St. John Bosco Bulletin Letter - 1st Sunday of Lent 2017

This letter will appear in the Sunday, March 5 St. John Bosco Parish Sunday Bulletin 

During Lent we are asked to pray, fast and give alms. These are spiritual weapons we are given to help us focus less on ourselves and more on our relationships with God, material things and, others. Prayer unites us to God, fasting teaches us that when we worry less about what we eat or what we wear or what we possess we have more spiritual energy to grow closer to the Lord and look after the needs of others.  Alms giving teaches us to grow in charity and in the sense that the things we have are gifts that are meant to be shared for the good of our neighbor and the Glory of God.

The prophets tell us though that we need to be careful. We can get so caught up in the letter of the law that we forget what the law means. We are, for instance, asked to give up meat on Fridays. While we should be careful not to eat meat on those days, we must remember the spirit in which we give these things up. We are asked not only to abstain from beef, chicken and pork, but to eat more simply.  With the money we save we are asked to give more to the poor, who are the presence of Jesus among us. In this way, prayer, fasting and almsgiving work together to purify our hearts and make us more Christ like. 

The Prophets also tell us that the sacrifice God wants more than anything else is a heart that is poor, contrite and seeks justice.  At the parish we have begun the Carridades de Cristo Recucitado ministry that over sees the food pantry and brings food and other essential materials, like cloths and heaters, to the homeless of our area. We have also restarted our Pastoral Migratoria ministry, and will be hosting events on March 19 – sponsored by the Archdiocese, and March 23 - in cooperation with the Mexican Consulate, to help pass on information regarding immigrant rights as well as offer an opportunity for people to share their worries, hopes and experiences. 

May these traditional Lenten practices of prayer, fasting and almsgiving help us to grow closer to Jesus. May they purify our hearts that we may serve Him in our brothers and sisters in need. 

An Ash Wednesday Reflection from the Apostleship of Prayer

What are the Practices of Lent from Fr. Barron

The Significance of Ash Wednesday from Fr. Mike Schmitz and Ascension Presents

Enculturation (2/14/17) Apostleship of Prayer

A day late, but hopefully still useful for you all.

The Secret (of Fatima) from the Apostleship of Prayer (2/13/17)

The Story of the Apparitions in Lourdes

A piece on the apparitions of Our Lady to St. Bernadette at Lourdes, produced by Rome Reports in 2010

Confusing the MacGuffin for the Point: A Reflection on Martin Scorsese's "Silence"

Kichijiro facing his trial, once again

For a synopsis of the plot and a run down of the main characters of Silence I invite you to read my main review here. Unlike the review, this reflection will contain SPOILERS.

(Today is the memorial of St. Paul Miki and the Japanese Martyrs of Nagasaki, Japan. It wan't my plan to post this reflection today, but Divine Providence has a way of pushing things in a certain direction.) 

In film there is a story telling device called the MacGuffin, classically defined by Alfred Hitchcock (who may have also coined the phrase) as the "the thing that the characters on the screen worry about but the audience don't care." It's an object, a person or goal that the characters are after, but in the end is rather incidental apart from keeping the plot moving forward. Think of the plans for the Death Star in Star Wars or the enameled bird in The Maltese Falcon. In both movies the characters could just as easily have been chasing after an egg salad recipe or a sled, and it really wouldn't have made that much of a difference to the over all plot. In James Bond movies it's common to walk out at the end and not even remember what 007's adventure was all about, yet still having enjoyed the ride.

My advice for anyone seeing Martin Scorsese's new motion picture Silence, a fictionalized account of Christian persecutions in 17th century Japan, is to not confuse the MacGuffin for the main points of the film. It is easy to think that the film is concerned with the question of the choice between apostasy and martyrdom. While this may not qualify as a MacGuffin in the traditional sense, I would argue that the points around which the plot revolves: the search for a missing Jesuit and the dilemma over whether or not to renounce the faith, are really vehicles to keep the plot moving along. Unlike a thriller or action film, these devices aren't meant to get us caught up in car chases and explosions, rather are meant to lead us into a deeper meditation on faith and the interior life. How do we know what God wants from us in a given moment? When does devotion become self aggrandizement? How do we know we are reading the signs of God's presence correctly? How do we know that God is really out there, let alone close to us, since when we pray all we hear is silence?

In reading commentaries on the film, and assessing my own response, I concluded that in many ways Silence is a spiritual Rorschach test. Because there are many themes running through the film, and none of them are dominant, audience members will be drawn to what their personal priority is. Bishop Barron, in his commentary, focused on the issues of modern secularization and the privatizing of religion: that the film presents a faith that is tolerated by the societal elites as long as it isn't openly practiced. A writer for the UK Catholic Herald thought Bishop Barron was watching the movie with "culture warrior specs on". He rejected the idea that the movie was commenting on current events, but rather focused on priests very much of their time, on fire with the urgency of the Gospel, not interested in being therapists but in saving souls. (In fairness, if you listen to the Bishop's words closely, he's criticizing certain unnamed commentators, not the film itself). Still others did focus on the issue of martyrdom and apostasy, criticizing the film for making the apostates look good while the martyrs are dismissed, if not mocked. 

It's certainly possible for different people to draw different, yet valid, conclusions about Silence. I must say though, that those who drew this last conclusion saw a different movie than I did, and I believe they got it wrong because, in part, they were focusing on the MacGuffin instead of on the real main points. The other reason is that many religious people won't accept anything but filmed hagiography, and while Scorsese's presentation is pious, it doesn't shy away from displaying the characters' failures in a nonjudgmental way. 

So, what is the real main point, or points? As I wrote, different people will see different things, but for me the character of Kichijiro (Yōsuke Kubozuka), is the thread, the key to the story. When we first meet him he is a Japanese stranded in Macau, China. He's drunk and stinks of BO (and Lord knows what else) half conscious on the floor of a tavern. The Jesuits are uninspired by their would be guide. Since he is the only one who can get our "heroes," Fathers Rodgrigues and Garupe (Andrew Garfield and Adam Driver) to mainland Japan to begin their search for the missing Fr. Ferreira (Liam Neeson), they have no choice but to trust. Kichijiro vehemently denies that he is a Christian, but in time it is revealed that he indeed is. He is a Christian with a past, as well as an uncertain future. 

Kichijiro is an apostate who saw his family burned alive for refusing to step on a holy image, the public sign demanded by the authorities that demonstrates their renunciation of Christianity. He makes the decision to "trample" the image, and goes away free. But he isn't really free: not on the inside. Beside the trauma and attendant guilt that follows him after seeing his loved ones immolated on a beach, he is haunted by the faith that he continually rejects externally, yet still lives in him internally. He brings the priests to a remote village where Christians live in secret. The secret Catholics are overjoyed that they can once again celebrate the Eucharist and have their confessions heard, albeit under the cover of night. Kichijiro stands aloof, longing to partake in the Bread of Life, yet doesn't because of the treacherous sin that clings to him.

