You often hear about stress as a negative thing. All too often it is. Too much stress has the tendency to affect our mental, emotional and physical well-being. However, there is also a positive side to stress. The right amount of stress can motivate us, inspire us, push us to accomplish many things. Stress can bring out the productive, creative sides of us.
Think of how we are sometimes stretched into growth and change by stress. I, for one, sometimes need a good dose of stress to get things done. But sometimes, I feel a little guilty doing things that way.
Guilt, like stress, can have both a positive and negative impact on our lives. Typically, and more frequently, we associate guilt with the negative. There’s guilt by association. A guilty conscious. Guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Not guilty. Guilty as sin. Even Webster’s views guilt in negative terms:
Guilt, n. 1) a state of wrongdoing; wickedness; 2) deserving of punishment.
People often determine good and bad by the presence or absence of feelings of guilt. Each individual responds to guilt in their own way. Do they show remorse? Do they ask forgiveness? Are they sincere? Frequently, we hear of individuals who cannot live with their guilt. In Poe’s "Tell-Tale Heart," the main character was eventually done in by his own guilt.
Some people, however, simply, do not feel guilt the same way that others do. There are always those in the news, literature, in the media, etc., who display little guilt or remorse for their actions (i.e., hardened criminals, dictators, immoral CEO’s, self-serving politicians, to name a few).
There are also those who use guilt to manipulate others. They may try to put us on a "guilt-trip." They try to control our emotions in order to get their way. Some of us suffer from the manipulations of others. And some of us suffer from our own self-inflicted guilt. Sometimes this guilt can be so overwhelming and have such a negative influence on us that it impacts our day-to-day functioning and interactions with others. Can any good come from guilt?
The answer is, yes. Guilt, like stress, can also have positive results. Guilt can often act as our conscience and our guide. It can influence us to "Do the right thing." It can make us realize we have behaved badly. It can make us feel remorse or sadness when we have acted in ways that hurt others. It may remind us to be good to family and friends, neighbors, strangers and the less fortunate. It can spur us to offer an apology or to make amends for our actions. It may act as a deterrent from acting one way while encouraging us to act another. It can create or foster feelings of sympathy and empathy. Guilt can actually make us better, more sensitive individuals.
So what role does guilt play in your spiritual life? How does it influence and inform your faith? Do you act in a more spiritual manner because of your beliefs, your desire to be a good, decent person, or your efforts to avoid those feelings of guilt? Do you ask forgiveness for your actions because you believe them to be wrong or to ease your conscience, or both? And is feeling guilty and asking forgiveness wrong?
Paul struggled with his feelings of guilt throughout his journey from ardent persecutor to founding father of the modern Christian Church. In Romans, he cries out with guilt, frustration and remorse that he did the things he shouldn’t do and didn’t do the things he knew God wanted him to do.
Like Paul, I, too, know what I should do and how I should act as a Christian. On many days, I just don’t come close to being the kind of person that I know God and Christ want me to be. On those days, a little guilt, like stress, can help remind me to try and be more of what I know I should be and do more of what I know I should do. On those days, a little guilt can be a good thing. Perhaps on those days, it’s good to feel a little guilty...
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Feeling As If You Don’t Belong
"Nobody loves me for me!"
Even a bright professional can fell like this. Even if we functioned well and associated broadly, but still we felt some painful and paradoxical absence. Most certainly, we are not alone. We often complain of something missing in our relationships, marriage, family or work group. Most of us sense "belonging" is essential to our happiness and well-being.
Maybe we should pay attention on what are the universal factors that nurture a sense of belonging–warmth, trust, acceptance and empathic understanding. Most of us find these ingredients naturally in our ordinary relationships. Our emotional bonds, shared goals, mutual confidence, empathic communications, understanding acceptance, and energizing hopes connect and sustain us together. While we all occasionally feel like we don’t fit in, a chronic sense may signal a need for new skills or new insights about our relating.
What motivates our wish to connect? As our bodies need air and food, so our inner self needs recognition, appreciation, and affirmation–someone to hold us in "esteem." And once we ourselves are reliably nurtured, we in turn become the nurturers, looking beyond ourselves for some larger belonging–another relationship, a broader group, a shared ideal to bring us together.
