Posts

Posted on

Faith and the Friendly Skies

By Amy Spiegel

Have you ever noticed how everyday activities that you do without much thought seem rather odd when you step back and examine them? I have shared my love for carbonated beverages with you and while I am still very much attached (some might say addicted) to my Polar Pops, it is a bit absurd when you think that each day I drink a mixture of food coloring, bubbles and sugar and pay for the privilege. In my recent travels with our nine year old, I had one of those re-evaluation moments. Bailey and I were settling in for our long, overseas flight. The flight attendant was going over the emergency instructions, and I suddenly realized that I was getting ready to travel over a very large ocean for hours on end inside a flying metal box with my precious first born at my side. What was I thinking?!? You can quote all the safety statistics you want; they all seem a bit meaningless when a smiling, well-groomed young woman is explaining the procedure for hurling yourself into shark infested waters. (Okay, so I don’t know if they were actually shark infested, but at this point I don’t think I was at my most logical. Plus I watch a lot of Discovery Channel.)

While highlighting some of my submerged irrationality, this also provided a moment of clarity that was very encouraging. As I played through the scenarios of destruction, I tried to think of what I would say to Bailey if we did indeed face a life-threatening situation. Of course, in reality, I might have some difficulty being eloquent while plummeting from the sky. Still, something did strike me like a plastic bag on the head from the overhead compartment. If in fact the cabin did lose pressure—after first securing my own oxygen mask and then assisting my child—I could look him square in the eye and with all honesty say, as best one can while breathing oxygen through a plastic bag, “Buddy, we are going to see Jesus. We have absolutely nothing to fear.”

This statement may seem terribly Sunday School basic to you, but for me it marked a huge step in my faith. For though I have been affirming the happily-ever-after that awaits those who follow Him since I was knee high to a grasshopper and have seen more flannel-graph depictions of God’s plan for our salvation than you can shake a stick at, I am constantly plagued with the what-ifs that you face the other six days of the week. This especially pertains to my kids. Forget questioning whether or not I am instructing them correctly in the Gospel. Most days my prayer is that I am not convincing them of the opposite. The awesome responsibility of forming someone’s worldview from the ground up is too often a task I feel completely inadequate for. But as we placed our trays and seats in the upright position and perused the movie selection, the simplicity of it all settled over me. It reminds me of the story told of Karl Barth, the great Christian theologian who was asked by a student to sum up the most profound truth he had discovered in his life. Barth responded with the words “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” We may not know much more than that, but thankfully that’s more than we will ever need to know.  So just relax and enjoy the flight.

Posted on

Ten Lessons from Great Christian Minds

By Jim Spiegel

Recently, I was invited to give a “last sermon,” as is a popular trend these days.  At first I pondered various topics that are dear to me.  Then I considered how I would want to be sure my words lived on after me.  I realized there was no better way to ensure this than by echoing the words of those whose profound teachings have already proven the test of time and/or rigorous scrutiny. 

Also, in the rabbinic tradition, I thought it appropriate to use a method that would be given to easy memorization.  So I decided to exploit that most revered method of the top ten list.  In addition to being an outline of my hypothetical “last sermon,” I intend this to be a handy reference for those of you who are now putting together your summer reading list. 

So here we go—profound lessons from ten great Christian minds.  All of these lessons are practical, but some are more personal than others.  I will begin with the more public and civic themes and drive to those which are moral and personal.  Also, I tried to order these chronologically, but couldn’t quite pull that off.  Still, with a few exceptions, they do go in chronological order.

Lesson #1—Augustine (5th century):  Remember that you are a citizen of another kingdom.  Augustine is the greatest theologian of the first millennium of the Christian era, and his ideas have shaped the thoughts of every Christian since, to one degree or another.  In his magnum opus, The City of God, Augustine notes that there are two great cities:  the earthly city—a perishing, imperfect order, with human rulers, typified by the Roman Empire—and the heavenly city, an imperishable, perfect order where God rules.  These cities are distinguished by their loves, respectively of self and of God.  When the two come into conflict, remember where your ultimate citizenship lies.

Lesson #2—Martin Luther (16th century):  Expect politicians to be corrupt.  Have you ever wondered why politicians tend to be so corrupt?  Have you ever considered why God allows this to happen—why he permits such smarmy people as the former Illinois governor, Rod Blagojevich, to get into power?  Luther gives a simple and strangely encouraging answer:  It is because our leaders reflect us.  As a people, frankly, we don’t deserve any better.  In fact, having corrupt leaders keeps us humble and reminds us of the heavenly city of which we are citizens first.  As Luther puts it in his powerful little essay “On Secular Authority,” “Frogs must have their storks.”  Keep this in mind, and you’ll be wiser without becoming cynical.  You’ll be wiser because you won’t be gullible, and you won’t be cynical because you’ll know that God does occasionally bless us with some morally decent public leaders, though they may be rare.

