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forgiveness

No Man’s Land: Welcome

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“Sometimes you need to close your eyes and start over to see clearly.”

No Man’s Land, from director Conor Allyn, is at one level a story about borders, but at a deeper level it is about the importance of welcoming the stranger in our midst.

Jake Allyn as “Jackson Greer” in Conor Allyn’s NO MAN’S LAND. Courtesy of IFC Films. An IFC Films Release.

The Greer family has a small cattle ranch along the Rio Grande, but south of the border wall. They have narcos, rustlers, and immigrants who come across their land. The father Bill (Frank Grillo) has to take his passport just to go to the hardware store. Son Jackson (Jake Allyn, who also wrote the script) is a promising pitcher preparing for a tryout with the Yankees.

One night, hearing activity outside, Bill and his two sons go out with weapons, worried about losing cattle. Instead it is a small group of people looking to enter the US illegally, led by Gustavo (Jorge A. Jimenez) who is bringing his son to live with him in the US. In the chaos of the confrontation, Jackson’s brother is stabbed and Jackson shoots and kills Gustavo’s son. Bill seeks to take the blame, claiming self-defense, but the Texas Ranger (George Lopez) investigating sees through it. When he goes to talk with Jackson, Jackson crosses the river into Mexico.

Jorge A. Jiménez as “Gustavo” in Conor Allyn’s NO MAN’S LAND. Courtesy of IFC Films. An IFC Films Release.

Jackson is dealing with the guilt of taking the boy’s life. When Jackson found the boy’s wallet, it had a picture of the boy in his baseball uniform. Clearly, Jackson understands that they held things in common. But Gustavo is dealing with anger and seeks revenge. Jackson finds himself trying to avoid both the law and Gustavo. But he also wants to go to the boy’s hometown to seek forgiveness and redemption. Along the way he encounters those who would take advantage of him, as well as those who will take him in.

Jackson learns that there is much more to Mexico than he has known. Most importantly he discovers that there are people who welcome him, even though they don’t know him and he cannot speak their language. As a stranger he is often totally at the mercy of the people he meets. And he meets some very welcoming people.

Meanwhile back in Texas, his mother (Andie MacDowell) reminds Bill of the times they would take food and water to the river for those coming across. He responds, “It’s different now”, to which she responds, “but we’re different.” The contrast of the welcome Jackson finds and his parents’ choice to no longer be welcoming serves to underscore the divide we may have within us about welcoming strangers or turning away.

That same spirit plays out in the storyline between Jackson’s desire for redemption and Gustavo’s seeking revenge. When the face off arrives, Gustavo remembers a lesson he gave his son as they were walking that deadly night. He had his son close his eyes and count to ten. When he opened them, he could see better. For Gustavo, for the Greer family, for the viewers, a pause may give all of us a chance to see more clearly when we think of issues around welcoming the stranger.

George Lopez as “Ramírez”, Frank Grillo as “Bill Greer”, Andie McDowell as “Monica” and Jake Allyn as “Jackson Greer” in Conor Allyn’s NO MAN’S LAND. Courtesy of IFC Films. An IFC Films Release.

Jesus says in Matthew 25: “Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’” No Man’s Land lives out that teaching.

No Man’s Land is available at select theaters where open and on VOD.

Tiger Within – Choosing Not to Hate

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“I think God gives everyone the same gift. Most people don’t unwrap the gift.”

Rafal Zielinski’s Tiger Within is a study of brokenness, fear, hatred, wisdom, forgiveness, and healing. It is the story of two very different people who manage to find a connection they both need to survive.

Casey (played by the 14 year old Margot Josefsohn) is a 14 year old punk runaway who has come to L.A. to live with her father, who obviously is more interested in his new family. She quickly loses everything she has (except her swastika emblazoned jacket) on the streets. Samuel (the nonagenarian Ed Asner) is a holocaust survivor, now all alone in the world. His days are empty, except for the bitterness that remains towards everyone.

Their first encounter takes place in the Jewish cemetery where Samuel has gone to visit his wife’s grave. On the way out he sees Casey curled up asleep—seeing only the back of her jacket with the swastika. After he walks away, he returns and waits for her to awaken. They begin a very tentative conversation. Casey is wary of what Samuel wants. He buys her food and takes her to his apartment so she can shower and sleep. His acts of kindness make only a crack in her defenses.

