Lent Retrospect

As a far-from-liturgical Christian, the Lenten season (40 days from Ash Wednesday until Easter) was mostly a mystery to me.  I saw it as a quaint ritual practiced by folks in those other Christian streams who did not benefit from the Reformation.  But, I have begun to see the need of more spiritual preparation for Easter than a vague hope that the church musical or pageant would be good and that someone would get me some robin's eggs candy.  The past couple of years I have attempted, with varying degrees of success, to commit to some form of self-denial as a means to focus my attention on the deeper meaning of Easter.

This year in particular, what I perceived as 'giving up' of something I valued proved to result in less time wasted, greater joy, reduced anxiety.  It may become a permanent change.  The hidden benefits of self-denial...

The Hunger Games Movie - True to the tale

MOVIE - THE DIFFERENCES

Since my original post on the first Hunger Games novel, I have completed the trilogy and seen the Hunger Games movie with my 19-year-old (who completed HG trilogy in a weekend!).  I have been grinding away at a review for over 2 weeks since.  It at last occurred to me why this has been so difficult.  Most of what I think about HG I have already said.  And, while turning a book into a movie often means compromises, with HG Movie the essence of the story is captured, even enhanced.  Where it leaves out subtle details of background and character, it gives full dimension to sounds and images.  It is one thing to read about the exotic appearance of capital citizens.  It is quite another to see on a big screen the vibrant, contrived individuals of the capital compared with the drab, downcast sameness of those in District 12 where the grit of coal dust seems to permeate everything.  In the book, Katniss is enthralled by the costuming and food, which makes her seem the immature teenager.  In the movie, much less time is devoted to those preparations, we see the end results.  Result: a more mature characterization of Katniss, especially given the gravity of her situation.

Of course, at some point, those sent to the arena have to start dying.  And when they do, it is shocking.  Still, compared to the descriptions in the book necessary to generate the same level of horror, the gore in the movie was minimized without diminishing the tension.

The biggest change from the book is that the movie audience does not live the story through the eyes, ears, mind and heart of Katniss.  We are only able to interpret Katniss based on her actions, which often seem very measured with occasional outbursts of passion, and her words, which are few.  It allows the other characters to be seen without the filter of Katniss' interpretations.  Rue is precious, magnifying the tragedy of her participation in the games.  President Snow, Effie Trinket, and Caesar were also particularly notable.  Katniss, though, is still central, and dominates not through force of first person narrative, but by a convincing portrayal of a deep resolve to persevere to an unknown end without becoming a tool of the Games.

SUPER GIRL?

Hunger Games gives a nod to the pervasive 'strong girl' cultural meme -- the compulsion to show women as able to compete physically with men.  The reality is much different.  In sports, world class women competitors are at the level of high school sophomore boys.  In the military and police, the rate of injury for women is much higher.  The chance of a female surviving The Hunger Games is actually quite remote.  Though Katniss scores the highest initial ranking and is the 'star' of the games, HG shows much of Katniss's survival is circumstantial - the 'tracker jackers', the tribune from D11 who saved her, Peeta's early diversions.  And, while competent, Katniss is limited and vulnerable.  That makes her believable, someone you hope can overcome the odds.  She is a benefactor of grace.

CENTRAL QUESTIONS STILL CENTRAL IN MOVIE

The same questions hovering over the book remain as The HG movie ends with the consequences of victory still uncertain for Katniss and Peeta.  What makes a person chose (as Katniss and Peeta do) to live or die for the sake of others rather than choose to survive at any cost?  Where does that will come from?  A message, if not THE message, of Hunger Games is that there are people and causes worth dying for and even if your cause fails, the attempt is worth the cost.  Watching The Hunger Games, I was reminded of this by Malcolm Muggeridge: "…we are given the choice of Love or power.  The way of Love is the way of the Cross."  (Confessions of a Twentieth-Century Pilgrim).

