In 1945, that star of stage, screen, and radio, Jack Benny, hit on one of the strangest publicity campaigns of all time. After spending seven episodes building context and suspense, his listeners were presented with a contest. They had up to fifty words to finish a sentence. At that time, such contests were common. Both regional and national products would give prizes for the best answers to "I like Product X because…" Why shouldn't Jack Benny sponsor such a contest? Only his contest was different. Instead of giving answers for why they liked Jack Benny, from December 2nd to 24th of 1945, his audience had to complete:
I Cant's Stand Jack Benny Because …
It turned out that an astonishingly large portion of his audience couldn't stand him. Several hundred thousand letters were received, and the panel of judges, which included Goodman Ace, Peter Lorre, and Fred Allen, needed over a month to select the best answer. Finally, on February 4, 1946, America learned what made Jack Benny so obnoxious:
He fills the air with boasts and brags,
And obsolete obnoxious gags.
The way he plays his violin
is music's most obnoxious sin.
His cowardice alone, indeed,
Is matched by his obnoxious greed.
And all the things that he portrays
Show up my own obnoxious ways.
Carroll P. Craig, Sr.(1945)
Winning entry in the 1945 "I Can't Stand Jack Benny Because. . ." Contest.
Odd, isn't it, that the best reason why we can't stand him is the same reason we love him?
On February 14, Happy Birthday, Jack Benny!
Monday, February 13, 2012
On Loving Geeks
Although I'm the last of the Little Old Ladies at my church (a funny story for another occasion), I'm only starting to try on my Red Hat. I am old enough, however, to have spent many Sunday School sessions bellowing with the rest of the class that venerable childhood chorus:
Jesus loves the little children!
All the children of the world!
Red or Yellow, Black or White,
They are precious in His sight!
Jesus loves the little children of the world!
And I learned to care about the children (and the grown-ups) who didn't look like me. After all, the Apostle Paul had said "Where there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, Barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free: but Christ is all, and in all." (Colossians 3:11)
But there are people groups who do look like me, and whom Jesus does love, yet, from the reaction of other church-people , you'd hardly know it. I'm speaking of — and I use the term respectfully — The Geeks. The children who choose The Clone Wars over Veggie Tales, the teens who prefer science fiction to sports facts, the adults who fix your computers in your home, but who wouldn't go near God's house. Have you ever wondered why?
I think it's us. Last year, I heard a Christian broadcaster talk about an email he had received. His program that day was to have been about male bonding, or something of that nature, and the email had suggested that the men who participate in Star Wars-related costuming might be interested in hearing what he had to say, because that was one reason they joined such groups. Evidently, the broadcaster had not understood the message's main point, because he proceeded to belittle reenactors, Star Wars and Star Trek reenactors in particular, concluding with a remark that the program would be about real male bonding (or whatever it was).
I pray that no member of the 501st Legion heard that. Those of you familiar with this galaxy's manifestation of the Galaxy Far, Far Away, know that the 501st is a society of costumed Star Wars reenactors, primarily stormtroopers, who are noted for their participation in charitable, benevolent activities. They are not maladjusted misfits living in their mother's basement, but professional men and women, who have real jobs, live in their own homes, with their own families (who often enjoy "trooping" with them). Some of the acts of sacrifice they have made for each other I have held up as examples to my Sunday School class. But, while they all know Obi-Wan Kenobi, a lot of them may not know Jesus Christ. And knowing Jesus is eternal life.*
Someone must have told that broadcaster as much, because I understand he later apologized. Still, the point remains: prejudice is still a barrier to making God's truth known, and God's love felt, to geeks, who are just as needy spiritually, as any tax collector, prostitute, or pharisee.
Joe Stowell, former president of Chicago's Moody Bible Institute, once addressed this issue in a lecture he gave on the story of the Prodigal Son.**He had used it to show how Christians need to see people who aren't like them (and who may be hostile to them) the way God sees them. They are His wandering children who need to come home. The next thing to do is to pray for them. Pray that they will pay attention when God speaks to them; that you, or someone they will listen to, have an opportunity to show God's love to them. Dressing up like stormtroopers, or speaking Klingon, or knowing the number of regenerations Doctor Who has had, may not mean anything to you, but it's important to them. Instead of ridiculing them, your time might e better spent finding out why those activities are valued. Geeks most often associate with other geeks, because they don't make fun of each other.
Perhaps showing respect is the most effective way to reach geeks. I'm reminded that the highlight of Dr. Stowell's lecture was an illustration from Star Wars: A New Hope. In it, a couple of droids, Artoo Detoo and his buddy, walk into a bar that is filled with "the weirdest, Weirdest, WEIRDEST – I can't tell you how weird they were" characters. As they come in, the bartender shouts that they don't serve "their kind"— and they're the only normal-looking things in the place.
