Because everyone loves a good story
In Pursuit of Perfection: Approval
“A realist is just a pessimist in disguise.”
Or so my husband sagely observed when I was playing devil’s advocate in yet another one of our conversations. For some reason, whenever we’re making plans, I feel obligated to point out how unlikely it is that everything will go as we hope. For this reason I tend to propose way too many backup plans and alternate options. I consider this being realistic, although I can see where my (optimistic) hubby could confuse it with flat-out pessimism.
Why Perfectionists Are Often Pessimists
But the thing is, those of us who notice the constant struggle against entropy and Murphy’s law know that the pursuit of a perfect plan, like the pursuit of a perfect anything in this life, is sure to go awry at some level. So what’s a body to do? Give up or try harder? So far I’ve chosen to try harder, but after meditating on the truths I’m about to share with you, I may just wave the white flag and join Team Optimist sooner than later. At least they can go with the flow.
So what I’ve been struggling with, as you may remember from last time, is the fact that I can never get what I want out of my ceaseless toil. But that’s because what I want isn’t actually perfection; it’s approval, identity, and rest. As I dug deeper into those desires in light of the Bible, I found some hard news and some good news. Today we’ll look at our need for approval, and we’ll save identity and rest for next time.
The Problem with Approval
So when I work myself to the bone on a project, a gift, or even a simple house task, what am I hoping to gain from it? Sure, part of it is for personal satisfaction. I genuinely like to work hard, as nerdy as that is to admit. But would I do the exact same quality of work if I knew that no one would ever see and recognize how much I’d done? Honestly, I doubt it. I’ve recently realized how much I desire approval for my work because it feels like approval of me.
But it’s not just people whose approval I crave; it’s God’s, too. And that’s the kicker, really. I may get a temporary boost to the ol’ ego when people applaud my achievements, but it doesn’t last. I know that God’s approval is the one that really matters, but how can I know when I’ve gotten it, really?
A Familiar Parable
As I thought about approval, the Bible passage that came to mind was the parable of the servants in Matthew 25. You may be familiar with the story: a master entrusts money to three servants and then leaves town for a while. When he comes back, two of the servants had used the money wisely and doubled what he’d given them, but the third servant had merely hidden the money and gained nothing. The master was pleased with the first two servants but angry with the third. So there’s biblical proof that it’s better to work hard to gain God’s approval rather than slack off and hope he lets it slide. Right?
Wrong-o. On a quick read through, that’s what I’d be tempted to think, but the reality is far different. Listen to the dialogue. The first and second servants basically say, “Here, master. You gave me a lot of money to take care of, and I doubled it while you were away.” The master replies, “Well done, you good and faithful servant. You were faithful. Enter into my joy.”
“I Know You”
But the plot thickens when you hear what the third servant says: “Master, I know you’re harsh and demanding, always taking what you haven’t earned. I was afraid of you, so I hid your money to avoid getting in trouble. Here you go.” The master commands him to be thrown out into the darkness, calling him wicked, lazy, and worthless. Ouch.
But really, aside from lacking tact, what was so wrong with what the third servant did? Did the master really need money that badly? I doubt it; instead, I think the problem can be boiled down to the phrase, “Master, I know you.” That’s where he went wrong; he assumed he knew the heart of the master, but in reality he didn’t. It seems like the servant was assigning blame to cover his own guilt. He was lazy, so he accused the master of being demanding. What outraged the master wasn’t the failure to double his money; it was the arrogant accusation of the servant. He didn’t understand the master’s heart.
Throw Me a Party
But imagine what would have happened if the first servant had come to the master and said, “Here’s your profit, Master. I knew that if I worked my fingers to the bone while you were gone, you would think I was so awesome that you’d throw a party in my honor and tell everyone how proud you are of my hard work and how you wish they’d all be more like me. I know the way to your good graces is by proving how wonderful I am.” (That may remind you of the hard-working but prideful older brother in the parable of the prodigal son.)
Would the master have smiled indulgently and said, “You sure are a hard worker, Servant Number 1! That’s why you deserve to come into the joy of my kingdom”? Certainly not. I have a feeling this guy would have been out on the curb with the third servant. While it’s not quite as insulting to the master, this imaginary workaholic’s response still shows that he doesn’t truly know the master.
The Least of These
So if God doesn’t rejoice in ignorant sloth or arrogant service, then what does he value? I believe the very next parable in Matthew 25 answers that question. It takes place at the final judgment where God is sorting humanity into two groups: those on his right in the place of honor, and those on his left in the place of rejection. Those who are honored and welcomed into the kingdom are those who did simple tasks with humble hearts. They cared for the hungry, thirsty, lost, naked, sick, and imprisoned because their love for God overflowed into practical, unpretentious service to “the least of these.”
