Nobody Puts Babies in the Corner

Have you ever met one of those people who hates children? You know the type. They insist that every child that walked the face of the Earth is born of Satan. That children are urchins, brats, and disgusting. I bring up child-haters because they are here and there are many. Some people don’t like that children are not born with social norms already in hand. Some don’t like that their reasoning differs from adults. Many don’t like that they act out in public, or talk a lot, or cry, or make noise. That’s funny to me, since once upon a time, we all went through those SAME EXACT STAGES. When did we become so intolerant of our vulnerable population?

And I get it. Sometimes my kids drive me nuts as well. It takes a great deal of education, learning, experimentation, and failure to raise children. It’s damn hard. As we talk about these struggles, I can’t help but think about the health of populations. What does our apathetic view of children mean for a secular apocalypse? I read once upon a time, a long time ago, that the health of a population was only as good as that care received by its most vulnerable members. If that is the case, I would say that we’re not doing a very good job considering how we treat children. Maria Montessori once wrote, 

      “In their dealings with children adults do not become egotistic but egocentric. They look upon everything pertaining to a child’s soul from their own point of view and, consequently, their misapprehensions are constantly on the increase.”

I believe that Montessori was on to something. Why are adults so hardput to understand children? Perhaps it’s as simple as perspective.

Having said that, I am still shocked on social media when I see hatred spread concerning our youngest generation. I’ve spent a great deal of time teaching and researching children. I do happen to love kids. Perhaps for me, being on the other side, I am being unfair to call out the child-haters of the world. Let’s for a moment though dig a little deeper into why the phenonmenon of child-hating bothers me to my core. Stick by me for a few and let’s think.

Our two most vulnerable populations are our children and our elderly. They are entering and ending their lives, respectively, which puts them in an at-risk state. As children are born, they are helpless and innocent. The world around them decides how well they will be treated regardless of their cries. As the elderly leave our world, they also have once again become helpless in many cases as aging takes its toll on the body and the mind. We will have lengthy discussions on the elderly, but for this article we’ll focus on our children. Regarding children, there are a few topics to cover. I would like to bring to light the issues of abuse and trafficking, eclipsing childrens’ rights by adult rights via the movie Children of Men, and take a critical glimpse at our future.

ABUSE and TRAFFICKING

I would like to bring you a ton of statistics on child-trafficking and child abuse, but as an underground movement they are honestly hard to track. The majority of crimes go unreported or uninvestigated. To give you some ideas, however, nearly 700,000 children are the victims of abuse every year in the United States. Of those 700,000 nearly 2,000 lose their lives to their abusers.[1] Now that is just an estimate of those proven to be abused. 3.5 million cases are investigated each year. I can tell you from experience, some of those cases that are set aside, also have indications of abuse. Our system is overburdened. 15% of these children suffer from multiple types of abuse – physical, negligent, and sexual. 7% are sexually abused by someone they know. That means, approximately in any given year, 50,000 are sexually abused in the United States, while 105,000 face multiple forms of abuse. The Chicago Public School district alone has 355,000 students. Think about that, the entire school district of kids doubled.[2] If your heart didn’t just sink, then I think we best have a deeper discussion together. I would like to believe, that most of you are feeling disgusted and mortified – me too.

Trafficking is another distinct way that children are exploited. The Polaris Project alone assisted 22,000 people (adults and children) who were the victims of human trafficking last year.[3] The statistics for trafficking are even more difficult to come by. What we do know is that children under eighteen suffer the highest rate of sex trafficking. Traffickers see children as easy prey, particularly children who come from abusive or negligent homes.

I do not, however, bring up these statistics just to alarm or make you see your lunch one more time. No, I bring this to light because with these given statistics, knowing full well that our children face abusers every single day, most of us do absolutely nothing. Abuse takes place across socio-economic status, across colors, across cultures. It does not descriminate its victims. In a time where we are very concerned with how our adults are treated, we still, as a whole, DO NOT seem to be concerned with the welfare of our children. When we’re told of the death of a child, the murder of a child, our reaction is to feel sad and say, that poor baby, that poor family. It seems that our emotional stirring is the extent of our movement on this issue. When Joette Malone, a vibrant two year old, was murdered in Hammond, Indiana there were no protests to find her killer.[4] There were no lootings in her name. A toddler who will not get to her next birthday because our adults do not care for the children around them. One year old Sincere Gaston was shot on the way home from the laundromat with her Mom, while Mekhi James, three, was shot and killed sitting in his father’s car. As our adults rally for their freedom from abuse, from scandal, from brutality, our young ones get murdered. How about AJ Freund who was brutally abused and attacked by his parents? AJ was five and repeatedly hit and abused in a cold shower until he was dead. Perhaps we should discuss the most recent execution of Cannon Hinnant, also five, who was shot at point blank range while riding his bike? How many more children are we going to watch get murdered by violence, neglect, and abuse? How many more have to endure situations the likes of which we adults are now saying of ourselves, “NO! You can’t do that to me because I matter!”

Those children look to us to say they matter because they are too young to say it by themselves, they need their hand in ours.

We should be ashamed.

ECLIPSING RIGHTS – CHILDREN OF MEN

My best guess is that by now some might say to themselves that I just don’t understand the power of movements or I am being unfair in the amount of care we give to our children. 

