We're Not What You Think: X-Men and Learning to Encounter Each Other

       We are indeed living in a world with an urgent need to learn to listen and encounter each other.  I never would have guessed, however, that we could find a particular help in this crucial task in the film incarnations of my favorite superhero extravaganza of my childhood.

       There are few franchise stories I have been more invested in since my childhood then the X-Men.  While I was never as satisfied with any of the movies as I would have liked - and let's be honest, it's hard to satisfy someone with that much expectation - each one of the movies has still provided me with a healthy dose of gleeful nostalgia, as well as the usual fodder for thought.  A notable exception to this trend might be found in the latest installment, which brought the side story of Logan (Wolverine) to a conclusion. It's not my purpose to dwell on this movie, so I will suffice to say that it had many worthwhile elements and really have could have been a very good movie, if the makers had not felt it necessary to fill it with R-rated content, which was tastelessly excessive and made it difficult to watch. I advise great caution before choosing to see it, and if you do choose to do so, please don't bring children!

       It has always been the case, with each of these movies, that they have offered me much to like, and a good deal to not like so much. Yet, there was a period of time when these movies were almost ruined for me completely.  That period began the first time someone pointed out to me how the original trilogy of movies had been used to drive an agenda and how deeply embedded into them it seems like that agenda is, at times.  The more I took a second look at them, the more I realized how true it was.  So much so that it was almost impossible not to see it when I watched them, after it was pointed out.  And then, after taking a large step back, I began to take small steps forward again... and I began to realize that these movies have a lot to say to us about what it means to learn to listen and to encounter each other, even when we disagree... or perhaps especially when we disagree.

       Having recently rewatched a few of these movies, I was reminded how much I love X-Men: Days of Future Past (with the exception of a few significant shortcomings, as usual).  By offering a glimpse into the future of this fictional world, which parallels our own in its emphasis on the destructive potential of discrimination, that story in particular enabled them to drive home the themes running through the movies in an especially powerful way.  And let me be clear about the point I am trying to make about these themes.  The central anti-discrimination themes, which have driven the X-Men story since its earliest days, are both good and necessary.  It is likely the case that some of the creators of these stories over the years and I would have to disagree on how we interpret and apply them and/or some of the solutions we might propose.  But, the essential themes themselves are not only something I support, but for which I am very grateful.  Days of Future Past drives this all home in a very potent way, as it not only asks the question of whether humans and mutants could learn to live in peace, but whether two old friends who had become enemies could learn to work together, "side by side in a time when we couldn't be further apart."  The question that Charles Xavier asks in the opening monologue is indeed an important one: "Is the future truly set?" I would say that this question prompts a few follow-up questions, especially this: Can we learn to truly encounter one another?

       These questions cause me to reconsider the scene from the first X-Men movie, which was always so striking to me since the movie first was released.  It was the moment when Senator Kelly, who had previously promoted an alarmingly discriminatory measure called the Mutant Registration Act, is upon his deathbed.  After being abducted by the villains, he is dependent on the help of other mutants (Charles Xavier and his X-Men) to help him, as he dies from the effects of the experimentation done on him.  He discovers in Xavier and the others that mutants are not all threats, but can also be caring and compassionate and can seek to serve others.  It is at this point, that Xavier leans in dramatically and tells him, very simply: "We're not what you think... not all of us."  The beauty I find within this scene is the beauty of a moment when two people begin to see one another.  Or at least one finally sees the other.  But, why can it not be both?  In the movie, it is more a matter of one person who has been failing to see the other, finally encountering the benevolence of the other.  However, in reality, it seems to me that, in most human disagreements, there is need for both parties to begin to see each other.  There is a need to encounter, to learn to listen, and to understand.

       This is really the vision that has inspired the approach, and even the title, of this blog.  It has always been my aim, in paying close attention to elements of meaning, themes and symbolism in pop culture, to learn to listen to the heart of the culture, for the sake of facilitating a dialogue with the Heart of God.  Close attention to pop culture is meant as a way of listening to the heart of the culture, which is meant as a sort of "practice," if you will, in learning to listen to the heart of man.  Truthfully, I am actually quite hesitant to identity who might be the "two parties" most engaged by the themes at hand and how they are being utilized, as this would inevitably become a gross over-simplification, which would perpetuate the already present obstacles to truly encountering one another.  Caricaturing human interaction into a simple "us" and "them" model will always only serve to keep us divided.  This is not a battle between "liberal and conservative," "republican and democrat," "atheists and Christians," or any other labels which can be used to narrow our view of the complexity of reality.  It is simply a matter of learning to encounter one another.  We will never learn to encounter human persons if we persist in the belief that a human person can be essentially defined by his or her views or even lifestyle choices.  Of course, our identity in Christ is something so much more than views or lifestyle choices (for more on that, maybe check this one out).

Okay, So maybe Iceman probably
wasn't thinking of Daniel 3 during
his transformation in X-Men 3.
But, it'd be cooler if he were.

