Hotel Rwanda
—Overview
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections
I was shamed into seeing this movie.
Sure, I heard it was well done and that Don Cheadle gave an excellent, and heart-wrenching performance, but the movie simply wasn’t a priority for me to see. Then I ran across a Brian McLaren column in the Leadership Journal where he poured out his frustration with the Christian movie-going public. They were moved en masse to see the Mel Gibson movie The Passion of the Christ. There was a hype machine in place, including pastors stumping for the movie from the pulpit, and organized church services for congregations to see the movie together. Reviews of the movie were caught up in it being one part cinematic experience and two parts religious experience. Truly they, anyone, would have hearts much more open to Christ after seeing that movie. However, with the movie Hotel Rwanda, not a peep from the religious right, the moral majority, was heard. Brian McLaren wrote that:
For whatever reason, when I walked out of the recent film Hotel Rwanda, the story of a hotel manager who saves more than a thousand Tutsi refugees from Hutu-led genocide, this thought wouldn't leave me: If we really had the mind and heart of Christ, this is the movie we would be urging people in our churches to see.
By all rights, Hotel Rwanda should be this year’s Schindler’s List. In fact, maybe it suffers from that “been there� feeling. Maybe the movie itself suffers from the same problem that plagued the Rwandan tragedy that it depicts: apathy. As the cameraman who was in Rwanda to document the atrocities–before it got too dangerous and all the foreign nationals fled--says, the West will have one response when they watch the footage on their evening news: “They’ll say ‘Oh my God, that’s horrible,’ and they keep eating their dinners.� Said another way, on a recent episode of Boston Legal, Candice Bergen’s character says that “The American people have spoken and they don’t care.� Not to put too fine a point on it, but Colonel Oliver (Nick Nolte) sums it up bluntly when he says that “We think you’re dirt ... You’re not even a nigger. You’re African.�
“‘For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’ They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’ He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’� Matthew 25:42-45
Paul Rusesabagina (Don Cheadle) was an ordinary man, caught up in extraordinary circumstances. If ever there was a true reluctant hero it is he, a fact driven home by the point that he didn’t even realize that he was doing anything heroic. As a member of the Hutu tribe, he didn’t have to do anything. He was in a position of power and comfort, and he could have easily sat idly by, knowing that his life was in no danger. The spark for action probably started with his heart being open because his wife was from the Tutsi tribe. From there, he was moved to protect some 1200+ Tutsis. At the heart of his motivation, he saw the evil going on around him and his heart swelled with compassion. I think that we hope that we would respond the same way in similar circumstances. That was the core of what the movie was about: not the millions that were killed, but how people responded to such a tragedy. In effect, being a good man was as “easy� as doing what he knew to be right. Being good meant being a compassionate and decent human being.
The entire time that I watched the movie, the parable of the good Samaritan haunted my mind. In a nutshell, an expert in the law, a religious guy, knew that he was to love his neighbor as himself, but was looking for a loophole and asked Jesus to define who exactly his neighbor was. Jesus tells him a parable about a guy who gets robbed and beaten. Two various so-called “holy� people pass him by, but a Samaritan, a member of a despised “tribe� helped the man. When asked by Jesus which of these was a neighbor to the man, “The expert in the law replied, ‘The one who had mercy on him.’ Jesus told him, ‘Go and do likewise.’� Luke 10:30
You see, hate is an insidious thing. One of the things we have to realize is that, being human and all, we have a deep capacity to hate and hate has a long memory. It’s hate that allows us to quit seeing our neighbor as human and allows us to get caught up in wartime propaganda and see them as “cockroaches�. Something sub-human, worthy of extermination. It’s that wellspring of hate that leads to tragedies that make us have to form questions like “how many acts of genocide does it take to be considered genocide?� McLaren puts it this way
And I go back to the film, and think of the hotel and its manager, himself a Hutu, but one who loves Tutsi as well. I think about his distinction early in the film between family (who deserve help) and non-family (who one can't worry about), and how in the course of the genocide, he comes to see that all neighbors are family. And I wonder why so few of us see our neighbors in the Christian faith in anything close to a similar way, not to mention our non-Christian neighbors who may also be modern-day prostitutes, tax collectors, and Samaritans. I wonder what kind of tragedy it would take to bring us to the insight gained by that hotel manager.
