Theologically Reflecting on Art, Part 1: Babette's Feast

If you have not watched Babette’s Feast, then I recommend just skipping on to Part Two of this post and coming back to Part One once you have watched it.

The film is a theological feast, but one we must be taught how to eat: “Art can’t be swallowed whole. It takes a fork and a knife. You have to chew on it” (Overstreet, allusion to 84, 82). This is my feeble attempt at helping us all chew on this wonderful movie. Look at it as more of a guide to helping ask better questions of the film than an explanation of the theology of it. I realize that this post series is significantly longer than some of the others I have posted in the past. My recommendation is to address it in stages. While the movie might not sound overly exciting, it is incredibly theologically rich. I highly recommend, and I guarantee you will not be disappointed. Also, this post is meant to be a continuation of my previous post Art and All Things Spiritual. So check it out and join in the discussion.

Here is a brief synopsis of Babette’s Feast: It is a 103 minute Danish film by Gabriel Axel—it is the film version of Isak Dinesen’s short story under the same title. Set in a mid 1800s coastland in Denmark, it deals with the arrival of a Babette, a French civil war refugee to a small religious community. After serving them faithfully for 14 years, she gives them something they have never experienced before—a gourmet French feast.

Naturally, it is best to reflect on this movie while eating! So grab a snack, a friend, and take a peak into the fantastic world that is Babette’s Feast. Let’s start by asking some preliminary discussion questions:
• What/Who is the movie about? Who are the main characters and what is their relationship with one another? What happens in the story? What is the climax of the movie?

• Describe the spirituality of the group. What are their values and their fears? Compare and contrast the sisters with the rest of the group.

• What about the song they keep singing? How do they sing it? Why is it presented in the way that it is? Why do they keep singing over and over again about Jerusalem?

• What is going on in the community before the feast? After? In other words, what did this feast do to change the characters of the movie?

• What happens in the meal scene? (Describe it as much as you can.) Who is present? How many are there? What is the sequence of events? Who talks and what do they say?

• Why does the general get the climax speech? What is the point of this speech? (See my interpretation below.)

• How is the meal scene a moment of grace for this small Puritan community? Is it an appropriate metaphor for grace? Why or why not?

• What is the theological significance of this being about a meal? Let’s think about this whole biblical phenomenon of food and eating. Meals have played a major role in the spiritual lives of the people of God. Why is that?

• Let’s talk about Babette for just a minute. What is her history? Where did she come from? Describe in as few words possible the process of her life as portrayed in the movie.

• Now focus on the general’s description of Babette. What is it that he says about her?

• Cailles en Sarcophage… Café Anglais… What do those things mean?

• Compare and contrast this community with the Corinthian church.

• What biblical passages come to your mind as you reflect on this movie? Better yet, what specific passages were referenced either directly or indirectly in the dialogue?

• What is spirituality as presented by Axel in this movie? What is the goal he is wanting to show us?

What I would like to do is to direct the reader to the bibliography presented in Part Two of this series. I offer some reflections on the movie here, but only about issues that are not mentioned by the authors referenced there. It is not my intention to steal their ideas or discuss the same things in different words. Just read their stuff!

I would like to conclude by talking about the speech that Lorens gives at the table. While an integral part of the movie (arguably the climax), I have seen very little discussion on it—especially with regards to how it relates to the rest of the film.

I include a transcription here:

Mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another. Man, in his weakness and shortsightedness believes he must make choices in this life. He trembles at the risks he takes. We do know fear. But no. Our choice is of no importance. There comes a time when your eyes are opened. And we come to realize that mercy is infinite. We need only await it with confidence and receive it with gratitude. Mercy imposes no conditions. And, lo! Everything we have chosen has been granted to us. And everything we rejected has also been granted. Yes, we even get back what we rejected. For mercy and truth are met together. And righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another.

The first thing we notice about it is its placement in the scene. We are struck immediately by its seemingly random nature. Had we not been exposed to the history of his life by the narrator, the speech would have had a different ring to it (as it would have to the people at the table). So why does he make this speech? It is obviously a result of his own inner spiritual dialogue, so why make a speech? Because what he says here is universally applicable. It is just as true of them all as it is of him…whether they know it or not.

And to whom does he speak? A group of ignorant and legalistic peasants. The very people who make up that shameful group that Jesus calls “the least of these.” But even they are worthy of the most profound dialogue in the movie. I like that. I like it a lot. And not only are they worthy of hearing it, they are worthy of living it. The townspeople live what he is saying in that they receive both the piety and the forgiveness they have always lived for. The sisters in that they receive the loves they both rejected, and the satisfaction that they have served their people. And the general himself in that he lived the life he always thought he wanted, and yet he did not lose himself in the process.

Notice also that he never gets the satisfaction for which he is seeking. He does not become convinced that he made the right decisions. Instead, he simply realizes that it does not matter. He finally sees that

Mercy is infinite and nothing is lost by the ruin of human choice.

This does not mean that choice is irrelevant. It is not saying that nothing matters. It is saying that mercy is just that much bigger. Mercy wins the day.

Perhaps Qoheleth (the writer of Ecclesiastes) would have grown a great deal from watching this movie. Is all vanity? I think Lorens would say “no”—as would I.

