THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS
LIKE
“LARS AND THE REAL GIRL”
Matthew 13:31-33,
44-48, 51-52
Rev. Gary Paterson
July 27, 2008
There are many ways to encounter God, but at least three in particular stand out. The first would be to experience the Holy through creation… the world of nature. God is the Creator and the universe might well be called the primary revelation, where we marvel at the very fact that there is “something,” and not “nothing.” This is the God to be found on the mountain top, in bird song, the changing of seasons, the birth of a baby … and even, occasionally, on the golf course.
A second way in which God is encountered would be in our inner human experience – the God within. We talk about our being made in the image of God, the spark of divinity, what the Quakers call “the light within” or “that which is of God”. Remember those words we heard a few weeks ago from the Meister Eckhart, where he claimed that “The seed of a pear tree grows into a pear; … the seed of God grows into God.” This is the God to be found through meditative, attentive silence and prayer … sensing the movement of the Spirit within us… “deep calling to deep.”
And then… a third way, where God is experienced within human community, in the spaces between human beings. “Where two or three or gathered in my name, there I will be found.” God connects to the “people of God”… to Israel, to the Church, to the historical community, in its time and place. Not in the natural world; not in the inner world, but in that messy, everyday encounter, one person with another… the village, the town, the city… the community.
Now, when we think of Jesus, and his ministry and teaching, in relationship to these three ways of encountering God, there are some surprises. Jesus doesn’t talk really at all about the first, the Holy within nature. Oh he mentions it in passing… “God sees the little sparrow fall”; and then there’s that memorable line from the poet Emily Dickinson, “The only commandment I have never broken is the one Jesus gave in the Sermon on the Mount – ‘Consider the lilies of the field.…’” Well… yes, … but I don’t think that’s what Jesus meant.
Jesus does acknowledge the reality of the second, the movement of the Holy within each person. He talks about being “reborn” in the Spirit, and he himself models the need for retreat time, and quiet prayer… in wilderness, in gardens. But the true centre of Jesus’ preaching circles around that third way of encountering God, through and in human community. Jesus’ primary message in his preaching centres on the Kingdom of God; in the Gospel of Mark it becomes his opening proclamation: “The Kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe the good news.”
The Kingdom of God is a rich, but sometimes confusing symbol. (All the more so, of course, because in Matthew’s Gospel it is referred to as the Kingdom of Heaven, because, as a good Jew, Matthew did not want to use the actual name of “God” and so utilized a euphemism, which all too often subsequent generations have interpreted as some place in the sweet by-and-by, something that happens after death.) But even when we recognize that Jesus is talking about a reality in and of this world, it’s still very difficult to get a handle on what he means. In our own times, kings don’t have a great rep – archaic, anachronisms from former times. Sometimes translations have sought to get around this by talking about the Realm of God, or the Shalom of God; the New Zealand version of the Lord’s Prayer that we occasionally use talks about the “Commonwealth of peace and freedom.” It helps… but not that much.
Perhaps at its most basic Jesus is referring to a time, or a reality, when life would be lived in accordance with the dreams and desires of God… God as King… so that what happens on earth is a reflection of Holiness: “Thy kingdom come, on earth, as it is in heaven.” It would be a world which embodies justice, peace, freedom, equitable distribution of life’s goods, accountability, compassion, joy. Many Biblical scholars suggest that all of Jesus’ ministry is an attempt to open up the reality of the Kingdom of God, to give people a taste of what it might actually look like, feel like; in Jesus, in what he says and does, they have an opportunity to experience the present reality of the Kingdom. Hence the times of healing, of feeding, of gathering in the lost, the marginalized, of welcoming children; hence his deliberate challenge to the kingdoms of this world, to existing political, military and religious authorities; hence his invitation to follow, to start practicing a different way of living… a sign, a foretaste of what the fullness of God’s rule will be like.
The Kingdom of God is a complex symbol, carrying a multitude of meanings. It’s like a diamond, and every time you turn it, you are staring at a different facet, appreciating it in a new way. It’s like a collage, where diverse items, when placed in relationship, slowly start to coalesce into a new realtiy. It’s like a Picasso-style painting, cubist -- where different perspectives get jammed together, and you are startled into seeing ordinary reality in a strikingly new way.
Jesus told parables… it was one of his main ways of trying to communicate with his listeners. Forty of them… and it is suggested that every one of them, in one way or another, is an attempt to engage people in an experience of the Kingdom of God, so that we end up saying, “Ah, that’s what it feels like.” Jesus was a master at utilizing everyday situations and objects to convey his understanding of the Kingdom… nets, farming, seeds, wheat and weeds, wedding banquets, parties; and in today’s gospel reading… a pearl of great price and treasure in the field. He talks about yeast in flour… small, slow- growing, creating basic sustenance that is meant to be shared… break broken together. And, of course, the mustard seed [we talked about this during Time with Children]… again small and insignificant – I’ll bet all you mustard aficionados didn’t know that in first century Palestine the mustard plant was considered somewhat of a weed. Not all that desirable… you sure didn’t want it in your field. But there it is, slowly growing, until it is able to offer shelter to the birds of the air, and as we discovered with the children, offering shade to all the creatures of the world, including the snake… who can gently curl around the trunk.
