what does it all mean? find out below...

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

It's a Marketing Strategy, Charlie Brown

Why do many Christians aim so low in the arena of arts and culture?

Recently, a friend used his Facebook status to rant about his feelings toward the classic holiday program, A Charlie Brown Christmas Special.  Predictably, a few comments defended it, pointing to Charles Schulz’s motives for producing the special.  The cartoon special gives voice to the truest meaning of Christmas:  the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, fully God and fully man, who would offer in his life and death a chance to restore all people to God’s presence.  What could be worth ranting about?

Old Chuck searches earnestly for meaning within the season.  “There must be more to Christmas. There must be more than commercialism, more than decorating contests, more than just Santa,” he reflects.  The special peaks with Charlie’s sensible friend Linus reciting from the biblical account of Luke chapter 2, where the humble birth of Jesus is recorded.  This is the meaning Chuck has been looking for—truth in the face of trading gifts and running from pageant to party.
                        
A worthy message, and notably one which stands alone in the company of Frosty, the Grinch, and Rudolph.  But Schultz seems to have discovered in 1965 something which countless Christian authors, market researchers, and publishers have confirmed countless times since:  if you add “the Cross” to your project, the Christian audience will eat it up.  Sell it in a Christian bookstore, and it will be purchased by every demographic of well meaning people.  Add a little “bible” to it, and it’ll be a hit with the church-going crowd—even if the effort is not all that good.

To many, Schulz’s syndicated strip Peanuts is a hallowed classic, telling the story of a lovable bald kid and his faithful dog surrounded by characters whose witticisms reflect adult voices delivered through the mouths of babes.  To others, the strip is bad.
Not funny, not clever, not insightful, but the product of a niche author with a brand-loyal following.  It can be difficult to find entertainment value in it, because it’s pretty bland—yet this blandness secures its mass appeal.  Schulz’s special capitalizes on both a mass cultural appreciation of inoffensive, non-challenging entertainment, and a Christian audience who will promote and laud poor efforts, as long as they contain an element of perceived “teachability.”  Why does a viewing audience settle for this?

Culturally, Americans have devalued inspiring and challenging works.  We’ve become satisfied to consume mediocrity, and pass this along to our children, safely homogenized.  The Christian community goes a step further, retreating into its own swaddling blanket of “Christian entertainment.”  When a project includes a mention of scripture, any critical review of content disappears.  One only has to watch a Kirk Cameron movie to see that a high standard of filmmaking and directing do not apply, and why should they?  If it has a little “Bible” in it, the Christian audience will support it anyway.

A friend recently joked that the reason she didn’t make her kids wash their hands every 5 minutes was so they could toughen their immune systems.  Why wash away the germs, if they could grow stronger by fighting?   The mainstream Christian community could take a lesson from this—getting their hands dirty in the world of arts and entertainment might connect with the heart and minds of American culture outside the safe walls of the church.  Can you imagine a world where parents sat down and watched an average movie with their kids, then took time to discuss it?  Imagine discussing its values, or its artistic expression, or the way its characters voice for a deeper societal meaning.  Not every exchange need be a dissertation, but challenging ourselves to think beyond our immediate selves is part of our human responsibility. 

Back to poor Charlie Brown—remember poor old Chuck?  The message Linus shares with Chuck really can be a life-changing one.  Yet it’s delivered in the way many American churches package it, and in the way many American Christians prefer it—swaddled in a marketable way which is not deep, not challenging, and calls for no action to be taken as people live their Christian lives.  It’s too bad—the message alone is powerful enough.


Sunday, December 19, 2010

A Serious Man: A film by the Coen brothers

Joel and Ethan Coen’s 2009 release, A Serious Man, is the epitome of a film more valuable for its sub-text than for its entertainment value. In many ways, the film is difficult to watch, but oddly compelling. It is engrossing in its themes of struggle, inaction, and masculinity.

As the suburban Gopnik family approaches their son’s bar mitzvah, both father (Larry) and son (Danny) engage in intense struggles within their respective worlds. Their hardships are appropriately told within the context of the Jewish community, a people known throughout history to have experienced their share of suffering and conflict.

The film seems to make two substantial claims about life’s struggles, from daily irritations to more seasonal storms. First, life’s struggles amount to nothing, because we will all most certainly die in the end. Second, none of life’s struggles will be solved by an adherence to religion, though the traditions and social norms associated with religious expression will carry considerable weight in moving one through a personal crisis. Though the film does not seem to discount the personal value of religion, it does challenge the validity of religion beyond tradition alone. The traditions associated with religion may help one through a crisis, but the institute itself may prove inadequate.

The Coen brothers give special attention to the role of religious leaders and their perceived ability to provide grounding and calm within life’s storms. Throughout the film, three rabbis (Scott, Nachter, and Marshak) are called upon to offer guidance and counseling. Within the community, the eldest rabbi is held in high esteem, the middle-aged rabbi’s opinion is given moderate weight, and the youngest is merely viewed as an office holder with very little credibility–after all, what life experiences has he to share?