For most families, I would say that you’re absolutely correct. I do not see the majority of our families in the United States as abusive or uncaring. What I do see is that while we do well to care for our own children or our kin, we do not have a united front on behalf of children who are not in some sort of relation to us.

I would also say that our interests as adults get easily hijacked by causes that are more bold, ambitious, rewarding, and pertinent to our lives as grown people. For instance, while I support the movement of women and men coming forward as being sexually abused, for that MUST end as well, imagine being raped at six. What about twelve? What if it’s a family friend or neighbor – you get my drift. Children who are victims of this type of abuse are in desperate need of advocates on their side. There is no trivialization of sexual abuse, ever, on my part. I do, however, believe we need to accept and realize what segments of the population require extra protection as well as our help in processing their victimization.

The 2006 movie Children of Men brings to light some interesting issues concerning our topic. It is an apocalyptic, dystopian, movie that glimpes into a world where the youngest living person (who soon dies) is eighteen. For eighteen long years women have been unable to become pregnant or to carry any children. The world faces a crisis of a dwindling population in light of no births. As depression and futility set in, the main character Theo looks for signs of hope on his journey. His hope comes in the form of a refugee named Kee. Theo is told that Kee is important, but in a particularly striking scene, standing amongst livestock in a manger-esque style, Kee reveals her pregnant belly to Theo. Ahhh, hope.

In a world of despair, the tiniest member is the source of hope. In our world religions, most  have a healthy understanding of children as hope of the future. Their life is held in the highest of regard not because others don’t matter, but because without our help they may not continue to live. Children are born requiring complete assistance from their care-givers in order to continue living. Without us, we face a world without them.

The struggle for Theo to save and protect Kee, and ultimately the child, is daunting. In a world more concerned with who belongs in which country, who is rich, who is starving, which adult is getting what they want, the life of a pregnant refugee woman hangs in the balance. SPOILER ALERT! Kee successfully gives birth to a baby girl whom she names after Theo’s dead son.

There are two main reasons that I bring up Children of Men in reference to our themes of secular apocalypse and the lives of children. First, I would say that it is striking to watch a movie where the devastation does not revolve around a monster, plague, or meterological situation. The apocalyptic theme here is the loss of children. That stands in stark contrast to other recent apocalyptic films where the apocalypse is brought on by supernatural or otherworldly forces. The loss of a child to death is, as I understand it from others, the most painful experience a parent can go through. In the film that loss is experienced by the world, not just singular people. As an apocalyptic movie, it is interesting that it is also a not-so-overtly theological movie. It is a movie about faith and hope and love and kindness. From the manger scene with Kee to Theo’s very name as a relation to god(s) the movie is full of theological themes. As you may have read in some of our other articles on secular apocalypse, the interesting thing about theological apocalypse is the element of hope. For one aspect of Children of Men, children are hope.

While I would love nothing more than to end on that note of children being hope, I cannot. While I believe strongly in the message of the movie, as a whole, I also believe that within it lies a cautionary tale. Towards the end of the movie there is a scene after the birth of baby Dylan that is striking. In the scene, there is bombing and shooting and military skirmish happening all around Theo and Kee. Shrapnel is flying, debris is getting blasted everywhere as Theo tries to get Kee out of a building and to safety. No matter who was in the scene fighting, as Kee walked by with baby Dylan, they immediately stopped and put down their guns. The blasting halted as mother and child safely exited the building. Some men and women were crying. They were all struck by awe of a living child, a sign of hope. As Kee passes them and you witness the change, you are filled with hope for the future. A new baby is so very exciting in a world where no births have happened for eighteen years. After Kee is gone, the fighting, skirmish, and hatred begins again immediately. Hope was a passing glance.

This is a cautionary tale because if the world can stay hopeful with the coming of new life, with the renewal of a love of children, and the protection of children, then the world truly has something to be hopeful for. However, if our hope in the future, in children, in creation, in pure goodness, is nothing more than a passing glance because we are too busy thinking about our adult problems and causes, then hope passes us by and we will no longer be able to crawl out of our rabbit holes. Maria Montessori’s prophetic words of egocentric adulthood have been fulfilled and the apocalypse carries on.

The choice is up to you.

ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS

Where do we go from here? 

Should you stop protesting in what you believe in because I’m telling you to pay attention to children? No, don’t be silly.

Should you stop worrying about sexual abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, and exploitation of adults? NO! They need our help as well.

My concern is not that you stop working on other causes in the name of them not being important. My concern is that you remember some of our most important members of society because they cannot fend for themselves. These children need our help and our attention. 

What I will say is that while we are out rallying for a better world, don’t continue to allow it to be a world where children are being killed daily and we are silently complacent about it because we’re busy doing other things.

Be Theo. Look up and see new life. Dare to give it your all to protect it. And hope.


[1] https://www.nationalchildrensalliance.org/media-room/national-statistics-on-child-abuse/

[2] https://www.cps.edu/about/stats-facts/

[3] https://polarisproject.org/myths-facts-and-statistics/

[4] https://abc7chicago.com/$10k-reward-offered-in-toddlers-shooting-death-in-hammond/6368767/

Apocalypse, Maybe Later.

