Meeting The Savior: A Christmas Bonus Edition of Songs Worth Learning To Listen To

Since the focus of this blog is engaging pop culture, I have usually excluded songs that can be far more easily considered by many to be "church songs," such as straight-forward praise and worship or even Christmas songs.  Of course, there have been some exceptions to the rule, but I haven't made those decisions lightly.  This past year, I have discovered some new songs, which it took restraint not to include - partially, just to prevent the list from becoming excessively long.  So, as a Christmas Season Bonus, I thought I would take a moment to shamelessly recommend some praise and worship and Christmas music!

Ghost

by Crowder

For two years in a row now, I was very close to including some of Crowder's music on my list.  Much of his music falls into the category of anthemic contemporary praise and worship, as evidenced by his collaboration through the years with Passion (this song is also featured by Passion), but his musical and lyrical creativity is certainly noteworthy.  Furthermore, over time he has turned more toward embracing the Folktronica element within his music, yielding some very interesting results.  "Ghost" is one of his most interesting songs to date because it definitely has the feel of anthemic praise and worship song, yet it is also very much defined by his creative exploration of abstract themes.  His new album, I Know A Ghost, plays with people's popular understanding of ghosts to speak about the notion of Resurrection from the dead, as well as the classic way of referring to the Holy Spirit, as the Holy Ghost.  It simultaneously evokes a sense of holy fear, as well as a sense of confidently overcoming ordinary fear of harm, since we have the One who conquered death on our side, indeed even living within us.  The closing track brings this concept into a Crowder-style anthem of praise, inviting the entire listening congregation into that medley of holy fear and confidence.  "Get Ready.  There's a Ghost in the room."

Reckless Love
by Cory Asbury

My first exposure to this song was this past summer, while traveling with our parish youth ministry group to a Steubenville Youth Conference.  The sentimental connection to this profound moment of prayer and praise, filled with the presence of the Holy Spirit, will always be a part of the effect this song has on me personally.  However, when I returned home, I found myself looking it up and listening to it again and again.  What a beautiful celebration of the reckless and relentless love of our Heavenly Father, who never gives up on us, but keeps pursuing our distant hearts.  The song speaks for itself.  Listen to it.  Pray with it.  Celebrate it.   

Harmony Humility
by Brother Isaiah

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Poco a Poco, the new album from Brother Isaiah, of the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal (http://franciscanfriars.com/), is beautiful and delightful from beginning to end.  Just about any track could be included on this list.  "Harmony Humility" describes well why this album is such a gem, as it seems to reflect the album's musical approach, while also communicating a deep and powerful truth.  There is a kind of humility required in embracing the part that we are called to play in a harmony, in order to bring forth a glimpse of the beauty of God's design.  This profound, yet necessarily simple, truth has implications for our moral lives, as well as our vocational discernment.  Embracing the unique part we are called to play in God's great harmony requires humility, as does the choice of embracing moral guidance that sometimes goes against our personal preferences.  But, the beauty of the harmony is far greater than we can imagine.     

Christmas Eve
by Gwen Stefani

This one is definitely not a "church song," but is a new Christmas song that I didn't want to miss the opportunity to include on this list, especially since it seems to be a prayer.  Every year, beginning in the later days of Advent, I find it very interesting to sample some of the new Christmas albums recently released - a market that is even more over-saturated than superhero movies!  As one who remembers well the days of my youth, when I was struck by the beautiful voice of Gwen Stefani on No Doubt's "Don't Speak," I couldn't help but give this one a shot!  The payoff comes, if not before, with a lovely little surprise at the end of the album.  "Christmas Eve" is a beautiful illustration of how the beauty we encounter in the Christmas Season, at the end of a year that has surely had its ups and downs, leads us to turn our eyes and hearts back to the Lord for redemption and hope.  This song would be a worthy addition to your Christmas and Holiday playlists. 

The First Christmas

by Tenth Avenue North (ft. Zach Williams)

Perhaps some of you discovered Tenth Avenue North's Decade the Halls, Vol. 1 last year, when it came out.  I'm late to the party, I know.  But, Tenth Avenue North has given us yet another reason to respect and admire them for their creativity, as they chose to approach their Christmas album as a tribute to one hundred years worth of musical styles.  Beginning with the 1920's and ending on the 2010's, each track is done in a style reflective of a specific decade.  This whole album is an absolute delight!  The track that seems most noteworthy, however, is the 1950's style song "The First Christmas."  The song plays like a carefree holiday track from 50's rockers, while calling us to turn our hearts even further back.  It is a celebration of the fact that on that first Christmas day, we did not need the external trappings, without which Christmas so often feels incomplete to many of us.  Instead, we got what we need.  The beautiful irony of such a song, which plays like another delightful addition to these trappings is striking.  If your playlists feature whole albums, add the whole album to yours.  If you prefer to build them one song at a time, don't forget "The First Christmas!"   


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Top 5 Songs Worth Learning To Listen To in 2018

       What an interesting year it has been for new music.  I must admit that I suspect that this thought is at least partially a product of my making myself even more aware of much of the new music that came out this year.  Perhaps it is a product of having made this list for a couple of years now and being motivated to introduce further diversity into it.  You will still notice a familiar face or two from past years, and perhaps familiar trends as well, including my appreciation for finding the beating (and often bleeding) heart buried beneath the shiny exterior of a diva, as the presence of Michelle Branch and Adele on the past two lists might have indicated.  Nonetheless, the process of selecting this year's top five acquainted with me a wide variety of very interesting new music from 2018.  While I could not include all of those that I found worthy of many repeated listens, and I did not want to simply have a much longer list of honorable mentions, you will notice some of the others mentioned in relation to the Top 5, under the heading "Echoes, Similarities, and Connections".  This new element made compiling this year's list a highly rewarding process for me, as it allows for a sense of dialogue between artists coming from diverse perspectives on a particular topic.  I hope you find it rewarding to read and that you discover some new and interesting music to add to your own playlists.

Honorable Mention: Burn and Fade 

by Anna Nalick

I don't recall how I stumbled on At Now, Anna Nalick's long-delayed third album, as I hadn't really listened to Anna since her first album.  But, I recall being intrigued then by how a simple listen to the lyrics of her breakout hit, "Breathe (2 AM)" gave a hint of who she truly is: an honest and vulnerable singer-songwriter hidden beneath the guise of a sparkling diva.  The rest of that album (Wreck of the Day) had moments which also revealed this deeper truth.  Looking back, it is interesting to see how her follow-up album offered the image of a discarded once-shiny thing, which lost its luster in the world's eyes, but now brings forward it's latest offerings, seemingly with a spirit of "in case anyone cares," as even the album title seems to communicate: Broken Doll & Odds & Ends.  Yet, as she now steps into the light again after all these years, even the album cover for At Now offers us the hint that she has willfully cast off the glittery exterior... and for that, she shines forth at last.  It's as if she just crawled out of bed to catch us up and let us know where she's "at now."  Many moments on this album are striking and beautiful, but one definite standout track, for me, is the opening track "Burn and Fade".  It's pretty self-explanatory, but deserves credit for the way she apparently parallels the notion of her former fame and the apparent relationship advice that resulted.  I suppose one of the reasons some of the beautiful laments on this album strike me is that they make me wonder if she still agrees with one of the most difficult lyrics to listen to (for me) from "Wreck of the Day," when she insisted that 'Love doesn't hurt.'  I always supposed she meant that authentic love (which is to will the good of the other) does not willfully hurt the other, but I suspect she knows by now that love (which always calls for a death to self, only to make us come fully alive) does indeed hurt.  If not, it would be cheap, and certainly not love. 

