Last night, my wife and I went out to see Prince Caspian—it was our first movie date in years (it’s nice to be able to go to the movies again)—and we loved it. I know there’s been a lot of back-and-forth about the movie vs. the book; Frederica Mathewes-Green was actually so bold as to say the movie tops the book, while other voices have, much more predictably, argued the opposite. Douglas Gresham, Lewis’ stepson and the movie’s co-producer, said in an interview with CT that the movie “portrays probably even more strongly than the book the essential message of Prince Caspian,” even as he concedes that the book itself isn’t all that strong. I wouldn’t go as far as Mathewes-Green, who calls it “a dud”—I think she needs to read Michael Ward’s book Planet Narnia, which I’m looking forward to reading (soon, I hope)—but I do think it’s the weakest of the books; in reading it to my older girls recently, I really felt the force of the anticlimax.In light of that, while I don’t want to wade into the fray over comparing the book and the movie (in part because I don’t want to take the time to write a fully coherent review essay, just the movie-review equivalent of a notes column), I do want to offer observations in praise and support of the movie. Warning: spoilers ahead (I will pull no punches); don’t click “Read More . . .” if you haven’t seen the movie.First observation: I thought the filmmakers took the Pevensies’ dislocation and its effects far more seriously, and thought about its effects a good deal more, than Lewis did. Kudos to them on that. The introduction of the Pevensies, with Susan very much feeling a misfit and Peter getting into a fistfight because he can’t adjust back to being a kid under (often-capricious, unjust) authority after spending however many years as High King, is spot-on, and lays the groundwork for much of what follows. Going from being adults and sovereigns in Narnia back in a moment to being English schoolchildren must have been like throwing the car into reverse at freeway speed; if you understand the Pevensies as actual human beings going through that experience rather than as figures in an allegory, that would be a traumatic moment that must have had noticeable long-term effects. (To put it mildly.) I appreciate the filmmakers noticing.I especially appreciated the way they used it in character development, and especially with Peter and Susan. Peter has been struggling to adjust to not being High King, the general and warrior and statesman who is above all others under the law; for him, getting back to Narnia is, more than anything, about being back in charge, back on top. He’s not willing to defer to anyone, or even to treat anyone as an equal (including Caspian, even though Caspian knows the situation far, far better than he himself does), and he’s not willing to wait for Aslan, since to do so would be to acknowledge that even in Narnia, he is a man under authority. He doesn’t see Aslan when Lucy does because he doesn’t want to—he wants to do it himself; Lucy’s right, he has indeed forgotten who really defeated the White Witch, and he’s done so deliberately, out of pride. This drives him to put his faith in himself and his own judgment rather than in Aslan, with terrible consequences. He must be humbled, and have his faith properly oriented once again, before he can triumph; thus the capstone to his work is his surrender of his sword to Caspian, the final acknowledgement that it’s Caspian who now rules in Narnia. In that, he has learned what he needed to learn, and returns to England a second time actually ready to transition back to living there.Susan, by contrast—and by explicit, conscious (or semi-conscious) reaction against Peter—holds herself aloof from Narnia; she too, as Lucy tells her, doesn’t see Aslan until the end because she doesn’t want to. In her case, however, it’s not because she doesn’t want to submit to him, but rather because she doesn’t want to surrender to him; she’ll enjoy being in Narnia “while it lasts,” but she knows it isn’t going to and she’s guarding her heart against it. In this, I think, the filmmakers are laying the groundwork for her defection from the friends of Narnia which is revealed in The Last Battle—groundwork which is, I think, implicit in the book, but which is shown more clearly in the movie. (I might add, by the way, that I’ve never felt “Oh, wasn’t it fun when we used to pretend” was at all reasonable to have Susan say; her decision to turn her back on Narnia made sense to me, but not that she would actually forget, or come to believe it had never been real.) She refuses to fully yield to the reality of Narnia, choosing to protect herself by holding back from it; as a consequence, where Peter moves through their dislocation and comes out the other side, she pulls back from it. Where Peter has learned all Narnia can teach him, she has merely learned all she can learn.Second observation: I’ve seen complaints that the spiritual meaning of the book is lost in the movie. Now, I’m just a simple country preacher, so maybe I’m just not smart enough, but I’ve never been all that sure what the overarching spiritual meaning of the book is. It’s one of the reasons I’m looking forward to reading Planet Narnia, in hopes of seeing more in Caspian than I have to this point. As far as the book’s message about faith goes, though, I think it’s actually strengthened in the movie, because Peter and Susan’s character arcs through the movie play into that. Peter’s journey is