Austin Carty2013-05-25T19:06:37-04:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=austin-cartyCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Austin CartyGood old fashioned elbow grease.Missions in Action: This Christmas Give the Gift of Lifetag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.11064102011-12-01T12:08:12-05:002012-01-31T05:12:02-05:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/
Let me rephrase: They didn't give me an actual goat, but they donated a goat -- in my honor -- to a village in a third world country.
At 15, I was less than pleased. The plight of starving children and the needs of indigent humans around the globe was far too serious and far too abstract for my selfish teenage brain to wrap itself around.
Today, though, I find myself in the ironic position of wanting to buy goats, mosquito nets and other items as Christmas gifts in honor of my own family members. This causes me to look back on my selfishness at 15 and see how blind I was to the idea of grace, how blind I was to the beauty and significance of my aunt and uncle's gift.
I bring all of this up because of a new web/television show that just debuted last week on the interweb called Missions in Action. In the interests of full disclosure I must confess that I am a creative producer on the show and helped develop it from its inception, but the reason I signed on to the project was not to be involved with a television show; instead, I bought in because of how inspiring the mission was: to bring the camera into pockets of the world where unsung missionary and humanitarian organizations are doing amazing work.
In our first phone call together the show's producers told me that they wanted to show the world what the face of selflessness looks like and to, in the process, show people exactly what their gifts and donations accomplish when they contribute to a missionary and/or humanitarian nonprofit.
In this first season, Missions in Action is teamed up with four nonprofit aid organizations: Compassion International, WorldVision, ChildFund and the Mocha Club.
Just five days ago the show's first episode went live and featured host Alex Boylan meeting families in the Philippines whose lives are turned upside down each year because of the epic flooding that takes place in the area.
The second episode -- a new episode launches every two days -- which is also based in the Philippines features a 22-year-old Philippine girl named Maan and traces her 15 year trajectory through the Compassion program: the five sponsors who helped her along the way; the education she received through the program; the hope she found in Jesus; the way she is currently finishing college and hopes to work as a Project Director for Compassion so as to help other kids like herself rise above their disadvantages.
Watching organizations like Compassion impact people's lives is showing me how important it is that, as human beings, we realize that we are all connected, how we must do whatever we can to lift one another in times of need and to provide hope for one another's future.
In other words, watching these first episodes of Missions in Action has reminded me that there is but One Love and that we are to, as Bono says, carry each other.
In that spirit, this holiday season I will be doing what I can to help, and I hope that my teenage cousins won't be too distraught when they see how I'm choosing to do it. But then again, who knows... perhaps they are far more mature and selfless than I was at 15.
Perhaps they may think it wonderful when they peel off their wrapping paper only to find out they've just donated goats to villages in need.
To learn more about organizations like Compassion and WorldVision and to follow along on Alex's journey, go to www.missionsinaction.tv. You can chat with him on twitter at @missionstv and interact with him on Facebook at www.facebook.com/missionsinaction twenty-four hours a day. Who knows, maybe his journey will inspire you to give the gift of goat this holiday season.]]>Kutcher's Two and a Half Men Experiment Not Going to Flytag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9940202011-10-04T12:50:06-04:002011-12-04T05:12:07-05:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/
I don't think he can pull this Two and a Half Men thing off.
I think the ship is sinking, and sinking fast.
Meanwhile, I'm not entirely convinced it's his fault. I think the show was doomed before the first episode aired. And not because Sheen is gone, either.
Instead, I think it's the role they have Kutcher playing.
The character is a spineless, immature, naive, doofus. In fact, he's such a bumbling buffoon that he's not even endearing. Which is surprising, because Kutcher has always had a knack for making his buffonish characters endearing (most notably Kelso).
Now, this leading character could potentially work in the context of another show, but it simply doesn't fit the void left by Sheen's character.
After eight years, we are trained to expect Alan Harper to be the doofy brother, and his son Jake to be the brainless kid. Then, there is supposed to be a selfish, incorrigible alpha male serving as the head of the household.
However, instead of this alpha male, we now have a character who is a hybrid of Alan and Jake. In other words, Kutcher's Walden Schmidt character is a brainless, doofy man-kid.
So the show essentially goes from being Two and a Half Men to Three Hopeless Adolescents.
Case in point: early in last night's episode, after having his ex-wife tell him that it's customary for the man to pick the restaurant, Kutcher asks Jake for a recommendation on a good place to take a woman.
You catch that? He asks Jake -- the seventeen-year-old brainless dope.
Then, in preparing for his date, Kutcher asks Alan how he looks, going so far as to ask for tips on how he should present himself.
Give me a break.
Alan's character was created to be the helpless nitwit asking for dating advice, not giving it. This is the basis for the entire show.
Again, this could potentially be funny in a different show. But not in Men; not in a show built around the premise that a doofus and his son living with a suave playboy is instant humor.
