Captain America: Winter Soldier

I have a new obsession, and it is Captain America: Winter Soldier.  This is surprising, because his first movie is my least favorite in the Marvel universe, and he was by far the least interesting Avenger in The Avengers.  I went to see his newest movie out of brand loyalty, but I went to see it a second time because I fell in love.  This film covers all of my interests, creating a perfect storm of a story that draws me back again and again (and again?).

Hot People

Let's get the obvious out of the way:  Superheroes are almost always unbearably attractive.  As Amy Poehler said in her wonderful vlog about body positivity, "There are only five perfectly symmetrical people, and they're all movie stars.  And they should be, because their faces are very pleasing to look at."  Captain America is inhumanly muscled, Black Widow is effortlessly gorgeous, Falcon is hot and funny, and then there is the Winter Soldier.  Since when did unwashed hair and metal appendages become so attractive to me?  I just--I cannot talk about him anymore, or I will fall into paroxysms of adulation.

Even better?  The narrative allows these hot people to work together without assuming romance must naturally ensue.  Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov, aka the pinnacle of human perfection re: male and female, flirt a bit and comment about how of course the other is attractive, but it always remains friendly.  I mean, the running joke between them is Natasha trying to set Steve up, which A) establishes them as buddies, and B) establishes that she does not want to be set up with him herself.  Give me more platonic best friend superheroes!  (Except when it comes to Black Widow and Hawkeye.  Please tell me her arrow necklace has a hidden meaning.)

Symbolism

This is the most difficult of my interests to express with other movie watchers.

Me:  Did you notice that Captain America uses the same move to attack his first and last opponents in the movie!?
Hypothetical Movie Watcher:  No, why does that matter?
Me:  It just--nicely bookends the movie!  And what about those two bullet holes, eh?  "Cut off one head, and two spring up" amiright?
HMW:  I don't think that matters.
Me:  BUT IT'S INTERESTING TO THINK ABOUT.

Minority Representation

This is maybe my favorite thing about CA:WS.  The five main heroes in the film are 1) a white man, 2) a white woman, 3) a black man, 4) another black man, and 5) another white woman.  Five heroes and only ONE is a white man?  BLOW ME DOWN.  I cannot even express how much this means to me.  Contrast this film with The Avengers, in which our six main heroes are...five white guys and one white girl.

It's no secret that Black Widow is my favorite Avenger, and it doesn't take much imagination to figure out why.  In a world of hyper masculine superheroes, Natasha Romanov uses her intelligence, wit, flexibility, and lower body strength to overpower dozens of bad guys.  She is badass and feminine.  When I watch a superhero movie, I fall in love with the superheroes, but here was a superheroine represented who I am.  I could be her.

The second time I watched CA:WS, I sat next to a black woman and her son, and every time Falcon came on screen, they cracked up (I mean, so did I, that man is a gift to humanity) and cheered.  It made me so excited, because here was a face they could map themselves onto.  (Although it needs to be said--where was the black woman superhero?  And on and on.)

Maybe this seems inconsequential.  Instead of defending myself, I will quote Anthony Mackie aka Falcon.

Q: How do you feel about being the first African-American superhero?
AM: It’s funny you should ask that. [LAUGHS] It’s cool. When I was a kid, I really didn’t have a person I could look at, other than my dad, and be like, “Hey, I want to be that guy and fly through the window.” You couldn’t be like 7 years old and say, “Who do you want to be for Halloween?” “Shaft!”
So [LAUGHS] you know, it’s really exciting. When I first got this role I just cried like a baby because I was like, “Wow, next Halloween, I’m gonna open the door and there’s gonna be a little kid dressed as the Falcon.” That’s the thing that always gets me. I feel like everybody deserves that. I feel like there should be a Latino superhero. Scarlett does great representation for all the other girls, but there should be a Wonder Woman movie. I don’t care if they make 20 bucks, if there’s a movie you’re gonna lose money on, make it Wonder Woman. You know what I mean, ’cause little girls deserve that. There’s so many of these little people out here doing awful things for money in the world of being famous. And little girls see that. They should have the opposite spectrum of that to look up to.

(Legitimate) Man Pain

Man pain is defined by Urban Dictionary as follows:  "When a grown man has the emotional life of an angsty teenager he is said to be experiencing manpain, especially if he tries to compensate with macho behavior.  There are many causes of manpain ranging from violently killed family member/mentor/lover(s) to a broken heart to absent parental figures or even a history of sexual and/or physical abuse.  Manpain is generally expressed in the following ways: breaking shit, drinking too much, picking fights in bars, becoming a costumed superhero and taking long drives while listening to wailing guitars. For the less violent it can be expressed by remaining stone-faced while flexing jaw muscles, staring broodingly into the middle distance and crying a single tear."

