Seven Pounds: an assault on the foundation of Judeo-Christian ethic

Last night I was fortunate enough to attend a sneak preview of the new Will Smith film Seven Pounds (trailers).  Going into it, I was intrigued by what I had seen thus far. The ad campaign has been pretty effective, engendering a palpable curiosity in the viewer: “What the heck is this movie about?”

Part of that curiosity is directly a result of Will Smith’s impressive turn as a mysterious figure engaged in some sort of enterprise involving several strangers; whether this enterprise is nefarious or benevolent in nature remains largely a mystery even until the end of the film’s first act.

It’s hard to address my reaction to the film without discussing specifics as I will do below; however for those of you who don’t like to know the details of a film, I’ll do a quick spoiler-free recounting.  This movie is, to put it bluntly, morally repugnant. It is a sneak attack on the very foundations that lead to the ascendency of western society, and sadly many people are going to fall for it. If you are a church attender, you will most likely hear Smith’s character’s actions compared to the sacrificial actions of Jesus Christ. Don’t buy into it. Go into this movie with the knowledge that it puts a very attractive face on an insidious worldview. This deceptive message, prevalent in our culture, elevates individually perceived reality as dictated by emotion coupled with (an admittedly admirable) concern for life above any transcendant principles of ethical behavior.

The central question of the film: is Will Smith’s character a hero, or a fool? To answer that, I will delve into spoilers. Don’t read further if you don’t like them.

The movie is basically as follows. Will Smith’s remorse following his negiligence in an auto accident (in which 7 people including his wife die) leads him to decide that he is going to kill himself and donate all his organs, money, house, etc to 7 people to ostensibly make up for his mistake. Also important to note is that he is in a lot of emotional pain because of what happened, and this is made clear by Smith’s look-at-me-I-am-in-pain face (of which I grew somewhat tired of within the first 30 minutes). However he doesn’t want to help just anyone, but wants to choose those “who deserve it- good people.” Although he does just want to end it all, his desire is depicted as a noble one because he wants his death to mean something. In the process of picking the person who he wants to receive his heart (he is a very rare  blood type), he ends up falling in love with a dying girl. Faced with the choice between living a short time with his new love (who is doomed to die) or allowing her to live on by sacrificing himself, he chooses the latter, and in the process also donates his corneas to a blind Woody Harrilson (who by the way probably delivered the best performance in the film), his beach house to a battered Hispanic woman and her children, bone marrow to a child, kidney(s?) to a token old white guy, pieces of his lung to his brother… the list probably goes on.

I hated it. And here is why. As I said above, the message is not merely morally questionable but a morally repugnant one: disdain for one’s own life is called virtue, and death is called life.  His ultimate selfish act of suicide, we are emotionally manipulated to believe, was a heroic act because of what he did with all his worldly possessions (his body etc). This is bullshit. To understand why suicide is so morally reprehensible in almost every situation (I withhold judgment for people in egregious physical pain that can’t be alleviated- I don’t know what I’d do in that eventuality), I defer to GK Chesterton in the chapter “The Flag of the World” of the book Orthodoxy:

Not only is suicide a sin, it is the sin. It is the ultimate and absolute evil, the refusal to take an interest in existence; the refusal to take the oath of loyalty to life. The man who kills a man, kills a man. The man who kills himself, kills all men; as far as he is concerned he wipes out the world. His act is worse (symbolically considered) than any rape or dynamite outrage. For it destroys all buildings: it insults all women. The thief is satisfied with diamonds; but the suicide is not: that is his crime. He cannot be bribed, even by the blazing stones of the Celestial City. The thief compliments the things he steals, if not the owner of them. But the suicide insults everything on earth by not stealing it. He defiles every flower by refusing to live for its sake. There is not a tiny creature in the cosmos at whom his death is not a sneer. When a man hangs himself on a tree, the leaves might fall off in anger and the birds fly away in fury: for each has received a personal affront. Of course there may be pathetic emotional excuses for the act. There often are for rape, and there almost always are for dynamite. But if it comes to clear ideas and the intelligent meaning of things, then there is much more rational and philosophic truth in the burial at the cross-roads and the stake driven through the body, than in Mr. Archer’s suicidal automatic machines. There is a meaning in burying the suicide apart. The man’s crime is different from other crimes — for it makes even crimes impossible.