       However, it does seem helpful to my purpose here to identity two ways in which the words of Xavier to Kelly could be applied.  The first is the perspective which was first presented to me, after the first trilogy was completed, which caused the period when these movies were, for a time, nearly ruined for me.  Once again, it is important to remember that the X-Men story has always been one of anti-discrimination, which is a very positive thing.  In hindsight, it makes sense that, in our current cultural setting, they would become a tool for presenting the perspective of a group that currently receives a lot of attention as being victims of discrimination, namely those who identity as homosexual (or perhaps more broadly as LGBTQ).  Let's be clear, one of the reasons these persons consider themselves discriminated against is because they have been.  And to anyone who has been treated unjustly by anyone who represents Christ or His Church in their eyes, please accept my apologies and know that this is actually strictly condemned by the Catholic Church (Catechism of the Catholic Church 2358).  It is also the case, however, that some of what is perceived as discrimination involves a great deal of misunderstanding.  Meanwhile, I initially found the realization of this parallel within the movies to be quite shocking (I was pretty young and immature at the time).  This observation began to effect how I viewed the whole series, as sometimes the references are not that subtle, in the language employed and the images presented.  At the same time, they also reflect an often over-simplified perspective of those who do not support the homosexual lifestyle, or the view of sexuality in general that underlies it.  For example, the whole debate of the proposal of a "cure" to mutation, which arises first in X-Men 3 and is alluded to in a number of other ways throughout the series, reflects a particular response to the homosexual lifestyle, which would NOT be adopted by all Christians, and certainly not by most Catholics who have a proper understanding of their faith.  The way that we view this matter is far more nuanced than simply proposing a "cure," because it is rooted in the beauty, goodness and dignity of the human person as well as the complexity of the human condition.  {P.S.  Many of the same language and images are used in some of the same ways, by the way, in how Marvel's Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. has portrayed the discrimination against the Inhumans, which also holds a bit more nuance than it might at first seem and really could prompt a whole analysis of its own.}

       Meanwhile, one of the details that deserves careful attention, however, if we are to determine what perspective is actually being promoted, if any, is the question of what is being said by the hero and what is being said by the villain.  Thus, I eventually began to notice that some of the less subtle references to slogans that seem to represent an "agenda" seemed to be coming from the villains.  For example, while "mutant and proud" apparently has some roots with Xavier himself, it also is quickly adopted by Mystique, whose desire to be truly committed to this claim leads her down a much darker path.  In fact, the way the slogan is used throughout the movies seems to invite the viewers to question what the implications of such a claim should actually be.  As another example, it is Magneto that seems to be the one who is most boldly beckoning his fellow mutants to "come out."  But again, especially in light of scenes like the one in X-Men 2, which looks very much like a "coming out" scene (at Bobby Drake's home), there seems to be some interesting reflection on what we mean by these things and how we should understand them.  Meanwhile, the dialogue between Xavier and Mystique just before the final act of X-Men: First Class is very telling.  It seems that the hero is precisely the one who is not trying to push an agenda, but who just wants to live in peace.  Yet, one can understand how his approach seems to be simply hiding, and the response of Magneto and Mystique that they should not have to hide certainly holds an element of truth, again, depending on how we understand it.  And this is precisely what is so striking about this series.  It has always been, not just about different sides promoting different agendas.  It is about brothers who have become enemies, but refuse to give up hope in each other (and it is interesting to note how the second trilogy, known as the "Beginnings Trilogy" introduced a new element of Mystique being the "sister," who is torn between them and who has real potential to become a hero).

       So, the desire to understand one another has always been central to these movies.  Now, it should be noted that this aspect could be used to promote relativism (the idea that there is no moral right or wrong, but simply two opposing viewpoints), which should be cautioned against.  But, I do not think this is necessarily the only interpretation.  I think, before getting all up in arms about another perceived agenda, we ought to first stop and listen.  At the most basic level, what is portrayed here is the need for us to encounter one another, to set aside our preconceived notions and discover the beautiful and complex person who is before us for who he or she is, not defined by their views or even decisions.  Furthermore, we see the need to not give up hope in one another, but to believe that it is possible to live in peace.  This thought brings me full circle to the second possible application, which I wanted to mention, of Xavier's words to Kelly in the first movie.  I love these words because I have long desired to say them to all who think that Catholics, or Christians in general, or even those who may be more conservative, hate them.  "We're not what you think... not all of us."  There is such an urgent need to lay aside that tired, old rhetoric that the Church's teachings on sexuality are grounded in hate, and stop and actually learn to listen.  This accusation of hate is, not only grounded in misunderstanding, it is also a dangerous obstacle, which shuts down actual dialogue and encounter.  At the same time, there is also need to acknowledge that some who have (miss-)respresented the Church have contributed to this misunderstanding, and that their behavior is unacceptable.  But, that is not the essence of who we are.

       Furthermore, since X-Men has never been just about one "group," but about anti-discrimination in general, it makes sense that the origins of the story would contain allusions or glimmers of various groups throughout history, who have suffered persecution.  Anyone who studies U.S. history in a truly complete manner cannot fail to notice and acknowledge that one of these groups is Catholics, especially in our nation.  If one looks a little more closely they might be interested to discover the story of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, the only Catholic signer of the Declaration of Independence, who was instrumental in helping to form the foundations of our national understanding of religious liberty.  One might find it interesting to notice that he was educated in an underground school, which was established because he belonged to a group that was not being permitted to educate their own (Catholics).  This school was founded by Jesuits, whose most famous missionary was the great Francis Xavier (a name which simply means savior).  I am not suggesting that Charles Xavier is simply a fictional parallel of this fascinating figure, who is often hidden within our nation's history.  Nor am I making any presumptions on the intentions of the author(s), if indeed he provided any inspiration in the creation of the character.  But, the parallels seem enough to be worthy of notice, and when I first learned about the school where he was educated in an American Church History course, I was tempted to ask if there was a jet hidden underneath the basketball court.

