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I must confess that I snuck out yesterday afternoon (as opposed to actually working on my dissertation stuff, as I'd intended to do every day this week) in order to see the movies "Be Cool" and "Constantine" back to back at the multiplex.
As I'd expected, based on my previous enjoyment of "Get Shorty", "Be Cool" was very well done and great fun, with many, many hearty laughs (though the Rock's bits tended to inspire the loudest laughter in the theater, it seemed, since he was so adorably playing with and against his wrestling persona; that guy's more than just a pretty face and a gorgeous bod -- he has great comic timing!).
However, the rest of this post comes out of my thoughts during "Constantine" and an IM conversation earlier this evening with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
missmurchison.
She had been irked earlier today by hearing someone on the radio discussing "Constantine" and constantly repeating the mistaken idea, derived from the movie, that according to Catholic theology once you've even attempted suicide you're damned to hell forever. Though I wasn't raised Catholic (Presbyterian minister for a dad, so which church our family would attend was never really up for discussion), even I could see the logical fallacy of that characterisation of Catholic beliefs.
According to the belief system that the film claims to be working within, anyone can repent and ask God's forgiveness, and any sin, no matter how heinous, can be washed away by a sincere confession and desire to change. The only reason for treating suicide as somehow more egregious a sin than murder, or child-molestation or countless other crimes against others, in the first place, stemmed from the idea that, if you were successful in your suicide, you denied yourself the chance to repent for the life you'd just taken. However, in the case of a suicide attempt -- even one in which the individual is clinically dead for 2 minutes and gets a good long look at the hell that awaits, as is said to be the case for Constantine -- there's the same invitation to repent and be forgiven that is open to any other sinner.
Asmissmurchison commented, "Catholicism has enough real sins, without people ignoring its virtues," and spreading disinformation based on a movie whose grasp of Christian theology and ritual seemed pretty dubious, at times (referring to the New Testament book of 'Corinthians', for instance, -- without specifying the first or second letter to the Corinthians -- and to chapters in the book as 'acts': that was erroneous enough, in and of itself, to get my Protestant sensibilities all riled up, whereas I suspect that I simply didn't know enough about Catholicism to take umbrage at other errors or distortions).
But the real problem, as I saw it, was that there was a more subtle and useful point which the film was trying to make, but which got lost amidst the gore and the apparent claim that attempted suicide is an unforgivable sin (which was based on Constantine's conversation with the archangel Gabriel, early in the film, and we all know that -- in the end -- Gabriel doesn't turn out to be the most reliable of sources when it comes to representing the true views and goals of the Almighty).
The more subtle point I thought the the film tried to make (beginning with that same "you're f--ked" conversation with Gabriel) was a distinction between a faith-based repentance and a fear-based repentance (which was apparently the only kind of conversion or repentance Constantine had had) -- implying that a repentance and request for forgiveness that wasn't based on any real belief that you'd done wrong, but only on the fact that you'd had a good, close look at hell and were able to see demons and angels wandering the earth and were now ready to jump through whatever hoops it took to avoid eternal damnation, wasn't as valid.
Repentance and atonement apparently didn't 'count,' according to the unreliable Gabriel, if your repentance was based on certainty, rather than conviction. But rather than merely setting up another "Catch-22" (decreeing that once you know for sure that heaven and hell are real, etc., then you can't repent and have it 'count'), I thought the underlying implication was that Constantine's repentance needed to be based on certainty about the wrongness of his actions, rather than certainty about the punishment that awaits. Constantine's dealings with the supernatural world seemed to be about figuring out 'the rules' (even though he thought the rules of both good and evil pretty much sucked dead bunnies), so that he could 'work the system.'
That's why it's only after he's given up all hope of earning or conning his way out of eventually going to Hell -- only after he's lost all hope of having anything to gain for himself -- that his choices and sacrifices really start to 'count' in his favor. When he gives himself up to the fate he fears the most, in order to help everyone else on earth (and especially to help Isabel and her sister), firmly believing that he's damned forever no matter how much good he may accomplish but willing to pay the price . . . that's when he receives forgiveness and full redemption.
So, naturally, as I was watching the movie, I couldn't help but find parallels between Constantine's 'theology of despair' or 'faith in the absence of hope', on the one hand, and the situation in which both Angel and Spike eventually find themselves. I couldn't help but flash back on that conversation in the Angel episode "HellBound," concluding that they're both damned by the very souls that allow them to know and seek to do good, and that they can never fully atone or redeem themselves, but they're going to continue to fight the good fight anyway, because "What else are we gonna do?"