A dirty little secret of the tragedy of Rwanda is that not too long ago, it was held as an example of Christian triumph. The missionaries had done their jobs and most of the populace claimed Christ as their Savior. This movie illustrates how fragile a spiritual life can be, showing the seen-too-often disconnect of a faith that tickles the mind but fails to penetrate the heart. A few years later, an attempt at genocide occurs. Too easily we can get drawn into our own brands of tribal warfare or, as McLaren writes,
I think about Tutsi and Hutu locked in a cycle of fear and aggression, insult and revenge, attack and counterattack. And I also think of the Twa (the literal "little people" of our world) whose story is so little known, who suffer in the crossfire between the larger, more powerful tribes. And I think about how our community of Christian believers is divided by tribes also caught in long-standing cycles that seem to defy reconciliation: Protestant, Catholic; liberal, conservative red-state, blue-state; contemporary, traditional; postmodern, modern; seeker-driven, seeker-sensitive; purpose-driven, tradition-driven, and so on.
Things come back to next time. Schindler’s List should’ve reminded us, moved each of us to claim “Never again� as our personal mantra in the face of overwhelming indecency. There will be a next time. McLaren puts it this way
And I go back to the film, and think of the hotel and its manager, himself a Hutu, but one who loves Tutsi as well. I think about his distinction early in the film between family (who deserve help) and non-family (who one can't worry about), and how in the course of the genocide, he comes to see that all neighbors are family. And I wonder why so few of us see our neighbors in the Christian faith in anything close to a similar way, not to mention our non-Christian neighbors who may also be modern-day prostitutes, tax collectors, and Samaritans. I wonder what kind of tragedy it would take to bring us to the insight gained by that hotel manager.
Be it tsunami or the next time a people decide that the only way to settle the differences between them is to completely wipe out a whole segment of the population, there will always be a next time.
Maybe we won’t have to be shamed into doing something.
—Overview
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections
I was shamed into seeing this movie.
Sure, I heard it was well done and that Don Cheadle gave an excellent, and heart-wrenching performance, but the movie simply wasn’t a priority for me to see. Then I ran across a Brian McLaren column in the Leadership Journal where he poured out his frustration with the Christian movie-going public. They were moved en masse to see the Mel Gibson movie The Passion of the Christ. There was a hype machine in place, including pastors stumping for the movie from the pulpit, and organized church services for congregations to see the movie together. Reviews of the movie were caught up in it being one part cinematic experience and two parts religious experience. Truly they, anyone, would have hearts much more open to Christ after seeing that movie. However, with the movie Hotel Rwanda, not a peep from the religious right, the moral majority, was heard. Brian McLaren wrote that:
For whatever reason, when I walked out of the recent film Hotel Rwanda, the story of a hotel manager who saves more than a thousand Tutsi refugees from Hutu-led genocide, this thought wouldn't leave me: If we really had the mind and heart of Christ, this is the movie we would be urging people in our churches to see.
By all rights, Hotel Rwanda should be this year’s Schindler’s List. In fact, maybe it suffers from that “been there� feeling. Maybe the movie itself suffers from the same problem that plagued the Rwandan tragedy that it depicts: apathy. As the cameraman who was in Rwanda to document the atrocities–before it got too dangerous and all the foreign nationals fled--says, the West will have one response when they watch the footage on their evening news: “They’ll say ‘Oh my God, that’s horrible,’ and they keep eating their dinners.� Said another way, on a recent episode of Boston Legal, Candice Bergen’s character says that “The American people have spoken and they don’t care.� Not to put too fine a point on it, but Colonel Oliver (Nick Nolte) sums it up bluntly when he says that “We think you’re dirt ... You’re not even a nigger. You’re African.�
“‘For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’ They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’ He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’� Matthew 25:42-45
Paul Rusesabagina (Don Cheadle) was an ordinary man, caught up in extraordinary circumstances. If ever there was a true reluctant hero it is he, a fact driven home by the point that he didn’t even realize that he was doing anything heroic. As a member of the Hutu tribe, he didn’t have to do anything. He was in a position of power and comfort, and he could have easily sat idly by, knowing that his life was in no danger. The spark for action probably started with his heart being open because his wife was from the Tutsi tribe. From there, he was moved to protect some 1200+ Tutsis. At the heart of his motivation, he saw the evil going on around him and his heart swelled with compassion. I think that we hope that we would respond the same way in similar circumstances. That was the core of what the movie was about: not the millions that were killed, but how people responded to such a tragedy. In effect, being a good man was as “easy� as doing what he knew to be right. Being good meant being a compassionate and decent human being.
