Good Heavens – Michael Ward and Planet Narnia at Socrates in the City 6 June 2008

Like so many of the genii, Michael Ward was daydreaming in bed when he was inspired to brilliance and reached out like Ransome to become a part of the spinning humming web of the medieval cosmology.  In this spurt of inspiration, Ward came into an understanding of C.S. Lewis that puts him officially in the ranks of Spenser and even Dante.  Ward’s idea is a new categorisation of The Chronicles of Narnia.  I never had a problem with the patched-up (as some say) mix of seven books that was big enough to shake my trust in Lewis, but apparently a lot of other people do.  Ward convinced me of the problem and then confirmed his own solution, as well as potentially solving el problemo for the trouble-makers. 

Each of the seven corresponds to one of the major bodies of the medieval cosmology, the planets.  Lewis’ other works build up to it and put his universe firmly in accord with the harmony of the spheres.  The Space Trilogy is all about Earth taking its part in the universal symphony that it jarred with discord, and about keeping the original harmony in the parts of the other planets; parts of Perelandra read like a 20th century Christian echo of Cicero’s Dream of Scipio.  Ward has a clenching argument for each book’s correspondance, but more convincing to me is the fact that this view places The Chronicles in the cosmology of The Space Trilogy.  The land of Narnia is like Ransome, the bridge between the Silent Planet and the golden Harmony of the Spheres, and the creation of Narnia aligns the work with the world-view of Lewis the consummate Medievalist and author of The Distorted Image. 

  Lewis apparently hated conspiracy theories, but is it so ridiculous that he kept the “plan” of The Chronicles a secret and even denied its existence?  he, after all, admired the Medieval value for intricacy.  One of his friends dubbed Surprised by Joy as “Suppressed by Jack“  because of the life he left out of his autobiography. Since “Jack” Lewis was such an intensely private person, Ward thinks that it makes sense of him to believe that he kept his own counsel and that there’s much more to Narnia than we see on the surface.

In an evening of chumming with NYC sophisticates, intellectual socialites and social intellects at Socrates in the City, I heard Ward’s own charming British accent – I mean, presentation of his theory (which he published as Planet Narnia: the Seven Heavens in the Imagination of C.S. Lewis).  Ward’s presentation convinced me enough to read the book, which I highly recommend as the most comprehensive view of the person of Lewis and his creations.  As Eric Metaxas, the host of Socrates in the City, a voice from Veggie Tales, certainly indubitably the most gracious, entertaining MC I have ever heard (and reputedly, ”one of the funniest persons” that the singer Moby knows) and who made Socrates in the City a night I will never forget, made infinitely clear, Dr. Ward also made a special appearance with James Bond in The World is Not Enough.  enough.

Take it and read: http://www.planetnarnia.com/

seX in conteXt – the manhattan museum of sex 21 May 2008

“i wanna know what it’s like on the inside of love.  I’m standing at the gates, I see the beauty above.  I’m on the outside…” – nada surf

dripping wet and babying a cup o coffee in vain hopes of bringing my hands to a healthy lukewarm, I browsed the 1st display which alanis the mid-eastern doorman had pointed to when i bought my golden ticket for the manhattan museum of sex.  “sex in design/design in sex” was an unveiling of the x/y charisma that gives pop-culture its pop and a celebration of the sexuality in the rest (most) of pop-culture, which wasn’t so very well veiled to begin with.  this was good fun, a collection with the likes of a heel with a vamp that electrically induced a chemical reaction, a collage of images with good ol kitsch favs like james browne, janet jackson, leopard-skinned jane-tarzan and che guavera as a woman, and an hour-glass curved mirror, to illustrate the media wields the invincible charm of sex to draw the unsuspecting mob into the snare of their evil will.

upstairs the display was interested in the history of ”sex and the moving image.”  I was not, so I talked to Sean Conlon about the portrayal of the romantic image in the media, the subject of his undergrad thesis.  Its important and empowering to know the roots of feminism, post-feminism and, dare I say it? yes I will, even 3rd feminism, but more to the point that Sean was quite an authority on the mirror-reflections echoing between the media and the mob that shape our image of gender and the body, as well as being a passionate believer that we, the people, the mob, should be educated in how the media uses that image. (XXXploitation, if you will.)  The the last display was the equivalent of a novelty shop with a bit of  historicity to back it up.  

