April Book Reviews and Recommendations!

 Here are the 15 books I read in April, arranged by category:

Theology

The Cloud of Unknowing and The Book of Privy Counsel, Anonymous 

This 14th century classic is the work of an anonymous spiritual teacher from England, likely a monk, writing to a younger monk or would-be contemplative that he/she is mentoring. It is an intensely practical, calm, humble, and even humorous guide in the way of contemplation, the advance from the active life into the life of “naked intent” before God. Anonymous sets out his/her way, which could not be simpler (though not easy), and warns his/her reader(s) that it is up to us to stand by the door of contemplation, but it is up to God to welcome us in. Not everyone is called to the work of contemplative prayer, which is the highest work and which will be our eternal pursuit, but Anonymous makes clear the things to expect if one is called. So helpful and clear. 

In God’s Hands, Desmond Tutu

A series of Lenten reflections from the Archbishop, resounding with the sacrificial and pursuing love of God, particularly for the one lost sheep. As always it is good to sit under the teaching of this loving, compassionate, brilliant human. I love his kindness, even to his enemies, and his subversive love. And I hugely appreciate his notion that if you want to oppress someone the last thing you should do is give them a Bible - the most subversively liberating text possible.

Journey to the Heart: Christian Contemplation Through the Ages, Kim Nataraja 

This is a compilation of essays about historical Christian contemplatives by a number of experts. It is extremely accessible, informed, and helpful, revealing the thread of contemplation that is often buried or misunderstood, especially within the Protestant tradition. The essays take us from Jesus himself all the way up to modern times. 

I Asked for Wonder, A Spiritual Anthology, Abraham Joshua Heschel

A staggeringly beautiful ode to wonder, to hope, to endurance, to truth, to love. Heschel’s words are drawn from his many writings by editor Dresner, on topics like God, Faith, Humanity, Israel, and more. Heschel was a poet and rabbi, a profound teacher, thinker, and activist, one who saw truth and pursued it as far as it could take him. He was like a prophet, speaking words that were sometimes hard but also inviting and transformative. 

The Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition: From Plato to Denys, Andrew Louth

A deep and wide dive into the thought of Christian mysticism, at least up until Denys (sometimes called Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite) in the 5th century. Louth traces the influence of Greek mysticism, especially through the writings of Plato, as they wound themselves through Philo, Plotinus, Origen, Evagrius, the Cappodicians and the monastics. Of greatest import was the emphasis upon apophatic - or negative - theology - the sense that all we can say about God is what God is not. And yet, at least according to the Christian mystics, the goal of life and contemplation is union with this Divine Mystery, sometimes thought of as Uncreated Light, sometimes as Divine Darkness, but certainly located in the incarnated person of Jesus Christ. Louth does a good job at summarizing and explaining the sometimes very difficult patterns of thought, and also of showing how the Christian take on mysticism developed from, but also broke from, Platonic thought. 

How to Inhabit Time, Understanding the Past, Facing the Future, Living Faithfully Now, James K.A. Smith

This 2022 book from theologian/philosopher/professional Augustine appreciator James K.A. Smith is a meditation on the way we live in time. He draws from Augustine, of course, but also heavily from Kierkegaard, Heidegger - especially his concept of the “thrownness” of our lives - Annie Dillard, James Baldwin, and Qoholet, or Ecclesiastes. His premise is that our past is really our present, we are formed by the things that have happened, individually and collectively. So we have to learn how we have been, and are being, so formed, and what it means for us to live within that givenness, that essential contingency. He challenges us to seek to live gratefully, even with the scars of our lives, which are the things that shaped us into who we are. We challenges us not to try to live out of time, not to live ahistorically, either in a kind of nostalgia for an imagined past or an apocalyptic hope for a future that simply wipes out the past and present - this pseudo Christian approach to the “end times” is actually, Smith argues, a removal of oneself from the world, from the present and past and future. It is not futural living, but ahistorical. Eschatology, if it is anything, must be lived now. This is a helpful book, though not always accessible if you don’t have some philosophical training behind you. 

Reason and Being, A Meditation on Ecclesiastes, Jacques Ellul: 

A masterful meditation, after a lifetime of study on this book. Ellul walks us through theme by theme, questioning the prevailing conclusions and challenging us to understand the deeper nuances of Qoholet as a teacher who is ironic, indirect, unromantic, clear-eyed, and yet still strangely hopeful. This is an extremely helpful counterbalance to much of the commentaries, making them in fact seem somewhat shallow and obvious.

Qoholet (Ecclesiastes), Robert Alter translation and notes: 

The final in Alter’s wisdom series, another brilliant translation, but also evidence of the dangers of interpretation. Alter, as I have noticed before, is not coming objectively to the text - I doubt that is possible, or that he would believe it possible. He brings his own prejudices and philosophy to the interpretive choices, and those must be seen for what they are (in all translators). In this particular case, Alter revels in a bleak, counter-wisdom reading of Qoholet, seeing in him primarily a fatalism that allows for no real meaning and certainly no eternal significance. Where Qoholet talks about God, and where this cannot be relegated to pious editorialising, Alter allows that even if the writer is a believer it isn’t in the God of the rest of the Scriptures. This is why it is helpful to read other interpretations, as I am doing with Jacques Ellul’s work. 

Sci-Fi/Fantasy

Parable of the Talents, Octavia E. Butler

The second and final of the Parable series, a dystopian yet ultimately hopeful story about the founding of a new religion whose Destiny it is to take humanity to the stars. I’m relatively certain Butler herself believed in this religion, whose central tenet is “God is Change”. That is, God is not a personal being who loves and cares for us - rather, the central reality of existence is change - and we can shape change, and are shaped by change. In the first novel Lauren Olamina eventually sets up her new Acorn community, with drifters and families she has gathered from the remnants of lives lost to violence and poverty in an America wracked with climate change disaster, gangs, and new forms of corporate enslavement. This book begins with the development of this community, and Lauren and Bankole’s new child, Larkin. But disaster strikes, in the form of a new President, a demagogue, former preacher, head of a new denomination called “Christian America”. His campaign slogan is “Make America Great Again.” If this book had been written in 2016, this all would be very hacky and obvious. But it was written in the nineties, which makes it scarily prescient. A branch of Christian America - the Crusaders - takes over Acorn, removes the children, and enslaves those present there for almost two years. This section of the book was very hard to read, as Butler presents the horrors of slavery in minute, realistic detail. And it is not just that she is saying this kind of thing could happen as a result of nationalist Christians - it HAS already happened, with the slavers in Africa and the settlers to North America. Everything she describes happened, with the exception of some better technology for torturing slaves. It is heart-rending. Once free, the community sets about trying to find their children and re-establish Earthseed, the religion that will help humanity grow up. I won’t spoil any more surprises here, but I will say that though I disagree with certain fundamental notions of Earthseed, I also see that Christianity requires the challenge that it presents. In some ways it could almost be derived from Ecclesiastes. This is a very important book, and extremely well-written, though not always comfortable to read. 

Binti: Home, Nnedi Okorafor 

The sequel to Binti. Binti, along with her new Meduse friend Owku, have now been at the interstellar university for a year, and she is progressing in her maths as Owku progresses in his weapons work. But something is wrong - Binti feels wrong, feels unclean, and is often caught up in anger even as she does her mathematical meditations, something that has never happened before. She decides to return to earth for her pilgrimage, something all Himba women are meant to do. And she brings Okwu with her - who will be the first Meduse to go to earth in peace. Things, of course, are not so easy as she hoped they would be, as she begins to learn layers of her ancestral identity that are not entirely welcome. 

The Erstwhile, Brian Catling

The second in the Vorrh series, an incredible complex and creative world-creation, taking place most in between the first and second world war. There are several interweaving stories, spanning Germany, England, Essenwald (a colonial city in Africa) and the Vorrh itself - the ancient forest of Eden, home to the Erstwhile, the guardian angels who had failed in their task of guarding the tree, who had been forgotten, and who are now walking up, leaving the great forest, and formulating plans. The writing and plotting is superb and bizarre, and is leading to a third and final book whose plot I cannot even imagine. Excellent stuff.

Non-Fiction

The Way of the Samurai, Inazo Nitobe

The classic work by Nitobe on the spirit of Bushido, the Samurai spirit that formed the moral, societal, and aesthetic realities of Japan. Nitobe takes us through the development of Bushido as an essential part of a Feudal Japanese society, and the various elements that constitute this departing way of life. He examines the principles of Justice, Courage, Benevolence, Politeness, Sincerity, Honour, Duty, Self-Control, Suicide and Redress, the Sword, the place of Women - all in their own context and also in comparison to the European versions of Feudalism, Chivalry and Knighthood. It is a fascinating glimpse into a way of life which no longer exists, but which still arguably forms a significant part of the kernel of Japanese society. Nitobe does not examine Bushido uncritically - at several points he advances the opinion that a martial approach to life, while helpful and natural in many ways, does not consider the whole of humanity and cannot ultimately be sustained. He is also very clear about the abuses and excesses of Samurai culture, though in a way that also points to these same issues in other cultures. But there is also a feeling throughout that Nitobe is mourning the loss of this way of life, the sense of honour and duty and self-control that exemplified the Samurai culture.

