The Drop Dead Gospel

A special delivery for those of you who missed the first installment of our Summer Movie Series:  Drop Dead Gorgeous, and an opportunity for further discussion for those who did.  The film chronicles a beauty pageant in the tiny town of Mount Rose, Minnesota and the lengths to which contestants will go to win.

Some gems (spoiler alert!):

1)  A contestant's mother systematically murders her daughter's competition, only to find her own victorious daughter blown up in a parade swan explosion.  (Doesn't that, by the way, sound like a movie that you've GOT to see?)

2)  The pageant controls the lives of those who enter it, including the goth girls who reject it out of hand.

3)  The star of the film (played excellently by Kirsten Dunst) ends up making it all the way to nationals despite not officially "winning" any of the lower pageants.

The title of this post is a misnomer; there's not much Gospel in this movie.  It just worked really well as a play off the film's title; I couldn't resist.  Here's a recap, though, of some of the great discussion that was had last Sunday night, taking our gems as our template.

1/3)  We seem to be less in control of our lives than we think we are.  Doesn't it often seem like the harder we work to make something happen, that thing gets further and further away from us.  Perhaps, as theologians have argued for centuries, it is true that there is a sovereign God who is in charge of things.  As much as the Leeman family (in the film) tries to make sure that Becky wins the pageant (which she does), the victory is a pyrrhic one, last only for an evening before everything is taken from all of them.  Dunst, the runner-up who benefits from the swan explosion,  doesn't move on to the state or national pageants because of her talents, she moves on, as one might say, "by the grace of God."  At one point, when she bemoans the method by which she won the local pageant, her aunt says, "You're a good person, Amber.  Good things happen to good people."  This is what we all think, or at least wish was the case.  When Amber says, "Really?" the aunt cracks:  "No, that was total (expletive!), you're lucky as hell."  What one woman calls luck another might call divine intervention.

2)  There are a couple of characters in the film who spend all their time smoking in the girls' bathroom.  When asked if they're going to be in the pageant, they scoff.  But the interesting thing is that they are as defined by NOT being in the pageant as those who are in the pageant are defined by it.  Does that make sense?  Think of hippies and preppies (tip o' the hat to one of my teachers, Paul Zahl).  Hippies think that they are undefined free agents, able to what they want when they want to do it.  However, isn't there as defined a "hippie code" as there is a preppy one?  They both have accepted standards of dress, employment (or lack thereof), drug of choice (marijuana on the one hand, money and status on the other), and the list goes on.  We are all beholden to something, whether we are trying desperately to be "in" or trying desperately to show people that we don't care about being "in."

Our next showing will be of Batman Begins, and we will engage questions of morality in war, and the difference between what is in our hearts and what shows on the outside.

A Savior Who Descends: The Gospel and The Time Machine

In George Pal's 1960 classic The Time Machine, H.G. Wells (Rod Taylor) invents the titular contraption and travels thousands of years into the future.  There, he does not find the Utopian society that he wished for, but a sharply divided "human race," which has evolved into, on the one hand, vicious, subterranean Morlocks, and, on the other, peaceful, laissez-faire Eloi.  Before Wells (known as "George" in the film...that's, apparently, what the "G" stands for...) knows about the Morlocks, though, he interacts only with the Eloi.  He finds their life idyllic, if dull.  On occasion, though, a great horn sounds, and the Eloi turn into strange automatons, marching mindlessly into caverns in the Earth.  We find out later that they are marching into the clutches of the Morlocks, and to their death.  Nothing George can do, no shouting, shaking, or pleading, can break the Eloi out of their trance.

Christians go into a similar trance when they hear the announcement of the Law.  "Love your neighbor."  "Give to the poor."  "Honor your father and mother."  We think to ourselves that these things are right and good, and that we will obey.  And so, we begin our march.  We think that to march is obedience, and that righteousness and success live at the end.  We cannot be shaken out of this belief.  But, like the Eloi, our march leads only to death.

St. Paul says that he was once alive apart from the law, but that once "the commandment came, sin sprang to life and I died" (Romans 7:9).  The problem is that we can never know when we have loved our neighbors enough, or given enough to the poor, or honored our fathers and mothers enough.  The Law, the requirement, the superego, can never be satisfied.  Thus, the march can only end in death.