Remember: that may be how your geek friends will feel when they visit your cantina —er, church.
========================
Notes:
* John 18:3
**My copy has no air date or product number, but it was broadcast on Moody Presents during the late 1980s or early 1990s.
Jesus loves the little children!
All the children of the world!
Red or Yellow, Black or White,
They are precious in His sight!
Jesus loves the little children of the world!
And I learned to care about the children (and the grown-ups) who didn't look like me. After all, the Apostle Paul had said "Where there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, Barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free: but Christ is all, and in all." (Colossians 3:11)
But there are people groups who do look like me, and whom Jesus does love, yet, from the reaction of other church-people , you'd hardly know it. I'm speaking of — and I use the term respectfully — The Geeks. The children who choose The Clone Wars over Veggie Tales, the teens who prefer science fiction to sports facts, the adults who fix your computers in your home, but who wouldn't go near God's house. Have you ever wondered why?
I think it's us. Last year, I heard a Christian broadcaster talk about an email he had received. His program that day was to have been about male bonding, or something of that nature, and the email had suggested that the men who participate in Star Wars-related costuming might be interested in hearing what he had to say, because that was one reason they joined such groups. Evidently, the broadcaster had not understood the message's main point, because he proceeded to belittle reenactors, Star Wars and Star Trek reenactors in particular, concluding with a remark that the program would be about real male bonding (or whatever it was).
I pray that no member of the 501st Legion heard that. Those of you familiar with this galaxy's manifestation of the Galaxy Far, Far Away, know that the 501st is a society of costumed Star Wars reenactors, primarily stormtroopers, who are noted for their participation in charitable, benevolent activities. They are not maladjusted misfits living in their mother's basement, but professional men and women, who have real jobs, live in their own homes, with their own families (who often enjoy "trooping" with them). Some of the acts of sacrifice they have made for each other I have held up as examples to my Sunday School class. But, while they all know Obi-Wan Kenobi, a lot of them may not know Jesus Christ. And knowing Jesus is eternal life.*
Someone must have told that broadcaster as much, because I understand he later apologized. Still, the point remains: prejudice is still a barrier to making God's truth known, and God's love felt, to geeks, who are just as needy spiritually, as any tax collector, prostitute, or pharisee.
Joe Stowell, former president of Chicago's Moody Bible Institute, once addressed this issue in a lecture he gave on the story of the Prodigal Son.**He had used it to show how Christians need to see people who aren't like them (and who may be hostile to them) the way God sees them. They are His wandering children who need to come home. The next thing to do is to pray for them. Pray that they will pay attention when God speaks to them; that you, or someone they will listen to, have an opportunity to show God's love to them. Dressing up like stormtroopers, or speaking Klingon, or knowing the number of regenerations Doctor Who has had, may not mean anything to you, but it's important to them. Instead of ridiculing them, your time might e better spent finding out why those activities are valued. Geeks most often associate with other geeks, because they don't make fun of each other.
Perhaps showing respect is the most effective way to reach geeks. I'm reminded that the highlight of Dr. Stowell's lecture was an illustration from Star Wars: A New Hope. In it, a couple of droids, Artoo Detoo and his buddy, walk into a bar that is filled with "the weirdest, Weirdest, WEIRDEST – I can't tell you how weird they were" characters. As they come in, the bartender shouts that they don't serve "their kind"— and they're the only normal-looking things in the place.
Remember: that may be how your geek friends will feel when they visit your cantina —er, church.
========================
Notes:
* John 18:3
**My copy has no air date or product number, but it was broadcast on Moody Presents during the late 1980s or early 1990s.
Friday, January 20, 2012
All Paths Lead to Christ – and I’ll Show You How
All the streets in my town lead to Chicago. Yes, it’s true: you can take any street and get to Chicago. For instance, you can even get to Chicago by going West on Oak Street. Now, Chicago is in the opposite direction, but people are using that route all the time. . . because they recognized that, in order to get to Chicago, they need to get OFF of Oak Street at Orchard Road, and turn Left. Then, they recognize that, in order to get to Chicago, they have to get off of Orchard Road at I-88, at the eastbound on-ramp. And it all started by going the wrong way on the wrong street.
Of course, the route is no secret: Oak Street has a number of signs directing drivers to the tollway, but if a driver ignores the signs, there’s no telling where that driver will end up. Wherever it is, though, it won’t be Chicago.
