Author: Kent

Hiroshima Mon Amour

An important theme in this movie (by Resnais, 1959) is that of remembering and forgetting – particularly, remembering and forgetting evil events and losses. This theme is developed in the context of a one-day love affair between a Japanese man who had lost his family in the Hiroshima bombing, and a French woman who had lost her first love, a German soldier killed in Nevers. These two events are on vastly different scales, but are qualitatively similar for the affected persons.

In each case, the survivor feels guilt for continuing to live, and feels a duty to remember. Love demands unending remembrance, for the greatest offense to the departed would be to forget. As noted in Ecclesiastes (e.g. 1:11; 2:16; 9:5), to be forgotten is the ultimate evil.  But our attempts to maintain the memories are never adequate. No representation or narration can do justice to the truth of the event, to the value of that which was lost. Furthermore, in opposition to this demand to remember, are the demands of life – to go on living for the future, to be liberated from the past. It is expected that a time to mourn is to be followed by a time to dance. But the heart doesn’t buy it. The mind accepts temporality, but the heart yearns for eternity.

There is thus a tension between these two necessities: to remember and to forget. To remember, so as to honor those who have died, means participating with them in death. Opposed to this is the drive to live, which demands forgetfulness. The compromise is to remember at a safe, ironic distance – the distance of representation. Such ironic detachment is pervasive in this film – in it’s screenplay, direction and music. The dilemma is to choose between denying the love and the beloved of the past, or denying any possibility of love in the present and future. Does the future necessarily dishonor the past?

The inadequacy of representational remembrance is analogous to the distinctions between Kant’s phenomena and noumena, between Heidegger’s beings and Being, and between what the author of Hebrews calls the seen and the unseen (Hebrews 11:1-3), and between earthly representations and heavenly realities. Memories fade, and representations conceal as well as reveal. 

Returning to the more specific questions addressed in Hiroshima Mon Amour, to live in memories and representations is a pale substitute for real experiential living. To truly honor the loves lost to the past, one must embrace the loves available in the present and future.  The movie suggests such a resolution in its closing lines, where the woman tells her Japanese lover: “Hi-ro-shi-ma, that’s your name.” He then replies: “It’s my name. Yes. Your name is Nevers. Ne-vers in France.” Each one accepts and embraces the indelible imprint of the past upon their partner, and because of this the new love honors the past love. Her love for him, intermingled in her thoughts with her past love for the German soldier, gives her a deeper understanding of Hiroshima than anything she had seen in the museum. Her own past love is also “remembered”, not explicitly, but in that the past is embodied in the person of the new love. This re-living of her first love surpasses its narrated objective representation, which she rationalizes as a “two-penny romance”. In all this, there is a supposition, or hope, that love has a transcendent dimension that is universal and eternal, and that every present experience of love honors what has been lost. In this, there is a hope of redemption, which is a recurring theme in all the arts, drama and literature.

For Christians, such secular hopes of the world should not be surprising, even though we know them to be false and vain. Adulterous affairs have no real redemptive value. The world fails in its attempts to remember or to find redemption. We accept the judgment of Ecclesiastes, that under the sun, all is vanity. But it is the appeal, the hope and the assurance found in scripture that there is a God who remembers and who is our Redeemer. The hopes that are of the world are false, but are nevertheless pointers towards that which is true, the substance and reality that is in Christ. It is in remembering Him, and His remembering us, that no soul is forgotten. And it is by abiding in His love, that we can live and love into the future, without dishonoring the past.

Universal Salvation, Universal Judgment

I offer here some thoughts on judgment and salvation, attempting to reconcile the concerns of universalists – pertaining mainly to God’s character – with the traditional concern to be faithful to scriptural teachings about judgment. I am convinced that this controversy has been partly resolved by the doctrine of annihilationism, or “conditional immortality”, and that a very good case has been made for that position (e.g. E. W. Fudge, J. R. Stott, and D. B. Hart). A doctrine of total destruction of the lost is much preferable to a doctrine of eternal torment, in that it is better supported by scripture, as well as fitting coherently into a systematic theology.