Some time later, we find Casey working at a massage parlor (yes, that kind of massage parlor), and living in a cheap motel. When Samuel runs across her again, they continue to talk. They make a deal. She can live with him if she goes to school and removes the swastika from her jacket. It gives Casey a place that is safe, and it give Samuel a chance to act as a parent. (He lost his daughters in the Holocaust.) The bond they build sustains them, but it is also very fragile.

We might wonder why Samuel would create that first encounter and why he would struggle to make a bond with this girl who was so different and so difficult. He tells her that it was because he made a promise to his wife—to stop hating. And by focusing on not hating Casey, perhaps he’d learn to not hate everything else.

The film touches upon a number of issues of import. One of those is holocaust denial. When Samuel and Casey first meet, she tells him that her mother has taught her that the Holocaust is a lie. Polls have recently found that many young people either don’t know of or don’t believe the facts about the Holocaust. In a world where racial hatred and neo-Nazis have become more visible and vocal, it is wrong to remain silent.

Another issue in the film is that of young sex workers. As a runaway, about the only job available for Casey is a clandestine job providing “happy endings”. What strikes us in this story is that even though she has been a sex worker, she is terrified of a boy in school asking her for a date. She’s never had a date. She never been kissed. That cross of innocence and repugnance help us see a bit of the humanity of sex workers.

The big issue is forgiveness—not an easy thing for anyone. Samuel’s bitterness towards the world has an obvious source in the Holocaust. He lost his family. That Casey would think it never happened is appalling to him. To welcome Casey into his life is obviously a challenge.

Casey has much to forgive as well. Neither her mother nor her father wants anything to do with her. She doesn’t fit in with anyone around her. She is victimized in various ways. She has had no real love in her life.

Yet, it is not so much the objects of their bitterness and hatred that is the real focus of forgiveness. Before either can move on to a better life, they must first forgive themselves.

Film credits are often ignored when they come on the screen. The credits for this film are worth noting. The first of the closing credits are “special thanks for all the words of wisdom from” a variety of spiritual advisors, including Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Native American, and Buddhist. (There are videos of these advisors on the film’s website under “Forgiveness”.)

Tiger Within is available on virtual cinema through local arthouses.

Photos courtesy Film Art Planet.

Yalda, A Night of Forgiveness

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“An eye for an eye is very costly. It’s not easy at all.”

Many religions speak about forgiveness. It may be about the way we have been forgiven, or it may focus on our need to forgive others. In Yalda, A Night of Forgiveness from Iranian director Massoud Bakhshi, the process of forgiveness is the engine that drives the story.

Maryam (Sadaf Asgari) has been convicted of murdering her temporary husband Nassar Zia and sentenced to death. But in Iran, the death sentence can be avoided if the family of the victim forgives. Maryam is scheduled to appear on a television show, “Joy of Forgiveness”, which brings together killer and family to try to negotiate forgiveness on live TV. She must persuade her husband’s daughter Mona (Behnaz Jafari) to spare her from hanging.

Nearly the whole film takes place within the TV station. Since it is a live show, there are issues that come up that create a certain amount of chaos. This is not staged with an assumed outcome, although the producers of the show certainly would prefer a happy ending.

There is a bit of surreality to this show, because along with being reality show, it is also a variety entertainment, with songs and other guests. And there is a viewers’ poll about whether Maryam should be forgiven, the numbers determining if the sponsors will pay the blood money involved. Part of the strangeness of the show is that this episode takes place on Yalda, the Zoroastrian celebration of the winter solstice. This longest night of the year is a time of family celebrations. To have such a downer subject on TV is bothersome to one of the producers of the show who keeps wanting to lighten things up.

Much of the film is spent with the moderated dialogue between Maryam and Mona. Maryam views Mona as a big sister and mentor. But now Mona is cold and hardened.  Maryam is encouraged to beg for mercy, but instead she maintains her innocence, claiming the death was an accident. There are other issues involved in this conversation, some of which only play out in the background. Then a surprise revelation to everyone concerned brings many more issues into play.

Through it all we are left to consider whether Mona should or will forgive Maryam and save her life. We may also want to consider what reasons there should be for Mona’s decision. The nature of forgiveness itself is never expressly stated. Instead we are focused more on the pragmatic, cultural, and economic issues at play. But in one of the entertainment interruptions to the show, a famous movie star comes on to read a poem in celebration of Yalda. Before reading the poem she tells the viewers, “Yalda means that life is short, that the extra minutes we share together are cause for celebration.” While that may seem extraneous to the negotiations taking place over Maryam’s life, it serves to speak to the value of life—each moment of life. That in itself may be a reason for any of us to consider the value of forgiveness in our lives.

