anthropology

The Master's Artist: The Glimmer of the Other

October 12, 2010 By heather Leave a Comment

I’m up at The Master’s Artist today reflecting on an artist’s work from an art festival my husband and I attended a couple of weekends ago.

A glimpse:

"The artist photographed mundane, even dead, objects–weeds, grass, dead
branches. He zoomed in until you could barely identify the original
subject. Before he printed his photographs, he prepared the canvas by
painting it with a glimmery, shining substance. When you viewed the
dead and mundane, the glimmer of the other shone through, giving the
ordinary something beautiful and extraordinary, imparting something of
the essence of life."

Read The Glimmer of the Other.

Filed Under: anthropology, art, humanity, mundane, ordinary, photography, theology

Movies: The Diving Bell and The Butterfly

September 17, 2009 By heather 5 Comments

The Diving Bell and The Butterfly is based on the memoir of Jean-Dominque Bauby, editor-in-chief of Elle magazine. After suffering a massive stroke, Jean-Dominique lived with locked-in syndrome, meaning that though his mind was active and healthy, his body, except for his eyes and minor head movement, was paralyzed.

A speech therapist devised a system so that Jean-Dominique could communicate by blinking his left eye (his right eye had to be sewn closed because of problems–I can’t stand watching anything related to surgery, needles, or sharp objects and eyes). She repeated each letter of the alphabet (arranged according to popularity rather than in alphabetical order), and he blinked at the correct letter to spell words.

After Jean-Dominique learned the system, he contacted the publisher that had recently signed a contract with him. He wanted to write his memoir.

This movie is some Swiss Family Robinson story. It doesn’t gloss over the ugliness of the disease, making it some beautiful conduit without which Jean-Dominique would have never discovered himself. It is wonderfully acted, directed and filmed, often in a documentary style. When Jean-Dominique first wakes in the hospital after coming out of a coma (and for quite a bit after that), you see everything from his hazy perspective. My husband and I cringed at the blurry, vacillating objects. It’s hard to watch, in other words, attempting to give you a taste of Jean-Dominique’s adjustment.

Jean-Dominique is not suddenly some saint because of his stroke and syndrome. He feels sorry for himself; he doesn’t always treat people well. In fact, at times, he can be an ass (at least in the movie–who knows what’s fictionalized and what’s true to form).

But here’s what amazed me: even at this point, when his body betrays him, when he cannot function as he once did, he responds with creativity and culture. He chooses to use his imagination. This is how integral creating is to humanity. I found myself wondering if he, in fact, acted more fully human than I do watching TV on the couch every night (or in the office crammed together with my husband on the one overstuffed chair, since we no longer have cable and watch TV shows on the Internet). This shamed me. How can I complain about the difficulties of writing? He awoke early in the morning, considered what he wanted to write, memorized it, then dictated it by eye-blinks later that morning for four hours each day. No surprisingly, his book became a bookseller.

But he didn’t have much time to enjoy that. He died ten days after it released.

Writing the book wasn’t about acknowledgement. It was about creating itself and about communicating.

Filed Under: anthropology, creativity, culture making, humanity, imagination, movies, The Diving Bell and The Butterfly, theology

"Not all who wander are lost."

May 4, 2009 By heather Leave a Comment

After Logan’s painful, almost fatal surgery (the good thing about a prequel is you know Wolverine doesn’t die!), he runs naked into a barn while the farmowners, driving up to their home, look on. Featured prominently on the back of their truck is a bumper sticker: “Not all who wander are lost.”

This Tolkien quote does two things.

First, it gives us the key to Logan and his search for his background. In the X-Men movie, Logan doesn’t know who he is or from where he comes. While we, as the audience, get to go back in time and discover this, Logan doesn’t. His memory can’t recall more than a small flash back to the surgery. But as he wanders Canada, does that mean he’s truly lost? His character–rough around the edges but tender and heroic–remains the same. He may not remember his first name. He may not remember his family. He may not remember how he came upon the nickname of Wolverine, but Wolverine he is, howling in grief and caring for the weak.