especially relevant, because he starts off explicitly putting his faith in himself rather than in Aslan, and it blows up in his face; it’s as he shifts to trusting and serving Aslan rather than himself and his own ego that things start to get better.The climax of the movie, I think, is the summoning of the White Witch. Caspian has the wits, when she actually appears, to resist taking the last step to set her loose, and then the appearance of the Pevensies brings the whole plot crashing down—except that Peter allows himself to be half-seduced by the Witch. She’s cunning enough to offer help, to present herself as an ally who would follow him, and despite the fact that he ought to know better, he’s tempted. He still doesn’t want to let go, he still wants to defeat Miraz’ army himself and take the credit, and he’s actually willing to consider allying himself with the Witch to do it (even if it means lying to himself that he can trust her). Fortunately, Edmund isn’t going to make that mistake twice, and saves the day; and at that point, Peter seems to stop, take a good look at himself and how he’s acting, and realize that he’s been putting his faith in the wrong place. From that point on, he lets Lucy have the key role, and dedicates himself to buying the time for her mission to succeed.Third observation: as Philip noted over at The Thinklings, the filmmakers do a lot more with Edmund, and give him a lot more scope to act, than Lewis did. His decisive action to save his brother (and all Narnia) from the White Witch is the high point, and I think adds another dimension to the Christian message of the story. In the Pevensies’ first visit to Narnia, after all, Peter was the golden boy, while Edmund fell to temptation as the White Witch appealed to his pride; but that very success makes Peter vulnerable this time, to the point that he nearly falls to the same temptation that ensnared his brother, while Edmund is humbler and therefore wiser. This really underscores the story’s argument for faith, I think, making it clear that pride and faith in ourselves is a false path, while humility and faith in the true God is the only real way forward. It’s telling that in the last charge, the battle cry is no longer “For Narnia!”: it’s “For Aslan!” And though it’s Peter who leads the way, and Lucy who makes the way, it’s Edmund who shows the way; and, of course, it’s Aslan who is the way.Fourth observation: I have to differ with Renaissance Guy’s complaint that “the characters just do their own thing and don’t work together much or discuss their problems to determine cooperative solutions, which definitely departs from the story Lewis wrote.” That is indeed a problem when Peter shows up and takes over—and the result is a terrible defeat. As Peter is humbled, that changes; we don’t see the discussion that produces the plan that wipes out the Telmarine cavalry at the Battle of Aslan’s How, but it’s a fairly complicated plan that depends on considerable coordinated effort and mutual trust. The fact that failure to cooperate produces disaster, while working and planning together and trusting one another produces success, is very much in line with the story Lewis wrote; and that arc is a lot more realistic, to boot. After all, trust doesn’t usually come all that easily; it has to be built up, and we have to learn (and re-learn) our need to trust one another.Fifth observation: I think the movie gives us a much better and more believeable Caspian than the book. Having him older, right on the cusp of his majority, is not only better for the plausibility of Dawn Treader (as Gresham notes in the interview), it’s better for this story as well. I’m not sure I buy Doctor Cornelius having taught him so much less about the Narnians, but it’s clear that he’s much more prepared to be king, and this is good for the story. In the book, Caspian is a fairly passive figure, taken all in all, and really too young to be what the time demands that he be; that’s why the summoning of the Pevensies is necessary. They essentially return to re-establish their own reign, serving as a sort of rightful king by proxy, then pass it on to Caspian. In the movie, Caspian is already on his own two feet, raising the Narnians as an army against the usurper; he may be a king in exile, but he is very much a king. The Pevensies are needed for the benefit of their experience (mixed blessing though that is) and of their relationship with Aslan (which in the movie is to say, primarily, Lucy’s relationship); their blessing is valuable to give Caspian and his dynasty full legitimacy in the eyes of the Old Narnians, but it isn’t necessary to make him what he already is. Indeed, Peter’s surrender of his sword at the end probably does more for Peter, enabling him to let go of being High King (after all, his reign ended abruptly; one could say he needed more closure than that), than it does for Caspian.Sixth observation: not a major point, but there are a lot more Telmarines in the movie than in the book, as there ought to be after all that time. The book gives us perhaps the smallest-scale coup I’ve ever heard tell of; in the movie, the sheer size of the task set before Caspian can be clearly seen, as it should be.That’s just a few observations; I may have more to post later, but that’s enough to be going on with now. Taken all in all, though, I have no compunction in saying that, while no doubt the filmmakers could have done better, I think we can and should be happy with the job they’ve done.
