“Then why don’t you know if you’re going to heaven?”
“Because I won’t know until I get there.”
Every year, we’d go through a similar routine. The last few times she remembered as soon as we started getting into it, that I was the guy who always questioned everything. We both laughed about it. Then we’d say a prayer and read a quick bible passage.
That would be that.
And the point is, I wrestle with my faith, just like I wrestle with everything. I don’t believe in dogma, although, I recognize a certain leap of faith is required in being a Believer. I believe, but I roil with my convictions.
It’s a constantly evolving process for me.
One that makes my convictions more resolute time and time again.
I mention this all, because one of the world’s greatest artists has died. Ingmar Bergman was one of the greatest filmmakers who ever lived. Without a doubt. His classic film “The Seventh Seal” is one of the greatest films ever made. Without a doubt.
A film, for me, which has great resonance.
See, Bergman was a complex man. He had his demons, raised in a strict household, he often dissolved within his own creativity. In discussing his childhood in an interview several years ago, he eluded to creating a fantasy world that was easier to live in than his own life. His films were emblematic this complexity, and these demons.
“The Seventh Seal” is a film about a knight who comes back from the Crusades, only to find that Death has come for him, right when he is so close to being home again. So he then challenges Death to a game of chess. This is twofold. If he wins, he is free to go, however, at the very least, the game will buy him time to get home and see his family for a short time.
Of course, nobody beats Death. It’s inevitable. However, what can be taken from this game, is that it doesn’t necessarily matter what the end result is, but what is done with that precious time. Chess, in this instance, is like life, and in buying the knight some time, he has to make the most of it.
One particular scene captivates me. Throughout the film, the knight goes on travels and sees many horrid things. Priests are often depicted as thieves, or duplicitous individuals. A young woman is burned at the stake, suspected of witchcraft, herself convinced of her own demonic possession. The knight questions all of this. He spent years at war fighting for a belief. A faith. And in the end, all he wants to do is get back to his family. He is battered and worn, sick of the horrid nature of man and filled with ambivalence. So, in this scene, he is sitting in a confessional, attempting to confess to a priest, who ends up being Death.
The Knight speaks of fear and faith. Of time running out. He knows his life on earth is coming to a close, and having lived it, he has questions about it all. Unsure of how he lived it.
For me, the idea of fear and faith is important. To many people fear is an essential part of faith. It’s why some refer to themselves as “God-fearing.” It is why as a child, I feared the wrath of God. I said my prayers sometimes out of fear of the consequences. It suggests that God is vengeful, often warlike. That God is a vengeful, fearful God. A God of Wrath. The knight saw wrath through years and years of war. A war that was a Christian Crusade. Beaten down by the horrors of this war, which was brought about by fear of another faith and another people, the knight had his reservations about following a God that was one of wrath.
It’s important to understand that often people practice faith out of fear, more than love. They fear consequences. They fear immortal damnation. Honestly, who wants to burn in torment and be tortured for the rest of existence? Just the thought frightens me. And this fear manifests itself into other fears. A fear of other people. Of other cultures. Of anything different. Fear of a God of Wrath, turns all of our other trepidations into fearful Crusades. All our fears take on a religious wrathful connotation.
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