I was introduced to Lars von Trier’s movies in a backhanded way.  A friend wanted me to watch “Melancholia” because she thought it was a waste of two hours of her life.  I suspected she was afraid I might like it and call her taste into question.  I was afraid of that too as I watched the magical beginning of the film.  Fortunately for our friendship I found the character Justine disagreeable enough to satisfy her.  I enjoyed the film more when I skipped from the extreme slow motion photography of the opening to the chapter titled “Claire” and watched from there to the end.  Less of Justine’s melancholia was definitely more for me.  I was hooked however on Lars von Trier.

I cried at the end of “Breaking the Waves” when God credited Bess’s faith as righteousness: For what does the scripture say? Paul asked.  “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.”^[1]  The plot turned on the confusion in the English language between eros and agapē.  It seems to me that English speaking believers who care about making the Gospel plain would lead the curve to accept fuck and fucking as legitimate words for eros.  We are the ones, after all, muscling in on love (since the Aunt Pollys^[2] and professional fundraisers of the world have made charity^[3] as odious to the receiver as to the giver).

Sexual intercourse is too clinical to substitute for eros.  Making love is too nice-nice, too insincere, or too dishonest to suffice.  The freshly fucked wife lying forlornly beside her husband, asking, “Do you love me?” knows full well that fucking doesn’t make any love.  Her clueless husband turning from the television to stare incredulously at her, and saying defensively, “Didn’t I just show you how much I love you?” thinks love was the feeling he had while fucking her.  Or worse, he might take offense thinking she has denigrated his performance as a fucker.  If he has read any books about fucking he might take the time to cuddle and talk to her afterwards, before turning to the television.  But a wife is close enough to see through that hypocrisy eventually.  Only the love that flows from Christ’s Spirit is the ἀγάπη^[4] (agapē) she seeks when fucking just isn’t enough.

I was on my first movie set with nudity.  We were ready to shoot.  The male actor, speaking for himself and his female counterpart, asked the director, “Are we making love or fucking?”  We all knew exactly what he meant.  Making love is the tender prelude to the selfish self-abandon of fucking.  Making love is the hope of which fucking is the substance.  By comparison making love seems calculated, hypocritical, a mere going through the motions, or a practiced aloofness.  “Give me a little of both,” the director replied.

Love (ἀγάπη) does no wrong to a neighbor, Paul wrote.  Therefore love (ἀγάπη) is the fulfillment of the law.^[5]  Few would be persuaded that, fucking does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore fucking (or the feeling I have while I am fucking, or wanting to fuck, her) is the fulfillment of the law.  I wonder sometimes, however, if we don’t actually prefer the confusion.  Loving enemies and praying for persecutors is decidedly unsexy and a hard sell.  It isn’t natural.  It only comes from the ἀγάπη of God flowing into one through his Holy Spirit and then out again as attitudes and actions that are incomprehensible to those born only of the flesh of Adam.

Having said all that, however, there was something about fucking, especially first fucking, that made me highly susceptible to the ἀγάπη of God.  I have noticed a similar phenomenon in other men.  It makes a sort of sense then that Satan and the religious mind would conspire to make first fucking as “immoral” as possible, to short circuit that natural progression from eros to agapē.  In the past this was achieved by putting all women but prostitutes completely out of reach.  In my day it was the misnomer premarital sex and the presumed punishment for premarital sex—pregnancy.  In terms of God’s law it was about as difficult for a man to commit premarital sex as to commit a pre-homicidal murder, since even a man who raped a single woman had committed lifelong marriage (Deuteronomy 22:28, 29 NET):

Suppose a man comes across a virgin who is not engaged and overpowers and rapes her and they are discovered [Table].  The man who has raped her must pay her father fifty shekels of silver and she must become his wife because he has violated her; he may never divorce her as long as he lives [Table].

In “Breaking the Waves” Bess knew that Jan worked on an oil rig out at sea when she married him.  But after their honeymoon, when he had to go back to work, she couldn’t bear their separation.  (I should probably say that I will be spoiling “Breaking the Waves” for anyone who finds a movie “spoiled” by knowing its story.)  Bess prayed that God would bring Jan home.  Whenever Bess prayed, by the way, she spoke for herself and then lowered the pitch of her voice and spoke for God as well.  Not surprisingly perhaps, Bess’s god sounded a bit like the elders of her church.

