“And Peter went out and wept bitterly.“
Luke 22:62
When I first read the story of Peter’s denial of Jesus, I couldn’t seem to stop crying. The Holy Spirit, whom Christians believe to be the inspiration behind the Scriptures, had me squarely in his sights. It was easy to see myself as Peter who, for all his good intentions, had failed in the moment of truth. But here’s the thing: it wasn’t Peter crying that made me cry. It was how I imagined Jesus looking at Peter that pierced my heart. I don’t think it was a superior, “I told you so” sort of look that Jesus had on his face. I think it was a look of imponderable sorrow, and more than that, a look of purest love. And the solemnity and awful awareness of it all must have broken Peter’s heart. It broke mine when I read the account.
There are other stories in the Bible that have touched me in a similar way. There’s the story of Joseph, for instance, when he was reunited with his brothers who had sold him into slavery. Fighting a mix of emotions, Joseph broke down and wept so loudly that his cries carried down the hallway of Pharaoh’s palace. Or the account of King David when he learned that his estranged son, Absalom, had been killed in battle. He found a private room above the city gate where he cried from the depths of his heart, “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you—O Absalom, my son, my son!” Even now, just thinking of these stories opens a spigot in my heart and the tears roll down. The Holy Spirit is a masterful storyteller.
In his autobiography, The Name Above the Title, Frank Capra, the great American film director who won three Academy Awards in the 1930s, wrote, “I made some mistakes in drama. I thought drama was when the actors cried. But drama is when the audience cries.”
When the audience cries…
I remember when I used to go to Carnegie Hall Cinema in New York City. It was during the mid-1970s and I was a film student at NYU. I saw many “art house” films back then as well as classic Hollywood films. As was my wont, I usually smuggled in a sandwich purchased earlier at the Carnegie Deli nearby and sat back to enjoy the show (and maybe learn a thing or two about filmmaking in the process).
I remember one evening watching the movie The Rose Tattoo based on a play by Tennessee Williams and starring Burt Lancaster and Anna Magnani. Being honest with you, I have had to do a Google search just now to remind myself of the movie’s storyline, but here’s something I’ve never forgotten: The Rose Tattoo made me cry. Really cry. It also made me laugh. I remember those tears and that laughter very well. There I was, sitting in the darkened theatre (having finished my pastrami and rye), clutching the armrests of my seat, a young, wannabe filmmaker saying these words through clenched teeth as the tears streamed down my face: “I want to make ’em laugh! I want to make ’em cry!”
I was not a Christian then; today, I am. But the depth of emotion I felt that night at Carnegie Hall Cinema and the prayer I have today are really much the same. “O God, use me to make films that move people so deeply in their souls that they will laugh and cry… that they will forget about themselves… that they will yearn to find you… to touch you somehow… to know you.”
As a screenwriter, I have sometimes had the experience of crying when writing a scene for a script. It has never been something I’ve tried to manufacture; it’s just something that happens. And it has led me to an experiment of sorts. After one of my films is finished, I will sometimes sit incognito in the audience and watch to see (and feel) if the viewers react emotionally at the same places in the story where I had reacted during the writing process.
More often than not, they do.
I find this tremendously encouraging. It signals to me that we—as human beings—share a common language of emotions which allows for communication between us at the deepest of levels. I further believe that this is something orchestrated by God. He has made us this way. It leads me to think that should the Lord ever desire another job (apart from being Ruler of Heaven and Earth), he might want to be a screenwriter or director. He understands drama, you see.
And now, an announcement. We are happy to share with you our latest offering: Daniel’s Garden, the documentary follow-up to our feature film Let Me Have My Son. I’d love for you to watch it before it goes into general distribution, but can I ask a favor? Will you consider a donation (of any amount) to Messenger Films to help offset our production costs? You can send a check to our Tampa address or donate online at https://messengerfilms.com/donate/ then send an email to info@messengerfilms.com advising me of your contribution. I’ll get the link to you forthwith.
Daniel’s Garden is an emotional, heartfelt story. I daresay it’ll have you crying (and laughing, too). In keeping with the words of Frank Capra, you might want to keep a box of tissues nearby.
And now, may the Lord bless and keep you. May he make his face shine upon you, and may he give you peace.
