The Star Wars nativity story

Every epic story needs a central character and he has to come from somewhere.

So the key moment in the cosmos of mythmaker George Lucas is when Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn asks Shmi Skywalker to identify the father of her mysterious young son, Anakin, who will someday become the evil Darth Vader.

"There is no father," she replies, in Terry Brooks' novel "Star Wars: Episode I, The Phantom Menace," which is based on the screenplay by Lucas.

"I carried him, I gave birth to him. I raised him. I can't tell you any more than that."

It seems the slave boy was "conceived not by human contact, but by the essence of all life, by the connectors to the Force itself, the midi-chlorians," a form of life living in the blood. "Comprising collective consciousness and intelligence, the midi- chlorians formed the link between everything living and the Force," explains the novel.

This leads to the final details in this nativity story. The priestly Jedi have long pondered an ancient prophecy that "a chosen one would appear, imbued with an abundance of midi- chlorians, a being strong with the Force and destined to alter it forever." The chosen one would "bring balance to the Force" – balance between the darkness and the light.

Once upon a time, Star Wars raised one big question for parents and clergy: Is the Force the same thing as God? Now, the first chapter of the saga that many scholars believe has shaped a generation is raising more questions, even if Lucas scoffs at believers who dissect his work.

Why use the title "chosen one"? Was this a miraculous conception? Is Qui-Gon a John the Baptist figure? Perhaps Anakin Skywalker is the Moses who will liberate his people? If the Force is God, and the midi-chlorians help channel the Force, then what are the midi-chlorians? Did Lucas shred the Holy Spirit and then inject the results into his characters' blood streams?

"When you look at literature you find myths and messiahs and saviors everywhere. That's fair and everybody does that," said Alex Wainer, a Milligan College colleague of mine whose doctoral work focused on mythic archetypes in popular culture, including Star Wars. "The problem isn't that Lucas is creating a heroic myth and using religious symbolism. But he has taken all of the religions, put them in a blender and hit the button."

While many critics will say that the gospel according to Lucas is too vague, the problem for many traditional believers will be that his story has become too detailed. The use of the virgin birth motif, and the title "chosen one," may even cut through the entertainment fog that envelopes most consumers when they enter a movie theater.

"Lucas is getting so specific that his work is losing its metaphor quality," said Wainer. "He isn't just using an occasional religious theme. He is creating a whole religious system and the more questions he raises, the more he's going to have to answer. He's on the verge of de-mystifying his own myth and he may end up killing the whole thing. It's like he's trying too hard."

For years, Lucas has said that his goal is to create a framework in which children can learn about good and evil, right and wrong. However, he also is painting a picture inside this frame. While he clearly believes that children need moral guidance, he also urges them to follow their emotions, not religious dogmas.

As Qui-Gon tells the young Skywalker: "Concentrate on the moment. Feel, don't think."

"I see Star Wars as taking all the issues that religion represents and trying to distill them down into a more modern and easily accessible construct – that there is a greater mystery out there," Lucas told Bill Moyers, in a recent Time interview. "I remember when I was 10 years old, I asked my mother, 'If there's only one God, why are there so many religions?' I've been pondering that question ever since, and the conclusion I've come to is that all the religions are true. Religion is basically a container for faith."

The time for broken communion?

It's been seven years since Bishop C. FitzSimons Allison faced the fact that some of his fellow bishops worship a different god than he does.

The symbolic moment came during an Episcopal House of Bishops meeting in Kanuga, N.C., as members met in small groups to discuss graceful ways to settle their differences on the Bible, worship and sex. The question for the day was: "Why are we dysfunctional?"

"I said the answer was simple - apostasy," said Allison, a dignified South Carolinian who has a doctorate in Anglican history from Oxford University. "Some of the other bishops looked at me and said, 'What are you talking about?'"

Many Episcopalians, he explained at the time, have embraced the work of theologians such as Carter Heyward, a lesbian priest, seminary professor and author of books such as "Touching Our Strength: The Erotic as Power and the Love of God." Allison asked the bishops how they would deal with those who say they serve a god that is "older and greater" than the God of the Bible.

Some of the bishops said they either shared this belief or could not condemn it.

When the time came to celebrate the Eucharist, Allison knew what he had to do in this particular circle of bishops. He declined to share the bread and the wine, but didn't publicize his act of conscience. Now, the retired South Carolina bishop has openly crossed a line in Episcopal canon law, signaling his belief that "broken communion" is becoming necessary between many bishops, their priests and their flocks.

