MyQuest | my thoughts on life's journey

More trashing of Star Trek Into Darkness

Richard Corliss' review in Time also trashed it.  Here are my favourite lines:

But with its emphasis on its hero’s adolescent anger, the movie turns this venerable science-fiction series — one that prided itself on addressing complex issues in a nuanced and mature fashion — into its own kids’ version: Star Trek Tiny Toons. At times, the viewer is almost prodded to mutter, “Grow up!”

Read more: http://entertainment.time.com/2013/05/13/star-trek-into-darkness-the-young-and-the-reckless/#ixzz2TwV1QWiz

"Equality's Brutal Backlash"

Michelangelo Signorile writes about the brutal anti-gay violence which is on a steep rise in backlash to our recent victories for equality.  It reminds us that legal victories are not sufficient, that we still have a lot of work to do and a long way to go to achieve equality.

What Happened?

Tornado forecasting was invented in Oklahoma, at Tinker Field.  This was a necessity, as tornados are part of our way of life and death.  And over the years, we got damn good at tornado prediction and coverage.  We have the best local television weather divisions in the country, who invest heavily in the latest equipment and newest technologies.  By the 1990's they could predict what minute a cell would reach a specific intersection.  All the divisions have helicopters who follow the storms, so you can watch live on television and know whether you are in the direct path or not.  We Oklahoma citizens become amateur meteorologists ourselves.  We know meteorological terms.  We can read radar images, even before they are interpreted by the weatherman.  We are drilled in disaster procedures from earliest childhood.  Oklahoma is so good at it, that I've always been afraid only when I'm someplace else and a storm comes, because I do not trust that the local news in other states knows what to do or possesses the technology required.

And, so, on May 3, 1999 when nature hit us the hardest it ever had, it tested all our systems and preparedness.  The storm that ripped through Moore, Mid-Del, and Stroud was the worst ever recorded, with winds over 300 miles an hour.  Scientists debated whether they should create the category of F6, which does not exist, in order to describe it.  The weather system that night spawned 72 tornados, the most ever spawned from one storm.  Almost every citizen of the state had to take shelter at some point in the night.  You wondered if  you should stay awake until it all passed.

And the next day, as devastated as everything was, we were proud that the death toll, for such a mighty storm, was surprisingly low.  "Gary England saved lives" you would hear, referring to the legendary channel 9 weatherman.  Our systems had worked as well as could be expected.

Which is why May 20, 2013 will be so devastating psychologically.  By every measure, this monster was not as strong as May 3.  Yet, the destruction in Moore seems worse and the death toll is so much higher.  We thought that in the 21st century we had done our best to conquer this catastrophe.  Nature reminds us that we have not.

My only guess is that the time of day is the major factor.  May 3 hit in the early evening, during the dinner hour, with storms raging well into the night.  So most people were home from work and school and off the roads.  This storm hit while people were still out and about and gathered in workplaces and schools.

We have a cavalier attitude towards tornados.  It shocks people from other places.  I'm not sure I can explain it, but I will try.  

Catastrophe is part of our story and identity.  We are aware from childhood that death and destruction come unexpectedly and hit randomly.  You survive, really, because you've been lucky enough not to be in the direct path of a mighty storm.  Rather than cower in fear or anxiety, the storm has elicited a defiant spirit -- courage in the face of death and resilience and generosity when--not if--destruction comes.

That is why we go outside and watch the storm if we are not directly in its path.

I was struck today by something I heard one of the children say on CBS This Morning.  Norah O'Donnell was asking him about his experience and he said, by introductory way of explanation, "This was my first tornado."  He said it matter-of-factly.  And there is great meaning in it.  Even this child had lived with the expectation of some day encountering the storm.  Lives still with the understanding that this is his first tornado.  

