Just A Few Pictures

10 Best Movies of 2007

It's about time that I got around to picking the 10 best movies of last year. After all, the Oscars will be awarded tomorrow night. I decided I have a right to do this because I saw 48 movies IN THEATRES last year. Yes, 48. I don't even want to think about how much this amounts to in ticket and concession costs. I do believe this love affair I have with the big screen points to an addiction on my part. What can I say?

I also believe I have a right to do this because top ten lists among movie critics are notoriously inconsistent. It's rare that one or two films make "everybody's" list. So, here's my inconsistent list.

As I write this, I'm watching North By Northwest. I never get tired of watching this film: "How does a girl like you get to be a girl like you?" It's worth viewing over and over just to hear that line.

I'm bothered by how many violent films I have on this list (at the top yet), but they were damn good films. I'm not quite sure why the numbers aren't showing up on the list, but No. 1 is No Country for Old Men.

1. No Country for Old Men



2. Eastern Promises



3. There Will Be Blood



4. Across the Universe



5. Charlie Wilson's War



6. La Vie en Rose



7. I'm Not There



8. Hairspray



9. Lars and the Real Girl



10. American Gangster

Honorable Mention (in no particular order): Breach, Zodiac, 300, Blades of Glory (it really WAS funny), Knocked Up, Ratatouille, 3:10 to Yuma, Michael Clayton, The Kite Runner, Juno, The Savages

Ave atque vale?

Latest Favorite Picture of the Gang

Today I delivered my first sermon at Seabury. It's also possible it will be my last. All we know at this point is that no new students are being accepted for the '08-'09 school year and that Seabury will no longer offer a residential 3-year M.Div. program. Beyond that, we are still waiting for the details. I had written another sermon for today, but it just didn't work anymore. So, last night at 11pm, I wrote another one.

Seabury Sermon: 2/22/08

Yesterday morning I woke up reciting a poem I had memorized 44 years ago for Sister Agnes Joseph in my sophomore English class at Aquinas Dominican High School on the south side of Chicago. She had asked us to memorize one of Shakespeare’s sonnets. My choice was odd for a sixteen year old. The poem is a carpe diem poem. If you saw the movie, Dead Poets Society, you heard a lot of talk about carpe diem, usually translated “seize the day.”
Carpe diem poems generally express, in some poetic way, the sentiment: “life is short and time flies, let’s make the most of it.” Often, in these poems, a male lover addresses a woman he admires and tries to convince her that loving him would be a very good idea indeed. It’s kind of a “Birds-do-it.-Bees-do-it.-Even-educated-fleas-do-it.-Let’s-do-it.-Let’s-fall-in-love.” approach to life.

What made this poem an odd choice for a sixteen year old in a girl’s prep school was that the speaker of the sonnet is wooing the addressee with the argument that he is quite old, so “time’s a wastin.’” -- love me or I may be gone soon.
Right now at Seabury, I daresay all of us are experiencing a veritable panoply of emotions. Sadness, fear, anger, confusion, skepticism, helplessness, powerlessness, paralysis, grief to name a few.

Right now, we are living in ambiguous uncertainty. It doesn’t feel good. In times like these, Carpe diem may be a helpful world view to adopt. The past is gone. We have no hope of bringing it into the present. The future isn’t here. We can’t control it. We can’t act in it. There really is no point in worrying about it. As Jesus said, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?”
Although our emotional rollercoaster will continue to climb and drop, let’s seize the day. Let’s practice letting go of the past and letting go of worrying about the future. Let’s be present to one another in the here and now. Let’s be mindful of each other’s gifts. Let’s rejoice in this day, the day the Lord has made. Let’s remember that we are loved and that nothing can separate us from that love.

Yesterday morning, as I lay in bed reciting my Shakespearean sonnet, I thought how, as with the Bible, we can read and reread Shakespeare and hear it every time in a new way. As I listened to the sonnet, I heard that it was Seabury that was the speaker.
I now know that the reason I memorized this unlikely sonnet 44 years ago was to recite it to you this morning:

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Review: Juno

Juno: ***
Nonna Rating System: $$$

I actually saw Juno about a month ago and completely forgot to write the review. -- not that the movie was forgettable! Quite the contrary. It's as delightful as everyone seems to think it is and it manages to please teenagers as well as senior citizens. That, in itself, makes it a film worth seeing.

By now, everyone knows that Juno gets pregnant as the result of her first sexual experience. The father of the baby is Juno's good friend Paulie Bleeker, played by Michael Cera with the same blend of innocence and naivete he employed so effectively in Arrested Development. Juno recognizes that keeping the baby is neither in her or the baby's best interests. She decides to select the adoptive parents herself -- and then the story gets a bit more complicated.

Some have criticized the movie for making teen pregnancy "too attractive." They contend that the pregnancy seems to constitute only a minor interruption in Juno's life, a blip easily forgotten. There are, they argue, too few consequences of her irresponsible behavior. I can't agree with this assessment. The film makes clear to us, for example, that being pregnant generates all sorts of physical discomforts. In addition, Juno agonizes over her decisions about the baby and, finally, must deal with the fact that life often presents us with ambiguous situations for which we must make difficult decisions. After I watched the film, I thought, "If I had a teenage daughter and I wanted to talk to her about the possible negative consequences of sexual experimentation, I would take her to see this film and then sit down with her to talk about it."

Ellen Page's performance as Juno deserves the accolades being heaped on it. She manages to be funny and vulnerable at the same time. There is something very real about her performance. There were a few moments, however, when I groaned, when I realized that Diablo Cody, who wrote the screenplay, had put words in Juno's mouth that no teenager would utter. There were a few references which were joltingly out of place, appropriate for a 50 year old, but not a teenager. Nevertheless, Juno's smart mouth was generally a delightful entertainment. the film is definitely worth seeing. Go to the reduced price matinee. Take a teenager. You might learn something. I would have.

Nonna Rating System:
$$$$ = Worth paying the Friday evening price
$$$ = Worth paying the Matinee price
$$ = Worth a rental
$ = Wait for cable
# = Skip it

Review: Charlie Wilson's War

Charlie Wilson's War: ****

Nonna's Rating: $$$$

Phillip Seymour Hoffman is reason enough to see Charlie Wilson’s War. A truly marvelous actor with the malleability of Robert DeNiro. Think of Capote, Magnolia, The Savages, and Boogie Nights. In Charlie Wilson’s War, Hoffman steals every scene he’s in – and he’s usually in scenes with Tom Hanks and/or Julia Roberts. Both of them, by the way, deliver fine performances in this film. Hoffman plays a CIA maverick, an operative so far down in the bowels of The Company that he really doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks of him – including U.S. Congressmen.