There is a definitive difference between a Religious Apocalypse and a Secular Apocalypse. A Religious Apocalypse sets its foundation in the idea that change is not only imminent, but necessary to the fulfillment of God’s Will. It brings into reality the end of times, the end of life as human beings know it on Earth so that we may rejoin our Creator. In contrast, a Secular Apocalypse doesn’t bear this teleological fruit. The very word Apocalypse is borrowed and altered to simply describe an ending of all we, as humans, know. Let’s examine the potential for hope in Secular Apocalypses, which are otherwise, quite hopeless. But first, let’s look at what, exactly, a Religious Apocalypse might be.

Throughout our day we hear sound bytes from various media sources. They give us information, sometimes accurate, sometimes not. We become engaged in the stories that swirl around our minds. We listen to the directives given to us as we try to weave them into some sort of meaningful life.

“Folks are supposed to remain within their homes unless they work within what is considered an essential activity or an essential industry…” Sam Liccardo, Mayor of San Jose.

“The borders to Canada and Mexico will be closed to non-essential travelers,” Mike Pompeo, Secretary of State.

Daily we hear stories of the dying, the elderly in nursing homes without assistance or family to visit, the young suffering from the likes of Kawasaki disease. We are reminded of a collapsing economy, dams being breached both emotionally and physically. It seems that within the course of a few months, the world was forced to a kneeling halt, at the mercy of an invisible foe.

Is this the Apocalypse?

The answer to that truly depends on who you are and what you believe.

Religious Apocalypse

The word Apocalypse has its roots in the Greek word, apokaluptein/apokalupsis; to uncover or reveal. The very word Apocalypse is Revelation. Over the years, due to the nature in which revelations happened in the ancient world, the use of the word mutated. In the beginning, Apocalypse was associated with events that occurred to populations that believed in one God or many gods. The people of the ancient world were believers in the faith to which they surrendered their lives. If crops failed, they needed to praise and worship the gods in a more pleasing way. If catastrophe happened, it was part of a plan that would be revealed in time. In any case, through the lamentations of their suffering, they believed that the unveiling before them would brighten their path for better times, for a future with change, or in light of the final Apocalypse, bring them in communion with their Creator God.

It is safe to say in our contemporary society that not everyone prays to the gods to heal their crops. Many, not all, Churches are reporting their membership is down. There is now a large portion of our population, at least in Westernized countries, who already experienced their own personal revelation; there is no God; or at least no religious or spiritual God. One could argue that some have replaced a God of religion with a god of economy, a god of materialism, a god of desires. Can money, material goods, or pleasure take the place of the function of God? Will these new gods soothe the need for comfort and revelation that our ancient ancestors sought?

Not really. 

The function of the God and gods of yesteryear were not to give the people what they wanted or desired, but to bring human beings deeper into the divine plan. Without this sense of rejoining something beyond us, something bigger, deeper, infinite, we truly face the end of existence. If we look deeply as to what the Apocalypse is supposed to give us by means of its, sometimes painful, revelations, it is hope.

Hope is a word that is fierce in its tenderness. It is the essence of the human spirit. Hope has been the source of our moxy to continue on as human beings when the world falls apart around us. If we don’t belive in something, anything, greater than ourselves and our own creations, where does that hope come from? 

Some might say that they are the source of their own hope. Ok, true, we have the ability to muster up amazing goals and ambitions, but for what? When we talk about hope, associated with the Apocalypse, we are driving at the idea that we have hope in a plan through the suffering that will help us find eternal and infinite peace. That is the essence of the Religious Apocalypse, bringing about the end times on Earth to find inifinite peace on another plane of existence.

What did these Religious Apocalypses look like anyway? Well let’s look at a couple. Now some of these examples are not the Earth-ending types of Apocalypse. They do still exemplify a similar format to the all-ending type of Apocalypse. Perhaps the most important on this list is the Genesis flood. In the book of Genesis, Noah is told to build an ark for his family and pairs of animals. Frequently in the Bible we see God giving orders to God’s plan in hopes that some human will actually listen and follow them. God always however makes a promise with these marching orders. God’s promise to Noah is that though the Earth would face destruction, he and his family would survive the flood with this troop of animals. 40 days and 40 nights it rains and rains. Noah feels restless and wonders if this will ever end, but remembering God’s promise. The flooding does indeed end and life begins anew for Noah, his family, and the animals who will repopulate this beautiful new Earth.

Orders. A Promise. Destruction. Hope. Divine Flourishing.

When we look into these Biblical stories, particularly in the case of the Apocalypse, we are looking at allegory; a piece of writing that is meant to be interpreted into a tale of meaning, moral, or at times, warning. Similarly to the Genesis flood, the plagues that were bestowed upon Egypt were also looked at as Apocalyptic. God gave orders to the people of Egypt, God’s faithful follow those orders, such as marking their lintels with the blood of a spring lamb, God then promises the faithful they will be spared, God brings destruction down upon the unfaithful, the faithful remain hopeful in their changed life, the faithful live on in new ways of divine flourishing.