But I think something will be different this time, because our systems didn't work as they have, and this monster killed too many of us.  Maybe Oklahoma will finally pass building codes that acknowledge reality.  You cannot build in California without taking earthquakes into account or in Florida without preparing for hurricanes.  Oklahoma has never required tornado safe and resilient buildings.  Oddly, many of our oldest structures are the safest.  The oldest homes usually have cellars.  After May 3, it was shocking that we didn't pass new laws.  We cannot repeat that mistake after May 20.

This morning I heard an old woman on CBS say "The sound was like a turning of the world."

Breathe Deeply

Spring Song

Spring Song
by Sherwood Anderson

In the forest, amid old trees and wet dead leaves,
  a shrine.
Men on the wet leaves kneeling.
The spirit of God in the air above a shrine.  

Now, America, you press your lips to mine,
Feel on your lips the throbbing of my blood.
Christ, come to life and life calling,
Sweet and strong. 

Spring. God in the air above old fields.
Farmers marking fields for the planting of the corn.
Fields marked for corn to stand in long
straight aisles.  

In the spring I press your body down on wet cold
   new-plowed ground.
Men, give your souls to me.
I would have my sacred way with you. 

In the forest, amid old trees and wet dead leaves,
  a shrine.
Men rising from the kneeling place to sing.
Everywhere in the fields now the orderly planting
  of corn. 

 

Well, that was (homo)erotic.

A Cycle of the West

A Cycle of the West: The Song of Three Friends, The Song of Hugh Glass, The Song of Jed Smith, The Song of the Indian Wars, The Song of the Messiah by John G. Neihardt
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Growing up in the northern plains, John Neihardt was convinced that the period from the first exploration of fur trappers through the close of the Indian wars was one of humankind's heroic ages, on a par with the ancient Greece of Homer, the era of Beowulf, etc. So, he set about to write a saga of the west in this collection of five songs published between 1915 and 1941 which were always intended to be combined into one work. It is an incredible achievement.

Which left me wondering why it is not an established part of the American literary canon. These are stories I should have had read to me as a child. Images from these songs should be familiar in the national psyche. Lines and phrases should be memorized and quoted in conversation.

The cycle opens with The Song of Three Friends about an early fur trading party that explores the upper Missouri. There they encounter an indigenous tribe and a love triangle develops. Things do not go well from there. In fact, this opening song reminded me of a Cormac McCarthy novel. The end is harrowing (Neihardt really knows how to end something, which is a skill many authors lack).

Next is The Song of Hugh Glass. I had heard the basic elements of this story before, but Neihardt has turned it into a work of art. I was surprised to encounter a gay love story (Neihardt wrote this in 1915, long before Annie Proulx wrote Brokeback Mountain). Hugh Glass was a real man who endured a horrific episode. Left for dead by friends when he came to, he was unable to walk and crawled his way back to civilization. Neihardt's description of the crawl is also McCarthy-like.

I didn't care much for the third song, The Song of Jed Smith, which Neihardt wrote last. I found the language too dense and the structure of it was unnecessarily complicated, I thought. A group of guys is sitting around a campfire years later recalling their stories of exploring routes to and from California, encountering the Great Salt Lake, the Colorado, the Sierras, the deserts. In setting this is more McCarthy-like, but I found the story mostly dull.

The Song of the Indian Wars is fourth, recounting stories of Red Cloud, Crazy Horse, Custer, Fetterman, and more. This material was most familiar to me and some of it simply read like history. Some of the chapters were nice works of art that could stand on their own, though I found the account of the Battle of the Little Big Horn to be quite confusing. I enjoyed his portrayals of the Native Americans. Neihardt did his research interviewing people who were still alive or the friends and family of his characters, both Caucasian and Native.

Finally is The Song of the Messiah which recounts the coming of the ghost dance, the death of Sitting Bull, and the massacre at Wounded Knee. Also familiar material, but here mesmerizingly well told. I think Neihardt is at his best when writing about spiritual visions (e. g. Black Elk Speaks). Two of my favourite passages of this entire cycle came near the end of this song. The death of Sitting Bull is powerfully told (I blogged some favourite lines last night) and then shifts tenderly to the perspective of his horse, who sits down beside his dead master.