For most, our family was our first place of belonging, and where we learned the rules and roles of belonging. We tend to continue those behaviors that were met with approval, and squelch those that were met with disapproval. From our small family-tribe, our social world then grows bigger and bigger, where we meet new challenges, satisfactions and frustrations. Some, who have felt the absence of belonging in the past or present, decide not to commune with others but rather to make themselves "immune." Since this need will not go away, however, we may end up substituting a deformed belonging, such as an addiction or abusive relationships.
In contrast, healthy belonging is a two-way street of mutuality and self-giving. We bring our gifts, our talents, our dreams, and our selves to the other. We expect the other to do likewise. When we predictably also reveal our faults and flaws, we trust others will love and accept us anyway. And we in turn accept theirs. In fact, sharing these untoward experiences can form incredibly intimate bonds. This ideal is easily present, and most of us spend a lifetime learning how to relate authentically.
There is an old Hasidic story about Heaven and Hell. "I will show you Hell," the Lord said to a rabbi, and led him to a room of famished, desperate people sitting around a large circular table. In the center was a pot of stew, enough for everyone. Yet no one ate. All they had was a single long-handled spoon; long enough to reach the stew, but too long to then get the food into one’s own mouth. "Now I will show you Heaven," said the Lord. The rabbi entered another room, identical to the first. They had the same table, same stew, and same long-handled spoon. Yet everyone was full, flourishing and exuberant. "I don’t understand the difference," said the rabbi. "It is simple," said the Lord. "You see, the people in this room have learned to use the spoon to feed each other." Now I am slowly learning to let myself be fed, and to pass it on to others...
Even a bright professional can fell like this. Even if we functioned well and associated broadly, but still we felt some painful and paradoxical absence. Most certainly, we are not alone. We often complain of something missing in our relationships, marriage, family or work group. Most of us sense "belonging" is essential to our happiness and well-being.
Maybe we should pay attention on what are the universal factors that nurture a sense of belonging–warmth, trust, acceptance and empathic understanding. Most of us find these ingredients naturally in our ordinary relationships. Our emotional bonds, shared goals, mutual confidence, empathic communications, understanding acceptance, and energizing hopes connect and sustain us together. While we all occasionally feel like we don’t fit in, a chronic sense may signal a need for new skills or new insights about our relating.
What motivates our wish to connect? As our bodies need air and food, so our inner self needs recognition, appreciation, and affirmation–someone to hold us in "esteem." And once we ourselves are reliably nurtured, we in turn become the nurturers, looking beyond ourselves for some larger belonging–another relationship, a broader group, a shared ideal to bring us together.
For most, our family was our first place of belonging, and where we learned the rules and roles of belonging. We tend to continue those behaviors that were met with approval, and squelch those that were met with disapproval. From our small family-tribe, our social world then grows bigger and bigger, where we meet new challenges, satisfactions and frustrations. Some, who have felt the absence of belonging in the past or present, decide not to commune with others but rather to make themselves "immune." Since this need will not go away, however, we may end up substituting a deformed belonging, such as an addiction or abusive relationships.
In contrast, healthy belonging is a two-way street of mutuality and self-giving. We bring our gifts, our talents, our dreams, and our selves to the other. We expect the other to do likewise. When we predictably also reveal our faults and flaws, we trust others will love and accept us anyway. And we in turn accept theirs. In fact, sharing these untoward experiences can form incredibly intimate bonds. This ideal is easily present, and most of us spend a lifetime learning how to relate authentically.
There is an old Hasidic story about Heaven and Hell. "I will show you Hell," the Lord said to a rabbi, and led him to a room of famished, desperate people sitting around a large circular table. In the center was a pot of stew, enough for everyone. Yet no one ate. All they had was a single long-handled spoon; long enough to reach the stew, but too long to then get the food into one’s own mouth. "Now I will show you Heaven," said the Lord. The rabbi entered another room, identical to the first. They had the same table, same stew, and same long-handled spoon. Yet everyone was full, flourishing and exuberant. "I don’t understand the difference," said the rabbi. "It is simple," said the Lord. "You see, the people in this room have learned to use the spoon to feed each other." Now I am slowly learning to let myself be fed, and to pass it on to others...