Now, obviously, when creating a new character, the writer's couldn't draw the Kutcher character to have the exact character as the departed Charlie Harper, but here's the problem: he can't be his polar opposite, either.
That's what the Kutcher character is, and that's why the show won't work.
While there's plenty more evidence I could give, I think it sums it up best that, throughout this piece, I've only referred to Kutcher's character as "Kutcher's character." Walden Schmidt is simply too weak to ever crawl out of the shadow of being "Ashton Kutcher."
So, ultimately, while it was a fun gimmick, and while I will remain a Kutcher fan, it appears those of us who thought this Two and a Half Men stunt might fly have been Punk'd.
]]>Brandon Hantz's Faith Is Holding Survivor Contestant Backtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9761492011-09-28T00:00:35-04:002011-11-27T05:12:02-05:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/Survivor, I felt I was looking in a mirror.
I had this same experience last season, too.
Meanwhile, I would be shocked if it didn't happen to me in a future season, as well.
And, no, I don't say this simply because I was once on the show and now, watching it years later, I find myself reliving the past.
Instead, I am referring to the dizzying display of naiveté shown last night by Brandon Hantz (nephew of famous Survivor villain Russell Hantz).
Last night, Hantz suffered a veritable mental and emotional breakdown. Which is fine; having played the game before, I know firsthand how mentally and emotionally draining the contest can be. But this is not what makes me relate to young Hantz; rather, I relate to him because of why he suffered this breakdown:
His faith.
Granted, Hantz didn't come out and put it this way -- in other words, he didn't say, "Hey, camera, catch this: I am about to have a breakdown because I am conflicted over my faith" -- but, let's face it, that's what it boiled down to.
Ultimately, he broke down (and made himself look like a fool) because (a) he didn't want to look like a liar, and (b) he wanted a pretty girl voted off the island just because she waspretty.
I know the blogosphere is crucifying this young guy right now for his stupidity, but it wasn't stupidity that bred these stupid decisions; it was fear and guilt.
In other words, the young man fancies himself a Christian, and he is terrified over the idea of looking like a bad Christian on national TV.
Consequently, he is rendered virtually paralytic in terms of being able to play Survivor. More important, though, he is displaying tell-tale symptoms of one of the worst diseases within the Christian community: he is choosing perception over authenticity.
And as I mentioned above, I can completely relate.
When going on the show five years ago, as a Christian, I was mortified of potentially looking like a bad person. In my head, I knew that the show would be watched by millions of people in hundreds of countries, and I felt I was responsible for demonstrating to each one of them what a good Christian behaves like.
Which, even today, I still think, in theory, was a wonderful way of approaching the game. However, here's what I was too immature to realize at the time: in putting the pressure upon myself to constantly appear like a good Christian, I was removing Christ from the entire equation. Instead, I was making myself the savior.
This is what Hantz is wrestling with right now, and it's what Matt Elrod wrestled with last season, and it's what another young, genuinely intentioned young Christian will undoubtedly wrestle with in an upcoming season.
Like Hantz, I constantly kept clarifying comments and spilling secrets because I didn't want to appear a liar. Also, as my season was the first to implement a hidden immunity idol, I created the first fake idol in Survivor history, but then refused to play it because I was scared it might be perceived as duplicitous. Meanwhile, Elrod, who wowed us with a stunning display of physical, mental, and emotional strength on last season's Redemption Island, butchered what could have been the greatest underdog story in Survivor history by continually announcing his plans to his enemies lest he be considered a liar.
All of these moves on each our parts were ridiculous, and we all did these ridiculous things in the name of faith. Our motivation was simple: we didn't want to appear ungodly.
Now, please don't misunderstand, I'm not taking issue with the genuineness of my or Hantz's or Elrod's belief itself.
Rather, it's the compulsion to flaunt that belief that is the problem.
Because when you approach a situation thinking, "If I say this, or do this, or don't say this, or don't do this, I may look like a bad Christian," then you aren't really doing or saying it for Christ; instead, you are doing or saying it for your own self-image.
I'm often asked what I would do differently if I were given the opportunity to play the game again, and my answer is that I'd be more focused on being myself than on worrying about how I might be perceived. The difference is, unlike before, I now know "myself" is a good guy and is a good Christian, and it would be nice to play the game confident enough in this conviction that I didn't feel I had to do anything to prove it.
Dostoevsky writes about this very conflict in The Brothers Karamazov. In it, a character speaking to the venerable Father Zossima says of her conflict between being a good person and wanting to be perceived as a good person:
"I came with horror to the conclusion that, if anything could dissipate my love to humanity, it would be ingratitude. In short, I am a hired servant, I expect my payment at once -- that is, praise, and the repayment of love with love. Otherwise I am incapable of loving anyone."
This is what I wrestled with on Survivor, and this is what Hantz is now wrestling with, too: he's torn between wanting to be a good Christian while wanting more to be acknowledged for being a good Christian. Whether he realizes it yet or not, that's the case. He simply wants to prove to others that he is a good person.