But no account you've read of the massacre at Wounded Knee prepares you for Neihardt's retelling. If you were horrified reading about it in Dee Brown, you will be more so here.

I look forward to reading these stories to my children, so that these great characters and stories can permeate their imaginations.

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"A roar of wrath"

Close to completing John G. Neihardt's A Cycle of the West.  In the final song, The Song of the Messiah, he is writing about the moment when Sitting Bull is being taken by soldiers and just moments before he is fatally shot.  Sitting Bull cries out that he will not go, and Neihardt writes:

The great voice fled
Among the people, leaving in its path
An inward surging and a roar of wrath.

Those are great lines.  Remind me of Tennyson.  I should try to memorize them.

The rest of this chapter is poignant as he narrates the death scene from the perspective of Sitting Bull's horse. 

Gatsby film not gay enough

Last week it was The Great Gatsby which I was criticizing -- though I enjoyed watching it; I did not hate it, like Star Trek this week.  

Late in the week I read, but didn't get a previous chance to blog, an article at the Atlantic on the lack of the gay theme from the novel in the new film.  This author things missing this important element meant the Luhrmann completely misunderstood and misrepresented the story.  The take was different than that I'd read in other reviews, but I found it very interesting.

I clearly need to (and intend to) re-read the novel.

"As a homosexual man..." Froelich says, "Nick understands the necessity of deceit in a society that defines one's desire and agency as illicit."

This is also, I'd argue, why Nick is attracted to in Gatsby. It's not that Gatsby is, as the movie Carraway insists, the "single most hopeful person" he's ever known. Rather, it's that Gatsby is a momentous, glorious, incandescent sham. If Jordan is deceitful, Gatsby is even more so. And just as he falls for Jordan and her dishonesty, so is Nick riveted by the transformation of poor, nobody from nowhere Jimmy Gatz into the wealthy somebody Jay Gatsby. Nick and Gatsby are alike not in their innocence, but in their capacity for subterfuge.

Awakening the Buddha Within: Tibetan Wisdom for the Western World

Awakening the Buddha Within : Tibetan Wisdom for the Western World by Lama Surya Das
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Finished this book this afternoon. We were reading it for our Wednesday night spirituality group, Sanctuary: Ancient Practices, Modern Lives, this year. We began the book in September. It generated lots of good discussion, though much of that around things that people struggled with.

I thought there was good material to learn more about Tibetan Buddhism and some good wisdom on various spiritual practices. But much of the tone and structure of this particular book didn't resonate well with me.

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Re-Imagine the World: An Introduction to the Parables of Jesus

Re-Imagine the World by Bernard Brandon Scott
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I'm really looking forward to preaching on the Parables this autumn after having read Brandon Scott's book. This is a quick, good read that I recommend to anyone interested in Jesus studies (or church members who want to read up before I preach this series).

The book sets up the topic by discussing what parables are and are not, itself quite helpful and interesting. Then he covers a handful of different parables, drawing out various elements of them, and providing intriguing interpretations. He draws those points together at the conclusion.

He believes that Jesus' parables are developed around three "coordinates:"
* God is unclean
* The community must accept responsibility for its own welfare and not fall back on the narcotic of a divine intervention to set things right.
* A new social order of cooperation

Scott's book resonated with existing beliefs and interpretations of mine, while also asking new questions and pushing me in new directions.

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"Jesus revolts in parable"

I'll probably finish Brandon Scott's Re-Imagine the World: An Introduction to the Parables of Jesus this afternoon.  After surveying a selection of parables, he then draws his points together, and one is what kind of rebel Jesus was:

Jesus' revolt takes a very special form.  He revolts in parable.  I see no evidence that Jesus was leading a political revolution or that he had a social program in mind.  He clearly affected the lives of people, but he was not a social organizer or activist.  Although the idea is now out of fashion, Jesus the oral storyteller seems to me closer to a poet.  The activist will alwyas be dissatisfied with the poetic vision, but change comes about because a creative individual has that vision.

