Thin Blue Smoke

I can’t remember ever wanting to taste a book as much as Doug Worgul’s Thin Blue Smoke. There are so many mouth-watering references to briskets and ribs and pulled chuck and even vinegar pie that I was tempted to bite into a corner of the book and see what it tasted like. Someone should at least market a scratch and sniff edition of this novel or send complimentary bottles of “LaVerne Williams Genuine TexiKan BBQ Sauce” along with each order.

This is a book about barbecue, but that’s not all – it is also rife with references to baseball, the blues, redemption, Frederick Buechner, Lake Charlevoix, turtles, Watership Down, race and religion. There, I just listed ten things, and I suppose one way to tell if this book will fascinate you as much as it did me is to rate the book on a ten point scale using your interest in each of these things. I scored ten of ten. And I didn’t even mention whiskey, which would take the scale to eleven. (Ours go to eleven!) Yet even that’s not entirely a good way to go, because the book is so universally human that a barbecue-and-baseball-hating non-drinking atheist would enjoy it. (Which sounds like a horribly depressing way to go through life, but who am I to judge?)

I’m tempted to write “this book had me at page one,” but actually I knew this was a book for me when the “author's note” before page one contained references to Satchel Paige and Frederick Buechner. Those are my guys – I thought I was the only person is the world who was an aficionado of each. Apparently, I’ve got company. Wish I could sit down over a pulled pork sandwich with the author and discuss our mutual interests.

The main characters are LaVerne Williams, barbecue expert, grieving father and one-time centerfielder of the Kansas City A’s; Ferguson Glen, alcoholic Episcopalian priest and faded literary star; and A.B. Clayton, trailer park kid who settles in as LaVerne’s right-hand man. I could go the conventional route now and describe the plot a little bit, but this was one of those books where I liked the people so much I was sort of frustrated that there had to be a plot. I didn’t want anything to happen to them and didn’t want my time with them to end. I feel sad that I don’t get to hang out anymore at “Smoke Meat,” as LaVerne Williams’ Genuine BBQ and City Grocery is known throughout Kansas City. Yes, I’ve eaten at Oklahoma Joe’s in KC, which is widely regarded as the best barbecue in the world’s best barbecue town (and that ought to count for something), but this is one of those times that the real thing is no substitute for a literary equivalent.

And theology? Did I mention the theology? It’s all over the place. How about this line for starters: “It’s only when we’re free to commit monstrous acts of murder, that we’re also free to love God and each other.” That ought to give you something to think about.

So if you like books that are funny, literate, heartwarming, intelligent and just plain good, get a copy of Thin Blue Smoke by Doug Worgul. Before long you’ll be hankering for a plate of burnt ends, beans and sweet potato pie. Just remember they don’t serve fries and the beans are real beans, not those sugared-up pieces of candy that people call baked beans. Contemplate instead how patience and faith and a willingness to learn can take bitter things like smoke, vinegar and salt and transform them into something good and sweet. And remember -- too much or too little of the bitter and it's ruined.

"On the Waterfront" and Ratting Out My Peers

It's a new month, which means I have a new old film recommendation on Rednow. It's for the movie On the Waterfront, and you can read what I say about it by clicking here.

This isn't quite It's a Wonderful Life or A Christmas Story, but if you get tired of feeling like you're supposed to be happy in the December gloom, this movie will fit that mood.

Now here's a confession to accompany the film. I lived on a floor of guys in college one year that named themselves the "mad dogs." We behaved like the 19-year-old boys that we were. At the end of one semester a commission of sorts was formed of governing officials in our dorm. Their mission was to find out who had damaged various ceiling tiles and door frames in the building. They were focused on a couple of the mad dogs in particular. I was brought into a room in the basement of our dorm by this official body and asked who had done the damage. I told them I did not know. I told them I'd heard the same sorts of stories everyone else had heard, but since I was not an eyewitness to what they were asking about, I wasn't going to say anything.

Did I believe the stories I had heard? There was no reason to doubt them. And I had seen other things, but they weren't asking about those things and I wasn't going to volunteer any information. I wasn't going to be a rat. Being a rat, as I point out in the commentary I did for On the Waterfront, was as bad as committing the crime.

One of the people asking the questions said, "We know you're a good kid, the kind who tells the truth. Tell us what happened." That made me feel guilty, but still didn't compel me to talk. One reason I wasn't compelled to talk was because I seriously wondered what the rest of the guys in my dorm would do to me if I did talk. I don't think I would have been physically injured (but wasn't 100% certain of that), but I was sure I'd be socially cast out.

I think of those pressures when I read all the self-righteous talk around the Penn State scandal. I realize there is no comparing the relatively victimless crime of damaging ceiling tiles to child abuse, but the pressures on the whistleblower would be the same. To tell what you know about something means kissing the system you are in goodbye. Whether it's a job, a college dorm, a church or even a family, to "name names" means your involvement there is done. Think of that pressure when you wonder why the graduate assistant at Penn State didn't do more. Systems put enormous pressure on people.