President Snow's observation on hope was telling.  For those in power, a little hope for 'the masses' is good, too much is dangerous.  What is it that people yearn for, hope for?  Which raises a question for the real world: Are we feeding our children into a hopeless system where image and entertainment are more important than meaningful relationships and true purpose?  Where adults look on while children are destroying each other or destroying themselves?  What proportion of the world's children would even have the time to consider the importance of a book or movie in the context of the bitter day-to-day struggle for food, shelter, survival?

SHOULD YOU SEE THE MOVIE?

There is considerable angst among Christian movie reviewers over whether Hunger Games will push, pull or lead 'young people' in a bad direction.  Have we read the same Bible?  It is full of violence and betrayal and sin and darkness.  Of course, there is also hope and forgiveness and redemption.  But what Christian has not been in the position of Peter or Judas and to some degree betrayed their Savior and felt the same despair?  Should we leave out the story of Judas or the book of Judges or half the stories in Genesis?

I see much more integrity in those few brave souls who feel that as followers of Jesus they cannot waste precious time indulging in movies or other trivialities.  They see both 'entertainment industry' and 'Christian movie reviewer' as oxymorons.  And I admire their stance.  Deep down, to my dismay, I suspect they are right.  

However, if like me, you have already  ingrained yourself in the habit of a family movie night or are trying to connect with the cultural influences of a younger generation, then by all means, see The Hunger Games.  See it with a teenager or several.  Have the discussion about violence and betrayal and sin and darkness and hope and forgiveness and redemption and the way of Love and Who it is that shows us that way.  

Moving On

One last scene from the Brandon Road house.  Far beyond the comprehension of my toddler mind, the fracturing of our family was taking place.  Memories of my Dad are vague: a dark-haired man with glasses wearing Hawaiian print shirts whom I saw but spent little time with.  Though he was in the Marines, I have no memories of him in uniform.  

A clue that something was up came when Dad moved the furniture out of the living and dining rooms one evening.  The following morning I ate breakfast seated on several volumes of a children's encyclopedia set.  The novelty of being perched on a stack of untapped knowledge while eating congealing oatmeal out of a small bowl held precariously on my lap has stayed with me.

It would be easy to find fault with my father.  In the intervening years of rarely broken silence, he has volunteered little, and nothing of significance, about himself.  Like many men of that generation, he is quiet, hard-working, not given to self-disclosure.  My father-in-law, a man similarly inclined to keep his own counsel, was and is a diligent, faithful father to his own kids.  He asked recently how often I hear from my Dad.  After I told him really not at all, he remarked that he just couldn't understand how a man could leave his children.  As a father myself, I wrestle with that question, too.  If I knew more, I might understand more.  Or not.

One obvious reason for his leaving was the talkative, friendly divorcee with red hair and Southern accent who worked at the Non-Commissioned Officers Club on Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base.  I know the difficulty of getting a word in at home with a houseful of children, the relative peace of doing work that you enjoy.  It is easy to see where a stopping for a beer after a long day mucking around the innards of military equipment could lead.  Lacking a faith-grounded commitment to marriage, my father chose a path that had been modeled for him: his parents divorced when he was a teenager.  Dad and Marguritte were married for over 20 years before her death from cancer.  Her children were mostly grown when they married, they had none together.

Redemption only happens in a fallen world.  Every life has flaws, brokenness; some imposed on us, some of our own making.  If nothing else, Dad was necessary to the means God used to bring me into the world.  And my life is grand.  Dad's absence planted in me a haunting hunger to both give and receive a Father's love.  I have found that, too.

I am not sure how long afterwards we moved into Trailer Village, but that breakfast seated on encyclopedias closed the door on the only 'real' house I would live in for the next decade.  The move into a mobile home marked the beginning of an often difficult existence for my mother, my two older sisters, myself and my younger brother. The aroma of cooking oats often takes me back to that morning in the house on Brandon Road.  To this day, I prefer books over furniture.

See No Evil

My bride and I were strolling through the magazine section of Barnes & Noble last Sunday, once again doing our part to keep the doors of our local bookstore open.  Over the years, we have learned much about each other by perusing books or periodicals together, in this case "Cooks Illustrated".  As she was thumbing through the recipes, I started around the corner, only to stop and turn back.