Smith’s act is not heroic, it is cowardice. He is not unusually noble; he is atypically selfish. His pain-face makes something very clear: the real reason he is killing himself is because he doesn’t want to live.  All of the other things he does in addition to taking his own life? Semantics. Rationalization. What about all the pain his suicide inflicts upon the rest of his family, and on the woman who he supposedly loves? What about all the other good he could have accomplished over the course of a long life? What about the fact that life is itself a gift given by God that is not ours to throw away? No, ultimately Smith is elevating his perception of reality through his emotional pain above any claims the world (his family, God, society) has on him, and as Chesterton makes clear, this is in a very real sense, a purely evil act.

Now you will hear Smith’s character compared to Jesus- I guarantee it. But
this is a lie. He was not a martyr, he is a suicide. Jesus was not a suicide, and the idea that he was a suicide is an ancient, thoroughly refuted heresy. As Chesterton goes on to note in his book, the line between suicide and martyrdom is one of the most important distinctions to make in Judeo-Christian ethic, and in fact in many ways it is THE defining difference between the moral codes of Christendom and all other moral frameworks, i.e., fraudulent moral systems. This movie is trying to blur those lines. I’m not falling for it, and neither should you.

The Healing of the Paralytic

I’m continuing to post anything I write for my New Testament class at UK- just for a change of pace on the old blog.  I do way too much politics and Amy Adams on here anyway.

And so, my latest creation.   It’s quite a bit longer assignemen than the first one- enjoy.  Oh and for the record, I hate the closing paragraph.

The episode known as “The Healing of the Paralytic” depicted in the Synoptic Gospels reveals much about the Christology of the Gospel writers, including their truth-claims regarding the purpose of Jesus’ ministry, his possession and wielding of spiritual as well as earthly authority, and their approaches to illustrating these truth-claims. Indeed, modern scholarly discussion regarding these unique literary works, which tends to accentuate the differences between the Gospels, finds fertile ground within the notably contrasting contexts of the accounts, and all of the generally accepted assumptions regarding the uniqueness of each evangelist’s Christological paradigm are demonstrable.

Disregarding certain details, the pericope unfolds in each of the Gospel accounts essentially the same way. Jesus is recently come “to his own town” (Mat 9:1) of Capernaum, and some persons bring to him a “paralyzed man on a bed” (Luk 5:18). Interestingly, Jesus observes the faith not of the man but of the man’s friends, and proceeds to tell the man “your sins are forgiven” (Mar 2:5). The Jewish leaders who are present believe Jesus’ words are blasphemous because only God can forgive sins, but Jesus is not done. Having “perceived” their thoughts, Jesus challenges them, saying the exact same words in all three accounts, “Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Stand up and walk’? But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins-”. Jesus dramatically turns to the paralytic and continues by telling the paralytic to get up and go home, and oh by the way- be sure to take your mat with you. The people gathered around praise God for this miracle, and the scene comes to a close.