The movie is only about 90 minutes long, and it moves at a rapid pace, aided by snappy dialogue and rapid fire exchanges reminiscent of movies like His Girl Friday. And the dialogue is that good, thanks to the writing of Aaron Sorkin and the directing of Mike Nichols. I wanted to see the movie again just catch all the witty repartee -- and I just did. My Seabury friend Kristin and I are off on “Plunge,” a two week trip for future priests in which we immerse ourselves in the daily life of a church somewhere in these United States (we’re in DC). We decided to take a break tonight, have a quick dinner at Maggiano’s, and go see a movie. Washington insider movies almost always fascinate and even more so when you’re watching them in The District as we were. We’re staying with a couple whose next door neighbor knew Charlie Wilson. We’ll be having dinner with her on Sunday. That’s something to look forward to.

In the meantime, we have a delightful, funny, thought-provoking movie in Charlie Wilson, a much better movie than Atonement (sorry, Golden Globes). The movie focuses on the U.S.’s clandestine involvement in the war fought by Afghan rebels against the Soviets. When they movie finishes, there are no postscripts, no what-happened-to-so-and-so words flying across the screen. We’re not even reminded that the weapons we supplied to the Afghans became the weapons of the Taliban that are still being used against our troops. We don’t hear a narrator tell us that our failure to invest in education and infrastructure in Afghanistan and its consequences is similar to our failure to do the same in Iraq with its consequences. We’ve been told enough when Hoffman’s character says, “We’ll see.”

Nonna Rating System:

$$$$ = Worth paying the Friday evening price

$$$ = Worth paying the Matinee price

$$ = Worth a rental

$ = Wait for cable

# = Skip it

Review: American Gangster

American Gangster: ***1/2
Nonna Rating System: $$$$

American Gangster is stunning in that Ridley Scott sort of way. It doesn't hurt to have Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe in your movie, even if they only have one scene together. Why is it that, so often when two major male stars are in a picture nowadays, they rarely have scenes together -- for example, DeNiro and Pacino in Heat?

In the end, it really doesn't matter. This is an excellent, complex film with meticulous performances by both actors: Washington, a drug kingpin whose private life is controlled, conservative, and drug-free and Crowe, a hyper-honest cop whose personal life is a shambles. In one sense, this is a classic Hollywood story: the cop no one listens to is convinced he can identify the who and how of the influx of drugs into the U.S. He is the only one who finally understands that the drugs arrive from Viet Nam in the false bottoms of metal coffins containing dead soldiers in body bags.

What makes the story original is the subtext of institutional racism that permeates the film: the white law enforcement establishment can't even begin to imagine that a black man might actually be the mastermind behind the drug trade in New York and its environs.

I always regret liking a violent film, but Scott doesn't ask us to revel in the violence here. He weaves scenes depicting the brutal, horrid reality of drug use throughout the movie. There's nothing pretty about these flashes of reality. We are confronted with the unspeakable consequences of drug use on individuals, families, children, and the neighborhoods they live in.

In 1971, my wasbund was stationed at Travis Air Force Base north of San Francisco. I did my grocery shopping at the Base Commissary which was next to the flightline. I often saw KC-130s from Viet Nam taxiing close to the Commissary parking lot after they had landed. One day, I just stood by my car and watched as soldiers got off a plane in their fatigues. Many of them kissed the ground. Some cried. After they had disembarked, the plane taxied and parked next to the base hospital. First, bandaged men were unloaded on stretchers, IV bottles attached to their arms. Then, the metal coffins were unloaded; they rested on the tarmac waiting for connecting planes that would take the bodies home. Some of them were headed to the East Coast. The film makes me wonder. Did some of those coffins contain drugs?

Nonna Rating System:

$$$$ = Worth paying the Friday evening price
$$$ = Worth paying the Matinee price
$$ = Worth a rental
$ = Wait for cable
# = Skip it

Review: The Savages

The Savages: ***

Nonna Rating: $$

Sometimes movies are uncomfortably close to our everyday lives. Not too much danger of that from Spiderman, but The Savages is definitely too close to the bone for me. I'm not too sure that I'm being entirely fair to this film. It's well written and stars two of today's best actors: Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman. Throw in Philip Bosco, an older character actor you've seen a million times, and it's a nearly perfect little film which made me squirm.

Linney and Hoffman play a brother and sister who have no choice but to deal with their father's declining competence. I've played these scenes myself with my own father and siblings. That's why I find it so difficult to be objective about this film. And that, in turn, makes me think about how artificial it is to pretend that film reviews are objective at all. I completely understand why my personal experience is interfering to such a great extent in my evaluation of this picture. I, too, sat with my father as his cognitive abilities were being assessed by a series of questions administered by an assisted living administrator. I, too, tried to help him give the answers the questioner was looking for. I, too, was desperately anxious, worrying that he would be rejected as suitable for the facility. I, too, had to face reality when he was, indeed, rejected.

I also understand that siblings are often in different stages of denial, acceptance, anger, and grief. We all think that there must be a better place for our dissolving parent. We all think that there is a place where he can be happier. In many ways, this film is too real for me, so it's impossible for me to be objective. But what makes me think I'm more objective when I'm writing about Spiderman? Am I not also bringing my own experiences to that film? Experiences different from yours? Of course I am. So, all I'm offering here are occasional idiosyncratic opinions which you can choose to accept or ignore.

Nonna Rating System:
$$$$ = Worth paying the Friday evening price
$$$ = Worth paying the Matinee price
$$ = Worth a rental
$ = Wait for cable
# = Skip it

Review: The Golden Compass

The Golden Compass: ***

Nonna Rating: $$$

I prepared myself to dislike this movie. I've read Pullman's Trilogy, His Dark Materials, and have rarely had so negatively visceral a reaction to literature. Just for the record, my reaction had nothing to do with the so-called "anti-Christian" subtext of the books. Granted, you don't find much anti-Christian children's literature, but there certainly exists a great volume of adult literature that is anti-Christian. And, let's face it, the history of Christendom isn't exactly squeaky clean. Good Christians would do well to face up to the darker moments in our bloody history in Europe, the U.S., and the rest of the world. But I digress. What I didn't like about Pullman's books was the hopelessness that rests in the core of the novels. There is, indeed, something dark in these books, something I'd rather have children face when they are a bit older (at least adolescents) and can handle it better. I do sound like a disapproving grandmother here. Sorry.

To my surprise, however, I found myself enjoying the movie. Some of the special effects are stunning, especially the daemon animal souls that accompany humans. Children's daemons, which change shape constantly and don't take their final shape until adolescence, were especially charming. The actors are exceptionally fine. Almost every venerable older male English actor has a role, including Derek Jacobi, Ian McKellan, Tom Courtenay, Ian McShane, and Christopher Lee. Dakota Blue Richards plays the demanding role of Lyra and exudes competence, bravery, and cleverness. Daniel Craig as Lord Asriel isn't on screen enough. We'll probably have to wait for the last two installments to see more of him. Nicole Kidman portrays Mrs. Coulter, Lyra's long-absent, chillingly beautiful mother. Her performance is good, but doesn't convey the evil that resides in the core of her being in the books.