One of the cants of non-scripture-based churches is that all faiths lead to heaven. In a way, they’re right, but not the way they think. Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life, through Whom, all can come to the Father (John 14:6), but from what I’ve observed, every faith has at least one signpost, so to speak, that points its adherents toward Jesus, if they recognize it. When field workers who help Native Americans have visited the church, they have mentioned how a lot of the tribal religion is consistent with what God has revealed about Himself. When the field workers from Southeast Asia visited, they have commented on how much of Islam is similar to Christian belief. As a matter of fact, some of the teachings urge Muslims to read the writings of Moses and Issa (Jesus). BUT! It’s the parts of those faiths that are inconsistent with the revealed nature of The Maker of All Things (John 1:3) that are keeping them on the wrong road, and end up leaving them lost. Like those field workers do, when we know the route, we need to point out those signs.
A number of years ago, I heard an Unshackled episode (broadcast #2518, from March 21, 1999, I believe) about a Tibetan monk who ran across a prayer: "Lead me from darkness to light, from untruth to truth, from death to life." The search for what it meant led him to another injunction about conversion, and to writings of Buddha that pointed to a resurrected savior. No one could explain the words to him, until he met a cobbler in India. Gradually, the cobbler helped him recognize the fulfillment of those words in the words in the Bible. The monk recognized the signposts in the teachings of Buddha, but they only made sense in the person of Jesus Christ.
As that monk had learned from his earliest days, "he who seeks truth correctly will find truth correctly." If you truly want to know God – and that, after all, is eternal life (John 17:3) – you'll recognize the signs He's posted that show the way. And – nothing against Chicago – He's a grander destination!
Of course, the route is no secret: Oak Street has a number of signs directing drivers to the tollway, but if a driver ignores the signs, there’s no telling where that driver will end up. Wherever it is, though, it won’t be Chicago.
One of the cants of non-scripture-based churches is that all faiths lead to heaven. In a way, they’re right, but not the way they think. Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life, through Whom, all can come to the Father (John 14:6), but from what I’ve observed, every faith has at least one signpost, so to speak, that points its adherents toward Jesus, if they recognize it. When field workers who help Native Americans have visited the church, they have mentioned how a lot of the tribal religion is consistent with what God has revealed about Himself. When the field workers from Southeast Asia visited, they have commented on how much of Islam is similar to Christian belief. As a matter of fact, some of the teachings urge Muslims to read the writings of Moses and Issa (Jesus). BUT! It’s the parts of those faiths that are inconsistent with the revealed nature of The Maker of All Things (John 1:3) that are keeping them on the wrong road, and end up leaving them lost. Like those field workers do, when we know the route, we need to point out those signs.
A number of years ago, I heard an Unshackled episode (broadcast #2518, from March 21, 1999, I believe) about a Tibetan monk who ran across a prayer: "Lead me from darkness to light, from untruth to truth, from death to life." The search for what it meant led him to another injunction about conversion, and to writings of Buddha that pointed to a resurrected savior. No one could explain the words to him, until he met a cobbler in India. Gradually, the cobbler helped him recognize the fulfillment of those words in the words in the Bible. The monk recognized the signposts in the teachings of Buddha, but they only made sense in the person of Jesus Christ.
As that monk had learned from his earliest days, "he who seeks truth correctly will find truth correctly." If you truly want to know God – and that, after all, is eternal life (John 17:3) – you'll recognize the signs He's posted that show the way. And – nothing against Chicago – He's a grander destination!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Thoughts on the Bethlehem Star
About ten years ago, for some reason, I got to thinking about the star the wise men of the East would have identified as signifying the birth of the King of the Jews. It struck me as being odd that something as spectacular as it must have been didn’t get more coverage in the historical record. But, then again, the wise me were astrologers, not just smart fellows who admired the stars. Astrologers don’t watch for cosmic marvels: they watch for astral movement that most of us don’t pay any attention to. What if the star they were following was one only an astrologer would notice? And what if they followed it, not by dead reckoning, but by observing its movements, doing whatever calculations an astrologer does, and figuring out where to go from the results? It would sure spoil a lot of thrilling Christmas illustrations, but it did seem plausible.
Was I surprised when, a couple of weeks later, an article appeared in New Scientist Magazine1, suggesting the same thing. According to the article*, Michael Molnar, an astronomer formerly associated with Rutgers University, had discovered a reference to the star in a 4th-century manuscript written by the Roman astrologer Firmicus Maternus. Evidently, he described an astrological event involving an eclipse of Jupiter by the Moon in Aries in 6 B.C., and said that it signified the birth of a divine king. Apparently, the early Christians were aware of the celestial event, but didn’t advertise it, in order to avoid the appearance of approving of astrology. The theory hasn’t had much promotion, but scholars quoted in the article think it has merit.