At last, we see what God values. It wasn’t their completed to-do lists that earned them a place in the kingdom; rather, their love for God resulted in slow and steady service to those who could never repay them. That’s how God loves us, and that’s how he enables us to love others. Will we ever do this well enough to deserve God’s approval? Nope. The only way God can accept us and make us faithful is by putting us in Christ—giving us Jesus’ perfect record and motivation. He is the only servant who was perfectly faithful and worthy of hearing, “Well done,” but he delights to extend that acceptance to every believer. 1 Praise God!
In Conclusion
While there is much more to be said on the subject of salvation and imputation, today I simply want to revel in the truth that, as believers, approval isn’t something we need to strive for; it’s something we have already. The more we know the heart of the Father, the more we’ll understand that. The third servant didn’t know the father, and the older brother didn’t care about him, but the humble servants knew him and loved him. That is the mission most worth doing and the only one that brings eternal approval. Now that’s something even a pessimist can get excited about!
Check out the next post here!
1https://rabbitroom.com/2018/02/behind-the-song-well-done-good-and-faithful/
In Pursuit of Perfection: The Sickness
Should.
That little six-letter word holds great power over me.
I can’t remember exactly when my obsession with perfection began, but since I’m a firstborn, it was probably sometime in utero. I do remember that, even as a kid, the first thing I’d do with my pile of Christmas loot was hurry to my room so I could put everything where it belonged. I should put everything away. I was no scholar in junior high, but once I cracked the code of how to study in high school and college, I became hooked on the high of seeing 100% on everything. I should study to get A’s. And that was just the beginning.
As a teacher, I should do hours of research for questions no one will ask. As a pregnant mom, I should read a dozen book on natural birth and implement their every suggestion. As a new mom, I should find the very best way to feed and entertain my baby. I should finish reading books that don’t interest me, spend 10 minutes brushing and flossing my teeth every night, make organic food from scratch, take on projects that will be too much for me, clean the house when I want to read, balance the budget when I want to rest, and write a blog post when I need to sleep. (Oops.) Now, there are certain pockets of chaos that I choose not to tame (hello, junk food), so I guess that makes me a selective perfectionist. But in general, if there’s a good, better, and best way of doing something, I feel obligated to choose the “best” and shun the rest.
Basically, I’m a “best practices” junkie.
Sorry, Not Sorry
Yet even as I list those examples, I don’t feel ashamed. Instead, I feel pretty good about myself. What I had intended as confession has bordered on boasting. That’s why words like “perfectionist” and “workaholic” are slippery little buggers. When we use them to describe ourselves, we hope we’re coming across as self-deprecating. “Oh, I guess I’m just a workaholic. Yah, I tend to be a perfectionist.” But we put such a thin coat of shame over those admissions that the neon paint of pride bleeds through loud and clear. We say we have a problem, but our lips are tingling with the toot of our own horns.
All right, so we’re perfectionists, and we’re proud of it. What’s so bad about that? That’s the question I’d been asking myself, but only recently did I find a plausible rebuttal. To be honest, it’s also a convicting rebuttal. That’s why my desire to discuss the humorous struggles of perfectionism morphed into a three-week examination of the deeper issue. And the deeper issue boiled down to this: if my pursuit of perfection is a good thing, then why is my heart so restless?
Behind the Façade
As a selective perfectionist (::smiles smugly while polishing various medals for being selectively perfect::), I can attest to the fact that there’s no peace in this pursuit. Oh, sure, there’s the temporary satisfaction that comes from organizing things, finishing a task, and scratching jobs off of a to-do list. It’s cathartic, really.
But even as I bask in completion, the niggling questions begin. What about the rest of the list? What about tomorrow? What about the things you can’t organize? What about the things you finished but know you should have done better? I live to the soundtrack of Inner Condemnation’s Greatest Hits: “If Only I Had Planned Better,” “I Should Have Tried Harder,” and “Why Didn’t I Research This?” Catchy, aren’t they?
Here’s the Rub
The reason my mind plays those depressing little jingles on repeat is that, deep down, I know this lifestyle offers no peace for me. The harder I flap my wings toward perfection, the more they begin to melt. (It’s not that I’m getting too close, mind you…it’s just the friction.) This is going to be a problem. But you, clever reader, knew the problem before I even began waxing eloquent, didn’t you? The problem is that perfection isn’t achievable on earth. Even countless hours of preparation and labor never guarantee the desired outcome. In a fallen world, I can toil all day long, but it won’t make the tiniest dent in the disorder. Chaos rages onward despite my most concerted efforts, a tsunami against a cocktail umbrella.
