Return to Santa Cruz de Las Huertas Part One

I'm back in the USA now but will continue the recap of the trip I made over the weekend to Mexico.

My original idea was to give a day by day account of my return to Guadalajara as it was happening so the experience could be delivered as fresh as possible.  But things got busy, and at a certain point it made more sense to simply let it go, enjoy the moment and recount it once I got back to the States.  So here I am back in the U.S. of A so let the the debriefing begin.  I'm not proceeding chronologically because the highlight of the trip, the main reason I went, happened in the last two nights; my return to the parish and colonia of Santa Cruz de las Huertas, and I want to get those reflections down before they begin to fade.

Sta Cruz, back in the day

When I think of my time in Mexico, or when I talk about it to others about it Santa Cruz is what my mind returns to the most.  The three years I served there stands as a defining time in my life.  It is where I came to understand that no matter where obedience leads me serving the Hispanic community will have some place in my work.  Even my stay at Salesian High this last time around saw me offering Masses and other religious services in Spanish most weekends.  I would not be the priest I am today without the preparation I received at Santa Cruz de las Huertas.

First, a little background, and please forgive any chronological inaccuracies when talking about the parish's history. Most of this I picked up from talking to people in the community, not by any formal research.

The history of Mexico is complex, and I won't get into the details here, but from the time of President Benito Juarez (1806-1872) successive Mexican governments became increasingly anti-clerical.  The 1917 constitution, written after long years of civil war, contained several articles designed to curtail the rights of the Church.  These provisions were spottily enforced until the presidency of Plutarco Elias Calles (1877-1948), who strictly enforced the constitution as written and added his own anti-religious legislation to the mix, known as the "Calles Laws."   Things came to a head between 1926 and 1929 when there was a counter-revolutionary uprising in Mexico known as the Cristero War.  The Cristeros were Catholics who saw themselves as fighting for Christ, though the Mexican bishops as a body never publicly supported armed violence (they called for economic boycotts and even suspended Church services to protest the laws).  Church property was confiscated, priests were arrested and some executed, most famously Blessed Miguel Pro in 1927. Guadalajara, in the west-central state of Jalisco, was a center of Catholic resistance.

Santa Cruz de las Huertas (Holy Cross of the Orchards), in Tonalá, Jalisco was one of those Church buildings confiscated by the government.  The bell tower was torn down, the facade defaced and the interior painted over and turned into a horse stable.  One story I heard had summery executions of Cristeros taking place along the front wall of the church.  When the parish was closed I don't exactly know, but it probably happened sometime between 1926 and 1935 (even though a truce was negotiated in 1929, an active persecution of the Church continued until about 1940).  It was finally returned to the Archdiocese of Guadalajara in about 1975 and, from what I understand, reestablished as a parish in the mid 1990's, just before my arrival in Mexico.

On Saturday Eric and I went to Lake Chapala, which is a story unto itself, and when we returned we snuck by the parish on the way to dinner with the Gomez family.   To my surprise there is a new bell tower and roof, and the inside is done over in a simple but pretty floral design.  The previous pastor was having work done on the church when he discovered that the original paint job had been covered over, and the new work replicates the old.  The body of the church still has some of the scars left by the Revolution, but it's still very much that quaint little church I remember.

Sta Cruz, 2011

By happy chance we ran into Nacho and Cuqui, who were kids when I was here last, but are now married with children of their own.  We also saw Mari, who was widowed a few yeas back, and whose home I ate in on many occations.  Nacho and Cuqui knew we were in the area, Mari didn't, and was properly surprised.  "Que milagro!" (it's a miracle!) was a phrase we heard more than once on the trip.

We then made our way up to the Gomez home for a posole dinner.  Posole is a soup of sorts made with large kernels of corn with a chicken leg or thigh thrown in, covered with lettuce, onions and radishes.  Avacado and squeezed lime are also an option.  It dates back to pre-Columbian days and is a sign thast Eric and I were considered special guests.  Yes, you could say we were posole worthy.

The Gomez's  were one of the first families I met when I got to Santa Cruz, and their home was a frequent destination for after apostolate meals.  Some things had changed; two of their daughters are out of the house, one living with her husband and three children in Las Vegas.  But the hospitality was the same.  One thing people kept mentioning was how happy they were that we remembered them, and remembered Santa Cruz.  I guess I felt the same way, in reverse.  There were new faces about, but also plenty of old ones, and as we made our way through the streets it wasn't uncommon for people to nudge each other and point asking, with shy grins, if they didn't know who these two strangers were.

