Dare You to Move - Illustrated

Read this, then watch this:

Loving Your Job

Every once in a while, Nancy and I like to take a break from reality, and enjoy something timeless. Tonight found us at Disney Hall enjoying the music of Antonio Vivaldi, and the Venice Baroque Orchestra (VBO).

From the middle aged white dude in the fifth row (don't ask me how that happened!?)....a hearty "Bravo!"

But I noticed something else tonight. The lute player. His name was Ivano Zanenghi, and watching him play made my evening.

The evening was not designed around the talents of Ivano, as Vivaldi music is not exactly lute-centric (can I say that?). Anyway, the lute, which is a sort of contorted guitar, is a minor piece in most baroque music. But, tonight, the passion and joy with which Ivano played stole the show for me. Maybe it was partly because Ivano is a middle-aged fellow who is somewhat "hair challenged", like me.

But more profoundly, Ivano's facial expressions gave away the passion, enthusiasm, and joy that he brings to his music. In my view, his simple joy in merely being present upstaged the efforts of the principal violinist, who had a tough time breaking a smile. It is so rewarding to watch someone who loves their job with all their heart, and brings a sense of infectious passion to the stage. You could just feel it!

Might my work, my relationships, my very life convey the joy that Ivano brings to his lute!

Bravo VBO, bravo Vivaldi, and Bravissimo Ivano!

Dare You to Move!

I remember the old outer space movies of the 1950s that I used to watch when I was a kid. All the astronaut guys, and even the bad-guy robots used to wear these massive boots - supposedly to give them extra weight or stability in zero-gravity. Those boots were huge.

I always used to think to myself, "Man, those shoes are a bummer....I would face-plant in no time in those puppies". Maybe its because I was an awkward white teenage kid who loved basketball, but had all the jumping ability of Jabba the Hut. Anyway, I digress from my main point.

What the church in America has wrought upon itself is a pair of humongous boots. Heavy boots. Massive ones. Awkward.

In his latest book, "The Great Omission", philosophy professor and author Dallas Willard offers a peek into a world for us all, without boots, if you will. Floating free, experiencing a life of faith without the boots the church has sold us.

Willard warns that the church has been promoting "Consumer Christianity" for far too long. This type of faith is just a matter of receiving benefits from Christ. That is all that is essential. Salvation is just heaven. And, as it turns out, this consumer faith is now the “default” system of Christian identity in the Western world. On this you can be a Christian forever and never become a disciple. Our local congregations and their extensions generally assume Consumer Christianity is the essential thing.

I don't get out much. Work, family, church responsibilities. And so, just recently, I have discovered the music of Switchfoot, a San Diego band that writes on eternal themes, without the shiny happy Christian veneer. Switchfoot has a song entitled "Dare You to Move":

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift
yourself up off the floor

We have been sold something far less than Christ offers. Its time to take off the boots.

Heather is 13!

Today, our house is officially be occupied by two (count 'em) teenage girls. Heather turns 13 today; and Kelly turned 16 on Sunday. Amazing.

Sunday night was Heather's party, a limo showed up at our door; Heather's idea for her party, just to pick up her friends at their houses, and drive them all around town for a while. Then it was back to our house for pasta (her favorite of all time) dinner, cake, and general merry making.

Next week will be the epic Kelly Norris Birthday party. You think the Grammy's are a big deal? Just wait.

Without much warning, our two girls have landed firmly in their teenage years. Am I ready for this double whammy? Heck no!

Heather is 13!

Some office buildings don't have 13th floors. If you have Triskaidekaphobia, you are irrationally afraid of the number 13. As it turns out, the association of bad luck with the number 13 has been attributed to the fact there were 13 people at the Last Supper of Jesus, although this association seems to have originated only in medieval times. For Heather, I predict 13 will, in a word, rock!

Softball, volleyball, soccer, leadership at school, after school tutoring, hanging with friends, laughing, living, loving. Watching Reba reruns, listening to Oddessy on her Ipod, and showers that last for hours (almost). If we could harness the energy of this amazing young lady, we could light the City of South Pasadena for a week.

Heather, your care and love for others is remarkable. The way in which you can find humor in almost anything is a gift and a joy to us all. Thank you for gracing our lives with your presence. From the very first moment I held you and laughed loudly and cried tears of joy, every day has been an adventure. May the adventure continue!

Thirteen? Feeling a bit squeamish? No us, not our family. Bring it on!