Echoes, Similarities and Connections: While "Burn and Fade" provides the negative advice of what not to do, you can find a fitting contrast in a couple of works that came out this year and tell the tale of relationships that last.  Earlier this year, The Hunts followed up their fantastic debut with the far simpler Darlin' Oh Darlin', which plays like a charming and beautiful little tribute to a couple who loved one another to the end, and perhaps a desire to emulate that example.  Meanwhile, NeedToBreathe's new four song EP, Forever On Your Side (Niles City Sound Sessions), seems to be a short little glimpse of a relationship drifting apart and apparently reaching a breaking point, only to end on the hopeful conclusion "Forever On Your Side."  One song from this year that does seem to depict a relationship that apparently exemplifies the quality described in "burn and fade," but stubbornly evolves into a lasting relationship is Paul Simon's recent revisiting of "Darling Loraine."

Honorable Mention: Real Life 

by Imagine Dragons

While playing rather upbeat and lighthearted, there is a climactic quality to this closing track from Imagine Dragon's brand new album, Origins.  The album has featured an exploration of the many ways in which we either try to avoid the pains of reality or to aggressively and determinedly define it for ourselves.  We cling to dysfunctional relationships that we cannot let go of, but are far different in our imagination.  We hide within phones and other glowing screens, which provide us a 'safe space' from which we make our entitled demands which fail to genuinely communicate with our neighbor - as "Digital" strikingly called out, "We don't want to change, we just want to change everything."  Meanwhile, reality around us keeps crumbling.  This closing track quite pointedly beckons us, "Hey, turn your phone off, won't you look me in my eye?  Can't we live that real life?"

Echoes, Similarities, and Connections: There are a number of connections between "Real Life." or other tracks on Origins, and some of the other songs on this list (especially numbers 5 and 2).  Meanwhile, even more striking is the struggle with faith, in light of the problem of evil in the world, depicted in the second verse of the song.  This struggle is very real and impacts those who do profess belief in God, and seek to follow Him, just as it does those who feel they cannot profess this belief.  Two albums released this year seem to depict very real and honest testimonies of believers struggling with a faith that is weakened by various difficulties, aggravated by the brokenness we see all around us.  In particular, I am thinking of Audrey Assad's Evergreen and Ike Ndolo's Shine.

5: Who Really Are the Monsters? 

by Lenny Kravitz

Lenny Kravitz seems particularly socially conscious throughout his new album, Raise Vibration.  While the style of "Who Really Are the Monsters?" makes one feel as if they have been transported straight into an 80's or 90's electronic pop song, the lyrics make clear that it was certainly written for today.  The notion of "learning to listen," upon which this list and really this entire blog is built, is very pertinent to this song.  An initial superficial listen might leave one with the wrong impression.  When the song opens "Who really are the monsters? Maybe it's time to stare, Straight into the mirror," one might think this song is simple enough and either expect little or think fondly of similar classics like Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror."  Ultimately, the beauty of this track is not in its being complicated, but in how it embraces the simplicity of its message in a way that has its finger so firmly on the pulse of our present society that I hope many people are listening.  Again, when we hear "The war won't stop as long as we keep dropping bombs," we might be quick to think he is simply advocating for strict pacifism or some other political stance on foreign policy, then quickly jump to whatever affirmation or opposition we have firmly established ourselves within.  But, then he continues into the apparent frustration of his intentionally repetitive post-chorus: "Start communicating."  And this is precisely the problem.  We don't know how to communicate.  As a society, we remain strongly divided, not because we disagree so strongly on so many things, but because in the midst of that disagreement, we don't know how to communicate.  We simply keep on "dropping bombs" on each other, in verbal, written or often typed form, without really make any effort to listen, understand and then respond.  We make very little real effort to actually communicate.  There is no one "side" that is more guilty of this: Republican or Democrat, liberal or conservative, Catholic or Protestant, Believer or Atheist.  We all have to start communicating.  That simple post-chorus gives voice to the frustration that so many of us carry, such that it becomes hard not to start singing along, and notice that our frustration has been placed within the sort of hopeful optimism of an upbeat track that makes us subtly notice that we have begun to dance to the seemingly impossible hope that our broken society may one day rediscover how to communicate and encounter one another.

Echoes, Similarities, and Connections: The cry for unity, peace and justice can be heard in the Imagine Dragons album we already discussed, as well as interesting tracks released within the past year, ranging from Audrey Assad and Propaganda's "River" to TobyMac and Aaron Cole's "Starts With Me," as well as Plumb's "Human."  But, perhaps even more significant is the new album from Ike Ndolo: Shine.  While the musical style might be a bit jarring for those of us who loved the more rustic sound of his Rivers, this honest album attempts to communicate his very real experience of injustice and discrimination, in a way that helps us to appreciate mercy, hope, and justice from a uniquely powerful lens, such as in "Deliver Us," which seems to echo the experience of God's people suffering under one oppressor after the other, as they awaited their Messiah.  This unique and powerful perspective shines a whole new light on faith, when we accept Ndolo's invitation to "try to empathize." 

4: Sober
by Demi Lovato

What do I love about "Sober"?  It's real.  In the live performance featured in the video above, you can see a real connection between Demi and the audience which reaches far deeper than the glitter of fame and fandom.  Her difficulty in keeping her composure after the strong crowd reaction when she sings "I'm sorry for the fans I lost," speaks for itself.  This is so much more than just the crowd reaction when a singer works the city name into their lyrics.  Essentially, what she has done is written an act of contrition from a very broken moment, shared with honesty and vulnerability.  And this is the beauty of genuine contrition, it lays the heart bare in a way that is not attention seeking, but seeks to recall in the moment that despite the lies of temptation that lure us down the darkest roads, we are - in fact - not alone.  She remembers that she is loved.  And to the ones she loves and the ones who love her, the ones in whom she finds a true sense of belonging, she is honestly and simply... sorry.  She does this out of a sense of accountability, but also out of an awareness of the fact that is precisely with their help and support that she rises to her feet again.  This sense of belonging is so important to recovery, as her acute understanding of the connection between her addiction and loneliness makes evident.  <For more on that, I recommend this.>  Still, in her closing on the apology to herself, she grounds herself in a way that follows well from the declaration of dependence that proceeded it.  

Echoes, Similarities, and Connections:  Paul McCartney's new album features the thought-provoking track "Happy With You," in which he recalls some of his old, self-destructive habits and celebrates the fact that he no longer feels the need for such nonsense, thanks to a relationship with another person, in which he is finding genuine happiness.  Meanwhile, the idea of our longing for relationship and genuine connection, while struggling with one's self-destructive habits seems to be one of the themes heavily explored in the latest album from Florence + The Machine, High as Hope, especially in the song "Hunger."  Her approach is quite different and interpreting her lyrics is often a challenge, but I have long been convinced she is worth learning to listen to.  "Sober" is also resonate with the Christian pop singer-songwriter Plumb, who spends her 2018 album exploring a theme which has been crucial to her entire career: Beautifully Broken.  In particular, I think of the songs "Crazy About You" and "Somebody Loves You," in which she sings of her hope that the subject of the song would know that they are loved unconditionally and fittingly, these songs are bridged by a song entitled "I Can Do This."  Lastly, the closing lyrics of "Sober" - "I'm sorry that I'm here again, I promise I'll get help; It wasn't my intention, I'm sorry to myself" - find an interesting compliment in the closing lyrics of TobyMac's "Hello Future" - "Hello Jesus, I hope You understand, My last departure was never planned, I came up empty with everyone and everywhere I been; Hello Jesus, I'm home again."