Second, the quote hints that perhaps this elderly couple, who take Logan in and care for him, are Christians. After all, the quote is written by a Christian about Christianity. I appreciate that this film displays this couple, who lost so much of their own and experienced pain and grief, risked their well-being, gave generously, for the sake of kindness and perhaps even of Christ.

Image by plynoi via Flickr

I loved this movie, but I love the X-Men movies, especially Wolverine’s character. I’m not a comic book fan. I didn’t grow up on them, nor have I turned to them in my adult years, but I’ve come to appreciate their movie screen adaptations when they tell good stories (as in the case of Wolverine and the Batman series).

X-Men Origins: Wolverine explores the theme of humanity v. base animal instincts. Through-out the movie, Wolverine is continually presented with the choice: will he act humanly (which means to show mercy and forgiveness) or will he succomb to animal instincts (which they portray as revenge and bloodlust).

His foil is his brother, Victor, who deteriorates in his viciousness and destruction until it can no longer be contained and filtered for “good guys.” (I wonder if there’s a bit of commentary about the United States in his character.)

Here’s what I find interesting in this: the theory of mutants is based on evolution (a philosophy I don’t agree with, to be upfront). Mutants have evolved into the next level of humanity. This evolution is not spiritual or emotional. It is purely physical (I would argue that even the power of mind-control and telepathic abilities require physical abilities to accomplish). Moreover, some of the powers borrow from the animal kingdom (although on steroids). (Why would evolution work that way? It’s not exactly forward momentum for survival, then, as much as “this feature in combination with this would be cool.”) As such, the writers suggest that as some of them take on animal abilities (with a kick), they struggle with animal temptations. But it’s not really an animal nature that tempts them this way. It is their human nature, combined with their abilities that allow them positions of power. (Lest you think this is only a struggle for the mutants, Stryker, who has no mutant abilities, manipulates the mutants for his own agenda and lust for power.)

In other words, though they base X-Men on the theory of evolution, the morality they use is based on mercy and forgiveness (which, I would argue, are qualities that are an intrinsic part of being human because humans are created in the image of the Creator, who is merciful and forgiving), rather than survival of the fittest.

Regarding the production, story, and characterization of this movie: well done. Bravo. I don’t know if there are plans for more X-Men origin movies (to be honest, who’s more interesting than Wolverine with his mysterious beginnings?). I thoroughly enjoyed this movie.

Two things bothered me. One, if Logan is supposedly a bastard child, making him Victor’s brother (don’t worry, that comes out in the first couple minutes of the movie–I’m not spoiling anything), why does he look so much like the father who raised him (played by Hugh Jackman)? Two, if the Gambler character wants Victor dead so badly, why does he interrupt Wolverine in his attempts to kill Victor? That didn’t make logical sense.

But nevertheless, highly entertaining. Good for considering questions about humanity and anthropology. Also, fun to see a couple of Lost actors resurrected, as well as one of the guys from Two Guys, A Girl, and a Pizza Place, a TV show I still miss.

Psst–If you find this post interesting and think others might as well, would you mind taking a minute to stumble it? It would mean a lot to me.

Filed Under: anthropology, humanity, movies, theology, X-Men Origins: Wolverine

Tapestry: To Infinity and Beyond

September 11, 2008 By heather 4 Comments

I’m up today at the Tapestry Blog talking about what it means to be human.

From the post:

"Flip through Scripture, and you’ll find that while God uses angels to
close mouths of lions (no comments from the peanut gallery), accompany
His chosen through fire, and announce good tidings of great joy, He
more often uses ordinary, even disgusting humans to do extraordinary,
beautiful things."

What I Learned from Olympic Swimming (and other Olympics), Part Two

August 21, 2008 By heather 4 Comments

They call him Superman.

They also call him Tiger Woods in a Speedo, but I’m not sure what to do with that one.

He did amazing things. He did the impossible. (How did he win that 100 meter butterfly anyway?)

