A Cold and Broken Hallelujah: Praying with Leonard Cohen (Archived Post)

The now classic song by Leonard Cohen (who passed from this life, just over a year ago), "Hallelujah," has captured the attention of so many over the years.  It seems to especially resonate at this time of year, owing to a number of covers on Christmas albums and even to a rewritten Christmas parody of the song (https://vimeo.com/55641900).  Yet, even more so, it strikes me as pertinent to the celebration that the Church enters into this weekend: namely Gaudete (Rejoice!)

 Sunday.  There is a kind of darkness, awaiting the Light, to the spirit of Advent.  Yet, it is a darkness filled with HOPE.  This Hope makes possible a mysterious kind of JOY, which can have the effect of confounding the soul in which it arises.  This seems to me to resonate with the "cold and broken alleluia" that the writer recognizes arising from within himself.  Written by a Jewish man who explored a number of other religions, it seems to me to reflect not so much a wrestling with faith as a wrestling with hope.  Yet, it also seems to be a surrender to that hope, allowing it to raise one up to heights not previously imagined as being possible.  What follows is a deeply personal account of how the song affected me, when I spent a lot of time listening to different versions of it back in the summer of 2010.  I don't presume that it reflects the thoughts, beliefs or sentiments of the author himself, especially since our beliefs are quite different. Still, in a manner similar to what I described last month (here), I suspect that in some way I am connecting with something, somehow that touched his heart as well.  It is with profound respect and gratitude that I remember him in my prayers: Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord and let perpetual shine upon him.  May he rest in peace.  Amen.




 “I heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don’t really care for music, do You?”

            Lord, desperately I have sought to please You, to find the secret to unlock Your Heart, as the prize which I have won by my own skill and my own talent.  Indeed, Your Heart is the ultimate prize I seek, but I cannot earn it, only receive it as a gift.  What You ask in return is not my gifts, my talents, my accomplishments.  Your Heart desires so much more!  You want me.  Lord, forgive me for withholding this gift from You.  As poor and pathetic of a gift as I know this to be, may I seek to give You Your Heart’s desire without reservation.

“It goes like this

The fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift”

Lord, time and time again I have failed You.  Time and time again I have fallen.  These falls seem so very insignificant in comparison to the weight of the cross that pushes You to the ground as You ascend to Calvary, or to the disgraceful crown  which pierces Your Sacred Head and drives its thorns deeper as You hit the ground again and again.  Yet, it is my sins that push You to the ground and pierce You so deep.  But, perhaps, I have said enough about my failure; perhaps I have been too enamored with my own song.  Perhaps I have forgotten You. It is You who lifts me from the pit of my own destruction.  You lift me higher than the distance I have fallen.  You lift me to Your Heart.

“The baffled king composes alleluias”

            Lord, Your Love and Power amaze me.  By Your gracious mercy, You make a song which pleases You and brings You honor and glory come forth from my weak, broken heart.  I dare not ask how.  I only say thank You.

“Hallelujah.  Hallelujah.  Hallelujah.”

            Lord, this is all I have left, my very breath.

Top 5 Songs Worth Learning to Listen To In 2016

What is a song that's worth learning to listen to?  Sometimes it might grab you the first time you listen to it.  Other times, it might not.  It might be that there's something about it that you just can't put your finger on.  At some point, you decide to listen to it again.  And again.  And again.  And each time you listen, you listen a little more closely.  And you might begin to understand what it's about, what real human experience it's communicating and trying to make sense of.  And then, you may begin to make sense of your own experience.  This does not mean that you accept all of what is proposed in the song as the answer - that can be very dangerous.  But, it might mean that you and the author of the song share something in common, some human experience of which you are both trying to make sense.  With this realization, first of all, you realize that you are not alone in that experience.  And maybe neither of you has really quite made sense of it yet, but you recognize that there is an answer out there worth striving for.  When we enter this deeply into the song it is not an escape from life, but offers a new soundtrack for this current stage in our journey.  Now, you journey together, striving for the answer.  At some point, you may part ways, but for the moment your journeys have become one.  If we are ever to enter this deeply into a song, we have to learn to listen to it.  There may be many songs released in a given year that are worth listening to.  There are significantly fewer songs worth learning to listen to.  For this reason, I would like to begin a new tradition of ending each Church Year (which concludes in late November, before the new year begins with Advent, for those unfamiliar with the Catholic liturgical calendar) by sharing my "Top 5 Songs Worth Learning to Listen To" of the past year.

Before diving into my Top 5 of 2016, let's lay down a couple ground rules.  First of all, for the sake of opening up the options to include some great selections, this list will not be limited to songs that were released in 2016, but all those from the artist's most recent album (or subsequent release), thus more eligible for frequent radio play, streaming, and other features in 2016.  That takes me to my next point. Popularity, or lack thereof, is irrelevant.  In fact, whether or not the song was released as a single is also irrelevant.  In the age of digital streaming, does it matter which songs are singles anyway, once the album is released and people can look up whatever they want in many cases?  Lastly, there is no requirement of whether the song or artist is classified as "Christian" or "secular."  If it is secular, it must be more than simply a catchy tune.  And if it is Christian, it must be more than simply a hymn or "praise and worship" song, but must represent the in-depth and meaningful interaction between the artist's faith and the human condition.  This is not meant to imply that the more straight forward hymns or "praise and worship" songs are necessarily lesser, but simply that they do not pertain as much to the topic of this blog, which is the meaningful interaction between faith and pop culture.  So, let's begin.  Narrowing this list to five was very difficult.  So I decided not to push it, and tacked two honorable mentions onto the beginning.

Honorable Mention: When We Were Young by Adele 

I have often said that when an artist who one has followed, and who is an honest songwriter, releases a new album, it's like an opportunity to catch up with an old friend.  It might be their new best album.  It might not.  But, part of it's value is found not only in being the new best album ever, but in the fact that a songwriter who strives to share themselves has given us all a glimpse at the current state of their life... And sometimes all of that might be true, even though the songwriter is also pure diva.  Adele captures this "catching up with an old friend" notion quite effectively, with her decision to name her albums simply after her age at the time.  It's like a way of saying, "This album is just what's new in my life right now."  She also captures it in charming ways, like opening the album (and the first single, at that) with a simple "Hello.  It's me.  I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet..."  As this latest album continues, if I were asked to propose a title, other than her age, I would suggest "Gradually Becoming Whole."  While 25 still features a number of the sort of odes to heartbreak, which were so characteristic to 21, and which also have been characteristic of a number of other divas like Taylor Swift and Pat Benatar, it offers us a glimpse of someone who is moving forward and striving toward healing, growth, and maturity.  While a number of songs on the album capture this well, the element of growth and maturity seems to come across very clearly in "When We Were Young."  Yet, one of the most intriguing dimensions of the song is its irony, as a closer listen makes it seem to be more of a snapshot of how a nostalgic longing for what once was can actually stunt our growth, maturity, and healing.   