Still, it bears repeating, that this is the underlying message that I thought I saw in "Constantine", but that it would be really, really easy to miss, what with all the gore and judgment and wrath stuff going on. It's apparently NOT what most people who see the film are taking away with them. Which is too bad, 'cause I like my version of the film's theme much better than the "You're eternally f--ked if you ever tried to kill yourself" message that the radio reviewer ended up with.
And don't even get me started on all the disturbing implications of visually and thematically linking "illegal immigrants from hell" and the attempt of Mammon to break through into our reality and totally wreck the place, on the one hand, with some poor Mexican guy (who happened to be unlucky enough to find "the spear of destiny") illegally and lethally crossing the border into the U.S., on the other hand. Like we really need more paranoia and prejudice about illegal immigrants, or more equation of 'foreign' with 'evil'? That's almost scarier than the "hold-someone-under-water-until-they-see-the-afterlife"/"attempted-suicide-puts-you-forever-beyond-saving" one-two-punch, when it comes to unhelpful and inaccurate messages.
And speaking of the "spear of destiny" thing, is this some major source of legends and mythology that I've simply been in ignorance of all my life? Counting the TV show Witchblade and the TNT farce "The Librarian: Quest for the Spear", "Constantine" makes at least three sci-fi/fantasy appropriations in recent years of the spear thrust in Christ's side on the cross to verify that he was already dead. So, I'm wondering, "What? The Holy Grail, the True Cross, and the Ark of the Covenant were too 'feminine' or over-done, so we needed to find a more phallic object-of-mythic-power to play around with?"
As I'd expected, based on my previous enjoyment of "Get Shorty", "Be Cool" was very well done and great fun, with many, many hearty laughs (though the Rock's bits tended to inspire the loudest laughter in the theater, it seemed, since he was so adorably playing with and against his wrestling persona; that guy's more than just a pretty face and a gorgeous bod -- he has great comic timing!).
However, the rest of this post comes out of my thoughts during "Constantine" and an IM conversation earlier this evening with
missmurchison. She had been irked earlier today by hearing someone on the radio discussing "Constantine" and constantly repeating the mistaken idea, derived from the movie, that according to Catholic theology once you've even attempted suicide you're damned to hell forever. Though I wasn't raised Catholic (Presbyterian minister for a dad, so which church our family would attend was never really up for discussion), even I could see the logical fallacy of that characterisation of Catholic beliefs.
According to the belief system that the film claims to be working within, anyone can repent and ask God's forgiveness, and any sin, no matter how heinous, can be washed away by a sincere confession and desire to change. The only reason for treating suicide as somehow more egregious a sin than murder, or child-molestation or countless other crimes against others, in the first place, stemmed from the idea that, if you were successful in your suicide, you denied yourself the chance to repent for the life you'd just taken. However, in the case of a suicide attempt -- even one in which the individual is clinically dead for 2 minutes and gets a good long look at the hell that awaits, as is said to be the case for Constantine -- there's the same invitation to repent and be forgiven that is open to any other sinner.
As
missmurchison commented, "Catholicism has enough real sins, without people ignoring its virtues," and spreading disinformation based on a movie whose grasp of Christian theology and ritual seemed pretty dubious, at times (referring to the New Testament book of 'Corinthians', for instance, -- without specifying the first or second letter to the Corinthians -- and to chapters in the book as 'acts': that was erroneous enough, in and of itself, to get my Protestant sensibilities all riled up, whereas I suspect that I simply didn't know enough about Catholicism to take umbrage at other errors or distortions).But the real problem, as I saw it, was that there was a more subtle and useful point which the film was trying to make, but which got lost amidst the gore and the apparent claim that attempted suicide is an unforgivable sin (which was based on Constantine's conversation with the archangel Gabriel, early in the film, and we all know that -- in the end -- Gabriel doesn't turn out to be the most reliable of sources when it comes to representing the true views and goals of the Almighty).
The more subtle point I thought the the film tried to make (beginning with that same "you're f--ked" conversation with Gabriel) was a distinction between a faith-based repentance and a fear-based repentance (which was apparently the only kind of conversion or repentance Constantine had had) -- implying that a repentance and request for forgiveness that wasn't based on any real belief that you'd done wrong, but only on the fact that you'd had a good, close look at hell and were able to see demons and angels wandering the earth and were now ready to jump through whatever hoops it took to avoid eternal damnation, wasn't as valid.
Repentance and atonement apparently didn't 'count,' according to the unreliable Gabriel, if your repentance was based on certainty, rather than conviction. But rather than merely setting up another "Catch-22" (decreeing that once you know for sure that heaven and hell are real, etc., then you can't repent and have it 'count'), I thought the underlying implication was that Constantine's repentance needed to be based on certainty about the wrongness of his actions, rather than certainty about the punishment that awaits. Constantine's dealings with the supernatural world seemed to be about figuring out 'the rules' (even though he thought the rules of both good and evil pretty much sucked dead bunnies), so that he could 'work the system.'