Talking to Strangers, What We Should Know About the People We Don’t Know, Malcolm Gladwell

An interesting book about why we all find it so difficult to understand strangers, even though we think we are good at it. We think we are good at spotting liars - we are not. We think we can tell a cheat or a criminal - we can’t. Even trained professionals who are supposed to ferret out spies and con artists are typically very bad at this. Why? Gladwell goes through a list of reasons, using case studies, well-known stories, theories, and more - in particular through the example of Sandra Bland, an African American woman who died in prison after a totally unnecessary interaction with a police officer who read her wrong. Gladwell talks about our default to truth, problems with transparency, and the misunderstood issue of coupling to identify why we misread people all the time, and ways we could do a better job of trying to understand strangers.

Graphic Novels

Solutions and Other Problems, Allie Brosh 

I really love this book, it is hilarious, and it made me very sad. Allie Brosh has (had?) a very popular illustrated blog, and came out with her first graphic novel, Hyperbole and a Half, a few years ago. I loved that book too, and found the art style and narration to be exactly the weirdo type of humour that hits just right. This is more of the same, though in the intervening years Allie experienced some horrific tragedy, and not just the world-wide Covid type of tragedy. She became reclusive, at least for a while. And then she came out with this massive, funny, moving book. The sad part, to me, is how often she describes herself, and then everything, as pointless (though I am also reading Ecclesiastes right now, so maybe she is onto something). There is a thread of nihilism running through the book, understandable in the light of what she has gone through, but sorrowful nonetheless. Still and all, her descriptions of her childhood, the depictions of dog and cat and horse activity, and absurdism throughout, is just delicious.

Infinitum, Tim Fielder 

A gorgeously illustrated epic that begins with the Big Bang and carries on past the heat death of the universe. So it’s fairly significant in scope. It is an Afrofuturistic story that tells the tale of King Aja Oba, ruler with his wife Queen Lewa of a vast, wealthy and powerful African nation. But they are without an heir, and Aja Oba angers his concubine, a shamaness, by taking their baby to be his heir. She curses him with eternal life, which sounds great until you realise he will lose everyone he ever loves, eventually. The story sees Aja Oba, later named John, as he experiences history from his unique perspective as an increasingly physically powerful black man who cannot die. He watches the Europeans come to Africa, is transported to America in a slave ship, participates in slave uprisings, the Civil War, the Civil Rights movement, and many other wars besides, all while loving and losing family along the way. The story then transitions into the future, as John is at the forefront of space exploration and terraforming new planets, first contact, and then intergalactic wars. All the while he continues to grow in power, but also desperation, as nothing seems able to put him to rest. This story is incredibly inventive, beautiful, violent, and thought-provoking - I could easily see it becoming a streamed series at some point.

The Trial - Luke 22:63 - 23:25

The Trial - Luke 22:63 - 23:25

Jesus accepted the arrest, the beatings, the   mockery, the insults, the accusations, the questions, and the miscarriage of   justice that were all heaped upon him. He did not try to defend himself, did   not try to remove himself from the situation, did not try to lessen the   humiliation in any way. He took what he knew was coming to him, willingly,   though he did not deserve any of it. In the previous passage Jesus said that   he would be “numbered amongst the transgressors”, quoting Isa 53, and this is   happening in this passage. Jesus identified utterly here with sinful humanity   and took upon himself the consequence of sin, though he himself had never   sinned.

 

After the story of Jesus’ arrest and Peter’s denial,   we catch a glimpse of the mockery and physical punishment Jesus had to   endure. The soldiers blindfolded and beat Jesus in order to make it clear   they did not accept him as a prophet.    This was all part of the rejection of Jesus’ identity that would   happen throughout the trial and execution. What Jesus experienced here was in   a way totally unique, but in another way it connects him to all those who   have suffered at the hands of violence. Anyone who has ever been beaten or   abused or falsely convicted by those in authority can say that Jesus, the Son   of God, has also been unjustly beaten and abused and falsely convicted.   Anyone who has ever been mocked, ridiculed and rejected can say that Jesus,   the Son of God, has also been mocked, ridiculed and rejected. Anyone who has   ever faced imprisonment, torture and execution at the hands of the state can   say that Jesus, the Son of God, also faced imprisonment, torture and   execution at the hands of the state.

 

Jesus was taken before the Sanhedrin, composed   of the chief priests, the elders and the teachers of the law. There he was   questioned about being the Messiah. Jesus could not answer no to this   question, but also knew that his questioners’ understanding of what the Messiah was and   his own were very, very different. So he answered in a way that pushed the   inquiry in a new direction. In calling himself the “Son of Man”, and speaking   of being seated at the right hand of God, he directed the Sanhedrin towards   the realisation that he was claiming not just to be the Messiah, but to be   the Son of God. The right hand is a place of honour and glory, and it   indicated a much higher position than just that of Messiah. To claim to be   the Messiah was one thing; you might be wrong, but you would not be   blasphemous. But to claim to be the Son of God was certainly blasphemous, and   it signalled the end of the Sanhedrin’s questions. They did not need any more   evidence to find Jesus guilty.

 

So Jesus was taken to Pilate, because Rome had not   given subjected people (as the Jews were in Judea) the right to execute   criminals. Only the Roman authority could have someone put to death. But the   Roman authority would not see blasphemy in the Jewish religion as the kind of   offence that should lead to execution, so Jesus was accused of subversion and   refusing to pay taxes to Caesar, charges that would weigh more heavily in the   Roman court. But Pilate could not apply these charged to Jesus, and thus did   not want to find him guilty. So he passed the buck to Herod, in whose   territory (Galilee) Jesus had begun his ministry (this was acceptable to do   under Roman law, but Herod could not give an order to have Jesus executed).

 

Herod (one of the grown children of the King Herod   who featured in Jesus’ birth story), was known as a frivolous man, not a   serious-minded ruler. He was happy to meet Jesus because Jesus was famous,   and he wanted to see a miracle. When Jesus would not answer his questions,   let alone produce a miracle for him, Herod became disinterested. He was only   interested in Jesus for the novelty factor, for something exotic or unusual   that he could show him. Many people today are still only interested in Jesus   for the miraculous that might occur, or for the benefit they might get, not   for the actual Kingdom he brings. In the presence of true royalty, in the   presence of the Son of God, Herod could only make jokes and mockery.

 

So Jesus is returned once again to Pilate, who still does not wish to find Jesus guilty. This is not because Pilate was some kind and enlightened ruler, or that the Romans were more humane. Pilate proves his character later by agreeing to torture and execute a man whom he believes to be innocent, in order to make life easier on himself by giving the angry crowd what they wanted. But Pilate did not want to execute Jesus because the charges laid against him, those of subversion and undermining Rome, clearly did not fit. Those charges did, however, fit when applied to a man like Barabbas, who was facing execution for insurrection and murder. Here was a man who deserved to die, according to the law. And yet when given the choice, the crowd in the square asked for Barabbas to be released, not Jesus. (This was due to the influence of a small number of people in authority who had chosen against the Kingdom of God and who therefore wanted Jesus to be killed, no matter what). Barabbas, a guilty man whose name means “son of the father”, was therefore released, and Jesus, an innocent man who really was the Son of the Father, was sentenced to death. Barabbas was, in a way, saved from the consequences of his sins by the presence of Jesus. This can be seen as a symbol for the greater salvation Jesus was about to effect upon the cross.

March Movie Reviews: Horror, Documentaries, Viking Stuff, Critiques of Capitalism and Indian National Mythology (with Dancing)!

 Here are the movies I was able to watch in March:

Ikiru (1952): Ikiru, which means “to live”, is a Kurosawa masterpiece about a man who learns to live in the face of soulless bureaucracy, civil politics, officious functionality (or rather, dysfunctionality). The movie begins with the information that a senior civil worker - Public Works Section Chief Mr Watanabe - is about to discover the stomach cancer that will kill him. We witness him at his desk, slowly, methodically stamping paperwork with his seal, changing nothing, accomplishing nothing, keeping his position secure by allowing for no alteration. (One of his younger workers has nicknamed him The Mummy.) Meanwhile, a group of mothers demand a park to be built and the removal of open sewage in their neighbourhood. They are promptly given the runaround through all of the city works departments, in a kafkaesque labyrinth nightmare of public irresponsibility. It is the same theme we see explored decades later in the Tojo movie Shin Gojira, in which Japanese politics and bureaucracy prevent actual, essential decisions and actions from being made. The focus in this movie, however, is less on a giant rubber monster bent on destroying Tokyo, and more on an elderly man who comes to experience life for the first time in a long time. At his funeral, which is interspersed with scenes of Watanabe pressuring the local city government officials to get the impossible park built, politicians argue over who should really get the credit for the accomplishment. It is only the group of mothers from the beginning, for whom Mr Watanabe expended his last energy, who come in and grieve his death, shaming his workmates and family. None of them can understand the sudden change that came over Watanabe - some attribute it to a love affair (he does spend time with a young woman who is full of life, but it is not a romance). The change occurs after Watanabe discovers he will die, to which the writer who takes him out for a night of debauchery proclaims: “How tragic that man can never realise how beautiful life is until he is face to face with death.” But the change is truly crystallised when Watanabe decides to spend himself on behalf of others, not to serve the bureaucratic system, but to serve instead the women and their families who were suffering. Eventually some of the civil servants at the funeral discern that Watanabe changed and lived because he knew he was going to die, and they proclaim that they would do the same thing. But one of them says: “But any of us could die at any moment.” So what is stopping them from living, and from living for others? This is a vital and beautiful message for our day and age. 

