The Sacred in
	Once again, I am confounded. Again, bemused. For the last two years I have had the same thematic thread break the skin of my attention bubble time and again. The latest sighting of this thread was woven, oddly enough, into last year's flick, The Cell, which I recently saw again on DVD.. What makes these sightings so baffling is that they surface in the most unlikely places, because...
	The Cell is not a movie I could heartily recommend to very many people. It is the sort of graphic, psychotic serial-killer thriller that makes most moms cringe -- plenty o' disturbing imagery. Actually, there is plenty that made me cringe. But it is also where I experienced a reeling revelation of what I can only call, the Holy. It is a strange juxtaposition, and one that I somehow keep returning to again and again; one that feels like a million electric little fingertips tugging on my skin and bringing tears to my eyes.
		While watching the Cell this feeling hit me hardest in the one of the scenes where the psychologist, Catherine (J-Lo), is wandering through the demented mindscape of the comatose killer, Stargher (Vincent D'Onofrio). After stumbling through a myriad of fantastical-Escher-Dali-esque music video settings she walks warily into yet another room within Starghers disturbed mind in search of a clue to the whereabouts of his last victim-to-be. However, this room is different from the others because it is actually a somewhat quiet, normal setting in an empty, drab apartment. Tentatively, she advances into the apartment and discovers an unusually normal looking Stargher sitting on a stool hunched over a bathtub with his bare back to her. As the hackles on your neck rise she continues to walk around to Starghers side to speak with him where she finds that he is hunched over the naked body of a dead girl in the tub doing some unspeakable mutilating horror to her.
	Stargher, remarkably subdued, almost dispassionate, begins to ask her what she is doing there and what she wants with him.. His tone is very even, almost wearily relaxed, as if she had just walked in on him while he was baking brownies. It was as if he had opened the door into his soul and was testing her to see how she would react when she saw what was inside of him. Her reaction was incredible. For the slimmest second you could see the disgust of the scene register and then it just disappeared from her face. Her eyes focused, not on the unspeakable horror in the tub, but on the face of Stargher. Where I expected her to run out of the room in shock and repulsion, she actually took a step towards him and began to speak with vulnerability and compassion. It was as if the tub and the girl had ceased to exist and she reaching out to the wounded abused child in him. "I'm here to help you."
	Well, this is the magical moment because it registers in me a shock of recognition -- a recognition that is hard for me to face. How many times I have felt like a Stargher hiding ugly unspeakable things deep in my soul? Perverse thoughts, selfish acts, jealousy, lust, bitterness, rage, gossip -- things that are grotesque in the light of day, by the light of a Holy God. How I have despaired of anyone knowing these wretched things and still extending love and acceptance to me. Where is it safe to be truly transparent? Because those things truly are ugly and perverse. But then Someone comes knocking on the chambers of my  soul and I am faced with the choice -- to let down my barricades, letting him see everything and so tired of the charades, or, to shut him out in prideful self-sufficiency. But here is a chance. Maybe Jesus is the one who can see the real me and not be repulsed, not turn his back and walk out in disgust. And somehow he reaches out to me. Somehow he separates the things I have done from who I am. He is not looking at the unspeakable ugly things, though he knows they are there...he is looking at me. He is looking at the child who only ever wanted to be held and be beloved, and he brings healing in his hands. This is the part where the electrical flashes start and the tears begin... unless the pride gets in the way this time...
	-- short intermission to wring out the hankie --
		You could attribute my emotional reaction to this movie to many factors: what I had for dinner, how my week was going, and what kind of mood I was in... I think the dominant reason was because of the context which I brought to the viewing. In this case, The Cell lined up with my world-view goggles and went straight to my heart because it paralleled life as I live it.
