Piles of Good

Beauty is out there, waiting to be found.

Image from polyvore.com

Sometimes, it's hard to look at the world and find anything but darkness. The news is one uninterrupted stream of tragedy and frustration, leading some to believe that this world is beyond saving. When children are shot and stabbed at school and national heroes fall from grace, it is so terribly simple to slip into negativity and cynicism. In moments of pain and despair, fighting the good fight seems both useless and futile. That's when Doctor Who shines the brightest, with its almost petulant stand for optimism against the backdrop of a jaded world. It never, for one instant, lets you give up on hope. It always reminds you that good exists and is worth fighting for.

Good things and bad things.

The following scene is from series 5's "Vincent and the Doctor." In this episode, Eleven and Amy have an adventure with Vincent Van Gogh in the final months of his life. We see just how much Vincent struggles with depressive episodes as well as feelings of worthlessness and alienation. Amy is particularly moved to help him, somehow, as he is her favorite artist; she hurts to see him so distraught. She and the Doctor manage to give him joy and purpose as they battle a monster together, and finally (SPOILERS) they take him to the future to show him just how beloved a painter he becomes. Vincent is overwhelmed and starts to cry, and they drop him off in 19th century Paris, leaving him encouraged and energized about life. Amy wants to go back to the museum to see if their interaction with him has resulted in new paintings, but when they arrive, she learns Vincent killed himself anyway without painting anything else after they left. She laments that they didn't make a difference at all. The dialogue that follows is simply beautiful:

I love every bit about this clip. I'll break it down line by line.

"Every life is a pile of good things and bad things."

This is so true - experientially and biblically. No one makes it out of this world without tasting the bitterness of sin's effects and the sweetness of the gift of living. No one is promised only good (see my favorite verse, John 16:33), and no one receives only bad (Matthew 7:9-11). Really, it's how the individual chooses to see and act toward each experience, each pile, that determines his outlook on life as a whole. The sum of an individual, ultimately, is how he allows each pile to affect him.

"The good things don't always soften the bad things."

I appreciate this remark, because through it Eleven validates the pain that comes with the bad things. Reading between the lines a bit, the Doctor is saying that bad things are, well, bad. They hurt. They affect you deeply and negatively. They have the capacity to steal your joy. In this line, he normalizes the sting of bad things without condemning the natural emotions that accompany them.

Why am I emphasizing this? Too often, people (Christians especially) have a mindset that you should never give into sadness or grief or even anger when life catapults unripe lemons at your face. As if you don't have a right to be upset when you lose your job, when a loved one dies, or you suffer from disease. As if keeping your chin up and always smiling is the only acceptable, "holy" reaction to life. This mentality frustrates me to no end. Yes, I agree that one shouldn't wallow in self-pity, but God gave us emotions and they are the truest things about us. When you have to bury a child, it is perfectly acceptable to be heartbroken and angry. Why? Because it's a bad thing!

Nowhere in the Bible does it say that followers of God aren't allowed to have negative emotions. In fact, Ecclesiastes says, in chapter 3, that there is an appropriate time to mourn. Telling someone who is suffering that he or she must be happy is both insensitive and wrong. Spiritualizing it doesn't help, either. Romans 12:15 says to "mourn with those who mourn," not to correct the attitude of those who mourn. Empathy, or at least sympathy, goes a long way, and I wish more Christians would exercise it. But I'll get off my counseling philosophy soapbox, now.

"The bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things..."

Preach it, Doctor! When a dump truck unloads on the bad things pile, it is so easy to forget that another pile exists. But the thing about piles is that they're plural; there are two distinct heaps. Bad things go in the bad things pile - they don't ooze over to the good things and dissolve them like acid. At the end of the day, each life will have two piles, and it's not the size that matters. It's the quality.

At this point in the episode, Amy is looking at the bad pile and has her back to the good. But the Doctor, like the great friend he is, gently reminds her that it's there. He says yes, I see the same bad pile as you do, Amelia Pond, and I'm upset about it, too. But it doesn't diminish the good pile. Don't despair too much or you'll miss it.

The key thing the Doctor does is remind her gently. She's in a fragile state, so he embraces her, validates her pain and sweetly but firmly tells her the truth. Fortunately, she is ready to hear it. Unfortunately, that's not always the case. But it doesn't mean we hold back; it merely means we try to understand where the other person is and meet them there with as much grace, love, tenderness, empathy and truth as we can muster.

"...or make them unimportant."

Here, the Doctor reminds us that, while striving to make a positive difference doesn't always end the way we want, the fight itself is never futile or worthless. The fight itself is good. It's hard and definitely painful, but it is good.

At the end of his life, the apostle Paul was writing to his protege and child in the faith, Timothy. Paul was under house arrest, ill and abandoned by all except for the faithful physician, Luke. The life he lived was full of suffering (imagine being beaten, whipped, left for dead and shipwrecked multiple times, all for a "crazy, heretical" belief and then, as a reward at the end of your days, stuck in prison and awaiting sentencing from Rome). In all that, Paul's final words to Timothy are of encouragement and conviction. On the topic of his impending death, Paul writes, "But you, be sober in all things, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry. For I am being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day; and not only to me, but also to all who have loved his appearing." (2 Timothy 4:5-8, NASB)

Finishing your days of preaching the gospel in the confines of your own home may seem like a failure, but Paul shows no signs of allowing the bad things to invalidate the good things he's experienced. I see a measure of healthy pride in his self-reflection - not that he's bragging about how faithful he's been, but that he's pleased with the steps he has taken in his life and isn't allowing his current circumstances to counterbalance or spoil that. Paul's fight was long and strenuous and difficult and sad, but in spite of everything that befell him, he looked back on it all and called it good. Would that we do the same in our own lives.

"We definitely added to his pile of good things."

The Doctor brings it home for Amy and claims the victory. She wanted to make a difference in Vincent's life, and Eleven says she did, by adding to his good things pile. I think that's beautiful in its simplicity. Humans are funny in that we have so much and so little power. We can tear down and build up others with words and deeds, but our contributions are so fleeting and limited in comparison with the true, omnipotent power of God. Really, the best we can possibly be is pitiful in comparison with the majesty that God is and what he can do. It's humbling, but it's also uplifting to think that even our small contributions to life on this planet matter. We just need to invest in what counts - loving others and adding to their pile of good things.

Where good things come from

Again, it's funny, but we can't even contribute the smallest bit of good to the pile without getting it from a source outside ourselves. James 1:17-18 says, "Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow. In the exercise of his will he brought us forth by the word of truth, so that we would be a kind of first fruits among his creatures." 

Since good comes from God and we as "Christ-bearers" (and remember that humans are unique in that we bear the image of God - Gen 1) are to reflect who he is to the world as ambassadors of his character, then we are to add to people's good piles. How? "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength." (Deut. 6:5, quoted in Luke 10) Why? "Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." (Luke 6:45). Basically, the state of your heart affects how you live, so loving God with all you have leads to loving others. That's why, when asked what the greatest commandment is, Jesus linked loving God with the Golden Rule. When you honor, respect, obey and submit to God, you find yourself treating others with a similar respect and honor and love. So adding good things to people's piles isn't about taking personal action, but about allowing the love of God to flow through you and into other people's hearts. You, then, are a conduit for love and good things, not the wellspring. 

Kinda nice. Less pressure, and we're certain of the quality.

Until next time! May you see the beauty that Vincent saw in the world.

Katya

Don't Blink

Image from weheartit

Also, sorry. "That which holds the image of an Angel becomes itself an Angel."

We're all doomed.

"Don't blink. Blink and you're dead. They're fast - faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away and don't blink. Good luck."

