Growing up, one of the things I noticed about the habits and practices of bullies (including myself, for a while) was that- among other things- they tend to repeat themselves. In other words, they would fix onto some unsuspecting prey, and their reasons for "ramping up the rhetoric" tended to be quite circular. If they offered any reasons at all for their desire to brawl, those reasons seemed superficial at best. In most cases, they simply needed sufficient grounds to justify it to themselves, and some kind of lame pretext for starting the fight (even a bully needs to justify his actions to some degree).
For instance, when I was in sixth grade, I really wanted to start a fight with a kid named Adam Johnson. A few other kids, hoping to see the same thing, threw my books on the ground when I wasn't looking, and then claimed it was him. I suspected what they had done, but I didn't care. I walked right up to him and said; "Why you wanna throw my books on the ground?" He responded curtly; "I didn't do it." So I responded again; "Why you wanna throw my books on the ground?" This verbal repetition continued until the fighting eventually commenced. Do you see how it works? By the way, I lost that one… handily. I think at one point during the bout, I actually slipped on my own books during the fight, and he started kicking me while I was on the ground. How's that for karma?
When I was in high school I went to a party out on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Rule #1: do not go to a party on a dirt road in the middle of no where (for any number of reasons). Anyhow, at one point during this party some extremely intoxicated fellow whom I had never met in my life came up to me- with the fire blazing in the background- and said through his half closed eyes (and in a terrifyingly calm voice); "Why you over here talking (bleep) about me?" I responded; "I wasn't talking (bleep) about you." He said; "I saw you looking at me and talking about me." I explained again; "I do not know what you're talking about." (Unlike Simon Peter, I really didn't know the man, even if I was warming myself by the fire). He then repeated himself again; "Why you wanna talk (bleep) about me?" There is definitely a pattern to this.
Incidentally, this is when you know you are in deep trouble. When you try to explain yourself, and there is not even a hint of any attempt to try to understand your perspective; "Oh dear, my apologies! I thought thou wert speaking junk of me, but I was sore mistaken! Can I buy thee a drink?" No. Indeed, by repeating themselves over and over, they reveal what's really going on, which is essentially that they want to lay a whoopin' on someone and you happened to have won the lottery ticket. Said whoopin' did not take place because fortunately I had a few very large friends who extracted me from this unsavory situation… on that scary dark dirt road, interestingly referred to as the "Crossroads."
So in what in sense does this relate to Jesus' trial? In essence, this is what the chief priests and scribes did to Jesus (though the Romans did their dirty work). According to the Gospels, Pilate is looking for grounds to punish Jesus when he is brought to him. However, try as he might (and he does), he cannot find any solid evidence. Consequently, he looks for some other opportunity to escape from the cross hairs of this mock trial, but cannot find any. At one point he even tries to get Jesus released by appealing to a Jewish custom, whereby a prisoner is released on Passover. But instead of seeking his release, they ultimately exonerate Barabbas, a murderer and insurrectionist.
After all, these bullies don't want someone who really might "deserve it", they want the innocent and the vulnerable. For whatever reason, the true bully always prefers slapping the taste out of the mouth of someone who is least likely to deserve it. The bully reviles innocence, and loves it when this type of man is squirming like some sort of lab experiment under the knife. Hence the religious leaders, along with the rest of the crowd, ultimately prefer Barabbas to the innocent man. In fact, they practically embrace the murderer, if only to guarantee the conviction of Jesus.
When asked "why", they, like every other nasty bully in history, reveal their true colors. As it turns out, it had nothing to do with sound reasoning, justice, nor even blasphemy against their Faith. Indeed, they themselves were willing to blaspheme the God of Israel if only to nab their man; "We have no king but Caesar… If you let this man go you are no friend of Caesar?" John 19:12, 15
In any case, there is always some morsel- some kernel of truth in what is said in these situations. Yet the truth is only inserted into the narrative in order to create the impression that what the accusers are doing is justified. Truth under these circumstances is purely a means to an end; a useful masquerade employed for the purposes of inciting a spectacle of violence. And so because most people generally prefer the powerful rush of a spectacle to the restraint and sobriety involved in virtue, they often join in and shout; "Fight, fight, fight!", rather than oppose a mob and face potential reprisal.
Hence, the reaction of those bullies and their mindless cohorts is as predictable then as it is now; "Crucify him Crucify him!". But what has he done?! "Crucify him! Crucify him!" Behold, the man! "Crucify him Crucify him!" How about Barabbas, isn't he the murderer?" But they only cried the louder: "Crucify him, Crucify him!!!"
As a high school teacher, you learn very quickly what is in the collective imagination of young people. For example, last year around this time, 50 Shades of Grey came out, and though it wasn't discussed widely among the student body (at least not in front of me), it was quite obvious that they were well aware of the movie's content. One senior asked me, "What's the Church's position on something like bondage, etc. within marriage"?
This should give you some idea of just how casual such talk had become. In any case, because this particular class was a little rougher around the edges than some of the other classes (I called them my Welcome Back Kotter class), I decided to take up the question. After all, I reasoned, I don't want them to think that the Church is afraid to answer such questions confidently and with clear rationale.
However, my deeper concern was that these students, like society in general, would come to accept the pernicious lie that "dirty sex" was somehow more pleasurable and fulfilling than genuine intimacy. Setting aside the bizarre notion that health consists in feeding perversion, how does one exactly respond to such a question in a meaningful way?
Some might say that such questions should not be addressed at all, especially in such an academic environment, or that such an indignity should be passed over in silence. Perhaps this is true. But in this particular instance, I wanted to take up the question in earnest, and hopefully provide a more positive and satisfying solution.
Firstly, I pointed out that we should be incredibly cautious about how we go about "turning ourselves on". If simulated rape and having sex with people that masquerade as strangers (or some combination of both) is what you're "feeding on", then how are you not feeding into a culture that glamorizes rape, violence, and meaningless sex? How strange is it to seek to turn intimacy into its polar opposite (i.e. being raped by a stranger/friend). Why not just make a snuff film while you're at it? Like an addictive drug (one in which the dosage must be progressively increased in order for one to feel a rush), so also this "game" of simulated sexual violence.
OK, this is what to avoid. But can Godly intimacy truly provide a positive alternative?
In some ways all of the former's pleasures are legitimate. Yet the problem isn't with sexual pleasure, the problem comes down to the means by which we obtain them. If we are simply using another person as an instrument and object from which to derive pleasure, we cannot help but to literally treat them as something disposable. For the moment any object ceases to accomplish its objective (viz. sexual pleasure), it immediately becomes something expendable.