       It seems to me, then, that there is a need for all of us, whatever our faith, worldview, lifestyle decisions, or whatever, to learn to encounter one another.  We all need to have the right to say to one another, "We're not what you think... not all of us."  Maybe it does not necessarily require those words, but it's not a bad way to start.  We need to begin to sit down, to see and hear one another.  To my fellow Catholics, this doesn't have to mean compromising our convictions, because those same convictions are grounded in the insistence that every human person possesses infinite goodness, beauty and dignity.  We must be unafraid to meet people in order to really see this goodness, beauty and dignity alive within them.  And to anyone who disagrees with the teachings of the Church, or feels hated by the Church, please forgive us wherever we have failed and give us an opportunity to show you the love for which you were made.  May we all learn to listen, to see, and to encounter, so that we may learn to love.  

More on X-Men>>> 

The Hunger Games: Reflections of a Spiritual Father for the Evangelization of Culture (Guest Blogger, Archived Post)

What follows is a review of The Hunger Games (the book series, more so than the movies) written in 2010 by the first guest blogger on Learning to Listen..., Fr. John-Mary Bowlin.

Father John-Mary Bowlin is a priest of the holy and venerable Diocese of Tyler in Texas.  He is currently pastor of St. Kateri Tekakwitha in Buffalo.  When he isn't saving souls, he enjoys SciFi, Fantasy, Superheroes and LEGO.  While in seminary, he was one of the founders of the pop culture symposium.

While dedicating myself to seminary formation, I must read recreationally far less than I would normally like.  However, I had the great joy of reading Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games  (HG) this past summer and Catching Fire (CF) and Mockingjay (M) during my recent mid-term break.  Although I do not have the luxury of time to delve into a deep, substantial review, I can share some thoughts on the trilogy.  Caveat:  I have not done any research regarding the author, her religious beliefs (if any) or philosophy.  My reactions are based completely on what could possibly be read within the pages and the effects that may have on the audience.

            As a spiritual father, I understand that it is never “just a story”.  Never.  Every person in the world has a philosophy, whether one knows it or not.  And that philosophy appears in what they write.  What a reader reads may be a misinterpretation of what the author intended, and so it is not wise, without receiving confirmation directly from the author, to attribute an absolute position to an author based solely on their writing.  The fact remains, however, that an author may have a philosophy which is not correct or the reader may interpret an incorrect philosophy which they may then assimilate.  It is the duty of parents (biological as well as spiritual) to read with their wards as much as possible, as they are responsible for their upbringing.  While The Hunger Games may have a particular intended audience, let’s face it, target audiences don’t mean much any more, especially if one looks at phenomena like Harry Potter, which is read by those far younger than JK Rowling probably intended and far older than Scholastic was marketing to.

            For those who do not know The Hunger Games, the premise is as follows:

It’s the same story every year.  He [the Major of District 12] tells of the history of Panem, a country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America.  He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained.  The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens.  Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol.  Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated.  The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

            The rules of the Hunger Games are simple.  In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate.  The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland.  Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to the death.  The last tribute standing wins. (HG18)

            The novels follow the story of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark from District 12.

Political / Social Commentary

The Hunger Games is, in addition to being a well-written story, a social and political commentary of the Western World and, specifically, America.  It is clear even before the second book, that what Collins is using as a basis for her critique is how much our contemporary society reflects the ancient Roman situation of Panem et Circenses.  It is alluded to in passing in Catching Fire, after Katniss and Peeta are introduced to the Capitol’s practice of vomiting repeatedly at parties: “‘Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment,’ I say.  ‘Really, this is nothing by comparison.’”(CF80)  The blatant comparison is made in Mockingjay by Plutarch Heavensbee:

“But the significant difference between [District] Thirteen and the Capitol are the expectations of the populace.  Thirteen was used to hardship, whereas in the Capitol, all they’ve known is Panem et Circenses. […] It’s a saying from thousands of years ago, written in a language called Latin about a place called Rome,” he explains […] “The writer was saying that in return for full bellies and entertainment, his people had given up their political responsibilities and therefore their power.” (M223)

            Collins does not do much, even before this revelation, of hiding the fact that she is comparing her “fictional” reality to the decadence of ancient Rome.  Most of the Capitol names are Latin and the name of the President is Coriolanus Snow[1] (M171).  A description by one of the characters about Capitol citizens includes “tales of strange sexual appetites, betrayals of the heart, bottomless greed and bloody power plays.” (M126)

The Hunger Games

A boy and girl tribute from each of the Capital of Panem’s 12 out-lying districts are exacted every year in order to fight to the death in a massive outdoor arena.  Not only are they pitted against each other, but the arena itself is rigged in order to torture the players, often with ghastly traps.  The victor never escapes unscathed, physically or psychologically.  The rest of their lives is spent being manipulated by the Capitol.  While never wanting in food or physical comfort, they waste away psychologically, awaiting death.  It is horrible.  Many characters lament how pitiable it is that the children of the country are treated this way.