I don't like man pain.  It's ridiculous.  But Captain America?  Is a man and is in legitimate pain.  He is pretty okay at adjusting to waking up in a new era, but the fact that all his friends and love interests are dead or dying?  Well, that's harder to swallow.  The difference between Steve Rogers and MANPAIN protagonists is that Steve Rogers doesn't let this pain drive him to drama and selfishness.  The story deals with his loneliness and depression very compellingly (I mean, the poor guy can't even think of something that makes him happy), but he does not let his pain wall him off in a cocoon of "you don't understand me!"  Instead, he checks in with other people, asking Black Widow how she is coping with a big reveal and tactfully remembering Falcon's fallen comrade.  They're all in pain, and no one person's pain is allowed to take center stage and dominate everyone else's.


Violence

The other day I was talking about violence with the boy I nanny and how I wouldn't want to shoot someone if they were robbing me.  He gave me a skeptical look and asked, "If you don't like violence, how come you like superhero movies so much?"  Touche, ten-year-old.  This question was on my mind during my second viewing of CA:WS because the fight scenes in this movie are beautiful.  It wasn't until I realized that they could easily be described as balletic that I realized it was the choreography more than anything that amazed me.  Black Widow and Captain America are two of the most graceful superheroes created.  Pairing them against someone like the Winter Soldier, who is raw power and force, creates a fantastic opportunity to show off some really amazing human movement.  This especially became true during the final fight scene when things get much more realistic--I couldn't watch.  I don't like real violence.  But when fight scenes play like dances, I am riveted.

Patriotism

I tend not to be very patriotic.  When I think of the United States, I think of political infighting between Democrats and Republicans.  I think of global bully, and materialism, and entitlement.  So a superhero whose name is Captain America?  He was fighting an uphill battle to my heart from the beginning.  But the joke's on me, because this stalwart protector of patriotism won me over.  Listening to him make a speech about sacrifice for the sake of someone else's freedom made me proud to be an American like no fireworks display ever did.  America is powerful, and when we use that power against others or for ourselves, I get mighty squeamish.  But this new (old?) brand of patriotism that says we ought to use our power sacrificially?  I am ALL ABOUT THAT.

This leads me to my absolute favorite scene in the film, a scene featuring a nobody tech guy who hears Captain America's message and subsequently struggles to do the right thing at risk of his life.  It is beautiful and painful and awe-inspiring.  If that's what it means to be an American, well then, count me in.

Noah Gundersen

Last night I saw Noah Gundersen in concert.  I fell in love with his music the second I heard "Jesus, Jesus," which perfectly expresses my doubts and discomforts with Christianity while also clinging to a hoped for hope.

When I finally got around to listening to the rest of his music, I was blown away by his ability to honestly relate the highs and lows of life with a wisdom that digs beneath the obvious.  In "Isaiah" he describes a relationship with a girl who has a boyfriend.  He manages to convey the ambivalence of wanting the relationship and knowing it's wrong.  The chorus repeats Isaiah 41:10, "Fear thou not, my right hand will hold you, fear thou not."  The first time it is an excuse, a get out of jail free card, and as the song progresses into regret and conviction, it becomes a truth to which he clings in the midst of sin.  I mean, this guy blows me away.

And he's even more fantastic in person.  His passion pours off the stage.  He is absolutely captivating.  And the joy of live music comes from hearing your favorite songs in real time, watching emotions play across an artist's face as they share their soul with a crowd of strangers.  So when he played the opening chords of "Jesus, Jesus" I was thrilled.  It was better than I expected, however, as we were privileged to hear Noah's alterations to the song, something I can only assume reflects his spiritual progression.

The last verse of "Jesus, Jesus" is this:

"Jesus, Jesus, I’m still looking for answers
Though I know that I won’t find them here tonight
But Jesus, Jesus, could you call me if you have the time?
And maybe we could meet for coffee and work it out
And maybe then I’ll understand what it’s all about"

But what he sang was this:

"Jesus, Jesus, I’m still looking for answers
And I think I always will be
But Jesus, Jesus, could you call me if you have the time?
And maybe we could meet for whiskey and work it out
And maybe then I’ll understand,
Maybe then I'll understand,
Maybe then I'll understand
You."


It's probably powerful enough to let the contrasts sit there, but what is a blog for if not unnecessarily sharing opinions?  And I have to, because I love the changes.  First he acknowledges that not only will the doubts go unsolved tonight, but--they're always going to exist.  Then he changes out coffee for whiskey, reflecting a darker sensibility, and awareness that this is heavy stuff, not something for a casual coffee date.  Not only that, but he trusts that Jesus would join him for whiskey, would be comfortable joining him where he is: in a bar, silencing his pain.