This is a very natural battle for any person of faith to have to fight. In fact, if a person is willing to face it head on, it ultimately will strengthen his or her faith in the long run.
Unfortunately for Hantz, though, it is the kiss of death in the game of Survivor. ]]>Former Survivor Contestant on How to Win Survivortag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9622302011-09-14T13:52:09-04:002011-11-14T05:12:01-05:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/Survivor?"
Whenever asked this, I can't help remembering a piece of wisdom New York Times bestselling and Edgar-winning author John Hart told me last year over coffee.
"It takes three things to make a book a bestseller," John told me. "It takes a lot of talent, an ability to harness that talent to write a great book, and, most important, a lot of luck."
John then sipped his coffee and said, "You've got the talent, and you've written a hell of a book... "
"And now I just need the luck," I said.
"Now you just need the luck," John nodded.
This conversation, I think, best answers the question of what it takes to win Survivor.
It first takes skill. You must be smart, socially adept, and able-bodied to win.
It then takes the ability to harness those skills. Any Survivor fan knows that countless capable contestants have seen their torches snuffed due to poor thinking, massive social blunders, and/or key physical failures.
It is here that some contestants -- but not many -- are eliminated.
Each season, there are at least two cast members who, no matter how many times he or she were to play the game, could never win. Though these characters often make it very close to the end, they never have a chance at actually winning. They simply don't have the talent, or, in the rare case they do, they simply don't have the capacity to harness that talent in the way required to win (think Russell Hantz and Johnny Fairplay).
The wonderful thing about these characters is that they never -- I repeat never -- know this is the case about themselves. In fact, when reading this, they would nod in agreement at what I'm saying, never considering that I may actually be referring to them. Instead, these unique characters invariably believe they should have won their season and, if given another chance, would absolutely win. It was true of my season (I won't name names because I am still close with my cast mates) and it was glaringly true last season (if you watched, you know who I'm referring to).
Though this eliminates some from the field, it still leaves the vast majority with a chance at winning. This is the beauty of Survivor: each season there are many cast members who potentially could win.
And this is where the final element necessary in winning Survivor comes into play: luck. Hence luck, just as John Hart said of writing a bestseller, is the most important element of winning Survivor.
Every season, while the winner employs massive amounts of physical, mental, and social skill, he or she also experiences a vast amount of luck. This luck takes many forms, but it is always the wild card helping dictate who will emerge victorious.
So this dynamic causes three tiers of players, the odds of winning getting slightly less with each tier.
The first tier is an elite group, a group whose skill and ability to harness that skill is greater than most. These select few can -- and likely will -- make it very close to the end each time they play.
Parvati Shallow falls in this group. So does Boston Rob Mariano. So does a select group of others.
Under this group is a tier of people who have slightly less skill, but have more than the average player. These characters have a great chance of making it to the end, but they also have a great chance of being booted before the jury.
Cirie Fields is in this group. So is Tom Westman. So is Bobby Jon Drinkard. So is Rafe Judkins. So is Mike Skupin. So are a countless number of contestants, because it is this tier that contains the majority of players.
Below them is a group who theoretically could win, but the chances of the vote going their way are slim. They have the skill to get there, but the social game makes it virtually impossible (albeit not impossible, like in the case of Russell Hantz and Johnny Fairplay) to win.
People such as Jerri Manthey and Sue Hawk are in this group.
In the end, though, for each group, it all comes down to luck.
Someone else must flub a challenge; someone else must make a poor strategic move. A tribal shuffle must happen; a challenge must be better suited to one's strengths than to another's. The ways luck comes into play in Survivor are endless.
Ultimately, the secret to winning is perhaps best summed up by a conversation I had with my friend Aras the night he won our season of Survivor.
"I just got really lucky a few times," Aras said to me, in his usual self-deprecating way.
"Yes, but you also played a great game," I said.
And I was right.
But so was he.
]]>Jerry Falwell 9/11 Remarks: A Former Liberty University Student Reflectstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9605712011-09-13T15:24:39-04:002011-11-13T05:12:02-05:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/The Day We Forgot the Lessons of the Day We Swore We Had Sworn We Would Always Remember." To introduce this piece, he led with footage of Jerry Falwell's infamous remarks about the Sept. 11 attacks:
"I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way -- all of them who have tried to secularize America -- I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen.'"
Seeing this footage all of these years later harkens me back to a dark time -- not just for our country, but personally.
You see, I had a somewhat unique relationship to this man and these remarks: I was a student at his Liberty University when these remarks were made. (I have written about this experience both in my latest book and on my blog.) So while the rest of the world was (rightly so) heaping vicious invective his way for such insensitive and baseless comments, I was cloistered in a community that was doing the exact opposite.
I remember how each of my classes in those ensuing weeks began with a classmate or professor suggesting we begin the session by praying for Dr. Falwell, citing that he was "under attack" from "the secularists" and "the secular media" for his comments. (Side note: The word "secular" was -- and is -- bandied about quite frequently in these circles, though I'm fairly certain the majority of us using it didn't really know what it meant).