Mark’s Gospel seems to have been written to chronicle or perhaps even define an accepted Christology of the first century Christian community, and its intention is therefore theological rather than historical biography. Mark makes claims about Jesus’ nature and ministry that are still being defined in this early sequence of his narrative, as is the general outline of Jesus’ characteristics. Unmentioned in the other Gospels is the fact that Jesus was “at home” (2:1), i.e. in his house, and this lends weight to the view that the Markan Christ is one who is a private person, or at least an unwilling public figure, especially at this point in his life. Also lending weight to a private Jesus is the episode immediately preceding this occurrence, where Jesus tells the recently healed leper to “say nothing to anyone” (1:44). Of course the leper ignores these instructions and tells everyone, causing Jesus to move out into the country to avoid the crowd (1:45). For Mark, Jesus is the good news (1:1), and so when he does return home, there were so many people gathered that the paralytic’s friends can’t even approach the front door of the house. As the episode occurs early in his ministry, Mark defines the formula by which Jesus is operating as well as continues the announcement Jesus’ period of public ministry which began just a few paragraphs before. Mark defines him here as a person who will be in conflict with the Jewish authorities, and unlike them, one who possesses true authority both earthly and spiritual. He claims that Jesus is able to forgive sins, and because this utterance of Jesus to the paralytic- “your sins are forgiven” (2:5) – has precedence over the healing itself, this spiritual, invisible authority supersedes the earthly healing. In fact, Jesus indicates that the healing itself is only done in order to demonstrate the spiritual authority he is claiming to possess, and not as an end in and of itself (2:10). Jesus has only done minimal preaching up to this point (1:38) and only in Galilee, and so this short narrative serves to give the reader a window into what the message has been. Mark’s Kingdom of God is first and foremost an invisible, spiritual one whose earthly realities are only a result of spiritual ones. Jesus’ ministry, therefore, even from the very beginning, turns about the idea that Jesus is not simply an earth-bound superhuman; this man is no Greek hero going about the countryside doing miraculous deeds and gaining renown. He is not even simply another Jewish prophet. Jesus calls himself the ‘Son of Man’ for the first time here (2:10), comparing himself to Adam. Mark is claiming precedence for Jesus in what one might call the Jewish pantheon of ancient heroes, saying that the good news- which is Jesus himself- marks a new, spiritual beginning. It is an invisible reality that has come down to men from heaven, and although the people are only able to perceive the earthly effects of this new Kingdom of God, they still “glorified God, saying, ‘We have never seen anything like this!’” (2:12).

The Healing of the Paralytic is symptomatic of the existence of the Synoptic Problem (Brown 111) present in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. The reasoning goes that much of the material in these three Gospels- the pericope at hand being a conspicuous example- is too similar in content, style, and even wording to have been independently generated or orally transmitted. The above recounting of the story eliminates a number of differing details, but the majority accepted explanation of the striking similarity is that Mark was used as a source by Luke and by Matthew, and so the differences between Matthew and Mark and between Luke and Mark occasion special attention.

Matthew’s account of the event differs contextually from both the Markan and Lukan depictions, but these differences are at least partially not what one might expect. Matthew’s twenty seven chapters of content come close to doubling the mere sixteen chapters of Mark, yet in this particular instance, it is Matthew who is found wanting in detail and length. Why did Matthew leave out certain compelling details surrounding this miracle? Why did he remove the suffocating crowd, the inside environs, and the lowering of the mat through the roof (9:2)? Perhaps the evangelist simply has little taste for repertory, but it may also be that this section of text- falling between the Sermon on the Mount in chapters 5-7 and the sayings and parables beginning in chapter 10- is paced with the purpose of moving the story along as quick as possible. Matthew’s Christology has been described by some as being centered around the “Jewishness of Jesus”, and so it may be accurate to say that Matthew wants to move the story along to the parables and then on to Jerusalem, the center of the Jewish world. The small snapshots of action occurring in Galilee throughout Matthew are only chosen for inclusion in as much as they support Matthew’s thesis: Jesus is “the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham” (1:1). Another interesting departure from Mark is Jesus’ words to the scribes, who are thinking to themselves “This man is blaspheming” (9:3). In Mark (as well as Luke), Jesus is not immediately confrontational and simply asks “Why do you raise such questions in your hearts?” (2:8). However, Matthew uses the much more hostile “Why do you think evil in your hearts?” (9:4). This hostility may seem to conflict with Matthew’s Hebrew-favoring theme; after all, the scribes represent the greatest and most educated Jewish scholars of the day. However, the import of Jesus standing up to these learned scribes in keeping with the consciousness of Jesus’ Jewish roots is immense. While in Mark Jesus has the precedence of Adam, the founder of humanity, Matthew’s Jesus has an authority reminiscent of Moses, the giver of the Torah. Along the same lines, another conspicuous departure from the Markan text becomes important to consider. Whereas as the Markan crowd is simply amazed by what they saw occur (Mar 2:12) and glorify God on this basis, the Mattean crowd’s reason for glorifying God is slightly different: “they glorified God, who had given such authority to human beings” (9:8). This addition on the part of Matthew reinforces the sort of new Moses Christology therein by depicting Christ’s authority as something given to him by God, much the same as all the prophets before him in what we may again refer to as the Jewish pantheon has received their authority to work miracles, beginning with Moses.