Eventually Kichijiro does go to confession to Fr. Rodrigues, who compassionately absolves him. But each time Kichijiro is faced with the choice of affirming or denying the faith, he either desecrates a holy image or betrays other Christians to the authorities. After each denial he seeks Fr. Rodrigues out for absolution (one such request adds a hint of unexpected levity to an otherwise tense situation). Each time absolution is given, more reluctantly than the time before, until the last time the priest refuses (which we'll get to in a bit). 

Within Kichijiro there is a war being waged. He had accepted the faith once, but even though the seed was sown on rocky soil (Mt. 13:3-9), withering away under the heat of persecution, it hasn't died completely. He wanders the earth like Cain, never at peace: his betrayal is always fresh, his sin always before him. Though he continually repents, his conversions are always short lived. Like Herod who was captivated by the words of John the Baptist, he is enchanted by the Gospel, drawn to the Sacraments and reaches for sacramentals. Yet like the tetrarch of old, he can't get himself to overcome his limitations and surrender to the Lord. 

Meanwhile, Rodrigues is captured, encountering Ferreira, and the reports are true: the senior Jesuit, his mentor, has apostatized. Not only that, but Ferreira has assumed a Japanese identity, complete with taking his namesake's widow for a wife. He is now a Buddhist, writing tracts detailing the errors of the faith he once tried to spread. His mission is now to convince Rodrigues to follow him in abandoning Christianity. He is very convincing in his appeals to Rodrigues, telling him that the people of Japan never really accepted the faith because their understanding of God is crudely naturalistic. Japan is a swamp, he explains to the young priest; its soil too corrupted to accept the tree of Christianity. 

Rodrigues too apostatizes, but not for any intellectual argument Ferreira makes. Some may want to judge Rodrigues and Ferreira for their apostasy, but this would be, again, to miss the point. Both men are based on historical figures, and that they did apostatize is fact. Scorsese is trying to do get inside their minds and souls. Their betrayal isn't a simple case of trying to save their own skins. Rodrigues is told by Ferreira, the Translator (Tadanobu Satō) and, the Grand Inquisitor (brilliantly played by Issey Ogata) that his fidelity is really pride, mistaking himself for Christ on the cross. While he sits in a cage Christians are being hung upside down over pits, slowly bleeding to death from tiny incisions made behind their ears. All he has to do is "trample" the holy image. He doesn't have to mean it. It's only a formality, he is assured. If he were really like Jesus he would have "acted" already to alleviate these people's suffering. Instead, he is told that the "price of your glory is their suffering." 

He is told that these people have already denounced the faith, but that is unimportant to them. They want him to renounce the faith publicly. They have learned their "lesson:" all killing priests does is create more Christians. But when a priest apostatizes, the faith of the people dies with their renunciation. He is finally brought to the breaking point. He has witnessed stylized crucifixions, beheadings, and drownings. He hears the screams, and the animalistic grunting and groaning of those being hung over the pit. In the end he tramples, abandoning his faith. While it is true that nothing excuses apostasy, anyone who would say they know for sure what they would have done in that situation, either way, is self deceived. 

As I wrote, both Rodrigues and Ferreira live out their days in Japan as public apostates, kept in relative comfort for the sake of remaining perpetual signs of the falsehood of Christianity for the native people. Both men work as customs officials, checking goods being brought in by Dutch traders (the only Westerners allowed into Japan before 1853). Each parcel and container are checked for religious articles or images. Even the most opaque, minute Christian symbol on cups or trinkets are identified for confiscation and destruction. Rodrigues who lives into his 80's is said to serve in this role with distinction.

In spite of their acquiescence, both men are weary. They take no joy in their work, and know that their life is one ongoing humiliation. They are not respected by their "hosts" and looked on as traitors by the Dutch. They are made to repeat their renunciation by publicly trampling an image and writing a letter of apostasy periodically (both men learn to speak and write Japanese very well). Kichijiro is always hanging around the peripheries it seems, and one day he visits Rodrigues at home and begs the defrocked priest to hear his confession. This time the priest refuses, not wanting to risk his life for anyone, much less for a man who could be setting him up yet again. Rodrigues denies that he is a Christian much like Kichijiro did all those years before in Macao, but now it is the Japanese who is unsure of the Jesuit's true feelings.  

Silence ends with Rodrigues' death, and a touch added by Scorsese. As his body is being cremated in a Buddhist ceremony the camera brings us inside the round coffin to glimpse a tiny wooden cross, given to him by one of the Christian martyrs years before, cradled in his lifeless hands. The voice over narration of a Dutch trader, as well as the visual cue, is meant to remind us that only God sees the he heart. This is my only real quibble with the movie in it's treatment of the story. I saw this as a tip of the hat to contemporary sensibilities that was unnecessary, and maybe counter productive. The reality is that he did turn his back on what he believed. He denied Jesus in front of others, and Jesus' words on this point are rather harsh. 

Contrary to our egalitarian age, I do believe that the public sins of a priest are more serious than the failures of others: in the context of the film Rodrigues bears a greater burden than Kichijiro since his apostasy contributed to the denial of others and the general rejection of the faith in the culture. Kichijiro's treachery cost him personally, but in a way led others to eternal life. It's the paradox of Judas that Scorsese is fascinated with: Jesus' mission couldn't have been completed without Judas, yet he is reviled, and, in the words of the Gospel, it's better had he never been born.

I want to be clear — I make no judgments on who's in heaven and who's in hell, even in the matter of fictional characters. I also freely acknowledge that if I were in Rodrigues’ sandals there's a good chance I would have done the same thing he did. At the same time, human beings are complex, God is simple. He is simple in his being, simple in His commandments and, thankfully, simple in his mercy. I have no problem reconciling the ideas that Rodrigues’ choice was at once understandable and wrong, that I can feel compassion for him and condemn his actions, leaving the ultimate judgment to God, who is mercy. 

I am human, after all, and like Kichijiro there is a war going on inside me. I reach for Christ, but too often pull back when I count the cost. In the case of Rodrigues he was ready to die, but the thought that he could save others, end their torture, by trampling was too overwhelming. Again, it's a choice I understand and could easily see myself making. But it's a choice that denies the transcendence of Christianity, the urgent indispensability of the Gospel. Do we believe that there are worse things than torture, even death? Do we believe in Divine Providence for those who are left behind, who we may feel are being abandoned? Isn't it true that the choice to trample may have saved a few lives temporarily, but condemned generations to darkness?

In the final analysis the themes of apostasy and martyrdom are probably more than just simple MacGuffins. Though not incidental to the plot of Silence, I would still argue that to stop there is to miss the deeper points. And I could write a lot more, but will end it here. I've seen Silence twice, and I'm guessing my next viewing will happen when it comes out on home video. Maybe I'll revisit it then.

Challenges (2/6/17) from the Apostleship of Prayer

Salt and Light (2/5/17) from the Apostleship of Prayer

St. John Bosco: Good Shepherd, Joyful Saint, Founder of a Movement

The readings for the liturgical feast of St. John Bosco, used for the most part in Salesian works, points us to three realities regarding the Saint. 

