Contact, pt 4: The search for meaning

The X-Files told us that The Truth Is Out There. The search for meaning is one of humanity's defining features. As far back as we can trace, human societies have been essentially religious in this sense. Prehistoric burials and ancestor worship indicate our grappling with life and death from the earliest times.

The film Contact continues this exploration. In an otherworldly experience, the scientist Ellie Arroway is offered this answer:

You're an interesting species. An interesting mix. You're capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you're not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other.

Even if Contact is smothering the god-question here, this is a fascinating scene. Contact's answer to the meaning of life is relationships. That is, life has meaning when we share it with others. It's a message that resonates widely because deep down, no one wants to be alone. What could be more empty than loneliness? From the film's perspective, although the mysteries of the Universe remain, a life shared is a life fulfilled.

This is a similar message to the one that Christians bear. According to Christians, the one who made the Universe wants us to share life with him. It is not enough to merely share with other created beings because we need to know our Creator. When we ignore this, life doesn't make much sense because the only meanings left are the ones that we construct for ourselves. These meanings are changeable and temporary and can't truly satisfy us, even if we never acknowledge this or even become aware of it. For Christians, meaning is found in living life with the one who created life: God made us, so it is with God that we belong.

Contact challenges us with a further question: how much do we actually seek the meaning of life? As Ellie prepares to be the guinea pig in an extraordinary experiment, Palmer Joss questions her motivations:

Palmer: By doing this, you're willing to give your life, you're willing to die for it. Why?

Ellie: For as long as I can remember, I've been searching for something, some reason why we're here. What are we doing here? Who are we? If this is a chance to find out even just a little part of that answer... I don't know, I think it's worth a human life. Don't you?

This is perhaps Contact's biggest question. Maybe meaning and purpose are out there, but how much do you want to know it? What would you give to find it? If it's so important, would you give up everything for the meaning of life?

In first-century Palestine, someone who talked a lot about the purpose of life was a man called Jesus. A one-time tradesman come travelling teacher, he spoke about something that he called the kingdom of heaven, or the kingdom of God. Jesus did not explain this kingdom exactly, but instead used parables to describe what it is like:

The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.

Jesus taught that this kingdom is something that we should give everything for. We shouldn't hold back; we should throw everything into hunting it down, even at the expense of everything we have and everyone we know. While this kingdom may have been cryptic for some, Jesus was frank with his twelve closest followers. He connected the purpose and meaning of life with himself:

For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his life?

This is one of Jesus' most confronting claims. According to Jesus, the answer to life's meaning lies with one man: Jesus himself. As Jesus said elsewhere, "I am the way, the truth and the life". Jesus expects his followers to give up everything for him.

Ellie seeks meaning in the depths of space but, according to Jesus, the meaning of life is much nearer. Rather than having to discover it for ourselves, life's meaning has already been revealed to us. For those who follow Jesus, the truth is no longer Out There. Instead, God has beamed down the truth in Jesus, "the image of the invisible God".

See also: 2 Tim 1:9-10 Eph 1:3-10 2 Cor 4:4-7 John 1 Col 1:15-23

Contact, pt 3: Which god?

One of the main themes that Contact deals with is religion. Through the extremist preacher Joseph (right), the film shows that religion can be a very destructive force. Yet we also see a benign expression of religion that is knowledgeable and sophisticated.

Palmer Joss (Matthew McConaughey, below) is Contact's poster-boy for good religion. Palmer, a one-time theological student, is a commentator on the ethics of technology. Though from a Catholic background, he is not attached to a church. Palmer is articulate, charming and intelligent. He's the moderate amongst fundies and extremists. If God is out there, he has a pretty attractive ambassador in Palmer.

However, Contact's good religion comes out as a rather shapeless thing. The film develops Palmer's character far less than that of his counterpart, the scientist Ellie Arroway. This gives his religiosity some blurry edges. Given his first-date bedding of Ellie, it looks like Palmer's faith may not have much impact on his personal morality. Palmer also lacks a creed. From the little he talks about his own beliefs, all we can tell is that he believes in a god who is the great Other, a rather indefinite supreme being. If nothing else, it looks like Palmer's faith is something private and internal. In all, Contact's message about religion is that moderation is good, extremism is bad, sincerity is important, and creed is irrelevant. This good religion is placid and pleasant but, for all Palmer's learning, hardly robust.

Despite these apparently inauthentic portrayals, Contact asks the question, through Palmer, of whether there is a god. There is a question that goes along with this: Which god might it be? Yet, because Palmer's beliefs are so vague, Contact leaves this question out. This is a bit like asking whether the Big Day Out will make it to Adelaide, but ignoring the band lineup. The bands are all-important and if there are no good ones playing, it's a bit irrelevant whether BDO comes to Adelaide or not. In the same way, if there is a god who is knowable then the immediate questions are Who is God? How do we know God? and -- before we ask whether God might be there -- Is God even worth knowing? These questions are inseparable; we more or less need to ask them all at once. If we're going to ask if God is there, we must be prepared to think about who God is. If there's a god out there, how might this god have communicated with us? In which religion might we find the answer?