"Blink" is one of the seminal, timeless episodes of New Who that has the ability to turn ordinary geeks into Whovians. "Don't blink" is possibly the most famous catchphrase of any episode, and rightly so. The nefarious Steven Moffat did what he does best: took something we take for granted and turned it into a nightmare. (See "Mummy," shadows, cracks...) The reason the Weeping Angels are so frightening (other than being STATUES that MOVE and KILL YOU nicely) is that only those with incredible self-restraint and forewarning can avoid their deadly touch.

According to the most credible source of information online, Wikipedia, the average human blinks ten times a minute in laboratory settings, and the rate varies depending upon conditions of the eye. Blinking is involuntary and something we don't often notice, especially since it happens so quickly. So the notion that a psychopath can zap you into the past and let you live to death in the span of the time it takes you to blink...it explains why the Weeping Angels are one of the most beloved and feared monsters of the rebooted show. They're uniquely dangerous because they can ruin your life in one instant of seemingly innocuous, natural inattention.

If you think about it, this is a great picture of what can happen when we take our eyes off God:

"Therefore, since we also have such a large cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us set aside every weight and sin which so easily ensnares us. Let us run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before him endured a cross and despised the shame and sat down at the right hand of God's throne. For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, so that you won't grow weary and lose heart." Hebrews 12:1-3 (HCSB).

"The eyes are not the windows of the soul. They are the doors."

The above quote is one of my favorites spoken by the Eleventh Doctor in "Time of Angels" because it's essentially a cooler, more ominous version of "be careful little eyes what you see." What your eyes soak in often manifests in your behavior, and if you aren't careful, it can change you for the worse. For example, if all a child knows is violence and anger in the home, his pattern of behavior toward others will probably follow the template with which he's familiar. That's why the Bible tells us over and over to keep our eyes on God and his commandments so that what we focus on will translate to our character and behavior.

And it's funny, because there really isn't anything else of even remotely similar value to set our sights on, anyway. The Bible says that God is more beautiful, wonderful, delightful and awe-inspiring than we can comprehend, yet we are content to turn our gazes to the ugly, vile, deformed and malicious. It's sad, truly sad, that we allow putrescence to step through the doors of our eyes, hearts and minds - willingly and unwillingly - in light of what we're giving up. Deuteronomy 4:24 says "the LORD your God is a jealous God," and can you blame him? What heartbreak he must experience every time we shove him out of the doorframe. "You're turning me away...for this? And you think it'll satisfy you more than the me? I know you perfectly and completely, and I love you perfectly and completely. Will he? Will that?"

The old hymn says "turn your eyes upon Jesus/look full in his wonderful face/and the things of earth will grow strangely dim/in the light of his glory and grace." Now, while the song's context is trusting Christ in times of trouble, I think the quoted refrain is true all the time. If you focus on the mud and muck of life, you will find yourself stuck there and miss life's beauty. If your ultimate perspective and gaze is on God and eternal truth, you will find yourself behaving in a way consistent with getting there.

Realtalk

I'm going to level with you: I've been doing a very bad job of this, lately. It's ironic, since I'm both a full-time seminary student and an employee at a church whose leaders are genuine and passionate followers of Christ. You would think that, being surrounded by the message of the gospel and the picture of Christianity practically 24/7, I would be enjoying the deepest and most fulfilling relationship with the Creator God I've ever had. My situation is evidence that being around truth doesn't mean you live it.

My problem? I have dry eyes. I blink a lot.

Have you ever tried to stare at something without blinking? (Like the angel at the top of this post? Don't worry, someone in cyberspace has to be watching it...) Your eyes require refreshment, and if you don't blink, they start to feel uncomfortable. If they don't get the nourishment they need, they will eventually be damaged.

In a way, I feel that I've been staring at something (theological stimulus in the form of schoolwork and church responsibilities) for so long that my eyes are dry. The answer, however, is not to blink. Blinking (shutting out, even briefly, the truths I'm learning and the relationships I'm building) is dangerous. Blinking can send me back in time and prevent the days I would have had. Or, to use a less nerdy and esoteric phrasing, set my walk with Christ back in its development, stunting it in a way - making me start over.

Blinking can take many forms. It can mean I ignore my daily prayer and devotional time (which I have). Or it can mean I devote an unhealthy amount of time and energy in other things like interests and relationships, making them more important to me than God is. (Done that, too.) Like physical blinking, my spiritual blinks result from my depriving myself of nourishment and are brief but repeated. The problem is that my eyes, like yours, get dry and I need to refresh them. Closing my eyes, looking away, is a natural reflex that I don't even notice I engage in. In a spiritual sense, it's the work of the flesh - something involuntary and essential to my being. It's natural for me to want to look away for a bit, to blink when I look at God. And that's the problem.

The solution

I wear contacts, and the one thing that never leaves my side is my contact solution. It's saline drops that refreshes my eyes when they're starved of natural airflow and nourishment due to the lens covering my pupil. Without my precious solution, I deal with irritable, dry eyes and my vision gets cloudy because my contacts aren't being washed properly by my natural tears. Blinking a lot never helps this situation, because I can't produce enough liquid in my tear ducts to do the job right. I need to infuse my eyes with external nourishment to see clearly, again.

Similarly, staring at Christ without doing anything gives me dry spiritual eyes. Blinking doesn't help. Taking action and actually walking with him provides the nourishment I need and is my spiritual contact solution. What does that look like, practically? For me, it means reading my Bible, spending time praying, journaling, singing/writing praise songs, participating in a community of believers, having quiet times of reflection and listening, and getting involved in the "work of the kingdom" as some like to put it (e.g. demonstrating Christian love via service, missions and encouragement of believers). Without this, I dry up. I blink. I stop progressing in my relationship with God and in fact set my relationship back, or at least let it stagnate.

Is spiritual nourishment easy? Of course not. We're fighting the powerful and natural tendency to blink. But it's worth it, especially when the alternative is so dangerous. Paul talks about this in Romans:

"For although they knew God, they neither glorified him nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, the became fools, and exchanged the glory of immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals and reptiles. Therefore, God gave them over to in the sinful desires of their hearts to  sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another. They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshipped and served created things rather than the Creator who is forever praised. Amen." (Romans 1:21-25, NIV)

"Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice - this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the power of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - his good, pleasing and perfect will." (Romans 12:1-2, NIV)

Conforming to the world is blinking, and finally looking away from God. But looking away means we can only look to ourselves, and we are deeply depraved. Looking away means we accept the Weeping Angel's touch, and all we could have been in Christ goes away in an instant. So don't blink. Nourish yourself and stay brave.

Caveat

My analogy is not watertight or perfectly consistent, namely because the person from whom we shouldn't look away isn't a psychopathic killer, but rather the holy and loving Creator God. (Although, there is an element of healthy fear I think is appropriate and makes the correlation stronger. The fear of God is another blog post topic, however.) In addition, the wonderful thing about our spiritual blinks is that we can get back to where we belong, by God's incredible mercy and grace. While this is true, we don't know where we could have been had we not looked away, which is where the emphasis of my point lies.

We don't deserve second and third and umpteenth chances when we do stray, but God gives them anyway. My point with the blinking analogy is to say that even little lapses in keeping our eyes on the author and perfecter of our faith is more dangerous and damaging than we think. They are also hard for us to notice, since it's a reflex of being human to strive for independence and self-sufficiency. Fighting those impulses is the struggle we have every second of every day, and something only the Holy Spirit can help us overcome.

Until next time! May your statues remain stone.
Katya

When a Good Man Goes to War

Pic from Doctor Who tumblr.

Sorry for the spoiler.