The first reading comes from the 34th chapter of the Prophet Ezekiel. It's only gives us select portions of this particular chapter, when examined as a whole can be rather grim. The lectionary gives us the words of hope, that God is our shepherd, He will find, bind up and heal the lost and wounded. He will send the One Shepherd, "David," a figure for Christ, who will gather and protect the people. These cherry picked passages skip over the more harsh assessment God has for those he has given the care of His flock. The LORD points out that too many of the shepherds have been busy looking after themselves, neglecting the weak and abandoned. 

In Don Bosco's time few of the local clergy were willing to work with the large numbers of young people flooding into Turin. It's was the mid 19th century, and the Industrial Revolution had finally come to northern Italy. There was a migration from rural areas into the cities like Turin and Milan. Many of these were young people, some in their teens, looking for work in factories and construction sites to support families back home. Some were orphans who lost parents because of illnesses that are today curable by antibiotics, or war. Italy wasn't a unified country when Don Bosco was a young priest. The peninsula was broken up into separate principalities and zones occupied by foreign powers. Different regions often had different languages. What it meant to be Italian was still forming. So, in a relatively short period large numbers of uneducated and unaccompanied youth came into Turin. In some cases they were treated almost as foreigners. Neither the Church nor the state knew how to handle the influx. 

Into this scene came Don Bosco. From an early age he felt the call of God to serve young people. But he didn't serve them from afar, but could be found out in the street with them, gathering them together in parks and fields for prayer and recreation. Some of the local clergy were concerned that all these young people should be going to their parishes for Sunday Mass instead of with Don Bosco to whatever makeshift site he could find, and later at the Oratory of St. Francis de Sales. But the Saint knew that these boys had no parish. Oh, that the day would come when they had stable homes and could participate in parish life. But for now many of them were wanderers on the earth, with no regular place to lay their heads. The Oratory was their parish, and Don Bosco was their pastor. Eventually it became a home for those who who had no roof, as well as a spiritual home for all. He taught them catechism, and a trade, that they would have hope in the life to come, and hope of a happy life here and now. 

At the Oratory Don Bosco formed a school for holiness. His program is reflected in the second reading from today's Mass: Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice! Your kindness should be known to all (Philippians 4:4-5). It is a holiness based on fulfilling your everyday, ordinary responsibilities in an extraordinary way. When it's time to do your homework, do your homework. When it's time to put out the garbage, put out the garbage. When it's time to go to work, go to work, and be diligent in fulfilling your duties. The key to all this is to be joyful as well as exacting. Don Bosco set this example. He was a tireless worker, and encountered many hardships along the way. Yet those around him say they never noticed any change in demeanor, maintaining a positive attitude. It was said that he became even more joyful at times when the going was the roughest. 

Don Bosco was human: he could have a temper, and I'm not implying that the never lost it, especially in moments of righteous indignation. But generally he always wanted to project a sense to the boys that to be holy was to be happy. He put a great stress on fulfilling the responsibilities of life, but he also made sure that feast days were celebrated with joy as well as solemnity. He also made sure the boys had time for healthy recreations. The 1840's through the '60's were a time of revolution in Italy and Europe, and many other oratories in Turin spent there recreation periods in military style marching drills. Don Bosco had none of that. When not praying and studying, the boys would play. His motto was "jump, scream and play, but don't sin." All this combined to impress upon young people that to be a saint was to be faithful, for sure, but also joyful. 

Lastly, the Gospel (Mark 9:33-37 or Matthew 18:1-6) depicts the Apostles arguing among themselves as to who is the greatest among them. Jesus reminds them that to be the greatest in the Kingdom is to become the servant of the rest, taking on the humility of a child. Jesus places a child at the center and makes him the focus, the model for us to follow in the path to holiness. It is a reminder that we are a part of a movement, we work as a part of a team. We must put egos aside and recognize that we are a part of something greater than ourselves. It isn't a call to be childish, but to be child like: trusting, open and docile to the will of God, especially when it goes against our own wishes.

Don Bosco certainly had and ego, and any woman or man who accomplishes anything has to have a healthy sense of self worth and confidence in their abilities. But it is only those who place their abilities, even their own egos, at the service of others who will accomplish truly great things. Our talents come from God. We train them, sharpen them, prefect them with discipline and practice, but they can only accomplish lasting work if God is allowed to guide them, using them for the good of the Kingdom.

Don Bosco founded a religious community of brothers, priests and sisters. But he first formed a family, with the Salesian Cooperators as a key component. This is a movement of peoples dedicated to the evangelization of the young. It is a movement that needs pastors after the heart of the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ - pastors of souls who seek out the lost, and assist the young who need guidance. It is a movement that promotes holiness, fostering a living relationship with Jesus Christ in joy and happiness. It is a movement that seeks the material good of young people. It advocates for their rights and looks out for their interests. It is a movement where all the members are pulling together, putting aside their own wants and desires for the greater good of the mission. These are high ideals, I know - But Don Bosco never doubted in the grace of God, and the guidance of the Blessed Mother to help us along. 

With that, I wish all of you a blessed Feast of St. John Bosco!

Don Bosco (Life)

Friend of the Young and the Poor

Tomorrow is the Feast of St. John Bosco - To get ready here's an old favorite, writer by the late Fr. Steve Schenck, SDB. 

Tantum Ergo: A Hymn by St. Thomas Aquinas from AOP

The Ripple Effect - Feast of Saints Timothy and Titus from AOP

Conversion of St Paul (1/25/17)

This video from our friends at the Apostleship of Prayer was posted unusually late in the day yesterday, but it's still a good reflection on the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. Enjoy!

"Silence" Movie Review

I've been laboring over a reflection on the new Martin Scorsese film, Silence, based on Shūsaku Endō's 1966 novel. But before I get that one finished, which might be a while, I wanted to offer a few scattered thoughts.

As a friend of mine put it, while Silence is a sincere cry from the heart, it is still "problematic as cinema." This isn't to say that it's a bad movie, not by any measure, but that Scorsese sacrifices pacing and general economy of story telling in order to make the most complete rendering of the source material possible. This was a labor of love for the 74 year old director, who had been working for 20 years to get this project realized. I doubt that any editor, even Thelma Schoonmaker, who has been cutting films with Scorsese for 40 years, was going to have the guts to buck him here, which she probably should have, at least a little.

In the end though, Silence isn't a pop corn movie and no one should go expecting to be entertained. It is a meditation on faith, martyrdom and conscience. But this only scratches the surface. In truth, different people will walk away from this movie and grasp on to different themes. Cardinal Blase Cupich saw it as asking the viewer what is left after all the external expressions of faith have been stripped away - what is it that a person holds on to? Scorsese himself wrote, in a forward to a reprinting of the novel, that he was taken up with the question of Judas' role in the Divine plan. Jesus' mission couldn't have been completed without him, yet he is a reviled figure. This was a major theme of his adaptation of The Last Temptation of Christ, and Silence contains a very strong Judas character, whose betrayals are exasperating, but are also important in keeping the narrative moving ahead. So, what Silence may lack in conventional cinematic structure, it makes up for in its powerful, multi layered themes. 

