Stellet Licht/Silent Light

Silent Light (2007): A film by Carlos Reygadas.

Johan, a Mennonite in Mexico, betrays God and family by engaging in extramarital affairs with another women, Marianne. As his quilt builds and his deeds become irreconcilable, his faith is in question. The film feels as if it is on “real-time”, if not slower. While the cinematography is not that of any perfection, the narrative is unique and troubling.

We (the viewers) are introduced to a world that we cannot understand. Automatically from the beginning we feel as though we are intruders: watching and judging.

It is told from Johan’s point of view which creates an awkward boundary. You become inclined to side with Johan; feeling what he feels, which makes it harder to adjudicate who is in the wrong.

The ‘resurrection’ of Johan’s wife (Esther) by Marianne is an act of contrition and repentance not necessarily by Marianne but more so Johan. Throughout the film the feelings of regret and guilt transpire, but it isn’t until the end that Johan and Marianne really come to understand to consequences for their actions.

The theme of silence is quit disturbing in that it reminds us to remain without judgement. Because of the relationship we build with Johan and our emotions that are tied with his, his failings become our own, creating within us a willingness to ultimately offer him mercy and grace.

1 Sam 3:1-10

As we sat near the pond, reading your favorite section of scripture-the wind bustling the trees and the pump refreshing the water-I remember you. I remember you urging me to remember that the lamp of God has not gone out. To remember that as shitty as the church has become, God has not given up on her yet. I remember you reminding me that sometimes we ourselves cannot see or understand the work of Christ in our own eyes-thus we must also be aware (and maybe listen) to the voices around us. I thank you for this, because today, I felt your presence, and I know you are still here with me.

For yesterday, and today, I feel like Samuel. Waking up in the middle of beautiful slumber, to a rude voice around me. I hear it, I ask about it, I’m told to listen, I go back to sleep. Over and over I hear this voice, but I don’t want it. I want to be left to be the cursing Arian that I enjoy being. But I am reminded that it isn’t about me. It’s okay for me to be fight my battle over hell and trinitarian theology as long as I listen to the voices around me. It’s okay for me to doubt the validity and responsibility that has pushed me here. It’s okay. The lamp of God has not yet gone out.