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Prayers needed
for the family of Steven Curtis Chapman, and for the family of Sen. Edward M. Kennedy; and also, as always, please keep praying for Zimbabwe.
Morning prayer
In the beginning, O God,
when the firm earth emerged from the waters of life
you saw that it was good.
The fertile ground was moist
the seed was strong
and earth’s profusion of colour and scent was born.
Awaken my senses this day
to the goodness that still stems from Eden.
Awaken my senses
to the goodness that can still spring forth
in me and in all that has life.
—J. Phillip Newell, Celtic Benediction: Morning and Night Prayer, 26.
What’s the rush?
He doesn’t look all that natural in front of a TV camera, and when he smiles, he tends to look as if he were doing an impression of Jack Nicholson playing the Joker, but John McCain has a good sense of humor for all that; he dropped by SNL recently for a brief bit on Weekend Update, encouraging Democrats to keep the primary contest going. Take a look:
This is noxious
My thanks to Pauline at Perennial Student for catching this. One of the more fun stories in recent years for those interested in the Constitution is the 27th Amendment, which was originally proposed as the 11th Amendment back in 1789; it wasn’t ratified at the time, but no deadline was set for ratification, so when a student at the University of Texas discovered it, the states were still able to consider it, and it was ultimately ratified in May 1992. The Amendment states,
No law, varying the compensation for the services of the Senators and Representatives, shall take effect, until an election of Representatives shall have intervened.
The problem is, Congress is cheating, and the judiciary is letting them get away with it. Congress has continued to vote itself pay raises, it’s just called them COLAs (cost of living adjustments) instead, and the courts have refused to call them on it. Never mind that COLAs still “vary the compensation for the services of the Senators and Representatives,” the D.C. circuit of the Court of Appeals has ruled that the Amendment doesn’t apply to them—a flatly unreasonable and illogical reading of the text—and the Supreme Court has refused to hear any challenge to it.Why? Because Congress sets their pay. Congress can’t cut their pay, but only Congress can increase it. Our federal judiciary is letting Congress circumvent the Constitution and keep voting themselves pay raises to ensure they’ll keep raising the judges’ pay, too. In the larger scheme of things, this isn’t a big deal—but you know what? It’s still unconscionable.
Technical note
For those who may not have registered this, on those posts which have a “Read More” link at the bottom, that isn’t a link to the post page; rather, if you click on that, it will display the whole post right there in place on the main page of the blog. The guy who developed this calls it a “Peekaboo” link.
Thus, for instance, if you’re on the main page of the blog, you’ll see a “Read More” link just below this; if you click on it, you’ll see the rest of this sentence appear in place. Click on the “Summary only” link to return to the shorter display form.
Song of the Week
One of my very favorite songwriters is the Scottish folksinger Dougie MacLean; this isn’t his best-known song by any means (that would be “Caledonia”), but I think it’s the one I like best. This particular version benefits from the wonderful Kathy Mattea on backup vocals—they’re friends, and it was recorded during a joint studio session. (I’d wanted to post another video from the same session as well, of Mattea singing lead on Dougie’s song “Ready for the Storm,” but embedding is disabled on that one.)Turning Away
In darkness we do what we can;
In daylight we’re oblivion.
Our hears so raw and clear
Are turning away, turning away from here.On the water we have walked
Like the fearless child;
What was fastened we’ve unlocked,
Revealing wondrous wild.
And in search of confirmation,
We have jumped into the fire
And scrambled with our burning feet
Through uncontrolled desire.ChorusThere’s a well upon the hill
From our ancient past,
Where an age is standing still,
Holding strong and fast.
And there’s those that try to tame it,
And to carve it into stone—
Ah, but words cannot extinguish it,
However hard they’re thrown.ChorusOn Loch Etive they have worked
With their highland dreams;
By Kilcrennan they have nourished
In the mountain streams.