The last display clenched the issue for me, even though I spent the least time in it and it was the least helpful.  It was a scattered amalgamation, a collection of unsorted data on glass shelves in an all-white room that scientific experiments should be conducted in.  I felt like I should have on a facemask – but who needs one?  I was a scientist already because there I was in the museum: it presented me with data, to make what I would of it. 

and that’s when I realized the aptitude of the museum to my generation.  postmodernism is always on the outside, peering at the beauty above it – and sometimes, inside of it – and wondering, like king kong.  the Manhattan Museum of Sex sees The Beautiful in the act of intimacy, and dissects it to discover its essence.  for someone without a comprehensive understanding (i.e. Biblical worldview) to set a backdrop for weird physical phenomena, it makes sense to show its history and ripples in the public arena, such as the highly relevent results of the media’s sexploitation.

I have an unscientific mind.  I hate dissection.  I prefer a butterfly happy and careless in a field than defeathered on tile.  but overall?  the museum was a good experience because the exhibits on display were windows to my time and my culture.

you can read my article here.

Blood-Lust: The Undercover American Genocide and “We Regret To Inform You that Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families” by Philip Gourevitch 11 May 2008

Philip Gourevitch wrote that “the Rwandans have no need – no room in their corpse-crowded imaginations – for more martyrs.  None of us does.”[1]  Gourevitch begins so well with this concept that Rwanda has been sated of her blood-lust, but he closes with a deceptive opinion of his own.  It is true that when death presents itself unadorned it is rebuked and shunned by the humane world, but when death arrives tactfully dressed in masquerade, society welcomes it to the fete.

The cause of religious discrimination is a costume that is much in vogue right now.  Educational officials cluster round it and promote tolerance in public schools because death looks so attractive in it.  Tolerance is the name of the spiritual genocide conducted in public schools.  The hearts of Bible-believing children are starved or bludgeoned to death as the system wrings Christianity from its strongholds; the hope of non-believing students is an unregretted casualty because it is their own choice not to believe.  Occasionally the nihilism and despair of the education produces a sharp student who comprehends death beneath its covering; he murders his fellow students and himself while humane society runs to the scene, expressing horror, to condemn the lack of taste.  

            We will all have our martyrs.  After enough teen-aged blood streaks the halls of schools and death is brashly present, perhaps America will be satisfied like Rwanda.

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[1] Philip Gourevitch, We Regret to Inform You that Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families: Stories from Rwanda (New York: Picador U.S.A., 1998), 353.

“The Bear:” Advice from William Faulkner for Development in Montana 11 May 2008

My younger sister Margot calls the people cruising too fast down the road in bubbly SUVs with California licence plates “outsiders,” a joking insult that reflects a common but fading attitude.  The tight local loyalty in Montana is bitter towards the world outside the ring of mountains, but the tourists’ SUVs are harbingers of the bright future that is infiltrating diversity into the Treasure State. 

It is a good move, one that is exemplified in a story by William Faulkner.  “Relinquish [the land],” the patriarch McCaslin says in “The Bear.”[1]  He moralizes that at the moment when his ancestors exchanged gold for the land of the patrimony, an erroneous ownership was claimed.[2]  The fear that influenced McCaslin was the temptation for a land-owner to consider himself as god of the territory, a temptation that comes easily to any existence that relies heavily on domination of land.  Man among other men – other cultures, other peoples – is in his proper place, and this is where Faulkner puts him.  

The developing Montana culture is like a trapper coming in from the mountains: he confesses that he is not god of the land, and can not live man contra mountain.  Shining up cultural features to lure tourists is a healthy stride because it marks a care for other cultures while encouraging appreciation for Montana’s awe-inspiring natural assets.  The moral of the story?  Look outward, and you will look better. 

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[1] William Faulkner, “The Bear,” The Portable Faulkner (New York: Viking Press, 1965), 290.

[2] Ibid., 291.