3: No Choir

by Florence + The Machine

This closing track to their very intriguing latest album is in line with many of the others, with lyrics that seem designed to startle, only to reveal as they unfold that the song is not what it appears.  The notion that "happiness is an extremely uneventful subject" is not an expression of pessimism or depression.  It is more a matter of repenting of one's previous preoccupation with drama.  Our need for excitement and stimulation can often be a deterrent from understanding and embracing true happiness.  This beautifully simple ballad turns its heart and ours toward the deeper happiness of "two people sitting doing nothing," totally free from the feverish need for excitement and stimulation.  It depicts happiness that is found by living in peace and in belonging to one another, with an apparent implication that the things we use to fill up our lives with excitement and stimulation are not the source of happiness, but might even be an obstacle to it.  This doesn't have to imply that their whole lives have been peaches and roses.  But, in the midst of whatever they have endured, they are simply at home with one another.

Echoes, Similarities and Connections: Many songs seek to capture the peace and contentment of people who freely choose to be satisfied in belonging to one another.  But, this one is unique.  I considered comparing it to some of the love ballads from the latest albums of Mumford and Sons, Imagine Dragons, Dave Matthews Band, or even Paul Simon's recent album of rewrites.  But, none have quite the unique quality that makes this track so special.  Even the latest Owl City album Cinematic, especially its title track, presents a somewhat similar concept of finding the "cinematic" quality hidden in the ordinary, and thus serves as almost a counterpoint to "No Choir."  The closest to a true comparison from this year might be in Paul Zach's "God is the Friend of Silence."
    

2: The Wild
by Mumford and Sons

The latest installment from Marcus Mumford and company is a continuation from their last album in more ways than one.  Musically, they continue to expand outward from their center in a direction that adamant fans of their earlier work might lament, while those of us interested in their exploration of different sounds enjoy the ride.  Lyrically and thematically, it's hard not to notice that the album tilted "Wilder Mind" is followed up by one which begins to explore "The Wild" close to its center piece, and then again, as it draws near to its conclusion, to declare that "It took a wild heart to tame mine."  The title track of Wilder Mind contrasted one who seems to adamantly guard his or her own idealistic fantasies with the one who is "blessed with a wilder mind," apparently implying that this wildness is the willingness to embrace reality, complete with all of its horrifyingly uncontrollable nature.  When we enter with them into "The Wild," we find the narrator amazed at the "sparkling mind" of another (perhaps daring, hopeful, or optimistic).  Meanwhile, he is faced with the wild, the reality outside of his control, and with a broken and humbled simplicity, declares that it "Puts the fear of God in me."  Whether intended or not, I cannot help but think of the Biblical understanding of the fear of God, which is not a fear of harm, but a humbled awe and wonder at the mystery of God's creation, design and wisdom.  It is the first stage of wisdom, which causes one to enter the wild, with a certain humility, which perhaps reinforces the lyrics of the previous track ("Beloved"): "She says the Lord has a plan, But admits it's pretty hard to understand."  This trek through "The Wild" progresses from it's haunting beginning into a hope that bubbles up and finally into something far more triumphal and glorious.  Still, there is a sense that "The Wild" is not a place that one dares enter alone, which is reinforced by its context within the album. The song comes at a turning point within an album that clearly tells the ever-evolving tale of a relationship.  Yet, while it clearly speaks of a relationship between a man and woman, the album is sprinkled with hints and glimpses of how such relationships, the trust that builds and breaks within, and the hope that rises and falls, impacts our hope of the possibility of a relationship with the Divine.

Echoes, Similarities, and Connections:  Earlier in this list, you may have noticed some similarities to the take on exploring reality, however dangerous and uncontrollable, from Imagine Dragons.  However, the theme of this song is also very resonate with the overall theme of the latest album from (at the risk of mentioning him three times already) TobyMac: The Elements, which explores how life wears away at us and seems to employ some similar images, especially in the title track.  

1: Wood and Nails 

by Porter's Gate (ft. Audrey Assad and Josh Garrels)

If you haven't discovered "Porter's Gate" yet, I cannot recommend it enough.  This new collective of artists of various Christian traditions takes its name from the idea of standing at the door of the Church, looking for others to invite inside.  They live this out in their songs by relating very concretely to the lived experience in a truly meaningful way.  Their debut album Work Songs: The Porter's Gate Worship Project Vol 1 is a collection of songs that very concretely demonstrates how our work can be a true act of worship.  The Catholic Church has produced numerous documents over the years to attempt to communicate the great dignity of human work.  Porter's Gate brings this to life with magnificent artistry and utter realism.  While many tracks stand out on this first project, "Wood and Nails" combines the imagery of Joseph's carpenter's shop with that of the cross in such a beautifully seamless manner that the reality of toil as an offering to be united to the perfect offering of Christ to the Father for our salvation comes across with great and stunning clarity.

Echoes, Similarities, and Connections:  I could reiterate the connection to the reality of beauty found in the ordinary, communicated in distinct but rather complimentary ways by Owl City's "Cinematic" and Florence + The Machine's "No Choir."  But, this last set of connections isn't as much about subject matter as collaborating artists.  Porter's Gate caught my attention because of the involvement of artists I'm already very familiar with, such as Audrey, Josh (both of whom have been on this list in past years), and David Gungor.  Thankfully, the collective also introduced to me a number of other artists who are very well worth looking up, to the point that I considered the possibility that this entire list could consist of Porter's Gate collaborators.  But, the icing on the cake is that nearly all of them released new music in 2018.  So, in addition to listening to Audrey's Evergreen, I also highly recommend Joy Ike's Bigger Than Your Box, Liz Vice's Save Me, Paul Zach's God is the Friend of Silence, and Madison Cunningham's Love, Lose, Remember, as well as the various singles she has released over the course of the year.

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Discerning the Spirits of the Force, Episode VI: Torn Apart

       Well, it's the end of September already and we still have only speculations regarding a title for Episode IX.  Sure, those interested in the animated branches of the Star Wars saga have gotten some fun news recently, but those of us mostly invested in the movies are left to wait.  Alas.  I suppose I will use this as an opportunity to share some overflow of my thoughts regarding the current state of the overall saga, a few positive and a few significantly less positive.