Silence follows two young Jesuit priests named Rodrigues and Garupe (Andrew Garfield and Adam Driver, respectively) who take upon themselves the mission to go to Japan in search of another Jesuit, Fr. Ferreira (Liam Neeson), who is missing and has possibly apostatized. It's the early 1600's, and after great initial success in spreading the Catholic faith in that country, the Japanese authorities have outlawed Christianity, expelling all European missionaries and systematically destroying the practice of the faith among the people. What Rodrigues and Garupe find are small, faithful communities, worshiping as they can in secret, led by laymen. They are overjoyed by the arrival of the priests, because, even though they can baptize, the lay leaders are unable to celebrate the Eucharist or hear confessions. Our missionaries are kept busy with both tasks, especially hearing confessions, as well as engaging in catechism classes. Eventually they are found out, need to flee, and are separated. The story then focuses on Rodrigues, who is captured and finally does encounter Fr. Ferreira.

As with all the secret Christians, Rodrigues and Ferreira are given the choice of renouncing their faith to save their earthly lives. This renunciation takes the form of either stepping or spitting upon a holy image of Jesus or the Blessed Mother. Their captives are clear, they don't have to mean it, this is just a formality. Nonetheless they need the priests' public renunciation in order to discourage the people from following the faith. For their part, it is the suffering of the native Christians that is used as a weapon against the missionaries in order to coerce them into apostasy. The priests are made to choose between their love of Christ and their love for the people they have come to serve. 

The question I found myself asking is, "What would I do?" Is my faith in life after earthly death strong enough to accept that kind of suffering, and, more importantly, could I encourage others to suffer horrendous tortures while I sat and watched, or would I tell them to give in, and save themselves? Which course of action is truly Christ like, which is vainglorious, and which is cowardly betrayal? Scorsese doesn't judge harshly, but in one telltale sound effect, amid a soundtrack that generally lives up to the movie's title, tells you all you need to know. 

As a side note, I did see a review by a Jesuit film critic that criticized the portrayal of the young priests as being overly idealistic and lacking in humanity. I tend to interpret the lack of humanity charge as a dog whistle regarding chastity. It's true that we don't get a sense of either internal or external struggles the priests may be experiencing in relation to sexual temptations. There are priests who apostatize and are forced to take wives, and we don't see any tenderness between the couples. I think that the answer to the first observation is that this isn't "that" movie. To begin dealing with a chastity crisis is to alter the focus of the movie to the point that we would have a different story. It might be an important story to tell, but not here in an already thematically cluttered production.

As for the apparent lack of "passion" within these marriages of convenience, the missionaries understand that these unions are just further humiliations heaped upon them on the part their "hosts." They represent a further betrayal, a further being "knocked down a peg," in the eyes of the people. Celibacy, for better or worse, adds the mystic of the Catholic priesthood, setting the cleric a part from the "average" man. With that gone, it is one further piece of his identity that has been wiped away. So while the priests in question may "go the way of human flesh," it's not something that they are going to be comfortable with, much less be proud of. 

If I am wrong, and the critic in question is commenting on the overall performance of  the actors, than I'm afraid that we weren't watching the same movie. They are young priests, full of zeal and idealism, as young priests often are. This is what drove them in search of Fr. Ferriera, in spite of the dangers, to begin with. But I do believe we see their frailty as their sufferings, and the pressure of their situation, increase. I thought that this was one of the most accurate representations of the priesthood on film that I've seen since the Exorcist. While both films deal with priests in extreme situation, situations that most priests will never find themselves in, they accurately show the struggles that a priest goes through. That a priest may struggle with living the life of a celibate should shock no one, but that they may also question their faith and the meaning of their lives may be a revelation: one that in the end is a greater demonstration of our protagonists humanity. 

There is much more to write, and I will offer a fuller reflection soon. 

"The Man in the High Castle" and the Deprived Religious Imagination

The Trade Minister meditates himself into an "alternate" reality

The Man in the High Castle, based on a Philip K. Dick novel, is an alternate history of how things might of gone if the Axis Powers had won World War II. It is currently in its second season, streaming on Amazon Prime. The show has become a bit of a guilty pleasure for me, though it has some pretty serious flaws. While I may in the future, I really don’t want to get into a full-blown critique of the show here and now. All I’ll write is that in spite of flat writing and a plot driven narrative that moves characters along whether it makes sense or not, I keep on clicking “Next Episode” because I’m a sucker for a cliffhanger, and each episode ends on one. It also has good acting that elevates the bland material and underdeveloped characters, great production values, and the mystery of its intriguing central conceit is hidden just enough to keep me interested. The show is also mostly sympathetic toward religion. A positive, punctuated by the big negative that all the religions represented are presented as uncritically good, except for one – and I’m guessing you can figure out which one that is. 


To oversimplify a very complicated scenario, High Castle takes place in an “alternate” 1962. The Nazis control the eastern two thirds of the former United States to the Rocky Mountains. The Japanese have possession of the Pacific coast, along with a few other western states like Nevada. The Rocky Mountain region is a "lawless" Neutral Zone that serves as a buffer between the two world empires. Germany, still ruled by an ailing Hitler, and Japan coexist uneasily. The Nazis have the Bomb, the Japanese do not. Hitler wants to keep the status quo, but others in the Reich want to use their nuclear advantage to eliminate the Japanese once and for all. 


In the former United States there are resistance movements in both regions. At the moment the insurgents and their respective occupiers are busy trying to get their hands on a series of newsreel style films being collected by the mysterious Man in the High Castle - a key resistance figure. These films show an alternate version of their history. In some cases the films show events as they actually did happen historically (with the Allies winning), some show other alternate outcomes, including San Francisco being devastated by a nuclear weapon. What exactly the films mean, where they come from and how they are useful to either side isn't clearly known, though by the end of the second season things come into much clearer focus. The couriers who smuggle them for the resistance aren't supposed to watch, because sometimes they see themselves in the films, in either alternate pasts or possible futures, neither of which is pleasant (but of course not everyone follows orders). The only two who seem to know what the films are all about are Hitler, who is also collecting the reels, and the Man in the High Castle, and both are terrified by what they see.


In the world of The Man in the High Castle the Bible is outlawed and religion, for the most part, is also prohibited. Jews are tolerated in the Pacific States, though the Japanese Empire has, at least on paper, adopted the same race laws as the Nazis. As for religious practice, Shinto and Buddhism are permitted in the Pacific States, but Judaism and Christianity are banned. In the Reich a sort of State and Führer worship has completely replaced traditional religious practice.


One of our heroes, Frank, had a Jewish grandfather, but wasn't raised in the faith and denies his Jewish identity, so he survives in the Pacific States by going along to get along. After he gets unwittingly caught up in the intrigue, his sister and her children are used as leverage by the Japanese to try and coerce him into revealing the whereabouts of his girlfriend, who has disappeared smuggling a reel of the contraband films. Through a cruel twist of fate, the sister and her children are gassed, though Frank is set free. Because they died as "enemies of the state," in a highly selective application of the racial laws, no public mourning is permitted. At the Shinto ceremony that is allowed, Frank encounters an acquaintance of his sister's named Mark, who invites him to his home. There he reveals that he too is a Jew, and together the family recites the traditional Kaddish prayers for the dead. Frank, though he doesn't understand the Hebrew words, breaks down crying, and responds with a final Amen. 