Yalda, A Night of Forgiveness is available on virtual cinema through local arthouses.

Photos courtesy of Film Movement.

The Keeper -Finding Forgiveness

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Based on a true story, The Keeper, from director Marcus H Rosenmüller, is the story of a German POW who in the post-war years becomes one of the most famous football (soccer to Americans) players in England. Along the way the story looks the difficulty of forgiving both our enemies and ourselves. And there’s a love story.

Bert Trautmann (David Kross) is a German paratrooper who fought most of the war in Poland, earning an Iron Cross. Late in the war, he’s captured by the British and placed in a POW camp in Lancashire. Because he volunteered for the German army and was well decorated, he gets some pretty nasty jobs in the camp. After the war, the POWs were kept there for some time until repatriation could happen.

One day when Jack Friar (John Henshaw) and his daughter Margaret (Freya Mavor) deliver goods to the camp, Friar sees Trautmann tending goal as the prisoners play football. He is exceptional. Friar is the manager of a local football club that is in dire need of improvement. He arranges to have Trautmann work for him so he can use him as a goalie in upcoming matches. The team prospers, and just about the time Trautmann is due to return to Germany, the manager of the Manchester City club offers him a tryout. Around this same time, Trautmann and Margaret marry. (The love story takes up most of the first half of the film.)

It is not easy for a former Nazi to be accepted either by teammates or fans. The issue was multiplied when he began playing in Manchester, which had a sizable Jewish population. In time, a rabbi who had fled Germany wrote an open letter saying that we shouldn’t judge on what we presume, but judge each by their merit. That let Trautmann find some acceptance, and his exceptional play led the team to more victories—eventually winning the FA Cup—a match in which Trautmann played the last 15 minutes with a broken neck.

The film, as is often the case with sports stories, deals with adversity, perseverance, and heroics. But it is also a love story, and that adds another dimension. In fact, this is more love story than sports story. But the issues of adversity, perseverance, and heroics are just as important in that part of the story.

Through the first half of the film, the adversity has to do with Trautmann’s past as a German soldier, and the perception others had of him. As one character tells him, “To me and everyone around me, you’re still the enemy.” Margaret was just as set against Trautmann as everyone else. But as she got to know him, and saw within him someone who had dreams and fears like everyone else, she softened to him.

Later in the film, other problems arise that test Trautmann individually, and him and Margaret as a couple. We learn in bits and pieces through the film some of the ghosts and guilt that haunt Trautmann. Just as Margaret, then fans had to come to term with how they viewed Trautmann’s past, so must he. Often it is much more difficult to forgive oneself that to find forgiveness in others.

There is an interesting side note in this film for people familiar with Christian hymnody (at least for non-British people). In the scene leading up to the famous championship game, we hear the crowd singing “Abide with Me”. It turns out that that is a tradition for the FA Cup Finals dating back to 1927. (I’ve yet to find an explanation.) It seems a strange song to sing prior to a sports match, given that it is a song asking for God’s presence at the time of death. The song is sung again at the end of the film. While the song is included mostly for its association to football, it also fits well at the end of the film because death crops up at various times in the film, as it does throughout our lives. It is a nice reminder of our need for God’s presence, not only when “fast falls the eventide”, but always.

The Keeper is opening in theaters (where open) and on virtual cinema through local arthouses.

Photos courtesy of Beta Cinema.

6.01 The Outer Reaches of the Inner Soul in AD ASTRA

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In the Season Premiere (and our 99th episode!) of SF Radio, we venture into the deepest regions of the solar system to talk about AD ASTRA. Starring Brad Pitt, AD ASTRA takes place in the near future and tells the story of Roy McBride, an astronaut who remains fearless when faced with the most impossible of situations, yet terrified to deal with his own issues. When the military enlists Roy to travel to Neptune to discover the source behind dangerous electrical pulses that threaten the universe, he is up for the task. However, when he also discovers that his father—who abandoned their family when he was very young—may be involved, Roy is forced to grapple with his own feelings of anger and hurt in the process. This week on the show, ScreenFish veterans Matthew Cimone and podcaster David Peck join us to talk about dealing with letting go of our anger, losing (and maybe reclaiming wonder) and the power of relationships. 

You can also stream the episode above on podomatic, Alexa (via Stitcher), Spotify or Soundcloud! Or, you can download the ep on Apple Podcasts or Google Play!