Lesson #3—Thomas Aquinas (13th century):  God has made himself known in nature.  Aquinas was a Dominican priest who has been more influential than perhaps any other Christian theologian.  In his massive Summa Theologica he emphasized the fact that while scripture gives us a wealth of theological knowledge, nature and experience also provide knowledge of God, which Aquinas calls “natural theology.”  This is crucial because:  1) it reminds us that no one has an excuse not to believe in God (as Paul explains the first chapter of Romans) and 2) it inspires us to learn about God in all that we study, not just scripture.  Science, history, psychology, math, and every other subject teach us about God.  In fact, this idea is the inspiration of the concept of a liberal arts college, like the one where I teach.

Lesson #4—John Calvin (16th century):  God is sovereign over all, including our suffering.  Calvin was not only a great Church Reformer, but he wrote the only systematic theology to come out of the Protestant Reformation:  The Institutes of the Christian Religion. The lesson of God’s sovereignty is far from being uniquely Calvinist, since it was emphasized by Augustine and Luther and many other great Christian theologians.  But for various reasons it is most commonly associated with Calvin, perhaps partly because he articulated this point as clearly and eloquently as anyone.  In any case, it is a teaching plainly taught in Scripture, most clearly in such passages as Psalm 139, James 1:2-4, and Romans 8:28.

Lesson #5—Jonathan Edwards (18th century):  God is beautiful, and all beauty is divine.  The fine historian Mark Noll—who spoke here at Taylor last week—has called Jonathan Edwards the “greatest evangelical mind.”  If that isn’t an incentive to study this man’s brilliant work, then nothing is.  Like Augustine, Luther, and Calvin, Edwards emphasized the sovereignty of God.  Everything God does, he does for his own glory.  This is, in fact, the point of history and the point of your life and mine:  the glory of God.  But Edwards recognized that the concept of glory is essentially an aesthetic concept.  It falls within the category of beauty.  So what this world is all about is showing the beauty of God.  And all of our longing for beauty—whether in the form of art, good music, good films, poetry, or the beauty of other people—is really an aspect of our longing for the One who is beauty itself.  And all of the finitely beautiful things we experience are so many expressions of God’s beauty.

Lesson #6—Thomas a’Kempis (15th century):  Practice self-denial with a passion.  Born in Prussia in 1380 to a peasant family, Thomas entered a monastery in the Netherlands at age 20.  As a monk he penned the great classic Of the Imitation of Christ, which has been translated into more languages than any other book except the Bible.  The theme of the book regards how to faithfully follow Christ, but more specifically it is focused on humility and self-denial, the defining characteristics of Christ, as we learn in Philippians 2:5-11, where Paul tells us to imitate Christ in being a radical servant.  If even the God-man refused to lay claim to his rights, then what does this say about the approach we should take?  a’Kempis unpacks this theme in profound ways that will transform your life if you put them into practice.

Lesson #7—John Wesley (18th century):  Be disciplined and make the best use of your time.  Wesley was the founder of the Methodist church and very much a social activist, known as much for his organizational and motivational skills as for his Christian preaching.  Wesley worked especially hard on two major social justice issues of his day:  prison reform and the abolition of slavery.  He also devoted himself diligently to the spiritual disciplines and the pursuit of holiness and personal sanctification.  Wesley was never idle but worked constantly.  Early on in his life he resolved to live on a certain modest amount of money, and despite the huge increases in his personal income, he died with few possessions, having given away his wealth to people in need.

Lesson #8—Fyodor Dostoevsky (19th century):  God’s grace can reach anyone.  Dostoevsky was a Russian novelist who is sometimes regarded as the greatest writer next to Shakespeare.  His insight into human nature is profound, and this, combined with his Christian sensibility, make reading him immensely profitable.  Dostoevsky nearly didn’t survive to have a long writing career.  When he was in his twenties he was arrested for being part of an insurrection and sentenced to death, but the death sentence was revoked and he was sent to a prison camp instead—an experience which had a lasting impact on his life and thought.  In his classic novel Crime and Punishment, Dostoevsky paints the portrait of a young man, Raskolnikov, who dares to challenge the concept of moral law through murder.  As Raskolnikov is consumed by guilt, so is the reader.  But the reader also vicariously participates in the severe divine grace that finds this seemingly hopeless man.  Nowhere else in the history of literature is there a more compelling picture of Christian redemption.

Lesson #9—Dietrich Bonhoeffer (20th century):  Beware of cheap grace.  Bonhoeffer was another Christian thinker who took part in an insurrection (a plot to kill Adolf Hitler).  Bonhoeffer, too, was sentenced to death.  In this case, however, the death sentence was not revoked and he was hung with his conspirators just prior to the end of World War II.  Fortunately, however, Bonhoeffer had already completed many great works of theology, including his classic book The Cost of Discipleship.  This work contains profound insights into the importance of self-denial and suffering for the Christian, thus echoing the same emphasis in Augustine, a’Kempis, Calvin, and Edwards.  Bonhoeffer distinguishes between cheap grace (preaching forgiveness without repentance) and costly grace (which is premised upon repentance).  There is no such thing as cheap grace, Bonhoeffer reminds us.  Jesus tells us to take up our cross and turn from sin.  If we don’t do so, then we are not truly under grace.