Ode to the Taco Mexicano

TLAQUEPAQUE, JAL, MX—When we last left off our story, your intrepid wanderers were hungry.  As we’ve already established, the main meal of the day here is at around two or three in the afternoon, so at about eight at night you need a little something to tide you over until breakfast the next morning.  This is where the taco comes in.  This is by no means the only dish served at cena, but it is my favorite.  Tacos are not just eaten at night either; it serves as a late breakfast, afternoon pick me up and late night snack—anytime is the right time for this little meat, cilantro and onion delight.

The key is to find the right place, of course.  Tacarías, or taco stands, can be found on almost every corner, but one must be choosey in picking the spot to chow down at.   There are more upscale places, like Tacos Providencia (that has very good tacos, some say the best in the city), that is housed in an actual building, with some of the trappings of a typical diner and appears to be following the health code.  But what’s the fun in that? You want to keep it real.  You want to hit the street.  You also want to avoid dysentery.  And I’ve got news for you, the locals do also.  If you see a taco stand and no one is at it, other than a lonely little guy with a sad, frustrated look, cleaver in hand, chopping away earnestly at the meat on his little wood chopping block, meat that no one will ever eat, stay away.  The odds are people got sick there and the word has gotten out.  If right on the opposite corner there is a stand with people standing ten deep to get at the carnal goodness awaiting them, step on line.  I’m sure the wait will be worth the wait.

Now there is one caveat to all this.  As is typical with me, I took formal Spanish lessons as I was ending my stay here in 2001 (long story).  The school I went to had flyers for the students alerting them to the dangers of eating food from street venders, especially tacos.  When I protested to my profesora that tacos were practically a food group unto themselves, she replied, “Oh, Tom, you’ve been here for three years. Your system is use to it.  These poor guys will get sick as dogs!” I dispute that a little, because my first week in Guadalajara in 1998 I ate at a taco stand in an abandoned lot from a guy who had his hibachi set up on the tailgate of a 1972 Ford Country Squire station wagon.  No worries, as the Aussies say.  But if you do have a weak constitution, or have never really tested the outer limits of you gastrointestinal system’s tolerances, stick to the diner.

Fr. Eric credits me with showing him the little gem that is El Rancho Blanco.  I’m not sure if that’s apocryphal, but Francisco Oriel, AKA Oso (Bear), who was the deacon in charge of my small group at the time, showed me the place one evening when he took the group out for supper.   Oso was, and I’m assuming still is, the king of the drive thru.  His dream was to be assigned to Piedras Negras, which is just across the border from Eagle Pass, Texas because there was a Wendy’s on the U.S. side.  He knew every burger joint in Guadalajara, as well as taco stand.  In fact he could locate any type of sidewalk venders you could think of: deep fried hotdogs mixed with French fries in paper bowl, churos, elote (corn on the cob smothered in cream and chili powder) tamales, tortas ahogadas (literally “drowned sandwich,” a hero of sorts, made with pork and submerged in a hot sauce that will make you beg for mercy).  Ah, I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.  I do believe Oso favored me a bit, because he usually included me in his clandestine late night trips to satisfy whatever craving he was having (What-A-Burger was his favorite spot). But, as usual, I digress.

Upon returning to Mexico a trip to Rancho Blanco was high on the priority list.  So after a day of hopping buses and running around town, we came back to the residence, cleaned up and made our way down through the Parian.  Rancho Blanco isn’t the hardest place to find, it’s pretty much a straight shot down one of the main street in Tlaquepaque.  But you have to go past the tourist area and into the neighborhood, a place most foreigners never wander.  The street at that point is not very well lit, and you do have to watch your step a bit.  But once you hit the karate school you know that you’re almost there.

Rancho Blanco is a small store front operation with a table and benches on the sidewalk, and a counter and table inside.  The portable grill and work station, about the size of a hotdog cart, is just inside the entrance.  Many times these places are on the sidewalk with a roped off area filled with pick nick tables.  Sometimes there is a counter around the stand itself. 

Anyway, Fr. Eric and I sat down at the outside table, just by the entrance and the waitress stepped up to take our order.  She was trying to suppress a laugh, because, I guess, she couldn’t figure out what we were doing there.  She talked slowly, correctly identifying us as Norteamericanos, but when we shot back our order, knowing the meat and trimmings we wanted without a pause her eyes lit up a bit.  I’m a suadero and chorizo man, myself; don’t forget the cilantro and onions.  And yea, bring he salsa roja, por favor. 