Interestingly, the young rabbi Scott, discounted by the community and culture as naive, offers the most honest and insightful view into Larry Gopnik’s turmoil. Against any expectations, and overlooked by Gopnik, Scott’s response is honest and clear. Nachter, the second eldest rabbi, regales Gopnik with stories and anecdotes, but offers nothing substantial. Marshak, the eldest, and viewed as the wisest spiritual leader, is completely inaccessible to Larry, but meets with the younger Gopnik after his bar mitzvah ceremony. It is during this exchange that we realize the elusive and highly regarded eldest rabbi is merely a purveyor of reconstituted pop culture.

He is an empty office holder, and has his community fooled to believe he is wise. Marshak tells Danny, "go, be a good boy," and quotes from Jefferson Airplane. But is he the only religious leader to be credited with great wisdom, perhaps more wisdom than is due?

A friend recently shared an experience in his congregation, where a part time minister joined his congregation on an interim basis. Among stories of past adventures, personal anecdotes, and irrelevant political musings shared from the pulpit, this part timer had gained a loyal and revered following; reportedly the most powerful speaker many in the congregation had heard in years. My friend didn’t agree, and critically wondered about the role professional religious leaders played in the lives of his surrounding congregants. When the professional’s paycheck stemmed from the congregants, what is the responsibility to the congregants? Is it to entertain and make them feel good, or to interpret their spiritual doctrines in a manner consistent with the traditions of their faith?

From their earliest directorial and screen writing work in the mid 80's until today, Joel and Ethan Coen have represented storytelling in an entertaining, often unsettling, yet thoughtful manner. A Serious Man continues this creative run of films, posing thoughtful observations on those who are professionally called to be spiritual guides. Among other things, the film challenges us to look closely at those hired to be our "spiritual guides." We are cautioned not to look at age, or life experience, or the ability to offer the answer we’re secretly hoping to find. In Jewish tradition, the Old Testament king Solomon says, "with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief." We may find that understanding their truest intentions may cause us to be serious, indeed.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Under the Dome, Part Three

In this final installment focusing on Stephen King’s 2009 novel Under the Dome, we find that the story reveals an individual and collective ability to justify one’s actions in the name of piety and collective good. The very person callously responsible for instigating unrest is the person deflecting the blame and absorbing the credit, the very opposite of the window and mirror maturity exhibited by truly gifted leaders.


Under the Dome, as in our American culture, a central theme is justice versus injustice. We despise Big Jim’s character, not because he is a "conservative Christian" in name but not action, not because he is a used car salesman, not even because he is selfish in so many ways. To despise him for this might be to admit shortcomings within our own person.


We despise him because in King’s narrative storytelling, we’re given a chance to see behind the scenes to the actual events, and see injustice being served. Big Jim is the face of every abusive father, every mean-spirited teacher, every child that grows up torturing his pets, and every elected official who loses track of the "servant" part of "public servant." He is an unjust man, and King appeals to our inherent desire to see the bad guy lose in the end.

Throughout the final chapters, King repeatedly focuses on an unsettling proposition: at some point in our lives, we have all either been the person giving or receiving abuse. His narrative portrays a picture of the helplessness that a victim feels, a picture of the helplessness to stop the abuse and of the regret and shame which accompanies it.

Surprisingly, King contends, this is a feeling shared by both the offended and the offender, and he seems to argue that the actions of the offender will eventually return to haunt him. The manner in which each character accepts this proposition seems to correlate with their demise or survival. Those who accept responsibility for their actions seem to be at peace with themselves even into death. Those who will not admit their guilt it seem to leave this world suffering, either at their own hand or at the hands of others.

Without surprise, a lot of King’s characters die during this story, victims of their own and others’ decisions. Once the book closes, he leaves his audience challenged to take stock of their own lives, and reflectively ask themselves how they have abused or been abused, and how they’ve come to terms with their part in the events of their own lives. Peace, it would seem, may come in the form of our individual acceptance of our faults.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Under the Dome, Part Two

As Stephen King’s latest work progresses, the thin veil of fiction over his commentary on American policies in the war on terror is cast aside.

Like a skilled conductor before an orchestra, town selectman Jim Rennie directs his constituents into a symphony of paranoia and fear-driven decision making.  During the tumult, Rennie’s character disappears into the background, content to allow the mayhem to run freely until he can surface and provide direction.  He has methodically concocted a fear-based culture in which he alone is blameless, and “God help anyone who does not stand on ‘our side’.”

The ensuing town mentality reveals a population eager to surrender due process and individual liberties for the common good.  Supplanting due process is trial by association.  When several citizens are found guilty in the court of public opinion, Rennie wins an easy victory, using the town’s fear as the district judge.  The town quickly begins to fracture into two time honored camps:  “us,” and “them.” 

In the black and white conservative world inhabited by Becks and Palins, it’s hip to target moderate or rational people as radicals responsible for the nation’s fall from God’s favor.  The far left offers little help, painting ultra-conservatives with an anti-intellectual stigma usually reserved for children.  As Americans, we may recall recent headlines, wherein those who did not support the war in Iraq did not support the deployed American troops.  If one didn’t support the Patriot Act, one wasn’t a true red-blooded American.  King’s story alludes to all of these recent memories in his fictional town of Chester’s Mill.

King’s ability to find the voice of his characters on both sides of the aisle is remarkable.  Equally poignant is the polarizing effect upon interpersonal relationships.  People who have lived in proximity for years find themselves, in the face of adversity and human fear, aligning along two factions:  those on the side of control, and those on the side of freedom.  There is little room for discussion between sides—automatically, townspeople believe they know what is right or wrong based solely on appearance.  There is little room for self reflection, objective thought, or evidence.  If a man appears guilty, he is.

King’s veil of fiction lifts entirely as he poses the following question:  Societally, once we have demonized, polarized, and labeled, what freedoms will we willfully and joyfully give up to preserve safety and order?  Will the cultural mindset continue to be one of paranoia and distrust, or will there remain a small population which continues to value reason?

Finally, King reveals an savvy understanding of American media’s ability to sway public opinion.  Both “sides” make an effort to propagandize and energize their causes, but neither side is faultless.  This week, Julian Assange, the WikiLeaks founder responsible for releasing thousands of classified military documents against the federal government’s warnings, has been arrested after being charged with two counts of rape by Interpol.  Following weeks of Wikileaks-related headlines, many have already tried, judged, and sentenced Assange—but are these fair assumptions? 

Under the Dome’s storyline allows the cynical segment of society to question the timing and validity of these allegations.  Are they real, or a form of political retribution for airing information in the face of an administration’s warnings?  When viewed through the lens of King’s warnings, it may be better to reserve judgment.

It’s our American right to hold an opinion.  We may be well cautioned by King’s story to understand these opinions are limited by our human fallibility, our knowledge of only part of the story, and our own mental acuity.  The wisest citizens recognize the line between opinion and fact.

In the next and final installment of Stephen King’s Under the Dome:  The issues of justice and abuse.  Until then….

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Under the Dome, Part One

This year, my commute has been mentally shortened by working through a catalogue of Stephen King audiobooks. Halfway through King’s 2009 work ‘Under the Dome,’ I’m struck by the story’s allegorical take on post-911 life in America. The Dome becomes our nation’s border, or a closed ecosystem with limited and depleting resources. A drifting ex-serviceman bears the burden of every xenophobic fear of the outsider our culture can muster. The town reporter and several of the town pre-teens speak as the minority voices of free, critical, and objective thinking. Big Jim Rennie is the smug, self-righteous voice of ultra conservative "Christian" values looking to demonize all others while making an unapologetic power grab and putting political force far in front of individual liberties. King has created his vilest character EVER in Big Jim, and that’s no small feat from a guy who dreamt up a killer clown that lurked in the town sewer.

The tension between ex-serviceman Dale Barbara (aka ‘Barbie’) and Rennie is uncomfortable. As the outsider, Barbara is resigned to accept his low social status in the small town of Chester’s Mill. While the character’s past life includes being a decorated war veteran and intelligence official, he finds himself inside the town border as a short order cook and the target of suspicion, aggression, and scapegoating. Like many immigrants within our borders, his past life and achievements are invisible. At the halfway point of the book, at least, he is the quintessential "suspicious foreigner" who plays a critical servant’s role in the small town, while being despised by both the town leaders and its privileged sons.

Rennie is a monster on par with any King has unleashed. The small town political figurehead is outwardly a born-again Christian, with the dangerous self-assurance that he is always right. A used car salesman and second selectman, Big Jim brings out a voice in our culture which is everywhere in our political and cultural headlines: "I’m right, but you’re stupid and going to Hell." He is most dangerous behind the scenes, passively but aggressively manipulating the town, its officials, and its resources to personal gain.

Most intriguing is King’s attention given to the spiritual condition of his characters in Under the Dome. In King’s 1974 book ‘Carrie,’ title character Carrie White has a terrifying mother whose religious zeal, suspicion of the world, and abusive nature combine to show the dichotomy between a public faith and a private failure. 36 years later, the townspeople of Chester’s Mill who express any public faith carry their own shortcomings. From substance addiction to abusiveness, each Christian character is either struggling or is completely ineffective in a moral sense. Mostly, the town would be better off without them.

With the second half of the story still unknown, it’s difficult to guess where the story will turn. But that’s true in reality, not just in fiction. As we find many in our nation quick to demonize, stereotype, and label people who are different than "we" are, it really is hard to tell where the current tone will lead us as a nation. If it’s anything like a real Stephen King novel, the end could be pretty scary indeed.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Welcome to Second Guest

Many things in our lives have both a public and private face.  Our front yards and back yards allow guests  to come into our lives, either a little bit or all the way.  Movies often have one message on the surface, and another lying just below.  The lyrics of your favorite song may be written in such a way as to allow for deeper meaning after a few listens.  An author may write an allegory, couching a hidden message.

Welcome to Second Guest, a mix of my life story and some thoughts about the hidden meaning in the stuff I've read and watched.  Enjoy!

-Scott Wheeling