The Pursuit of Happyness

Note: I'm posting this because I am feeling a little overly attached to this version of an article I wrote for Seek magazine. I've been asked to revise it significantly, which part of me realizes will improve it beyond all recognition, and part of me is just fixating on the fact that it will be changed beyond all recognition.

I really try to keep my attachment in check . . . but sometimes, I act just like a moody artist. I figured it would be somewhat consoling to know that the article was "getting out there" (at least, to the four people who read my blog), and that would help me feel a little bit better about starting over again. Without further ado, I give you a film review.

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A picture of poverty
Recent film prompts discussion of homelessness

Chris Gardner met his father for the first time at the age of 28. He saw him only one other time: at his father’s funeral. So when he had a son of his own, he was determined to stay in Chris Jr.’s life—no matter what.

Starring Will Smith, the 2006 film “The Pursuit of Happyness” brings Gardner’s story to light. The movie chronicles this father’s struggle to provide for his son without his wife, without a steady job, and (many times) without a place to call home.

On an interpersonal level, “The Pursuit of Happyness” offers a beautiful example of a father’s commitment to his child, and of nurturing care in desperate circumstances. But it is also a detailed look at the economics of poverty.Gardner wasn’t always homeless. In fact, at the beginning of the film, he and his wife and son share an apartment with running water, electricity, and the basic comforts of late 20^th-century life in San Francisco. Always clean-shaven and respectably clad in a suit and tie, Gardner blends in with the middle class. But for him, as it is for so many people in our communities and in our churches, homelessness was only a paycheck away.

“The Pursuit of Happyness” is an important reminder that many of the people we see sleeping on park benches and dining at soup kitchens are not so different from us as we might think: they used to have jobs, homes, and families just like ours. No one can ever be 100 percent poverty-proof. Given the right circumstances, it could happen to anyone.

As portrayed in the film, Gardner’s pursuit of happiness was a fight for the right to work, to earn money to provide for his son. All he really wanted, all he struggled for, was a steady job that would enable him to have a permanent address, a place where his son could eat and sleep in safety—a home.

There are millions of people in our own neighborhoods and overseas who, like Gardner, are caught in poverty, without a place to sleep or the means to provide for their families. God’s love compels us to befriend, feed, clothe, and give shelter to all who need it. And when we do, Scripture reminds us, it’s all for Jesus.

Pies alegres

The best musical I've seen in years. But, of course, like all musicals, it has some serious character/story/continuity flaws. Nevertheless, as my brother-in-law says, "it's amusing."

If for no other reason, you really ought to see Happy Feet for the amigos. You'll know who I mean.

As for the flaws . . . I'm glad I'm not the only one who saw them.

Rich

If you believe the U.N., Norway is the best place on earth to live. Their literacy rate, healthcare, income, and education levels all soar above most other nations, making Norwegians some of the healthiest and wealthiest people in the world.

But maybe not the most blessed.

Apparently, even with all of those wonderfully high living conditions, they seem to be quite the whiny lot, and are at a bit of a loss to find solutions for their crowded healthcare system (which, though they complain about it, allows them to live some of the longest lives on the planet).

I watched a short film yesterday called Rich, featuring Rob Bell of Mars Hill. I've seen quite a few of these nooma films, and I really appreciate their thoughtful, fresh, artful approach to the Christian faith.

I liked this one, too, but one thing really stuck in my mind:

I see these bumper stickers that say, "God bless America," and I think, "God has blessed America."

The film goes on to remind viewers that our world--the world in which most of us have cars (even if they're crappy) and have enough to eat each day--is not the world. I grew up hearing this just about every day, and I think it's something we all need to realize. People everywhere are starving, dying of diseases that are totally and completely curable, and by and large that is not our reality here in North America. Therefore, we have the great freedom--and responsibility--to share what we have in order to feed, clothe, and give shelter to the poor around the world. Of that I am certain.

However, I'm intrigued by what "the best place to live" and "blessed" really mean to the U.N. and to Rob Bell--and to the rest of us. The world's most healthy and comfortable nations (again, according to the U.N.) are Norway, Australia, Ireland, Sweden, Canada, Japan, and the United States. Yet the people living in each of these nations are some of the unhappiest--and most secular--on earth.

Rob Bell looks around at America and says, "We are blessed."