Yes, it is not an exaggeration to say that there were thousands of students and hundreds of professors rallying behind Dr. Falwell in a show of support for his hateful rhetoric. I can scarcely remember a single student -- and I am absolutely positive it was never voiced by a professor, whether he or she felt it or not -- saying that Dr. Falwell had been wrong in his statements.
In fact, I remember how, being a communications major, I was at the time enrolled in classes with several members of the Liberty debate team (who were at the time ranked tops in the country), and how in one of those classes -- a class taught by Bret O'Donnell, the current speech writer and debate coach for Congresswoman and leading Tea Party presidential candidate Michele Bachmann -- one of the debate team members asked us to pray because there was a sudden influx of universities participating in the impending Liberty-hosted debate tournament. I distinctly remember this student saying that these universities were signing up just so they could skewer Dr. Falwell at the opening night's Q&A session, and that, consequently, Dr. Falwell was in dire need of prayer that his words on that night would be clear and effective.
All the while, I, a 20-year-old at the time, had a lurking suspicion that what Dr. Falwell had said was hateful and wrong. However, I wasn't yet equipped, I wasn't yet independent-thinking enough, to see beyond the rhetoric to which I was being daily exposed. I had been so indoctrinated with the mentality that we Christians had an exclusive hold on truth -- that anyone who lived a lifestyle contrary to, or held an ideology inconsistent with, ours was not simply wrong, but was evil personified.
Today, while I remain an evangelical Christian, I now see through this miasma of misunderstanding to see such a mentality for the insidious lie that it is.
I now look back to that time and that mentality and realize that, while evil most certainly exists, it takes on its greatest form when we so cavalierly ascribe it to those we perceive as different from us.
In order for our world to move forward and find the peace it seeks, it is imperative that we as people of faith -- and by that I mean people of every faith -- be willing to understand and embrace the idea that, while it is inherent in the very definition of faith to believe ours to be right, all faiths are equally convinced of this same thing.
Therefore, when we begin framing the narrative of good vs. evil around the premise that God is on our side and seeks to do harm to everyone else, we are ultimately pitting God against himself. This is perhaps best shown in Aaron Sorkin's "Charlie Wilson's War" when, in response to Julia Roberts saying, "We need God on our side," Tom Hanks whispers, "Yes, but sooner or later God's going to be on both sides."
And if God is on both sides, then simple logic suggests that evil has to be on both sides, too.
With this in mind, on the 10 year anniversary of Jerry Falwell's remarks, I reflect on my 20-year-old self and on the many like me who, no matter faith or ideology, have ever, out of ignorance, fear and/or justification, ascribed the blanket term "evil" to anyone who thinks or lives differently. Because it is this evil, this branding of The Other as villainous, that enables hatred and prevents peace from pervading the earth.]]>A Christian Plea for Public Educationtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9182872011-08-06T12:08:08-04:002011-10-06T05:12:01-04:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/
Today, what with the way we are daily removing our children from public schools, and with the way Scott Walker and the Wisconsin Congress have (seemingly overnight) made it vogue to malign public education, the Evangelical machine appears to be working in overdrive to convince Christian parents that our children are endangered by attending public schools.
This escalating mentality has deeply saddened me over the past year because, as a Christian, I think the arguments against public education -- which I will speak to in a second -- are antithetical to what Christianity and following Jesus is really about; moreover, I have been saddened because, as a teacher, I feel the arguments being leveled against public education have been misleading.
First, a little background: I am not a "career" teacher. I did not set out to be part of the public education system, nor am I certain it is a gig I will stay with for years to come. I am a former English Lit major, a writer, and a speaker. Until the summer of 2010 I had not even considered teaching public school. However, since my latest book didn't quite put me in the same breath as, say, Grisham, and because I was getting married and suddenly needed more financial stability (read: I could no longer remain broke), I was left contemplating what I might do to earn a paycheck. A friend suggested I consider teaching. He pointed out how I had lately been lamenting the way our nation's world education rating had (and has) been consistently dropping, and he, a teacher, said that I didn't merit a voice in the conversation until I was willing to roll up my sleeves and do something about it. His statement was like a punch to the gut; when truth is spoken directly at us it usually is.
I will begin my second year in the classroom at the end of the month, and while I never planned to be a teacher, I am grateful for what the position has done for both my life and, especially -- perhaps even ironically -- my faith. Who knew that public education could be such a wonderful lesson in living a more private and authentic faith?
What I have found while working as a public school teacher is that when people don't feel compelled to constantly explain why and how Jesus fits into everything they see, they slowly begin listening for God instead of immediately speaking of and for Him; they learn that real faith comes through compassion and service, not through speaking pretty words and hearing inspiring sermons.