They call them the Golden Girls.

(And I don’t think they mean four old ladies.)

They haven’t lost a game in over a year. That makes 108 straight sets. In a row. 14 consecutive Olympic matches. Two consecutive gold medals in volleyball. No one’s done that before.

Kerri said, "We felt like warriors out there."

We laughed with these heroes. We cried with them. We scared the dog cheering for them (or was that just me?). We reach higher because they reach higher.

There’s something immortal about the Olympics. Or perhaps there’s something truely mortal. Perhaps it’s where immortal and mortal cross. It’s what makes us taste what it means to be truly human, to be victorious, untainted by death, larger than life.

It brings to mind the days when their stories would’ve been written in the stars. (Except now they’re written all over NBC and ESPN, which disappears faster than constellations. Perhaps we should bring back the heroic aspect of constellation story telling.) It reminds us that there’s something great about humanity, something that images God.

It makes us long for something greater. It makes us realize that this–this corruptness and evilness and deathness–is not how it’s supposed to be.

And I wonder, will there be Olympics in the new earth?

Filed Under: anthropology, Golden Girls, immortality, Kerri Walsh, Michael Phelps, Misty May-Treanor, Olympics, superman, swimming, volleyball

On Becoming an Imaginative Female Theologian Who–Oh, you know what I'm talking about…

February 5, 2008 By heather 7 Comments

I can’t remember if this is part three or part four, but I assure you it’s the last part.

I didn’t know what to expect when I began telling you my story. Your responses and support means a lot to me. One never knows if when one opens their mouth if it’ll be like the talking stain from the Superbowl commercial. So thank you for your encouragement. I’ve needed it these days.

Now we get to the femininity part, which is why I started this series in the first place. I drifted off into other things because I realized those other things affected me much more than my gender does.

Of course, my gender affects me. It’s why I married a man instead of a woman. It’s why I curse Eve once a month. But I don’t think (although God only knows the truth of the matter) that it affects how I see or do theology like my personality does. I’ve found kindred spirits in men and women in this process.

What my gender affects is how others see me. I’m not talking long hair stuff, I’m talking the assumption that I must be going into women’s ministry or that I must be good at secretarial work. To the former–I love speaking to women’s groups, teaching women’s Bible studies, connecting with other women. In fact, tonight I begin teaching a new series for a women’s group. However, I also love teaching mixed groups, connecting with other artists, book-lovers, movie-goers in general.

To the latter assumption, that I must be good at secretarial work, I will only say that I worked with many groups who assumed that I would be the secretary merely because I was a woman.

Occasionally, I received surprised reactions from both men and women when I told them which program at seminary I was in. "Oh," they’d say, "That’s really admirable. Not many women do that program." Most of the time they meant well, but it made me wonder why they expected anything less of women than of men.

I realize that I sound overly sensitive at this junction. I want to affirm that I also received support and respect from other men and women. But those other comments sometimes made me feel like I was not just working hard at the program itself, as was everyone else, but fighting for my right to be there (Beastie Boys, anyone?).

Which meant in the beginning, I spent too much time trying to prove that anything you could do I could do better (fifty points for that reference).

It’s hard to write that, to admit that. My pride. Bristling. Proving. Fighting. All for my pride. Perhaps I should have labeled today’s post "confessions." In fact, I just added it to the tags. This was not my prettiest moment.

But God is good. He put people in my life who affirmed me, men and women who interacted with me, who discussed theology and philosophy without a thought to my gender.

It came to heads at the church we attended. Our Sunday School teacher needed a substitute, and I volunteered. News that I’d be teaching traveled the vineyard and before I could say "hypostatic union" an email popped in my inbox. Thanks, but no thanks. We can’t allow a woman to teach. Instead, they drafted someone who was untrained and who didn’t want to teach.

This is an odd metaphor, but I felt kidnapped. Knocked over the side of the head and shoved somewhere I didn’t belong. A very small somewhere. And it made me claustrophobic.

