Saint Philip Neri

Mary Help of Christians Prayer

Mary Help of Christians and Saint John Bosco

A Wrap Up and Personal Farewell to Mad Men, Part 2

Taking up where I left off last time, Mad Men's last episode finds Don Draper on the road, feeling disconnected, displaced and still running from his past life. He lands at a Northern California crypto New Age style retreat. He goes, dragged by Stephanie, his "niece," in the hopes it will let him open up and come to grips with what is eating at his soul. 

I once described Don's journey as a descent down a corkscrew, and in a way the series finale proves the point. But not only does he go down the slide, he goes up it as well, only to slide right back again.   He's disappeared before, gone on benders, fallen into deep existential despair, contemplated running away for good, and, at the very least, implicitly considered suicide. He experiences all these things in the last ten minutes of the show, reaching his lowest point when he's found slumped down at a pay phone, paralyzed with grief, by a hippy. But, like Stan Rizzo put it, he always comes back, he's a survivor, and, I would add, is usually better, professionally at least, than before, which our ending seems to indicate will happen yet again.

Don always returns refreshed and ready to do corporate battle, but still labors under the same assumptions. He still believes that just moving forward, forgetting the past, even to the point of total personal reinvention is the answer to life's dilemmas. When Peggy secretly has Pete's baby (one of the more bazar story lines from early on), he tells her to get back to work and live as if it didn't happen. When Lane Pryce gets caught tampering with company funds, Don gives him the chance to resign gracefully so as to avoid being fired. Don lets him know that the toughest part is over: all he has to do now is start over with a clean slate. When Stephanie faces a similar dilemma to Peggy's, he tells her to just keep on moving forward; the farther you get away from the event the easier it gets to forget.

While Peggy does move on and become a successful copywriter, she is still haunted by the decision to give up the baby. She has a series of relationships that fail in part because she wants a life partner, but also wants her job; a balancing act difficult for a woman in any age, but especially in the 1960's. Lane, as a proud Briton, knows that there is no such thing as reinvention where he comes from. He's from an upperclass, prominent family, so going the Mayor of Casterbridge route isn't an option. Besides, he tried living a double life in America and the long arm of British manners stretched across the pond by way of his domineering father to stop him. To return to England under these circumstances isn't an option, so he hangs himself. Stephanie knows that Don has been on a treadmill his whole adult life and basically tells him to stop believing his own line of bull.

This is not to say that Don is unchanged over the course of the series. The Don Draper of the pilot is a  nihilistic hedonist living a complete lie, with little or no remorse. He softens somewhat as the seasons move on, but he remains, as his used and discarded secretary Allison proclaims, not a good person. But the Don of more recent vintage does try to make his marriage to Megan work, even after it's clearly not going to. He goes to Joan's apartment to tell her not to debase herself so the company could land the Jaguar account. He mentors Peggy and even tries a hand at fathering his children. He has many flaws still, and numerous failures, but with the big exception of his affair with Sylvia Rosen, his sins are often misguided attempts at setting things right. I'm thinking of his keeping his work situation a secret from Megan, not to hide an affair like she thinks but to give him time to get the job back and act like nothing happened (true to his philosophy of life). Or antagonizing the Jaguar dealer to settle a professional and personal score. For all his progress, any change in his inner life is small, but ironically significant.

Drama is about conflict and change. Mad Men had plenty of conflict, but many questioned if the characters, especially Don, had changed any by the end. I would say that the answer is both yes and no. In the series finale each major character gets their jumping off point to the next phase of their lives. Joan starts her own commercial production company, which costs her romance. Peggy ends up staying at McCann, like her head hunter told her to, but finally finds love with Stan (someone who really understands her). Pete gets back with Trudy and jets off to Wichita for job at Learjet and a second chance marriage. Roger marries Marie Calvet, Megan's mother, presumably cashing out at McCann and living in Montreal. Ted Chaough simply fades into the wood work at the new agency, happy to be just another piece of the furniture. In way, it's not that any of them changed, but that they came to know who they were and what they really wanted. Rather than fighting it, they went with it.

Of course Joan wants love, but she's also come to understand that she's always had a passion for the office. She has talents, experience and business acumen, and wants to take her shot at building something while she has the chance. With Stan's help, Peggy understands that she loves her job but really does want more than just a career. She may not be able to have it all, but she can have what she really wants and needs. Pete is tired of living his father's mistakes simply because he's expected to. Whether he and Trudy will make it work is anyone's guess, but they know that they're better together than apart. Roger wants to experience life, but  knows the Dionysian dream of the hippies is a dead end. So he finds an age appropriate partner who's still nuts enough to make life interesting and drops out in style. And Ted, well, he was burnt out being in the lead, and now gets to put it on autopilot, enjoying the perks of the biz while not having to carry so much of the load.

