Violent Grace: Christopher Hitchens and Peniel

This post has been on my mind for some time.  I have been avoiding writing it mainly because I wanted to give it the kind of attention it deserved.  Alas, I may not have enough time to give it any time soon.  Nevertheless, I think it is worth writing.

Not long after Christopher Hitchens was diagnosed with cancer, he gave an interview with The Atlantic wherein he discussed his experience since his diagnosis.  


As Hitchens is known for his intense atheism, it is no surprise that the discussion eventually came around to religion.  Hitchens discussed his reaction to people who said they were going to pray for him.  He said he put them into three groups with three different reactions.  The first group are those who were praying for him to die and go to hell.  "To hell with you" was his response.  The second group were those who were praying that this illness would somehow lead him to a conversion.  "Thanks but no thanks" was his response.  The third group were those who were genuinely concerned about him and simply praying for him to recover.  "Fine by me, it's a nice gesture" was his response to them.


I generally enjoy listening to Hitchens.  I often find him reasonable and humorous.  Other times I find him infuriating.  I think one of the reasons I appreciate him most is that he doesn't seem to be driven by some vitriolic hatred for Christians.  Listening to Richard Dawkins, one gets the idea that not only does he want to prove Christians wrong, but he wants to cause them the most pain possible in the process.  Dawkins is the classic atheist with the mantra "There is no God ... and I hate him!"  For the most part, Hitchens avoids this.  He seems genuinely convinced that there is no God and genuinely concerned that people believe that.


It is for that reason that I found the following quote provacative.  During his interview with The Atlantic, Hitchens was asked what people would think if they were to hear that he had made a death-bed conversion.  He said:

"The entity making such a remark might be a raving, terrified person whose cancer has spread to the brain. I can't guarantee that such an entity wouldn't make such a ridiculous remark, but no one recognizable as myself would ever make such a remark."

It is that last bit, "no one recognizable as myself would ever make such a remark," that gets me.  It gets me because I think he's right.  If he were to encounter the Triune God in such a way that he could no longer deny God's existence, I think that encounter would leave a mark.  If it were a genuine encounter, he would no longer be recognizable by the same features on which his identity now rests.  It would leave him forever changed.


Genesis 32:22ff gives an account of Jacob (son of Isaac, brother of Esau) wresting with an unnamed man throughout the night.  Verse 25 says: "When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint."  Nevertheless, Jacob continued to wrestle.  Jacob refused to let the man go until he gave him a blessing.  The man responds by giving Jacob a new name: "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed." (verse 28).  


Jacob named the place "Peniel," which means "The Face of God" because there he saw the face of God, and lived.

However, he wasn't the same entity he was before the meeting. His entire identity was changed.  He walked away with a limp and a new name.

In light of that, I find myself in two of the three groups Hitchens mentioned above.  I pray that in the midst of his battle against cancer, he might see the face of God and be changed forever.  I also pray that he, like Jacob, would live.

Of Gods, Men, and the Incarnation

Jen and I watched "Of God's and Men" the other night.  It was a terrific film based on a true story of a number of Trappist (Cistercian) Monks in Algeria during the civil war in the 1990s.
The monks joined in the lives of the mostly Muslim surrounding community, got to know their concerns, fears and hopes.  They provided medical care for anyone who was in need.  They built relationships, friendships and trust.

When the civil war heats up and the Islamic extremists become increasingly violent towards their enemies, the monks begin to fear for their own safety.  When some Croatian friends of the monastery are murdered by the extremists, the monks begin to discuss whether they should return to France. 
As the violence gets closer and closer, the monks meet and patiently listen to each other's concerns and calmly discuss their disagreements.  All the while they continue their daily routine of worship and service.  In the end, each monk decides that his commitment to Christ and His service demands that they stay, even if it costs them their lives.  Eventually, seven of the monks are kidnapped, held for ransom and eventually martyred.

Artistically speaking, the movie is beautiful.  The contrast of colours, the landscape and the simplicity of the monks life are all recorded with an acute awareness of the balance between simplicity and clarity.

Theologically speaking, the movie is remarkable.  While there is no way to communicate the depths of the film in writing, I want to highlight a few aspects of the film I found poignant.