So if I work hard but never get the payoff I want, then what’s driving me to continually chase this carrot? That question drove me to pray, which is always risky if I don’t actually want to get a glimpse inside my heart. As I prayed, God began to reveal that my desire isn’t actually for perfection after all; my deeper desire, it seems, is for approval, identity, and rest.
The Big Three
Approval, identity, and rest. Those are pretty basic human needs. I mean, they’re not quite on the same plane as food, water, and oxygen, but as soon as we have those needs met, we find that we have leisure to start scrounging around for validation. So if these are universal human needs, then they should be easy to satisfy, right? Wrong.
My break-neck quest for these very good things keeps throwing me like a crash test dummy against the brick wall of reality. And the reality is that no matter how long and how hard I try, I’ll never manage to extract approval, identity, or rest out of my work. It’s like trying to squeeze orange juice from an acorn; it’s just not in there. So while work is a blessing and a noble calling (work was around even before Adam and Eve sinned, you know), it can never give me approval, identity, or rest. Those are three needs I can never meet on my own.
The Good News
Now, if that were the last word on the subject, I would despair. If our work (or play or individuality or apathy) can never gain us sufficient approval, unchanging identity, or lasting rest, then what’s the point? This is why plenty of people think, “Let’s eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” Or, in slightly-less-outdated vernacular, “YOLO.” But you, clever reader, have surely noticed the qualifying statement—I said I can’t meet these needs on my own. It’s not within me. But does that mean it isn’t anywhere at all? No. Hallelujah, no!
In an analogy that C.S. Lewis is fond of using, he points out that “…creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food.” Does that mean everyone will find satisfaction for their desires? No, not if they’re looking in the wrong places. My baby has eaten bits of paper, cardboard, and sticks. It must be fun, but it’s not filling. Desire doesn’t guarantee satisfaction.
So how is this good news? Lewis continues, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing.”1
Aha! Good news at last! My need for approval, identity, and rest can be satisfied! But where and how I must save for next time, I’m afraid. Forgive me for yet another cliff-hanger, but when compared with an ultra-long post, it seemed the lesser of two evils. For now, take heart in the fact that there are answers. And then, my perfectionistic friend, take a nap.
In case you missed last week’s post, check it out here! It’s just the encouragement you need after a weighty post like this.
And be sure to read the next post here!
1 C.S. Lewis Quote from Mere Christianity: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/462154-the-christian-says-creatures-are-not-born-with-desires-unless
Check Out This Song!
This isn’t the post I was intending to write today. In fact, this won’t be a full post at all. It’s really just a pre-post. (Talk about an oxymoron.)
So here’s the scoop: I began writing an article about one small idea (my tendency toward perfectionism), but it grew into a much bigger idea, its roots spreading obtrusively into topics and implications that I didn’t intend. But the spreading was good because it revealed some parts of my heart that had been hiding from the light.
Sorry, I don’t mean to be cryptic. I promise to be as forthcoming as possible once I’ve had more time to organize my thoughts in the coming week. But by way of a teaser trailer, I’d like to leave you today with a beautiful song that has been immensely helpful as I consider the topic of perfectionism. It’s called “It Is Finished,” or “Nothing Either Great or Small,” and it was written by James Proctor in 1864. I’ll post his original lyrics for you to read, and I’ll also add a link to a beautiful rendition performed by a church worship team called You Me & The Bread. I hope you’ll join me in meditating on its beautiful truths!
So for now, I leave you with a song and a promise to share much more next time.
“It Is Finished”
Nothing, either great or small—
Nothing, sinner, no;
Jesus died and paid it all,
Long, long ago.
Refrain
“It is finished!” yes, indeed,
Finished, ev’ry jot;
Sinner, this is all you need,
Tell me, is it not?
When He, from His lofty throne,
Stooped to do and die,
Ev’rything was fully done;
Hearken to His cry!
Refrain
Weary, working, burdened one,
Wherefore toil you so?
Cease your doing; all was done
Long, long ago.
Refrain
Till to Jesus’ work you cling
By a simple faith,
“Doing” is a deadly thing—
“Doing” ends in death.
Refrain
Cast your deadly “doing” down—
Down at Jesus’ feet;
Stand in Him, in Him alone,
Gloriously complete.