Yet, once again, the problem isn't that we want love to be ever-new or exotic, it is that we almost prefer the experience of the "strangeness" of the circumstances to the people themselves. More specifically (and dangerously), we separate the pleasure from the person.
The ultimate source of pleasure is not a pharmaceutical drug, nor is it the perfect sexual move or device- rather, it is the virtue of gratitude. While the former may deliver a great deal on the front end, one is far more likely to lose everything on the back. Like the story of the Prodigal Son, we want to receive everything at once- without any mind for what it actually takes to maintain our inheritance.
The lustful one is always hankering for the pleasures yet to be obtained, while the eyes of gratitude are like the child on Christmas morning- unable to decide precisely where to begin. The eyes of lust are the eyes of a hung-over drunk looking for the "hair of the dog that bit them," while the eyes of gratitude are consumed with wonder over the fact that there is such a thing as sex in the first place, or as G.K. Chesterton so aptly put it in his biography of St. Francis; "Blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall enjoy everything", and also this gem from his book Orthodoxy; "I could never mix with the common murmur against monogamy, because no restriction on sex seemed so odd as sex itself… Keeping to one woman is a small price for so much as seeing one woman."
The man who sees himself as unworthy of his beloved, and who sees his relationship with her as tantamount to winning the lottery, will always echo the words of Franki Valli; "You're just too good to be true… You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much." And let's not forget about that silly Beatles ballad that sounds a little like the mushy musings of an 8th grader; "I want to hold your hand". The moment you begin to "deserve your wife" is the moment you begin to lose her (either figuratively or literally).
Yet the secret to this divine sense of gratitude involves not only an appreciation for the feminine, but also for the astonishing little things that surround us every day. The problem for us arises from the fact that awe and romance are not simply a kind of reflex (though we want them to be), but rather a virtue that must be practiced on a continual basis. One must truly take the time to- as one might say- "smell the roses", but even more importantly, one must take the time to literally thank God for the sweet fragrance that accompanies the flower.
Praise is always particular, and never generic (i.e. thanking God for nature in general). Each man should be in the business of creating, as it were, his own encyclopedia of awe. For any one who begins such a list will quickly discover that there really is no end to it. So grateful will he be, that he will find himself seeking to make a return, not in the spirit of one who expects something compensation, but in the spirit of George Bailey.
One can never truly repay God for all the good that he has wrought in our lives, but we can honor Him by using his gifts as they were originally intended. Perhaps this is why little children so often chat with inanimate toys. They are like St. Francis or George Bailey, praising everything in creation simply for existing: "Hello, Bedford Falls! Drafty old house! Broken knob on the stairwell! Hello brother sun, sister moon, blood from a punch in the mouth… And did you know that I'm going to jail for some unpaid debts… isn't that great?" (is there better proof for the joy of purgatory than this). The fact that things exists at all (as opposed to not existing), even when they are imperfect (perhaps especially when they are imperfect), becomes a kind of natural aphrodisiac injected into the bloodstream and into the mind of the man who sees things from this perspective. The fact that there are restrictions placed on creation is a small price to pay for the delight of being a participant.
Thus ensues a kind of eternal competition between lovers, a competition of generosity, humility, and sacrifice- a divine form of "one-upsmanship". Indeed, the aim of this never-ending game, like an immortal game of limbo (or riding a see-saw), is to elevate the other by the act of lowering yourself. Yet, best of all, in this game of "giving more than you get," there is no real motivation to end it, for who would genuinely want true love to cease, who would want to cease being grateful to another?
And so it is that we return to our initial question in order to answer the latter. What could possibly explain society's recent fixation with BDSM, especially in light of the beautiful alternative? In keeping with our previous theme, if love and sex are really to be equated with a game, then BDSM must be a game of a different sort; one that sacrifices agape love for the sake of erotic love, one that makes human interaction entirely optional. Vulnerability in this case is not the gift of one lover to another. To the contrary, it is the usurpation of said vulnerability by an act that would otherwise be regarded as violent. Mystery (in this case) is not cultivated by a sense of gratitude and creative imagination, but rather by a creepy and sinister masquerade.
In this instance, one really must be willing to sink as low as possible in order to obtain the latest fix ("how low can you go"). In this infernal version of limbo, one does not possess any upward mobility. Quite the opposite, in order to obtain the diabolical reward, one must be willing (like "hell week" at a frat) to sink deeper and deeper into the mire of indignity and humiliation in order to attain it. However, unlike its divine counterpart, the ratio of pain to pleasure goes progressively in the wrong direction. So much so, in fact, that eventually the only way for the hedonist to "get off" is by not "getting off" at all. In this life we call it the old "bait and switch", in the next it will simply be called Hell.
Oftentimes when we discuss the power that one individual possesses, we give it a positive spin, and well we should, because if we were always trying to kill Hitler before he was born (a la Minority Report), we might wind up killing off the whole human race in our paranoia. In any case, while there is tremendous value in pointing out all the good one individual can accomplish, there may likewise be value in pointing out all the evil one individual can accomplish as well, or at minimum, how one individual (or event) that seems small and insignificant can turn out to be cosmic.
Depending on who you are, you may well see this post quite differently (along with the title), but if nothing else, let us agree on one thing: every single human being has a cosmic significance well beyond what he or she may have previously imagined. In recent weeks we have been reminded of this fact, for not only was it the 43rd anniversary of Roe v. Wade on January 23rd, but also during that same week, the "week of prayer for Christian Unity".
What do these two events have in common? They both point to the power of one individual to change the world. Yet the point of this post is not so much to critique Protestantism, or even the evils of abortion, but rather to point out the unimaginable consequences of our actions. Consider that the now pro-life Norma Roe, the woman whose case helped initiate and facilitate the Constitutional right to an abortion for all woman (not to mention the subsequent termination of the lives of over 58 million children in the womb), never actually had an abortion herself. That's right, the very individual over whom this whole battle has been fought, wound up having the child, giving her up for adoption, and now as we speak the woman in question is forty-six years old.
And then there's Martin Luther, an Augustinian monk, a Catholic priest, and a jealous defender of the papacy... until he went to Rome. Upon his arrival in the eternal city, he was understandably scandalized by all of the corruption that was going on there. Motivated by his righteous anger, and to be honest, a case of spiritual OCD, he posted his now famous list of 95 Complaints on the door of the cathedral at Wittenburg in Germany. With help from the recently invented internet printing press (not to mention the fact that there was some truth to everything he was saying), his criticisms essentially went "viral", and the next thing you know- all hell broke loose in the body of Christ.