Want to continue to conversation at home?  Click the link below to download ‘Fishing for More’ — some small group questions for you to bring to those in your area.

6.01 Ad AstraDownload

Genius Ep. 5 – A Tangled Web

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(National Geographic/Dusan Martincek)

“Of all the mysteries for me, people are the hardest to fathom.”

If there’s been one major revelation from the Genius series thus far (NatGeo, Tuesdays 9 PM/8 CT), it’s that Albert Einstein (Johnny Flynn) has a brilliant mind yet struggles with understanding others.  There are strained relationships all over the place—teachers, colleagues, even his own wife.  In the fifth episode, Einstein’s circle widens to include a new cast of characters who provide additional depth and complexity to the story.  But the same issues from his past continue to plague him.

The episode is broken into three interwoven sections. One continues to follow Einstein’s quest of becoming famous through his research and teaching.  Einstein’s not a great lecturer, but when he skips the formalities of academia, he flourishes.  His general relativity theory has become well-known and he jumps from university to university across Europe, spending time with other important scientists and researchers.  His role of a patent clerk is now but a distant memory. He’s warned by Max Planck (Ralph Brown) to not ruffle feathers in the scientific community, but Einstein doesn’t seem to care.  Pride goes before destruction, and that may or may not be the case here (see Proverbs 16:18).

A second section chronicles his marital relationship with Mileva (Samantha Colley).  Not acknowledging her role in his scientific research seems to have triggered a poisonous atmosphere at home (not that it was great to start with). Mileva is genuinely unhappy in the relationship, as her dreams of fame have been reduced to cooking, cleaning, and taking care of their two kids. When she has a conversation with Marie Curie (Klara Issova) about science, a real sense of joy exudes from her.  But there is a palpable distance between her and Albert, causing her to become almost paranoid about what he’s doing and the mail he receives.  Albert knows there’s a problem as well and discusses it with his mother and cousin Elsa (Gwendolyn Ellis).  This leads to Albert and Elsa taking a stroll in the woods, then sharing a romantic kiss.  By running away from his problems at home, he’s only creating more in the long run.  Asking for forgiveness is a difficult thing to do, but is incredibly important for healing (see James 5:16).

(National Geographic/Dusan Martincek)

The final portion of the episode revolves around Eduard, Einstein’s second son (Caspar Griffiths). He’s in a mental hospital as a young adult, having jumped out of a window.  Carl Jung (Rod Hallet) talks to him while there and gets Eduard to reveal that he hates Albert.  Perhaps there will be an attempt at forgiveness and reconciliation between the two in a future episode.  Basically, Einstein needs to stop being so egocentric and become humble for a good while.  But will he actually do it?

Albert must make a decision that will affect his career and family in a multitude of ways as the credits roll.  A solitary rose will provide the answer.

How the Shack Wrestles with the Problem of Evil (and You Should, Too)

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A decade ago, I read Paul Young’s novel The Shack, and became intrigued by what I might ask God if I were face-to-face with the Almighty Creator of the Universe. If we’re honest with ourselves, seeing loved ones suffer and die is often the greatest challenge to our faith. For Young, the story revolved around a middle-aged father of three, who loses his youngest daughter to murder and finds himself revisiting the crime scene at the invitation of God. While this story was fascinating to me in its exploration of the problem of evil and forgiveness on many levels, I filed it away as something akin to C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia or J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, with less fantasy elements. But I walked away wrestling with how I could better to forgive, and how personal a relationship God longs for with us.

This week, as The Shack hits theaters (thanks to the backing of Lionsgate) and I find myself again standing in the middle of a conversation about Young’s ideas about God. For some, it’s an epic story of incarnational love; for others, it’s an inadequate picture of God that falls into the realm of heresy. And, while I first read the novel at the request of others, I find myself asked personally and professionally to weigh in on what I think about the cinematic version of The Shack.

So I did something I never do: I watched The Shack twice in three days, taking deliberate notes and mulling over the theology that the film proposes. (My initial review is here at ChristianCinema.com.) Here is my humble ‘take’ on the film for those who question its worth and for those seeking a pastoral, theological take. A disclaimer: this should be considered to contain spoilers about the plot of the film. I encourage you to see the movie (and/or read the novel) first.

