The end (almost)

I was glad to see some kind of closure. Lost strengthened my ability to see the connections with people, the power and importance of letting go, and the often hidden, but very real purpose in our lives. It jump-started my son’s interest in philosophy and spiritual things and perhaps permanently got him thinking more intelligently about issues of morality and responsibility. It gave us some great father-son time, including great father-son conversations.

As for the finale, I say this as a general statement: I think it was the best that they could have made it. No it didn’t answer all the questions; far from it, and I’m one of the people who wants questions answered.

But in a way, I appreciate the writers’ leaving some mythology for me to write (which is what unanswered questions amount to, after all). And they stuck to what was really important: the deepest meaning of the big picture of the show. One great thing about Lost is that it is in a sense a 120-hour long movie with ultimately one great story. Lost didn’t let the subplots keep the one big story from getting all the time that it needed.

And hey, how about that wild and crazy sideways world? Turns out it wasn’t sideways at all. At the premiere episode of season 6, before I’d ever heard of the term “flash sideways” I had the bright idea that the sideways world was actually a flash forward, that what we were seeing there was where the characters would all end up by the end of the season. Not bad: I was pretty close to right. But then Darlton told us that this was not a flash forward at all so I dumped that idea.

In fairness, I was wrong about a couple of things. I thought the sideways world existed in real time in our world. But Darlton was at least half right: it wasn’t a true flash forward because it didn’t exist in real time. “There is no ‘now’ here,” Christian Shepherd observed. In fact that world wasn’t a real one at all.

But it wasn’t purgatory, either. Whether you believe in purgatory or not, the sideways world doesn’t fit the description. Purgatory is a real place prepared by God, but the sideways world is an unreal place prepared by the collective consciousnesses of all the castaways (that last idea is one of my favorites from the show). Purgatory is to punish souls for their venial sins. But the sideways world wasn’t about punishment at all. It wasn’t even about the characters working through their issues.

That’s right. There’s some complaining, I understand, among Losties that, hey, if the characters can work out their issues in the sideways world, what’s the point of growing and suffering to work through your issues in this world? (One could answer that it’s a package deal, but uh-uh— the sideways world isn’t real, it’s not part of the package with the real world). The answer is that the only chance to work through our issues is in the real world—this world—and the sideways world (made only for the Oceanic 815 survivors and Co., remember) is for restitution.

Now, as a Christian, I’m thinking of this from a Christian perspective—the biblical concept of “the restitution of all things”—but I don’t believe the Lost finale was reflective of any particular religion. More on that later.

But for now, think about restitution, like when you steal something, think better of it, and take it back to its rightful owner. Or hurt someone, think better of it, and apologize to that person and make it up to them.

Now think of this: you kill someone, a good person. Later, you repent. Then, at the end of you life, you die. You and your victim go to the same place. How will you share eternity with your victim without making restitution? But you had no chance to in this world so you construct a world in the hereafter where you can make restitution. This, I submit, is what the sideways world is all about.

Take Ben and his dad. Ben’s dad was a decent guy gone bad because of tragedy and his own ego. He became a horribly abusive father and alcoholic. He finally repented of his ways on the day that Ben decided to kill him. Later Ben found his own redemption—again, in this world, on the island, first by confessing his crimes and repenting to Ilana, and continuing in that vein all the way through his righteous career as Hugo’s assistant.

But he couldn’t to the father he’d killed, and because of the murder, Ben’s father never got the chance to pay restitution to Ben. So what happened? In the sideways world, all accounts were settled. Roger Linus was a powerless but loving father(instead of a powerful, abusive, and loveless father), and Ben cared for his dad devotedly to make up for his past hatred and murder. He even gave his father oxygen to make up for the poisonous gas with which he’d killed him!

Think of Locke and his dad. Anthony Cooper, an evil con artist, destroyed people’s lives, especially his son’s, by winning their trust and then exploiting them. In the sideways world, Anthony Cooper gives his son, John Locke, his trust (which John had always wanted) and then John destroys him in a plane. He suffers brain damage—a living death—while John truly lets his father go and goes on to the enlightenment for which he’d always sought. (I’ll say more about the other characters later.)

