Musings: Notes From My Daybook

Thanksgiving is only two days away and in the rush of preparation for travel I haven't had much time to think about what is admittedly my favorite holiday.  However, early this morning I read Elyssa East's  essay in the New York Times   and I found something worth contemplating--especially in land of such abundance.

East notes the practices of early pilgrims and says that they would certainly approve of laden tables, family fellowship, and afternoons full of football.  What early American settlers would disagree with our current practices is that our feast days have no fast days to balance them.

Although she does not quite name it, what East suggests is really a reminder that God is the giver of all good things.  And although we can say prayers of thanksgiving this Thursday, it might be worth thinking about how we take time to reflect on our abundance and the world's need at some point in our lives.  To do so would show how grateful we really are!

May your Thanksgiving bring the joy of know the deep bounty of God's love!

I had the opportunity today to attend a pre-relaase screening of the film, The Road, to be released on November 25.  The movie is a close adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's 2006 novel by the same name.  For less literary types,  the Cohen brothers' film, No Country for Old Men, was an adaptation of a 2005 McCarthy novel by that name.

In The Road the novel/movie spins a parabolic narrative of a post-apocalyptic world that is collapsing.  All plant and animal life is gone; the few humans remaining are surviving at the far edges of the range of human kindness.  It is every person for themself.  Horror of death, murder, mayhem, and cannibalism mark the world.

At the center of the story is a father and son.  The father, played with passionate intensity, is Viggo Mortensen.  The son is played by a young Australian actor, Kodi Smit-McPhee.  The main story line is the journey of father and son to what they hope is the safety and the possibility of new life at the coast.

Along the way they meet up with various characters and events that challenge and threaten their claim to be the "good guys" in a world full of meaninglessness.  The film presents a secular vision, a world where God is absent.  Ironically, and no doubt intentionally, this reality is actually named by the one person who has a name.  Robert Duvall plays a strong supporting role as Eli (the Hebrew name refering to God!?)

The driving force of the plot is the father's desire to get to the coast with the son and to impart to the son the metaphor of the "fire" that a person carries within.  Full of metaphor, biblical and Christian imagery, the film draws you into the world of the father and son.  However, be warned, you will not always find the implications affirming!  And the harsh realities of the parable can be quite vivid.

The movie is powerful, poignant, and, often troubling.  However, I can assure you that it will raise important issues regarding faith, parental love, meaning in life, and the limits of human existence.  I saw with a group of ministers from all over Atlanta and one main thread of the post-screening Q & A was about the many themes that the film raises. This is NOT a feel good movie; it is a movie that will demand a hard look at what is really good!

See trailer here

Fillm site here

It is not clear why Jesus launches into a series of proverbial statements about sheep, shepherds, gatekeepers and sheepfolds in John 10.  The only thing that is certain is that the original hearers didn't understand it either!  So in sorting out what John is doing as he recounts this monologue, we have several possibilities.  Was this Jesus' tonque-in-cheek swipe at religious leaders of his day?  Was it John contrasting Jesus' leadership with the kinds of synagogue leadership that many Jewish Christians were struggling with?  Either way, or both ways, Jesus' metaphorical language delivers a wonder set of images that evoke the character of Jesus' leadership and his identity.

Jesus declares that he is the gate.  He offers access and safety.  He also declares the promise of hope and freedom.  And in it all, comes the remarkable claim that life--full, abundant life--is made available.

Jesus also declares that he is the "Noble Shepherd."  This declaration found its way into the heart of Christian thinking as seen in this third century piece from Rome.

Yet the focus for Jesus was to distinguish his care from that of a hired hand.  Nothing deters the "noble" shepherd from protecting his charges.  And as the noble shepherd, Jesus declares that he will lay down his life for their sake.

Noble?  Yes, indeed. 

If only the sheep will learn to listen for his voice.

My text this week is John 9 and I am fascinated with the way in which story unfolds.  A blind man who has no stated interest in Jesus, gets caught up in a theological debate about sin.  The next thing he knows his sight is restored--and then trouble begins.  His neighbors don't believe him, his parents desert him, religious leaders pester him with questions and ultimately expel him from the community.

Yet all the while his faith grows.  His capacity to see speaks to his capacity to recognize the abiding truth of God's work in his life.

On the other hand, religious leaders, assuming perfect insight are castigated by Jesus for their blindness. 

John writes this story to help the congregation of people he served to make sense of the pressure that was coming to them because of their faith in Jesus.  These early Christians feared the loss of their way of life and their associations in the synagogues because of their convictions about Jesus.  John is suggesting that believing may well mean going it alone--without family, friends, or leaders.  But John also makes clear that Jesus does not abandon believers.  Jesus is in the beginning of the story and he is at the end of the story.

It's living the inbetween parts that really gets rough.  And in the inbetween parts, it might be good to remember that we are not forsaken, nor have we gone blind.  We are only blind when we fail to reckon with the reality of our brokenness and of the brokenness of the world.

The ambiguity of life's experiences are real. That is the haunting theme in the 1962 Bob Dylan song, "Blowin' in the Wind."  Dylan speaks almost biblically at one point when his lyrics state:

How many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn't see
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind*

What do you see?  Do you see the love of God at work nurturing your faith and addressing the brokenness of the world?  Or do you see self-sufficiency and inevitable progress?  One is real insight while the other is darkness.

CER

*Dylan sang it well, but I am partial to Peter, Paul and Mary:

As a popular author Elizabeth Gilbert's TED speech is witty, funny, and probes a deeply human longing.    Her answer is poignant and powerful. . . . and strangely lacking in an obvious way.

What would happen if we seriously posit the possibility of God's presence in our world?  Maybe might come to really know the muse or genius that is up to something in our world?