As far as quotable episodes go, A Town Called Mercy is the clear winner from series 7, so far. The above statement, delivered by the Marshall, made a particular impact on me, especially in light of the conversations we've been having in class regarding the Christian's salvation from the tyranny of sin. This post will take a look at two quotes that refer to the Doctor and how they fit with the concepts Paul talks about in Romans. 

"You're both good men. You just forget it sometimes."

I won't discuss the context of this quote. If you want it, watch the episode. However, from what we've seen of the Doctor (particularly when he gets a little dark as the Oncoming Storm or the Time Lord Victorious), we can all recall scenarios in which he forgot himself and made decisions that were contrary to his staunchly good and peace-loving nature. (One that immediately comes to mind is his treatment of the Racnoss in The Runaway Bride.) In those instances, he often has his companions to remind him of who he really is and how he should be acting. He's capable of being so much more than vindictive and even a little terrible, and his personality and character lends itself to typical good guy actions, making moments of darkness almost frighteningly out of place.

We all know that the Doctor is supposed to be a godlike figure, and the show even acknowledges the parallel with epithets like "the lonely god." Watching the "ageless god who insists on the face of a 12-year-old" make some pretty harsh and, frankly, wrong decisions causes consternation for us viewers. The Doctor always has the answers. He's always fighting for humanity and he's the one everyone looks to for salvation. When he stops being that paragon of goodness, we're disappointed and saddened to watch the results. Why? Because we're totally obsessed with a fictional character we'd love to be real. Because it's not necessarily the fall that pains us, but the distance traveled.

Watching messed up people make messes is unfortunate, but something we seem to be able to accept. When our heroes make mistakes, however, our bubbles burst as we realize the only reason they stood above the shrapnel was thanks to the pedestal we put them on. We want to believe that people can be better than the rest of us are, and stay innocent of the worst that humanity can produce. We even manage to convince ourselves of this. Then we watch them act just like we do and are saddened as they fall down to our level. The truth is, everyone is on the same level. We're all broken and messed up people. (Romans 3:23, "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.") The good news is, there's hope.

Romans 10:9 says if you confess that Jesus is Lord and believe he was resurrected, you'll be saved from the consequences of your sins. Earlier in the passage (verse 4), Paul talks about how there is righteousness (purity, perfection) for those who believe because of Christ. In the eyes of God, you are clean because when he looks at you, all he sees is what his son did on the cross. A big fancy word seminarians like to use to describe this is "justification." You might have heard the concise ditty that explains justification this way: "It's just as if I'd never sinned." That's nice, but wrong. Justification doesn't mean your sins are ignored; it means the price was paid by someone else. Accepting Christ brings freedom from having sin dictate your actions - it doesn't stop you from sinning, though. A problem Paul likes to call "the flesh" nudges us to keep making choices contrary to God's word. (I'll explain the flesh in a minute.) However, becoming a follower of God makes us subject to God rather than sin, which means God's our boss, not sin. Which means we have the ability, by the grace of God through Holy Spirit, to say no to sin. Which means we can choose to be good men.

As followers of Christ, our identity is in Jesus - he tells us who we are and is the example we model our lives after. Although it's hard, we have the strength to say no to sin and live like Jesus did. This isn't something God hopes we do; it's commanded. It's expected. Since God's our boss, we need to obey. Thus, when we fall off the wagon due to selfishness or deference to temptation, we have indeed forgotten the good (aka righteous) people we can and should be. 

"Demons run when a good man goes to war."

The moment you accepted Christ, God gave you all the tools you need to "just say no" to sin when it tempts you as a Christian. We often think that we need the Holy Spirit's help to remove temptations from our lives or free us from sinful patterns. The problem isn't sin itself, since it has nothing to do with you anymore - it can't boss you around because Christ replaced its role in your life. The problem is the flesh. What is the flesh? Basically, it's your self-awareness, your free will and your desire to get what you want. It's what makes you human and not a robot - your independent thought. It's a part of you and your body that doesn't go away until you die. It's what you metaphorically have to kill every day as you strive to follow Christ.

The life of a Christian isn't peaceful. If you bought into that, you've clearly never read the bit about the armor of God in Ephesians 6. Placing Christ at the center of your life will draw fire from every angle because not only is it counter-cultural, but it is also counter to your instincts. You want to serve yourself and keep yourself happy. The Bible says your purpose in life is to serve God and make him happy. The flesh in you rebels against that because it wants to be independent, and you're left fighting a war with yourself and your demons in order to do what is right and pleasing to God.

If we submit to our flesh's desires, we inevitably do wrong and fall back into sinful patterns. We forget that we're now good men, bought at a terrible blood-price and set apart (holy). But when we fight back, when that good man or woman goes to war with him/herself every day and chooses to stop trying to control a life that isn't theirs (it was gift and bought by Christ), then sin and demons have to run. Why? Because of the name of the one that claimed you as his own. Christian, you are not only an ambassador for Jesus in a world that doesn't yet know him, but you are indelibly and inextricably tied with Christ - his life, death and resurrection. (Romans 6:4-10) You are in him, he is in you and he pounded the power of sin and death to a pulp on the cross. So if you fight, you have victory, because Christ had victory.

Demons run because the only truly good man who ever lived went to war on behalf of us who could not fight for ourselves.

Go to war. Because that Son of Man has made you good, even though you forget it, sometimes.

Until next time! May you never, ever blink.
Katya

Asylum of the Feels: When Marriage is(n't) Beautiful

This is Oswin. She's Moffat's surrogate. 

She burned & discarded all of your feels.

(Image courtesy of the Doctor Who tumblr)

In case you were living under a rock (or you believed you hadn't seen enough episodes of Doctor Who to tune in), series 7 premiered on September 1st with the highly anticipated "Asylum of the Daleks," written by the Feels-Breaker-in-Chief himself, Steven Moffat. The point of this post is not to write a review of the episode - though the desire to unleash my opinions is hard to curb, I admit - but rather to speak on one point that bothered me significantly (SPOILERS!!): the circumstances surrounding Amy and Rory's divorce. 

If you've seen any of Matt Smith's episodes, you know that the Ponds are inseparable and quite devoted to one another. Amy: The Girl Who Waited. Rory: The Last Centurion, who stood guard for his wife for 2,000 years while she was in the Pandorica. In series 6, we saw just how strong their relationship is and how far they are willing to go for each other. But in series 7, the Ponds are splitting up. 

Why?!

Because of this.

The instant I watched that scene, I knew I was not experiencing it the way Moffat intended. It was supposed to be a picture of how much Amy is willing to sacrifice for Rory, and I was supposed to feel my heart breaking as I understood her reasons for sending Rory away. All of my feels (the internet's cutesy way of saying "emotions," for those not in the know) were going the way of Oswin's souffle when I came to a grinding halt as Amy's rationale clashed horrendously with my understanding of the biblical take on marriage. Strap yourself in for a rare post about how Doctor Who and Christian theology don't harmonize.

Point 1: "I gave you up."

Call me old-fashioned, but I believe marriage is a lifelong commitment. "For better or for worse...till death do us part." I support my belief with the verse in Genesis 2 (and Matthew 19 and Ephesians 5) that talks about how man and wife are to be "one flesh" (ripping apart one flesh means you kill the one...not that you suddenly have two) and the numerous instructions throughout the old and new testaments that discourage divorce for pretty much any reason except adultery. So when Amy said that her "kicking Rory out" was actually "giving him up," I had to frown and scratch my head.