The intriguing thing about this sideways whatchamacallit is its tangential resemblance to various religious visions while tipping decidedly towards none of them. I’ve already mentioned Christianity. This is no heaven or purgatory; Jack is self sacrificial, but he’s not Christ (the wound in his side is reminiscent of Christ’s, but Christ was lanced after he died, not while suffering). While we’re talking about Christ figures, how about Desmond, the miracle child, but very exclusively human being who, like Islam’s Isa, is the ultimate enlightened prophet who brings enlightenment to the world, but can’t be killed, while Jack who, like Judas in the Koran is the broken disciple who takes Desmond’s place at death. Still, Desmond didn’t ascend to heaven and Jack didn’t disguise himself...it just doesn’t add up to Islam, either.

I never bought into Doc Jensen’s idea that the castaways were reincarnated. And they weren’t: you don’t get reincarnated as yourself—in the same time period, yet! But there was a superficial resemblance to reincarnation. The castaways didn’t just waltz into judgment hall after death. The got entire lives, or at least the semblance of entire lives.

Of course, there was the stained-glass window with all the world religion symbols on it which should have made the point very clear to everyone: all the religions of the world are right, or words to that effect. I’ll say straight up that I don’t buy into that New Age-y kind of message, Lost or no Lost. But I can say that no religion reveals absolutely everything. Given the examples above, that seems to be the stronger religious message of the finale: if you’re sure of how things work in life, the universe, and everything, you’re bound to be wrong about something—and you’re in for some big surprises.

There’s more to say about Lost and spirituality, but I’m saving that for the next (and last) entry in this blog.

On to the characters. I really liked how the writers identified the most basic issues of each of the main characters. Jack had issues with confidence, heroism, leadership, faith, and relationships including parenthood and various romantic relationships, but all of these were derivative of his issues with his father.

I really appreciated what happened with Kate. With all the fuss over whether Kate was meant to be with Jack or Sawyer, I found it refreshing that the answer was neither. Kate’s calling was to be with Claire, helping her out of her mentally and spiritually messed up state and supporting her in raising Aaron.

Oh, and the whole mystery about why Aaron was so important? That was one of many things left for us to imagine, which is a very good thing. But I think it was partly answered. After all, the real “prophecy” was that Claire had to raise Aaron alone, no one else. That was to warn her that someone else with Aaron would always be a danger signal. If Claire had remembered that, the sight of her father holding Aaron would have been seen for the danger signal it was. Instead, she trusted her father and went out with him—who turned out to be MIB in the shape of her father—and Claire was “claimed”. Following the psychic’s prophecy would have prevented that.

As for Sawyer, I say, forget about who is better for Kate, Jack or Sawyer—ask who’s better for Sawyer, Kate or Juliet. Lost history bears record that Juliet was better for Sawyer. This is a consistent theme on Lost: each person is supposed to grow into some beautiful individual. Who you’re supposed to be with is determined by who leads you to be that person. Juliet and Sawyer accomplished that for each other so they were meant to be together. Kate and Claire did that for each other (though not as a romantic couple). Claire and Charlie did that for each other. Desmond and Penny, Bernard and Rose, Hugo and Libby all fit the pattern. Sun & Jin, tragic and so beautiful need little comment in this regard. The whole series, from first season to last, was the saga of how those two shaped each other.


And Sayid and Shannon did that for each other. The anti-Sayid-Shannon camp are put to silence when we understand this. We might like Nadia better than, Shannon, but Nadia was already who she needed to be. It was Sayid who made Shannon feel truly validated and valuable for the first time in her life. And think about it: Sayid’s lifelong struggle with letting others define him as evil came to a screeching halt when he and Shannon were a couple (and promptly resumed after her death). I don’t know how she did it, but Shannon accomplished in Sayid what Nadia could not, not even in the sideways world.

As for Ben, Danielle, and Alex...Doc Jensen actually found the romance between Ben and Danielle to be funny—what’s wrong with that guy? I found it very touching. At first when Ben told John Locke and Hugo that he would be staying in the sideways world a while I thought he was thinking, “This is all right...I think I’ll stay and enjoy this awhile before moving on.” But I see now that it was deeper than that. It’s back to the idea of restitution. Ben owed Alex the father (and mother) she never had. Danielle deserved the lost years with her daughter and the husband and father Ben never was.

See how nicely all this fits together? And it’s magnificent that Hugo, a character who wasn’t even in the original cast of characters but was created as an excuse to have Jorge Garcia on the show—ended up as the island guardian at the end of the series.

But...what about John Locke? Well, he gets an entry all his own.