"Angels and Demons": Hollywood Theology?

Several years ago, I heard a speech delivered by the Rev. Rick Warren in one of the break-out sessions during the annual National Prayer Breakfast event in Washington, D. C., in which Warren said that if Christians really wanted to influence American society for Jesus, they should forget Washington, D. C., and start working Hollywood.

The power of a good story is well known -- particularly by parents, pastors, pundits and producers. Hollywood, more than any place else in our culture, manipulates the power of this medium.

To be sure, there are many in the film industry who have taken Warren's advice, and are about the work of producing movies and television programs that reflect the Gospel message. The adaptations of C. S. Lewis' books from "The Chronicles of Narnia," is one noteworthy example.

Some weeks ago, columnist Ross Douthat reminded me of the potential power of a story in an article he wrote that examined the not-so-obvious themes in author Dan Brown's best-selling works: "The DaVinci Code," and "Angels and Demons."

"If you want to understand the state of American religion, you need to understand why so many people love Dan Brown," Douthat wrote.

Click here to see Douthat's thought-provoking article. I am sure that you will begin to see that both Douthat and Warren are on to something.

A Father's Day Letter to My Mother

Dear Mom,

Thank you for marrying Daddy.

It's not that you need me to thank you for more than 50 years of marriage (see photo from Golden Wedding anniversary reception in 1994) and six children (all of whom are living productive, independent, lives), but for all of the times I wanted to say it -- and didn't; and for all of the times I should have said it -- and wouldn't: Thank you for marrying Daddy.

It has been 10 years this past January that Daddy died with you at his bedside holding his hand. Since then, I have been acutely conscious of the greatness of the man you called by his first and middle initials: "L. C."

Based on what we see and hear these days, it seems that the average man is clueless as to what it means to be a real man. A few years ago, I was given a book -- written by a Colorado Springs "mountain man" -- that had become a bible in many gatherings of Christian men. No doubt, the writer was being handsomely remunerated for helping hundreds of middle-age "boys" to man-up. I just couldn't take seriously the writer -- or his writings. You see, I had been there, when I really was a boy.

A boy's perspective is a peculiar one. Everything seems too large to grasp, while at the same time strangely achievable. I first began to see the world from the front seat of Daddy's car.

He took me with him on errands, and on home visits to shut-in members of the church he served as pastor. He was my primary source for answers to my questions about the what and why of things I had heard or seen in those car rides.

I was his frequently reluctant partner in home building projects, my first being the erection of a swing set in the back yard of the parsonage in Hutchinson, Kansas. He also was like Moses (more the lawgiver than the wilderness guide in this example), who promised death (or, more accurately, the wish that one were dead) for lying, stealing, insubordination, and poor school grades.

Mark Twain once said that when he was a teenager, his father was the most ignorant man on earth. But when Twain became a young man in his early twenties, he was amazed at how wise his father had become in only a few years.

Like Twain, I am exceedingly grateful that Daddy lived long enough for me to realize how wise he had been all along; and for the opportunity to draw on that wisdom as I made my way in the world. I know that not all boys grow up in homes with their fathers. Death, divorce; or as is commonly the case today, unwed motherhood paired with absentee fatherhood, have created a situation that psychologists, pundits, and pastors work tirelessly to remedy.

As a man, I can see many things that I could not appreciate while a boy. First, Daddy loved you very much. I never heard him say an unkind word about you, and heaven help anyone who did. Second, Daddy was serious about his faith in Jesus. This is not to say that he lived perfectly, but he was unwilling to ignore or to change the standard, even when by the standard he had fallen short. Third, he was serious about "raising" his two sons into men.

In the Bible, it says that "as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." (Proverbs 27: 17) Yes, Daddy was often as hard as granite, and as unyielding as iron, but it was not without its benefit. Because of him, I know the value of honesty; the cost of freedom; the necessity of family; the benefit of a prepared mind; and the all-sufficiency of God.

And as the icing on the cake, because of him I know how to safely handle firearms, catch a fish, defend myself with my hands, cry when moved, and shave with a straight-edge razor.

As cool as all of this may be, it started with you. Thanks for saying yes to "L. C." Thanks for marrying my Daddy!

Love,
CHUCKY

Religion: The Scoundrel's Last Refuge?

Last Wednesday's shooting death of a security guard special by an 88-year old white supremacist in Washington, D. C.'s Holocaust Museum brought to mind two thoughts.

The first thought is a quote from 18th Century English writer Samuel Johnson (see photo): "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel." 

The second thought is a recollection of a meeting I once had with another elderly white supremacist nearly 30 years ago, who called his fellowship of racial hatred a "church."

The year was 1981.  I was working as a religion reporter in The Miami Herald newspaper's Broward County bureau when I discovered the existence of a group that called itself The World Church of the Creator (please click here for a link to the Anti-Defamation League's write-up on the group).  After a phone call to the group's founder, Ben Klassen, a white colleague and I arranged to interview Klassen for the article.

It was clear that Mr. Klassen's "church" was a refuge for scoundrels -- similar to the contemporaries of Samuel Johnson that gave genuine patriots a bad name.  

Likewise, the museum shooter -- James W. von Brunn -- an alleged World War II veteran who described himself as a patriot, according to reports of writings posted on his Web site.  

In such cases as these, it is always the genuine article that betrays the phoniness of the Klassens and the von Brunns of society.  Real patriots do not need to pin a flag on their lapel.  Their patriotism is measured in sacrifices made for the benefit of all of one's fellow citizens, not in the collection of perquisites and prerogatives for one's own family, group, or tribe.

Similarly, according to scripture, true disciples are known by their unalloyed love for the wide-ranging fraternity of God: Red, yellow, black and white -- and brown.  True disciples are the salt of the earth, and the candle in the darkened room. 

When true patriots and true disciples are at their best, there is no place for the scoundrels of the earth to hide.  

Vacation is Over: Back to Blogging!

Two of the primary rules of blogging are: Post early, and post often.

I regret that I've broken the second rule with my silence over the past six or seven weeks. It's not that issues and events have failed to present a reason for writing. In the interim, I heard an excellent sermon in Cannes, France during that city's Film Festival where the preacher -- a lay preacher -- delivered a sermon that was as timely and as engaging as any I've heard in years.

I've also read articles that I've thought worthy of passing along in hopes that you are as challenged as I've been by the author's words. Current events have also given me reason to think about the condition of humanity, and what Holy scripture says our common illnesses -- and the cure.

Finally, thanks to those of you who gently mentioned to me that you've checked this blog in recent weeks, and have missed the posts. Time to get back to writing. Thanks for reading, and please send a comment back my way! - LCA