	Within myself I am host to a seeming contradiction. How can I reconcile these parts of myself: the victim and the predator, child and monster, the beauty and the beast? Most places I look don't offer much help for this predicament, they are only able to deal with one or the other, but not able to account for the reality of both existing full-blown at the same time. Some would try to tell me that being a human being, I am basically noble and good. If that is true, how does that account for my very real depraved inclinations? Others would say my actions are all determined by the electro-chemical firings in my brain and the idea of choice is an illusion. Some branches of psychology would say, if I may over simplify, that my self-esteem is low and needs self-actualizing. The beast is hardly accounted for and looked fully in the face because the beast is only the victim and product of its environment. Poor thing, it just needs educating and a hug... Until, of course, it crosses certain socially and legally allowed lines and then we cry "monster" and deal with it by putting it behind bars or strapping it to the electric chair, or parading it on one of our classier talk shows. Even if my inner child just needs healing, should the monster be allowed to run amok without being held responsible for itself?
	Eastern thought, again over simplified, would tell me that the root of my dilemma is thinking I am a Self at all and that I need to dispel this illusion of the Self. But if this struggle is just an illusion, of what value is the child? And since everything is an illusion (Brahma wrapped in maya) there is no actual "beauty" to be violated and no actual "good" being corrupted, so who really cares what the monster does? Both are equal in value because they are both just parts of Brahman's dream.
		It is in the Judeo-christian framework that I come closest to a resolution of my "schizophrenia." It is one of the basic tenets of the faith that man was made in the image of God (thus the beauty), but has fallen (thus the beast). I can even see this split represented in early christian gothic architecture -- where the unsightly gargoyle is as prevalent as the angel. Unfortunately, though the fallen nature is understood as a fundamental belief, I find that many christians are very reluctant to confront this beastliness face to face. All that is rotten and reeks like a Stargher is kept religiously at a distance because it is just too abhorrent to the righteous. (Though, compared to the Holiness of God, their very best is more repulsive than Stargher's worst.) It almost feels as if enormous effort is expended to keep the ranks of the sinner and the saint clearly marked and patrolled so as not to mix them or soil the designer floor rugs of the born again with the dusty feet of the "Starghers." I, for one, am forever grateful that God did not take that stance with humanity, My schizophrenic split is only mended by the outpouring of sacrificial love which is willing to go there, to bridge the distance. Jesus willingly crossed into the land of the lost and became one of us so as to bring us back to our Father. He was willing to embrace all that reeks about humanity so as to fully redeem the sleeping beauty. In the same way Catherine is a type of Christ in that she went to the darkest depths of Starghers mind in an effort to bring healing. When she led the monster to his violent death and then "baptized" the boy into the pool "freeing" him, it paralleled the violent redemption the Bible speaks of in that we are to be crucified with Christ and die to ourselves. It is in this embrace where both beast and beauty are fully acknowledged and fully met with exactly the compassion they both need. The monster is held responsible and the child is cherished. Mercy and Justice are both fulfilled, and Redemption gets to do the victory lap.
	I guess I was only a little startled to see my resemblance to someone as disturbing as Stargher, I am pretty well acquainted with that idea. it was much more shocking to notice my lack of resemblance to Catherine, the Christ figure. When Christ came to redeem, he didn't stop there, but he called us to imitate him and become like a Catherine going sacrificially into the lives of other monsters around us to bring healing and acceptance. It caused some serious soul searching and I realized how reluctant I was to have compassion on the Starghers out there (though I am one myself.) How easily I was repulsed or offended by people, and how quick I am to distance myself from those I consider unpleasant, perverse, bad-tempered, judgemental, uptight, immature, needy, smelly, or those with worse fashion sense than myself.... =) The love of Jesus compelled him to immerse himself in the hurting lives of others. He didn't just throw money at people's problems or write a self-help book, or start a program... he touched the untouchable: he spent time with them, he went to their homes, he eased their burdens, and in the end he was willing to give his life and take all of humanity's plagues on himself in his death. There is no way that I can draw a perfect analogy between the Cell and any version of Systematic Theology. Catherine has a few too many quirky traits to fit the Christ figure role perfectly, among them smoking da ganga and displaying the famous J-Lo derriere in black undies (not that I took any notice). I guess I would have to stress that what I am describing is a very subjective, feel-it-with-your-gut recount of an experience I had; you can do what you like with the rest of the metaphorical, symbolic analogy stuff. What I know is that I left the film with a profound heart change and a delicious free feeling like I was drenched in a sea of grace with plenty of room to spare... and a irresistable desire to invite others to the party. It's enough to make me want to go and rent Silence of the Lambs now... Brian Heflin