Breathe Deeply

Breathe Deeply

Psalm 104

by the Rev. Dr. E. Scott Jones

First Central Congregational UCC

19 May 2013

 

 

    This week I came across this description of the early history of Earth:

 

The volcanoes filled the air with water vapor and carbon dioxide. The surface cooled, a crust formed, and oceans condensed upon it. In hot springs and undersea vents, simple carbon compounds bubbled up to form amino acids and peptides. The first bacteria moved through the ooze; then came blue-green algae, spreading across the planet like a watery carpet, drinking in sunlight and exhaling oxygen, giving breath to everything that came after. Geologists call this the Great Oxygenation Event—the most momentous change in the planet's history.

 

    I was particularly struck by the phrase, "giving breath to everything that came after." We live and breathe because prehistoric algae set the stage for our evolution.

    The ancient psalmist did not possess our scientific understanding, but he also knew that breath was essential to life and creation.

 

When you hide your face, they are dismayed;
when you take away their breath, they die and return to dust.

When you send forth your breath, they are created;

And you renew the face of the ground.

 

Giving breath so that everything might live is the great creative moment in our planet's history. Today I want to celebrate that breath which is the very Spirit of God.

 

Let us pray.

 

Blow into our lives, O God, your Living Breath,

your Life-Giving Spirit.

Help us to notice your presence in every moment, every day.

Make plain before our very eyes

Our kinship with all creation.

And fill us with your power,

Transforming us to be your ministers to everything in need.

This we pray.

Amen.

 

Today is Pentecost. This is our annual celebration of the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles in Jerusalem, celebrated as the birthday of the Christian church. In Acts 2 we read that the early followers of Jesus were gathered in one place together "and suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. . . . All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit."

On Pentecost we often focus upon fire; it's why I'm wearing the fancy red chasuble. Cathedral of Hope in Dallas every year surprises their congregation with some new pyrotechnic effect. One year flames shot across wires suspended over the heads of the congregation. Since our sanctuary is mostly wood and not stone, I don't think we should try any pyrotechnics. Plus, I can imagine Sam's response if I were to even suggest the idea.

This year, though, I'm definitely not focused upon the fire, but upon the wind. The story we are told is that that day in Jerusalem the breath of God blew upon the gathered, filling them with new power. For, you see, in Hebrew breath and spirit are the same word – ruach. The breath of God that renews creation in Psalm 104 is the same wind, the Holy Spirit, which blows with power in Acts 2 creating the church. It was the same Spirit-Breath that hovered over the primordial waters of creation in Genesis 1. Our closing hymn calls it "Wind who makes all winds that blow."

What sustains this entire universe in all its wild, wonderful glory, is God's breath, God's spirit which blows within nature, becoming the very breath and spirit of the creation itself. God breathes and Earth is renewed. God breathes and we are healed. God breathes and nature bursts forth into song.

 

Take a moment, and join with me in breathing God's holy breath. Breathe deeply, filling your bosom with the spirit of God. Breathe out. Letting all that stress and busy-ness go. Breathe in God's healing love. Breathe out. Letting your own care and nurture spread to everyone and everything around you. Breathe in, filling yourself with power and energy. Breathe out, sharing yourself with the rest of creation. Breathe the spirit of the living God.

 

We know that breathing is an essential aspect of our spiritual practice. If you have ever taken a yoga class or tried Buddhist meditation, you know that the first thing you must do is focus upon your breath. It can be difficult to breathe deeply. Our breaths are usually shallow. The first time I learned meditation, the instructor of the class required us to take slow inhalations and exhalations while she counted all the way to the number 12. Twelve counts on the inhale and twelve on the exhale, and it was tough for me. My body was not used to that kind of breathing. But all the spiritual practices of every major world religion teach us to concentrate upon breathing slowly and deeply. And even if you don't discover the spiritual benefit of this practice, it is a great stress reliever.

