Top 5 Songs Worth Learning to Listen to in 2019

We come to the end of yet another Church Year with the beginning of Advent.  One of the many great things this means is that it's time for another look back at meaningful and beautiful music from the past year.  The annual Top 5 Songs Worth Learning To Listen To list has evolved a little bit each year, especially with my ongoing attempts to diversify it.  However, this year (which may be the last - see here, if you don't know why), I am simply going back to the basics by not worrying about the diversity of the list or whether I've used that artist before.  This year, I am going back to the original plan of just sharing five songs (and an honorable mention or two) that I've discovered within the past year (notice that some of them may have been released earlier than 2019, but the artist can't have released a new album since then), which struck me as both meaningful and beautiful in a manner I describe as "worth learning to listen to" (for a more detailed explanation, see here).

Honorable Mention: Anxious

by Sarah Reeves

    Songs like this one make me grateful that the formation of this list has prompted me to spend a bit of time exploring Related/Similar Artist recommendations and seeking out new music, because otherwise I may not have stumbled upon Sarah Reeves, whose recent single "Anxious" is one that many people will find relatable and relevant.  The song is really quite straight forward and speaks for itself, but it portrays a beautiful picture that many people in our society today understand quite vividly.  It offers us the simple reminder that we weren't made for this crippling anxiety.  We were made for more.  It doesn't have to be this way.  

Honorable Mention: Someone To Talk To

by Tenth Avenue North

     This song is also fairly straight forward, but worthy of attention in its clarity and simplicity.  Throughout their latest album, Tenth Avenue North addresses the problem of "toxic shame" (which they distinguish from "healthy shame"), which plagues many Christians.  After a brief, spoken introduction, the album jumps straight into an upbeat anthem ("No Shame"), celebrating the joy of this life they are promoting of living free of toxic shame.  By track three ("Heaven Is Now"), they are setting out on what it looks like for them to seek to live and promote this shame-free life among their fellow Christians, first by committing to live the eternal life given to them now, making heaven more recognizably present in this life.  This sets the stage for the simple and honest "Someone To Talk To," which confronts the reality of shame head on, by speaking very candidly from the perspective of someone who comes to the Body of Christ simply needing "someone to hear about my shame." Instead, people who profess (and let's give them the benefit of the doubt, by presuming that we genuinely intend) to desire to help others to live the new life of grace, free from the slavery to sin, in the end, still sometimes (maybe even often) leave people nervously wondering "Can you handle my confusion?"  The lyrics to this song are powerful in their raw honesty, and ought to give all people (but Christians, especially) pause to consider how we receive someone who is generally trying to rise above their shame.  It becomes a powerful kind of stage-setter for the seriousness of the remainder of the album, as it leads directly into a kind of turning point, in the form of a spoken interlude which features someone reaching out to attempt to be a "safe space" for another who needs to know that they can still struggle, with the help of God's grace.  This leads directly into discovering the Mercy of God, which is "Greater Than All My Regrets," which empowers the person to recall that "The Future" is still full of hope, and that they don't have to be held back even by things like "Paranoia."  As the person struggling, yet striving to live this new life free of toxic shame, keeps "Reaching," and looking upward with the hope that their better days are still ahead, they begin to hear the Lord calling their name ("Call My Name") and choose to begin to give HIM "Space to Speak," which enables them to recognize that it has always been the Lord that they are seeking ("Always Been You") in looking for a safe space to bring their shame.  Each of these songs is worthy of learning to listen to and they flow together with beautiful, artful intentionality.  But, we should note that the spiritual maturity of the final tracks of the album is not arrived at easily and the possibility of it ever being reached may be compromised if the person does not first feel that they can approach the Body of Christ in the first place.  So, "Someone To Talk To" is a fitting, representative of the whole album on this list, because it speaks so directly to all of our need to learn to listen. 

5: Soon You'll Get Better

by Taylor Swift

     In the time that I've been composing these annual lists, I have done a great deal of pastoral work with teenagers and young adults, in a few different places.  I continue to be impressed how common it is to find young people - young ladies especially, but some young men as well - who identify strongly with Taylor on a level that is clearly very real and personal.  Whenever I hear yet another person say something like "she just gets me," it strikes me as potentially a very clear example of what I was trying to articulate in my initial description of what it means for a song to be Worth Learning To Listen To.  These are songs that draw the listener in, perhaps even gradually, as an apparent way of letting them know they are not alone on their journey.  It is very clear that Taylor has a gift for speaking the language of the heart of a significant portion of an entire generation, in a musical context that ends up being quite appealing.  I have enjoyed and even been impressed with her music before.  However, the song that has grabbed me most is the deeply personal track on her latest album: "Soon You'll Get Better."  Addressing a rather different topic from her usual offerings, this song shares her experience of dealing with the illness of her parents, especially her mother who she clearly loves very dearly.  In her usual style of raw honesty and vulnerability, Taylor paints a beautiful picture of her own process of coping with this difficult trial in life.  As it unfolds, it becomes a story of wrestling with acceptance, while looking desperately for hope.  Of course, I find the lyric in the first verse about prayer interesting.  In her search for hope, she speaks of "praying" to the "holy orange bottles" of medicine, yet immediately follows it by acknowledging that her desperation also leads her to pray to Jesus.  Some Christians might have a negative interpretation of this, as if implying that praying to Jesus is something only desperate people do.  However, I think of it as an illustration of how Christ makes His presence known to us in suffering. That is why the dynamic of wrestling with both hope and acceptance is so important.  Christ is not absent when the hope of the sort of deliverance that simply takes our illnesses and troubles away seems to go unfulfilled.  As Christians, this is why we look to Christ on the cross in the midst of suffering.  It offers us a hint of the Resurrection and redemption, reminding us that this suffering is not the end of the story and that good can come even from the most horrible evils.  But, at an even more basic level, it simply reminds us that we are not alone in our suffering, because Christ suffers with us.  Songs such as this also have a way of reminding us that we are not alone in our suffering, particularly in that wrestling match between hope and acceptance.  This is the kind of song that just makes me want to say "Thank you.  Truly, thank you for sharing."

4: Perfect Love
by Josh Garrels 

     Not unlike "Someone To Talk To," the presence of this song on the list is not only due to the beauty of the song itself, but also to its fittingness as a representative of the masterful album of which it is a part.  It has been quite interesting to watch Garrels's career unfold.  Over time, his manner of communicating a depth of meaning with a refined simplicity has grown.  This latest album contains a beautifully crafted progression and flow from one song to the next, but also is quite interesting when considering the flow from album to the next.  While his last two albums were more different from one another, Chrysaline has an interesting way of feeling simultaneously like a long awaited follow up to both of these albums.  On one hand, it might seem like the grounded simplicity of Home is now being revealed to be stage of quiet waiting for the new life to begin to break out of its cocoon.  On the other hand, we can find definite reverberations of the apocalyptic tone of Love & War & The Sea In Between.  While its place in the flow of Chrysaline itself is quite meaningful and appropriate, "Perfect Love" also plays a bit like a follow-up to "Revelator," while translating the more apocalyptic tone into a more earthy portrayal of how the Divine Rider who rides on in triumph persistently makes His way through our own lives, making our lives new.  Drawing clearly on Psalm 45, the song speaks not only of the "Perfect Love" of Christ itself, but of how it perfects our own feeble and broken loves.  It is quite an important and beautifully crafted linchpin in this album, which  portrays the unfolding of the mystery of redemption in our lives, by which we begin to live the new life of the Resurrection, even in this broken world of death.