Meanwhile, I have found that, contrary to increasingly popular opinion, there is no lurking agenda within public education to secularize our students; there is no tacit understanding between teachers and the state to discourage students from their faith (whatever that faith may be). Rather, within public education I've found a community of people who, for very little money and for even less appreciation, dedicate themselves to one singular goal: to equip our nation's youth with the tools necessary to compete in a postmodern and globalized world. I have been startled by the hostile and venomous reaction against people with such humble and noble goals.
I've heard Christian parents say they don't want their children in public school because they don't want them exposed to literature of other religions or to sciences that challenge conservative Christian theology, but my question is this: what kind of a faith is a faith not tested by or compared against anything outside of itself? Nothing in public education is taught as gospel; everything is presented as information. So how has it become a bad thing to know our children are being exposed to as much knowledge and information as possible? As Christians, are we not leaving our children unequipped and vulnerable if they leave our homes and enter the world unexposed to anything contrary to the information we want them to hear?
Meanwhile, I've been told by Christian friends that public education is godless. These parents say they don't want their children learning in an environment where the agenda is to remove God from education. In fact, just yesterday I read where Wisconsin Tea Party candidate Kim Simac likened the American public education system to Nazi Germany, her implication being that public education's stance against public professions of faith is tantamount to brainwashing. To hear this, now that I have witnessed what really goes on behind the doors of public education -- now that I have seen how genuine these teachers and administrators are, how hard they are working to better our country -- it makes me unspeakably disheartened.
Finally, I've heard it said that public education's tolerance of liberal lifestyles and its agenda for celebrating diversity is reason enough for Christians to run for the hills. But isn't this reaction contrary to what we are asked to do as Christians?
Christ tells us that as Christians we are to be in the world but not of the world; that we are to be shining lights. Are we really doing this when we seclude ourselves in our own private communities? Wasn't Jesus' message one of radical love, wasn't it a mandate to live in harmony with and to serve those who are different from us? Public education's celebration of diversity is a beautiful thing, and we rob our children and jeopardize their future when we choose to believe otherwise. How have we come so far as a religion that we've co-opted God's message of radical love to make it a justification for fear and exclusion?
Most important, when we -- in the name of Christian faith -- take our own children out of public education, and when we advocate for fewer of our tax dollars to be put toward the school system, are we not sweeping the legs out from under the very country toward which we pledge our loyalty and patriotism? Moreover, are we not blinding ourselves to whom we are most affecting by doing this, the ones whom Jesus unequivocally tells us we are to serve: "the least of these?"
It seems to me that if we buy into the insidious lie that the public education system is anti-Christian and corrupt, and if we begin advocating for like-minded people to pull their students away from the system, we are in essence saying that we aren't concerned with ministering to anyone outside of our own community and that we aren't invested in helping the less fortunate better their stations in life.
I'm not comfortable with this, and I fear we are daily moving in the wrong direction.
Jim Wallis of Sojourners recently said, "There are two casualties in unprincipled political warfare: the common good and the most vulnerable." It would seem this goes for the American public education system, as well. And as Christians, I am of the opinion that it is our duty to minimize the number of casualties, not contribute to it.
]]>Race and Grace in the Life of Robert Byrdtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.6310792010-06-30T14:36:50-04:002011-05-25T16:55:19-04:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/
But while his life story and his political achievements were remarkable, the one thing for which Byrd will ultimately be most remembered, the shadow irreversibly darkening his legacy, is his involvement in the Ku Klux Klan and his efforts to curb Civil Rights legislation. Had Byrd's agenda prevailed, he would have been party to prolonging the greatest injustice in our nation's history. For a significant portion of his life, Byrd was a racist and a bigot and one can't, and shouldn't, be able to erase such a past from the history books.
However, there is also the well-documented silver lining to Byrd's story: he later saw the error of his racist ways, issued an apology, and, ultimately, found redemption in the eyes of the public. This enlightenment, this willingness to change, is, in my opinion, the greatest lesson we can learn from the life of Robert Byrd.
In my book High Points and Lows I have a chapter about my own racial fears as a kid. I come from the South, a region known, even today, for its latent racism. I was entering middle school in the early 90s, and while school integration had happened a quarter-century earlier, the concept was still trying to get its proper foothold. I was leaving my 95% white elementary school and moving into a middle school that would be exposing me -- along with all the other sheltered white children I'd grown up with -- to many varying ethnicities. The way I remember it, we were all very anxious about the move.
The story goes that I got lost my first morning on the way to the gym, where I encountered a young black boy who approached me with a disarming smile. He asked me where I was headed and I told him I was lost. Upon hearing this, he told me he was lost, too. Comparing schedules, we soon realized we were both headed to the gym. And as we walked together, discussing sports and school and favorite athletes, it occurred to me: this boy was no different from me at all.
That boy, Antoine Bailey, and I remain best friends today. It's a simple story with a profound message. I write in the book:
"I sometimes look at our crazy world and wonder why the seeds of prejudice still exist, why people can't see the folly in such thinking -- why some people fear those of a different ethnicity, those of a different socioeconomic standing, those of a different religion.
