"Busted"

The story of my life, caught on film:

Watch "Busted" on YouTube

Sorry, I couldn't get it to post directly. I think it was a problem with YouTube. Anyway, enjoy.

-HVC

"The Alchemist" book review.

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho was recommended to me by a close friend who knows I get into coming-of-age tales of young men, especially ones that leave the reader in contemplation. It doesn't hurt if the author can intermingle references from various religions, societies, governments, or anything else that would have sacred text. I had high hopes when I purchased this book (from Village Books--you should go there), and deflated them early.

The story centers on a young shepherd named Santiago, who leaves his familiar life behind for a journey into unknown land, among unknown people, for a mostly unknown reason. He continually finds himself taking direction from omens, and older men who speak truth into his life. He knows that he seeks a treasure on an entirely different continent, but that is all he has to go off of. Along the way he heeds wisdom from a gypsy, a hobo, an old englishman, a camel driver, a crystal shop owner, and finally (you guessed it), an alchemist. I wish I could say that his interactions with these people were really stimulating and you could see the ways they were changing him as you read them, but they were all essentially the same person, just chopped up into different characters. They all spoke in the same manner, about the same matter, and viewed the boy exactly the same. I was bored by this.

Santiago is on a quest. He is learning, questioning, doubting, finding, failing, succeeding, all at once. It's a story we've heard a million times before. He's nobody special, but he undertakes a special journey, and that leads to the writing of a special book, for special people, to inspire them to find special purpose for their special lives. It's a very special experience.

I think what attracts people to this story is the romantic language Coelho uses while dealing with the same crap we talk about all the time. Coelho uses references straight from the Bible, some muslim doctrine, and even the story of Joseph Smith. While this probably impresses some people, all one would have to do to obtain these references is type each reference point into Wikipedia and see what other words come up. So the references were boring, too. At least to me.

Is this a book review, really? I think what I am trying to convey is that the book is nice, kind of romantically written, easy to read, and therefore boring. If you're looking for a sweet little packaged story of self-definition, pick it up. If that'll bore you, move right along. Thanks for reading my bitchin' and moanin'.

-HVC

Jesus Camp film review.

Photos from the documentary.

www.jesuscampthemovie.com


Directors Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady have struck gold. If you have seen "Boys of Baraka" (another very special documentary), you know that their style is to let the kids and the stories unfold before your eyes without adding narrative. Never before have I seen a documentary so willing to let the subject matter speak for itself, nevermind the fact that the subject matter speaks huge volumes no matter how it is presented. Do yourself a favor and watch "Jesus Camp" immediately.

The film introduces you to Pastor Becky Fischer, an extremely passionate woman who teaches kids both at her home church and at an annual Summer camp in North Dakota. We see her preaching, teaching, and interacting with some of the kids who we eventually follow home and then to the camp itself. The kids tell their stories, explain their faith, and justify their beliefs, while their parents sit down and tell us their philosophies as parents. When we get to camp we see for ourselves what they are teaching their children to believe, to say, and to do. If you haven't seen the film, reading any further might spoil some parts for you--just a warning.

As I sat down to watch this film, I did my absolute best to practice epoche: the willing suspension of judgment for the sake of learning. But what I saw stirred too much of my soul to keep my convictions at bay. I saw a huge caucas of children being brought up as soldiers--Fischer's justification is that Muslim children are being raised up as soldiers for Islam all over the world, so Christian children should have that same passion and fire, except in the name of Christ. Need I point out what a narrow and ignorant view of the Muslim world this is? I'll fight that battle some other time. Anyhow, Fischer's camp includes programs that lead the children in militaristic chanting, and at one point she leads them in shouting "This means war! This means war! This means war!" A full-fledged pre-pubescent army for Jesus.

Along with their soldier-mentality, the kids have a purely Evangelical Christian education. The parents homeschool their children, explaining that since "God has been removed from public schools," they are in despair. The now infamous Rev. Ted Haggard even remarks that they are evil, because they teach evolutionism, but not creationism. One mother teaches her son that science is purely phony because nobody can truly prove anything. She later tells us that she would never send her kids away for eight hours per day to be told lies when she can keep them at home and teach the truth.

The children themselves are confident, bright, and so good-natured that it is very difficult to look at them with a critical eye. The exception is one young girl named Rachel, who carries so much of that "Christian swagger" that I found myself very angry at her arrogance. She speaks with the same swagger and cocky brashness that she has no doubt heard from her beloved Christian talk radio pastors, megachurch speakers, and President. You want to see them as children: bright eyed, open-minded, naive, no matter how intelligent or confident. Unfortunately they have been so indoctrinated that they have lost much of that innocence that they were blessed with when they were born.

