Category Archives: Media

April 14, 2013 · 9:50 am

You are the light of the world.

Part Two of my story of Godspell. Read part one here.

Our Riverside UMC "Godspell" cast

Our Riverside UMC “Godspell” cast

“You are the light of the world,” I sang. And then I went home and reflected on the amazing thing we had just done. Godspell had forever changed me, but in the hours after the show I don’t think I had any idea just how much.

“You are the light of the world,” we all sang. Dino Hayz, director of the Center for Living Arts and our Jesus, went out into the audience. He grabbed someone and had them stand up so we could all sing to that one particular person, “You are the salt of the earth.” Then quickly to another man he dashed. He got him to stand up so we could point to him and sing, “You are the city of God.” Finally, he found one last woman. She was sitting near the back, and we sang one more time, “You are the light of the world.”

It was the last song before intermission. We left the sanctuary rocking. We were half way home, and we all sensed that things were going well. None of our rehearsals suggested that the show would go as smoothly as it had been. At the end of the show, after singing the beautiful refrain “We can build a beautiful city, yes we can. Yes we can. We can build a beautiful city. Not a city of angels, but finally a city of man,” I felt a great sense of accomplishment.

After the show a woman approached me. She told me that she had a great time. She loved the music, and she was so glad she could come. For years, she told me, she had a Playbill from the original Broadway production. She also had an album she had never played. For years she had kind of wondered what Godspell was, and when she saw us in the paper, she decided on a whim to come check it out. I told her how happy I was that she was there, and invited her to come again to worship with us.

The next day I was talking to our head usher about what a great experience the show was. We were marveling at the amount of people that came, and how many people came that were not a part of our church. I told him about the woman I talked to after the show, and he quickly realized that he knew who I was talking about.

“Yeah, I was talking to her at intermission. She seemed like she was looking for something, and I wanted to help her. I saw her and said, ‘You are the light of the world,’ she was one of the people that you guys sang to when Dino got her to stand up.’”
She kind of laughed when I said that,” Tom told me. “And then she said, ‘No one has ever called me that before.’”

I got goosebumps when he told me that, and I thanked Tom for telling me about their exchange. Then I went back into my office and was overwhelmed. Something washed over me that I can only describe as the Holy Spirit as I prayed “Thank you God.” Tears started to flow, and my efforts at standing became feeble. I literally fell to my knees in tears as I was struck at once with an overwhelming sense of awe, wonder, sadness, joy, and purpose. “No one has ever called me that before,” she said.

There were so many moments that made Godspell a memorable experience. If it were not for Tom’s story, I would have counted it as a great memory. I would have remembered the impromptu rehearsals in the kitchen with my wife and daughter as we sang and danced together. I would have remembered Molly gently nudging me into the right place so I was ready to be one of the priests in the Good Samaritan parable. I would have remembered the prayer we shared before the show. I would have remembered hugging Dino during the farewell song, and whispering to him. “Thank you, brother.” With or without that conversation with Tom I would have relished in the glow of accomplishing something as a team.

After hearing the story of the woman that had never been told that she was the light of the world though, I had something more.

“You are the light of the world,” is not just a catchy line in a pretty song in an upbeat musical.
“You are the light of the world,” are Jesus’ words to his followers. They are words from what we call The Sermon on the Mount as found in Matthew 5-6. It is a small part of Jesus’ dissertation about what it means to live in this world.

“You are the light of the world.” It is a claim on those that had gathered. It is an assurance of what Jesus’ followers are, and what they shall be.

“You are the light of the world,” Jesus said so long ago.

“You are the light of the world,” Jesus declares today. You.

So let your light so shine. There is a light that is within you that is good. There is a light within you that is of God. There is a light within you that needs to be seen. I think for a moment of the children in this world that have never been told that they are the light of anyone’s world, and it breaks my heart. I think for a moment of people stuck in abusive relationships, allowing their light to be crushed, and I want to scream. I think for a moment of youth that want only to hide and be as invisible as possible so as not to draw anyone’s attention, and it kills me to know that they have never been told, “You were created in the very image of God. The light that God created at the very moment of creation. That is in you. Hear Jesus crying to you, ‘You are the light of the world.’”