       One track that I love on the soundtrack to The Force Awakens is entitled 'Torn Apart.'  This directly references the words of Ben Solo on the catwalk at that fateful, tragic moment.  But, it also seems to allude to the fact that he is not the only one being torn apart, particularly as Rey and Finn watched this man who had so quickly become a mentor to them so cruelly murdered by his own son (I discussed the merits of this self-sacrificial moment for Han in the last episode).  Yet, the sense in which Rey is being torn apart continues to grow in The Last Jedi, as Rian Johnson (the director) seeks to emphasize the dualistic relationship between Ben and Rey, as being apparent light and dark counterparts of each other.  By the end of this post, some of the pros and cons of this approach might become apparent.  But, I think one of the more positive aspects of the continuation of Rey's journey in The Last Jedi can be found in the way that it continues to explore her desire to find her place in all of this.  She reflects the quest of so many seeking meaning and truth, and seeking with an inexplicable certainty that this truth has everything to do with their own identity, which they are also seeking to better understand.  The question of whether the Jedi can offer her the guidance she is seeking becomes an increasingly uncertain one, as she not only encounters Luke's apparent loss of faith, but also begins to discover the ugly truth of his storied history with Ben Solo.  Her sense of being torn apart by these discoveries invites us to suffer with her, entering more deeply into her desire for meaning, for understanding, and even for her own identity.  It also invites us to take more seriously the question of whether the Jedi can offer her what she is seeking.  Can they help her find her place in all of this or not?     

       Back in Episode IV: The Last Spark of Hope, we discussed how The Last Jedi embraces its role, as the second installment in a trilogy, as this is typically the point of the story when everything starts to come apart.  Well, Johnson, seemingly deliberately, took this to a whole new level, by tearing down things that seemed to make up Star Wars from the very beginning.  Yet, in another sense, he did so by remaining true to its philosophical foundations, allowing their internal incoherence to tear it apart from within.  The philosophical problems in the movie simply begin to bring the dualism, upon which this fictional universe was built, to its logical conclusion.  One of the ways that previous Star Wars movies remained so good was by ignoring the implications of its own faulty worldview.  The Last Jedi stopped ignoring them.  Ironically, while seemingly tearing it apart, Johnson gave fans the opportunity (an opportunity which has been largely rejected) to honestly face the reality of things from the very beginning.  The question of whether Luke should be the "last Jedi" comes to a question of authority.  This is not simply a question of power, but of whether what is called the light is actually able to order the universe, whether it is a true good which is in accord with truth.  Does it have a genuine rightful claim to authority, which would order all in accord with truth?  Unfortunately, this sense of genuine authority is impossible in their dualistic universe.  If the Force is genuinely seeking to hold light and dark in balance, then neither one genuinely has any legitimate authority, any inherent right to govern, based on a goodness in accord with truth.  Neither one is truly right.  This is a dynamic that is important, when considering the quest of Rey to find someone to help her find her "place in all of this."  In a universe where authority is not a matter of justice, rooted in truth and goodness, but simply of will to power, than all rebellion begins to appear equal.  And all apparent authority begins to seem equally worthy of being overturned.

       So we ask the question: Do the Jedi actually have any authority that needs to be respected and upheld in the philosophical framework that underlies the story of Star Wars?  Not necessarily.  The Jedi are an order of people who have sought to understand this transcendent reality, known as the Force, and to use it for good.  Perhaps even without realizing it, Johnson pin-pointed yet another key difference between the "Jedi religion" (as Luke so blatantly identified it) and Christianity, which is closely related to those I outlined in the first episode of this series.  It is a matter of authority.  For example, while the discussion of the ancient Jedi texts seemed to be a commentary on Sacred Scripture, upon deeper reflection, it actually pin-pointed some key differences between the two.  There is a world of difference between a "sacred text," which represents man's attempt to understand the transcendent for the sake of the good, and one which is in essence the Creator revealing Himself in human words, through the instrumentality of human authors.  The latter is actually the proper Christian understanding of Sacred Scripture, while the former seems to be a better understanding of the Jedi texts.  So, we essentially hear Yoda confirming that, while the ancient Jedi texts may have been valuable, they are not necessarily indispensable.  And this may be true, but it's not an effective parallel to Sacred Scripture.  Similarly, the whole discussion of the "Jedi religion" and why it can apparently pass away, has the unintentional effect of demonstrating why it is actually a poor parallel to the Church, which has authority rooted in the fact that its source is the Creator, and thus "the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it" (Matthew 16).  Of course, the final verdict on the question of whether the Jedi can or should "end" is left a little vague.  On one hand, we have Luke insisting that he would not be the last Jedi.  On the other, we have Yoda destroying the ancient texts and telling Luke that "we are what they grow beyond".

        This final counsel of the "puppet-master" (see what I did there?) seems to hold a few layers of meaning.  At first, it seems to speak of the desire masters should have for their pupils to surpass them.  After all, didn't Luke prove Yoda wrong in the original trilogy by reclaiming Vader?!  However, when considered in the context of the film, it points out the rather weak understanding of hope that plagues the film (which is a reflection of how it plagues our society today).  It is the notion that hope is always found in progress, in moving away from the old, with which we are dissatisfied (rightly or wrongly).  Yoda's words and actions seem far too resonant with the petty and childish insistence of Kylo Ren/Ben Solo (which I mentioned previously is much more shallow than his motivations in the first movie) that we must, "Let the past die.  Kill it if you have to."  In fact, at times, it seems frighteningly as if this were actually Johnson's message in a nutshell.  The problem with this understanding of hope is... so much.  But, in short, it is weak because it is destined to not be rooted in reality, because it is disinterested in the truth of our nature.  It is only found in a vague and undefined notion of future deliverance from what we perceive as evil... but deliverance into what?  This understanding of hope is really only a reflection of the angsty dissatisfaction with the way things are.  This is part of why this movie suffers from a weaker understanding of rebellion, as well.  Whereas "Rogue One" thankfully had a more nuanced understanding than what the marketing campaigns implied, "The Last Jedi" seems at times to fall into the trap of seeing rebellion as a source of hope, instead of a potential instrument of it in the right context.  Hope has to be grounded in truth, in restoring us to a dignity that reflects the Truth, Goodness, and Beauty of our Creator.  At moments, the film seems to give us a glimpse of this understanding.  While at others, it seems too caught up in the childishness we see epitomized by Ben Solo.  Even the transformation of the Resistance into a new "rebellion" is treated like an unquestioned and over-sentimentalized celebration of rebellion in itself.  It does not ask the question of whether this rebellion actually holds the hope it promises.

     These thoughts barely scratch the surface and represent simply my best attempt at the present moment to articulate the nature of the problem, which The Last Jedi has enabled us to see all too clearly.  Perhaps at a later point in time, I will be able to articulate better, as I personally feel this is a bit of a jumbled mess.  I suppose, the point is this.  It is not so much a matter of whether the Jedi can offer the guidance that we seek (as represented by Rey's seeking).  It is a matter of a need to recognize that this whole dualistic worldview upon which this fictional universe is built is incapable of offering us the guidance we need to help us to find truth, to find meaning, to find our place in the broader plan for the universe.  Any depiction of the struggle between good and evil certainly has potential to offer us glimpses of the truth of that struggle.  And the Star Wars saga has given us many such beautiful and powerful glimpses over the years.  But, once we start trying to carry its dualistic foundations to their logical conclusion, it all starts to be torn apart.  And likewise, the more religiously we have allowed ourselves to be guided by it, the more we become torn apart ourselves.  I can't help but wonder if part of what some fans who feel so unsettled by the most recent installment(s) of the Skywalker saga are experiencing is that genuine sense of being torn apart, that comes from the earth-shattering realization that the foundation one has been standing on was never capable of holding them up.  The only foundation capable of this is the foundation of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.  Like Rey, countless souls are seeking this foundation. As The Last Jedi invites us to notice, intentionally or not, if we do not offer this firm foundation, these souls will be left torn apart and the path to destruction will continue to seem appealing to them.  Let us be bold in offering the Truth, Goodness, and Beauty which genuinely satisfies.