This past Sunday (May 16), Allison served as celebrant in a Mass for members of St. Paul's Parish in Brockton, Mass., who have been evicted from their sanctuary after clashes with Diocese of Massachusetts leaders who are liberalizing church teachings on marriage and sex.

For 10 weeks, the orthodox outcasts have been worshipping on the sidewalk outside their old church. A cell of diocesan loyalists now has legal rights to the building and the name, St. Paul's Parish. On Sunday, the 72-year-old Allison joined about 100 worshippers - including Anglicans from Nigeria, Uganda, Liberia and Haiti – in a procession around the corner to meet in a gymnasium at a Seventh-day Adventist church.

Allison was supposed to have received Massachusetts Bishop Thomas Shaw's permission before leading rites in his diocese. He didn't do that.

"I definitely broke canon laws. I freely admit that," said Allison. "Right now, I think it would be a badge of honor to be censured by the House of Bishops. Of course, if they put me on trial they will give me a platform to discuss the key issue - which is what I believe and what they no longer believe."

The Brockton case is important for several other reasons. First, clashes over the rights of existing parishes, and independent missions, are increasing – in the Carolinas, Arkansas, Pennsylvania, Washington, Georgia and Texas, as well as other cases in Massachusetts. Meanwhile, emerging American networks - such as the Association of Anglican Congregations on Mission - are seeking new spiritual and even legal ties with Third World conservatives who won major doctrinal battles with First World progressives at last summer's Lambeth Conference in Canterbury.

And finally, said Allison, similar tensions over the ties that bind exist in other folds, such as the United Methodists, old-line Presbyterians, the Disciples and many Lutherans. In most cases, these conflicts appear to be about marriage and sex, with fights over same-sex union rites and the ordination of non-celibate homosexuals getting the ink. But these sexual issues are signs of deeper divisions.

It's tragic to have to talk about breaking communion, said Allison. But it's also impossible to ignore the doctrinal cracks in the foundations of so many churches.

"I know that we can't go around giving everybody orthodoxy tests all the time," he said. "But right now we can't agree about what the creeds mean, what the scriptures mean or even on the ultimate issue of who God is. At some point we will have to be honest and say that if we are not united in one faith, how can we be in communion with one another?"

Celebrating the feast of St. Brendan

On a clear day, an adventurer atop Mount Brandon can gaze into the Atlantic and see the rocky Three Sisters, the Skellig islands and other enticing glimmers on the horizon.

The Irish saint for whom the mountain is named did more than look. According to the Navigatio Sancti Brendani Abbatis (The Voyage of St. Brendan), the 6th century abbot set out in a leather-and-wood boat, with 17 other monks, to find the Promised Land in the West.

"Brothers, do not fear," said Brendan, in a text that may have been written as early as the year 800. "God is our helper, sailor and helmsman, and he guides us. Ship all the oars and the rudder. Just leave the sail spread and God will do as he wishes with his servants and their ship."

The rest is a long story, one that scholars have compared with the Odyssey and the storm-tossed travels of St. Paul. Today, some historians believe that Brendan's story is built on a framework of history, as well as spirituality. This has only added to the mystery surrounding the saint, whose feast day is May 16.

"Brendan is at the top of the Celtic canon, with Patrick and Columba," said composer Jeff Johnson, who has recorded two CDs blending jazz, rock, chant and the Navigatio. "But his story is more than just a good story. At some point you have to try to see yourself building that boat and getting in it and starting out on that voyage. ...

"That's when it hits you: A voyage to where?"

Anyone who wants to answer that question will need to study Celtic Christianity. But Catholic writer Connie Marshner warns that seekers should avoid the Celtic shelves in mall bookstores. A press release for one hot book captures the spirit of the current craze: "At a time when many people are seeking out traditional beliefs, but remain wary of overly confining disciplines, Celtic spirituality offers something for almost everyone."

"There are people out there selling this idea that the Celtic Christians were earthy, natural, free-spirited people who didn't care a lot about sin and doctrine and things like that," she said. "But if you read what the Celtic saints wrote or read about their lives, you quickly find out that just isn't true. They were very disciplined and very concerned about the sins of the flesh."

The Navigatio itself is built on monastic disciplines and a sense of mission. Monks didn't climb into tiny boats and brave the North Atlantic because they "wanted to get in touch with their inner feelings and find themselves," said Johnson. "They knew that other monks had made these kinds of journeys before. It was a leap of faith, but they knew what they were doing."