On the other side, Nobusuke Tagomi, the Japanese Trade Minister in San Francisco, seeks to maintain the balance of power between the two empires. He conspires with a Nazi contact who is equally concerned about a future conflict, as well as being guilt ridden by his participation in Nazi atrocities. Together they smuggle plans for an atomic weapon to the Japanese military. Their hope is that once both sides have The Bomb, and they see that a war would mean mutually assured destruction, the balance will be preserved. Things don't exactly work out that way, but I digress.


The Trade Minister practices Shinto, doesn't make any major decisions before consulting oracles and, engages in meditation. He also has the Nazi embassy in San Francisco change it’s furniture ahead of the Japanese crown prince’s visit because it doesn’t have chi, or spiritual balance. While well respected, he's still looked upon as being a bit strange as far as his devotion goes, even by his own countryman. 

He visits libraries where he has access to forbidden books like William James' The Varieties of Religious Experience. His own religious experience is astonishing. Through meditation he is able to quite literally shift from one reality to another - from the alternate 1962, to the real 1962, complete with rock and roll and the Cuban Missile Crisis. He's not sure himself how he does it, and what it all means, but he seems at once hopeful and uneasy about his own altered reality. 


In both cases, Frank's nascent Judaism and the Trade Minister's refined Shinto practice, the script takes their experiences at face value. Other characters may question what's going on, but as far as Mark, who introduces Frank to his Jewish heritage, and the Trade Minister, they are true believers, and we are made to sympathize with them.


A question that popped into my head, about half way through the first ten episodes, was "Where are all the Christians at?" There is no reference to Christianity, accept in the taking of the Lord's Name in vain, anywhere in the first season. 


In the second season we get a scene involving a clandestine funeral in the woods, where a man, later revealed to be an ex-preacher, speechifies while quoting the New Testament, mainly from the Letters of St. Paul. When Frank questions him afterward, he explains that the Japanese defrocked all the Christian clergy, but they're better off: Jesus didn't need a "dog collar" to spread the word. And all that talk about turning the other cheek and loving your enemies was just a bunch of bovine scatology spread by the Apostles. Jesus wasn't down for preaching about heaven when there's work to be done kicking fascist tail here on earth. 


In this relatively brief, profane outburst, we have a classic deconstruction of Christianity presented to us.  From the idea that institutional Christianity is unnecessary, and possibly antithetical to being a disciple of Christ, to that the New Testament doesn’t represent the authentic teachings of the “historical” Jesus, to that Jesus was a radical revolutionary concerned with the here and now over spiritual concerns, we get a synopsis of a typical religious studies course being conducted at any number of universities today, both secular and religious. It’s aggravating that Christianity wasn’t afforded the same respectful consideration as the other religions represented – that we couldn’t just get a straight ahead presentation of the faith without the postmodern makeover. And, in dismissing the importance of institutional Christianity, the creators missed a great opportunity to pump up the intrigue, as well as give a more realistic picture of what an alternate reality might look like.      

Why do I say that Christianity isn’t afforded the same respect as the other faiths represented? Because the practitioners of these other religions, when questioned about what they believe, don’t try to explain it away. Mark doesn’t say, “Well, I’m just a cultural Jew, and these rituals give me emotional comfort. I really don’t believe that whole parting of the Red Sea thing and stuff like that.” No, he takes pride in his heritage, pointing out that the Jews have out lived plenty of tyrants, like Pharaoh, and the Nazis are just the latest. The Jews think in terms of millennia, he reminds Frank, and time is on their side. The Trade Minister, while acknowledging that his consulting of the omens isn’t a fool proof science, asserts that his critics are more foolish for believing that reality is only what they can see and touch. And the internal logic of the plot backs him up. He doesn’t try to rationalize his meditation by saying that its some kind of stress reliever, or that it clears his mind so he can concentrate and come up with innovative solutions to his problems. No, meditation can actually bring him to another world.

But when a Christian is asked to give “the reason for the hope” he has (1Peter 3:15) he basically says that he doesn’t have any. The Preacher believes in Jesus, I guess, but if you can’t trust the New Testament, and the Church is irrelevant in the task of handing on the faith, how do you even know that you should have faith in Jesus to begin with? The only brand of Christianity the show endorses is the do it yourself kind. It’s Christianity detached from its roots, completely earthbound, with no hope beyond this life. In other words, what’s being presented here isn’t really Christianity at all, which is beyond disrespectful - it’s fraudulent.  

When the Preacher makes his “dog collar” remark, validating his being defrocked, it was meant as a short hand knock at institutional Christianity.  In dismissing organized religion the writers and producers missed a great opportunity, as I wrote, to add to the intrigue. If High Castle’s creative team had actually gone back and done research concerning the Church’s efforts during both World War II and the Cold War, they would have seen that from the Vatican down to the parish level, Catholics were involved in the resistance to tyranny. This involved both the efforts of Catholics at the grass roots level, as well as the work of priests, bishops and even popes working the institution to smuggle refugees and print fake baptismal certificates for Jews trying to escape the Nazis. These are just two ways the Church worked underground and behind the scenes to save lives during times of oppression. To think that an organized network of parishes and dioceses, monasteries and convents wouldn’t be useful in the work of subverting an evil regime is short sighted, and displays an amazing ignorance of history. 

Also, in showing a society completely devoid of traditional Christian practice, The Man in the High Castle grossly overestimates how easy it would be to suppress institutionalized faith among the people. The Soviet Union and Easter Block communists weren’t able to do it, even after 70 plus years of repression. Nazi Germany wasn’t able to do it, either. Efforts to destroy the Church by the Mexican government in the 1920’s and ‘30’s failed, as well. Heck, not even the Roman Empire was able to keep the Church from growing, even after 300 years of on and off persecutions. When the Church is actively persecuted it tends to grow even stronger. Thus the famous saying of Tertullian’s, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of Christians.”

There is one glaring historical exception, and that is Japan, where the faith was suppressed and all Western missionaries expelled at the end of the sixteenth century. Yet even there, when the country opened up again two hundred and fifty years later, Westerners found small, isolated Christian communities that still held to the faith. In some cases they had in their possession the chalices and monstrances that the missionaries left behind. They didn’t always remember what these and other religious articles were used for, but they knew they were holy, and that they were links to the time of their ancestors’ evangelization.

I’m not suggesting that the show’s creators should have remade The Man in the High Castle to be some sort of Christian story. And I can understand that they wouldn’t want to highlight one particular Christian group. But they could have put certain touches in the background, like a network of nonspecific Christian communities that help to either smuggle films or people to the Neutral Zone. Since violently suppressing Christianity rarely works, they could have had the fascists set up “national” Christian churches controlled by the government that people aren’t sure they can trust as opposed to the unofficial, underground church that keeps the true faith (much like what is happening now in China). Again, these could function as elements in the background, that wouldn’t change the plot, but add to the realism and, potentially, the intrigue. 