And finally, my favorite change.  Whereas first Noah sings about understanding "what it's all about" he finally decides that he wants to understand "you."  There will always be questions and he will always want answers (don't we all?), but in the end, he knows those aren't sufficient.  You can have all the answers in the world to the problems presented in the song, but answers won't solve anything unless you know the Person who is giving the answers. 

Noah is probably not a Christian, from what my concert-mates told me.  But his song speaks volumes of truth to me, reminding me that having arguments are secondary to resting in Jesus.  If I can understand him, the contradictions and worries will fall away.  I'm so honored to have been able to listen to Noah's heartbeat so that mine can fall into his cadence. 

Shame vs. Guilt

This past Sunday I had a stimulating discussion with some people in my small group.  I was arguing for a less-common position, and finally one man said, "But is there ever a time when people ought to feel shame?"

I think I surprised everyone when I answered, "No."  To be honest, it surprised me as well.  Isn't that what it means to be a sinful person in awe of God's goodness?  Shouldn't we feel shame?

I still think, no.  Guilt, absolutely.  But never shame.  The man in my small group asked me to elaborate.

"Shame is the opposite of being created in the image of God.  Shame is being worthless and disgusting in the very heart of our being.  Guilt is making mistakes, of making really terrible, horrible mistakes.  It is doing the wrong thing over and over again.  But with guilt, there can be redemption.  With guilt, we can still be loved."

We talk about this in counseling quite a bit.  Guilt is appropriate (although sometimes people feel false guilt for things they either didn't do or have since been forgiven of), but shame is the disease that leads people to therapy.  Guilt is a parent saying, "You did a bad thing."  Shame is a parent saying, "You're a bad child."

I wonder how much pain has been caused by the Church confusing these two concepts?  We hear over and over again that we are sinners in need of grace.  Yes, absolutely.  But that is not our center.  At our deepest, most inward parts, we are created in the image of God.  We are glorious because we are known and loved by the God of the universe.  Have we inherited a sinful nature?  Have we each acted in countless sinful ways, hurting those who love us, hurting ourselves, acting selfishly in fear and hatred?  Yes, yes, yes.  We are guilty.

But sin does not stop God loving us, and that means we should never teach a gospel of shame.  In what twisted world is shame considered a part of "good news"?

The gospel I stand by is this:  You are loved, and you screw up, and you are loved, and the world sucks, and you are loved, and there is hope, and you are loved, and a day is coming when all will be well, and you are loved.

Sanctification After Death

I've lost the ability to recognize whether or not it's normal for lunch conversation to include eschatology.  The other day I was at Panera with Lindsay, and she sighed heavily.  "What if, after all this, there's still sin?"

"That's the whole point," I said.  "We won't be able to sin."

"Yeah, but.  If we still have freedom of choice, what's to stop this from happening over and over and over again?"

"I DON'T LIKE THAT IDEA," I said, fidgeting in my seat.  I knew there was a reason this couldn't be true, but... "Oh, I know.  In Genesis, there's both the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.  In Revelation, there's only the Tree of Life.  The option is gone--we've had our chance and we failed.  God saved us and the reward is life without temptation anymore."

Lindsay visibly relaxed.

"What gets me," I continued, "Is the idea that some kind of sanctification continues throughout eternity."

Lindsay was no longer relaxed.  "WHAT?" she said.  "I don't even like sanctification in this life.  Why would you think it'll keep happening?"

"Well, C.S. Lewis is always going on about it.  In The Last Battle and A Grief Observed and The Great Divorce...any time he talks about eternity its with this idea of continuously growing in Christlikeness."

"No!" Lindsay insisted.  "I hate that idea!  I just--you mean it never stops!?"

"No no no.  I think I'm explaining this wrong.  I'm with you, sanctification now is exhausting.  But when there's no sin or temptation...I think...I think it's like traveling.  There's so much to see and so many ways to grow, but it's not like the process is painful.  It's fascinating and fun to go somewhere new, and every new thing you experience just makes you hungry to experience more.  That's what it'll be like, I think.  We'll grow more and more like Christ, but it'll be an adventure.  With, you know, no delayed flights or muggings or whatever."

"Hm," Lindsay said.  "I suppose that's alright.  By the way, can we go to Iceland this summer?"

"YES," I answered, and bit into my turkey and avocado BLT.

Unconditional Love

Therapy today meant discussing self-worth, which was MISERABLE; I assume for everyone other than the three or four lucky bastards who had perfect childhoods.

Therapist: Do you think there's a spiritual element here?
Me: Yes. I was raised knowing that God loved me in spite of my sins, and—it was always in spite of. It's only been in the last couple years that I've learned that maybe God just straight up loves me. Maybe he delights in me.
Therapist: What would that be like?
Me: Comfort. Security. Peace...Too good to be true.