Refrain
Better Than Knowledge
Knowledge is good.
Knowledge has brought us Aristotle, Da Vinci, Shakespeare, and Bill Watterson. It’s given us modern medicine, a better understanding of outer space, the ability to talk with loved ones from across the country, a vast system of information at the click of a button, and a plethora of ways to make a great cup of coffee. Knowledge lets us relate to friends, understand coworkers, and help those in need. Knowledge is a tasty carrot at the end of the college string. It’s a formidable ally in the fight against foolishness. It’s a floodlight to expose hidden injustice.
So knowledge is good.
But knowledge without love is nothing.
Knowledge without love yields boasting, gossip, blackmail, manipulation, corruption in the political scene, weapons of mass destruction, and talk radio. Knowledge without love makes us brains without hearts, tongues without bridles, bulldozers without steering. Knowledge without love creates debaters, one-uppers, and smug talkers.
Knowledge without love is incomplete, like a child’s understanding of Einstein’s physics. It’s imperfect, like a warped reflection in the carnival’s house of mirrors. And it’s transient, the moon-sliver of knowledge setting when the sun of perfect love shatters the darkness.
But knowledge is good.
Yes, knowledge is good, but love is better.
Love precludes the pernicious parts of knowledge: boasting, arrogance, stubbornness, resentment, crookedness. Instead, love ensures that knowledge is used rightly—to advocate, defend, restrain, imagine, create, extend grace, choose joy, and offer forgiveness. And this is only possible because Love Himself has done it for us. While His knowledge of our hearts is perfect (even the parts we’d die before admitting), His love for us is also perfect. That’s why, with full knowledge of our unworthiness, He died to make us whole.
So knowledge is good.
Yes, knowledge is good, but love is better, and one day love will transform knowledge.
Consider that the first sin was in pursuit of knowledge: the desire to know good and evil. The knowledge that was purported to make us like God estranged us from Him and has brought us little but tragedy ever since—a tragic irony. The knowledge of evil began the curse and keeps it going. You could say that knowledge brought death.
But one day mere knowledge will be obsolete, replaced instead with experience—a postcard snapshot superseded by a Grand Canyon hike. Where we know in part, we will then know in full. Our mind and heart will be united, and any discord between the two will vanish in the presence of God. Compared with the depth of that experience, our most impressive tidbit of knowledge will be passé. Scientific laws, psychological theories, and systematic theology will be kindergarten coloring pages. Love Himself will expel our delusions and our pride like a cellar door thrown wide open to the sunshine.
When we see Him face to face, our partial knowledge will become perfect experience. When we see Him, we will know Him even as we are known. When we see Him, we will be made like Him. Knowledge turned to experience is everlasting life.
Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus.
So knowledge is good. Yes, knowledge is good, but love is better.
Love is best of all.
Disney’s Star Wars: Characters and Effects
Disney’s Star Wars. It just feels wrong to write that.
Anyway, we saw last time that Disney’s Star Wars plots ranged from familiar to fresh, and the themes included self-doubt and moral relativism. But what did you think about the characters and effects of the new movies? I’ll tell you what I thought, starting with the inclusion of your favorite heroes—Luke, Leia, and Han.
CHARACTERS
Casting
Disney hopped on the Star Wars film train with enough time to rope in the Big Three: Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher, and Harrison Ford. But honestly, I felt sorry for Fisher and Ford. Carrie felt the pressure of looking unaged, despite the fact that she was now nearly 60 instead of 19, and if Harrison looked a little extra rugged, it’s because he was 72! Mark, 65 when The Last Jedi was released, seemed to hold up just fine despite the car accident that beat up his face in 1977. Since Return of the Jedi, much of his work in Hollywood has been voice acting or TV show cameos, so I wonder if he, at least, was excited to resume the role of Luke Skywalker.
Regardless, Disney made a smart choice in incorporating these three into their films for one reason: it was sure to draw in the faithful fans of the originals, even if we were begrudging and skeptical about it. But Disney also featured plenty of new actors, most of them previously unknown, and I think that was smart. Had they tried to take, say, Brad Pitt or Anne Hathaway and turn them into Star Wars characters, it would have stretched viewers beyond credulity. New faces gave new fans a chance to get interested in the new Star Wars.