3: Native Tongue
by Switchfoot 

     We come to yet another returning artist, who has held a position on this list before.  Yet, Switchfoot never ceases to produce solid music with thought-provoking lyrics.  The title track of their new album Native Tongue invites us to rethink the question of what is most truly human.  It is a common pitfall for people to refer to our brokenness as being "only human."  In fact, the brokenness that results from original sin makes us less human, because our original nature was marked by original justice, purity, and holiness.  What we usually mean when we speak of being "only human" is more rightly called the human condition (as in the state in which humanity finds itself, after the fall).  Human nature is that deeper truth within us that is still present, although deeply broken, which reminds us that we were made for more and that our sinfulness and weaknesses are not actually natural.  They are the damaged remains of our nature, in the aftermath of the fall.  They are the evidence that "we forgot our sound."  In truth, we were made for love, not the many distortions of it for which we settle.  Love is our Native Tongue, the language we were made to speak. And as the song makes reference to, it is so because we were made in the image and likeness of "The same word from where the stars were flung."  The God who is Love is the Word, the Truth, the Wisdom, who designed all of creation and we are made in His image.  We should take this song seriously.   

2: Seal My Eyes Shut

by Steven Joubert 

      This song is one that is actually older than 2019, but I just discovered it this year.  I have had the privilege of getting to know Steven over two summers (2017 & 1019) that I took my parish youth to Alive in You camps, where he led the music. I was immediately impressed with his abilities (he is the one who introduced me to Hillsong Young & Free's "Only Wanna Sing" in 2017).  But, in between those two encounters, he released a new album of original music that is a true work of art.  Even the one cover on the album ("Leaning on the Everlasting Arms") is given new lyrics in the introduction, enabling it to serve as a more fitting transition, which only serves as evidence of Steven's commitment to the cohesiveness, progression, and flow within Pride and Joy.  Throughout the album, Steven draws on influences ranging from Dante to Teresa of Avila to produce lyrics that are thoughtful and honest, as they both present the reality of his own struggles and the kind of spiritual wisdom that enables one to begin to move through and beyond them.  The album truly moves from pride to joy, as it begins with an opening track that is as insightful as it is vulnerable, portraying the seven deadly sins as stubbornly taking up residence in the "Mansion" of his soul, leading all the way to the joyful optimism borne of a commitment to repentance in the closing track, "Start Again (The Glory Song)."  But, the choice to put the old self to death and repent, rather than allowing himself to remain paralyzed in that broken state, began all the way back in the second track, with "Stand."  That choice progresses to show how radical is his commitment to it in "Seal My Eyes Shut."  This song courageously acknowledges what theologians and spiritual masters have long held: that the eyes can often be the window through which many of the deadly sins creep into our souls.  We find ourselves losing sight of where our focus ought to be, as we look around and see things that move our hearts and minds to envy, gluttony, lust, greed, etc.  The things that we are looking upon are not be blamed; it is our hearts that need to be corrected.  That process takes time and commitment, supported by grace.  While it is a stark image that is not meant to be taken literally, the request to "Seal My Eyes Shut" represents a commitment to whatever it takes to be set free and put the old self to death.  This is indeed the path to true joy.  

1: Maybe
by Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors

      Have you ever newly discovered an artist you enjoy, well into their career (late to the party again), just in time for them to release another new album?  Well, that happened to me this year with Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors.  Dragons plays as a celebratory commitment to living a life of joy, which necessarily includes naming and slaying the "dragons" that seek to rob us of our joy.  One such dragon is clearly identified midway through the album with "You Want What You Can't Have," and apparently delivered a deadly blow immediately after with "Maybe." This standout track invites the listener to join him on the important realization that "Everything is never enough, takes you away from what you love."  This simply prompts him to ponder rhetorically: "Maybe we're not supposed to try everything."  This honest and down to earth advice is joined to a peaceful and relaxing melody, that seems to beckon us to sit back and settle into the wisdom it offers, which promises also the freedom from the frantic seeking of self-gratification.  That kind of freedom is what enables us to focus on living with a sense of purpose.  This focus on that which we love is essential to true joy. 

     

I suppose this little collection of songs comes together to offer us a simple word of encouragement: However difficult our struggles, it is still possible to live a life of love, hope and joy.  May we keep our eyes on the cross, with the hope of the Resurrection in our hearts, as we receive whatever reminders He offers us that we are not alone.     

<<<Back to the 2018 list...

To Be Concluded: Can There Be A Neverending Story?

As the decade draws to a close it seems as if it is a fitting time for the end of an era.  At least, many popular series seem to think so.  In January, we began the year with the conclusion to a story that many fans thought would never actually even become a series (as was originally intended), namely the conclusion of M. Night Shyamalan's "Unbreakable" series, Glass.  Even if not originally meant to be the conclusion, the long-running big screen story of the X-Men (or at least, the Fox iteration of it), which many people credit with spawning the current success of superhero blockbusters, finally reached its end (again) with this summer's Dark Phoenix.  A number of popular television series were finally concluded, such as Big Bang Theory and Game of Thrones.  And then, of course, there are the two massively successful Disney owned properties: the Marvel Cinematic Universe and Star Wars (both of which are featured extensively on Learning To Listen...).

If you watch Doctor Who, you get this reference.  If not, you probably don't.
The point is that the spoilers below are mainly for an older episode of Doctor Who.
The references to the Star Wars "Skywalker Saga" and Marvel's "Infinity Saga" won't be too spoilery.

Both of these represent a potentially endless saga, in which the writers will continue to expand outward, paving new paths and finding new stories to tell, all woven into the fabric of the same much larger story of that "universe."  Of course, there are clearly financial motivations behind the fact that they will not stop telling those stories any time soon.  Nonetheless, the central story of each of the franchises, which has always provided said franchise with unity, direction and purpose, is reaching its end. 

This makes sense, to some degree anyway, with Marvel, since the movies are based on stories and characters that originated in comics. As a medium, comic books are designed to be a continuous series of ongoing tales of the adventures of the heroes, which need not have a definitive ending. Of course, as the quality of the telling of those stories has evolved and improved through the years, the role of larger, often interconnecting, story arcs that can even weave separate stories together has increased, preventing the adventures of the heroes from becoming merely episodic and eventually stale.  From this perspective, it makes sense that the Marvel movies would finally conclude what they are now retrospectively calling "The Infinity Saga." In the same vein, it makes sense that this central saga would culminate with a movie that has a title like "Endgame," that it would finally retire a number of key characters, and also that it would feel like a conclusion in many ways, even to the point of foregoing the customary inclusion of a post-credit or mid-credits scene.  At the same time, however, it also makes sense that the same 'conclusion' would establish or continue to develop newer characters, who will carry the story forward and even hint at or set the stage for future story-lines.

Puns upon puns upon puns.
This meme originally posted on a post I rather enjoyed (here).

This way of doing things makes a lot of sense for a comic book story universe.  It allows for continuity, while also keeping things fresh and reducing the amount of over-saturation and fatigue audiences might feel toward particular characters or even elements of plot, while also having the additional practical advantage of giving actors whose contract has run out, who may be getting older or simply may feel ready to move on, the opportunity to do so. Overall, it all adds up to a remarkably impressive transfer of the actual mode of storytelling that comics books have utilized for decades into the more lucrative medium of major motion pictures.

Perhaps the more interesting example is how this same model is now being applied to Star Wars. The retrospective renaming of its central story as the "Skywalker Saga" is an interesting move, obviously designed to justify the forthcoming spin offs, which will enable then to continue to capitalize off of the story, despite the fact that the central saga was long understood to consist (eventually) of exactly nine episodes, organized into three trilogies.  Until recently, it made no sense to specify a "Skywalker Saga," because that was simply Star Wars. It always was the story.

This meme originally posted on my initial response to The Last Jedi (here).

