Why Bother?

Thoughts on faith and cynicism...

The journey of Lent is a journey of forty days. It is after all modeled after Jesus and his time in the wilderness. In the famous temptations of turning rocks into bread, doing a swan dive from the pinnacle of the temple and excepting Satan’s offer to rule the world he doesn’t give in and for our sake, never gives up on who he is and what he must do. Isn’t that the issue that surrounds Lent? Are we going to give up on ourselves, let alone our confidence and faith in God? This is always the haunting temptation that Jesus faced and we face ourselves. Do I become apathetic and cynical? After all, being a person of faith in this world is an uphill battle all the way. You can always hear the voice saying, “let go of it – it’s not worth it – what’s in it for you really?” In a larger way, the question always come into your mind that asks, “do you really think you can make a difference in this world? Do you really think that your actions can change things?” The tempter’s voice always find it’s way into your ears with the words, “forget it, it’s too much, it won’t work, it will never happen, WHY BOTHER.”

For example, when you look at our world and what is taking place - as I write this we are bombing Libya and are watching traces of radiation being detected in Massachusetts. The nuclear reactors in Japan are still cause for great concern as radiation is being released into our oceans as very brave men try to work towards preventing a total nuclear meltdown in three plants. As I read the papers, I see the huge controversy taking place in Wisconsin and of course the issue of our own country let alone all of our states trying to balance their budgets with huge cutbacks. When you look forward you sometimes wonder where to begin or why bother?

The why bother part is I think a big part of the malazes that we face. I am just going to think about myself and try to survive. Many people are simply trying to build a wall around their own little world and live in a cocoon. This is a very cynical outlook and breeds apathy. On one level it looks like there are a lot of lost causes out there so why bother trying to change things? Of course I’m used to lost causes because I’m always trying to push them even though the odds are not always in my favor and the outlook sometimes looks dim. Cynicism is always biting at my heels.

Thankfully I am a person of faith and here again, many people would say to me “why bother” because it seems like Christianity is losing ground in our secular world! But faith while it needs doubt to make it really faith is the opposite of cynicism. Faith is about hope, about energy, about conviction and about believing that things can change for the better.

Sometimes when you are in the middle of a mess, it looks dark and hopeless but through vigilant efforts things change. For example, I never thought that I would ever see in my lifetime the Berlin Wall coming down. I wondered about the AIDS/HIV epidemic in Africa, but when I came to a village in Zambia and listened to one of it’s female leaders who shared what was happening in that village to fight against the AIDS/HIV epidemic, I was encouraged that maybe the African continent might someday be free of this surge.

The world is turning and spinning faster than I can imagine. The internet, Facebook and Twitter are remarkable ways to communicate. They have help spurn revolutions all through the Middle East. Egypt has fallen, Tunisia as well and without being too overly optimistic, Libya will too. I don’t want to look to the past for direction and I don’t want to live in the past. The only way to look is forward.

Stephen Colbert of The Colbert Report said this: “cynicism is a self imposed blindness, a rejection of the world because we are afraid that it will hurt or disappoint us.” Just another way of saying that I am not going to do anything because I am afraid of failure and rejection. That is not what faith is all about. That is not what the resurrection of our Lord is all about. In fact it is the opposite because it is the hope for a new day, a new and transformed life and for eternal life. We can’t get lost in Lent, but must realize it leads us to Holy Week, Good Friday and finally Easter and the resurrection.

--MEH

That's The Stuff That Woody Allen Movies Are Made Of...

The Carlyle Hotel is part of the things that books are written about. It’s a legendary place where John F. Kennedy would meet women such as Marilyn Monroe. It is also a place for famous people like Mick Jagger who stay there when he is in town and the many singers who perform in the very little club that inhabits this hotel. The most famous of whom has been Bobby Short who sang here until he died. I’ve had the privilege of going here a few times, once to hear Bobby Short where I sat at the bar and another time to hear Barbara Cook. This time I was here to see Woody Allen who has been playing here on Monday nights for quite a while. Being a fan of his movies, I really was looking forward to seeing him perform musically.

Woody Allen & Eddy Davis

© FocalChange 2011 / All Rights Reserved

As we entered the place with the intentions of having dinner, you could immediately tell this place was pretty exclusive. Just the flower arrangements alone gave you the feeling that this is where the elite meet to eat. As we turned to go into the club, there was a huge picture of Bobby Short, never looking better. This was his compound back in the day. Now we were here to have a great dinner and to see the legendary actor, movie director, comedian and writer play the clarinet with his band.

As we walked in, I began to get the feeling that we were in a Woody Allen movie. There was a bizarre looking group of people gathering. You didn’t find these people in church too often and as the three of us were pushed into a little area, we began to look around at the ambiance of this little club that was almost claustrophobic when everyone started to gather for the appearance of Woody Allen. You got the feel of a 1930’s supper club with the huge murals and the curvy walls that surrounded this very elegant place. The murals looked like something from Toulouse-Lautrec, but later I find out they are by the Oscar winning French artist, Marcel Vertes. Either way, they make the place look unique and like something out of a small French club in Paris. I had read that Richard Rogers was even the first tenant of the Carlyle. Somehow you could tell that this place was haunted with the usual famous suspects. If the walls could talk, we’d all be dead.

Yet amidst the elegance of a classic MGM set, with people out of central casting eating dinner and as the band was making odd noises tuning up, an old, balding thin man with big glasses and khaki pants walked onto the stage from out of nowhere. Was that Woody Allen? Yes it was. He’s not looking at anybody; he’s looking and putting together his instrument from out of a box. The place is really getting full now, it’s two and three deep at the bar and people are wandering in and standing at the door. We’re still waiting for a drink. Our waiter seems to come by every two hours.

Soon the music begins. Woody Allen is surprisingly good. He’s blowing his brains out on a clarinet and seems to be doing it masterfully from what I know about clarinet players. It’s all great and I feel like I’m transported into a simmering little jazz club with a New Orleans band. Half way through, we still haven’t gotten our food. The table down from us is talking as if nobody was performing. A long time later, the wine still has not come, the food was cold and if you threatened to say anything bad to this waiter, he could pour the wine in your lap or not come around again for another day or two. It’s all a little bizarre; with people taking pictures with their cameras from all angles of this man that looks much older than I thought. He tries not to make eye contact with anyone the whole night; he’s looking down at the floor when he is not playing. Finally at the end, with all of the clapping, he is left there sitting next to an old banjo player who has logged many hours in places like this, perhaps next to Woody Allen himself all these years. Allen sits there not making eye contact and begins to clean his clarinet, then suddenly with his partner, begins to sing softly some tunes. The banjo guy is smiling and is sort of the “Ed McMahon” who can pull a Johnny Carson out of a funk type of guy. He makes Woody Allen look even better. Finally, Allen says thank you to everyone and walks off and is hugged by some woman standing in his way. I’m almost ready for someone to hold up a director’s boards that says “Take one, scene one”, but instead of saying “cut”, the guy says “here’s your wine.” It’s funny when you order your wine at the beginning of your meal and it comes at the end, but that’s the stuff that Woody Allen movies are made of.