And so what about Don? He has the cathartic moment hearing the voice of his fellow office drone speaking the words of alienation and lovelessness he holds in his own heart at the group session in the commune. The next morning, as he greets the sun, it's more than implied that he's thinking up a new Coke ad campaign during morning meditation, as opposed to finding inner peace and detachment. So Don hasn't changed then; he's the same grasping capitalist swine he always was? Maybe. The real question is, has Don come to accept who he really is: an ad man who loves his job, who's had a difficult life but really did make something out of himself? He's not a great father, but has made progress in that area. Now that Betty is dying can he make further strides? Or will he continue on these spirals up and down the corkscrew slide of self loathing and self destruction? Will he continue to lie to himself, believing that just moving ahead, acting like the past hasn't happened is the answer, when it's cause him and the people around him so much pain?

The world may never come to know the answer to these questions, but it's great debating them.

As for me, there is so much more I could say, and maybe I will (I see I mentioned nothing about Betty or Sally). Maybe next week, though. Then I'll put on my personal feelings to go along with the analysis.

A Wrap Up and Personal Farewell to Mad Men, Part 1

While my love of cinema has never abated, my enthusiasm for its less artistically ambitious stepchild Television has waned considerably since my misspent youth as a TV junkie. Outside of sporting events I don't watch much of it anymore. So that I became so enthralled with the now concluded series Mad Men is a surprise to me. This is the only show that I've seen every episode of, and since watching it in "real time" in 2012, I've never missed a Sunday night telecast: a level of personal commitment to a show unprecedented in my 48 years on this earth.

My indoctrination came in late 2011 while the show was on its long, controversial hiatus. I binge watched the first four seasons on Netflix pretty much on a whim. I'd heard about the show, but it being off the air for over a year at that point, it fell off my radar. I started seeing articles about the show's return and became intrigued by the 1960's setting, how Matthew Weiner and his crew were obsessive about detail, and decided to take a look. The sixties was the era I was born into, and have always had a fascination with. From that point, I never looked back.

I did have to do some soul searching though. In many respects Mad Men was a soap opera: one with fantastic writing and production values, but a soap opera nonetheless. So why did I like it so much? What it came down to was that it was one of the few programs on TV dealing with ideas. It was a soap opera at times, but the characters were well drawn. Weiner tried to make sure that even minor characters had a back story so that they weren't just serving someone else' motivation. It did give you a view into the advertising industry of there 60's, but it wasn't a procedural drama or antiquarian exercise. In many ways the campaigns they were working on were unimportant. The important things were the big issues: sexism, racism (which some critics feel they did't handle enough), changing sexual mores and religious values, and the evils of capitalistic consumerism. But it also hit deeply personal issues of self identity, guilt, isolation, alienation and the meaning of life in general. So, for me, the historic details are what drew me in, the melodrama that made me feel a tad guilty, and the overall depth of characters and themes that kept me and drew me in.

So what about the the finale, and the last half season?

I'll hit the second point first, just so I can get the criticism out of the way. I do believe that splitting up the last season into two parts hurt the overall flow of the story. I'm not up on the economics of it all, and my understanding is that this was primarily a money issue for the network, AMC, but the whole thing would have been better served by two full seasons or just one, unified season seven. Last year the show was on it's typical roll, and then it felt like it had an artificially quick wrap up. Mad Men was always a slow moving ship. The themes and story lines unfolded little by little, almost imperceptibly. Many times we'd be getting down to the last five or ten minutes of an episode and I wouldn't be sure what the story was about or where it was heading. Most network TV is predictable; you can drop in at almost any point and figure out what's going on. Not with Mad Men; you had to watch from beginning to end to get it. And increasingly, as the seasons progressed,a viewer needed to have seen it from the first episode to understand what was happening in a given moment. Each show may have had a self contained story, but the subtext was vital, and not being in the know would leave you as stranded as Don at a rural bus stop with just the cloths on his back and a Sears bag of dirty laundry.

For Season 7.5 the issue was time, and tying off old strings while keeping things fresh by introducing some new ones. Looking back I can see what Weiner was up to in the second half, but his meandering ways were at odds with the urgency of the ticking clock counting down to the final scene. Many fans were disconcerted about the introduction of the Diana Baur character (Elizabeth Reaser) as a new love interest for Don. With only a few episodes left we wanted to see more of Joan, Peggy or Pete. There are only so many more opportunities to savor a Roger Sterling zinger. Even another Bert Cooper hallucination would be welcomed. All many of us were asking was, "who is this woman and why should I care?" And, "can we get back to Mrs. Rosen, please."