Perhaps, however, the Biblical book most associated with the notion of Apocalypse is … well … the book of Revelation! Revelation is indeed one of the most interesting pieces of the Bible. Out of all of the plauges, famine, world destructions, and desolation, it is the one Apocalytpic story that is most frequently taken literally by readers. While it speaks rather explicitly about the end of times using vivid symbols and imagery, it is still in actuality an allegory. The author, whom scholars call John because of the writing style compared to other Biblical writings, was writing of the Christians in captivity in an allegorical manner. The thinking today is that their persecutors would think it more harmless crack-pot Christian stuff and not realize that John was submersively writing about Christian liberation through Christ. The point, no different than our other Biblical allegories, is a story about the darkest of times, a faithful people, and the hope that is born from their faith that God has a better plan on the other side. They want to know that their suffering was not for nought. Their desire was to live God’s plan and find their inifinite peace.

Secular Apocalypse

What’s the deal? Why are we so hot about Religious Apocalypse in an age of science where we *clearly* have no proof of God? Well, because the age of science hasn’t found an adequate way to maintain hope in people for belief in a better tomorrow, or even a different tomorrow.

If we follow our line of thinking, the Apocalypse came to human beings out of a need to understand a few things:

1) There is truly something beyond us that connects us all universally, it is inifinite, it encompasses all of humanity, and it is some sort of creator spirit. 

2) When shit goes down on Earth, this God-spirit has our back. There is an exit plan.

3) The prospect of an exit plan brings human beings real hope that they haven’t lived for nothing and they will continue on to something.

Simple, right? Then where do we go so wrong?

Perhaps the best examples of Secular Apocalypse that we see are in popular culture television shows and movies. Let’s face it, they are the allegory of their time. For better or worse we learn morals, lessons, and yes, even warnings (looking at you  The Exorcist) from these live allegories. They’re all so different though, how do we know what’s apocalyptic? When we think it’s apocalyptic, why don’t all these allegories work the same way? Though that answer is complicated, let’s try to break it down. 

The first pop culture Apocalypse story that should be considered is a show that was written in the late 90s and made in 2002 and 2003. HBO found a hit in the cult classic, Carnivàle. Gritty, sexy, religious, flamboyant, it was everything that HBO could ask for from anything pre Game of Thrones. The story’s basis is set in the Dust Bowl of the 1930s. A time of faminine, pestilence, war, suffering. It was rife for the four horsemen to just pop out on that screen. Though it does highlight much symbolic imagery from the book of Revelation from the Whore of Babylon to Beasts, it stops short of following in the footsteps theologically. Carnivàle, instead, becomes a gnostic story about the war between the light and the darkness. It is a fight between a god and a devil for the souls of humanity. Everything from the Alamogordo bomb to the dirt blowing and fields withering indicates the level of destruction throughout the show. It represents Apocalypse perfectly in its destruction. It falls short, however, in following through in meaning. It leaves the audience waiting for hope – literally because it was canceled. 

Aside from its cancelation, Carnivàle lacked a cohesive storyline that would end this Apocalypse in a hopeful way. The ending suggested that the darkness could as easily win over the light. There was no creator God supplying a promise of change to the people that would bring a sense of fulfillment. Like listening to any COVID-19 update, you are left with few answers, more questions, and a deflated plan of where we will go from here.

“Similarly to John’s Revelation, when our social infrastructures fail us, when fear and imminent danger enter our lives, we move to express these manifest fears; for Americans, media is a powerful resource. If our social and political structures will not save us, we must create the Messiah who will, or live without hope or redemption.”

Carnivàle falls short of creating that Messiah.

It is not the worst, though, out of all pop culture examples of Apocalypse. At least Carnivàle makes an attempt to enter into a deeper philosophical and religious dialogue about beings outside of human beings who are at work in the universe. During the early 2000s and even beyond, there was a slew of outbreak, disaster themed movies that filled the box offices. Everything from global warming biting our collective asses, to volcanoes, to zombies – lots of freaking zombies – there was a new onslaught of apocalyptic dread movies. There really isn’t much to say about these movies other than they are a gratuitous play on the fears of human beings. The watchers of these apocalyptic dread movies and tv shows are filled with anxiety over the future while they watch the world crumble with no hope at all. The Earth is a ball of land and water, mother nature hates us, and we are left wondering why COVID-19 has actually not turned us all into zombies. Enough said, they’re not truly an Apocalypse at all, just a play on our deepest fears.

There is another grouping of movies that shows more promist than the Carnivàle-type shows, and certainly more than the apocalyptic dread movies. Let’s talk about The Avengers. More specifically, let’s talk about Endgame.

Fascinating in its premise, alluring by its cinematics and characters, Endgame is the three hour devotion of time that was most like a true allegorical Apocalypse. Outside of the side stories that weave the epic together, Endgame’s premise is simple; The Avengers are tasked with protecting the world from Thanos, life will be saved if they can, Thanos destroys everything, through sacrifice they find hope and band together, the new world flourishes. Absent of the explicit elements and talk of God, it has potential to at least be considered and taken seriously. 

At the beginning of Endgame we watch a sorrowful Hawkeye watch his entire family turn to dust at the snap of a finger. We already know that half of the human population was literally turned into dust. Thanos, himself, like a god, retreat to a beautiful garden to marvel at his handiwork and retire. How very biblical of him even stating, “I am inevitable.” 

More important than the imposter god, however, is the interaction between our heroes. In one faithful moment on Vormir, as Hawkeye and Black Widow understand how to get the soul stone, it becomes clear a great sacrifice needs to be made; one of them must die. After the ensuing battle, Black Widow outsmarts Hawkeye and falls from his grip, dying. The soul stone will only appear to someone who has lost equally what they seek – a soul. 