That little musical gave me a lot of things. It gave me memories. It gave me friendships. It gave me knowledge about myself. And it gave me a renewed sense of purpose. It gave me a way to think about my mission as a follower of Christ.
I will strive to never allow another man, woman, or child pass me by without letting them know, in no uncertain terms, that they are the light of the world.

Learn more about The Center For Living Arts

Follow the Fat Pastor on Facebook

Follow @FatPastor on Twitter

2 Comments

Filed under Christianity, Media

Tagged as , , , , , ,

April 12, 2013 · 2:00 pm

I love it when a plan comes together

PART ONE of my story about GODSPELL
My wife and I during rehearsal. In the show, this became one of the little bits of magic onto which I will forever hold. Every time we rehearsed this, 'Jesus' cuts in and stops us from dancing. And I was supposed to say, "Yeah, but she's so, so..." Every time in rehearsal, I said something different to end that line. Nothing I tried ever felt right. Then during the show, I looked at her and our eyes met, and my heart melted again, and I finished my line perfectly "she's an angel."

My wife and I during rehearsal. In the show, this became one of the little bits of magic which I will forever cherish. Every time we rehearsed this, ‘Jesus’ cuts in and stops us from dancing. And I was supposed to say, “Yeah, but she’s so, so…” Every time in rehearsal, I said something different to end that line. Nothing I tried ever felt right. Then during the show, I looked at her and our eyes met, and my heart melted again, and I finished my line perfectly “she’s an angel.”

I messed up my line every time in rehearsal.  I only had two lines, and mine was the first line of the song.  There was no warm-up.  No lead-in.  No chance to find my way in the song.  No chance to start slow and pick up momentum.  It was just cue music, grab mic, and sing.  Sing.

I’ve held a mic on “stage” before hundreds of times.  I’ve given sermons, speeches, toasts, and prayers in front of large crowds and small gatherings.  I’ve even sung in front of people before, but always as a member of a choir.  I had not been nervous in a church in years.  Yet I knew my line was coming.  From the moment the previous song started I was already thinking about it. My turn to clutch that mic and sing was coming.

Every time in rehearsal I had messed it up.  I came in late.  Or I was way off key.  Or I botched the wording.  Up until the show I was ‘ofer.’  I should have been terrified.  It thought I was going to be terrified, but here’s the crazy thing, when it came time for my two-line solo, I wasn’t nervous.  I sang it.  ”You are the light of the world,” I said as I pointed to one of the people in the audience.  And then the ensemble came in behind me  ”You are the light of the world.”  I felt good, so I kept going.  I don’t know if I was off-key or not.  I knew at this point the only mistake I could make was to hold back.  ”But if that light’s under a bushel, it’s lost something kind of crucial,” I sang. And for a moment, if only in my mind, I was Donnie Osmond as Joseph or Michael Crawford as the Phantom.  I was hooked.

A few months ago I sat in a coffee shop and met with the Director of the Center for Living Arts, Dino Hayz.  The Center is one of those little gems you find in old cities.  It is not a big theater, but it has a lot of heart.  Focusing mostly on youth theater, the Center specializes in doing quality shows quickly.  Before there was a Center though, there was Dino and his wife and friends that put together a company to do Godspell in churches.  They have been doing Godspell in churches for over ten years.  They consider it their life’s ministry to spread the message of love and community that is a part of Godspell to as many people as possible.  ”It’s not so much a musical,” he explained to me, as it is an experience.  ”I want people to experience Christ’s love through what is happening all around them.”

We sat together and talked about an idea.  It was an idea hatched by our children’s minister months (years?) before.  What if we did Godspell together at our church?  What could we create if we took a few of the experienced members of Dino’s company, and did Godspell with the talented and willing people from our church?  What if, instead of them doing Godspell at our church, we did it together with our church?

I left that lunch knowing that we were embarking on something good.  I had no idea just how magnificent it would become.

On the day of our placement auditions, I wondered who would come.  On the first night it was clear that we had created something special.  20 people came.  There were two kindergartners, a handful of junior high and senior high youth.  There were a couple of adults who had never been in a show before.  There were a few remarkably talented singers.  There was a senior member of our church choir, and regular singer from our praise band.  We ranged in age from 5-65(ish).  We were men and women, boys and girls.  Some brought members of their family in the journey with them, others came with friends.  Some came eagerly.  Some came only because they were dragged, almost literally, from other tasks.  We were scared, excited, and willing.

