Has anyone else noticed a shift in the stratagem of advertisers of late? You know you are in a serious economic recession when Mercedes starts advertising themselves as a great value and words like “luxurious” and indulgent” have been replaced with “economical” and “money saving”. As a one-income mother of four, I love a bargain but feel a bit conflicted regarding this approach. After all, it’s advertising, the point of which is to try to get me to spend money, not save it. It reminds me of that Dove Cosmetics campaign a few years back where they featured “real women” in their supposed celebration of “real beauty.” While I applaud their seemingly sincere endeavor at truth in advertising, one has to question its legitimacy. After all, what are they attempting to peddle with all this “realness”? A bunch of products designed to reduce, eliminate or mask all your “realness,” right?  Of course, what should we expect from an industry that classifies anyone who wears clothes larger than my six-year-old as a plus-sized model? Still, it is the hypocrisy of it all that irritates one, or at least this one. Perhaps that is why I find Old Spice guy so appealing. Sure, he is trying to manipulate me into buying his product, but at least he is man enough to just come out and tell me so rather than trying to convince me he is really trying to celebrate my inner beauty or help me save money.

Have you ever pondered the ridiculously low speed limits in those areas surrounding schools? I am all for child safety and am the first to waggle a finger at those who speed past my children as they ride their bikes and generally frolic through the neighborhood, but have you ever tried to actually drive 20 mph? I think my kids could run faster than that. And what exactly do they expect the children to be doing that requires such attentive driving on my part? Have they added car dodging to the nationwide physical education curriculum? Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing large numbers of children standing roadside lately. Perhaps they are all actually inside the school, rather than hanging out waiting to be run over.

Finally, I am a regular at a nearby organic grocery store and a subscriber to their newsletter. It often contains interesting community info or ideas for healthy living. This past week the writer went on a tirade regarding government subsides which artificially lower the prices of fast food. Doesn’t it seem ironic that government policies are on the one hand making unhealthy (not to mention unappetizing) food more affordable and on the other “we the people” are spending millions to educate parents and children against the evils of obesity. Just another case of the government creating more problems by trying to solve a problem that really isn’t part of their mandate.

My Descent into Death: A Second Chance at Life by Howard Storm (Doubleday) — I have an abiding interest in the pervasive phenomenon of near death experiences (NDEs), both from a scholarly standpoint and, perhaps because my own eventual death appears to be inevitable, from a personal standpoint.  Storm’s story is especially interesting because his experience occurred while he was a firmly convinced atheist.  (Today Storm pastors a church in Ohio.)  This book poignantly recounts his NDE, including a detailed conversation with Jesus and some angelic beings.  Fascinating and inspiring stuff.

Consciousness Beyond Life: The Science of the Near Death Experience by Pim van Lommel (HarperOne) —  Where Storm’s NDE account is deeply personal, this study by the renowned Dutch cardiologist is a dispassionate assessment of the evidence for the validity of NDEs.  Building upon the research of previous NDE scholars (e.g., Kenneth Ring, P.M.H. Atwater, Melvin Morse, etc.), Van Lommel shares data gathered from his own research and considers it all in light of the latest insights in brain physiology.  Along the way, Van Lommel repudiates all of the naturalistic accounts of NDEs, such as appeals to the effects of medication, hallucination, or oxygen deprivation.  Those looking for a thorough and rigorous scientific assessment NDEs should start here.

Keaton by Rudi Blesh (Macmillan) — I am very selective when it comes to the biographies I read.  The subjects must be either great artists or paragons of virtue (interestingly, these tend to be mutually exclusive categories), and the authors must be strong stylists or superb scholars (or both).  This first bio of Buster Keaton met these criteria and was a delight to read.  My respect for Keaton the artist grew immensely, as did my pathos for Keaton the man.  (See my August 8, 2010 post for a more extensive discussion of the “Great Stone Face.”)