The Introduction to the Story of Mack Phillips

Creatively rendered, the film starts with Willie (Tim McGraw) narrating the early childhood of Mack Phillips (Sam Worthington as an adult). We see that Mack’s father is an elder in his local church, but he’s also an alcoholic who is abusive to both Mack and his mother. Setting the stage for a later visual depiction of God as a large African American woman, Mack’s only ‘advocate’ in the early stages is a neighbor (played by Octavia Spencer, who also plays ‘Papa’) who shows him love, tells him to talk to God who is “always listening,” and comforts him by saying, “Daddy’s aren’t supposed to do that to their kids; it ain’t love.” This humble, patient faith is showed in opposition to Mack’s father, who beats his son outside while a storm rages, forcing him to repeat Colossians 3:20 (“Obey your parents in everything so that it pleases the Lord“) while his mother looks on.

As Mack loads his father’s alcohol with rat poison, penning a note asking that one day he be forgiven, Willie’s voice-over says, “Pain has a way of twisting us up inside and making us do the unthinkable. The secrets we keep have a way of clawing their way to the surface.” Ironically, this is an important plot point that I didn’t remember as I watched the film – and which I know many don’t recall in examining the story later.  Still, it’s an important idea to the main thrust of the film in that it set the stage for a lifetime of guilt and sadness over the way a worldview has been determined by Mack’s abusive father and the actions Mack takes to set that world right.

Fast-forward thirty years, and we find Mack on a camping trip with his children. We’re told that Mack’s wife knows God and calls him Papa; Mack relates better to an understanding of God reflected in the stain-glassed window depicting an old man with a big white beard. And then the Great Sadness falls on Mack’s family, as his daughter is kidnapped (and presumed murdered) by a serial killer. We don’t see Mack’s whole life fall apart, but we know he becomes partially estranged from his wife and kids before God sends him a note, inviting him to the place where his daughter Missy was killed.

Dealing with the Problem of Evil, Suffering, and Pain

In the shack, Mack meets Papa (Octavia Spenser), Jesus (Aviv Alush), and Sarayu (Sumire). Over the course of the next few days, Mack interacts with the three persons of the Trinity together and separately, each member of the Trinity conversing with Mack about the same thing but in different ways. All of them recognize that he is deeply wounded by the loss of his daughter; all of them recognize that he blames God for her murder. With that in mind, consider the conversations below – and recognize that cinematically, they are displayed against the movement of Mack’s exploration of the shack (especially the kitchen where Papa cooks), the lake where Jesus’ fishes and woodworks, and Sarayu’s garden.

The first remarkable comments occur when Mack and Papa bake together, as we might imagine that little Mack baked with the neighbor who taught him the goodness of God.

Mack: You’re wearing a dress. I always pictured you with a white beard.

Papa: I think that’s Santa. After what you’ve been through, I didn’t think you could handle a father right now.

Right away, the issues for some are raised because we’re addressing that God the Father appears as a woman. (Never mind that he will later appear as a Native American man!) For some, the endangerment to their understanding of God’s gender is problematic, and the rest of the film/novel is lost to them. [Please don’t be one of those people!] Instead of dwelling on the depiction of God the Father on screen – which doesn’t seem any less creative than the Sunday School posters we have hanging around our churches of Jesus as an Anglo-Saxon man – let’s focus on what comes next, as Mack and Papa discuss the problem of evil.

Papa: You may not believe it but I am especially fond of you. I want to heal that wound that has grown inside of you that is between us. There are no easy answers that will take your pain away. Life takes a bit of time and a lot of relationships.

Mack: You’re the almighty God, right? You know everything. You’re everywhere at once. You have limitless power. Yet, somehow, you let my little girl die when she needed you most. You abandoned her.

Papa: I never left her.

Suddenly, any misconceptions anyone had about the sheer ‘entertainment value’ of the film have been cleared up, right? But this isn’t a pop culture take on Trinitarian values and the problem of evil, there’s some thought out progression as it continues.

Mack: If you are who you say you are, where were you when I needed you?

Papa: When all you see is your pain, you lose sight of me.

Mack: Stop talking in riddles. How can you say you’ll help me when you couldn’t help her.

Papa: The truth sets everyone free. Truth has a name and he’s over in his woodshed right now covered in sawdust.

Mack: You left him too. Seems like you have a track record, turning your back on those you supposedly love. He said, My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?

Papa: You misunderstand the mystery [Papa shows Mack the nail mark in her/his wrist]. Don’t ever think that what my son chose to do didn’t cost us both differently. Love always leaves a mark. We were there together. I never left him, I never left you, I never left Missy.

