When the Times of London asked its readers to vote for the best book of the past 60 years, they chose Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mocking Bird. But we all know that being winner isn’t everything. The runner-up was Ken Follett’s The Pillars of the Earth.
I, being a barbarian, was introduced to this latter work for the first time when Netflix Instant suggested I might be interested in the mini-series currently being run on Starz.
I am now addicted.
Now let me hasten to add that I am under no illusion that all my addictions are wholesome. Lost: definitely
good for me. Homebrewing: probably good for me. Flannery O’Connor: definitely good for me. Pillars of the Earth: maybe, maybe not. The series is violent, has more than its fair share of sex scenes (I like to say that one of the main characters and his love interest have “a very simple relationship”) and one particularly disturbing rape scene. So, be forewarned.
So why do I watch a violent, “adult content” show, besides, of course, the adult content and violence?
The story sets out, even if too bluntly, the dangers of power, the power one has when one is presumed to speak for God, and the challenges of interpreting a broken world where one’s theology says that God is at work but the things playing out in real life do not testify to that reality.
Although I do not think the story handles the God and power questions with particular subtlety or grace, I nonetheless resonate with the danger I see unfolding on the screen before me. Even for those of us without formal ecclesiastical power, we do a dangerous thing when we presume to speak for God, to interpret the world as God’s spokespersons.
But this is what we have to do whenever we teach someone what the Bible says or how it applies to our lives. This is what we do every time we move forward in confidence because our spirit seems to be nudged by the Spirit of God.
Blowing up those moments into communal and national moments of life and death, as happens in Pillars, has the power to make us realize the power we wield and the danger we undertake when we make similar judgments in our own smaller worlds where the ramifications often seem less a matter of life and death.
Or, to put it somewhat differently. There you are, watching a ruthless king question why God isn’t defending him, why God isn’t blessing him. There you are, confidently barking back that no God worth His salt would come to the aid of such a deluded tyrant. And then maybe, just maybe, it dawns on you: are my expectations that God will baptize my life’s little schemes any more holy? Am I so different? Just what kind of power do I expect to wield on the basis of my faith?
And then, in all likelihood, you get drawn back in and enjoy a captivating story.