The Loser Letters: A Comic Tale of Life, Death, and Atheism by Mary Eberstadt (Ignatius) — If you thought that the new atheism was a hopelessly humorless topic, its time to think again.  This cheeky satire is absolutely hysterical.  Eberstadt manages to poke fun at the new atheists while revealing many of the serious problems with their perspective, not to mention some disturbing demographics (e.g., that atheists are far more likely to be men than women—so if atheism is about intellectual enlightenment, what does this imply about women?  Hmm….sexism anyone?).  For someone who is primarily a cultural commentator, Eberstadt displays tremendous insight into religious psychology and philosophy of religion.

Do Hard Things: A Teenage Rebellion Against Low Expectations by Alex and Brett Harris (Multnomah) — American culture is indulgent in many ways, and one of the most damaging forms this takes is the way we coddle our teenagers.  We don’t expect them to be morally serious and do significant work, so we don’t challenge them to do so.  Then when they confirm our low expectations we conclude that they’re not capable of anything more.  Alex and Brett Harris have had enough, and this rousing manifesto has brought throngs of young people, and their parents, to attention.  Way to go, guys.

Why is God Ignoring Me? by Gary Habermas (Tyndale) — Most people of faith have experienced the “dark night of the soul” when it seems that God is absent when we need him most.  In this book, Gary Habermas expounds on the critical resources that believers have to persevere through such times.  The author’s own personal trials inform this study, which is refreshingly realistic about suffering and the biblical perspective on the subject.  I also appreciate Habermas’s emphasis on the spiritual disciplines and other proactive ways of dealing with the problem of divine hiddenness.

The Complete Stories by Flannery O’Connor (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux ) — O’Connor’s fiction is often characterized as dark and grotesque, full of freaks and the bizarre.  Yet when I read her stories I find them to be both hopeful and, in a strange way, realistic (a response which prompts me, at turns, to question her readers’ interpretive sense and my own state of mental health).  In any case, O’Connor’s genius for providing insights into human nature and grace, among other things, is profound.  Her stories are consistently set in the “Christ-haunted South,” but the themes are universal.  And to my mind she succeeds where few other twentieth century fiction writers do—at inspiring virtue and a deeper devotion to the Golden Rule.

Over the years, however, the show and Beck have taken a decided turn towards the serious. I must confess to longing, at times, for a good prank call rather than hour upon hour of warnings and—is there any other word for it?—prophecies regarding the political and economic future of our country. Sometimes listening to G.B. is a bit like being in the mall with my kids when they spot some unfortunately overweight person and proceed to very loudly announce to all those gathered within earshot “Look Mommy, that man’s really fat!” You can’t really argue the facts of their case but it is certainly socially awkward to have it brought to your (and the rest of the mall’s) attention.

I have felt an increasing internal tension as I have listened to Beck’s calls for repentance and a return to our founding values. That tension did not resolve itself as I listened to much of the Restoring Honor rally he hosted in Washington D.C. this past weekend.  It wasn’t that I disagreed with any of the basic principles being expressed. I certainly think that our nation, both corporately and as individuals have plenty to repent of, but I am not comfortable with marrying my faith with my allegiance to my nation. Now don’t get me wrong: I certainly think that my faith should permeate every area of my life, those which would be deemed private and those which would fall into the public square. And since our country can be a moral agent for both good and evil, it seems appropriate that we have both pride and shame regarding our nation’s deeds. As I have listened to Mr. Beck call Americans to lives of honor, hope and charity (and expect those who “serve” as our leaders to do the same), I find I can only agree. As I have read the criticisms of those who oppose or are offended by him, I find a great lack of substantive examination and a great deal of name-calling and pettiness.

In the end, I support Beck’s ideals of restoring honor to the lives of our citizens. But I would hope that he would support the idea that it is not in the founders of nation but in the Creator of the universe where our ultimate hope lies. Whether or not we as a nation survive or perish, one day all nations will gather and we the people will discover what it is to be truly free.