First was the way the lives of the monks were informed and framed by their worship.  Every major point in the film is punctuated by a scene of the monks at one of the daily offices or saying Mass.  The content of the reading or the hymns often cleverly juxtaposed with the violence and fear they were experiencing.  Moreover, it was often a time of worship that changed the direction of events, bringing the brothers back together or motivating them to move forward.

Second was the portrayal of the monks' focus on the Incarnation.  Throughout the film the monks affirmed that their work in that place was a participation in and a representative of the Incarnation of Christ.  They do believe that they are a sacrament to the dark, troubled world around them.

Finally, I was quite struck by their understanding of freedom.  The monks believe that fulfilling their commitment to Christ is what makes them free.  They aren't "stuck" in a monastery in northern Africa awaiting their deaths.  They are free men, servants of the Living God and ambassadors of Christ.


The film closes with a voice-over of the Abbot speaking.  Its richness and depth make it worth quoting at length:

Should it ever befall me, and it could happen today, to be a victim of the terrorism swallowing up all foreigners here, I would like my community, my church, my family, to remember that my life was given to God and to his country. That the Unique Master of all life was no stranger to this brutal departure. And that my death is the same as so many other violent ones, consigned to the apathy of oblivion. I've lived enough to know, I am complicit in the evil that, alas, prevails over the world and the evil that will smite me blindly. I could never desire such a death. I could never feel gladdened that these people I love be accused randomly of my murder. I know the contempt felt for the people here, indiscriminately. And I know how Islam is distorted by a certain Islamism. This country, and Islam, for me are something different. They're a body and a soul. My death, of course, will quickly vindicate those who call me naïve or idealistic, but they must know that I will be freed of a burning curiosity and, God willing, will immerse my gaze in the Father's and contemplate with him his children of Islam as he sees them. This thank you which encompasses my entire life includes you, of course, friends of yesterday and today, and you too, friend of last minute, who knew not what you were doing. Yes, to you as well I address this thank you and this farewell which you envisaged. May we meet again, happy thieves in Paradise, if it pleases God the Father of us both. Amen. Insha'Allah.

This quote needs to be read carefully and mindfully. The Abbot is not affirming a brand of universalism. Rather, he is clinging to hope.

The Pharisaical Fallacy

On Saturday, Sophia lost her sleeping toy 'lazy bunny.'  While she has been sad at times, her overall reaction has been quite easy to deal with.  She asks where lazy bunny is, I tell her that he is either on vacation or that he's gone and then I give her another stuffed animal to play with.

Yesterday as we arrived at Church, Sophia asked where lazy bunny was.  Being the pious father that I am, I suggested we all pray together that the Father would find lazy bunny.  I thought it was a wonderful opportunity to teach Sophia about prayer.  So we all held hands and prayed together.  This seemed to satisfy Sophia and we all went into the service.

When we arrived home in the early afternoon, I was changing Sophia's diaper and she asked if the Father was going to find lazy bunny.  Again, trying to be pious and theologically astute I said "sweetie, sometimes the Father doesn't give us what we ask for because he knows it isn't what we need."  Sophia: "maybe the Fader will find lazy bunny?"  Me: "maybe sweetie, but maybe not.  We all make choices and sometimes the Father doesn't step ...", I trailed off.  Sophia, with bright, confident eyes: "Maybe the Fader will find him."

I really couldn't say anything else.  Sophia's childlike faith had nailed me to the wall.  When I had suggested we pray to find lazy bunny earlier, I never expected anyone to follow up on that prayer.  I never expected God to find the bunny.  I was just taking Sophia through a pious exercise.  Why?  Well, because prayer is a good thing.  But, really, I did it because I wanted people see her extremely pious nature and look ... ugh ... at me.

The Gospel reading at Mass was from Luke 18:9-14: the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector.  Had I been the pharisee, here is how I might have prayed that day: "Thank you, Lord, that I am not like other fathers.  Thank you that I am a good father, I pray with my daughter, she knows the Nicene Creed, we teach her hymns, she's learning the books of the Bible.  Thank you Lord that I'm not like that father over there whose drug habit has kept him from providing for his family.  Or that father who is so busy with his career that he never spends time with his daughter.  Thank you that I'm bring my daughter up in the faith, that I'm willing to sacrifice my own time and energy for her.  Thank you that, because of me, she will grow up to be a model of piety and devotion."