Lesson #10—Alvin Plantinga (21st century):  Moral virtue is crucial for intellectual health.  Plantinga is one of the premier Christian thinkers of the last generation.  At a time when theists were retreating in the philosophical community, he had the temerity to suggest that belief in God is not only reasonable but is in fact a proper starting placefor knowledge.  This was, of course, axiomatic for the Reformers, but Plantinga made a persuasive philosophical case for the idea.  In light of this insight, he has developed a rich Christian psychology (especially in his Warranted Christian Belief), complete with an arresting account of how sin corrupts cognition and how, correlatively, right living is crucial for the proper function of our cognitive faculties.  Virtue, as it turns out, is as important for the mind as the mind is for the life of virtue.

Posted on

The Devil’s in the Details

By Amy Spiegel

Greetings from Asia!  Bailey and I are visiting my sister and her family who work at an international school in Taichung, Taiwan. This is Bailey’s first international experience and it has been interesting to watch him processing the sights, sounds, and even the smells of a country so different from his own. One of the things that has made the biggest impression on us both has been the difference in driving styles. Having spent most of his life cruising the back roads of Indiana with few cars in sight, the crowded streets of a big city have taken some getting used to. Here in Taiwan, there are not only cars to contend with but lots and lots (and lots and lots) of scooters. My sister appropriately compared the rules of the road here to the flow of water. Just as water follows the path of least resistance, traffic flows in a rather free-form manner here, without any discernible rhyme or reason. I have been amazed at my sister’s patience with other drivers as they weave in and out of traffic around her. She (and the other drivers on the road) seem unphased by maneuvers that would elicit some unfriendly hand gestures back home.

As we traveled to our destination last night, Bailey pointed to a scooter rider crossing in front of us and said “How rude!” While I have to admit to seeing his point to a certain extent, I tried to explain to Bailey that rudeness is largely a cultural concept. What is rude in one country may be perfectly acceptable in another. (Unfortunately, I made the mistake of illustrating my point with the example of cultures who consider burping a compliment to the chef. I will now be hearing this bit of cultural relativism as an excuse for bad table manners for the next several years, I am sure.)

This idea of perspective-defining behavior has been kicking around in my head for a while. I must confess to often looking at things in black and white terms, but lately I have begun to wonder whether this is a valid approach to take. I don’t want to get all postmodern and revisionistic on you, but I think there is some truth to the idea that there is a great deal of gray in the world when it comes to human interaction. Though I find this realization a bit disorienting considering my natural bent toward defining things in terms of right and wrong, there is some comfort to be gained from viewing things this way as well. Prior to being more open to this way of thinking, when I had a conflict with someone, or was frustrated with the way a situation was handled, someone had to be in the right and someone had to be in the wrong. So I was either the good guy or the bad. Either way, I lost because this meant that either I was in the wrong and had trespassed against a friend or I was a victim of someone else’s wrongdoing. Neither role seemed terribly satisfying. But allowing for shadowy areas where two parties are at odds, not due to some moral failure on their part but simply because they didn’t share the same perspective, means that no one need be diminished in a moral sense. It is a clash of cultures, so to speak, rather than a transgression.

It’s all about giving someone the benefit of the doubt that you hope to be given by others. I am not saying there aren’t plenty of instances where someone is truly in the wrong. The Nazis were bad, cannibals need to cut it out, and serial killers aren’t just misunderstood. There are certainly universals which have been woven into our natures as bearers of the Imago Dei, and those who transgress against them are without excuse. But between the boundaries of the law there is a lot of wiggle room. Like those darned scooters squeezing into minuscule spaces between cars, we are sharing the road with a great many of our fellow humans. If we want to reach our destination in one piece and save ourselves a lot of grief along the way, perhaps it is best to put away our driver’s manuals and allow for a bit of tolerance. If we are lucky, those around us will do the same and all will be made right in the end. After all, Jesus didn’t seem to get bogged down in the little things but was much more concerned with the big picture. As the saying goes, the devil’s in the details and that is certainly company I don’t wish to keep.

Posted on

Over My Dead Body–A Film for the Ages

By Jim Spiegel

Before seeing Slumdog Millionaire last month, Amy and I had begun to despair over whether we would ever be inspired by the silver screen again.  Well, now it has happened again, this time in the form of Over My Dead Body, a film so inspiring, redemptive, and beautiful, we couldn’t believe our eyes.  In fact, as much as I’d rather not admit it, we actually sat through two consecutive showings of the film at the local Kerasotes theater—something which neither of us had ever done before.  But this was somewhat involuntary, as we were virtually unable to move from our seats for a good ten minutes after the closing credits—partly from aesthetic fascination, partly from moral inspiration, and partly from sheer ineffable joy.