The soul stone, however, and this great sacrifice like a flood for 40 days, is only one of the reasons that this should be considered as our new Apocalypse allegory. Six infinity stones in total sum allow someone to control, everything, in a god-like manner. Whomever controls these stones is able to do whatever good or evil they choose for the world. The infinity stones, space, reality, power, soul, mind, and time, represent principles of the universe that are beyond human being’s full understanding and control. They are likened to a universal creator spirit. While Thanos wants to shred the universe into pieces to recreate his beatific vision, the Avengers work to put the infinity stones out of human (and alien) hands in order to allow the universe to thrive on its own.

Endgame may still be a story of light vs. darkness and perhaps its not so different from Carnivàle in that way. Endgame, however, provides in spades exactly what humanity needs when we talk about the end of the world, the end of all we know, hope.

Carrying On

As we stand on yet another precipice of inevitable change, it is normal to wonder from time to time, “What will become of us?” This anxiety is familiar to humanity. We have experienced these fears since our creation. As certain as we are that these fears have been part of our DNA since our beginning, we can be equally sure that we have made it through these times by carrying on with hope in our hearts, minds, and souls.

A pandemic is spreading quickly across our world. We don’t have a cure, we don’t have a vaccine. All we have is our hope for the future. Our world, will be changed indefinitely by what has happend to us. If we allow ourselves to be drenched in apocalyptic dread, we will never see our new futures for what they can become. If we take a spiritual or religious lens and look at this new challenge, we can see hope on the other side of these tragedies. Like Noah, like the Avengers, it’s not in us to simply give up. We challenge, we fight, we continue. In the words of Tony Stark, “Everybody wants a happy ending. Right? But it doesn’t always roll that way. Maybe this time. I’m hoping if you play this back, it’s in celebration…”

True Blood Series Finale, “Thank You,” You’re Welcome

Game of Thrones better hurry up because True Blood is over! 

True Blood

I know, Eric and Sookie, we’re upset too.

In our last True Blood article, we talked about hope and the purpose of belief in something, even if that something is not organized religion. I know I will probably not make too many friends by saying this, but there were parts of the True Blood series finale that I actually liked… a lot.

I mean, let’s face it, endings are hard to write, even harder to write so that everyone is happy. Endings to a seven season series on vampires, fairies, werewolves, demons, witches, shifters, and all other manner of mythical being – yet harder still. The truth is that no one really wants to leave Bon Temps, so having any ending is not going to give you the warm fuzzies. Stick with me here and I will explain why I found the ending to be, theologically at least, acceptable.

 It only makes sense that when we talk about theology in an overt way in True Blood that the Reverend Daniels almost always has something to do with it. He is a “man of God” afterall. This time, however, it’s not Sam, but Sookie, that seeks his advice. See Sookie has a huge choice to make and it’s a choice that echoes to days past – “to be or not to be?”[1] The origin of that question harkens to days past to another writer who constantly challenged his characters in their decisions. Sookie’s predicament, not unlike Hamlet’s, revolves around acceptance of an unfair life versus becoming… well nothing. While Sookie is not looking to kill herself, she is contemplating getting rid of an essential piece of herself. Should Sookie aid in Bill’s death and ultimately render herself powerless – a normal human being?

I am not going to tackle the “to kill” or “not to kill” ethical dilemma here, which would be made even more complex by dealing with an already dead vampire. Rather, I want to talk about Sookie Stackhouse, who she is, what she is, and her decision about what to become.

Sookie lived few decades of her reality not knowing, in name, that she was fae. She knew she was gifted, as did everyone around her, and knew that that made her different. While she didn’t have a word to put to her gift Sookie had a center – a piece of self, recognized by herself, that she held at her core. Maybe it was her soul, maybe it was just her essence, the being of Sookie Stackhouse. In fact we all have that piece, the evidence that makes us recognizable to ourselves as ourselves. Sometime through abuse, trauma, and tragedy, that piece can get damaged, but it is always there – still – at the heart of the self. Sookie, in her decision, risked losing that vital core. On the other hand, she loved Bill and sometimes sacrifice is also vital when helping and caring for those you love. She contemplated sacrificing herself for his demise. Sookie sought out the Reverend Daniel in order to get some advice on the subject.

 

Sookie: Do you believe that God made us all as He meant us to be, or… do you think that some of us are just… mistakes?

 

Rev. D: I heard about all you’ve done for this town, and believe it or not, Sookie, most folks are saying we wouldn’t be here Sookie and Dwithout you. How can you think for one second that you’re a mistake?

 

Sookie: But what if I just want to lead a normal life? What if I’m tired of being what I am? Am I sinning against God if I decide not to be?

 

Rev. D: Now hold– hold on a second. Are you saying that you can un-fairy yourself? Oh, that’s another story, then, because, yes– yes, I believe we are all as God made us, but I also believe He doesn’t have to lead our lives and He doesn’t have to walk in our shoes. What I’m getting at is God wouldn’t have given us these amazing brains we’ve got if He didn’t expect that, at some point, we were gonna start using ’em to make our own decisions, to exercise our free will.

 

Similarly, in a flashback to Gran, Gran told Sookie in reference to having a “normal” life and family,

 

“Stop it! I don’t want to hear you talking like that. You can have any kind of life you want. You can persevere. Anything you want, Sookie, you are entitled to it. There are no limits on you if you don’t put them on yourself.”