But annihilationism is not by itself an adequate answer; there are still legitimate remaining issues raised by the universalists. For example, there is the issue of proportionality. Is it just that a person faithful for an entire life, but committing one unrepented sin on his last day, shall be totally destroyed, while a life-long sinner can be totally saved by a death-bed prayer? Can a lifetime of faithfulness be nullified by one sin? Can a lifetime of faithlessness be overcome by mere words of faith? One might refer to the parable of the vineyard laborers (Matthew 20:1-16) to argue that human notions of proportionate rewards are misguided. But the point of that parable – that “many who are first will be last, and the last first” – is not to discredit the idea of proportionality, but to make the more general assertion that God’s evaluation criteria are different than the criteria held by human society. There are in fact many other scriptures that indicate punishments are proportionate to sins (Matthew 11:20-24), compensation depends upon deeds ( e.g. 2 Corinthians 5:10), and responsibilities in the next age are proportionate to our use of talents in this age (Matthew 25:14-28).

What I propose is that there is redemption and salvation for every element and every moment of a person’s life that is “of faith”, and a judgment of destruction against every element and every moment that is evil , i.e. “not of faith”.

Consider 1 Corinthians 3:12-15 — “Now if any man builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw, each man’s work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each man’s work. If any man’s work which he has built on it remains, he will receive a reward. If any man’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss; but he himself will be saved, yet so as through fire.”

The context for the above is the church described as a temple building. But Paul later applies the same temple metaphor to each individual Christian, and it thus seems proper to apply 3:12-15 to individuals as well as to the church. In fact, 3:15 applies most readily to an individual. It indicates that judgment is qualitatively no different than purging. It is the final and complete purge. The wood, hay and straw are the old self, in Adam, and the gold, silver and precious stones are of the new self, in Christ. For each and every individual, these two selves will have their separate destinies: the old self for destruction, the new self for salvation and life.

This can be related to Paul’s admonition in Ephesians 5:15-17 about redeeming the time, for the days are evil. Every moment of time in this evil age is by default vanity, destined for destruction. But in Christ, these moments can be redeemed. They can be saved and preserved to constitute our new self, which participates in the divine eternity.

Consider also Ephesians 6:7-8, regarding redemption of every deed that is good, that is done for the Lord: “With good will render service, as to the Lord, and not to men, knowing that whatever good thing each one does, this he will receive back from the Lord, whether slave or free.”

So the “old self”, in Adam, is universally judged. Insofar as we are in Adam, we are of the walking dead – dead in trespasses, destined for total destruction. But insofar as we are in Christ, we live, by His life in us, looking to the resurrection and new creation.

We should also incorporate the prevailing Protestant teaching that children prior to an age of accountability are covered by Christ’s sacrifice. Since their sins do not constitute willful rebellion, there is no need for deliberate repentance in order to be counted as “in-Christ”. Jesus receives the children. According to my proposed interpretation, that portion of anyone’s life is saved, but all subsequent willful sin is under judgment, and the willfully sinful self can be redeemed only by repentance. For those who do not have faith in Jesus Christ – the unrepentant – all of their being that is corrupted by willful sin shall be destroyed, and the only remainder that is redeemed and saved is that portion of the self that was in a state of childlike innocence. In the resurrection, such a person will be merely the innocent child; all the straw of adulthood will be burned.

For those who repent, the new self, born from above, takes on whatever abilities and knowledge they have at the time of repentance. Those morally neutral aspects of the person are thus “baptized” – sanctified, redeemed. This new self partakes in eternal life, and henceforth grows in maturity. This is the salvation of those who have faith in Christ. But whatever remains of the old self – the corrupted desires and the depraved mind – shall be put to death in judgment.

What about the promises of salvation to those who endure to the end, and warnings of judgment for those who do not persevere? I would suggest that the promises are that every day of faithful endurance will be rewarded, but when one falls from grace, the remaining days are forever lost. The falling away is effectually a death, but a later repentance is effectually a restoration of life. This corresponds to a branch that is broken off from the olive tree, but later grafted in (Romans 11:17-24). It is the spiritual equivalent of going into and then out of a coma.