Within a few minutes, they arrive.  A plate of silver dollar pancake size tortillas filled with the meat of your choice.  Suadero is a cut of beef, that in many places can be gristly, but here is always lean. Chorizo is a red sausage, great with eggs.  On the table are placed clay jars of beans, extra onions, small bowls of red and green sauce (yes, hot, both of them) and limes.  I’m strictly a red sauce man, but many put the beans on top and maybe squeeze a little lime over the top, before putting on the salsa.  Ahh, heaven.   The tortillas are doubled up, and if you leave the bottom one they charge you less on subsequent orders.

Remember, you never order just one serving.  The first round is to test things out, trying different meats; bistec, cerebra, lengua, al pastor, whatever.  Then you zero in on what you like for the second and third rounds.  After finishing the first round of six tacos, I waved to the waitress who made the international sign for bringing the check, waving an invisible pen at an invisible pad.  When I told her that I didn’t want the check, but more tacos, she gave that wide eyed look again and said “de verdad?” (Really?)

Well, to make a short story long, we ate and were more than satisfied.  Back in the day I could have done a dozen blindfolded and fifteen, no problem.  But prudence made me stop with ten.  Many times the memories we have are greater than the reality, but I can say the tacos at Rancho  Blanco were as good as I remember them. 

Guadalajara, Day One

Just a bit of background for my faithful readers.  After my first year of theology study in preparation for priestly ordination, spent in Columbus, Ohio, I, along with two of my confrere, were sent to the Instituto Teologico Salesiano in Tlaquepaque, Mexico to study.  I spent three years in Mexico, between ’98 and ’01, and at our height we had eight American students in the community, along with Fr. Eric Wyckoff who was on staff. I came back once, in October 2001, as a “baby” priest to celebrate my ordination with the folks here. Fr. Eric is back on staff, after a stop in Rome to finish is scripture studies.  Now I’m back for a visit after all this time, and sharing my experience with you all.  I hope you enjoy. I'm having trouble uploading pictures right now, and I'll get them posted as soon as I can.

TLAQUEPAQUE, JAL, MX –The first full day of my return to Old Mexico was spent hitting some of the old places I used to go back in the day.  First stop was down town Tlaquepaque, to an area we always called the Parian, even though that’s the name of what purports to be the largest bar in the world.  The Largest Rip Off the Gringo Joint in the Greater Guadalajara Area is more like it.  If you do find yourself in this quaint little corner of the world there are far better places to eat and relax, like El Rio San Pedro or El Patio, located in the few blocks around the center square; places where the food is fantastic, and you won’t be taken advantage of.

Tlaquepaque is the indigenous name for this suburb of Guadalajara, which mean “place above clay land.” San Pedro is it’s “Christian name,” and locals often refer to it by its shorter designation.  They’ll run the two together (San Pedro Tlaquepaque) if they think you might get confused with other places, like San Pedro Vaticano (OK, maybe not with that San Pedro).

So after Padre Eric and myself made the rounds of the shops, we went back to the theologate for midday prayers and comida. This is the main meal of the day, and I must say the food has improved since I was here last.  Breakfast and cena, which is the light evening meal, were always pretty good, but the main meal was often found wanting.  As is the custom for Salesians visiting other Salesian houses, this was the moment I delivered some libations to the director of the community, Fr. Jesús, who in turn poured it forth for all the brethren assembled.

After lunch it was off to the Guadalajara, and trips to the Cathedral and some Catholic book stores.  It was my first time on a Guadalajara bus since 2001, but it was like I never left.  It’s six pesos now (roughly fifty cents) compared to three back in the day.  But with the weak peso the actual increase isn’t nearly that much.

I had forgotten what it was like to be stared at by a bus load of people as if I was, like a foreigner, or something.  Now, I pass for Latino quite often, or at least as long as I keep my mouth shut.  They usually don’t think I’m Mexican, but they’ll ask if I’m from Argentina or Costa Rica or something like that.  When Eric and I are together, or the lot of us piled on the bus back in the 90’s, there is no mistaking that we were from El Norte. So it was yesterday; a lady sitting alone, a couple of little girls, a teenage boy, all gawking at us (men, for some reason, are more subtle about it).  Then we open our mouths, English fills the air and the jig is up.  Sometimes someone will come up to us and try to impress us with their broken English they learned from watching the latest Bruce Willis move (these are usually men, being less subtle).  Since we always assume the next words after “hello, how are you,” and "are you Americans" is going to be, “do you have ten pesos,” we shoot an annoyed  look back or move to another part of the bus.