To make a long story short (too late!–another fifty points for that reference), that situation facilitated some conversations between my husband and I. It also became the breaking point. Because my husband and I no longer felt that we could minister in that church for several reasons, we left. (I’d like to point out that we attempted to minister in different ways–I didn’t feel comfortable in their women’s ministry at the time; we attempted to start an Art and Theology small group but there wasn’t much of a response; Chris was involved in several things but began to feel like he couldn’t do what his heart desired in ministry.)

We began a year-long journey toward a new church (I’ll spare you those details) and found ourselves at our current church–a church that makes me feel home again with ruby slippers. This church embraced my gifts, embraced my crazy imaginative self even when I told them that Scrabbles gave me nightmares, embraced my gender.

Maybe I only needed to click my heels in the beginning, but this is the journey that brought me where I am–an Imaginative Female Theologian Who Loves the Arts.

It means everything, and it means nothing. I’m uniquely created by God. And no matter what, I belong to Him.

I find myself asking again, what does it mean to be female? To love shopping? To be the emotional one? To want pretty colors?

We know that’s not the answer. Those aren’t bad things, but that’s not the essence of being female. In fact, I know just as many men who fit the above descriptions as I do women. We could talk about the differences between men and women. There are some, physically and emotionally. But the humanness of us has more similarities.

What does it mean to be female? Some would say that it means being a wife and a mother. Those are elements, but not a definition. After all, that would exclude people like me who don’t have children and would exclude many women who are single. Here’s what I think: It means created by God to enjoy Him, to enjoy my husband and my family and my friends and the gifts God gave us, to serve Him and to love my neighbor as myself.

Filed Under: anthropology, confession, femininity, memoirs

On Becoming an Imaginative, Female Theologian Who Loves the Arts, Continued

January 31, 2008 By heather 10 Comments

I left you yesterday at my mental breakdown of sorts. I said that I had tried to force the jigsaw pieces. That’s not true. No, I hid pieces. They slid between sofa cushions, beneath the fridge, under the candy dish on the TV.

My jigsaw puzzle picture was incomplete.

Every Friday night, I went to the Dallas Symphony (the seminary provided free tickets through some donor or something). And every Friday night, I left full and empty at the same time. Full of music. Empty because it wasn’t me anymore. I wasn’t up there playing.

Midway through my second semester, I realized that something wasn’t working. I had to collect the pieces. There wasn’t a single turning point. I didn’t sit down one night in front of a good movie and put together the puzzle. I found a piece here and a piece there, and when I walked by, I’d fit in that one piece.

To some extent, I’m still fitting in pieces one by one.

A professor here and there would give me the opportunity to write and record a song rather than a short paper.

Wait. I could express my theology in my creativity?

I began to meet other people, artists. Soon enough, a group organized a one-day arts festival on campus. We musicians put on a concert. Dancers dance. Painters displayed their work. A professor did a booth on storyboarding.

I wonder now if more than being able to use my music and creativity was the simple acknowledgement that I’m a musician, that I’m creative, and that’s good.

Then the culmination: for my thesis, I asked, please, please, what do you think about me writing a musical? Oh, yes, they said. What a great idea!

I had hit the motherload.

I studied musicals (which meant going to musicals–what a shame), bringing back my college musicology training. I studied story form–Joseph Campbell and Christopher Vogler–and how to write a screenplay. I dug out my old orchestration books and reread biographies on my favorite composers.

And I doubted. What on earth did I think I was doing? Composing a musical? Lyrics, melodies, harmonies, orchestrations? Since when did I have the talent for this?

Simple answer: I didn’t. I wrote it anyway.

I wrote a musical. The entire thing. I discovered story form. I rediscovered music. I rediscovered creativity.

Along the way, I learned something crazy–my creativity doesn’t just affect how I express theology, it affects how I do theology. I look at the Bible and I see a story and stories. Perhaps all these other stories in our lives, fairy tales and Greek myths and Pulitzer Prize novels, give us a taste of the Ultimate Story, the Story that holds every element of a good story.