Early in the film we get a picture of her church.  When Jan asked why they had no bells in their steeple, the religious leader scolded, “We do not need bells in our church to worship God.”  “I like church bells,” Bess whispered to Jan.  He attended a funeral presided over by the elders and heard the words, “You are a sinner and you deserve your place in hell,” spoken as a corpse was lowered into the ground.  When he told Bess about it, she agreed, “He will go to hell; everyone knows that.”

Jan got hurt on the rig and came home paralyzed, probably for life, though even his life was not guaranteed.  He encouraged Bess to take a lover, but not to divorce him.  Bess was offended.  Later he convinced her that his life depended on her taking a lover and telling him about it.  She reluctantly and unsuccessfully attempted to seduce his doctor, someone for whom she had some affection.  She tried to tell Jan a sexy story, but he knew she was lying.  She began to have anonymous encounters with strangers.  She even dressed like a prostitute.  When she did, Jan seemed to get better.  When she didn’t, he seemed to get worse.

Finally she went to the “big ship” dressed as a prostitute.  Other prostitutes wouldn’t go there.  The men were brutal and cruel.  Bess barely escaped with her life.  She was excommunicated from her church, locked out of her home and pelted with rocks by neighborhood children.  Then she heard from her sister-in-law (who was also Jan’s nurse) that he was dying.

When his doctor asked, “What’s your talent, Bess?” she replied, “I can believe.”  At the moment where all was darkest for Bess personally her sister-in-law asked, “Is there anything I can do for you, anything at all?”  “Yes,” Bess answered, “I’d like you to go to Jan and pray for him to be cured, and rise from his bed and walk.”  Bess then went back to the “big ship.”

Lars von Trier was uncharacteristically shy about showing what happened to Bess there.  One can only assume that she was raped and beaten (and I call it rape despite her willingness to endure it).  But not showing it was the right call.  There was no need by that time in the story for anger at her attackers, and no call for overwhelming sorrow for Bess.  As she died in the emergency room she realized and admitted how wrong she had been.

At the medical inquest Jan’s doctor was tongue-tied to describe her condition.  He declared her good, but recanted when the medical examiners disputed describing her death as due to excessive goodness.  But there, sitting at the inquest, was Jan, not only risen from his deathbed but walking again.  While the religious leaders of Bess’s “church” were preoccupied with excommunicating sinners, teaching love for the law, and condemning corpses to hell, the body of Christ functioned within it (her sister-in-law was a member in good standing) and without it (Bess and Jan were not).

Now there are different gifts, but the same Spirit, Paul wrote to the Corinthians.  And there are different ministries, but the same Lord.  And there are different results, but the same God who produces all of them in everyone.  To each person the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the benefit of all.  For one person is given through the Spirit the message of wisdom, and another the message of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, and to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, to another performance of miracles…^[6]

Bess received the faith.  Her sister-in-law prayed and received a miracle.  Jan received a gift of healing.

Jan couldn’t face the prospect of self-righteous men condemning his beloved wife to hell, so he and his friends from the oil rig stole her body.  “Bess McNeill,” the church leader intoned over a casket filled with sand, “you are a sinner, and for your sins you are consigned to hell.”

“Not one of you has the right to consign Bess to hell,” her sister-in-law rebuked them with a gift of wisdom.  And they, for once, fell silent.

Bess was buried at sea on the oil rig.  Later a friend roused Jan from his mourning to come out on deck.  They stopped at the radar screen to assure themselves that nothing was on the ocean near them.  Then they went outside and heard church bells ringing.  And just in case we viewers were inclined to be incredulous, the scene cut to an extreme high angle, looking down on the oil rig in the ocean through the ringing bells of heaven.

There is another interesting aspect to this film.  People like the leaders of Bess’ “church” are not likely to see a movie rated “R for strong graphic sexuality, nudity, language and some violence.”  They self-select as unworthy of its message, and are “hardened,” so they may not repent and be forgiven,^[7] Jesus said of those who were outside (ἔξω).^[8]  But “Antichrist,” another of Trier’s movies, is what I really want to write about here.