I wondered if the densely plotted movie was only coherent to me because I had read the book, so I asked my ten-year-old grandson what he thought of it and whether it made sense to him. He genuinely enjoyed it and was able to follow the storyline easily. I am somewhat surprised at the alarm being raised in some Christian circles about the film. A friend tells me that her nine and eleven year old daughters were warned repeatedly at Sunday school that they should not see the movie. Actually, I doubt most children will even understand that the Magisterium, the reigning power in an alternate universe (definitely not our own universe) is meant to represent the established Church, presumably Roman and/or Anglican Catholic. There is nothing in the movie that identifies the Magisterium as a religious body.

For the special effects, which are stunning on the big screen, I recommend paying the matinee price for this one.

Nonna Rating System:

$$$$ = Worth paying the Friday evening price

$$$ = Worth paying the Matinee price

$$ = Worth a rental

$ = Wait for cable

# = Skip it

Review: The Great Debaters

The Great Debaters: ***
Nonna Rating: $$$

We've seen this plot a hundred times before. Spunky little underdog college team works the kinks out of their performance and doggedly wins game after game until they have the chance to confront the BIG COLLEGE team in the ultimate showdown. And we all know what happens. After all, if they hadn't been successful, there would be no reason to make the movie. The plot is tired enough that it takes an awfully special movie to transcend it. Great Debaters does just that. We expect good acting with Denzel and Forrest, but that doesn't guarantee a good film. They are, however, assisted by four young actors who deliver superb performances: Nate Parker, Jurnee Smollett, Denzel Whitaker (no relation to Denzel or Forrest), and Jermaine Williams. And, yes, we're not watching a story focused on athletic events; we're watching the cerebral activity of debaters. But even that's not enough to make it an exceptional film.

It is the context of this David and Goliath story that makes it so special. The film concerns a little college no one has heard of up against Harvard -- a little black college in 1935 Texas. In the film, slavery is much closer to the characters then than it seems to us now, and the law looks the other way when black men and women are harassed or, as in one pivotal scene, lynched. The contrast between the college where the students study and live and the racist world outside the college is profound and disturbing. (This is a good movie for adolescents to see. Not only does it celebrate the power of education, hard work, and determination; it also serves as a platform for difficult discussion of systematic racism and America's sad history of racial oppression.)

I do have a quibble with one aspect of the film: the topics for debate and the assignation of debating positions. The Wiley College team always was given the liberal side of any issue; for example, pro-welfare. This made for some dramatic, impassioned speeches (especially from Ms. Smollett), but it didn't reflect what must have been the actual situation. In debate competitions, one often has to argue passionately on the side of an issue with which one does not agree. It's an integral part of the process. Arguing the other side of an issue provides an understanding and empathy for the other position which, in turn, allows one to argue the side one actually believes in more logically and with even more confidence. Perhaps the film makers thought that the viewing public would be confused by a debate in which the Wiley team took, for example, an anti-welfare position, but I contend this could have been handled in the story as it exists and it would have enhanced the drama.

I recently participated in a disputatio in my Christian Ethics class. A disputatio is a medieval form of debate very similar to modern debate competitions. I was assigned the argument that torture should be used to elicit information. This was an arduous task for me because I don't believe torture is an effective means of gleaning information, but, in arguing it, I had a greater appreciation for the other side of the argument and a better understanding of how to argue against torture in future. Given the nature of that debate and the fact that we often employed proof texts from the early Church Fathers as well as Scripture, I was especially delighted in the movie when Denzel Whitaker quoted St. Augustine in the last debate against Harvard.

Nonna Rating System:
$$$$ = Worth paying the Friday evening price
$$$ = Worth paying the Matinee price
$$ = Worth a rental
$ = Wait for cable
# = Skip it

Review: The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner: ***1/2

Nonna Rating: $$$

I expected to be disappointed in this movie. Like many, many others, I've read the book -- actually, I've raced through the book, compelled by the author's haunting narrative. I found the "return to Afghanistan" section a bit contrived, but I forgave it for the realistic ending which refrained from "and everyone lived happily ever after." I'm certainly not one of those who demands that the screen translate a beloved novel without plot or character detours. I fully accept that the medium of film dictates the delivery of a story and sometimes necessitates changes. I often think of Being There, a novel by Jerzy Kosinski, in which the author set out to demonize media culture in a rather heavy-handed way. It's an OK book. Translated to film and starring Peter Sellars, the satire and media critique are just as evident but much more subtle. Minor plot changes assist in making the film the masterpiece that it is.Kite Runner is not Being

There, but it is a fine example of a book translated well to film. Readers of the book who demand adherence to plot and character in film interpretations will not be disappointed. The makers of the film made the courageous and appropriate choice to shoot much of it in foreign languages; specifically, Dari, Pashtu, Urdu, and Russian. Courageous because the decision will probably keep subtitle-phobic American film goers away from Kite Runner. The use of the other languages, however, beautifully underscores the sense of loss that Amir suffers on many levels after the abrupt end of his childhood and his displacement to the United States.

The movie focuses on sin, guilt, atonement, and redemption from the perspective of a Muslim child and, later, the Muslim adult. Even though Baba, Amir's father, knows nothing of Amir's great sin, he knows enough of his son to view him sadly with disappointment. Amir returns to Afghanistan to atone for his sins for his father's sake as much as for the sake of his beloved Hassan. Like the author of the book, the movie makers refrained from manufacturing a happy ending. Instead, they left room for hope and healing -- much more realistic given the circumstance's of the story. The story reminds us that we are all called to care for one another and that, sometimes, it may be necessary for us to risk our lives to protect those we must love. It also shows us that, even when we give all we can for another, we cannot guarantee or control the outcome for that person. So much is left up to God and to the person him or herself.

Nonna Rating System:

$$$$ = Worth paying the Friday evening price

$$$ = Worth paying the Matinee price

$$ = Worth a rental

$ = Wait for cable

# = Skip it

Review: Atonement

Atonement: **1/2

Given all those Golden Globe nominations, I expected a bit more from this film. The acting was fine and very English in its attention to the details of the historical period -- prior to and during the beginning of the second World War. I don't ever remember a film in which so much attention was paid to the evacuation of Dunkirk -- not so much the evacuation itself as the plight of the men waiting in France. There's a lot to like about this film: good acting, beautiful cinematography, an interesting, if somewhat derivative story. The chemistry between Keira Knightly and James McEvoy is evident and Saoirse Ronan, Romola Garai, and Vanessa Redgrave, who play Briony young, older, and oldest, all handle their role well.