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Discerning the Spirits of the Force, Episode V: Rebels, Scoundrels, and Other Legendary Outlaws

       This may seem overdue, as it has been a few months since the release of Solo: A Star Wars Story.  However, as the release came closer, I began to realize my thoughts on it just might be connected to some broader concepts, which link various pieces together.  In fact, it soon became apparent that this would even be a fun "crossover" post, as it would double as a follow-up to the old consideration of the Antihero, posted back in 2017.  It pertains not only to the latest Star Wars movies, but a few different blockbusters from this summer, which we'll come back to at the end.

Seriously, lots of potential for spoilers, not only for Star Wars movies,
but also the "Ocean's" movies, Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Ant-Man. 
Proceed with caution.

Good Guys and Scoundrels:

       Consider the similar, yet clearly contrasting, questions in the two spin-off Star Wars Stories we have seen thus far (Solo and Rogue One), of whether the 'rebel without a cause' at the heart of the story will ever devote themselves to the cause.  On one hand, we see in Jyn Erso (Rogue One) an antihero whose hope is reawakened and not only devotes herself to the cause, but is even able to restore hope to members of the rebellion at a key point.  On the other hand, in young Han Solo, we see a rebel who is determined to remain 'without a cause.'  He wrestles with and is trying to either hide or suppress that 'good guy' instinct that Qi'ra recognizes within him.  He will not commit to the cause, but he is willing to go out of his way to help the rebels (with a cause), in the face of their plight.  Young Han is insistent upon maintaining his devotion to his own self-seeking, which is more than enough cause (in his mind) for his living outside of the law.

       Of course, this will all only be overcome by his love for Leia and his friendship with Luke.  It is these bonds that will become the hope which finally awakens the 'good guy' within Han, and will finally align him with the cause of those seeking to promote justice throughout the galaxy.  These relationships are what make us.  They can be our greatest strength and also leave us vulnerable.  That is the nature of love.  I discussed this already at length in both Episodes I and IV.  It is no surprise that, when Han and Leia's son turns to the dark side, this would cut Han very deeply.  How might he respond to that wound?  While I think there is indeed something true and beautiful about the insistence of Solo: A Star Wars Story that the deepest truth at the core of Han's identity is indeed the 'good guy,' still he has conditioned himself to live his life in a certain way, which can be triggered by certain stimuli.  The 'good guy,' which Qi'ra recognized waiting to come to life within Han, is still the 'scoundrel' that Leia recognized in his behavior (Empire Strikes Back).  This is the complex reality of human nature.  We're a mess... a mess, encapsulating a beautiful mystery.  Part of what this means, in practice, is simply that good people sometimes do bad things.  Sometimes they even have bad, self-destructive habits, which are also hurtful to those around them.  It is all well and good to be the good guy.  But, we still must work, with both humility and determination, to overcome whatever habits sometimes cause us to act like a scoundrel.  One of society's favorite mottos is also one of the most destructive to genuine human growth: just be a good person.  This becomes a comfortable way of avoiding any concrete judgment about our specific actions, and this prevents us from identifying those behaviors that we may need to work to overcome.  The notion of calling to repentance offends our postmodern sensibilities, because our mentality presumes it is judgmental.  In fact, the call to repentance presumes a number of very positive judgments about the character of a person: that we are made for the good, that we are capable of that good, that we desire that good, that we would be willing to sacrifice and even to change in order to achieve it.  In short, it presumes that at our core, we are the 'good guy' even if we sometimes act like the scoundrel.  If we cannot realize this, we will never see the growth of the antihero into true heroism, in fiction or in our own lives.

       In truth, Han Solo is one of the finest examples in modern cinema of that growth of the antihero into a true hero.  And the conclusion of his story, in The Force Awakens, was a beautiful crowning of that antihero's journey.  There are some among what might be called the "traditional fans" who were dissatisfied with his part in that movie.  It seems one of their objections is similar to that of the role of Luke in The Last Jedi, and so my response is very similar.  The notion that Han and Leia would have separated, as they each dealt with the tragedy regarding their son in their own way, was a bit too much for many fans to handle.  As I said regarding Luke, I get it.  We don't like to see them like that.  But, I think if we take seriously the 'mess, encapsulating a beautiful mystery' that each of those characters always was, those unfortunate places we find them in at their entry into the sequel trilogy is still hard to watch, but it is not untrue to their characters.  Is it necessary that they would have separated?  No, of course not.  But, is it believable?  Yes, it is.  On one level, would I have rather they never separated to begin with?  Yes, of course.  But, their reunion was so beautiful it almost made it worth it (keeping in mind this is a fictional story, not reality).  Whatever events surrounded the turning of Ben Solo to the dark side became a trigger for Han to fall back into that comfortable mask of the scoundrel, after being conditioned to run from meaning and purpose and anything that would call him to change, in that way for so much of his life.  Yet, just as Leia was essential in him learning to set that mask aside in the first place, so it was his reunion with her that finally reawakened the 'good guy' within him (and again, we can see how Rey and Finn helped him to this point, just as Rey would do something similar for Luke in the next movie).  It was Leia who was capable of reawakening, not only his love for his son, but also his hope in him.  Every time I watch that painful scene of Han's last moment, I am struck by how powerful and beautiful it is.  Every word spoken between father and son on that catwalk is so deliberate, even when it is layered in meaning.  Some suggest that Han was naive and foolish.  I think he loved his son, as well as his wife.  He knew well what could happen.  He knew the risk he was taking, and he had to be asking himself if this could possibly be real, if Ben could actually mean what he was saying.  And Ben did mean every word.  That conflict within him, which Han held onto as hope, was indeed tearing him apart.  And he did need his father's help to do what he, in his sickness, felt he had to do.  I have no doubt that the thought that this was what Ben meant was on his mind.  But, he could not let it stop him from trying.  And so great was his love for both Ben and Leia that he was willing to give his life for even the tiniest shred of hope.  He became such a profound image of the Merciful Heart of the God, the Father in that moment.  The Father's love for His degenerate children is so great that He is willing to give His life.  He poured His life into the womb of Mary and His Son walked among us, seeking out His Beloved... knowing what could happen... that we would kill Him.  Still, He lays down His life to save us.  The Resurrection, of course, makes all the difference.  And thus, the Father is able to save us, even though our rejection claimed His Son's life... still, He lives.

       We will see whether Han's sacrifice ever bears fruit, in the form of his son being reclaimed, but I think it already is bearing fruit in how Rey devotes herself to the same 'impossible' task.  I have no doubt that one of the factors which led her to come to that point was the witness of Han's love, and the hope that he and Leia both held onto.  As she watched his tragic death, she saw that love was Han's greatest strength... and his greatest weakness.  When she first met him, they shared a humorous moment as they all disagreed on whether he was better identified as 'the hero of the rebellion' or 'the smuggler.'  Yet, in his boldest and purest act of true heroism, she saw the good guy, who often hides behind the scoundrel.

