I’ve toyed with the idea of offering some explanations and reflections on the Extraordinary Synod on the Family, which concluded earlier this week. I’m glad I waited, though, because I think Fr. Barron does a better job :)
Not a new film, but probably sufficiently little-known that it can stand a “spot.”
Posted in Art, Beauty, Catholicism, Christianity, Documentary, Movie Trailers, Movies, Religion, Spirituality, Video | Tagged Carthusians, Into Great Silence, Monks, Philip Groning, Silence, Vow of Silence | Leave a Comment »
For part one, click here
We took a look at E.T. as a healer, as well as at how he must suffer in order to heal others, in part one. Now let’s take that a step further by pointing out that his stay on earth involves, at one and the same time, suffering and identification.
It is particularly in the case of Elliott that we see the latter. By way of some strange psychic connection that develops between them, Elliott feels what E.T. feels, experiences what he experiences. And we may reasonably suppose that the reverse is also true, though this is never made explicit in the film.
Another vital aspect of Jesus and His mission now comes into the purview of our exploration. Jesus became a human being, like us in all things except sin. He didn’t just “put on a body;” He became one of us, identifying Himself with each and every person.
For that reason, I think it is very important that E.T.’s suffering and identification coincide. After all, Christ’s identification with us includes identification with our sufferings — physical, psychological, emotional, and even spiritual (though again, without sin or its attendant disorders).
Then there is the film’s most famous phrase: “E.T. phone home” (I apologize that I could not find a picture of the phone scene). E.T.’s yearning to contact the kin who left him behind, to return to his home planet, forms the central dramatic drive of the film.
Here we see yet another Christ-analogy. While Jesus never gave any hint of wanting to “escape” this world or betrayed any “homesickness,” He did constantly make reference to His Father in Heaven, in Whose Bosom He had rested in perfect bliss from all eternity. At various points throughout the Gospels, you can see Him seeking solitude and spending long periods of time in prayer, communing with the Father.
We may not see anything of E.T.’s plight in these examples; but the closer Our Lord gets to Calvary, the greater the resemblance grows. A key moment occurs in the Garden of Gethsemane (see Matthew 26: 36-46, Luke 22: 39-46), where the Author of Life begins to experience the desolation, pain, and darkness of death. He Who had known only infinite goodness and life from all eternity was about to be plunged into our deepest darkness, our deepest pain, our deepest fear. He Who was from all eternity the Only-Begotten was about to experience alienation from the Father on Calvary.
Not to knock E.T., but he doesn’t hold a candle to Christ on this one. What is more, it is worth considering that E.T. gets stuck on this planet by accident, with no specific intentions with regard to humanity. Jesus Christ knew what He was doing, and He did it for us — that’s how much, how profoundly, how unreservedly He loves each one of us.
And I think this is a good place for another break. Thanks for reading.
Image from Wikipedia
Posted in Art, Christianity, Classics, Family, Fantasy, Jesus Christ, Love, Movies, Religion, Science Fiction | Tagged Agony in the Garden, E.T., E.T. -- The Extraterrestrial, E.T. phone home, Gethsemane, identification | Leave a Comment »
It is never a bad time to talk about the classics. But especially around Halloween, it seems appropriate to touch on Steven Spielberg’s moving and timeless alien/family tale, “E.T. — The Extraterrestrial.”
It would not be fair to call “E.T.” a Christian parable. It came, after all, from the imaginations of a Jewish director and a screenwriter (Melissa Mathison) who, if I’m not mistaken, leans more toward Buddhist spirituality (someone please correct me if I’m wrong about that). But I think the very solid analogies you can find nonetheless demonstrate two things, both of which are far more interesting and significant than any explicit allegory:
- Jesus Christ has insinuated Himself irreversibly into the thoughts and imaginations of Western culture, so that even the secularist age in which we are living cannot entirely expunge His influence;
- Jesus is the Eternal Word, who speaks to the depths of all men’s hearts and, at times, even causes them to say something of Him in spite of themselves.
Okay, so let’s get started:
We think of an attack. We think of monstrous or tyrannical beings who far surpass us in power and come to take over our lives and our world.
And yet when Elliott (Henry Thomas) and his family meet E.T., what do they find? A gentle, vulnerable creature no bigger than a child, and with an abundantly kind heart.
In just such a way, the Divine came into the world. Many of the pagan cultures of the ancient world generally believed that the gods were fierce, capricious, and cruel. Even many Jewish people were expecting God’s Messiah to come as a mighty, avenging warrior who would destroy the enemies of Israel.
But when the Messiah — who was none other than God in the flesh — finally did come into the world, it was as a little baby — too weak even to lift His own head, and born into obscurity and poverty. And ultimately, He was to reveal Himself as “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29).
From there, we’ll go a step further and look at E.T. in his role as healer. At numerous points throughout the film, we see him applying strange healing powers to things such as cuts and bruises, and even reviving a dying plant at one point.
What we notice, however, is that this seems to take something out of E.T. each time he does it. He becomes weaker, sicker…almost as if he were drawing from the store of his own life to restore the health of other creatures.
If we read the Gospels carefully, we will notice something similar in Christ’s healing ministry. When we read of Him performing healing miracles, we also read that “the power went out of Him” (cf. Luke 8:46). This indicates that when He cured illnesses, gave sight to the blind, drove demons out of people, etc., it cost Him something. We can well imagine His disciples seeing this become more and more apparent as His ministry progressed, just as Elliott and his siblings see it progressively take hold of E.T.