So what's wrong with it? Well, it's no French Lieutenant's Woman, and it's no Roshomon, two films Atonement echoes. It's one of those films that just doesn't seem to go far enough with its story. There's something missing. The final question is "Was this story weighty enough for all the money and time spent on its production?" Now that I've said all this, I must note that, according to http://www.rottentomatoes.com/, 85% of critics disagree with me. Of course, I'm not saying this is an awful movie. I'm saying it's worth seeing but probably at a cheap afternoon show. In fact, I think I'm going to develop a new rating system:

$$$$ = Worth paying the Friday evening price
$$$ = Worth paying the Matinee price
$$ = Worth a rental
$ = Wait for cable
# = Skip it

And Atonement gets $$$

Review: Margot at the Wedding

Margot at the Wedding ***

A great film? No, but certainly a fascinating one. Nicole Kidman's performance is especially engrossing. She's the sibling-from-hell, a mess of contradictions, a woman so unsure of who she is, she undermines her relationships with others without much thought but with plenty of low-level viciousness. So much is left unexplained in the movie. There are hints of an out-of-kilter relationship with her father. There is another sister, dependent on her mother, who may have been the victim of a rape -- or might not have been. There are a marital relationship and an adulterous relationship that both appear on the brink of disintegration. But explanation isn't important here.

Margot's boundaries are permeable to non-existent. Trust and fidelity are fluid. Her sister tells her a secret and elicits Margot's promise of silence. Almost immediately, Margot divulges the secret to one person after another. Later, she, in a matter-of-fact way, suggests to her son, Claude, a possible sexual relationship with her sister's babysitter, Maisy. Claude, mistaking this conversation for a permissive attitude of openness on the part of his mother, later tells her about a masturbatory experience and is confused when she reacts in horror and tells him his conversation is inappropriate. Self-obsessed by her own needs and opinions, Margot is unable to read people accurately. She's quick to label others as child abusers, autistic, or suffering from ADD with little or no evidence to support her opinion.

Several other performances are noteworthy. Jennifer Jason Leigh, Margot's sister Pauline, portrays a woman who hasn't had an easy life -- and Leigh has the courage to look burnt out used in the film. Jack Black shows us again that he's much more than just a funny guy. As Malcolm, the groom in "the wedding," he portrays a ne'er-do-well loser who confidently struts his stuff until his fictions can no longer sustain him. Zane Pais as Claude delivers one of those painful adolescent performances that make it all too easy to remember those awkward years. Finally, although he's only on film for a few minutes, John Turturro contributes another subtle performance, communicating the many problems in his relationship with Margot without ever having to talk about them.

As I said, it's not a great film. For many people, it won't be enjoyable to watch. None of the major characters are particularly likable people. But, if you like watching the portrayal of complex personalities and relationships on film, then this is a movie you'll enjoy.

Review: I'm Not There

I'm Not There ****

I'm Not There is a terrific film. I loved it -- all 15 minutes of it that I actually saw. I am embarrassed to say that I fell asleep during the movie and woke intermittently, somehow catching all the major plot points (if we can call them that). As so many critics have noted, the film is a deconstruction of the music biopic, those linear biographies which make it look as if a life actually makes sense. This film, using five actors to illustrate five aspects of that complex personality we call Bob Dylan, manages to point out a fact we all know, a fact that movies usually ignore -- that no human being is truly knowable. Unfortunately, for reasons that had nothing to do with the movie, I slept through most of it. I plan to see it "again." I'll alter this review if my opinion of the film changes, but I doubt it

Review: Enchanted

Enchanted ***1/2

Ever since Bambi Meets Godzilla ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXCUBVS4kfQ ), we have been living in a post-Disney world where saccharine sentimentality in children's cartoon's just doesn't do it for anybody. The three Shrek features put the final nails in that coffin. Enchanted proves that even Disney lives in a post-Disney world. No one has skewered the princess-fantasy genre the way this film does -- with broad satire and genuine affection for the decent (if sometimes sexist) values the genre represents. A princess, her prince, an evil stepmother queen, and her bumbling retainer are transported to Times Square, and all sorts of mischief breaks out. And, oh yes, one very frustrated chipmunk makes his appearance too.

There is a romantic love story at the center of the film, but that alone doesn't make it a "chick flick." I asked Max, my grandson and 10-year-old critic of kids' films, what he thought of the picture. He's at that "kissing-is-icky" stage and, so, I thought he might pan the film. But he didn't. He thought "it was really funny." Is this a new genre? Kid's films with chick flick components? Nanny McPhee was one.

My favorite part occured when Princess Giselle, finding herself in a cluttered, dirty Manhattan apartment, summoned all available New York critters to assist her a la Snow White in the dwarves' cottage. If you've seen Joe's Apartment, you know animated dancing cockroaches can be endearing.

Definitely take the kids to see this one, and, if you don't have kids, go anyway. It's that good.

Review: Beowulf

Beowulf ***1/2

I was prepared to be disappointed by Beowulf. I knew the new interpreters of this ancient story would tailor it for the 21st century. That was inevitable. There would be more emphasis on the blood and gore (not that there isn't a lot of that in the poem). I knew they'd probably mess around with the plot -- and they did. Grendel's Mother, played by Angelina Jolie, does not die when she's supposed to, and Beowulf doesn't go home to Geatland to be King. Instead, he hangs around with the Danes and rules them until his final battle with the dragon.

So, before I walked into the film, I decided to forgive its departures from the Old English poem. And I was blown away watching it in 3-D on a large screen. My advice: see it while it's in the theatres in 3-D. The experience is stunning. It might cost you $11.75, but it's worth it. Spears, arrows, and knives come right at you. Blood drips on you and snow falls so near and so gently, you reach out to feel it land in your hand. The animation is similar to that in Zemeckis's Polar Express, but it seems to be a few steps beyond that. And the technique allows for the perfection and alteration of bodies. Ray Winstone and Angelina Jolie both have beyond-belief-perfect bodies. Robin Wright Penn, who keeps her clothes on, is an errily stunning Danish beauty. Her jawline seems more square than in actuality and helps to make her every inch a queen.

The movie does do a fine job preserving the heroic culture of the late first millenium in England. The boasting and exaggeration are all there as well as the political structure of thanes and lords and the centrality of the mead hall. There are even a few nods to the introduction of Christianity to England -- "the Roman god, Christ Jesus." I especially enjoyed the few moments when a scop (a singer of tales) recited Beowulf in Old English. All in all, it's fine movie. If you liked 300, you'll enjoy this one too.

If I Didn't Go to Movies, I'd Have Nothing to Write About.