I could make more suggestions, but you get the point. The creators of The Man in the High Castle, and the mainstream entertainment industry in general, don’t usually think of these possibilities because they don’t understand real history, or religion, enough to be able to plausibly concoct an alternate one. They don’t understand that the Faith isn’t killed by force.  The truth is, faith is not so much killed, as numbed. It’s numbed by materialism fueled by consumerism and the worship of convenience. It’s numbed by convincing people that religion is what you make it, and there is no truth beyond our own wants and desires. Faith is numbed by convincing people they can separate their public life from their private devotion. To paraphrase T.S. Eliot, faith isn’t killed with a bang, but is numbed asleep by a whimper.

Bishop Barron on “Silence” (SPOILERS)

A very provocative take on a very provocative new film, Martin Scorsese' Silence. I do regret watching this analysis a little bit, in so far as Bishop Barron gives away the entire plot of the movie, ending and all.  It's been open in New York and Los Angeles, where he lives, since around Christmas, but won't be released in the rest of the country until tomorrow (January 13). So, needless to say, I haven't seen it yet. While I'll walk in knowing more than I wanted to, I'm still looking forward to seeing it once I come off retreat.

On Retreat

LIBERTYVILLE, IL - No, I haven't gone fishing. It's more like "gone praying." I'm off on retreat with the Conventual Franciscans at the Marytown Retreat Center, also known for its National Shrine of St. Maximilian Kolbe.   I'll be praying for all of you, and ask you to do the same for me. 

As far as the blog goes, I'm working on a post about the Amazon Prime series The Man in the High Castle, and it's treatment of Christianity. I found that the show gives a positive spin to religion and spirituality in general, but misses the mark when it comes to Jesus and the Church. I'm also preparing a follow up for a piece I did on Mary, the Mother of God last week. I'll be discussing the Our Lady's role as mother and wife.

I experimented a few years back with doing video segments and posting them here and on Youtube. I stopped, mainly because I found that they were just as time consuming to prepare, if not more so, than these written posts. And these were nothing fancy - prepared with just the hardware and software that came with the computer. At lunch today a man who works in the development office here out of nowhere told me that he had seen the videos. My wise guy response was, "Oh, so you're the one!" I explained my time problem, and he said, "Yeah, I know, you mentioned that in one of the videos, but you never know who you touch by those things." It got me thinking, and while I'm not making any New Year's resolution, don't be surprised if I don't give the video revolution another try. 

OK, that's all for now. If I see something from the Apostleship of Prayer or Bishop Barron I might post it, but otherwise, see you next week, and keep me in prayer. I'll be keeping you in mine.

Feast of the Epiphany (1/8/17) Apostleship of Prayer

Rogue One and the Lost Art of Self Sacrifice

Chirrut Îmwe (Donnie Yen). He is one with the Force and the Force is with him.

I gave a somewhat harsh review of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, which was deceiving, because I didn't hate it, and thought it had a lot to recommend it: just not character development or a coherent plot. Maybe it would be fairer to say that the plot is coherent, but only to people who've seen the original trilogy of films. Unless you're one of the fans being serviced, with all the visual shout outs to the earlier movies, you're going to have a really tough time figuring out what's going on and why. In Rogue One these very serious issues of not having characters that we can connect with and a plot that truly stands on it's own obscures an otherwise honest attempt to make a thoughtful, dare I say realistic, Star Wars movie. 

Obviously I mean realistic in a very broad sense. Rogue One is still a space fantasy at it's core, but it takes the franchise in a darker direction. While the minions of the Empire are pretty much space Nazis, we do see defectors and collaborators who try to sabotage Imperial efforts from within. On the the Rebel side we see much more ambiguity at work. Cassian Andor, a rebel spy, is shown killing allies when it's expedient and executing a disabled storm trooper, even though he poses no threat. Jyn Erso, the main protagonist of the story, spends most of the movie only reluctantly helping the cause, having seen the dark sides of the respective belligerents. Saw Gerrera, who took Jyn in after her father was pressed into the service of the Empire, is described as an "extremist" who the Rebel Alliance has distanced itself from, if not totally disowned. While the Rebel cause is still the clearly good one, we are given shadings that we haven't seen before. In this way Rogue One presents a war time scenario that is more in line with our own galaxy, as opposed to one from long ago and far, far away.

Another feature of the film's grittiness is that all the main heroes die in the line of duty. This move by the film makers has been somewhat polarizing. Mike Stoklasa, along with Jay Bauman and Rich Evens of "Red Letter Media," known for his detailed, profane and often hilarious "Mr. Plinkett" take downs of the Star Wars prequels, pointed to this, in their regular Half in the Bag videos. Stoklasa saw the hero body count as another reason why the movie is dower and depressing, going totally against the light hearted spirit of the series. On the other hand Alonzo Duralde of What the Flick? and The Wrap, applauded the decision. He has often expressed frustration that Hollywood films of late are reluctant to show heroes giving up their lives selflessly for a higher cause, and was pleased to see Rogue One buck that trend. I agree with Duralde, though I get where Stoklasa is coming from in the context of this particular film.

Like Duralde, I'm also frustrated by the trend to have victory without real sacrifice in contemporary American films. In one commentary I saw, about a different movie, he seemed to hint that actors themselves don't want to "die" in the movies for ego reasons. Duralde's on the inside more than I am (which is to say that I'm not at all), but I think there is another bigger reason for this trend away from characters making the ultimate sacrifice in contemporary cinema. 

Film, and really all art forms, both popular and high, of a particular generation reflects its metaphysics. How do we view the nature of reality? Do we believe that there is a spiritual dimension? Is there life after death, or is this it, and after we die we simply fall out of existence? Most movies don't address these questions directly, but they operate out of basic assumptions that are out there in the culture. I believe that a basic assumption today is that there is no other life than this one, and to lose it is the greatest tragedy imaginable. In a crime or war movie, let the bad guy die and fall into nothingness, sure, but if the hero dies it's a waste, and injustice.  It would be easy to blame "Godless" Hollywood for creating a trend, but I believe the general public, even those who are religious, function out of at least a quasi-nihilism where death is concerned, and it is reflected in the movies. 

I want to preface what I'm about to write by making it clear that in the real world there are atheists who will land on the grenade to save their buddies and faithful church goers who will hightail it for the door first in case of a fire, without looking back. But movies, except maybe for documentaries and biopics, deal in generalities and broad assumptions about human behavior. The audience was more likely to accept a hero dying fifty of sixty years ago because they believed in something greater beyond the grave. They also believed in something greater here and now. There was a marriage between certain ideals of patriotism, civic duty and family responsibilities and, faith in a spiritual realm that gave sense to a main character giving of his or her self completely for the good of group. Today institutions, be they governmental, civic and religious, are called into question. The image of family being promoted is increasingly not of our blood relations, but of people we choose to call family. Are we willing to sacrifice for marriage and family when we are having such a tough time agreeing on what these things actually are? Is a nation, corrupt from it's founding worth making the supreme sacrifice for? Do I die for a faith when we can't really know what truth is, and many of its practitioners are hypocrites? To sacrifice one's self has never been easy, but it's down right senseless in an age of skepticism.

In the case of Rogue One, self sacrifice makes sense, though I do think they could have let some of the team live. There is the belief in the Force, and while not all the characters have the same devotion to it, the series has already established it as something real. In A New Hope Obi-Wan Kenobi surrenders his physical life, and becomes a more powerful guide for Luke Skywalker. In later movies he actually makes appearances as a spectral figure, indicating that his existence goes on. Darth Vader, "repentant" at death is also shown to live on, appearing in the form of Anakan Skywalker. 