Regardless of the circumstances, though, the story of the wise men is a great illustration of how God reveals Himself to people who wouldn’t ordinarily go looking for Him. The rabbis advising King Herod knew the Hebrew scriptures well enough to tell him the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem (Micah 5:2 and Matthew 2:6), but God didn’t require the wise men to have such background. God got their attention through what they did know: the stars. They still had to act upon their revelation (they still had to go look for that King the star indicated), but they didn’t have to change their studies in order to receive that revelation. And so it is even today, for us wise men and women. We’ll still have to follow up, but, if we really want to know God, He’ll point us in the right direction, using stars that may mean nothing to anyone but us.
I hope you'll see, and recognize, God's hand in your life today!
*Chown, Marcus. Early Christians hid the origins of the Bethlehem star : New Scientist [Web Page]. December 21, 2001; Accessed 12-7-2011. Available at:
http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn1713-early-christians-hid-the-origins-of-the-bethlehem-star.html
Was I surprised when, a couple of weeks later, an article appeared in New Scientist Magazine1, suggesting the same thing. According to the article*, Michael Molnar, an astronomer formerly associated with Rutgers University, had discovered a reference to the star in a 4th-century manuscript written by the Roman astrologer Firmicus Maternus. Evidently, he described an astrological event involving an eclipse of Jupiter by the Moon in Aries in 6 B.C., and said that it signified the birth of a divine king. Apparently, the early Christians were aware of the celestial event, but didn’t advertise it, in order to avoid the appearance of approving of astrology. The theory hasn’t had much promotion, but scholars quoted in the article think it has merit.
Regardless of the circumstances, though, the story of the wise men is a great illustration of how God reveals Himself to people who wouldn’t ordinarily go looking for Him. The rabbis advising King Herod knew the Hebrew scriptures well enough to tell him the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem (Micah 5:2 and Matthew 2:6), but God didn’t require the wise men to have such background. God got their attention through what they did know: the stars. They still had to act upon their revelation (they still had to go look for that King the star indicated), but they didn’t have to change their studies in order to receive that revelation. And so it is even today, for us wise men and women. We’ll still have to follow up, but, if we really want to know God, He’ll point us in the right direction, using stars that may mean nothing to anyone but us.
I hope you'll see, and recognize, God's hand in your life today!
*Chown, Marcus. Early Christians hid the origins of the Bethlehem star : New Scientist [Web Page]. December 21, 2001; Accessed 12-7-2011. Available at:
http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn1713-early-christians-hid-the-origins-of-the-bethlehem-star.html
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
December and the Birth of Jesus
It was while I was in third grade, I think, that I first heard the idea that Jesus Christ wasn’t born in December. The reasoning was that, in December, the shepherds wouldn’t have been in the fields with the sheep. Besides, the tribes in Europe all had festivals that fell at the end of the year, and the early missionaries tied a celebration of the birth of Jesus to those festivals to make Christianity more appealing to them. I never gave it much thought: after all – December, September, or April – the important thing was that He was born.
A couple of years ago, though, I got to thinking about the early Church and those early missionaries, and realized that the idea of their adapting the tribal festivals did them a great disservice. At that time, the Christians were still being persecuted, they were still convinced of the truth of their faith, and were not so spiritually pusillanimous to compromise with the pagans. The early Church must have had some good reason for giving a December date to the birth of Jesus.
It turns out, the answer comes from the Gospel of Luke. Let’s look at the chronology of events in the first two chapters.
In Chapter 1, Zacharias (the soon-to-be father of John the Baptist) is taking his turn to work at the Temple. He is selected to enter the Temple and burn incense, while the congregation prays outside. The fact that he is entering alone (v. 21), while the congregation prays outside (v. 10), has led some commentators to believe that he must have been entering the Holy of Holies on the Day of Atonement (see the sixteenth chapter of Leviticus, verse 17 in particular). The Day of Atonement takes place around the end of September or beginning of October. In 2003, for instance, it was October 6, with Rosh Hashanah (the New Year) coming about a week before (September 27).
While Zacharias is there, an angel appears and tells him that he and his wife Elizabeth are going to have a son. After a little unpleasantness, he goes home, and before long, Elizabeth is pregnant. Judging from the story of the birth of Samuel (1 Samuel 1:19-20) and of Isaac (Genesis 18:14), when an angel states one will have a child, he means now. So John the Baptist would have been conceived about the end of September/beginning of October.
The narrative then turns to Mary. In the sixth month, an angel tells her that she will bear a son, and that her cousin Elizabeth is six months pregnant. If the months are counted from Rosh Hashanah, and if Zacharias received his annunciation on the Day of Atonement, this Annunciation would have taken place about March. She goes to visit Elizabeth, who recognizes that Mary is carrying Jesus*. Human reproduction being what it is, nine months later, she would have given birth. Nine months from March is December.
