Preachers, pastors, priests, rabbis and imams number in the hundreds of thousands in the United States.
They minister at the borders between what gets tabbed “sacred” and “secular” realms, and as such cannot go unnoticed in public media.

Some critics in the culture wars complain that they too often do get unnoticed. But most representations of them in movies and on television evoke, in the minds of those who have positive regard for clergy, George Bernard Shaw’s often paraphrased saying that there are two tragedies in life: not getting what we want and getting what we want.

“Not getting what ‘we’ want,” whoever “we” are, used to be represented in comments that ministers, especially Protestants, usually came across as namby-pamby and culturally marginal types as if labeled “Handle With Care.”

They often appeared begowned and silver-coiffed, viewed over the groom’s shoulder, saying, “I now pronounce you … You may kiss the bride.”

Everyone who knew, or was, a full-of-life cleric, resented that cultural posture.

In today’s world, however, most clergy representatives on film are not suave mainline clerics, beloved Irish-American priests or wan and thin play-it-safe rabbis.

Today, with the rise of presumably Protestant born-again studs, manipulators of people, and takers-of-the-law-into-their-own-hands types, we see images of lawbreakers with macho swagger.

Those observations are background comments to this week’s version of the sometimes robed swashbucklers in a film called “Machine Gun Preacher.”

It was hard to evade reviews last weekend; two which found me were in our local Chicago Sun-Times and Chicago Tribune.

We don’t need to review the reviews or condense all details of the plot. The regular run of characters surrounds the Rev. Sam Childers: his ex-stripper wife, here “stuck with platitudes such as ‘God gave you a purpose, Sam Childers.'”

The movie is based on a book which is based on a (presumably) true life story of a convict who gets violently born-again, thoroughly baptized and self-licensed to pick up a gun and fight in defense of children in Sudan.

Childers built an orphanage there, we are told and shown, and evidently does some good things for the kids.

But that’s not what the movie is about. To compete today, it has to be violent, and is.

Michael Phillips in the Chicago Tribune dealswiththescene in Sudan, personalizing it along the way. Here is how Childers voices the Gospel: “Staring down an enemy, he seethes: ‘The Lord I serve is the living Lord Jesus. And to show you he’s alive, I’m going to send you to meet him right now!’ Blam! Another enemy, smote.”

What does the viewer get to see in a plot plotted for today’s American market?

Childers “is nothing but a one-dimensional rage machine,” says Phillips. So the preacher and the filmmaker “can’t wait to get to the ass-whipping part of this inspirational story, [which] lacks any real sense of how Childers underwent his staggering transformation.”

RogerEbert in the Sun-Times, on the reverend gun-slinger: “he isn’t the first to go to war in the name of the Lord. … He’s born again, yes, but he seems otherwise relatively unchanged. … He seems fueled more by anger than by spirituality.”

Until next week’s violence-in-religion movie comes along, “Machine Gun Preacher” invites some pondering: Is this preacher what we wanted? And, if so, who are “we”?

Martin E. Marty is the Fairfax M. Cone Distinguished Service Professor Emeritus at the University of Chicago. His column first appeared in Sightings.

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