Other Legendary Outlaws:                                

       Yet, Han isn't the only example in the theaters this summer of a scoundrel who leaves us wondering if they will become a true hero...

     First, let's consider that Guardian of the Galaxy who infamously ruined everything in Avengers: Infinity War: Peter Quill (Star-Lord).  When the Guardians first show up in Infinity War, we glimpse among them that struggle between the "good guy" and the "scoundrel" as they debate why they are answering the distress call.  Quill seems to be torn between the middle of the noble intentions of Gamora and the shameless self-serving of Rocket.  Over the course of the three movies we've had to get to know him, we can recognize that conflict within him between these two inclinations, as he is like Han in his apparent dual nature as both the good guy and the scoundrel.  One key difference between his character and Solo's is that, while Han's parentage remains comfortably unexplored, Quill has always been plagued by his daddy/mommy issues.  His father wound is a deep cut, which was probed extensively in the second volume of the Guardians saga.  It was when we heard his father confess the truth about the cause of his mother's death, that we first saw him go off the chain.  In hindsight, this seems to have been a kind of foreshadowing of his extreme (and awful) emotional reaction against Thanos in Infinity War at the news of Gamora's death.  Not unlike the unpleasant moments we see of our beloved Star Wars characters, watching Quill at times like this may not be uncharacteristic, but it's very painful to watch.  His basic obstacle in growing from antihero to hero seems to be that pesky tendency he has to allow his emotions to trump his reason.     

     Next, we might consider Debbie Ocean (Ocean's 8).  In Debbie, we see one who chose to emulate the scoundrel within her brother (and apparently the rest of their family - interesting, to see whether they do more with that in the future), rather than celebrating the good guy within.  It was clear how the makers of this summer's Ocean's spin-off recognized some of the key plot points in the 2001 Ocean's Eleven and sought to parallel them in a new way.  Yet, the motivations behind Debbie's heist are far less laudable than those of Danny's.  Both are discovered by their partner, midway through, to have a deeper motive, a "job within a job," which is personal and related to their ex.  Danny's secret mission was love.  Debbie's is revenge.  How many times do we have to come back to this point?  REVENGE IS NOT A VIRTUE.  It is not something to be celebrated.  Yet, in a world where we cannot distinguish between the hero and the antihero (or simply prefer the latter), we fall back on this time and time again.  Debbie takes us to a whole new level.  We no longer prefer the antihero, but simply celebrate villains.  Danny might have qualified as an antihero, due to the fact of his complex motivations, which were really quite selfless, even though his means toward this end was clearly corrupt.  Consider his goal.  Of course, he wanted her back, but he was willing to accept not being with her.  He could not accept the idea of her being with someone who had no respect for her.  That is laudable.  And his plan was so beautifully crafted that it leaves us with the impression that the whole heist was designed to create that moment, when Tess would finally see the truth.  In short, everything he did (even though it wasn't good) was for Tess.  Debbie's revenge "job within a job" felt a bit like an after-thought or killing two birds with one stone.  But, more importantly, it wasn't something that showed any goodness within her.  It doesn't make us like her any more.  It might make us sympathize with her or even pity her because she was mistreated (although, I'd be hesitant to call her being incarcerated for crimes of which she is guilty unjust, even if I can sympathize with the sense of being betrayed in itself).  Still, if she was a victim, she is certainly not an innocent one.  One of the most interesting elements was the notion that Danny would not have wanted this life for her.  Throughout his own movies, there was a sense of him never quite being able to shake this life (and even a sense of struggle over whether he wants to, as he clearly suffers from some kind of addiction to the thrill of it all).  Now, we have a new dimension to that struggle, as we see that his persistence in his scoundrel behavior (even if there was a good guy within) led his little sister down the same path.  And she appears to be in a much worse place than he was, addicted to the same thrill, apparently finding her only value and worth in it: "It's what I'm good at".  It left me sad to see no visible signs of goodness or redemption in her by the end of the movie.  We can hope that it is in there somewhere, shackled by her addiction.  When the movie closes with her telling her brother (presumably in the grave) "you would have loved it," I know what she means.  Still, I'm not so sure. 

     Finally, we have the sequel to the movie which was designed to introduce the heist element into the Marvel Cinematic Universe: Ant-Man and the Wasp.  Admittedly, this is a slightly different example, since Scott Lang is a bit too much of a love-able goofball for us to easily think of him as a true antihero.  Nonetheless, he is in a similar predicament as the Ocean siblings, of being unable to breakout of the life of crime, especially in the first movie. And the events of Captain America: Civil War left him, once again, on the outside of the law.  The sequel follows up on this aspect somewhat by showing him running from the law and finishing out his sentence after his involvement with the "Secret Avengers" in Germany.  It also adds a new element while showing how those events (and a little bit just the "Accords" themselves, which were the catalyst for the conflict in Civil War) cause Hank Pym and Hope Van Dyne to be on the run from the law as well, and resenting Scott for it, as well.  However, the bulk of the story and its thematic elements seem to focus less on the "Scott the Outlaw" element from the first movie and more on the "Scott who just wants to be a Good Father" element.  Further, the parallel between the father-daughter relationships of Scott and Cassie and that of Hank and Hope also remains very much in the forefront.  However, as the sequel focuses even more on finding Hope's mother, a new parallel joins that original parallel in the foreground, namely that between the undying devotion between Hank and Janet and the budding relationship between Scott and Hope.  In fact, the title seems pretty clearly to hold an intentional ambiguity, as to which "Ant-Man and the Wasp" duo is being referred to.  Truly, the heart of this movie is the intertwining of these interrelated relationships.  So, again, we see that the key factor in the tension between the "good guy" and the "scoundrel" is the relationships in one's life.

      The choice to live one's life, not for oneself, but to give oneself away in love to others and to be life-giving, is what motivates the scoundrel to give way to the good guy within.  With Han, Danny, and Scott, we see the best of them when we see them looking to the ones they love.  We see Debbie's failure to demonstrate any sign of goodness in the writer's apparent determination not to have the female counterpart to Danny Ocean turn out to be doing it "all for her man."  This choice seems to be consistent with the rather warped mentality sadly found in some modern expressions of feminism (go here for more on the feminine genius).  Sometimes our attempt to show our strength (viewed far too often as simply independence) ends ups simply being a show of selfishness.  For Danny, his loving devotion to the woman he loved was his saving grace.  There was no shame in that love was truly his strength.  Let's hope that we find more room in our hearts to allow love to help us to overcome our selfishness.  The wildcard in the group seems to be that "legendary outlaw", Peter Quill.  His loving devotion to those he loves seems to be what causes him to lose his head.  On one hand, it is true that, not unlike the other examples, the coming together of Quill with Gamora and the rest of the Guardians (in the first movie) enabled him to begin to become the best version of himself.  So, love can truly be seen to be his strength, as well.  However, we see that his loving devotion is not tempered in the slightest by reason or self-control.  And this famously RUINS. EVERYTHING.  As we saw in Infinity War.  Perhaps it is true... Virtue actually does enable love to grow toward full maturity.  All of the virtues are ordered toward authentic love.  Authentic and virtuous love, completed by the assistance of grace, is what enables the good guy to win out over the scoundrel.  May it be so for each and every one of us.     

