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Glory Road

It's 1965. Vietnam was on television, and so was Lyndon Johnson. Martin Luther King Jr. was leading the Civil Rights movement, and racism in America was both subtle and overt, particularly in the Deep South. Bouffant hairdos. Motown sound on the radio. And college basketball was a white man's game.

It's not that there weren't some black players. But the ones who toughed out the taunts from the stands had to endure the unwritten expectations of Division One competition: You can play one black at home, two on the road, and three if you're desperately behind. But a whole team of blacks would be undisciplined, would only be capable of the "playground" game, no teamwork, all "showboating."

Don Haskins was a successful high school girls' basketball coach. Sure, he had dreams of coaching a men's program at the college level, and he was amazed when he was offered the position at Texas Western (now the University of Texas at El Paso). He didn't realize they had no recruiting budget, little talent to work with, and few expectations even of itself. He set out to change all that. He wanted to go recruit some good players. So he scoured the playgrounds, not only in Texas, but also in places like Gary, Indiana, and Harlem. He told those black kids that if they followed his program, they would play. And so a dedicated group of seven black players all accepted scholarships. And Haskins (played capably by Josh Lucas) went about trying to shape them into a team.

Mrs. Henderson Presents

It's an old story: aging widow is left with lots of money and little to do. She tries needlework, charity work but finds the other old biddies dreary and tiresome. She definitely doesn't want to be like them. She visits the grave of her only son, who died at 21 years of age on some field in France, fighting the Germans. His headstone is in the middle of a neat, crowded row of other headstones, silent, mocking monuments to the "War to end all wars."  

Laura Henderson (Judi Dench) has a car, and driver, furs, an elegant estate, and all of one lady friend. She's sharp-tongued, sharp-witted, and is often construed as rude, selfish, and eccentric. She's also bored to tears. She desperately needs an occupation, and could really use a cause.

One day she happens upon an old, closed-down theater called "The Windmill." It's London, during the Depression. On a whim, she buys it. She then contracts with a local out-of-work but experienced manager, Vivian Van Damm (Bob Hoskins). They like each other because every time they meet, it's a clash of wit and will. It gets the blood pumping for both of them.

Oh, and they hit on a formula that keeps the blood pumping for their patrons. It seems that the Windmill Theater initially enjoyed significant success with the modest innovation of the continuous musical revue. But then, all the other theaters copied them, and they were no longer unique. Sales slumped. Mrs. Henderson quite seriously suggests to Mr. Van Damm that a true innovation would be if their girls were nude. Mr. Van Damm acts shocked, but can't help but be intrigued by the idea. He says the authorities would never allow it. It turns out that Mrs. Henderson knows the particular government administrator, and she wears him down with her bargaining technique, until he finally allows it, but only if the women in question are completely still, like a sculpture in a museum.

Blood Done Sign My Name: A True Story

by Timothy B. Tyson. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2005. ISBN 1400083117.  Pb., 368 pp., $14.

 

Many words will be spilled over this review of Timothy B. Tyson's autobiography, Blood Done Sign My Name. All of them are intended to encourage you: read it; invite your congregation members to read it; listen deeply to what it says to you, in you, and about you.

Tyson provides one of the most engaging autobiographies this reviewer has read. He integrates his coming of age story into the crime of murder, committed in an apparent spirit of racial supremacy. He challenges us to see more than is comfortable and to admit all that we know but dare not speak.

Tyson's generous personal story, woven with his clear and accessible exposition of complex civil rights history, captivated me. He cleverly negotiates the distance between past and present, between his story and the story and laces it all with theological assertions, challenges, and hope. Tyson avoids the dangers of nostalgia by delving into the messy complexities of racism and our continuing grasp toward, but not of, reconciliation. Chapters are measured with insightful humor and grit, making the recounting of pain caused by the sins inherently consequent given racism in our culture and in our church more palatable.

Back through the wardrobe: A Review Essay

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C. S. Lewis.  New York: HarperTrophy, 2000. ISBN 0064409422. Pb., 208 pp., $8.99.

C. S. Lewis: Letters to Children, edited by Lyle W. Dorsett and Marjorie Lamp Mead. New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1985.

 

This season's opening of the film "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" has taken many of us back through the wardrobe into Narnia. My hope is that the new travelers have not only the film trip, but also the wonderfully imaginative one through the book The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which was the first of the seven books in the Narnia chronicles by C. S. Lewis.

Some wonder at the staying power of Lewis. He was a scholar, a medievalist, and professor of literature at both Oxford and Cambridge, and for some years an agnostic. His path to faith sets him as a premier example of one who reasoned his way to the brink of faith. One cannot reason all the way. He said the final step was like diving off the high diving board for the first time.

Lewis' writings ranged beyond excellent works in his professional field to the publication of his World War II radio talks -- now available as Mere Christianity. Countless Christians found their first doorway into faith through that book. Beyond these moving apologetic pieces (never out of print), he published novels and science fiction.

Of prime importance to us is the series of the Narnia Chronicles. Here the children wander through a wonderful wardrobe into the land of Narnia, where it is always winter but never Christmas. The White Witch rules and her kingdom is defeated only by the quite remarkable lion, Aslan (pronounced by Lewis Ass-lan).  Many have seen in Aslan a Christ figure. He suffers ("velveting his paws," emptying himself of his power) and lays down his life for others. He comes bouncing back to life and breathes life into countless elves, dwarves, and animals that have been turned to stone by the White Witch. One of the children (Edmund) is a Judas figure, a sneak and a traitor. The fearful children (like the disciples) join the risen Aslan to do battle against evil.