Wars of religion broke out; Christians killing Christians; an endless proliferation of "versions" of Christianity spring up (not unlike some nightmare from Fantasia). Atheism begins to take root in the West, and consequently faith and reason are rent asunder and sacrificed on the altar of human sentimentality. Worst of all, a form of Christian self-mockery arises out of all this. Indeed, now the scandal has come full circle, a new kind of "indulgence" is sold, but this time it is coming from the critics of the Catholic Church.
Today, unfortunately, we must deal with a "new spring" of televangelists and mega-churches, each with his own catchy little jingles, great product placement, and an endless assortment of programs and building projects, all seeking to expand and build up everything that Luther fought to tear down. Pelagius lives on thanks to Luther's doctrine of Sola Fide.
Let us not forget about good King Henry VIII- a man who really wasn't trying to reform anything at all, and who, before his infamous run-in with the pope, was ironically dubbed "defender of the Faith". At any rate, it is a good reminder that- no matter how faithful one may be- we all have our own weak spots when it comes to fidelity. Yet whatever the circumstances, could King Henry have ever imagined, even as a "divinely elected king," that such power could be in his hands? Could he have suspected that by annulling his own marriage, he could- by fiat- call into question every other binding agreement along with it? For if everyone's vow is annulled based on personal interpretation, is there anyone who is really married? And who's to say what defines marriage in the first place?
The question is where does this all leave us, and why do I bring it up in the first place... other than to cause despair? I bring it up, not because each of these individuals are necessarily responsible for every subsequent action or event that ensued as a result (though one could make that case). But I do wonder if each of them (along with Tetzel and a few of the Renaissance popes) had been able to divine the future, would they have done the same thing, or would they have died immediately out of despair, or better still, would they have run off to a monastery (or nunnery) and never uttered another word the rest of their lives (a la St. Thomas Aquinas "I can write no more").
We indeed are gods, and terrifyingly so. Consequently, the next time we are tempted to criticize, or question how it is that God could possibly be so hard on our ancient parents, who just so happened to eat a tiny morsel of that inconspicuous fruit in the garden of Eden, perhaps we should call to mind a few other significant historical figures, if only to heighten our appreciation of the profound ramifications of every single one of our words and actions.
Understandably, the human race has a love/hate relationship with rules. On the one hand, we like having law enforcement when we need protection from some form of injustice. On the other hand, we don't like being caught when we are the ones from whom another needs protection. We like it when the bad guys are nabbed by the authorities (for the most part), but we don't like it so much when the authorities use their power for evil ends.
Adam and Eve enjoyed paradise, but they didn't necessarily like the fact that their one prohibition was an essential element in the fabric of holding paradise together. They "loved the law of the Lord" when it delivered them from slavery and barbaric treatment- but they were not so much fans of it, when it came back to bite them (quite literally) in the form of seraph serpents.
I recall how frustrated football fans were a few years back when the "replacement refs" were standing in for the "real refs", who happened to be on strike. The truth is the replacements did their best, but they honestly lacked the skill that the professionals. When the professionals finally returned, the fans behaved much like the Israelites after receiving the Law of the Lord. Indeed, I've never seen so much enthusiasm concerning the rules being restored. Yet what this reveals to me beyond the old adage; "you don't know what you got 'til it's gone", is the fact that if we actually perceived just laws as we ought, we might find ourselves grumbling and murmuring quite a bit less. Below I present a few examples of what such positive (if humorous) laws might look like:
1. Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery = Thou shalt rather love thy wife with thy whole mind, heart, and imagination… for the alternative is truly exhausting to think about.
Translation: It is indeed exhausting to have to imagine the work I would have to put in- pretending to be true to one person- while pretending to be in love with another. All that lying and plotting would be quite tiresome. Not to mention the perpetual awkwardness of pretending to be "all in" on a relationship in which I am "all out." 2. Thou Shalt Not Run A Red Light = Thou shalt rather live long and enjoy a pleasurable drive to thy destination.
Translation: Our problem is not with the law per se, our problem is with how it applies to ourselves. We are fine with justice for others, but as for ourselves… I think we would prefer far greater latitude. In these situations the common goods trumps our own personal desire to apply justice arbitrarily.
3. Thou Shalt Not Kill Tom Brady with a Helmet to Helmet Hit = Thou shalt rather let him live, so that on the rare occasion in which thou beatest him, thou shalt enjoy watching him cry.
Translation: Even when we dislike somebody immensely (perhaps even with good reason), murder is never an option. To the contrary, true justice is served, not simply by killing the guilty man, but by watching him do hard time. 4. Thou Shalt Wear No Unapproved Garb To School = Thou shalt rather wear holy attire, for as the band ZZ Top once said; "every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man".
Translation: Wearing a uniform may not initially seem liberating, but if perhaps we saw things as we ought, we might recognize that the most important people in the world tend to wear uniforms. Thus a uniform, at least in its most exalted form, suggests dignity of office. What it seeks to move away from is a superficial sense of what distinguishes us (i.e. like the latest trend). A man's vestment in the most noble sense is truly what "distinguishes" us. 5. Thou Shalt Not Sully Thy Lips With any "Yo Momma Jokes" = Thou shalt rather celebrate "yo momma", and every other momma besides, for without "yo momma" you would have no life at all.
Translation: The holy name of God (as well as the holy name of your mother) are names that we dare not take in vain. In a sense by mocking these holy names, we have not really destroyed them (for they are indeed eternally holy names). However, what we do jeopardize is our own existence, for when we do profane them, we profane the very ground of our existence. 6. Keep Holy the Sabbath = Thou shalt thankest God whene'er it is Friday.
Translation: Every time Friday rolls around we really should thank God for it. After all, without God's "imposition" of this commandment, who knows if this day would ever exist at all. Even as we speak there are those slave drivers out there looking for a way to obliterate it. The world always tends toward slavery (see above), but God gave us this command, not to imprison us on Sunday, but in the faint hope that we might actually take a break from the drudgery of endless work.
7. Thou Shalt Have No False Gods Before Me = Seeing as how God holdeth all the cards, it would seem most wise to grant him pride of place at the table of thy thoughts, for thy lucky T-Shirt can only take you so far.