Since when did giving up on someone who is good to you and loves you become a good thing? Doesn't the media preach that love overcomes all obstacles? Amy couldn't give Rory what he wanted, so she backed out  of the marriage entirely, thinking that was a better option. (Soapbox-Aside: Does the term "adoption" mean anything to you, Ponds? Seriously. I never understood why people would rule out or ignore adoption simply because it wouldn't be "their" child. How much can you want kids, then?) Rather than inspiring and mature, I think the decision to get a divorce over not being able to give your husband children is one of the dumbest, extreme and most immature decisions possible. You're willing to cast off years of a totally unique and unsurpassingly deep relationship because you can't get preggo? Sounds more like a juvenile's thought process rather than an adult's, to me.

Not that I'm especially opinionated, or anything. 

Point 2: Total lack of communication

The revelation of Amy's reason for divorce was a shock to the viewers, but it was also a shock to Rory. In my opinion, this was the most frustrating part of the entire scene. This issue has all but destroyed the Ponds' marriage and poor Rory had no idea it was underneath the rubble...because Amy never said word one.

In light of everything we know about Rory, and bolstered by the restoration of their relationship at the end of the episode, we can imagine how things might have turned out had Amy simply been forthright. Had she told him why she wanted to give him up (that is, to enable him a chance to have kids with someone else), he would have said that she mattered more to him than kids because he loves her and that they would work through it, somehow. End of drama. Back to the TARDIS. Instead, she didn't let him in on her struggle and chose to push him away. Which led to severe heartache and divorce, not to mention a huge mess for the Doctor to clean up as a side-project while saving the Daleks.

If marriage is the union of two people into a symbolic one, then all neurons must be firing and communicating at all times. The left side of the body can't hide things from the right. Similarly, one member of a married couple can't hide anything from the other, especially not something this important. It destroys the relationship because it's akin to saying, "I don't trust you enough." No healthy relationship can thrive without mutual trust, and no trust can form without vulnerability. Amy didn't give Rory the chance to carry her burden; she automatically assumed he couldn't, or wouldn't react the way she wanted. I find that sad. Forget the fact that he's Rory flipping Williams and has proved himself to be totally awesome...

...but how little faith does a she have in her husband? I'm sorry, Moffat, but having Amy "give up" the man who has combed the stars to find and rescue her is not beautiful screenwriting. There is nothing beautiful about giving up on your spouse - neither emotionally nor poetically.

When marriage is beautiful

If you ask me, the most inspiring couples are the ones that fight to love each other in spite of everything that comes their way - be it infertility, racism, dementia or poverty. Marriage is beautiful when it manages to work when all the rules of the world say that it shouldn't. When society would advise ending the game and parting ways. When it hurts to stay together, but it would kill to separate. That's real beauty, in my book. It's easy to be with someone when life is rosy and your world fits into a neat little box. When that box is upturned, its contents spilled and life plays hardball, however, true character shines through and heroes can emerge. 

I think the notion of Amy being unable to have kids because of Demon's Run is a fantastic subplot because it shows the price of running with the Doctor. I would have loved to see the Ponds struggle with that and their emotions associated with both the infertility itself, as well as the Doctor's role in it all. I think a scene at the Pond home with them trying to make sense of the news would have been terribly dramatic. It might have added a darker tone to their relationship with the Doctor and given them a chance to wrestle with complex emotions. It would have given more realistic weight to why the Doctor only picks them up occasionally, now. We might have seen Amy's love for Rory as she explained her desire to sacrifice herself for his wishes, and we might have seen Rory prove once again that he is as devoted and true a man as anyone could dream up. We could have peeked into their souls, scraped the foundations of their marriage and exposed their worldview. Instead, we got a sudden divorce on a silly pretext and a convenient reconciliation. Dramatic, yes, but inorganic and ultimately disheartening.

Divine romance, ultimate beauty

I couldn't finish this post without bringing God directly into the picture. I think I've made it clear that I believe marriage is sacred and shouldn't be ended for almost any reason. The question you might be asking is, "Why? So, the bible says man and wife should be 'one flesh,' big deal." Well, it's more than that.

Ephesians 5:22-33 reveals that marriage is supposed to be an illustration of Christ's relationship with his followers, the Church (referred to in the new testament as the "bride of Christ"). Thus, a woman is to honor, respect and obey her husband as the church honors, respects and obeys Jesus. Similarly, a man is to love his wife sacrificially, lead her in righteousness, protect her and provide for her, like Jesus does for his church. Marriage, then, shows the world a little peek at how God loves us and how we should respond. Marriage is a witness, a testimony, of God himself. As Christians - those who are "ambassadors" of Christ (2 Corinthians 5:20) - we have to be extremely careful to represent God accurately to others. If marriage is God's way of demonstrating how he loves, then anything short of a fully devoted relationship impugns God's character. Divorce for reasons not outlined in the bible is a false witness that God can't hack it when things get tough, or that his love is somehow dependent upon our behavior. (It's not. Nothing you do could increase or decrease his love for you. In case you missed it the first time: nothing you could possibly do could alter how much he loves you right now. His love is perfect, selfless and overwhelming.) In fact, God's love is fearsome in its relentlessness. 

So, please, fight for that witness of beauty. Marriage isn't always pretty, but it's based on the unsurpassing splendor of the perfect loving Groom, and it's the best portrait we can paint of him until he returns.

Until next time! May you add to someone's pile of good things.

Katya

Doctor God: "I've got to give them a choice."

 The Doctor: The Sad Man With A Box

In one of my theology classes, last week, we were discussing the various attributes of God. This inspired another discussion of how to reconcile two paradoxical characteristics of perfect justice and perfect mercy.Our line of thought was that if God is wholly just and he gives us what we deserve (no more and no less), then how can he be perfectly merciful, when that means giving us something we don't deserve? One of the answers posited was that God chooses which attributes to express in particular moments in ways that are not contradictory to his nature. For example, God is completely sovereign over all of creation, but he still allows people to choose to ignore him, a la the garden of Eden. As ruler of the universe, he could have easily made Adam and Eve stay away from the forbidden tree (or never have created the tree in the first place), but he instead offered humanity a choice to follow him or deal with the consequences. Now, I am certainly not going to try to tackle the reconciliation of omnipotence and free will, but I am interested in the notion of freedom in the context of a greater power, and I find it relates to Doctor Who quite significantly.

In virtually every episode, the Doctor finds himself pitted against a malevolent or destructive enemy that only he can stop. As I've mentioned before, the Doctor considers violent action a last resort and he always tries to talk an enemy out of whatever he's doing in order to preserve as much life as possible. Often, however, the enemy laughs at his attempts to compromise and continues in the same villainy, forcing him to take extreme and brilliant measures to save the day. What I love most about the Doctor's attempts to save even his enemies is summed up in this clip beginning at 0:45, from series 4's The Poison Sky (SPOILERS):

The Sontarans are going to annihilate the planet, after having killed plenty of UNIT members and innocent civilians in the previous episode, and the Doctor is going to stop them. Except, instead of wiping them out, dusting off his suit and jumping back into the TARDIS with Donna, he offers them one last chance to leave in peace. In spite of everything they've done and everything they deserve, he leaves the door open one last time for a kind of redemption. No matter how contrary the evidence or how stubborn the foe, he never gives up on a being's ability to change for the better. And I think that's beautifully God-like.

Freedom to choose

The Doctor has respect for every kind of life, even those that don't deserve it. This is obvious when you see him try to save his enemies from destruction, but it's even more poetic when you see it in his attitude during negotiations. We all know he's the man with a plan and that, somehow, he will get himself and his friends out of trouble. His enemies never truly prevail against him because he's smarter, quicker and occasionally plain luckier than they are. As viewers, we might be tempted to view his efforts to talk the Sontarans (or the Daleks, or the Cybermen, etc.) out of destroying the planet as the fruitless endeavors of a hopeless optimist. However, that final offer to stand down and avoid the Doctor's consequences is more than simply a last-ditch attempt at pacifism. It's an incredible statement of the Doctor's respect for a creature's freedom to decide for itself.