No Country for Old Men ****

Wow. What an amazing film. Yes, I am a big Coen Brothers fan. How can you not be? Brother Where Art Thou? Fargo. The Big Lebowski. Barton Fink. Miller's Crossing. Raising Arizona. The Hudsucker Proxy. But this film had me holding my breath. So much came together so well. Gorgeous cinematography and, as usual, counterpoint perfect editing. And layered, mesmerizing performances. Tommy Lee Jones exhibits the most weathered, expressive face in film. Weariness just drips from him as he hold on to the moral center of the story. And Javier Bardem transmogrifies into mindless evil incarnate. Josh Brolin manages to rivet our attention in spite of the fact that we all know what's going to happen to him as soon as he make his first dumb decision. Woody Harrelson, Kelly Macdonald, and Tess Harper all deliver nuanced performances worthy of Oscar nods.

The dialogue is spare like the landscape; it lacks the constant wit and satire of Fargo, but that's not a problem. This terse dialogue is probably due in large part to Cormac McCarthy's novel on which the film was based. Often, when Sheriff Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) speaks, however, his thoughtful, witty comments seem not so much directed at another person as toward the out-of-kilter universe or the God who, he is convinced, has passed him by.

The movie is extremely violent. Death comes suddenly with little warning. On one level, the movie is a thriller, a story of drugs and violence, a good, solid story. On another level, however, the movie channels Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal. A preposterous claim? I think not. The movie works as a metaphor for the transitory nature of our existence. Death comes for all. Some sooner. Some later. Bell is Everyman trying to make sense of it all. Pay attention to his description of his dream at the end of the movie. It is death toward which he moves, just as we all do. As the tagline points out, "There are no clean getaways."

A Few More Movies

Semesters are wonderful, but the relaxed pace is about to run pall-mall into the abyss in these last two weeks. I'm trying to stay on track but, of course, I'm on break, so I'm going to movies:

Lars and the Real Girl ****

The best movie I've seen in a long time. Don't let the plot description turn you away: a quiet, nerdy, lonely young man who lives in the garage of his brother's house, decides to send away for an anatomically correct life-size female doll. The young man, Lars, introduces Bianca from Brazil, the doll, to his brother and his wife. Bianca, it seems, is a missionary who loves children. Lars asks if she can stay in the house with them because it just wouldn't be proper to have her in the garage with him. Recognizing Lar's fragile hold on reality, the brother agrees to Lars' request. His pregnant wife, a wise young woman, suggests they bring Bianca to their family practice physician the next day just to make sure she's OK. And therein begins the real story -- how an entire town, out of deep affection for Lars, comes together to support him and see him through a difficult time in his life. The cast is Midwestern-real. Especially effective are Ryan Gosling as Lars, Paul Schneider as his brother, and the always compelling Patricia Clarkson as the doctor of all our dreams: patient, kind, and insightful. The film testifies to the prodigious power of community.

Dan in Real Life **

How do you make a film about a depressed, emotionally paralyzed man without making it incredibly boring? You make Lars and the Real Girl, that's what you do. Unfortunately, Dan in Real Life just remains a really slow-moving film about a very depressed guy who spends most of his time looking soulfully out into space.

Dan in real life has many of the right ingredients for a fine film, especially its excellent cast. I must admit I have a real soft spot for Steve Carrell. He transcended the silliness of The 40 Year Old Virgin and emerged an appealing, sensitive guy you'd like to take home to Mom. In fact, that sweet appeal of Mr Carrell is what will prevent the American version of The Office from surpassing the satire of the English version, which features the wonderfully vile Ricky Gervais. But I digress.

What is wrong with Dan in Real Life? 1) Zero chemistry between Carrell and his love interest, Juliette Binoche, who phones in her performance. 2) Also no chemistry between Diane Wiest and John Mahoney. Are they a long-married couple or did they just meet before filming? 3) A dreadfully slow pace. It's only about 90 minutes long, but I thought it was more like Return of the King with the extra scenes. Bottom line: rent it some winter night when you're really bored.

The Bee Movie **1/2

I wanted so much to like this movie. After all, Jerry Seinfield wrote it and is the lead bee. I really wish I hadn't read a recent article in the New York Times which detailed how erroneous Hollywood's view of bee life actually is. Reality is actually much more exciting. Here's the article. It's a great read:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/13/science/13angi.html?ex=1195621200&en=fed2706bf65cfe12&ei=5070&emc=eta1.

And here's my big confession. I fell asleep about a half hour into the movie, right after the homage to The Graduate, which was witty in a Seinfeld sort of way. So, I asked Max, my grandson, what rating he would give it: his answer -- 6 on a 10 point scale. It's a good movie to take kids to -- nothing more.

It's Been a While

From October 25 through last Monday, my Dad was in the hospital with a broken hip. Needless to say, I spent a great deal of time with my Dad and then spent quite a few days driving back and forth from Evanston to see him. He's doing OK, and is recovering from surgery nicely. He has amazing tolerance of pain. He hasn't complained of being uncomfortable since the surgery. The biggest issue right now is that he's not cooperating with the physical therapists. He needs to get up and try to walk around. And that, of course, depends on his mood and how much he feels he's in control of any given situation.

Dad has had dementia for at least eight years and has been in a nursing home for the last four years. He has profound aphasia; he can't communicate in any meaningful way. Sometimes he speaks words, but they usually have nothing to do with the context. His cognitive abilities are seriously impaired. It's been a long, frustrating haul.

I just looked at a picture of him from four years ago. He could no longer take care of himself then and needed 24 hour care, but, looking back, I can say that was a good time for him. He was able to communicate his desires and frustrations. Strangely, if he had Alzheimer's, dealing with him might be easier. He wouldn't know us. He wouldn't care when we came to visit. He wouldn't expect us to take him home. But he does know us, and he still exhibits enough cognitive ability to be frustrated with his inability to communicate. Dementia is a hateful, destructive disease.

Reviews: Gone Baby Gone and Across the Universe

Gone Baby Gone**

Critics have been gaga over this movie. A few days ago Rotten Tomatoes showed 91% of critics on the positive side of the fence. What were they smoking? Are they just being kind to Ben Affleck, throwing him a bone for all their bad reviews of his acting? It's a good thing his wife can bring home the bacon because Ben can't direct or write that well. And the latter is shocking because Good Will Hunting was a fine piece of work. But perhaps Mr. Damon had more to do with that excellent script than Ben did. Matt was thanked in the this movie's credits. I wish he had given the script more than a once over.

What's the problem? A preposterous story, so convoluted it was laughable. Ludicrous twists and turns. Morgan Freeman did his usual best in a thankless role. My fellow Aquinite, Amy Madigan, was awesome as a bitter, barren, angry Irish woman (a deadly combination). She let every wrinkle show. I can't believe she's just two years younger than me. Do I look that old? I hope that was just makeup. Bottom line: the writing was poor, the editing sucked, and the direction was pitiful. Casey Affleck did a decent job in the lead, but there was something off about his character. He didn't quite fit in with the South Boston crowd.