This thought saddens me, and I find myself lamenting how complex the fear of others really is, how difficult this type of fear is to overcome. But then I find myself thinking of that little boy pacing the halls of his middle school. I think of that other little boy, the boy of a different stripe, walking up to him and offering him a disarming smile. I think of how both boys admitted to each other that they were lost, how that admission helped them realize they were headed to the same place. And I begin wondering if perhaps overcoming fear isn't very complex at all, I begin wondering whether all we have to do is admit to one another how vulnerable we often feel. How, more often than not, all we really want is to feel safe. And then I begin wondering if maybe, just maybe, by simply admitting to one another how lost we often feel, we will finally realize, just as those two little boys did, that we are all headed in the same direction."
Sunday, when I heard word of Byrd's passing, I immediately remembered what Barack Obama wrote about Senator Byrd in The Audacity of Hope. Obama wrote of a meeting the two had in Byrd's office just after Obama was elected to the senate. In this meeting, Byrd said he'd been very fortunate in his life and had much to be thankful for, going on to say there wasn't much he would change. Then, after a pause, Obama said Byrd looked him in his eyes, and said, "I only have one regret, you know. The foolishness of youth..."
To which, after several silent seconds, Obama responded: "We all have regrets, Senator. We just ask that, in the end, God's grace shines upon us."
I find this to be an extraordinarily touching scene. A year after this exchange took place, Senator Byrd would go on to endorse Barack Obama for president of the United State. This after Byrd had once argued before the senate that people with Obama's skin color should not be allowed to eat in the same restaurants as him.
Obama was right about God's grace: we all ask that it shines on us. This is true for me; had grace not put Antoine in my path when I was lost, I may never have been found. But the point is, I was.
And the greater point is, so was Senator Robert Byrd.
]]>Landon Donovan: The Brand That Will Define U.S. Soccertag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.6284772010-06-29T10:31:35-04:002011-05-25T16:55:19-04:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/
Sure, we made it to the knockout round, finishing first ahead of the Brits in our qualifying group. Sure, we had a couple matches where we displayed last minute heroics, heroics that caused America's bars from Manhattan to Malibu to celebrate in ways that have, heretofore, been reserved only for basketball, baseball, and football. But all things considered, we Americans were, in this Cup, yet again, disappointing.
That said, there is one thing the U.S. takes away from this World Cup that portends only good things. It is something that, in this era of sports -- an era when branding is everything -- might just be the most important thing to ever happen to US soccer: We officially have a superstar, and his name is Landon Donovan.
While Donovan has, for as far back as I can remember, been hailed as U.S. soccer's great hope, he has never, on the world stage, delivered. Being Donovan's age and having grown up playing fairly competitive soccer (nowhere near World Cup level, but I played Division 1 in college), I've been aware of Donovan for at least fifteen years. Until this World Cup, he has never, in my eyes, done anything to warrant the media buzz that seems to have always surrounded him. But in scoring three goals in the Cup, all of which were at critical junctures, he has finally solidified his star status. He's lived up to the hype. And in so doing, he will finally become U.S. soccer's first brand.
And I don't mean that in the sense that he will become America's David Beckham. Instead, I mean he will become U.S. soccer's Michael Jordan.
Just as it took Jordan becoming "Michael Jordan" to change the entire approach to basketball, which ushered the NBA into its glory years in the 80s and 90s and which, ultimately, led to the insanely competitive levels it's at today, Donovan finally becoming "Landon Donovan" will have a similar effect on US soccer. The Nike-driven, Jordan brand changed the way we played basketball in America long before Jordan ever won a championship with the Bulls, just as the Donovan brand will begin changing our nation's approach to soccer, even though we've yet to come close to winning a World Cup. In other words, what the US has been in need of, for quite some time, is a national identity. The best (and only) way to find such an identity is to locate a personality we can rally around, a star with whom we can associate, someone who will help us understand what soccer in the United States is supposed to look like.
Donavan is now that someone. Though the media has been trying to sell him as such for the past eight years, it took this World Cup for him to finally assume the role.
Fittingly, we had Alexi Lalas in the booth providing commentary on Donovan and his successful Cup. I say "fittingly" because Lalas was, just as Julius Erving was before Jordan, the godfather of modern soccer. Without Dr. J there would be no Michael Jordan. Similarly, without Alexi Lalas, there would be no Landon Donovan. Lalas was our first marketable star. And I believe that, as we move forward, our soccer identity becoming clearer and more understandable, it is important that we, in extending the basketball metaphor further, remember the Bob Cousys and Wilt Chamberlains and Pete Maravichs of US soccer: people like Tab Ramos and Paul Caligiuri and Coby Jones, people like Eric Wynalda and Kasey Keller and Claudio Reyna. It was the contribution of players like these -- players only a small section of Americans remember -- who put Landon Donovan on track to become who he is today: the brand that will help define United States soccer for the next twenty-five years.]]>A Christian's Defense of Bill Mahertag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.5818102010-05-19T15:53:00-04:002011-05-25T16:30:24-04:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/Real Time with Bill Maher and subsequently reading various criticisms of the show's segment wherein Maher and his panel discussed atheism vs. religion, I find myself in a very interesting spot: I want to defend Bill Maher.
