Just another manic Monday

Some of the authors of the Bible used a writing technique called chiasm. It’s where the outside statements work in parallel to each other, coming together and pointing to the center statement as the crux of it all. Like a cross. A1, B1, C1, D, C2, B2, A2.

Or sometimes the middle will be two statements reflecting each other (a D1 or D2).

I like writing techniques.

***

I couldn’t sleep the other night, so I started thinking about the cruise Chris and I are going to take. Then I started thinking what if I fall off the side, and what if I’m saved but in the process am knocked unconscious and have amnesia.

Wouldn’t that be fun? If you have amnesia, you get to live each moment brand new. You wouldn’t know who to hold a grudge against, which regret to mourn, which foods you didn’t like.

But then I thought, no, I’d forget the good things like how much I love my husband’s arms around me, or how to dance, or I’d forget to have my afternoon tea. Wouldn’t it be much more fun to live as if I had amnesia with the bad stuff and a grudge’s memory with the good stuff?

***

We’ve had squirrels in our attic for a long, long time. Chris fills holes he finds where they sneak in. He sets up humane traps with all sorts of fun foods like popcorn with maple syrup. And I pray that God will guide the squrrel into the trap so that the squirrel won’t die but can be set free. But two weeks later, the trap is empty and noises fill the world above our heads. How could they be surviving with no food or water? Then we found a new hole.

One night, I braced myself for the squirrels to come crashing through our ceiling above our bed. They were nesting, I think.

Chris saw one once when he was checking the trap. They startled each other.

Chris keeps filling the holes, but they keep making new ones.

I think the squirrels are winning.

***

My church put together a devotional to go with the Lenten readings. Last Wednesday, we read Mark :29-45 where Jesus heals people like crazy–disease, demon-possession, handicaps. Everywhere he goes they follow. Just when he builds a congregation, he leaves for the next place. It’s a mad Billy Graham crusade. And then Jesus goes off in a monastic corner to pray. The commentary says:

  • "It appears Jesus could learn a thing or two about church growth. At a time of growing crowds and highly effective ministry, Jesus disappears. Rather than pressing forward with a building campaign or organizing small groups or making His sermons available on the Internet, Jesus seeks out solitude to pray."

That stuck with me.

***

Jesus told us to live in community with each other. Communities are messy. They mean mud tracked on your carpet, a glass bowl smashed, a hand printed on your wall.

But that can be lovely too.

***

I get in musical moods. Last week, I was in an 80s mood: Depeche Mode, Erasure, The Clash, The Cure, Guns N Roses, Poison. So I created a youtube playlist. 80s Rock Bands. Every so often, I’d click over to watch a snippet of the video. Guns N Roses had videos from their early days to present. It made me wonder, when did they get old?

***

Did you know that in Greek stauros means "cross" and staurao (with a long o at the last) means "to crucify"? Stauros for the Christians than came to mean specifically the cross of Jesus Christ and then "the suffering/death which believers endure in following the crucified Lord," which means that staurao meant not only "to fasten to a cross, or crucify" but also "destroy through connection with the crucifixion of Christ." As in, our passion for worldly things has been crucified (Romans 7:2). Someone wrote in my Greek lexicon, "the believer who is inseparably united to the Lord has died on the cross to the kind of life that belongs to this world" (c.f. Galatians 6:14).

Sometimes Misfits Belong

In September 2006, I introduced the concept about being a misfit. I told you that Rudolph was one of my favorite Christmas shows because I could relate.
I’m a misfit.
A
dentist elf, a toy bird who swims instead of flies, a prospector
searching for a peppermint mine, a reindeer with a shiny, red nose.
Why don’t I fit it in?
This past Sunday night, we watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer again. The old sympathies arose for Rudolph and Hermey, who, "even among misfits you’re a misfit!" (another truism for me!)
But
I caught something else. In the end, after the Abomidable has been
conquered and Rudolph’s family saved, after Santa asks, "Rudolph, with
your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?" there’s
another line I’d missed before.
"Sometimes even misfits belong."
Because I belong now.
I
like what’s said in that statement: you may still be a misfit, a
dentist elf, a reindeer with a shiny nose, a Charlie-in-the-Box, but
you can belong too.
Back in April, Chris and I started visiting this
church. It’s an Anglican church. Chris and I both came from years of
Bible church communities, so why an Anglican church?
We visited because good friends of ours go there.
We kept visiting because we liked what we saw.
We
liked the evangelical theology and the liturgy with the weekly emphasis
on the Eucharist and the focus on serving both the community and the
world.
In September, we became members. I cried. I cried because for
the first time in a long time I could say, "I love my church." I cried
because I belonged.
I have friends here. I’m involved here–I
started a book club and I’ll be teaching a Bible study in the spring
and I’ll be serving a local community orphanage with my church. On
Sunday mornings, I want to get up and go to church. I can’t wait to
worship God, to see friends.
I’m sharing this because it’s come full circle. This blog is not just about my struggles. It’s about my joys.
And sometimes even misfits belong.