"Can't go that way," I said. "It's the annual porn edition of Sports Illustrated."  

She knew exactly what I meant.  Every year, in the dull sports news cycle between the Super Bowl and March Madness, Sports Illustrated puts out what is undoubtedly their most popular issue: the annual swimsuit edition.  And, every year, Barnes & Noble has a special display or two just for that issue.  Granted, there are lots of magazine covers that feature scarcely clad women in B&N, but I generally know where those are and how to avoid them.  The cooking section is not a problem.  Normally.  Except in February-March.  Then you can never quite know where the land-mine of the SI swimsuit edition will be stationed.

I wonder, could Cooks Illustrated publish an edition once a year that has nothing to do food?  

Here is why this matters.  Over 40 years ago I became an avid sports fan listening to radio station KFI-Los Angeles: the Dodgers, the Lakers, USC Trojans football.  About that time I subscribed to Sports Illustrated and still recall my first issue:  A picture of Jim Ryun winning the 1500 meter race at the US Olympic Trials.  I also vividly remember the edition that came some months later with a scarcely clad young woman on the cover -- the annual swimsuit edition.  I was taken.  At that crucial time of biological change from boy to man, Sports Illustrated began warping my understanding of feminine beauty.  I had the SI subscription for a few more years.  And the swimsuit editions were unforgettable, in the worst sense.  

Many writers and researchers have addressed how images insidiously corrode my manliness by appealing to my unthinking maleness, how it affects the way I see the real women I encounter.  The struggle has never ended.  In that, I suppose, I am like every man.  One thing I learned.  Lust affects more than me.  After seeing first hand a family destroyed by a man's addiction to pornography, I read "Affair Of The Mind" by Laurie Hall (published in 1998, now out of print but available used).  Then I began to understand the rest of the story.  The movie Fireproof captured the essence of how it demeans a wife to know she is competing with hordes of virtual women.  In addition to my wife, I have a houseful of daughters.  I have seen their growing awareness of the inescapable female images on magazine and book covers, in movies, decals affixed to cars and trucks, billboards.  I have seen how it disturbs and saddens them, snatching bits of innocence prematurely.  And God awakened in my heart a truly manly desire: to protect and preserve feminine beauty of and for my girls.  Though it has not made it easy, it has made it possible to strive to keep those ancient words of Job: 

“I have made a covenant with my eyes; 

How then could I gaze at a virgin?

...Does He not see my ways 

And number all my steps?

…Let Him weigh me with accurate scales, 

And let God know my integrity. 

Especially when Sports Illustrated publishes their swimsuit edition.

The Generation To Come

Charlie

Alice with Grandpa

I love my grandchildren.  Of course I do.  Alice and Charlie are adorable.  If you have grandchildren, you love them, too.  At least, I hope you do.  If you are a grandchild who has grandparents near by, better yet.  You get the regular adoration of those doting adults!  Parents are trapped in between - "Well, we actually DON'T need another battery-operated toy" and "No, please, NO more sweets…"  Grandchildren are not handy because you can spoil them and give them back to their parents.  That cliche annoys me for two reasons: I don't want to spoil my grandchildren and the time I have with them is never enough for me to want to give them back.  No doubt, the family resemblance and those first things all infants and toddlers do are impossible to observe passively.  Who can help but adore perfectly formed little fingers and toes and smiles and the drool on your shoulder and the leaky diaper when a grandchild is nestled on your lap.  OK, leaky diapers are not so cute.  Beyond those physical traits, what makes grandchildren profoundly delightful is when you see them in the context of heritage.  Values and traditions and faith were passed down from our grandparents to our parents to my wife and I who in turn became parents.  Both intentionally and accidentally we have passed down a heritage to our children who are now beginning that same process of not just raising children, but living a life in front of their children that says: "This is the way, this is the path, this is how a pilgrim journeys to their final home."  As I watch my daughter and son-in-law nourishing their wee ones physically, emotionally, spiritually I see the thread of grace woven through generations.  And that is truly heart-warming. 

