Monday, January 29, 2007
Letters from Iwo Jima - Relevant review
Flags of Our Fathers, based on the James Bradley novel, told the story of American soldiers who lifted the flag at Iwo Jima and became the poster boys for “American wartime valor,” a concept they all struggled to live up to. Letters from Iwo Jima tells of similar struggles from the Japanese perspective. Together the pair of films explores, through a gorgeous, ying-yang connectedness, the tensions between micro, spiritual existence and macro, war-machine madness.
Whereas most of Flags took place after the battle itself, most of Letters occurs in the months leading up to the 1945 fight on Iwo Jima. As 22,000 Japanese soldiers amass on the strategic Pacific island for a final stand against an inevitable American invasion (of about 100,000 troops), we get a cross-sectional look inside the souls of these men at war. General Kuribayashi, portrayed with graceful restraint by Ken Watanabe, is dealt the unfortunate task of leading what is widely felt to be a lost cause in the stand on Iwo Jima, yet he retains his authority and will amid constant pressures from strategy-happy subordinates and dejected foot soldiers. He is a towering figure of military leadership at its most star-crossed-yet-elegant best. Similar in character countenance is another high-ranking officer, Baron Nishi (Tsuyoshi Ihara), an Olympic equestrian star and inspirational celebrity to the Japanese troops. Nishi amuses his comrades by riding his prize-winning horse around camp (some of the film’s most jarring images involve the horse) and by recalling tales of Hollywood hobnobbing with the likes of Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks. Kuribayashi and Nishi’s characters (who both spent plenty of time, and have many friends, in the U.S.) remind us of the unnatural inhumanity of reducing individuals to expendable fighting numbers in abstract global struggles.
In contrast to these two gallant, ranking officials, Letters’ other main characters represent the rank-and-file conscripts who are thrust into these dire conditions with an all too keen understanding of their own expendability. Saigo (Kazunari Ninomiya) is a young husband and father whose sole desire is to survive and return to his family. Shimizu (Ryo Kase) an ex-Kempeitai military policeman (kicked out for refusing to shoot a dog) who befriends Saigo on the battlefield. Together they come to realize that perhaps fighting for each other—for life—is in the end more honorable than fighting to the death against a foe on the cusp of total victory.
And this is the theme that pervades Letters, as well as Flags: when is death (and in a larger sense, violence) honorable? It is a question that has come up in other places in recent cinema, like in United 93, which pit terrorists’ notions about jihad honor against western values of life at all costs. A similar tension is played out in the eastern vs. western belief systems at work in Letters and Flags. The Americans in Flags, for example, do not take pride in their fallen comrade “heroes” on the battlefield, but rather question the notion. Death for them—even for a larger goal—is nothing to rejoice in. The Japanese, on the other hand, find it dishonorable and even pathetic for a soldier to walk off the battlefield in one piece (at worst, as a P.O.W.). Death is the highest triumph for them. We see this in one of Letters’ most intense scenes, in which a group of hopeless soldiers take death in their own hands—in the form of a grenade clasped to the chest. “Banzai!” they yell as they blow themselves up for their country.
But notions of death and country are not as black and white in these films as the above paragraph insinuates. Nothing ever is in a Clint Eastwood film. The director, who often shrouds his characters in shadowy frames of both light and dark, is an artist of the grays. His films re-focus old notions, debunk classic structures and remind us that this world is too complex to reduce to soundbites or Hollywood endings; too complex even to let one film have the final word on something so iconic as Iwo Jima (and all that Iwo Jima represents).
Before the Flags/Letters duo, Eastwood’s last film was Million Dollar Baby, a film that also, interestingly, dealt with the question of dying with honor. Many pro-life advocates attacked Eastwood and Baby for promoting a “culture of death,” because (spoiler alert) the main character insists on being euthanized (or rather, kills herself through the hands of another). I wonder if those same critics will attack Letters for depicting protagonists who kill themselves, and, at times, who ask others to do the job for them?
Clint Eastwood, through the film cycle of Flags and Letters, is taking our “pro-life” notions and throwing them in our face—asking us if we really do value life as much as we claim. These films are all about men—live, breathing, family men—who are dying in droves like cattle to the slaughter. In the case of Letters, the Japanese soldiers are dying for an aim that is absolutely, knowingly futile. The Americans were dying for something more (at least from their perspective), but still, dying. When is death justified? When is it honorable? Is a pro-war stance really pro-life? These are all important and timely questions Eastwood is raising. Without getting too political, can we not ask ourselves—especially as Christians—whether the killing of unborn babies is substantively different than the weekly slaughter of hundreds and hundreds of people in Iraq? Whether good guys or bad, overthrown dictators or coma-ridden cripple people, when is the extinction of human life a good thing?
Ultimately, Eastwood’s films do not provide easy answers. What they do offer, generously and provocatively, is a reminder that there is always more than one way to look at something.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Hannah's 1st Birthday
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
How to be a Disciple (Stephanie Grant)
Does that sound lazy to you? It’s not. It’s the truth.
Wait you say, “That is so contrary to everything the Bible teaches.
No it is absolutely Biblical. Jesus taught it. Shocking huh?

Jesus was able to bear fruit. Jesus was relevant. He could and can do anything. But there is only one thing that made Jesus able to go to the cross. It is this thing that enables me to be a daughter of God. It is this thing that enables me to bear fruit. To witness. Reach people. And it is not myself.