In spite of the hemming and hawing, and as much as I hate to admit it, it fit: Diana represented many things. My guess is that, because of her physical resemblance, she was the ghost of both Rachel Menken (Maggie Siff) and Sylvia Rosen (Linda Cardinale), two of Don's lost, idealized loves. She also is a female version of Don: a person with a past she is running from, riddled by guilt and remorse. Unlike Don she's not trying to forget or reinvent herself, at least not in the same way. Don grew up in rural poverty, living out his adolescence in and around a brothel. He swindles and cons his way into a middle class, and later upper class existence. All the while hiding behind a stolen identity, trying desperately to blot out any remembrance of Dick Whitman. Based on Don's visit to Diana's former Wisconsin home, she is escaping a comfortable middle class life. She goes downward, living in squalid SRO's and working in roach infested greasy spoons. She even engages in prostitution, albeit inadvertently, mistaking an extravagant tip from Roger for solicitation by Don. She is descending into hell, or at least purgatory, running away from the comfortable life she knew, but never allowing herself to forget why she's there.

Don becomes obsessed with her. He sees a kindred spirit: a wounded soul like his own running from the past. But she has no interest escaping her final judgement. When she moves, leaving no forwarding address, he goes off to look for her (his reasons for bouncing from McCann-Erickson to go on yet another extended, unauthorized road trip are manifold, though). He gets to Wisconsin assuming not one, but two more false identities in the course of a few minutes, to try and get information as to Diana's whereabouts. But the ex-husband sees through it, knows he's a fake, sternly sending him on his way.

Now his journey is not so much about finding a particular woman as it is about, once again, trying to find out who he really is and where he belongs. He passes through a small plains town and sees a glimpse of what things might have been like if he had lived life as Dick Whitman; idyllic at first, but then he's run out of town when he's falsely accused of stealing by the same folks that seemed so amenable before. After giving his car away to the young grifter who set him up, he finds his way to Utah, helping out a couple gear heads getting their hot rod ready for a competition. They're appreciative, but a little suspicious of a stranger with no car who knows more about motors then they do. When he finds out that his first wife, Betty, has terminal lung cancer his immediate response is to want to go "home" and take custody of the children. But neither Betty nor their daughter Sally thinks this is a good idea, and tell him to stay away. He visits California next, dropping in on Stephanie, the real Don Draper's niece, who, after greeting him warmly, also looks with suspicion on his unexpected arrival.

This theme of Don's displacement was prominent through out the season. Two brief visits to Betty's new home and family situation makes it clear that he is the odd man out, not only in Betty's life but in his children's lives as well. When he visits the now deceased Rachel Menken's apartment where relatives and neighbors are sitting shiva, her sister is none too happy to see in the flesh a man she had only heard about. She asks a question that would be echoed either literally or in subtext throughout these seven episodes, "what are you doing here?" He more and more feels as if he has no home, and isn't wanted. He's not even at home in his own apartment, since second wife Megan surreptitiously took all the furniture on her way out of their marriage. The one place that wants him, McCann-Erickson, Don wants no part of. He's a trophy for this giant firm, one stag's head mounted on the wall among many others. So he bounces, mid presentation, to take to the road, ostensibly to find Diana, but really, once again, to try and find himself and where he belongs.

I'll never get all my thoughts on Don out, let alone touch on the other cast of characters and their fates, in one post. So I'll end it here, and save it for next time.

"Mad Men" Finale Quick Take

I had been preparing a post for last week as a sort of lead in to the big Mad Men finale last night, but pastoral concerns kept me from engaging in my favorite leisure time activity, writing. So just a quick take on last night's Mad Men wrap up. A more detailed reflection to follow.

Matthew Weiner has said that he always knew what the last shot of Don Draper would be, though he wasn't always sure how he was going to get there. Well, our man in creative, sitting lotus position on a Northern California cliff overlooking the Pacific, facing east to meet the sunrise, eyes closed with a Mona Lisa grin, letting out a heart felt "Ommmmm," was quite a sight. So, Mr. Materialistic Consumerism is embracing Eastern Mysticism and letting go of his attachment to the material world so as to find inner peace and enlightenment? Not so much. As the coda more than implies, he's thinking up an ad campaign for Coca Cola.

And not just any ad campaign. Probably the most iconic, true to it's period, exploitative of it's period and successful ad campaign in the history of advertising.

Many commentators have said that the great theme of Mad Men revolves around the issue of whether people can truly change. One can make an argument that all the main characters here do experience some change in their seven season journey (ten years in the show's story line). But, while Don didn't die as many had predicted, and he does seem to be happy, he really is the same as he was when the show started: running from his past, and believing that running from one's past is the answer to life's problems, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. And most of all, he is the job. Even in the midst of this last half season where he seems to be stripping off the fake self to get back to who he really is, it proves to be a failed project. He may have changed names, stealing a dead man's identity, it was always a paper identity. Don Draper is Dick Whitman; a hustler looking for an angle. Don Draper does find peace by embracing who he really is, but who he is is the same person he always was: a high priced snake oil salesman who's never satisfied until he gets 100 percent.