Breathing Easier (One More BTP)

My Pre-Flight Jet

When I was three years old, I made my best attempt to demonstrate the need for consumer protection laws for children’s toys.  I was the happy owner of a little plastic jet airplane that was my regular companion as I zoomed about the house and yard.  It’s aerodynamic shape included a rather sharp nose.  [See picture to the right thanks to Moonbase Central.] 

All 3-year-olds have a strong fascination with their noses.  This is combined with the amazing dexterity of their fingers which are used to rummage around in remote nasal regions.  What becomes of those discoveries is not a subject for polite conversation.  I was a perfectly normal 3-year-old in this regard, which produced a miserable result when I made use of my airplane to perform a task God made fingers for.

Fingers are nimble and strong, while small plastic airplanes are rigid and fragile.  As the plane obediently went about its task as nasal probe, the long nose piece cracked and broke off, lodged in one of my nasal passages.  A nose in a nose if you will.  Though the object was smaller than the cap of a ball-point pen, it felt as if the United States Air Force had parked the front end of one of their jets right in my head.  Desperately I groped for the end of it and only succeeded in shoving it a bit further into the dark.  There I sat.  This moment is etched strongly in my mind: sitting helplessly with a large and seemingly growing foreign object uncomfortably wedged deep in my skull.

Colds can make your sinuses feel full, but there is hope for that to subside.  We have already  mentioned the relationship between fingers and noses -- regular, but temporary.  As I came to grips with the seriousness of my condition, a lifetime with only a single open nasal passage loomed before me and I did what any panicky toddler would do: I bawled.  According to Mom, this bordered on hysteria.  Perhaps it is for the best that I have no recollection of what transpired next.  The whole family ended up making a trip with me to see a doctor who performed the extraction.  There was no visible damage and I returned to my generally care-free 3-year-old existence, without my jet, which made its final flight to the waste bin.  

Some of my siblings have hinted that this little adventure is responsible for my developing the most impressive version of our trademark family nose, a genetic response to overstimulation.  This is a dubious hypotheses but one that still gets a lot of mileage.  To this day, my nose remains a sensitive appendage and I take special care to keep it away from the front end of jet airplanes.

Hunger is no game

LATE, AGAIN

I am not a leading edge culture consumer.  More often than not, I buy books used and see movies on DVD.  Still, the cultural noise will seep into our home, and movies based on popular books will interest our children.  Then, I have a choice to keep ignoring the hype or to investigate.  Movies can often be the 'carrot'  to entice reading: Sure, we'll go to the movie, AFTER you read the book.  That worked wonders for the Lord Of The Rings series.  But, not all movies are worth seeing, not all books worth reading.  There is help out there for those with the parental duty of culture content sifting.  

The Hunger Games movie coming out this month is The Next Big Thing.  As a natural pessimist, I have a soft spot in my heart (or head, some would say) for dystopian literature.  Fahrenheit 451, Brave New World, and 1984 all imperfectly gave glimpses into a future that much of modern society is living now.  Dystopian lit shows what happens when the utopians are in charge.  Hunger Games fits the genre: life in dystopia is either miserable or narcotically shallow for the vast majority, while the 'Brights' enjoy all the perks of running the machine of Government.  Still, Hunger Games languished on my 'list' until a couple of weeks ago when a good friend asked if I had read it yet.  That jump-started me and I procured the Hunger Games trilogy.  [I continue to buy printed books to stave off B&N's ultimate demise].  Aided by Suzanne Collins' terse style, simple language and just enough turns of plot to keep me interested, I finished Hunger Games in a few hours.  The next two will follow.