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The Value of a Life: Thanos, the Avengers and the Culture of Death

No Seriously, Don't Read ANYTHING, or EVEN SCROLL if you haven't seen it yet!

     There a number of different of angles from which I watch a Marvel movie.  On one hand, I recall my childhood years, when I collected (mostly Marvel) comics, grew to love that world/universe/multiverse, its characters and its stories, and I find myself often giddy with joy at the idea that they can be portrayed on the big screen in a manner which both bears a recognizable resemblance to those childhood images, while also taking them to new levels.  On the other hand, I view them as someone who has since had the opportunity to broaden his appreciation of different stories, in both literature and film, and has come to believe that things like good dialogue and dynamic character development, which is both consistent and evolving, as well as other signs of genuine quality, such as good writing, acting, and directing, are not too much to ask from any genre of movie.  And finally, of course, I view them as a Catholic priest who is always looking for reflections of genuine Truth, Goodness, and Beauty, not to mention having concern for the moral positions being advocated by the heroes, or even for the way in which more complex moral questions are explored by the conflicting perspectives of various characters (more on my approach here).  Since all of these perspectives exist in one mind, which has become a professional at overthinking, I am not uncommonly plagued by the reality that the movies I care most about are the ones I end up being most conflicted about.  It is not uncommon for me to highly anticipate a movie, and walk out LOVING it (for reasons a, b, c, and d) and HATING it (for reasons e, f, g, and h).  Thus, when someone asks me whether I liked Avengers: Infinity War, I can only think to answer in the words of Vision in the last Avengers movie...

   
     I begin with this consideration because the very aspect I am going to comment on, in this latest and biggest epic in the Marvel saga, I feel is handled strikingly well in some ways, and notably poorly in others.

     One thing this movie succeeded at was being very intriguing from the very start.  Launching straight into the action, picking up right where the after-the-credits scene of Thor: Ragnarok (my thoughts on that one here) left off, we see the immediate devastation resulting from the encounter between Thanos and the remaining population of Asgard.  And in this opening sequence, the first words we hear from Thanos, not only beautifully foreshadow the rather shocking ending, which I must admit was entirely unexpected by me, but also characterize him in a manner that explains the importance of his ridiculous quest for destruction.  When we first hear the villain speak of his agony at being so certain that he is right, we might be unsure what to think at first.  Is he serious?  Is he insane?  Is it a little bit of both?  When we finally hear him explain his reasoning, a careful listener might notice how disturbingly familiar his thinking is, in our culture today.

     The notion that overpopulation is the cause of so many of the evils from which we suffer, which leads some to the tragic conclusion that taking countless innocent lives will actually help to rid us of these evils, is one of the upsettingly common notions, which leads many to so aggressively support such evils as abortion and euthanasia, even if often under the guise of supporting the supposed "lesser evil" of contraception.  And yet, as the film progresses, we begin to see Thanos as one of the more complex Marvel villains we have seen thus far.  He carries himself with this dignified air, which seems to hope that his good intentions will distract us from the insanity of his plan, yet also to simultaneously not care what we think, because of the firmness of his own conviction. "The hardest of decisions require the strongest of wills."  His conviction is so strong that his solution is, not only necessary, but is actually "salvation" from the evils that plague is, that he is quite convinced every one else is the enemy and he will "watch the sun set over a grateful universe."  It is sick.  It is horrifying. And yet, it is the manifestation of the culture of death (St. John Paul II addressed it well here), which influences so many who continue to be convinced that those of us who believe so strongly in the value of every human life, that we cannot support such as evils as abortion, euthanasia, and even contraception, are in fact the enemy.  And yet, in the movie, we hear these "enemies" of Thanos repeating to each other their insistence that "we don't trade lives," as they fight to save one another and an anonymous (yet no less valuable) half of the lives in the universe.

     And yet, it might be argued that the idea of pointing toward the dignity of human life is a bit undercut by the lack of the gravity of death the movie leaves viewers with.  One of the funnier lines in the movie is also one of the more ironic.  Eitri warns Thor, before his heroic stunt to restart the forge: "It'll kill you." And Thor answers, "Only if I die."  And Eitri fittingly replies, "Well... yes... that's what 'killing you' means."  As tragic as the many deaths of the heroes may feel, does this really leave us with a sense of what death is?

     It has been pointed out no shortage of times that superhero movies (and perhaps Marvel, in particular) make it difficult for viewers to attach any weight to deaths that are meant to be heroic and/or tragic, because so few of these characters seem to "stay dead."  Well, this movie takes that to a whole new level, as we watch most of our heroes turn to ash... but, knowing they will be back somehow.  Let's consider the choices of who died for a second.  Considering the originals (nearly all of whom were left alive) have already made A LOT of money for Marvel and it's widely considered to be the case that some, if not most, of those actors will soon 'hang up their capes', it might be argued that killing them off would have seemed a bit too convenient.  But, since they basically did the opposite, by killing off all of the ones that they stand to still make A LOT more money off of (whose sequels are expected, and at least one is officially announced), doesn't it make it seem even more cheap?  Granted, they still leave plenty of room for suspense, as we wait a year to find out HOW they will come back from this and what role Captain Marvel and the other heroes absent from this movie might play in the final solution.  And it might make us wonder if the originals would even somehow sacrifice themselves to save the newbies - making the whole "we don't trade lives" thing deliciously ironic!  If that were the solution, it might make the ending of this movie equally convenient.  Even more importantly, though, if something like that occurs, will it simply be focused on bringing back the "heroes", or all of those countless anonymous, but no less valuable, lives?  I'm willing to be optimistic that it will be the latter.  So, then the remaining question is who will actually be dead in the end.  Ironically, one of the deaths not included in that fateful snap (which is likely to be undone all at once) is one that some of us might especially hope to see reversed, simply because of the awful way it went down (this article on the matter is worth reading).

     Meanwhile, one of the other ways that the Avengers movies have successfully pointed toward the value of every life is in the way in which the team is made more rich and full by the dynamic interactions between the very diverse characters.  Each one brings something different, which often becomes even more poignant when they stand next to each other, as they stretch and challenge each other (more here).  In fact, even Guardians of the Galaxy had this same quality, which is especially impressive, considering those diverse characters include a talking raccoon and a walking tree (more on them here)...

   So, naturally, seeing these two teams collide was a long awaited pay off.  How well did they deliver on it?  Pretty well, considering the momentousness of the task (even if some of us still would have hoped for a bit more).  Given the sheer volume of characters brought into this one epic conflict, it would have been nearly impossible to give them all a very significant sampling of ongoing development or meaningful interaction.  Naturally, they had to make their choices of who would get the most of this kind of attention.  For this reason, it is understandable that some of us will simply have to accept a fair amount of disappointment at not seeing some of our favorites get a bit more attention.  Furthermore, it is not surprising that they paid particular attention to those which involved interactions between Avengers and Guardians.