As for the parting shot and coda: brilliant. It's ironic, and brings things to a close while still leaving room for our imagination to wonder where things go from here: for Don, certainly, but for the others as well. More on Don, and the rest, soon.

Fr. James Martin, SJ on Saint Joseph: A Hidden Life from "Who Cares About The Saints?"

The Feast of St. Joseph the Worker | Columbia Catholic Ministry

Joseph the Worker from AOP

Fr. Robert Barron on the Legacy of Cardinal Francis George

Fr. Robert Barron on the Resurrection of Jesus

Fr. Michael Gaitley, MIC: The Divine Mercy Devotion

Here is a brief explanation of the Divine Mercy devotion, and the feast that we celebrate this coming Sunday. Mercy Sunday is a rather recent observance, established by St. Pope John Paul II in 2000 (though Fr. Michael would point out that the connection between the Easter Octave day and the theme of Christ's mercy goes back centuries). I have found that many people are deeply in love with this devotion, but the clergy can be a bit suspicious. I have to admit I was one of them, but the more I've come to understand it the more I see this is a valuable spiritual weapon the Lord has given us. So I encourage everyone out there to taker advantage of the many graces Our Lord wants to give us through this powerful devotion.

A.D.: The Bible Continues // Mini-Review

I did catch the first installment of the new Roma Downey-Mark Burnett produced Biblical TV production, A.D.: The Bible Continues. The massive success of 2013's The Bible (broadcast in the U.S. on The History Channel) and last year's Son of God, the theatrical release culled from the original miniseries, has won the wife and husband production team a slot on NBC. I want to watch a few weeks more before giving a full blown analysts, but my first impressions are positive, with some of the same apprehensions I had with the original production.

On the positive side, the production values are better than we saw with The Bible (obviously high ratings and solid box office breeds bigger subsequent budgets). While still not up to feature film standards, they do try to tell the story artfully. The story itself is told in a straight forward, un-ironic way: while characters may express doubts, the presentation itself accepts that Jesus is who he says he is. While the Jewish authorities are clearly on the wrong side of history, they are not completely villainized. They are presented as men walking a tight rope between being true to their faith and avoiding giving the Roman occupiers an excuse to crack down. In other words they are treated like human beings and not mustache twirling criminals.

On the negative side the first episode (of 12) drops us right into the middle of Good Friday without any real context of how we got there. The producers' goal is to make a series in the style of Game of Thrones, that will draw a broad audience, including the un-evangelized, and continue with 12 new episodes a year for seasons to come. I certainly hope they get their wish, but I'm afraid that the viewer really does need to have some knowledge of the Biblical sources to really understand what's going on. As Christians we sometimes take for granted that people are familiar with Jesus' story and why he died on the cross. But the truth is that people who grew up in other religious traditions or, as is increasingly the case, no faith tradition at all, will probably be left scratching their head a bit.

I'll be back in a few weeks with some more, again, I want to see more. Episode 1 leaves us with an empty tomb cliff hanger, I'm guessing designed to draw back people who may not know how things go from here. Again, I think their aim is true, but only a few more weeks of tracking the ratings (which by all accounts were solid for Sunday's premiere), to see if they hit the target.

Mad Men Season 7.2: Could it be a Sign?

Don Draper standing in the shadow of love lost, and the life not lived

The second installment of Mad Men's farewell season has begun, leaving the exact time and date of our reentry a bit vague. I originally assumed we were still in the summer of 1969, but a presidential speech playing in the background indicates we've moved ahead to the spring of '70.  Other tip offs that time has elapsed are some misadvised mustaches, longer sideburns and slightly wilder hair for the men. Otherwise things have flowed logically from last years midseason finale. SC&P has been acquired by McCann, and both Pete and Ted are back from California. While on the surface the larger parent company seems to be letting their new acquisition alone as promised, the corporate overlords manage to settle some old scores, as we shall see. Don, on his way to divorce number 2, is back to his old womanizing ways. At the same time he tells stories of his youth growing up poor in a bordello with panache and a sense of comic nostalgia that belies his obsessive secretiveness from years past. Yes, Don seems, if not reborn, reinvigorated and comfortable in his own skin now that he's fully back after his half a year exile from the company.

But, as you might guess, all is not well bellow the surface. After Don has a dream about an old flame from Season 1, Rachel Katz, nee Menken, he decides to reach out to her to help solve a problem with a client, only to find out that she died suddenly the week before. She had been on his mind even before this, as evidenced by his previous fascination with a vaguely similar looking brunet waitress at a greasy spoon.