The third Evangelion professes from the outset to be an “orderly account” (1:3) of the Christ narrative, and so special attention should indeed be given to the order and context in which the Healing of the Paralytic occurs in the Gospel of Luke. Because the early sequence of events depicted in Luke does not differ greatly from that recounted in Mark, some of the same observations can be made. The episode is again early in his ministry, helping to define a burgeoning conflict with the Jewish authorities as a result of Jesus’ own claims to authority, such as the right to forgive sins. However, while in Mark there is an obvious focus on the spiritual nature of the Kingdom of God, and on Jesus’ spiritual authority, this does not seem to be the whole picture with Luke. A careful reading of the entire Gospel and its sequel, Acts, reveals Luke’s preoccupation with the earthly facets of the message of Christ. There is a focus on leaving behind earthly possessions throughout- although this is admittedly contradicted slightly by Jesus’ imperative “take your bed and go to your home” (5:24); perhaps Jesus wisely understood that no one would want that worn, decrepit mat anyway. Nonetheless, Luke writes his works fully conscious of fitting the narrative of Christ and the church into the context of a universal nature of God’s Kingdom; Luke is, after all, believed to be a gentile, or at least intimately connected with the gentile branch of the church. The only recognizable adjustment Luke makes to the Markan narrative is to stress this Kingdom of God paradigm. Mark simply reports that a large crowd invaded Jesus’ home and made it impossible for the friends of the paralytic to enter, but Luke considers it important to inform us that “they had come from every village of Galilee and Judea and from Jerusalem” (5:17). The universal draw of Christ across the Jewish world is highlighted just enough to give us insight into Luke’s purpose for this depiction: this man Jesus was not just for Capernaum, and not just for Galilee. This theme comes to fruition later when Luke completes his story, and Christ’s message becomes preached throughout the world. The only other notable addition that Luke mentions about Jesus’ miracle is that “the power of the Lord was with him to heal” (5:17). This seems like an obvious statement to make, especially considering what happens just a few short sentences later. However, the similarity of this statement to the one previously referenced in Matthew 9:8, “they glorified God, who had given such authority to human beings” (emphasis added), is interesting to note. It may be that both Matthew and Luke, having written some time after Mark, are each attempting in their own way to correct a theological disagreement within the church during the time they are writing. Indeed, it seems just the sort of thing that Luke, a self-described expert on the life of Christ (chapter 1), would do. Had there been a disagreement regarding Christ’s diety? Perhaps Luke (and Matthew as well) is here arguing for a Christology where Jesus’ authority to heal is less inherent to his nature and more derived from God’s power through him. Luke, the writer of Acts, is obviously interested in the idea of God giving power to man in order to do miraculous healings. It may instead be that Luke wants to explain the mechanics behind mere men such as Peter and Paul effecting great miracles such as those done by Jesus of Nazareth. Whatever the reason, it is odd that both Luke and Matthew chose this specific miracle in which to insert a commentary on the theological basis of Christ’s miracles, unless one considers the possibility of another source common to both Luke and Matthew, or the Q- a commonly held hypothesis in New Testament scholarship today. A Q source may have contained a brief explanation of Jesus’ miraculous powers in the context of the paralytic pericope, thereby explaining this commonality between Matthew and Luke. It is impossible to know for sure.

What is possible to know, however, is that even with the differences in theme, focus, and detail among the Synoptic Gospels, the testimony surrounding the Healing of the Paralytic is an important and compelling episode of the Jesus narrative from both a literary and devotional perspective. The accounts are harmonious enough that it would be a stretch, even considering the many contrasts recounted here, to search for disagreement among the evangelists on this subject. Harmony, not dissonance, is the most obvious feature. Even so, it is amazing to observe the degree to which the Gospel writers’ themes and intentions permeate their pericopes about a short episode obtained from essentially the same source(s), containing essentially the same language. It is probably for this reason that the Gospels of the New Testament stand alone in literature as a unique genre, the fathoms of which will continue to be explored for centuries to come.

Am I allowed to say this?