George must descend into the lair of the Morlocks to save the Eloi.  It's the only way.  Paul cried out for a savior from "this body of death" (Rom 7:24) and if the Eloi were capable, they'd do the same.  They are in a trance, though, convinced, like us, that the obedient march is the way to salvation.  But a savior must come from outside, someone immune to the siren song of the Law.  So it is:  "For our sake He made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Cor. 5:21).  The Law leads only to death, but it is only from death that we can be resurrected to new life.

You Can Do Anything You Set Your Mind To: C'mon...REALLY?

I watched The Astronaut Farmer the other night.  I got it for $1.99 in a bargain bin at a Morristown record store.  It was cute.  Worth $1.99, but maybe not $6.00.  Billy Bob Thornton plays Farmer, an ex-NASA astronaut who builds a rocket in his barn.  He intends to use it to go into space, fulfilling a never-realized dream.  His plan is going swimmingly (in that no one except his family and small town neighbors know what he's doing) until he tries to buy 50,000 gallons of high-test rocket fuel over the internet.  In comes the FBI, suspicious that he might be building a weapon, and the FAA concerned he will show their multi-billion dollar budget to be unnecessary at best and might set a dangerous precedent for other amateur space enthusiasts at worst.

At the FAA hearing to discuss his submitted flight plan (which was originally ignored as a prank), Farmer stands up and makes a stirring speech:

Now, this kind of sentiment is held close to the human heart.  Truth be told, though?  It totally rubs me the wrong way.  There are a host of other examples, the most ridiculous of which are the many professional athletes who claim that their recent championship is proof that "you can do anything you set your mind to."  This is also a staple of movie star Reader's Digest-style fluff journalism.  Question:  "If you could tell people one thing, what would it be?"  Celebrity Answer:  "Stick with it.  Don't let doubters get you down.  You can do anything, as long as you're willing to put in the work."  Gag me, please.

Michael Phelps, the 14-time Olympic gold medalist, was interviewed after stepping out the pool following one of his gold medal wins.  I can't find the clip online, but he was asked what the victory meant.  His (paraphrased) quote was:  "It just proves that if you want something enough, you can do anything."  This is, to my mind, ridiculous.  Did the other swimmers simply want the victory less than Phelps did?  Would someone with a shorter wingspan, smaller muscles, and less ability to hold their breath underwater be able to beat Phelps, as long as their desire was sufficient?

The problem with claims like Farmer's, or Phelps', is that they overestimate human ability.  In any kind of honest assessment, we would have to admit that we can't do anything we set our minds to, and that sometimes, desire is not enough.  Ask the silver medal winner.  The Christian intersection is this:  the more capable we feel as humans, the less likely we are to admit a need for a savior.  The theological way to put this is "as one's anthropology (view of man) rises, one's Christology (view of Christ) must fall."  If it were true that God helped those who help themselves, then hard work and belief would be necessary ingredients to a Christian life.  But, thank God, that phrase is not in the Bible.  It is good news, indeed, for those of us who can't win the big game, make the big shot, land the big role, or even competently live our own average lives, that God helps the helpless.  But to understand that Good News, it helps an awful lot to realize that you're helpless, and that "You can do anything you set your mind to" is just a platitude.

Batman and Robin? Jesus Christ!

This post may not age well.  I'm writing it on June 7, 2011, the day of game 4 of the NBA Finals.  The Lebron James- and Dwyane Wade-led Miami Heat enjoy a 2-1 game advantage over the Dirk Nowitzki-led Dallas Mavericks.  Readers who know the outcome of tonight's game and of the series may consider the observations made here to be hopelessly naive, or at least uninformed.

But here we go.

One of the main storylines of these NBA playoffs, if not THE main storyline, is the leadership of the Heat.  Is it Wade's team?  LeBron's?  Who is the alpha dog?  As is common in sports journalism, the Batman and Robin tandem is used as an illustration.  For instance, Michael Jordan was Batman, while Scottie Pippen, his "sidekick," was Robin.  Jordan's superiority is unquestioned.

LeBron's deference to Wade in the fourth quarter of the first three Finals games has been reported as a kind of personal weakness.  Indeed, his decision to sign with the Heat at all, where Wade has spent his entire superstar career, is seen as an admission of "sidekick" status.  Skip Bayless, of ESPN, recently tweeted that "the biggest reason LeBron chose to join DWade was that LeBron knew DWade could win him rings. From that moment he was LeRobin James."

