Okay, I'll admit it: I watch, with unabashed enthusiasm, "So You Think You Can Dance."
There are a lot, and I mean a lot, of sub-par reality/competition programs on the air. This one is different in that it puts the performances of professional dancers in the hands of professional judges. The contestants are put through paces that very few accomplished athletes could keep up with. The work is hard, artful, expressive, beautiful, and demanding. Each dancer striving to become one of the top twenty has pushed themselves beyond their limits and have had to reach deep within to find that extra push to get them over the competitive edge. They have acknowledged personal demons, friends and relatives as guideposts, tragedies that have given them second chances. A myriad of impetus has been expressed.
But I refuse to acknowledge that Jesus had anything to do with your making it to the next round.
Like many on the awards stage, a sobbing young lass, after being cut from the program, told the world that Jesus got her there.
"Excuse me, starving, beaten, homeless refugees of Darfur," says Jesus to his suffering flock. "I have to excuse myself to attend to a young attractive American girl and help her through a grueling dance competition on national television."
To think and claim that Jesus would belittle his own ministering to clear a path toward victory in a reality-TV competition is insulting to anyone who believes in Jesus in the first place.
In her acceptance speech at the 2007 Primetime Creative Arts Emmy Award for Best Reality Show, Kathy Griffin, star of "My Life on the D-List", joked:
"A lot of people come up here, and they thank Jesus for this award. I want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than Jesus...suck it, Jesus, this award is my God now!"
Crude? Yes. Truthful? Yes.
To assume that Jesus would take his attention away from real human suffering and calamity to focus his attention on one individual's drive toward self-promotion and recognition is beyond all definitions of ridiculous. If anything, these apostates are worshiping at the feet of false golden idols. If they were truly religious and believed that Jesus was the guiding force in their lives, they would not need a golden statue or a silver medal to represent their achievement. It is anathema to the teachings of Christianity and humility before God.
The reward for me, though, was knowing that Jesus was only half-heartedly interested in our young blonde friend. She didn't make it into the top twenty.
But Kathy Griffin's Life on the D List certainly made it into my top twenty...
Showing posts with label dance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dance. Show all posts
Friday, June 6, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Make Mom Proud
Today is Mother's Day and convention would have me extolling the virtues of my own mother and motherhood in general. I'll leave that to Hallmark and the ladies on the View. Today, I want to comment on an article I read in this Sunday's paper.
This last Friday there was a dance held. A prom, really. There was a DJ, decorations, girls in long flowing dresses. The ubiquitous chaperones. Actually, there were chaperones for every guest. And every guest was proud to have their chaperone there with them. These guests were stars in their first big feature, the spotlight shining on each of them individually and equally. They wanted to be watched over. They wanted to be seen,
These guests were patients at the Shriner's Hospital, kids who face life-long struggles with illness or injury and have had to subbordinate normalcy for treatment and ongoing care. These are the kids who have never known a spring break, intra-mural sports, sock hops, sleep-overs. What they have known is isolation, gossip, teasing, staring, gawking, fear, and indifference. Because of their conditions, they have never had the opportunity to "fit in" and consequently have few friends.
Almost every television program geared toward the teen-set seems to be grounded in viciousness, self-aggrandizement, glamour, cliques, materialism, and selfishness. The Hills. Gossip Girl. The O.C.. Keeping up with the Kardashians. Nothing of value, but still held as the standard for teen behavior, if not by teens themselves. Look at the examples of cruelty and brutality streaming on You Tube, videos of "girl fights" and school bus riots. Schools today have become venues of torture not seen since the Inquisition under Torquemada.
And then there was Ariel Rogers. Her picture featured in both photographs for this article. She's a beautiful girl. The prom queen in her own right. Without reading the headline or the story below, at first glance, she appears to be able to fit right in with the "beautiful people" in a strata removed from the rest of her high school peers. But look closely at the picture, look closely at her eyes, and you see something missing from today's youth: compassion. Not feel-sorry-for-you compassion, but a compassion filled with hope and real caring. Here is a girl who breaks the stereotype of beauty by showing the beauty of a person most never see. I have long ago lost faith in our future generations. Our culture has become one of rampant selfishness and immediacy. How incredible a relief it is to sometimes be proven wrong, or at least hasty in coming to a conclusion. Ariel Rogers is evidence that we haven't completely lost sight of making the world around us a better place.
Here I have spent the last year of my life selling $300 toasters to plasticene Lexus-driving Barbie dolls. Ariel Rogers has spent hers making sick children smile.
My future is filled with doctors and needles and pills and appointments. It's aggravating, frustrating, annoying. But I get to live at home. I have freedom of mobility. I have friends. I have poor health but I can function normally in soceity. Do I have room to complain? I got to go to my Prom (I actually went to three of them). I had a steady girlfriend throughout high school. I had it pretty easy. And now that I'm sick myself, I think I have the right to shake my fist at the powers that be?