Friday, September 12, 2008
Point Of Asking Theological Questions
Do we stop learning when we graduate from high school? College? Law school? Seminary? Graduate school? Medical school? No. As human beings, we are constantly learning and discovering new things. And our curiosity about what we learn, or at least provisionally accept, prompts us to ask new questions.
Because of this probably genetically encoded capacity to continuously learn, everyone is a theologian by nature, whether they recognize it or not (even atheists are theologians). Everyone at some time or another in their life asks themselves if God exists, and if so, how does God act in the world? When confronted with disaster, tragedy, and loss, it is not uncommon to ask fundamental and sometimes deeply troubling questions about the role of God as a saver or taker of life. We ask these very personal and profound questions often when we are confronted with a sense of our own mortality, or have witnessed something horrific - beyond easy human explanation. We automatically seek explanation, comfort, and understanding.
One’s theology, whether formally acknowledged as such or not, often provides the basis for what one chooses to do with one’s life, and the meaning one sees in life itself. If God is viewed by someone as a vindictive, abusive patriarch, the chances are good that that core theological belief will be reflected in that person’s day-to-day affairs. Likewise, theology also lies at the base of a moral or ethical perspective, which can profoundly affect social and personal relations.
Hence, although on this side of death we cannot know anything with absolute certainty (and there is no guarantee that we will know that much more on the other side), it is crucial to our lives and to our environment and the world, that we act as theologians, and ask the hard questions. The answers, though tentative, are important, because they will inform who we are, and how we behave in the world.
Because of this probably genetically encoded capacity to continuously learn, everyone is a theologian by nature, whether they recognize it or not (even atheists are theologians). Everyone at some time or another in their life asks themselves if God exists, and if so, how does God act in the world? When confronted with disaster, tragedy, and loss, it is not uncommon to ask fundamental and sometimes deeply troubling questions about the role of God as a saver or taker of life. We ask these very personal and profound questions often when we are confronted with a sense of our own mortality, or have witnessed something horrific - beyond easy human explanation. We automatically seek explanation, comfort, and understanding.
One’s theology, whether formally acknowledged as such or not, often provides the basis for what one chooses to do with one’s life, and the meaning one sees in life itself. If God is viewed by someone as a vindictive, abusive patriarch, the chances are good that that core theological belief will be reflected in that person’s day-to-day affairs. Likewise, theology also lies at the base of a moral or ethical perspective, which can profoundly affect social and personal relations.
Hence, although on this side of death we cannot know anything with absolute certainty (and there is no guarantee that we will know that much more on the other side), it is crucial to our lives and to our environment and the world, that we act as theologians, and ask the hard questions. The answers, though tentative, are important, because they will inform who we are, and how we behave in the world.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Lord of the Rings: An Epic Film of our Time
Fellowship of the Ring
I have to admit that when I was much younger I tried reading The Lord of the Rings and was frankly not impressed. I thought that Tolkien was far too descriptive and I never quite understood the story line. I struggled through the first book of the trilogy and never completed the series. I remember moving on to the stories by C.S. Lewis, like, The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe. I have said for years, "I just didn't need a chapter to describe the beard and eyebrows of Gandalf."
For a number of reasons I decided to wait to see the movie later when it was shown, one of those reasons was to let the more seasoned Tolkien readers interpret the movie. I believe it is about time to hear the opinions of one who is not a Tolkien disciple to give their impression, especially since I haven't read many comments that admit they are not dedicated followers. Shucks, for that matter I have already admitted that I have never read all of the books.
Prior to my thoughts on the film I must state that as I have gotten older, one of the things I have learned to appreciate in literature, either film ,or written, is allegory. While I was younger I realize that I didn't fully appreciate or understand this concept. I believe that is natural for a younger person however and is an appreciation that ferments with time and wisdom. Not to say that I am wise by any means but I certainly have had time to develop at least more wisdom since my mid teen years.