And in searching for acceptance
They had given it away;
Only the children of their children
Know the price they had to pay.ChorusWords and music: Dougie MacLean
© 1991 Dunkeld Records
From the album Indigenous, by Dougie MacLean
Dawkins, analyzed
I’ve written on Dr. Richard Dawkins and the rest of the “new atheists” once or twice (or maybe three times, or even four), so I was interested to see Dr. John Stackhouse reflect on a recent appearance Dr. Dawkins gave at the University of British Columbia (UBC, pronounced “you-bys-sey”). His comments are in three parts, evaluating Dr. Dawkins as rhetor, ethicist, and mirror (of the style and flaws of a certain type of Christian apologist and preacher); he has some interesting things to say, especially regarding Dr. Dawkins’ encounter with West Coast vegetarianism.
The importance of beauty in Christian ministry
Frederica Mathewes-Green has a blog post up on that subject titled “A Golden Bell and a Pomegranate: Beauty and Apologetics,” which I think deserves careful reading and reflection. A lot of it is on the specific importance of beauty in worship; she has a distinct Orthodox slant to this, which is only to be expected, but I think her basic point is right.
In worship, it’s about God, and all signs must point in His direction. An atmosphere of beauty teaches wordlessly about the nature of God. It teaches that He is not just a concept to be endlessly discussed; that at some point our capacity to grasp him intellectually fails, and we fall before him in worship. Beyond all we know and cannot know about God, he reigns in beauty. Beauty opens our hearts, and stirs us to hunger for more, to hunger for the piercing sweetness of the presence of God.
As she notes, however, this applies beyond just Christians to the ability of non-Christian visitors to perceive the reality of our worship, and thus to be drawn by it; as such, she argues (rightly, I think) that beauty is actually important in evangelism as well:
What does it take to be a missionary? You need to know your stuff, and you need to have a tender heart toward the people you are trying to reach. But there is one more thing that Orthodox Christianity would contribute to the ministry of evangelism: beauty.
Again, I don’t think this is purely an Orthodox contribution; I’ll grant, though, that they’ve continued to make beauty, according to their particular approach, a priority where too much of the Western church no longer does. As such, I do think those of us in Protestant churches, especially, could stand to learn from Orthodoxy in this respect. After all, the poet had a point when he wrote,“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”—John Keats, “Ode on a Grecian Urn”If we don’t show forth the beauty of God, we aren’t being faithful to his truth.
Church as a missional community
One of the things that holds the church back in this culture, I believe, is that we think of it as a place. We have the idea that we go to church, we have church, and then we leave church and go back into the “real world”; which, however common it is, is completely unbiblical. We may talk about the important truth that we are the body of Christ, the covenant people of God, but we haven’t really grasped that fact until we realize it’s just as true on Monday afternoon as on Sunday morning. The church is not a place; the building’s just something the church has to enable it to do certain things, most notably to gather to worship God. The church is all of us together, and we are every bit as much the church when we’re out buying, selling, working, playing, and the like as when we’re standing together on Sunday morning singing. Together, we carry out the central part of our mission, worshiping God, but we also prepare for the rest of it—which happens out in the world at large. That’s part of really being the church, that we are as much the church when we’re apart as when we’re gathered together.The problem is, we lose that when we let our walls define us. “Oh, those walls? That’s the Presbyterian church. And those walls over there, that’s the Free Methodists. And those walls down the road, that’s the First Church of the Brethren.” And those walls define out—everyone not within them doesn’t belong there. But Jesus didn’t define the church by walls, he defined us by our mission in this world—by, as you might say, the form which our daily lives are to take as the expression and outworking of our worship of him. It’s a mission which (like so many things) has three parts, which we can see in his farewell to his disciples in Matthew 28:16-20 and Acts 1:6-8.First, go into the world. The church is not defined as a group of people who all like to worship in the same way, though you wouldn’t always know it from the way we do things; nor is it defined as a group of people with the same cultural expectations, though if you look at the way so many churches tend to segregate by age, you might come to think otherwise; nor is it defined as a group of people who all believe the same things, though our longstanding denominational boundaries could give you that view. The church is defined as a group of people who have obeyed Jesus’ call to go. For some people, that means packing up and moving across the world; for more of us, it means sending and supporting those people, while at the same time remembering that we too are missionaries when we go down the street to buy milk. Wherever God leads us, whether Outer Mongolia or here in northern Indiana, that’s our mission field; wherever we are, we’re his missionaries. That’s what defines us as the church—not the details of our beliefs, not the details of how we do church, but the fact that we are a people on the way, following Christ in mission on the road to his kingdom. That’s why my other denomination, the RCA, defines its mission this way: “Our task is to equip congregations for ministry—a thousand churches