Relatable Motives
As with the originals, all of the characters are on some sort of personal quest amidst the grand scheme of the overall story. In Episodes VII-VIII, we see Finn’s determination to escape the empire, Rey’s hope of discovering her parents, Kylo Ren’s desire to live up to Vader’s legacy, Han and Leia’s attempt at salvaging their son, and Luke’s efforts to avoid responsibility. Overarching these quests is the greater plot: find the map, blow up the planet killer, enlist Luke’s help, avoid the First Order, and stay alive. All the sub-plots and personal journeys keep the story moving even if the “Death Star III” storyline is a bit hackneyed.
Rogue One and Solo depict selfish and two-faced villains as well as jaded and reluctant heroes—a fact we discussed last time. In Rogue One Cassian and his friends wanted to justify their gritty work for the Rebellion, and Jyn Erso wanted to clear her father’s name. I found their lack of enthusiasm believable, although they both end up caring about the greater cause eventually. In Solo, a much more lighthearted film, we see Han Solo’s backstory. He is betrayed again and again, but surprisingly he doesn’t seem very fazed by it. If they wanted to show how Han became the mercenary we see in A New Hope, I feel like they missed the mark. He was still hopeful, helpful, and almost altruistic at the end of Solo. Maybe they’re saving the story of his selfishness for the next film, Solo and Jaba: An Unlikely Friendship. (That’s a joke. I hope.)
Clear and Confusing Motives
I think the most important aspect of character motivation in Solo is at the very end when Han and Beckett are at a face-off. At last, we are given a definitive answer to the question, “Who shot first?” Han did. Han shot first. But you already knew that, didn’t you?
However, of all the motivations in these newer films, I think I’m most confused by Snoke and Kylo’s idolization of Darth Vader. I mean, sure, he was good at being bad for almost three movies, but in the end, the guy was a sellout! He killed his master (a classic Sith move) in order to destroy the Empire and aid the Rebellion (not a classic Sith move). If Snoke wanted Kylo Ren to channel his inner Vader, I guess he got what he asked for. He should have pushed him to be more like Darth Sidious. At least that dude was bad to the bone.
And, as a side note, I’m also confused about Disney’s motives in including so much more cursing in these movies. I mean, I don’t enjoy that in movies at all, much less in movies touted to be child-friendly. But even from the standpoint of universe coherence, it doesn’t make sense for them to be using Earth-based curse words. While the six original films included a few cuss words here and there, they relied more on in-universe curses like “Nerf herder,” “Bantha fodder” or “Bantha poodoo.” That communicates the same thing without breaking the story’s spell and jarring the viewers out of their temporary belief in a galaxy far, far away.
TECHNICAL STUFF
Visual Effects
As I mentioned before, there was never any doubt that Disney would make some beautiful movies. After all, Amazon owns one half of the world, and Disney owns the other half; therefore, Mickey and his cohorts should be able to pull off some stunning effects. And they didn’t disappoint: the drifting snow and falling sparks during Rey and Kylo’s duels, the ancient Jedi island, the light speed destruction of the First Order’s ship, and the red salt planet are just a few examples of visually captivating scenes. Lucas started the movies the right way by choosing vastly different settings for each film, and Disney has followed in his footsteps.
Lucas also began by using loads of puppets, masks, and costumes to create his creatures, but he ended by using CGI for several of them, including Yoda. Many fans (including yours truly) preferred the “real” Yoda to the more high-tech one, so the director of The Last Jedi created a copy of the original puppet. Sadly, Yoda still looked weird to me, but it was a nice gesture. I did love all the physical costuming in Maz Kanata’s castle because they looked as real and grubby as the cantina in Mos Eisley. In my opinion, the CG General Tarkin also looked fantastic (at least on lower-resolution theater screens), but the young Princess Leia was all wrong. She scared me. But all in all, Disney’s visual effects were impressive.
Musical Scores
You know I’ve had lots (possibly too much) to say about John Williams’ work for Episodes I-VI, but I don’t have nearly as much to say about the newer scores. In fact, you could have told me that any other composer wrote the scores for Episodes VII-VIII, and I’d almost have believed you. Don’t get me wrong—the music is still beautiful, but mainly because it incorporates so many of the old themes.
So while I have nothing to complain about with the new scores, I also have to say that they weren’t spectacular. None of the new themes stood out to me. Nothing felt iconic. But I don’t blame the composer for that; in fact, if I were John Williams, I’d purposely write a good score instead of a great one just to emphasize that you can only build on the same franchise for so long before you’re just beating a dead Gungan. (Does any particular Gungan come to mind?) All that to say, even if the recent Star Wars films don’t showcase it fully, John Williams is still the king of composers.