 

In the end, Sookie couldn’t do it. Giving up her light, her essence, was too much, she had to be herself.

Aside from the conversation with Reverend Daniels, there is a theme running throughout the series from Lafayette to Steve Newlin that God makes, God creates, as God sees fit. In other words, God doesn’t make mistakes. On the surface that could be a problem, would that indicate thatPregnant Sookie we should never seek to change any part of ourselves, physical or otherwise? Well, no. Many theologians have written on the gifts that God gave to humans to be able to come to know and love themselves and others. It is reasonable – reason being one of those gifts – for someone to feel that their essence is one way or the other. Sookie felt that she was a fairy, she also felt that she wanted a family and what she deemed a “normal” life. I don’t feel that Sookie was defined by her choice, her pregnancy, or her family life. I don’t feel that the writers threw everything away for the standard American family in this instance or that, when she wants to be, Sookie is any less of a badass fairy than she was before. I do feel the need to acknowledge Sookie’s choice and the affirmation of what she wants, even if she is only a character, as that choice is essential to being human and to affirming the self that God created. I would be equally supportive is she had chosen to become a lesbian and live in a hippie commune with Ginger, but that was not her choice – at least not as it was presented to the audience.

The importance of this episode can be summed up in three steps.

  1. God created us – no mistakes, no deficiencies.
  2. God also gave us free will to screw up when we choose or to be true to ourselves, or any combination.
  3. No one has the right to decide anyone else’s core, being, self, or interior light.

 

That’s the beauty of our life with God – always loved, always free, always true.

 

Peace out Bon Temps.

[1] Shakespeare, Hamlet

Carnivàle: The Apocalypse is Here / Part 2

We come to you this week with a short, but important, second segment on Carnivàle. The sides of light and darkness have each been chosen, though the lines are arguably less clear throughout the series. In one of Knauf’s more brilliant moments, “light” creatures and “dark” creatures are never a cartooned version of themselves. In other words, they each exhibit and inhibit essential qualities of the other. Ben has a dark side just like Justin has a light side. Humanity tends to like paintings with broad strokes, essentializing and sometimes demonizing qualities of the other when in actuality we should be talking always in a multi-dimensional dynamic way about each other. Read on readers and see what unfolds in Knauf’s tale of Apocalypse!

Carnivale - Season 2

As season two opens, the audience is brought back to the story with the words of Brother Justin: “As God has tested Job, so too have we been tested brothers and sisters.” Knauf explicitly uses biblical references for his second season opener. This imagery of suffering, and of Job’s tragedy, re-centers the audience with an apocalyptic mind set; the end is coming. Knauf brings out the suffering of this time period well. As this opening episode, “Los Moscos, NM”, of season two progresses, the audience witnesses Ben in one of the nuclear bomb tests at Alamogordo, NM. When the bomb historically detonated, it was compared to something like the creation of the world or the second coming of Christ. As the bomb explodes in the series, everything is obliterated, but as the dust settles, Ben’s and Justin’s crouching figures remain. This scene serves not only as an apocalyptic tag for the series, but also creates a map within the storyline as Alamogordo will be Ben’s next destination. The result is the link of Ben’s journey toward Alamogordo, a place fraught with man-made peril, and ultimately one step closer to Justin, who represents the ultimate end. As Ben comes out of his vision, a character yells to him that he cannot run from the inevitable fight or millions will die.

Knauf also expands the apocalyptic and biblically related characterizations underpinning Brother Justin and Ben during season two. Justin, whom the audience first comes to know as a holy man, is rapidly changing into a demon. Uncertainty surrounds Justin’s true nature, however, until he addresses his ministry in a sermon,

 

“I now realize that you are not here to hear the words of other men. You are here for me. So that I am not alone in the garden. ”

After the bishops try to regain control of their rogue minister, Justin takes a stand and declares himself the snake to the people of Eden. Knauf has fully revealed Justin as the antagonist and the beast in his own Revelation.

The association of Justin as devil and Ben as savior is not only carefully written within each episode, but also works masterfully with the progression of three specific episodes in season two. Rodrigo Garcia, the director of Carnivàle, says of the two characters,

carnivale-after-the-ball-3

“Obviously one of the main themes is the conflict between good and evil… Another extremely interesting theme is the theme of identity. Both leads — Ben Hawkins and Brother Justin — they’re haunted by their powers, by their dreams. ”

The epic battle between Justin and Ben takes place in a cornfield in New Canaan. Both of the characters – Ben armed with a dagger, Justin with a scythe – draw blood from one another. Ben plunges the dagger fatally deep into Justin. Ben, also wounded, is soon dragged away by the carnival troupe for a quick getaway. As they pull away, Sofie walks into the field. The shot pulls out, and the audience sees the cornfield rapidly dying around her. In the final scene, Ben lies unconscious in Management’s trailer. Knauf’s final vision for Carnivàle leaves the audience with many questions. Sofie, who discovers her own ability to heal by touch, chooses her fate and heals Justin. Ben, who has no one to heal him, suffers in the trailer. There is no conclusion as to whether or not Ben lives. Does Knauf intend to show that the battle between good and evil goes on indefinitely? Is there hope for a new tomorrow? Clancy Brown, the actor who portrays Justin, summarizes the thematic heft of Carnivàle in an interview,

 

“This is the story of the final confrontation, between these two entities, the final battle between God and Satan, for the soul of man. And, well, we are the products of that battle. So, you decide, who won or who lost. Are we creatures of light, or are we creatures of darkness? ”

 

The ultimate ambiguity leads the audience into a frenzy of unknowing.