At the same time, however, the notion that this story can become a starting point from which to branch out and explore other interesting stories has been explored for decades already, through various books, TV shows and even comic books.  From this perspective, the idea of giving the central story its own name, in order to move forward with more spin-offs can also be described as a creative way of transferring what has worked in various other mediums onto the big screen, not unlike what Marvel has accomplished.

Again, we still acknowledge the clear financial motivations behind these trends. Nonetheless, these new trends do prompt some interesting questions. Do stories actually end? Should they have a definitive conclusion, or embrace the ongoing opening of new chapters?  Can there really be a never-ending story?  Many experienced authors and other storytellers would readily assert that "yes, they do indeed have a clear ending" and that one mark of a good storyteller is that he or she has a clear sense of the ending toward which they are working. In general, I am not inclined to disagree with this notion. However, I think it could prove worthwhile to explore the question a bit further.

I have nothing further to say about Stranger Things (see here if you want).
But, this scene deserves credit for helping me decide to frame the question in this way.

One of the stories that I have really grown to enjoy, but I have never commented on here mostly because my own viewing is still years behind the current releases, is Doctor Who.  {I know, I'm really showing my nerd cards here: I usually talk about Star Wars and superheroes, but surprise, I also watch Doctor Who!  Don't worry, I won't start talking about Harry Potter next, but I would most definitely recommend that anyone reading this who hasn't read Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Chronicles of Narnia stop what you're doing and promptly begin doing so!}  In the regeneration of the Doctor, the show has found a helpful plot device to keep the story going over the years and keep things new and fresh, even with different actors playing the lead role in different seasons.  This has enabled the show to continue, with various stops and starts, across several decades.  So, the show is already an interesting reference point for this topic of whether or not there can truly be a never-ending story.  Recently, however, I viewed an episode that offered some further interesting reflections on the topic, namely the 2014 Christmas Special, "Last Christmas." (This is the episode that will be thoroughly spoiled, if you keep reading).

This Christmas Special involved a rather entertaining Santa Claus appearing, along with his elves and reindeer, as a fantasy, a captivating tale from the characters' childhood, which was in fact "a dream that was trying to save them."  This intervention came in the midst of a nightmare dream sequence they were caught in, thanks to the face-hugging alien "Dream Crabs."  The presence of Santa and the ongoing debate over whether he is real, despite that he was standing in front of them and talking to them, became a vehicle to reflect on the relationship between fantasy and reality, which also entailed a not-so-subtle reflection on faith.  The notion of 'a dream that is trying to save us' seemed to be particularly evocative of the increasingly common notion that faith can be good for people, regardless of whether or not it is true.  You may often hear this expressed, especially by those agnostics and atheists alike who are not hostile to faith, in the form of the belief that it is simply good to have something to believe in.  Now, this notion is interesting on several levels, besides the most basic level that it is sometimes supported by scientific evidence, such as the fact that faith has observable benefits to one's health.  While the notion that the object of our faith need not be real might be problematic on various levels, still the notion that faith itself provides evidence of its own capacity to "save us" is thought-provoking.  This fact alone leaves open the question of whether it might be real after all, as the closing scene of the episode hints at, implying that perhaps Santa was working in the real world after all.     

This was my first meme of The Doctor.  It was bound to happen eventually.

But, the more basic commentary on story came in the context of their attempt to figure out how they had all arrived at the North Pole.  Whenever the question came up, each character would compulsively say something like "It's kind of a long story."  At the end of the episode, after they find their way out of the dream sequence, we are given a quick glimpse of the "long story" which is that person's life.  It is as if to say this story has ended, but each of these characters come from a much larger, bigger story that will continue to go on.  And the concept of trying to escape the dream sequence gives us a hint at what that larger story might be called: Real Life.  That story goes on.

The concept of a story "universe" continues to explore this larger story, from which these characters come, which still goes on even after the present story reaches its end.  For us, as readers and viewers, it should also prompt us to consider that much larger story of which we are a part: Real Life.  The stories that capture our imagination can be like a dream sequence, from which we must learn to find our way back to reality.  One of the very principles on which this blog is built might be expressed by the notion from "Last Christmas" that they can be "a dream that is trying to save us," in the sense that they can have meaning.  This was Principle #2 of the Seven Principles, within which I try to operate.  But, the first and last of these principles focus even more directly on that larger story called "Real Life."  We must stay grounded and we must know when to let go.  The latter (knowing when to let go) does not have to apply only to knowing when a particular story is bad for you.  Even with good stories, it can mean simply knowing when it is time to return to reality.

This meme originally posted with an archived post about manhood, wounds and healing
inspired by the X-Men character Wolverine (here).

Over time, I realized how much these first and last principles were probably always subconsciously influenced by the Principle and Foundation of Saint Ignatius of Loyola's Spiritual Exercises, which has been very personally formative for me.  Ignatius proposed that we build on the foundation of remembering what we were made for: to praise, reverence and glorify God and by this means to obtain salvation (which is nothing less than living in eternal communion with God and with one another in Christ Jesus).  All created things are given to help us achieve this end, to stay focused on this goal.  We must make ready use of them only to the extant that they help us achieve that goal, but with a kind of detachment that he termed indifference (not a kind of callousness, but simply a focus on what is most important, resulting in a lack of attachment to other things).  This holy indifference motivates us to choose only what helps us stay focused on our purpose and rejects whatever becomes an obstacle to that purpose and goal.

Since I began this blog in 2016, it has been something that has helped me to seek meaning and thus to stay focused on my purpose and on living in reality, even while a number of new stories that captured my imagination were being released.  I hope it has done something similar for others out there.  Nonetheless, as this decade comes to a close and as the two main sagas on which I have spent the most time commenting reach their end (even if it is only a quasi-end), it is time for me to return my focus more directly to that larger story of which we are all a part: Real Life.  You may notice that 2019 has been a very active year for posting, as if I were making the most of this year.  That is because I made this decision at the beginning of the year and I did indeed want to make the most of it, or in some cases perhaps, to get some final thoughts out there.  This is not quite a final "signing off," as I will still post an Episode VII of "Discerning the Spirits of the Force," coinciding with the release of Star Wars, Episode IX: Rise of the Skywalker.  And I will post a "Top 5 Songs Worth Learning to Listen to in 2019."  Also, I can't guarantee that I won't ever decide to make a very rare, occasional post.  Who knows.  Maybe "Learning to Listen To..." is a never-ending story... but, let's just call this the end.

If anyone is reading this, truly I thank you and I hope this helped you, not only to better appreciate some of the stories that capture your imagination, but to better live within that larger story of which we are all a part: Real Life.

God bless you.                  

Seeing Through The Eyes of a Child, Part III: With Great Power..., Part III: Heroism in the Eyes of a Child

       It's been a few weeks since the last part in this series was posted (and it'll be a few weeks since the next one is posted - at least one more is planned).  But, with the release of Spider-Man: Far From Home this week, it is a great time to continue the trend begun in the last post, of considering heroism through the eyes of a child.  This also allows for another collision point of two series: this present series on Seeing Through the Eyes of a Child (first part here) and the With Great Power Comes As Many Reboots As It Takes Until We're Satisfied series (first post here), which focused on what our friendly neighborhood web-slinger has to offer.  Of course, there have already been two new Spider-Man movies (not to mention two Avengers movies, in which he also appeared) since the last part in this series was posted.  While the fact of a cartoon movie being so well done was a bit surprising for us, it is worthwhile to also discuss Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse while we're at it.  If you've only seen one or the other, you won't miss anything by only reading that section, to avoid spoilers.

Spoilers Ahead for Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse and Spider-Man: Far From Home and we should also add Spider-Man: Homecoming, Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame and possibly a few other Marvel movies.