It is a relationship with the true and Living God.
Think about John 15: 4-5: “Remain in Me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in Me. I am the Vine, you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit” (TNIV).
So what is the secret? Abiding. Abiding in God. Hanging out in the secret place is the only way we are able to be obedient. It is the only way to bear any kind of fruit. It is the only way to be successful in the eyes of God.
Why is this so? Because God is after a relationship. He doesn’t want your works as much as He wants your heart. For the longest time I failed over and over again. I tried to read my Bible, pray and walk in freedom. I was failing fast and feeling bad about it. I was trying to do the “thing” (whatever I felt it was at the time) without the relationship. No abiding. Without putting my relationship with God first.
God isn’t looking for people to order to around. Will He ask you to do things? Yes. However, if you have been abiding in Him you’ll be able to do whatever He asks you to because it won’t be you doing it, it will be Christ in you! He’s more after having someone who wants His hearts rather than His hand, His money, His promotion. He is after a friend, not a slave. Jesus spent a huge amount of time with God so when it was time for Him to be crucified He was ready. Why? He abided. He knew His Father. His Father knew Him.
Know Him.
To know God is true success. Regardless of what you accomplish in life, knowing Christ is what makes everything worth it. It is what makes life worth living.
Yeah, I didn’t have a passion for the unsaved either. I couldn’t seem to put Him first. I couldn’t seem to get it right. Then I realized without God’s help I couldn’t do anything. I had to quit trusting in my own ability to please God and realize that without Him I can’t.
Do you want to be relevant? Abide. Are you ready for some fruit in your life? Abide. I can do nothing, but “I can do all this through Him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13, TNIV).
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Christmas Letter '06
The Bennett Family
Mt Pleasant
SC 29466
Tel: 001 (843) 884 6187
E-mail: jandmbennett@bellsouth.net
Dear family and friends,
This Christmas we will be in
God bless,
The Bennetts.
Friday, January 05, 2007
The Myth of Redemptive Violence
Shane Claiborne: Communicating Through a Noose
"What do you think of that man?" the old guy asked in a raspy voice as I settled in next to him on the plane. He pointed to the face of Saddam Hussein on the front of his newspaper with a headline story of the looming execution. I gathered myself, and prepared for what could turn out to be a rather chatty plane ride. I replied gently, "I think that man needs some love." And the rather boisterous gentleman sat still, perhaps not exactly the response he predicted. Then he said pensively, "Hmmmm. I think you're right..." And finally, he whispered in a forlorn tone, "And it is hard to communicate love through a noose."
Sometimes we just need permission to say, "It's not okay to kill someone to show everyone how much we hate killing." As Christian artist Derek Webb sings, " Peace by way of war is like purity by way of fornication. It's like saying murder is wrong and showing them by way of execution." I am encouraged by how many Christians I hear voicing an alternative to the myth of redemptive violence in light of the recent killing of Saddam, folks who love Jesus and have the unsettling feeling that Jesus loves evildoers so much he died for them, for us. I have heard many evangelicals who see Saddam's execution as the ultimate act of hopelessness and faithlessness – after all it is humanity stepping in to make the final judgment, that this human created in God's image is beyond redemption. And for those who believe in hell, executing someone who may not yet know of the love and grace of Christ is doubly offensive.
It is rather scandalous to think that we have a God who loves murderers and terrorists like Saul of Tarsus, Osama bin Laden, or Sadaam Hussein – but that is the "good news" isn't it? It's the old eye for an eye thing that gets us. But the more I've studied the Hebrew Scriptures the more I am convinced that this was just a boundary for people who lashed back. As the young exodus people are trying to discover a new way of living outside the empire, God made sure there were some boundaries, like if someone breaks your are, you cannot go back and break their arm and their leg. If someone kills hundreds of your people, you cannot kill 160,000 of theirs.We've learned the eye for an eye thing all too well. A shock and awe bombing leads to a shock and awe beheading. A Pearl Harbor leads to a Hiroshima. A murder leads to an execution. A rude look leads to a cold shoulder. An eye for an eye we have indeed heard before and learned its logic all too well. But Jesus comes declaring in his State of the Union Sermon on the Mount address (Matthew 5): "You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,'" but there is a another way. No wonder Jesus wept over Jerusalem because the people "did not know the things that make for peace."
Gandhi and King used to say, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth leaves the whole world blind" (and with dentures). The gospels tell the story of a group of people who have dragged forward an adulteress and are ready to stone her (this was the legal consequence). Jesus is asked for his support of this death penalty case. His response is this... "You are all adulterers. If you have looked at someone lustfully, you have committed adultery in your heart." And the people drop their stones and walk away with their heads bowed. We want to kill the murderers, and Jesus says to us: "You are all murderers. If you have called your neighbor 'Raca, Fool' you are guilty of murder in your heart." Again the stones drop. We are all murderers and adulterers and terrorists. And we are all precious.
When we have new eyes we can look into the faces of those we don't even like, and see the One we love. We can see God's image in everyone we encounter. As Henri Nouwen puts it: "In the face of the oppressed I recognize my own face and in the hands of the oppressor I recognize my own hands. Their flesh is my flesh, their blood is my blood, their pain is my pain, their smile is my smile." We are made of the same dust. We cry the same tears. No one is beyond redemption and no one is beyond repute. And that is when we are free to imagine a revolution that sets both the oppressed and the oppressors free. The world is starving for grace. And grace is hard to communicate with a noose.