At the same time Ken Cosgrove is forced out of the company by an executive at McCann as payback for past slights, both professional and personal. Only the night before his wife tried to talk him into quitting to pursue the writing career he's always wanted. Her father is retiring from his job at Dow, and she feels that Ken shouldn't wait so long to leave a job he hates to go after the life he really wants. When he speaks to Don after the sacking, he tells him that he's not really mad or distressed, but sees the confluence of his father-in-law's retirement, his wife's advise and being fired, all within 24 hours, as a sign that he needs to go out and live the life not lived.

Don begins to see his looking for Rachel in a random waitress' eyes, his dream about her and her untimely death as a sign as well. There is no doubt that he has often thought of her over the years. A few season's back they ran into each other in a restaurant, and the brief scene effectively conveyed the messages that she had found a personal happiness that was still eluding him, and that she was the one he could have found his own happiness with. He goes to her apartment where her family and friends are sitting shiva to pay his respects. But her sister, who knows of their romantic past, is suspicious as to Don's motives. When Don tells her that he just wanted to know what was going on in her life, she tells him that her dead sister "lived the life she wanted to live."

Don is left on the outside looking in as he stands alone in the vestibule as the traditional prayers of mourning begin to be chanted in Hebrew. He isn't allowed to actively participate in the mourning rituals because he's not Jewish. But there is a sense that he's separated from Rachel by more than religion, or even death. She rejected Don's cynical world view and followed a more traditional path of marriage and family, while still being active in the running of the family department store. She knew what she wanted and who she was, staying true to that until the end.  Don mourns the passing of possibly the one woman in the show's 10 year story line he actually loved, as well wondering if his hopes of true happiness died with her.

The implication is clear that for all the new found peace he's found with his past, as well has his professional resurgence, Don is still not living the life he wants. And he's not the only one. In spite of the financial windfall she got from the McCann buyout, as well as her increased responsibilities at the firm, Joan still can't get any respect. Peggy also seems comfortable at the office, but there is an aching for someone to share her life with. When love seems to fall into her lap, she's apprehensive. As she tells her prospective beau who playfully calls her old fashioned for not wanting to give in on the first date, she's tried "new fashioned" and didn't necessarily find it better.  Life couldn't be better for our anti-heroes, but there is still this lingering feeling that there is something more out there.

The episode is bookended by Miss Peggy Lee singing Is That All There Is, her 1969 hit that's style nonetheless hearkens back to the show's early 1960's origin. And while some might call the song selection a bit on the nose, it's relative obscurity coupled with Lee's knowing, world weary delivery makes it inspired. We are coming to the end of an era, as AMC's painfully on the nose promotional campaign reminds us, and everyone still seems to be taking one step forward and two steps back on the road to happiness. While the signs are not clear yet, I don't think we're looking at a total Don Draper crash and burn, but he still seems a long way from finding the peace he's been looking for.

Easter Sunday from AOP

Good Friday Reflection: From the Cross...From Salt+Light

Holy Thursday Reflection: When We Eat this Bread...From Salt+Light

Holy Week 2015: Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion

Prior to the liturgical reforms after the Second Vatican Council Passion Sunday and Palm Sunday were two separate observances. Passion Sunday kicked off a two week period leading up to Easter known as Passiontide; a sort of season within the season of Lent that focused more specifically on the events leading up to Jesus' death. The two respective observances have now been combined into our present day Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion that begins Holy Week. Though the concept of a distinctive quasi liturgical time embedded into Lent was eliminated, shadows of the past still remain. Starting last Sunday the priest is to use the First Preface of the Lord's Passion at Mass, and the Gospel readings reflect heighten tensions, zeroing in on the controversies and plots leading to Jesus' eventual arrest and execution. Previously we've been preoccupied more with the general need to do penance and acts of charity, as well as hearing about the signs Jesus performed that show him to be the Messiah, and the inability or unwillingness of the people of his time to recognize them as such.

Today we have this double observance of Jesus' triumphal entrance into Jerusalem and his ignominious death five days later. And what a juxtaposition this is. One moment shows Jesus at the pinnacle of his popularity; a conquering hero of sorts, who many are ready to declare king. The next we hear the story of his betrayal by Judas, abandonment by the rest of the 12, including Peter, and his tortuous death. It is this week when we remember Jesus' suffering and death that makes Christianity so unique, as far as I can tell. The idea that God become man and suffered and died is a stumbling block for many, both deists and atheists alike. And often times Christians themselves seem to want to distance themselves from the cross and it's deeper meaning for us. But it is in the cross that we glory, it is in the cross that we have our true victory.