Now, this isn’t to say that Jesus wasn’t born in September or April, and I don’t know why the shepherds might have been in the fields in cold weather, either. (Well, yes I do know: if the town is full of tax collectors, and if flocks are considered as wealth, it would make sense for people to hide their assets out of town. But be that as it may.) But we can see that, when the early Church set Jesus’s birth at the end of December, it wouldn’t have been as a concession to the pagans they were trying to reach, but because they had reason to believe it was true. Happily, it appears to be much easier to put a date on the Resurrection.
(*Incidentally, this part of the story (Luke 1:39-44), also makes a pretty good argument for when life begins. It says Mary left "with haste" to see Elizabeth, and when she arrived, Elizabeth exclaims that blessed is the fruit of her womb. Mary couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks pregnant, yet the fetus is recognized as being Elizabeth’s "Lord".)
A couple of years ago, though, I got to thinking about the early Church and those early missionaries, and realized that the idea of their adapting the tribal festivals did them a great disservice. At that time, the Christians were still being persecuted, they were still convinced of the truth of their faith, and were not so spiritually pusillanimous to compromise with the pagans. The early Church must have had some good reason for giving a December date to the birth of Jesus.
It turns out, the answer comes from the Gospel of Luke. Let’s look at the chronology of events in the first two chapters.
In Chapter 1, Zacharias (the soon-to-be father of John the Baptist) is taking his turn to work at the Temple. He is selected to enter the Temple and burn incense, while the congregation prays outside. The fact that he is entering alone (v. 21), while the congregation prays outside (v. 10), has led some commentators to believe that he must have been entering the Holy of Holies on the Day of Atonement (see the sixteenth chapter of Leviticus, verse 17 in particular). The Day of Atonement takes place around the end of September or beginning of October. In 2003, for instance, it was October 6, with Rosh Hashanah (the New Year) coming about a week before (September 27).
While Zacharias is there, an angel appears and tells him that he and his wife Elizabeth are going to have a son. After a little unpleasantness, he goes home, and before long, Elizabeth is pregnant. Judging from the story of the birth of Samuel (1 Samuel 1:19-20) and of Isaac (Genesis 18:14), when an angel states one will have a child, he means now. So John the Baptist would have been conceived about the end of September/beginning of October.
The narrative then turns to Mary. In the sixth month, an angel tells her that she will bear a son, and that her cousin Elizabeth is six months pregnant. If the months are counted from Rosh Hashanah, and if Zacharias received his annunciation on the Day of Atonement, this Annunciation would have taken place about March. She goes to visit Elizabeth, who recognizes that Mary is carrying Jesus*. Human reproduction being what it is, nine months later, she would have given birth. Nine months from March is December.
Now, this isn’t to say that Jesus wasn’t born in September or April, and I don’t know why the shepherds might have been in the fields in cold weather, either. (Well, yes I do know: if the town is full of tax collectors, and if flocks are considered as wealth, it would make sense for people to hide their assets out of town. But be that as it may.) But we can see that, when the early Church set Jesus’s birth at the end of December, it wouldn’t have been as a concession to the pagans they were trying to reach, but because they had reason to believe it was true. Happily, it appears to be much easier to put a date on the Resurrection.
(*Incidentally, this part of the story (Luke 1:39-44), also makes a pretty good argument for when life begins. It says Mary left "with haste" to see Elizabeth, and when she arrived, Elizabeth exclaims that blessed is the fruit of her womb. Mary couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks pregnant, yet the fetus is recognized as being Elizabeth’s "Lord".)
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
When the Legends Can't Die, the Dreams Never End. . .
At a recent press conference for some new Star Wars initiative, I heard one of the actors, one who has been associated with the movies since filming began in 1976, described as a "legend" In itself, this identification is not startling: he is frequently described as a legend elsewhere, and deserves the compliment. He has achieved, and helped in the achievement of, things that, if someone had predicted them in 1977, no one would have believed them possible. But this time, it occurred to me that "legend" is a past-tense word. A legend is something – admittedly, a marvelous something – that is remembered with reverence. A legend lives in memory, not in reality.
Recently, my family visited the Crazy Horse Memorial project in South Dakota ( www.crazyhorsememorial.org ) I call it a "project" because the sculpture – a mountain-sized image of Chief Crazy Horse – is still under construction. The sculptor for this incredible project, Korczak Ziolkowski, once said in an interview that part of what motivated him in his work was something a wise Indian had said: "When the legends die, the dreams end. And when the dreams end, there is no more greatness."† Part of what Korczak wanted to do through this sculpture was to remind Native Americans, of all tribes, of the brave men who had gone before them; to inspire them to their own excellence.
Remind and Remember.
A legend must live in memory, it must move in imagination. When the memory fails, imagination become barren, and deeds become feral. Some may believe legends are fictions; some legends may be. But in order to live and inspire, legends must flourish in our memory.