Miles Morales (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse):

       The perspective of Miles Morales helps us to see clearly the childlike perspective on heroism, power and responsibility that always comes across so strongly in Spider-Man stories.  As we glimpse an older Peter Parker (or rather various older Peter Parkers and a few other Spider-allies) serving as mentors to a younger hero, who will become the Spider-Man for a new generation, we see clearly the wonder and fear that is always so striking through the eyes of a child, alive and well in Miles Morales.  Not only do we first view a veteran Spider-Man through the lens of this child, but also the playful comic book style of the whole movie invites us to take on the eyes of the child, as the entire story unfolds.  Furthermore, we also can also recognize the significance of his relationships with his parents and other mentor figures.  The family dynamic between Miles, his father and mother, and his uncle is especially poignant in the character development of this young boy who is simply striving to be authentically who he is, until he is entrusted with great power, which carries with it a great responsibility.  While his relationship with his father is certainly not perfect, nonetheless the fatherly love and affirmation he receives still becomes a source of much needed strength for young Miles. Meanwhile, his father's own perspective on that central moral of Spider-Man is also quite striking, as his background and activity in law enforcement lead him to conclude, "With great ability comes great accountability."  While this little misquote offered us a humorous little moment between father and son, it also elucidates how incredibly pertinent this central moral is to the concerns of many people in our current era in history, who are rightly calling for accountability of those in power (especially since a democratic government designed with checks and balances built in seems to presume that this should be the norm - but, I digress).

Although apparently the lesson and it's link to Spider-Man is public knowledge, Miles does not have an Uncle Ben to teach it to him.  Perhaps even more interesting is the fact that the uncle to whom Miles looks up is a very different sort of mentor than Ben Parker was to Peter.  He fills a similar role, as his death becomes a kind of turning point in Miles's origin story.  The story unfolds in such a way that we first meet Uncle Aaron through the eyes of Miles, who cares little about the poor choices that his uncle has made, but simply looks on his uncle with love.  Later, when we learn that he has been serving Kingpin as the Prowler, it enables us to see this faceless villain through the eyes of a loving nephew.  The realization of his uncle's private life is a moment of pain and heartbreak for Miles, but he still looks on him with compassion and expects his uncle to look on him with the same kind of compassion, as revealed when he removes his mask, prompting Uncle Aaron to do the same.  The death of Uncle Aaron is striking because it is marked, not only by grief and a lesson of responsibility, but also by the compassion and mercy with which Miles looks on this faceless villain with the eyes of a child and sees not his crimes, but his beloved uncle.           

       Finally, the notion of a multiverse can open up some fascinating opportunities for interesting story-lines in the world of science fiction.  The more recent Spider-Man story to hit the big screen invoked the notion of a multiverse in a very different way, which explores one possible implication it can carry with it, as we will discuss below.

Peter Parker (Spider-Man: Far From Home):

       This next chapter in the story of this new incarnation of Peter Parker takes us to very interesting new places.  Of course, that comment applies both literally and figuratively, as the whole element of Parker being on a European vacation shows us Venice, Prague and London.  But, it is interesting to note how all that has taken place in his journey with the Avengers (Infinity War and Endgame) has brought him to a new phase in his process of growing from childhood into emerging adulthood.  I have already discussed how this new version of the story explores the themes of power and responsibility in a very different way, given the obvious motivation to not simply keep rehashing what has been done before in previous versions.  So, while I still would be very happy if, at some point, they chose to pay explicit credence to the literal phrase "with great power comes great responsibility," passed on to him by his Uncle Ben, they are still finding some very interesting ways to explore this theme indirectly.  One of the things they have done very well, by choosing a younger actor and having the character actually be still in High School thus far, is allowing us to see how the childlike perspective on these themes of power and responsibility is so important.  We definitely see the childlike wonder alive in him, while also mixed with a bit of that childlike fear, as Stark first recruits him in Captain America: Civil War and he desires to be a great hero like the Avengers who have come before him.  In Spider-Man: Homecoming this wonder was manifest in his desire not to be treated like a child, but to be entrusted with larger tasks, ultimately resulting in his eventual decision to choose the humbler path and seek to be a more local hero, who simply strives to keep his own neighborhood safe.  We saw the struggle within him between the wonder that drives him to grandiosity and the innate sense of prioritizing the relationships that are important to him.  Both of these things can be described as part of the perspective that we are given when we seek to see through the eyes of the a child.  But, this desire to keep those who he cares about safe and the wonder which drives him to want to be a great hero come together and cause him to come to Stark's assistance again, when New York is again attacked by aliens (Avengers: Infinity War), even to the point of following them into space on their own ship.

       Now, having been to the great beyond of space, having officially been dubbed an Avenger, having battled alongside alien allies as well as against alien foes, having essentially died, then having fought in the epic battle to finally defeat the alien menace Thanos, after being oddly brought back to life, and finally having lost his mentor in said battle, it is fair to say that young Parker has been rather weathered by the most extreme sort of life experiences that most would agree would cause a child to have lost their innocence.  So, it is no surprise that Spider-Man: Far From Home is largely about young Parker being overwhelmed at taking on the responsibility involved in being a "grown-up" Avenger.  In fact, it is a fitting follow-up to Homecoming, in which he was longing to be trusted with the kind of responsibility of being a true Avenger, like Stark.  Now, with Stark gone, he feels the pressure of being expected to be "the next Iron Man," or so he believes.  The weight of that responsibility weighs heavily upon him, and he even learns the hard way the responsibility that this kind of power entails, when he accidentally orders a drone strike on his peers.

       The glasses from Stark that he is given are an interesting symbol, as they give him the chance to see the world through the eyes of Stark, in a sense.  Yet, he is uncertain whether he wants them.  He wants to go back to seeing through his own eyes, the eyes of a child.  He has not lost his desire to prioritize relationships, to simply be a friend (and hopefully a boyfriend to M.J.) and to enjoy vacation with his friends.  So, as he gets what he wanted - the responsibility of being a true "grown-up" Avenger, like Stark - his response includes both wonder and fear.

       In fact, while Homecoming focused more on his wonder, and how he felt this wonder was being restrained, Far From Home focuses more on his fear.  When we look at heroism through the eyes of a child, we will see both wonder and fear.  A child is lost in wonder at the power and the prospect of using that power to help others.  But, a child is also often inclined to fear, in face of the responsibility that this power brings with it.  Ultimately, Parker still longs for greatness, but he still wants to live a normal life.  This normal life is not just a convenient place of retreat.  It also stands for the relationships that he innately knows deserve priority.  The painful process of maturation will enable learning to carry this prioritization of relationship together with the responsibility of all that has been entrusted to him.

       It is precisely this struggle within Parker that Quentin Beck is able to manipulate.  He situates himself in Parker's life, and sets himself up as a sort of new mentor in replacement of Stark.  This leads young Parker to decide that Beck is better suited to be the "next Iron Man," so that he can go back to try and live the normal life he is seeking, at least during vacation.  Essentially, he gives Beck exactly what he was looking for, by handing over the glasses from Stark.  But, this leads us to the very interesting question of what sort of lenses Beck views the world through.  As he makes clear, he believes that the truth is something he can control, implying that truth is merely a matter of perception.  This is essentially a form of relativism, but like the illusions that Beck uses to hide the truth, it is merely a smoke-screen.  Whether intentionally or not, Beck offers us a striking illustration of the fact that relativism is truly just another form or deception, it is an illusion meant to hide a truth that many don't want us to see.  Somehow, the eyes of a child have the capacity to see through this smokescreen.  Consider the (perhaps disappointing) twist that even the notion that there is a multiverse was all a part of Beck's deception (at least as far as we know right now, at this point in the story).  The notion of a multiverse implies that there are many realities, perhaps symbolically many truths.  Beck's deception hinged on this notion, as Mysterio was presented as a hero from another dimension within the multiverse.  We might ask, "Why not try to make the story slightly less fantastical, and potentially more believable?"  There may be significance to the fact that Beck and his allies chose to go with a story that hinged on a multiverse.  It can be partly explained by Beck's dying words, as he tells Peter that people will believe anything.  But, the especially striking thing is the reason he gives for why people will believe anything: because we have to believe something, we are made to believe.  Wow.  This is striking.