Consider the parable of wheat and tares. The destruction of the tares must be delayed lest the wheat be uprooted. The traditional application is corporate, but I suggest that it applies also to each individual. If each one of us is a collection of tares and wheat, then it is saying that one’s death is delayed so that the growth of the new self will not be prematurely terminated, but can continue to grow and produce fruit. The result is a greater yield than if it were terminated before its time.

John therefore speaks of two resurrections: one unto judgment and one unto life. Resurrection unto judgment is for the old self, applicable to both Christians and non-Christians. Resurrection unto life is for the new, redeemed self, also applicable to both Christians and non-Christians. But the resurrected non-Christians will be mere children – a status eternally subordinate to those who had obtained some level of spiritual maturity as Christians. It is the Christians who will reign, with Christ.

The underlying ontology is that ultimate being transcends temporality in such a way that every temporal moment that is redeemed in Christ is preserved in the transcendent eternity, and is therefore reconstituted into the new self of the new creation. Each present moment has a sustained eternal reality only insofar as it is sustained in Christ, i.e. available to be united to Him — available either by innocence or by repentance. Every moment of life that is unavailable – due to willful rebellion – is unredeemed and is destined for destruction. This is a way of understanding the tenses of salvation: we have been saved, we are being saved, and we shall be saved.

There will thus be universal joy in the new creation, with nothing but gratitude for God’s judgment – gratitude for the cleansing. There will be a hierarchy determined by the spiritual state of maturity attained in this present age, but it will be joyfully accepted. It is analogous to the present acceptance within the church of varieties of gifts and ministries among diverse members. Perfected love displaces any envy or jealousy regarding various rewards.

So, all shall be judged, and all shall be saved, and all that remains – the remnant – shall rejoice. This is a fitting consummation.

Is Supersessionism Anti-Semitic?

“Do not think that I came to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I did not come to abolish but to fulfill” (Matthew 5:17). This statement from Jesus is key to understanding the relationship between the old and the new covenants. Everything associated with the old covenant is being fulfilled in the new, not abrogated. This variety of supersessionism is not primarily a matter of punitive replacement, but of fulfilling what God had intended from the beginning. There is thus no discrediting of the old, for it has successfully accomplished its limited purpose. Furthermore, its promises are still in effect, but are properly understood as applying to the remnant that accepts and follows the Messiah.

So it is the church, the body of Christ, who are the heirs of the promises and the descendants of Abraham. But the church has continuity with – and is rooted in – the Israel of the old covenant. There is one olive tree, rooted in the Jewish Messiah, which now has Gentile as well as Jewish branches. The Jews were chosen for a special mission, but their means of salvation is precisely the same as for the Gentiles: i.e. in and through the Jewish Messiah. God shows no partiality, nor should we.

If the above is a kind of “supersessionism”, then the gospel of NT scripture is supersessionist. But I think it is more precise to speak of fulfillment, wherein Jesus Christ is the only way, and in which there is no longer any distinction or partiality. To consider Jews according to the flesh as entitled to anything less, or anything more, would be clearly contrary to scripture, and would deny the fulfillment revealed in scripture.

The NT makes it clear that Jesus Christ is a stone that many will stumble over. The gospel of the cross is offensive and scandalous – understandably more so for Jews than for Gentiles. But we must not compromise this gospel to soften the scandal or to avoid offensiveness. We must not allow theology to be driven by feelings of sympathy or guilt over Jewish persecutions. We must not propose an alternative gospel for the Jews, supposing it to be an act of kindness. False words of comfort are not kind. We are rather to speak the truth, in love, just as Paul did in Romans 2-4, 9-11. It is by this that we can be true friends to the Jews. One might label the gospel as “supersessionism”, but it is not anti-Semitic.

Umberto D. – If You Want a Friend, Get a Dog

One’s initial reading of this film may see it as another critique of society’s treatment of the poor. But more thoughtful consideration reveals something deeper. Vittorio de Sica said it is about alienation and consequent loss of dignity. When directors and writers are willing to comment on the meaning of their works, we should take their comments seriously. It is good to allow an author or artist to actually communicate with us, instead of merely using their works as a springboard for our own thoughts.