In Rogue One the character of Chirrut Îmwe, a marshal arts style warrior who is the person here most clearly devoted to the Force, keeps on saying, as a mantra, "I'm one with the Force, and the Force is with me," He assures his friend as he goes into an impossible situation, "I fear nothing. All is as the Force wills it." Chirrut understands that he could die, but he also understands the if he cooperates with the Force his actions will save others and that his own life is more than "this crude matter," as Yoda put it once. If death does come his essential being will live on, and become more powerful than before. Not only does self sacrifice for the rebellion make sense here, but to not risk it all would have been the senseless thing. 

Yes, having our heroes die for the cause was refreshing. But understand that it only made sense because of a belief in a spiritual reality. As long as Hollywood, and the culture in general, wallows in materialism, I fear that Rogue One represents an aberration in this department, as opposed to a trend.

______________________________________

An observation that has nothing to do with anything. I found it interesting that as the movie reached its climax, the special effects and sets became visibly more "low" tech, at least by 2017 standards. What I mean is that the graphics used to represent the Death Star plans, and the computer readouts of the transfer looked like something you'd have seen on an Atari video game or Commodore 64 computer from the late '70's or early '80's. As Vader boards the Princes' ship the the corridors become plain white and plastic looking (cheap wouldn't be an unfair assessment), a contrast to the more sophisticated sets of the Imperial base, as well as the special effects used throughout the movie. This was an obvious attempt to match up Rogue One with Episode IV: A New Hope, symbolizing that story wasn't so much ending as continuing, and this reversion to a more 1977 look was a visual cue for us. Again, nothing big, but I though that it was cool.   

Mary, Mother of God

To fulfill my New Years Resolution to write more about Our Blessed Mother during 2017, I'll begin by discussing a Solemnity that already passed us by on Sunday, which also happened to be New Years Day.

Mary goes by many titles. We lovingly call her The Blessed Mother. She is also Queen of Heaven, as well as Our Lady of Consolation and Seat of Wisdom. Her titles also reference the places she has appeared, as in Our Lady of Fatima or Our Lady of Guadalupe. There are many more such designations that we could mention. Of all the names Our Lady is known by there is none that Catholics take more for granted, but that at the same time causes confusion or even revulsion among our separated brethren than that of Mother of God. 

This confusion among non Catholic Christians is understandable, but I wonder if even Catholics understand why we honor Mary under this title. But knowing that Mary is Mother of God is very important. As Deacon Kieth Fournier writes:

From antiquity, Mary has been called "Theotokos"[in Greek], or "God-Bearer" (Mother of God)... A pronouncement of ...The Council of Ephesus in 431 A.D., insisted "If anyone does not confess that God is truly Emmanuel, and that on this account the holy virgin is the "Theotokos" (for according to the flesh she gave birth to the word of God become flesh by birth) let him be anathema." (The Council of Ephesus, 431 AD)

The Council's insistence on the use of the title reflected an effort to preserve the teaching of the Church that Jesus was both Divine and human, that the two natures were united in His One Person.

Jesus is a Divine Person, who possesses two natures. By nature we mean the qualities that make a person place or thing what it is. Through Mary He received a human nature, but since Jesus is the Son of God, the eternal Word made flesh, he also has a divine nature. A woman, though, is not the mother of a nature, but of a person. While in a given context it isn't necessarily wrong to do so, to call Mary mother of Jesus, or even mother of the Christ, exclusively is to divide who Jesus is, and possible deny who He really is. Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us. He is God's "Son, born of a woman." (Gal. 4:4) For this reason we honor Mary as Mother of God, not only to protect her reputation, but primarily to proclaim the truth of who Jesus is: the Divine Son of God.

SPOILER "Rogue One: a Star War Story" ALERT

SPOILER ALERT--SPOILER ALERT--SPOILER ALERT--SPOILER  ALERT

SPOILER ALERT--SPOILER ALERT--SPOILER ALERT--SPOILER  ALERT

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, is billed as the first "stand alone" film in the popular beyond all reason science fantasy movie franchise, that up to now has been following a fairly strait forward narrative. "Stand alone" is in quotes for a reason. Rogue One doesn't stand on its own in any significant way, since it serves as a direct prequel of the original 1977 film, reintroduces old characters without explaining them, which I guess I shouldn't complain about since the new characters aren't really fleshed out either, and throws in visual throwbacks that only viewers familiar with the original trilogy will get. 

Before I go too far, and you get the wrong idea: I liked it, I guess - not as much as last year's series soft reboot The Force Awakens, but it was worth the $6.00, 10:10 a.m. holiday matinee ticket price.

The movie's been out for over two weeks now, and I had the disadvantage walking in already having read and viewed several critiques before hand. My critical sense was compromised, and I was reacting to the critics in my head while watching the movie instead of simply taking it in emotionally, as any audience member, critic or civilian, or hybrid like myself, should. 

I knew what was going to happen, true, but I was still curious as to how they were going to get there. And by knowing what was going to happen, I mean more than that the Rebel Alliance steals the plans to the Death Star. Anyone who saw Episode IV: A New Hope knows that. I knew we were getting computer generated recreations of Grand Moff (here Governor) Tarkin (Peter Cushing) and the young Princes Leia (Carrie Fisher). I knew Darth Vader was going to be back - still voiced by James Earl Jones. I knew about the inside jokes and references meant to please the die hard fans, but that otherwise had nothing to do with the story. I knew that all our new heroes die in the line of duty - so needless to say, there'll be no Rogue Two. On second thought, if this one does good enough business, I'm sure the geniuses back in the sequel factory that is contemporary Hollywood will find a way to get the band back together. But I digress.

As briefly as is humanly possible, considering how over cluttered and complicated the proceedings are, Felicity Jones plays Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen Erso (Mads Mikkelsen), a scientist who is pressed back into service to build the planet destroying super weapon, the Death Star, on behalf of the Galactic Empire. (Remember the Death Star? Seems like we can't have a Star Wars movie without it, or at least a thinly veiled facsimile.) When the Empire comes for him, Galen sends Jyn to be cared for by Saw Gerrera (Forest Whitaker), a rebel extremist - kind of an intergalactic Colonel Kurtz. We are then jumped 16 years into the future, where Jyn is no longer under her guardian's care, and being held prisoner for some vague reason by the Empire. We get snippets of a back story, like that she had essentially been a child soldier while with Gerrera, and is now a Han Solo style outlaw swindler, disillusioned with the cause. She's broken out of prison, reluctantly, by Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) a rebel intelligence officer who wants to use her to get at her father. 

The mission, in the end, is rather simple - get the plans to the Death Star, find the structural flaw that Galen purposely designed into the station, and blow it up good. Of course, we never get to objectives two and three here, which are taken care of in A New Hope. That said, what should be a pretty simple plot gets bogged down at times, with the characters going most of the movie not really sure what it is exactly that they are supposed to do, or if they even trust each other enough to work it out. 