With the above said, I must say that I fully expected The Lord of the Rings to make it into my top 100 list of all time movies because of what I had already read about the movie. What I didn't expect was it to fall into my all time top 10 or even top 5 but this movie did just that. The Lord of the Rings is a brilliant movie with numerous parallels between good and evil. (Some of my all time top movies are: Star Wars, Amadeus, Apocalypse Now!, Lawrence of Arabia, Saving Private Ryan, Forrest Gump...)
I have seen few movies that have told this story to the magnitude of this fine, fine film. Technically, everything from the casting to the story itself is fascinating and visually stunning. As far as film making goes it is as perfect as any movie ever made. What I will say is that the movie was so good that I did plan on going back and reading all of the books, and I plan to start over with the first book. I realize now that I have probably matured enough that I will enjoy them much more than I did when I was younger. I'll also say that the story looses very little on the screen. At least for me, the ability to add visually increased my ability to understand the story and this is one of those movies that is possibly better understood from watching it on screen than from reading it in print. This is a hard pill to swallow, especially from one who enjoys writing and reading as much as I do.
While I could spend a great deal of time commenting on this film technically, I find it essential to comment on other components that draw parallels between faith, particularly the Christian faith, and humankind.
While I was leaving the theater one of the comments brought up to me was that the film just seemed to end and of course there was the death of some of the primary characters that were loved and appreciated which my family and others did not understand. Reading what I have of the books and from doing some investigation I was reminding them that they needed to remember that the story does not end with this one movie. There were two more books to be told and we just needed to be patient because the movies were already made. There are numerous other components of the film that dealt with issues such as friendship, love, sacrifice, faith and many more. This is a movie that is easy to spoil but believe me those issues are dealt with beautifully in this film and in ways that should challenge the viewer to become stronger in each category.
There is one other issue dealt with in the film that I will mention. I have heard many Christians, of all people, be critical of the film because of it's portrayal of evil. "It was too scary." "Inappropriate for young children." "The story was just dark." These and other comments confounded me. My own personal view is that there are parts of the film that could be scary. The opportunity to discuss the spiritual components of evil as well as the sacrifice needed to overcome that evil is evident in this film. Being able to relate the Gospel clearly to those of all ages who do not know of the similar sacrifices that Jesus made to save mankind are evident.
I also appreciated the aspect of friendship and love that was portrayed. Lessons of real love and real friendship, to stick it out no matter how hard the difficulties, even when we are in water way over our heads and can't swim. These images can parallel a dedication to follow those we love, and ultimately Jesus Christ. To have such a passion that we would exercise, without question, "deep water faith."
The Lord of the Rings is a film that I will see again and again, and I will look forward to each new adventure I find along the way. It is that kind of movie that makes this possible.
The Two Towers
Technically, this movie is as good as the first because, again they were all filmed at the same time. The story continues with new characters and thus new story lines. We see the devotion of the characters to each other and their willingness to forsake their own lives in the attempt to save the life of not only those they love but for the sake of doing what is right, even when it appears that doing right could result in death.
The devotion to themselves, each other and their vision is a component that is an incredible reminder to each of us watching the film. This is not just a movie but in many ways a sermon that encourages one to examine their own life and thus, what they are doing with their life. Just as Gandalf is a figure that the characters of this movie will listen to and follow into battle that appears to lead to certain death, so is Christ that character for many others seeing this movie.
The Return of the King
I can find no better single word to describe the design, execution and impact of The Return of the King. Conventional wisdom dictates that movie scripts be designed and function in much the same way as a short story; another apt comparison would be the musical form of the overture.
It's well that audiences have a chance to catch their collective breath. Sequences of The Return of the King stack up as some of the most visceral entertainment ever conceived—too intense, I would imagine. The sequence in the Morgul Vale, for instance, had me literally cowering in my seat, even as Frodo himself cowered from the cry of the Witch King. I would never have anticipated that the Black Breath could be so effectively evoked through film.
As they worked on the final phase of this film, Jackson, Boyens and Walsh watched a young man be taken from this world by cancer. Was that the end of his story? Tolkien believed in a life after death, a "place called 'heaven' where the good here unfinished is completed." So do Boyens and Walsh, in a way. "The journey doesn't end here," their Gandalf says. Death is "just another path, one that we all must take. As the gray rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and turns to silver glass, then you'll see it. White shores; and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.