Our conversation moved on, but for the rest of the day I was stuck on this exchange.  Later it struck me why it felt so important--the last year or so has essentially been my attempts to prove that God's love is conditional.  For so long I've been defined (by others and by myself) as "the good girl," and it terrifies me to think that this reputation is what has earned God's love.  Does he only care about me when I'm trying not to sin, when I'm being modest, when I'm focusing on him, when I'm serving others?

So I stopped reading my Bible.  I started cussing.  I hit my snooze alarm until it was too late to go to church.  I ignored chapel requirements for DTS.  In my "good girl" way, I went bad.  I think I was railing against God, trying to prove to him that, "See!?  You don't love me now!"  I disobey authority, covet everything, hang onto jealousy, embrace bitterness, wallow in self-pity, and then I held my blackened and shattered heart up to God in defiance.  I wanted him to let me down.  I wanted him to be like everyone else, so that at least the world would make sense.  The rules would be clear--for me to experience love, I need to put on my happy shiny people face and DO STUFF.

But....that hasn't happened.  It's not like I've felt showered in God's love.  But during this year I've found friends who are in the muck with me, doubting and trying and flailing.  I've got this support system that is mysteriously okay with all of my pain because they know that the world is shitty and they're not interested in pretending it's not.  And it's through them and their sarcastic, enduring compassion that I think...okay.  Maybe God loves me.  Maybe I could never read the Bible for the rest of my life, and he would love me.  Maybe I could always act selfishly, and he would love me.  Maybe he looks down on me and fucking laughs and smiles fondly.  Maybe I'm his craftsmanship, and he made me good.  Maybe I'm broken, but he sees what I was, am, and will be, and he's just entirely delighted.

A Counselor's Prayer

 Taken from this website.

God, help me to share my client’s (or friend’s) pain without letting her pain overwhelm me.
Help me to feel her hurt without feeling consumed by it.
Help me to enter her chaos without being sucked into it.
Help me to approach her problems without feeling the need to fix them.
Help me share her grief without trying to rescue her from it.
Help me to bear witness to her past without feeling the weight of its devastation.
Help me to celebrate her growth without taking credit for it.
Help me to hear of abuse without turning cynical, broken relationships without becoming bitter, neglectful parenting without being judgmental.
Help me to hold hope for others even when I’m struggling to hold hope for myself.
Help me to keep my heart open even after it breaks.
And help me to draw closer to your heart every time I’m overwhelmed by the pain in mine.

Everything's Better During the Olympics

I love the Olympics.  Love them like watching every prime time coverage, bringing them up in every conversation, definitely frowning at you if you aren't as into them as I am.  This is all kind of weird, because I'm not interested in any other sporting event.  The Superbowl happened last week and I literally did homework in my room.  Sports have never been integral to my life, but the Olympics?  They are everything.

I mean, part of this is obvious.  The Olympics take place in amazing, beautiful, new places!  Sochi, Russia!  How lovely.  I mean, I'm not handwaving away decades of horrific history, but Russia is a beautiful place with an astoundingly rich history.  I loved seeing the cultural contributions Russia has made represented in the Opening Ceremonies.  And I love seeing the little side pieces NBC does about what it's like living in Sochi.  I even really love the awful reporter's tweets about #sochiproblems because they so perfectly capture the insanity of traveling somewhere new.

Can't deny that the Olympics are made of sports, though.  My fondness here is summed up in a(n imperfect) quote by Alex Day, who said of the previous Olympics, "You're literally getting to see someone come up, live the most exciting moment of their lives, and leave.  And then another person comes up and lives the most exciting moment of their lives.  And you get to watch it all and live it with them!"  Lovely.  So exciting, so devastating, so fulfilling.

And the whole pathos of the Olympics!  Countries from around our broken world putting aside political differences and racial tensions for the fun of the game.  It's absolutely beautiful, and honestly a lot like how I imagine eternity.  There's this genuine competitiveness, but alongside the desire to win for your own country, there's this deep respect for talent that seems to exist in nearly all the athletes.  It's lovely.

Also, who cares about dumb butt Superbowl commercials (just kidding, I thought they were mostly really funny).  What I'm saying is that I really really love Olympic commercials.  They are just consistently heartwarming and truly wonderful.  They capture life, and even though they are selling something, I mostly spend those thirty seconds thinking, "Life is beautiful, across the globe, holy cow, I want to live."  I especially love the one where couples are driving in the car and one starts singing obnoxiously to the radio, and then the scene changes to India and the same thing happens, and then China, etc, and the tag line at the end is something like, "We're not that different," and my heart dies.  I also really love the ones that show an Olympic athlete backwards through their life until it pauses and you see them like, take their first step in skis or something.  UGH so touching.

Anyway.  Olympics!  They're my favorite bi-annual activity!