Big Night and the LCMS

I love food movies. One of my favorite food movies in the Italian category is a great inde film called Big Night (1996). If you haven’t seen it, rent it, and bring a big appetite and a nice bottle of wine.

Big Night is about two brothers, Primo and Secondo, who run a failing little Italian restaurant. The food is first class, but the crowds just aren’t coming. Primo, the chef, is a culinary genius whose philosophy is “to eat good food is to be close to God.” Secundo is the restaurant's business manager and front man who must deal with unhappy bankers and whiny customers, whom Primo deems “Philistines."

Across the street from Primo’s restaurant is Pascal’s, a stereotype of your worst nightmare chianti-in-wicker-basket-bottles Italian restaurant, whose owner, Pascal, has the philosophy, “Give them what they want, and maybe in time, you’ll be able to give them what you want.” Pascal’s is packed every night with patrons happily loading up on spaghetti and meatballs to the tune of bad Italian music playing in the background. Primo, on the other hand, refuses to combine spaghetti and meatballs on the same plate, even though both appear on his menu. “Sometimes, the spaghetti she likes to be alone,” he says, sounding like a lover speaking tenderly of his beloved.

Pascal is the consummate pragmatist, a chameleon-like businessman who can be anything he wants whenever he needs. Primo is the dogmatic idealist who clings to the principle that people "should come for the food." Secundo is the realist, a man caught in the middle between good food and good business. He admires his brother Primo’s genius, yet he envies Pascal’s success.

The LCMS is Secundo, a conflicted second son. Part of it believes that good theology brings one closer to God, and that people should come for the theology. The other part believes that you need to give the customers what they want, even to the point of heterodoxy, so that in time you can give them what you want.

The twin realities in the film are that Primo will never succeed like Pascal, and Pascal has nothing of his own to give. The beauty of the movie is that it offers no via media, no easy compromise between Primo's orthodoxy and Pascal's heterodoxy. Business style and culinary substance are inextricably tied together. The question posed to Secundo by Pascal at the end of the movie is this: Who are you?

That is the question posed to the LCMS today: Who are you?

Is the LCMS a synod of churches united around a common confession and practice in the Reformation tradition, or is it a loose federation united in a common purpose to reach as many people as possible by whatever means necessary? Can Reformation doctrine and practice be blended with Evangelical/church growth/seeker-sensitive pragmatism? Can Pascal's style be combined with Primo's substance? Can the church's who call themselves Lutheran uphold the genius of their older brother while coveting the success of their competitors?

Of course, people will play with the analogy, and argue that yes, Pascal could offer better food if he wanted, and Primo could be a bit more seeker-sensitive to the Philistines. And what's wrong with spaghetti and meatballs anyway? But that would miss the point. The movie leaves it all in tension, as it is among us in the LCMS.

I haven’t spoiled the plot, so go see the movie. It’s very funny and the food scene is one of the best ever. As I said, bring an appetite. This analogy is not original with me, since I don't tend to view movies at this level. It came from my former pastor in northern California who shall remain nameless here unless he wishes to disclose his identity and take credit for a clever observation.

*A well-read commentator has pointed out that a similar analysis of Big Night is offered by Klemet I. Preus in The Fire and the Staff (CPH, 2004) pp. 442-443, demonstrating once again that great minds, like refined palettes, often run in similar channels.