Memory: The Origins of Alien (2019): On the 40th anniversary of the release of the iconic space horror, this documentary looks back at its creation. It follows the inspiration of the writer, Dan O’Bannon, the director, Ridley Scott, and the primary artist, H.R. Giger. Alien is presented as an amalgam of myths, drawn from the cultural “cauldron of stories”. So we have the Furies and the Oracle at Delphi; Egyptian mythology; mediaeval demons; Lovecraft’s weird fiction; comic books and 1950s-60s space movies; the horrors of nature such as parasitic wasps; and the guilt of a misogynistic culture all coming together to create a monstrous threat that we all felt deep in our subconscious. They focus quite a bit on the chest-buster scene, naturally, as it was a huge transformation point not just in the movie, but in movies in general. There was a lot of background info that I hadn’t known before, so this was a really fun watch.

Gilbert (2017): Wow. A behind-the-scenes look at one of the strangest, most unique, funniest and in some ways saddest comics ever. Gilbert Gottfried, who died in 2022, was very improbably married with two children. The documentary looks at this strange family life, alongside Gilbert’s birth family, the start of his career, his cheapness, the trouble he got in with certain jokes and tweets, and the universal love and esteem he received from other comedians. Lots of dirty jokes in the movie, as is to be expected.

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014): My favourite Persian black and white vampire movie of all time. I had seen this one before when it was in theatre, and I remember it being incredibly cool, a little gory, and featuring one entirely bloodless scene that was amongst the scariest I had ever seen. The movie holds up. It is a mix of 1950’s American cool, Spaghetti Western,1980’s pop/skater culture, modern Iranian life, female empowerment, tense love story and Vampire chic, with the perfect soundtrack. The central image is of a youngish girl, wearing a hijab (which is a remarkable replacement for the traditional vampiric cape), out on the streets at night. This is normally a time of incredible vulnerability and danger for women and girls in all cultures, modern Iran included. This vulnerability is highlighted by the juxtaposition of the Girl with an abused, cheated, and depressed prostituted woman. The juxtaposition is so powerful because the Girl is not at all vulnerable; she is the danger in the night, and she stalks mainly those who have been preying upon women, and who believe her to be an easy target. An excellent reversal and subversion of the genre, and well worth the time if you are into that kind of thing. Directed by Ana Lily Amirpour, starring Sheila Vand, and executive produced in part by Elijah Wood (Frodo).

The Northman (2022): The Swedish/Icelandic viking story at the heart of both Hamlet and The Lion King, but with a lot more blood. Directed by Robert Eggers, who has previously helmed excellent, fantastical and dark movies such as The Lighthouse and The Witch, this movie combines real life violence with the raw elements of Norse religion - seers, Norns, Valkyries, the World Tree, and Valhalla. It is the well-versed but still fresh-seeming story of a young boy whose father, the king, is killed by the king’s half-brother. The new king takes his brother’s wife for his Queen, and tries to kill the boy, who escapes. The boy’s life is now bent upon revenge, and he gains an awful lot of muscle and fighting ferocity in order to accomplish it several years later. Egger’s best talent may be creating an atmosphere that melds myth, confusion and realistic humanity. To the end, Bjork plays a seer.

Triangle of Sadness (2022): A crazy movie. Begins with a scathing take down of the male modelling industry, moves into an awkward set of conversations about money and gender roles, then changes the setting to a luxury yacht where horrible people play out class system dynamics until everyone starts vomiting. We then end up on what seems to be an abandoned island with part of the shipwrecked yacht passengers, and where the class dynamics are overturned by one of the unseen crew who actually knows how to do stuff to survive. But then class and power dynamics are subverted one final time. It is a trip, a little disjointed, but definitely with something to say. Warning - an awful lot of vomit.

RRR (2022): I’m not completely sure what I just watched. I know it was my first Telugu-language movie (dubbed into Hindi and with English subtitles). I know it was over three hours long, and included at least two huge, long dance scenes and several very long and massive fight sequences. I also know it was an over the top, gloriously absurd action movie based (very loosely) upon real-life revolutionaries against British Imperial rule in India. It also seemed to be a pretty blatant piece of Hindu-nationalist propaganda, much of which I would have missed had I not been watching with an Indian friend who was able to pick up on the worrying elements with ease. The English characters and dialogue were, frankly, ridiculous and utterly one dimensional, but this perhaps makes up for decades of English writers creating frankly ridiculous and one dimensional Indian characters. It is certainly watchable and entertaining, but you should go in with your eyes open, aware that it’s extremely violent, and ends with as nationalistic a song as you could imagine.

Kubrick by Kubrick (2020): Based upon an extremely rare taped interview of the notoriously reclusive master-director, Stanley Kubrick. Kubrick speaks about his films, his process, his actors, his themes, and art in general, and his words are accompanied by scenes from his oeuvre of movies. Having seen most of Kubrick’s films, this was a fascinating glimpse into the mind of the perfectionistic auteur.

March Book Reviews: Theology, Fantasy, Sci-fi, Prayer, and Kafka!

 Here are the books I managed to read in the month of March:

The Life of Moses, Gregory of Nyssa: The classic narrative and interpretation of Moses’ life, taught by the Nyssan for the development of virtue. Gregory relates Moses’ history in the first part, and in the second devotes his considerable learning and intuition to explaining, through analogy, how the events of Moses’ life speak to us today. In particular he describes how the various symbols and actions are forms that point to Christ, and to the way we are to walk with Christ.

The Graveyard Book, Neil Gaiman: The Graveyard Book might actually be my favourite Gaiman story, and that is really saying something. I read it first as a graphic novel, and have read it a number of times now as the full novel, and each time I am transported into a dark but loving world on the boundaries of life and death. Gaiman has a way of subverting expectation, of taking the ones we perceive as monsters (and who ARE monsters) and revealing them to be capable of great kindness and good, while also showing the evil that can lurk in the recesses of the human heart. Gaiman does not shy away from this human darkness, be it the organised, millenia-long evil of the Jacks of all Trades (a delicious and absurd invention), or the very real evil of school bullies (reminiscent of Stephen King's IT), or the pettiness of graveyard ghosts who still want to be proved right and important. Bod Owens is a wonderful character, the straight man to the ghosts, ghouls, and guardians at play around him. Miss Lupescu, and even more, Silas, are the real standouts here, though, as part of the Honour Guard (a Vampire and a Hound of Heaven). I'm not sure I have ever read another work in which the potential nobility of these characters has been so beautifully depicted. 

Binti, Nnedi Okorafor: The story of a young Himba girl, from Earth, who is the first of her people to be admitted to Oomza Uni, an off-planet, multi-race university. She is a genius in maths, currents and harmonizing, but her people do not like outsiders and do not leave the planet, so her journey is a risk. On her way to the university her ship is attacked by the Meduse, a gaseous, jelly-fish-like species that hates humans. There has been a truce between the races, but someone at Oomza Uni took their chief’s stinger and put it in their museum. Binti is the only survivor of the attack, because of her strange edan (and unknown piece of seemingly dead tech) and her otjize, the clay and oil from her land with which she covers her skin and hair. These two things protect her and enable her to communicate with the Meduse, and hopefully to resolve the tense situation once they arrive at the University. I really like Okorafor’s work, and I know there are more in this series which I will read. My only issue is that the murders of all of Binti’s fellow student passengers seems to go unremarked and unresolved in the final analysis, which seems an oversight. 

The Vorrh, Brian Catling: The Vorrh is the ancient forest - essentially Eden - that inhabits the heart of Africa in this magical realistic fantasy novel. This book is very, very strange, wonderfully written, with a vast host of characters engaged in seemingly disparate adventures, but all of which relate in some way or another to the Vorrh. The forest cannot be accessed for too long or it takes one’s memory, as the price of entry. There are other strange attributes of the forest, including the Erstwhile: angels tasked with defending the forest, but who have largely forgotten their purpose. This book is also populated by cyclopses, magicians, healers, hunters, a zombie workforce, the Orm, and the French. The first in a trilogy. 

