Life II: A Lesson from Garden State

One of my favorite movies is Garden State. I recently looked up Garden State on Amazon and looked at what movies people either bought along with Garden State or after viewing Garden State. Strange. They are all some of my other favorite movies (i.e. Eternal Sunshine, Sideways, Anchorman, Finding Neverland, Lost in Translation and Donnie Darko). I deduct from this that there is a category of people out there that all watch the same movies. It appears that I fit this demographic fairly well.

Oh well...I still think that Garden State has something to say a wider demographic--for those who take the time to listen. The premise of the movie (proceed with a little caution if you have not seen it--although there really isn't a surprise ending: it is all about the process) is that a little boy (Andrew Largeman) is involved with an at-home accident that leaves his mother paralyzed. His father (Gideon Largeman), who is a psychologist, prescribes some drugs for his son to help him become happy again while later sending him off to a boarding school. He hasn't been home since. The movie begins when Andrew has to come home for his mother's funeral a decade later.

There are many interesting scenes that demonstrate how Andrew is so disconnected from the world that he just kind of lives on in a daze. What he is really disconnected with is himself...so much so that he often just blends in to his environments as if he didn't even exist. This movie is about the process of Andrew finding himself. Of course he does end up finding himself (to some degree). That is no surprise. What is important is how and in what manner.

Without telling you the story I want to highlight two conversations near the end of the movie. The first conversation occurs at the scene of his mothers death. He is sitting in the bathtub in which his mother drowned while talking with Sam (played by Natalie Portman). He sheds an important first tear which Sam humorously collects in a paper cup. The second scene happens directly afterward and involves the long put off conversation between Andrew and Gideon. Here they are edited and excerpted...

from Scene 21:
Andrew: "Fuck this hurts so much."

Sam: "Yeah, I know, but that is life. If nothing else that's life, you know? Its real. Sometime it feels like it hurts. Yeah. It's sort of all we have."

from Scene 22:
Gideon: "I am sure you can find lots of things in your life that you can be angry about. But what I don't understand is why you're so angry at me. All I ever wanted was for everyone to be happy again. That's all I ever wanted."

Andrew: "But when were we all ever happy dad? You always say that. When was this time that you have in your mind that we were all so happy...cause I don't have it in my memory. Maybe if I did I could help steer us back there...you know. You and I need to work at being ok if that is not in the cards for us... I'm not going to take those drugs anymore because they left me completely fucking numb. I have felt so fucking numb to everything that I have experienced in my life...and for that...for that I am here to forgive you. You have always said all you wanted was for us to have whatever it is we want... What I want more than anything in the world is for it to be ok with you for me to feel something again--even if it is pain."

"Going against your doctor's recommendation...that is a pretty witty experiment to take on. Don't you think?"

"This is my life dad. This is it. I've spent 26 years waiting for something else to start. So, no; No, I don't think it is too much to take on because it is everything that there is. I see now it's all there is. You and I are going to be ok. You know that, right? We may not be as happy as you have always dreamed we would be, but for the first time let us just allow ourselves to be whatever it is we are...and that will be better. Ok? I think that will be better.

Somehow through Gideon's desire for his son to be happy and for him not to feel pain Andrew learned exactly that. He learned not to feel pain--to hold out for happiness. However, happy feelings never came. If you can't feel sad can you really feel happy? Consequently, Andrew became numb to the world.

I have met many people (including my self at times) that are numb to the world. Could it be that we are holding out for happiness? Are we protecting ourselves from disappointment? Are we afraid that our feelings will embarrass us by revealing too much--by making ourselves to vulnerable? Are we afraid of hurt? Probably.

In that case Garden State may be helpful for us. It is better to feel sad, to feel ok, than it is to feel numb, to feel disconnected. Is this true? Is there some beauty to be salvaged even from darkness? I think so.

If we are honest with ourselves then we may have to admit that we might be mostly sad. In light of hurricane Katrina and the war in Iraq sadness seems to be an appropriate emotion. Hereinlies the dilemma for many Christians. Do we have an outlet for our sadness? for our anger? Are we forced too quickly by our theology or Christian community to be happy? Has this so repeatedly happened that we now feel numb?

There has been a revitalization of the Lament in Christian tradition. The Bible is full of Lament. I don't read or hear many authentic and genuine lamentations in Christian community today. I here a few, but the sad fact is that not too many leaders are teaching us how to be sad--how to be angry. How then can we authentically rejoice? How then can we be grateful? How then can we feel at all.

I am grieved at how many bored people I see walking around and sitting in Sunday pews. Who is going to engage these people with their sadness? Instead, as a society and as a church, we distract these people from their sadness. We tell them to be happy. We tell them to hope. Now they feel wrong for not being happy. Now they don't feel.

Maybe what they need most is to say, "Fuck this hurts so much."

And maybe the church needs to affirm their act of feeling by saying, "Yeah, I know, but that is life. If nothing else that's life, you know? It's real. Sometime it feels like it hurts. Yeah, it's sort of all we have."

I can already hear the protests of some Christians. "No. That is not all we have. We have a future of hope. We have God's promises." I say to those Christian that you are disconnected with the life most of us are living. You are disconnected with Jesus' own tears over the death of his friend. You are disconnected with the beautiful gift of feeling that God has given to us--our access to participating in God's own heart.

Rather than holding out for something better...for some other happier life to start, maybe we need to recognize that at least for now this life is all there is. "You and I are going to be ok. You know that, right? We may not be as happy as you have always dreamed we would be, but for the first time let us just allow ourselves to be whatever it is we are...and that will be better. Ok? I think that will be better."

Maybe our message to our Christian communities could be: "What I want more than anything in the world is for it to be ok with you for me to feel something again--even if it is pain." In this way maybe we will engage something inside of us that is very closely participating in the gift that God has given to us--the gift of our own lives.