The entire time that I watched the movie, the parable of the good Samaritan haunted my mind. In a nutshell, an expert in the law, a religious guy, knew that he was to love his neighbor as himself, but was looking for a loophole and asked Jesus to define who exactly his neighbor was. Jesus tells him a parable about a guy who gets robbed and beaten. Two various so-called “holy� people pass him by, but a Samaritan, a member of a despised “tribe� helped the man. When asked by Jesus which of these was a neighbor to the man, “The expert in the law replied, ‘The one who had mercy on him.’ Jesus told him, ‘Go and do likewise.’� Luke 10:30
You see, hate is an insidious thing. One of the things we have to realize is that, being human and all, we have a deep capacity to hate and hate has a long memory. It’s hate that allows us to quit seeing our neighbor as human and allows us to get caught up in wartime propaganda and see them as “cockroaches�. Something sub-human, worthy of extermination. It’s that wellspring of hate that leads to tragedies that make us have to form questions like “how many acts of genocide does it take to be considered genocide?� McLaren puts it this way
And I go back to the film, and think of the hotel and its manager, himself a Hutu, but one who loves Tutsi as well. I think about his distinction early in the film between family (who deserve help) and non-family (who one can't worry about), and how in the course of the genocide, he comes to see that all neighbors are family. And I wonder why so few of us see our neighbors in the Christian faith in anything close to a similar way, not to mention our non-Christian neighbors who may also be modern-day prostitutes, tax collectors, and Samaritans. I wonder what kind of tragedy it would take to bring us to the insight gained by that hotel manager.
A dirty little secret of the tragedy of Rwanda is that not too long ago, it was held as an example of Christian triumph. The missionaries had done their jobs and most of the populace claimed Christ as their Savior. This movie illustrates how fragile a spiritual life can be, showing the seen-too-often disconnect of a faith that tickles the mind but fails to penetrate the heart. A few years later, an attempt at genocide occurs. Too easily we can get drawn into our own brands of tribal warfare or, as McLaren writes,
I think about Tutsi and Hutu locked in a cycle of fear and aggression, insult and revenge, attack and counterattack. And I also think of the Twa (the literal "little people" of our world) whose story is so little known, who suffer in the crossfire between the larger, more powerful tribes. And I think about how our community of Christian believers is divided by tribes also caught in long-standing cycles that seem to defy reconciliation: Protestant, Catholic; liberal, conservative red-state, blue-state; contemporary, traditional; postmodern, modern; seeker-driven, seeker-sensitive; purpose-driven, tradition-driven, and so on.
Things come back to next time. Schindler’s List should’ve reminded us, moved each of us to claim “Never again� as our personal mantra in the face of overwhelming indecency. There will be a next time. McLaren puts it this way
And I go back to the film, and think of the hotel and its manager, himself a Hutu, but one who loves Tutsi as well. I think about his distinction early in the film between family (who deserve help) and non-family (who one can't worry about), and how in the course of the genocide, he comes to see that all neighbors are family. And I wonder why so few of us see our neighbors in the Christian faith in anything close to a similar way, not to mention our non-Christian neighbors who may also be modern-day prostitutes, tax collectors, and Samaritans. I wonder what kind of tragedy it would take to bring us to the insight gained by that hotel manager.
Be it tsunami or the next time a people decide that the only way to settle the differences between them is to completely wipe out a whole segment of the population, there will always be a next time.
Maybe we won’t have to be shamed into doing something.
—Overview
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections
3 Comments:
Maurice: I really think you're onto something here. I remember Brian D. McLaren's comments re: the Passion.
He said: Do you want the emerging culture to sit up and take notice? Don’t show them another movie, however great it is. Show them Christians around the world (starting with those who have been given the most: us) who care and give and love and move to serve.
There are millions of poor Muslims who see the West as decadent, strident, arrogant, selfish, careless, and pugilistic, and of course, they are right. Can you see how offering them a fine movie could just make things worse? Instead, why don’t we show them some Christians (in the West but not of it) who are honest, upright, peacemakers, compassionate, humble, and generous?
Our world is torn by ethnic, class, and religious hatred. Don’t show the emerging culture a movie about Jesus: show them a movement of people living like Jesus—people who like him love the different, even the enemy, whose doors are open and tables are set with welcome.
K
exactly. i would love to see a churh service revolve around seeing this movie or renting a theater and busing in their congregation to see it.
As I said: I wish I'd seen this movie at the cinema!
Never mind - plenty of time on DVD, plus less sniffs, sneezes, chatter, discomfort... (British people can be so RUDE at the cinema! Too much of a "kid" environment, that IS the problem!)
I think that Paul R. must be a great person. I love people like him and Oskar Schindler. I have fantasized myself about being Schindler. The compassionate trickster. (For such he was.)
More power to their elbow.
More "interveners" of this sort needed!
But funnily enough, my socialist lodestar site, www.wsws.org, didn't give this much of a rave review... They hardly ever seem to, though, unless the movie ALSO shows something about the evils of capitalism or something... They're a terribly picky lot!
I would have thought that a simple story about humanity would be enough to draw any progressive person's praise.
Maybe lots of churches didn't want to show this movie, because of Rwanda having been "evangelized" successfully, though, and this proving NO solution to their social and sectarian problems...
Goodness knows what a sociologist would say!!
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