It would be much easier (and far less dangerous, to be sure) for the Doctor to get rid of any and all threats at first sight. Considering how brilliant he is, and that he was a soldier in the Last Great Time War, it's not hard to imagine that he could eliminate anything that stood in his way. (After all, he's known as the Oncoming Storm and the Destroyer of Worlds - the most feared creature in all the universe.) He could just blow up the Sontarans and go home for tea and cookies, but he instead presents them with a choice. All that power and genius, and he puts it on the backburner to give them one last shot at doing the right thing. Why? Because he believes sentient beings have the intrinsic right to make decisions for themselves, no matter how stupid or wrong. Of course, the stupid and wrong ones have consequences that he's forced to deliver, but it wasn't for lack of warning or trying.

How God-like is that? Think of all the books of the bible in which God tells/warns/beseeches the children of Israel to change their ways to avoid the consequences of their sin. Think of times in your own life when you've known to act better, but you went ahead with it, anyway. God doesn't want to punish his creation (why do you think he sent Jesus? John 3:16-17), but he chooses to allow us to act in ways that result in punishment, much like parents would, who want to teach their child a lesson. Even to the instant before we sin, God pleads with us through the Holy Spirit, through the scriptures and through the counsel of others not to do it. How we respond, however, is completely up to us. Sure, God could come down and force everyone to love him and follow his instructions, but he chooses not to. He chooses to limit his power and give us the freedom to obey or disobey. 

Freedom to suffer

While we have the ability, through sheer grace, to do what we will with our lives, our freedom doesn't exist in a vacuum. Every action has repercussions, and sinful ones are no exception. With our right to make decisions comes the responsibility of accepting their consequences. We are free to live according to the way God prescribed, and we are equally free to ignore it. Fair's fair, though: if you don't play the game according to the rules, you are subject to the penalty. Thus, your freedom to live includes the freedom to suffer for your decisions. 

Sadly, people's desire for independence causes them to make choices that, they think, will give them real freedom. Often, people mistake Christianity for a constricting system of rules set down by a controlling god more interested in himself than in people. Consequently, they reject divine authority and live how they please. Sometimes, nothing catastrophic happens in their lives and they feel justified in their choices, and sometimes the path they take leads to serious repercussions that destroy their lives. Does that mean that God was only punishing some people and not others? No. Because that's not how God does things.

The point of Christianity is not to follow the 10 commandments and the golden rule. The point of Christianity is to restore the perfect relationship mankind had with God before sin entered the world. The "rules" in the bible are meant to demonstrate how broken we are and how much we need salvation and grace. We follow them because we want to be more like God, and that's how he is. We don't follow them because "Jesus will get us" if we disobey. God isn't vindictive. He's just. Bad things happen because of poor decision making, because God sometimes allows them to teach a lesson, and sometimes just because we live in an imperfect world and things go wrong. If we live according to the bible's standards, then we will be blessed (Deuteronomy 15), but we aren't promised a stress-free life, for two reasons: 1) It's impossible for us to keep from sinning. The only one who ever did it was Jesus. So, because we sin, we have to face the music. 2) Read John 16. Anyone who follows Jesus will have trouble because those who don't will persecute you. Maybe not physically or even obviously, but you will be treated differently and even negatively for your belief in Christ. Being a Christian isn't the ticket to the easy life. If you're looking for that, you signed up for the wrong religion. Following God is hard because it's counter-cultural and requires centering your entire life around someone other than you. The focus of being a Christian is not this life at all, but the next one. (And I'm not talking regeneration...) By God's grace, we're on this earth and have freedom to choose how we live it, but the choices we make now affect eternity.

God is like the Doctor in that he gives us the freedom to walk away peacefully or face the brunt of his plan to stop destruction. The option of peace is often not one we want to take, because it means we have to let go of our own schemes. (And, in light of God's omniscience and goodness, I think it's fair to say he knows better than we do.) However, it's the one he roots for, because he wants to save, not destroy. 

The choice is totally and completely yours to make. The question is, how much is your independence worth? Your life?

Until next time! May you always have milk for your souffles.

Katya

When There's a Shark in Your Bedroom

Doctor Who: the only sci fi production in which flying sharks aren't ridiculous.

(And that includes you, Mega Shark v. Giant Octopus.)

I'm generally not a worrier and, though I can be cynical at times, I'm also generally an optimist. It comes with the territory of being an idealist/dreamer, I suppose - something intrinsic to my personality (INFP pride). That being said, I've recently started playing this new game called "being a grown-up" and have been hit with doses of what some more seasoned players call "the real world." (Aside: if you ever wondered why writers make up stories, it's because we find the worlds in our minds far more agreeable than the one we live in.) Now, this "real world" is quite rude at times and has done a few numbers on me over the past week, much to my discomfort. As a Christian, I'm reminded to lean into my faith in God more when things start flying out of my control, and my seminary professors have said the same. In lecture today (Theological and Psychological Foundations of Counseling, to be specific), the prof was discussing people's reactions to disastrous events and big life changes. Sometime in the two hour and forty minute class (ugh), he essentially said that every cloud has a silver lining if you have the right perspective. God doesn't cause bad things to happen to you (though he can choose to allow them), but he will teach you something through the experience if you let him. 

So there I was in a class taught by a licensed Biblical counselor and ordained minister, surrounded by seminary students, all of whom (including me) had just come from chapel, and we were discussing the nexus of theology and psychology. Naturally, my mind jumped to Doctor Who. 

I mean, come on. This is why I keep a blog.

Doctor Who's trademark is its optimism, and the Doctor is its chief champion. Two of my favorite quotes from the Eleventh Doctor are, "There is always, you know, surprisingly, hope," and "I am and always will be the optimist: the hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams." It's very rare when we see the Doctor slip into dejection and hopelessness, though it does happen occasionally and his companions are there to pick him up again. Typically, though, he is the one reminding others and us that giving up isn't an option and that there's always something to smile about. Perhaps the most hilarious example of this is in A Christmas Carol, the first Christmas special of Matt Smith's reign. (Skip ahead 25 seconds to start the scene.)

(For the record, A Christmas Carol is the single funniest DW episode I've ever seen. I've watched it half a dozen times, by now, and every time it has me in stitches. Kudos to Steven Moffat and Matt Smith.)


There's a SHARK in my BEDROOM.

I love the progression of events in this clip. The Doctor and young Kazran Sardick are on a planet where fish swim in the clouds. They want to get a closer look, so they string up the sonic screwdriver as bait and wait for a bite. As you saw, the Doctor gets more than he anticipated. Does that resonate with anyone else? How often have you made a decision or been involved in something that escalated quickly into something you weren't expecting and didn't know how to handle? You think you have your life under control then, suddenly, there's a shark in your bedroom, your sonic's gone, you're in danger and somebody's bugging you with questions about color.

Now, anybody who's watched a single episode of DW knows that this kind of craziness is par for the Doctor's course. He's a time-and-space-traveling 900-year-old alien whose hobbies are being a genius and saving the universe. Trouble is "the bit in-between," according to Ten, and each incarnation rather enjoys getting into and out of scrapes. For the rest of us, I'd wager, trouble is a lot less enticing. Some Christians even believe that they shouldn't experience any by virtue of their belief in Christ. In response to that, I submit to you my favorite Bible verse. John 16:33 - "In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world." Words of Jesus, promising strife. There are plenty of other verses along the same lines, namely in the Sermon on the Mount, when Jesus says blessed are those who are persecuted for his name...(Matthew 5). Any theology that says the life of a Christian is supposed to be free of struggle because God promised he'd take care of his people is a pitiful misinterpretation and, honestly, a quintessentially commercial and American/Western product. (I'll put away my soapbox before this becomes a rant about the prosperity gospel. Suffice it to say that I find ZERO biblical evidence for it and I get properly angry when I see people take verses out of context to support it.)

