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.