IN CONCLUSION
Overall, I’ve enjoyed Disney’s Star Wars films as regular movies—even as space fantasy movies. They’re well done, and they appeal to a wide audience. But despite this, I’m not sure I’m ready to accept them into the official Star Wars canon alongside Lucas’s works. In my mind, there’s more to making a Star Wars movie than simply handing someone a light saber—whether it’s Mickey Mouse or Kylo Ren. A true Star Wars movie needs a little magic (or maybe the Force), and I’m not sure we’ll find that in Disney.
Today’s Question: What would you have changed about any of Disney’s Star Wars movies?
Check out the next post here!
Disney’s Star Wars: Stories and Themes
After decades of creating, crafting, and controlling the Star Wars universe, George Lucas has finally passed the baton—or the light saber?—to Disney, and things will never be the same.
I don’t know how you took the news of this massive acquisition, but when I heard that Lucas sold out to Disney for $4 billion, I was disappointed. Sure, Episodes I-VI had their flaws (as I’ve discussed previously), but at least Lucas was deeply invested in the Star Wars universe. The originals were classics, and I trusted that the prequels weren’t (only) about money.
But I can’t trust Disney in the same way. As soon as the purchase was finalized, they started cranking out a movie per year (not to mention a theme park), no doubt eager to make back the dough they dropped on the company. But have the new movies reeked of Mickey Mouse? Have they been thinly-veiled attempts at milking the cash bantha? Or have they succeeded at luring a fresh generation into new Star Wars-esque stories? I can’t offer a definitive answer to those questions, but after we examine the story, characters, and effects of Disney’s four Star Wars films, maybe you can.
THE STORIES
The Plot of Episodes VII-VIII
The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi are Episodes VII and VIII in the main saga, and you can find plenty of nods at the original trilogy within the stories. In fact, it seems like they barely changed the plot around from A New Hope to The Force Awakens. Maybe they were trying to make it feel nostalgic, hoping to placate long-time fans with a familiar storyline while introducing new characters. Regardless, the similarities are pretty obvious: the film starting out with a droid; some secret plans getting stored inside said droid; a pit stop at a lively cantina; a short, ancient guru who seems quirky but has great insight; and even the plan to blow up a big, round weapon. The story itself has new elements, but the main plot point feels pretty familiar.
The Last Jedi has some similarities, too: Rey seeks guidance from Luke just as Luke sought it from Yoda; the conflicted villain, Kylo Ren, pulls a Vader and destroys his evil master; and the remaining Rebels cower in their hidden base from the onslaught of the First Order. But for all the similarities, Episode VIII does change things up in many ways—Finn, the frightened storm trooper, begins to find his courage; Rey puts her trust in an unstable bad guy; and Luke tricks us all by using the Force to project himself onto the battlefield. If you were hoping for the old, familiar Star Wars story, you probably preferred Episode VII, but if you wanted a new twist on a familiar universe, Episode VIII may have been more your style.
The Plots of Star Wars Stories
Plot-wise, Rogue One and Solo were pretty fresh, but they both set about to answer questions that perhaps no one was asking. Rogue One answers, “How did Leia get the plans to the Death Star’s schematics?” That question had never bothered me before, but it does address one issue that had always irked me: why in the world did the Empire make such a big weapon with such a fatal flaw?? It helps me to think that a Rebel-sympathizer planted the weakness on purpose. That’s much more reasonable than wondering if the Imperial engineers were really just that dunderheaded. (Although considering how poorly the stormtroopers aim their blasters, it wouldn’t surprise me.)
Solo answered a lot of unasked questions, too, filling in much of the backstory alluded to in Episodes IV-VI. If you’re the curious sort, maybe you enjoyed finding out how Han made the Kessel run in less than 12 parsecs or why Lando may have been mad at Han after all those years. Personally, I think the original trilogy included those lines to create an illusion of history rather than to provide fodder for future films. Either way, the plots of all four films were entertaining, familiar or not. But what about the themes?
THE THEMES
The Theme of Self-Doubt
One character-based theme in Episodes VII-VIII is self-doubt. Finn begins with conflict between his training as a stormtrooper and his repugnance for the First Order. Rey seems stable, but her self-doubt surfaces when she considers her origin and apparent insignificance. Kylo Ren is self-doubt embodied as he struggles between his desire to be a bad guy and his soft spot for his parents. Even Luke, the venerable Jedi master himself, is full of self-doubt as he reflects on his failure with Kylo Ren specifically and the “hubris” of the Jedi in general.
So why does this theme permeate the movies? Probably because self-doubt is a relatable and popular theme in modern storylines, so it’s sure to sell. Think of how many Disney-type films feature a protagonist who wants something but doubts they can achieve it until they get the proper encouragement and manage to pull it off. Um…like, all of them. We Americans want to be told that it’s ok to doubt ourselves, so long as we realize we’re awesome in the end, and Disney is all about spreading that message.
The Theme of Good and Evil
And of course there is plenty of script spent on the most Star Wars-y theme of all: good versus evil. But is the message the same? The original trilogy presents a dark and a light side of the Force, and most characters fall definitively on one side or the other, making good and bad pretty distinct. But in my opinion, that’s not the case with the Disney versions. Instead, moral relativism is on display, from minor characters to major ones.
Rogue One shows a rag-tag band of Rebel mercenaries who have done terrible things for the Rebellion—spied, sabotaged, assassinated—all in the name of freedom. They’re conflicted and guilt-ridden, desperate to make it all worthwhile. The whole plotline of Solo is one betrayal after another, showing that it’s every man for himself. In The Last Jedi, Luke Skywalker is hiding from war, relationships, and reality because of his disappointment in himself and the rest of the Jedi. “The legacy of the Jedi is failure, hypocrisy, failure,” he tells Rey. And these are supposed to be the good guys?
The Rise of Relativism
The whole theme is encapsulated by DJ, the double-crossing hacker in The Last Jedi, when he says to Finn, “It’s all machine, partner. Life free; don’t join.” In other words, no matter which side you choose, you’re just one more cog in the same war machine. That feels pretty grim for a saga that was meant to be a classic “good versus evil” space opera. If Disney is trying to show that jaded attitudes and futile efforts are effects of a war-torn system, that’s fine, but it doesn’t feel true to Lucas’s style.
But maybe Disney plans to delineate good and evil in the next film(s). Maybe Disney didn’t mean to promote such a vast grey area between the light and the dark. Sure, and maybe Christopher Nolan didn’t mean for Joker’s philosophy to gain more popularity than Batman’s, but there will always be people who (unwittingly or otherwise) disregard the film’s tone and intent and fasten onto mere content instead. I think we’re in danger of that with the “Live free; don’t join” mentality that Disney is depicting.
IN CONCLUSION
All in all, the stories and themes of Disney’s Star Wars films are entertaining and relatable. There was never much doubt that they would do a good job; after all, they have almost limitless resources. But while they’re entertaining, I’m still waiting for a theme I can really cheer for. As for my take on the characters and effects of these movies, you’ll have to tune in next time. See you then!
Today’s Question: What did you like most about Disney’s Star Wars films? What did you dislike most?
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The Favor of Flavor
I was only there for a mini key lime pie.
“Hold on,” said the guy behind the counter. “There’s something else you need.”
“Oh, really?” I queried politely, ready to buy the pie and get out of the Farmer’s Market sooner than later. The day was hot, my baby was tired, and my family and I had a long drive home. Not picking up on my disinterest, he pressed on with his sales pitch.
“Have you tried our dark chocolate berry truffle cakes?” he asked. I hadn’t, and I didn’t intend to. I wanted lime and only lime. But as I glanced at said cakes, I saw a tantalizing display of gorgeous, spherical confections perfectly proportioned for two and liberally garnished with shaved chocolate and edible gold. I licked my lips subconsciously. Sensing my weakness, he launched into his description, and I knew immediately that I was sunk.
“First,” he said, “your fork slides through the firm yet delicate shell of dark chocolate ganache, sending shavings of chocolate cascading down onto the plate. Inside, you see layer upon layer of decadence: a succulent chocolate cake topped with a mixed berry reduction for a slightly tart twist that perfectly complements the richness of the cake. Surrounding these is a thick layer of whipped chocolate mousse, light as a feather and sweet as a kiss. Trust me,” he said, “I don’t even like chocolate, but I love these.” Despite the fact that he was sick in the head (who doesn’t like chocolate??), I shoved my money at him and demanded not only a mini key lime pie but also one of these magical orbs of chocolate delight, STAT.
The truffle cake suffered a tremendous melting on the way home, but I can assure you it was to die for nonetheless.
The Favor of Flavor
Food is a gift from God, and good food is God showing off.
Think about it: He didn’t have to make a world where we ran off of food. We could have been photosynthetic. Or we could have eaten only grass or carrion or algae. We could even be wind-up machines, running off of kinetic energy. But instead, we get to frolic through fields of flavor, and that makes my heart happy indeed. I’m no epicurean or foodie, but I do dearly love to eat all kinds of food. Maybe you can relate.
