1. The Tree of Life (2011)

Christmas is the celebration of the Word made flesh. It is easy to get caught up in the trappings of the holiday, as the greenery and glitter, the bells and trumpets, the cookies and cocoa are all beautiful and enrapture our senses. Fundamentally, Christmas is a theological movement, a theological act: Jesus, who was in the beginning, the Logos, became flesh and dwelt with us. John 1:1-4 is perhaps the most profound of all the Christmas texts. The Tree of Life is a meditation on this text and Job. The film might not come to mind as a traditional Christmas film -- Santa nor snow ever appear. At its core, however, the film is a masterful treatise on the meaning of Christmas.

To watch The Tree of Life is to stand before the expanse of the ocean or the heavens, knowing that every little thing you see has meaning, even if you don't understand what the meaning of each thing is. A day removed from watching this film, I feel like Christopher Columbus upon his landing in the new world or Frederick Cook. There is a mysterious infinity of faith and love in The Tree of Life.

Mr. Malick does not want to confuse people. He wants to open their eyes to faith and to the huge questions of faith, questions that are often reduced by fundamentalists of every stripe. For the fundamentalists who claim faith, faith is reduced to certainty. For the fundamentalists who assail faith, faith is a remnant of evolution gone awry. Faith is something to be jettisoned as baggage that has no worth in the modern world. But Mr. Malick sees and believes right through both forms of the same arrogant idolatry. So when Malick begins the film with an epigraph from Job, the divine question in response to Job's creaturely theodical question: "Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth...when the morning stars sang together?" we are to view the movie through that passage in Job more than the Genesis creation account(s). This movie, like Job, is one person's, Malick, attempt to reconcile his faith in a good God that brings life to be with the God who allowed his brother to die at an early age. The movie is an honest prayer, a supplication of integrity to God: God, why did you allow my brother to die? How can you say you are good and how can you ask me to be good, if you, God, are not good?

I think this question, uttered in a soft whisper, as all the movie's direct communication with God is done, is what drives the movie. But the movie begins with the answer: a beautiful sweep of history from the electron to DNA to the dinosaur to destruction to the specific story of one family, all are the work of the God who freely moves as a gaseous spirit of fire, the loving, birthing, consuming fire. We have the question of divine goodness and power within the boundaries of goodness in the beginning and goodness at the end. Thus, I think, it is Malick's way of saying, God, I know you are good. I know you are good, but why? Why? I know you are good. God's goodness is not known in the acetonic assurances of Mrs. O’Brien's mother, who cites scripture, just as Job's friends did. No one, not even God, who does not dwell in the depths of despair with another has the right to do such things. And that is why this movie only can make sense in a Christian worldview, a lens that sees the Creator as the Suffering Servant, the one who bore our iniquities and carried our sorrows. Only this God, the Logos who was made flesh in that Bethlehem manger on the first Christmas, has the right to answer Job's question with another question: Where were you when I laid the foundations of the world? Only the God who knows suffering of the most real sort can understand Job or Jack O'Brien or Terrence Malick or you or me.

Christmastide is a celebration because we proclaim that the Word became flesh, and through that flesh, we have a way, a truth, and a life. See the doorway at the end of the film, when the grown Jack cautiously walks through, or boldly leaps through the door. This is the Kierkegaardian leap of faith. "Very truly I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep," says Jesus. And it is only after taking that leap into a new existence that the question of why falls to the wayside and he is reunited in a prelapsarian, or rather, post-redemptive paradise, reunited with his family, transported to a place where every tear has been wiped away, every imperfection made pure. Near the end, Mrs. O'Brien says, "The only way to be happy is to love. Unless you love, your life will flash by." This is the way, the truth, and the life of grace with which the movie opens. And the message is this, I think: That until we leap into the Christ, who was with God in the beginning, who was then born in that Bethlehem manger, and who suffered with and for us, and who loved us to the ultimate distance, unless we are bound to that Christ, we will have no love. Without love our lives wither and fade, and death is the end. But with love, with Jesus, we live forevermore in the valley where the tree of life bears fruit for us forevermore.

There is no movie ever before or ever since made that delves into the depths of John 1:1-4 as deeply as this film. No movie has ever grasped the true meaning of Christmas like The Tree of Life does.

This post was edited on 12/9/19 at 4:00 pm