A couple of weeks ago I took some time of personal retreat to work on the church's annual goals and objectives. I spent a couple of days at Platte River State Park, in one of the cabins overlooking Owen Lake, the area where we just recently had the all-church retreat. I was only there a week later, but it was significantly more spring-like.

I didn't work on plans the entire time I was there. I took moments to nurture myself and to experience the beauty of God's creation. I would sit out on the screened-in porch to read or eat or simply to listen to the birds. And each day I took a couple of hours to go hiking. I'd walk along creeks and the river, over hills and under trees, enjoying the beautiful weather – for it was fortunately in the 80's those two days. It snowed the day I came home. While hiking I saw geese and ducks, squirrels, wild turkeys, and deer, and even one rather large snake which startled me when he hurriedly slithered out of my path.

    These moments are more than restful and relaxing, they have spiritual value in taking time to delight in God's handiwork. Even non-religious people know the value of moments like these. Adam Frank, who is a physicist and an atheist who blogs for NPR, wrote recently about the value of "noticing," which he took to be a scientific activity, but which I think is also a spiritual practice.

Adam Frank's column began with the observation that we are all too busy. In fact we are so busy that not only do we not stop to smell the roses, we probably haven't even paused long enough to notice that the roses are there. He continued:

 

Noticing . . . . begins, with [the] simple act of seeing the smallest detail as an opening to a wider world of wonder and awe. . . . the best place to begin is with a walk in the woods.

 

    Frank writes that a walk in the woods can get us out of our own heads and clear our minds, especially if we take the time to notice patterns, shapes, colors, and the activity of nature. He even encourages us to hoist ourselves up into trees and take notes of what we see. I for one can't quite clamber up a tree as easily as I once did. And I'm probably a little afraid of what all would break on the way back down. But I understand his point. Maybe a nice bench along the trail would work?

    He concluded this particular post:

 

Refining our capacity to notice is an act of reverence that we can bring to everywhere and everywhen. It's an invitation, bringing the world's most basic presence into view, opening our horizons and restoring our spirits.

 

    Couldn't we all use a little dose of restoration?

 

    And that is what God desires for us. God breathes, sending God's spirit through the creation, so that we might be healed and renewed. Recreated, in all the wonderful senses of that word.

One of the delights of Psalm 104 is the image of God it gives us. Robert Alter writes that "the poet imagines the presence of divinity in the world as a dynamic series of actions." What a fantastic idea – God as a dynamic series of actions. The Psalmist wants us to take the time to notice what's going on in nature, and when we do, he thinks we will discover God at play – sporting with sea monsters, crafting the heavens, riding on the wind. In one image, God is playing with the foundations of the earth like a child plays with building blocks. In another God is setting the table and providing for animals like a child inviting the family pets to a tea party.

Walter Brueggemann writes that this psalm proclaims that "God is known to be confident, serene, and at ease" and that everything we experience is a daily gift from God. Because of that we and all creation are moved to respond with "spontaneous wonder, gratitude, and praise."

All the creatures of Earth are our siblings who join with us in praising and worshipping God. If we take that walk in the woods and notice, as Adam Frank suggests, one thing we should listen for is the voice of our fellow creatures praising God. We are the family of God, joined in one circle of life. We are made of the same stuff and filled with the same life-giving spirit. We breathe the same breath -- God's breath. Life-giving, life-renewing, playful and empowering breath.

And the breathing began when God's spirit hovered over the waters, with "blue-green algae, spreading across the planet like a watery carpet, drinking in sunlight and exhaling oxygen, giving breath to everything that came after." And God's spirit continues to blow upon you and me, empowering and transforming us, that we might be the people God desires us to be.

 

So, take a walk today and notice the glory of God. Take a moment to delight in the beauty and joy of God's handiwork. And, then, breathe deeply, breathing in the spirit of God, connecting back to the very moment of creation. Breathe deeply, breathing in the spirit of God, alive and powerful, renewing everything around you.