I used prayer like the Pharisee had, to pat myself on the back.  But Sophia really meant it.  She really expects the Father to find lazy bunny.  She doesn't care if anyone thinks she's pious or devout.  She knows the Father loves her and she expects that he will give her good things (once she said 'like the Fader gives me blueberries and strawberries ..."). 

Moreover, I expect that if the Father doesn't bring lazy bunny back Sophia will be genuinely disappointed.  She doesn't hide her disappointment because she sees no reason to.

However, less than six hours after we prayed I was already making excuses for God.  Why? Probably because I had those excuses ready before I even suggested to Sophia that we pray.  See, I've already worked things out.  I know the right answers for every theological and philosophical problem under the sun.  I've got everything in a nice, neat, logical box.

Sophia? she just wants her bunny back ...

Wise Grace

We were in the last 2 hours of a 7 hour drive home from a short vacation with Jen's mom in Oregon.  We had had a great time in Oregon and so far the drive back had been fine.  As the day was our anniversary, I had hoped to have the last few hours of the drive quiet to spend time talking with Jen (we had already moved the celebration of our anniversary to the next day).  However, Sophia would not cooperate.  While she is usually a great traveler, for some reason she would not fall asleep (even though it was way past her bedtime).  I had held her hand for a while and sung songs with her.  When that didn't work Jen tried for a while.  Sophia kept talking and started whining and crying.

We have found that sometimes when Sophia gets in this state, a forceful (but restrained) "Sophia, Stop!" will pull her out of what would otherwise be a downwards spiral into a tantrum.  I tried this to no avail, so I repeated it, still nothing.  I was beginning to feel desperate as we were nearing the end of our drive and I really wanted some quiet time with Jen.  I could tell I was losing my patience so I just stopped saying anything and focussed on the road.  As Sophia kept whining, I became increasingly irritated (at that point I sooo understood the stereotypical fatherly threat "you kids better shuttup or I'll turn this car around!).  Finally, I said it again, "Sophia, Stop!" this made it worse, and I lost my temper "Sophia Marie Amundgaard, stop crying, I want at least some quite time with my wife tonight - shut up!!!"  This put her over the edge, she completely lost control and started wailing.  She tried to speak through her deep sobs "Sophia, huh huh, Sophia want, huh, huh, Sophia hode, huh, huh, spoon, Sophia huh huh, Sophia want huh special huh peaches"

I felt horrible, my heart sank into my gut and I almost started crying myself (tears are coming to my eyes as I retell it now).  I immediately regretted my outburst and knew it had hurt and scared my little girl.  I looked for the next exit and pulled off.  I turned off the engine, got out, ran to her door, took her out of her car seat and hugged her to my chest.  "I'm soooo sorry sweetie, poppa was wrong to yell at you, please forgive me!"

Her response?  Pointing to the almost full moon she said "Rock in the sky!"  I said, "That's the moon, sweetie.";  "Myoon ... Papa get it?";  "You want the moon sweetie? I'd get it for you if I could.";  "Papa take you there?"; "Someday, I'd love to take you there, but it's too far away to go there now.";  Pointing at the grass in the ditch, "S'okay, go through the grass?";  "I don't think we can get there by the grass."  "Okay, maybe later, Sophia want special peaches?";  "Okay sweetie, let's get in the car and have some peaches."

When we got in the car I could no longer control myself, I broke down.  I held her head against mine and cried.  Her chubby little hand grasped my finger and she leaned against me as I cried.  I deeply regretted that I yelled at her.  I couldn't imagine how I could be so angry with her and could think of no reason why she would ever deserve to be yelled at.  I desperately wished I could turn back the clock.  Moreover, I was overwhelmed and deeply humbled by her gracious, trusting response.