There are also street musicians that come on the bus and play a few songs on the guitar and pass the hat.  They might stay on for a stop or two, and the drivers let them on for free.  One time there was a man with a beat up boom box singing along to a cassette tape of ranchero music, poorly.  I was going to give him five pesos just to stop.  Other times it’s women or little girl dressed in traditional, but threadbare clothing or men with one arm simply begging.  In Guadalajara they either hop from bus to bus or stake out a spot under the colonnades.  In Quito, Ecuador the children will follow you for blocks, sometimes just to beg, other times to shine your shoes. 

This is not to make light of the situation.  Educational and economic opportunities that we take for granted in the States simply do not exist here.  The issue of immigration policy in the US needs to be debated, and I’m not sure either side has a monopoly on truth and morality (personally I’m for tightening the boarders but against wholesale deportations, for reasons I’ll get into at a later date).  But we shouldn’t wonder why so many people want to cross rivers and deserts to get to into the United States, and nothing gets me madder than branding people criminals who simply want to feed their families. I mean, didn’t anyone out there read Les Misérables. But I digress…      

Once we hit the main places we wanted to see we made a side trip to a large church just off the beaten path, El Templo de Expiatorio.  It’s a neo-gothic structure, plain by local standards, but I think it’s even prettier than the Cathedral because of its simplicity.  To be fair, they’ve done a lot of work on the Cathedral since I was here last, as well as the parish church in San Pedro.  There is scaffolding in the sanctuary of the Cathedral that tells me the face lift isn’t over.

We returned home, washed up, went to prayers with the Salesian community and then headed out again on a mission to find tacos, but not just any tacos.  We sought El Rancho Blanco.  To my Facebook followers I promised an account of this trip, but it will need to wait a bit.  It deserves its own post, so a little patience and it will be here.       

Landed Safe

TLAQUEPAQUE, JAL, MX-I got in yesterday afternoon, safe and sound.  Fr. Eric picked me up at the airport, which has undergone quite a face lift since the last I was here.  The facade is different but the routine is  the same; go through imigration and then customs.  I wear clerical clothing when I travel (not all priest do), so I take for granted that people know what it means.  I get to the customs station, and one of the lovely ladies working the counter asked what I do for a living.  When I identified myself as a priest she acted surprised, like I was incognito or something.  I felt like saying, "No, I'm really not.  This is a Naru shirt. I'm here for the Relive The 60's Con."  Because of the anti-clerical laws here priests couldn't legally wear clerical clothing publicaly until about ten years ago.  But I mean all the priests on the telanovelas are in Roman collars, so I figured she should have been able to figure it out.

For having been gone ten years, the place hasn't changed that much.  The numbers in the theologate are down, which is one big differance.  This in spite of the combining of the Guadalajara and Mexico City communities.  I always had the sense that some of the social trends hit down here fifteen to twenty years behind us in the States, so that the vocation plunge the Salesians took in the late eighties, early ninties is effecting them now (very unscientific opinion, I admit).  But the spirit among the men seems good, and as the weekend goes on I'll fill you all in on more.  I'm especially looking forward to my visit to my old parish on be writing more before then.  I just heard the bell that means it's breakfast time.  Hasta later.

Reading Revelation Responsibly, Part 2

In the first part of my review of Michael J. Gorman's Reading Revelation Responsibly: Uncivil Worship and Witness, Following the Lamb into the New Creation I praised the book's readability and clarity, but still said that I couldn't recommend it to the general reader. Considering his mostly non-technical style and aim to give an answer to the more popular, but inaccurate, interpretations of the Book of Revelation, I have to think that he was shooting for a broader audience.  I mentioned the price, that is steep for a relatively thin paperback.  The other reason, not entirely unrelated to the first, is that Gorman puts forward some very controversial, if not really new, ideas that might end up distracting a reader new to the topic.  In other words, I don't think that this is the first book on the topic someone should invest their hard earned money in; maybe the third or the fourth.  I would hate to see someone abandon their search for the truth because they were given solid food when they needed milk at that particular moment.

I referred to Gorman's book as solid food, but that doesn't mean that I swallowed all of it.  He is trying to show that Revelation shouldn't be read like a code book; that the divine author is not trying to predict precise events in the future but rather showing people of all ages the pratfalls humanity falls into and the obstacles to true worship and devotion to God that never seem to go out of style.  In the end if we look closely at everything happening today we can understand that it's all just little bits of history repeating, as Shirley Bassey might say.  

