Saturday, December 22, 2007
Lighten up, Emo kid!
Today I'm going to try and write some poetry. Because damn it, we can't let the emo kids and myspacers ruin it for this and future generations. Nobody really reads books, fewer read short stories and still fewer read poems. It's time to kick society's illiterate ass with the oldest art form we have.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
"Do you believe in redemption?
Last night I was watching the prison shows on MSNBC and I saw a new one called "Do you believe in redemption" that is either a greatly enlightening show or a huge exercise in schadenfraude, or a little of both.
I like the prison shows on MSNBC. Most of the time they detail what life is like for convicts, showing all of the racial and social issues. Things seem a lot different than it was for Paul Newman in "Cool Hand Luke" or even for Andy Duphrame in "Shawshank Redemption." When Johnny Cash went to Folsom, many of his songs were already outdated, as drugs and racial tensions were changing the culture of prison life. Now, forty-odd years later, there are wars on the yard where the armies are segregated by race alone, drugs moving more or less freely in and out, gang culture perpetuated in those stone walls and, thank God, some better programs for recovery.
The particular show I watched detailed the recovery circle of a man who was in prison for killing his best friend with a machete. Thirty years after that event, he was in recovery and almost up for parole. More disturbing than the man's detailed account of the murder was the way that the TV narrator held those details until the end: "When we come back, the grisly details of the murder . . . " then commercial, ten more minutes of his recovery, always holding those details until the end of the show. I didn't know whether to turn it off in disgust of the way that they were making entertainment out of a murder (and horror at how I was watching it) or to keep watching in order to more fully understand this obviously repentant soul.
So many times when we hear of a murder or rape or whatever, we want justice, which in itself is a good thing only when pursued with mercy and humility. That justice we want is for the accused to feel sorry for what he or she has done--we want to see the regret, guilt on their face. Maybe we want them to feel it the rest of their lives and be buried under it. We want to hang that albatross on their neck and never take it off. For the man in the show, his recovery functioned in almost such as way. The facilitators took him to the murder in his own mind and made him relive it in detail. They made him think of its impact on the victim and the victim's family.
They made him write all of the things that the victim would never be able to do--have another Christmas, have kids, see love in his wife's eyes--then toss the paper to the floor and live with their messages.
What can we do with a story like that? The man's story is by no means the farthest depth of human cruelty ("Blood Meridian" goes much further). The title of the program might be the best thing to view it with--"Do you believe in redemption?" Let us wrestle with that question until we can.
Now I'm going to watch a happy movie or read something a little brighter--"Blood Meridian" can rest for today.
I like the prison shows on MSNBC. Most of the time they detail what life is like for convicts, showing all of the racial and social issues. Things seem a lot different than it was for Paul Newman in "Cool Hand Luke" or even for Andy Duphrame in "Shawshank Redemption." When Johnny Cash went to Folsom, many of his songs were already outdated, as drugs and racial tensions were changing the culture of prison life. Now, forty-odd years later, there are wars on the yard where the armies are segregated by race alone, drugs moving more or less freely in and out, gang culture perpetuated in those stone walls and, thank God, some better programs for recovery.
The particular show I watched detailed the recovery circle of a man who was in prison for killing his best friend with a machete. Thirty years after that event, he was in recovery and almost up for parole. More disturbing than the man's detailed account of the murder was the way that the TV narrator held those details until the end: "When we come back, the grisly details of the murder . . . " then commercial, ten more minutes of his recovery, always holding those details until the end of the show. I didn't know whether to turn it off in disgust of the way that they were making entertainment out of a murder (and horror at how I was watching it) or to keep watching in order to more fully understand this obviously repentant soul.
So many times when we hear of a murder or rape or whatever, we want justice, which in itself is a good thing only when pursued with mercy and humility. That justice we want is for the accused to feel sorry for what he or she has done--we want to see the regret, guilt on their face. Maybe we want them to feel it the rest of their lives and be buried under it. We want to hang that albatross on their neck and never take it off. For the man in the show, his recovery functioned in almost such as way. The facilitators took him to the murder in his own mind and made him relive it in detail. They made him think of its impact on the victim and the victim's family.
They made him write all of the things that the victim would never be able to do--have another Christmas, have kids, see love in his wife's eyes--then toss the paper to the floor and live with their messages.
What can we do with a story like that? The man's story is by no means the farthest depth of human cruelty ("Blood Meridian" goes much further). The title of the program might be the best thing to view it with--"Do you believe in redemption?" Let us wrestle with that question until we can.
Now I'm going to watch a happy movie or read something a little brighter--"Blood Meridian" can rest for today.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
The Beauty of God, plus a few other things.
Having just read Edward T. Oakes' article "Eyes of Faith" in this week's Christian Century, I am at once glad to see the way he expresses seeing God through beauty and awed by his thorough (if a little dense) wording of it. I'll definately try to get the book.
Maybe it's the Wordsworth, Lewis, or Norman Maclean I've read, but I think that the overwhelming beauty of this world, whether it be in nature or in the human spirit expressed through art or music, is evidence of a higher power, a Being omnipresent in our lives. This Being, God, I have imagined as a substance of love, of power, and of incredible beauty. Oakes' article, and Treier's book that it is based upon, has the same view. Evidently Plato had something of it too.
How can you help but sense a transcendant force when you step into a flowing clear river, or see the mountains smoke below gray skies? When you hold in your hand a speckled trout, just caught, still breathing in and out in a miracle of existence? When you hear a hymn sung by a voice that puts such passion and authenticity into it, or better still a whole choir? Those things attract a piece of me that I define as my soul, and they attract them in their own way to the Divine that is breathing beauty through them.
But, enough preaching. The book sounds good. There's another one advertised in there about Amish kids in the "running around" years that I'll look for, too.
Completely unrelated, bvut reading James Agee hasn't helped my desire for everyone to go back to dressing like they did in the 20's.
I want my vest and fedora!
Maybe it's the Wordsworth, Lewis, or Norman Maclean I've read, but I think that the overwhelming beauty of this world, whether it be in nature or in the human spirit expressed through art or music, is evidence of a higher power, a Being omnipresent in our lives. This Being, God, I have imagined as a substance of love, of power, and of incredible beauty. Oakes' article, and Treier's book that it is based upon, has the same view. Evidently Plato had something of it too.
How can you help but sense a transcendant force when you step into a flowing clear river, or see the mountains smoke below gray skies? When you hold in your hand a speckled trout, just caught, still breathing in and out in a miracle of existence? When you hear a hymn sung by a voice that puts such passion and authenticity into it, or better still a whole choir? Those things attract a piece of me that I define as my soul, and they attract them in their own way to the Divine that is breathing beauty through them.
But, enough preaching. The book sounds good. There's another one advertised in there about Amish kids in the "running around" years that I'll look for, too.
Completely unrelated, bvut reading James Agee hasn't helped my desire for everyone to go back to dressing like they did in the 20's.
I want my vest and fedora!
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