Honorable Mention: Where the Light Shines Through by Switchfoot

It would have been a shame to produce this list and neglect the soundtrack to the journey of hope and healing, which is the latest Switchfoot album, Where the Light Shines Through.  I think it is fair to say that Switchfoot's breakout album, The Beautiful Letdown, plays as almost a sort of thesis statement for the band, upon which they have continued to expound over the years.  Ever since then, they have continued to serve up albums and songs which give us reflections upon "the already, but not yet," the tension between this life and the next.  Some moments seem to emphasize more "the already" of this life, while others turn our hearts more toward "the not yet" of the fullness of the Kingdom of God, in Heaven.  Along the way, they have managed to capture the grittiness and mess of the human experience, in which the journey toward the next life often leaves us broken and in need of healing.  And they have often captured it with both an honesty and a hopefulness that is deserving of respect by both believers and non-believers alike.  This latest installment speaks of this reality in a way that seems to invite us to join them as they peal off another layer and begin to discover a new depth to this beautiful mystery we call brokenness and healing, which softly breathes out a song that might have seemed impossible.  We may call that song HOPE.  This comes across very clearly, as they employ a technique they have used in a number of past albums, of beginning and ending the album on precisely the same note or thought.  This time, that thought is "Hope deserves an anthem," and finally "Hope is the anthem."  Beautiful.  In the space between this beginning and ending, we find  a blend of more upbeat songs like "Float," "Bull in a China Shop," and "If The House Burns Down Tonight," which - beware! - may get stuck in your head and never leave, and also the mellower tracks like "I Won't Let You Go," and "Live it Well."  Yet, for me, the song that stands out the most is one that, stylistically, might be said to rest somewhere in the middle, with a Tom-Petty-like groove: the title track, "Where The Light Shines Through."  This song, in a very simple, yet significant manner presents the concept and image driving the album: the wound is where the light shines through.  It is often the places where we are most broken that we see hope break in, like a dawn over a desolate land.  

#5: Hiding Place by Josh Garrels 

A convenient mishearing of Josh Garrels ("Rise")
by someone who has not had their morning coffee.*

This new single resembles something powerful about Josh's previous album Love & War & the Sea In Between.  Whereas his most recent album, Home, is more chill and... well, homey sounding, not only did Love & War & the Sea In Between have a greater diversity of sounds and styles, like it's predecessor, Jacaranda, it also had a different overall tone running through it, expressed both musically and lyrically.  Not only did it sound like honest and thoughtful folksy singer-songwriter music, there was something about that music that sounded epic, even dare I say, apocalyptic.  Yes, I will dare to say it, especially with songs like "Revelator," which employed very clear apocalyptic imagery.  The new single, "Hiding Place," revisits that same tone, which is simultaneously honest, relate-able, and epic.  On the surface, it seems to be a simple tale about a woman and her child seeking refuge, amidst the dangers and toils of this broken world.  It taps into the anxiety which touches so many hearts, seeking refuge, peace and security in this world filled with so much madness.  And yet, upon a closer listen, it begins to become clear (to those familiar with the Scriptures) where he has devised this imagery from: the 12th chapter of the Book of Revelation.  Besides being a personal favorite of mine, the 12th chapter is one of great importance, incredibly rich both spiritually and theologically.  While the woman represents both Mary and the Church, the dragon attacking her and her Child simultaneously represents Herod and the Devil and our own temporal threats, which threaten both her Child (Christ) and her children (us).  By drawing on this imagery, he has employed the great value of apocalyptic literature in a very effective way.  Not only does it offer us a glimpse of heaven, wherein lies our hope, it uses bold and shocking imagery in a way that illumines our own experiences of trial and difficulty.  This enables us both to see how our own lives, even our trials, enable us to enter into the mysteries of Christ and offer us the hope of His final victory.  With this song, Josh touches upon our deepest fears and anxieties and also shows where to go to find our true refuge.

#4: There Will Be Time by Mumford & Sons and Baaba Mal

I have a friend from my seminary years who would often repeat the phrase "nothing is new under the sun."  At first, it took these words as being very negative and disparaging, especially as it would apply to the work of artists, authors and all called to create.  Yet, as I began to see the value of traditions within which people work, I began to recognize that originality is a pretty poor choice for a highest value after which to strive.  Over time, I came to understand those words as words of perspective, pointing us toward a Truth and Beauty which transcends all created things.  I think it's in this sense that the words are employed in Scripture, specifically in the Book of Ecclesiastes.  Over the years, a number of artists have picked up on this perspective, not simply the apparent despair, found in the Book of Ecclesiastes.  Most famously, the song "Turn! Turn! Turn!", written by Pete Seeger, made famous by The Byrds, and covered by a number of others, draws directly upon the words of Ecclesiastes.  This beloved old song captures the peace, acceptance and even hope that can be found by acknowledging the sometimes cyclical nature of life, and also wondering at the wisdom of providence.  Yet, the broader context in which the same words of Scripture are found, takes us first through acknowledging the futility of striving after the things of this life - even after worldly wisdom - before arriving at the new perspective and the peace, acceptance and hope that come with it.  This fuller meaning is captured even more effectively, I think, by the recent collaboration between Mumford & Sons & Baaba Maal, "There Will Be Time."  I am glad that I kept giving this song another listen.  Initially, I was not wowed by it.  I did not even immediately notice the connection to Ecclesiastes.  Yet, there was something about it that kept me coming back.  Eventually, I began to hear within it the cries of men, a little beaten and bruised, who have struggled through the futility of going through life, often without perspective, yet coming out the other side with a new sense of purpose.  This purpose is derived from striving to live not for ourselves, but for another.  