However, in the midst of my grief, I began to feel strengthened and encouraged.  It felt as if somehow Sophia's innocent, joyful, trusting, gracious response to my anger had brought light into the situation, and this light was slowly overtaking the darkness.  As I wept in sadness, my heart began to feel joyful.  This situation seemed to have more significance than the normal successes and failures of every day life.  I knew that I would remember this night and that it would somehow leave me changed forever.

As I reflect on that experience, I am convinced that it was a sacramental moment.  In some mysterious way the Father used Sophia as a means-of-grace.  I'm not sure how it worked but I feel quite certain that that is what happened.  At first I wanted to reject the idea - how could grace come at a time like that? in the midst of my failure?  But this seems to be the pattern with grace - it is most present when we least deserve it.  The grace communicated through the cross of Christ and through the weekly celebration of the Eucharist are the prime instances of this.

In her essay "The Church and the Fiction Writer," Flannery O'Connor writes that one of the problems for a Christian fiction writer is "the presence of grace as it appears in nature, and what matters for him is that his faith not become detached from his dramatic sense and from his vision of what-is."  In other words, it is difficult to write about grace in the context of human evil; nevertheless, it must be done.  Ignoring the human condition produces fiction with no depth or any real meaning.  "By separating nature and grace as much as possible, he has reduced his conception of the supernatural to pious cliche and has become able to recognize nature in literature in only two forms, the sentimental and the obscene."  However, says O'Connor, both obscenity and sentimentality are perversions.  Sentimentality, she says, tends to overemphasize innocence and in doing so turns it into evil.  This is because human innocence was lost in the fall and is only gained through participation in Christ's death.  "Sentimentality is a skipping of this process in its concrete reality and an early arrival at a mock state of innocence, which strongly suggests its opposite."  To avoid this, grace must always be kept within the context of nature no matter how ugly that nature might be.

This seems to make sense of my experience.  God used my failure and Sophia's response as a channel for his grace and as a means of furthering my sanctification.  While I still wish I could undo my actions, I am grateful for my Sophia's gracious response and most of all for the Father's wise grace which was communicated through it.

What no father expects when they are expecting.

In the last few weeks, Jen and I have had a number of conversations about the advice we would give expecting couples as to how the father ought to be involved. The conversations were raised by other conversations which either Jen or I had had with friends of ours who have recently had a child or are expecting one soon. Whether these conversations were with the mother or the father, the experience was almost unanimous - father's have a very difficult time knowing what to do after a child is born and therefore the mother ends up either doing most of the work, or feels like she is 'nagging' her husband to help. In light of that problem, I thought it would be helpful for me to share my own experience and what I learned through it. The goal will be to justify my one piece of advice for new fathers and mothers - give the father one job that he is completely responsible for whenever he is home. (I would recommend diaper changes - sorry guys.)

Before I start, I want to give two caveats.

First, as I'm only just recognizing, postpartum emotions are incredibly complex and messy - for both mother and father (there is even new research showing that many men suffer from postpartum depression). Moreover, while there may be better and worse ways of handling the situation, there is no way to avoid it. Like the rest of married life, frustrations and hurts often go unsaid until they completely blow up. However, in the postpartum world, those blowups (fights, whatever), take a ton of energy from an almost entirely depleted supply. Moreover, there is often too much to do, and feelings get pushed to the wayside. These feelings never get discussed and they turn into resentment. This resentment often combines with other postpartum issues (like the mother's lack of desire/ability to have sex for some time) and can tend to snowball. This is the difficult underbelly (no pun intended) of the postpartum world. While I don't think you can completely avoid this situation, I think applying the one piece of advice I am giving here can go a long way toward avoiding some of the tension.

The second caveat is this - I learned this through massive personal failures. I am not holding myself up as a model in any way. I wish I could say I was an involved and supportive father from the beginning - I certainly wanted to be - but alas, I was not. I learned what I learned because my wife was willing to stick it out and fight for my involvement in Sophia's life. This cost her much pain and anguish and was supported by her very deep love for me and commitment to our marriage (and her love for the Father - who, I'm convinced, sustains us all). I want to say this because as I reflect on my experience, it may sound as if I knew all of what I am about to say at the time - I did not.