That's why it's only after he's given up all hope of earning or conning his way out of eventually going to Hell -- only after he's lost all hope of having anything to gain for himself -- that his choices and sacrifices really start to 'count' in his favor. When he gives himself up to the fate he fears the most, in order to help everyone else on earth (and especially to help Isabel and her sister), firmly believing that he's damned forever no matter how much good he may accomplish but willing to pay the price . . . that's when he receives forgiveness and full redemption.
So, naturally, as I was watching the movie, I couldn't help but find parallels between Constantine's 'theology of despair' or 'faith in the absence of hope', on the one hand, and the situation in which both Angel and Spike eventually find themselves. I couldn't help but flash back on that conversation in the Angel episode "HellBound," concluding that they're both damned by the very souls that allow them to know and seek to do good, and that they can never fully atone or redeem themselves, but they're going to continue to fight the good fight anyway, because "What else are we gonna do?"
Still, it bears repeating, that this is the underlying message that I thought I saw in "Constantine", but that it would be really, really easy to miss, what with all the gore and judgment and wrath stuff going on. It's apparently NOT what most people who see the film are taking away with them. Which is too bad, 'cause I like my version of the film's theme much better than the "You're eternally f--ked if you ever tried to kill yourself" message that the radio reviewer ended up with.
And don't even get me started on all the disturbing implications of visually and thematically linking "illegal immigrants from hell" and the attempt of Mammon to break through into our reality and totally wreck the place, on the one hand, with some poor Mexican guy (who happened to be unlucky enough to find "the spear of destiny") illegally and lethally crossing the border into the U.S., on the other hand. Like we really need more paranoia and prejudice about illegal immigrants, or more equation of 'foreign' with 'evil'? That's almost scarier than the "hold-someone-under-water-until-they-see-the-afterlife"/"attempted-suicide-puts-you-forever-beyond-saving" one-two-punch, when it comes to unhelpful and inaccurate messages.
And speaking of the "spear of destiny" thing, is this some major source of legends and mythology that I've simply been in ignorance of all my life? Counting the TV show Witchblade and the TNT farce "The Librarian: Quest for the Spear", "Constantine" makes at least three sci-fi/fantasy appropriations in recent years of the spear thrust in Christ's side on the cross to verify that he was already dead. So, I'm wondering, "What? The Holy Grail, the True Cross, and the Ark of the Covenant were too 'feminine' or over-done, so we needed to find a more phallic object-of-mythic-power to play around with?"
(no subject)
Remember, VERY clearly, that the sin of suicide (successful suicide, of course) is that it is a sin of DESPAIR; successful suicide negates HOPE, and hope, of course, is what leads to forgiveness of our sins. IOW, DESPAIR is the real sin of suicide - it's the thought/feeling that leads to the action of suicide.
(no subject)
On the other hand, I've much more recently been immersed in Paul Tillich's not-very-jolly book The Courage to Be, which has a much more 20th century Protestant-in-dialogue-with-Existentialism view of faith and despair. So, I've kind of gotten in the habit of thinking that despair and faith aren't necessarily antithetical . . . in Tillich's view.
In traditional Christian theology, of course, despair is a dead end, in every sense. Thanks for reminding me to keep my Tillich and my Augustine straight, and not mix apples and oranges without declaring my intention, up front, to serve fruit salad!
(no subject)
And, 'verse wise: recall that Angel signed away the Shanshu. Reason? The Black Thorn told him that it gave him hope, and that was a dangerous thing.
Of course, without hope, Angel involved himself and his friends in that dangerous move to take out the Black Thorn, which was, in fact, a suicidal move.
(no subject)
The more subtle point I thought the the film tried to make (beginning with that same "you're f--ked" conversation with Gabriel) was a distinction between a faith-based repentance and a fear-based repentance
And you know what? Catholics don't even sneer at fear-based repentance. The point is to repent. Anything's better than a soul lost to hell, and if God's willing to accept fear-based repentance (and clearly God is, or else he wouldn't resort to telling people about hell in the first place, goes the theory) it's not for mortals to split hairs. Love and contrition are preferable, but if fear gets the job done in a pinch, fine, say the theologians. It's considered a measure of God's divine humilty, in fact.
Suicide's still "objectively" a mortal sin on paper, but these days the Catholic position comes down on the side of compassion, i.e. God's, which is infinite. The current idea is that humans are hardwired for self preservation, so a person would have to be compelled -- to a greater or lesser degree -- by mental or physical pain to commit suicide. That falls under the heading of impaired judgement; the vast majority of suicides commit the act under unbearable pressure and aren't culpable, they say.