The real tragedy is not Umberto’s desperate economic situation, but the fact that no one connects with him – no one understands or cares. That is, no one in a position to offer real help. He has his dog (Flike), and there is the maid in his boarding house, and he has some comaraderie with fellow pensioners and charity dependents. But those who were climbing the economic ladder were too self-absorbed to show any concern for Umberto. As James points out, we are more likely to find true friends among the poor than among the rich. (James 2:5-7).

This film was opposed by the Italian government because it appeared to be a critique of the society and the government. It was also unpopular among viewers, because it confronted them with painful issues at a time when they wanted to be optimistic, at the beginnings of an economic recovery. This surprised de Sica, because He didn’t intend it as a critique of the system, but of human nature. To put it in Christian terms, it’s not about systemic evil so much as human sinfulness.

The issue is selfishness, which divides and isolates people. It is not hate, in that there is no intended malice; but it is contrary to love in that it is preoccupied with one’s own interests, with no regard for the interests of others. The true opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. This sort of selfish striving is condemned in Ecclesiastes 4:4: “Every labor and every skill which is done is the result of rivalry between a man and his neighbor. This too is vanity and striving after wind”. This kind of evil is especially likely when a formerly oppressed people are given the opportunity for economic advancement. That was the situation of Italy in the early 1950’s, a time of recovery from the devastation of war and the prior depression. It was a similar situation for Russia in the 1990’s. Selfish materialism destroys relationships and solidarity between people, and undermines self-worth and dignity. The greatest damage to the soul is for those who are economically succeeding, like Umberto’s landlady. This film is thus a critique of a society that is striving to win the world, and is thereby losing its soul.

Natural Evil: Is It Our Fault?

Can it be that our God-given dominion over creation is retroactive?

It is widely held that answers to prayers often depend upon prior events, and that such prayers are therefore retroactive. The rationale for this is that the spiritual realm transcends space-time, and that consequences of prayer are eternal consequences, therefore extending into the past. If, then, prayer can be retroactive for good, can all human desire and intentionality be retroactively effective, for evil as well as for good?

If the cycle of life and death is the necessary means for the development of life and the evolution of species, death may be regarded as the answer to the human will for life and the will to become like god. Human sinfulness thus becomes the retroactive “cause” of all death and destruction from the beginning of creation. Natural evil is necessary for the self-determined development and hence autonomous existence of the creation, which is consequent to human willfulness. The wages of sin is death.

There is also a good side to this dominion, executed through Jesus Christ. If we accept the human Jesus as the foundation of the eternal pre-existent Logos, then all of the goodness of creation is through Him. His human will for all that is good in creation had retroactive authority, and we participate in that process when we have fellowship with Him. But He also accepted the penalty for the dark side of human will, with the wages of death. The doctrine of atonement is that our sins retroactively “caused” the death of Christ. By the same principle, our sins are at the root of all evil, for all time. On the other hand, His authority and victory depended upon the future faith and obedience of His people. It is by our faithfulness that He overcame death, and that He exercised His powers as the Son of Man. His authority is as a King who has a real kingdom, with a multitude of faithful subjects. Without the subjects, there is no King. In all of these things, we have all participated, for both good and evil.

We speak of the creation as revealing God’s attributes. But the fuller picture is that it also reveals the full scope of human nature. The analogies between the created world and human nature are not just because we are a product of the created world, but because we have placed our imprint upon all nature. The good side of this is through the incarnate Jesus Christ, thus revealing God, through the creation. The evil side is through our sins, which Paul speaks of in Romans 8:19-25. The whole creation is subjected to futility, awaiting redemption. Nature groans, and it’s our fault.

We, corporately, have thus created the world we live in, and we reap what we sow. In the present age, the wheat and tares are intermixed, and so we all share in one another’s blessings and curses. So, yes: natural evil is of human origin. In Adam, we have all had a hand in it. But the good news is that those who are in Christ also have a hand in the victory over evil – the victory over sin and death – and the consequent redemption of all creation.

