?  Obviously, some folks do not respond very well at all—essentially resisting the inevitable in a pathetic, vain, and sometimes laughable or even tragic attempt to hold on to one’s youth (or the Western accoutrements of youth) as long as one can.  As I see it, this is nothing other than a refusal to accept one’s mortality.  It is as if one’s body is declaring “Take note: I am approaching death—very slowly, perhaps, but quite assuredly,” and the midlife crisis prototype replies, “Don’t be silly.  You’ll be young forever.  Come on, body, let’s prove it by doing X, Y, and Z.” 

Other people, for whatever reason, respond very well to midlife physical decline.  They are able to “age gracefully,” allowing their youth to pass without desperately resisting the cosmetic symptoms of the aging process.  Nor, however, do they give up on healthy living.  They practice dietary discipline and get regular exercise but do so more for the sake of maintaining productivity and because they see their body as the sacred gift that it is.

These are, of course, extremes on the spectrum of responses to the midlife symptoms of mortality.  Perhaps most people fall somewhere in the middle, struggling to resist aspects of the aging process without denying it altogether.  One thing that has helped me is the realization that midlife is, like every other stage of life, essentially a moral trial.  Sudden or unexpected physical decline of any kind, whether due to disease or injury, has a way of bringing character issues into sharp relief.  And one can either respond with acceptance or resistance.  The physical decline of midlife just happens to be natural and gradual, but the response options are the same.  The way of wisdom is that of accepting one’s lot while working hard to make the best of it, and the way of the fool is that of resisting it to the point of preoccupying oneself with the impossible task of avoiding it.  So midlife decline presents two basic paths:  1) moral growth and maturing in virtue or 2) moral degeneration and reversion to immaturity and vice.  The classic midlife crisis could be simply defined in terms of the latter, at least from the standpoint of moral development.

Another way of analyzing midlife challenges is as a trial of faith.  Physical decline tends to prompt one to look heavenward or to become obsessed with preserving one’s earthly existence.  Yes, some folks do seem to blithely accept their physical fate, at least for a while.  But this is really just a form of denial.  I have seen such people fall very clearly into one of the other categories—heavenly-mindedness or earthly obsession—with the near approach of the angel of death.  And I suppose it is this way with nearly everyone.

As I see it, the physical decline of midlife is in many ways a gift, a blessed admonition that this world is, as Bob Dylan says, “a passing through place.”  God grants us many signs along life’s road to remind us that we are approaching that final turn, so to speak.  Even the most morally and spiritually devout among us can benefit from these reminders.