Anyone who's lived at all has experienced some kind of struggle that threw him for a loop, made him ask serious, life-altering questions or caused him to pause and reevaluate things to make sense of it all. For some, this was a break-up. For others, it was a natural disaster or the death of a loved one. It doesn't matter if it "wasn't that bad" in comparison with someone else's - what matters is that it was earth-shattering to you at that time. You've had, will have or are having a shark burst into your bedroom. So what do you do?


Concentrating on the pluses...

Young Kazran hears banging against his closet door and wants to know what's going on. The Doctor, more or less calmly, finds all the exciting and positive aspects of their deadly situation and relates them to Kazran...who only hears "shark" and appropriately freaks out. I like his reaction, because it's probably how I and every other sane person would act. Even we idealists aren't immune to reality, especially when it's barreling down our door intent on devouring us and we're seemingly powerless to stop it. Being afraid is a natural human response to dangerous and uncertain stimuli, which is why God needed to say "Don't be afraid" so many times in the Bible. Seriously, that phrase appears the most often in God's interactions with his people. Why? Because we're too busy freaking out about the sharks.

The human brain is a wonder of creation. It has the incredible ability to process information and block out what isn't necessary or what would overload it. If you were aware of every stimulus going on around you at any given time, you wouldn't be able to handle it, so your brain takes things like background noise and words on signs in your peripheral vision and filters them out of your consciousness so you can focus on the big, important things in front of you. Unfortunately, our brains can do this to our detriment. We can be thinking about and listening to the shark and completely miss the many pluses that the Doctor rattled off. I feel like God does the same thing:

"Yes, your health is in a poor state, your finances are dire and your dog ran away, but concentrating on the pluses, this is a great opportunity for you to let go of that control you feel you need and learn that I am your sustainer. Look at the sparrow and the lily. I provide for them, so I'll provide for you. No, I didn't heal Paul of his ailments even though he asked, and I might not heal you either. But 'to live is Christ,' (Philippians 1:21) and I really am enough. Come, talk with me."

DISCLAIMER! Believe me, I am not one of those people who says, "Oh, just smile and press on. Don't be upset about these terrible things happening to you. Just let go and let God." In fact, those kind of statements are fuel for me to become a counselor, because I think they're overly simplistic, cheap and somewhat disrespectful of the pain people endure. It doesn't say anywhere in the bible that believers aren't allowed to be upset when stuff happens, so why must other believers insist otherwise? No. Instead, I think that, after you experience your healthy and normal emotions of grief, fear, anger or anxiety, you stand up and concentrate on the pluses. It's one thing to be upset that tragedy has struck; it's another to wallow when God (whether through the Holy Spirit, the bible or other believers) is telling you that there are good things in the midst of it all or on the horizon. There is always hope because God is good and eternal. We might not experience the relief we want when we want it, or even in this lifetime, but our reward awaits in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves do not break in and steal.

It's hard to be positive when there's a shark in the bedroom; no one said it wouldn't be. Then again, nothing about Christianity is easy. They say that the more you work for something, the more you appreciate it. Concentrating on the pluses, I could always be more appreciative...

Until next time! May the Daleks grant you asylum...
Katya

P.s. Series 7 premieres this Saturday!!! Geronimo!

Harriet Jones, Public Servant

I know it’s been a while since I updated this blog, but I’ve been in the middle of a cross-country move, so I’ve had an excuse. However, I’m now (more or less) settled in my new apartment and have officially become a seminary student! On top of that, I have an internship with a (more or less) local church in their high school ministry. Thus, my life is rapidly and thoroughly becoming infused with all aspects of theology. And this is good news for you, dear nerdy reader, because it means I’ll have plenty to write about.

Today’s topic goes along with some thoughts I’ve been having regarding my own ministry position: how to be a good leader. As Christians, we’re set apart from the rest of the world as an example to others (1 Peter 2:4-10), but as Christian leaders in any context, be it ministry or secular vocation, we have a particular duty to reflect Christlike attitudes and cultivate servant lifestyles for the benefit and example of those under us. (Titus 2:7, 1 Peter 5:3) In the Who world, no one better depicts leadership par excellence than Harriet Jones, Prime Minister. SPOILERS:

Harriet Jones, Devoted Servant

From the moment we meet her in Aliens of London, Harriet presents herself as a woman who lives to serve her constituents. Then an MP for Flydale North (translation: she’s no one terribly important in the government), Harriet does everything in her power to meet with the Prime Minister in order to pass a resolution that would benefit the people back home. In the beginning of the episode, we don’t know what that bill is, but we know it is obviously the only thing she cares about accomplishing. Ironically, it’s terribly unimportant in the scheme of things (I mean, aliens have invaded earth, killed the Prime Minister and are about to start World War III…and she wants something like paved potholes), but the zest and dogged determination she exhibits in pursuing it shows that she takes the needs and desires of her constituents seriously, and throws everything she has into serving them. She isn’t caught up in trying to ingratiate herself with the top bananas in Downing Street so that she can further her career; instead, she is focused on doing her utmost for the people she represents, and she doesn’t care how insignificant that job may seem to other people.

Not only does she take her specific duties to Flydale North seriously, but she also has a keen understanding of and respect for the responsibilities of an elected official. In World War Three, the Doctor has figured out a way to save the earth, but he’s hesitant to employ it because it would necessitate sacrificing Rose and everyone in Downing Street. Rose is willing to die for the greater good, but Nine can’t bring himself to do it. Harriet steps in, citing her authority as the only elected official in the room, and orders the Doctor on behalf of her representatives to take action – just what he wants and needs to hear. Not once does she stop to consider her own safety, but she steps up when leadership is needed and strides forward with confidence, respect and love for the public. Then, she recedes into the background until she is needed again.

Harriet Jones, Humble Servant

The running gag with her character was her habit of introducing herself to everyone she met with her name, her position, and her ID card. In series 1, it made some sense (but was still funny), since she was an unknown in politics. But in series 2, she does the same thing, with the same casual humility, when she’s Prime Minister. I just love that about her. No matter how important she is, she never loses her down-to-earth nature and never allows her power to inflate her ego. She doesn’t think of herself as an important person – rather, she thinks she holds an important job, and that instills in her a deep sense of personal obligation. She became Prime Minister not to satisfy her own aspirations, but because the Doctor suggested she’d be a good candidate in the aftermath of the Slitheen invasion, and she saw a need she could fill.

The best example of Harriet’s humility is in The Christmas Invasion, when Peter Llewellyn is taken to Downing Street to make sense of the Sycorax broadcast. Harriet introduces herself to him (“Well, yes, I know who you are…”) and immediately asks if he’d like a coffee, since it’s late. She then proceeds to pour him a cup herself. How many government leaders do you think would be unassuming enough to pour a visitor a cup of coffee? You’d expect her to have sent an intern or a flunkie, instead. But no, she isn’t above a small act of service like that. It speaks volumes to her character.