I find myself full of regret that I was not the big enough person to do back then what Ariel Rogers does now. I do not know her but through this article, and yet, I am immensely proud of her and those who volunteered with her. Looking again at these pictures of kids in wheelchairs, dressed to the nines, smiles big enough for their own zip codes, I can see what real honest joy and gratitude looks like. And it makes me ask myself, again, what am I doing to make someone happy who could not otherwise find happiness themselves? And what is is that drives someone like Ariel? Drives her to break out and be different at the risk of being called different herself? At least these kids, usually labelled as "different" weren't so for one incredible night. In fact, they probably had the most drama-free prom ever held.
So the tie-in to Mother's Day? Don't just send her a card or take her out to brunch. Give her the better gift: do something to make her proud; make a difference in someone's life. I guarantee you, Mrs. Rogers is a very proud mother indeed.
(The article in question can be found in the Metro section of the May, 11 2008 edition of the Oregonian: http://www.oregonlive.com/news/oregonian/index.ssf?/base/news/1210474508111150.xml&coll=7
this blog may also be viewed at:
www.myspace.com/mcmuppet
don't forget to read Chicken's blog at:
www.myspace.com/chickenlovesmillie
This last Friday there was a dance held. A prom, really. There was a DJ, decorations, girls in long flowing dresses. The ubiquitous chaperones. Actually, there were chaperones for every guest. And every guest was proud to have their chaperone there with them. These guests were stars in their first big feature, the spotlight shining on each of them individually and equally. They wanted to be watched over. They wanted to be seen,
These guests were patients at the Shriner's Hospital, kids who face life-long struggles with illness or injury and have had to subbordinate normalcy for treatment and ongoing care. These are the kids who have never known a spring break, intra-mural sports, sock hops, sleep-overs. What they have known is isolation, gossip, teasing, staring, gawking, fear, and indifference. Because of their conditions, they have never had the opportunity to "fit in" and consequently have few friends.
Almost every television program geared toward the teen-set seems to be grounded in viciousness, self-aggrandizement, glamour, cliques, materialism, and selfishness. The Hills. Gossip Girl. The O.C.. Keeping up with the Kardashians. Nothing of value, but still held as the standard for teen behavior, if not by teens themselves. Look at the examples of cruelty and brutality streaming on You Tube, videos of "girl fights" and school bus riots. Schools today have become venues of torture not seen since the Inquisition under Torquemada.
And then there was Ariel Rogers. Her picture featured in both photographs for this article. She's a beautiful girl. The prom queen in her own right. Without reading the headline or the story below, at first glance, she appears to be able to fit right in with the "beautiful people" in a strata removed from the rest of her high school peers. But look closely at the picture, look closely at her eyes, and you see something missing from today's youth: compassion. Not feel-sorry-for-you compassion, but a compassion filled with hope and real caring. Here is a girl who breaks the stereotype of beauty by showing the beauty of a person most never see. I have long ago lost faith in our future generations. Our culture has become one of rampant selfishness and immediacy. How incredible a relief it is to sometimes be proven wrong, or at least hasty in coming to a conclusion. Ariel Rogers is evidence that we haven't completely lost sight of making the world around us a better place.
Here I have spent the last year of my life selling $300 toasters to plasticene Lexus-driving Barbie dolls. Ariel Rogers has spent hers making sick children smile.
My future is filled with doctors and needles and pills and appointments. It's aggravating, frustrating, annoying. But I get to live at home. I have freedom of mobility. I have friends. I have poor health but I can function normally in soceity. Do I have room to complain? I got to go to my Prom (I actually went to three of them). I had a steady girlfriend throughout high school. I had it pretty easy. And now that I'm sick myself, I think I have the right to shake my fist at the powers that be?
I find myself full of regret that I was not the big enough person to do back then what Ariel Rogers does now. I do not know her but through this article, and yet, I am immensely proud of her and those who volunteered with her. Looking again at these pictures of kids in wheelchairs, dressed to the nines, smiles big enough for their own zip codes, I can see what real honest joy and gratitude looks like. And it makes me ask myself, again, what am I doing to make someone happy who could not otherwise find happiness themselves? And what is is that drives someone like Ariel? Drives her to break out and be different at the risk of being called different herself? At least these kids, usually labelled as "different" weren't so for one incredible night. In fact, they probably had the most drama-free prom ever held.
So the tie-in to Mother's Day? Don't just send her a card or take her out to brunch. Give her the better gift: do something to make her proud; make a difference in someone's life. I guarantee you, Mrs. Rogers is a very proud mother indeed.
(The article in question can be found in the Metro section of the May, 11 2008 edition of the Oregonian: http://www.oregonlive.com/news/oregonian/index.ssf?/base/news/1210474508111150.xml&coll=7
this blog may also be viewed at:
www.myspace.com/mcmuppet
don't forget to read Chicken's blog at:
www.myspace.com/chickenlovesmillie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