Amazing Grace

This will be worth seeing:

Denial is Not a River in Egypt

This is, to sum it up, baloney.

What is going on with Ted? Why does he need to tell us, that only after three weeks in therapy, he is "completely heterosexual"? After I was in therapy for three weeks, I could barely tell you what I was feeling about myself. Please, Ted!

Interesting thought in the New York Times, by a psychiatrist:

“Some people in the community that Mr. Haggard comes from believe homosexuality is a form of behavior, a sinful form of behavior based on certain things in the Bible, and they don’t believe you can create a healthy identity based on sinful behavior,” Dr. Drescher said. “So they define it as a behavior that can be changed, and there is this thinking that if you control those behaviors enough, heterosexual attractions will follow.”

While I don't subscribe to everything the shrink here says, I am very worried that Ted is trying to "make good" on his mistakes. Really now. For more thoughts on the weird stuff the church does to us, please read this, by my college chum, Julie. It really sums it all up, far better than I could.

I have to go remove the log in my own eye now.

Name Calling

a·pos·tate

–noun
1. a person who forsakes his religion, cause, party, etc.

her·e·tic
–noun
1. a professed believer who maintains religious opinions contrary to those accepted by his or her church or rejects doctrines prescribed by that church.

Over the course of the past year I have been called both of these words. Names, really. This is what otherwise good Christian people have called me. This is what they think I am. In two distinct and completely unrelated settings, I have been called these names. In their minds, I am a blasphemer. I was labeled an apostate in a recent and very sad church split. And just the other day, in an email, I was labeled as in cahoots with heretics.

Unlike the childhood poem that mentions sticks and stones, these kinds of names do hurt me. And, I find myself filled with sadness, at the thought of all this. Why? In my mind, this behavior hurts the cause of Christ, and the furtherance of the church. Bickering church people is what the world needs far less of. Yuck.

In both cases, I did not pick fights, or get into discussions of deep theological issues, or say something out loud that offended someone. I was not part of some huge moral failure, I did not break some fundamental law, I did not dis the Ten Commandments. I didn't even mess with the Communion wine.

I was called names for thinking, well, differently than others. For having my own opinion, and for being willing to think outside of the traditional church box. And for this, I was called names. I was not invited into a conversation, a dialogue, or a way to work out differences. Just named, classified, and cubby holed. Filed away. If you call someone a name, then you really don't need to deal with them anymore. In both cases, I did not engage, I did not react, no response. That way, its one less person calling names.

What motivates good people to do things like this? Why would upstanding, taxpaying, God fearing, mother loving folks be reduced to calling others (that they profess to "love in the Lord") names?

One word. Fear.

Its a big motivator that little word. Uncertainty. It is scary when your ideas about God get challenged, when the way you look at the world is threatened. I think this is what happened. These good people became afraid of new ideas, and so, they called names. Its easier.

Sara Groves, has a song that captures some of this behavior. In a song called "To The Moon", Sara writes:

It was there in the bulletin
We're leaving soon
After the bake sale to raise funds for fuel
The rocket is ready and we're going to
Take our church to the moon

There'll be no one there to tell us we're odd
No one to change our opinions of God
Just lots of rocks and this dusty sod
Here at our church on the moon

We know our liberties we know our rights
We know how to fight a very good fight
Just get that last bag there and turn out the light
We're taking our church to the moon
We're taking our church to the moon
We'll be leaving soon

Let It Out

The folks at Kleenex are doing a good thing:



Update. Turns out the band that composed the music are Christ followers.....

Is It OK to be Angry?

Anger is a delicate balance. On one hand, if you constantly fly off the handle, you get labeled as mean spirited and judgmental. However, if you are insincere with your real feelings, folks can see right through your false pretenses. It is hard to find the middle way.

Ok. Here is what bugs me - passive aggressive Christian folk. Disclaimer: I am not reacting to a recent event - I have witnessed this behavior for years.

A Christian therapist friend of mine just recently told me that the new edition of the gigantic diagnostic manual of the American Psychiatric Association, will this year, for the first time, contain passive aggressive behavior as a diagnosable condition. And well it should be, because from my observation point, it is rampant in the church. Otherwise good people behave in a disingenuous fashion when they become frustrated with difficult people or situations.

Someone who is passive aggressive will not tell you that they might be really pretty damn mad at you. Nope. Instead they will use other methods to convey their frustration. They will

· passively resist fulfilling routine social and occupational tasks;
· complain of being misunderstood and unappreciated by others;
· become sullen, while complaining nothing is really that wrong

What has gotten into us church people? Where did we learn to be so, well, nice?