“I am the king of potato wedges” (Andrew Spiegel, 4) — This proclamation was made by our youngest after dinner one evening during our recent family vacation.  Because of his capacity to “put away the groceries,” as we like to say (not to mention his special taste for spuds) no one thought to challenge his claim.

“I’ve decided to sell some of my cute” (Maggie Spiegel, 6) — This statement was made by our daughter after I had developed the habit of telling her she was “too cute.”  Leave it to our little girl to interpret this simple idiom as a statement of a problem to be solved.  I forgot to ask her how she planned to execute her plan.

“The state bird for hell is the vulture” (Sam Spiegel, 7) — While driving Sam to one of his baseball games this summer the conversation turned to state birds.  Always eager to integrate theology with any topic, he came out with this one.  Strangely, I found it difficult to deny its truth.

“Cussing is just an adult’s way of whining” (Bailey Spiegel, 10) — Bailey made this assertion after hearing some people using foul language.  It has since come in handy on several occasions.  And it’s an insight that reminds me that all vice is, in one way or another, childish.

Dear Elizabeth Gilbert,

Earlier this summer, I spotted your book with its cleverly designed cover, snuggly resting between What’s His Name’s newest thriller and Whosit’s latest cookbook. My book club had nominated Eat Pray Love for consideration for the upcoming year. I also noted Anne LaMotte’s enthusiastic recommendation on the cover and impulsively tucked you in the cart amongst the swimsuits and bug spray. Since that day, “you” have traveled with me to watch my four children swim at the lake; you have kept me company while I pretended not to be putting off making dinner. You have rested on my bedside table as I slept. Of course, you didn’t actually come to live in my house and follow me around but I tend to take the reading of a book as a very personal affair and often become deeply attached to an author through the words they have crafted. So imagine my shock and anger when I reached page 94 on which you discuss those of us who choose a more conventional way of life. Imagine my disappointed after I had given you the benefit of the doubt as you described your rather unconventional form of Christianity and put up with your heavy-handed political statements. I did so because in reading your book, I felt in many ways I recognized a kindred spirit.

Though there are few similarities between us outwardly (I am a Midwest residing stay-at-home mom with four kids), I saw myself in many of your struggles, laughed at your jokes and savored your descriptions of meals I am unlikely to experience for myself. And what did you do? You gut-punched me right there on page 94! You actually made me write a bad word in my book.  Okay, so you didn’t force me, but I was really upset and I am no longer permitted audible four-letter words. So what was it I found so hurtful, you might ask (or not, but since this is a one way mode of communication I get to pretend that you did)? In your discussion of the comforting status brought on by marriage and conventional living, you say, “at every stage, you know who you are, you know what your duty is and you know where to sit at the reunion.” In the words of Virginia Woolf, you say, on this side of convention “all is correct.” WHAT?!?

If the life of convention comes with some sort of instruction manual with an illustrated step-by-step guide, I must have been in the bathroom the day they handed it out. Just about every moment between the time I am jolted into consciousness by one of my demanding brood and the time when I lay my head across the pillow is filled with wearying, bone-crushing self-doubt. Not just the run-of-the-mill mommy doubts like “Do Fruit Loops count as an actual serving of fruit?” but deeply personal ponderings of the soul that seem to mirror many of your own wonderings of purpose and meaning. Your comments left me feeling as though, were we to meet in the family reunion of life, you would quickly seat me at the “Boring Conventional Women” table without a backward glance. Perhaps I would, with a deep sigh of envy, do something similar, placing you at the “World Traveling, Not a Care in the World Accomplished Women” table. But surely this seating arrangement doesn’t do justice to either party. I would love to sit at the “Jumbled Up Women of all Shapes and Sizes” table with you. Rubbing elbows over large quantities of carbs, surely we could find that we share more than just a deep love of pasta. Amidst our mutual self-doubt perhaps we could find some common certainties.

Sincerely,

Amy Spiegel

You might also want to check out Anderson Cooper’s recent CNN interview with Hitchens.  Among other things, they discuss the prospect of a potential deathbed conversion.  Not surprisingly, Hitchens rules out the very possibility of recanting on his atheism, even if his demise is imminent.