A few years ago, when the Star Wars in Concert tour visited in Chicago, I recall having seen pictures of some of the production memorabilia that had been on display. One of the items was the Threepio costume. It looked as splendid as ever in its showcase, but, seeing it there, lifeless but beautiful, reminded me of Snow White in her glass casket. Only, for him, it hit me, no charming princess or friendly Artoo unit would ever awaken him – because he never really existed . That empty costume was a reminder that Threepio was nothing more than a make-believe character of fiction, with no real existence beyond fiction. And that thought was worse than seeing him dead.
My thought turned to the man who has played him so well for so long, not without uneasiness. So much of Threepio has become entwined with that man. Each of his performances is a delight, and it will be a sad day when he decides he can no longer play the role. But, as a mortal man, that day must come – as it must to all of us. Will someone else be able to assume the character, or will the costume in the glass casket remain forever still, much as the Kuklapolitan Players never performed again after Burr Tillstrom died?‡
When the dreams end, there is no more greatness
But then I saw my mistake, and the mistake of so many others, who would call the actor who plays Threepio a legend. That actor's life is remarkable, with many inspiring elements, but he isn't the legend: Threepio is. What has made him a legend is not the durability of the character, but the character of the character. He represents that spirit of civility in a chaotic world; he is that fictional upright Everyman, trying to bring real order out of obvious anarchy. He is Chesterton's "greenhorn."§ Because he isn't real, he cannot die; because he is a creature of imagination, he is at home in the world of memory. He is the living legend, living in the minds of those who honor all he stands for. He is the legend that can not die, the dream that need not end. And those who follow the example of his finest qualities do achieve real greatness.
---------------------
†It is possibly a paraphrase of a Shawnee proverb, or a quotation of the Shawnee leader Tecumseh. http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Tecumseh
‡Although the article – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burr_Tillstrom – does not mention it, Burr Tillstrom's puppets, at his request, have been fitted with stands that prevent anyone else from ever putting their hands in them again.
§Chesterton, G.K.. The Fairy Pickwick. http://www.archive.org/details/thoughts00chesuoft – search for the word "Greenhorn."
The key portion says:
"Pickwick goes through life with that godlike gulli- bility which is the key to all adventures. The green- horn is the ultimate victor in everything; it is he that gets the most out of life. Because Pickwick is led away by J ingle, he will be led to the White Hart Inn, and see the only Weller cleaning boots in the courtyard. Because he is bamboozled by Dodson and Fogg, he will enter the prison house like a paladin, and rescue the man and the woman who have wronged him most. His soul will never starve for exploits or excitements who is wise enough to be made a fool of. He will make himself happy in the traps that have been laid for him; he will roll in their nets and sleep. All doors will fly open to him who has a mildness more defiant than mere courage. The whole is unerringly expressed in one fortunate phrase-he will be always 'taken in. J To be taken in everywhere is to see the inside of every- thing. It is the hospitality of circwnstance. With torches and trumpets, like a guest, the greenhorn is taken in by Life. And the sceptic is cast out by it."
Recently, my family visited the Crazy Horse Memorial project in South Dakota ( www.crazyhorsememorial.org ) I call it a "project" because the sculpture – a mountain-sized image of Chief Crazy Horse – is still under construction. The sculptor for this incredible project, Korczak Ziolkowski, once said in an interview that part of what motivated him in his work was something a wise Indian had said: "When the legends die, the dreams end. And when the dreams end, there is no more greatness."† Part of what Korczak wanted to do through this sculpture was to remind Native Americans, of all tribes, of the brave men who had gone before them; to inspire them to their own excellence.
Remind and Remember.
A legend must live in memory, it must move in imagination. When the memory fails, imagination become barren, and deeds become feral. Some may believe legends are fictions; some legends may be. But in order to live and inspire, legends must flourish in our memory.
A few years ago, when the Star Wars in Concert tour visited in Chicago, I recall having seen pictures of some of the production memorabilia that had been on display. One of the items was the Threepio costume. It looked as splendid as ever in its showcase, but, seeing it there, lifeless but beautiful, reminded me of Snow White in her glass casket. Only, for him, it hit me, no charming princess or friendly Artoo unit would ever awaken him – because he never really existed . That empty costume was a reminder that Threepio was nothing more than a make-believe character of fiction, with no real existence beyond fiction. And that thought was worse than seeing him dead.