So far, so good.  Next he points out that one of these obstacles to true worship of God is "civil religion," where devotion and the giving of qualities that belongs to God alone are transferred to the state.  Seeing your nation as being Divinely mandated somehow, or exceptional would be one such manifestation of this civil religion. Other examples include; to credit one's country with spreading and defending freedom, to justify their military activity by saying it saves others from tyranny, to build loyalty around a collection of "sacred texts" like constitutions or declarations of independence, and even reciting something like the Pledge of Allegiance could be a form of idolatry. He joins this with a critique of empire (with Rome as the template) that points in one direction: The United States of America.  Consistent with his interpretive method, it is not that the United States is the Babylon foretold in scripture, but rather that the U.S. needs to be examined in light of Revelation to see if it hasn't become the latest manifestation of the culture of death that the last book of the Bible describes (it's safe to say that his mind is made up on that point).  More precisely, the faithful disciple needs to examine his or her conscience to see if and how they are participating in this civil religion that Gorman describes.

Basically, to be a faithful disciple one must withdraw from the elements of culture and society that promotes the civil religion, while not withdrawing from society completely.  Saying the Pledge, as was mentioned before and joining the military are out (the later because it is an instrument of imperial oppression).  The mixing of religious and civil symbols, known as syncretism, is also a violation of the commandment to honor God before all else.  This means no national flags in church, not using "God Bless America" as a hymn on the Fourth of July, no praying for veterans on Memorial Day, among other things.  Only the mildest forms of patriotism pass muster according to Gorman.  He is clear that the Christian shouldn't live in isolation, but work to alleviate the sufferings of others and to work against the injustice caused by imperial abuses.


If what Gorman writes represents the default position of the disciple a question that comes to my mind is, what exactly is the role a Christian in public life?  Is running for office or accepting a government appointment a form of "serving the empire?" Most of these positions demand that the office holder take an oath to uphold the Constitution.  Is this a form of idolatry?  If so, is the role of the Christian reduced to marches, protests, voting and, in general, being some type of holy gadfly? Gorman makes clear that Christians are not to live in isolation, but reject those parts of the culture that witness against Gospel values. Even with this important caveat I have a hard time seeing how being a good citizen and a faithful Christian can be reconciled using Gorman's reasoning, short of building a ghetto. 


I really do prefer to keep these posts short, so I will end it here.  This is just one problem I have with Gorman's analysis, and may return to discuss more problems that I have at a later date.  But my objections shouldn't be interpreted as meaning I didn't like the book; I did.  I am in complete agreement with his basic premise on how the Book of Revelation should be read and applied responsibly to our life.  I'm not in complete disagreement with his analysis of empire and its application to contemporary situations.  As Americans we need to have the courage to examine ourselves honestly, and not be afraid to admit when we, as a nation, have lost our way.  I just don't believe that patriotism is a vice, or reciting a Pledge that acknowledges God as a higher power than the state is a form of idolatry.

Reading Revelation Responsibly, Part 1

For at least the last forty years different Evangelical Christian groups have been predicting the glorious return of Jesus that will usher in the end of  the world.  They hold to a particular reading of the Book of Revelation that tries to find point by point correlations between contemporary events and the visions described in the last book of the Bible.  The idea is that if you connect the dots the right way you can successfully predict when the end is coming.  A major doctrine that they hold to is the Rapture; that true believers, those who have "accepted Christ as their personal Savior," will be taken up into the air to meet Jesus.  These blessed ones will avoid a seven year period of tribulation that the poor suckers left behind will suffer before Christ's visible return to earth.  This space doesn't allow for a full explanation of these teachings, but this link to Catholic Update may help. The Catholic Answers website also gives a thorough run down on this teaching.

To put it simply, Catholic teaching, as well as that of most Mainline Protestant churches, is that Christ will indeed return to gather the faithful together, but that the return of the Lord will be in one definitive event.  Why the disagreement?  A big reason is that many of the scriptural justifications given for the Rapture are not actually found in Revelation. The gathering of the saved by Jesus is found in 1 Thessalonians.  Luke 17:34-35 and Matt. 24:40-41both make reference to people being taken and left behind.  Even the figure most associated with the end of the world, outside of Jesus himself, the Anti-Christ, is found in the First and Second Letters of John, not in Revelation.  Whats more the term Rapture itself doesn't even appear in the Bible. These diverse passages have been taken out of context and cobbled together to to formulate a doctrine that is patently non-scriptural and foreign to Christian thought before it appeared in 1830.