I’ve come to realize that it’s now considered juvenile, lacking in class, or even un-Christ-like to make observations pertaining to the beauty of women in the public eye.  This is unfortunate because non gratuitous admiration of beauty has its place- but experience has taught me that a young male makes such observations out loud at his own peril.

So I make the following observation with a certain amount of trepidation.  I saw Meghan McCain being interviewed on Fox and Friends this morning about the release of her new children’s book My Dad, John McCain, and I have to say, I was smitten.  Her intelligence, her wholesome, classy brand of beauty and charm, and her ability to combine a healthy liberal feminism with conservative femininity is refreshing.  And not only that- she blogs!

Link to the Fox and Friends video.

Now of course Ms. McCain is no Amy Adams, but this is no put down- it will be difficult to replace Ms. Adams as the object my male admiration.  That being said, were Meghan to, say, give me a call some time (859-967-9144), I’d probably do back flips.

Sorry if this makes you ladies cringe.  What can I say?  God made the eye to desire beauty just as the ear desires euphony.

ADDENDUM: Even more reason to admire Meghan McCain:

I’ve been surprised by critical comments regarding my weight and body shape.  It recently reached a ridiculous level when someone handed me a business card for a plastic surgeon and suggested I needed liposuction. I am proud of my curves and have always loved my fuller figure, as should every woman who is not a size “0”.  I want to be a positive role model for my little sister and all of the other young women who read my blog and help perpetuate a more positive image for women, regardless of their body size. I feel empowered to tell everyone that it’s important to maintain a healthy weight that works for them – not everyone is going to be model thin, nor should they expect to be. To every young girl reading this blog, it is inner beauty and happiness that makes a person beautiful, not a number on a scale.

Went to Narnia and all I got was this crummy “Got Aslan?” t-shirt

Saw Prince Caspian this past weekend. I’ll share some thoughts on it below, but first I thought I’d follow up on another post I made in reference to the Planet Narnia book by Dr. Michael Ward. Hugh Hewitt had the author on his show (click “listen now” and then go forward about 10 minutes) a couple weeks ago.

Fascinating stuff. Anyway, on to the film.

First thing I noticed about the film: the kids’ acting was much improved. They were pretty ho hum in the first movie. Not terrible by any means, but they did remind me of watching the old BBC Narnia films (except, you know, they weren’t ugly).

Second thing I notice: the changes from the book, and the fact that, surprisingly, they didn’t bug me at all! I was amazed. Except for Caspian and Susan making googley eyes at each other (LAME and unnecessary), I thought some of the ideas were in the spirit of the book and worked well- much better than, say, completely destroying the character of Faramir beyond all recognition in The Two Towers (the more time goes by, the more I just hate that Jackson et al made that decision- it was completely unnecessary and made NO sense in the movie).

I enjoyed this one WAY more than the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. I have several friends that will hate me for saying so, butI thought the first one was just stupid awful. I really can’t stand it. And this is very odd, because I have always thought that Caspian is by far the worst story of the series, and Lion is probably the second best (after The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, of course).

However, improved does not mean great. It had its problems. Some of these Narnia movies will need to be PG-13 to be able to show the things on screen that need to be shown (I’m thinking of The Silver Chair and The Last Battle primarily), and this one definitely suffered from the PG rating. A movie such as this one, based primarily on 2 large scale, sword and archery waged battles simply does not have the realistic feeling it desperately needs to make you interested in the fate of the characters. Not only that, but Aslan is supposed to be scary in this story. And he most definitely is NOT. I mean, I know that marketing wise it would probably be suicide to churn out seven PG-13 narnia flicks (or even 3 of them), but parents let their kids see rough stuff all time if the parents consider it to have merit. A good example is Saving Private Ryan or Schindler’s List; graphically disturbing R rated movies to be sure, but I know very conservative Christian parents who have no problem letting their older (14ish age) kids watch them because they are meaningful and beneficial films to watch. On a much lesser violent scale, the Narnia movies could have been equally valuable to younger kids. These movies are just too fluffy and cute, and as a result lose the real meaning behind them. The redemption story in Lion was weak. And this story, which is supposed to be about the power and might of Aslan and the nature of a relationship with him in the world of Narnia, has been rendered powerless. Which brings me to the other major problem I am having with these films: Aslan himself.