We supported each other.  As each person took turns singing a few lines a capella from a song of their choice  we cheered.  At least one youth simply had someone standing next to her for support, so she wouldn’t have to stand alone.  The truth was, none of us were alone.  On the very first night we were creating the community that Godspell is about.  From moment one, we were living the musical.  On that night, each one of us put a pebble in our shoe and called it “dare.”

They say live theater gets in your blood.  People talk about it in the same way they talk about addiction.  Intellectually, I accepted that it must be true, but until the word “crucial” left my lips, I had never experienced anything like it.  

Being a part of this production Godspell changed me.  I’m not even sure how exactly yet.  I know I want to be a in another musical.  I know that I want to have that 10-minutes-to-showtime excitement again.  I know that I want to have that it’s-almost-my-line sense of calm confidence again.   I want to look out into an audience and see their smiles, read their expressions, bask in their gripped silence.  I want to look into the eyes of a cast member in the midst of another show and whisper, “we’re really doing it,” with the same mix of fun and terror that I had last Saturday.  I want to put my arms around a group of friends after a show well done.  I want to crash into bed, emotionally spent, and dream about the songs I just sang.

When I think about the journey that started with a lunch in a coffee shop in October, and ended on a spring afternoon… Well, I have to stop myself.

This journey is going to keep going.  There are going to be more shows.   There are going to be more rehearsals.  There are going to be more chances to sing about love.  Nothing ended that night.  It turns out that something was sparked.  Relationships have been forged.  Dreams have been shared.  A vision has been caught.  There’s more to come.  The show will go on.

And if you’re looking for a ensemble to “do” Godspell in your church, I know just the group.

Learn more about The Center For Living Arts

Follow the Fat Pastor on Facebook

Follow @FatPastor on Twitter

1 Comment

Filed under Media, Personal Reflection

Tagged as , , ,

Image

beets by dwight

beets by dwight

Leave a Comment

December 12, 2012 · 5:04 pm
November 20, 2012 · 9:10 am

The new Beatles?

One direction. From left: Joey, Jordan, Jonathan, Donnie and Danny. No, actually I have no idea who any of them are. I’m guessing the one with the stripe in his hair is the “rebel.”

Spending time with youth is both a great way to stay young and a great reminder of just how old I really am.  The other day I was with our youth while they were talking about the band, One Direction.  Even if you’re not familiar with One Direction, you know them.  These five young men have taken over youth pop culture with their preppy look, dreamy smiles, catchy tunes, and auto-tune machine.  Basically, even if you’ve never seen them before, you’ve seen them before.  Anyway, here is a snippet of the conversation,

Youth 1: “People are saying they’re the new Beatles.”

Youth 2: “Yeah, they’re our generation’s Beatles.”

Just to be clear, I am not in the Beatles’  generation.  At 35, I was never alive while the Beatles were together.  I do however consider myself a Beatles fan.  I count myself among the many that consider the Beatles to be the greatest band ever assembled.  I also try to adhere to the concept that I should never deride youth culture.  There was a time when I thought rolling my jeans was cool, so I don’t mock anything, but I couldn’t let this go unchecked.

Me: “I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

Youth: Weird looks

Me: “Did you just say that One Direction is the new Beatles?”

Youth 1: “Yeah, they’re our generation’s Beatles.  That’s what people are saying.”

Me: “Who is saying that?”

Youth 2: “Everyone.”

Me: “Well, I think they’re probably more like your generation’s New Kids on the Block.

Youth 2: “But they’re from England, like the Beatles.”

Me: “Okay, so then they’re the new New Chaps on the Block.”