A few minutes later, she takes Llewellyn downstairs to mission control where she starts speaking to the people on the floor about the spaceship crisis. After introducing herself, (“Yes, I know who you are…”) she asks for their names and then thanks them for their help. I love that about Harriet, too. She genuinely cares about others, respects them enough to ask for their names, commits the information to memory and expresses her gratitude for their work. A good leader like Harriet recognizes the efforts of those under him/her and doesn’t depersonalize the support staff. (Perhaps my favorite peek into Harriet’s character is in Aliens of London, when she realizes she never asked the name of the receptionist who was killed. The look of intense regret and consternation on her face is priceless. Like the Doctor, she clearly doesn’t believe in collateral damage, and finds every person’s life precious. I think that lapse in Aliens of London affected her actions in The Christmas Invasion, motivating her to learn the name of everyone around her.) There is something very powerful, respectful and special about using someone’s name when you speak to him. You let the person know that they matter, that you view them with regard and that you care about them. It’s great when someone in authority over you knows your name and uses it, but how much cooler is it that God himself has “called you by name.” (Isaiah 43:1) Names are important, folks. Use them and be amazed.

Harriet Jones, Wise Servant

Harriet’s character arc is a bit of a tragic one because she falls out of the Doctor’s graces (though the moment Ten learns about her actions in Journey’s End is simply beautiful, in my opinion). But whether or not you agree with her decision in The Christmas Invasion to send a message to the universe, you have to respect her for sticking to her guns and doing what she thought was right.

From beginning to end, Harriet made tough decisions with the aid of as much advice, thought and sobriety as she could muster, and she took action out of a pervasive desire to protect and serve the public. I love the pained expression on her face when she tells Torchwood to fire at the Sycorax, because it shows the struggle she had in shooting down a retreating alien ship. I love even more her statement, many episodes later, that she stands by her decision despite the Doctor’s obvious disapproval. That illustrates her clarity of thought and her resolute principles. (And, frankly, the circumstances in The Stolen Earth give weight and credence to her actions in series 2 and show her to possess some foresight.) Best of all, however, is that she never blames the Doctor for what he did to her career, and she helps him defend the earth in spite of their rocky past. Her maturity, wisdom, grace and fearless devotion to serving others make her a stellar example of leadership and a real heroine in the Doctor Who ranks.


Jesus Christ, The Model Servant

As I've demonstrated, Harriet is a beautiful picture of someone who leads with humility, but she's only a pale shadow of the perfect servant-leader, Jesus. One of my favorite stories about the Son of Man is the one in John 13:1-17, where he washes the disciples' feet. He came to teach, touch, heal, forgive and save, but he did so in the most humble, loving and gentle way.

"When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. 'Do you understand what I have done for you?' he asked them. 'You call me "Teacher" and "Lord," and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.'" (verses 12-17, NIV)

If the King of Kings lowered himself from the divine to an ordinary human life and spent his time here serving those he reigns over, what right have we to think ourselves better than those under us? Instead, we should cultivate a servant's heart and strive to imitate the one extended grace to us and saved us from ourselves. It's not easy and it's not a natural impulse, but when it happens, it's a sterling portrait of Christ and makes the world stop and stare. Then, like Harriet, we'll be known wherever we go, and for the right reasons.

Until next time! May you finally enjoy that tea you were promised.
Katya

The Satan Pit, Part 3: Beware of Rabid Dogma

The Doctor and the Writer

In my previous post, I looked at Ten's reactions to meeting the devil and praised agnostics and doubters for their openness and humility when it comes to questioning their views on the universe. Today, I want to zoom out of the Doctor's world, take a look at the use of art as a soapbox for ideology, and call attention to the men who both created this thought-provoking story and brought it to life. As always, we can learn a lesson from Doctor Who, this time about avoiding arrogant dogma and understanding your own influence.

Behind the scenes

Enter David Tennant (the Tenth Doctor), Matt Jones (author of The Satan Pit episodes...not pictured, despite my best efforts to scrounge up a photo) and Russell T Davies (then the head writer for Doctor Who and the man responsible for resurrecting the show in 2005 after 17 or so years of it being off the air. Basically, the hero of all Whovians). In 2006, these men had a powerful concept on their hands: to pit the Doctor against the villain of all existence, the devil. The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit was a daring story to tell in more than just an entertainment sense. It would require the show to dive headlong into some deeply controversial and intensely personal worldviews and emerge without getting burned or burning others in the process. 

As far as I'm aware, none of the three men have any particularly strong religious beliefs. DT's father was a minister, so while David grew up in a believing household, I don't think he identifies himself as being especially religious. I could be wrong, but if he is religious, he's not vocal about it. RTD is an atheist. (Matt Jones doesn't even have a picture on the internet, so what makes you think I can find out anything about his religious background?) That these men, safely guessing, don't put much stock in the concept of the devil and still managed to produce two episodes of such gracious, open-minded narration is laudatory. I mean, let's think about this. How often can the entertainment industry be justifiably accused of pushing a social/political/religious agenda on the viewing public? Answer: a lot of the time. Not including the number of celebrities who use their stardom to promote their own ideologies, you have plenty of movies, music, television shows, books and stage productions with clear messages that either condemn Christian beliefs or advocate secular worldviews. (Examples: too many to list. But consider how often pre-marital sex, secular humanism, non-theistic evolution, etc. are portrayed as cool or undeniably true...) Having "traditional" values and holding "narrow-minded" religious convictions is pretty much universally stereotyped as silly and uninformed at best and idiotic and bigoted at worst. How easy it would have been for the DW team to fall into the same pattern, especially in the considerably more secular U. K.

Except, they didn't. They exhibited the same kind of respect for religious belief and lack thereof as they do for pretty much everything else life can throw into the mix. If there is one message Doctor Who champions without fail is that it's right to honor life despite creed, color or sexuality. The only thing the show denounces is useless violence and hatred. They could have treated belief in the devil (and also God) as the hallmark of the unenlightened, but they gave it equal weight with non-belief. Matt Jones and Russell T Davies could have decided to let the Doctor say that no gods and devils existed. There are at least four times in The Satan Pit alone that Ten could have definitively put the matter to rest, denied the existence of the divine and convinced everyone on Sanctuary Base Six that the beast was nothing more than a regular monster. But the writers decided to leave it open, even at the very end. Ida asks the Doctor what he thinks the creature was; the Doctor's response? "I think...we beat it. That's good enough for me."

Not only was the script devoid of a particular agenda, but also David Tennant's portrayal of the Doctor was spectacularly respectful and humble. He could have delivered his lines with condescension or flippancy, but instead he gave us a Doctor who was honest and thoughtful. In the end, we aren't quite sure of what the Doctor believes, but I think that's because the Doctor himself isn't sure anymore. I love the acting choices DT made in this episode... (Aside 1: He is the KING of pauses. The places he puts them transcends a line into brilliance. The most amazing one I ever saw was in his 2009 version of Hamlet, when he's talking to Rosencrantz & Guildenstern about Fortune. They're making bawdy jokes and wordplay, but Hamlet's pauses turn what could have been a punchline into an attempt to gloss over awkwardness and embarrassment. Simply amazing.) (Aside 2: I'm of the opinion that the most important and significant peeks into the Tenth Doctor's character are in what he chooses not to say. Bad Wolf Bay, anyone?)

Overall, epic kudos to the lot of them. They took the subject of the story seriously, they treated all beliefs with respect and they didn't abuse their power and influence. Which reminds me...

Life imitates art

Doctor Who is only a TV show (sadly...sometimes I want to believe it's a documentary), but even as such, it has an incredible domestic and international following, of whom many are children. Because of the incredible depth and richness of the characters and stories, people get a lot more than simple entertainment out of it. Case in point: what you're reading. As such, the impact this British television show can make on society is significant, which places a good deal of responsibility in the hands of the actors, writers and directors involved. People respond to what they see, they become accustomed to and accept the messages they internalize, then they act upon those ideas. Life, as they say, does imitate art, and I think DW qualifies as art in its ability to inspire and to provoke thought. 