The World We Make, N.K. Jemisin: Sermons, be they political, economic, social or religious, rarely make for great novels. There are a few notable exceptions; this book is not one of them. It’s still good, and I love the idea of the Duology (paired with The City We Became, and also one of the short stories from How Long Until Black Future Month?). New York City comes to life, with a primary avatar and other secondary avatars representing the various boroughs. The one hold out, and then traitor, is Staten Island, who teams up with R'lyeh, an interdimensional being working for the Ur, whose job it is to destroy human cities because they create new multidimensional realities that cause the Ur serious problems. That groundwork was laid in the first book, and this book carries the narrative forward through an NYC mayoral race, a huge City Summit of awakened cities, and some mathematical discussion of the multiversal tree of existence which NYC is about to slide off. As in the first book, while R’lyeh - the Woman in White - is the primary villain who has taken over Staten Island, the other villains are, essentially, Republicans. The sermon of this book could be titled: “Why New York is Better Than You - But Only Cool, Progressive New York.” Even where I agree with the issues Jemisin is raising, and I often do, I guess I am tired of the world’s current state of self-righteous posturing and polarising. And there seems to be an awful lot of it in this book. The book is also very rushed - the series was meant to be a trilogy, but Jemisin explains in the postscript that real world events derailed that plan. She seems to have taken a lot of current socio-political issues and worked them into the narrative, but sacrificed in-depth characterisation to do so. Some of the boroughs/avatars are barely mentioned in this book, contributing to the real flattening of the New York character (though State Island does get at least a little redemption at the end). So this is not, obviously, my favourite N.K. Jemisin novel, (and I have really loved her other work.) 

The Furthest Station, Ben Aaronovitch: I had read this one before - it was actually the first in the Rivers of London series I read - but wanted to revisit it after reading the rest of the series. It is about a series of ghostly apparitions appearing on the London Underground, all seemingly trying to get a message across to weary commuters. Peter, Nightingale, Abigail and Jaget work tirelessly to discern the message and rescue the real life victim involved. Really fun and engaging writing and ideas by Aaronovitch, as is true of the entire series.

In the Shelter, Finding a Home in the World, Padraig O Tuama: A gently wild, wide-ranging and poetic account of a life seeking story and shelter and hope and welcome. O Tuama tells of his childhood, his fears, his realization that he is gay and how that will affect his engagement with his religion, his work in reconciliation, and much more. But it is not a biography or any kind of straightforward account of a life. It is far more interested in saying “hello” to the tensions of our existence, which contain both peril and possibility. This is a beautifully offered book, and it has much to teach about prayer, faith, life and love. 

Young Hellboy: The Hidden Land, Mignola, Sniegoski, Rousseau: A story of Hellboy’s youth, when he, his adoptive father, and a female pilot who can turn herself into a giant ape have to deal with an ancient undead queen in a hidden jungle. Rollicking good fun, reminiscent of 1940’s detective serials, and that’s on purpose. 

Give It Up! And Other Short Stories, Franz Kafka and Peter Kuper: An illustrated compendium of some of Kafka’s absurd, darkly humorous short stories, most of which have to do with the frustrating futility of modern life and impossible interactions with bureaucratic authority. The illustrations are excellent, and I remember the short story of The Hunger Artist from my Grade 12 year. 

Proverbs, Robert Alter translation and notes: I have read Proverbs a number of times, but this was the first time I read it directly after engaging with the provocative poetry of Job (and just before the also provocative poetry of Ecclesiastes). The dictums in Proverbs therefore seemed, well, more idealistic, less philosophical, less nuanced. Wisdom is still viewed in its practical lens, but many of the sayings take the form of aspirational truths, rather than descriptions of reality. Chapter 30 brings things more into line with God as the author and only true holder of wisdom, but the rest of the book feels more folksy, more proverbial, to make an obvious point. 

February Movies

 Here are the movies I watched in February

• Apollo 10 ½, A Space-Aged Childhood (2022): A Richard Linklater photo-realistic animated movie about one kid, his family, and the mission to the moon in 1969. Much of the movie concerns the life of 10 year old Stan and his experience of childhood and family life in Houston, Texas, 1969. It is presented as an idyllic time to be a kid, with all the space-aged wonders at their finger-tips. A huge amount of setting is covered, from backyard baseball to classic television, music, drive-in theatres, Astro World, school discipline, and more. Vietnam, protests, and inequalities are mentioned, but they are seen as through the confused and narrow vision of a child. The real story dominating everyone’s imagination was the mission to walk on the moon. But in this story, NASA comes to Stan’s school and recruits him to actually be the first person to walk on the moon (because they built the first lunar landing module too small). So his mission becomes Apollo 10 ½, a secret mission that he can’t tell anyone about. The story is narrated by Jack Black, and is classic Linklater in its nostalgia, its true sense of the wonder of childhood, and its day-in-the-life storytelling and aesthetic. One of the themes of the movie, made explicit right near the end, is about the nature of memory. Even if we slept through an event, we will remember it as if we saw it all. This is a clue as to how Linklater is self-aware about how he is remembering the 1960’s of his childhood. A fun, sweet, gentle movie. 

• Phantom Thread (2017): A majestic and troubling movie from P.T. Anderson, starring the always magnificent Daniel Day Lewis as Woodcock, and the equally remarkable Vicky Krieps as Alma. Set in post-war England, Lewis is a famous dress-maker named Woodcock, who dresses the rich and aristocratic. He is viewed as a genius, and his life is kept in a strict routine of self-centred control. Living with him is his sister, also unmarried, played with frosty perfection by Lesley Manville. She manages his life and business, and also arranges for his lovers to be removed from his sight when he inevitably tires of them. When Woodcock meets the waitress Alma in the country he is smitten. Her body dimensions are perfect to his mind, because they allow him to shape her in his dresses. For her part, she brags that nobody can stand as still and for as long as her. (As an aside, while much of the film is a difficult watch because of the awkward, understated social interactions, I think I would pay full price just to watch Day Lewis make measurements. He is a superlative actor.) The movie seems to be about Woodcock’s “genius”, which is really made possible by the army of women around him who receive no credit: his sister, Alma, his models, and all the seamstresses who make his drawings reality. Woodcock is a fragile man-child, and everyone knows it, but Alma is the only one to call it out (except for his sister on one memorable occasion). A recurring theme throughout is Woodcock’s dreams and memories and visions of his mother. He longs to be a child again, tender and helpless, cared for by a maternal figure. And this is precisely what Alma arranges to happen. It is the most toxic of relationships, though both seem to be getting what they want from it. Certainly a worthy viewing.

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• Weird: The Al Yankovic Story (2022): Wow. Of course Weird Al would make a biopic about himself that was actually a parody of his life. From the trope-filled oppression of childhood dreams; to the alternate reality in which accordion’s are the devil’s plaything and the envy of all teenagers; to the instant rock success; to the real authorship of “Eat It”; to the drunken binges and murderous rampages; Weird makes fun of Weird Al’s real life, making it way more sordid and stereotypical than it actually was. Daniel Radcliffe is brilliant as Weird Al, and Rainn Wilson and especially Rachel Evan Wood are phenomenal as well. I don’t want to ruin any surprises, but there is a surprise twist about two thirds in that really amps up the crazy. All I will say is, I can’t imagine that either Madonna or Pablo Escobar are too pleased with their depictions in the movie. And the estate of Michael Jackson might be a little upset as well. But hopefully everyone has a good sense of humour about it all. The final credits are worth sticking around for.

• Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania: I may not have even seen this one in theatre, but went with a few friends. Ant-Man has been a bit hit and miss in the MCU, and this one was, well, hit and miss. There were some funny moments; Paul Rudd is always entertaining, and the rest of the cast are good as well; the CGI was quite believable; and Kang is a legitimately menacing villain. But the melodrama was pretty forced; the whole thing felt like just another big set-up for what will happen later; and the ants once again become a pretty silly deus ex machina. On the subject of MODOK, I’m torn. Feels like a bit of a waste of a character, and the face didn’t really look right. But then again, he is a big floating murder-head, and he had some very funny lines. So let’s call it a draw. 

February Book Reviews

Here are the books I read in February. Perhaps there are some gems herein that others may enjoy.

Waiting on God, Simone Weil: 

Many of the writings of Weil, from her letters to a priest, to her advice to students, her reflections on affliction and the implicit love of God, and her thoughts on the Lord’s Prayer. Weil is masterful, attentive, and unrelenting in her thought and action. If she believed something she followed it through until the bitter end, logically and experientially. As such, her words are searing and truthful, sometimes brutal and stark, and piercing in a way that few writers can or even want to manage. The most important of her revelations, to me, was on the nature of attention: God’s attention to us, our attention to God, to religious matters, to nature, to neighbours, to those in affliction, and to friends. It is in this place of total attention that Weil sees the true manifestation of faith, the true sacramental encounter with God. 

The Fire Next Time, James Baldwin: 

You know a book is really good when you feel you must approach it with trepidation. Each line of Baldwin’s missive (really two letters from Baldwin - one brief and one long - to his nephew, on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of Emancipation in the USA) is both sharp and blunt. He sharply cuts incisively into the heart of the historical and contemporary oppression of Black people in the West, and bluntly gut-punches any attempt at justification or prevarication. It is largely based upon his own autobiography, his own rearing in a ghetto surrounded by poverty, drugs and churches, none of which offered any true liberation in Baldwin’s mind. At a certain point in his life he did escape into the Church, but ultimately did not find the truth of love therein. At another point he was invited to meet with Elijah Muhammad and the Nation of Islam, but likewise could not see the liberating truth of love in calling all white people devils and working for a separation of states, black and white. Baldwin is incredibly wise and perceptive, deeply and consistently aware of the diagnosis and prognosis of America’s racial line, and forthrightly adamant in his prescription of love. Not sentimental love, mind. Love that enables people to see things - especially ourselves - as they really are, no matter how painful the glance. His book ends with hope, but also a warning. The opportunity exists (he wrote in 1969) to reexamine everything, to recreate a country on the foundation of total liberty for black people, which would actually lead to genuine liberty for white people. But he is unsure whether it will happen, and, should it not, he invokes the biblical warning that it won’t be the judgement of water, but fire next time. 

