As you've probably ascertained by now, I'm full of opinions and thoughts and scarcely lack the wherewithal to convey them. In moments of deep poignancy, however, I find myself without words. Beauty strikes me mute.
The above scene had such an effect, though not when I saw it initially. At first, I simply thought it was a tender, touching moment between Eleven and Clara. I had no idea what it stands for until God slammed me with it in church, the next morning.
WARNING
If you haven't seen series 7's "Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS," then you might want to wait to read this post. It contains spoilers to the episode's plot. Duly noted? Geronimo.
Saturday night
I watched the episode, came to this scene, and found it gorgeous. The Doctor and Clara make it to the "centre" of the TARDIS only to find it shattered beyond repair. The Doctor is overwhelmed and feeling like a helpless failure. His oldest companion, constant caretaker and true wife is on the verge of destruction and he is unable to save her. He stands in the wreckage, completely lost, when Clara grabs his hand. (That in itself is a blog post. There is often nothing so powerful as the ministry of presence, but I'll save that for later.) It takes him a second, but he notices she's injured somehow, so he investigates.
She has scars from the "big friendly button" on her palm. Scars in her "beautiful, fragile human skin." Scars that reveal to him the way to save Sexy and prevent everyone's deaths. Yay, Clara! Yay, Doctor! Yay, Sexy! Everyone goes home, and presumably the TARDIS is more friendly toward the new girl in the control room. What a great ending to a great story on Doctor Who Saturday.
Sunday morning
My church has been serving communion pretty much every week for the past couple months. We do the little grape juice cups and wafer squares. Sometimes, communion is taken individually, whenever you feel led to walk up and grab the elements for yourself. Sometimes, however, the whole church family takes communion at the same time, which means the pastor has to wait until every last person in the rather sizable sanctuary is ready. Which means that those of us who sit in the front wait a while with the little cup and bread square.
I'm a pretty tactile person and I tend to fidget when I'm holding things, so I ended up poking my hand with the sharp corners of the bread. After a few times, I realized it hurt a little, which I thought was appropriate, since Jesus' hands were pierced on the cross. And, you know, communion is about commemorating his sacrifice. Bread = body broken for me, wine = blood poured out to cover my sins. As I poked my hand and started to think about how much more his hands must have hurt, this exploded in my head and made me want to cry:
"Beautiful, fragile human skin."
Jesus was fully divine, but also fully human. (That's the hypostatic union.) He had beautiful, fragile human skin. He has scars on his hands. His scars signal the way for salvation, just like Clara's did. Only his scars don't undo time - they create a future.
Beautiful, fragile human skin
Saved the world.
The scars lead the way to salvation -
Beauty and hope in the pain.
Grab hold of the hand scarred for glory
and run when he calls out your name.
Until next time! May you remember your big friendly button.
No joke. I hear rules, run them through my autonomy filter and promptly disregard them. As far as I can tell, ignoring pretty much everything the Doctor says is par for the Team TARDIS course, so my anti-authority streak would fit in nicely with the pantheon of companions.
I've gotten better at respecting authority even when it doesn't deserve it. I still think most rules are arbitrary and promote a hypocritical kind of legalism (because, honestly, you only care about the speed limit when a cop's around, don't you?). However, some rules have merit in their own right, not just because someone with authority laid them down. Some rules are inherently good, and some are sorely necessary. I even have a favorite rule and, of course, it comes straight from the Doctor:
deviantart by SvetoFiltr
"Run, you clever boy..."
I've listened to sermons about peace and God's provision, I've read about the sparrows and lilies in Matthew, I've seen God work in my own life and in the lives of others, and I've even encouraged others to stay strong and have faith in light of whatever life might deliver. In spite of all this, I still fear confronting adulthood, responsibility, change and stasis. I look at what my life now requires of me and I want to hide in my bedroom with my fluffy pillow and pretend I'm still a carefree seven-year-old. I want to run from anything I can't tackle easily, can't understand or am too lazy to attempt. The thing is, I'm so very good at it, too.
People run in a variety of ways. For me, it's avoiding the situation entirely. I don't like making big decisions on my own, so I put them off until the last possible moment. Instead, I'll escape into fantasy via my own creative endeavors or those of others, distracting myself with other realities or other cares just so I don't have to face the big bad Life monster and slay it. Whether it's procrastination by Facebook, Doctor Who or laundry, I find some way of occupying my time so the fear of what the "real world" demands gets shoved back into the cesspool from whence it came.