A reason that the High Priest rips his garments when Jesus declares that he is not only the Messiah, but the Son of God, is because he knew what that meant. For the Jews the great profession of faith is that God is One. His is higher than the heavens and deeper than the seas. He is the perfection of being that can not be encapsulated or comprehended. And so he is. But in Jesus we have God humbling himself, taking the form of a slave, as St. Paul puts it. We would say that in Jesus the unity of God is not disrupted, but the great trinitarian mystery revealed.

Along with the notion that God is indeed higher than the mountains and deeper than the oceans; unfathomable in the riches of his simplicity of being, is that God walked our streets. He suffered our temptations. He experienced rejection and misunderstanding. In the person of Jesus of Nazareth he was the victim of the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. He ended his earthly life nailed to a cross naked, bleeding and abandoned: a stumbling block for both atheists and theists of various stripes alike. But for those who believe the cross is the true tree of life.

But for us who believe it's also a reminder that God isn't far away. He is beyond our comprehension but our sufferings and difficulties are not beyond his. We can never say that God doesn't understand us. Not that he needed to be incarnate to understand us and our lives. In a way I think he did it for us, so we wouldn't have that excuse for doubting. I think it's why we have the sacraments. God could forgive us by our asking for it in our hearts, but maybe we would have doubts about his mercy. But when the priest says, "I absolve you of your sins," we have no need to doubt; his forgiveness is made concrete for us. He told us he would be with us until the end of time, and maybe we would believe that. But when we walk into a church and see the red lamp by the tabernacle, or the Blessed Sacrament in the monstrance on the altar, or receive the Eucharist at Mass we know he is truly with us, waking with us, one with us.

As we walk with the Lord this week, remembering his passion, death and Resurrection, may we never forget that he is with us in our everyday passions leading us to the glory of his Risen life.

Stuck on a False Narrative

As you may of noticed, I haven't exactly been hitting the keys over the last couple of months. But I'm back, and have a few thoughts on 50 Shades of Grey and why faith doesn't seem to matter to so many people.

50 Shades of What Ever 

Unless you've been under a rock of late, you know that the film adaptation of the best selling book 50 Shades of Grey was released in theaters this past Friday. In the week or so leading up to the movie's release I saw posts galore on Facebook from (mainly) women of faith decrying the film for exploiting and degrading women. Some of these posts were people writing in their own words the feelings of disgust they felt at the movie and the books, others were links to Catholic or Evangelical sites covering the story and expressing their outrage at the film in logical, orderly prose.

It reminded me somewhat of what happened when The Da Vinci Code came out a decade ago. In that case a sort of cottage industry grew up of authors writing books and putting together videos exposing the historical and theological errors of the Dan Brown pot boiler. The phenomenon came and went, and I'm not sure people were swayed one way or the other by the catholic response. Those who were inclined to believe the narrative of a purely human Jesus who secretly married and had children and a corrupt Church covering up the truth proposed by the movie were not going to be moved by the arguments made by believers, and those who know the truth weren't going to go see the movie to begin with. As for the great middle who went to see the movie as pure entertainment, not knowing or caring about the controversy, they very well may have been swayed to believe the narrative presented by the film. But not because we didn't make good enough arguments or present history accurately enough, rather because we didn't come back with a competing, and just as compelling narrative.

Fr. Barron, in a video on C.S. Lewis, points out that Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien set about to use their fantasies to present a competing narrative to the prevalent secular materialist mind set that had already taken hold in the mid twentieth century. While both men may not have used that language, they understood the power of myth to shape minds and world views. In recasting the story of creation, fall and redemption in the form of an adventure story they were attempting to "evangelize the imagination," to use Fr. Barron's words. The problem today is that we lack this creative imagination. We have ceded the arts to the postmoderns, relying strictly on dry argumentation to get our point across.

The answer is not to give up on scholarship and traditional apologetics, but to use those tools while reclaiming our seat at the creative table as well. There are traditional Christians trying to make movies and write literature, but they range from noble failures to out and out artistic train wrecks. Films like 2006's Bella and (to a lesser extent) Gimme Shelter from two years ago give me hope, but we have a long way to go. What separates those two movies for me is that, while both were made from a faith based perspective, neither took for granted that the viewer was a believer. Both had pro-life themes, but didn't villainize the other side. Both tried to change the narrative while acknowledging that theirs was not the dominant one. Too many faith based films take the truth of their position and the sympathy of the audience for granted. What this leads to is a sort of cinematic echo chamber where we end up talking to ourselves rather than cinema being an avenue to engage the culture and effectively challenge the prevailing narrative. Until we do that we should expect more Da Vinci Codes and 50 Shades coming at us unabated.