But have you ever considered how God gave humans the perfect setup to enjoy flavor? We alone possess the unique formula: ingredients + ingenuity = infinite options. Sure, the critters around us can acquire many of the ingredients we do, like fruit, herbs, sugar cane, and water, but when’s the last time you saw a dog combine these to make a refreshing sorbet? God has given humans both the ingredients and the wisdom to combine them with tools, transmogrifying them into entirely new substances. It makes me want to stand in the middle of a grocery store and yell, “ENDLESS POSSIBILITIES!”
One of the things that makes food so exciting is its diverse flavors, sensations, and textures. I really should write a whole post on food texture since it’s one of my quirks, but today I’ll just focus on four specific flavors: sweet, salty, sour, and satisfying.
Sweet and Exotic
I’m starting with sweet on purpose because, although I hate to play favorites, it’s my favorite. I want to say that savory is my favorite, but let’s be honest—at potlucks, I spend a disproportionate amount of time at the dessert table. Also, sweet is the sensation picked up by the very tip of the tongue, so it seems a fitting place to start.
One of my favorite sweet treats is fruit. I can splurge guilt-free on a bowl of berries, but I’d love them even if they were fattening. Some fruits are more than simply sweet—they’re exotic. Think of the mellow juiciness of a mango right off the tree or the powerful tang of a pineapple dripping with freshness. But my favorite fruity treat is a cold honeycrisp apple cut into tiny slices and dipped in the magical mixture of almond butter, raw honey, and Saigon cinnamon. The fresh, sweet/tart apple is the perfect spoon for the satisfying smoothness of the dip. It’s a match made in heaven.
But for manmade sweets, it’s hard to beat ice cream. Whether you like plain ol’ vanilla or Chocolate Peanut Butter Caramel Toffee Almond Coconut Cherry Mudslide Crunch, the enjoyment is the same. Cold and lickable, sweet and creamy, rich and satisfying, ice cream is one of my favorite treats all year long. And while I’m not picky, I am particular about certain things, so I enjoy it best either with a crispy waffle cone or else a tiny metal spoon. Tiny bites mean more time to savor.
Salty and Savory
As much as I love me some sweets, I also can’t resist salt. On its own, salt isn’t one of my favorite flavors, although chefs are able to taste and distinguish between different origins and qualities of salt. But since salt highlights flavor and adds gusto to so many dishes, I’ve come to enjoy it with almost any food. And since the salty sensation is registered around the edge of the whole tongue, it seems that we were made to enjoy it often.
Two of my favorite salty foods are cheeses and meats—all kinds of cheeses and meats. I drool just thinking about smoked ribs and crispy bacon, and don’t even get me started on tender steaks. Pungent cheeses like blue and feta are fabulous on steaks and crackers, while creamy cheeses like goat and brie are perfect with salted deli meats and pastries. One of my favorite salty snacks is thinly-sliced hard salami with smooth goat cheese and crispy herbed crackers. If I can add some ripe strawberries to the mix, I’ll be happy for hours.
Sour and Bitter
Sour and bitter aren’t flavors that I naturally gravitate toward, but there are several exceptions. For example, I recently made a lemon grapefruit basil sorbet from scratch—I’d even grown the basil myself! The sorbet was sweet, tart, tangy, and totally refreshing on a hot day. Sour citrus is perfect for that.
Bitter can be a bad taste, as with burnt food, but it can also be a wonderful flavor. Coffee and dark chocolate are great examples of bitter done right. It took years, but I’ve finally acquired a taste for bold, black, French pressed coffee and any kind of dark chocolate. Now instead of tasting bitter to me, they taste smooth and rich. Our sour and bitter receptors can be found on the sides and back of the tongue, respectively, and if I’m giving that much lingual real estate to those flavors, it’s a good thing I learned to appreciate them.
Satisfying and Umami
When these flavors combine in just the right way, we get the last flavor: umami—the sensation of savory. Remember the dark chocolate berry truffle cake I was swindled into buying at the Farmer’s Market? When a bite combined sweet, rich, and tart at once, my umami receptors would explode into dances of delight. Umami is detected with the whole tongue instead of just the tip or the sides, so it’s complete joy for the whole mouth.
What a gift! What a privilege! It’s the favor of flavor!
Ps: If you want to dig deeper into a celebration of the art and science of cooking, you should check out Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat. It’s a book by Samin Nosrat and a Netflix documentary. I’m not usually into reading (or using) cookbooks, but this one’s really great!
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