Many years ago, I managed media relations for a film festival in Nashville. While I had always had an interest in film, especially indie films and directors, working at the festival offered an opportunity to dig deeper into the medium and expand my knowledge of its history. My years growing up in Jersey City, N.J., where I had access to great film criticism in several newspapers and a plethora of independent movie houses across the river in New York City, provided a good base. I also took a couple of film studies classes in college. The festival, however, was where my education truly began.
The artistic director of the festival at the time had an encyclopedic and enthusiastic appreciation for film. His positive reinforcement became addictive for me. When I would tell Brian what I had watched recently, he would almost yell, “GOOD FOR YOU!” I loved it. Even if I maybe hadn’t made what he considered a good choice, he would still say something supportive and encouraging, because at least I was watching something and wanted to talk about it.
Brian would tell me about some other film I should watch, or some film by the same director that was better. It was truly thrilling. I would sit in on meetings he held with journalists, during which he’d reveal the festival programming. The conversation would inevitably lead to them talking about dozens of other films. I would feverishly take notes and add them to my “to-watch” list. Brian would particularly get excited when instead of delving deep into the work and background of an actor or director, I’d get on a cinematographer or set designer kick, like the time I dug into the work of Vilmos Zsigmond and László Kovács after watching the documentary “Vilmos & Laszlo's Excellent Adventure.”
I’ve known other people like Brian in my life, people who lift you up instead of knocking you down. People who see whatever it is you’re doing—assuming it’s good, of course—and say, “Good for you!” They are giving what Father Ronald Rolheiser, in his extraordinary book about mature Christian discipleship, Sacred Fire, calls “blessings.” They are what Joyce Heatherley calls “balcony people,” in her 1986 essay of the same name. They are those who cheer us on and energize us with warm affirmations (as opposed to the people who live in our basements with critical judgments and try to pull us down). They give credence to the belief that “encouragement,” as the actor Al Pacino wrote in his 2024 autobiography, Sonny Boy, is “the greatest word in the English language.”
A God of Blessings
I don’t necessarily come from a family filled with blessings and balcony people. I doubt many of us do. And that’s O.K. Families are often our greatest source of love and support, as well as our deepest well of hurt and pain. The same goes for our neighborhoods and communities. Sometimes the negative voices come from within. For comedian Nate Bargatze, as he relayed at the Golden Globes in 2025, that voice sounds like a parrot. He was playing a show early in his career in South Dakota to only a few people and an (actual) parrot. And the parrot wouldn’t stop heckling him. Now he can’t stop hearing it.
For me the voice in my head sounds like someone on a street corner in my old neighborhood, saying, “What are you … a big shot, now?” or “You think you're smarter than me?” Or my favorite, most consistent negative thought: “Who do you think you are?” Neither Bargatze’s parrot nor the guy in my neighborhood would be considered a balcony person.
When it comes to my young children, I’ve tried to provide blessings and practice “balcony-ism” (I’m not sure that’s a word) every step of the way. I want them to grow up in a supportive environment. This doesn’t necessarily mean that I act as a cheerleader constantly, offering a “rah-rah” for everything, but it does mean withholding judgment for harmless and healthy things and replacing it with encouragement. Our church offers an example in St. Barnabas, whose nickname “Son of Encouragement” reflects his desire and ability to build up others.
Imagine if the artistic director at the film festival, instead of responding to my film choices with a “Good for you!” responded with “Why are you doing that?” or “Shouldn’t you be working on a press release right now?” Or, perhaps, “Leave the film appreciation to the film studies majors.”
Sometimes it’s easy to look at our children’s quixotic quests, their silly outlandish obsessions, and with our critical adult brains ask them, “Why are you doing that?” Ultimately, that’s the question we ask ourselves and others when we become adults, when we take too literally Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians (13:11): “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.” Being an adult does not mean we must lose our sense of creativity, whimsy and wonder.
Deciding to run a marathon in middle age, or to take up yoga, or to write a book, or to spend all day embedded in the most complex New York Times Cooking recipe (especially if it requires purchasing an expensive spice you may never use again) can seem silly when we let those doubting voices take over. These same voices can make us judge a child for building a rock collection out of what is clearly broken up concrete, or for keeping a real pumpkin in a drawer months beyond its end date because she’s concerned about its well-being. We must ignore those doubting voices, because these sometimes seemingly silly pursuits are good for us.
When I think about God, I often think of him providing the ultimate blessing; of being the number one balcony person, encouraging us to try new things, to expand our horizons, to be the best version of ourselves. This is what I contemplate when I pray the Examen, when I reflect on the moments I have felt closer to God and the instances where I’ve created distance. It’s also how I approach an examination of conscience before a confession. The questions I ask are “In which instances is God saying, ‘Good for you!’ and in which is he saying, ‘Well … let’s think about that. Was that really a good thing?’”
I try to avoid doing things that wouldn’t elicit a “Good for you!” from God. For I know whether we’re practicing works of mercy or going to the gym, God is right there with us, cheering us on. In Matthew, we read, “This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.” Why shouldn’t God, our loving and encouraging Father, be pleased with us as well?