Movies and Theology–Equilibrium

I had no intention of posting this today, especially since I just did those book reviews, and I don’t like to do so many movies and books so close together, but I started writing notes on the movie I saw last night in order to remember points and found myself with a full-blown post (and an even longer sentence). So here it is. No spoilers. I talk about the movie itself and then some thoughts it led me to.

Premise: after a third world war, the powers that be realize that man could not survive a fourth, so they seek to eradicate the cause: emotions. If emotions cause rage and jealousy, and rage and jealousy cause war, then it is better to do away with them, sacrificing love and joy and the like for the sake of so-called peace. People take their injections of Prozium, which I’m sure you’ll recognize as Prozac, to deaden their feelings. No grief, no sadness, the government says. Sense offenders, which are anything from those who harbor works of art such as the Mona Lisa or a book by Keats to those who collect odds and ends like perfume bottles and record players and old Mother Goose books (sounds like my husband’s grandfather) to those who dare to love. The scene that got me: women and children were found rescuing and caring for dogs. They killed the dogs. I can’t handle animals getting hurt. I closed my eyes and tried to plug my ears to block out the yelps. The top cleric (the specially trained agents who seek and kill sense offenders in order to keep order—I’ll get to the whole cleric thing in a minute) sees something that awakens a corner of feeling in him. He plays with it. Stops taking his Prozium (itself against the law), allows himself to linger over the harbored objects of beauty to be destroyed, and aligns himself with the rebellion. The friend that loaned us the movie likened it to The Matrix. I think it’s more like V for Vendetta, personally.

One complaint: the movie did a great job of developing the main character’s character (ha!), growing his feelings and emotions and appreciation for beauty. And it had great fight scenes. However, in the climax, I felt jilted. Things went along too easily. (I tried to comment so much to my husband, but he shushed me so that he could fully enjoy the fighting.) There were two scenes in particular: one the Ordeal, one the Road Back with that death scene climax, that could have been developed and heightened, in my opinion.

Oh, two complaints, really: I had a hard time with the premise, that anyone would accept the wiping out of all emotion as the solution. Without gentleness and empathy, one easily kills (as you see in the movie). And, there seem to be some accepted emotions: pride or anger when it’s on the “right” side, so that seemed to be out of sync.

Props: the ending had a couple of surprises I was not expecting (hence the surprise) but really enjoyed. They did a good job with that. I won’t say anything more.

The movie stars the guy from Swing Kids and Batman Begins (Christian Bale), Boromir from Lord of the Rings (Sean Bean, also in The Island, National Treasure), Benjamin Coffin from Rent (Taye Diggs), and the guy who played Robert the Bruce in Braveheart (Angus Macfadyen). Also, the girl from Punch-Drunk Love and Gosford Park (Emily Watson) was in it, and Lincoln Burrows from Prison Break makes an appearance. (See, isn’t it so much better to go ahead and take care of these things from the start? Now you won’t have to sit through the movie going, where have I seen that guy?)

The governing power outlawing everything beautiful and everything emotional are associated with Christianity. Their symbol is a cross, and their top trained agents are clerics. I find this ironic for a couple of reasons. First, Christians have always maintained that God created emotions as part of humanity. Granted, some weigh logic as better than emotions instead of equal, and very few go to an extreme as to say emotions are bad. But it’s the same with anyone, Christian or not, in our Western Society. Second, we have a Creator God who looked at this beauty He made and said, It is good. He gave us the capacity to create and to appreciate the waterfalls and the sunsets (some even, the sunrise, if you can awake in time) and the snow-capped mountains. He made the rainbow as a promise. He directs us to an end even more beautiful than the beginning, if that can be possible (which, obviously, it is)—more on that tomorrow. Third, technically, this ideology, of getting rid of emotions, belongs to Eastern religions such as Hindu and Buddhist. While the end goal of Christianity is to have perfect humanity, perfect in emotion, reason, and body, each individual personality in its most beautiful state, glorified, in other words (words that the Bible uses), the end goal of Hinduism and Buddhism is getting rid of personality to meld into one, one essence, one nirvana, the One. This sounds lovely, really. I mean, who doesn’t want to be part of the One that flows in everything? But it does mean ridding yourself of your own personality, emotions, reason, body, the whole bit.