The Grand Narrative Scapegoat: Humanae Vitae

One of the great cultural narratives that shades how many Catholics view the world is that the great exodus out of the Church began with Paul VI's 1968 encyclical Humanae Vitae, which reaffirmed the traditional Christian teaching on artificial contraception. The narrative goes that Catholics left the Church over this issue, and those that remain simply ignore the restriction on contraceptives. Unless we become more "realistic" about this and other sexual matters, like homosexuality, we will continue to see parishes empty out, or so the narrative goes. The narrative is not completely wrong (I've met people who say they stopped practicing their faith over the teaching on contraceptives, and I know gays who struggle with the issue of faith and sexuality). This narrative though is incomplete, and a tad outdated.

Here's the problem: there is evidence that the exodus from organized religion in the United States, among both Catholics and Protestants, started as early as 1965. Contraception is one issue that drove people away, but other issues were and still are facing the Church as well. We are struggling now with the issue divorced and remarried Catholics and how they are to be cared for, as if this is a new issue effecting Sunday attendance at Mass. But, while the divorce rate exploded after 1970, statistics show a steady increase in the divorce rate through the 1950's and 60's before taking off in the 70's.  It's easy to say that the drop off in Mass participation is a result of the Church's "intransigents" on these and other issues of sexual morality. But how do we explain that from roughly 1975 on the percentage of the U.S. population identifying themselves as Main Line Protestants dramatically fell off the table. Our separated brothers and sisters long ago liberalized their teachings on human sexuality (the Church of England modified their teaching on contraception in the early 1930's, and today only 36% of British men in a recent survey identify themselves as Christians). Many ecclesial communities have also adopted women clergy, and in some cases have accepted openly homosexual prelates into their ranks. Yet none of these innovations, some of which have been called for by progressive Catholics for decades, has done anything to stem the tide out of their pews. Why is it that we think following such policies will work for us when they haven't worked for others?

In insisting on this widely accepted narrative we've missed the forest for the trees. The changing mores on human sexuality reflects a deeper philosophical change in the culture. Accepting Christ means saying no to something else. It's Jesus who puts the conditions on us, not the other way around. He told the rich young man to give up his riches, but the man couldn't do it, going away sad. But we can take out "riches" and plug in any number of material things or willful desires: it could be that beach house we have or always wanted, it could be a relationship with a person we genuinely love, it could be freedom of movement or it could be the choice of career. It could mean sacrificing sexual activity. The injunction to pick up the cross and carry it everyday will always be at the heart of the Gospel message, and that is the stumbling block, not divorce, contraception or acceptance of gay relationships as normative. Those are symptoms of a larger problem.

We live in an intellectually fractured age. We live a strange mix of a sort of functional libertarianism that still wants big government when it wants it, but otherwise individuals want to be left alone. We care passionately about the rights of sexual minorities and animals, but care little for the poor and marginalized. We reject organized religion but are seeking some spiritual connection by way of yoga, eastern mysticism, self help gurus and, increasingly, the occult. Most believe in some sort of afterlife, but don't see the importance of funeral rites or prayers for the dead. How we celebrate funerals, apart from the formal prayers and liturgical gestures, no longer reflects a hope in the life to come, but is strictly a remembrance of what has ended. I'd say we've become like the ancient Egyptians, who buried loved ones with coins and food for the journey over the river of the dead, but this practice at least looked forward to a life to come. In our case I've seen bottles of scotch, cartons of cigarettes and even scratch off lottery tickets placed in caskets where rosary beads use to be. Everything is about the here and now, and the creature comforts the dearly departed once enjoyed, not the eternal joy we hope for him now.

We could clear the decks of all traditionally held sexual mores, apart from rape which seems to be the only universally accepted restriction on sexual activity, and people still would not return to church. Why? Because the problem isn't sex; it's the prevailing spirit of secularism, materialism, consumerism and radical individualism: a collective world view of which the sexual revolution is a symptom.

If Humanae Vitae didn't exist we'd have to invent it, because without that narrative we'd have to face the fact that we tried to read the signs of the times after the Council, but failed, or more accurately only partially succeeded. We certainly failed in understanding what the entire concept of being able to read the prevailing narrative meant. We thought we were being called to spot trends, latch onto fads and ride political waves. We became locked onto micro movements and missed the big picture. If there was a big take way, it was for us to join in on the secular humanist parade as opposed to offering a counter narrative of Christian humanism. Unless we step back and see the big picture of what being a disciple of Christ is all about we will continue to stumble through history blind. Unless we really understand what the Christian narrative is at it's core, and express it, and really live it, radically, we should not hope that the tide will be turned any time soon.