The flashing lights and sirens you see and hear are the sounds of critics screaming that this is a brand new case of modalism (or Patripassianism if they can pronounce it). Modalism says that the three members of the Trinity (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) aren’t really different persons but rather three different perceptions an individual has of God and there are no substantial differentiations one can make of the three. This is because of the mark God the Father/Papa has on one wrist – failing to recognize the differences between the persons Young and the film’s screenwriters present the Trinity with. They couldn’t be more individual if they tried!

What one might instead see is that the Father’s empathy – an aspect the film is carefully trying to boldly proclaim – is strong and that sending Jesus to die on the cross was not done lightly or without cost to Him. This further accents the efforts Papa makes to help Mack understand how Papa feels the pain of losing Missy. Rather than causing me consternation theologically, I hear echoes of the popular poem “Footprints in the Sand” where the author clearly goes out of her way to show how God is with us even when we can’t see it. Again, the script isn’t focused on explaining the mystery of the Trinity three-in-one but in showing us how God worked to “crawl into life” (an explanation from the book, or the Incarnation!) with us.

At this point in the film, Mack isn’t ready to accept or acknowledge what Papa is trying to communicate because his pain is still unresolved, understandably. But he joins the Trinity for dinner. There, he sees the way that the Trinity longs to be in conversation, and he recognizes that he is in community.

Investigating Sin and God’s Wrath

Mack asks Papa, “Is there anyone you’re not especially fond of?” and suddenly the two are knee-deep in a conversation about the “Old Testament God” that Mack is still wrapped around. Rather than trying extricate the two, the dialogue picks up where the dough-threading conversation left off: Papa doesn’t need to stress punishment when he’s still trying to explain grace.

Papa admits that he gets angry with his children (“because what parent doesn’t”) but downplays wrath. Instead, he sounds a lot like Romans 6:23 (“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord”) when Papa says, “I don’t need to punish people. Sin is its own punishment. I’m in the middle of everything you see to be amiss, working for your good. That’s what I do.” [We just heard Romans 8:28, too, didn’t we? “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”) Later on in the film, Papa will tell Mack that “no one gets away with anything,” answering another criticism – that The Shack doesn’t deal with sin in a traditional way, or allow for punishment for sin.

And then we get this gem from Papa in response to Mack’s claims that Papa can’t be working good while allowing suffering to occur, “You’re trying to make sense of your world based on a very incomplete picture. The real underlying flaw in your life is that you don’t think I’m good. I am, and if you knew me and how much I love you, even when you don’t understand, you would know that I’m at work in your life for your good, and you’d trust me.” But Mack’s response is straight pain: “My daughter’s dead. There’s nothing that you can say that will ever justify what happened to her.”

For someone who interacts with people wrestling with their grief, pain, shame, and anger on nearly a daily basis, I can assure you that their struggle is greater in dealing with the problem of evil and God’s grace than Patripassianism…

The Spirit Interlude

Immediately after this exchange, Sarayu leads Mack into her garden, showing that she’s connected with Papa but approaching Mack’s distrust from a different perspective: “Just to be clear, we’re not justifying anything, we’re trying to heal it.” She explains how some of the the things growing in the garden are harmful but balanced with something else growing in the garden, they provide healing. While we’re not shown a glorious metaphorical apple, we might hear inklings of Genesis 2:15-17: “The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.” Not everything in the Garden is for Mack, but everything in the Garden has a purpose (or, some might say, is good).

Sarayu debates Mack over what “good” is – he’s very practical about his approach but not very nuanced. Sarayu tells Mack that his approach is many more people than he ever imagined. Sarayu pushes back, “So pretty much you’re the judge? Have you ever been wrong or changed your opinion over time? There are billions like you, [clashing and warring] determining what is good and evil because all insist on playing God. You weren’t meant to do that on your own. This was always meant to be a conversation between friends.” Sarayu’s ‘take’ is less aggressive but more soulful, more spiritual – not unintentionally. But then we get the follow-up to a discussion Mack had previously begun with Jesus.

Jesus & the Rowboat

Earlier that day – although time is fairly obtuse on screen – Mack and Jesus spend some time together near the lake. In one of the more informative dialogues, Mack admits he’s more comfortable with Jesus than the other two members of the Trinity even as he’s growing to realize they’re all connected. Jesus’ response: “I’m the best way to relate to Papa and Sarayu. When you see me, you see them. Sarayu is creativity, the breath of life, my Spirit. We want to be in relationship with you. You are in the center of our love and purpose.” He goes on to tell Mack that he wants everyone to have a relationship with Papa, that it’s his purpose to point toward Papa.