My thought turned to the man who has played him so well for so long, not without uneasiness. So much of Threepio has become entwined with that man. Each of his performances is a delight, and it will be a sad day when he decides he can no longer play the role. But, as a mortal man, that day must come – as it must to all of us. Will someone else be able to assume the character, or will the costume in the glass casket remain forever still, much as the Kuklapolitan Players never performed again after Burr Tillstrom died?‡
When the dreams end, there is no more greatness
But then I saw my mistake, and the mistake of so many others, who would call the actor who plays Threepio a legend. That actor's life is remarkable, with many inspiring elements, but he isn't the legend: Threepio is. What has made him a legend is not the durability of the character, but the character of the character. He represents that spirit of civility in a chaotic world; he is that fictional upright Everyman, trying to bring real order out of obvious anarchy. He is Chesterton's "greenhorn."§ Because he isn't real, he cannot die; because he is a creature of imagination, he is at home in the world of memory. He is the living legend, living in the minds of those who honor all he stands for. He is the legend that can not die, the dream that need not end. And those who follow the example of his finest qualities do achieve real greatness.
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†It is possibly a paraphrase of a Shawnee proverb, or a quotation of the Shawnee leader Tecumseh. http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Tecumseh
‡Although the article – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burr_Tillstrom – does not mention it, Burr Tillstrom's puppets, at his request, have been fitted with stands that prevent anyone else from ever putting their hands in them again.
§Chesterton, G.K.. The Fairy Pickwick. http://www.archive.org/details/thoughts00chesuoft – search for the word "Greenhorn."
The key portion says:
"Pickwick goes through life with that godlike gulli- bility which is the key to all adventures. The green- horn is the ultimate victor in everything; it is he that gets the most out of life. Because Pickwick is led away by J ingle, he will be led to the White Hart Inn, and see the only Weller cleaning boots in the courtyard. Because he is bamboozled by Dodson and Fogg, he will enter the prison house like a paladin, and rescue the man and the woman who have wronged him most. His soul will never starve for exploits or excitements who is wise enough to be made a fool of. He will make himself happy in the traps that have been laid for him; he will roll in their nets and sleep. All doors will fly open to him who has a mildness more defiant than mere courage. The whole is unerringly expressed in one fortunate phrase-he will be always 'taken in. J To be taken in everywhere is to see the inside of every- thing. It is the hospitality of circwnstance. With torches and trumpets, like a guest, the greenhorn is taken in by Life. And the sceptic is cast out by it."
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Yoda's Theme, Circa 1942
Sometimes, while sitting in the pew, my mind does wander. Have you ever noticed that music is frequently more than background prettiness Sometimes it can manipulate emotions. Smooth jazz, for instance, has always sounded to me as if it were transcribed emotion rather than melody. Some of Palestrina's compositions resonate so with a listener that, instead of feeling his emotions change with the music, he can feel the music itself changing his emotions Listen sometime to the music used at memorial services: the finest compositions will match the feelings of the listener, support the feeling, and, essentially, carry the weight of the hearer's grief. In short, music has meaning beyond reason. Certain melodies will convey certain feelings or abstract ideas, regardless of where they are placed. For instance, if one listens closely to the defiant sneer of John Williams' Imperial March, from the score for the film The Empire Strikes Back, he would detect transpositions of that venerable childhood taunt "Nyah Nyah Na-Na-Nyah!"
One reason my thoughts have wandered to the music of Star Wars is because, along with the (at this time) upcoming Blu-Ray release of the films of the saga, some unreleased material, and new interviews, are to be included. One leaked interview has featured composer John Williams talking about
Yoda's theme. In that clip, he describes the melody as reflecting the dignity and simplicity of true wisdom. ( http://www.play.com/Campaign.html?campaign=9190&cid=2024469 )
While I've always liked Yoda's theme, I've never thought it fit the character. The tune is entirely too domestic for so mystic a presence. In fact, the first time I heard the composition apart from the film, the picture it conjured in my mind was of Luke Skywalker and some girl drifting in a boat on a lake. Luke's imagination also drifts to a vision of the future: of himself cheerfully working around a comfortable homestead. During the second strain, he sees the droids and a couple of children doing their part. Finally, we see the girl, now a contented mother and homemaker of this happy family The vision gradually fades, and the scene returns to the couple tranquilly floating on the lake. Perhaps it's a silly fancy, but it's what I heard in that music.
But Williams is partially right. Originally, the passage we now recognize as Yoda's Theme did speak of dignity and wisdom, but, above all, it conveyed a sense of fulfillment. It had first appeared thirty-eight years earlier in the 1942 Columbia film Talk of the Town http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0035417/ (Directed by George Stevens, Score by Fredrich Hollander http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0006130/ ) To digress, the film is one that every lover of liberty should see: it follows the jail break of an independent freedom-lover (Cary Grant) who was framed for arson and murder. The story shows how sometimes the letter of misused law must be broken in order to vindicate the spirit of the True Law. Anyway, one of the characters who helps exonerate Grant's character is the dean of a prestigious law school, who was unexpectedly in town at the time. About 41 minutes into the film, the dean (Ronald Colman) learns that he has been nominated for a seat on the U.S. Supreme Court. ( http://youtu.be/PIOWxTuLmpY ) This Supreme Court theme is the opening phrase of Yoda's theme. Throughout the film, we hear it change key and pitch, but the phrase remains plainly recognizable. Occasionally, it has been whispered that John Williams sometimes works the music of other composers into his own. It's possible John Williams was unaware of this unattributed musical quotation, but considering how famous The Talk of the Town is, I would be greatly surprised if he had not heard it.