Youth 1 and 2: laughter

Again, my goal is not to mock youth culture, and I understand I probably just made myself look more like the grumpy old man than the cool youth leader.  That’s okay though, I’ve never really been interested in being “Cool Youth Leader” guy.  But here’s the thing, I actually have a problem with One Direction’s most popular hit, and it all comes down to one line.  It is a seriously catchy song.  One that has been sung many times before.  It is about a girl that is beautiful, but doesn’t know it.  It really is a common theme in pop music, and I understand why it resonates with so many young girls.  They dream that somewhere there is a guy that is singing that song to her.  Give this video a look-see, and see if you can catch the line that really bugs me.:

Did you hear it?  The first line of the song is “You’re insecure, don’t know what for. You’re turning heads when you walk through the door.” That line is bad enough, but the line that really gets me comes at the end of the chorus: “You don’t know you’re beautiful. That’s what makes you beautiful.”

It is one thing to sing of the beauty of humility.  It is something different to praise someone for being insecure.  Humility and insecurity are very different. Insecurity comes from feeling you’re not good enough.  It is born out of shame.  Girls in our culture are told over and over again that they are not good enough, not skinny enough, not smart enough.  Telling  someone they are beautiful because they are insecure is praising their shame.  Natural beauty should be admired, but insecurity is not a beautiful trait.  Humility comes from self-confidence.  Self-Confidence is beautiful.

The fact that these five boys are telling millions of young girls that insecurity is beautiful is troubling. True humility comes from a deeper understanding of self that transcends society’s idea of physical beauty.  Self-confidence is rooted in love and grace.  Self-confidence comes from knowing that you were formed by a God that only makes beauty, not from being told by an adolescent boy that flipping your hair drives him crazy.

Boys might think insecurity is beautiful.  Men don’t.  I hope someday One Direction grows up, but I’m guessing they’ll always be just another boy band.

4 Comments

Filed under Media

Tagged as , , , ,

July 6, 2012 · 12:18 pm

The Star Wars that I used to know

I love Star Wars.  I’ve seen the original trilogy countless times – but not the original original in many years.  I bought the re-releases immediately and loved them, at first.  I loved the added details, and even some of the deleted scenes.  I thought the Jabba scene in A New Hope was weird, but I let it slide.  I missed the old celebration music at the end of Return of the Jedi, but seeing the Palpatine statue get toppled was kind of cool.  Then the more I watched, the more I felt uneasy.  Of course, the most egregious change was that Han shot first.

If you don’t know what “Han shot first” means, then you don’t truly love Star Wars.  Find someone that does and ask them, then sit back and wait for a good 15 minute rant to ensue.  I won’t go into the details, but when Lucas changed the original movie, he changed the development of one of the greatest characters in movie history.  He sterilized Han and ripped out part of the heart of the movie.

It was as if Martin Scorcese decided to remake The Godfather trilogy, and decided that Michael should have Fredo beaten up and shipped to Mexico instead of having him go fishing.

Then the next trilogy came out.  I remember leaving Phantom Menace a little perplexed.  I felt like I liked it, but again I felt uneasy.  I enjoyed the light saber battles.  I enjoyed seeing a younger Yoda, but I missed him as a puppet.  I couldn’t put my finger on just what was the problem, partly because there were so many of them.  Yes, Jar Jar was annoying.  Yes, the kid was whiny.  Yes, Darth Maul was underdeveloped and dispatched much too quickly.  Yes, the strange opening story that included trade embargoes and legal negotiations seemed disjointed.

Then I realized, it was the metachlorian.  In the original, the Force was a mysterious, spiritual experience.  ”May the Force be with you,” was a spiritual salutation on par with, “Godspeed.”  The Force was clouded in mystery, but it was attainable.  ”The force is strong with this one,” referred to Luke’s eagerness, inner courage, and desire for justice.  The force was something that we could all tap into.  It was something within reach, even if it was from a galaxy far, far away.  The force was a reminder that there is something mysterious, a power that we can never truly understand.

There were theological ramifications for this.  You could put away the targeting computer, and trust in something more powerful. Even in the midst of amazing technological advances, there was something more.  The power to destroy planets was insignificant next to the power of the force.  Isn’t this the good news of the Bible, after all?  The greatest powers on earth was Egypt, but God saved the band of rebel slaves.  Then it was the Babylonians, but God was able to gather the remnant of Israel and save them.  Then it was Rome.  Rome had the power to destroy entire cities, but it was insignificant next to the power of grace.  Stars Wars taught us that there was something beyond death that can be a source of hope, but it is the power of love that is truly the ultimate power of the universe.