Later, as we revisit images that one can find in Matthew 14, as Peter tries to extend his faith in a physical way, Mack flees a sinking rowboat into the hands of Jesus, who tells him, “Trust me, none of this can hurt you. Keep your eyes on me.” Interspersed with powerful visuals involving walking (or running) on water, the two discuss how Jesus isn’t concerned with rules, working on being a good Christian, or religion. This is the ultimate debate not everyone will like because it’s the debate religious leaders haven’t liked since the time Jesus showed up teaching in the synagogue. It’s the argument Jesus presented for his gospel in John 3, about being born again and accepting God’s love for the world instead of focusing on law-following and sin-counting.

The Cave of Wisdom

Then the film gets really interesting, as Mack explores Young’s version of the Cave of Evil from Dagoba in The Empire Strikes Back. Instead of encountering some twisted version of himself, Mack meets Sophia, or Wisdom, personified. Sophia tells him that the day is full of serious consequences involving judgment; she accuses him of believing that God isn’t good.

Sophia: Today, you are the judge. Why are you surprised? You’ve spent your whole life judging everyone and everything, their actions and motivations, like you could really know them. You make snap judgments about them, from the color of their skin, their clothes, their body language. By all accounts, you are well-practiced expert. [Sophia then lists several types of people (murderers, drug dealers, terrorists, abusive spouses, etc.) and asks if they deserve hell.] What about the man who preys on innocent little girls? Is that man guilty? What about his father who twisted him? Doesn’t the legacy of brokenness go the whole way back to Adam? And what about God? Isn’t he at fault? He set this all in motion, especially if he knew the outcome?

Mack: Do you want me to say it? Absolutely. God is to blame.

Sophia: If it’s so easy for you to judge God, you must choose one of your children to spend eternity in heaven. The other will go to hell. I am only asking you to do something you believe God does.

Mack: It isn’t fair. I can’t. Take me. I’ll go instead of them. I’ll take their place. You take me. You leave my kids alone and you take me.

Sophia: Mackenzie, you’ve judged your children worthy of love even if it costs you everything. Now you know Papa’s heart.

Mack: I don’t understand how God could have loved Missy and put her through so much horror. She was innocent. Did he use her to punish me, because that’s not fair. She didn’t deserve it. Now I might, because…

Sophia: Is that how your God is? God’s not like that. This was not God’s doing. He doesn’t stop a lot of things that cause him pain. What happened to Missy was the work of evil and no one in your world is immune from it. You want the promise of a pain-free life. There isn’t one. As long as there’s free will … evil can find a way in.

Mack: There’s got to be a better way.

Sophia: There is, but the better way involves trust.

At this point in the film, as a father and a pastor, I am completely stunned. (Remember, it’s been a decade since I read the dialogue in the novel.) We humans spend the majority of our day judging others, from what they wear, to how they talk, to who they marry, to what they believe. And in this interplay between Sophia and Mack, all of our judgments of others are laid bare. Again, The Shack puts free will and the problem of evil at front and center of a fictional story, which in my mind, is a genius move blending fiction with the inner wrestling of the soul.

I could go on, and ruin the final fourth of the film. But I won’t do that. I will point out that the production team behind the film chose to focus on the theological change that takes place in the heart of Mack versus the blockbuster ending that wraps up the story of Missy’s killer in the book. But they are all plot points along Mack’s journey, not theological explorations that demand our attention if we’re going to “get” The Shack.

So What’s the Point?

The Shack has its root in Paul Young’s experience of abuse within a religious culture, and his wife’s recognition that writing down his story in fictional form would provide a powerful catharsis for Young and those who would read it. Ultimately, this is about recognizing the beauty and power of God even in the midst of our suffering, and about what forgiveness looks like when we extend it to ourselves. That’s the point of The Shack.

While we struggle with what it means to be human, and what it means for God to be omniscient, omnipotent, omni – everything and for us to have free will, The Shack shows up creatively and asks us to consider all of those ideas in the form of an Everyman. With the Everyman character in Mack, we’re able to see sin play out in his personal decisions and in what’s happened to him, and the way that God’s grace is absolutely overwhelming. It’s a parable, a fable, a metaphor for God’s unrelenting heart.