We can take a page from the DW creative team's book by learning the power our words, messages and actions have on those around us. As my mom says, what we write, what we say, how we dress, everything we do communicates something to someone. It's our responsibility to make sure what we're communicating is gracious, honest and true. Your daily life is a testimony to society, so don't take that lightly. What exactly are you testifying? (1 Cor. 10:31, ESV: "So whatever you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it to the glory of God.") People are watching, especially if you call yourself a Christian - your family, your friends, strangers on the street. Your children are watching and absorbing. You have incredible power to witness to and inspire others. Don't fall into the trap of believing you haven't a voice. As the Doctor says, "There's no such thing as an ordinary human."

On the other hand, beware of abusing your voice. We're called to share our beliefs with the world, not take the Bible and ram it down people's throats. Dogma in and of itself isn't bad. Having strong beliefs that stem from God's word is nothing to be ashamed of. However, the proliferation of that dogma is what has given modern Christianity such a bad rap. People can be downright cruel and vicious when "witnessing" to others, and it usually ends up as a judgment-fest or a shouting match. Your words of warning and the news of the gospel might be completely accurate, but if they're relayed without compassion, grace or a willingness to listen, what good is your testimony? Instead, may your words be "seasoned with salt" as it says in Colossians 4:6, so that your example can bring glory to God and reflect the love of Christ. You can have dogma, just make sure it's house broken and on an appropriate leash. Then, you can take it out for walks, meet people and impact the lives of those around you through the power of the Holy Spirit within you (Acts 1:8).

I'll leave you with perhaps the most amazing quote the Eleventh Doctor ever had:

Image from doctorbee tumblr

Until next time! May Moffat's plot twists not cause your brain to overheat.

Katya

The Satan Pit, Part 2: The Case for Doubt

Ida: "What about you?"

Doctor: "I believe...I haven't seen everything."

Last time, I deconstructed the scene in The Satan Pit between Ida and the Doctor from the perspective of sharing your faith. I focused more on the way in which Ten brings up the subject of belief and how he acts toward Ida as she answers him. Briefly, I touched on his response when she returns the question, and I highlighted the simple honesty of his statement as being the right way to talk to someone about your beliefs. Today, I'm going to take a deeper look at the statements he makes throughout the episode to explore the merits of doubt.

The Doctor and the Devil

For a 900-year-old genius who has spent the last 700 years traveling through space and time, the words "I don't know" have got to feel foreign. He has seen enough of the universe to have a prodigious grasp on what is real, what is sensical and what can't be. So, when he's faced with something that doesn't complement his understanding of reality, he is unsure of how to react.

In the beginning of the episode, Ten is fairly dismissive of the notion that the beast in the chasm of Krop Tor is the devil, telling Rose to "keep it together" when it identifies itself as Satan. However, even then, when Rose asks him to deny the existence of the devil ("Tell me there's no such thing...Doctor?") he can't bring himself to do so, because he isn't entirely certain. Later, the beast communicates directly with the people on Sanctuary Base Six and the Doctor cuts right in, wanting to set the record straight. He asks the beast which devil he is, citing the plethora of religions that have emerged over the milennia (SPOILERS):

I love this clip for three particular moments. 1) The Doctor's silence at 0:20, after the beast talks of the result of the Last Great Time War, 2) When the beast asks if the Doctor's conviction (at 0:50) is his religion and the Doctor answers a little insecurely that it's "a belief," and 3) The look on Ten's face at the very end when he can't explain how the beast knew about Ida's past. These three moments unveil the Doctor as someone who, contrary to popular belief, doesn't actually have all the answers and, more importantly, responds quite well when this is brought to his attention. As he is with many other things, the Doctor is a fine example of how to approach the deep, important questions of existence.

Agnosticism

I have great respect for agnostics. Not that I don't respect other people - I maintain that individuals have the universal right to believe what they like. But I especially offer a nod of approval toward agnostics, because I think, on some levels, they have a worldview that is more humble and honest than most. While the depth of belief or disbelief in some Higher Power varies among agnostics, they all operate under the fundamental resolution that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in their philosophy. (Woohoo, Shakespeare!) Their openness to the existence of the metaphysical and their acceptance that they could be wrong about the world, or just ill-informed, is commendable, I think. Sometimes, atheists and people of faith alike become bombastically confident that they know the full truth about God, when such a knowledge is impossible at this time. (1 Cor. 13:9-12, ESV: "For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up my childish ways. For now, we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then, I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known [by God].") I like how open-minded, honest and humble the agnostic mentality is, especially when harbored by people who are incredibly learned and intelligent - those most capable of assuming they have a clear understanding of the way the universe works. Like the Doctor.

The Doctor has his "rules" and beliefs, but when Ida asks him about his religious ideology, he answers with simplicity and humility. Check out this clip again, skip to 1:00 and pay attention to the content of the Doctor's answer:

"I believe I haven't seen everything." "That's why I keep traveling - to be proved wrong."

I just love that. The Doctor isn't arrogant and isn't so selfishly attached to his beliefs that he's unwilling to entertain new ideas or paradigms that challenge his own. He has deep convictions and opinions, but he doesn't get angry or defensive when they are contested. He becomes thoughtful. I think if more people would examine what they believe and why they find it true, they would emerge ever the stronger and wiser for it. And, they'd be able to explain it better to others who ask.

The Bible says that merely calling yourself a Christian and going through the motions is not enough; you have to put your money where your mouth is: "Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves. Do you not realize that Christ Jesus is in you - unless, of course, you fail the test?" 2 Cor. 13:5 (NIV). You can't test yourself unless you are willing to entertain the idea that you're wrong, and you won't prove that your faith is the real deal unless it comes through in your actions. Being Christian is so much more than praying a prayer and accepting Jesus - it means constantly learning and changing yourself to mirror the one who saved you. And you never learn anything unless you ask questions. 

Doubt and the Christian

There is such a stigma against doubt, as if anyone who professes to believe in Jesus is never allowed to question him or herself. Some even think doubt is a sin, even though there is no Biblical evidence for this. Take the disciple Thomas for example. He's forever known as Doubting Thomas because he didn't believe Jesus had risen from the dead (John 20:24-29). Now, Jesus could have done a million things to him for not believing, punished him, called him to repent. But he didn't. He revealed himself to Thomas, allowed him to touch the scars on his hands and in his side and embraced him as the follower he was. No hellfire or damnation. Why? Because doubt is a natural part of being human. Because doubt usually leads to examination, learning and maturation. Don't put someone down for having doubts about their faith; rather, encourage them to read the Bible, pray and explore. Tell why you don't doubt it. We don't have to have all the answers right away, and some we'll never have. It's okay. If we knew everything for certain, we'd have to be God.

Even those we might consider "super Christians" had serious doubts. Mother Theresa, in her journals, questioned if she were saved at all. Mother Theresa! Of course, you can't judge someone's salvation based on works (see James 2), but I think we can all learn a valuable lesson from her. She devoted her life to following Christ and doing the work of God and even she wondered at times if it was all for naught. You can doubt, and God will love and use you nonetheless.

I've personally questioned the existence of God and my faith a number of times in the past, even as recently as a year ago. I pondered what my life would mean and what reality was all about if God were out of the equation, and I came to the same conclusion I hold firmly as truth: without God, the universe doesn't make sense. Moral living is a formality. Life is pointless. I can't prove there's a God empirically, but from what I've observed on earth and in my own life, I can't accept the alternative. I choose to believe in God though I haven't seen him, and Jesus said I'm blessed for it. (John 20:29) Doubt has made me stronger. 

I'll end this with an encouragement ripped off from the wonderful Ms. Frizzle: "Ask questions! Make mistakes! And get wiser!"

Until next time! May the TARDIS take you where you need to go.
Katya