       Those who offer us the illusory smokescreen that is relativism and shove it down children's throats, including in schools and especially in many universities, don't want us to see and believe the truth.  Still, they acknowledge that we are made to believe something.  So, they propose this ironically absolute creed that there is no absolute truth, but instead everything depends on one's perception.  They present this with the audacity of a claim to authority that insists that this certainly is the only truth that must be believed and professed, because to profess an absolute truth (besides the absolute truth that they are proposing) is said to be judgmental and non-inclusive, as it may contradict "someone else's truth."  Notice the evidence of how youth are fed this notion, as M.J. disregards Brad's concerns about Peter, by invoking the claim that the notion of absolute truth is fading from our world.  As if playing a game that has been taught to her, in order that the officials do not believe that she is out of bounds, she is using this as an obvious smokescreen to hide the truth that they understandably don't want their classmates to know, namely that Peter really is Spider-Man.

       When we reject this illusory lens of relativism and begin to view the world through the eyes of a child, we instinctively know that there is truth.  The desire to know that truth, even to journey to the great beyond to find it, expresses itself in wonder.  As we come to know this truth, we will discover that, at times, it can be scary.  But, it is the truth that will set us free.  The illusion of relativism seeks to manipulate our fear and stifle our wonder, so that we choose the convenient and comfortable path that ends our quest for the truth.  We are to simply live and let live and not worry about what is true.  If we are to not allow that childlike wonder to die within us, we must keep seeking the truth.

Speaking of uncovering lies in the Marvel Universe

       Consider the final piece of deception that is revealed in the after-the-credits scene, namely that Nick Fury had sent the Skrull Talos to impersonate him.  Let's set aside for a moment the fascinating questions this opens up about how much Fury and/or S.H.I.E.L.D. have been working with the Skrulls since Captain Marvel, how many other deceptions were already in place, and what this will bring in the future.  But, the notion of concluding a movie which dealt heavily with deceptions and illusions, meant to conceal truths, with an interesting new reminder that even some of those who apparently do so to serve good ends are willing to use this kind of deception is very significant.  The notion that deception and concealing of truths is not just what the "bad guys" do is very culturally relevant, as we live in an era that seems ever more inclined toward demanding accountability and transparency of those in authority over us.  And this is with good reason.  Granted, this involves a much bigger discussion, which includes complicated questions about what is the responsible management of sensitive information.  Regardless, it is indeed a good thing that people are apparently more driven to not be too easily satisfied, but to keep seeking the truth.

       May we not be too easily satisfied with the illusory smokescreens that seek to manipulate our fears and stifle the natural, innate wonder that drives us to seek the truth.

Keep seeking the Truth.  He is seeking you.       

Part IV>>>

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Seeing Through The Eyes of a Child, Part II: "Stumbling In The Dark..."

       As we continue this new series on Seeing Through the Eyes of a Child, we move onto a very different story.  We just might see some overlap in the concept, which was also relevant to the latest Monster-Verse movie, of imperfect parents and their forgiving children (see last post here).  In order to find a different perspective on the matter of seeing stories of forgiveness and redemption through the eyes of a child, we turn now to the X-Men (more on the series here and here).  The concept of the perspective of children and their relationships to their parents, teachers or mentors has often been of great relevance to the X-Men stories, as it centers around a team that is grown out of a school.  Given that this summer's Dark Phoenix is the direct follow-up to 2016's X-Men: Apocalypse, it is interesting to consider how it continues on some of it's themes and concepts.

Spoilers Ahead for X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) and Dark Phoenix (2019)

X-Men: Apocalypse (2016):
The opening monologue in Apocalypse featured Charles Xavier asserting that mutants are "children, stumbling in the dark, searching for guidance."  This is a stark contrast to the words that closed that same movie, as Mystique tells them that, because they are no longer children, all the lessons they have learned before don't matter now.  Whereas Charles's opening words imply that the guidance children receive determine what they will become in the future, Mystique's closing words imply the opposite, that the lessons given to children have no relevance to their adult life.  The staggeringly nonsensical incoherence of these two statements seems to be meant to indicate a clever contrast, but in fact seems rather to point toward the confusion that has always plagued the X-Men movies.  It is a confusion about knowing they have something relevant and important that they want to say about maturity and finding ones place in a world that is still marred by various forms of bigotry, but never quite being certain what it is they want to say.  At times, they have been clear about their willingness and even desire to show that even Xavier loses his way sometimes.  Yet, he is still their hero and their mentor.  Mystique is usually the reluctant antihero, torn between Xavier and Eric.  Her words seem to reflect a determination flowing more out of a fearful desperation than any kind of maturity or wisdom.  Still, the question of whether Xavier's conviction is mistaken, regarding the nature of the guidance given to children and mutants alike, seems left unanswered.  The opening monologue clearly implied that En Sabah Nur himself was a child who needed proper guidance.  The guidance Charles gives to the children at his school is clearly meant to protect them from a similar fate, which is of course meant to be a subtle foreshadowing of the fact that that movie would set the stage for its sequel, in which one of his children becomes a feared villain.

Those opening words had set up especially well for the introduction of the new, young mutants proposed as the future X-Men, who are the "children, stumbling in the dark, searching for guidance."  This plays out over roughly the first half of the movie, in which four different mentor figures taking a "child" (young mutant) under their wings were shown in comparison and contrast to one another.  Starting with the most unique, we see Erik trying to living a normal, peaceful life with his wife and daughter.  His daughter is a sign of his hope of redemption, the sign of the possibility of a new beginning.  That is part of the beauty of the birth of every child!  This sign of hope is taken from him.  Before long, however, Peter (Quicksilver) re-enters the story simply as Erik's long lost son, unbeknownst to Erik, looking for his father.  Meanwhile, the rest of the new young mutants introduced to be the new X-Men, each receive a different mentor.  Mystique finds Kurt Wagner, A.K.A. Nightcrawler (interesting in light of the fact that she is his mother in the comics).  Young Scott Summers (Cyclops) comes under the mentorship of Xavier (and Hank McCoy), alongside Jean Grey who has been benefiting from this mentorship for some time.  Finally, it is striking that En Sabah Nur (who believes himself to be a/the god and calls all mutants his children) begins gathering his four horseman, by first encountering a child (another teenage mutant): Storm.  The contrast between the different types of guidance given to these four "children" is an important feature of the first part of the story.  En Sabah Nur seeks to show them that the "systems" that he claims "man has created" are holding them back from their full potential and seeks to liberate them, simply by expanding the reach of their powers.  Meanwhile Xavier and McCoy have been trying to teach Scott and Jean and the rest of the students to control their powers, as they see how the children are in fear of that which they cannot control.  And the greater the power, it seems, the greater the fear of losing control.  Finally, Mystique is ever the one to stand in between the hero and the villain.  After very reluctantly embracing a process of redemption in the previous X-Men: Days of Future Past, she is now living with the fact that countless young mutants view her as a hero.  Her part in Apocalypse becomes about her gradually beginning to embrace the consequences and choose to be a role model and mentor to the young.  But, the guidance she gives them is primarily about not seeking to control the powers they fear, but letting them loose in battle, fighting for good.  She has already left behind the relentless drive toward vengeance, retaliation and elimination of threats which had previously made her a villain and is finally able to persuade Erik to do the same when he is at his lowest point and bringing about the greatest destruction.  So, by the end of the movie, the reluctant antihero is willing to be, not only a hero, but even a mentor to the young who will be the heroes of the future.  But, does her theory that the lessons of our youth are irrelevant and we should simply to stop seeking to control ourselves hold true?

