George Malley: Hmm. 60 seconds. Well, how would you like that? How about alphabetical? Aardvark, baboon, caribou, dolphin, eohippus, fox, gorilla, hyena, ibex, jackal, kangaroo, lion, marmoset, Newfoundland, ocelot, panda, rat, sloth, tiger, unicorn, varmint, whale, yak, zebra. Now "varmint" is a stretch; so is "Newfoundland" (that's a dog breed); "unicorn" is mythical; "eohippus" is prehistoric. But you weren't being very specific, now, were you, Bob?
That's from the 1996 movie Phenomenon. Not a memorable movie, my friends tell me, but I thought it was phenomenal. And you should know that it was phenomenated for 7 awards, and won 7 others. None from the academy, but still.
OK, so maybe it wasn't the best movie of the decade but that scene made an impression on me. In case you don't remember the film, it's about George seeing the light. Well, it's about what happens after he sees a light. A bright one. In the sky.
He passes out and wakes up doing miracles.
First he does a home improvement project and introduces his friends to each other. Then he catches a rabbit in his garden. Next thing you know he's reading books and spinning some dude's sunglasses around on the table. Well, at that point things have gone a little too far for the authorities to ignore. He's detained for medical study. The mammal naming miracle is the climactic point at which the doctor administering the IQ test is so disturbed by George's power that he almost forgets to stop his stopwatch. ALMOST FORGETS THE STOPWATCH. You've got to know you can't keep a guy like this locked up. He escapes the clutches of the authorities and makes love to the woman he's been wooing. Then he dies from the tumor in his brain. Along the way he has managed to teach the townsfolk that he has no special insight into life. Nobody does. There are no special insights. Just be a laid-back person and you'll be fine.
The movie broke my heart a little, you know? This is a miracle? Reading some books? This is wisdom? Just be cool? What's the use in that? It kills me to live in a culture so lazy and unintelligent that listing some animals in alphabetical order is the big shock. And it kills me that we have so small a concept of power and wisdom. 'Cause it's the Jesus story, you know? George alone has seen the light; he does miracles, and teaches the townsfolk; he's persecuted by the authorities and escapes their justice. He dies. Just like Jesus. Except George's miracles and wisdom are empty. Jesus should do more than catch a rabbit and chill with his girl.
Jesus shouldn't just see a flash of light, he should be light. He should shine out in this dark life, seen by everyone. He should call religious leaders out of that darkness, and marginalized, scandalous women should chat with him in broad daylight, thirsty to be his disciples. The hungry masses should walk days to hear him teach, even though his teachings are hard to understand. Knowing that they are hungry for more than bread and sermons, he should offer his own life as sustenance for their souls. He should give sight to the blind, and make blind everyone arrogant enough to think they see clearly. He should call out to the excommunicated and the dead, and they should know his voice and live.
Why am I bringing up a 12 year old film, you ask? It's not just because I'm stuck in the 90's, or that I haven't voluntarily watched a film since then. It's the living that's got me thinking about this old movie. You see, a friend of mine has recently had a nice, big tumor pulled out of her brain. She's in her 20's, so you gotta know we're all in a little shock. I tease her, because that's what I do. "Can you do miracles?" She can't, but I sure wish I could.
I would do a miracle on her, and one on my dad, who has Parkinson's, and one on my grandfather who has Alzheimer's, and one on my co-conspirator in the church, who has breast cancer. But I'm not Jesus, and I can't do those miracles. I'm not even George.
Instead, I think we're the excommunicated and dead, called to life. But how did Lazarus live on in a body that had already given up and died? How did the excommunicated man live on in a city that had turned against him? How do we live, sharing these bodies and relationships with so much death? I don't know. But I have heard the story of Jesus, and I can see him has walking step by step up a mountain to torture and death. I can see him rising up to the Life that comes after.
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