 

Co-Written by: Seth Alexander and Erica Saccucci

“Captain, you mind if I say grace?” … “Only if you say it out loud” – Firefly, Serenity, and Morality in the ‘Verse.

Firefly Pic

It took all of my will power, which is actually very little, to wait even one posting to write an article on Firefly. Firefly and its follow-up, Serenity, received both heavy cultic praise as well as criticism on its western-meets-space-meets-Chineselanguage-dystopian-Whedonverse identity. For those who love it already, read on. For those who don’t… well… there is really no help for that, read on anyway.

I could, potentially, write a book on Firefly/Serenity, but since we’re dealing here with ideas in theo+POP, let’s stick to a few key themes, shiny? Being a dystopian sci-fi, Firefly was set after the Earth was destroyed, everyone baled, and then went on to wreck other parts of the ‘verse in an inter-planetary war. Firefly takes place after that war. The revolutionary Browncoats, representative of the outer planets, lost the war to the central planets and the Alliance. That was summarized from my head, so if you want to read the full synopsis, travel here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Firefly_(TV_series)

So where does religion and/or theology fit into Firefly? Well, let’s begin with the idea that the themes of theology go beyond the obvious character of Shepherd Book, the wandering overtly Christological figure. Though Book is certainly in the theological trenches, he is not representative of Firefly’s theology in its entirety. As a Shepherd, even one with an unknown and potentially questionable past, Book is about faith and morality. Though he seems, at first, to be the “holy” character, his interests lie more in people finding goodness in their own beliefs than in people finding God in his. Risking a spoiler for all those who are reading this posthaste, at the end of Book’s life, after being fatally wounded by operatives of the Alliance, he tells a perpetually reluctant Captain Malcolm Reynolds, “I don’t care what you believe. Just believe it…” before he took his final breath. [1] Book, being the gun-wielding preacher that he was, questioned his own Christian morality in its imperfection. It was clear from this scene, however, that he was more concerned with Mal finding his own sense of goodness. Book knew that a moral life was not only about belief in “absoluteserenity-book-death” principles, but rather the efficacy and commitment of belief in general. In other words, he wanted Mal to find that spark worth fighting for.

Digging a little more deeply into this theme of believer vs. skeptic, while Book makes a good case for believers – being that he is generally a “good” person – the skeptics are not completely misguided in their anti-religious sentiments. After all, River was almost burned at the stake by zealots along with her brother, Simon, for being a witch.[2] Mal was married off in a furtive ritual to Saffron, who we all know turned out to be bat-shite crazy.[3] The religiously zealous can, at times, take beliefs to the extreme. On the other hand, the scientific minds were also convinced of their own greatness and god-like intelligence. They killed off the entire planet of Miranda and in the process created the Reavers – the very worst…and scariest!…of humanity. Though it is understandable that Mal distances himself from these atrocities on both sides, which turns him into a nonpartisan automaton, it only works for so long. Eventually, like Tiresias, he begins to see beyond his blindness. Mal cannot ignore his own moral values rooted in humanity, and so chooses to do what he believes is good for all.

It seems that the word “good” gets tossed around frequently when we discuss topics like saving the world and what is “just.” Justice for the Alliance was indicative of control, order, wealth, and the sterilization of messy humanity. The Browncoats, Mal in particular, fight against the “Big Brother” system so that justice will prevail and ordinary people can live good lives. Where self-interest thrives, it is clear that nothing else can. There is a fragile balance in order that Mal and his tenacious crew seek to restore.

Book’s dying moment, as described earlier, is essential to the Firefly philosophy. Similarly to Karl Rahner’s idea on the anonymous Christian, Book sees that through conscience and intent of goodness, belief – a most powerful gift – can be found in the most unexpected places.[4]

As Book and River discuss in the episode Jaynestown,

“Shepherd Book: What are we up to, sweetheart?
River Tam: Fixing your Bible.
Shepherd Book: I, um…
Shepherd Book: What?
River Tam: Bible’s broken. Contradictions, false logistics – doesn’t make sense.
Shepherd Book: No, no. You-you-you can’t…
River Tam: So we’ll integrate non-progressional evolution theory with God’s creation of Eden. Eleven inherent metaphoric parallels already there. Eleven. Important number. Prime number. One goes into the house of eleven eleven times, but always comes out one. Noah’s ark is a problem.
Shepherd Book: Really?
River Tam: We’ll have to call it early quantum state phenomenon. Only way to fit 5000 species of
mammal on the same boat.
Shepherd Book: River, you don’t fix the Bible.
River: It’s broken. It doesn’t make sense.
Shepherd Book: It’s not about making sense. It’s about believing in something, and letting that belief be real enough to change your life. It’s about faith. You don’t fix faith, River. It fixes you.”[5]

 

[1] Joss Whedon, Serenity. Universal Pictures, 2005. 1:06:52.