I don't want to write a sports column here.  For the record, it seems to me that the Heat are a two-leader team.  Maybe we've never seen it before, and we've been told that it can't work, but I think we're seeing it now.  What is interesting to me is that we have a need to place people on a scales.  Who is better?  Who is the leader?  Who is Batman and who is "only" Robin?  We do this because of what the Reformer Martin Luther called the theology of glory.  Human life is naturally a quest for glory, and to that end, we have to stack ourselves against everyone else.  Even if we are acknowledged to be the best, we are stacked against the weight of history.  If LeBron is the best player today, is he better than Jordan, Bird, or Russell?  And if that weren't heavy enough, there is the most nefarious comparison of all:  Is LeBron James AS GOOD A PLAYER AS HE OUGHT TO BE?  Truly, as Luther said, the quest for glory cannot be satisfied.  It must be extinguished.

And this, at least outwardly, is what LeBron James has done.  He has accepted a "Robin" role (or at least accepted everyone calling it that) for the betterment of the team.  He has extinguished his quest for glory.  And thereby, he has come to the precipice of his worldly glory, an NBA championship.

For Christians, when we acknowledge that our quest for glory (Christ-likeness) has been extinguished, we can accept the glorious salvation that is given to us freely, through no accomplishment of our own.  Where LeBron defers to Wade, we defer to Christ, who plays the game better than we ever could.

Jim Tressel is Britney Spears

Anyone who listens to sports radio or watches sports talk TV will have heard about the Jim Tressel/Ohio State story.  As a primer for those who don't, Tressel is the head coach of the Ohio State football team.  The NCAA, the governing body for college athletics, forbids athletes (who are required to be amateurs) from benefiting from their athletic ability.  So, for instance, when athletes get involved with agents, accept gifts from boosters, drive free cars from local dealerships, etc, and the NCAA finds out about it, trouble ensues.

NCAA rules also require coaches and administrators to report violations of which they are aware.  So, with all of that background,  here's what happened at Ohio State:  Over 20 players traded signed memorabilia to a Columbus-area tattoo-ship owner for discounted tattoos and cash.  As trivial as that sounds, it's a big deal to the NCAA, because it infringes on the players' amateur status.  When these shenanigans became public, Tressel claimed that he didn't know anything about it.  This turned out to be false.  Tressel had been informed of the violations months earlier and had participated in a cover-up designed to hide the infractions from the NCAA.  After all the dust settled, Tressel resigned on Monday.

The REAL reason this story has so much traction in the sports media, though, is Tressel's to-date persona.  The description for his book The Winner's Manual: For the Game of Life describes the book as "a perfect blend of football stories, spiritual insights, motivational reading, and practical application, The Winners Manual provides an inside look at the core philosophy that has positively impacted the lives of thousands of student athletes and served as the foundation for two of the most successful college football programs of all time."  Tressel has presented himself as a man of faith who does things "the right way."  Now, he is revealed to have done several things the wrong way, and knowingly and determinedly so.

On his show Jim Rome is Burning yesterday, Rome asked his guest, Matt "Money" Smith what he thought of Tressel.  Smith called attention to the dichotomy between Tressel's spiritual claims and his worldly actions.  "You can't have it both ways," Smith said, claiming that Tressel's facade was a fraud.  How indeed, can Tressel be BOTH a man of faith AND a selfish sinner.  Rome, on the other hand, suggested that he could be both, even tough the two were irreconcilable.

Martin Luther would have agreed with Rome.  Luther's description of the Christian condition was simul justus et peccator, or "at the same time righteous and a sinner."  Faith such as Tressel's (or yours) doesn't prevent you from still being human.  Remember when a young Britney Spears was a young Christian?  She was a sex-symbol, but claimed that she was saving herself for marriage.  When it came out that she had slept with Justin Timberlake, she said, "I thought he was the one I was going to marry," and the world accused her of hypocrisy and stopped taking her seriously as a Christian.  Matt Smith and many of his colleagues in the media (with Rome's notable exception) are doing the same thing to Jim Tressel.

Christians need to be able to say, "I'm a Christian and I messed up.  My messing up is the reason I'm a Christian."  This is the Christian answer to the world's accusation that those who mess up can't really be Christans, that we can't have it both ways.  We live in two worlds, inescapable sin and glorious salvation.