I read a fantastic book over the weekend by Catholic
nun Sister Joan Chittister called “The Time is Now.” The theme of the book –
the role of the prophet in contemporary society – is one that conjures up
visions of heroic, deeply principled men and women such as Dr. Martin Luther
King, Mohandas Gandhi, and Mother Teresa of Calcutta. And while heroism and
steadfast pursuit of societal change is indeed part of the package, Chittister
rightly points out the price these people have paid in living out their
callings. King and Gandhi, of course, were assassinated. Mother Teresa was
frequently lonely; misunderstood and reviled even by those in her own religious
order, those who were theoretically “on her side.”
I think it’s worth noting that much of the
contemporary Christian Church in America is currently focused on shushing the
loudmouths. It’s up for debate, of course, whether the loudmouths should be
considered prophets. Probably they would like to be considered so. It is, after all, part of
a longstanding Jewish and Christian religious tradition, and it’s better to be
a prophet than a mere loudmouth. What is not up for debate is that some
significant portion of American Christians are offended by the loudmouths/prophets,
and invoke a whole arsenal of tried-and-true tactics – calls for unity (as if
an insistence on righteous behaviors is somehow disunifying), calls to love (as
if an insistence on righteous behaviors is unloving), calls for forbearance (as
if an insistence on righteous behaviors is impatient or inappropriate) - in the
fervent hope that the loudmouths/prophets will shut up.
One of the things that Chittister points out is that
loudmouths/prophets are most frequently opposed by people who are theoretically
part of the same team/cause. They have to learn to be proficient in taking
friendly fire and persevering anyway.
In any event, the loudmouths/prophets need to
reconcile themselves to the notion that their actions – perhaps their very
lives themselves – are worthwhile in the face of opposition and rejection. These
lives frequently look like failures, and the opponents of the loudmouths/prophets
are all too happy to brand them as such. But they are not failures. Perhaps
they look like the life of Franz Jägerstätter;
virtually unknown, certainly unheralded, the victim of a “senseless” death that
accomplished nothing except a remarkable consistency to the principles and
values to which he had sworn faithfulness.
I can’t wait to see this film.
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“Instead of battlefield valor or underground daring,
the latest film from Terrence Malick (The Tree of Life, Badlands, Days of
Heaven) is a tale of something much more difficult to emulate: goodness and
courage, without recognition. It’s about doing what’s right, even if it seems
the results hurt more than they bring good to the world. It’s set during World
War II, but our Austrian protagonist Franz Jägerstätter, based on a real-life
conscientious objector, does not save Jews from Nazis or give rousing speeches.
In the end, what he’s done counts for what seems like very little.
A Hidden Life is Malick’s most overtly political
film and one of his most religious, urgent and sometimes even uncomfortable
because of what it says — to everyone, but specifically to Christians in places
where they’re the majority — about the warp and weft of courage. It’s a film
that seems particularly designed to lodge barbs in a comfortable audience
during an era of rising white nationalism. Jägerstätter could have lived a
peaceful life if he’d simply ignored what was happening in his homeland and
been willing to bow the knee to the fatherland and its fascist leader, whose
aim is to establish the supremacy of Franz’s own people. But though it will
bring hardship to his family and the harshest of punishments to himself, he
simply cannot join the cause. The question A Hidden Life then forces us to
contemplate is an uncomfortable one: Does his life, and his death, even matter?
…
I was startled to see just how biting A Hidden Life
is, particularly toward any Christians, or others, who might prefer their
entertainment to be sentimental and comfortable. In one scene I can’t get out
of my mind, an artist painting images in the nearby church tells Franz, ‘I
paint their comfortable Christ, with a halo on his head … Someday I’ll paint
the true Christ.’ The implication is painfully clear — that religious art
prefers a Jesus who doesn’t accost one’s sensibilities, the figures who make us
feel good about ourselves. We want, as the painter puts it, to look up at the
pictures on the church’s ceiling and ‘imagine that if they lived in Christ’s
time, they wouldn’t have done what the others did’ — in other words, if we had
been around when Jesus was, we’d have known better than to execute him. When,
of course, most of us most likely would have just gone along with the crowd …
A Hidden Life is everything Malick’s devotees could
want from a movie: beautiful, poetic, hewing closely (particularly at the end)
to films like Days of Heaven and Tree of Life. His camera observes his
characters from all angles, sometimes straight on, sometimes from below,
sometimes distorted in a wide-angle lens shot close to the face, creating the
intimate feeling that we’re experiencing their interior lives rather than just
watching passively. Its end, in which Franziska anticipates meeting Franz again
— in narration that closely recalls the end of Tree of Life in particular — is
a note of hope. Malick concludes, by way of a thesis, with lines from George
Eliot’s Middlemarch:
'The growing good of the world is partly dependent
on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they
might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden
life, and rest in unvisited tombs.'
Jägerstätter’s
refusal to bow the knee looked pointless in his time, but in its own way, it
was a kind of heroic act, though not the kind that ordinarily merits the
Hollywood treatment. The things that are not so ill with us are because people
we’ll never hear about did what they had to do for people they’d never know,
and who’d never know them. A hidden life is worth living, and giving up, so
that others may live.”
- Alissa Wilkinson at Vox
- Alissa Wilkinson at Vox
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