Contact, pt 2: A question of faith

How can we know reality? As a SETI scientist, Ellie Arroway is in the business of quantifying and measuring things. For Ellie, something can be known if it can be measured. God -- whoever or whatever that is -- cannot be dealt with in these terms, so Ellie is unwilling to weigh in on the God question. This makes her an agnostic (God cannot be known). She refuses to either believe or disbelieve because she sees God as being outside her area of expertise. In practice, she's an atheist.

However, Palmer Joss challenges Ellie's assumptions about reality:

Ellie: So what's more likely? That an all-powerful, mysterious God created the Universe and decided not to give any proof of his existence? Or, that He simply doesn't exist at all, and that we created Him so that we wouldn't have to feel so small and alone?

Palmer: Did you love your father?

Ellie: What?

Palmer: Your dad. Did you love him?

Ellie: Yes, very much.

Palmer: Prove it.

In this scene, Ellie begins to learn that there are aspects of human experience which we know to be true but which cannot be quantified. Later in the film, Ellie is left believing that the only tangible evidence of her experience in the wormhole machine is simply that: her own experience of it. In Contact, we see that reality is more expansive than what we can measure. Science is limited because it measures only some aspects of reality -- if all aspects of reality are even capable of being measured. Reality and truth is not something we must always seek using science and certainly not something that must be proved definitively. In other words, the fact that we can't quantify something does not make it unreal.

As for things that are real but unquantifiable, Contact presents faith as an essential part of human living. We all have presuppositions or assumptions about reality, whether we are fundamentalist preachers or SETI scientists. Often our assumptions are unconscious and they may not even be consistent. Science may run on pure empiricism but our own lives cannot: there are assumptions that we make but which cannot always be tested. Even the most hard-nosed scientists like Ellie make assumptions about how reality is constructed and how we interact with it.

Throughout Contact, Ellie becomes more aware of her assumptions about reality and has some of them challenged. Our assumptions can be wrong, but does this matter? Having our assumptions challenged is significant because we make assumptions about very large questions. Like Ellie, we may assume that God cannot be known when it may actually be possible to know God. We may assume that knowing God is unimportant when knowing God may be the key question in human existence. Whether we get these kind of assumptions right or wrong could be crucial for our lives. What would it take for our own most basic ideas about life and reality to be challenged?

Contact, pt 1: A big conversation

Are we alone in the universe? This is the starting point for the film Contact (1997), starring Jodie Foster and Matthew McConaughey. Ellie Arroway (Foster) is a woman driven by her thirst for answers. As a SETI scientist she scans radio transmissions, seeking intelligent signals from across the galaxy. When an identifiable communication is suddenly discovered, the first stage of contact is established -- but this simply seems to raise further questions.

It is these questions that drive the film. Contact's strength is in the exciting conversation it formulates for viewers to engage in -- a conversation about life, the universe and everything. Who are we? What is 'out there'? The cast speak of the film's story as something grand yet simple and intimate. Although Contact covers science, politics, religion, technology and ethics, it is essentially a human story: it is about us. It also tackles some of the most sweeping questions about human life, meaning and reality -- not something many films attempt! Contact will annoy some: both Christians who are looking for a definitive presentation of theism, as well as those hoping for God to be disproved. Love it or hate it, Contact will have done well if it gets you thinking and talking. What's your take on it?

Atheist

Mine are the knockdown arguments
The imperturbable questions are mine
Reason is mine; I will explain

A poem penned after observing the goings-on here.

Elvis, eaten

During our weekend away, Tamie and I watched the film Ray, recounting the life of musician Ray Charles. It's a biopic similar to another we saw recently, Walk the Line, telling the story of musician Johnny Cash. Both men experience a rags-to-riches rise into stardom, transcending socioeconomic lowliness, the traumatic deaths of siblings and, in the case of the famously bespectacled Ray Charles, lack of eyesight. Both men become incarcerated in stardom's snares, abusing substances and relationships. Ray Charles does not allow blindness to disable him but is instead crippled by heroin addiction. However, both men finally find redemption, with patient and long-suffering women standing by their sides. The two films have positive endings.