My natural reaction is to run when I'm scared, not fight. And that's why I love Rule 7. Because I need it.
"...and remember."
As someone who grew up in the competitive sports world, I know the value of a good coach. Without my instructors (and my dad) spurring me on, telling me to jump higher, try harder, go faster, ignore the pain, I never would have done what it took to achieve anything of substance. Some people are naturally dedicated and self-motivated. I never was. I needed someone on the sidelines telling me to give it my all. I needed someone to expect me to work on my technique at home, to demand a workout regimen, to practice my least favorite things. Because, left to my own devices, I would do what I liked until I was uncomfortable and then I would stop.
I find that my attitude toward being an athlete and my attitude toward life are no different. Without someone taking me by the shoulders and encouraging me (or challenging me) to get in there and fight, I will hang back where I am comfortable, safe and secure. I need to be reminded that life requires bravery, otherwise it's mere existence. I need someone to tell me not to run when I'm scared.
I love Rule 7 because it's both an exhortation and a demand. When Eleven says it to River in "Let's Kill Hitler," he's being very kind. He's showing her that she can be strong enough to face the situation and overcome urge to flee. He's also telling her that he isn't running, and that she has no right to go anywhere, either. She's better than that.
"Never run when you're scared," is absolute. He could have said "don't run," but he said "never." This means that, no matter how terrifying, how impossible, how dangerous things get, she must square off against them and prevail. There is no option for retreat.
"Have I not commanded you?"
It's funny how God can tell you something a million times in plain English, and you don't get the message until you see it elsewhere. You see, nothing about Rule 7 is groundbreaking, because all of it and more is in Joshua 1:9:
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord will be with you wherever you go."
Moses, the great patriarch and leader of Israel, has just died and Joshua is his successor. He's young and he's terrified, because God expects him to go to war to take control of land inhabited by giants - land that was promised to the children of Israel. Three times in the first nine verses of the book, God commands Joshua to be brave. Yet, he gives him the reason why: "As I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will never leave you or forsake you." God tells Joshua to have courage because of what he will do and because of what he's done before. One of my favorite professors asks this rhetorical question every time we see an answered promise in Scripture: "What good are the promises of God?" Answer: Very. The record of kept promises in the Bible not only shows us who God is and what he's done, but also sets a precedent for our confidence that he will act in our lives in the future. He's commanded us to be strong and courageous, to go and fight, no matter how scared we are. And we know that we can do it, we can face the big bad Life monster, because we remember who is with us and what he's done.
Believe it or not, but seminary can lead to contemplation about the character of God. (Who knew, right?) Of all the things I've learned over my first semester, the concept of grace has been the most moving, transformational and powerful. I can't say I fully appreciate God's grace, but even a slightly better perspective of what it means and what holiness is has brought an incredible sense of humility and gratitude into my life. Lately, my prayers have been centered upon or entirely composed of the plea, "Lord, be gracious with me for your name's sake." This kind of request is repeated throughout scripture, and especially in the Psalms. (Go to Bible Gateway, sometime, do a search for "gracious" and see just how many times and in what contexts it comes up. It's pretty amazing.) Grace is extraordinary, to me, because it's even better than mercy. Mercy is when you don't get what you deserve. It's a softening of justice, in a way. Grace is when you do get what you don't deserve. The beauty of the concept blows my mind, and the Doctor paints a marvelous picture of this beauty.
In this post, I'll give three examples of the Doctor's graciousness in the form of forgiveness. I hope with these illustrations that you'll get a small taste of how profound and wonderful grace is, and how stunning it is that God should choose to offer us forgiveness for the offensive and egregious thing that is sin.
Nine
For the record, I love the Ninth Doctor. He was my first Doctor, and his time was far too short. (Aside: please, Mr. Moffat, ask him to be involved with the 50th anniversary! And please, Mr. Eccleston, agree to come back!) Nine was kinda hardcore, what with the leather jacket, the survivor's guilt, the ruthlessness toward his enemies and the general dislike of humans - aka "stupid apes" - other than special ones like Rose. However, he had moments of touching grace that made you think, "Yes, the Doctor is wonderful."
One of my favorite Eccleston episodes is Father's Day, in which he and Rose travel back to the day her father was killed. Rose ends up interfering with established events by saving her father's life, which in turn rips reality apart and summons creatures called Reapers whose purpose is to sterilize wounds in time by removing things from existence. Basically, Rose brings about the destruction of all of space and time. And at first she doesn't care, because she saved her dad. (To be fair, she had no idea the implications of her actions until creepy flying creatures started inhaling people...but isn't that so human? We can't comprehend the consequences of our sins, and we might not really care that we break God's laws until we start seeing the devastation and scarring that it leaves. Food for thought.)