And that’s beautiful.

Now, this discovery breathes within me. Because I’m part of that Story. My creative, imaginative, art-loving self is part of that Story. Can you see it? When I dance? When I play piano? When I write short stories and novels and Bible studies? When I eat? When I knit? When I watch a musical? When I meet a friend for coffee? When I do Pilates? When I cuddle next to my husband? When I worship with other believers at church? When I fold laundery–which, yes, happens occasionally? All of me is part of that Story, not just my theology. No, that’s not right. My theology is part of all that, comes from all of that, influences all of that.

Yesteryday, I told you I didn’t know where this would go. I knew that in this journey, my theme songs have moved from "La Vie Boheme" from Rent (with my favorite line, "to being an us, for once, instead of them," and which I still can’t hear without dancing) to "TwentySomething" by Jamie Cullum with its confusion to "I’m Gonna Live Until I Die" by Frank Sinatra with its embrace of life and every part of it. I know that I couldn’t delete any part of my journey without becoming someone else entirely.

I look above my computer and see pieces of me, chalk drawings of prayers for my future, pictures of my past, tickets of my two favorite musicals–Rent and Sweeney Todd–artwork of a lighthouse, a map of Africa, a map of Prague (one of my favorite places in the world), notes for my WIP, a working list for when we go camping, and a periodic table of chemicals (okay, so that’s my husband’s).

Created by God.

I have yet to talk about my journey to feminity, which is how this started. But my personality feeds who I am more than my gender. The gender warrants discussion, though, probably more in how others see me than how I see myself, so I guess I leave this

To be continued…

Filed Under: anthropology, being, femininity, theology

On Becoming an Imaginative, Female Theologian Who Loves the Arts

January 30, 2008 By heather 3 Comments

As I sit to write this, I don’t know where it will go. I don’t know how the threads of the story will weave. I admit, it’ll be rough. But stick with me as we figure out from whence came this imaginative, female theologian who loves the arts and how she came to accept that.

Growing up, I wanted to sit at the man’s side of the table when our family went out to dinner with another family. The woman’s side talked about raising kids and, well, I don’t remember what else (although I’m sure there’s much else). But the man’s side, now they talked about theology and occassionally football. I wanted to be in on that conversation.

Before I go any further, let me say this: raising kids is theology. Or it should be. But to a twelve-year-old mind, that connection isn’t clear. And my mom and I had and have more theological conversations than a toddler has opportunities for trouble, but at those dinner tables, my twelve-year-old (or however old I was at each time) didn’t hear it.

I wanted to talk theology.

You also need to know that I grew up loving Anne of Green Gables and Nancy Drew and later, I voyaged to the worlds of Dickens and Austen and rode the train with Agatha Christie and painted revenge with The Count of Monte Cristo.

And that when I entered seminary, I had spent a lifetime preparing to go into the music world.

So I enter this new world at 22, a world where I get to talk theology whenever I want, but a world where most of my colleagues come from world’s of engineering, a world where my music and my imagination had no place.

At least, that’s what I understood at the time.

It was a world dominated by men.

Where did I fit? A woman? A musician? A girl with pixie dust on my wings?

I adapted well enough. I taught flute lessons to help pay bills, so I had my music, even if I kept it separate from my theology.

Even if I had to pack Anne in a box.

Even if I tired of the questions, "So you must be here for women’s ministry?" and "Wow–you’re doing this program as a woman?" which I know they meant as a compliment but really, it’s an insult.

I was fine. Just fine. I liked the Greek and the Trinitarianism and the Missions studies. That side of me hid in my music world for the past four years.

Until midway through the second semester of the first year, I pulled my car on the side of the road because the tears blurred my vision. I couldn’t force the pieces anymore–the jigsaw puzzle had no picture.

To be continued…

Filed Under: anthropology, being, imagination, theology

Working toward a Biblical View of Femininity

January 24, 2008 By heather 13 Comments

Inspired by Christianne, I’ve been wanting to do a post about my journey to femininity (is that a word? and while we’re on the subject, is it towards or toward?). I want to share how I came to be okay with being both feminine and theologian.