Now, Maher is undoubtedly anti-religion.
Meanwhile, I am undoubtedly pro-religion.
But I think the inherent juxtaposition of our two stances is what compels me to defend the man. Because, for me, the underlying issue from Friday's Real Time debate, and what I believe spawned a great deal of criticism from religious bloggers, was this statement: "If you are an atheist, you must think people who believe in God are deluded."
This is what Maher said to panelist/author S.E. Cupp, an atheist, and what was, in my opinion, the impetus of what led to an ensuing 15-minute debate about religion. Because instead of acknowledging the statement's obvious truth, Cupp waffled. She said she didn't believe religious people to be deluded.
Now, please don't get me wrong, Cupp's brand of tolerant atheism is far more palatable than the more offensive brand Maher sometimes expresses (i.e., "non-atheists are mediocre thinkers"), but her position's palatability doesn't change the fact that Maher is right. To be an atheist, one by definition has to believe those who believe in God (any god) are deluded. Meanwhile, for one to be religious -- or, should I say, for one to believe in God -- by definition means he has to believe those who don't believe in God are deluded.
There's simply no way around this.
And here's my point: this shouldn't be a hard thing to admit.
But it is.
And I think I know why: I think it's because the word "deluded" carries such an ugly connotation. "Deluded" summons images of loony bins and psych wards and Heidi Montag. The word's interpellating effect is incredibly diminishing. No one likes to hear that he or she is deluded and consequently, anyone remotely worried about offending someone doesn't want to use the word. I think Richard Dawkins -- if he truly does care about advancing it -- did a disservice to his mission by choosing such a divisive word for the title of his book, The God Delusion.
In my opinion, to be able to advance the dialogue between our two camps, we need to do two things: 1) get thicker skin, and 2) find a new euphemism for "deluded." One that doesn't carry such a negative connotation. I'm no Frank Luntz, so I'm clearly not the right guy to coin the term, but perhaps it should simply be a word like "misled." Or even "mistaken."
I guess what I'm saying is this: thinking someone is wrong (mistaken, deluded, etc.) because he believes in God is not a bad thing, and it shouldn't offend those of us who do believe in God to know that someone thinks we are wrong about it. And vice versa. Because the simple truth is that when it comes to this particular debate, one side has to be right, and one side has to be wrong. This is one of the very few issues in the world that doesn't lend itself to ambiguity.
In light of this truth, I feel that instead of being scorned by the religious community, in this particular instance, Maher should be commended for having the courage of his conviction. Just as I believe Newark mayor Cory Booker, who was also on Maher's panel Friday night, should be commended for his own conviction in standing up for his faith. Now, at times, Maher -- whose show I love and whom I find very funny -- could probably be a little less abrasive about how he articulates his point (just as many on my side of the debate could be far less abrasive about how we articulate ours), but the point isn't about the delivery, it's about the foundational belief.
If God is real, which I sincerely believe he is, he doesn't need me getting my feelings hurt because people think I'm wrong for believing in him. And I think the sooner we religious folks cotton to this idea, the sooner a real dialogue between our two camps can begin.
]]>Nice Christians: We're Out Theretag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.5704612010-05-11T12:18:00-04:002011-05-25T16:25:21-04:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/
Christians who love Jesus but don't use him as a crutch. Christians who prefer peace and social justice over political capital. Christians who don't measure self-worth by whether we're able to convince you to see things our way.
We're out there.
And here's what we want the world to know:
We're sorry for the way our faith has -- so often, and for so long -- been used as a justification for hatred and fear and self-righteous superiority.
We're distraught by our current representation in the media. We feel that many of those prominent Christians often grabbing headlines not only trivialize our faith, but simplify it, too.
Because for us -- for those of us out there feeling voiceless and unrepresented -- Jesus is more than words. Jesus is more than a set of bullet points on Sunday. Jesus is more than a systematic theology. Jesus is more than a name we drop so others might think us pious and good.
For us, Jesus is a way: a way to practice love and peace and respect for others.
We want you to know that, just like you, we are three-dimensional. We can't be lumped into one stereotypical category.
For instance, we didn't all vote McCain in '08 simply because he was Republican. And those of us who did vote McCain can give an intelligent, reasoned argument why -- one that doesn't include, "Because I'm a Christian."
Meanwhile, those of us who voted Obama can give an equally persuasive argument why -- one that, among other things, is based on our Christian faith.
Whether we are for or against the Iraq war, or for or against sending troops into Afghanistan, none of us believes our mission to be a mandate from Jesus. For us, Jesus is never an excuse to drop bombs.