Parable of the Sower, Octavia E. Butler: 

A profound and disturbing book, the kind of book that gives science fiction a reason to exist. It is the story of Lauren Olamina, a young black girl in California, beginning in 2024. Though written in 1993, the book describes a climate catastrophe in which rain has mostly stopped, lakes have dried up, and society is in near-collapse. Towns are surrounded by walls and try to keep robbers, rapists and arsonists out. Lauren’s family is in one of these towns, and the description of a pastor/teacher father trying to protect his family, including a precocious daughter and a reckless son, from arson and poverty and violence cut a little too close to home. Lauren loves her father, but can see what is coming more clearly than anyone else, and begins to prepare for life outside the walls. She is a Sharer, one who experiences the pain of others empathetically - but physically - when she sees it. Also, and most importantly, she has developed her own new faith, called Earth Seed, which has as its central tenet: God is Change. Her idea of God could not be more different than my own, but her desire to create a new form of community, once the inevitable happens and she is forced to flee with a few survivors, absolutely resonates with me. The depiction of life in this cataclysmic moment is stark, artful, and brutal. Butler pulls no punches in her realism. It is dystopic, but it is also not without hope and possibility.

Jacob’s Ladder: On Angels, Sergius Bulgakov: 

A fascinating book, written by a man who was exiled from the Soviet Union, and on the eve of the Second World War. At this precise, precarious moment in history, Bulgakov chose to write a book about angels. Why? It has nothing to do with escapism. Quite the opposite. Bulgakov discusses in detail the ways angels interact with humanity and God, as detailed through Scripture, Church tradition, and philosophy. Angels are intimately involved in every aspect of human life, personal and corporate, and in their nature participate in Divine love. They pray for us, guide and protect, communicate the messages of God, and are our intimate friends who we will greet in glory. Bulgakov examines their nature; the fall of the demons; angelic roles; the examples of angelophanies/theophanies in the OT; their particular relationships to Mary, John the Baptist, and Jesus; and much more besides. This is no light and fanciful work, but a serious theological and philosophical examination of angels which both moved and challenged me. I had genuinely never thought about much of this before, even though angels are everywhere throughout Scripture and in the stories of the Church. I can honestly say my perspective on this has been massively expanded and I am excited to interact more meaningfully with my guardian angel, and to meet my angelic friend one day in glory. 

The Sophiology of Death, Essays on Eschatology: Personal, Political, Universal, Sergius Bulgakov: 

A masterful series of essays on the subject of death, and the working of Divine Wisdom in and through death, including Bulgakov’s own near-death experience. Bulgakov speaks of Divine Sophia and Created Sophia - that is, the uncreated Divinity, and the creation that has been made to become united with God. The eschatological hope and promise is that Divine and Created Sophia will become in union, as Creation (humanity and the cosmos) is divinized. This is already happening, through the overshadowing of the Spirit upon Mary, the Incarnation of Jesus (the God-Man) and the Pentecostal filling of the Church with the Spirit. So death, which Bulgakov speaks of as an unnatural rupturing of humanity’s body, soul and spirit, will still eventually lead to the reunion of these elements in the kingdom. Bulgakov works through the implications of this in terms of Mary; Christ’s death and resurrection; the idea of conditional immortality (which he opposes); and the apocatastasis of all things, including angelic and even demonic beings. Not an easy read at all, but absolutely mind-blowing all the same. 

Relics and Miracles, Two Theological Essays, Sergius Bulgakov: 

Two works by Bulgakov, on relics and on miracles. The first, on relics, was brought about as a result of Soviet officials breaking open the containers that held relics inside of Orthodox Churches, “examining” them (pulling them apart) and showing the results to believers. This was an attempt to undermine belief, to show that the remains were not incorrupt. Bulgakov was scandalised by this practice, but used the occasion to develop a theological explanation of what relics are and what they are not. In particular he argues that while incorruptibility is possible, and considered essential in the popular view, a proper understanding of humanity’s essential corporeal nature and the body’s relationship to soul and spirit will show us that this is not required. I had never before truly considered what relics really even were, so Bulgakov’s use of relics to highlight truths about our incarnate reality is fascinating and helpful. The second work, on miracles, is much longer and more intricate. Bulgakov goes through the nature of miracle, explains that they are not suspensions of natural law but rather ongoing providential acts of God’s freedom (not creational acts), and then demonstrates the nature of Jesus’ miracles, ending with the resurrection. Most importantly, in my view, Bulgakov talks about Jesus’ miracles - apart from the resurrection - as a function not just of his divine nature, but of his human nature. There is no separation of natures here, for example in the raising of Lazarus. Jesus was divine in his God-nature, but also deified in his human nature, and what he did is something theoretically accessible to us all. The resurrection, however, is the miracle of miracles, the acting of the Trinity in granting Jesus’ soul the ability and right to raise the body from the dead. Wonderful work, though not an easy read. 

Writings from the Philokalia, on Prayer of the Heart, edited by E. Kadloubovsky and G.E.H. Palmer: 

A huge book of excerpts from the Philokalia, those writings of various monks, abbas and staretz, spiritual athletes who spent years in solitude and silence in their caves and cells. Their primary preoccupation was the prayer of the heart. This means the descent of the mind into the heart, the guarding of the heart from all distraction, wandering (prelest) and dispersion, and the keeping of sobriety through the invocation of the name of Jesus. There is much that is challenging and profitable herein, and much that sounds very strange to our modern ears. It is counsel given primarily from monks to monks, so this must be born in mind. It is not, generally speaking, a way of life that most people could or even should practise, but it does point the way to a profound experience of prayer, of divine light, and of guarding against the lusts of the flesh. 

Jailbird, Kurt Vonnegut: 

Vonnegut’s writing is always unique and entertaining. In this book he follows the life of Walter F Starbuck, son of immigrants, raised in the home of a stuttering millionaire industrialist who sends him to Harvard in return for playing chess with him. Eventually Starbuck goes to jail for barely participating in Watergate. But that’s not really what the novel is about. It careens across the decades, filling in bits of Walter’s story, but in Vonnegut’s inimitably natural way. Nothing feels forced here, just a man remembering his life and all the strange coincidences inside of it. And there are many seeming coincidences which reveal themselves over the course of the book, often hilariously. Vonnegut also manages to convey the fundamental absurdity of life, while also defending the poor and the anarchists against industrialists and ending with a stirring invocation of the Sermon on the Mount. Great stuff.

Job, Robert Alter translation and notes:

I am a huge fan of Alter's translations of the Hebrew Scriptures, and of Job in particular. Alter demonstrates the poetic genius of Job's author, particularly in placing the most cliched poetic statements in the mouths of Job's "friends", while giving Job's contrary viewpoint (contrary to the rest of Wisdom literature, especially) a powerful poetic expression. This expression is only bested by the sublime poetry coming from the mouth of God in the final chapters as He addresses Job's complaint with the power of his presence. Magnificent.

Fantastic Mistakes, Neil Gaiman and Chip Kidd: 

The transcript of Gaiman’s speech to the 2012 graduating class of the Philadelphia University of the Arts, in which he implores the graduates to make mistakes, learn from them, and carry on making good art, but unique art, art only they can make. It is counsel won from years of making mistakes and making good art in ways that nobody thought could be done. The speech is presented by graphic designer Chip Kidd in a way that is visually arresting.

Prophet Against Slavery: Benjamin Lay, Markus Rediker, David Lester: 

The story of a dwarvish, hump-backed Quaker who railed against the Society of Friends in three countries (England, Barbados, and America) for the sin of slavery. Benjamin Lay and his wife Sarah, largely forgotten or suppressed by history, were tireless provocateurs in the fight against the enslavement of humans by humans. Lay employed shocking tactics to try to wake his fellow Quakers up from their sin, and he was motivated primarily by his love for God, his obedience to God’s truth, and his compassion for his brother and sister humans. The art in this graphic novel was not, to my mind, the best I had seen, but the story was gripping and important.

Obeying Authority - Acts 4:1-31

The passage we are looking at here is a continuation of the story that   began in Chapter three, when Peter and John met and healed the crippled man   at the Temple gates. After the man was fully healed, Peter began preaching to   the assembled crowd about Jesus’ death and resurrection, and his power to   heal and save. Chapter four completes the story, as we see the instant   response of the people and the authorities to this healing and message.