Across the Universe****

I've been eager to see this movie ever since it came out and I finally convinced my friend Linda to go see it. Reviews were mediocre, but some critics, like Ebert, raved about it. I'm raving about it too. Finally, the sixth movie in 10 days is a good one. 33 Beatles songs weave in and out of the story set in '67-'68 I'd say. Caveat: Yes, I probably loved it because those were my college years, but it really was beautifully made. Some of the production numbers were mind blowing, especially the one in the Army Induction Office. Jim Sturgess and Evan Rachel Wood did all their own singing and their voices were excellent. Joe Cocker, Bono, Eddie Izzard, and Salma Hayak all made cameo singing appearances. Cocker was especially fun to watch singing "Come Together."

I was very impressed with the attention to detail in recreating the 60s: the clothing, yes, but all sorts of little touches like the antique washers and dryers in the landromat. I thought the shift from sexual innocence to sexual revolution was also well portrayed. At the beginning, in both the U.S. and England, the couples had very chaste relationships; this all changed once everyone got to New York and the counterculture scene there. The office of the Columbia campus revolutionaries looked like every such office I was ever in: lots of ego-driven, passionate guys talking to each other while all the girls stuffed envelopes.

The movie was directed by Julie Taymor who directed The Lion King on Broadway. Her creativity is in evidence everywhere. The songs fit the plot and the plot drips with visual and aural nods to the songs. One surprise: the lead lady's name is Lucy, so we expect to hear "Lucy in the Sky" somewhere, but we don't hear it until the credits. And, they didn't sing my favorite Beatles song, "In My Life," but I didn't mind.

That's Just the Way It Is

I'm through apologizing when I start a blog entry, apologizing because it has been such a long time since I wrote anything. That's just the way it is. Business as usual. Saw four movies over my "fall break," all of two days -- last Thursday and Friday. So, four days with the weekend. Here are my thumbnail reviews:

The Jane Austen Book Club **

Definitely a chick flick, but a good one to rent. Not one to spend money on and see on the big screen. Lots of Jane Austen talk. I thought it would bore my friend who wasn't familiar with all six novels, but she liked it just fine. One really good performance -- Emily Blount -- playing an American, a very neurotic one. Very convincing. Reminded me of someone I know.

Elizabeth: The Golden Age **1/2

Everyone else in the world seems to love this movie, and, yes, Cate Blanchett, does a wonderful job as Elizabeth. She is a powerful prince. The costumes are stunning; the special effects are effective; the music is, well, a bit overbearing. Clive Owen is a hottie as always, but seems a bit out of place in the movie. My problem: I didn't see a story here. Now, I know there's plenty of history, but not a story. The Raleigh/Liz thing seemed forced and just not there. Where is Errol Flynn when you need him? OK, I realize Errol played Essex against Bette's Liz and Vincent Price was Raleigh, but at least there were sparks with Errol. Geoffrey Rush as Walsingham didn't seem like the same guy from the last movie. I realize the character is a lot older, but he seems to have lost his pizazz. And here's my big problem (and I realize there are good arguments for why this shouldn't be a problem -- as in THIS IS A MOVIE, NOT HISTORY). Anyway, I didn't like the way the writers etc. played around with history. When Cate as Joan of Arc was trying to control that horse she was on before the battle, I thought she might launch into the "Once more into the breach" speech from Henry V. OK, I'll admit I don't know history that well, but would she have worn a suit of armor like that? And I can't believe she stood on some cliff in her nightgown and watched the Armada burn. I think that cliff was why the credits thanked "Ryan's Daughter" for footage borrowed. Bigger problem: Mary Stuart. First, supposedly she was devastatingly beautiful. Samantha Morton isn't unattractive, but she's no belle of the ball. Also, she spoke like a Scottish lass. Now really, didn't the woman spend her formative years in France speaking French? Wouldn't that have been her accent? As I said, I'm no historian, but there was something off about the movie.

Michael Clayton ***

Ah, George Clooney. Not tough to look at at all. Terrific acting in this movie. George did well and Tilda Swinton was a woman on the edge doing terrible things. I also love Sydney Pollack; his roles are always in a certain range, but he does them so well. Tom Wilkinson is his usual amazing self. It was all very well done, but I felt the movie plot was somewhat derivative. It reminded me of The Verdict, Silkwood, and The Insider to name a few. I would, however, recommend spending the $9.50 this one.

Eastern Promises ****

I admit that I really like Croenenberg's movies. History of Violence is up there with my all time favorites. And not just because of Viggo. I must admit, though that Viggo naked trumps George with clothes on any day. Incredibly graphically violent. I had to cover my eyes. Again, masterful acting. Viggo was stunning and in control of the screen whenever he was on it. Naomi Watts was excellent and it was good to see Sinead O'Connor, who should be in more widely distributed films. Armin Mueller-Stahl was disturbingly venal, unbelievably evil. His son, played by Vincent Cassel was a walking disaster -- he did it well. I did figure out what was really going on early in the film, but that didn't spoil the viewing experience at all. All in all, an amazing film -- much beyond the ordinary.

They Didn't Deserve to Win

OK, the Cubs just lost their third straight game in the playoffs. It was embarrassing. About the sixth inning, I thought, "I really don't want them to win. They don't deserve it." Wait until next year? 99 years and counting.

Nuns 'n Such

I just noticed how long it's been since I blogged. Seminary work has gotten the better of me in the last couple of weeks. As usual, I'm trying to read everything, compulsive as ever. The best part of last week included our Preaching class (a class in which, oddly enough, we will not preach). Well, that's not exactly fair. The title is Christian Communication and our professor intends it to be preparatory to next semester's TRUE preaching course. So, we had a 13th century Eucharist, a mass that was so far away from what we do now that I thought I was back at Our Lady Gate of Heaven in 1955. It wasn't that different from the good old Tridentine Mass. The priest and deacon/altar boy were on the altar, but only the Lord and Lady of the manor and the local, attached anchoress (me) paid attention to what was going on. (A word about anchoresses. They and the anchorites (males) withdrew from ordinary life in the middle ages and spent their time praying. They weren't hermits who went off into the desert. They usually lived in cells attached to churches from which they could view the altar, counsel people, get their meals, and pray a lot. Some were gifted gossips. I decided I'd be one of those although no one gave me the opportunity to gossip.) The rest of the class did what the people of the middle ages did in church: they milled around, talked to one another, took a tour of the stained glass windows, and generally ignored what was going on up on the altar. On cue, they paid attention when the Sanctus bells rang.