Now, Liam Neeson doesn’t work as Aslan for me at all, but that’s not the only or even the primary reason Aslan has so far been a failure. The Aslan of the films is not powerful. He is not majestic, fearsome, mighty, mysterious or holy. He is just sort of big and fluffy, and roars now and then. There is no inspiration of awe. When watching Aslan, you are supposed to be thinking, “If I inhabited that fantasy world, I would be drawn to Aslan- I would love him, fear him, and worship him.” Can anyone honestly say this about the portrayal of the Great Lion in the Narnia films? Now, I know this is a monumental task. But so is building a road, and if someone built a road that didn’t go anywhere (much like these films seem to be doing), I’d still complain to them. Loudly.

I really want for these films to be good- truly I do. I don’t get off on being negative and raining on everyone’s parade. I would much rather be able to get 10 times as excited about the next Narnia flick as I am about the next Spiderman, Harry Potter, or Batman. But based on what we have seen so far, I can’t.

I will say, though, that the improvements over the first one are substantial and I am holding out some hope that my favorite of the books- The Voyage of the Dawn Treader– will be the one where all the lessons have been learned, and we really get to immerse ourselves in the world Lewis (NOT Andrew Adamson!) created.

We’ll see. To sum up: overall not a bad effort, especially considering this is probably (in my opinion) the weakest book of the entire series.

Another one for the summer reading list: Climate Confusion

If you believe in probable catastrophic global climate change, you should think about reading at least one book in opposition to your opinion. And I have a suggestion for that book.

Climate Confusion: How Global Warming Hysteria Leads to Bad Science, Pandering Politicians and Misguided Policies that Hurt the Poor, by former Senior Scientist for Climate Studies at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center, Roy Spencer.

Thank you Dennis Prager for having him on your show today.

Planet Narnia

A new book on CS Lewis’ Narnia chronicles has come out, and unlike previous books, it seems this one may actually have something new, interesting, profitable, and most importantly, correct to say.

Check it out.

Having read the chronicles multiple times as well as being familiar with a large portion of Lewis’ other works, I have to say that my first impression of this idea of the the 7 heavens corresponding to the 7 books is that it is not only likely, but it would be just the sort of thing that Lewis would do. I plan to put this one on my summer reading list.

Here’s a clip from Hugh Hewitt’s show discussing the book- you have to click listen now and move the slider about halfway through to get to the interview.

The Wheel of Time ceases turning

Robert Jordan died yesterday.

This is important for several reasons. First and foremost of course, he was a great man and his family will miss him.

However, most of the world knew him through his pen, as he was probably one of the greatest fiction writers of the past 25 years. He was a man comparable in creativity to the likes of The Good Professor himself, and in the 11 books of The Wheel of Time, he created a world comparable in scope only to our own world. So for millions around the world, the death of this most prolific of fictionists brings to mind one question only, and that with great anguish and trepidation: “WHAT ABOUT BOOK TWELVE??!!”

Obviously, extenuating circumstances will prevent it from being completed the traditional way. However, I am not singing hymns of lamentation quite yet; the word on the internets is that, having been diagnosed over a year ago with an incurable disease, the gentleman had pity on his fans and took steps to secure the bulk of the story in the form of copious notes and in communication with an “army of writers” taking dictation.

I only hope, for the sake of my own personal sanity, this is not so much codswallop (as one of his characters might say).

However, whether it is or not, one thing is for sure: the WOT will be on par with Tolkien’s Silmarillion as one of the great losses of humanity to disease and death. Generations of nerds will be debating the outcome of book 12 in light of his death for decades to come.

Today is a sad day indeed.

Harry Potter and the Rambling Post

JK Rowling is a splendidly talented witch. I do not mean to insult the woman (and I doubt she would find such a comment insulting)- on the contrary, she has brought me many hours of joy over the past decade. What I mean is that books are magical to me, and since the written word exerts a power over me which is most accurately described as a spell, what better way to ascribe recognition to one of the most talented story tellers I’ve ever encountered? As far as Rowling’s spells have gone, she has proven herself a maven of the fantastic. I thank her for it.

