A River Runs Through It, embodiment, and the consummation of all things

I have always liked the story of A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean. I read the book a number of years ago, and have watched the film numerous times thereafter. The film would easily fall into my top ten most-liked films.

I suppose many people get a general sense, whether consciously or unconsciously, of whether they like or dislike films based on how well the philosophy put forth by the story coincides with the viewer’s. Unfortunately, I am not quick-thinking or well-read enough to be able to understand—much less verbalize—my reasoning pertaining to my estimation of a film immediately after watching it. This has the disadvantage of giving me no ready answer to the question of why I liked (or disliked) a film in the short-term, but it has the advantage of allowing me to discover previously undisclosed treasures about a film that I have watched (and perhaps re-watched) some time afterwards. Such is the ongoing case with A River Runs Through It.

Today, I was ruminating on the propensity I would think all humans have to desire—even seek out—(a) normative principle(s) behind the meaning of life, of existence. Even the proposal that no such principle(s) exist(s) is, in itself, a bold example of such a principle. When contemplating such things from a Christian standpoint, I have personally always been drawn to Ephesians 1:8b-10:

“With all wisdom and insight 9 [God] has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, 10 as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.”

Such promise lies within these words! All of creation is being and will be swept up into Christ. As humans, we have the extraordinary privilege of sharing in that promise—even now, in our present life—in a very special way through being incorporated into Christ, as the next verses portray:

“11 In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, 12 so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. 13 In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; 14 this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption.”

Inasmuch as this is a plan for all of creation, so it relies heavily upon creation theology. Notably, the creation assertion that human beings are created in the image of God (Gen. 1:27, 5:1, 9:6; cf. 1 Cor. 11:7; Eph. 4:24; Jas. 3:9) plays a major role in our understanding of the mystery of being conformed to the image of his Son (Rom. 8:29; 2 Cor. 3:18), the firstborn of all creation (Col. 1:15).

But also, our doctrine of creation ex nihilo (out of nothing) and creation through Christ (John 1:3), suggests that even in the goodness of creation, the “plan for the fullness of time” was at work. And though it may be a bit of a doctrinal extrapolation, it seems within reason to think that the combination of our unified destiny as sharing in Christ with the wonderful diversity of creation would uphold, even stress—against a rather Gnostic assertion—the importance of the everyday matters of our lives.

We evangelicals (perhaps read: Protestants?) tend to downplay the significance of anything that doesn’t appeal to our sense of “gospel” importance. Being at seminary, my thoughts here turn primarily to the theological: the sacraments; the visible, institutionalized church; principles such as fellowship, dialogue, unity; some ethical considerations; even the practice of theological study itself, just to name a few, are often denigrated as inconsequential or arbitrary to the purely pragmatic undertaking of “preaching the gospel”. (e.g., cf. Melanchton: “It is necessary to distinguish from the episcopal polity, bound to place person and due succession, offices and human regulations—the ministry of the gospel instituted by God and continually restored by his great mercy which perpetually serves the Church and is not bound to certain places, persons and human laws but to the gospel (CR 5.627; cf. 559).” (emphasis mine)) As if the gospel is anything if not embodied!

Is it right to say that the gospel (which I understand best as the person and action of Jesus Christ, I’m not sure how Melanchthon defines it) transcends these things? Of course. We see but dimly (1 Cor. 13:12). But we still see (note St. Paul using the same verb for what we do now (see dimly) and what we will do then (see face to face)—in fact, in the Greek, the verb appears only once), and the extent to which we see is a shadow of the things to come, whose substance is Christ (cf. Col. 2:17). The historicity of the incarnation—that Jesus came as a real person to a real world in actual history—is of central importance. So, too, is our continued embodiment of the gospel, as we pray: “not only with our lips, but in our lives”. So, too, is the “plan for the fullness of time” relevant to the whole of creation—which waits with eager longing, by the way, for the revealing of the children of God, that it may obtain the freedom of our glory (Rom. 8:19-23).

In Revelation, we are given a brief, apocalyptic glimpse of what this final glory, this consummated plan, looks like. It looks, so far as it can be described, like a city, resplendent in the glory of the presence of the living God. And here, at long last, is where I have come to appreciate the film A River Runs Through It all the more. It’s closing line is: “Eventually, all things merge into one…and a river runs through it. I am haunted by waters.” But the apocalyptic thrust of Norman Maclean’s words, how the memories of loved ones passed on—their words, under the rocks in the bed of the stream—fills him with the sense of his loneliness and a dire longing for being reunited with them…that longing is precisely what is afforded to all who are swept up into Christ—we are united intimately with him and with each other, sharing in glory, for all eternity in the new Jerusalem.

And guess what? A river runs through it.

Revelation 22:1-2: Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb 2 through the middle of the street of the city.