Of Hunchbacks and Atheists

Watching Theology May 30th, 2007

I skipped church again. It wasn't intentional this time, just that sort of thing that happens when you're really exhausted, just too far spent to wake up in time. Then there's that temptation of quietness "“ that two hours of having the house to yourself that hasn't happened in ages. It's sanctuary, and isn't that what church is supposed to offer anyway?

In recent months it's become much easier to take atheists seriously. Back in the good old days, when I saw God under every political problem in Israel, every found dollar bill, every moment of coincidence, it was simpler. Atheists were idiots "“ the kind of people who actually said in their hearts, "There is no God." They believed in impossibilities like the dawn of life from chemical reactions. They believed in good moral action for goodness' sake. They believed in unbelief, like it was the only way to be objective and honest. They believed in cavemen.

Atheists don't seem as stupid as they used to. There are times when a person can be tempted to join their team, or at least their amateur farm club, the agnostics. The world is this strange combination of arbitrary fortune and tragedy, like a Monopoly game that is pretty much decided by who gets Boardwalk and who gets Baltic Avenue. Being born in the United States tends to increase your chances at fortune. Emerging from the womb into Haiti greatly reduces it.

In the film Winter Light, Ingmar Bergman explores a pastor's loss of faith. There isn't any single event that leads to his atheism, simply a culmination of natural explanations. It's God's silence "“ His ability to remain hidden in the chaos and normality. Even among the trappings of a religious life, God's hiddenness makes it possible to switch perspectives on the world. And so, by uttering that familiar phrase, "My God, why hast thou forsaken me," Bergman's pastor moves from faith to faithlessness. To him, it's a great freedom, to be free of God's presence, to be free from having to interpret life and its horrors, defending God's apparent lack of concern. It makes you wonder why more pastors haven't switched teams (or perhaps they have).

But another character in the film, a hunchback named Algot, still believes. Even though every day in his life is filled with suffering, even though he's serving a pastor who has lost his faith, Algot still believes. He reads the gospels and sees in Christ's suffering something different. He sees Christ's identity with humanity and it drives this crippled servant to strength. Algot's strength, as humble and imperfect as it is, outshines the pastor's liberation. As convincing as the pastor's outlook is, as closely as it describes the world around us, there's something truer and more accurate about Algot's belief. The pastor seemed right until Algot starting talking.

I don't mean to skip church, but it gets easier as the world seems more naturalistic. It is now possible to go days without hearing or seeing God in any conversation, without a hint of the supernatural. It's possible to work weeks without hearing a single person mention God as anything other than an expletive. In fact, it's almost artificial to bring God into the conversation, and so, you begin to see life outside of church as the real world: the world where we no longer feed the old legends of Zeus and Yahweh. It's where people have become more enlightened and can admit, at least in their ability to operate without God, that they are liberated from such mythologies. Church is just a place where people live in denial.

And perhaps that's partly true.

It's easy to get lost in the greeting time, the singing of ten sentimental pop songs and the sermon on balancing your checkbook. But then, every once in a while, you hear the gospel and how God really did intrude into the world. And there's something there. Something more real than realism, more believable than naturalism. Every once in a while you meet that hunchback who sees through the easy explanations of coincidence and arbitrariness to a hazy but altogether true story of God being with us. And even in every building committee, every potluck, every set of "weaker brothers" and nagging sisters, you find great and true liberty. Occasionally you find Christ in it all, and the belief in the unbelievable puts the world back together. At least for a moment.

Joe Johnson is a graduate of Fuller Theological Seminary and currently works in the newspaper industry. Together with his wife Melissa, a recent graduate in Film Studies, he hosts the podcasts "Watching The Directors" and "Watching Theology". His blog, "Joe Versus the Volcano" explores faith and film and can be found at joevsthevolcano.blogspot.com.

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 30th, 2007 at 10:29 am and is filed under Atheism, Church, God, Winter Light. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.