The source of Over My Dead Body is every bit as surprising as that which gave us Slumdog.  It is independent production company Thejo Films, and the director is rising Japanese filmmaker Keiso Nyou.  Otherwise, the film itself is thoroughly American, though its message is anything but American, as it profoundly challenges our culture’s prevailing quality of life ethic.  But now I’m getting ahead of myself.

Summarizing the film is not easy, since there are three interconnecting plot lines, which converge in some ironic ways in the riveting final scene.  But the central story concerns one Alan Chambers who has been diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.  The film is set in the not too distant future when advances in stem cell research have succeeded in providing a cure to this horrible degenerative illness.  However, being a devout Catholic, Chambers is fundamentally opposed to stem cell research and to any medical advances based on such research.  So he is faced with a particularly excruciating moral dilemma.  Will he compromise his ethical convictions and be cured of ALS or remain true to his principles and face a protracted demise.

For Chambers’ wife, April, the decision is easy.  He must pursue the treatment, despite the hypocrisy this might involve.  “Put your love for your family first,” she tells him.  “Don’t be a fool for your principles.”  Things become even more complicated, as we learn through back story how Chambers has firmly impressed upon his two teenage sons the importance of not compromising one’s values.  Still, the boys side with their mother, reassuring their father that they would not lose respect for him or his Catholic ethic if he goes ahead with the treatment.

However, as the film’s title suggests, Chambers refuses his family’s pleadings.  Instead, he simply prays for a miracle, all the while making practical preparations for his impeding disability and eventual death.  It is here that Nyou’s directorial strategy is most gripping, as Chambers’ faith is displayed subtly but convincingly through numerous symbols and figures—images which are apparent enough to most Catholics and Protestants alike but perhaps too subtle for the biblically illiterate.  Nyou’s refusal to succumb to cliché and melodrama is steadfast, and consequently the potency of the film’s theological statement turns out to be as powerful as anything in cinema since On the Waterfront.

It is impossible to explain the film’s ingenious climax without presenting a spoiler.  But suffice it to say that Chambers’ dilemma turns out to be, well, less straightforward than one might have thought, and his faith is proven true—though, again, not in any way you could possibly expect.  Amy and I agreed that the final scene is the most surprising, even mind-blowing we have witnessed.  Think Sixth Sense or The Crying Game on steroids. 

Yet, for all its fascination and surprise, the film’s greatest quality is its exquisite emotional realism.  Superb performances by Carnes Ward (as Alan Chambers) and Rita Maroth (as his wife) should cement Oscar nominations.  And young supporting actor Bryan Childress (as Lief, their eldest son) is also worthy of consideration.  Add to all of this a stunning soundtrack, featuring music by artists as wide-ranging as Ingrid Michaelson and Wilco while somehow maintaining a consistent melancholic but hopeful mood, and the result is nothing short of a masterpiece.

Two thumbs up?  Uh, yeah.  But that would be, as they say, damning with faint praise.  Just three days after seeing it (twice) Amy and I can already confidently declare that Over My Dead Body is one of the all-time great films.  Sound like hyperbole?  Hardly.  Check it out yourself, and we’re sure you’ll agree.

Posted on

A Healthy Slap in the Face Never Hurt Anyone

By Amy Spiegel

We have been vacationing at my parents’ place in the mountains and I have been busy rescuing children stranded in trees and marveling at the number of reptiles and amphibians my boys can catch in one day. I have also been busily lying around reading a book I never thought I would admit to having read, let alone recommend. I once heard someone say that sometimes when reading a book, it is as if a hand reaches out from the pages and takes yours, or something of the sort. (It was in a movie preview so I didn’t have much time to absorb the quote.) Perhaps this idea is a bit of cliché but only because we have all had the experience.

handmaidIn reading Margaret Atwood’s novel The Handmaid’s Tale, I found a hand extended from an unexpected quarter. As I have said before, I’m no feminist, so my expectations for enjoyment were relatively low. But this hand that clasped mine sometimes felt like the hand of friendship, warm and soft with humor and tenderness. Atwood tells the story of Gilead, a nation whose society is an oppressive hybrid of legalism and classism that would make the Pharisees look like slackers. This place is the head-on collision of Islamic Fundamentalism and the caste system of India with The Stepford Wives riding shotgun. Despite the heavy and often grotesque subject matter, Atwood flavors her writing with just enough wit to keep you from throwing yourself under a bus halfway through the book. Her ironic humor functions like salt in chocolate—you taste the despair more distinctly when compared with the lighter moments. At other times, rather than a friendly handshake, I felt like I was receiving a hearty slap in the face. All the atrocities committed by the Nation of Gilead are justified in religious terms, and the warping of the Scripture and truth into such monstrous falsehood is unsettling to say the least. I feared a “See all the horrible things people do in the name of Christianity” moment. But as I continued to read, I found a fairly balance approach. Yes, all the bad guys (and gals) use a lot of mumbo jumbo Christianese, but the main character of the book, Offred, seems to see this for what it is—mumbo jumbo. She also sees the weakness of reasoning which attempts to justify a society without restraints. Through the use of outrageous exaggeration, Atwood depicts both sides more clearly rather than employing one-sided stereotypes of the popular Christian fiction variety. Frankly, I find it more offensive when Christians present a white-washed, over-simplified version of the straight and narrow than when non-Christians present all Christians as hypocritical morons looking to oppress the infidels. We, at least, should know better.