The Emperor Has No Clothes – A Response to “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” by Gay Talese 9 May 2008

August 1981, Hollywood, Fl. – the head of a child was found floating in a drainage canal.  Two years passed, then Ottis Toole confessed his responsibility for the abduction, the rape, and the murder of six-year old Adam Walsh.[1]  Toole stuck to the story for thirteen years until he died, legally innocent, of hepatitis.  His investigators, who had used the “velvet glove” treatment that sometimes delivers a large profit, had discredited Toole’s word even though it corresponded perfectly with his reputation and with the evidence.  Adam Walsh was refused justice, and his parents’ grief was all the more poignant.[2] 

The psychologically-savvy velvet-glove treatment can be compared to Gay Talese’ New Journalist style in his story “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold.”[3]  Sinatra was reporter-shy and evaded a direct interview: Talese attained a familiarity with the singer which a scripted interview might not have achieved by becoming familiar with a wide range of his acquaintances.  Although the portrait charms and appears accurately drawn, a hole gapes in the story where the most important voice should be: Sinatra, like the convict Toole, has nothing to say in his own story.  The absence of Sinatra’s voice, and the assumption that we could all the same know the truth of his character, is a belief which means the dissolution of justice in the courtroom.  Once again, the emperor is out naked while a velvet-handed crowd admires his finely-tailored suit.

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[1] John Walsh, Tears of Rage (New York: Pocket Books, 1997), 262.

[2] Ibid., 247, 284, 288.

[3] Gay Talese, “Frank Sinatra has a Cold,” Esquire, April 1966.

Take It and Read: Metaphor, Reality, and “The Shawl” by Cynthia Ozick 7 May 2008

Writing the history of the world, God crossed the boundaries of non-fiction.  He forms each day like an allegorical play.  Sacraments are obvious props, but like in any well-crafted piece of literature, every circumstance is also a trope.  Water drenches us in holiness, via metaphor, each time we turn on the sink; like the prophet Jonah (Matt. 12:39), every person is a sign.  The Creator took no care to distinguish between the figurative and actuality; reality is confusing. 

Cynthia Ozick wrote such a baffling world into being.  “The Shawl” is fictional but carries the grit of actuality; it is practical, but weighted with symbolism.  The protagonist Rosa offends the reader with her refusal to accept a post-Holocaust life; “to call it life is a lie,”[1] she says.  Rosa only deliberately participates in reality through her enjoyment when she writes a letter to her dead daughter or feels the beloved shawl.  Rosa has a life, one that gnaws the reader until he appreciates it. 

Rosa is a delegate of the people who scuttle down the streets lost in apathy, people who, involuntarily, cry out to be told of salvation and significance.  Artistic media is fixated on the self-obsessed subject to the exclusion of those that are indifferent, but Ozick remembers them.  Here is life in front of you: like Augustine and Ozick, take it and read – and share it with the illiterate.

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[1] Cynthia Ozick, The Shawl (New York: Vintage International, 1990), 58.

Response to “The Heart of Evangelism” 4 May 2008

Journalism and The Heart of Evangelism

The Christian is called to make the truth of the Gospel known with clarity and boldness; the journalist, according to Kovach and Rosenstiel, is called to make known the truth of events in the same way.[1]   Combine the two vocations and the Christian journalist is created: an individual carrying out a double-pronged mission whose success depends entirely on his ability to communicate with his audience. 

It is one thing to speak the truth; it is another to communicate, to speak and be heard.  Jerram Barrs cites the examples of Jesus Christ and the apostle Paul when he develops principles for Christian communication: “their fundamental motivation was love for their hearers… a love that led them to regard other people more highly than themselves.” [2]  This love is apparent through Paul’s respect for his audience as, “faced with such rampant paganism, he never lost sight of the true humanity of these people, nor of his own shared identity with them.”[3]  Paul treated other philosophies with respect by representing them fairly and engaging with them in order to explain his own.[4]  Through such regard for his audience, Paul won the ears of his listeners, if not their hearts.

Paul’s story inspires me as I endeavor to witness as a journalist.  Communication is the mission of the journalist and the evangelist, and communication is essentially an act of love: it is the fitting work of a Christian.

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[1] Bill Kovach and Tom Rosenstiel, The Elements of Journalism: What Newspeople Should Know and the Public Should Expect (New York: Crown Pub., 2001), 14.

[2] Jerram Barrs, The Heart of Evangelism (Wheaton, Ill: Crossway Books, 2001), 187.

[3] Ibid., 189.

[4] Ibid., 205.