The day Sophia was born, there was an almost inestimable increase in the amount of tasks to be done around our house. This coincided with a decrease in our sleep and in our food intake. It was a very trying time and, while we love Sophia, I'm sure we would have opted out many times if given the choice.

However, Jen was the one who bore most of the burden. She got up with Sophia all night to feed her. As a result, she changed her diaper all night. I was at school a lot of the time or working on assignments, so Jen took care of Sophia during the day as well. She changed her diapers and her clothes. She put her down for naps and to sleep at night. She looked up stuff online if we were nervous about something or didn't know what to do in a given situation. She began to develop ways of doing things and times for doing them. She knew how to put Sophia's diapers on properly, she knew how to get the onesies over her head. She knew how to give her a bath, trim her nails, wipe her bum, etc. When we went on trips she knew what to pack. As Sophia began to develop personality, Jen began to recognize traits and began to know which things were Sophia's favourite or which things she didn't like.

As all this happened, I felt increasingly overwhelmed. I didn't know how to do all this stuff and some of it scared me or made me uncomfortable. Moreover, Jen did know how to do it and, being more proactive than I, she would do stuff if it didn't get done. In my mind, she might as well do it as I would probably screw it up or she would just end up doing it over. The more she did with Sophia and the more she learned about her and the more she organized Sophia's stuff, the more and more I felt on the outside with no hope of ever catching up. It was like trying to participate in an advanced calculus class when you've only had algebra 1.

I also had a feeling that Sophia didn't need me in the same way she needed Jen. Jen gave her food - she was the only source of her food. If Jen wasn't there, Sophia wouldn't eat. If I wasn't there, it might be sad, but it wouldn't threaten Sophia's life. I realize that there are all kinds of reasons why this particular thought is incorrect - believe me, I probably told myself all of them at one point or another. Nevertheless, the feeling remained.

Another contributing factor was, I believe (and Jen agrees with me - right babe?), hormonal. When Jen gave birth, her body chemistry changed. She began to have what might be called a 'nesting' instinct. She was automatically very protective of Sophia. There were certain things it just seemed like she knew how to do. Moreover, every time she nursed, she released oxytocin (the cuddle hormone) which further bonded her to Sophia. However, I didn't feel any natural change. In fact, I wanted things to continue on the way they were (and often kept living that way to Jen's detriment). When I did make changes in behaviour or in how I allocated my time, I had to choose them - often against my desires and feelings. This is not to say that Jen never made any hard choices - I know she did. But there was a hormonal change in her which essentially made her do some things differently whereas in almost every situation I had to overcome my will to make a change (and usually did not succeed).

These three factors - being overwhelmed; not feeling needed; and not feeling any hormonal change - contributed to a situation wherein Jen was essentially a single mom for about the first six months of Sophia's life. It's not that I wasn't around. I was home a lot working on assignments or prepping for tutorials. But I was increasingly escaping into my own world. I would sit out on our balcony and smoke my pipe, drink wine and read by myself for hours. Jen would try to ask me to be more involved, but I felt so inept that what she said sounded like criticism and I often responded defensively.

The situation deteriorated to a point where Jen was almost entirely hopeless. Out of that hopelessness, somehow, she was able to communicate something that finally clicked. I don't remember everything she said, but I finally began to see what I was doing, how I was absent from her and Sophia in a very real and constant way (I feel, to, that the Father was answering many of Jen's prayers. Prayers she prayed both consciously and unconsciously). This was not easy for me to deal with (and still isn't). I never thought I would be the kind of man I was in those first six months. I wasn't abusive or terrible in that way - but I was absent and irresponsible, choosing my own private world over relationship with Jen and Sophia.

This situation was caused and perpetuated by more than the three things I've discussed above (being overwhelmed; not feeling needed; and not feeling any hormonal change). However, I believe these three issues are common to many new dads and I feel like the suggestion I am making in this post can go a long way toward decreasing these feelings and the way they affect one's family.

When Jen finally got through to me I still felt all these feelings and I still didn't know what to do (in fact, it was worse now, I was six whole months behind). At one point in our discussion, Jen said "I really need you to be responsible for all the diaper changes when you are home." She didn't give me her reasons for deciding to suggest me taking over one task in entirety (she could have asked me to do diapers half the time and give her a bath half the time) but I think her suggestion was absolutely brilliant for a number of reasons.