            And then we look at our own country.  We tolerate (or, God have mercy, agitate for) laws which allow millions of babies a year to be killed in their mother’s wombs.  They are torn apart or poisoned and disposed of.  It is horrible.  Isn’t it?

            At some point, Collins has Katniss say: “They can design dream weapons that come to life in my hands, but they will never again brainwash me into the necessity of using them.  I no longer feel any allegiance to these monsters called human beings, despite being one myself. […] Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children to settle its differences.” (M377)  While Katniss is speaking about war, this statement could very easily be extended to say “something significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children so they can have the careers and lifestyle that they want.”

Food

The most dramatic element of social commentary however, is regarding food and how we take it for granted.  My parents always insisted that I clean my plate so as not to waste food.  I appreciate being raised that way.  It makes me angry whenever I see food thrown away – not because there is any way to send that (sometimes) small portion of food to the poor child in Africa who is actually starving to death, but because if one only takes what one is going to eat, less is prepared.  If less is prepared, then more is available for distribution.  Then the only thing we have to worry about is the warlords and local gang leaders (not to mention government red tape) which prevent the food from being distributed to those in need.

            For so many Westerners, especially Americans, who take their blessings for granted, these books should be a wake-up call.  Whether one sees in the well-fed Capitol citizens of Panem America itself (against third world countries) or merely the upper and middle classes of American (against the lower class), the point remains: we waste food.  We take food for granted.  We live comfortably, while many cannot live.

            This tendency to waste is possibly the most disturbing to me because even the abomination that is legalized abortion, while being absolutely evil, stems from our society’s self-centeredness, the wasting of food being merely one of the most predominant symptoms.

What must it be like, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?  How would I spend the hours  I now commit to combing the woods for sustenance if it were so easy to come by?  What do they do all day, these people in the Capitol, besides decorating their bodies and waiting around for a new shipment of tributes to roll in and die for their entertainment? (HG65)

            “You mean, this will make me puke?” […]

           “Of course, so you can keep eating…Everybody does it, or how else would you have any fun at a feast?”

            I’m speechless, staring at the pretty little glasses and all they imply. (CF79)

They are not used to want, so any little disruption in supply makes an impact on them. (CF165)

Political Action

Every nation has the government it deserves.

-Joseph de Maistre (Letters to X, 1811)

The Hunger Games is definitely a political critique, although not necessarily of a particular administration or political party.  Again, Collins is quite clear:

Frankly, our ancestors don’t seem much to brag about.  I mean, look at the state they left us in, with the wars and the broken planet.  Clearly, they didn’t care about what would happen to the people who came after them.  But this republic idea sounds like an improvement over our current government. (M84)

           Even from the beginnings of the trilogy, political action is advocated.  Katniss, reacting to her friend Gale, thinks “what good is yelling at the Capitol in the middle of the woods?” (HG14)  This is set against the strict policies of the Capitol, which punishes contrary opinions harshly.  Traitors who are not tortured to death are turned into “Avoxes”, having their tongues cut so that they many not speak.  This false patriotism is reinforced in that all broadcasts from the Capitol and all events surrounding the Hunger Games are accompanied by the playing of the national anthem.

            The political state of affairs in Panem is the result of complacency.  Gale tells Katniss at one point that “Actually, the whole country just sat by and watched.” to which Katniss replies, “Well, that’s what they do best.” (M222)  The same can be seen today, lamentably.[2]  How often does the vote of a particular representative of the people not actually represent what the people want?  So often, the full belly and continual entertainment placates the populace.  It is not, however, usually out of malice.  Katniss, commenting on a physical punishment inflicted on the team that prepares her for her public appearances at the Games, that “It’s more complicated than that.  I know them.  They’re not evil or cruel.  They’re not even smart.  Hurting them, it’s like hurting children.  They don’t see…I mean, they don’t know…” (M53)  If there is moral culpability for any of us, it is not for malice, most likely, but for not knowing (or worse, not caring[3]) that lack of political action allows those who should not be in power be in power.

            As Christians, we have an obligation to participate in the political process.  Some good reading from the Church on the subject:

·         Sapientiae Christinae (On Christians as Citizens) Encyclical of Pope Leo XIII (10 January AD1890)

·         Doctrinal Note on some questions regarding the Participation of Catholics in Political Life from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (22 November AD2002)

·         Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (14 November AD2007)

Morality

As I expressed early on, my concern as a spiritual father is that those in my care are not imbibing bad philosophy or theology from the fiction they read.  Audiences, especially younger but also older, can be susceptible to what they read; to use Collins’ own phrase, “words unnoticed, unchecked” (CF144) can start revolutions, either in Panem or in the minds of readers.  Because Collins is dealing with such important subjects, it is important that she does so well.

Human Dignity

Collins understands that humans have an inherent dignity.  “A sense of the dignity of the human person has been impressing itself more and more deeply on the consciousness of contemporary man” begins the Declaration on Religious Freedom (Dignitatis Humanae) of the Second Vatican Council.[4]  It is clear that one’s anthropology[5] informs one’s ethics.[6]  The proper treatment of humans (and even a cat and goat) are treated extensively in the Hunger Games.

            Katniss muses “I guess there isn’t a rule book for what might be unacceptable to do to another human being.” (M186)  While I hope that this is a sarcastic statement, it is important to understand that it is not true that there is no book.  While there may not be a manual that covers every possible situation, the Church’s moral theology provides very clear guidance on how God’s Love is emulated in our dealings with our neighbor.  What follows are some observations on the morality of the books, especially as they might be interpreted by younger readers.