Hitchens makes note of the fact that many people are praying for him.  He can certainly count me among that throng.  I am hopeful that he, too, will find the divine grace and forgiveness we all so desperately need.

As I have been building my personal collection of Keaton films, I’ve become increasingly interested in Keaton the man.  So this summer I read a Keaton biography:  Keaton (Macmillan, 1966) by Rudi Blesh.  This was the first Keaton bio, written by a man who knew Keaton personally and closely consulted him while writing the book.  Unlike most celebrity bios of our time, which tend to be gossipy and voyeuristic, Blesh’s account focuses on Keaton as an artist.  Another refreshing contrast is Blesh’s prose, full of human insight and sometimes deliciously poetic.  Here’s a representative excerpt describing Keaton’s unique moment in Hollywood history:

“It was a time of unabashed hero (and heroine) worship.  Babe Ruth, in fact—and even Lindbergh—got only the edges of it.  The full treatment went to the movies and to movie stars, the actors and—most particularly—the actresses.  Not merely distance but silence compounded by magic.  Hollywood was Valhalla or an Olympus, a silver-screen abode with goddesses living apart behind a wall of silence.  Their beautiful bodies were ethereal yet real, their lips framed soundless words on a wavelength we could not hear, their gestures stirred a different air, their noble remoteness called us to worship” (p. 104).

The irony is that Keaton had no interest in worship, nor even celebrity and its trappings.  In the end, he was interested in just one thing:  his art.  And his output demonstrates this.  Keaton’s film work included 34 shorts from 1917 to 1923 and 15 full-length features from 1923 to 1929.  This was the golden age of Keaton, during which he produced such classics as Our Hospitality (1923), Sherlock Jr. (1924), The Navigator (1924), and The General (1927), the latter commonly regarded as one of the finest films ever made.  Keaton rightly became an international phenomenon, and he was destined to be a lasting influence in film history, on comedic stars from Jerry Lewis to Jim Carrey.

Blesh puts it as follows:  “His technical and artistic innovations have enriched the cinema.  His native genius for physical action no one else, not even Fairbanks, has ever approached.  His pantomime places him with Chaplin alone.  The depth, irony, and mordant vision of his comedy are all but unique.  It bids fair to be timeless.  Even Chaplin had a dozen imitators, but Keaton’s characterization was so wholly his own that no one ever tried to copy it.  His was the only unsmiling mask.  The term ‘genius’ fits Buster Keaton as it fits Charles Chaplin, with no seams to take in” (p. 363).

To see a Keaton film is to immediately understand why the man had no imitators.  In short, it was too dangerous to imitate him.  Keaton routinely took physical risks in his films, even endangering his life on a few occasions, such as in the famous scene in Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928) in which the two-ton façade of a building falls upon him, or rather around him, as Keaton is narrowly missed, thanks to the second story window through which he emerges in the rubble, amazingly unscathed.  Like so many scenes in Keaton films, it is breathtaking.  And, as I like to remind my kids—and now they remind me—it was all done without CGI, using only the most rudimentary special effects.

Even if you are not a film buff, you owe it to yourself to check out Keaton’s movies.  If you are a film buff and take a serious interest in film history, well, then its mandatory.  Be warned.  Keaton films are addictive, and you might find yourself, as I have, sparing no expense to build your collection (and I am not one to purchase DVDs).  But be assured—great viewing pleasure awaits you, and your thoughts about the art of film and its history will be permanently changed.

God is pretty good at the whole putting things together in just the right way thing. Just look at the world He has created, how the blue of the sky dotted with the white of the clouds sets off the green of the grass or what a first-rate job He did in designing all those animals, even the ones you have to examine very closely in order to truly appreciate.  And all of nature is full of the beauty of contrasting and accenting colors.