First, giving me sole responsible one task, meant I was responsible for providing a need. Diaper change became my thing. If I didn't change Sophia's diaper, it wasn't going to get changed. All of a sudden, I was a very real and constant part of Sophia's life. Every other hour (as often as she fed) I changed her diaper. As much as I still didn't look forward to the actual diaper change, these times became special and sweet times of bonding for Sophia and I. Moreover, I became more comfortable with her little body. Whereas before I felt as if I was going to break it, or just felt awkward about changing a little girls diaper, now I felt confident and at ease (mostly).

Second, giving me sole responsibility for one task bypassed my feelings of being overwhelmed by all their was to learn and know. I could practice changing diapers until I knew what I was doing and felt confident doing it. As with any task, the better I was at it the less time I spent doing it. Moreover, I became more confident, and therefore willing, to do other tasks. I began playing with Sophia more regularly. When she started to eat solid food I often fed her. I began to teach her things and help her develop new skills. We would read together. I often worked with her on crawling and when she learned to walk. Eventually I started putting her down to sleep at night (a big step, I assure you, I thought I would never know how to put her to sleep).

Third (and this would only apply if you didn't begin doing this from the beginning), it avoided the past. The fact was that I didn't know much about taking care of Sophia despite the fact that she was six months old. No finding of fault and no amount of browbeating was going to change this. By moving past what had happened to figuring out a solution to the present situation, Jen made the process easier for me to accept.

I remember the first day it hit me that I could actually take care of Sophia for a number of days if Jen had to go away. I was both sad that it had taken me so long to get to that point but also quite happy that I had made it there at all. I felt a sense of accomplishment and I actually felt like a father. It felt right to say that I was Sophia's papa.

As I did more with Sophia, it began to feel to both Jen and I that we were becoming a team again. We began to share the same lifestyle and the same priorities. We didn't fight with each other as much as we worked together to accomplish a common task. This process was months long (and is ongoing). But there are milestones, and it's great to look back and see how much things have improved.

While I don't think this one thing was the entire reason for a change in my behaviour and our marriage, I would name it among the top 3 turning points in the past 2 years. I know at the time it certainly didn't seem like a very positive thing. It is only with the clarity of hindsight that I can see the value of it. But I am convinced it was a decision of great value.

Moreover, I am convinced that it would have been of great value if I would have taken over just one task from the beginning. I don't think it was helpful just because I had already made so many poor choices. It would have helped alleviate some of the anxiety which led me to escape in the first place.

I thank God for my wife and for the wisdom he gave her. I thank him for my daughter and the sheer delight she is. I thank him for the relationship he has helped me restore and build with both of these women. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.

I pray that this reflection is of use and can help avoid a degree of pain and hurt. If anyone would like to chat about this more, please feel free to email me: bamundgaard@gmail.com

Up in the Air about the Device Paradigm

A few weeks ago, Jen and I watched Jason Reitman's 2009 com-dram "Up in the Air." The plot centres on "corporate downsizing expert" Ryan Bingham (George Clooney). Bingham's firm hires him out to companies that are laying people off and want a third party to handle the face-to-face aspects of the process (i.e. Bingham fires people for a living). Bingham's favourite part of the job is that he spends 320 days a year flying around the country, renting cars and sleeping in hotels. One of his main goals in life is to collect 10 million airmiles and join the elite ranks of the 6 other people who have done it. It seems that the deeply emotional aspect of his job has left Bingham jaded and cynical. He can be compassionate and supportive when he is supposed to, but it is only an act. Moreover, Bingham is not ashamed that he has no close, emotional relationships in his life and gives motivational talks which promote the same unencumbered lifestyle to anyone who wants to get ahead in the business world. Bingham is quite satisfied with his transient, uncommitted and unconnected life.

Bingham's world gets even better when, in an airport lounge, he meets Alex Goran (Vira Farmiga), a forty-something businesswoman whose aspirations and outlook are very similar to his own. Goran ends up back at Bingham's hotel room and the two decide to swap schedules and continue the affair when their travels overlap. Goran assures Bingham that there are no rules and no expectations for their relationship :"I am the woman that you don't have to worry about."

