Brokeback Mountain

During my sophomore year of college, my English professor introduced me to Taiwanese filmmaker, Ang Lee. The Wedding Banquet was a brilliant commentary on sexuality in cross-cultural experiences. Lee's other films have aided in introducing American movie-goers to Asian culture and experimental cinematography. Always cutting edge (in a variety of ways), Lee has created what I find to be the most amazing film I've seen in years.

Brokeback Mountain is what IMDB calls "an epic love story set against the sweeping vistas of Wyoming and Texas" in which two men forge a relationship "whose complications, joys, and tragedies provide a testament to the endurance and power of love."

After seeing Brokeback the first time, it took about five minutes for this story of unrequited love to sink in. During my second viewing, some themes developed that I offer for discussion.

So many fundamentalists have been critical of Brokeback Mountain because of the open and frank ways in which the ebb and flow of sexual exploration is portrayed. Many progressives have praised Brokeback Mountain for the exact same reason. The story is culturally based, though. Would the same individuals that praise Brokeback for the gritty and honest portrayl of same-sex relationships in rural America say the same thing if this was a film about African American men on the "down low" in urban and suburban settings?

As well, Brokeback makes an interesting commentary on men and faith. Ennis DelMar comments that he "don't know nothing about the Pentecost" because he's Methodist, and proves it by equating the Pentecost experience with the final judgement. Religious understanding always seems to be initiated by women in this film. Ennis' wife and daughters ask him to go to a church picnic; he shrugs it off as a"fire and brimstone" bunch. At the end of the film, Jack Twist's Pentecostal parents show differing approaches to their meeting of Ennis Delmar. Jack's father is stoic and cold; his mother gives knowledge of the love shared between her son and Ennis. Her demeanor is one of grace, even in the midst of grief and confusion. For the men of Brokeback Mountain, faith is something that is negative, cold, confused, and harsh. Is this the faith we have today, or do we seek a faith that is creative, compassionate, and engaging?

At any rate, these are the questions that are on my mind. See Brokeback. Let the questions that lay just beneath the surface bubble up.

Irony

Yesterday, while schlepping books for my job, I was privileged to hear a lecture by Marilyn Robinson, Pulitzer Prize winner for Gilead. Oddly enough, Robinson touched on some of the very issues I blabbed about in my last post. In discussing the issue of particularity (Robinson talked from a Reformed perspective), as well as the decline of mainline denominations, she hit a very important point: somewhere along the way, we have forgotten to talk about Christ's grace and the need to see such grace in each other. As for the decline of the mainline Church, Robinson says, maybe we should focus on proclaiming that grace as a way of attracting people to faith, instead of "acting as if the body of Christ just doesn't have enough bling." Well said, sistah, well said.

Religion and Violence

This past week a friend of mine studying Peace and Conflict Resolution conducted a survey of seminary students asking what leads people to comit acts of violence against other people. While I have my own ideas about why our society continues to uplift violence, I was interested to discover that not one single seminarian commented that violence against others stems from not seeing the other as created in the image of God.

Maybe this is too easy. Maybe we all think this, but assume it is too obvious and begin to think in more grandeous concepts. And yet maybe this is the problem. Is it possible that we have assumed that those who claim the Christian faith fully understand the concept of imago Dei, and thus have forgotten to teach and preach about it?

Who is beyond the designation, "made in God's image"? Does God set those limits or do we? And do we accept the responsibility for not emphazing life in the image of God?

Not sure what happened to Peter and Mary...

But today I met Paul.

I was probably ten years old, when public television introduced me to the amazing music of Peter, Paul, and Mary. I distinctly remember, it was the Christmas special, and I loved - LOVED - the song about the toy that went spt, bloop, and whirrrrrr. I think my parents thought I was mad.

In high school, I had a summer camp counselor who sang every afternoon under the pine tree. It was there I learned the songs of the Beatles, the Indigo Girls, and Peter, Paul, and Mary. It was sort of like a hippie commune for middle class white folks. (Oh wait, hippies are middle class white folks trying desperately not to be middle class white folks). At any rate, the music held such power for me, and it still does.

Paul Stookey is an artist-in-residence this semester at Wesley, and his cousin, Larry, is my advisor. I'll be interested in seeing how this amazing talent weaves his words and music into the spiritual life of a seminary.

Taking Hate to a New Level

I try not to make posts that are polemic in nature...but today I just have to speak out. First, Pat Robertson makes it known that God has smited Ariel Sharon for compromising with Palestinians. And now to make matter worse, the self-proclaimed prophets at Westboro Baptist Church are now claiming that the Sago accident was a message from God. According to the Record Delta, Buckhannon, West Virginia's thrice-weekly newspaper, the picket ministry of the church (I often think this might be the ONLY ministry of the church) will be present at the memorial service for the miners scheduled for next week.

This frightens me on a number of levels. Confessing that this may be somewhat selfish, the memorial service will be held in the Chapel at my alma mater. On the steps of that edifice, I came to know who I was as a child of God. In those pews, I learned to sing, pray, dance, and shout the marvelous things God has done, is doing, and will continue to do in my life. I also learned to cry, to wrestle, and to doubt. And I know I am not alone when I say that I learned what true grace is. Grace, not hate, is what I learned there. I do not want that sacred place marked in such a way.

I often wonder how someone who claims to be part of the great cloud of witnesses can witness about a God of retribution when so many people around them are wracked with pain, anguish, and uncertainty. Such a response does not propel the gathered community into a deeper relationship with God through Jesus Christ. Such a response only encourages more hatred of others, especially those who are different than ourselves.

It is in this time of grief and healing, that God's spirit can be made known - a spirit of grace, not hate, a spirit of new life not death, a spirit that seeks reconciliation and justice. I truly hope that my spiritual home can be a place where others may have the space to cry, wrestle, and doubt, as well as sing, pray, dance, and shout.

Holy God, in whom is heaven,
send your Spirit.
Hold your children close.
Bring peace.
Sow love.
Shower those in need with your grace.
Amen.

Sago

Today's news hits my heart heavy. Please hold in prayer the thirteen miners trapped in the Sago mine in West Virginia, their families and neighbors, and the rescue workers.

The mine is up Sago Creek near the little town of Tallmansville, about 5 miles south of Buckhannon, West Virginia, where I went to college and worked for a year before I moved to Washington, DC.

As much as my heart goes out to those affected by this tragedy, I know in my heart that this could have been prevented. Sago has had numerous health and safety violations over the years. In college, I visited the Sago mine numerous times to collect river water for a study on acid mine drainage. The people of Sago Creek are proud, tenacious, and compassionate folks.

Let our hearts and minds be with them in this time of uncertainty.