One of the books we found at our holiday accommodation was Elvis Handbook by Tara McAdams. The beginning of Elvis Presley's story is similar to those of Ray Charles and Johnny Cash. From humble beginnings, Elvis experienced a meteoric rise to fame and fortune. His volatile image and sound held untold power in the melting pot of American music and culture. Yet Elvis' personal story is ultimately about loneliness and the insistence of sadness. By the time his eight year film career had finished, Elvis had become an institution, disconnected from his own cultural monolith, and his fame became an ever-lonelier place. Towards his life's end, as McAdams puts it, Elvis began to be the first Elvis impersonator. He was finally consumed by his addiction to prescription drugs. The sheer monumentality of Elvis' cultural icon is starkly offset by the hopelessness of his personal decline. His desolation is highlighted, perhaps unwittingly, in Bono's cynical lyrics: "Elvis ate America before America ate him". The end of Elvis' life is dominated by degeneration. There is no happy ending.

Many of us are aware of the frailty of our lives and our selfish capacity to abuse ourselves and others. We console ourselves with the thought that redemption is possible. Ray and Walk the Line fit in well here: they do not shy away from human decay, but there is always another chance to be renewed. Elvis' story is different, making us ask what happens when redemption may not be found. What would an Elvis biopic be like? How would it celebrate his tenacious talent, the luck of his rising star, and the vibrancy of his music in light of his degeneration?

Mayweed's Map of Moledom

Duncton Wood by William Horwood (1980)

There's been a glut of CG animal flicks, so here's something a little different. Welcome to the scurrying world of animal fantasy literature! Duncton Wood is the bestselling first work in William Horwood's six-book epic about moles. Horwood's 'moledom' uses a limited anthropomorphism: his moles have the ability to write, chant liturgy and practice martial arts, but are otherwise styled naturalistically. This is unlike Brian Jacques' Redwall books but similar to Richard Adams' rabbits in Watership Down (1972).

Duncton Wood is an epic modern mythology, and some suggest it trumps The Lord of the Rings—perhaps not such a difficult thing, depending on your take on Tolkien! Horwood weaves a tale of struggle, love, renewal, and prophecies fulfilled. The story centres around the lives of Bracken and Rebecca, following them from puphood into adulthood. The final third of the book shifts—or loses—momentum as the massive story burrows even further afield. This aside, Duncton Wood is magnificently crafted.

Horwood's prose is passionate and evocative, powerfully and tenderly expressing a great sweep of feeling from beauty to horror to serenity. Duncton Wood brims wonderfully with protracted descriptions of woodland flora and fauna throughout the seasons. There is some strong content rendered so vividly by Horwood that even adults may find it sickening. The style of Horwood's books is quite unlike Redwall: they are far more complex and subtle and are recommended for older readers.

One of the most remarkable aspects of the Duncton series is its deep religious dimension, distinguishing it from both fantasy works generally and other pieces of 'rodent fantasy'. It is an element that gives Horwood's moledom some similarity with Christian fiction. Rather than a mere description of a detailed religious system, Duncton Wood's religion of 'the Stone' is central to the lives and destinies of every character in its story. The Stone refers to the megaliths found throughout England, most famously at Stonehenge, at which Horwood's moles worship. The Stone is the all-encompassing life force, resembling Brahman in Hinduism. All moles come from the Stone, return to the Stone and are one in the Stone, as is the entire natural world. This is essentially pantheistic. Even the focal story of Bracken and Rebecca's love is ultimately significant because they discover in the Stone the unity of their beings. The Stone itself is impersonal and, well, stony. It is unknowable, it is essentially defined by its silence. However, while hatred and darkness are presumably also part of the Stone, the Duncton series describes the struggle for ascendancy of love and light. At the same time, Duncton Wood draws on mystical and contemplative expressions of Christianity (Horwood himself is an ex-Christian). This is seen in the use of terms like 'grace' and the monastic activities of the scribemoles. Altogether there is a flavour that is a curious mixture of New Age and churchiness.

Many of the themes of Duncton Wood will have some immediate appeal to Christians, like redemption, sacrifice, weakness, suffering, healing, and spiritual struggle. As the series continues, Horwood's religious scope broadens to include sectarianism, inquisitions and extreme persecution, even featuring a messianic mole complete with passion narrative! Throughout, Horwood's writing vividly depicts something we could call the coin of life, with twin sides of beauty and frailty. It is this which perhaps defines his novels in general, and it is not hard to see how these works have appealed to many amidst the apathy of our society. For Christians however, the underlying philosophy of the silent Stone is pretty grim. Speaking as a Christian, it is so good to have a personal, caring, speaking God! In God's family, we are not absorbed but defined and nurtured. We can depend on God in everything because he cares personally for us (1 Peter 5:7). Echoing David's words, God has rescued us because he delighted in us (Psalm 18:19).

I've been wondering, how is it that animal fantasy can be remotely interesting to anyone? Doesn't it somehow lack humanity? I find that Horwood's moledom is so intricately woven that it draws us outside ourselves into another world altogether, yet a world so vivid and coursing with emotion that it is at once deeply human. Maybe the Duncton series became a massive allegory on religion but, as the only stand-alone work in the series, Duncton Wood is more simply a captivating story.