And a languid conclusion to a satisfying symphony.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Star Wars: The Clone Wars, United by the Force
Star Wars: The Clone Wars is essentially a big screen pilot for the Star Wars-themed cartoon series to premiere on Cartoon Network. And it feels like it. Its story is not complicated. If you wanted to divide it up into three individual episodes, you probably could. And visually, its style is much more along the lines of what you might find in late-night anime and weekend-long video game marathons than most full-length animated features of late.
In the Star Wars timeline, Star Wars: The Clone Wars takes place during the two to three years between Episode II and Episode III. Battles between Count Dooku's Separatists and the Republic's Jedi Knights continue as the Republic fights to restore peace to the galaxy. And when the movie opens, Anakin Skywalker and Ob-Wan Kenobi are right at the forefront of efforts to defeat the Separatist droid army.
Back in Galactic City, however, a plea for help has arrived from the crime lord Jabba the Hutt. His son has been kidnapped, and he has requested the Jedis' help in securing his return. If the Jedi can complete the mission, they stand to broker a treaty granting them safe passage through Hutt territory (an almost invaluable asset in the mostly Separatist dominated Outer Rim). If not, the Republic risks losing the territory to the Separatists and facing an even more difficult for peace.
Throughout the course of The Clone Wars' story, almost all the major Star Wars villains step into the limelight and establish the Separatist alliances that will create trouble for years to come. The missing years of Anakin's development between Episode II and III begin to fill in as he is forced to incorporate the function of teacher/mentor into his familiar role of fiercely independent and often reckless hero. And as the evil forces that must be fought reveal more of their true colors, so do the values that will eventually lead to their defeat.
Like I said, Star Wars: The Clone Wars feels more like a made-for-TV cartoon than the best in feature length animation. Its look is decidedly different, less fluid and more akin to the angular and jumpy look of video games. In fact, much of the movie is filled with action scenes that could easily be the product of a dozen or so talented gamers sitting right next to you in the theater. The dialogue and character/story development are thrown in between, not much more complex than pull-string lines that could easily fit inside its own characters' action-figure twins.
All in all, the movie, its story, and its look will primarily appeal to a decidedly younger audience. At the same time, in the character of Ziro the Hutt (Jabba's uncle) and a few scenes peppered throughout, the film hints that the series will throw in a few punches to keep its older audiences amused. And although its tales still won't rival the original trilogy, within the framework of the entire Star Wars' mythology, the missing time period that Star Wars: The Clone Wars introduces promises a story and a telling that will probably be of interest to most diehard Star Wars fans out there like me :)
While it may be simple, like the body of Star Wars' films before it, Star Wars: The Clone Wars also deals with many of the same themes. Most prominent is the battle between division and unity. It is what fuels the conflict that drives its greater story. But it is also what drives the development of many of its individual characters and the resolution of most of its smaller stories.
Within the Separatists, division is the name of the game. Not only do they seek to bring division to their galaxy, their plots are rife with betrayal and pursuit of individual power. If others can be sacrificed for your gain, they will be. If people do not prove to be an asset to your plot, then it is better to get rid of them right now. And if there are any alliances at all, let's just say that no one is in them for any other reasons but their own.
But just as the tales before and after it have shown, Star Wars: The Clone Wars reveals a world in which acts of division and selfishness always fall to acts of unity and selflessness. Through his partnership with his Padawan learner Ashoka, even Anakin's efforts become more valuable as he is forced to think beyond just himself. Ashoka's crucial role in the success of the Jedi mission proves that a partner's value can come in all ages, sizes, and experience levels. Putting her own life at risk for the sake of Anakin and her country, Senator Amidala challenges everyone to consider if we would offer our own lives for those to whom we claim allegiance. And with the best Jedi Knights in the Galaxy lending their services to their sometimes enemies the Hutts, they prove that the best way to get rid of division is not by destroying our enemies but by demonstrating our value as friends.