Translation: It is highly irrational to impute omnipotence to something which clearly lacks it (insert anything in the world here______________). On the other hand, if God does indeed exist, then what could be more rational than to say that he is "second to none"?
8. Thou Shalt Not Break Any of the Rules of the Game = If thou dost truly love the game as thou claimest, then thou shouldst keep the rules, for without the rules, there is neither a game, nor a player.
Translation:Though the referee penalizes a player for a violation of the rule, it is those same rules (and referees) which make victory and triumph possible.
9. Thou Shalt Avoid Any Foul or Dissonant Notes On Thy Instrument = Thou shalt rather study thy instrument, practice it faithfully, and subsequently make beautiful music, and if thou doest this, even thy dissonant notes shall become melodious.
Translation: People tend to see art and music as intrinsically liberal and even anarchic. And while this may have some basis in truth, what they often fail to recognize is the profoundly dogmatic and mathematical side of the arts. On a certain level, it is true, the canvas invites the imagination to go wild. Indeed, your only limit is your imagination. On the other hand, this is only partially true, for the canvas does have its physical boundaries (even were you to call your entire house your canvas). The same goes for music. You can play whatever you like, but the liberality comes not in the fact that you have a million chords, but a million ears. The point is you can wear whatever outfit you want and present yourself in the most quirkily disheveled way, but if you are not a disciplined artist, your success will be fleeting at best.
10. Thou Shalt Not "Cry Wolf" = Thou shalt rather be a man of thy word, so that when thou dost cry wolf, thou wilt be believed.
Translation: If a man is not in touch with the truth, he is not living in reality, and if he is not living in reality, he may be teetering on the edge of delusion. In any case, a society functions or falls on whether or not we can trust one another. In a society of liars, tyrannical law enforcement is inevitable.
11. Thou Shalt Not Steal = Thou shalt rather be grateful for what thou hast, for in truth thou hast already won the lottery.
Translation: Generally speaking, we seek to steal from others when we no longer recognize the good in our own lives. Stealing isn't consigned to the poor alone. In fact, stealing (in the various forms it takes) actually transcends class. Why? Apart from cases of desperation, this behavior seems to arise out a lack of gratitude for what one already has. A simple litany of gratitude is a good way to avoid falling into this trap. If nothing else it offers a fine catalogue of all the things that we have already "stolen" from God, graces and gifts that have we have failed to recognize as such.
12. Thou Shalt Neither Covet Thy Neighbor's Goods Nor His Wife = Thou shalt rather knowest what thou hast before it is gone… quoth Joni Mitchell
Translation: How many tragic love songs (or rather love-less songs) need to be penned for one to recognize the positive side of this command? Stop trying to possess something that doesn't belong to you. The problem isn't in what you have, the problem stems from the fact that when we do have something, we don't want it anymore, and thus fail to see its original beauty. If we want to be some sort miserable ghost, repeating the same mistake for eternity, this would seem to be the perfect recipe for it (i.e coveting). Why not instead train your eye and imagination to see in your beloved (and all the rest that you have) a priceless commodity that could be lost at any moment. This is not only a possibility, but according to the history of pop music, a promise! At least that's what bands like Cinderella (and a million others) seem to think.
When I was a child, I hated church. I would lie in bed on Sunday morning wrapped in my elven cloak blanket, as still and and as quiet as I could, in the faint hope that I would somehow be passed over. Occasionally my plan worked. Perhaps it had more to do with my bad attitude than my invisibility cloak, nevertheless on occasion my mother would "let sleeping dogs lie". However, in spite of my disaffection for organized religion, I did feel mildly guilty for missing church, and so in order to assuage my restless conscience, I would watch the televangelist Ernest Angely- as he effortlessly healed everything that came into his living presence. I don't remember much of what he said, but I do remember that he said "awwwwwww" quite a bit. Most importantly, I felt a little better about myself afterwards, and thus came to the important conclusion that I really didn't need to go to church in order to honor God. Whether or not my conclusion was accurate, I was satisfied with the fact that this kind of "church placebo" satisfied what in me demanded that I keep holy the Sabbath. It wasn't so important that I had actually "kept it", so long as I felt like I had kept it.
Awww….
In a similar sense, post-denominational denominationalism (as I like to call it) serves a similar purpose. First of all, let me define terms: "post-denominational denominationalism" is the name I give a particular movement within Protestantism, particularly in the United States, that seeks to transcend various historical disputes among Christians by either ignoring history and/or concluding that those divisions no longer hold. Such individuals seek to overturn these traditional disputes among Christians by constructing a model of Christianity that is non-liturgical and trendy, Biblically conservative (at least in the south), and moralistic in character. It is a bit like Dr. Phil meets Billy Graham… with Starbucks thrown in.
It is a form of Protestant Christianity that is completely unmoored from any kind of real historical appreciation. So disconnected is it from the historical Faith, that even figures like Luther and Calvin seem to fade into obscurity and irrelevance. As a matter of fact, most of the individuals who attend these churches no longer read any of the original Protestant writings, though they do carry out their theology to its natural end (whether they realize it or not). Hence, in this new program of Christian understanding, even Christ starts to feel a little less Incarnate- and a little bit more like some sort of moralist life coach that exists primarily to inspire us.
Even the particular names of these new Christian communities bespeaks a kind of post-denominational mentality. In the past, denominations either derived their name from their founder, their theological motivation, and/or a particular concept from the Old or New Testament. Today most of the titles for these mega-churches (which most of them tend to be) are derived from some relatively beige, innocuous, and vaguely pastoral term... with an occasional hint of grandiosity thrown in.
Around here some of our most popular "post-denominational denominationalist" congregations go by such names as Brookwood, NewSpring, Grace Church, and World Redemption Outreach Center. On a larger scale, one such congregation that has gained some national attention (particularly for catering to young celebrities) is called HillSong. Now it doesn't get much more inoffensive than that, does it (unless of course you hate either "hills" or "songs")?
Brookwood Church
My point is these names are practically impossible to associate with anything distinctly religious (with the mild exemption of Grace Church), and thus they cannot possibly "trigger" any negative feelings. Furthermore, their names tend to be utterly ahistorical, a feature which makes their name, for better or worse, fundamentally forgettable. In other words, if you don't associate us with anything personal or historical, then it is nearly impossible to be offended by us... at least initially.
