The Graduate Scrawl

It’s telling that most reviews of Xavier Beauvois’s 2010 film “Des Hommes et Des Dieux,” (Of Men and Of Gods) are at a loss to explain the movie’s central event – that a group of Trappist monks living in Algeria in the 1990s, threatened by Islamic fundamentalists, refuse to leave their village and are ultimately kidnapped and martyred. Reviewers mock the monks as naïve, hint at overweening hubris, or shake their heads in bewilderment. It’s equally telling that reviewers are often bored or annoyed by the perseverate liturgy which permeates the film, as Beauvois intersperses his movie with frequent and prolonged scenes of the monks singing the daily offices. It’s the connection between these two events – the monks’ choice to stay despite imminent danger, and their liturgy, that is, their deeply sacramental understanding of life – which make this the most beautiful and realistic presentation of the Christian faith I’ve ever seen on film.

The words of the liturgy often complement the events of the film. As Brother Christoph faces fear and doubt amid the growing peril, for example, the monks sing, “As parched earth I stand before you, Oh Lord…My spirit grows faint within me; my heart within me, dismayed. Answer me quickly, Oh Lord. Do not hide your face from me…” In other words, the movie happens at the intersection of worship and life. Far from being boring interludes, these scenes are at the crux of the film’s purpose. And for a Christian viewer, they are rich meditations, beautifully sung and perfectly set off by the context of the film’s story.

It’s a film of quiet beauty. Every shot is a masterpiece. The colors and landscape of northern Africa are lovely, though never overdone. Crucially, Beauvois dwells on the mundanity of his monks’ lives. Their lives are not busy or full of excitement; they are full of work and routine. Nor are these men idealized as saints. They lose patience with each other, they disagree, and they have doubts and fears, even as their unmistakable love for one another is tangible throughout.

Beauvois paces his film very intentionally. He takes his time over the singing, praying, tilling, cooking, candle-lighting, and eating of the monks’ humble lives. He wants to slow us down to a monastery’s tempo, and to give us a glimpse of the contemplative life. If we find it uncomfortable, it’s to our shame.

At the first hints of danger, as local government officials urge the monks to flee (the terrorists are targeting foreigners), the monks are of two minds. Several feel it would be prudent to leave, and are annoyed at their prior, Christian (played beautifully by Lambert Wilson), who refuses government protection. But as they continue about their business, singing, praying, and eventually encountering the danger firsthand, they come to a new consensus. “To leave is to die,” as one brother puts it. “Since when do we yield to arms? The good shepherd doesn’t abandon his flock to the wolves.” It’s this decision that has stumped many reviewers. To many, this is suicide. Self-preservation is a natural instinct. Utilitarianism suggests the monks might have done more good by preserving their lives. Instead, they trust simply in God, and obediently continue their own duties. “Wildflowers don’t move to find the sun’s rays,” Christian says. “God makes them fecund wherever they are.”

The monks are not shown proselytizing. They focus instead on good works, on medicine, literacy and on solidarity with their Muslim village. They live on food they grow, and sell honey in the village to support themselves. “Our mission here,” says Christian, “is to be brothers to all.” When a terrorist group visits the monastery, demanding medicine for an injured soldier, the prior quotes the Koran to them: “Those nearest in love to the believers are those who say ‘We are Christians.’ Among them are priests and monks, and they wax not proud.” Christian de Chergé, the real prior of the Tibhirine monastery and the basis for Lambert Wilson’s character, evidently had a strong premonition of his impending death during his final days and wrote a last testament, sent to his mother in France and opened only after his death. “My death, of course, will quickly vindicate those who called me naïve, or idealistic, but they must know that I will be freed of a burning curiosity, and…will immerse my gaze in the Father’s, and contemplate with him his children of Islam, as he sees them. I would like, when the time comes, to have a space of clearness that would allow me to beg forgiveness of God and of my fellow human beings, and at the same time to forgive with all my heart the one who will strike me down. This thank-you encompasses my entire life, and it includes you, of course, friend of yesterday and today, and you too, friend of the last minute, who knew not what you were doing. Yes, to you as well, I address this thank-you and this farewell. I commend you to the God in whose face I see yours…May we meet again, happy thieves in paradise, if it pleases God, the Father of us both. Amen. Inshallah.” The question of other religions is one of the most difficult aspects of Christianity, and these monks’ approach to cross-cultural ministry is deeply challenging. De Chergé’s was a post-Vatican II, Rahnerian open-mindedness to other religions. As evangelicals, of course, should not eschew proselytizing, but perhaps we sometimes err in the opposite direction. In any case, de Chergé’s testament of love and forgiveness – in his case, forgiveness even before his own martyrdom – is a challenge to all of us.

The monks’ choice to stay at Tibhirine, grounded in their historic Christian faith, is the luminous center of the film. Brother Christoph, suffering in his own dark night of the soul, confesses, “I don’t know if it’s true anymore. I pray and I hear nothing. I don’t get it. Why be martyrs? For God? To be heroes? To prove we’re the best?”

“No, no, no,” Christian replies. “We’re martyrs out of love, out of fidelity. If death overtakes us, despite ourselves – because up to the end, we’ll try to avoid it – our mission here is still to be brothers to all. Remember that love is eternal hope. Love endures everything.”

If you want to learn more about Christian de Chergé and the monastery at Tibhirine, read the book The Monks of Tibhirine: Faith, Love and Terror in Algeria, by John W. Kiser. You can find it, as well as the film, at the Rolfing Library.

Ethan McCarthy is a third year student in the M.Div program at TEDS.