#3: I Feel Good by Levv

Audrey Assad's side project with Seth Jones, under the name Levv, has been a great gift to those of us who saw her depth and talent as a songwriter in her early days.  Recently, she has taken a turn toward devoting her solo work to hymns and other songs that are more exclusively theological and spiritual.  And this has produced some beautiful things.  Yet, her first two albums also showed her great gifts as an honest songwriter who shares her heart vulnerably and brings her faith into direct contact with both the brokenness and the abiding hope of the human condition.  Thankfully, these gifts have found new expression with Levv, which has already produced some very interesting and beautiful songs.  Furthermore, I think Seth Jones has helped her to find a more diverse sound, especially for the more upbeat tracks, that both sounds more intriguing and seems surprisingly natural for her compared with some of her earlier recordings.  Among all of these songs, "I Feel Good" stands out most for me.  I suppose it is quite possible for one to have a similar experience to mine upon a first listen through Levv's Strange Fire EP.  Half listening, not catching many lyrics, suddenly you may find yourself dancing to a sweet little bridge that sounds ripped right out of the 80's.  So, you glance at the track list and, then, as the beat drops a second time, you think, "Dang, this girl does feel good!"  But, then, you pay closer attention the next time the track comes back around and your heart drops.  "Oh, she doesn't feel good at all.  She simply has become numb to the pain." In fact, this is the song in which we finally have a clear and vivid description of the depths of her pain, both in the lyrics and in the haunting tone of the first half of the song.  And what is the source of her feeling good - or rather her numbness?  "I've got a pill waiting for me at the end of the day."  The moment the beat drops no longer seems a moment of genuine joy, but more likely the moment the pill kicks in and starts to take effect.  It is hard to tell precisely what the pill is.  Perhaps it is an actual pill, or perhaps it is one of any number of attachments or addictions we can retreat into, in order to hide.  Perhaps it is even something good, which may be genuinely therapeutic, perhaps it could be her piano and the opportunity to create beautiful music.  Still, however therapeutic something may be, if it is merely a pill, an escape from reality designed to mask the pain, it offers an illusion.  {It is important to note that I am not implying that music is necessarily an escape from reality, as the very premise of this blog is that art can be a companion to reality, bearing great meaning.}  As the song closes by mellowing back into the euphoric bliss of her insistence that she feels good, it begins to become all too clear that beneath this mask, the wound still festers.  It seems that no happy ending comes in this song, but only as it leads into a song about being pierced by something that genuinely awakens hope and brings new meaning into her life ("Arrow"), and ending on a new resolution that speaks of genuine peace ("Learning To Let Go").  And if you have the album on repeat, you may now notice that it began on a note of learning to find hope in, and even to love, her "Darkness."  Yet, as this leads into the most gleeful, yet equally

When the man's right, he's right.

ironic, track in which she sings of her love of a "Heartbreaker," you begin to come full-circle.  And then, the thought might dawn that maybe, just maybe, the pill that some of us may need to come to terms with and to let go of is our propensity for drama.    

#2: Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos

"Knowing is half the battle!"  This lesson, found in the old G.I. Joe cartoon, explains why "Dear Wormwood" climaxes with a deep, primal cry of freedom.  The song, which serves as the title track of the album, borrows its title from the address at the beginning of each letter from C.S. Lewis's Screwtape Letters.  The letters in the book are written by Screwtape, the demon's uncle and mentor.  The song, however, is from the perspective of the soul tormented by him.  In so doing, it captures both the spirit and the supreme value of the book.  By identifying the self-defeating thoughts and movements that invade our hearts and minds - thoughts of insecurity, of cowardice, of self-loathing, of selfishness and temptation to sin, etc - we learn to recognize how our enemy lies to us.  Once we have learned to identity his voice, his ability to deceive us is greatly limited.  I recommend that anyone reading this who has not yet read Screwtape Letters, move it up your priority list!  But, in the meantime, listen to "Dear Wormwood" for a beautiful and honest musical reflection.  In so doing, you will find a raw and real description of the torments and anguish we put ourselves through, because we listen to the deceiver, but all with a tone of relishing in victory, as we have learned how to recognize his voice, so that his lies can no longer harm us.  This recognition is an important part of claiming the victory that Christ won for us.  Give it a listen.  Tonight.  Then, read through the hymn of victory, found in the Book of Revelation (11:17-18; 12:10b-12a) and notice that "the accuser of our brothers has been cast out, who night and day accused them before God.  They defeated Him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony."  Glory to God.

Get it? Worm-Would?*

#1: Happiness by NeedToBreathe 

Speaking of how the enemy lies to us, it is important to remember that, since he cannot create, he has a way of distorting what is good, hijacking our best intentions.  One place in which we see this is when we find ourselves wrestling with the sometimes fine line between magnanimity and selfish ambition.  When God grants someone a magnanimous heart, they recognize within themselves that "I've got dreams that keep me up in the dead night, Telling me I wasn't made for the simple life."  They have a huge heart, that is bursting with a gift of greatness they know they are called to give to the world, in order to point them toward the One who gave it to them.  Yet, the enemy will seek to distort this call to greatness into selfish ambition.  In that case, that man or woman may soon find themselves singing, "I'm asking you to show me some forgiveness."  NeedToBreathe's last album explored the aftermath of how losing perspective and allowing their good intentions to be clouded and eventually transformed (think "Difference Maker") into selfish ambition takes a toll on relationships, which will need to be healed (think "Brother").  This new album, Hardlove, seems to continue that same process of healing relationships.  One key difference is the added emphasis on the realization of how much work these relationships require, which is especially clear in the title track, which could also have easily made this list.  However, another difference seems to be that this album seems to shift the focus from their relationships with each other as brothers, to that of the spouse(s).  In fact, the title track seems to introduce the concept of the love that requires sacrifice, in a manner that could be easily applied as much to a spouse as to Christ.  This dual meaning seems to be found in a number of songs on the album.  Yet, the album also features a number of beautiful love ballads, such as the tragic "No Excuses", as well as "Be Here Long" and "Let's Stay Home Tonight."  Yet, the last of these love songs, "Clear," seems to reveal the writer's newfound perspective of renewed and deepened commitment to his vocation to marriage.  Yet, the centerpiece of this journey of selfishness, brokenness, healing and finally commitment to the other is "Happiness."  This centerpiece shows the man wrestling with that confusion between magnanimity and selfish ambition.  It will become clear in the final three tracks of the album that he has begun to realize that the greatness he has been seeking, the call to give of himself in extraordinary ways, is fulfilled in the intimacy of his vocation.  This conclusion is foreshadowed in its turning point, as he follows up his apology, with the confession, "It's all for you in my pursuit of happiness."  This song represents profoundly the struggle along the journey toward discovering two key differences between the magnanimous and the proud: first, the magnanimous are humble and second, they are happy.  And apparently, they are also write of their experience in a way that just makes you wanna dance!     
   

