For the past two years, I have taught a course at LMU on the narrative of the scriptures during the spring semester. Part of the curriculum includes watching the 2014 movie Noah after examining Genesis 1-6. Because I have taught multiple sections of the course each semester, I have now gotten to watch Noah multiple times. The result is that I catch things I previously didn’t, or certain scenes affect me differently depending on where I find myself at that moment. Really, that’s the beauty of art or any creative endeavor: it can elicit something within us repeatedly. Art, when done well, can be a gift that keeps on giving; it can heal, inspire, and bring joy, among many things. This is why we go back to those same films, books, or albums again and again; we have an emotional connection that can stir something special within us.
When Noah came out in 2014, it received a good amount of critical backlash, particularly from Christians who claimed that it was scripturally inaccurate. In some respects, that is true. However, many of these same Christians missed some important considerations because of their literalistic concerns. One was that director Darren Aronofsky, a Jew, drew upon extra-biblical sources like the Book of Enoch, a Jewish apocalyptic work written sometime between the third and first centuries BCE. Jews from first-century Palestine, like Jesus and his earliest followers, were likely familiar with and influenced by such works (see Jude and Revelation).
Recently, I watched a brief clip of Jordan Peterson in which he explained succinctly what makes something traumatizing. He noted that it’s not something that is hurtful that is traumatizing to a person. Rather, it’s encountering someone who wanted to hurt them; it’s encountering the deep evil and malevolence in another human being that is challenging to grapple with. He said, “it’s that glimpse of that malevolence that fractured them.” Thus, that’s what makes a traumatizing event so challenging to get over and to heal from, it’s pulling back the veil and seeing malevolence itself and glimpsing evil. It is one thing to have a personality conflict; it is one thing to have differences of opinion. I can say firsthand that it is another to look into another human being’s eyes and know that they hate you, have planned your demise, but still act as if all is well. That is truly a scary prospect and certainly one that takes time to recover from. The simple fact of the matter is that there are dangerous people in the world, and often they come in the form of a friend or a benevolent spirit. What is eerie is that the benevolent mask usually comes off when control is lost, a “no” is given, or a boundary has been set. Their malevolence arises because, for but a brief moment, their armor has been breached, their vulnerability exposed, and their power limited. What follows: anxiety and insecurity. The very things that, if not examined healthily, lead us further away from God. Yet when this happens, hardness sets in, invulnerability sets in, and labels and titles are used to protect and justify such feelings and positions. And if others are not careful, they can mindlessly follow along, thinking, well s/he’s the parent, the pastor, the president, the bishop, the professor, the director, the CEO, etc. It can be such a twisted and perverted feat that a title, position, or privilege becomes the means by which one can fortify oneself from others. It is anti-human, but it’s a common means by which we operate and consider normal, too.
When Tubal-Cain (the antagonist) appears for the second time in the movie, he asserts his “kingship” before Noah’s son Ham. At the beginning of the movie, he demonstrates this same possessive and invulnerable spirit, killing Noah’s father and taking what he wants. In true fashion, he is a transgressor of boundaries, taking life, which is the purview of God, and exploiting creation, which is the opposite of the call to be human (see Gen.1:26-29). He does what he wants without regard to the creator’s boundaries. When he comes before Noah, he does not respect Noah’s “no” as he tells Tubal Cain: “There isn’t anything for you here.” To which Tubal Cain says: “This all belongs to me. This land. This forest. That stronghold of yours. Did you really think you could protect yourself from me in that?” Tubal-Cains asserts his kingship in the face of the one true king – Noah’s God. He asserts his possession of those things that are not actually his; they are God’s. But he does not care. And he reveals as much when he says some lines later, “Damned if I don’t take what I want.” Alas, a lot of damage has been caused by such thinking and living!
Rather than back down to such an intimidating person, Noah lets Tubal-Cain know that his time is coming to an end. More importantly, though, he says something deeply striking. He says to Tubal-Cain, who has weapons and an army behind him, “I am not alone.” And walks away from him.
“I am not alone.” It’s tempting to believe the opposite, that we are alone, especially in the face of such strong and overbearing personalities like Tubal-Cain. Such persons indicate by their presence and actions that they are indeed god-like, doing whatever they want and taking whatever they want from whomever they please. They would like us to believe so, too. It’s how they control; it’s how they get what they want. Of course, the temptation to succumb to such a way of being in the world is ever before us. The temptation to strike first, to control first, to get ours first, to avoid vulnerability and insecurity. Nonetheless, Noah offers something else, a different reality and way of seeing the world – “I am not alone.” And yet is it not so hard to believe at times?
“I am not alone,” and yet anxiety steps in and says, “Yes, you are, it’s all your fault, it’s all on you, you’ve made a mess.” “I am not alone,” and yet the God who seemingly brought us to where we are is nowhere to be found. “I am not alone,” and yet everyone and everything has been turned against you; what you say or do will definitely be used against you. “I am not alone,” and Noah walked away from Tubal-Cain.
The rest of the way was not easy for Noah as he walked with God. It was filled with much struggle, alienation, and angst. One could even argue that he gets drunk in his vineyard afterward as a means of self-medicating from the PTSD he had acquired from such a traumatic event. He indeed faced malevolence both without and within. Yet, he was not alone. No doubt, he did not walk away from the flood unscathed, as Aronofsky brilliantly displays in this movie. “I am not alone,” he said in the face of the malevolent Tubal-Cain, and he was proved true. It’s not hard to see a connection to the vulnerable Jesus of Nazareth before the invulnerable and hardened Pontius Pilate.
He entered his headquarters again and asked Jesus, “Where are you from?” But Jesus gave him no answer. 10 Pilate therefore said to him, “Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you and power to crucify you?” 11 Jesus answered him, “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above (John 19: 9-11a)
Indeed, Jesus was not alone, either. Though, flogged, mocked, and crucified. He would be raised from the dead, with the wounds and the marks to bear witness to such evil. But remember he was resurrected.
“I am not alone.”
You are not alone.
Indeed.
A Foolish Way 