All this would be the modern equivalent of arguing over how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, but that the teaching of the Rapture has become so pervasive through the popular writings of Hal Lindsey and in the "Left Behind" series of novels.  They have fostered an attitude that since the "true disciples" will be able to avoid the tribulations of the world, there is no need to worry about things like justice, the ecology and peace.  Let the world go to heck in a hand basket, I'm saved already!  There are also those who have adopted political views based on the idea that it will hasten the Second Coming.  For instance some Evangelicals support the State of Israel because, to their reading of things, Jesus can't come back until all the Jews have returned to the Holy Land.  I heard a Jewish commentator joke that they'll be waiting a long time since she has no intention of ever going to Israel. 

There have been many Catholic and Protestant authors over the last ten years who have written books to refute the claims of Lindsey and the others.  One such book came across my desk recently, with the rather long winded title of Reading Revelation Responsibly: Uncivil Worship and Witness: Following the Lamb Into the New Creation by Michael J. Gorman (he actually laments, jokingly, that the title wasn't longer). Gorman, a Methodist scripture scholar teaching at the Catholic St. Mary's Seminary and University in Baltimore, delivers a short but rich review and analysis of the Book of Revelation.  Rather than simply telling you how the Rapture folks are wrong, he shows you how to read Revelation in it's proper context so you can see for yourself what's in it and what it means.  He draws on contemporary and classical authors, both Protestant and Catholic, to show how the book was read in the past, and what light recent scholarship can shed on this very misunderstood piece of the scriptural canon.

While he writes in an accessible style that avoids a lot of theological jargon (and he explains what technical language he does use), I would hesitate to recommend this for the general reader.  Not the least reason is the price; it lists on Amazon at $25, for a paperback of less than 200 pages (I borrowed it, myself).  There are other, more popular and reasonably priced books like Will Catholics Be Left Behind: A Critique of the Rapture and Today's Prophecy Preachers by Carl E. Olson, that gives a more complete overview of the "Rapture" phenomenon, or Scott Hahn's The Lamb's Supper: The Mass as Heaven on Earth that brings the liturgical connection that Gorman points out into a more focused (and yes, Catholic) perspective. 

But I do not want to leave Dr. Gorman's work behind (excuse the pun).  It is a short book, but a powerful one, that puts foreword many ideas in its brief length.  It is also a challenging read, especially in its critique of empire in general, applying the qualities of empire to the United States, the role of patriotism in the life of the disciple and what a Christian's proper relationship with the economy and material possessions should be.  While I'm not sure I agree with the entirety of his analysis, it can't be easily dismissed, either. I have found my morning meditations the last week or so taken up with the chewing over of the ideas put forward here. Next time I'll continue by exploring some of the more controversial elements of Gorman's book.

Fr. Barron comments on "Inception"

Fr. Barron and I didn't exactly see eye to eye on True Grit, but are on the same page with Inception. As usual, he takes it to an entirely different level. Enjoy his insights on the Academy Award nominated movie.

The King's Speech: Part Two

The Real Princess Elizabeth (future Elizabeth II), Elizabeth, Queen Consort, King George VI and Princess Margaret on VE Day, 1945

As I was watching The King's Speech the one question that kept on coming back to me was, do people get it? While the story focuses on Prince Albert's relationship with his speech therapist, the underlying problem that forces him to seek therapy to begin with is the Abdication Crisis that would drive his brother Edward VIII from the throne.  Edward as King was also Supreme Head of the Church of England, and was forbidden constitutionally from marrying a divorced woman whose spouse (in this case spouses) were still alive.  I was wondering how contemporary audiences would process this.  In the United States we have had a divorced, remarried man whose former spouse was not only still alive but quite in the public eye, as president.  In fact we celebrate his birthday today.  His name was Ronald Reagan (his ex-wife, actress Jane Wyman, had a successful television show during his presidency).  Presently the State of New York has a newly minted governor who is divorced and living in the governor's official residence with a woman not his wife, not even civilly. I could see people shaking their heads and saying, what's the big deal about who he wants to marry, or sleep with for that matter? It's his life isn't it?  What does it have to do with being a public official?