But then I questioned myself–is it a matter of being feminine and theologian? or is it a matter of being my personality type and theologian? Perhaps both. In fact, I suspect both.

Which begs the question, what does it mean to be feminine?

Which leaves a slew of other questions: what about being feminine is culturally bound? What about it transcends culture? How am I feminine? How am I human? How am I uniquely me?

So I started with Merriam-Webster (which, if you remember, in my imagination was created by a love affair of Merriam and Webster, the unlikely pair who connected over words, but I digress). I found several definitions, none of them helpful. Here are two that relate:

characteristic of or appropriate or unique to women <feminine beauty> <a feminine perspective>
Wow. Astounding. Got it now.
the embodiment or conception of a timeless or idealized feminine nature <the eternal feminine>
Great. Thanks.

So, as you can see, discovering what it means to be feminine will take more than a foray to M-W.

Next on my to-do list: look at women in the Bible.

In case you haven’t noticed, there are a lot of women in the Bible. Eve, Sarah, Rebekah, Deborah, the unnamed Proverbs 31 woman, Job’s wife, Elizabeth (mother of John), Mary (mother of Jesus), Mary Magdalene, the other women who supported Jesus’ ministry, Mary and Martha (the sisters of Lazarus), Priscilla, Lois (Timothy’s grandmother) and Eunice (Timothy’s mother), to name a fraction. These women learned, taught, led, worked, mothered, submitted, stood up, gave bad advice, gave good advice, served, gave, sacrificed, and did three thousand other things. I’m not sure that I can draw conclusions from these women about what it means to be feminine as much as I can draw conclusions from these women about what it means to be human: created in the image of God, fallen, and unique.

What about passages in the Bible where the authors talk about what woman should and shouldn’t do–Peter in his first letter, Paul in 1 Timothy and in one of the Corinthians letters (I don’t remember which and I’m too lazy to look it up right now), or Jesus addressing Mary and Martha about which thing is needed?

But that brings into the question what problem Peter and Paul and Jesus addressed. And if they’re addressing specific problems that hindered the woman’s relationship with Christ or the community’s relationship with Christ, does that mean that I take the answers to that problem as a flat-out command? Or should I consider it as a command only addressed to women? This is a more complicated answer, one that a simple yes or no will not satisfy, I believe. I will say that I haven’t worn a head-covering to church recently. I will also say that I believe I should be more concerned with my inner beauty than my outer looks. Do women struggle with this more than men? I don’t know–I’ve seen men spend hours at the gym. But I stare in the mirror at my jiggle more than Chris examines himself!

And then there are cultural studies that look at roles in men and women in different societies and personalities in men and women in different societies. For example, the anthropologists discovered that consistently in societies (especially tribal), infant care is left solely to women.

Well, you know, women have the goods.

There were some other generalities, but none that were across the board.

They found some behavior differences when they systematically studied minute details in genders, especially in children. For example, generally in cultures, boys are more aggressive than girls. (Remember, these are generalities, not hard and fast rules.) With even more exceptions (and less documentation), they found that "girls exhibit more responsible behavior, including nurturance (trying to help others). Girls seem more likely to conform to adult wishes and commands. Boys try more often to exert dominance over others in order to get their own way…And boys seem to maintain more distance between each other than girls do" (Ember and Ember, Cultural Anthropology, p. 135). Again, most of the studies done were in children. From personal experience in my marriage–generally, I’m more of the nurturing one, but Chris will often be the one to see his responsibility in taking care of someone when I just don’t want to.

But overall, to be feminine, I’m less aggressive (and trust me–this does affect my resolving being a girl and a theologian!).

Notice that these are observations, not an assertion on what’s right or wrong, what God intended to be feminine and what God intended to be male. Just how it is, which is both imago dei and corrupt.

And in the Bible, God compares himself both to male roles in Israel’s culture (i.e. warrior) and to female roles (i.e. mother).