Two decades ago, scholar Tim Severin became convinced that they also knew where they were going. Following medieval designs, his team built a curragh out of Irish ash, covering the frame with 49 oak-bark-tanned ox hides laced with two miles of leather thongs. Then he made a 4,500-mile journey, hopping from island to island across the North Atlantic.

In "The Brendan Voyage," Severin notes that many details in the Navigatio are surprisingly accurate. The saint visits an island full of sheep, which sounds like the Faroe Islands, and sees a giant crystal pillar right where voyagers usually see icebergs. The boat is bombarded by burning rocks near the volcanoes of Iceland and encounters a dense cloud near the Promised Land, which may have been the fog zone at Newfoundland's Grand Banks.

But the big question remains: Why attempt this journey?

Brendan's monks were explorers, who expected to return from their journeys stronger and with lessons they could teach others, said Johnson. They also were missionaries who took incredible risks in an attempt to start monasteries, and the Christian communities that surrounded them, in the wild places on the edges of their world.

"The Brendan in that boat was a real person. He had his doubts and fears, like we do," said Johnson. "But it says a lot that we struggle to understand the kinds of disciplines that gave him the strength to do what he did. ... Maybe what the church needs today is more spiritual explorers. Maybe we need more monks."

Beyond 'Becky Goes to Bible Camp'

GREENVILLE, Ill. - After 35 years of work in television and sports, Bob Briner is a pro at spotting doors of opportunity in the numbers churned out by media-research firms.

So he wasn't surprised that the new Internet-based Digital Entertainment Network is poised to cybercast a show called "Redemption High." This post-MTV drama will, according to USA Today, center on "several Christian teens, a group almost completely ignored by broadcast television. ... The teens grapple with problems by asking themselves what Jesus would do in their situation."

The twist isn't who is producing "Redemption High," but who is not.

"It's stunning that the people at a hip outfit like DEN would see this opening right there in the demographics," said Briner, co-founder and president of ProServ Television in Dallas and a global pioneer in pro tennis and other sports media. "But of course they saw it! It should be obvious this audience is waiting out there. ... What's so amazing and so sad is that Christian people still can't see it."

The former basketball player and football coach laughed and waved his giant hand, like he was backhanding a pesky gnat. "Let's face it. Most Christians still won't get behind a project in the entertainment business unless you're gonna make 'Becky Goes to Bible Camp,' " he said.

Briner is a conservative churchman and he doesn't enjoy making this kind of wisecrack. Nevertheless, the 63-year-old entrepreneur has - beginning with a 1993 book called "Roaring Lambs" – grown increasingly candid in his critiques of the religious establishment. His work has had an especially strong impact in Nashville, the Bible Belt's entertainment capital.

Now, after writing or co-writing seven books in six years, Briner is working with even greater urgency. The early title for his next book is "Christians Have Failed America: And Some of Us are Sorry" and he is writing it while fighting cancer.

Most Christians, he argues in the first chapter, are sinfully content to write for other Christians, sing to other Christians, produce television programs for other Christians, educate other Christians, debate other Christians and to only do business with other Christians.

"Shameful," he writes. "We have failed and are failing America. I am sorry. In failing to show up ... in the places that really count, where the moral, ethical and spiritual health of our country is concerned, we have left our country exposed and vulnerable to all the ills we now see besetting it. We have not provided a way of escape, even though we profess to know the way."

It's a sobering message. But the key is that Briner is a both successful - an Emmy winner who has worked with Arthur Ashe, Dave Dravecky, Michael Jordan and many others - and the kind of generous mentor who has voluntarily helped scores of rookies. A few years ago he sold his homes in Dallas and Paris and moved here to central Illinois to work in a one-stoplight town with students at his alma mater, Greenville College.

"Bob is a gadfly - but one with tremendous grace – who prods the Church along and asks that we take risks, practice excellence and humbly direct praise to God," said Dave Palmer, an executive at Squint Entertainment in Nashville. Briner, he said, keeps stressing that work must be "recognized on its artistic merits first and not ghetto-ized by any confining terms."

Still, most believers find it easier to blame the secular media for all of society's ills, rather than doing the hard work of funding and creating quality alternatives.

"Basically, we continue to take the easy way out," said Briner. "You can't offer the gospel to people if you aren't there in the marketplace and if you have never earned the right to even talk to them. We have failed to give people the chance to choose good things instead of bad things. We have not offered them the best that we have. ...

"Producing a 'Chariots of Fire' every 25 years or so won't get it done. We have to produce a 'Chariots of Fire' every week or every day if we are serious about giving people an alternative worldview to what Hollywood is selling them."