The God Who Polarizes

Our present cultural and political climate is in many respects overly and detrimentally polarized. Instead of seeking a knowledge and understanding of issues, there is an unprecedented drive to spin everything into self-serving narratives and agendas. This kind of polarization, which does not value rational and civil truth-seeking, is lamentable. But there is another kind of “polarization” that is proper and plays a necessary role in realizing God’s purpose.

In the process of purification, separating good from evil, evil is not immediately destroyed, but rather becomes more concentrated and intensified. Each side of the conflict becomes more “pure” in its extremity. In refining gold, not only is the gold purified, but the slag also becomes more concentrated. This sets the stage for major battles, and therefore major victories. Genesis 1 presents this polarizing / sanctifying process as foundational to creation: the separation of light from darkness, and the separation of the waters (of chaos) from dry land.

God’s actions against evil generally provoke a response of intensified evil. Things must get worse before they can get better. For example, Moses’s initial confrontations with Pharaoh resulted in greater oppression for the Hebrews. Pharaoh’s army was eventually enticed into a final assault, in which they were decisively destroyed. When God gave His people the Torah, Sin became utterly sinful, before Torah could have its fulfillment in Messiah, at the height of “polarization”.

As a general principle, the full measure of God’s wrath must be filled before the day of judgment. At that time, as the wisdom literature teaches, those who dig a pit will fall into it. In like manner, whenever Christians oppose evil, they are likely to provoke persecution, and the consequences will be that our enemies incur greater judgment.

There are times when we are to be a force for peacemaking and reconciliation – when engaging those who respect truth. But there are other times when we must not shy away from the battle, when faithfulness to truth will be inevitably provocative. The word of truth is a sword of judgment when engaging those who are defiantly committed to self-deception. To refuse this duty to confront darkness with light and to bear the brunt of the counter-attacks – to shy away from “polarization” – is to be lukewarm. In that, our Lord takes no pleasure.

Is the Lord’s Supper a Sacrament?

I have a problem with the term “sacrament”, in that it suggests a means for making Christ objectively “present”. I also have a problem with “ordinance”, because it suggests something merely expressive, rather than effectual and transformative. Regarding the Lord’s Supper, the issue is how and in what manner does Christ become present.

I think it best to say that He is always fully objectively and ontologically present. What is special about the Lord’s Supper is that it is a means for Him to become subjectively and psychologically present – for us to acknowledge Him, by remembering Him. It is a means of relational engagement, for us to become responsive to the One who is always there, who is always available. God has already done everything possible for reconciliation. The remaining relational deficiency is totally within us. It is a subjective deficiency, requiring a subjective solution. The purpose of the Lord’s Supper is therefore to make Christ subjectively present.

In this sense, it is an ordinance, but it is an effectual ordinance. When we draw near to Him, He draws near to us (Jas. 4:8). This is the main point of the Lord’s Supper, as well as baptism, and all other forms of worship. I think it best then to regard the Lord’s Supper, and baptism, as dramatic prayers, by which we draw near. These may therefore be regarded as “sacraments” in that they are truly effectual — but effectual in the same way that prayer is effectual, no more and no less.

Giving Transcendence its Due

I think many issues arise mainly because transcendence is widely under-appreciated. A particular issue that has recently caught my attention is the supposed heresy of “adoptionism”. One place this comes up is in Hebrews 1:2-5; 5:1-10. Christ, as Son of God, was the agent of creation, from the beginning; yet He was appointed and begotten when He ascended to the right hand of the Majesty. These are the two sides of the paradox of the eternal pre-existing Son of God / Logos, who was also appointed and begotten after His resurrection, due to His obedience (or, alternatively, at His baptism). In order to preserve His full eternal deity, such adoptionistic statements are traditionally interpreted to mean merely His manifestation and revelation as the Son and the King, or the accomplishment of His specifically soteriological mission. I propose it is better to give full weight to both sides of this paradox, and not try to reconcile them within an analytical system of thought.