Some ask whether we have "read in" our Christian theology here. Did Lewis intend to tell the Jesus story? In this essay I share Lewis' own words in the revealing book C. S. Lewis: Letters to Children. We do not have the children's letters, but to our great pleasure we have C. S. Lewis responding to them.

A child asked in 1953 about Aslan's other name (is he Jesus?). Lewis responds: "Has there never been anyone in this world who (1.) Arrived at the same time as Father Christmas. (2.) Said he was the son of the Great Emperor. (3.) Gave himself up for someone else's fault to be jeered at and killed by wicked people. (4.) Came to life again. (5.) Is sometimes spoken of as a Lamb (see the end of the Dawn Treader). Don't you really know His name in this world?" (p. 32)

Recent books on spirituality and devotional reading

A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward an Undivided Life, by Parker J. Palmer. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2004. ISBN 0-7879-7100-6. Hb., 192 pp. $22.95.

Drawing attention to the divided nature of our lives (the "blizzard" that assaults us without and within), Palmer seeks a means by which we might live as more whole persons, "undivided" in the relationships in which we seek to live and serve. Palmer offers no quick fixes, but calls for his readers to create safe spaces to nurture the soul in community; his hope is that such undivided lives will enable us to live non-violently in the world.

 

A Table of Delight: Feasting with God in the Wilderness, by Elizabeth J. Canham. Nashville: Upper Room Books. 2005. ISBN 0-8358-9804-0. Pb., 132 pp. $12.

Canham invites readers to find God at work in wilderness experiences--both the chosen wildernesses of retreat, and the un-chosen wildernesses of barren times of life. She shares with the reader ways that the wilderness can be a place of prayer where God is at work.

God Was in the Laughter: The Autobiography of David Haxton Carswell Read

by David H. C. Read. New York: Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church, 2005; available by order from The Hood Library at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church (921 Madison Avenue, New York, NY, 10021; $20 plus $3 shipping and handling).

 

During a scheduled "free" afternoon of a continuing education event at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, David H. C. Read spent his "free" time reading the sermons of, and offering instruction and encouragement to, a pair of young pastors. Each chapter of his autobiography God Was in the Laughter radiates that same grace and generosity.

David Haxton Carswell Read was for thirty-three years pastor of Madison Avenue Church in New York City and perennially listed among the best preachers in the United States. His voice was heard regularly on the National Radio Pulpit. In 1973 he was the Lyman Beecher lecturer at Yale Divinity School. He published about a dozen books of sermons and a half dozen other volumes on preaching, evangelism, and as well an introduction to Christian faith. His sermons are bright and witty, theologically rich, wonderfully insightful to the human need for God, and though they were preached decades ago, they may still be profitably read as models of homiletical discipline and vessels of God's grace.

King Kong

The long-term appeal of "King Kong" is the unique dynamic of the Beast being attracted to Beauty, as she brings out his softer, gentler side. In this re-make, the Beast protects her, enjoys a sunset with her, laughs with her, and is even playful with her. But, of course, he's too brutish to survive in this world, because he's too much of a threat to others.

This version of "King Kong" is set in the 1930's, like the original. It's actually three movies of one hour each: the prelude and the voyage, the island, and the return.

A More Profound Alleluia: Theology and Worship in Harmony

edited by Leanne Van Dyke. Grand Rapids, Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2005.  ISBN 0-8028-2854-X. Pb., 155 pp.  $15. 

 

Leanne Van Dyke, at the end of her contribution to this book of essays on theology and worship reminds us that if one pulls on a single thread of worship practices, "theological implications begin to spill out," and if one pulls on a single thread of theology, "worship practices begin to spill out." Accordingly, the "thoughtful pastor, church leader, and lay person will wish to think through these mutual integrations so that worship and theology can fit together and be a fragrant offering to God." (p.78)

Van Dyke's own effort to trace the mutual relations between what we believe and how we worship centers on the church's task of proclamation, pairing our understanding of the Word made flesh in Jesus Christ with the word that engages us in Scripture, sacrament, preaching, and other liturgical moments. She is joined in this integrative effort by five other contributors: John Witvliet, whose initial essay deals with the opening of worship and its Trinitarian shape; William Dryness, who traces the mutual connections between the church's act of confession and the doctrines of sin and grace; Ron Byars, whose essay shows how the church's practice of confessing the faith in creedal form (and in the prayers of the liturgy) implies a certain doctrine of the church that in turn sheds light on the meaning of our confessing; Martha Moore-Keish, who writes on the deep connections between the church's practice of celebrating the Eucharist and its eschatological hope; and David Stubbs, who helps us see the end of worship as the calling to live in such a way that our lives do not mock our worship but rather reflect its truth and reality.

“The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, & The Wardrobe”

It's London, during the Blitz. Frightened by the bombing, mothers (the fathers have gone for soldiers) are putting their children on trains to visit any relative who might live out in the countryside. And so Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Peter, who look to be about six, ten, fourteen, and sixteen, find themselves in a ramshackle old home out in the country with an overbearing housekeeper, an absent relative, and a lot of spare time on their hands. During a rainy-afternoon game of hide-and-seek, Lucy stumbles into an old wardrobe, and when she tries to hide in the back of it, she finds herself in another land!  

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