Abortion

The murder of unborn children is evil.  And yet we live in a society which does so constantly.  The value of having children seems to be overridden by any number of malicious or fearful motivations.  It is understandable, then, that I reacted to Katniss saying, “I never want to have kids.” (HG9) very early in the first book.

        At first, I was afraid that an impressionable reader, already inundated constantly by contraceptive propaganda, might see this as reinforcing a culture that is in many ways against having children.  I hope, then, that they did not miss the implications later in the second book, when Peeta attempts to gain sympathy from the Capitol audience by telling them that Katniss is pregnant and that he is the father.  Katniss comments that “even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can’t ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is.” (CF256)  Killing the unborn is horrific.

Tyrannicide

Recognizing the names of many of the characters of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, it should not be a surprise that there is an act of tyrannicide at the end of Mockingjay.  “The Council of Constance (1415) condemned as contrary to faith and morals the following proposition: ‘Any vassal or subject can lawfully and meritoriously kill, and ought to kill, any tyrant.  He may even, for this purpose, avail himself of ambushes, and wily expressions of affection or of adulation, notwithstanding any oath or pact imposed upon him by the tyrant, and without waiting for the sentence or order of any judge.’ (Session XV)”[7]  The basis of this decision is primarily on the proposition that tyrannicide may not be conducted by a private citizen independent of the lawfully appointed government.  The Church does not condemn the lawful execution of justice against an objective tyrant (whether by usurpation or by oppression), but it does hold that it must be done in accordance with the rightful law.  The situation in the Hunger Games is not one which St. Thomas Aquinas or any of the other Scholastics would have necessarily dealt with.  The fact that at the moment of the tyrannicide there is not necessarily a lawful government for Panem, means that Katniss cannot be considered purely as a “private citizen”, at least in the context of “private citizen” as opposed to “lawful government”.  In effect, all are private citizens and the self-appointed “President” of Panem has no more legal right to rule than Katniss or any other citizen.  As there is no government to carry out a sentence, it might be possible to see Katniss’ action as morally legitimate.  The dilemma is twofold: 1) the case is not clearly defined and 2) the ends do not justify the means.  Direct killing is rarely legitimate.  Because of these considerations, it would be important to discuss the implications of this scenario with a young reader, ensuring that they understand the latter point especially.

Moral Responsibility

A disturbing contemporary turn in the media is a repetition of the idea that one is responsible for the sufferings of another inflicted on others because of something that one does or does not do.  This is often seen in Smallville, where Clark is portrayed as a whiny adolescent for 10 seasons.  Katniss, who is more excusable because of the younger age throughout the books, suffers from the same angst.  “Could any good I do outweigh the damage?” (M13)  “I’ve brought down more horrors upon him.” (M116)  “And here I am again.  With people dying because of me.” (M307)  Certainly, one in Katniss’ position would feel guilty for what was happening.  But it is important to remember that the question is not how one feels but rather whether one is doing the right thing or not.  Doing the right thing, especially when it is difficult, is not necessarily going to feel right.  But our feelings are not a worthy gauge of many things.[8]

Ends & Means

Just as she is used as a pawn in the power games of the Capitol, Katniss becomes a pawn in the strategy of the leaders of the rebellion.[9]  She says that “I’m sick of people lying to me for my own good.  Because really it’s mostly for their own good.” (M118)  Her friend Gale tells her “I would sacrifice a few, yes, to take out the rest of them.” (M205)  Even Katniss says that “to present Peeta as a liar now would not help his image.  Or mine.  Or the cause.” (M90)  She goes so far as to commit euthanasia (see below).  This is using the principle of the ends justifying the means, which is contrary to Catholic moral theology.[10]  In an ironic twist, however, Collins then turns around and argues against this principle:

            “So, by taking them out, we prevented further attacks.” [Gale says.]

            “But that kind of thinking…you could turn into an argument for killing anyone at any time.  You could justify sending kids into the Huger Games to prevent the Districts from getting out of line,” I say.  (M222)

Euthanasia

According to Webster’s, euthanasia is “the act or practice of killing or permitting the death of hopelessly sick or injured individuals (as person or domestic animals) in a relatively painless way for reasons of mercy”.   For example, as one of the competitors in her first Hunger Games lies, being slowly gnawed at by mutations, Katniss shoots him.  “Pity, not vengeance, sends my arrow flying into his skull.” (HG341)  Later, she thinks of the captured Peeta “I must find him, kill him now before the Capitol gets to choose the agonizing means of his death.” (CF383)  She thinks that the means of killing is justified because the end of ending suffering is good.

            The word “euthanasia” comes from the Greek for “happy death”.  It is strictly forbidden.

Whatever its motives and means, direct euthanasia consists in putting an end to the lives of handicapped, sick, or dying persons. It is morally unacceptable.

    Thus an act or omission which, of itself or by intention, causes death in order to eliminate suffering constitutes a murder gravely contrary to the dignity of the human person and to the respect due to the living God, his Creator. The error of judgment into which one can fall in good faith does not change the nature of this murderous act, which must always be forbidden and excluded.[11]

            It is interesting that in the third book, reflecting on her intention to spare Peeta suffering, Katniss considers “Didn’t I want to kill Peeta with that syringe to save him from the Capitol?  Was that really my only option?  Probably not, but I couldn’t think of another at the time.” (M126)  That would be because the only answer is Christ on the Cross.