Which brings me around to my original question: What does it mean to be feminine?

So I pose the question to you, because what is blogging if not a community where we can learn from each other? What in your experience and/or studies has it meant to be feminine?

Filed Under: anthropology

Movies and Theology–3:10 to Yuma

January 21, 2008 By heather 5 Comments

This movie told a beautiful story. The acting was superb (although the "Pinkerton" guy reminded me of John Wayne in one scene). But how could the acting not be superb with men like Russell Crowe and Christian Bale? Bale especially was amazing.

Without spoilers:

This movie told a
beautiful story. The acting was superb (although the "Pinkerton" guy
reminded me of John Wayne in one scene). But how could the acting not
be superb with men like Russell Crowe and Christian Bale? Bale
especially was amazing.

And then there were other fun surprises as far as actors go–Ben
Wade (Crowe) has a right hand man and the actor who plays that
character was incredible. Perfectly embodied him. Luke Wilson makes an
appearance. The guy who was the pilot (or whatever you call them on
space ships) in Serenity was the doctor (aka vet) (although it took way
too long to figure out that’s where he was from–my husband figured it
out after I spent over half the movie asking, "Where have I seen
him?!").

The shooting scenes were good–not overdone, not cheesy, not gratuitous.

The tension built both in action and in character. Several years
ago, I studied Joseph Campbell’s story structure, and that has
influenced how I write, how I read, how I view movies. This movie,
analyzed by that story structure, reveals depths and questions that
gave me a better understanding of what the movie’s really about.

As Westerns go, I’m no big fan. But give me a good story, and I don’t care what genre you use.

It’s a story about honor and integrity.

It’s about the psychological make-up of men. What
makes them do what they do? How do they become what they are? And,
really, are what they are?

You find yourself rooting for both the protagonist and the antagonist. You want them both to win.

Which, of course, is impossible.

Right?

And you don’t know if this question comes because of
a moral ambiguity in the West (and I would say of the very foundations
of America) or if it is because of the men themselves who both hold
selfishness-slash-pride and goodness.

Don’t worry, I’m not spoiling anything, but I will
say that the Resurrection scene in the movie was gorgeous. Absolutely
beautiful. And perfectly renders the make of the men. I’ll start a
discussion for it in the forum for those who have seen it.

With spoilers:

Incredible.

How can someone root for both the protag and antag at the same time?

Here’s the thing about the "Resurrection" seen. Ben Wade is moved by a
man of honor and integrity. He wants to help him (which he swore before
that he would never do). He’s moved when Dan is shot (boring,
understated names, if you ask me).

But he fixes it as he does everything–shoots the people that killed
Dan (though they were the ones loyal to Ben and trying to save him). He
gets on the train as he promised Dan (promise made not in words but in
action), but he doesn’t seek true redemption. He’s not even going to go
all the way to Yuma. There’s something in Ben that makes you think he’s
redeemable (well, we all are redeemable), but even in this, even as far
as he goes, it’s not really redemption.

He’ll return to his life of
crime.

Dan’s integrity wins out, but is it just for pride? To be a real hero? For the money to save his family’s farm?

Don’t get me wrong. I respect Dan. He wouldn’t be bought out. Not by
Ben, not by the railroad man. He makes a statement about seeing how the
world really is, about how people want the chance to walk away. He
won’t walk away. That’s beautiful.

But are his motivations all in the right place?

But his son. Now that’s the best part. His son, who had half-admired
Ben. Who you know has this chance to choose. Is he going to be like his
dad? Or like Ben?

Danger doesn’t frighten him. After all, he’s 14 and immortal. But which path will he choose?
And in the end, he chooses his father’s path. He doesn’t shoot Ben,
though there would be justification for it. Ben shot. Dan didn’t. Dan’s
son doesn’t.

And there it is. The redemption. The resurrection. Seen more perfectly in the son than in anyone else.

Talk about it on the discussion board (there are spoilers in the forum).

Filed Under: anthropology, movies, theology