in a million ways doing one thing—following Christ in mission, in a lost and broken world so loved by God.” That’s the church: a community of people, a community of communities, “following Christ in mission in a lost and broken world so loved by God.” That’s what Jesus meant when he said, “Go.”Next, he says, “Be.” Specifically, he says, “You will be my witnesses.” Note that. He doesn’t say, “You will do witnessing”; he says, “You will be my witnesses.” We’re not just called to “save souls,” we’re called to share the life Jesus has given us with the people around us—and not just with our words, but by the way we live our lives. As St. Francis of Assisi put it, “Preach the gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.” That’s not an easy standard; our lives are to be sermons on the word of God, backed up by the things we say. Our call as disciples of Christ is to go out into the world and live in it as he did—talking with others about our Father in heaven, and just as importantly, showing his love to those around us in every way we can think of. We are called to do the work he did: to feed the hungry; to care for the sick; to welcome the outsider; to defend the oppressed; to lift up the downtrodden; to love the unlovable; to break down the barriers between race and class and gender; and to speak the truth so clearly and unflinchingly, when the opportunity arises, that people want to kill us for it.After all, what’s a witness? Look at the justice system, which depends on witnesses—on people who have seen something important and are willing to tell others what they saw. That’s what we’re called to be. We too have seen something important—we have seen the work of Jesus Christ in our lives and the lives of others, through the power of the Holy Spirit—and we too are called to testify to what we’ve seen. In our case, though, our testimony is to be not only the things we say, but everything we do, the way we live our lives, because our lives must provide credibility for our words; a witness who isn’t credible convinces no one. To be witnesses, to bear witness to Jesus with our lives, means that at every point, our lives are to reflect the love and testify to the truth of Jesus Christ.Which is impossible, for us; but what is impossible for us is possible with God. That’s why Jesus says, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you,” and then says, “and you will be my witnesses.” Unfortunately, though, when the Holy Spirit fills us with the love and the grace and the power of God, we don’t stay filled; as the great evangelist D. L. Moody put it, we leak, and so we need to be constantly filled and refilled by the Spirit. That’s one reason we’re called to gather together each week to worship: when we spend time focusing on God, both by ourselves and together as a church, we open ourselves up for his Spirit to change our hearts and our lives, so that more and more we will be the people, and the church, he calls us to be.So, Jesus says, “Go”; he says, “Be”; and he says, “Do.” Specifically, he calls us to do his work: as his disciples, to make more disciples. Our mission as the church is to go out into the world, not to hide behind our four walls—to live, in full view of the world, lives powered and guided and changed and being changed by the Spirit of God—so that people will be attracted by our example and thus be drawn to follow Christ as we follow him. We are God’s light in the window, calling home those who have wandered far from him, giving direction to people lost in the darkness; but when people come, it isn’t enough just to get them in the door. It’s our call at that point to nurture them as we nurture ourselves, to give them a place by the fire and feed them, body and soul, to share our life with them, and to disciple them so that they, too, can take up the call in their turn.Now, this isn’t just a matter of teaching people to believe true things; by itself, that’s not discipleship. Discipling people is a matter of teaching them true things so that they will go out and live true lives. Our call and our purpose as disciples of Christ is to become like him: to think with his mind, to love the world around us as he loves it, and thus to act as he would act, to follow him in his mission in this lost and broken world so loved by God; and to do that, we need to place ourselves under the authority of his word, to obey his commandments and learn from his example. That’s why preaching and teaching are central to our life as the church, not just because we learn things, but because God builds what we learn into our lives, using it to form and shape us as his disciples.Finally, Jesus says, “Remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” This is, of course, a promise, but it’s also a framework and goal for our mission. We remember that Jesus is always with us by his Spirit, that we are never alone, without comfort, guidance, protection, or care; but we also remember that there is an end to this age, and that we don’t know when it will be. We remember that Jesus is with us to comfort us, yes, but also to challenge us; he’s with us not only for our sake, but for others’ sake and his own, to enable and empower us to be Jesus to the people around us. We remember that his purpose is in part to prepare us for the end of the age, when he will come again, and to use us to prepare others. We remember that he is with us, not to make us comfortable inside our four walls, but to take us beyond them to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted and comfort those who mourn, to proclaim liberty to the captives, to declare the year of the Lord’s favor—and to warn of the day when his judgment will come—so that when we come home to his kingdom at last, we will hear him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant; enter into the rest I prepared for you from before the foundation of the world.”