But this could hardly be called plaigarism. He took what was probably a five-measure phrase and wove it into a whole tone poem; much as a writer can take a quotation and make it into an essay. Who remembered that little old musical theme with possibilities; and who now doesn't know Yoda's Theme? In a sense, Williams rescued that melody from oblivion. Williams' acknowledgment may not be considered scholarly, but this melody, certainly, should be grateful that it has been immortalized as an important parts of Star Wars.
The choice of that phrase, philosophically, was brilliantly appropriate; not because it spoke of wisdom, but of completion. As one watches The Talk of the Town, it becomes obvious that the appointment of Colman's Professor Lightcap to the Supreme Court was the fulfillment of his heart's desire, just as Luke's studies under Yoda were apparently the fulfillment of his destiny. And, to my own amazement, I realized even my impression of Luke's domestic dream was also one of fulfillment. It intrigued me that John Williams could have been so right about the choice of music, yet not recognize the obvious reason why.
One reason my thoughts have wandered to the music of Star Wars is because, along with the (at this time) upcoming Blu-Ray release of the films of the saga, some unreleased material, and new interviews, are to be included. One leaked interview has featured composer John Williams talking about
Yoda's theme. In that clip, he describes the melody as reflecting the dignity and simplicity of true wisdom. ( http://www.play.com/Campaign.html?campaign=9190&cid=2024469 )
While I've always liked Yoda's theme, I've never thought it fit the character. The tune is entirely too domestic for so mystic a presence. In fact, the first time I heard the composition apart from the film, the picture it conjured in my mind was of Luke Skywalker and some girl drifting in a boat on a lake. Luke's imagination also drifts to a vision of the future: of himself cheerfully working around a comfortable homestead. During the second strain, he sees the droids and a couple of children doing their part. Finally, we see the girl, now a contented mother and homemaker of this happy family The vision gradually fades, and the scene returns to the couple tranquilly floating on the lake. Perhaps it's a silly fancy, but it's what I heard in that music.
But Williams is partially right. Originally, the passage we now recognize as Yoda's Theme did speak of dignity and wisdom, but, above all, it conveyed a sense of fulfillment. It had first appeared thirty-eight years earlier in the 1942 Columbia film Talk of the Town http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0035417/ (Directed by George Stevens, Score by Fredrich Hollander http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0006130/ ) To digress, the film is one that every lover of liberty should see: it follows the jail break of an independent freedom-lover (Cary Grant) who was framed for arson and murder. The story shows how sometimes the letter of misused law must be broken in order to vindicate the spirit of the True Law. Anyway, one of the characters who helps exonerate Grant's character is the dean of a prestigious law school, who was unexpectedly in town at the time. About 41 minutes into the film, the dean (Ronald Colman) learns that he has been nominated for a seat on the U.S. Supreme Court. ( http://youtu.be/PIOWxTuLmpY ) This Supreme Court theme is the opening phrase of Yoda's theme. Throughout the film, we hear it change key and pitch, but the phrase remains plainly recognizable. Occasionally, it has been whispered that John Williams sometimes works the music of other composers into his own. It's possible John Williams was unaware of this unattributed musical quotation, but considering how famous The Talk of the Town is, I would be greatly surprised if he had not heard it.
But this could hardly be called plaigarism. He took what was probably a five-measure phrase and wove it into a whole tone poem; much as a writer can take a quotation and make it into an essay. Who remembered that little old musical theme with possibilities; and who now doesn't know Yoda's Theme? In a sense, Williams rescued that melody from oblivion. Williams' acknowledgment may not be considered scholarly, but this melody, certainly, should be grateful that it has been immortalized as an important parts of Star Wars.
The choice of that phrase, philosophically, was brilliantly appropriate; not because it spoke of wisdom, but of completion. As one watches The Talk of the Town, it becomes obvious that the appointment of Colman's Professor Lightcap to the Supreme Court was the fulfillment of his heart's desire, just as Luke's studies under Yoda were apparently the fulfillment of his destiny. And, to my own amazement, I realized even my impression of Luke's domestic dream was also one of fulfillment. It intrigued me that John Williams could have been so right about the choice of music, yet not recognize the obvious reason why.
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