Christianity & the Cross:

It is possible (indeed, to be effective as a parable, almost necessary) for a good story which carries a good moral to not contain any explicit religion. Tolkien, Rowling and Lewis have done so beautifully.  The Hunger Games attempts to do the same.  In this case, however, the religion, which is implicit but not apparent in the other authors’ works, is almost completely missing from The Hunger Games.  It is interesting to note, however, some allusions.  One of my favorite lines in the books is: “But what is a slingshot against a 220-pound male with a sword?”  The answer can be found in 1 Samuel 17.  I also find it interesting that Collins, while omitting the practice of religion, retains Sunday as the day off. (HG109)

            Unfortunately, these books are about, among many other things, suffering.  And suffering is difficult if not impossible to treat reasonably because there is no meaning in suffering if there is no Cross.  Katniss is willing to kill others and herself when she cannot see anything beyond immanent suffering.  If suffering does not have meaning, then she would be right.  Her murder of the champion who was being tortured and her desire to kill Peeta when she thought they had both been captured by the Capitol are because of compassion, which is from the Latin for “suffer with”.  She identified with their pain and wanted it to end.  Note the use of the qualifier of “hopelessly” in the definition of euthanasia above.  Suffering is not only efficacious because one can unite that suffering to the completely satisfying death of Christ on the Cross.[12]  The Cross brings with it the Resurrection.  There is always hope[13] for those who suffer just as there was always the hope of the Resurrection during the Crucifixion.  In a (fictional) world without the Cross, there can be no hope for suffering except in some artificial psychological exercise.  The conclusion to this trilogy saturated with suffering is:

 “I’ll tell them [Katniss’ two children] that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything, because I’m afraid it could be taken away.  That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do.  It’s like a game.  Repetitive.  Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.  But there are much worse games to play.” (M390)

            Sadly, this is the best that someone without faith can do.  While it works for a character in a book, it is not the way we look at life.  We see life through the lens of the Cross.  But that lens also lets us see something else: the resurrection to eternal Life.

Varia

A better writer would end this with a brilliant conclusion.  While I begrudgingly agree that as a writer, one must often omit that which does contribute directly to the substance of a work, I also know that a certain flexibility must be admitted, and so I offer the following “varia” in lieu of a conclusion:

·         “We will see how high and mighty he is when he’s faced with life and death.” (HG143)  This is certainly the case.  It is under pressure that the true man is manifested.

·         “At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead.” (CF118)  Amen!  In a world that is nauseously pacifistic, this is a refreshing attitude.

·         Like Rowling and Tolkien and so many other writers, names are not chosen at random.  As in reality, where our Creator is the only one who knows our true name (cf. Revelation 2: 17), a writer (who is a sub-creator) names their characters by their true names.  “Katniss” is a plant of the genus “Sagittaria”, which is Latin for the feminine “armed with bow and arrows”.  The name “Peeta” sounds like a play on “pita”, which is a Middle-Eastern bread (my favorite) (Peeta being the son of the District 12 baker).  As has been noted, many of the Capitol character names come from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar (which ties in well with the climactic tyrannicide).  One of the women from the district which produced textiles is named Twill (CF144) and the two former victors from the agricultural district are named Chaff (CF213) and Seeder (CF214).

·         In common usage, the phrase “begging the question” has very unfortunately become disassociated with the logical fallacy that traditionally bore that name. (CF163)  Petitio principia  “More commonly known as “begging the question”.  You assume what you set out to prove.  eg:  Descartes’ famous cogito ergo sum[14]

·         Collins has many good lines, including those which do not require evaluation in such a paper.  One such is: “I find myself in the position of having to console them [the prep team].  Since I’m the person going in to be slaughtered, this is somewhat annoying.” (CF204)

·         “Have these precautions been put into place because of the recent influx of immigrants? (M67)  Although it is not a major theme in the books, could this be an allusion to a situation we are dealing with in our country especially today?

·         “Dancing transforms us.  We teach the steps to the District 13 guests.”  The simple things in life ought to be cherished.

·         Referring to her life after winning her first Hunger Games, Katniss relates: “Your talent is the activity you take up since you don’t have to work either in school or your district’s industry.” (CF39)  This deserves more treatment that I can give it here, but our society does not have a good account of leisure activities.  A good read on the subject is Leisure: the Basis of Culture by Josef Pieper.

·         Our need to be constantly entertained: “The audience in the Capitol will be getting bored, claiming that these Games are verging on dullness. This is the one thing the Games must not do.” (HG173); with a reference to an American Idol-ish audience element: “Having voted, and probably bet on the winner, people are very interested in my wedding gown.” (CF170)

·         The lengths to which we will go to alter our appearance out of vanity: “They do surgery in the Capitol, to make people appear younger and thinner.” (HG124, cf M318, 319)

The views expressed herein are not necessarily those of the Catholic Diocese of Tyler (TX), Bishop Alvaro Corrada del Rio, S.J., or the Pontifical College Josephinum.

