It is thirty years since the inspiring Olympian film, ‘Chariots of Fire’, in which the personal Christian discipleship of one Scottish sprinter, Eric Liddle, was displayed for the public to pore over.  Since then, it is not unreasonable to say that both Christians and their Church have lacked champions at the cinema, descending in recent times to the sensational nadir of ‘The Da Vinci Code’.  ‘Of gods and men’ goes one better than ‘Chariots of Fire’.  I do not think I could ever see a more moving portrayal of the trials of faith, and especially the dilemmas facing some clergy across the world.  It’s a French film, of course.  For all the historic anti-clericalism of republican France, there remains a respect for the calling of office and, as a result, a rich and fertile seam of drama for screenwriters and those who are prepared to exercise patience at the cinema.

Based on a true story and set in Algeria in 1996 at the height of a sickeningly ugly civil war whose brutality in many ways prefaced the violent blood lust of contemporary Islamic extremism, it concerns the life of a Cistercian monastery.  The brothers have devoted their lives to the peace-loving local Muslim population, offering health and social care for the most vulnerable but find themselves caught terrifyingly in the middle of a fight between the extremists and a repressive government which has already cancelled elections because they weren’t about to produce the result that satisfied either them or their western sponsors.

As the violence spirals downwards nihilistically, the brothers are first faced with having to seek wisdom when confronted by the intimidating request of the armed Islamists to empty their medical store so injured militants can be treated and then with a dawning realisation that their lives are in jeopardy if they stay in the country.  In painstaking detail the brothers work out their calling.  There are no freedom fighters to protect them and their reliance on a peace-loving Messiah draws them ineluctably to an unsparing conclusion: they must stay with the Muslim community they serve because that population has no means of escape.  The incarnation of the Word, whose own life was at risk from the moment of birth until the last gasp of breath, compels them to remain in Algeria, even as the noose closes around their neck.

The slow and measured pace of the story - a consequence in part of the culture of French film which usually stands apart from the frenetic and superficial imperative of Hollywood and also of the reality of life in a monastery given to silence, prayer and reflection - allows valuable space for the brothers to talk through their options.  The realism which affords some to argue for a return to France and others for the need to stay, allows incarnational theology to receive close and sensitive inspection.  The brothers are led tearfully to the continuation of their ministry to the local village and the echoes of the Last Supper in the final meal before their foes come to lead them away across a snow-swept landscape to their fate are among the most moving one could witness.  Knowing that these are the kinds of anguished circumstances that many Christian communities face in today’s fractured world added even more pathos to the screening.

The general release of this film has almost drawn to an end, which means if you haven’t caught it yet, then DVD is your next option.  I would recommend that every church gets hold of a copy of this film.  Its pace, subtitles and subdued ending are defiantly anti-fashion, but I doubt you will ever see a more inspiring demonstration of Christian faith and the complexity of its outworking in the modern world.  Once you get beyond the rare sense of speechlessness that grips you on leaving the cinema, you realise there is more to discuss than you could ever do justice to.