* = From the creative mind of my esteemed co-worker at St. Joseph's Newman Center, at Bradley University, and master of puns, Sam Mangieri  III.

Forward to the 2017 List...>>>

Destiny, Providence, & Free Will: In Memory of "Back to the Future Day" (Archived Post)

       One year ago, on October 21, 2015, 80's film enthusiasts and Cubs fans everywhere celebrated "Back to the Future Day," because it was the day to which Marty and Doc travel in the second movie.  In honor of this day, I shared the following reflection with members of the Catholic Illini contact list.

       “I’m your… density.”  These words spoken to Marty McFly’s (future) mother by his (future) father, point to a bit more than a nervous, unconfident teenager stuttering to speak to the girl he likes.  In a subtle way, they reflect the human wrestling with the notion of destiny.  So, what is destiny?  Is it real?  This seems to be a key question for these comedy movies, but also for our lives. 

       Ultimately, the popular notion of “destiny” is a secular attempt to make sense of a notion we all find attractive: that all things happen for a reason.  Yet, having accepted the false premise that faith and science can’t coexist, the Christian notion of providence seems impossible.  Thus, “destiny” is born – which ultimately ends up being an impersonal determinism for our lives.  The Back to the Future trilogy tests the theory by seeing how much changing one small detail of our lives changes the course of our future.  And all of these comical misadventures lead to what seems to be the real point summed up by Doc Brown at the conclusion of the trilogy:: “Your future isn’t written yet!  So make it a good one.”

            So, what is the alternative?  The key is this: yes, there is a plan for our lives! But, that plan includes your free will, because it is written by your Father who loves you and made you for happiness.  He respects your free will, because He gave it to you.  In the words of C.S. Lewis, “Free will, though it makes evil possible, also makes possible any love or goodness or joy worth having.”  Free will reflects the image of God and makes this goodness and love possible.  So, the key is to realize that our actions do influence the course of our lives.  And yes, God can bring great good from our greatest sufferings and even our worst sins – this is called redemption.  But, He is not a puppet-master deceiving us with the notion that we have control of our lives.  No, the choice is ours what we do with our lives.  But, our loving Father, asks us for the humility – and offers us the courage – to believe that His plan for our lives really is the surest bet for our happiness.  Ask Him for the gift of believing this with greater courage today.    

If you don't get it, think about the whole Cubs winning the World Series part of the movie.

Beyond "Sofa-Happiness": Why I Loved Daredevil & Why I Had To Quit Watching It

     When I set up this blog, I posted the Seven Principles I use for engaging popular stories.  Over the course of these various posts, I have tried to offer examples of what it looks like to apply them.  This time, I would like to offer an example of the principle that is often the most challenging of all:

     #7: Knowing When To Let Go

      a)     Just because it has meaning, doesn’t mean it will ultimately be good for us.

     b)    Even the meaningful things are only as good as their capacity to lead us to live well in reality with Christ.

     After the first season of Daredevil, I was extremely impressed and hopeful about the future of, not only that show, but the other Netflix and Marvel Studios collaborations.  Nonetheless, I still had my reservations about the intensity of some of the content.  However, given that the good far outweighed the bad, it was not done outside of a context which continually called it into question, and there was a rather hopeful tone running even through this very dark show, I remained optimistic.  In fact, I was so optimistic that I had intended to cap of the summer with a post inspired by season two.  However, as I worked my way through season two, earlier this summer, I grew to like the show less and less, as my reservations increased and the positive elements gradually decreased.    The final straw for me was one particularly gruesome scene which was so excessively violent that I realized the decision I had to make.  I finally decided it was enough!  After seeing scenes so explicitly violent that it is degrading to the human person, I knew that it was time to put principle seven into effect: It was time to let go.  The show was not completely devoid of its value. In fact some really interesting things were still happening with the plot, character development, and thematic content (generally the three things I appreciate most about a good story).  But, there comes a point when I must say, "I don't need this in my life personally, and furthermore, I want to have no part in it.  I won't entertain it (or worse yet, allow it to entertain me) and I won't support it."  It was then that I realized why I had been planning all along to make a post inspired by season two.  So, please understand, my goal in making this post is not to badmouth the show or disparage it.  Rather, it is an opportunity to give an honest and personal example, from my own life. of what it looks like to practice this very challenging, but also very important principle.  It is my hope that considering this example will assist all who read it to grow into more mature decisions of responsibility and integrity, with regard to where we look for entertainment.

     This is the difficult predicament we find ourselves in.  We may find all of the right reasons, sometimes, for continuing to watch, read, or otherwise enjoy something that we know is not good for us, or for others who may be influenced by us.  Sometimes, we are simply justifying a decision that we know runs contrary to the decision we know we need to make.  We must be honest about that.  However, it can also be the case that it just really is a decidedly mixed bag.  It could be that there are legitimately really good, positive, meaningful things, which are honestly our motivation for continuing to enjoy something... but, that doesn't mean that we always should continue to do so, in the end.  Just this summer, at World Youth Day in Poland, Pope Francis spoke of the paralyzing nature of what he has termed "sofa-happiness," which can easily make one think of the addictive nature of things like Netflix, Hulu, video games, or any other thing that can keep us comfortably on our sofas for hours upon hours at a time.  The whole reflection is well-worth your time and can be found here.  

      However, as his description of the paralysis of "sofa-happiness" continues, he seems to raise the stakes.  It begins to become clear that he is not simply making young people feel guilty for spending too long on the couch, but rather calling them and empowering them to a higher standard, one which refuses to allow themselves to be controlled and manipulated.  He claims that "sofa-happiness" makes us "drowsy and dull, while others - perhaps more alert than we are, but not necessarily better - decide our future for us... For many people, that is more convenient than having young people who are alert and searching, trying to respond to God's dream and to all the restlessness present in the human heart.  I ask you: do you want to be young people who nod off, who are drowsy and dull? [No!]  Do you want others to decide your future for you? [No!]  Do you want to be free? [Yes!]."  This concept is extremely striking and thought-provoking for me.  It soon made me call to mind the famous scene in the movie Gladiator, when Maximus screams at the crowd, "Are you not entertained?!  Is this not why you are here?!"  He says that right after killing multiple people, because he has been thrust into this situation that forces him to either brutally kill or be killed, all for the entertainment of the masses.  Yet, there is something powerful about his cry, because it not only invites them to think critically on what they consider as entertainment, but to think deeper about the question of why it is that they are there.  This brutality was a sickening form of entertainment which was used to keep the masses dull, satisfied, pacified.  They kept the people satisfied with "bread and circuses," with food and entertainment.  As long as the people remained satisfied in this way, they could be controlled.  Incidentally, The Hunger Games is, in part, a dystopian parody of this same concept (more on that here), to offer a more recent example.  In the words of Pope Francis, "when we opt for ease and convenience, for confusing happiness with consumption then we end up paying a high price indeed: we lose our freedom... There are so many people who do not want the young people to be free... who want you to be drowsy and dull, and never free!"  