The real Lionel and Myrtle Logue in 1906

Since the producers have King George as the hero this time out the above tack wouldn't have been helpful.  One controversy about the movie is its highly negative portrayal of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, with some historians saying it went little too far.  The film makers concede to the exaggeration charge, explaining it as a dramatic devise that sets them in clear contrast with our heroes.  While Wallis Simpson's marital status is brought up, more serious objections arise over possible affairs that she may have been having at the time, include one with an official of the Third Reich.  Both are characterized as pleasure seeking and self centered, little concerned with their duties and responsibilities.  This brings me back to the original question, do people get it?  I'm writing not primarily about the social convention and religious principle at work in the abdication of Edward, but in the deeper questions about duty and responsibility.  In our contemporary, therapeutic culture, what is most important is individual self realization.  In this light the greatest responsibility we have is to ourselves and our personal happiness and fulfillment. The Duke and Duchess could just as easily be cast as heroes of nonconformity and revolutionaries who helped break down out dated social norms.  To make King George's dilemma relevant for the modern viewer it was important to find some personal, "human interest" angle.  Simple fidelity to duty just wouldn't suffice.

Wallis Simpson and Edward, Duke of Windsor

The solution found in The King's Speech is to turn the meetings between "Bertie," (the King's nickname) and Lionel Logue into counselling sessions as opposed to elocution lessons, with the therapist trying to dig out the crisis of his client's childhood.  Louge sees the greatness within Bertie, and even surmises that he's seeking his help because he does indeed secretly want to be king in place of his brother.  Why shouldn't he? He's good enough, he's smart enough, and doggone it, people like him!  The theme of duty to country is not absent from the film, but there is this sense that this alone was not going to capture the imagination of today's audience.  They had to come at it with therapeutic themes of self realization, of the little guy overcoming his fears and anxieties (even if he is a fabulously wealthy member of the Royal Family) for people to be touched by it.

What's lost here is that the real George VI, against his own desires, fulfilled his duties while Edward put conditions on service, ultimately walking away at a moment his country needed strong leadership the most.  Both men could be cast as heroes using the "therapeutic method," depending on what aspects of the self actualizing ethic you wanted to accent.  But only one is a hero when selfless duty is made the standard, and I'm afraid it's not the Duke.  As an American I can't identify with the Divine Right of Kings, but as a Catholic Christian I can connect with the notion of God's call that asks that we put personal desires, even legitimate, deeply held ones, aside for the greater good.  This ideal of self sacrificial love goes back to the Master Himself, who gave up his life on the cross for the life of the world.  I don't claim to know the heart of either man, but one, at least on the surface, lived fully the call to service he was born to, if not by a Divine right, then by a Divine call.

That The King's Speech follows the more contemporary, Oprahfied approach does not change my opinion.  It is a well crafted film that I think is Oscar worthy. I wouldn't punish it for being a product of its age. I guess I'm just a hopeless romantic who would like to see a return to the days when duty, self sacrifice and courage were as honored as feeling good about yourself.

The King's Speech: Part One

The King's Speech 
OOOO
Rated R for some use of strong profanity

When I was a cleric working summer camp out in Newton, New Jersey we had a display case in the main office that housed all the trophies that were going to  be given out for excellence in the various activities we offered.  Small trophies were given out weekly, but the ones that got most of the attention from the campers were the large year end awards.  The most coveted of these trophies was the Camper of the Year Award.  It wasn't uncommon to have a kid stand in front of the case on the first day of camp saying to himself, and sometimes even out loud, "I'm gonna win that sucker this year."  Then he would spend the following five weeks hitting as many activities as he could, volunteering for every skit, making sure he was an altar server when it was his cabin's turn, helping unload delivery trucks, setting up and breaking down activities, shinning shoes, peeling grapes, and generally sucking up to any counselor with a vote.  Sometimes this strategy backfired when the youngster's naked ambition was so obvious; I mean no one likes a brown nose.  But often you had to give it to him simply because, by gum, the little noodge set a goal and persevered, even if his motives were less than noble.

The Kings Speech, which has been nominated for Best Picture, is the cinematic version of that kid in front of the trophy case.  From the opening credits it's practically screaming for that little gold statuette.  You have all the usual suspects assembled to insure success;  A supporting cast that includes veteran British and Australian actors Helena Bonham Carter, Geoffry Rush and even that old Shakespearean stand by Derek Jacobi.  Colin Firth takes the lead, giving a performance the Academy stumbles over itself to award: his character has a disability (speech impediment), is haunted by childhood scars (mean nanny, disaffectionate  father)  in need of overcoming his insecurities caused by the above issues and cruelly exploited by his dashing older brother (The Man keeping him down).  It's an underdog story all the way, that dares you not to be touched. The period costumes and scenery are picture perfect and cinematography flawless.  Throw in that it was made in cooperation with the BBC, and you don't have to wonder that the movie oozes class.  There is no doubt in my mind that from the first moment the idea for this movie was born in the producers' heads they stood in front of that imaginary award case in their minds saying, "I'm gonna win that sucker this year."  And you know what? I say give it to them.

