Doubt: A Parable

This week I finally got around to watching "Doubt" starring Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Amy Adams.

The story takes place at a Catholic High School in the Bronx in the fall of 1964. The winds of change are figuratively and literally blowing through the community, and a likeable priest named Father Flynn is struggling to connect with his people while also accomodating the school's strict disciplinary approach. Meanwhile, Sister Aloysius Beauvier is intentionally fearsome in her pursuit of personal integrity and maintaining control of the students. These two leaders find themselves in an emotionally tense conflict over unproven suspicions and... well, doubt... which leads to devestating hurts between them and within individuals in the community.

"Doubt" originated in 2004 as a off-Broadway play by John Patrick Shanley (with an even better title -- "Doubt: A Parable"), which led to a handful of awards including the Tonys for Best Play, Best Actress, Best Featured Actress, and Best Director. The film adaptation fittingly earned its cast Academy Award nominations for Actress, Supporting Actor, Supporting Actress, as well as the nomination for Adapted Screenplay.

I found the movie to be absolutely fascinating for a variety of reasons. The story is well-crafted and complex, creating a "whodunnit" kind of tension that centers around suspicions and uncertainties. Streep crafts an amazingly believable character in Sister Aloysius, and I found her subtle accent and facial movements riveting. Likewise, Hoffman offers us an empathetic hero/villain (depending on what you conclude about his innocence/guilt), and I quickly resonated with his eagerness to love a community, respect the rules, and usher in much-needed change.

But I admit that I am drawn to this story for deeper, more professional reasons. Every pastor alive has met their own Sister Aloysius -- the unmoveable accuser who may not have any proof but they have their certainty (as Streep tells us). Without simplifying things or promoting some kind of "martyr complex," the sad truth is that everyone who has committed themselves to representing God and sharing his message finds themself a target of relational, emotional, or spiritual tension sooner or later. It's been this way since the days of the prophets in the Old Testament, and Jesus promised that it would continue until the close of history.

However, the movie got one crucial thing wrong: the Sister Aloysiuses of the world are rarely found alone in their efforts; they usually travel in packs -- fueling each other's suspicions, convincing others for their crusade, and leaving a trail of wounded hearts and relationships in their wake (sometimes hidden away in the shadows of silence but hurting nonetheless). As Father Flynn shares so dramatically from his pulpit during the film, there are those whose gossip is like the scattering of feathers on the wind -- impossible to retrieve once released -- and the results are tragic for everyone involved.

Though I enjoyed the story immensely, I honestly was not connecting with the film from a pastoral perspective until the climactic conversation between the Father and the Sister. Yet in that cinematic moment, I heard echoes of other conversations from years past -- both those I've experienced personally and those I've heard from other pastors that I have come alongside.

I was especially touched by the comments of Father Flynn during that encounter. It seemed to me that he was making a painful choice to suffer personal devestation in hopes of protecting his flock from the emotional war that was being promised. And in a moment of scriptwriting brilliance, he told Sister Aloysius to always remember that there are things he simply cannot disclose -- things that she cannot and does not know, even if she never realizes it. He indicates that his role in the community has resulted in him being aware of facts that bear on the circumstances that must remain private, even if it costs him his happiness.

Naturally, my heart wanted to side with Father Flynn throughout the film, though I often found myself empathizing with the passion and sincerity of Sister Aloysius' motivations. And though I have my own thoughts about what really occurred in the story, I was pleased with the filmmakers' success in leaving the audience with doubts.

In the end, I find myself cherishing a commandment in Scripture and being grateful for serving those many people who have faithfully carried it out throughout my experience as a pastor:

"Dear brothers and sisters, honor those who are your leaders in the Lord's work. They work hard among you and give you spiritual guidance. Show them great respect and wholehearted love because of their work. And live in peace with each other." (1 Thessalonians 5:12-13 NLT)