I'm not looking at statistics here, but it seems to me that materially, yes--we are. But the Church in our corner of the world is diseased, and spiritually, its people are starving and naked. When I look at the Church in the rest of the world, I see people who have learned to trust in God for their next meal; to serve Him despite violent consequences; to worship Him joyfully; and to live contentedly in community.

Yes, I know that is a bit of a rose-colored view of the global Church. I know it is not all like that. But it seems to me that what many call blessing is actually a curse.

A curse, interestingly enough, that we are supposed to share with the rest of the world. I have been told so many times that

1. I am evil because I have too much stuff and my luxury is at the expense of the poor.
   
2. Poor people around the world are righteous and will inherit the Kingdom.
3. I should give poor people my stuff because I have too much and they don't have anything.

There is biblical support and truth to all of these statements. But when I put them together, this is the very disturbing logical conclusion I come up with:

If we rich Americans give away all our stuff, poor people will now be rich (and therefore as spiritually destitute as we currently are), which is no better than the current state of things.

Because "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God," I must conclude that our wealth, our comfort, and our abundance are not necessarily a blessing. Wealth is probably not inherently good or bad, but combined with our human nature, it can be toxic to our spiritual well-being. With this knowledge, we must be very careful not to recklessly dump our wealth on the poor; so in fact our responsibility as rich Christians is that much heavier.

Not only must we be generous and compassionate, but we are also called to help the recipients of our gifts to keep from becoming as apathetic, faith-less, and enamored with the things of this world as we are.

Otherwise, we're just playing a global game of hot potato with the hazardous material of wealth.

I don't envy the poor. I never wanted to live in a war-ravaged land led by tyrants who starve their people. I don't want my children to wear rags. I just think we should remember that God draws near to the poor--and it is, perhaps, easier for the poor to draw near to Him. But they are blessed. Jesus said so.

As for those of us who eat three (or four) meals a day and sleep in comfortable beds . . . I'm not quite so sure.

All I know is that we have work to do, and we better be prayerful, careful, and quick about it.

Prayer

"I pray because I can't help myself.
I pray because I'm helpless.
I pray because the need flows out of me
all the time, waking and sleeping.
It doesn't change God, it changes me."

--C.S. Lewis in Shadowlands (1993)

Everything is illuminated

This is the kind of film title that really appeals to me. It's exaggerated; I mean, how often do people (other than me) go around saying things like "everything is illuminated"? It's bold; it's intense; it's a little much, really. But until today (when I finally saw the movie) I was dying to know just what was illuminated.

To all those who didn't see the movie because you thought Frodo's glasses were absolutely ridiculous, get over it and add it to your Netflix queue.

I'm really struck by the concept of the collector, a central theme in the film. In case you haven't seen EiI, the protagonist (Jonathan) collects photographs, false teeth, pendants, sand--anything that helps him remember his family, who are survivors of the Holocaust--in Ziploc bags. He's withdrawn and his impulse to collect borders on the insance. But when you fully realize how close his family came to disappearing completely from anyone's memory or records, Jonathan seems like the only sane one--the only person who realizes the true value of the strange artifacts that are pinned up all over his walls.

But of course, because Jonathan is simply a collector, the movie is not actually about him; he is only the vehicle for another Holocaust survivor to remember. I guess at this point I should post a spoiler warning. I just really feel the need to process, so don't read any further if you haven't seen the film yet.

Here is my question: what does Baruch's death mean? Does he kill himself because of the guilt he feels about abandoning his faith, and as a result being one of the only people who survived? It would seem, from the significant transformation he undergoes, that he is at peace when he dies--yet his is not a peaceful departure from life. Does he feel that he needs to die a bloody death in order to be united with his family and fellow villagers? Can suicide provide any kind of relief at all?

Clearly, for me, not everything is illuminated.

But what an amazing movie. The title line of the film provides such a different perspective on history than we're used to:

"Everything is illuminated in the light of the past, which is inside us looking out."

This is the most optimistic, yet honest, approach to the past, present, and future that I think I have ever heard. Especially for those of us who are living in the shadow of the turbulent, bloody 20th century, it is easy to over-focus on the past, wishing humankind hadn't made the mistakes it has, when we really need to live in the present with the knowledge and memory we glean from the past.

This all seems very half-baked right now . . . maybe I'll post more after the second viewing, when my thoughts are better gathered.

But for now, all I can say is that this is truly a premium film.