[2] ibid. “Safe,” Firefly. Fox. November 8, 2002.

[3] ibid. “Our Mrs. Reynolds.” October 4, 2002.

[4] Rahner, Karl and  Paul ImhofHubert Biallowons. Karl Rahner in Dialogue: Conversations and Interviews 1965-1982. New York: Crossroad. 1986.

[5] Joss Whedon. “Jaynestown.” Firefly. Fox. October 18, 2002.

By: Erica Saccucci

Don’t Believe the Monkey in the Tree: True Detective’s Rust Cohle finds…

True Detective

 

Existentialism, nihilism, Christology, just enough big words there to get dangerous when it comes to explaining Rust Cohle in True Detective. See, from the non-theological perspective of those who don’t work with theology for a living, I can understand the urge to move toward nihilism to describe Rust. After all, his outlook is continuously pessimistic and bleak to say the least. “Raw-bone edgy”[1] is the phrase that Marty uses to describe his beleaguered partner. Nihilism and post-modernity, however, do not always reside together within the same house and certainly do not have to walk hand in hand in South Louisiana.

The pivotal point, as Rust narrates it, was the death of his daughter. There is a bold absence of Rust’s narrated life
before the moment of her death. His narration begins with the telling of her story in the small bits and pieces he can choke out through his grounded pain. Very little is said of his mother, or even his first marriage. As audience, we come to find out more about his relationship with Linda, a friend of Marty’s wife, than we do his marriage. It becomes obvious within the first three episodes that his daughter’s death was not only his unraveling, but also the catalyst for his turn away from belief in general. Whether you call his newly formed narrative one of fantasy, reality, pessimism, or nihilism does not really matter. What does matter is that the story is his to tell, encompassed and fueled by his pain and anger, that is where the story begins. So when you claim that the story is about Nietzschean concepts bathed in post-modernity, I’m going to say that it’s much more simple than that. This is the story of a man who experienced ultimate loss and is out to seek redemption.

Now I’m not aiming to go all Christological here either. The references to Christ are blatant enough that if you have seen the first season in its entirety, you can pull them together. Rust wakes up in episode two blurred by the camera as the cross on the wall behind him remains in focus. As Rust sits up, he comes into focus and the cross becomes blurry. In many ways they are currently in opposite states from one another. Rust is seeking forgiTrue Detectiveveness, not necessarily from God, but from himself. A redemption of humanity, a reconciliation of existence. Theodicy, the attempt to reconcile the evil that happens to human beings with the existence of a loving God, is a common quip to face upon the death of a loved one, particularly an innocent. Rust, through his grief, attempts to reason that his daughter is better off in her blackness, that “yanking” a soul out of non-existence into the “meat” of a body is cruel.[2] He repeats himself in trying to convince those around him, and ultimately himself, that she is better off dead. He describes himself as lucky for not having to raise a child in the world.

At the same time, as he rages against his own pain in humanity, he remains. No constitution to kill himself, reconciled to his nature, stuck in his programming. No matter how he phrases it, he is stuck to life. The detectives interviewing Rust ask him why he even went into homicide after all he had been through. He responded with 1 Corinthians 12:12, “For even as the body is one and yet has many members, and all the members of the body, though they are many, are one body, so also is Christ.”[3] He needed to remain part of the one body. That is not the position of a nihilist, it’s the position of one seeking the wholeness of humanity.

Despite his brash comments about organized religion, in particular it seems Christianity of the evangelical nature, he is clear in what he finds repulsive. Entitlement, individualism, spoon-fed morality, are the ideas that Rust rallies against. Being a member of one body, which is a Christian theological principle, is a part of his journey to find his own self once again.

In “Form and Void,” the season finale, we watch as Rust is on the edge of death. As he returns to the world he says to Marty that he “shouldn’t even be here,” and that his “definitions [were] fading.”[4] He felt his daughter in the darkness, his father in the darkness, and begins to describe that he felt a part of everything he loved. Looking back to the Corinthians verse, what he describes is coming back to the whole of who he was, to his core. As the final scene between Rust and Marty closes, they go back and forth about the stars. Rust opens with discussing the oldest story of the dark versus the light. While Marty claims that the darkness seems to have a lot more territory as he gazes upward, Rust closes with “Once there was only dark, if you ask me, the light’s winning.”[5]

While some deny that Rust had a conversion and others claim that it could not be anything but a conversion to Christ, there is a middle ground that needs to be explored. First, conversion does not indicate that Rust became a tent-revival preaching Christian. There are philosophical and theological principles in Christianity that do not involve the weaving of fairy tales, nor the charisma beneath a tent. While Rust may continue to be critical and skeptical of organized religion, which we may or may not see in the upcoming season, he certainly experienced something during the season finale that brought him back to life, back into the whole body, and into his own redemption for all those things he suffered during the period of his narration. In short, Rust found, perhaps, the single most essential quality to the Christian tradition, hope.

 

[1] Nick Pizzolatto, True Detective, television, Cary Joji Fukunaga (2014; New York: HBO.) broadcast. Episode 1.

[2] ibid. Episode 2.

[3] 1 Cor. 12:12 NAB

[4] Nick Pizzolatto, True Detective, television, Cary Joji Fukunaga (2014; New York: HBO.) broadcast. Episode 8.

[5] ibid.

By: Erica Saccucci