Bingham is forced to take his firm's bright new employee, Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick), on his next business trip to show her the ropes. Bingham believes Keener is foolish because she took this job in order to be with her boyfriend. He can't understand why she would let a relationship determine her future. However, throughout the trip, Bingham develops a degree of respect for Keener. At the same time as Bingham begins to develop a friendship with Keener, his feelings for Goran begin to deepen. While he tries to play it off, it is obvious that the relationship is no longer just about sex. All of a sudden he finds himself more connected and more involved in her life than he ever wanted to be with anyone. Keener picks up what is going on and challenges him to be honest with himself and thus honest with Goran about his feelings for her.

This struggle challenges the very core of Bingham's soul as he chooses to abandon what he values and go after Goran. When he shows up at her house, however, he is stunned to find that she is married with two kids. Bingham turns to leave as her husband calls out 'who is it honey' and Goran responds 'its no one, just someone who lost their way.' Later, she calls Bingham to accost him for showing up at her house. Bingham, confused, says "I thought I was part of your life." "I thought we signed up for the same thing." Goran responds, "I thought our relationship was perfectly clear. You are an escape. You're a break from our normal lives. You're a parenthesis."

There are a number of themes in this film which raise important questions about how we understand and live out our relationships. Not just our relationships to other humans, but our relationship to technology and how it enhances or detracts from our human relationships. I want to examine how this film exemplifies the connection between technological dependence and human independence. First, however, I want to explain what I mean by technological dependence.

Since the Industrial Revolution, development of technological devices has accelerated exponentially. One implication of this acceleration is the proliferation of these devices. Each year, new, more sophisticated technology takes over tasks which were once done 'by hand.' The more these devices replace these tasks, the more old skills are lost and we become dependent upon the devices which replaced them (for example, few people are able to build a fire without a lighter or matches - a task which every schoolchild would have know not more than a century ago; even fewer people are able to hunt with a bow and arrow to provide meat).

When further technology is developed to replace additional tasks, it often assumes and depends on the existing technology. We are then dependent upon a technology which is itself dependent upon another technogogy (e.g. after tractors were invented, new plows came out which could not be pulled by horses. This meant that when a farmer had to buy a new plow, he no longer had the option of using horses, he had to buy a tractor too). This goes on and on, creating a web where newer and newer technology is increasingly dependent upon older technology.

Philosopher Albert Borgmann calls the resulting web of technology the Device Paradigm. Within the device paradigm, Borgmann contends, technological devices become part of a particular lifestyle. Each particular lifestyle is dependent upon a certain set of interdependent technology. Over time, these lifestyles become commodities. The devices which support these lifestyles, then, become part of the commodity and are marketed and sold as such. (The iPod is a good example of this.)

In "Up in the Air," Bingham has bought into a particular lifestyle. He is what we might call the "jet-setter." He loves travel and everything that comes with it. He enjoys being on one coast one day and the other the next. He relishes the respect he gets from airlines, car rental companies and hotels for his premium traveler status. He lives to earn more air-miles. Part of the lifestyle he has bough into requires him to be unencumbered by human relationships (which Bingham thinks is one of the keys to his success). He has very little contact with his family and no friends to speak of. His job revolves around cutting off relationships. A majority of his human contact is with people he has been hired to fire. He will never see these people again. He is assured that no one will ever miss him, be hurt by him, need him or look for him, he is completely free.

However, the fallout between Goran and Bingham shows him that he had deceived himself about his lack of need for human relationships. He does not want his life to 'be a parenthesis' or an 'escape.' He does not want to be transient and unconnected. He wants to need and wants to be needed.

Bingham's unencumbered lifestyle was enabled and perpetuated by the existence of technology. Without cars, airplanes, cellphones, email and sundry other technologies, Bingham's lifestyle would be impossible. All these technologies worked together to give him the life he wanted. Moreover, technology enabled Bingham to continue telling himself that he didn't need human relationships.