Jingo Propaganda, Patriotic Salute or Cautionary Tale?: "American Sniper" // Movie Review

It's was difficult for me to walk into director Clint Eastwood's latest film, American Sniper, and not have the controversy it has inspired embed preconceived notions in my head. Progressives criticize the movie as jingoistic propaganda, glorifying the misadventure that was the Second Gulf War, and militarism in general. Conservatives counter that such criticism is rooted in the liberal Hollywood establishment's hatred of the military and, by extension, patriotism. I do believe that some of the left wing backlash against this wildly popular film has to do with Eastwood's President Obama mocking "empty chair" routine from the 2012 Republican Convention. And this is not the first time Ol' Clint has been caught in this type of political crossfire. Over forty years ago Dirty Harry, in which he played the iconic title role, was accused of promoting fascist sensibilities. After watching  American Sniper for myself, I think both liberals and conservatives have the movie wrong. While the ending coda does wrap itself in the flag, most of this film shows the effects of war, and it's demand to be a human killing machine, on on the people who participate in it, and their families at home. Far from being a recruitment tool, this is a hard look at the hell that is combat and it's consequences.

American Sniper follows the story of the late Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper), a would be Texas cowboy who joins the Navy SEALS after the 1998 U.S. embassy bombings in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam. Early in life he's taught by his strict father to neither be a submissive sheep nor a predatory wolf, but rather a protective sheep dog. This protector instinct serves him as he becomes, during four tours in Iraq, the most lethal sniper in American history.

In real life, during interviews, Kyle never wavered in the belief that he had done his patriotic duty, and his only regret was not protecting more American and allied lives. But in the film, based on his autobiography and made with the cooperation of his widow Taya Renae Kyle (played here by Sienna Miller), we see a man more conflicted. His words constantly speak to duty, honor, God, country and family. But after his first taste of killing, which involves a harrowing choice, he angrily snaps at his observer for an enthusiastic congratulation, belying a deep seated understanding of the ugly, if in his mind necessary, assignment he is on.

The internal conflict Kyle experiences, along with a certain disconnect he has with those around him who are not quite as convinced of the correctness of the mission as he is is the real story of the film. At one point the mother of a close friend who is killed in combat reads a letter from her son expressing his disillusion with the Iraq War during the fallen soldier's funeral. When Taya questions Chris on the ride home about the letter, he says, in essence, that it was his comrade's lack of faith in the mission that killed him as much as the enemy bullet. She looks at him like she can't believe that Kyle actually believes that. While he insists that he is the same man, and that war has not effected him, his time between tours shows him to be edgy, hyper sensitive to his surroundings and at times withdrawn.

Once State side for good Kyle totally misreads a situation at a child's birthday party, resulting in an embarrassing overreaction. He goes to visit a VA psychologist, who informs him that he's been credited with over 160 kills in roughly 1,000 days of deployment in Iraq. Still not acknowledging that these things have had any effect on him, the therapist brings him to the floor dedicated to the men maimed by battle. Eastwood uses actual veterans in these scenes, showing the real life results of IED's and roadside bombs. This begins Kyle's work, giving assistance to his fellow veteran who returned with external scars to go along with the internal ones both bear.

In many ways it's too bad that American Sniper was made as a biopic. Much has come out since the film's release questioning it's accuracy, especially as it relates to the real Chris Kyle's integrity and honesty. I'll put aside the whole debate over whether snipers are hero's or cowards: they're a standard part of military strategy used by all sides since people figured out how to use gun powder to propel a bullet. They're no more cowardly then members of an artillery unit or a missile operator. But the film does portray our hero as exactly that; other than being a bit clueless at times, he possesses all the noble qualities one would want in a soldier and a son; while I never found the movie to be a rah rah affair, there is a sense of patriotic hagiography in the treatment of the Kyle character. If they took things a step farther and made it a straight fictional account I think the very clear, cautionary aspects of the story would come out in greater relief, and people wouldn't be engaged in the besides the point debate over the real Chris Kyle's legacy.

I walked away from American Sniper grateful to the men and women who serve and for the sacrifices they and their families make, much like I did after seeing Saving Private Ryan. But, like in that earlier film, I also saw a picture of war and it's aftermath on minds and bodies that brought home that war is a tragedy of epic proportions for all involved. Whether the cause is just or not, once the dogs of war are loosed confusion reigns and even good men find themselves doing despicable things, if only to survive the experience.

My suggestion is that in seeing American Sniper, put out of your mind that this purports to be a "true story." It is better seen as a personality study rather than a biography. I found that Eastwood's adaptation is balanced, nuanced and penetrating, in that it tells you what Kyle thought, but doesn't take for granted that he's right, or that he even necessary believes himself. No, it doesn't get into the politics deeply (I don't think that George Bush's name is mentioned once), and I'm sure that its lack of an out and out condemnation of the war is what rankles some progressive critics. But I think only the most obtuse on both sides will think that this film glorifies war or the Iraqi conflict.