This is definitely not a book for the faint at heart. It is crude, graphic, and highly disturbing. But considering the times we are living in, perhaps it is no more so than what you see surfing the net or watching the nightly news. Whatever your perspective, The Handmaid’s Tale will give you plenty to chew on as it has me. Something to think about as I take another picture of the boys’ creepy-crawlies or ascend the heights to liberate a terrified Maggie. While I don’t see myself walking hand-in-hand with Margaret Atwood down a sunny country lane (after all, Jane Austen is my usual partner in such walks, and she might get jealous), I certainly wouldn’t mind sharing a cup of coffee with her and hearing more of what she has to say.  I will promise not to be too defensive and not to use any Christianese. Maybe I will even bring Jane along, if Atwood promises not to use the “F” word too much or slap me in the face again.

Posted on

Our Economic Mess and Its Moral Implications

By Jim Spiegel

So we are in an economic crisis of historic proportions.  The Obama administration, following treasury secretary Timothy Geithner, is addressing the situation with massive spending.  Will the strategy work?  Only the most inveterate optimist would think so.  It doesn’t take a PhD in economics to recognize that you can’t spend money you don’t have in order to solve a financial problem.  Some pundits (including the likes of former Clinton operative Dick Morris) have suggested that Obama actually wants the plan to fail as a pretext for government takeover of the entire banking industry and the final step toward a socialist state.  That’s a rather cynical take on the situation, and I pray it’s not accurate.  But I’m afraid I can’t rule it out.

But aside from the question of cure—how to solve the mess we’re in—there is the question of cause:  How did we get here?  While there were certainly failures of government oversight, in the end it boils down to greed and irresponsibility—personal vice.  In other words, this national crisis, like most of our problems, is the result of immoral behavior.  And even the most ingenious government plan cannot fix the moral faults of the populous.  So what can fix America’s moral problems, whether they regard greed in the marketplace, marital infidelity, racism, sexism, abortion, or the evils of pornography?  Moral renewal is not something that can be legislated, programmed, or solved through education.  Ultimately, it’s a matter of the human heart, and this can only be addressed spiritually.  As critical as federal policy is, our current economic debacle is symptomatic of our deeper moral-spiritual crisis.  And until we reverse course in a moral-spiritual way, we won’t see any long-term economic cures.

Like many Christians, I believe only significant divine intervention can save us from ourselves.  But what form might this take?  Perhaps a revival within the church not unlike what happened during the Great Awakening in the eighteenth century.  Another possibility is the “no pain, no gain” model, where God allows us to “hit bottom” in order to motivate repentance and the moral seriousness we seem to have lost.  An extreme version of this was recently predicted by New York City pastor David Wilkerson who warned about a coming calamity (see his March 7 entry here: http://davidwilkersontoday.blogspot.com/).  According to Wilkerson, this is a straightforward case of divine wrath which we deserve because of our extreme rebellion as a nation.  Wilkerson’s announcement is particularly stunning because:  1) he’s not a kook or money-grubbing sensationalist but a humble and reasonable pastor who has demonstrated integrity for five decades of ministry and 2) his now famous predictions from the early 1970s were remarkably accurate—a fact that cannot be fully appreciated without seeing how unlikely his prognostications looked from the perspective of someone in the early 70s.

So will Wilkerson’s prophecy be fulfilled?  It’s scary to think so, but whether or not we believe him, the category of divine wrath should be taken seriously.  Our nation is in state of extreme moral-spiritual rebellion, and we are bound to pay the fiddler, whether this takes the form of natural consequences or special divine wrath.  We all need to consider how we can deepen our moral-spiritual commitment through personal repentance and more earnest pursuit of virtue.  Just as our national economic crisis is a product of many individual vices, national renewal can result from many individual virtues.