And so enters the value of the Star Wars mythology. As much as befriending an enemy or helping a friend may seem like an inconsequential act only influential over the two people it physically touches, the truth is that acts of union, friendship, and selflessness reach far beyond their origin. From single acts of kindness come greater movements of change. And as Jesus showed us long ago (and Star Wars points at on more than one occasion), through even one act of sacrificial love, the reality in which we live can be changed forever.
In the Star Wars timeline, Star Wars: The Clone Wars takes place during the two to three years between Episode II and Episode III. Battles between Count Dooku's Separatists and the Republic's Jedi Knights continue as the Republic fights to restore peace to the galaxy. And when the movie opens, Anakin Skywalker and Ob-Wan Kenobi are right at the forefront of efforts to defeat the Separatist droid army.
Back in Galactic City, however, a plea for help has arrived from the crime lord Jabba the Hutt. His son has been kidnapped, and he has requested the Jedis' help in securing his return. If the Jedi can complete the mission, they stand to broker a treaty granting them safe passage through Hutt territory (an almost invaluable asset in the mostly Separatist dominated Outer Rim). If not, the Republic risks losing the territory to the Separatists and facing an even more difficult for peace.
Throughout the course of The Clone Wars' story, almost all the major Star Wars villains step into the limelight and establish the Separatist alliances that will create trouble for years to come. The missing years of Anakin's development between Episode II and III begin to fill in as he is forced to incorporate the function of teacher/mentor into his familiar role of fiercely independent and often reckless hero. And as the evil forces that must be fought reveal more of their true colors, so do the values that will eventually lead to their defeat.
Like I said, Star Wars: The Clone Wars feels more like a made-for-TV cartoon than the best in feature length animation. Its look is decidedly different, less fluid and more akin to the angular and jumpy look of video games. In fact, much of the movie is filled with action scenes that could easily be the product of a dozen or so talented gamers sitting right next to you in the theater. The dialogue and character/story development are thrown in between, not much more complex than pull-string lines that could easily fit inside its own characters' action-figure twins.
All in all, the movie, its story, and its look will primarily appeal to a decidedly younger audience. At the same time, in the character of Ziro the Hutt (Jabba's uncle) and a few scenes peppered throughout, the film hints that the series will throw in a few punches to keep its older audiences amused. And although its tales still won't rival the original trilogy, within the framework of the entire Star Wars' mythology, the missing time period that Star Wars: The Clone Wars introduces promises a story and a telling that will probably be of interest to most diehard Star Wars fans out there like me :)
While it may be simple, like the body of Star Wars' films before it, Star Wars: The Clone Wars also deals with many of the same themes. Most prominent is the battle between division and unity. It is what fuels the conflict that drives its greater story. But it is also what drives the development of many of its individual characters and the resolution of most of its smaller stories.
Within the Separatists, division is the name of the game. Not only do they seek to bring division to their galaxy, their plots are rife with betrayal and pursuit of individual power. If others can be sacrificed for your gain, they will be. If people do not prove to be an asset to your plot, then it is better to get rid of them right now. And if there are any alliances at all, let's just say that no one is in them for any other reasons but their own.
But just as the tales before and after it have shown, Star Wars: The Clone Wars reveals a world in which acts of division and selfishness always fall to acts of unity and selflessness. Through his partnership with his Padawan learner Ashoka, even Anakin's efforts become more valuable as he is forced to think beyond just himself. Ashoka's crucial role in the success of the Jedi mission proves that a partner's value can come in all ages, sizes, and experience levels. Putting her own life at risk for the sake of Anakin and her country, Senator Amidala challenges everyone to consider if we would offer our own lives for those to whom we claim allegiance. And with the best Jedi Knights in the Galaxy lending their services to their sometimes enemies the Hutts, they prove that the best way to get rid of division is not by destroying our enemies but by demonstrating our value as friends.
And so enters the value of the Star Wars mythology. As much as befriending an enemy or helping a friend may seem like an inconsequential act only influential over the two people it physically touches, the truth is that acts of union, friendship, and selflessness reach far beyond their origin. From single acts of kindness come greater movements of change. And as Jesus showed us long ago (and Star Wars points at on more than one occasion), through even one act of sacrificial love, the reality in which we live can be changed forever.
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