This brings me to another point: peace done man’s way v. peace done God’s way. They are trying to control things, forcing a community together to fight, well, fighting. But in their way, they do away with everything beautiful. And it’s controlling, manipulative, and power-hungry, even if their original intentions were good. In God’s way, though, we “fight” with all the things that the government in this movie tries to wipe out: love, charity, gentleness, beauty, selflessness, generosity. God’s way is covert and surprising. God’s way protects the weak and the hurt and the poor doggies (I’m still not over that scene). Which brings us to the role of the cleric. In the movie, the role of the cleric was calculating and controlling while we know that in God’s body, the role of the cleric is shepherding, loving, caring, encouraging, willing to leave the 99 safe ones to go out on a limb (like a shepherd reaching for that stuck sheep) for the one lost. This is the hard (and that darn convicting) point for me. Isn’t it more fun to be with the 99? Isn’t it more gratifying? Isn’t it more strategic, even? Isn’t it just easier? But as a shepherd, we’re called to the lost one. No, the numbers aren’t behind us. Nor is the guarantee. Who knows if that one druggie or one woman who had an affair or one guy who left the church because Friday nights at the bar are more fun or one child who has a habit of biting as his only form of communication or one girl who thinks her only recourse is abortion will come to Christ? Who knows if our efforts will be wasted?

In the end, I think I’ll wait for God’s peace and God’s community, which will be in perfect harmony with Him, each other, and nature, thank you very much.

Update: I knew I’d forget something. Not important, but interesting to me. The main character’s breaking point comes while he’s listening to Beethoven’s third symphony, the Eroica (which is not erotica but Hero) Symphony, originally dedicated to Napoleon, who, of course, is related to the French Revolution. (Later, the dedication was scratched out when Napoleon declared himself Emporer and proved himself to be just another tyrant.) I wonder if the film makers meant to associate that moment and the resistant’s movement with the French Revolution.
And Real Live Preacher is right: it’s not a particularly great movie, although I enjoyed it and felt it worth the two hours, though I wouldn’t put it on my top ten by any means. He likens it to 1984. I would add Brave New World.

The Burbs

I have fought living in the burbs. I’m a downtown girl. I want the symphony and Shakespeare in the Park and art museums and jazz clubs at my doorstep. But I live in the burbs. It’s not so bad, really. Most daily activities are the same either way. Starbucks is still on every corner. I can drive to two Half Price bookstores within 5 min. Chinese, Korean, Vietnam, Thai, Italian, Indian, Mexican foods all only blocks away (still missing a good Spanish Tapas place, if anyone would like to volunteer opening one near me). Oh, and Cuban. We need a good Cuban restaurant. (Ever wandered why we call all food derived from countries outside the U.S. ethnic as if our own food isn’t ethnic? Aren’t we a culture, an ethnicity? Is this a case of our ethnocentricity? If we went to India, would hamburgers be the ethnic food? But back to downtown…) I miss Keith, the homeless and legless man on my corner that always had, well, interesting insights, to say the least. I miss walking down to Davino’s where I would get a slice of pizza the size of Manhattan and a soda for $1.50. I can’t walk anywhere in my current location. I miss running up the apartment stairs in socks to grab a book or sugar or a hug from friends. There is something different about life living downtown. Everytime we trek down the interstate, I find myself antsy to be back. Except, that is, for the growing jeunesse dorée parading through glitzy shops and overpriced cafés. That’s when I feel separated from my previous home. The wealth of downtown explodes next to the ghettos, sometimes replacing the ghettos. Is it a co-op wealth meets poor on equal footing opening whole new worlds? Or is it displacement and turning a blind eye? (I’m going for the Guinness of most clichés in one blog.) And yet, in the burbs, I often feel assembly-lined. Not much diversity in ethnic or economic or philosophical statuses (is the plural stati?). We do have our Asian corner: Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese restaurants all next to the Asian market. Across the street is the Iranian restaurant. And my hairdresser is Indian. But it feels simulated. My neighborhood is white bread through and through.

Choose an Identity

Every time I leave a comment on blogger, I see those three words. Choose an identity. It reminds me of those Choose Your Own Adventure Books. I loved those.
But this is sad, really. And telling.
We have a nation of painted teeth and sucked out yucky fat. We put on new facades, playing dress-up like little girls in heels five sizes too big, living in a world where every day is Halloween. We spend more time sprucing up our cyber life than we do our real live character. Virtual reality. That’s an oxymoron.
I can buy and sell and borrow (and steal) without ever stepping foot out of my house. I can actually live my entire life without ever brushing elbows with someone.
And if you don’t like who you are, just create an alternate identity. Don’t worry about the hard work of transforming character. Just make someone up. You can live your entire life in cyber space. There’s even this civilization now (someone help with the name, please) where everything is online. Even your money.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love blogging. I love the friends I have that I would have never had without this phenomenon. We can choose to be real and authentic in this world. We can choose to make it only part of our world, to have a life outside of the computer, in that thing called nature or a symphony concert. Or we can choose to escape it all.
Choose an identity.
A nation of schizos.