---

[1] “Coriolanus” being the title of a Shakespearean tragedy about the Roman leader Gaius Marcius Coriolanus

[2] the most recent midterm elections being a notable exception

[3] otherwise known as “lukewarmness”, for which our Lord has strong words (cf. Revelation 3: 16)

[4] referring the reader to Pope John XXIII’s Encyclical letter Pacem in Terris and the Radio Message of Pope Pius XII (24 December AD2010)

[5] that is, the study of man

[6] Of note is a passing reference to this: “Not only does he hate me and want to kill me, he no longer believes I’m human.” (M186)  In order to make it easier to kill people, one must first devalue them.  That is why it is a “fetus” and not a baby.  A baby is a human, making abortion homicide.  “Terminating a pregnancy” becomes the removal of an unwanted growth.  The Nazis did the same thing with Priests, Nuns, the handicapped, homosexuals and the Jews.

[7] my emphasis added; Catholic Encyclopedia, Tyrannicide, found at: http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15108a.htm (5 November AD2010)

[8] which would actually seem to be something with which  Collins would agree, given how she portrays the soft, self-centered Capitol citizens

[9] “make me over, dress me, write my speeches, orchestrate my appearances – as if that doesn’t sound horribly familiar” (M11)

[10] cf. St. Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae I-II, 18, 4

[11] Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC), paragraph 2277

[12] Colossians 1: 24

[13] “hope” is used here in its more theological sense of “assurance of a future event” and not “wishful thinking”

[14] You set out to prove that there is an “I” to begin with, but you start out with the “I” in your premise – the “I” is understood in the sum, “I am”; from Peter Kreeft’s Socratic Logic, p. 94


<<<Previous Thoughts on Hunger Games

Discerning the Spirits of the Force, Episode III: Rogue One and Building on Hope

       A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... there was a story you had read about in the scrolling introduction to a movie that was very likely a staple of your childhood.  But, you never imagined that you would care about what the story itself was in detail.  Until you watched it.  That story is called Rogue One: A Star War Story.

       Many people have had many different opinions about whether or not Disney's innovation of making side-story Star Wars movies, which are not official episodes in the saga, could actually work.  Some loved the idea as soon as they heard it.  Others would never accept it.  Still others, like me, had a simple response of "Let's wait and see."  So, I waited until the first trailer for Rogue One debuted.  And that first trailer left me with two simple thoughts: 1) It looks like it could be pretty good and 2) It also looks kind of like "Katniss in Space."

       There is really little question of whether or not the story plays into the recent trend of a specific type of 'tough as nails, but deeply broken' young heroine, which is epitomized by Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games.  In fact, if one did not already know that it was set "a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away," one might be inclined to describe the story as a dystopian future epic.  I, for one, did not mind this approach, not only because I thought it also worked quite well as a quasi-prequel to the original Star Wars Trilogy, but also because I find this popular story model to be potentially quite meaningful.  As I elaborated upon in great detail in my talk Love and Vulnerability in a Broken World: Heroines, Divas, and Lady Hope, this model certainly contains a good deal of both positive and negative elements and can leave us with much provocation for thought.  In fact, I think Rogue One does an especially good job of portraying some of themes I discussed in that previous talk, which I will come back to later.  Perhaps the choice to craft the story and the lead character in this way felt very natural for those involved, because so much of what the story set out to do was to offer a much darker glimpse into the less charming elements of what the Rebellion might have, at times, stooped to in their desperation.

       This dark tone of portraying just how bleak life under the regime of the Empire would have been is really key.  In a thematic sense, I think it is an important part of what made it such an effective prelude to the episode of the saga entitled "A New Hope."  It became very clear rather early in the film that they were intending to build up, not only toward the events at the beginning of the story, but toward the theme of the dawning of this new hope that had been long awaited by the Rebellion.  One way to make this stark turn toward a new hope effective is by employing a method, which I think so many dystopian future novels have employed in earnest: namely, turning hope into a question.  The question is simple.  Is hope possible?  The more bleak the situation in the story portrays, the more the audience is able to truly suffer this question along with the characters.  It is a narrative form of the classic artistic technique known as chiaroscuro, which very deliberately attends to the interplay of light, darkness, and shadows.  Essentially, the deeper the darkness, the more brilliant the light.

       As a Catholic priest, I also appreciated that the movie was released during the Advent season (the four weeks leading up to Christmas, which is not actually the Christmas season, contrary to the common misunderstanding of our culture - the Christmas season goes from December 25th through the middle of January).  Advent invites us into the long waiting of God's people for the Savior who was finally born on Christmas day, in order to invite us into a more meaningful waiting for His Second Coming.  For this reason, I have also considered that it is quite an appropriate time to read and reflect upon the Old Testament.  This will include reading some of the harder to read stories of Salvation History.  When we see how desperate was the situation of God's people as they awaited their Savior, we can better appreciate the beauty of the dawning of the new hope, Jesus Christ, when we celebrate His birth on Christmas day.  

       So, while I can understand how some may have been turned off by the much darker tone than any prior Star Wars movie, I felt it gave them an opportunity to craft a prelude to A New Hope, which was truly a redemption story very much within the thematic realm of Star Wars.  Furthermore, I think they seized upon this opportunity brilliantly, such that it was truly "a Star Wars story" in a thematic sense, not simply in terms of the setting and subject matter.