God’s greatest display of contrast is of course Himself. He is Father (strong and yet full of compassion), Son (a brother and yet a savior) and Spirit (mysterious and yet most closely known). Each person of God contrasts not only with Himself but with the other persons of the Godhead as well. As the three personalities of the Trinity, they are not opposites but rather perfect co-existing complements whose characteristics and “personalities” work together to achieve flawless completion.  Having been made in His image, we humans are made with similar complementary characteristics. He didn’t make us all the same but divided us into two separate genders; distinct and yet one.

While having a great appreciation for the unique qualities that make up both males and females of our kind, there are times when, frankly, I have doubts as to the wisdom of this division of the species. Recently, I suffered such doubts as Jim and I struggled to reach an agreement about the most efficient route to our travel destination. In exasperation I cried “Why do men ask you what to do just so they don’t have to make the decision and then criticize your logic after the fact?” to which Jim replied “Why do women continue to nag you even after they have gotten their way?” Despite my frustration, I had to admit we were both right. So why would God create creatures that are inescapably drawn to one another and yet find one another’s ways so very irritating? Seems like a recipe for disaster.

I suppose the answer lies in the fact that we are both reflective of the nature of God but also horribly warped in our current condition. In our original nature, we were meant to highlight one another’s strengths with the contrasts in our design. In our earthly state, sin has so twisted us that the places where we meet, rather than lining up as the earth meets the heavens, are all out of sorts and our differences irritate as much as they complement.

Still, even this irritation is not without it’s mercies. While I am sure we don’t take advantage of the opportunities as often as we should, each little rub is an opportunity for grace and patience. And one day, we will fellowship in complete harmony, truly reflecting the communion of the our great Creator—the perfect combination of flavors for all eternity.

And down in Georgia, school officials at Augusta State University have informed counseling graduate student Jennifer Keeton that she must complete a remediation program to change her views about homosexuality or else she will be dismissed.  Keeton has decided to sue ASU.

Now a few observations.  Notice that the issue in both cases is the students’ beliefs about homosexuality, not their conduct.  This is, as one of the attorneys in the Ward case said, “scary stuff,” and I would add that it is just the sort of thing that John Stuart Mill warned us about in his classic On Liberty.  The State has no business controlling or attempting to control people’s consciences.  And to shut down freedom of opinion on such a crucial issue as sexual immorality is especially frightening.

The district court judge, George Steeh, declared that the university was justified in “requiring students to counsel clients without imposing their personal values.”  And EMU is not imposing its values on Ward by insisting that she change her views?  Clearly there are values at stake in this case, but it is not just Ward’s personal, or Christian, values.  EMU’s values, specifically that homosexuality is morally appropriate, are involved too.  To insinuate that EMU is value neutral here is ethically naïve or, worse, disingenuous.  The truth is that EMU, Augusta State, and no doubt most other state universities, have an ethically dogmatic position on the homosexuality issue, no less dogmatic than that of Ward, Keeton, and other conservative Christians.

Also, consider the irony that the EMU and ASU officials aim to change these students’ beliefs when it is also presumably the view of these university officials that homosexuals cannot change.  The notion that homosexual orientation is somehow fixed and immutable is, after all, the most popular argument in defense of its moral legitimacy.  The irony here is that between the two, beliefs and conduct, the latter is far more susceptible to voluntary change.  In fact, many philosophers would argue that one’s beliefs are not at all under one’s control.  (Try changing your belief about even a trivial matter, and you’ll see this is so.  And even the prospect of long-term intentional change of one’s beliefs is a controversial matter.)  But one’s sexual conduct is under one’s control.  The decision to have sex is a choice (except in cases of rape, of course, but that’s beside the point).  Human beings have free will, and that applies in the sexual sphere as well as anywhere else.  To deny this and insist that those with homosexual attraction (even if it is innate, though there is little evidence to suggest it is) “cannot help themselves” is to affirm hard determinism, a radical and morally deadly view in itself.

Yet, despite these problems, moral permissivism about homosexuality is becoming a dogma in our culture, including the academy and the legal sphere.  This is bad news—not just for religious freedom in America but for the state of our public discourse.