There is a certain wisdom in this approach, and on a certain level it is more than a little understandable. History and religion tend to be top-heavy with negative memories (or at least that is the perception), so maybe if "we" can pull the old bait and switch on the populace, then we can at least get them in the door. And if we can get them in the door, then perhaps they will stay.
The problem is not so much in the idea of presenting the Faith in a manner that is appealing and relatable, the problem is that the Faith- in this sense- becomes so relatable, and individualistic, that it no longer resembles any kind of faith at all. To the contrary, the goal is simply to custom-fit your belief, like the latest fashion, to your personality. I call it The Placebo Church. It looks and smells and tastes a lot like chicken/communing with God, but in truth it is really the TOFU of religion. Interestingly enough, as the rise of this "new kind of Christian Church experience" has grown in popularity, others, who are not interested in Jesus at all, are starting to model themselves after it. Yes, even atheists are starting to create their own version of the mega-church, for apparently they too like to meet in community, sing songs, and hear profound readings.
Atheist "Church"
And that's just the point, we are made for "church," whether we acknowledge God or not. We cannot get away from this fact. Yet is the goal of worship simply the placebo effect? Is the goal of this "new kind of Christian denominationalism" simply a matter of making ourselves feel like we went to church, whether we really have or not? We certainly "felt spiritual" when were there, and perhaps even shed a tear or two at one of the songs. But is feeling emotional about a pop song the same as honoring or loving God? To put it another way, should worship never truly involve "a sacrifice of praise", as Scripture suggests, or should it always be like that feeling of first love, or the rush of driving down to the beach as we listen to that catchy summer song?
I do not deny the need to make connections between the sacred and the mundane, but I would argue that these congregations are making the sacred so mundane that one might wonder what beyond their own feelings and sensibilities they are worshiping. Simply put, yes to U2, and no to the U2charist. As a Catholic who happens to be a musician, this is insulting on both accounts. Not only are we making a counterfeit of church, but a counterfeit of the original music. Indeed, it reminds me a little too much of that school teacher that tries a little too hard to be relevant to the kids, or the needy adolescent that is willing to say bad words just to fit in. It was this mentality that made me scorn church for so long!
The solution in a certain sense is quite simple. We all bring our own personal piety and affinities to the table in every relationship. That's a given. Who says that we cannot praise God at any given moment, either by listening to a particularly meaningful song in the car, watching a powerful video at home, or going to some concert that artfully praised God? But in our quest to make everything in our lives like this (i.e. as painless and as entertaining as possible), we have- perhaps- not once considered that worshipping God might need to strike a slightly different tone than everything else in our lives. Indeed, is this not precisely the kind of self-centered narcissism that threatens the success and longevity of all the important relationships in our lives?
The first test of love is caring enough about your beloved to find out their heart's desire. And in the case of Jesus Christ, he makes his appeal quite plain. On his "death bed," he says nothing about hearing inspiring talks, watching cleverly packaged videos which make you "think." He mentions nothing of big lights and big drums, nothing about sipping a delicious Starbucks while feeling a sense of contentment, and certainly nothing about being a hipster, though none of these things are necessarily bad in and of themselves. However, what he does say about his longing is unmistakable, namely that his disciples must celebrate a memorial in his honor, an expression of worship and love that looks suspiciously like the words of institution at every Catholic Mass; "On the night he was betrayed, he took bread and gave you thanks and praise. He broke the bread, gave it to his apostles, and said: 'Take this, all of you, and eat it. This is my body which will be given up for you… Do this in memory of me.'"
When I was a teenager I was quite adept at figuring out ways to make myself terribly unhappy. Perhaps this bizarre quest for unhappiness can best be summed up in a little story that involves me and a magical snow globe, a little glass sphere wherein a snow man lived, complete with black hat- balloon in hand- and a world that apparently never wanted for snow… as long as it was properly shaken. I always associated this little snow globe with the magic of Christmas (in large part because that's when my mother usually put it on display).
At any rate, I loved that snow globe, but for some reason, I chose to treat it as if it were expendable, or rather like any other ball that existed for sport. So there I was one day tossing it up in the air, and catching it as it came down. In most ball games there is an actual point system- however, there was none in this particular "game". In fact, there was no real object to this game whatsoever, unless you consider "dancing with the devil" an objective. Lo and behold, after playing this game of "snow globe roulette" for a while, I dropped the magic orb, shattering it into a million pieces all over the tile floor. There it lay, that glorious liquid world dead on the floor, that adorable little balloon, limp, never to rise again.
Why do I begin Christmas with such a tragic allegory? Because there is something about Christmas that seems married to tragedy, not because Christmas is necessarily tragic, but because we are. And it is precisely for this reason that Christmas, or rather Christ, came to us in the flesh. The following movies/TV classics seem instinctively to grasp this concept. Subsequently, in this post I will seek to highlight the particular insights that I have gleaned from watching each of these classics, primarily as a means to assist the reader (as well as myself) in the ways of happiness. My selection stems from the fact that the following pictures/stories bring joy to the heart. The only real question is why? My contention is this: they bring us joy, because in some mysterious way they possess the secret to finding it.
1. It's a Wonderful Life - Gratitude for Life (and all of creation)
One of the primary obstacles to human happiness is a progressive blindness that sets in- primarily due to a loss of gratitude for the good things that surround us every day. Whether this is because of sin, world-weariness, or some combination of both, this creeping sense of ingratitude is always threatening to gnaw away at our basic appreciation for our lives. However, what a movie like "It's a Wonderful Life" offers is a lesson in how to avoid this kind of existential blindness. The lead character, George Bailey, who is on the brink of suicide, is given a vision of what life would be like had he never been born. In this vision he gets a taste of nothingness, a nothingness that is apparently worse than even death itself. In fact, it is so terrible that when he returns to reality, he falls in love with everything in the world, even the most mundane of things. By experiencing, in some mystical sense, a void of nothingness, he now possesses a boundless gratitude, not only for things that are patently good, but even for things that would otherwise not be highly regarded at all (i.e. he celebrates the possibility of going to jail). By being plunged into darkness, he realizes that existence, even its imperfection, are a grace compared to the alternative. By having everything in the world taken away from him, he can now begin to delight in everything in the world again- as if it were the first day of creation, and God were giving him the world anew.