 

Peter’s message was broken up by some Sadducees along with some priests   and the Temple captain. The Sadducees were a political and social group made   up primarily of the wealthy, ruling class. They were collaborating with the   Romans politically, and as such did not like the potentially subversive and   destabilizing message of Jesus and his followers. They also were not looking   for a Messiah, believing that the messianic age had already begun prior to   Jesus, and they did not believe in the resurrection from the dead (on this   point and others they were opposed by the Pharisees – Luke 20:27-40). Thus, the followers of Jesus were seen as   agitators and heretics, unschooled people engaged in unauthorized preaching   and teaching. Their instant response the commotion of the healing and   preaching was to throw Peter and John into jail for the night until they   could meet and discuss the situation.

 

But theirs was not the only response that Luke recorded. Many of those   who heard the word that Peter preached believed and became followers of   Jesus. These two opposite reactions to the message of Jesus became quite   familiar to the young Church as the story of Jesus spread around the known   world. Wherever they went they saw people coming to believe in Jesus, and   they also faced persecution from the authorities or other social and   religious interests.

 

The next day at the trial we see Peter and John   facing another eerily familiar experience: the high priest Caiaphas, his   relative Annas, and the rest of the Sanhedrin (rulers and elders and scribes)   sitting in judgment of the message they preached. They had seen this very   thing weeks before at the trial of Jesus, and may very well have expected a   similar fate. The first question, though, focused on the healing of the man:   by what authority had Peter done this? Peter and John’s responses throughout   the trial did not centre around defending themselves, but rather on   glorifying the name of Jesus.    The healing of the man could not be denied, and so the apostles   focused on demonstrating how it was by the power and name of Jesus that this   had happened, and more besides. The rulers were amazed by their bold and   profound responses, given that they were common and uneducated men (ie not   Rabbis nor trained by professional Rabbis). Jesus had prophesied in Luke   12:11 and Luke 21:12ff that the   disciples would be brought before the rulers and synagogues to face trial,   that the Holy Spirit would give them words to say, and that this would be an   opportunity for them to bear witness about Jesus. All of this was being   fulfilled, and would continue to be throughout the life of the young Church.   The main thing Peter and John were testifying about was the power of the name   of Jesus to heal and to save.  In   fact, they declare that Jesus’ name is the only name that has the power to do   this, because of his death, resurrection, exaltation by God and authority.   This is truly the crux of Christianity; will you put your faith in the saving   power of Jesus?

 

As much as their message may have annoyed them, the   rulers and elders could not do anything to them at this stage, because the   crippled man stood before them healed, and everyone knew about it. So they   issued them an instruction which, if disobeyed, could be grounds for their   arrest and punishment later. The instruction was to cease and desist all   preaching and teaching in the name of Jesus.  This was an instruction Peter and John simply could not   obey, and they told the court as much. They had an allegiance to a higher   authority than the court, namely God, and they could not disobey his command,   nor could they stop talking about what they had seen and heard God do. The   Church then and today cannot obey orders to stop witnessing to the risen   Lord, even if there are terrible consequences that must be accepted as a   result.

 

The authority of God is declared again after Peter   and John are released and they return to their friends to pray. The first   words they use in their prayer are “Sovereign God”, a title that means “a   ruler of unchallengeable power”, far more power and authority, therefore,   than the Sanhedrin, or any other authority for that matter. They continue on   in prayer declaring who the Lord is: he is the God of Creation who made   everything; he is the God of revelation, who spoke by the Holy Spirit through   David and Scripture; and he is the God of history, who has used even his enemies   (Herod, Pilate, Gentiles and Israelites) to accomplish his set purposes. In   quoting Psalm 2 the church hammers home the point   that opposition to the will of God, even by nations and kings and those with   earthly power, is ultimately futile and fruitless. This is a God in whom the   young Church can be confident, a God who is trustworthy and able to deal with   their own situation.

 

After these declarations of faith, the new Christian   community goes on to ask God to consider the threats against them, to help them   speak with boldness, and to bring about more healings and miracles. They do   not ask for their enemies to be consumed in fire, but rather that God would   heal and show himself in signs and wonders. The immediate result is a fresh   encounter with the Holy Spirit, similar to that experienced at Pentecost,   which affirms the presence of God with them and empowers them to continue   speaking about Jesus with boldness, in defiance of the instructions given to   them. They need this Holy Spirit empowering, as the trials and tests, from   outside and inside, have only just begun.

I Am: The Light of the World (John 8:12-30)

The main point: Jesus makes another statement that declares his identification with his Father, and   expands upon it by claiming to be the light of the world. His listeners cannot understand why Jesus applies this well-used biblical metaphor to   himself, however, because they, according to Jesus, do not truly know the Father. They continue to misunderstand Jesus. But do we understand him any   better?

 

John 7-8 takes place in Jerusalem, as Jesus teaches at   the Temple during the Feast of Tabernacles. The entire discourse, as indeed   much of the book of John, centres around Jesus revealing who he is and who   his Father is, giving glory to the Father, and being rejected by most of   those around him. Chapter 7 begins with Jesus secretly attending the   festival, and chapter 8 ends with Jesus slipping away in secret, which tells   us that that when he is teaching he is revealing something that is otherwise   hidden, and also shows us just how dangerous this teaching and revelation   truly is.

 

In John   8:12-30 Jesus is speaking to “the people”. This is not a homogenous   group. We know in this group there are Pharisees who challenge him, Judeans   who want to seize and kill him, and others who put their faith in him, at   least for a short while. But they were all in Jerusalem at the time of the   religious feast, so we can assume that the crowd was primarily, possibly even   exclusively, Jewish, or at least connected to the Jewish faith.

 

When Jesus makes his “I Am” statement (which he   repeats more than once in this passage), we have already seen that he   intentionally identifies himself with the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses   and the Prophets (when Moses asked God for his name, his response essentially   was “I AM who I AM” – Exodus 3:14).   This is scandalous enough, but becomes even more so when Jesus adds that he   is the Light of the World. Only God, (or possibly the Torah) could ever truly   make that claim.

 

There are many images that might come to us through   the phrase “light of the world”. Without light we would have no heat, no   ability to see, no energy, no direction, no comfort.  Light has also come to mean knowledge and   discovery, being illuminated by ideas. One of the primal fears of humanity is   to be left without light, plunged into utter darkness. We would be left in a   cold, dark, comfortless place with no hope, no future, no thought.

 

These are some of the things we think about when we   hear “light” and darkness”. But there are many uses of light and darkness   throughout Scripture that would probably have been echoing through the minds   of the Jewish audience as well. Light is the first thing that God calls into   being with his Word at the beginning of all things. Isaiah 9:2 talks about “the people walking in darkness” who have   “seen a great light.” Isaiah 42:6 and 49:6 both describe how the Servant   of the Lord will be a “light to the Gentiles”. John himself in his first   chapter spoke of the light coming into the darkness of the world, and the   darkness failing to understand it.

 

It should also be noted that Jesus made this claim   at the Temple. Jesus was teaching near the treasury, next to the Court of   Women, which is where a special ceremony would take place during the Feast of   Tabernacles. This ceremony was designed to remember how God led his people   out of Egypt as a pillar of flame by night. The golden lamp stands would be   lit, and all the pilgrims would bring torch lights to the ceremony. The court   would therefore be powerfully illuminated, referencing a messianic prophecy   from Zechariah 14:7: “It will be a   unique day, without daytime or nighttime – a day known to the LORD. When   evening comes, there will be light.” Jesus announces that he is, in fact, the   light of the world, the presence of the divine / pillar of fire that has come   to lead his people out of the captivity of darkness, death and sin. And here,   in Jerusalem, at the Temple, during the Feast of Tabernacles, the light of   the world is rejected by the darkness of the world.

 

Why was he rejected? It seems that the audience did   not really understand what he was claiming about himself. It was surely too   much for him to claim to be “I Am”, to claim to be the light of the world.   What did he mean? Where was he going, and where was he from? Who was his   Father that he keeps talking about? Jesus continues to clarify, but   throughout the gospel of John the more he clarifies, the angrier the audience   becomes. Jesus explains that they cannot understand who he is, even though he   is the Word that has been telling them these things “from the beginning”, because   they truly do not know his Father above, from whom he has come.

 

To know the Father was not just to have information   about Him, but to be in spiritual fellowship with Him. Jesus was revealing   who His Father really was, and opening up the possibility of intimate and   everlasting fellowship with the Father, but the people could not understand   this light. It will become even clearer in the next section how they thought   they knew the Father of Jesus, but they truly did not. Only the Father could   draw people to Jesus, and their hearts would not be drawn. Because their   hearts would not be drawn, they could not come to know the Father through Jesus,   his Son. This should cause us to ask of ourselves: are our hearts being drawn   to Jesus by the Father? Will we be drawn, will we respond? Will we know the   Father through the Son? Will we be in right spiritual fellowship with God?

 

Because if we are not in right spiritual fellowship   with God, if we do not know the Father through the Son, then we will die in   our sins. This is destruction, the final, everlasting death, the eternal   absence of the light of life, the forever darkness. The Father has made the   light of life available to us through his Son, who is the light of the world.   Will we receive this light, or will we be the darkness that does not   understand, that does not know, that rejects?