When speaking of deity, we are attempting to talk about that which transcends space and time. All analytical / conceptual thought, which depends upon space-time metaphors, is therefore inadequate. Any attempt to analytically reconcile such paradoxes will severely and unnecessarily distort the truths that are revealed in the simple assertion of the paradox. It is better to simply accept and embrace such paradoxes. We should consider eternity as including and embracing temporality, in that it transcends the conceptual distinction between eternity and temporality.

The particular paradox of eternal sonship being qualified by incarnation was addressed by Robert Jenson, in saying there is no Logos asarkos. The eternal Son, from the beginning, is founded upon the temporal life of Jesus of Nazareth. By extension, the entire creation, from the beginning, is in some sense causally dependent upon his life as a man. We should give full weight to this bottom-up Christology, and not compromise it for the sake of top-down Christology. I think this was an important point in Pannenberg’s theology. To honor what is revealed, we must fully accept each side of this paradox as equally valid partial truths. To do otherwise would compromise the full truth.

Another application of temporal transcendence is the doctrine of justification. Justification in the present is based on a future completed lifetime of faithfulness. This is because salvation depends upon participation in Christ, which is an eternal transcendent reality. Any attempt to reconcile all aspects of atonement within an analytical system will result in a distortion that fails to represent the full truth. It is better to live with the tension between the assurance of hope and the obligation to persevere: another teaching from Hebrews.

Similarly, there are paradoxes related to space and spatial relationships. The unity of all things, in One, transcends the diversity of the many in space, but in a way that embraces and includes the spatial diversity of the many. This would apply to the paradox of corporate versus individual identity, and the related doctrines of unity and participation in Adam and in Christ. The answer, again, is to accept the paradox.

Such observations also apply to the more general disputes about open theism – whether God is permitted to be mutable and passionate – for the non-contingent God to be partly defined by the contingent creation. This further relates to the distinction between the immanent Trinity and the economic Trinity. We can and should accept that the immanent Trinity includes and embraces all that can be said about the economic Trinity; what we say about the economic Trinity should therefore be accepted as fully valid, but partial, truth. Perhaps this is what Karl Rahner meant to say. The transcendent God is both passionately responsive and steadfastly dependable, even though systematic thinking sees it as paradoxical.

To state it more generally, transcendence transcends even the concept of transcendence. On difficult subjects like this, I often ask “what would Kierkegaard say?” In this, I think he would concur.

Shane, Violence and Manifest Destiny

In common with many classic films of the Western genre (e.g. My Darling Clementine and High Noon), Shane presents violence as a regrettable but necessary means to an end: establishment of a civil and peaceful society. And this is in the wider context of the transitions from generation to generation, and transfer of power and sovereignty from one nation, tribe or ethnic group to the next. Shane explicitly deals with the sequence of the “taming” of the west initially by fur traders, who were succeeded by free-range cattlemen, who were then succeeded by homestead farmers and ranchers. This is part of the larger picture of successive migrations and invasions, whereby one people and their civilization displaces another. And these transitions are usually violent. In OT scripture, this is what occurred in the Israelite occupation of Canaan, where it is represented as an execution of God’s judgment, with the violence serving His purposes.

Do all the other similar violent displacements of one people by another also somehow serve God’s eternal purpose? Is it the necessary means for filling the earth, exercising dominion, eventually filling the earth with His glory through His image-bearers? It is certainly a messy process, this sausage-making; but isn’t it the same kind as what has been occurring in the evolution of species from the beginning of life? There is much violence and destructive “evil” in it, and when it is exercised by humanity the violence is mostly sinful. But isn’t it somehow necessary? The OT teaches that aggressors are often His instruments of wrath, even though they too are held accountable, and each one will be judged according to his motives.

The progressive development of life and of human civilization are part of God’s plan, but progress and development of any kind requires the destruction of the old to make room for the new. This is true on the small scale in the cycle of life and death of individuals, as well as the larger scales of civilizations and species. And it is true of this creation as a whole, which is to be succeeded by the new creation. It is only in the death of the old that there can be a resurrection to the new life of the new creation.