The Mass transported me to my childhood and my first worship experiences. I’d forgotten how pre-Vatican II services emphasized the interchange between priest and servers, how any other person present was irrelevant. I’ve come to expect modern Eucharists to begin with a priest announcing his or her presence and to offer cues for my participation. There was none of that on Thursday. In the gloom, with no clear beginning, I suddenly realized that the priest was saying the Confiteor, sotto voce. I couldn’t even hear him finish, but the server began the response, so that became my signal to begin.

I felt like a spectator watching a play, albeit one in which I participated a bit. The Latin of the Ordinary of the Mass and its meaning were familiar to me, and I was able to recognize enough Latin in the Gospel to know that the priest was reading about the “lilies of the field,” but, even then, I felt distanced from the experience. When I was a child, this type of service was all I knew, so it was normal and appropriate. Now, I experience it differently. The priest reading the biblical texts in Latin while facing the altar seemed especially exclusionary. All of us, even the lord and his lady, were separated from the sphere of influence of the priest. He controlled the space around the altar; none of us would have dared approach him. Wouldn't go back to that for all the artwork in the Vatican.

Speaking of nuns, the two I've attached represent the orders that ran my elementary school (Sisters of St. Joseph-on the left, black habit) and high school (Adrian Dominicans - on the right, white habit).

I do believe!

Yes, I have drunk the Kool Aid. The magic number is 6 and, as always, I believe. This is our year. It's going to happen. I love hearing everyone sing the Steve Goodman Cubs Victory song at the end of the games we win.

Now, how am I going to function in seminary with playoffs as competition? No contest there. I'm not going to live another 99 years. This town will go crazy.

Oh, the picture above. Ernie Banks, Len Johnson (a WGN sportscaster from the 60s), and my former neighbor and all around nice guy, Billy Williams. I must say it was pretty neat to live a few doors away from a Hall of Famer for 10 years. He sang "Take Me Out To the Ballgame" the other day with his three grandsons. They were the cutest little boys. What must it be like to be in grade school and tell your friends that your grandpa is in Cooperstown?

There's just one big thing that's bumming me out about all of this. My Dad, with his strange dementia. I'm not sure if he really understands what's going on with the Cubs. He's been such a loyal fan his whole life, from the time he was a little boy. And it wasn't easy to be a Cub fan on the South Side. Take it from one who knows. So, I just don't know what he's taking in right now.

I can't believe this is just the end of the second week of school. I feel as if I've been here for months. As usual, I'm inundated with reading -- if it just weren't all so engrossing I'd be doing more skimming. Instead, I find myself rereading particularly beautiful passages. Okay, I'm not so excited about readings from Aristotle and Aquinas, but I just finished At the Will of the Body: Reflections on Illness by Arthur Frank. It's a great book for chaplains to read after CPE, but I wish I'd read it before the summer. Frank reflects on his experience with a heart attack and with testicular cancer, with emphasis on the latter. He explores our generally dysfunctional attitudes toward illness and cancer in particular. His main point is that "The responsibility of the ill, then, is not to get well but to express their illness well. And the two have nothing to do with each other" (127). Good stuff.
The picture is a favorite of mine from early spring. It's Junko, Noriko, and Kuni -- one relative and two friends.

A Week as a Middler

I've survived my first week of my second year in seminary. I was hoping this semester might not be as tasking as other terms have been. Well, all hope is lost. I'm taking four classes Preaching, Plunge (too difficult to explain -- suffice it to say, it's a practicum), Ethics, and Pastoral Care in Illness and Suffering. Here it is my first weekend and I'm working on two papers already. And it's fall in Chicago. The glorious season. Made even more glorious by the Cubs' victory today. My brother Mark has accused me of drinking the Kool Aid, but I do believe the boys will do it this year.

Trompe L'Oeil

I love this trompe l'oeil. It certainly gives the observor an interesting point of view. Would make most people a bit uncomfortable, I believe. It reminds me of one of my favorite places in Rome, Il Gesu, the church of the Jesuits with its remarkable trompe l'oeil baroque paintings, so amazing it's difficult not to believe the angels aren't descending from the dome.

So, here I am, the night before my first class of my second year of seminary. I'm excited about my schedule. I have my first preaching class, Ethics, a course at Garrett on Pastoral Care and Illness and Suffering, and the class that prepares us for Plunge in January (more about that later -- don't have the energy today). I had a lovely day with my brothers, my sister-in-law, and my son's family. The Cubs endured an embarrassing loss. We played a wild game of Apples to Apples (my daughter-in-law Junko won). I brought the dessert and, for the first time in about forty-five years, my family was treated to four pints of Walgreen's ice cream and a box of Maurice Lennell cookies -- a true Chicago feast. When we were kids, my Dad would often stop at Walgreen's on payday (once a month) and pick up four pints for a dollar. They were square and wrapped in folded cardboard in the way ice cream always used to be packaged. Dad would remove the cardboard "jackets" and cut the blocks with a knife, serving us our favorite flavors. Today I bought Rocky Road, Moose Tracks, Banana Split, and Creme de Menthe. They were a nostalgic hit. I'd forgotten all these years how good Walgreen's ice cream is.

I think I'm ready for the merry-go-round to begin again. My vow is to lighten up this year, to make sure I make time for myself and to refrain from compulsive/obsessive studying.

The Crayon Thing

Via Emily and Beth. Actually the color is no surprise. Pretty accurate too. Of course, why wouldn't I say so? It's quite positive. I should search for a few green crayons and learn more about why I drive them crazy. I have a feeling my wasbund may have been green -- and it's not easy . . . yada yada.

You Are a Red Crayon

Your world is colored with bright, vivid, wild colors. You have a deep, complex personality - and you are always expressing something about yourself. Bold and dominant, you are a natural leader. You have an energy that is intense... and sometimes overwhelming. Your reaction to everything tends to be strong. You are the master of love-hate relationships. Your color wheel opposite is green. Green people are way too mellow to understand what drives your energy.

More CPE Reflections

Space and time are finally making a difference for me. When I would come home after being at the hospital all day, I'd make myself some dinner, turn on the TV, and fall asleep sitting up after about twenty minutes. I usually slept every night for about two hours and woke with a crick in my neck. At first this really bothered me. I thought I just didn't have the stamina I needed to be a chaplain; then I discovered that the other CPE-ers were just as exhausted as I was. Of course, I finally realized, as so many people have pointed out to me, the exhaustion was more emotional than physical. After going back to Seabury on Monday night, I finally felt as if I had left the world of chaplaincy and was back in Seminaryland. I've also noticed that I don't fall asleep in the evening the way I used to. I seem to have a great deal more energy. Others have mentioned that it takes a while to "come down" from the CPE experience. That's certainly been true for me. It's also interesting that, while I was doing CPE, the thought of going back to school just wearied me. I think I just couldn't deal with the emotional load of both CPE and school. Now that CPE is over, school is looking really good. I love the fall. New books, new pens, new pads of paper.