Now I am absolutely convinced that if Jesus were walking around in our times he would love movies. Don’t ask me how I know this… maybe it’s just a projection of my own delight in film. But I’m sure of it. And I suspect that when Jesus took in the film, “Lars and the Real Girl” he would have said to himself, “Oh, now here’s an excellent parable.” – and somewhere in his preaching he would have declared,, “Get thee to the movies; the Kingdom of God is like “Lars and the Real Girl.” You’re not sure you believe me? Well, hang on a moment or two.
The film, “Lars and the Real Girl” is an exploration of deep loneliness. The movie begins with a long shot of a window, and behind the glass, a face, immobile except for alert eyes looking out on an almost winter season. The next shot is behind the character, Lars, catching him in silhouette in a starkly furnished room. The third shot is taken in profile, as Lars lifts a scarf from neck to mouth, just below the line from nose to ear. No speaking, well-protected, alone. And then, first movement… the man’s eyebrows are raised; and then we see what he sees -- a young woman running across the yard, then peering into the window -- as Lars backs away, into the shadows, into hiding. The first sound in the movie, aside from the background music, is the woman’s tapping on the window… is there anyone there? Slowly Lars opens the door, receives his sister-in-law’s invitation to breakfast… and avoids committing.
Lars is pathologically shy and introverted. He lives alone in the world, working hard to avoid connection and contact. We learn later in the film that his mother died giving birth to him, and he was raised by a Scandinavian, Lutheran father who was depressed, and lived with a broken heart after his wife’s death. Lars’ older brother, Gus, took off as soon as he could, leaving Lars to cope as best he might. Skittish, awkward… but sweet, with a small, quick smile. That’s Lars – catch him if you can. He has a phobia about being touched… it feels like a burn to him; and so he wears layers of clothing, to minimize contact; shaking hands is a challenge, unless he is wearing gloves.
Lars is not the only person in the film living with loneliness. The doctor too – widowed, and no children, she says, “Sometimes I get so lonely I forget what day it is, or how to spell my name.” Margot, a young woman at Lars’ place of work, breaks up with her boyfriend – and when queried about why she got together with him in the first place…. “I was lonely.” The setting of the movie mirrors back this human loneliness, with a wide-open Midwestern sky, clouded over, as if with a grey shroud; the season – winter, of course.
Loneliness is our human problem – how will we connect with each other? And how to deal with the wounds that life has dealt has? How to reach out to each other? Mrs. Gunter, a classic and wonderful church lady asks Lars, “Got a girlfriend?’ – “No!” – “Are you gay? My grandson’s gay… I know all about the gays.” – “No, I’m not gay.” – “Well, don’t leave it too long. It’s not good for you.” Being alone for too long – it’s not good for you. We need each other. Lars’ sister-in-law, Karen, she knows that – hence the breakfast invitation at the beginning of the film. Her husband, Lars’ brother Gus, he says, “[Lars is] twenty-seven years old; maybe he wants to be left alone.” Karen replies, “That’s not what he wants.” “How do you know?” “That’s not how people are.”
The central action of the film begins six weeks later. Lars announces that he has a visitor, a lady friend, and he wants to introduce her to Gus and Karen. Watching their faces when they meet Bianca is worth the price of renting the film. You see, Lars’s friend – “She not from around here,” says Lars; “I met her on the internet.” – indeed… Bianca is, in fact, a life-size, one hundred and twenty-five pound, silicon sex doll, anatomically correct as they say in the film, complete with fishnet stockings. Ah yes… and you think you know where this film is heading. But not so… yes there is laughter, but it’s never lewd, with off-colour snickers. For Bianca is completely real for Lars – as companion and friend. Indeed, it’s made clear, right at the beginning, that the relationship is chaste, and Bianca sleeps by herself in the big house, while Lars remains in his garage studio apartment. Lars creates a life for Bianca… she’s shy – a missionary on sabbatical; her parents are Danish-Brazilian – hence she can’t speak English; she has had an accident and so cannot walk; she’s wheelchair bound, and needs to be lifted from chair to car to bed to table.
It’s weird; it’s funny; it’s crazy; it’s sad. And you wonder if Lars will end up in a hospital, where everyone is lonely. But something happens. With real compassion Karen is able to get Lars to see the doctor… suggesting to her brother-in-law that Bianca is not well. And the doctor, a woman of enormous wisdom and compassion, recognizes the reality of Lars’ delusion; and suggests that the best way of “treating” Lars is to go along with that delusion, to accept Bianca as a real person. “No way!” says Gus… think of the laughter, the ridicule; the silliness… “Fix him!” is his plea. Gus is, in a way, our surrogate in thinking that the whole movie is whacko.