Dark Phoenix (2019):
Clearly, when one of these new, young X-Men acquires even greater powers than she could ever control, driving her to become a greatly feared villain (Dark Phoenix), Mystique is not made out to be the mentor who got it wrong, but the hero who is widely revered from beginning to end.  I appreciate both the complexity and nuance given to her character over this more recent series of movies, as well as this heroic ending to her redemptive arc. While Xavier and McCoy's attempts to help the young find control seems to work for Scott, for example, Jean is shown to be a more difficult case, with whom Xavier went to questionable extremes.  From the beginning, the fact that Xavier can't fix everything that is broken is foreshadowed.  But, is also established from the beginning that his goal was never to control her, but to give her the tools to put her in control: "It's your gift.  What you do with it is up to you."  When it is revealed that he had, not only lied to her to protect her from the painful truth about her father, but also manipulated her mind in certain ways to attempt to help her acquire control.  This all is shown to create even greater obstacles to control, when her powers are amplified beyond measure by the cosmic force known as "the phoenix."  This all goes from bad to worse when her amplified powers enable her to learn that her father is alive, prompting her to go meet him and learn the truth, at a point when she is both the most vulnerable and the most overwhelmed by a power beyond her control.  When this all progresses into a violent confrontation, in which Jean loses control and takes Mystique's life, many reach the conclusion that Xavier's methods of guidance are a greater danger than a help.  By the end, it is Xavier's persistent determination to help Jean that allows her to see him as the contrast to her father.  While her father could not handle her and wasn't willing to try (a task which became even more daunting for him after she accidentally killed his wife, her mother), Xavier became the new father-figure who took her in and was unwilling to give up on her.  He became the one who relentlessly pursues her, unwilling to give up hope on her.

Strikingly, she is able to see this most fully when she views him through the eyes of a child.  Just as the story began with a glimpse of Jean's childhood, so the turning point is when they retreat together into Xavier's mind where she is able to view him again from the eyes of a child and to forgive him.  This is striking in light of the fact that, in some ways, Dark Phoenix gives us a bit more perspective than previous X-Men movies on the role of the children in the school.  While we don't necessarily get to know any of the younger children as unique characters, a few key scenes allow us to glimpse the events of the story through the eyes of childlike wonder and fear.  We see the wonder in the eyes of children as they return from rescuing the astronauts.  In this brief moment, we glimpse how crucial the X-Men are to Xavier's plan to guide the children.  He is clear and intentional in allowing them to be an inspiration to them, as Mystique reluctantly learned to be in Apocalypse.  Later, however, after the death of Mystique and the rumors spreading among the children that Jean had killed her, we see the fear in the eyes of children as they encounter the painful realities of what battle consists of and of the dangers that can result when one as powerful as Jean does lose control.  Thankfully, that fear is met with inspiration, as Scott insists they will not give up on bringing Jean home.  This is a moment in which we see the innocence of children being threatened, but also how the right inspiration in those key moments can bring about greater maturity and readiness to face life's worst challenges.    

It is good that this follow-up to Apocalypse continues to explore the question of what is the right kind of guidance that the young need.  It is shown that the wrong kind of grasping at control can be problematic, as many parents who have futilely sought to protect their children from all pain and suffering may have learned.  It is also shown that our mentors are never perfect.  They make mistakes.  Sometimes, they make big mistakes and we suffer even more as a consequence.  But, it also shows that the suffering we experience is still not necessarily entirely the parent's fault.  And when the parent or mentor has the kind of humility Xavier shows, to be able to acknowledge their fault and to continue seeking to help the child, whatever it takes, we begin to see that redemption is possible for both the parent and the child alike.

Children do need guidance.  And they do need help learning self-control, not simply to be taught to let go of all control.  It is a subtle and clever lie of the Enemy, which is prevalent in our culture today, to suggest that all efforts of a mentor to seek to help the young learn self-control are efforts to control the young.  This could not be further from the truth.  The goal is not to control youth, but to give them the guidance they need to be in control themselves.  This is not an easy process and we can make mistakes along the way.  Still, with humility and persistence, a good mentor or parent can show the young the relentless pursuit of the Father's Merciful Love.  And in the process, they too can see that same Merciful Love through the eyes of a child.

Part III>>>

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Seeing Through The Eyes of a Child, Part I: Wonders, Horrors & Monsters

       This year is offering us a number of reasons to revisit the theme of "Seeing Through the Eyes of a Child."  We explored this previously, while considering Stranger Things (Season One), especially in light of how both fear and wonder are seen acutely in the eyes of a child, as well as the relationships of children to their parents and/or mentors.  We continued the topic at the beginning of this year, as we considered Glass, the latest from M. Night Shyamalan, who has done wonders with this theme a number of times over the years.  This summer, I will offer another multi-part series on this topic, looking at some current or more recent examples.  Unlike the last couple of series, the entries will not all be weekly.  Part II will come within the week, while Parts III and IV might be a bit more spread out.

Spoilers Ahead for Godzilla (2014) and Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019)

       For this first entry, we will briefly take note of how the themes of fear and wonder through the eyes of a child and of children's relationship to their parents is seen in the recent Godzilla movies in Legendary Entertainment's new Monster-Verse.

Godzilla (2014):

       While the imagery might have been under-utilized, the importance of children and their fathers was obviously intentionally being evoked from the beginning of the movie.  The parallel drawn between the relationship between Joe and young Ford and that between adult Ford and his son Sam is not subtle, even down to the banners both sons make for their fathers.   Of course, we see the fear in young Ford's eyes at seeing the disaster taking place while he was still a child, as we will later see wonder in his son's eyes in seeing a "dinosaur" on the news.  Even more significantly, as a son, we see the simplicity with which Ford desires his father's time and attention.  This extends into his adulthood, as his father's grief and determine to uncover the truth behind his wife's death, clearly resulted in his relationship with Ford being even more strained.  While Ford is clearly devoted to his own family as an adult, when he receives news of his father's arrest, he responds with a kind of bitterness and resentment.  As everything unfolds with his father's arrest and the awakening of the monsters, we see how Ford is torn between his role as a son and as a father.  He desires to get back home to be with his family, yet his concern for his father initially keeps him away.  On some level, it seems as if Ford is still the boy who desires the time and attention of his father, even though it is not without bitterness and resentment.  As the situation with the monsters continues to unfold, we see him somewhat imitating the behavior of his own father, as he continually puts off his reunion with his family.  We even see him taking time to care for a strange child on a train, attending to his fear and to his safety.  This sequence emphasizes both his protective, fatherly instincts and also his distance from his own family.

Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019):

       The childlike perspective in relation to both parents is a bit more thoroughly explored in the sequel through Madi, the young teenage daughter of both Emma and Mark.  We meet this family in grief, after losing a child in connection with the disasters of the first movie and see how both parents have dealt with it in different, but equally unhealthy ways.  We see how Madi is torn between her parents and concerned about both.  Very early on, we see her reaching out to her dad in an email, including beginning to express her concern about her mother.  While Emma does not know the content of the email, the fact that Madi is writing it already becomes a source of tension and conflict.  All along, we see her wanting to go to her father, while also not wanting to abandon her mother.

Man, rough childhood!  First, she has the demigorgon to face,
then, a whole "MosterVerse"?!
What? Same actress, different character?  Oh. Never mind.