Aside. There are a select few people in my circle of friends who are going to be shaking their heads in exasperation because Harry Potter is “eevuhl”. I can only say that, having read all the books and seen all the movies, there is more to edify the soul in only one of JK Rowling’s books than in all the Left Behind novels put together. So chew on that. Onward.

I find myself in an odd place having seen the newest Harry Potter flick. It is always said that “The book was better than the movie.” This is not simply the fashionable thing to say, but it is always a defensible position to take. After all, whether it’s Stephen King’s 1408 or Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree, almost none of your friends actually read the book. What better way to strut your intellectually superior stuff than to proclaim from the rooftops (or the multiplex parking lot) the incredibly impotent attempts of an army of film makers as being at best, “meh”, and at worst, for naught? Don’t get me wrong- there are no fingers being pointed here. I am more frequently a partaker in this particular brand of vainglory than anyone I know. If I hadn’t read of it elsewhere, I might even have presumed (dabbling in yet more vanity) that I had invented it. But the Bible tells us there are no new sins.

My guilt in this matter notwithstanding, it has become apparent to me in my personal experience with all the Harry Potter hullaballoo that reading a novel and seeing the film are completely differentiable experiences. In many ways, the film is merely a peak at the reading experience of persons other than yourself, and primarily two persons in particular: the screenwriter and the director. I am attempting to point out (rather feebly myself but whatever- about 2 people read this anyway) that on the one hand there is the book, and on the other there is the film, and they are separate entities. In the particular case at hand, we have Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

But what an interesting case! Here the movies are completed as each book comes out- 6 of them existing in some form or other before the seventh and sure to be most climactic and important book has even seen the light of day. And as a result no one, be he angel or but mortal man, can read these books without the smiling face of Daniel Radcliffe invading his mind’s eye, or the delightfully clumsy antics of Rupert Grint bursting upon his psyche. This is all true, and yet when I read the books- both the new and the old- I am still cognizant of the fact that it is my own world into which I am diving, and not, say, the Harry Potter of Alfonso Cuaron or David Yates. I am certain (from asking) that many others have a similar experience.

This brings me (full circle no doubt) to the odd place in which I find myself. I actually prefer the latest director’s vision (he has been contracted to direct the final 2 films (!) by the way) to my own. Perhaps this has happened to others in this era of epic movie making. I know people who threw out their own visions of Lord of the Rings in exchange for the vision of Peter Jackson. Personally, I think those people are loons. There are legion many unforgivable sins that do not stand up to the vision I had in my mind’s eye in the Lord of the Rings films- the worst of them being, the movies just don’t stand up to repeat viewings. This drives me crazy because of my love for the subject matter and is somewhat applicable to the Harry Potter situation.

I was introduced to The Hobbit at the age of 11, at a time when my mother had suddenly decided to move out of state, and I had to completely readjust my life. I moved in with my dad and his then new wife, and although it was a tumultuous time of change in which all I wanted to do was crumble under the weight of the world, I felt I had to be a rock for my sister. As hokey as it may sound, the fiction of CS Lewis and Tolkien showed me strength I didn’t know I had, and allowed me to have solace away from the universe that seemed to mock me. Tolkien particularly mesmerized me, and I was constantly engrossed in his- and by extension my- world for quite a few years. Having had that experience and being convinced it was a good thing, I am certain that there are those kids out in the world to whom Harry Potter means just as much as Frodo Baggins meant to me, and I envy those kids because these movies have continued to get better and better, and now the new one is a force to be reckoned with. Everything in this movie will add to the worlds that lend their strength to kids that need it. The Order of the Phoenix in theaters now is not the one on book tables- it’s David Yates’ take on it. And I have to say that as much as I respect Peter Jackson- and yes I own all the extended versions of the Rings movies and watch them despite the bad taste they put in my mouth-I predict that Yates is going to out do him. Not in story. That was a Rowling vs. Tolkien battle, and she never really had a chance. But in bringing a magical world to life- Yates has won round 1.

Addendum: I just reread this post and it is the most rambling, overly long, ridiculous thing I’ve written in a LONG time. Holy mother of Moses.