And what about our leader? How did Jesus handle anger? Meek and mild, the Servant King? Was it Jesus the Milk Toast Savior? I have been thinking about this now for a week or so. Seems to me, Christ was a fellow who had never heard of passive aggressive coping mechanisms. He acted, spoke, and followed through in a straight forward manner. No avoidance for Him. He dealt with his anger in a healthy way. Remember that bad scene in the temple with the money changers?

Christian folk, lets get real. Lets be mad at one another. Argue, discuss, be confrontational, work out our differences. Engage in real community. Forgive.

Its very hard, even painful to do this stuff, but in the long run, well worth it. And in doing this, we might just become more real, less artificial, and more like people of real flesh and blood to a watching world around us.

Remember, they ARE watching.

Bring Back the Monkeys!

Today, for the first time in years, I sat through most of the Superbowl. I had hopes that the commercials would be, as is usually the case, better than the actual game. I was pleasantly surprised by the game, played in pouring rain, and in particular for a victory for Tony Dungy, who is a man of faith who has faced the most profound personal pain imaginable. A great win for a good man.

As for the commercials, the performance was pathetic. Sad, unimaginative, and uninspiring. If the commercials had been a football game, they would have had a final score of:

Brainless Beer Ads / Generally Uncreative - 84
Creative / Knee Slapping Funny / Inspiring - 12

A rout. The only funny moment was the ad for Emerald Nuts, which indicated something like "in the afternoon your blood sugar declines to the point where you fall asleep, and Robert Goulet appears in your office and messes with your stuff". I have this problem all the time. So glad I have found a solution.

One other item I must address. Careerbuilder needs to fire their ad agency; they are completely clueless. They have produced a series called "Career Jungle" that 1) is incomprehensible, 2) poorly edited, and 3) contains dialogue that is impossible to understand. Career Builder representatives have said that "We really want to talk about job dissatisfaction. So we have new TV work that talks about job dissatisfaction and not just bad co-workers". Oh please, people!

In my (alleged) mind, the chimpanzee campaign was one for the ages. Stay with what works. Can the ad agency. Bring back the monkeys!

Passive Aggressive Jesus

Sometimes it feels to me like the NBA has one up on the Church.

In the NBA, if you get fouled too hard, and then really ticked at somebody, the unwritten rule (until recently) was that you could get back up off the floor, and well, DECK that so-and-so. Fisticuffs as a solution. Pugilism to solve your “issues”.

Major League Baseball might also have a better way of dealing with anger than does the First Church of Wherever. Say some annoying 22 year old left hander with a wicked 104 MPH fastball keeps throwing high hard ones against your best hitters, sending them flailing to the dirt. Response? Your team can just wait an inning or two, and when Junior Lefty does it again, you simply clear the bench, charge the guy, and smother him in misdirected punches. It works. Afterward, while everyone looks sheepish and apologies to the press, inside, they probably feel really good about the resolution.

But we church folk are pretty darn pathetic when we get mad. Wait. Did I say mad? Oh sorry, I am a Christian, I don’t get mad. Matter of fact, mad might even be a bad word to say. Annoyed, yes, that is more like it. “Our patience has been tried”, we might say. We become, say, “slightly miffed”. “You know, Marge, I have a hard time with that person”, we offer to our Christian friends. But angry? Not us. Ticked off? Noooo thank you very much. Pissed? Gasp! Never. I just swore! We Christian folk often handle anger about as well as George Bush handles words of more than two syllables.

Here is the equation we church people seem to follow:

Christian person + Anger = Very Bad Behavior!

I think this is very bad math, for living life, and building the Kingdom.

More on this soon.

Mental Vacation

At the office. Need to take a mental vacation, if just for a minute.

I would much rather be here right now.

From Weakness, Great Strength

And sometimes, I think my life feels difficult. I have no clue.....

Leaving a Legacy

As I approach the mid-century mark in age (cut me open and count the rings), I am rediscovering (refiguring?) a sense of call for my life. By call, I mean my perception of what it is that God wants me to do with the rest of my days here on this planet.

I got the essence of the thoughts below from my friend Al Lunsford's project, Inside Work. As a result of reading this great blog, I have discovered something new.