2010, in my humble opinion, was a down year, quality wise, at the movies.  While I have not seen all ten movies nominated this year, the ones I did see left me underwhelmed.  It's true that The King's Speech is not particularly innovative, and in many ways is rather predictable. Nonetheless it is a well crafted and well acted movie.  And it is touching.  I hated myself for being so touched, because I knew they were putting me on, and I didn't care; they did it so well.  My favorite scene is a very small sequence in the film, where Prince Albert, having just assumed the throne after his brother's abdication, goes home as King George VI and meets his daughters.  It's already established that he is an affectionate, loving father.  But when he meets Princesses Elizabeth and Margarete for the first time as king, they stand far off, with the future queen reminding her sister to curtsy before they address him, quite earnestly, as Your Majesty.  I felt heart broken for the man, since he never wanted the crown and its responsibilities, and now it had built a wall between himself and his own children.  Manipulative? Yeah.  But effective and well done.

The only flaw, and it is a minor one, is the actor they chose to play Winston Churchill.  To be honest at first I thought he was trying to do Charles Laughton, and failing miserably.  Out side of that one point, The King's Speech does everything else right.  And why not? It set a goal for itself and certainly tried hard enough to achieve it.  So just give the little noodge his trophy already.

Random Notes, 2/4/11

Egypt
It's hard not to get caught up in the events of the past week.  In many ways it reminds me of the fall of the Berlin Wall, in the sense that things are moving so quickly that it's difficult to keep track of things and understand their meaning.  It's also similar to he events of 1989 in that the unrest in Egypt is a part of a wider movement that began in Tunisia and seems to be picking up in Yemen. Where it will stop no one can guess.  The big difference, of course, is that the fall of the Eastern Block came about through the efforts of a democratic movement resulting in the fall of dictatorships and the rise of free nations.  What will happen in the Middle East is far from certain.  Iran, all those years ago, deposed a dictator but replaced him with a repressive theocracy.  We may all agree that Hosni Mubarak is no friend of liberty, but is his immediate ouster the best course for Egypt and the wider Middle East, and for the world at large?    

The Church generally does not support revolutionary movements, for the reason that they are usually violent, bloody and leave the country in question worse than before.  There are also other reasons that have to do with the Church's traditional views on earthly authority and its origins in Heaven.  But more recent pronouncements on the subject have tended to focus on humanitarian concerns.  This does not mean that the Church opposes changes in government and civil structures.  It's all in the way that it comes about.  It is well known that Pope John Paul II worked behind the scenes, as well as in front of the crowds, for the fall of communism in Europe.  But what he was advocating was change from within, done in a peaceful, just manner. Of course that "change from within" also included the personal conversion of the individuals who make up the body politic.  He opposed the revolutionary movements in Latin America because they were violent, with some even using the Gospel to advocate violence.  He knew that all the communist rebels were going to do was replace one oppressive regime with another.

I hope this is not the case in Egypt, but my hope is not strong.

I've begun to read a short work on the book of Revelation, and while it is timely to the topics of today, I'll wait before moving my reflections of world events into that direction.

On A Lighter Note: A Strange Coincidence

It was pointed out to me that since we are in the year 2011 there will be a lot of fun with dates and playing with numbers, like January 1 could be written 1/1/11 and in November we'll have 11/1/11 as well as the granddaddy of them all 11/11/11.  Not that I'm into numerology and such things, try this little trick at home:

Take the last two digits of the year you were born and add it to the age you will turn during this calender year, and see what it comes out to.  It should come out to the same number for anyone born in the last century. 

New Jersey's School Holidays

The New Jersey Department of Education just released a list of over a hundred and twenty religious holidays that a student could be excused from school for.  It represents a "minimum list" of holidays, and individual schools boards can add to it as they see fit.  All the major religions are there and even some not so major; even Wicca (are you a good witch or a bad witch?).  But clearly we have a problem.  Catholic feasts like the Immaculate Conception are lumped together under a generic "Christian" label.  Even the Orthodox get a separate mention for the Dormition of the Theotokos, which corresponds to the Assumption.  I mean, why should the Baptists get a day off for a holiday they don't even believe in?  (Nothing against Baptists, I love them dearly) Why should they ride on our coattails?  I mean, you don't see us taking Reformation Day off, do you?  The ACLU is going to hear about this! (OK, maybe not.)