Posted on

Little House on the Prairie Meets Text Messaging

By Amy Spiegel

Jim and I are fairly resistant to new technologies, always hanging on to the last before falling head long into the lap of the latest trends. Our little computer was teased on the cyber playground for being the only PC on the block who wasn’t allowed to play on the internet. We were still purchasing phone cards and calling collect while the rest of the world whizzed by on their cell phone, gawking at us as though we were on display in a Natural History Museum. “Observe twentieth century man in his natural habitat, the phone booth. Note his horrified expression as the operator, a now extinct creature, explains the interstate calling rate.” Just recently I was out to dinner with friends, feeling ever-so current with my portable talking device tucked into my purse—I even have an in-car charger now—when I heard a strange pecking sound coming from the back seat. I turned to see my always-up-on-the-latest-everything friend texting! I couldn’t believe my eyes. 

lhop2While Jim and I were in England several years ago, we observed British youngsters frantically banging on their cell phones with their fingertips, but frankly I thought they were having some strange sort of fit, perhaps an early symptom of mad cow disease. Since then, of course, I have learned better, but still I assumed that texting was something only teenagers did to avoid making eye contact with anyone over the age of 25. Now here was my contemporary clicking away. I was baffled, being the twentieth century gal that I am (and frankly even the twentieth century was a bit ahead of me. I am the kind of person who googles maple syrup farms and pick-your-own blueberry fields in an attempt to keep alive my inner Laura Ingalls Wilder. True, this does require internet service, but hey—no one’s perfect).  My friend—I won’t mention her name, let’s just call her Carrie Ross—went on to explain the glories of texting. She used small words and spoke slowly, so I think I caught most of what she was saying. Texting is really convenient. You don’t have to have a whole conversation. It isn’t as socially intrusive as talking on the phone. I nodded in seeming agreement and inwardly decided that her new metallic purse had affected her thinking. 

240px-mobilephone1Then one day my cell phone made a noise I had never heard before, while I innocently drove along listening to my iPod in the car with the kids. (I am starting to see that perhaps I am not the prairie girl I once believed myself to be, but come on. iPods are really, really cool. Especially with the windows down and P!nk belting out “So What” while you and the kiddles sing along. Am I right or am I right?). I had received my first text message. Slowly over the months to come, I have received more and more texts and have begun to send my own little messages in a bottle across the great ocean of electrical waves that surround us. And, I have to admit, my nameless friend (Carrie) was right. It is nice to send a quick hello or needed info without having to actually speak to the person. But of late, I have begun to wonder if my practices are in keeping with my deeper convictions. (This epiphany came whilst I was listening to my mom on one line and checking my voice mail on another. Pretty low, right? I quickly confessed to my mom and vowed never to do it again.) Sure, it is cleaner and simpler to send off a text without actually having to go through all the entanglements of greeting someone and enquiring about their day, but isn’t that missing the point a bit? Isn’t communication supposed to be about entangling ourselves in one another lives?  Today a friend called (not the nameless Carrie) and really needed to talk. Normally I would chat as long as the cordless phone allowed for my wandering around the house “accomplishing” things. I would have listened as long as it didn’t cost me anything. But this time I asked myself “What would Ma Ingalls do?” In an act of extreme self-control, I sat and had a real conversation, in all it’s messy splendor. (By the end, I actually had to resort to talking on a phone with a cord, something that went out soon after smoke signals and the Pony Express.) So the next time your fingertips get itchy, remember that simple and clean isn’t always best. GTG.

Posted on

New Albums by Morrissey and U2: A Study in Worldview Contrasts

By Jim Spiegel

When I heard last Fall that new albums were forthcoming from both Morrissey and U2, I was thrilled.  Not only are they two of my favorite musical artists of the last 20+ years, but they have established themselves as among the most important of their time.  Naturally, I was hopeful that their new records would be good, but being a realist about the fact that the quality of a band’s or songwriter’s work tends to wane over the years, I braced myself for disappointment.  If just one of these albums was strong, I’d be satisfied. 

Well, my most optimistic hopes were realized.  Both Morrissey’s Years of Refusal and U2’s No Line on the Horizon are excellent, once again proving the staying power of these artists.  In the latter case, however, it’s a more significant achievement.  I have noticed that most bands have approximately a ten year period of inspired creativity, after which the quality of their music begins to diminish.  This seems true of all the great bands which remained together for more than a decade, e.g. The Rolling Stones, The Who, Queen, Pink Floyd, REM, etc.  It also seemed true of U2, since after their 1991 classic Achtung Baby their work has been good but not great.  However, No Line on the Horizon breaks this trend, and the ten year hex just noted, in dramatic fashion.  From the mesmerizing and addictive opening title track to the eerie closer, “Cedars of Lebanon,” Bono and his mates seem inspired.  Lyrically, Bono has yet more to say and has found new ways to say the things he’s already said.  Musically, the Irish lads have managed—even in their 30th year as a band—to explore new territory, both in terms of chord structures and production approaches.

Meanwhile, the Moz has made his own strides on Years of Refusal, which is one of the strongest of his solo career now spanning more than two decades.  It is also one of his most energetic, as many of the songs were tracked live, and Jerry Finn’s deft production preserves an immediacy of feeling on the other tracks as well.  Morrissey’s voice is as strong and rich as ever, and his slowly revolving cast of supporting musicians serves the songs well, filling the album with memorable hooks and phrases.