I want to develop, in my family and myself, a sense of “third generation vision.” Third generation vision is easily described in child-rearing terms. My wife and I are attempting to raise two wonderful girls, Kelly and Heather, If we simply had “first generation vision” as parents, we would be satisfied if our children did as they were told, minded their manners, spoke when spoken to, didn’t do anything to embarrass us and covered up any obvious hygiene problems. First generation vision is parenting for my personal convenience and near term objectives.

Unfortunately, this was largely the perspective of my parents. This was mostly the credo of their generation, not necessarily their fault. As a result, I have spent much of the last 25 years relearning what being a man, a husband, and a parent means. If I am thinking only in a "first generation" context, as long kids do as they are told and don’t create problems, everything is fine. Until, one day, everything isn’t fine.

Parents with “second generation vision” see their responsibilities differently. They want to raise their children in such a way that the kids become good citizens, good spouses, good parents, good neighbors, good leaders and contributors to society. Any time you see such a parent, commend them. The same goes for leaders of every sort.

Then, there are parents who strive for a greater perspective: "third generation vision.” As I think about my own girls, I’m learning to stop and ask, "How do I raise them in such a way that my grandchildren will be great citizens, husbands, wives, parents, neighbors, leaders and contributors?"

Now, faced with a parental leadership issue, I try (read: try) back up and consider how I can leverage the situation to build the wisdom, character, and ability of my kids so that their kids will make a difference.

Its about leaving a legacy. But not a legacy with my name on it, like some kind of museum or monument. A living legacy about love, and humor, and caring, and making the world a better place, for generations, not just in my lifetime.

Here is my worst nightmare: Somerset Maugham, in his novel Of Human Bondage, described an aging couple saying, “They had done nothing, and when they went it would be just as if they had never been.” And so, I am acting in fear of this result, the last thing I want is this epitaph for my life. Call me a chicken, but this is the kind of chicken I want to be.

I think my second half, as long as I have left to go, is going to be a challenge, sometimes maddening, but a blast!

Failure is Painful

Tonight, after a busy week of real life and hardly any blogging, comes more from the mind of Steve Hayner on the Missional church. Remember those old videos of the early days of flight. What a pathetic bunch of early flying machines were put together by those early pioneers.

Here are some thoughts about the way in which many of us "church folk" do things. We don't do it very well:

• So what do you do when a church that focuses on its “gatherings” begins to lose steam, and it isn’t attracting so many people anymore? You try to make the gatherings more attractive. You do a better job of marketing. You look out into the culture and find out what IS attracting people, and you adapt to that style.

• What do you do when you seem to be losing the “culture wars”? You revise your theology and make it more “acceptable” to the world. You plan more strategies. You spend more money. You figure out how to leverage whatever political power you can muster. You fill up more thermos jugs of grace to deliver to the world.

• What do you do when the church’s organization becomes cumbersome, or doesn’t seem to be effective anymore? You reorganize. You write a new mission statement. You form a strategic planning committee—and a whole series of other committees.

• What do you do when the hierarchy doesn’t seem to be leading very well anymore, and those willing to lead don’t seem to be as committed or talented? You expand the number of people in the bureaucracy; you complain that seminaries aren’t doing their job; and you write new curriculum for training the leadership.

All of these steps may be improvements. But it’s like trying to improve the rotary dial phone. In the end it’s still a rotary dial phone. The bottom line is this: This way of thinking about how to "do church better” hasn’t worked. The Church in the West is dying. Europe is now “post-Christian” and arguably the continent most closed to the Gospel. The Church in the U.S. has not grown (in percentage) in over 100 years. And many denominations (including our own) are falling precipitously. Of the 25 largest denominations in the U.S., the PC(USA) is now shrinking the fastest—both in absolute numbers and percentage.

Ouch! Sound familiar?

Thank you, Steve Hayner. Now, my questions are this: How do we do church better? How do we face the future recognizing at the same time our brokenness, as well as the gifts we can bring? How do we communicate the greatest mystery and most profound even in all of history?

What is next?

Not Sure...

I am not sure who I identify with more here....

Reverend KC Wahe Installed

Jumbo sized. Super size me.

Mega. Ultra. Massive. These are the sacred words of our culture.

And sadly, they seem to have become the sacred words of American Evangelicalism. Can you say Willow Creek, Saddleback, Claude Osteen, Focus on the Family?

There is something about being American. We seem to think that bigger, is well, better. Size matters. And sometimes, being bigger can be better.