Then in Phantom Menace, they pull out a syringe and count metachlorians?  What the hell?  Now it’s just a chemical and genetic accident?  It is something that be counted, measured, and predicted?  That’s just wrong.  It’s wrong on so many levels in so many ways.  I don’t care if it George Lucas’s movie, and he can do whatever he wants with it.  If DaVinci decided he wanted to put a big cheesy grin on Mona Lisa, he would be wrong.

So here’s a parody video.  It is really well done, and it sums up very well how I feel about Star Wars and George Lucas.

Follow The Fat Pastor on Facebook

Follow on Twitter

Leave a Comment

Filed under Media

Tagged as , ,

June 1, 2012 · 2:32 pm

Did we win?

Image

Bill Paxton brought all of his “Big Love” Godly smugness to his role as Randal McCoy.

The History Channel has aired its much-hyped “Hatfields & McCoys.”  I’ve only watched two of the three parts.  Thanks to the magic of Tivo, I’m hoping to finish it tonight.

I’m not a feud historian, but I’ve read a little bit about the dealings between Ole Ran’l and Devil Anse Hatfield.  Being a McCoy, I have been asked many times if I am related to this famed feuding clan.  While we don’t have any definitive genealogical proof, we do have some circumstantial evidence that points to the possibility.

There has been some family history done by one of my Dad’s cousins, and it appears that my family can trace its roots to Kentucky and West Virginia at about the time of the feud.

And then there’s the picture.  Many years ago my uncle Larry McCoy found a picture of Randal McCoy.  I wish I had a good picture of my Uncle Larry to show you.  You’ll have to take my word for it: there is a resemblance.

That being said, watching the History Channel mini-series was a somewhat strange experience for me.  I wasn’t just an objective observer.  I guess you could say that I had a rooting interest.  I remember as a kid when I heard about the McCoy-Hatfield feud, one of my first questions was, “Did we win?”

Me and my great-great-great-great uncle? I’m not sure, but the guy on the left is me, and the guy on the right is Ole Ran’l McCoy

Even now, as I watched the movie I found myself “rooting” for the McCoys.  It was clear that Anderson Hatfield was a terrible person for deserting, and profiting while his brethren and friends suffered.  It was clear that Old Ran’l was wronged when that thieving Hatfield stole his hog, then trumped up testimony in the trial. In the ruckus in the courtroom after the case, McCoy shouts, “This is a case of Godly right versus Damnation wrong!”  And I was all, “Hell Yeah!”

I had to catch myself.  It wasn’t about that at all.  It was about pettiness and grudges.  Eventually, McCoy’s godly self-righteousness started to grow tiresome. I couldn’t help but chuckle when later in the movie Hatfield tells Randall, “If you feel the need to bring up God one more time, and who’s side he sits on, you won’t be making the ride home.”

I won’t go through all of the details of the movie, or analyze any characters, because pretty quickly into the second episode it was clear that there were no good guys in this story.  I haven’t seen how it ends, but I feel like the movie has done a great job of showing the feud as what it was – futile.  There were no winners.

Stubbornness, false pride, hardened hearts, vindictiveness, and revenge fueled the feud.  As a child I saw the world in black and white and just assumed that the McCoys were good, the Hatfields evil, and there must have been a clear winner.  I’ve realized now that life is usually more about shades of gray.  I’ve learned that revenge is never good fuel for a soul.  As I watch the last episode, I’m hoping someone figures that out.  Then I’ll know who won.

Follow the Fat Pastor on Facebook

Follow on Twitter

2 Comments

Filed under Media

Tagged as , , ,

Image

Napoleon, meet Katniss

Napoleon, meet Katniss

2 Comments

March 18, 2012 · 10:34 am
November 4, 2011 · 3:04 pm

Worst video ever: What’s up with you?

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”
― Albert Einstein

I don’t think Albert Einstein knew Eddie Murphy, but when I see this quote, I think of the video below:

Eddie Murphy is one of the all-time kings of comedy.  He was at times profane and vulgar, but he was (as his second video claimed) raw.  He was a little bit angry.  He was a little bit dangerous because he had something to say about American culture.  He was young and brash and black and brilliant.  He was Chris Rock before Chris Rock. I remember watching his first, far superior, video “Delirious” in my friend’s basement.  We knew we were doing something very wrong, and I didn’t get a lot of the jokes, but I knew it was funny.