 

Jesus prophecies that he will be lifted up – by which he means on a cross – and that this is when his full glory, and the true revelation of his Father’s glory, will be shown. This is when people will “know” him, will “know” why and from whom he has been sent, when he has completed his life of obedience to his Father’s will. Jesus knows that his Father is always with him, because he obeys him completely and lives only to please him. Some of us may come from family backgrounds that were harmful, in which we desperately tried to please our parents but never could. Jesus does please his Father, and his Father abides with him always. He also makes it possible for us to know that God always abides with us, as we follow the commands of Jesus.

Knowing the Face of the Father (Deut 5:1-6)

For some people, knowledge of God is primarily rooted in what they read and the doctrines they believe in. For others, knowledge of God is primarily rooted in how they feel about God personally, and what they have experienced in their lives. But a true and deep knowledge of God, it would seem, requires both knowledge and experience.

 

For ancient Israel knowledge about God and experience of God went hand in hand. They did not separate their doctrine from their experiences. What they knew about God was grounded both in historical realities and in the teachings and stories passed on to them from trustworthy sources. True knowledge of the Father came from receiving God’s grace and love not just in words, theories and myths, but in action.

 

God’s revelation of Himself to Israel at Mount Sinai is maybe the ultimate example of this. It was the Father’s will that His children should know Him. Not just know about Him, but have personal knowledge of Him. And so God acted for Israel in a unique way, liberating them from slavery in Egypt, leading them out into the wilderness, and making a Covenant with them. God invited this people into relationship with Himself, a relationship that would be a blessing to them and to the whole world through them. And at Sinai he announced what that relationship would look like, through the giving of the Law.

 

God expressed this Covenantal relationship to Israel at Mount Sinai by speaking to them through thunder, trumpet, earthquake, smoke, fire and voice. These methods of God’s revelation show his majesty and power, but it is the content of the revelation that shows God’s identity. God reminded Israel of what He had done for them, how He had graciously and powerfully delivered them from political, economic, social and spiritual slavery. That was who He was. This is what they were to remember and know about God.

 

Mount Sinai was Israel’s great face to face meeting with God. But we know from Exodus 34:20 that no one can see the face of God and live, so how could the people of Israel have met God face to face? To say you knew someone’s face was the same as saying you knew their presence. At Mount Sinai Israel was in the presence of God, in the presence of his power, his grace, his love, his faithfulness, in a totally unique and personal way. God is “present” everywhere, but God was specifically, powerfully and obviously “present” at Mount Sinai in front of his people, and in the Exodus. So God’s people could recognise and know his presence, his face, through his loving actions towards them. But God’s face was too much for them. They were terrified of the fire, and pleaded for Moses to intercede and mediate for them.

 

God’s power, grace, love and faithfulness were also on display through the cross. This is another time when God distinctly and uniquely showed his face to his people and to the world. And just like at Mount Sinai and in the Exodus, to know the face of God through the cross is to know God as the Saviour who pours out grace on a people who have not earned it, but whom the Father loves nonetheless.

 

But we were not there to experience the Exodus, or God speaking through the fire at Mount Sinai, or Jesus dying on the cross, or the Holy Spirit falling at Pentecost. So if our knowledge of the Father’s face is to be grounded in these historical realities, how are we to truly know His face? The people of Israel were instructed to re-read and re-tell the story of the Exodus and the Covenant and the giving of the Law, so that future generations would know the story together and reaffirm God’s presence amongst them. They were also instructed to re-enact the story of God’s deliverance through worship and through feasts like the Passover. Likewise, Christians re-read and re-tell the stories of God to one another, and re-enact the loving actions of Jesus through worship and when we gather to remember his broken body and spilled blood. These things help ground our knowledge of God in the ongoing story of the Father and his people, so that we don’t just create whatever God we feel most comfortable with. And we also have been filled with the exact same Spirit that filled the first believers at Pentecost, so that we, like them, can cry out to our Abba Father.

 

(Much of the information used in this and the following cell outlines is taken from Knowing God the Father Through the Old Testament by Christopher Wright, From Paradise to the Promised Land by T Desmond Alexander, and A Survey of the Old Testament by Hill and Walton.)

January Movies and Television

Here are the movies and the television series I watched in January, separated into decades.

Movies

1970’s

Rankin/Bass’ The Hobbit (1977): The original animated version of The Hobbit, covering most of the tale in just under two hours, and better in almost every respect than the live action Hobbit trilogy. Yes, the animation and voice over work and songs are a little dated, but they still capture the wonder and whimsy of the story with great effect. Every major event - barring Beorn’s house and the Arkenstone - is covered, and, most importantly, no significant extra-canonical nonsense is added. There is no filler here. The story-telling is sparse and precise, but not overly rushed. There are many songs, as in the book, and they are artfully used to advance the narrative. The depiction of the Wood Elves seems a little strange, but then we have become accustomed to Orlando Bloom as Legolas, and who are we to say that they weren’t in fact greenish and bandy-legged? And, gloriously, Smaug retains his threat and menace, (unlike in the trilogy where he is stupidly bested in a scene reminiscent of a theme park ride by a handful of hapless dwarves.) A far better introduction to the Lord of the Rings movies than anything else. 

2000’s

The Fellowship of the Ring (2001):

The Two Towers (2002):

The Return of the King (2003): I watched these three, extended editions, back to back to back again with about 300 other people at the Rio theatre. It was like a religious experience, and I’m not exaggerating. There were cheers and gasps and tears throughout. In a very non-religious cinema, in an extremely non-religious neighbourhood in a thoroughly secular city, a host of people were completely engaged with JRR Tolkien’s Christ-infused story. They were entranced by this Catholic writer’s words about love, death, beauty, goodness, hope, pity, and eternity. Just as faith was kept alive in the Soviet Union through the works of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, it may be that faith is inspired in a faithless West through Tolkien and his ilk. (Jan)

2020’s

The Menu (2022): A very dark comedy, which at heart is a bitterly satirical take-down of the idolisation of food culture and celebrity chefs. It is essentially answering the question: What if Ratatouille was a movie about psychopaths instead of rats? A small group of entitled, insufferable people board a boat and go to Hawthorne Island, where they have paid an exorbitant amount for a tasting experience with Chef, played insanely by Ralph Fiennes. Chef’s staff are devoted to him and his methods - in ways that grow increasingly disturbing throughout the movie. The pretentiousness of chef and foodie culture is on full display in this movie, as is an underlying message that maybe, just maybe, food is for eating and not just experiencing. The third act descends into full dark comic absurdity. It is not realistic, but it is not meant to be. (Jan)

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio (2022): Another take on the old tale, with many of the classic del Toro tropes thrown in. It is certainly a more mature version, one which does not skirt at faith (there are some clear Christ parallels happening with Pinocchio in this version, and even some biblically-accurate angel-type creatures), war (it takes place during the First and then Second World War, and Mussolini makes an appearance), and death. The main focus is the father-child relationship, the good and the bad of it, and this is quite well done. It is funny, whimsical, and terrifically sad. It is also gorgeously animated and voiced, especially Pinocchio’s singing by Gregory Mann, and David Bradley is wonderful as Geppetto. (Jan)

The French Dispatch (2021): An extraordinarily Wes Anderson-esque Wes Anderson movie. It is the story of The French Dispatch, a (fictional) largely unread Sunday supplement to the Liberty Kansas Evening Sun, a magazine created by a host of bizarre, ex-pat reporters and a dedicated editor (played by Bill Murray, of course) in Ennui, France. The film takes the shape of three long, unconnected stories in one edition of The French Dispatch, and then one final attempt to write the obituary of the editor, upon whose death the magazine is concluded. It is, of course, quirky, filled with close-ups and camera pans, mixing live action and cartoon, with quick, witty dialogue (“a weakness in cartography, a curse of the homosexual.”) and loads of pretension. All of Anderson’s normal, excellent cast members are back, and some more are added. Anderson, at his best, employs his tropes to tell a coherent narrative. This movie, given its tripartite structure, is not exactly coherent, except in its overall portrayal of the weirdest magazine in the world. Not his best (The Grand Budapest Hotel or Moonrise Kingdom) nor his worst (Isle of Dogs, IMO) but even Anderson at his middling is worth watching, because he is so unlike everyone else. (Jan)

After Yang (2022): A slow, gentle, exquisite meditation on death, memory, and family. Set in the future, a mother and father with an adopted Chinese daughter have purchased a “Technosapien” big brother for her. Yang’s purpose is to help mind his little sister and to connect her to her Chinese culture and heritage. But after several years Yang shuts down, and the family are forced to ask questions about the nature of life and death, particularly as more and more of Yang’s inner life is revealed to them. This is the kind of science fiction film that allows an unhurried exploration of questions that really matter, and is meant not so much to dazzle with future technology as to cause us to wonder at our own existence.