Nine is understandably upset with her, especially as she refuses to admit that what she did was wrong. But then we have these scenes. The video is ten minutes long, so if you don't feel like watching all of it, check out the first minute, then 6:38-8:45:
I love the last bit because all Nine asks for is a simple apology, then he forgives her. No shaming, no berating - just a touch, a smile and a hug, and he lets go of all of Rose's selfishness, pride and destructive actions. Completely forgiven, despite the fact that the world is collapsing outside the church and it's entirely her fault.
God deals with us in the same sort of manner. He asks for repentance, then he forgives and lets it go. (Psalm 103:12) Only through Christ's sacrificial atonement is this possible, but because Jesus died and was resurrected, all we need to be forgiven is merely to be sorry and seek pardon. It was by grace that we were saved, through faith (Ephesians 2:8), and it is by God's mercy that we don't have to endure eternal punishment.
Ten Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.
In the series 3 finale, the Tenth Doctor goes up against his old rival, the Master, played by the endearingly insane John Simm. I could write about what happens in the three-part story with the Master at first being the kindly, Time Lord-turned-human Professor Yana, the Doctor showing up on the scene and the Master re-emerging to wreak his typical mayhem, then the ensuing struggle between good and evil. I could do that, or I could let Chameleon Circuit do it for me. The following is called The Sound of Drums, and it's off the album Still Got Legs. You're welcome.
Utopia/The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords is possibly my favorite season finale in Ten's reign. Mostly it's because John Simm plays a hilarious Master. But it's also because I absolutely adore the way the Doctor acts in all three episodes. For those unfamiliar with Classic Who, the Master is not only an evil Time Lord enemy from way back, but he also rivals the Doctor in the brilliance department. He is a foil to our beloved hero, as he's what the Doctor could be, were he narcissistic instead of selfless.What's sad about the Master is that he and the Doctor were friends as children on Gallifrey. Then the former went mad and turned into the villain bent on ruling the universe before watching it burn. The centuries of enmity and struggle between the Doctor and the Master unfold in various stories throughout Classic Who, all of which result in devastation, pain and death at the Master's maleficence. He's even responsible for the death of the Doctor's fourth incarnation. Everything about the Master earns him swift and final judgment. So at the end of Last of the Time Lords, when the Doctor thwarts the Master's evil plan, we're expecting the good old Doc to bring the boom. And he does, like this:
Forgiveness. The Doctor offers forgiveness. Completely undeserved and unrequested. How amazingly Christlike is that? And then he goes and wants to take care of him for the rest of his life! And then he weeps when the Master dies! THE FEELS!
Eleven
Series 6 had a ridiculously complicated plot. I don't even think it's possible to summarize, except perhaps like this:
Anyway, we eventually find out (SPOILERS) that the astronaut who kills/almost kills the Doctor at Lake Silencio was actually River Song, the mysterious woman who loves Eleven more than anyone in the universe. (I'm going to assume you either know the events that transpire or will look them up, because rehashing it will take me days.) The scene we get in The Wedding of River Song, just before River messes with time and causes reality to implode, is beyond touching:
The Doctor knows River will kill him, that she can't control the space suit, that she loves him and hates herself for being what she is, that time will disintegrate if she doesn't do her job and that the time to die has come. In the moment of her betrayal, albeit unwitting, the Doctor submits to his fate and never once blames her. In the face of death, he has nothing but compassion for his murderer. Anticipating her self-loathing, he makes it perfectly clear that, no matter what, she is always forgiven. In every timeline, for every offense, in any state of mind, he loves her anyway and gives her the grace she doesn't believe she deserves.
On the cross, Jesus prayed for the Jews and Romans who mocked him and put him there, saying "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." (Luke 23:34) In the face of his death, in the midst of his agony, he had compassion and extended forgiveness to the treacherous and faithless crowd. He knew they would call for his crucifixion, he knew he had to die in order that we might be saved, and he never once cast blame. In every moment, for every offense, for every person present who did not realize he was Messiah, he loved anyway and offered the grace they didn't deserve. Then he died and rose again so that we may be always and completely forgiven.
Bless the Lord, oh my soul. Psalm 103.
Until next time! May you remember the gauntlets when handling the...wait, what was I writing?
Katya