But if I’m going to push this point further, about what we can learn from The Shack and other narratives like it, it’s this: we must be aware that God’s grace and providence will strip our understanding of what God is in the world. If we are inclined to believing that we’re supposed to be seeking discussions that point people toward God, then The Shack is a decent place to start – especially if the person has questions about suffering, evil, pain, sin, forgiveness… Or to put it another way, John Wesley urged his hearers to “plunder the Egyptians,” and make use of any means possible to promote the gospel!

While critics have proposed The Shack lacks is a complete understanding of the Trinity or of salvation, they fail to understand the historical record of the Gospels (not to mention Jesus’ tangle with the Pharisees). Jesus forgave sins even if the person didn’t confess their sins (Luke 5:17-39), and healed without an acknowledgment of his Godhead (John 5:1-11); he told a story about God as a woman searching her house for a lost coin (Luke 15:8-10). Somehow, the power of the gospel exhibited in Jesus’ life exceeded a protracted dialogue about how the Trinity worked, or how repentance and atonement should be extricated from the story. It’s what made him butt heads with the Pharisees who wanted to say that they had a limited/exclusive take on how God worked! And yet, seeing the big picture through the lens of the cross, we can appreciate the power of God’s movement in each of those stories, and other incomplete/inadequate stories that still reflect the gospel’s light.

I’d propose we allow the same for The Shack. With discernment and grace, we might learn something about ourselves through the wonderful providence of God’s inspiration.

Longmire: Forgiveness & Other Socially Conscious Discussions

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Longmire: Season Four is one of the best shows I’ve watched this year. While Quantico and Blindspot have the splashiest ad spots, Netflix’s latest pickup quietly dominates with action, team dynamics, and socially-conscious issues about what it means to be human in today’s ever-changing landscape. Robert Taylor stars as Sheriff Longmire, the taciturn leader of the Absaroka County, Wyoming, sheriff’s department, constantly seeking what it means to be strong yet compassionate, just yet peaceful, and, ultimately, responsible for the people under his care.

While A&E neglected to renew the cowboy/detective show for a fourth season, Netflix was happy to shell out the paychecks for the cast. The season opens with the death of one of the first three seasons’ main cast members, leading to the explosive action of the first story arc. I don’t want to give too much away about the ever-changing dynamics inside the sheriff’s office, because you should start with the first season. But the social issues raised throughout the fourth season? Longmire has no comparison, unless you consider the nightly news.

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This season, Longmire tackles the aftershocks decades later from Japanese internment camps inside the United States, while the country is torn apart in the real world by discussions about immigration and refugees.

In several episodes, the show highlights the needs of our military veterans and the shortcomings of the system to help them emotionally, mentally, and medically, with an in-depth look at the veterans, their families, and those who try to provide them with care.

In another episode, Longmire and his daughter Cady (Cassidy Freeman) struggle with a case involving the rape of a Native American girl off of the reservation. When it’s discovered that she’s been raped, there’s a struggle to prove it because of the lack of medical supplies, and a strong conversation about white privilege ensues. You’ll have a hard time believing in ‘justice for all’ by the time you’re done with that episode, for sure.

All of these socially conscious issues are discussed while Longmire struggles to move forward after the ‘resolution’ of his wife’s murder. How does he, as a widower and still mixed up in grief, develop relationships? His deputy, Vic Moretti (Katee Sackhoff) is certainly interested; Longmire’s interest in a psychiatrist (Ally Walker) is complicated.

And then there’s forgiveness.

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Walt has a plenty of guilt and grief to wrestle with in every season, but he struggles with a shooting early on in the season that stretches throughout. When is it okay for him to kill someone? When is peace no longer an option for his role as sheriff when it comes to protecting others or even himself? What shooting would be preemptive, reactive, or justified? Cady and Henry Standing Bear (Lou Diamond Phillips) have their own desires for justice, and they parallel the dynamics waging war in Walt Longmire’s soul.

That’s the beauty of the show: it’s not just internal monologues or strained looks, but the story lines reflect the internal situations. Longmire’s internal struggle with forgiving others and himself is reflected in the case of the Japanese internment camp, in the other characters struggle to accept the death of one of their friends, and in the episode “Highway Robbery.” Walt Longmire is an every man, more stoic than House, but also more willing to grow, too. He’s wrestling with the new world order, the casino’s arrival in his county, but he’s also wrestling with the recognition that he can’t give up on life just because all he cared about has been lost.

Honestly, if you’re looking for something to binge on over Christmas break, you would do well to check out Longmire. It’s consistently entertaining, and it will challenge you to consider how you live and grow in your community, as a member of the global community. We’re responsible for each other, whether we like it or not.