And it is not like mercy was ever not there. It just takes us coming to the point when we can see it. And what is it that brings him to this conclusion? The meshing of the spiritual with the physical. I have spent a great deal of time thinking about the whole Cartesian idea of spirituality vs. physicality (as expressed so beautifully by the villagers who feel a deep need to focus on the “higher things” instead of the carnal food and drink that will soon be served to them). And the more I think about it, the more I realize that

It is when spirituality and phsyicality are met that God can be present.

Perhaps that is why Babette’s love of food can be described as not showing distinction between the two.

Thoughts?

A Prayer from Walter Brueggemann

This prayer is called “You with ears bent close to our lips.” It comes from Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth: Prayers of Walter Brueggemann (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), 12. I include it here without comment. It needs none.

You, you are the one we address,
always you,
only you… who has given us life,
who waits for us to answer.
We, toward you, speak and remain tongue-tied,
for we lack words that are honest enough,
and dangerous enough,
and fierce enough to match you.
We do not speak first, but after our mothers and fathers,
who knew cadences of honesty about our troubles,
who knew cadences of danger about your presence,
who knew cadences of fierceness to fit our rage and loss.
So we speak to you words that we have always spoken:
words of praise and adoration:
…into your gates with thanksgiving
into your courts with praise…
words of confession and remorse:
…against you and only you have we sinned…
words of thanks and astonishment:
…you have turned our mourning into dancing…
words of rage unabated:
…dash their heads against the rocks.
So many words we need to speak
to you from whom no secret can be hid,
you beyond us, you with us, you for us,
you with ears bent close to our lips,
You…and our woes turned toward you, always you, only you,
yet again you.
Amen.

More Great Reading

I had fun recommending those books last week. So I thought I might do it again. Normally during the summer, I am constantly reading something—as are many of you. I typically use that time to catch up on reading that I have wanted to do but just haven’t had the time. This summer has been a little different. I have really only read one novel so far (Slaughterhouse-Five).

And instead of reading several books on spirituality or theology, this summer I have been reading basically only two—but them much more thoroughly. They are books of written prayer. I read a few prayers each day, and I meditate on them. Contemplate them. Pray them.

I cannot tell you how glad I am that I have been doing this. It has helped me to clarify the role prayer plays in my life. It has helped me see new ways to pray. It has allowed me to see what a mature Christian’s prayer life could look like.

The two books are: Prayers by Michel Quoist, and Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth: Prayers of Walter Brueggemann by Brueggemann himself. All I can say is that either one (or both) is worth buying this moment. I assure you that you will be glad you did.

I will include in the next two posts a prayer from each Christian: Quoist a French Catholic priest from the 19th century, and Brueggemann an American Old Testament scholar who is still prolific to this day. May this have the same impact on you as it did me.

Thank You by Michel Quoist:
We must know how to say, “Thank You.” Our days are filled with the gifts the Lord showers on us. If we were in the habit of taking stock of them, at night we should be like a “queen for a day,” dazzled and happy with so many blessings. We should then be grateful to God, secure because he gives us everything, joyful because we know that every day he will renew his gifts.

Everything is a gift from God, even the smallest things, and it’s the sum of these gifts that makes a life beautiful or sad, depending on how we use them.

“All good giving and every perfect gift comes from above, from the Father of the lights of heaven. With him there is no variation, no play of passing shadows.” (James I, 17)

Thank you, Lord, thank you.
Thank you for all the gifts you have given me today,
Thank you for all I have seen, heard, received.
Thank you for the water that woke me up, the soap that smells good, the toothpaste that refreshes.
Thank you for the clothes that protect me, for their color and their cut.
Thank you for the newspaper so faithfully there, for the comics (my morning smile), for the report of useful meetings, for justice done and big games won.
Thank you for the street-cleaning truck and the men who run it, for their morning shouts and all the early noises.
Thank you for my work, my tools, my efforts.
Thank you for the metal in my hands, for the whine of the steel biting into it, for the satisfied look of the supervisor and the load of finished pieces.
Thank you for Jim who lent me his file, for Danny who gave me a cigarette, for Charlie who held the door for me.
Thank you for the welcoming street that led me there, for the shop windows, for the cars, for the passers-by, for all the life that flowed swiftly between the windowed walls of the houses.

Thank you for the food that sustained me, for the glass of beer that refreshed me.
Thank you for the car that meekly took me where I wanted to be, for the gas that made it go, for the wind that caressed my face and for the trees that nodded to me on the way.

Thank you for the boy I watched playing on the sidewalk opposite,
Thank you for his roller-skates and for his comical face when he fell.

Thank you for the morning greetings I received, and for all the smiles.
Thank you for the mother who welcomes me at home, for her tactful affection, for her silent presence.
Thank you for the roof that shelters me, for the lamp that lights me, for the radio that plays, for the news, for music and singing.
Thank you for the bunch of flowers, so pretty on my table.

Thank you for the tranquil night.
Thank you for the stars.
Thank you for the silence.

Thank you for the time you have given me.
Thank you for life.
Thank you for grace.

Thank you for being there, Lord.
Thank you for listening to me, for taking me serioulsy, for gathering my gifts in your hands to offer them to your Father.
Thank you, Lord,
Thank you.