“Christian theology does not belong solely in the circle of people who are ‘insiders.’ It belongs just as much to the people who feel that they are ‘outside the gate.’”
-Jürgen Moltmann, Experiences in Theology
For the majority of those who descend upon Park City every January, the Sundance Film Festival is first and foremost a celebration of the best of independent (and sometimes not-so-independent) film. Yet, for a number of filmmakers and filmgoers, this unassuming ski-town becomes the locus for something far more significant – a public space for engaging in meaningful conversations about our innermost longings, our quest for wholeness and reconciliation in the face of tragic violence, and, ultimately, those profound and deep-lived experiences that shape us into fully-orbed human beings.
Of course, in the context of an independent film festival, the concrete point of departure for this public discourse is a particular set of films that are likely to never grace the screens of the local multiplex. In years past, the films that have premiered at Sundance have not only remained faithful to the dark and gritty aesthetic of independent film, but they have also reflected an increasing concern with ultimate questions, spirituality, and even the “transcendent” – however diffuse and ill-defined these terms may be in the contemporary lexicon. Yet, perhaps more so than at any other point in the festival’s brief history, the selection of films at the 2011 festival did more than explore the possibility of a general spirituality or the depths of our basic humanity. Rather, numerous films (and by extension, numerous filmmakers) were specifically concerned with the value, purpose, and significance of the Christian faith.
Some films, such as The Ledge and Salvation Boulevard, were intentionally critical and, at times, overtly antagonistic toward Christianity and its adherents (especially the Evangelical stream of the Christian tradition). But at this year’s festival, these films seemed to be in the minority, for an overwhelming number of feature-length narratives, short films, and documentaries approached Christianity in a nuanced, affirming, and even deferential manner. For example, in her directorial debut, Higher Ground, Vera Farmiga explores what it means to be a hoping/doubting/thinking/searching/fractured/genuine person of faith. Rather than offering us a caricature of Christianity, Farmiga paints an honest and heartfelt portrait one woman’s struggle to embrace the faith (and the faith community) that both troubles and inspires her. As she suggested in the post-screening Q & A, her film is not about the abandonment of faith, nor is it a wholesale critique of Christianity. Rather, it is a film about ridding oneself of an impoverished faith.
In a similar vein, both The Redemption of General Butt Naked and Kinyarwanda explore the ambiguities of living as a person of faith in a world of senseless violence and brutality. Both films are not only harrowing depictions of the many atrocities that human beings are capable of perpetrating upon one another, but they are also extended reflections on the “impossible possibility” of reconciliation and at-one-ment – shalom amidst the strife. By underscoring the scandalous nature of forgiveness and the central role that it plays among those who identify themselves as followers of Christ, these films force us to ask the question of what we can truly forgive. What does it mean to forgive someone who has inflicted wounds that are seemingly too deep to heal? What does it look like for the oppressed to not only live at peace with their oppressors, but to genuinely seek their welfare? Is this kind of reconciliation even possible? Or is the very notion of forgiveness a little too easy – a convenient but ultimately unsatisfying alternative to real absolution, real retribution, real justice?
As these and numerous other films suggest, theology does indeed belong to those who consider themselves “outside the gate.” Or, to use one of the central metaphors from Higher Ground, constructive theological work is being done in the contemporary world, not just inside the church, but “outside with the dogs.” And the Sundance film festival stands as a yearly testament to this reality.
Yet, if this is truly the case, then the real question becomes, not how the Christian community might simply appropriate or leverage this theology-on-the-margins, but how we might learn from it. The Spirit of God is always already in conversation with contemporary persons, breathing life into the various practices and cultural forms that have come to define the world in which we live and move and have our being. But do we have the ears to hear and the eyes to see? Are we listening, looking, and discerning? Is there truly a “higher ground” upon which we might engage in a life-giving dialogue with our contemporaries – a shared space that allows for the development of a more robust theological awareness? Or is the very idea of public theology something of a farce – a fanciful but essentially unhelpful form of true theological work?
In the days following Sundance, these are the questions that continue to captivate my theological imagination. For those of you who were also at Sundance, how have these films, these filmmakers, and the public nature of the film festival itself expanded or enlarged your understanding of who God is and who God’s people are? And ultimately, in what ways (if any) has Sundance enriched your understanding of how God is already present, active, and speaking among those who feel that they are “outside the gate?”