SMALL STORY, BIG QUESTIONS

The Greeks invented tragedy, Shakespeare perfected it, and Hunger Games is tragic as well.  The linchpin of the plot -- the "reaping" of two representatives from each of 12 Districts for a fight to the death -- is tragedy by definition.  In spite of a sometimes obvious plot and shallow characterization, Hunger Games is effective because Collins weaves into the tragedy themes that people in every generation must come to grips with: Can I trust?  Who is a reliable friend?  What is worth dying for?  Among all of humanity, does my life matter?  Of particular interest in our era:  Can anyone make a difference when the paths of life are tightly controlled by ever-present bureaucracy of governments?  Hunger Games also latches onto our fundamentally morbid curiosity: will Katniss - the central character - die?  If so, how?  If not, what will she have to do to survive?  Life and death are the ultimate drama.  

WHAT ARE YOU HUNGRY FOR?

Out of the significant themes in Hunger Games, this is what struck me:  The real hunger in Hunger Games is for human relationship.  Two of my most respected authors, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Natan Sharansky, record the effect of police states on human relationships, where trust is at a premium and most interactions with people go on at two levels: the public one lived for the consumption of the watching eyes; the hidden, private one furtively snatched at rare opportunities to meet that hunger for human companionship.  Hunger Games portrays this well.

As I read Hunger Games, it occurred to me that Katniss is a metaphor for a generation of young women struggling with love hunger.  The parallels are striking:

• A missing father 
• An overwhelmed mother 
• The need to be strong to protect herself and her family.
• Uncertainty with male relationships, what they should mean.
• Wanting to trust, but afraid to risk.

I have seen in myself and my sisters the impact of a missing father and that effect cascading and multiplying into the next generation.  While the forces that combine to fragment family relationships in Hunger Games are somewhat different than those in our society, the corroding effect is real all the same.

The significant choices by Katniss, with Gale, Rue, Peeta and others in the story come out of this tension between simply surviving, and feeding the hunger for love.  Katniss  has learned to wall herself off from others.  To survive.  Yet, the only time her existence has meaning is when she risks herself, her life, to invest in another person.  For love hunger is not satiated only be receiving love, but also by giving it.

As the "game" moves on, relationships end when a person literally outlives their usefulness.  This utilitarian view from a position of strength (I will let you live as long as you are useful), is contrasted with Katniss and her response to someone in need or her own position of vulnerability.  With her sister Prim, with Rue, with Peeta, Katniss makes choices to risk her own life for someone else.  We aren't told why.  Yet, the truth of a sacrificial 'greater love' shines through.  Yes, in some ways, people are stronger alone.  But, as Katniss continually discovers, they are less than human.  At the crucial finale of the competition, she prefers death to loneliness.  As the book concludes with an incomplete resolution, Katniss is being forced back into solitude by the ever-present mechanism of state and by her own confusion over who she is in the context of new relationships.

WHO SHOULD READ IT?

So, do I want my 13-year-old reading Hunger Games?  Not likely.  At least, not soon.  I would much rather her enjoy the real models she has of life in her own "village", and the understanding she has of real suffering the she knows is happening both close at hand and in distance lands, rather than embrace an adrenaline-enhancing teen thriller.  'Little Women' (Lousia May Alcott) or Jane Austen novels provide a better fictional path to understanding noble choices.  Katniss makes what seem to be right choices out of some unexplained instinct or momentary impulse, whereas older literature assumed a framework of right and wrong that formed the basis for decision-making, even if the choice to do right was supremely difficult.  

Does Hunger Games pass the 'noble, pure, praiseworthy' litmus test?  Well, no.  The gore is gratuitous, typical for our era.  Good is situational and faith absent.  That a young woman would be enamored with dazzling apparel when hours away from facing death seemed unreal.  Of course, I'm a man and there is a reason it is called the 'feminine mystique'.  Why then, would it be a good use of time for a mature teen or adult to read Hunger Games?  Simply because every few years, some cultural phenomenon becomes a significant part of many people's reality.  To be in the world means having some awareness of Harry Potter, The Matrix, Hunger Games.  I can rage against it, or make use of it.

Utilitarian aspect aside, there is no point in my denying that Hunger Games, like dystopian literature in general, is pleasurable for those gloomy souls among us who occasionally appreciate a tragic, melancholy tale.  Which is a round-about way of saying, I liked it.