Television

Severance, Season 1: This is an absolutely phenomenal show, built on the premise of severance, a technology that can split a person’s mind so that they exist separately at work and away from work. In other words, your work self - your “Innie” - only gains consciousness on the elevator ride to the basement of Lumon industries, and loses it again on the way up after the work day is over. They have no memory of their personal history; their entire lives are spent inside the office, doing mysterious work which they do not understand. The show is a labyrinth, reflected in the maze-like hallways and offices the characters walk through. We spend most of our time with the four office mates and their three superiors (who are not severed), but we also get some glimpses of their exterior lives, especially that of Mark S, played by Adam Scott. He is confronted by a former work mate, and begins to wonder - both Innie and Outie version - whether Lumon is as good as they project themselves to be. It is acting at its finest, and the exquisite storyline and direction (mainly by Ben Stiller) present the viewer with an existential hell of Kafkaesque/Kubrickian proportions, as we begin to reckon with the implications of the vulnerability of such cut-off people. It is also a vicious critique of the modern job-scape, with some zingers thrown in at corporate-political-medical power and the silliness of the self-help world as well. The first season ends on as tense and finely-tuned cliff-hanger as exists in television, and I cannot wait for season two.

January Book List

 Here are the books I read in January, and a brief synopsis and review. 

• Heart of a Dog, Mikhail Bulgakov: The long-banned piece of speculative fiction by the Russian author Bulgakov. Written in 1925, but suppressed by the Soviet state for its clear anti-Soviet sentiment, this book has only come to light relatively recently. It is similar in some ways to HG Wells’ The Invisible Man, or Shelly’s Frankenstein, in that the central action revolves around science that tests the boundaries of humanity. Two doctors find a stray dog in Moscow and replace its testes and pituitary gland with that of a just-deceased human’s. The eventual result is a dog which becomes a man - a scoundrel of a man, a rude, vicious drunkard, and one who just happens to fall into the philosophy and workings of the nascent Soviet society/Party. In this way, the story is not really about the horrors of scientific experiment on a human, at least not in the same way as Wells’ or Shelly’s stories. But it is about the dangers of the “scientific” attempt to recreate humanity, as Bulgakov believed was happening in Russia. He reserves the greatest ire for Sharikov - the dog-man - and Shvonder, the head of the new housing committee in the doctor’s apartment. Both of these reprehensible characters espouse Party philosophy, the former because it will serve his rapacious appetites, the latter because, presumably, he really believes in it. It is a deeply satirical story, racing with action and fury and a wide variety of mixed narrative perspectives, which was immediately (and somewhat understandably) censored by the State it was critiquing so effectively. There is something in the message of the book for us today as well. Our humanity may not be played with - on a personal or societal scale - without drastic consequences. It is a message we should heed with utmost care.

• The Broken Kingdoms, NK Jemisin: Book two in the Inheritance Trilogy, set in Sky/Shadow, the city of the gods. Jemisin is one of my favourite new fantasy writers, and this book, coming after the first one where we learned of the three gods - Bright Itempas (the Sun), Nahadoth (the Nightlord) and Enefa (the Dawn/Dusk, and newly remade), follows the story of Oree, a blind woman who can only see the magic of the gods, the godlings, and the Scriveners (humans who make use of basic magic). The book is essentially Oree’s journal account of her coming to Shadow, making a living, falling in with some godlings, and getting embroiled in certain plots to kill the gods. The writing is entirely engaging and the world-building excellent. I am always looking for what truth there is in fiction that I may hold with clarity before my heart, and in this there are some important words about loneliness, madness, vengeance, and self-control. 

• The Kingdom of Gods, NK Jemisin: Book three in the Inheritance Trilogy, this concluding story is told from the perspective of Sieh, oldest of the godlings, the god of childhood, the Trickster. It is a good book, and a good series, dealing with power, loneliness, love, and many other things besides. The world-building is well done, not obsessively detailed in the same way as Tolkien or Martin, but rather paints in more broad strokes a convincing picture of a gods-haunted world where mortals have had to learn to reckon with powers outside of their control. But the world is changing, for mortals, demons, godlings and the Three themselves. The themes of change, growth and power come very much to the fore in this concluding book, and the finale is pretty epic. I had to skip over the many sex scenes, however, and some of the characters - most notably Kahl - do not get fleshed out as well as I might have hoped. 

• To Life! L’Chaim! Prayers and Blessings for the Jewish Home, Rabbi Michael Shire: Beautiful images and prayers, suitable for many of life’s moments, joys and hardships. I have begun using this book daily to supplement my prayers and to be connected to a living tradition of faith and hope. 

• Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found, Suketu Mehta: A comprehensive, journalistic, yet also personal meditation on the vast, dense, complicated, violent, dirty, beautiful, rich, poor, corrupt, hopeful, violent, poetic city of Bombay. Mehta explores the destructive nature of the everlasting gangwars; the corruption of the police and politicians; the bizarre existence of the Bombay dancing girls; the insanity of the Rent Laws; the Bombay “no” and the number of ways you have to get around it; the impotence one feels at the plight of street children; the wide array of competing yet also sustaining religious and spiritual beliefs. All within the framework of his own move back to Bombay and his attempt to raise his family in his beloved home city. It is an insider/outsider view of the city, and it is fascinating. 

• The Wim Hof Method: Activate Your Full Human Potential, Wim Hof: Wim Hof, aka the Iceman, seems to have stumbled upon some deep truths about human physiology, and he lays them out in this book even while scientists scramble to understand and test his method. At its heart, Wim Hof says we need to take cold showers and breathe in a certain way. Doesn’t seem like rocket science, and he certainly garlands his ideas in a wide variety of pseudo-spiritual language. But he also gets results. His take is that we have coddled ourselves with comfort to the point where our bodies have stopped functioning as they should. The cold - “merciless, but righteous” - kick starts our vascular system back into gear, and the breathing changes our neurology. All I can say is, after practising these methods for a little less than a month - I think they kind of work?

• Money and Power, Jacques Ellul: Yet another book by Ellul that takes everything you know, or assume you know, throws it in the blender of Scripture and precise, profound discernment of the age, and slams you with the convictions of gospel truth. In this book Ellul uncovers the power of money, money as a spiritual power and principality, with such clarity that you are shocked you didn’t see it quite like that before. Money is not neutral, and riches are not the blessing that we think they are. Christ is Yahweh’s Poor One, and the poor are his reflection on earth. Neither capitalism nor communism (Ellul was writing this in the 1950’s, during the advent of the great world-changing clashes between these two ideologies) have the biblical answer to the dilemma of money and power. 

• A Life of Jesus, Shusaku Endo: A fascinating book, one that I suspect not everyone will appreciate. It is a powerfully rendered retelling of the life of Jesus, based upon the Gospels, but with the backing of source critical scholarship and the weaving of Endo’s skills and interests as a novelist (and one of my favourite all-time novelists). Endo points out aspects of the familiar story which are factually questionable, but which, he avers, may still be utterly “true”. He attempts to explain some of the psychology of Jesus, the crowds, the Sanhedrin, and especially the disciples. He zeroes in on Jesus’s message being about the love of God and the God of love, and then asks the question that, in his mind, never gets properly asked or answered by those who question the truth of Jesus: How is it that the disciples move from cowards to courageous martyrs? What happened? This is the very question that brought me back to faith in University.

• Indians on Vacation, Thomas King: I am a big fan of Thomas King and have enjoyed every book of his that I have read. Until, sadly, this one. I’m not sure exactly what the issue is, but it just didn’t work for me. It is the story of Blackbird and Mimi, an older Indigenous couple from Canada, who are in Prague looking for evidence of a lost family bundle that Mimi’s great-uncle took when he joined a travelling rodeo show in the early 20th century. The story, told from the perspective of Bird, a semi-retired photojournalist, also weaves in events from their life in Canada and their other travels to various locations in Europe, but in an uncharacteristically disjointed way. The problem, I think, is that Blackbird is a miserable grump - his various “demons” of depression, self-loathing, etc..are anthropomorphised into characters he can see and interact with. He is someone you might not want to spend any time with, but the narration forces you to spend the entire book seeing things from his dour perspective. This includes his views on Mimi, who is irrepressibly optimistic and adventurous, traits that are viewed as an intolerable bother and nuisance by Blackbird. There are reflections within on the refugee crisis, the sixties scoop, and the general impotence people of good hearts feel upon encountering the pain and sorrow of the world, but mostly it just feels world-weary. Nothing is resolved, the family bundle isn’t found, nobody changes or even seems to learn or grow. There are so many great Thomas King books out there, I’d suggest giving this one a miss and reading any of the other ones. 

• The Sea and Poison, Shusaku Endo: Set in Japan during the second world war, this is a story about personal responsibility and the effects of conscience. A team of doctors and nurses at a hospital of TB patients is faced with the opportunity to perform vivisections on American prisoners, in the interest of furthering medical science. Endo gives us the backgrounds of several of these characters, each of whom react differently to the horrific procedure. It was, apparently, one of the first times the issue of personal responsibility for actions taken during the war was brought up in Japanese fiction, and the novel won Endo awards and acclaim. It is a stark and stirring work, the clinical nature of the surgery scenes and the interior psychological wrestling of the characters in particular bearing the ring of truth.

• Genesis, Robert Alter translation and notes: I love Alter’s translation work. It takes familiar books and renders them at once unfamiliar, poetic, and earthy. His explanatory notes are always brilliant, occasionally snarky, sometimes even funny. And this story holds its spiritual, narrative and psychological relevance as much as ever.