     Of these interactions, the one I will focus on, as a brief closing thought, is that between Tony Stark and Stephen Strange.  The idea of pitting these two strong (read arrogant) personalities against each other was a very interesting choice, which I ended up appreciating in the end.  For one reason, to be quite blunt, one of the reasons I didn't care for the Doctor Strange movie was simply because I thought even Ant-Man was a more interesting and entertaining attempt at recreating Stark's conversion-oriented origin story.  However, the difference between their respective conversions comes across strikingly by their interaction in this movie.  Stark's conversion was driven by an awakened sense of responsibility (albeit plagued by his Messiah complex).  Strange's conversion was more about the prideful skeptic reluctantly having to accept that there is actually more to reality than he is aware.  So, here you have them fighting beside one another to attempt to save the universe and these qualities come across loud and clear.  Stark is desperately fighting to prevent Thanos from achieving his goal, at all costs.  He is consumed by the thought that they MUST stop him!  Only Strange is capable of believing that there just might be an alternative.  So, after using the Time Stone to look into the future, he returns to the present, prepared to do the one thing he promised he would not do (and would not have decided to do on his own) because "this was the only way."  Why?  We'll find out next year, I guess (here's hoping it's good).  Tony cannot believe it, but Strange is inviting him to trust that there is more to reality than either of them fully understands.  Perhaps we have experienced someone in our life who has challenged us to believe that there is more to reality than we know, even if we might find them a bit absurd at times, someone who has challenged us to have faith.  Thank God that person is in our lives, because we are probably not the same person thanks to their influence.  It is amazing to see how every life has far more value than we could possibly imagine!

 

More Thoughts on Avengers (Ant-Man) 

and the Guardians of the Galaxy

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Pursuing True Justice: Why Black Panther is a Hero

       Like many of us, I very much enjoyed the latest installment to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Black Panther!  It is hard to ignore the not-so-subtle societal implications of the movie.  Yet, even before getting into all of that, I enjoyed it because T'Challa debuted in Captain America: Civil War as a very cool and interesting new addition to the ever-increasing landscape of Marvel heroes, and his first solo outing did not lower the bar for this great new character, in my estimation.

    Still, while I think the societal implications of the movie are not needed in order to appreciate it, of course, they ought not be ignored.  Personally, I have very much appreciated all of the discussion emerging from this movie, even though - as with so many discussions - I can't say I agree with all of the voices coming from either side.  Still, there are good things to discuss.  Mostly, I've just been listening.  And there is much to listen to.  Not only am I not threatened or insulted by the fact that there are aspects to the significance of this movie that I cannot fully appreciate or identify with, I appreciate that fact.  One reason is because I have come to realize that it can create opportunities to attempt to better understand, and thus to be better equipped to engage the world in which we live, not to mention being personally enriched.  I have often thought that some of the approaches to responding to racial tension, which focus on altogether ignoring or disregarding a person's race or ethnic background (ie. "color-blindness" or "one race") are well intended, but might not be the best solution.  Is it not better to embrace one another as we are, remaining open to the fact that a person's race or ethnic background just might be a part of who they are?  Are not those elements of a person's identity, personality or temperament they themselves consider to be connected to their race or ethnic background worth striving to understand and even appreciate?  I have often found this to be the case.  That is why I appreciate listening to the various perspectives on this movie.

       From my perspective, I find it easy to see how Killmonger is portrayed as a sympathetic villain.  It was striking how he was attempting to reclaim something that was taken from him, how he was a victim of his circumstances, and how he seemed to have a sincere intention to save his people and even to save Wakanda.  It was also striking to watch the respect and compassion of T'Challa toward him.  Yet, this is part of what made him interesting, because on the surface he also seemed to be a pretty blatant parallel to a very common perception of our current president, by so many of the loudest voices in our culture.  I mean, when you consider how many of the "good guys" are conflicted because of this "enemy on the throne" (because he apparently obtained the throne legitimately) whose solution is apparently to arm more people... it looks like they are either talking about Trump or the episode of "The Office" when Dwight was manager for a day.

       Yet, there is even more to the understanding of how this villain is sympathetic that has required a bit more listening.  Even I have often considered how I experience a sense of disconnect from the European cultures from which my ancestors came and yet, one of the reasons I mention this is precisely to point out that this is hardly comparable to the experience of those whose disconnect from their cultural ancestry was not due an ancestor's free choice to emigrate here in pursuit of freedom and prosperity, but rather to the abomination of slavery.  One moment that helped me to better understand the full extent to which many people might identify with Killmonger's plight was in reading about the thoughts of the movie's star, Chadwick Boseman himself.  In a recent interview, his explanation of the sympathetic nature of Killmonger's character extends to the point of saying that he considers his own character, T'Challa (Black Panther) to be the real enemy.  His explanation for this speaks of the power that T'Challa grew up with and took for granted, in contrast to Killmonger, who identifies more with the experience of so many African Americans.  I truly am grateful for his perspective.

       Why, then, do I emphatically disagree with him, to the extent that I find his suggestion very dangerous?  Boseman identifies "power" as the enemy and acknowledges that Killmonger is pursuing "greatness" (although it seems like his comments might imply that he also acknowledges that his pursuit of power and greatness is warped).  Having power does not make one a villain.  Abuse of that power is what makes them a villain.  After a few readings of Boseman's thoughts and giving it some serious consideration, it does not seem that he intends to imply that by Killmonger is, then, a hero.  But, rather, that T'Challa represents the very "system" of power that turned him into a villain.  This makes sense, on one level, and one can see how sympathizing with him can even lead to a sort of grief that he went down the path he did.  However, if one were to attempt to channel that grief in a productive direction, rather than perpetuating the problem, it seems they would seek to respond differently to a similar hardship.  It seems a very basic level of this different response would be to refrain from indiscriminately viewing those with power as an enemy, without considering how they are using that power.  What makes someone a hero or an enemy is not the problem they are experiencing, but their solution to the problem.  Killmonger's solution is undeniably wicked and to reach the conclusion that such murderous actions are justified because of the depth of the problem is extremely dangerous.  I don't think that Boseman has come to that conclusion, but I do fear that his comments could leave people with that impression.  If we were to apply this mentality to real life, which is a connection many people are making, this will continue to tear our culture apart.  We agree about the injustices done to Killmonger and I am grateful to better understand how many people can identify with his plight on a level that I cannot.  But, there is a difference between affirming that he is a victim of injustice and going on to conclude that he is then justified in taking so many human lives in the pursuit of power.  Pursuing power for its own sake has never made anyone great or heroic, but it has made many into villains.  The response to the injustices he has suffered ought to be the pursuit of justice, not power or even greatness necessarily.  Precisely what makes T'Challa such a great hero is that he does sympathize with Killmonger.  He does respect him.  He even grows because of him.  Yet, it does not change the fact that he must be stopped!  

      By contrast, T'Challa is aware of the brokenness of the situation from which he comes and he clearly intends to work to correct it.  But, he will not do so by perpetuating reactionary violence and injustice.  This makes him a true hero and a worthy king.  He is not perfect.  Like so many of the Marvel heroes, he is complicated, messy and even broken, but he is striving for goodness, justice and truth.  We ought to stop and notice that.  We ought to follow that example.  So many of the disagreements that tear our culture apart are not about the problems, but the solution.  The failure to make that distinction is one of our greatest modern downfalls.  Far too often, we fixate upon the solution we are promoting to the extent that we will not listen to or respect the other side, but judgmentally accuse them of being unconcerned about the problem.  This has to stop.  Otherwise, we will raise a generation of Killmongers and we will lose sight of any basis for establishing justice.  Instead, may we recognize the plight of our neighbors and work together, communicating with one another with a clear mind and mutual respect in order to pursue a solution that works to promote genuine justice.

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