 

May my meditation be pleasing unto God, for I rejoice in the Lord.

Star Trek Into Darkness

***Spoiler Alert***

The structure was poor.  The pacing was off.  The editing was bad.  The score was ridiculous and distracting.  The characters and moments were wasted.

I liked the reboot with the new cast in their first film.  This one I hated.  It left me wondering if these filmmakers really understand story, for they don't seem to grasp, at least in this film, how to tell a story.

For one, there is too much in this one film.  The original cast took three films to tell the parallel story to this one.  And did it much better, of course. (Oh, and this film also has to mix in elements of Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country).

I was annoyed with the constant and uncessary climaxes.  When Steven Spielberg used that technique in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark it was out of homage to the old serials and was done tongue-in-cheek.  He did not intend for all action films to become like that, wasting moments.  Even something like the fight with the Klingons can't be enjoyed because it is edited and shot in such a way that the coreography of a great fight scene is completely lacking.  I think more filmmakers should be forced to go back and watch the sword fight between Basil Rathbone and Errol Flynn in The Adventures of Robin Hood -- it well-paced and a delight to watch (or any gunfight in The Wild Bunch would work as well).  

In Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan one of the great sequences is when the two ships slowly and quietly stalk one another in a nebula.  That is much more engaging than this over-the-top nonsense.

Another complaint, at the close of the film much of San Francisco is destroyed, in what would have clearly killed tens or hundreds of thousands of people.  Yet, there is no moment for any emotion connected to that.  It was most unncessary for the plot of the story.  It was simply masturbatory destruction that really appals me.  Can we watch hundreds of thousands of people being killed and simply rush on to the chase scene?  This shocked me for its amorality, maybe immorality.  I feel the water circling the drain of the nihilistic nadir of our moral tradition.

But what actually angered me -- and I mean angered me, really pissed me off -- was the ruining of a sacred moment.  In my lifetime there were onlly two films which completely emotionally overwhelmed me to the point of being almost numb when I left the theatre.  One was Schindler's List, the other was Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.  I quite vividly remember that experience--people, including adults, crying in the theatre, the quiet numbness of the room when the film ended, the way people shuffled slowly out of the darkness, mumbling to themselves and their friends "He can't be dead, can he?"  Our beloved Mr. Spock was dead and it was such a shock.

And the moment had been written, directed, and played beautifully -- with emotion, but not sentimentality, but most powerfully with a clear moral conviction.  It was a lesson in the virtues for myself, and I know many other young boys.  It is a scene which has remained with us.

This was not homage.  It was a pale shadow that missed everything of value in the original scene.  And to overcome its vacuity, it had to complicate it.  Instead of the simple moral and physical struggle Spock endured, Jim has to climb and kick and act foolishly, turning a simple moment into some agon.  It is not the courage of moral conviction, as in the original story, but physical exertion.  Disgusting.

What appals me is that these filmmakers have watched and enjoyed and discussed and debated and imagined these stories and these characters throughout their lives just as I and my friends have done.  And given the chance, the wonderful, amazing chance, to shape the characters and the stories themselves, this is what they give us?

I enjoy these characters and the new actors portraying them.  And Benedict Cumberbatch was a delight as Khan, even if the character's power and force was wasted in this piece of trash.

1 film reel
1 popcorn kernel 

Garden: Day 9

May 18

Before heading to Macy, Nebraska to plant trees with a crew from church, I watered our garden plot.  Things are looking good.  I think a couple of the bell pepper seedlings are not making it, though.  The squash that was struggling throughout the week had new growth and a new bud, so it looks like it will make it.

This green grew from a seed I planted last fall.  It is looking pretty substantial.  Is it collard or mustard, what do you think?

We got great rain last night here in Omaha.  Should be getting rain today and the next two days as well.

Garden: Day 8

May 17

I dropped by the garden plot earlier today to water, and it was already watered.  So, PJ must be watering for us.  All the plants looked okay.

We might be settling into a boring stretch until we get some serious growth or produce.