So is this all wrong? The Camp, the homeschooling, the swagger, the soldier-mentality? My heart says no. My heart tells me that God is present in the root foundation of the children and their parents. But my heart also tells me that that the Beliefs that are being taught are wrong. I see Faith and Belief to be quite exclusive, especially in this case. The children are being taught to be soldiers in "taking back" this country and government. They are being oppressed with anti-Evolutionism, anti-abortionism, and bringing prayer in to public schools. At one point a speaker at the camp tells them to pray for "righteous judges" so that government can rule against abortion. As you can guess, the kids shout "Righteous Judges!" repeatedly with great fervor, but with minimal comprehension. The children are being primarily taught exclusively American, hot-button issues that are causes that supposedly support righteousness. They are being taught to pray, read bibles, preach, vote, and spread the word that Evolution is a convoluted lie, Abortion is an abomination, and that government should be a democratic Theocracy (if it can be done). These things are black-and-white issues that one can claim to be one or the other. The kids have chosen the NAE/GOP sides of the issues. Chosen?

I got to the end of the film and felt very sad. I wondered if those children had ever felt truly loved. I wonder if those kids' parents give them love conditionally--as a duty, or a reward for righteousness. I wonder if those kids know that God will give them grace and mercy whether abortion is outlawed or not. I wonder if, after they leave their homes/churches/camps, and interact with the rest of the world, if they will have the ability to interact with people who did not have the same upbringing they did. I wonder if they will be able to love those people. I wonder if we picked up the kids from Jesus Camp in a 747 and flew them to Darfur and dropped them off, if their passion and fervor would remain unwavering. Faced with situations that are not dominated by contests of partisan American political influence, will their faith stand up? When they hit about 27-28, post-college, a few years out of their parents' care, will they be able to see the world objectively? Will they be able to love the world as Jesus did? Or will it still be war? I wonder how influential this generation of Evangelical children will be. We have seen how influential their parents have been. I just wonder completely: where is the love? The grace, the mercy? The redemption for all that Christ promises? Do these children really believe that they are the only one's who will receive it, because of their righteousness? Very sad.

See the film. Watch it objectively (if you can). Let it stir around. Ask God what He thinks, but don't listen for an answer. You won't get one.

-HVC

Fake Steve

I found a funny blog today for all you Marketing/Tech heads, or just geeks like me who like watching trends but don't really care about contributing, it's a fake blog from the perspective of Steve Jobs (if you don't know who Steve Jobs is, you should probably find out. You probably own half a dozen things he developed). Anyway, I thought it was clever. Click here to check it out!

That's it for now. Happy web-browsing.

-HVC

PJ Show

Pigeon John

Last night I saw Pigeon John open for Subtle at the Nightlight here in Bellingham. His crazy energy and humor combined with his always-improving rhymes made for a really great show. He was accompanied by a live drummer, and another fella playing an acoustic guitar and keyboards. The songs he chose ranged from the albums "Pigeon John...Is Dating Your Sister" (2003) to "Pigeon John...Sings The Blues" (2005), and a whole bevvy of hits from his newest album, "Pigeon John...And The Summertime Pool Party" released last Summer. He danced, joked, rapped, sang, even played a little guitar himself. If you haven't heard any of PJ's work, let me know and I'll hook you up with some tasty treats. Also, you can check out his website http://www.pigeonjohn.com. I recommend picking up Pool Party and Sings The Blues to get you started too. You will be hard-pressed to find another MC who so smoothly blends humor, skill, spirituality, energy, and humility as well as PJ does. Enjoy.

-HVC

The consolations.

"Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand."
-C.S. Lewis
(A Grief Observed)

Yesterday I received a phone call. I was sitting, reclined, on my couch, lazily watching "Jesus is Magic," a film by Sarah Silverman. I had worked very early, and was relieved to have a peaceful afternoon. The phone rang, and I waited for the Caller ID function to perform its duty. I saw the phone number of a dear friend in Federal Way, who I've known and been close to for a decade now. We had recently re-established close contact when her mother was diagnosed with multiple manifestations of cancer this October. This mother, Debbie, is a vibrant, witty, electric woman; and expressively Southern, with her practices of generous hospitality and words spawned from sincere love. She has treated me like one of her own children for all the years I've known her, providing me with unconditional compassion, blunt truth, and a standard of goodness for me to live out. She is great woman.