Even though most individual acts of violence are sins, due to their self-serving motives, God, in His sovereignty, is causing it all to work out for the good. One way or another, these continual disruptive and painful transformations must occur. The NT teaches that persecution and suffering are necessary to the development of Christians as individuals, as it is for the church corporately, and as it was for Jesus, in whom we have fellowship in suffering. We cannot opt out of the process – He has not taken us out of the world – but our duty is to be engaged in a way that expresses God’s love. At times, that may place us on the side of either advancing or resisting a particular “invasion”, and may place us in either the role of a warrior or a peacemaker. There is a time and a season for each. But in all cases, we are to act according to faith and according to love, and accept that this painful struggle is a necessary part of this world.

High Noon Heroics

There is no question that High Noon was an exceptional artistic achievement: the screenplay, the direction, and especially Gary Cooper’s acting. At one level, it is primarily a story of individual courage: standing up for what is ethically right and honorable, in spite of receiving no community support, and in spite of fear. This is a message that can be widely accepted and honored, without dispute. Other layers of meaning and interpretation, however, have been matters of controversy.

First of all, the writer (Coleman) regarded it as an allegory for the McCarthy-era HUAC hearings and associated Hollywood blacklistings. He stood alone in refusing to “name names”, and he was abandoned and betrayed by his colleagues. That experience affected the screenplay, and for some people, their attitude toward the film was greatly influenced by their political views on the HUAC investigations.

Today, the political layer of messaging is interpreted and evaluated according to more general applications. The movie presents a courageous individual (Will Kane, the town Marshal) who is impeded and opposed by a complacent and cowardly community. It is a harsh critique of the community, explicitly expressed by the judge who packs up and leaves town, making cynical comments that seem to question the viability of any democratic republic, and hence the American experiment. Coming from Coleman, a former Communist, it may very well reflect the doctrine of bourgeois decadence and the inevitable demise of Western democracies. It was certainly understandable that patriotic Americans would take offense, especially for such messaging to occur within the Western genre. This continues to be a legitimate cause for controversy.

Another consideration is that the romantic narrative of a hero confronting “the system” underlies much of today’s political activism. Those who imagine themselves in such a narrative can find in High Noon (as well as a huge number of other Hollywood films) a hero to identify with. For this reason, attitudes toward the movie can continue to divide along political lines.

Rising above such political concerns, what should be the Christian perspective? The scriptural doctrine of sin, e.g. in Romans 1 and 2, supports a very pessimistic view of both individuals and communities. They are all corrupt. In line with such pessimism, Benjamin Franklin said that the framers of our constitution had given us “a republic, if you can keep it”. The complacent and cowardly community in High Noon has fortunately not been characteristic of American society. But such corruptions nevertheless often appear, and we cannot rely on any system of human government to prevent it. We should interpret High Noon’s dismal view of the community as a comment on universal human depravity, neither restricted to nor excluded from any particular nation or society.

From a Christian perspective, we should also critique the notion of individual heroism. Consider Kierkegaard’s Knight of Resignation, who might boast in his ethical self-sufficiency, in his virtuous courage. But the gospel calls us to be saved by grace, through faith: to take the leap to become a Knight of Faith. For this knight, perfect love casts out fear, and he can rejoice in the midst of persecution. His way of life transcends courage and heroism, and precludes boasting in virtuous achievement. For a Christian, courage is not an independent virtue; courageous behavior is derivative from faith and love. We are to be theocentric rather than anthropocentric. So we should consider the Cooper character (marshal Will Kane) as an example of high ethical achievement for people “of the world”, but not as an adequate example for the Christian. We, as Knights of Faith, should look rather to the humble love and faith exemplified in Jesus and Paul.

As with any work of art, this movie should not be judged according to its potential abuses or misapplications, but rather according to its most favorable interpretations and applications. Nor can we expect non-Christians to deliver a Christian message. For a work that has no claims of authority over us, a reader-response hermeneutic is appropriate. My approach is to simply appreciate High Noon as among the best that the world can offer in humanistic art and wisdom. After all, the Knight of Resignation must precede the Knight of Faith.