Let’s take a break, and return to this exploration shortly.
Movie stills obtained through a Google image search; movie poster and other images obtained from Wikipedia
Posted in Art, Catholicism, Christianity, Classics, Family, Fantasy, God, Jesus Christ, Movies, Religion, Science Fiction | Tagged E.T., E.T. -- The Extraterrestrial, Healing, Henry Thomas, Melissa Mathison, Steven Spielberg | Leave a Comment »
So I spent the weekend at a Trappist monastery a couple of weeks ago. People have asked me how it went, and I think I’ve given in each case as good an answer as I could in the context of ordinary conversation.
The trouble is that it is difficult to describe the experience in terms of the usual categories — like nice, peaceful, insightful, etc. If you want to really know how it went, I’ll have to go a little bit deeper.
Let me start by noting the challenge of it. Yes, it was very nice to get away to a quiet place located in the midst of many, many acres of pure nature, away from the busyness of society, surrounded my an atmosphere of holy silence. But I was determined to use this time not merely for relaxation, but for trying to get to better know God and His will for my life.
My approach entailed resisting the temptation to do anything I would normally do (yes, even quieter activities) during my spare time and, instead, giving myself over to prayerful silence. So, how did I feel by the end of this adventure?
In a word, sad…very, very sad.
This is not to say I was depressed. It was more like the sadness of the first week of school, or at a new job, or in a new house or community, or of any removal from the familiar to the unfamiliar: Part of you yearns to go back, but you know you can’t. Even if you do go back, it won’t be the same.
Of course, this analogy is a broad one. For me, this sadness came in the form of an acute awareness of not being ready for the life of heaven, and yet also that this world can offer no lasting happiness…that all the various forms of happiness in this passing world that, consciously or unconsciously, I thought I could count on (even as a devout Catholic), are in the last analysis truly illusory — not least of all because of their impermanence.
This is something I knew beforehand. I’ve long had an intellectual understanding of it, and I have even “felt” it at times (though this did not necessarily incur sadness, but merely entailed an attempt to keep the right priorities in mind).
But…well, I think you know what I’m talking about. It’s like the realization that we are all going to die at some point. We know it intellectually, but there are those few times when it really hits us.
At such times, the deeper truth I am dealing with peeps through a little bit, like sunlight through a shuttered window. But for the most part we, as a race, remain unaware of or inattentive to it.
I also became more acutely aware of the sadness of sin, without which none of humanity would ever have fallen prey to the sad situation alluded to above. Any encounter with the Divine Physician must produce this awareness. Yes, a physician heals; but he also diagnoses. And he is not liked as much for the latter as for the former.
What was the “diagnosis,” precisely? To put it crudely, I grew in my awareness that I have an itch too deep to scratch. We all do. All of our troubles — personal and collective — have their roots in this.
The Catholic tradition wisely speaks of this in terms of Original Sin, which is devastating and universal. True, the Sacrament of Baptism frees us from Original Sin; but it does not leave us unaffected by it. Even the baptized have to struggle with the inclination toward sin, as well as with the various physical and psychological troubles that beset humanity and have their roots in our fallen nature. Hence, the wound of original sin is not “un-felt.”
Here is something else I became conscious of: This wound is universal, but it is a wound that is in each case one’s own. My woundedness is just that — my woundedness, and no one else’s. No one can share my unique woundedness any more than anyone else’s birth can become my birth, or death become my death.
And so I came back to my home and my routine life, though not exactly to the same I had left behind (a bit like Frodo in “The Lord of the Rings,” for whom the Shire was not the same nor the wound he incurred fully healed). I have to admit, this sense has worn off more than a little since I’ve gotten back into my prior routine. So if I don’t seem any “different,” and if it seems like I have not exactly followed the piece of advice with which I end this post perfectly, it is my own fault, and the fault of my human weakness. But the retreat has left an impression on me, and I feel that I have even more of an impetus than before to try and stay focused on what ultimately matters.
I will keep trying. With God’s grace, I will succeed.
Lest you think I’m trying to depress you, I want to end with a couple notes of hope. Not false or wishful hope, but the real, solid, and incomprehensible yet sure hope that God gives to us in His Son, Jesus Christ. It is true that we are not meant for this world (that is, not insofar as our ultimate destiny is concerned). Our consolation and joy lie beyond. But our loving Lord, the Good Shepherd who will readily leave the 99 behind to find the one lost sheep, the One who bleeds and weeps with us, prepares for us a joy and a bliss that we cannot possibly comprehend.
He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, (for) the old order has passed away.” (Rev. 21:4)
Finally, as clichéd as this might sound, let us care for one another. Let’s not allow the little annoyances and offenses of others to trouble us. If only we knew how deeply wounded each and every person we meet is, we would not be so tempted to think ill of our fellow human beings. And what is more, if we understand what is ultimately at stake for us, what do these annoyances and offenses really matter?
Thank you for reading, and sorry if this was a bit long. May God reward you for your patience.
Image from Wikipedia
My reflections on the monastic retreat I made a couple weeks back have been, I admit, in the works for too long. But I can honestly say at this point that they will be ready tomorrow. I just have a little bit of tweaking left to do, and then the post is done.
Fair warning: It is a little long-ish — about two pages on a Microsoft Word document. But I could not really communicate the depth of the experience in less than that, so I do hope you will bear with me.
May God reward you for being patient with me :)