Consequently, after this miraculous encounter, everything now seems magical and animated to George. He is thankful for large wooden rustic signs, he is thankful for his town, he is thankful for street lamps, for the blood running down his face, for his drafty old house. Indeed, he even kisses the broken knob on the railing going up the stairs because of his love for everything that is. Why? Because it might not have been at all! Thus, we should all keep a little bit of George Bailey about us wherever we go, striving to practice praise in this way, not seeing creation as one giant amalgam of things, but truly seeing it, observing and naming the particular as he goes, offering a litany of praise (as it were) for even the most mundane of things. Is this not, after all, what Christmas is about? A magnificent mystery, one that inevitably involves a man pulling from his giant cosmic satchel; the moon, the stars, the planets, and for that matter, everything else in God's good creation.
2. A Christmas Carol - "Memento Mori" and Redemption
After watching a movie like "A Christmas Carol" (or, of all things, reading the book), we all feel a bit like we have caught a glimpse of how good things could be if we lived the way we know we ought to… and then that glimpse/spiritual high seems to disappear as quickly as it came. However, the point of stories like this is not simply to suggest that our lives will change after watching an uplifting movie, or that if we only think happy thoughts things will approve, but rather that if we put into practice some of the imaginative insights offered in stories like these, we might start to see similar changes. The imaginative practice to be exercised in this particular case is quite sobering, for it involves the act of "remembering your death" (i.e. memento mori) in order to find life more abundantly; "Old Marley was dead as a door nail. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate."
So why is there any good in this practice of "remembering that we die"? There is none... unless our death can be understand in the context of the larger story of our Redemption. The joy of Scrooge really does come with a side of death. Having a taste of mortality, losing everything, feeling like your down in a hole with no way out, experiencing a profound sense of helplessness/hopelessness... and then being miraculously (or at least providentially) yanked back to safety, now that is something capable of changing the heart. It is difficult to say exactly what transpires in the soul of a man when he experiences something like this, but suffice it to say it must involve the combination of two sentiments which are polar opposites. It must be like the man who goes from "dead man walking", to the man who inexplicably "walks" as a result of a last minute pardon, or a man who shuts his eyes in total fear, waiting for the final nail to be struck in his coffin, only to open his eyes and discover that he is at the center of a ticker tape parade, a celebration inexplicably held in his honor.
Yet even that does not quite suffice to explain this monstrous magnanimity on the part of the one who pardons. After all, this act of charity cannot begin to mean anything at all until/unless the one who "walks" is fully aware that he deserves death and even worse.What return can one make for this gift? How does one respond in the face of such generosity? Make your neighbor the object of your gratitude. You have received without cost, now you must give with a similar extravagance. In this new order, time is transfigured. It was once a symbol of death, and is now a joyful currency. Instead of treating people like objects, and objects as people, we now reverse the order, using our time and resources to heap happiness on others in gratitude for a second chance. Today is the first day. This is the meaning of redemption.
Incidentally, the Church also encourages us to walk in the way of Scrooge. One can indeed practice this spirit year round. For confession is always geared towards having the penitent visit the "three ghosts" in order to keep things in their proper perspective. Lent in particular demands an attitude of penance, not for its own sake, but so that we too (along with Scrooge), can burst forth from that terrible tomb of death, resilient and ready to live like "we were dying".
3. A Charlie Brown Christmas - The Triumph of "Tininess"
One of the beautiful secrets of Christmas joy is the celebration of little things, tiny things; things which might otherwise be regarded as negligible, weak, and forgotten. In this season, those "afterthoughts" take on a new shine in light of the Incarnation. How exactly did this come to be? When the All-Powerful, All Knowing, Inscrutable God became "tiny", dependent, and vulnerable, everything in creation, including the least of creation (especially the least), became lovable. Before this, no one needed God to tell them that the powerful ruled the world. This was patently observable. What they needed was to see power and beauty in weakness, a "weakness" that would ultimately conquer the world. Thus, what we tend to remember most about this feast are not generally the giant presents, or the amount of money we spent, but rather what is, by worldly standards, incidental and negligible (e.g. how does a manger and a shepherd go from being "mangey", to being romantic) God is truly Midas in the best possible sense. On this day, and during this season, those things which are otherwise of secondary importance take center stage. For example, when I think of Christmas, I think of the tiny ornaments (I am still looking for a lost ornament from my childhood; it was a little boy in a hot air balloon- inside the craft there was a tiny Christmas tree, with a bell on the bottom of it… if you see it, please let me know), traditions, funny hats, clothes, carols, food and drink, children that can't sleep, hot chocolate, trees, candles, and lights that cover just about everything. Enter "A Charlie Brown Christmas", wherein a tiny, vulnerable, forgettable little tree becomes a lead player. That tree still burns brightly in my mind all these years later. Everything else from that episode seems rather hazy to me, but not that tree! Perhaps that is why the show "interrupts" itself (and almost got censored for it), to read the Christmas narrative and remind everyone why our hearts are so moved by little things at this time of year. Because God became tiny, weak and vulnerable, we can now see his light shine in all three.
"I never thought it was such a bad tree really… Maybe it just needs a little love"
4. Elf - Maintaining a Spirit of Wonder and Awe
The most recent entry on this list is the movie Elf. It is hard to find many people who do not absolutely love this film, in large part because of Will Ferrell's charming portrayal of Buddy the Elf. It contains many of the usual elements of Christmas stories, but what is most unique about the story line is how it seeks to introduce someone (i.e. Buddy) who was "raised by elves" into a cynical urban environment, wherein no one at all still believes that Santa is real. It would be comparable to a movie about an angel, who must learn to live in a culture where no believes in God (which would be semi-incomprehensible to such a creature). At any rate, what is particularly amusing about this scenario is the fact that because magic and wonder are so natural for Buddy, and because nothing seems impossible to him (other than Santa not existing), Buddy believes everything he is told no matter how ridiculous it may sound. The point here isn't that we should all believe everything we're taught (nor do I think that it is the point of the movie either), but rather that we as humans are made for belief (as opposed to complete unbelief).
What Buddy represents is not only wonder and awe for certain mysteries that lie beyond us, but for the mysteries that surround us every day. He sees the world as we used to see it before our own cynicism wore us down. He sees it with the wonder and awe of a child. Like Buddy, we too have been mysteriously plunked (as if by a divine stork), right into the middle of existence, and we should never cease to be in awe of this fact. Yet just as important- is what Buddy teaches us about belief. We obviously shouldn't believe everything that we are taught, but as strange as our existence turns out to be, shouldn't we at least leave open the possibility of miracles? Buddy responds with a resounding "yes"!