And of course there's repentance. On the threshold of death (the "particular judgement") time pretty much stops. The soul becomes omniscient and has plenty of leisure to think things through. It's said that if a person jumps off a bridge, he can make a perfect act of contrition before he hits the water -- and theoretically at least, go straight to heaven on the strength of it(mileage varies based on the perfection of the contrition ;).
And then there's the infinite mercy of God. The soul isn't in it alone, at the particular judgement. God surrounds it with pleas and invitations to divine union and gentle admonitions and all kinds of grace, and yes, may even resort to terrifying visions of hell if nothing else will serve. God, say Catholics, will do anything short of actually coercing Free Will to get a dying person into the eternal bosom.
And just in case a dying person is feeling resentful, angry and inclined to resist all that, there's the aid of human prayer. Catholics (and especially the contemplative orders) make praying for the dying a priority, because prayer can obtain the grace of conversion at the ultimate moment.
Heh. To hear some Jesuits tell it, getting into hell is downright hard. Suicide as the unforgivable sin? Tsk.
Ooops, long comment, obliged to break it up. Yeesh, mention theology and watch me go. I'm like a wind up toy.
straight to heaven go Angel and Spike
So, naturally, as I was watching the movie, I couldn't help but find parallels between Constantine's 'theology of despair' or 'faith in the absence of hope', on the one hand, and the situation in which both Angel and Spike eventually find themselves. I couldn't help but flash back on that conversation in the Angel episode "HellBound," concluding that they're both damned by the very souls that allow them to know and seek to do good, and that they can never fully atone or redeem themselves, but they're going to continue to fight the good fight anyway, because "What else are we gonna do?"
Oooh, ooh: I love talking about Angel and Spike, and their goofy notions of damnation. Hell for Spike and Angel? Pshaw. They both need to talk to a priest. *g*
It's impossible for Spike and Angel to go to hell, says the Catholic ex-nun contingent of Buffy Angel fandom. :D An instant of true repentance is all that's required to erase a hundred lifetimes of sin, and they both seem to have that covered. And the working for no reward thing? They're both halfway to sanctity by that measure.
Despair? Nope. It would only be despair if they said: okay, we're going to hell anyway, so screw the good fight. Fighting the good fight without any hope of personal reward is holiness, for pete's sake. Liam needs to stop catastrophizing and remember the lessons learned at mummy's knee. :D
Angel, by signing away the shanshu, achieved selflessness. Spike has the whole heroic Hellmouth-closure under his belt, so he's practically a saint. No hell for either ofthem, and they might even get to skip purgatory. I was having this discussion after NFA and from a Cathloic standpoint, Spike and Angele have got zero worries. Theologically they can't got to hell.
What is it about the Jossverse? Such a brutal place. Bad deeds are punished, punished and punished, but good deeds don't make much of a dent. You'd think that even if Joss were using a karmic model rather one based on grace, good deeds would at least carry equal weight. (If you slaughter say, 225,000 innocents during a century of vampiric mayhem, wouldn't saving the entire world later put you ahead, numerically?) Makes me feel a little insulted for the honor of good deeds. *g*
Ramble, ramble. Gads, this is a long reply, sorry. I'm overwhelmed with deadlines and in a state of rigid denial. Maybe I should just give in and go see Constantine. I hear it's a blast.
Re: straight to heaven go Angel and Spike
(btw, "mileage varies based on the perfection of contrition" had me helplessly rolling on the floor for five minutes!)
I'm in total agreement that Angel and Spike aren't damned at all (no matter how existentialist and depressed the Jossverse theology may seem at times), because even us Calvinists believe in repentance and grace and that there's no such thing as an unforgiveable sin, in God's sight (me trying to forgive people is a whole other matter -- that's still very much a WIP).
But the temptation to try to "work out your own salvation" with pride and self-sufficiency (as opposed to the fear and trembling Paul talked about) is pretty pervasive. That's why I felt far more assured of both Angel's and Spike's salvation when they admitted they couldn't work it off on their own in HellBound but kept fighting the good fight anyway than I had back when Angel was keeping a scoreboard at the start of AtS season 2 or Spike was kvetching about having been screwed out of his Just Rewards for saving the world. In their selflessness, I finally knew they'd gotten in right, no matter what they themselves believed about their 'hopeless' situation.
In the same way, if you see the film, tell me if you don't think Constantine had to reach a point of giving up his hope of finding a way out on his own in order to truly take that 'leap of faith' and land himself on the 'up' elevator.
And be prepared to be appalled at the rampant misuse of the Bible and Catholic teachings. "But aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln . . . "