There’s not much seasonal humor in this week’s Sunday funnies. The classic Calvin and Hobbes is brilliant as always (with a great final panel). Frazz is funny, even if it ends up being a fart joke. But I think it’s this week’s FoxTrot by Bill Amend that does something interesting with science and the season.
A few days ago I posted some thoughts on my Thanksgiving Day viewing of Rian Johnson’s latest Knives Out mystery: Wake Up Dead Man. As I mentioned then, I really appreciated what Johnson was able to do with the sincerity of one the movie’s lead characters, Josh O’Connor’s Father Jud. The movie did leave me wondering some about Johnson’s religious background. Now that I’m not worried about spoilers (for myself, at least), I’ve done a bit more reading about the movie. So:
[beware of the links below- spoilers lurk on the other side]
The Ringer recently posted a great piece on the movie that also praised O’Connor’s handling of Father Jud. And in that piece was included a link to a bit of an interview between Johnson and the folks at Empire Magazine that speaks to his own religious background. I’d be curious to hear more of his story; I’m grateful that he can talk about his change of worldview without deriding those who still hold to it.
Yesterday was the beginning of Advent; it was also a solid day in the Sunday funnies.
The snow is already falling in Charles Schulz’s classic Peanuts. For some reason, the final panel struck me as being particularly funny (which is rare since I rarely enjoy bird-centric jokes). I also thought today’s strip was pretty funny (things you can’t teach an old dog, perhaps).
Yesterday’s Sunday-sized Frazz tackled an argument similar to the one about “celebrating Christmas all year long” but with Thanksgiving and birthdays at play.
And while there was no November snow in yesterday’s classic Calvin and Hobbes, there was still a potent chill in the air (a chill that still exists in our time). The colors are beautifully stark. The conversation is thoughtful and heavy. The penultimate panel is wonderfully pensive. And the final panel puts the perfect Calvin spin on things.
Today is the first Sunday of Advent, which marks the beginning of a new year in the church calendar. (Last Sunday was Christ the King Sunday, a recent addition to the church calendar that mostly only liturgical churches celebrate.)
As I understand it it, low church Christian that I am, Advent is about waiting on two levels: the first level as a remembrance of the time prior to the birth of Jesus and the second level as a way of looking forward to His return. The hope, I think, is that one would prepare us for the other (though I fear that sometimes our nature won’t allow much for that). The way we treat the themes of the season, though, make it easy to turn things into an extension of Christmas, mainly because we may not know how, well, to wait.
One of the main images of the season is light (made obvious by the candle-laden wreaths that many churches light each week). One could argue the prevenient image is that of darkness, which the light dispels more and more each week. These last few days leading up to Advent, I’ve been thinking about the darkness that comes from blindness.
One of the last Gospel readings prior to Advent was from Matthew 20:29-34:
29 As Jesus and his disciples were leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed him. 30 Two blind men were sitting by the roadside, and when they heard that Jesus was going by, they shouted, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”
31 The crowd rebuked them and told them to be quiet, but they shouted all the louder, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”
32 Jesus stopped and called them. “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked.
33 “Lord,” they answered, “we want our sight.”
34 Jesus had compassion on them and touched their eyes. Immediately they received their sight and followed him.
Meanwhile, the friars of the Poco a Poco podcast recently returned from a months-long sabbatical. They started back up with a discussion of a Franciscan Lent, which is a kind of extended Advent season. One of the best things about it is their return to the Beatitudes as a way of thinking about the core of the spiritual life. Last week I landed on the episode on the sixth Beatitude (found in Matthew 5:8): Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. The friars had a lot to say on the topic, but at the heart is the Advent hope of seeing, and we can only truly see because we have light.
We’re not big fans of sitting in the dark, and understandably so. But then we don’t take much time to understand the darkness we were in. Even, in some ways, are in still. Maybe we can only understand things well when the darkness has been dispelled (which can be its own tricky disposition). Maybe we can only fully understand hopelessness when we have hope (which is for most the first candled-theme of the season)? The story of the two blind men moves quickly- no mention of spittle and mud and people “looking like trees” for these two men. I imagine they still had to learn to live well with sight . . . in the light. And I imagine sleeping in the dark took some getting used to, as well (and with it, the fear that maybe they had momentarily lost their sight again).
Just some thoughts for the beginning of the season. It’s one of my favorites, mostly because it sinks its hooks well into the human condition and points us towards where real light, and real hope, exist. I look forward to a new candle’s-worth of light each week.
Chloe Zhao’s Hamnet is the kind of movie where the whole thing really depends on the final act. Most of the movie keeps its two leads apart, with Jessie Buckley’s Agnes Shakespeare at “home” and Paul Mescal’s Will Shakespeare living in London (where we see very little of his life there). As such, the movie really is more about Agnes than the Bard. But the dark, strange mood of the first two-thirds of the movie gives way to what you’ve been expecting the whole time. And when it happens, it really is great (and in a way that I didn’t see coming).