5. Little Drummer Boy (David Bowie and Bing Crosby) - Peace on Earth… or at Least a Little More of It
When this Christmas classic was created it must have seemed as bizarre as any collaboration could be. Then again, from the perspective of the apostles (and those who knew them), the calling of the twelve might have struck many in the same way. "So you are going to put a Roman collaborator (i.e. a tax collector) with anti-Roman nationalist (viz. Simon the Zealot)? While we're at it, why don't we get an ISIS fighter to team up with a journalist from Charlie Hebdo, or a Black Panther with a member of the KKK? Yet this is the remarkable program of the Christian revolution- the notion that there are some virtues higher, and even more essential, than our own individual pursuits and passions. Christ came not to establish a competitive religion, but more importantly, a way of life wherein, even while we might disagree on lesser things, on the essentials we are to be united. Consequently, Christmas offers- in so many ways- a greater opportunity for peace and solidarity. More than any other religious or secular festival, the Incarnation preaches in the most humble, beautiful way, a Gospel of human rights, a gospel of dignity, a Gospel of love and gratitude. How can any man now set himself above another, especially after God Himself has lowered himself to serve all of mankind? The highest has made himself the lowest, and the greatest, the least! This is why Bowie and Bing (or anyone else of "good will" for that matter) could come together and literally sing from the same theological song sheet.
6. The Snowman - The Mystery and Magic Behind It All
Whether you believe in Jesus Christ or not, who can deny the magic of this season? Who can explain the number of carols, traditions, art renderings, movies, memories, all of the child-like exuberance surrounding this season? There is nothing like it. Thus, whatever one's persuasions, one is left with two equally improbable possibilities. Either this season is a series of absurd accidents, or God really did take flesh and become a homeless man. Whichever it is, who can adequately account for the manner in which this season is capable of moving our hearts? I can still remember being rather agnostic in my youth (especially about Jesus), and going to church and singing the carols, and saying to myself; "What is it in the air? What is this irrepressible feeling of joy in my heart?" Whatever that joy is/was, it certainly did not appear at that moment because I was a devout Christian. I most certainly was not. The larger point is this: whatever it is about this season that seems so capable of inspiring tears, laughter, and chills, it cannot simply be reduced to the function hanging up a bunch of lights around the house, or as in this case, building a snowman- and then subsequently shoving a carrot into its snow-head.
The snowman flies in our imagination, not because he can fly in real life, but because when snow flies, we feel as if we were floating with it on the air. Perhaps this is why snow gets attached to Christmas, even when one lives in a place like South Carolina, a place where there is so little of it this time of year. It looks and feels a little like manna floating from the heavens, as if the ordinary laws of nature were being suspended for a short period of time. Creation is covered in pure white, almost inviting us to conceive of a new world. Still, whatever causes our hearts to leap and dance with joy during this season (like John in the womb of Elizabeth), it should be recognized that it goes well beyond any human capacity to comprehend it. It is not the accoutrements of the season that ultimately make Christmas what it is, nor is it even all of the lovely trinkets that adorn this time of year. These special decorations are rather the vestments that help adorn the larger Mystery. Yet they are not the Mystery Himself... I am pointing all of this out because if the Source of the initial enthusiasm is ultimately lost or rejected, then how can one ultimately remain enthusiastic about the celebration itself? Go ahead, try your best to party in the name of the Solstice, and sooner or later you will find your spirits melting away about as quickly as a snowman in the midday sun.
7. Frosty the Snowman - The Transience of Life
Speaking of snowmen melting… One of the most painful aspects about a snow storm (leaving aside all of the practical inconveniences that make some dislike snow) is when the snow itself begins to stop and/or melt, or even worse, when the snow changes back into rain (thank you Dan Fogelberg). While Christmas, and all of the festivities that ultimately surround it are joyful, this time of year can leave you blue (i.e. like watching snowmen get built, and then subsequently watching them melt). During the holiday season, many of cares and concerns of life are suspended, as if you it were foretaste of heaven, but then, like waking abruptly from a pleasant dream, you are right back in your body again feeling the same old pain as before. The danger of this kind of festivity in life is that we can wind up clinging to the good times, and then being drawn to despair when the difficulties of life return.
Frosty the Snowman (as well as snowmen in general), are a good reminder that our lives (even the greatest pleasures) are a passing thing. So how might we turn this melted snowman into something a little more helpful, as opposed to dwelling so much on the negative? There is only one way to avoid despair in these matters. Only in light of the Incarnation, and ultimately the Resurrection, can we find true satisfaction and meaning in these moments. By putting our ultimate hope in the aforementioned mysteries, we avoid treating that the "vacation" as if it were everything, and instead treat it as a foretaste of something greater. If a melting snowman is basically an allegory for the hopes and dreams of life, then what a terrible story to tell everyone. Thanks Frosty! I knew winter was about death, but I thought there was hope when I found you… Wrong! Thus, the joy and celebration that is found around Christmastime is a sign that points beyond itself, and thus should not mistaken for a party that never ends (that's called a hangover), or a snowman that never melts.
8. The Night of the Meek (The Twilight Zone) - The Vocation of the Happy Man
There is nothing so sad as a man who either won't work, or one who would work but cannot find steady employment. This particular Twilight Zone depicts a department store Santa who is otherwise unemployed. Obviously the part-time position he holds is the farthest from a long term position, so in his depression he spends all his money on booze. Unfortunately he arrives to work one day during the holiday season thoroughly intoxicated. As a consequence, his employer fires him on the spot. Embarrassed by his own behavior, the Santa apologizes, but also explains why he is driven to drink. He explains that if he didn't drink, he would constantly weep for a world that's so sad and unfulfilled, and for himself because he feels powerless to do anything about it. Just once, he declares, I wish that the meek would inherit the earth! Soon after making this request, he's starts walking in the snow, and all of a sudden he hears sleigh bells. He looks down and sees a giant satchel. This is no ordinary bag, for he soon discovers that it is filled with gifts. In fact, apparently the bag can produce whatever gift a person requests. The episode ends, not only with him sharing his new found abundance with everyone he meets, but also with him rejoicing in his new found vocation, for he apparently has a sleigh awaiting him, and elves at the ready to help him carry out his universal call to generosity and service. As maudlin as this may sound to some, not only is the writing exceptional in this episode, but so also its larger point. Man is made to be a sacrifice, and the more he is able to accomplish this the happier he is. There is something incredibly fundamental about Santa Claus. He is a charitable and a generous man, who never waits around to be thanked for his good deeds (though you may catch him occasionally in the act), and his entire life is dedicated to this work of giving of himself in honor of this most Holy Feast of Christmas. This sounds to me like the vocation of every man.
9. Family Man - The Secret Joy of Messiness and Imperfection
When ideas repeat themselves, take notice. This may be because of some kind of imaginative laziness, but it may also be because the creator of the piece may have hit on something of an essential nature, and one cannot help but to tell the story in different ways. There is particular kind of Christmas narrative, whether it be this one, It's a Wonderful Life, or Christmas Carol, that strikes right at the heart of Christmas joy? So what do these movies all have in common? All of these stories involve men who are blinded in one way or another because of their sin and pride. Unable to recognize what is of value, they need some kind of divine intervention. They need to be able to do something that is otherwise impossible to see. They need to be able to see things from a "God's-eye view". They need to be able to stand outside of themselves to see their lives objectively, and not through a well cultivated bias. The word for conversion in Greek is "metanoia," which means "to see beyond the mind that you have". This sums up perfectly the challenge of conversion. How can you see beyond the mind that you have? You can't, unless some transcendent experience allows you to do so. In this case, the Jack Campbell character (played by Nicolas Cage), requires some sort of divine messenger to slap him in the face, and thus wake him up from his excessive worldly delusions. In other words, he is living a life for himself alone, living for money and women, and he doesn't seem too broken up about it. As a consequence, one Christmas eve an "angel" (played by Don Cheadle) shows him a "glimpse" of what life would have been like were he to have been a "family man" instead of simply a materialistic jerk. Only in the shoes of the "family man" does he see what a meaningful existence would look like. This new life is much messier, and far less perfect (at least materially speaking), but the humor of the movie is precisely just that. From the outside such a life would never have been chosen by him, but once on the inside of it, he realizes that the secret to joy is not in getting everything exactly the way you want it all the time (that's in fact hell), true joy comes from getting everything you want in a way that you never expected you would want it. Joy requires surprise. This is the biggest obstacle to conversion, because from the outside, sin looks like a mansion, and holiness an outhouse, but from the inside it's the other way about. In the same way, Christmas is a surprise! Indeed, how could a literal outhouse become romantic... and yet here we are at the manger! For this reason, sometimes we all need a little bit of help (perhaps even a little divine trickery) to get us inside, or to allow us to "see beyond the mind that we have."
10. A Christmas Story - Christmas and the Family
If we could only get ahead of life for once. If we could only appreciate all the good that is right in front of us, as opposed to simply relying on nostalgia and a kind of wistful regret to make us appreciate how good we had it. As complicated and weird as families can get, our time together, particularly in childhood, really does serve to fuse us together in a bond of memories that could comprise an entire album of awkward family photos. Hence, this collection of Christmas meditations would be incomplete without this aptly titled gem. This movie is magical, in particular, because there really is no magic in it at all. It is magical because it sums up humanity, the family, and all the comedic mundanity of what it is like to live with these unusual, extraordinary, average, flawed, unrepeatable, creatures, to whom we are inextricably linked, and who are the authors of this magnificent comedy/tragedy which is our existence. If only in a fit of magnanimity, we could stop and excuse a few (or many) of their excusable flaws, and marvel at their strangeness, feel a sense of gratitude for the fact that they have chosen to love us and spend so many hours with a pain in the ass such as ourselves (for yes, we too have flaws… imagine that), and most importantly of all, feel a burst of generosity (if all else fails), for the fact is that if not for them we would have no existence at all. If you want to catch up with the person you should be, this is a great place to start!
11. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer - Strength in Weakness
The idea that there is a secret treasure at the heart of our weaknesses and vulnerabilities should not be demised as a mere cliche or a platitude. Far from it! They, beyond any other aspect of ourselves, demand the most imagination in order to find something redeemable about them. We take for granted that a symbol of torture should "obviously" represent our salvation. However, this is a prime example of how repetition and mindless acceptance can turn wisdom into banality. Finding meaning in our weakness, or in our suffering, is perhaps the most important project we will ever undertake. Indeed, to persevere long enough to find out how God is going to turn our weakness into a strength is perhaps the greatest challenge to our natural sense of faith and hope. Yet as challenging as this might be, consider what wisdom, knowledge, and power you would have without that beautiful struggle, what authority and insight you would accrue without discovering how the sour lemons of life can be turned into a refreshing beverage, and not only that, but perhaps even the defining mark of our vocation. These things which set us apart are often a tremendous burden in our youth, especially during a time when general conformity is most preferred. However, what often seems to separate us most, is ironically the thing which can truly separate us in the positive sense. Rudolph of course is the poster child for this, and I suppose many today would gladly use him as a model for the evils of bullying. Yet to some extent there is no avoiding the feelings of exclusion in this life, or the fear of being different. The point of "Rudolph" is not merely that bullying is bad, or that we should include everyone in our "reindeer games", but rather that distinguishing yourself can be vital, not only to yourself, but for everyone involved. In fact, sometimes the things which appears to be most detrimental turns out to be most redeeming. The wisdom of this little story and stories like it is to recognize that not every strength is a strength, and that not every weakness is a weakness. And of course the Incarnation is the ultimate example of this paradox, for not only does it suggest that weakness and vulnerability can be a strength, but that in the divine order of things, they might even be the ultimate strength.
12. The Grinch - Charity in Magnanimity
Everyone who understands anything about Christmas appreciates the spirit of charity that goes along with it. However, this idea of "charity" is often understood in too narrow a sense (i.e. the only kind of charity is to be found in soup kitchens). Not that generosity to the poor isn't essential, but what is missing from this equation is an appreciation for the poverty of certain souls that are trapped in a cycle of bitterness, anger, and frustration. These are the poor ones out there that know nothing of the joy of Christmas, either because of their own sins, or perhaps because of the sins of others. What the story of "The Grinch" is all about is the kind of charity that actually has a chance to bring true peace to the world. Feeding the poor is not charity, it is justice (to quote Chesterton); forgiving people that have hurt you or slighted you, now that is magnanimity. It is the kind of largeness of spirit that is too joyful to begrudge. This is the only way to conquer evil, or rather the only way to conquer it in people that may have gone off the rails somehow, people who have forgotten what forgiveness and mercy look like. In any case, there is no chance to bring someone back from perdition if no one offers him a way back. Indeed, if no one is generous enough to offer the Grinch a second chance (whether he takes it or not), none of us will ever experience anything but a world of unforgiving Grinches, with us at the center of the narrative.
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