So I’ve been enjoying both of these albums immensely.  But as I’ve listened, I’ve been struck by the stark contrast in worldviews.  Interestingly, both Years of Refusal and No Line on the Horizontypify the personalities and values of Morrissey and U2, respectively.  In fact, one might say that each album is a definitive statement of sorts for each artist, at least relative to their output thus far.  And I would sum up the prevailing themes as follows.  For Morrissey, it boils down to temporality, resentment, and despair, while for U2, the thematic core is eternity, grace, and hope.

Temporality vs. Eternity

Morrissey’s preoccupation with his mortality was especially keen on his previous album, Ringleader of the Tormentors, but the theme shows up on Years as well, with such lines as these: “time grips you slyly in its spell and before you know, goodbye will be farewell, and you will never see the one you love again” (“One Day Goodbye Will be Farewell”).  For the Pope of Mope, life is a bitter struggle where “Only stone and steel accept my love” (I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris”) and “To the rescue nobody ever comes” (“When Last I Spoke to Carol”).  And the best he can do in the way of final comfort is to consider how death might end it all, and “we will be safe and sheltered in our graves” (“Momma Lay Softly on the Riverbed”).  But for U2, the expectation of afterlife is an abiding source of comfort.  In “Get On Your Boots” Bono assures us, “laughter is eternity, if joy is real.”  His joy is to “magnify” his Maker, as he sings, “I was born to be with you…  I was born to sing for you.  I give you back my voice.  From the womb, my first cry was a joyful noise” (“Magnificent”).  But perhaps nowhere is the theme of eternity more clear than in the title of the album and title track:  “No line on the horizon.”  For those who have eternal life, as is the hope of every Christian such as Bono, there is no such line because there is no end to what lies ahead for us.

Resentment vs. Grace

The Christian hope of eternal life is, of course, the result of divine grace and forgiveness, which comes to us through Christ.  Bono sings passionately about this grace, especially in “White as Snow,” the potency of which is underscored by the fact that the melody is a variation of that from the classic hymn “O Sacred Head Now Wounded”):  “Once I knew there was a love divine.  Then there came a time I thought it knew me not.  Who can forgive forgiveness where forgiveness is not?  Only the lamb as white as snow” (“White as Snow”).  In contrast to this, sadly, Morrissey’s world is one of self-loathing and resentment.  In one of his more sardonic songs on Years of Refusal, he sings, “It’s not your birthday anymore.  There’s no need to be kind to you.  And the will to see you smile and belong has now gone” (“Its Not Your Birthday Anymore”).  And his own refusal to forgive—perhaps offering the key to interpreting the album title—is plain in “Sorry Doesn’t Help”:  “Sorries pour out of you…like a QC full of fake humility. But sorry doesn’t help us, and sorry will not save us.  And sorry will not bring my teen years back to me….  Sorry won’t undo all the good gone wrong.”

Despair vs. Hope

So for the Moz, in the end there is only despair.  “There is no hope in modern life,” he tells us in “Something is Squeezing My Skull.”  And elsewhere he stoically declares “Disappointment came to me and booted me and bruised and hurt me but that’s how people grow up” (“That’s How People Grow Up”).  And in the closing track he sums up his own experience accordingly: “Could this be an arm around my waist?  Well, surely the hand contains a knife.  It’s been so all of my life.  Why change now?  It hasn’t!  Now this might surprise you, but I find I’m okay by myself” (“I’m OK By Myself”)  Or so Morrissey tries to convince us (and himself?).  These are the album’s lyrical book ends:  “I’m doing very well” and “I’m okay by myself.”  But in between its all angry despair.  Indeed, Morrissey’s world is a lonely one.  Things couldn’t be more different in U2’s world, where Bono proclaims, “I know I’m not alone” (“I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight”).  There is plenty of pain and sorrow, but it is redeemed:  “This foolishness can leave a heart black and blue.  Only love can leave such a mark.  But only love can heal such a scar.  Only love unites our hearts” (“Magnificent”).  There is a profound and exhilarating sense of purpose:  “Every day I die again, and again I’m reborn.  Every day I have to find the courage to walk out into the street with arms out.  Got a love you can’t defeat, neither down nor out.  There’s nothing you have that I need.  I can breathe” (“Breathe”).  And there is that final hope:  “We’re gonna make it all the way to the light” (“I’ll go Crazy”).