Most young people now only know Eddie Murphy as Donkey or Dr. Doolittle.  There is very little dangerous about him.  But I remember Mr. Robinson’s Neighborhood, Gumby, Buckwheat, and his duet with Joe Piscopo as Frank Sinatra doing “Ebony and Ivory.”  I am black and you are white.  You are blind as a bat and I have sight.  Yet it seemed like Eddie Murphy always wished he was a singer.  And when he sang as a part of his comedy routines, he was funny, and a pretty good singer.

The problem arose when he tried to sing as a singer.  Michael Jackson and Eddie Murphy could easily be described as geniuses, but if they were judged solely on “What’s Up With You,” I don’t think the word genius would appear.  The song, I think, is supposed to be about the environment and how we are supposed to treat the earth.  Beyond repeating “Whazzup wit you” about 45 times, he doesn’t really say much.  Although I’m pretty sure he says something like “Let’s Jackie Chan each other.”

The vocals are “good for a comedian” but not food for a singer.  This video is just weird.  I’d love to describe it for you, but let’s just say it includes Murphy in an undershirt, Jackson in his pretend-army uniform, a bunch of kids that went to school with Carlton and Will skipping and dancing around, some animated hearts, birds and musical notes, some shifts from black and white to color, and some half-hearted dancing which includes Murphy doing some of Jackson’s moves and a lot of exaggerated head nodding.

Like I said, worst video ever.  And further proof that Gandhi knew what he was talking about.  Do what you’re good at, or you might just look stupid.

 

Leave a Comment

Filed under Media

Tagged as , ,

October 10, 2011 · 11:45 pm

Miss Representation

The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any. (Alice Walker)

The trailer below begins with this quote.  It reminds me of an anecdote I heard in seminary.  I don’t remember the exact details, so I cannot properly attribute the story.  My professor said (something like), “C.S. Lewis once said that, ‘Man’s greatest sin is pride.’ In other words, it is believing that being ’made in the image of God’ is equal to that of being God.  This might be true, but another theologian said, ‘The greatest sin of man might be pride.  But the greatest sin of woman is lack of pride.’”

The video is about eight and a half minutes long.  It is worth watching.  Make no mistake, this is not a girls issue.  It is not a liberal issue. It is a human issue.  The objectification of women is damaging to both boys and girls.  Treating anyone as less than a precious child of God does harm.  It is the act of ignoring what is fundamentally true of all people: That we are ALL created in God’s image.

So God created humankind in his image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:27, NRSV)

This is an issue that I’ve written about before in my blog Princess Paradox.  As a father of two daughters, I obviously have a lot of interest in how the media will affect their lives as they grow up.  As power as the media is, it is not more powerful than a loving relationship.  The movie is a warning.  It can help provide  a sense of urgency, and a better understanding of what we’re up against. It cannot be an excuse.  It is my duty as a father to make sure that my daughters know that they are smart, strong, courageous people that were created in the image of God.

I hope you take the time to watch this and go to the Miss Representation website to learn more.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Media

Tagged as , , , ,

May 1, 2011 · 7:54 am

The Princess Paradox

After writing a blog about the Royal Wedding, which I called “materialistic pornography,” I decided I should clear a few things up.  I read a few debates on FB and understood the points of all those that were critical of my post.  I decided a long time ago to not engage in long-running online debates with people on this blog, so I am not going to address anything in particular (Although the assertion of one critic that the royals used “their own money” to pay for the wedding made me smile.  I’m not sure how we define what “their own money” is- and neither does the NY Times.) 

The point I was trying to make had nothing to do with the kind of people Will and Kate are.  It had nothing to do with their philanthropic efforts.  It really didn’t even have anything to do with the exact amount of money that was spent – or the source of that money.  My point was this: things like the Royal Wedding, and especially the way the American media portrays it, contribute to the princess mythology that girls are drenched in from birth.

I can spend the next few paragraphs explaining the princess mythology, but instead I’ll share with you a conversation I had last night with my four-year-old daughter. 