A common criticism of Rogue One is that the characterizations are kinda thin, and I have to concur. There are just too many characters we are expected to care about and too little background given to help us get there. While it runs over two hours, we still would have needed another twenty minutes at least to help flesh out these characters. And it's not like we have other films coming that can do the job for us. This is it, unless they go and do prequels, which I'm not sure is in the cards. 

The sad thing is, there was potential here for some memorable characters. Donnie Yen plays Chirrut Îmwe, a blind martial arts fighter who has a strong devotion to the Force. He and his friend Baze Malbus (Jiang Wen), join along for the adventure, but who they are, why they want to come, and even why they are allowed to isn't fully established. These and others are thrown together, sent on a mission, and sacrifice for each other, but I found myself wondering why. 

In a way, I saw Rogue One as a photo negative of Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy. Both involve a scruffy, rag tag band of misfits and desperadoes forced to work with each other out of necessity, who in the end form a genuine bond. But where as Guardians has a strong, well defined lead character within it's ensemble in Chris Pratt's Peter Quill, Felicity Jones isn't given much to work with as Jyn. She's ambivalent to the point of being obscure, and I was more surprised that she was angry when she found out that the original mission was to kill her father, not extract him, since she seemed capable of killing him herself. One moment she's cynical about the rebellion, and next she's giving an impassioned plea to the Alliance leaders to go ahead with the raid on the Imperial base. Such a shift isn't impossible. I'm just not sure how she got there. Without that strong core personality, with a clear objective, nothing else really came together. Where as Guardians maintained a light hearted whimsy underneath its gritty exterior, a sense of humorless gloom hangs over Rogue One that only punctuates the personal muddle.

As for the computer regenerated Peter Cushing and Carrie Fisher, Hollywood is certainly a long way from leaving the uncanny valley. Beyond the creepiness many feel at seeing eerily lifelike but still clearly artificial human features reproduced in robots and computer animation, which is definitely on display here, it was unnecessary. The original film is celebrating its fortieth anniversary this year, and Peter Cushing, fine actor that he was, has been gone for over 20. He was only in that first movie, and wasn't the most memorable villain in it. He may play a larger role in the so called "expanded universe" of novels, comics and animated series, but he's kind of a footnote in the films. Audiences accept that new actors are sometimes called upon to play roles made famous by others. How many actors have played Ernst Blofeld over the years in James Bond movies, even as the actor playing Bond stayed the same? I think the audience, even one that can be as over zealously exacting as the one for Star Wars, would have accepted someone else there, and the general public wouldn't have even noticed the difference. 

As for the digitally rejuvenated Leia, this was done, obviously, before Carrie Fisher's tragic death just after Christmas. The producers had no way of knowing that what was conceived as a cute throwback, was to become a touching memorial - or at least it should have been but for the clearly awkward, off putting and stiff computer animation. At least with Tarkin, the character is rigid by nature, so that he walks around ramrod straight is in line with who he is. Here, Leia's face just doesn't look right, and her movements are stilted, unnatural. 

The only saving grace is that she's only on screen for a matter of seconds. Tarkin, on the other hand, is a major player in the story, and while the work done on recreating Peter Cushing's features are better than the work done on behalf of Fisher, I was always aware that I was looking at body double with Cushing's face superimposed over the real actor's face. This took me too far outside the movie to really take it in, and suspend belief, which is essential for a fantasy film. 

I said before that I liked Rogue One, and I kind of did. The action set pieces are well done, the effects are what you would expect in a film like this. I guess I would say, if you haven't seen it yet, wait for the video and a rainy day.

This has been an admittedly scattershot review, in large part because this was a scattershot film. But I will revisit Rogue One again soon to talk about two deeper aspects of the movie: it's attempt at a sort of realism within the fantasy genre, and the theme of self sacrifice for a cause. I believe the one was a misstep (or a half misstep), the other a missed opportunity. And I'll tell you why, coming up soon.

A Happy, Blessed New Year to All

I'm not one to make New Year's resolutions. Not that there's anything wrong with them, it's just that I tend to follow the liturgical calendar and make Advent and Lenten resolutions. Rather than treating them like 4 week or 40 day commitments, I try to make them opportunities to form good habits that will carry through beyond Christmas and Easter. Like the traditional New Year's promises, these resolutions don't always hold, but I have found that they tend to have a positive residual effect. I try to make a daily Holy Hour during Lent, for instance. While I haven't been consistent with it during the rest of the year, I do find that my prayer life in general is more consistent, and I have greater fidelity to the regular rhythm of prayer I'm called to since I began this practice several years ago. So make a resolution today, by all means, but try to take the long view on it.

For 2017 I've made a very lose plan, but I'm not going to go into that right now. I will say that I do have hopes for this blog. I generally don't make long term plans, or work out what I'm going to write when. The posts on the O Antiphons I did last month was the first time I started a series and actually followed through, which is a minor source of pride right now. I have no big project for 2017, except to focus more on the Blessed Mother. I feel that I've neglected her to a certain extent, and Don Bosco wouldn't like that. 

It's not just because I fear the disapproval of Don Bosco that I've made this resolution. 2017 is the centenary of the Marian apparitions at Fatima, in Portugal. It may be typically American, but I've always been attracted to this particular apparition of Our Lady because I saw the 1952 dramatic movie, The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima, on TV when I was a kid. It ran regularly on local television, especially on Saturday afternoons. I'm sure if I'd seen The Song of Bernadette first I'd have been attracted to that appearance, but there it is. 

As an adult I've tended to distance myself from Fatima, though. Of the three major apparitions approved by the Church: Guadalupe, Lourdes and Fatima, this last one is the most apocalyptic in tenor. I've got nothing against apocalyptic - I happen to think meditations on the End Times are under appreciated nowadays. Still, what I think of as fringe Catholic movements have glommed on to these apparitions. They obsess over whether the universal Consecration to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, which Our Lady called for, was done properly, or over what the proper interpretation of the Secrets entrusted to the three children is, or if all the Secrets have actually been revealed. These things, in and of themselves, aren't a big problem. It's that some of these Fatima groups - and I have to stress some - are extensions of certain traditionalist movements that call into question the reforms of Vatican II, deny the validity of the "new" Mass and claim that the popes since at least John XXIII have been antipopes. These false and reckless claims I totally reject. My mistake was allowing these false prophets to distract me from really taking in the Fatima message, an error I hope to further rectify during this year. 

I don't plan on this being "All Fatima, All the Time" in 2017. I want to highlight various aspects of the Blessed Mother's role in the mystery of Salvation. There is at lest one feast or memorial of Mary celebrated each month, so writing about these as they come up is the way I'm going to approach the task. That said, I will place a special emphasis on the apparitions of Fatima. They have global implications, but the Blessed Mother makes an urgent appeal for personal conversion and repentance to all of us. 

I'll be writing more over the course of the year, but for now here is a link to a special site sponsored by EWTN that gives a solid foundation on the apparitions. 

May God bless all of you in this New Year. Through the intercession of Mary, the Mother of God, may you enjoy peace, prosperity and protection from all evil throughout this year.

Here is a video from the Apostleship of Prayer for January 1, that talks of Mary, and the World Day of Prayer for Peace.