But in the Kingdom economy, much of the time, smaller is very good, and maybe, even better. More simple, more meaningful. More quiet. Stripped of the noise and clamor.

This past Sunday night, I had the privilege of being a part of the installation service of Rev. KC Wahe at Community Presbyterian Church in, Littlerock, California. Littlerock has a population of about 9,000 souls, located in the desert foothills of the Antelope Valley, north of Los Angeles. It might be the place you drive through, instead of stopping in. I suspect there are more cacti in Littlerock than there are people. But that is ok. And it is ok for Pastor KC, as well.

KC is a remarkable man, and he now leads a remarkable church. The sanctuary holds all of about 75 folks, and it was full to the brim for KC's installation service. Small crowd, but good, and full of character, hope, joy, and thanksgiving. I hope these dear people know of the gift that God has given them in a faithful man, whose life is, for me, one of the best examples of the redemptive power of Christ I have ever known.

KC was a kid from the streets of Hollywood, who showed up in the youth group of our church almost 20 years ago. KC came from a highly dysfunctional family, and he has since lost several family members over the years to drug and alcohol dependency. Some faithful folks of our church took KC under their wings, and loved him. They did not give up easily; they kept on loving him through many years and many challenges and changes. KC found a spiritual home, and a beacon of Light in an otherwise dark life. He found Hope.

To make a long and wonderful story short, KC eventually attended Princeton Seminary, and Sunday became the pastor of this little church in the High Desert. Little in size they may be, but from my viewpoint, they are great in heart. And they have a great pastor to lead them.

Blessings to you Community Presbyterian Church, and blessings on you, Pastor KC.

Bigger is not always better.

Tony Silvestri, Starting Over, and Sleep

About 18 months ago, we lost a dear friend who was only 36. Her name was Julie, and I have written about her here, and here.

She was in the college fellowship I helped to lead more that 17 years ago. There are few people that I will remember in my life as truly beautiful, in all the depth that word conveys. Julie was one of those few; she was beautiful from deep within her soul. In joy, in love for others, in a caring heart, and in her mind, which loved the classics and things of lasting worth.

We received a belated Christmas letter just yesterday from Tony, Julie's husband. I was reminded again that Julie married an amazing man. After Julie's death, Tony relocated his family (pictured at left) to Lawrence, Kansas, to be closer to his extended family.

Tony is taking time off, to write, to paint, and just to be. He is deeply involved in the lives of his children, and is enjoying the simple beauty of the Midwest. I envy the simple things in life that Tony enjoys. Small mercies for a man who has been through more in his 40 years than most. Far more.

And Tony is creating new things. Tony has long been a poet, and now, his gift is being shared on a much larger stage than he even thought possible. Tony has had a poem commissioned by composer Eric Whitacre. This work has become a standard part of the choral repertoire garnering performances and praise all over the world. The National Endowment for the Arts American Masterpieces Program includes this piece in its list of required repertoire for program concerts, calling it a significant work of American choral music, and among the best of [Americas] cultural and artistic legacy. It appears on the recording Eric Whitacre: Cloudburst

Sleep - By Anthony Silvestri (copyrighted)

The evening hangs beneath the moon
A silver thread on darkened dune
With closing eyes and resting head
I know that sleep is coming soon

Upon my pillow, safe in bed,
A thousand pictures fill my head,
I cannot sleep, my minds aflight,
And yet my limbs seem made of lead
If there are noises in the night,
A frightening shadow, flickering light...

Then I surrender unto sleep,
Where clouds of dream give second sight
What dreams may come, both dark and deep
Of flying wings and soaring leap
As I surrender unto sleep
As I surrender unto sleep.

Out of great, almost unmeasurable pain, emerges new hope. Poetry, art, new life.

I wish for my friend Tony, as he and his family start life anew....many nights of deep, restful, God graced....sleep.

And as a postscript, these lyrics grace the Virtual Choir 3 video:

My Daughter Made Me Do This!

When you Google the term "nerd", you get this photo.

My daughter thought that my score, below, was funny....

To Barack or Not To Barack, That is the Question

I will admit, I have been interested in all the heat and light that seems to have developed around Barack Obama during the past several months. I want to believe there is a "new way of doing politics" as I have heard him say.