But Karen shifts the playing field… “How can we help?” And, “We’ll do what it takes.” They take Lars and Bianca home. They visit the elders at Lars’ church, asking them to accept Bianca… and that church board meeting is also worth the price of renting the movie. I couldn’t help but imagine such a discussion at our Board. “Never!” is where some of them begin – naturally. “A gold calf” cries one. But then good old Mrs Gunter says, “These things happen; Lars is a good boy” – and then points out that one elder’s nephew dresses up his cats in little girls’ clothing; one’s wife was a kleptomaniac ‘’’She was not!” “Then why was she buried wearing my ring!”; and another has donated tons of money to an organization investigating UFO’s. That’s when the minister speaks… and I enjoyed meeting Rev. Bark. Too often movies portray ministers in a very unflattering light…. smarmy smilers or nasty abusers. But here, there is a gentle smile, and then the one important question… “What would Jesus do?” Mind you, when Lars and Bianca arrive for worship the next Sunday, it is a sight to behold! Just imagine if… say, there on the pew… right beside… oh… beside Rodolfo… there was a most amazing sex doll. How would you react? Sorry Rodolfo… I shouldn’t have picked on you… I didn’t mean it that way!
But in the film it feels as if a miracle takes place. This community of faith offers the gift of hospitality, kindness and compassion. They accept Lars… and Bianca. Indeed, this acceptance moves out from church to include the entire community – everyone treats Bianca according to Lars’ delusion. They bathe her; have her at the dinner table; take her to meetings; accept her at a party; dance with her.
Now, this is where belief gets strained. Small towns are not that wonderful – in reality, somebody – if not lots of people – would have treated Lars as an object of mockery and scorn and he would have been the butt of hurtful jokes and laughter. But what we need to recognize is that this film is a fable, a parable. It isn’t describing the way things are, but rather, the way they ought to be, the way they might be – a taste of what the Kingdom of God might be like, if….if…
As the film unfolds, you begin to see a slow change in Lars. There are a couple of wonderful scenes that will grab you heart, and leave you laughing and crying at the same time. One day Lars takes Bianca out to the lake where he and his brother played as young kids. Lars ends up in his boyhood tree fort, on his back, looking at the sky, with Bianca propped up against the tree trunk… and there he is, warbling away in falsetto an old Nat King Cole love song… and he is so unself-consciously happy that you are almost envious of his joy. Or another scene… at the staff party. Oh, they make quite an entrance… but then you see Lars dancing… by himself, no, beside Bianca, his eyes closed, waltzing, his arms held as if Bianca were in them; and such a smile, as if a warmth were arising from deep within his heart… connected, not lonely, filled with love.
Because Bianca is real for Lars, she becomes real for others tool his love humanizes her. Part of the film’s power is to watch how the other characters are also slowly transformed; the movement to wholeness is not something that happens for Lars alone -- the doctor who acknowledges her own pain in a moment of honest conversation with Lars; Lars’ brother, Gus – who feels guilty about having abandoned his brother to a household of lonely depression… but who is able to acknowledge to Lars what he did, and can finally say “I’m sorry” – and then receives forgiveness from Lars… “That’s okay.” Not a lot of talking – hey, these are Mid-Western guys, men of few words. But you want to know what real confession is like, how it truly can bring healing? -- You watch that scene a couple of times, and you’ll know.
A key turning point comes when Lars has just had a fight with Bianca, and feels that no one really cares for him – “People can do whatever they want; they don’t care.” Karen explodes… “That is just not true!...None of this is easy for any of us… we feed Bianca, bathe her… Bianca is a big girl!... We do it because of you, because we love you. We do it for you! ... So don’t you dare tell me that we don’t care!”
Now, I don’t need to tell you the rest of what happens in the film… this is already close to a “spoiler sermon”. But as Margot says at one point, when Lars is complaining about the winter, “Winter isn’t over until it’s Easter.” And you had questions about whether or not this movie was a parable? So let me take you back to an opening scene in the film; the first time we encounter worship in the little Lutheran church. The minister’s voice drifts over the small congregation, “We need not ask what we are to do. The Lord has told us -- Love one another. That, my friends, is the one true call. Love is God in action.”
God experienced in the space between humans, in community, in love. Love is God in action. And I find myself dreaming of what that might look like here, at St. Andrew’s-Wesley… lots of people like Lars here; all of us some of the time, or in some way… we know that loneliness, that need to connect, the things that keep us stuck; we hunger for a different way of living, Kingdom of God living. I could give a dozen sermons on love… talking endlessly, but I’m not sure we’d be much closer to understanding what the Kingdom could be like. So go see “Lars and the Real Girl”; or see it again. Go and see love in action; taste the Kingdom of God … and then, go and do likewise.