Posted on

Snapshots

By Amy Spiegel

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

Perhaps it has been the effects of the lingering winter, but of late I fear my taste in film viewing has tended more toward entertainment rather than substance. So rather than subjecting you to the less than artistic selection of films I have recently watched, I thought it better to recommend some of the best I have seen in the past. Three genres; three films per genre. Hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

Bollywood:  Water: The story of an eight-year-old Indian widow and her struggle against the traditions that hold her captive. This is a great example of bringing injustice to light while never sacrificing the narrative to agenda. Beware, this movie will rip your heart out but in a good way.  A Peck on the Cheek: Once your heart has resumed its natural function, prepare to have it ripped out again with this movie. An Indian girl discovers she is adopted and begins the journey of finding her birth mother. Highlighting a conflict I was completely unaware of, this movie also teaches without being heavy-handed. Finally, Bride and Prejudice: Jane Austen meets the land of Gandhi. No political agenda. Just really cool dance moves, great outfits and a timeless story that translates to any culture.

Classics: The Red Shoes: I can’t remember where it was that I first heard this film recommended, but I have been anticipating watching it for quite some time. It was worth watching for the ballet scenes alone which I find transfixing in a sort of horrible way. The art of dance and ballet in particular seems a bit like self-torture, human beings willing their bodies to do things that seem to defy physics. A great tale of the struggle artists face between their personal and professional lives (For a real life example see the documentary Margot).  The Hustler: Maybe this is an obvious one or maybe its one that you have heard so much about that you feel like you have already seen it. Either way, its worth seeing again or for the first time.  Susan Slept Here: Just a sweet, little charmer worthy of a cup of hot chocolate and a snuggle on the couch. No heart ripping is involved and everything ends as it should. I just want to wrap up Debbie Reynolds and give her to someone for Christmas. 

Kid’s Programming:  Backyardigans: A good friend turned us on to this Nick Jr. show about a moose, a penguin, a hippo, a kangaroo and an unidentified creature with pink spots and antennae, and now the whole family (including Jim and I) are hooked. The plots are creative, the music unforgettable in a good way. A must for anyone with kids under the age of five who don’t want to lose brain cells watching Barney or, my personal nemesis, Clifford.  Avatar: This was our first step into more mature shows for the boys and while I was skeptical at first, this fusion of Asian stylizing and Western wit quickly became a favorite. Redwall: The only bad thing about this series is that there aren’t more of them. Medieval mouse knights fighting for the cause of good against strange, one-eyed rats—why wouldn’t you like it? I also recommend anything involving dropping a man off in extreme climates to face the elements alone a la Man vs. Wild and Survivor Man. Just prepare yourself never to look at an animal carcass the same way again.

Posted on

The APA Controversy Over Religion and Sexuality

By Jim Spiegel

Some members of the American Philosophical Association (APA) are circulating a petition that aims to censure orthodox Christian colleges and universities.  The authors of the petition are requesting that the APA not allow these institutions to advertise open positions in their publication Jobs for Philosophers. The crux of the issue?  The non-permissive stance of these schools regarding homosexual behavior.  You can read the petition here: http://www.petitiononline.com/cmh3866/petition.html

The implications of this petition are severe, not only for Christian colleges but for orthodox Jewish and Muslim schools as well.  The petition amounts to a frontal attack on the religious liberty of private educational institutions. In response, some Christian philosophers have drawn up a counter-petition, which you can read here:  http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/apa/.  I have already signed this petition and encourage you to consider doing so as well.

Mark Murphy of Georgetown University has drafted a very insightful response to this controversy, which you can see here:  http://www9.georgetown.edu/faculty/murphym/APAStatement-Murphy.htm. Murphy makes several illuminating observations, many regarding the history of the APA nondiscrimination provisions and other points pertaining to the faulty logic of the petition to change the APA’s advertising policy.  Here I will summarize and embellish some of Murphy’s points:

First, the accused Christian colleges do not single out homosexual activity as unacceptable.  Rather, such colleges prohibit all extramarital sexual practice, which also includes adultery, premarital sex, polygamy, pedophilic sex, and bestiality.  The expectation at these Christian colleges is that their employees and students will refrain from all sexual activity that is outside the bounds of Christian marriage.  While some homosexuals might consider the expectation to refrain from extramarital sexual activity to be a burden, it is not a special burden placed on them, since heterosexuals are also expected to refrain from extramarital sex.

Second, note that this is a behavioral prohibition which is consistent with nondiscrimination on the basis of sexual orientation (per the language of the APA nondiscrimination policy).  To be sexually oriented in a certain way, whether heterosexually or homosexually, is to be physically attracted to members of a particular gender.  But to act or not to act on these desires is a matter of choice, just as it is a matter of choice as to whether to have sex at all.  To insist that persons, whether homosexual or heterosexual, are not free to choose whether or with whom to have sex, assumes a form of hard determinism—a view which, to say the least, is highly contentious.  (See my January 26 post about this.)

Third, the moral norm of confining sex to marriage between one man and one woman is inherent to the religious commitment of these Christian colleges.  Moreover, this is the long-standing belief and practice of all major theisms—Judaism, Islam, and Christianity—and many other religions besides.  So to sanction schools for observing this ideal would be blatant religious discrimination—against, in fact, the religious beliefs of the majority people in the world.