Recently, Peggy Noonan wrote an opinion piece for the Wall Street Journal that summed it all up. My favorite bits:

What does he believe? What does he stand for? This is, after all, the central question. When it is pointed out that he has had almost--almost--two years in the U.S. Senate, and before that was an obscure state legislator in Illinois, his supporters compare him to Lincoln. But Lincoln had become a national voice on the great issue of the day, slavery. He rose with a reason. Sen. Obama's rise is not about a stand or an issue or a question; it is about Sen. Obama. People project their hopes on him, he says. He's exactly right. Just so we all know it's projection.

and....

He doesn't have an issue, he has a thousand issues, which is the same as having none, in the sense that a speech about everything is a speech about nothing. And on those issues he seems not so much to be guided by philosophy as by impulses, sentiments. From "The Audacity of Hope," his latest book: "[O]ur democracy might work a bit better if we recognized that all of us possess values that are worthy of respect." "I value good manners." When not attempting to elevate the bromidic to the profound, he lapses into the language of political consultants--"our message," "wedge issues," "moral language." Ronald Reagan had "a durable narrative." Parts of the book, the best parts, are warm, anecdotal, human. But much of it pretends to a seriousness that is not borne out. When speaking of the political past he presents false balance and faux fairness. (Reagan, again, despite his "John Wayne, Father Knows Best pose, his policy by anecdote and his gratuitous assaults on the poor" had an "appeal" Sen. Obama "understood." Ronnie would be so pleased.)

and....

But again, what does he believe? From reading his book, I would say he believes in his destiny. He believes in his charisma. He has the confidence of the anointed. He has faith in the magic of the man who meets his moment. He also believes in the power of good nature, the need for compromise, and the possibility of comprehensive, multitiered, sensible solutions achieved through good-faith negotiations. But mostly it seems to be about him, his sense of destiny, and his appreciation of his own particular gifts. Which leaves me thinking Oh dear, we have been here before. It's not as if we haven't already had a few of the destiny boys. It's not as if we don't have a few more in the wings.

I need to listen more to what Obama has to say, as well as the rest of the cast of presidential candidates. I just hope there is some substance there, somewhere. And I might want to think twice about voting for The Man from Nowhere. Barack Obama may indeed be a great leader, but maybe that greatness will emerge over time, say the next decade, rather than by a rush of popularity over the next 12 months, like the Most Popular Kid on Campus. In these trying times, we need real leadership, the kind that comes from experience, rather than flash.

Thank You Dr. King

An Album and a Movie

Can we get this clear? I am not typically an impulse buyer. But recently, I strayed from the straight and narrow, and picked up this amazing album while standing in line at Starbucks. What a brilliant impulse buyer I am.

This album spans nearly 30 years, and is the result of the recovery of some old Ray Charles concert tapes from the 70s, combined with the very recent fill-in recordings of the legacy Count Basie Orchestra. In my mind, this is a wonderful mixture of two remarkable styles. Ray always loved the music of Basie, and this pathetically white guy has always loved everything Ray.

Off to the Movies - Freedom Writers

This weekend we saw a movie that should be required viewing for anyone with kids in school, anyone who teaches or has ever taught, and for that matter, anyone who ever went to school.

Hilary Swank is remarkable, and is joined by a striking cast of young actors. This film has two major themes; the first is the stereotyping and class wars of the inner city.

In perhaps the most powerful moments of the film, the students of Erin Gruwell's class visit the Museum of Tolerance in West Los Angeles - one of their first visits outside of the neighborhood where they grew up. There, they meet actual Holocaust survivors who relate the stories of their narrow escape from the death camps. I have visited Dachau, and brief scenes were shown of the death camps, which brought me right back to the sights and sounds of my visit 20 years ago. The filmmakers had the wisdom of using real camp survivors in the film; my wife Nancy recognized her recent museum guide in the movie. Very moving.

The second important subplot of this film is the ongoing battle of creative entrepreneurial teachers versus an entrenched public education bureaucracy. I found myself feeling angry, almost enraged at the educational system that actually fought against the dreams, initiative, and spirit of an obviously talented teacher. As a result of this system, Erin Gruwell is no longer teaching, and I do not blame her. I do not harbor the idealism that the movie seems to embrace.

Ms. Gruwell has outgrown the narrow, structured world of public education, forming the Freedom Writer's Foundation, which now is capable of inspiring teacher and students as far and wide and Ms. Gruwell's dream can take her. The loosers in this movie are not the students, who have been blessed by a remarkable teacher, but rather the members of the educational establishment, who perpetuate a broken system that stunts the creativity of gifted teachers.

Amazing Jesus