I have sympathy with those who have the strength to come forward and talk. As On the Waterfront illustrates, you'll take a beating if you do. But you'll take a different sort of beating if you don't. There is seldom a clear path. Most often we choose what appears to be the best of a number of bad options.

Advent II: Love in a Fickle World

Think Christian posted my second Advent meditation today, which you can access by clicking here.
I compare Mary and Joseph to celebrity relationships. Hope you'll take a look.

"Super 8"- Six Months Late

Our extended family has taken a weekend trip to Mackinac Island every summer for close to thirty years. I thought of that trip while watching the movie Super 8. (I know, I know, I’m only six months behind in reviewing this film, but give me a break. I see movies on my schedule, not the studio’s.) First of all, there’s actually a mention of Mackinac Island in the movie, which made me smile. But beyond that, there’s this:

Usually we head home on Sunday from the Island, but one year we stayed in Mackinac City an extra night. Some of our group headed for a water park, while I persuaded the less adventurous to go on the Sunday Evening Vespers cruise. Instead of going to the island, our ferry boat meandered under the Mackinac Bridge for a while. There is something unique about looking up at the bridge from the water. While we were there, my step-mother, a picture-taking enthusiast, made me chuckle when she pointed her camera upward and said, “I’ve never taken this picture before.”

It was a Yogi Berra-esque moment. Of course whenever you snap the shutter on a camera you’ve never taken that picture before, but I knew exactly what she meant. Over the course of thirty years at Mackinac she’s taken every picture there is to take again and again and again. But she’d never taken pictures of cars and trucks going over the bridge from 200 feet below them.

Why did Super 8 make me think of that? Because Super 8 gave me the exact opposite feeling. I kept saying to myself, “I’ve seen this movie before.” I just couldn’t decide which movie it was. There’s a bus crash straight out of The Fugitive. I thought of Harry Potter when watching a home movie of a deceased parent and infant child. The kids keeping a secret made me think of Stand by Me and there are a several scenes straight out of Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Mostly, though, I thought of ET. Steven Spielberg could have sued JJ Abrams for plagiarism, except Spielberg produced the movie, so one suspects the liberal borrowing was done not only with the master’s blessing, but with his help.

Now let me say this: I enjoyed the movie. It was a lot of fun to watch. Or I should say the first thre-quarters or so were a lot of fun. The scene early on where Alice rehearses what she’s going to say when the camera starts rolling in the zombie movie the kids are making and the boys are dumbfounded by the emotional energy she is able to summon up is solid gold (or, better yet, "mint," to use the language of the movie). Having lived through junior high school, I can attest to the truth of that scene – early adolescent girls have so much more going on inside of them than early adolescent boys. All the riddles of the first half of the movie were wonderful. Abrams the student imitated Spielberg the master extremely well. But as the movie kept going, Abrams’ level of excellence slipped. I didn’t feel the resolution of the riddles that were so wonderfully set up carried the emotional heft that the early Spielberg films carried. By the time total chaos had erupted in the town with tanks riding out of control and bullets flying everywhere I felt like the film had gone out of control, too.

Some may complain that the movie was too over-the-top, but I think we actually needed a bit more, not less. (Plot spoiler alert!) We needed to know more about the hatred between the two fathers and how they resolved their differences. We needed to know more about the government’s involvement in this project – was the decimation of the town only the work of a rogue Air Force colonel or were other, more powerful forces behind his actions? And, ultimately, it would have worked much, much better if the creature needed something to escape that young Joe Lamb was able to provide. (Why stop channeling ET now?) As it was, things happened but weren’t fully explained. For the first hour or so, I felt I was watching a great movie. By the end I felt like it was almost a great movie. Still, I’m glad I watched it. I haven’t enjoyed a bunch of kids in a movie together that much since the aforementioned Stand by Me. I especially enjoyed Dakota Fanning’s little sister Elle as Alice. But all the kids were great, from the Tom Petty look-alike kid who constantly wanted to blow things up to the overbearing kid who was directing the film within the film. Plus any movie with the line, “I guess I could get back into disco” is worth watching.

So, if you took a pass this summer on Super 8, give it a whirl now that it’s out on DVD. Especially make sure to watch it if you loved the films Steven Spielberg made “back in the day.” I give it an affectionate three stars out of four.

Why is Tim Tebow so Polarizing?

“There are 300 million opinions about the Broncos quarterback, and every one of them is right.” So says this week’s Sports Illustrated about Tim Tebow. Has there been a player in recent memory that is so polarizing? Part of the Tebow debate is because he can’t seem to do the main thing quarterbacks are supposed to do – pass the ball. But one wonders how much of the intensity of feeling about Tebow is fueled by a backlash created by his being an unapologetic Jesus Freak.