I’m curious to see what Christian writers will have to say about the new Knives Out movie, Wake Up Dead Man. It’s the find of movie that will likely infuriate one end of the spectrum and bring out some misguided self-righteousness in the other (which might be how all the KO movies work, now that I think about it).
I will say this: the movie presents a beautiful picture of the Gospel of Jesus and the possibilities of Christian vocation. Don’t get me wrong: the characters in the who-done-it are one and all messes, but something about Josh O’Connor’s Father Jud Duplenticy brings out the struggle for faith in the midst of the mess. It’s so odd to see a character in a movie who really believes the Gospel, even as he struggles to do what’s right in a difficult situation. He’s a great foil for Daniel Craig’s Benoit Blanc, who readily admits he has no room in his life for the Story that O’Connor’s character has embraced. Foil, by the way, is probably the best word: they aren’t enemies, but they are at odds (at least at key moments), and I’d say it falls just short of being a “team up.” It’s interesting that Father Jud serves as the (questionable?) narrator for the movie.
Beyond that, the movie is great. The mystery is wonderfully twisty, the acting falls into place nicely (even with some big name performers). The social commentary flares up a few times (and it interestingly complex in its own way) but isn’t as vital to the end as it is to the middle. And there are two or three beautiful scenes that are well-lit, well-acted, and well-placed to maintain the core tension of the story. Definitely a movie I’ll watch again, mostly because it’s a story that points to The Story and that keeps you from falling asleep in more ways than one.
The movie is in a few theaters here and there for a week or two but will officially drop on Netflix on December 12.
I had really hoped to be writing a blog post or two from Victoria, Canada (my mostly-regular Thanksgiving weekend haunt), but alas, even the best-laid plans fall apart. In my case, it was a mechanical issue with the plane (still in Honolulu) that kept me grounded. The airline people did their best to get me an early rebooking (instead of waiting a while day), but the connections were too tight for my comfort (especially with Customs at play). So at about 2:00 Thursday morning, I made the decision to “call it” and stay on island for the long weekend. Will I spend the rest of the weekend wondering if I should’ve just gone for two days instead of three? Maybe. But that third day keeps everything from being a rush.
So I’m trying to “bring over” some of my plans from the trip into my long weekend here (plus I’ve gotten to have some more traditional American Thanksgiving Day fare). Yesterday was the new Knives Out movie. Today is the haircut and catching Hamnet. I’ll definitely miss the cool weather and the walking (along with the pub food). But all this to say that the weekend won’t be a loss (financially, it will be a gain since I got refunds on both airfare and hotel).
There’s definitely some truth behind “wherever you go, there you are.” But place and time are also important. Maybe not vital, but important. I’m glad for places to go, for sure. And I hope to get back to Victoria sometime soon.
Today’s a solid day in the Sunday funnies. Calvin and Hobbes featured another “sigh” moment from Calvin that has some great visuals (and a good response from Calvin’s mom).
Technology played a fun role in both Peppermint Patty’s view of the future and in the approach to sports that Jason and Marcus take concerning sports over in FoxTrot.
And then there’s Frazz, with another entry in the eternal back-and-forth between Mrs. Olsen and Caulfield about getting work done, with today’s strip focusing mostly on the when.
I recently finished A Pilgrimage into Letting Go by Andrew and Kara Root. It’s an interesting gloss on Hartmut Rosa’s thinking about the (un)controllability of the world. Today’s Sunday-sized Frazz has some nice overlap with Rosa’s thinking, too.
Today’s Frazz comic by Jef Mallett leaves with something to think about. Turns out the crust really does matter but it’s also something often taken for granted (and perhaps why it’s the one thing left to mess around with at pizza places). Sturdy but not too doughy, easy to hold, just crisp enough. On some level, everything else depends on it. And that’s the crust of the matter.
On a similar note, I spent most of Friday evening updating the operating systems on my digital devices. Not too tricky with the laptop, but always a questionable with when it involves a major upgrade to my very simple phone. And wouldn’t you know it: I had to reboot with a factory reset and then connect with a recent back-up. There was one touch-and-go moment where I thought I’d lost it, but in the end it was okay.
Operating systems are like pizza crust, really. Everything depends on them: what your device can do, what can be done to your device. It’s something easily taken for granted. But it’s also something I’ve tried to keep up with for devices. I’d like to think I keep up with similar things in the rest of life, but that can be a little more difficult to judge.
But the conversation between Frazz and Caulfield was spot-on. Maybe the toppings don’t matter as much as long as the crust is what it needs to be.
Space Enough, and Time 