     But, as both Gladiator and The Hunger Games try to demonstrate, the people have more power than the corrupt powers that be would like them to believe.  Likewise, Pope Francis challenges us to recognize that, even when we don't expect much from ourselves, because we have allowed the culture to make us drowsy and dull, "God expects something from you, God wants something from you.  God hopes in you... God comes to break open everything that keeps you closed in.  He is encouraging you to dream.  He wants to make you see that, with you, the world can be different.  For the fact is, unless you offer the best of yourselves, the world will never be different.  This is the challenge.  The times we live in do not call for young 'couch potatoes', but for young people with shoes, or better boots laced... History today calls us to defend our dignity and not to let others decide our future."  This notion of defending our dignity is very important.  When I speak of content that is tastelessly graphic, whether of a violent or a sexual nature, as being degrading, I do not merely mean that it is degrading to the human persons depicted.  It is also degrading to us.  It offends our dignity, by offering us something that implies that we are easily entertained by gross and offensive distortions and mutilations of human nature, of the glory and beauty of the human body, of the sexual act, and of other things that God made to glorify himself.  The question of whether we can be entertained so easily directly correlates to how easily we can be satisfied, controlled, manipulated.  The Holy Father is not simply being overly dramatic when he speaks of "sofa-happiness" robbing us of our freedom.  The stakes are truly far higher than we know, or perhaps simply than we like to admit.  

    How often do we say to ourselves 'well, you have to expect that from Hollywood,' as we make lite of offensive and degrading content in the things we enjoy?  Why do we expect this?  Because it sells.  Why does it sell?  Because we are buying it!  Consider Maximus crying out to you: Are you not entertained?!  Is this not why you are here?!  Why are you here?  To be satisfied, controlled, manipulated.  How often do we allow the media to tell us what is popular, relevant, and even what we should hold to be true?  Will we allow the media to determine the values of yet another generation?  Or will we be free?  These are the questions that are at stake, when we finally make the choice to say, "Enough!  I don't need this in my life and I want no part in it!"     

    And yet the predicament remains.  "These are not the reasons I watch it," we tell ourselves.  And the hard part is that we might not be simply lying to ourselves about this.  It may be that we have all the right reasons for enjoying what we enjoy.  And in many cases, there may not be a universal answer that applies for everyone in every situation.  Certainly, there are shows - for example, Game of Thrones comes to mind - that really do require sincere hearts to own up to the fact that it is not good for anyone to watch.  However, most involve a bit of gray area.  For example, it is very hard to find even relatively well done portrayals of Catholicism in television and film.  It is hard to find a show that has good writing (great dialogue), directing and acting, with characters that are not two-dimensional, in which the character(s) actually attempt to live their Catholic identity faithfully.  It is hard to find a show, in which their living of their faith actually impacts the genuine human struggles the plot and character development revolve around, in a manner that is real, positive, and meaningful.  It is hard to find a show in which the characters actually consult their priest in these struggles, and furthermore, that priest is neither unrealistically and un-relatably "wise," nor aloof and out of touch with reality.  It is so rare to find a portrayal of a Catholic priest that is both positive and human.  Season one of Daredevil was all of these things.  

      The first season provided a thought-provoking and in-depth reflection on what authentic justice really is, and Matt Murdock's attempts to discover the true nature of justice and to be a servant of that authentic justice was deeply intertwined with his Catholic upbringing.  Most surprising of all was that, in this search for authentic justice, the role of what is commonly called "Catholic guilt" was dealt with in a manner that was nuanced and not superficially and thoughtlessly critical, as most popular treatments of the topic seem to be.  This is why I was intrigued when the quote from the priest offered up (no pun intended) in the first season two teaser trailer had him saying: "Guilt can be a good thing.  It's the soul's call to action... the indication that your work is not yet finished."  This alone is a powerful statement.  It is a rather bold move for a popular show in our culture today to place guilt within a positive context, showing that it is not always something destructive, but can be something that moves us to action.  However, the full context of that quote is far less praiseworthy than the quote itself at least has the potential to be.  

       At this time, I would like to discuss the advice of the priest early in Season Two, as I believe it contributes to my larger point, and also contributed to my personal decision.  There are actually a number of things wrong with what the priest says in this whole scene (a big step down from his scenes in season one), but I won't go into all of them now.  Most importantly, the priest tells him "the only way to rid your heart of (guilt) is to correct your mistakes and keep going until amends are made."  With those words, the priest left Christianity on the shelf and traded it in for dime a dozen self-help advice, bordering dangerously on the heresy of Pelagianism.  The Christian response would not attempt to speak of ridding the heart of guilt, without speaking of the Mercy of God, without speaking of Jesus Christ who died to give us that Mercy.  Now, this Mercy calls for a response and that response is called repentance.  Matt himself feels a pull toward genuine repentance, as evidenced by the fact that he says he is seeking forgiveness.  And the priest steers him away from seeking this forgiveness, instead telling him that simply making things better on his own is enough.  Still, the question remains of what precisely Matt is in need of forgiveness for, if anything.  Nonetheless, this is simply not a Christian response.  Granted, repentance involves more than simply seeking forgiveness alone.  It also involves a change, a turning away from that for which we are seeking forgiveness.  This is the call to action, which the priest is highlighting.  And he is not wrong to do so.  He is wrong in suggesting that this 'taking action' alone is the 'only way to rid your heart of guilt,' when in fact the action we take alone will never be enough.  We are always in need of God's Mercy.  And He is always ready to give it to us.  

     So, the call to action emphasized by the priest remains incomplete, because he is not offering a complete image of repentance, because He chooses not to speak of God's Mercy at a crucial time.  Ironically, this scene was the first moment that I began to consider my own call to action, calling me to turn from watching this show.  I guess this is part of what doesn't sit well with me about the priest's advice.  He does not offer any guidance in what action should be taken.  Perhaps that is because there is not an easy answer to that.  But, this is still crucial.  This is what maturity calls for: not only freedom to act, but also responsibility - the responsibility to act rightly.  And this is what brings me back to my general point.

     There is an urgent need to recover the notion that we cannot understand maturity without emphasizing responsibility.  Yet, it is often the entertainment industry that has helped so greatly in losing this sense.  It has helped our culture to develop a warped sense of what it means to be an adult, to be mature.  What our TV ratings system, and our content advisory call "Mature" and "Adult" tend to actually mean "unrestrained in our immaturity."  Like the young adult who is recently emancipated from the boundaries established by their parents or guardians, there is no one to prevent us from showing things that distort and abuse our human nature, to treat sacred and beautiful things as things to be abused however we see fit for our amusement.  This is the opposite of maturity.  

      So, this is my one final "call to action" to all readers of good will.  It is twofold.  First, put the seventh principal into effect, by being honest and courageous about what changes need to be made in what you look to for entertainment.  Second, call things what they are.  Do not refer to pornographic content as "adult content," or to something that is outrageously degrading in its depiction of violence as "mature."  These things are simply unrestrained immaturity and they will not help you to grow and mature into an honest and responsible adult.  Honesty is an important step toward responsibility.  Responsibility is something that goes hand in hand with integrity.  Integrity causes us to strive to ever more consistently live our deepest identity. That is what enables us to rise beyond "sofa-happiness" and hold ourselves to a higher standard, which enables us to "give the very best of ourselves," and contribute to building a better world.  That is maturity.  

For more perspectives on this, check out a couple of videos from Fr. Mike Schmitz (here) and Chris Stefanick (here).

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Let the Weak Shame the Strong: Hunger Games as Inspiration for Youth Ministry (Archived Post)

       Now that I am working with youth ministry again, and also preparing for next month's post (here), which includes discussing the dystopian parody of Ancient Rome found in The Hunger Games, I was reminded of this piece written a few years back, while serving at Epiphany Parish in Normal, IL and working extensively with youth ministry.  The first movie had just released a few months prior and I had chosen to use "Holiness Games" as the theme for the youth ministry semester kick-off.  What follows is from a letter I wrote to the youth and their parents, explaining why I chose The Hunger Games as inspiration...

Of all movies, music, catch-phrases and other popular things in culture, why draw inspiration from The Hunger Games?  Well, the meaning found in art may or may not be intentional on the part of the artist.  Nonetheless, there are different degrees to which different artists intend to transmit meaning in their work.  I do think, however, that the more we open our eyes to meaning the more we will become convinced that there is hardly anyone out there, indeed if anyone at all, singing songs, writing them, making movies, etc., who has nothing to say.  And this need not be approached with distrust as if it were merely an agenda; maybe it is simply the case that they believe they have found some meaning in life.  Generally, however, we cannot know the intent of the artist with absolute certainty, unless they communicate it to us directly.  Some, however, are so bold in the symbols they use and the way their stories develop that it is highly unlikely that they did not intend to communicate meaning.  Perhaps one of the clearest examples is C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and Wardrobe.  Few people who know the story of Christ and His Death and Resurrection for our salvation would fail to recognize this meaning present in Lewis’ classic, and to presume some intention on his part.  Well, Suzanne Collins (the author of The Hunger Games) has crafted quite a different story and her meaning is a bit different, but the meaning found in her pages does appear to be quite bold. 

The Hunger Games is quite a dark story set in an equally dark world.  Yet, in many ways, the cruelty and horror found in Panem – the country in which the story is set – is nothing original.  In fact, as the books proceed, Collins begins to make some more explicit references to ancient Rome, including a conversation in the third book (Mockingjay, pg. 223) about the old expression Panem et Circenses (Latin for “bread and circus” – notice that panem was already found in the name of the country), which referred to the fact that the people of Rome were satisfied by the fact that they were given food and entertainment, and thus their concern for the welfare and government of their own country were appeased and silenced.  Never mind the fact that their entertainment was the brutal killing of human persons!  In Panem, the Games which satisfy the masses are centered around, not only the killing of human persons, but of the poorest and weakest: children from the various districts, segregated on basis of wealth and poverty.  One can readily see the connection between this and abortion – the killing of the poorest and weakest members of our society, children who are not yet even born.  However, there is even more still at stake here (at this point, I will remind all readers that I do not necessarily claim that the thoughts that I put forth are necessarily the thoughts or intention of Suzanne Collins).  In order to appease the selfish appetites of those who believe that true freedom means that no one can stop them from doing whatever they please (rather than being freedom from their own passions, in order to choose what is truly good for themselves and for society), those who currently hold power and influence impose their views upon our children, attempting to create a new social norm that is even to be protected in law, by which anyone who believes differently than they do is accused of hate.  Once upon a time, law was given to us in order to provide a structure and guidance that enabled people to choose what is truly good for themselves and for society, and likewise penalties were given for the sake of promoting the common good, by discouraging that which is opposed to it.  Most importantly, it was a reflection in human society of the Divine Law, the beautiful order with which our Creator designed His creation, in order to guide us back toward Himself.   Now, however, the pervading attitude toward law in our culture, and even in many areas of our government, is a means of removing any such structure that may provide an obstacle toward an individual’s ability to do whatever he or she pleases, regardless of whether it is truly good for them or for society, and penalties are given (disregarding actual freedoms of speech and religion) in order to punish those who wish to believe in something called the true good.  We can see this not only in recent actions by our federal government, but in the attitudes promoted in many schools, in media, and even in the fact that Disney movies seem to have been promoting non-traditional families for many years.  The attempt to normalize the notion that there is no true good and that anyone who wishes to believe otherwise, and is public about such beliefs, is guilty of “hate,” is truly a way of killing our youth, spiritually, morally, and often psychologically, by teaching them that faith is something that deserves punishment, and all of this so that others can satisfy their desire to do as they please.  All of this goes on while so many of us enjoy a comfortable existence, with our needs of food and entertainment (panem et circenses) satisfied.   

It is clear that the state of affairs in Panem is meant to be seen as a horrific thing.  For all of its violence and messiness, the story does not promote violence or the evil that is depicted.  In fact, quite the opposite, from the very beginning of the movie, death seems to loom over the whole scene.  And this continues to pervade, as it builds toward the point in which the Games finally begin.  The violence of this scene is hardly glamorized; it is portrayed with a horror, that is not meant to entertain, but to help us to recognize how starkly this contradicts the dignity of the human person.  It should be noted that the dignity of human life is a theme that comes up often in the series.  However, there are also points in which Collins fails to be consistent, as her attitude toward certain other crimes against the dignity of human life is far less laudable, and even unacceptable.  (For more information on this, I recommend a review by Fr. John-Mary Bowlin, a priest of the Diocese of Tyler, Texas, entitled The Hunger Games: Reflections of a Spiritual Father for the Evangelization of Culture; read the whole thing here).    
     

Perhaps, however, the boldest aspect of this dark world depicted by Suzanne Collins in The Hunger Games is the fact of how they got this far.  In the words of Fr. Bowlin (here), “The political state of affairs in Panem is the result of complacency.”  It is the result of people sitting back and doing nothing, because their basic needs of food and entertainment (panem et circenses) are satisfied, because they fail to look beyond themselves and to recognize the dignity of those who are suffering and dying.  This fact comes across boldly in The Hunger Games series, as you see the obliviousness, selfishness, and vanity of the audiences and hosts in the Capitol.  Perhaps the most clear and powerful point in which this is communicated is in the third book, in which one of the characters comments: “Actually, the whole country just sat by and watched,” and the other replies, “Well, that’s what they do best” (Mockingjay 222).  How long will we sit back and watch while the world that our children are inheriting is being violently transformed into one in which selfishness has taken the place of true freedom and goodness?  Dare I suggest that even our indifference to meaning in art and entertainment contributes to this complacency that amounts to just sitting by and watching it all go down? 

But, for all of this darkness, where is the hope in The Hunger Games?  It is found in the fact that the youth of District 12, the lowest and poorest of the districts, stand up and refuse to be controlled by this wicked regime.  As the trilogy progresses, we see that, desperately grasping for justice in a broken world, they do not always turn to means that we can consider laudable or acceptable (again, I recommend the review of Fr. Bowlin).  So, let us bring this back to reality.  Let’s apply the Augustine Principle (see Seven Principles).  How is it that Christ fulfills the desire for goodness, justice, and true freedom in our broken world, which we see boldly reflected in Panem?  He chooses the weak to shame the strong.  He calls you, youth and adults alike, of our parish and of the whole Church, to rise up and refuse to be controlled.  He calls you to be saints, who make the world think twice.  This call to holiness, placed upon all of us, is about so much more than moral perfection, so much more than following one rule after another, jumping through hoops and checking it off the list.  It begins with faith.  It begins by believing that Jesus Christ alone is true and only He can satisfy the deepest desires of your heart for happiness, for truth, for freedom, and for love.  The moral decisions that come from a life of holiness flow from the fact that Jesus Christ is first in your life and you have come to know and believe with the faith of St. Peter: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God" (John 6).  This is the foundation for believing that His law and commandments, as hard as they may be to follow in a world that disregards them, are the only true path to happiness.  This is holiness: Allowing Christ to live within you.  This is the sort of life that refuses to allow itself to be controlled by the selfishness and vanity of the masses.  This is the life of those who stand up and make a difference… simply by living their lives to the fullest… in spirit and in truth.  This is the call the Lord gives to you.  This is why I have been saying it since I arrived at our parish and I will continue to say it: Youth, you are our secret weapon.  It’s time to let the secret out.

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We Know His Name, But Is That Who He Is?: Jason Bourne and the Question of Identity

     As a youngster, my friends and I would dabble in homemade movies.  Inevitably, perhaps due to our inability to replicate the kind of quality we saw in the movies we loved to go see in the theater on the weekends, we would fall back on trying to make them funny.  However, having both a penchant for drama and a healthy dose of perfectionism, I took my time trying to absolutely perfect my own script, which I would eventually contribute to colleagues for production, if it had ever left the brainstorming phase.  It was not only my overblown attempts at perfection that delayed pre-production.  It was also that the idea was scrapped when a new major motion picture arrived in the theaters.  As I watched the earliest trailers and read descriptions, my ire grew as I came to the conclusion, "That's my idea!  And theirs doesn't even look funny!"  My idea was a movie about a man with amnesia who, through various incidents of spontaneously discovering his own highly developed set of skills, comes to the realization that he was a master assassin.  The title would have been... wait for it... "Brain-Fart".  The film that killed it was The Bourne Identity.

     This frustration of feeling that Hollywood had beaten me to turning "my idea" into a reality led to my being adamantly against ever watching any of the Bourne movies for several years.  However, it was after the third installment was released that I was finally convinced by friends, who could not believe that I hadn't seen any of them, that I would find them worth watching.  I do not regret things unfolding the way they did because the result was that I had the pleasure of watching the entire Bourne Trilogy straight through for the first time all at once.  However, it was only after watching the first one that I realized that I had discovered a new series to be counted among my favorites.

     So, what is it that I find so intriguing about these movies?  The answer is simple: it is the ultimate action movie form of a story about a man seeking his identity.

     One common ingredient of a truly intriguing mystery is that it often engages the reader/viewer/listener with the question of who everyone is (including, but not limited to, the question of who the "villain" is).  Especially in those mysteries that contain an element of espionage, it often takes the form of "who are you really?" (like Ethan Hunt asks Brandt in Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol). Sometimes, you may have a particularly provocative spy respond with something like, "Who do you want me to be?" (like Black Widow asks Steve in Captain America: Winter Soldier).  And then, you have the less admirable figures like James Bond, who consistently use this ability to do and be whatever the situation requires for his own selfish, often impulsive advantage.  In the midst of all this, here comes a man who simply wants to know who he is.  Yet, as the story develops, it invites the further question of "What if I don't like the answer?  Is it possible to change it?"  Thus, it opens up the deeper question: not simply "what is his identity?" but "what is identity itself?"  The big reveal at the end of the second movie - of his real name, David Webb - invites anyone who had not already considered it to ponder who he might have been before he became the master assassin, Jason Bourne.  This is a very fitting turn, at the end of a movie that showed that his attempt to leave behind the old self, which he gradually discovered over the course of the first movie, would not be so easily accomplished as the organization that created "Jason Bourne" will not let him go.

     It may prompt us to ask the question: is it really true that we cannot leave behind the old self?  How can we possibly live up to the great challenge of Saint Paul to put on the new man (Ephesian 4:24)?  Well, the first key to that is realizing that Saint Paul never intended that this be something we try to do on our own.  In the movies, Jason hopes to create a new identity for himself out of the sheer force of his will, violently reinforced by his unique skills.  However, it is striking that the image of his apparent death, which he tries to turn into an opportunity to begin again, is one of drowning, being immersed in water... not unlike the true source of new life and a fresh beginning: baptism.  Thus, it was not an accident that, when St. Paul spoke of putting on the new man, he told us to "put on the Lord Jesus Christ" (Romans 12:14), which is possible because we were "baptized into Christ Jesus" (Romans 6:3). Then, we may begin to realize that the question of how we can leave behind the old man does indeed involve the question of how we understand our identity.
   
    Another way of asking the question may be: is there a difference between who I am and who I have become?  Are we defined by our past?  Are we defined by our actions?  If we think deeply about the question we may arrive at the conclusion that there is a sense in which it seems to be true.  After all, isn't this reminiscent of what we believe about virtue?  Isn't it why we work so hard to overcome our bad habits and work to form good ones?  Do we not believe that, over time, our actions form habits, which form our character?  If this is true of virtue, is it not also true of vice?  Yet, we cannot escape the words of Saint John Paul II: "We are not the sum of our weaknesses and failures.  We are the sum of the Father's love for us and our real capacity to become an image of His Son Jesus Christ."  The answer to how the first half of the quote is possible - how we can have an identity beyond what comes from our actions - is found in the second half of the quote.  We first become "an image of His Son Jesus Christ," when we are "baptized into Christ Jesus."  This is when we become adopted sons and daughters of God, the Father.  For a Christian, this is our identity, the deepest truth of who we are.  Theologically, we refer to this 'deepest identity' as a sacramental character, imprinted upon our souls through the sacrament of baptism.  The goal of our efforts to grow in virtue - of forming good habits to replace our bad ones - is to allow our moral character to match our sacramental character.  For a Catholic, reinforcing those efforts with prayer and frequent use of the sacrament of reconciliation, which restores us to the grace given to us first at baptism, is the path to becoming a real "image of His Son Jesus Christ."

     So, the question of identity, which has always been central to the Bourne movies, is incredibly engaging for any soul who is seeking to know himself.  Perhaps even without suffering from amnesia, some of us may relate to the striking scene in the first movie, when he is pleading with the 'man in the mirror': "Do you know who I am?... If you know who I am, stop messing with me and tell me." It seems fitting to me that this latest installment is simply called Jason Bourne.  Admittedly, I cannot help but wonder if it was intended simply as a way of reclaiming the series after the recent spin-off, The Bourne Legacy, which was centered around a completely different character.  While I found the character of Aaron Cross to be an intriguing contrast to Jason Bourne, which could bring interesting things to the series, it is good to be reminded who this series is about, simply because it's about discovering who he is.  Yet, at the same time, it is a bit ironic that the name chosen for this new sequel is the name that signifies the old self, which he is always trying to leave behind.  Sure, a movie simply titled "David Webb" probably wouldn't do so well in the box office.  And I'm sure there will be an explanation for why he is now "resurfacing" in his old life.  Perhaps it will be a good reason, perhaps not (but I am hopeful).  Yet, it is striking that he uses the name given to him by those with whom he knows he needs and wants to disassociate.

     Generally, the name by which we are known is given to us by someone.  Sure, one can legally choose a name for themselves, or even attempt to give themselves a nickname (ask George Costanza how well that worked out for him).  But, these are exceptions from the norm.  Usually, we receive our name from our parents.  However, receiving a new name is often very meaningful.  In Scripture, we have moments in which God gives people a new name, marking a pivotal moment in the person's vocation, ranging from Abraham to Simon Peter.  However, the transformation of David Webb into Jason Bourne is of a very different sort.  It more closely resembles the renaming of the prophet Daniel and his friends in Babylon.  As if it were a way of telling them to leave behind their Hebrew origins, they were given new names, inviting them to identify with the land of their captors.  Yet, their Hebrew names were a reminder of their participation in the covenant with the Lord. Not unlike the names given to us by our parents signify our belonging to our family, their Hebrew names signified their belonging to God's family.  A name signifies, not only a person's unique individual identity, but also that they are a part of something bigger than themselves.  Similarly, when David Webb was given the name Jason Bourne, it was as if he was being told, "You belong to us now.  Your old family, your old life - you don't belong to them anymore.  You're ours."  He is given an indication of just how lonely this new life was during his interaction with one of the assassins sent after him at the end of the first movie.  Yet, it is only when he meets Marie, rediscovers relationship, and finally experiences a sense of responsibility to protect the children in the home where they have stowed away, that he finds the resolve to leave this past behind.

       The connection between identity and belonging is one of the most interesting elements of the first movie.  Although he begins by seeking in the mirror to find himself, it is only when he looks outside himself that he finds the answer.  As he searches for his identity, the longing to belong and the desire for a family begin to move to the forefront, culminating with their time with the father and his children.  Yet again, this calls to mind the wisdom of Saint John Paul II, who was frequently reminding us of the insight of the Second Vatican Council, that it is in giving ourselves away that we find ourselves.  None of us are made to live for ourselves, but to make of our lives a gift for others.  This can certainly be understood in light of one's vocation.  A man and woman give themselves away to each other in marriage, choosing to live for each other and for their children.  Men and women answer a calling to give themselves away to Christ and His Church in priesthood and religious life.  Yet, it can also be understood in a more general, day to day sense.  Regardless of our vocation, we have the daily opportunity to choose whether or not we will live for ourselves.  As Christians, we must recognize that these choices determine our effectiveness in leaving behind the old man, in bringing our moral character into line with our sacramental character, to live out our identity as a beloved son or daughter of the Father and a member of the Body of Christ.  Yet, like Jason experiences, our old life will not let us away that easily.  At times, we may even succumb to these temptations, in which cases we generally experience the sickening feeling of losing ourselves.  And when we really allow ourselves to drift far, far away, we realize that we have become something that is not true to the deepest truth of who we are.  But, the call always remains: "Remember who you are and to whom you belong, for whom you are living."  When we answer this call, the One to whom we belong waits to restore us to that identity, through the grace of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

     I suppose it is no surprise that, even after so many years, David Webb finds that he still finds difficulty leaving Jason Bourne behind, especially if his desperate circumstance leaves him still alone.  But, we are not alone.  We belong to Another who is always inviting us home to recall who we are.  May we answer that call as often as we can.    

   

Idea for Bourne 7!