Consider this quote from Rolling Stone after Tebow’s sole loss as a starter: “Watching the Tebowmania phenomenon get pulverized under a torrent of ruthless hits . . . was a little like reliving Clarence Darrow’s savage cross-examination of William Jennings Bryan at the Scopes Monkey Trial. If both cases you came away feeling sorry for the defeated, but it was just something that had to be done.”

Something that had to be done? Ouch. Why compare the pummeling of an NFL quarterback to the beat-down of a Fundamentalist over evolution? Tebow’s outspoken Christian faith, and his habit of “Tebowing,” striking a prayerful pose on the sidelines, is resulting in people either worshiping or hating the guy. And lest you think “worshiping or hating” are words too strong to use, consider this. There are plenty of Christians in the NFL, including two Christian quarterbacks who throw the ball a lot better than Tebow –Aaron Rodgers and Drew Brees. But nobody is wearing an Aaron Rodgers or Drew Brees jersey with “Jesus” on the back of it the way some Tebow devotees are doing in Denver. He inspires either devotion or revulsion. Young cancer patients are reporting that they are Tebowing their way through Chemo. You’d have to be pretty sour inside to squawk at that. Yet here is Rolling Stone again, “Tebow sucks.”

Maybe I shouldn’t look to Rolling Stone for sports coverage, but the fact he’s covered in that magazine illustrates the Tebow story has transcended sports. What interests me most is that the divide over Tebow isn’t just between Christians and non-Christians. Many Christians dislike him. I asked four friends who are 1) Christians, 2) football fans, and 3) definitely not on the Tebow bandwagon, to explain why Tebow is disliked so intensely. Their reasons are worth contemplating.

Steve, a college professor in Portland, said, “Some Christians don't like the way he expresses his Christianity. I'll be honest; this is part of it for me. I don't think he can throw worth a lick, but I also find the need to mention Jesus every time he says or does anything to be off-putting. It's kind of like being embarrassed by one of your slightly crazy uncles.”

Bob, a media mogul in Chicago, said, “There is a sense that if the camera catches someone such as Tebow praying on the sideline that this equates to the possibility of non-believers seeing a Godly figure with a committed faith and somehow subsequently ‘converting.’ It ends up being about ‘show’ . . . the general public doesn't buy it. This is what your God is like? We have a world in crisis and your God is going to deal with your game instead?”

Phil, a pastor who lives in Denver (ground zero in the world of Tebowmania) said, “Given Tebow's inability to pass the football accurately and his tremendous size, he runs much more than most quarterbacks and often runs over people. It’s the connection of Tebow's physical, almost militant style of play with his demonstrative shows of prayer that many find distasteful, a sort of ‘muscular Christianity’ that seems to take delight in smiting one's enemies."

Finally, Eric, a pastor in Grand Rapids said, “Did you see the end of the Denver v. San Diego game? Overtime. Down to the Bronco's kicker making a field goal. Camera goes to the sideline where it finds Tebow kneeling. It looks like he's praying . . . kick is up . . . IT'S GOOD! Tebow looks to the heavens and points up giving God [who is a huge Broncos fan] all the glory. It looked as if he mouthed 'thank you.' That's what pisses people off. The funny thing is that Tebow may have been down on one knee because he thought he was going to puke from all the nerves of possibly losing this game and having to hear about it for the next week on sports talk radio. He may have been thanking God that he didn't up-chuck on the sideline while he waited for the kick to sail through the up-rights. “

I like the way Eric used both up-chuck and up-rights in the same sentence. And I find each of their comments fascinating. Do they ring true with you? And what is Tebowmania revealing about the way Christians express their faith and interact with the rest of the world? What do you think about Tim Terrific? Love him or hate him, everyone has an opinion. What’s yours?

Light and Hope in Advent

A version of this article ran yesterday on Think Christian. Today it's running on "The 12." Here's a link in case you missed it yesterday.

Advent Reflection: For God's Sake, Think

I heard a person on TV the other day say, "The holidays come so fast now, first there's Thanksgiving and right after that Black Friday . . . " and I said, "Aaarrgghh" and felt like someone had just scraped their fingernails across a chalkboard. No, no, no! Black Friday is not a holiday. Technically, neither is Thanksgiving. The etymology of "holiday" is obvious -- it means "holy day."

Holy days are found on the calendar of the church year, and today the calendar moved into a new season, Advent, from the Latin word adventus, meaning "coming." Advent is a time of preparation for what's coming. It is much more about waiting and pondering than the normal pre-holiday frenzy that engulfs so many of us. Which is why Black Friday is a monstrous violation of this season, as are radio stations that start playing Christmas music a week or so after Halloween. Advent is a time to take a deep breath and contemplate what's happening in your life. Slow down. Relax. For God's sake, think.

I've been asked to write a series for Think Christian that looks for signs in our culture of the meaning of this season. These will run the four Sundays of Advent. The first one was posted today and you can read it by clicking here. It meant quite a bit to me to write this and I hope reading it means something to you, also.