Meanwhile, it is notable that we see more wonder than fear in Madi.  The wonder comes across clearly at the birth of Mothra, and carries her throughout the film, even when fear enters in, even until the arrival of Godzilla in Boston.  This is indeed one of the stories which shows the child as the one who seems to have the most healthy balance of the two.  The sequence which shows her on the catwalk, as her father calls her to himself and her mother calls her back, is especially striking.  That catwalk can be seen as a kind of spectrum between wonder and fear, in which she is pulled in both directions, but ultimately moves daringly toward wonder.  At one end, her mother stands at the extreme end of wonder, as she is so enamored with the idea that the "titans" (monsters) might be the key to the earth's salvation, that she is recklessly willing to throw away countless human lives.  Among other things, she lacks the needed fear to understand the incredible power that she is unleashing, which Mark reminds her she "can't control."  Yet, her reply to Mark shows how he stands on the opposite extreme of fear, as she tells him he "can't run away from" everything.  Meanwhile, as Madi is torn between the two, she has just enough fear at watching everything come undone to be able to recognize when her mother has lost touch with reality and unleashed havoc on the world.  The point is not very subtle: Emma just might be the "real monster."  Meanwhile, as she sees everything spin out of control, Emma is finally able to regain some of her reason and concoct a plan that Madi overhears and is daring enough to put into action.  Meanwhile, the surprising revelation of Mothra's role as "Queen of the Monsters," who has a symbiotic relationship with Godzilla seems to be instrumental in reawakening a bit of wonder in Mark, which enables him to play his own part in working toward the resolution.

The image this all leaves us with with is rather striking.  The drama unfolds in such a way as to awaken enough fear in Emma and enough wonder in Mark to move them both toward the center, to move them back toward their child.  The more their view of reality and willingness to engage the whole of reality, rather than simply the extreme which they have chosen in dealing with their grief, matures and evolves, the more they are drawn together once more.  Fear and wonder are both important lenses which we need, in order to properly view different aspects of reality.  Both come naturally to children.  As we learn to process and deal with different traumas and trials, we might run to the extreme of one or the other.  These extremes might become what divide us, but when we are able to move back toward a more complete view of reality, walls are torn down, bridges are built and we can move back toward one another.  This husband and wife dealing with the loss of their son had been pulled apart by their respective retreats into fear and wonder.  Between them, their child stood, hoping for the sanity and wellness of her parents, but also for the reunion of her family.  We all have our own ways of coping with the painful parts of reality and can retreat into our own preferred perspective on reality.  These safe retreats from reality in its fullness can isolate and divide us from one another.  The child's natural desire for unity, peace and harmony - for family - becomes a sign of the fact that it is the truth that unites us.                   

Part II>>>

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Reconciliation is the Endgame, Part IV: Mercy, Healing and Making Our Lives a Gift

     At last, we come to the discussion of the "endgame" of this saga.  The reconciliation of Tony and Steve is admittedly only part of the story, in this final, desperate attempt at victory over Thanos and at bringing back all of those who were lost.  But, it is a very important part.  Thankfully, in the telling of the story, great care and precision was put into all that had gone before and led up to this reconciliation of characters.  In fact, many have commented that more care has clearly gone into the conclusion or continuation of character arcs than the realism of plot points - depending on whether you hold the opinion that there is a version of time travel that can be considered "realistic."  Regardless, some of us don't expect a high level of technical realism from stories derived from comic books, but appreciate the opportunity for real depth and value in the form of the journey of the characters and the themes that can be drawn out through that journey.  So, overall, I was quite pleased.  Now, let's dive into this final phase. 

MAJOR SPOILERS for Avengers: Endgame ahead.
Seriously, there will be some pretty thorough
summarizing, if you keep reading...

     The pain of loss and defeat overshadows the story from the very beginning and it isn't long before we see how this is further aggravated by the pain of division between these two old friends.  We immediately hear the difference between Tony's messiah complex and Steve's determination to give everything in order to simply do what they can.  When Steve is helping Tony off of the ship, after it was carried back to Earth by Carol Danvers, we hear Tony lamenting: "I lost."  The simplicity of Steve's response is perfectly on point: "Tony, WE lost."   But, naturally, this doesn't sit well with Tony who throws Steve's own words, from the conflict with Ultron, back in his face.  When Tony had insisted that his creation of Ultron was meant to protect them from what was coming (whose name they now know is Thanos), Steve had responded that they would face it together and if they lost, they would "do that together too."  The utter despair Tony is experiencing leads him to mock Steve's commitment to freedom and to insist that he has "no trust" in Steve, because he had just wanted to keep the team together for that moment... the moment arrived and Steve was not around.  Of course, Steve had given him the phone.  Bruce told him to use it.  It was Tony who couldn't bring himself to call.  Steve doesn't necessarily know that, of course.  But, he knows that he didn't want any of this either.  He knows that Tony is speaking out of his pain, rather than out of his reason.  And it seems, he is tired of fighting.  He stops firing back.  This is the time for them to pull together.  If Tony isn't willing, at the very least, Steve knows it will accomplish nothing to fight back.  Yet, regardless of whether their reunion is yet a reconciliation, it makes little difference at this stage.  The Avengers' only chance at finding and stopping Thanos yields nothing that is able to change what has been done, because he has already destroyed the Infinity Stones.  All it brings them is an opportunity for Thor to kill him in act of fruitless vengeance.       

     When the story jumps forward five years, both Steve and Tony are in very different places from their past heroics.  In fact, all of the original Avengers are in very different places, leading to a striking re-gathering sequence, which resembles the way they were originally gathered, but instead of some supervising organization reaching out to gather them, we see them reach out to one another as friends.  Steve is now devoting himself to helping people move forward from the tragedy of loss, after Thanos's snap.  His commitment to helping others in whatever way he can is fitting for the man who "knows the value of strength... and he knows compassion."  The support group setting almost seems like an homage to Sam, who was doing a similar kind of work when Steve first met him.  Meanwhile, he goes to visit Natasha, who is now leading a very different team of Avengers, just as Scott Lang returns from the Quantum Realm.

     Meanwhile, Tony had already made clear that his belief was that "we fight... so that we can end the fight and go home."  So, he and Pepper have made a home for themselves, now that there is nothing more that they can do.  The fight has ended.  They just lost.  But, it is not just him and Pepper.  They have a daughter... a daughter that they might possibly no longer have if they were to go back in time and change all that has taken place (again, depending on the actual nature of time travel).  This sets us up well to understand how badly Tony doesn't want to go along with Steve, Natasha, and Scott's plan to use the Quantum Realm to travel back in time (because time works differently down there, of course).  Naturally, Tony is the only one who is able to crack the whole time travel thing, and Pepper is able to convince him that he will never truly "be able to rest" until he knows whether he could possibly help the many who weren't as fortunate as they were.  So, under the condition that they try to get back what was lost, but "keep what we've found," Tony returns to the Avengers complex to help them.  And he brings Steve's shield with him, in order to finally return it to him, after the conclusion of Civil War.

     This is when the real reconciliation takes place, in as moving and emotional of a way as Tony's ego will allow.  "Turn's out resentment is corrosive.  I hate it."  And this has always been where Tony's strength lies.  His ego gets him in trouble.  But, he is willing to change.  He is willing to hate and turn from that - even within his own actions - which stands in the way of the good that must be done.  Meanwhile, Steve's strength is shown forth as well, in his ability to show mercy and to help a friend who is hurting to have a second chance.  Not unlike he showed Bucky that his actions under brainwashing were not him and helped him to move beyond the pain of guilt and shame, so also he does not hold it against Tony that he essentially blamed the whole defeat by Thanos on him.  Even after everything, he does not fail to see the good in Tony, to believe in that good and to give Tony the freedom to choose to be the best version of himself.  Elsewhere in the story, we will see even more striking examples of mercy, especially between Banner and Thor, Gamora and Nebula(s), and most especially, Natasha and Barton.