       First of all, what saved it from being simply a dark, depressing story, instead of a genuine redemption story?  No, not simply the "happy ending."  The happiness of the ending I would say was a rather double edged sword.  {SPOILER ALERT!!!!!}  After all, none of these new characters we may have been gradually endearing ourselves to survived.  Yet, their sacrifice is what made this new hope possible (and let's be clear the "new hope" in the title has generally referred to Luke, not the Death Star plans, but I think we can allow for a sense of partial fulfillment, because the Death Star plans made it possible for Luke to destroy it).  Quite simply, what I would say made this a story of redemption, rather than one of darkness and despair, can be summarized in one word: HOPE.

       One of the simple taglines of the movie was very telling: "Rebellions are built upon hope."  In a sense, this tagline is what saved it from my greatest fears about what the film could have been.  One of the early trailers featured Jyn Erso giving an account for her deviant behavior with a rather cheesy one-liner that earned a bit of snickering: "I rebel."  Besides being worried that the film would be filled with tacky lines like this, which would have made it seem utterly unashamed of being simply a token cookie-cutter caricature of a rebel without a cause, this had me a bit worried that this young rebel around whom the story revolved would have been just that - without a cause.  In fact, it is most unfortunate that some of the marketing schemes at work still give this impression, as I recently saw a Jyn Erso water-bottle, probably aimed at children, with one word in bold letters: REBEL.  Let's be clear.  Rebellion is sometimes a necessary course of action.  And when it is, the courage that rebellion requires is certainly a laudable thing.  But, rebellion in itself is not something to be praised or promoted.  It is not a virtue, and is very often a vice.  It may involve virtues, especially fortitude.  But, rebellion in itself demands a cause.  It calls for the guidance of reason.  It is a dangerous and harmful thing to be promoting to our youth and our culture that rebellion in itself is to be praised.  Thankfully, if we watch the movie with its full context, we are left with a slightly more nuanced message.  Not only is the complexity of the cause and the motivation of the characters a constant theme, of which we see many different shades, it is always moved forward by a unifying theme: rebellions are built on hope.  Anyone finding themselves in a position in which they believe that rebelling against some authority seems necessary or appropriate should first examine the question of hope.  In what am I placing my hope?  This will necessitate a constant stream of follow-up questions: Is this hope in accord with reason and the true good, or is my hope misplaced?  Is it precisely that against which I am rebelling that is directly impeding this hope or is it something else?  Is the nature of my rebellion actually addressing the problem?  Or am I using the evil of a corrupt authority as an excuse to justify my own wrong decisions?  Am I falling for an oversimplified misrepresentation of the authority, designed to manipulate people's fears and inspire a rebellion?  These are just a few of the necessary questions.

       One of the most striking and beautiful elements of how the dynamic between hope and the cause (the reason or purpose, which gives guidance and direction to the act of rebellion) is the way it grows throughout the film, especially in Jyn herself.  When we first meet her, she is indeed a rebel without a cause, because she is also without hope.  We see how greatly her lack of hope has caused her to despair of meaning.  She has been deeply wounded and this despair has become her comfortable hiding place. It is from this place of despair that she is constantly lashing out, refusing to devote herself to any cause.  When asked if she can stand the thought of the Imperial flags flying over them her answer is very telling - "It's easy if you don't look up."  Despair and complacency go hand in hand.  Yet, even more telling is her response when she asks if she knows where her father is, and she answers that she prefers to think he's dead.  It's just easier, easier than the pain.  Yet, though her pain has driven her to despair and to neglect any cause or reason that would give guidance to her actions, the reawakening of her hope is one of the most beautiful moments of the movie.  This takes place when she receives the message of her father.  You can see the hope awakening within her, not only because she learns he is alive, or even because she learns of his plan, but because she receives the love of her father.  This is what reawakens hope (more on this here).  Once she has her hope restored by her father, she is capable of offering hope to Cassian and the rest of the small band of rebels the story centers around.  In return, they offer her a cause, complete with all of its messiness and complexities.  And together they find a way to pass this hope onto the Rebellion.  The role of "trusting the force" is also important to their joint restoration of hope.  For more on that, see Episode I of Discerning the Spirits of the Force.

       Lastly, how is it that Rogue One was "a Star Wars story" in a thematic sense?  In what precisely did Jyn place her hope?  She would not give up hope in her father.  Her father was indeed a complicated character.  In the eyes of some, he may have been considered a villain.  Yet, she would not give up hope in the good that was still alive in him, which had made possible a hope that many in the rebellion would not dare to believe.  By working to carry out her father's plan, in a certain sense, this entire story became about her working to accomplish her father's redemption, to atone for his crimes, committed in desperation.  Does this not resemble the beauty of the now classic redemptive story within Return of the Jedi, toward which A New Hope was building?  Do we not see this reflected in The Force Awakens, by the hope alive in Leia, and reawakened in Han, to the point that he is willing to die for it?  As I claimed in the first episode of this series, one of the most beautiful truths reflected in Star Wars is the power of a familial bond, which refuses to give up hope in those we love, no matter how far they have fallen.

       This is central to our faith as Christians.  We have rebelled against our Father, because we failed to trust Him and were deceived into believing that His rules are only restrictions, rather than being guidelines leading to our fulfillment, even when we don't understand them.  Yet, He refuses to give up on us.  In fact, He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to fight for us, to redeem us.  Others may think we are crazy, but we continue to fight for a hope that we cannot deny, because we have come to believe in the power of redemption.  Thus, a new hope dawns in a deeply broken world.  

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