I heard the fragmented voice of my friend Carol over the line, and braced for the hit. We asked about each other's day. She began to cry. She told me that Debbie had died about 30 minutes before, at home, surrounded by her family and pastor, and that Debbie's last hours alive were spent at peace, talking about the things that made her life good, especially during the last few months of severe illness. I offered my consolation but knew Carol had other phone calls to make, to other people who Debbie cared about to bear the news.

It's a funny thing, death. Almost definitely the most tangible experience a person can have is to watch a person die; but even so, explaining death is damn near impossible. Commemorating life is our crutch, how we escape the never-understandable emotions of death. And none of it makes any sense from an external vantage point. For example's sake, in the long wake of Princess Diana's death, out came a torrent of "commemorative" items that people could cling to: decorative plates, spoons, teacups, coins, stamps, dolls, magazines, videos, even clothing. In our detachment from the dead we cling to the denial of their gone-ness. With those close to us, we have portraits painted and hung sentimentally in our entranceways, we have that hidden box of their knick-knacks under our dresser, we eat their favorite foods, we tell stories about their life to each other. We say that they "live on in our hearts and memories forever," simply because it sounds very nice--nevermind it's irrationality and impossibility. We acknowledge that they are gone but we refuse to know that they are gone. To really know, as much as we know that the computer monitors in front of our faces are here, that's how gone the dead are. So we visit gravesites, imagine them in heaven, and carry their death as a badge of courage on our lapels.
Even in the way we live our life we do not attempt to know death. We devour experiences in disgusting fashion, but not as an acknowledgement of impending death, moreso of a desire to feel more alive. Think theme parks, extreme sports, mountain climbing, fast cars, big money, sex addiction--anything that gets blood pumping, even if it's just to our loins. We'll do anything to feel more alive than we did five minutes ago. Even as a christian, I'm constantly advised to "find whatever it is that makes you come alive," while the sensation of doing something "alive" in that context is the same as taking drugs, running from responsibility, taking advantage, stealing, lying, cheating, being malicious. So apparently, the sensation of blood flowing through one's veins is what we consider to be "feeling alive." This is why the world is full of drug addicts, thieves, sexual predators, malice, liars, white-collar crime, power-delusioned officials who exploit the many to spoil the few. All because we can't stand to not feel more alive now than we did five minutes ago. Any why? Because death doesn't make any damn sense. People around us die, and we overcompensate for the inconsolability with an insatiable addiction to a temporal existence compiled of only our "most alive" moments. So what should we do?

I lost my mother to ovarian cancer in 1996 when I was nearly 11 years old. We didn't connect when I was young, so I didn't grieve following her death. For about the 8 1/2 years that followed, I lied, cheated, stole, maliciously hurt people, ran from responsibility, manipulated every situation and person I could to serve my immediate feeling, and that kept me going. I had moments of feeling alive, and I remember those still today. Unfortunately for me, after those 8 1/2 years, my overcompensation techniques began to exhaust and come up empty. I no longer could achieve that sensation of being alive I had worked so hard for. I had to look for something else.
I grieved my mother's death in a way you wouldn't expect. I let myself hate her. I had been withheld from being myself because I refused to tell myself the truth about her, and that was that she gave up on being my mother long before she died, and she never came back around. I saw a counselor at the time, and he would repeat to me, "You were just a little kid. It wasn't your responsibility. You were a little kid. A little kid. She didn't do it. She was the mother. You were just a little kid." So I went to one extreme, saying "Fuck her, she didn't give a shit about me, I won't give a shit about her." Then I came back to "God I just want to spend some time with her. We would get along now, I know it. We could have something good." But now I find myself just merely not minding that she's gone, not caring either way. She was a good woman, but somehow unable or unable to give me what I needed.

That brings me back to Debbie. Debbie connected with me--and that started within a year after my mom had died. Debbie cared deeply for my emotional and spiritual well-being, taking me to church, inviting me in to her home, counseling me in ways I didn't deserve or ask for. For the last 10 years I have always known without a doubt that Debbie has loved me, simply because she loves me. The cancer that began working on destroying her body in October completed its task yesterday afternoon. That same cancer that removed an indifferent mother from life as I know it has now also removed the best. Debbie is gone. God only knows how we will compensate for our emotions this time around. Me, for example, I wrote a blog. So who the hell knows. I guess we'll never really get it. It's a funny thing, death.


-hvc34


Read again:

"Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand."
-C.S. Lewis
(A Grief Observed)