However, if he had not had that luxury, he would have been forced into regular human relationships. He would be forced to see the same people day in and day out in his neighbourhood, his office building, the supermarket, etc. He would be forced to participate in community, depend on others and be responsible for his actions. Along the way he might make some friends or even fall in love. He also might get hurt but at least his life would be more than a parenthesis.

I'm no Luddite. I think technology is useful and helpful. However, technology is always a loss as well as a gain. The tasks replaced by technology were often tasks that required human interaction. As we continue to develop and appropriate technology, let us be aware of the losses that come along with it (especially the human ones) and take steps to meet those needs in other ways.

What is a parade of liberty and why would one march in it?

I must begin by admitting that I am a bit of a hipster. I have tried to deny it for some time, I have even tried to show overt contempt for all of hipsterdom, but I am afraid I must own up to my true identity. My name is Ben, and I am a hipster. I find that I like things which are obscure, ironic and odd. Thus the title of my blog. It comes from the first line of the fifth verse of a semi-obscure Bob Dylan song called "Abandoned Love." The lyric is: "I march in the parade of liberty/but as long as I love you I'm not free." The song, originally meant to be included on "Blood on the Tracks" (1975), was released on Dylan's boxed-set Biograph (which, incidentally, was the first boxed-set ever made). It is a beautiful poem about the author's struggle to leave a woman he still cares for in order to maintain what he believes is freedom (and thus abandon not only her love for him, but his love for her).
What does all that have to do with my blog? Not much. I love the song, but I also just love the poetry of the line and what it communicates on its own. This is perhaps where my hipsterness stops (going by popular definitions of hipster). I like things which are obscure, ironic and odd not because I want to belittle others for not knowing what I'm talking about, but because I feel the obscure, the ironic and the odd communicate truths in ways which often get past the 'normal' and make us think in ways which we wouldn't ordinarily think.
The phrase "Marching in the parade of liberty" gets me thinking about the concept of liberty in ways which I have heretofore missed. The words 'marching' and 'parade' imply movement. We often think of liberty (or, the related ideal of happiness) as static; a thing which we can get or a place that we can be. However, to the degree that Dylan's poetic genius is on to something, liberty seems to be a participation in something which is anything but static. Parades are loud, dynamic and energetic. The first thing that comes to mind is a marching band. Sharp, crisp high notes from the horns sound out over the loud booming of the bass drum, the taps of the snare drums and the low rumble of the tuba. At the same time the band moves forward, led by a troop of energetic baton-twirlers.
However, dynamic does not mean chaotic. Parades are carefully coordinated to make sure everyone knows their place and is doing the right thing at the right time. Marching bands are drilled like military troops. They learn how to coordinate the movements of their particular instruments with their own bodies and with the band as a whole. Moreover, they are led by a conductor who keeps both the music and the formation in time. Thus, liberty is not the ability to do whatever one wants. It is knowing one's task and performing it properly within the dynamic whole. Knowing where to be and what to do gives one the liberty to be in the place and do the thing which they have been equipped to do.
It seems to me that this dynamic-yet-orderly understanding of how to participate in liberty illustrates certain aspects of the Church. St. Paul says that true freedom is found only in Christ. When we are baptized, we are made members of Christ's body, the Church. Through Christ, the Church (and each of its members) participates in the Trinity. The Trinity is participation itself as it is fundamentally the dynamic relationship between the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Moreover, in our baptism, we are given the Holy Spirit. The Spirit guides us into further truth and moves us forward in our sanctification. These images imply movement and growth. The Christian is not the same yesterday as he will be tomorrow.
At the same time, the Church is ordered. Scripture (and the early Church) lays out instructions for proper Church government led by Bishops, priests and deacons. Additionally, as St. Paul points out, every member of the Church has his or her own 'gifting' which is meant to work together with the gifts of others to build up the whole Church. The Church functions best when each person performs the role for which they've been created.
To the degree that this is true, the Christian "marches in the parade of liberty" by fully participating in the dynamically ordered life of the Church. Perhaps if we were guided by this, and not by the enlightenment values of self-autonomy and 'free-choice,' our broken and bruised Church would once again join together to fill the air with praises to God Almighty.