     But, the trust Steve places in Tony comes across boldly when their "time heist" (to acquire the Infinity Stones from the past) takes the two of them on a detour together.  As Tony is devising the plan, he asks Steve, "You trust me?"  And with a simplicity that is incredibly meaningful, Steve only replies, "I do."  So, these two go on a journey together into the past, which ends up being quite meaningful for them both.  In other parts of the larger story, we learned that the Quantum Realm has some healing capacity.  Strikingly, then, this ends up being a journey of healing.  The "father-wound" has always been important to the healing process connected to Tony's ongoing conversion.  Thus, this little detour enables him to have a conversation with his father, to witness the love and care that his father had for him before he was even born and speak to him words that he hadn't the chance to say.  Meanwhile, Steve is given a brief glimpse in person of the woman he left behind when he went into the ice all those decades ago: now Director Peggy Carter.  The reason Steve was only "at home" fighting alongside his fellow soldiers was because of all that he left behind.  Peggy stands for more than a lost love.  She stands for the fact that Steve is a man out of time, who has never quite been able to find his home in the time in which he awoke from the ice.

     Finally, one more leg of the "time heist" needs to be discussed (not that the others aren't important and meaningful; I'm just trying to stay on the topic of Steve and Tony's story).  Not unlike Tony's healing encounter with his father, Thor is given one with his mother.  This whole time, Thor has been undergoing a (relatively) redemptive story arc, as Banner and Rocket had to pull him out of a very low and dark place.  Without going into too much detail about the ups, downs, ins, outs, good, bad and ugly of his character arc, the dramatic conclusion of that crucial conversation with his mother is when he successfully calls Mjolnir (his hammer) back to his hand.  It had previously been destroyed (but they are in the past, before it was destroyed), and it can only be wielded by one who is deemed "worthy."  So, his response to the hammer coming to him signifies the final piece of the puzzle in reviving his spirits: "I am still worthy."  But, this sets the stage for the moment in the final battle against Thanos (who followed them back to their time from another leg in the "time heist") when the hammer flies into the hand of... drum roll, please... Steve Rogers.  Besides that, from a sheer entertainment standpoint, this was the single most exciting moment in this or possibly any Marvel movie, it is a fitting moment for the final stage of Steve's story.  Steve is the quintessential "good man," the "weak man" who knows "the value of strength... and he knows compassion."  It can be said that the moments when Thor has faltered are moments when he had forgotten the value of strength, weakness, and compassion.  In these moments, he is reckless and arrogant, falling back on his brute strength of will and he is utterly crushed by his defeat and failure to stop Thanos by his own strength.  Steve knows the value of the strength entrusted to him and continually uses it to help others, even when he must come to terms with his weakness and inability to accomplish every victory.  He is indeed worthy (which may be further demonstrated by the fact that he may have found this out back in their playful competition just before Ultron showed up, but not allowed it to be a spectacle for showing off).  It is nice to see Mjolnir confirm this fact before his story closes.  And since part of his strength and compassion in seeking to help others was always found in leading others and helping to draw the strength out of them, it is fitting that he be the one to welcome all of the fallen back (because they successfully used the Infinity Stones to bring back all of those that Thanos snapped away) and call them together with the iconic "Avengers, assemble!"  Of course, this dramatic return of their fallen friends only happens after we see the central three Avengers (Steve, Tony, and Thor) face Thanos alone, standing together again.  In the dialogue within this standoff, we again see how Steve offers a striking contrast to Thanos.  Not only do his strong moral convictions hold to genuine truth and goodness, unlike the strong moral convictions of Thanos, but he is also quintessentially the one who has not forgotten what was lost.  This man out of time's pining for the world that once was, and perhaps some of the values lost with it, stand in bold contrast to Thanos's newly stated belief that those who remember "what was" will forever be an obstacle to "what can be." 

     Meanwhile, Tony's character can be defined by the fact his initial conversion caused him to finally start taking responsibility, until he took so much of it on himself that he truly believed it was his job to save the world.  And he is indeed willing to "make the sacrifice play" in order to do it.  In the midst of the raging and epic battle with all of the resurrected heroes fighting together as one against Thanos's forces, it is Tony who finally ends it.  Using his nano-tech gauntlet to move the stones from Thanos's hand (just as Thanos finally got a hold of it) into his own, he bears the power of the stones in order to use them to snap Thanos and his forces out of existence.  {Again, the believability of this depends on whether we accept their understanding of how time travel works; but like I said, I support their decision to prioritize character-arcs over the kind of realism that would satisfy everyone.}  The power of the stones takes his life and the sadness of loss is cushioned by the sense that he finally fulfilled the mission for which he always believed he was destined.  Thus, it is as fitting as it is emotional when Pepper tells him, "You can rest now."  Far from wasting his life, Tony made of his life a gift given away.  And of course, we see another beautiful image of making one's life a gift given away in Natasha and in the competition to sacrifice themselves between her and Barton.             

     Steve's finale is interesting in a very different way.  After being sent into the past to put all the stones back in the exact place and moment it was taken, he makes the choice to remain behind in the past and choose to live a quiet, simple life, at least part of which is clearly with Peggy.  It seems like they finally had the chance to spend their lives together.  Still, they left just enough of this unknown to us for us to be unsure of whether it actually works, without undoing too many essential things (again, depending on one's understanding of time travel).  Many debate whether this is believable for Steve, who had always remained committed to the apparent belief that the fight required constant vigilance.  But, I would argue that the reason why I can believe Steve might finally decide to hang up the shield is found, not only in the scene in which he lays eyes on Peggy again, but also in the scene in which the myriad of other heroes are coming out of the portals and he calls them to assemble.  Steve has never believed this fight was just his alone.  He has never believed it was his job alone to save the world.  Personally, I don't have a hard time imagining him choosing to entrust their legacy to this vast army of heroes now populating the planet and beyond.

     Of course, the final legacy to be entrusted is the shield itself (and the title of Captain America that comes with it).  There has been a sort of competitive relationship between his two best friends, Sam and Bucky.  In the comics, of course, both have taken up the shield and the title at different times.  One of the biggest questions going into this conclusion of Steve's story has always been, will one of them become the new Captain America and if so, which one?  In terms of abilities, Bucky is the obvious choice, as he has similar scientific enhancements which give him similar physical advantages to those Steve had after the super soldier serum.  By comparison, Sam is just a regular guy.  And this is why he is the perfect successor.  Whether or not they choose to give him some kind of physical enhancements later on, his real strength is found simply in his goodness and uprightness of character.  One can imagine Erskine easily saying the same words he said to Steve, as Sam takes up the shield: "Always remain who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man."

     And this is the perfect note to end on.  As we walk out of the theater (literally or figuratively) and return to reality, we recall that, like Sam, we don't have superpowers.  But, the call still speaks to us to remain consistent in living out the deepest truth of who we are... as good men and women.  This is so much more than just being a nice guy/girl. The difference between a "good man" and a "nice guy" is the maturity of one who lives his life by wisdom, striving to conform his life to the truth, to authentic goodness.  The good man or woman holds themselves, not only to firm moral convictions, but to a firm conviction to the truth, to authentic goodness.  Sometimes this means that, like Tony, we have to be willing to change.  With this choice, the process of ongoing conversion can move forward.  And as Christians, we know that this conversion is made truly possible by the knowledge that our Father has loved us, even since before we were born.  This love of the Father heals the wounds in our hearts. And the knowledge that His Son has shown us mercy and given His life for us enables us even to show mercy to others and to ultimately choose to make our lives a gift given for others.               

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