“Am I a princess, Daddy?”

I resisted the temptation to just say, “Yes, of course you are.”  Instead I asked her, “What does it mean to be a princess?”

“It means you have lots of pretty dresses.”  Okay – this was her first response to defining what a princess is.  By this definition my daughter is a princess.  She has a lot of pretty dresses.  And I love them all.  I love seeing her in them.  I love watching her twirl her skirts.  I love the joy and confidence she exudes when she wears them.  I love the look on her face when she opens up a gift and finds a pretty dress and she exclaims, “Thank you, I love it.”  I love that she would wear a pretty dress every day of her life if we let her because she knows in her heart that she is, in fact, a princess. 

I have to insert here that this conversation took place while my daughter was wearing one of her favorite pretty dresses.  It’s her ”ballerina dress.”  It is pink and has a wide flowing skirt made of touling that twirls when she spins.  She had on a white sweater and a pink overcoat and had a big pink flower in her hair.  And I was wearing a sportcoat and a pink tie.  We were on a date, and were heading to the ballet to see – yes, I am aware of the hypocrisy in this – Cinderella.  And she loved every second of it. Afterwards she met the dancer that played Cinderella, and I now have a new favorite dancer.  I was moved to tears several times during the night while I watched my daughter’s face light up.

But here’s the problem – if the feminine ideal is to be a princess, and being a princess is defined by “having lots of pretty dresses,” where does it stop?  How many pretty dresses is enough to be considered a princess?  And does having lots of pretty dresses define happiness?  I can say with confidence that to my daughter, there is more.  She is kind and compassionate and appreciates what she has.  On our way to the theater we got a little turned around, and for a few tense moments I wasn’t exactly sure how to get there.  She sensed my stress and told me, “It’s okay Daddy, even if we don’t get to the theater, I still had a great time because I’m with you.”  So I feel good about my daughter, the princess.  But even so, here is more of that conversation:

“So, princesses have lots of pretty dresses.  What else?”  I waited, then asked, “Are princesses smart?”

“No, they are beautiful.” 

“Are princesses brave?”

“Yes – but well, sort of.”

“What do you mean, they are sort of brave?”

“Well, princesses wait for Prince Charming to come and rescue them from evil witches and monsters and stuff.”

And here is the princess paradox.  My daughter is a loving, compassionate, intelligent and articulate little girl.  She is smart and brave and beautiful.  She is a princess.  Not because she has a lot of pretty dresses – but because of who she is inside.  She is a princess because she should be honored and adored, and I pray someday she finds someone who loves her as much as I love her mother.  She is a princess, but I do not want her to ever think for even a second that she has to wait for Prince Charming to come and rescue her from monsters and stuff.

There are plenty of monsters in this world, and real monsters are a much bigger threat to my daughter then watching the Royal Wedding.  When those monsters rear their ugly heads, I pray my daughters will have the strength, courage, and confidence to defend themselves and rely on God, family and friends – not wait for Prince Charming.

Maybe the Royal Wedding is just a moment to escape.  Maybe it is just a chance to live in a fairy tale.  Maybe it is just a celebration of two young people who fell in love and want to help make the world a better place.  Maybe Kate is the kind of princess my daughter can aspire to be – I have no idea, and frankly I don’t care.  I have bigger dreams for my daughter than anything that was on TV this week.  I have bigger dreams for her than anything Disney can package and market.

I want my daughters to know how much they are loved.  I want my daughters to know that they are smart and brave and beautiful.  I want my daughters to be strong like my Aunt.  I want my daughters to have faith like my mother.  I want my daughters to be passionate like my sister.  I want my daughters to be kind like my grandmother. 

What turned me off about the Royal Wedding wasn’t so much the wedding itself, but its place in the greater princess myth.  It is a story that is told over and over by our culture.  Disney, celebrity news, tabloids, commercials, and our surrounding culture drown our girls into believing this myth.  The tell them why they are princesses, and most of it is a lie.  My daughters are princesses – not because of anything they own or buy or because of anything that is marketed to them.  They are princesses for this reason:

They are princesses because they are daughters of princesses.  They are princesses because they are daughters of the King of Kings.

4 Comments

Filed under Media

Tagged as , ,