Nor is he ever an excuse to subjugate.
To profile.
To discriminate.
We believe whole-heartedly in the literal death and resurrection of Jesus, yet we don't rush to anger if you think us simple-minded for it.
We believe in personal responsibility but also believe a person's situation greatly affects his opportunities. And we want to help those who come from less fortunate situations overcome their circumstances.
We screw things up more than we get them right.
We give, we pray, we help, we hurt, we doubt, we want, we try, we fail. We try again.
In other words, we're just like everyone else.
And we want the world to know we're out there. We're out there and we want to work together. Laugh together. Grow together. Try together.
We want to, together, better the collective whole. ]]>How a Christian Republican Leaves the GOPtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.5648972010-05-05T15:36:34-04:002011-05-25T16:25:21-04:00Austin Cartyhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/austin-carty/
Anyway, when I was asked whether I wanted to maintain my affiliation with the Republican party, and when, upon my reply, I told the licensing agent that I'd rather be listed as an independent, the guy asked me if there were any particular reason I'd changed my mind. And I didn't have a concise answer for him.
But now, two weeks later, I do.
You see, a local news magazine here in central North Carolina called Yes! Weekly just did a cover story on a local Tea Party rally that took place in Greensboro on April 15th. The story reports that the rally, which drew several thousand supporters, saw Jeff Hyde, a Republican candidate for NC District 27, give a stirring speech wherein he met a chorus of boos when he first mentioned Nancy Pelosi's name.
Which is fine. I'm no Pelosi fan, myself, and besides, booing politicians with whom one disagrees is what someone who spends his Saturdays at a political rally does.
But when Hyde finally got the crowd to quiet down -- and the video of this can be seen on the net -- he continued: "...Nancy Pelosi says that we're 'unsophisticated cave-dwellers.'"
Which would be fine, too, I suppose, if it weren't for one small fact: Pelosi is nowhere on record saying this.
In a follow up email with the editors of Yes! Weekly, Hyde reportedly responded that he didn't know where he'd gotten the quote. "However, whether she said the specific quote or not, I believe it is her sentiment," Hyde wrote. "I also believe it is the sentiment of our president, our governor, and a lot of our other politicians. When I wrote the speech, I did so from my heart, not the research library."
Now, this type of mentality is dangerous for a number of reasons, most notably that it's entirely possible for someone to truly believe "in his heart" something about which, ultimately, he later changes his mind (for instance, as an impassioned young college student, I once believed from the bottom of my heart that dropping bombs on Iraq was the ideal retribution for 9/11. Now I don't.). Point being: Feelings and opinions change; facts don't.
But that's not my beef with this particular situation. Rather, what I find so disheartening is how Hyde concluded this line of thought:
"I take exception to [Pelosi's quote]," Hyde said. "I'd like to set the record straight with the speaker. I did not evolve out of some cave. I was divinely created by a mighty God."
Yeah, wonderful, Mr. Hyde, I believe I was created by a mighty God, too. But here's the problem: no one said we weren't. At least, not in the context you're claiming they did. Instead, you're taking an aggressive stand to "set someone straight" about something she never said in the first place.
As you might suspect, when Hyde said these words -- which is the same as sounding a Christian battle-cry -- the crowd thundered in angry applause. This is not at all unlike some kid telling the school bully that another kid called the bully's mama fat. The second kid's going to go home with a puffy lip and blackened eye, quite possibly never even knowing why. Or like Mark Twain put it: "A lie can run around the world six times while the truth is still trying to put its pants on."
As a Christian, and as a former Republican, this is the type of mentality that makes me want to scream. It's also the type of mentality that makes me want to change my political affiliation at the DMV. And apparently I'm not alone: a column in today's Greensboro News & Record reveals that 23% of North Carolina's population is now registered as independent of any party affiliation. Unfortunately however, while the number of independents is on the rise, so is the divide between partisan ideologies growing wider. You see, when words become more important than actions, and when stirring people's emotions becomes more important than telling the truth, we are handicapping ourselves from ever being able to see issues as anything more than one-dimensional. I mean, why should I take a look at health care legislation if Barack Obama says God favors abortions? Why should I pay any attention to global warming if Joe Biden says God doesn't exist? Wait, they didn't say those things? Well, I mean, it certainly seems their sentiment; so what does it really matter?
As a Christian writer and a young citizen of this country, it is among my deepest desires that we would stop trading fact for feeling, stop trading catchphrases for complex thinking, and stop invoking God's name for our own political gain. When whittled down to its core, it seems to me the reason this ploy works is because it plays on our laziness and on our fear: our laziness in that we'd rather have someone do our thinking for us and our fear that someone is trying to discredit everything around which we've based our identity.
Now, it's entirely possible I'm wrong about this assumption, but whether I'm right or wrong hardly matters, does it; so long as, in my heart, I know it to be my sentiment.]]>