Enough Already with the Rain

It is a wet August. The good side of all this is that I don't have to water all the new plantings around my townhouse. And that is good news for the plantings because I'm far from a model gardener. I've never taken Candide very seriously and haven't spent much time cultivating my own garden.

I was driving on the north side of Wheaton when a violent thunderstorm hit a few minutes after 3pm. I was driving north on Main Street when it seemed like an explosion hit the trees on the other side of the road. They fell over like toothpicks onto the street. Luckily, no cars were in the way. I decided to turn around and head home, threading my way through north Glen Ellyn. I felt like a rat in a maze. I'd go down a street and then have to turn around and head down another road because fallen trees blocked the way. Quite the mess.

CPE is Over

It's been a particularly odd day. CPE ended yesterday and I feel as if I've stepped from one planet onto another. The world is so different today. My supervisor told us how the summer's experience would be "cumulative." The pile up of tragedy has been getting to me the last few days. Today, with the responsibility of caring for all those sick people suddenly lifted, with the absence of my badge and my pager gone, I feel a strange loss. I do not feel relief. I'm all too aware that the hospital is still full of people, some of whom I came to care a great deal about.

I haven't gotten much done today. Played lots of solitaire. Watched a few movies. Went to see Bourne Ultimatum and out to dinner with my friend Linda. But during the movie, all I could think about was that all those people who were beating up on each other and jumping through windows and off buildings would never have been able to walk away from those situations. They would be in the hospital having multiple surgeries at the very least. Most would be dead.

It has been a very long 11 weeks.

Finishing CPE

So, here I am, one week to go in CPE. I'm glad it's ending even though it was a great experience. But . . . too many 70 hour weeks. It's not the physical strain. That I can handle. It's the emotional strain. My supervisor said the effect of it all is cumulative -- and she's right. I keep thinking of the song, "Blowin' in the Wind." Yes, "too many people have died."

I had hoped to write about this experience, but the need for confidentiality prevents me from saying very much about specific patients or my fellow students and staff chaplains. Of course, I wrote lots of verbatims (write-ups of conversations with patients or families) and reflection papers on any number of topics. I've saved them. I imagine I'll look at them in a few years and laugh at myself.

Before CPE started, I worried about having to pray spontaneously with patients more than anything else. I know that probably sounds lame, but having grown up Roman Catholic and then having become Episcopal, I am truly one of the "people of the Book." When it came time to pray, however, I did just fine. A couple of times I did forget the name of the person I was praying with, so there was a bit of "Lord, surround . . . surround this wonderful man with your love." I generally began my oremus with "The Lord's Prayer," which I called "The Our Father" for the many Roman Catholics at my hospital. I liked to begin with something I knew. Sort of a warm-up. For the RCs, I had to remember to end the prayer at " and deliver us from evil." If I slipped into the "Protestant ending" ("For thine is the power, etc.), I sometimes got quite the look from older RCs. I was immediately suspect and probably a dangerous heretic of some kind.

Almost invariably the patient would cry as we recited the prayer together. Almost invariably. Often the patient and I had been having a pleasant, harmless conversation before the prayer. No God-talk. No talk about sickness or death or dying. Quite a few were in the hospital for relatively benign reasons, so terminal diagnoses did not explain the tears. But they cried. I would like to talk with each of them to understand what touched them. Was it a specific line? Or was it just the act of saying it? Did it bring back memories? Of childhood faith? Of a faith abandoned? Or was it just the grace of the moment? Did they feel what I felt so often in patients' rooms? Did they feel that God was there with us? That something happened between us that had nothing to do with either of us? That when all was said and done, in moments like this only faith mattered. That, in truth, nothing can separate us from the love of Christ.

I just deleted a post

I wrote a post two weeks ago about an incident that occurred the first day I was on my own in CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education). I'm functioning as a chaplain at Good Samaritan Hospital in Downers Grove. It was a doozy. Very Twilight Zone. Unfortunately, as I finished it, I realized I can't blog about it without violating confidentiality. Even if I disguised the names, I would be revealing too much information. The situation is unfortunate, but it's necessary.

So, I can't talk about specific incidents, fascinating though they be, but I can talk about what I'm learning about myself through my experiences. Hope this doesn't devolve into naval gnawing. We do so much introspection in CPE, there is a danger of that.

So far, I'm finding the experience wonderful. People ask me if I "like" it. That verb just doesn't work in this context. I've had really wonderful conversations with people and I've had really unpleasant conversations too. I'm surprised to find that the smells and sights of the hospital room and ER don't bother me as I thought they might. Also, when I deal with people in crisis, I'm not dissolving into a puddle as I thought I might. My eyes do tear up now and then. I'd be inhuman if they didn't. I suppose one of the first things seminarians come face to face with in CPE is that life is, indeed, incredibly fragile. One step can separate us from a lifelong disability or sudden death. Had a fender bender last week (definitely not my fault) and I find I'm a bit wary when I'm driving, a little fearful. I hope that passes soon. Also, I pay special attention to motorcyclists. It's so easy not to see them, to creep up on them and bump them off the road. And this stupid state doesn't require helmets. I've seen a few head injuries that are the result of that omission. I'll be back with more thoughts soon.

Ascension Thursday

I'm 15 minutes or so away from Ascension Thursday and thought I'd take this opportunity to add a short post. I actually have finished all my reading for this week. This is a first -- and probably a last. I'm wondering what I should do tomorrow. Relax? Go to a movie? Veg? Actually, I probably should forge ahead with next week's assignments. This sense of having time is an illusion. My video project for New Testament will probably take longer to produce than I think it will, and the next two weeks will be jam-packed with extra activities. And, my friend Mary McAloon just called because she's having brain surgery on Friday. (She had an 8 hour surgery for removal of a tumor 2 years ago. Some of it was inoperable at the time, so they're going in to get some more. It should only be a 2 hour surgery. Lots of prayers on Friday.) In the meantime, her husband's mother died last night, so I will be going to the wake or funeral depending on the schedule. So, why am I feeling so relaxed about my class work? I'm clearly deranged. I am looking forward to Mass tomorrow. My fellow seminarian, Meg, is the MC and will be releasing butterflies at the appropriate time. I hope the weather improves. It's rather cold tonight. I've attached Dali's depiction of the Ascension. Ah, and at 7 pm tonight, a spectacular full rainbow stretched across the Eastern sky. I could distinguish six colors. I never can see the 7th.

The Merry Month of May

I am so looking forward to reading week (next week). I know it will be crazy. I have a long list of things I have to get done at home, but it will be a good break for me. I think most of us would be very happy to end the quarter today. It's time to stop. I keep falling asleep as I'm reading; last night I was reading some theology, the same paragraph over and over. My ability to cogitate was gone. I was fried.