something Unplanned

On Friday, I saw Unplanned in Burbank.

Abby Johnson’s story is unique in that it gives insight into the thinking behind both sides of a supremely important debate over a uniquely crucial issue. It makes an appeal to the conscience of every human being about the value of life itself. Forming conscience correctly is essential: the stakes could not be higher.

Today, I’m not writing a review. Steven Greydanus has an insightful and balanced review over on his Decent Films site.

movie tickets for UnplannedThe movie was so compelling that I bought 7 tickets on my way out of the theater. I drove over to the nearby Burbank Planned Parenthood, and rang the door buzzer. I said I had seven tickets for the 7:20 pm show if they wanted them. The woman said they wouldn’t be interested. I said I thought maybe they would want to see it so they could be part of the conversation. She said they wouldn’t be interested. So I offered to leave them on the ledge outside the door, but she asked me not to do that. So I said I would offer them to people in the parking lot.

As it turns out, there weren’t many people in the lot, so I started entering other shops in the strip mall.

strip mallIn El Criollo Cuban Bar & Grill, I found four older men conversing in Spanish. I introduced myself and explained I had free tickets to a movie tonight just down the street. I explained it was about Planned Parenthood. They kind of lit up and said they would be happy to take them and get them in the hands of interested viewers.

Thank you, gentlemen. Well done.

Anyone else in? Please consider buying some tickets for your local Planned Parenthood clinic and offer them the chance to see the movie at no (financial) cost to them.* If they don’t want tickets, surely you know others that would. But start with the people that might benefit the most.

*Conscience sold separately

fiat voluntas tua

What pleases me is freedom –
the key given to each soul,
an invitation to willing captivity.

A tender soul,
making itself my captive,
captivates me
as it walks into the cell,
locks the door behind it, eagerly,
and, reaching its arms through the iron bars,
throws the key far out of reach.

The little souls –
some are quite impulsive –
throw their keys with all their might.
They remind me of mother,
which isn’t surprising…
she taught me to throw when I was a child.

From mother,
the great economist of the heart,
I learned that keys are made
to be thrown away.

Of course, she learned it from Father.
Father was the first to lock himself in,
to throw His key away…
with His back to the door
and a grin on His face,
He launched it over His shoulder.

He was so proud of mother
when she threw away her key.
“That’s my girl,” he said.
“That’s my girl.
Have you ever seen such an arm?” he asked me.
“Where did you get such a mother, anyway?”

This business of throwing keys away –
it wasn’t my idea, really,
though Father and Spirit like to say
that is all began with me.
It’s a conspiracy of praise on their part,
to which I willingly submit.

Father knew what He was doing
when He invented keys,
and when He sent me among men
to show them how to throw.
For men,
throwing away a key
is not such an obvious thing to do.
Having been a man,
I understand this.

Now there are many souls
throwing their keys with eager haste
and I throw with them.

Side by side
we laugh
and throw away the keys.

From a collection of poems entitled Only Say The Word

of dialogue and theological trump cards

In the wake of yesterday’s Supreme Court decision regarding marriage, I’m re-posting a link to a blog post I wrote ten years ago about what works — and what doesn’t — when in dialogue about hotly contested issues:

pulling out the theological trump card

A snip:

I’m aware that the Church’s teaching about sex and marriage is not received as “good news” by many in the homosexual community. And my personal view is that the Church has not been very effective in demonstrating how her teaching does not oppress, but actually liberates the person with same-sex attractions. To do so, I think the conversation has to shift from the sinfulness of certain acts to the question of what, intrinsically, a sin is (missing the mark) and how the activity in question misses the mark. It has to address the question: what is the goodness, truth and beauty of striving toward that mark? Sin has become such a loaded word, carrying a heavy emotional payload not because of what it means, but because of the way it is sometimes used, as leverage over and against other people, as a spiritual trump card of sorts in an argument. It would be helpful to move beyond this way of talking about sin, which is surely not producing much in the way of fruitful dialogue.

The rest is here.

joy and sadness: a world turned Inside Out

Joy and SadnessI saw Inside Out last night. It is a remarkable work of cinematic art. I don’t have time at the moment to write the review I would like to, but Steven Greydanus has more than ably said many of the things I would want to mention, and some that had not occurred to me. As I began thinking about the movie’s themes this morning, a passage from Henri Nouwen came to mind, which I had written down in my journal some twenty-four years ago.

“I tell you most solemnly, you will be weeping and wailing while the world will rejoice; you will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn to joy. A woman in childbirth suffers, because her time has come; but when she has given birth to the child she forgets the suffering in her joy that a man has been born into the world. So it is with you: you are sad now, but I shall see you again, and your hearts will be full of joy, and that joy no one shall take from you.” (John 16:20-22)

Our life is a short time in expectation, a time in which sadness and joy kiss each other at every moment. There is a quality of sadness that pervades all the moments of our life. It seems that there is no such thing as clear-cut pure joy, but that even in the most happy moments of our existence we sense a tinge of sadness. In every satisfaction, there is an awareness of its limitations. In every success, there is the fear of jealousy. Behind every smile, there is a tear. In every embrace, there is loneliness. In every friendship, distance. And in all forms of light, there is the knowledge of surrounding darkness.

Joy and sadness are as close to each other as the splendid colored leaves of a New England fall to the soberness of the barren trees. When you touch the hand of a returning friend, you already know that he will have to leave you again. When you are moved by the quiet vastness of a sun-covered ocean, you miss the friend who cannot see the same. Joy and sadness are born at the same time, both arising from such deep places in your heart that you can’t find words to capture your complex emotions. But this intimate experience in which every bit of life is touched by a bit of death can point us beyond the limits of our existence. It can do so by making us look forward in expectation to the day when our hearts will be filled with perfect joy, a joy that no one shall take away from us.

Henri J.M. Nouwen, Out of Solitude, “In Expectation”

A few further thoughts: Toward the end of the movie, there are moments that, while not in the least didactic, are instructive not just for children, but for all of us who share the human condition. Our lives are constantly marked by the reality of being in statu viae — “on the way”… In this life, we are never at home in the sense of a place of final rest. Our lives are shaped continually by hellos and goodbyes of various kinds — with other people, with places, and with places within.

While this is true of all people without exception, we sometimes feel isolated, believing that, while we can celebrate the hellos together, we cannot grieve the losses together (even with those we love and who love us). Yet sadness expressed can be isolation overcome. Paradoxically, grief shared can become sadness transformed and touched by joy, because our greatest need as humans is not to experience unqualified and perpetual joy, but to experience life in communion with others. If we understood this, and lived this, our relationship to the sick, dying, poor and elderly might be transformed. And with those relationships transformed, our world could be turned inside out, in the best possible sense.