By Jon McIntosh

Grace changes people.

There was a movie several years back that seemed to understand this point better than most “church folk.” (Church folk is what we call religious, church attenders in my part of the country.)

The plot behind Chocolat is not complicated: a single mom, Vianne, and her daughter open a chocolaterie (fancy for chocolate shop) right in the middle of a traditional country village… right in the middle of lent. (Lent is for fasting and chocolate is for… well, not fasting.)

Vianne opens shop in the village, and many of the religiously-minded villagers, at first tentative, slowly begin to shed their inhibitions and experience new vitality as they come in contact with the power of… chocolate.

Of course, the powers that be aren’t pleased with this new presence in town, and as a result, Vianne comes toe to toe with the respectable yet self-righteous mayor, the Comte de Reynaud. Tension builds as Vianne comes to personify freedom and the mayor repression. At this point, one of the major threads of the movie is exposed: religion is used to manipulate and oppress.

As a pastor, you think I would take issue with this movie. On the contrary, I think Chocolat teaches a valuable lesson.

Religion can do a lot. It can give a disunited group of people something to rally around. It can provide structure, order, and morality in the middle of chaos. But the one thing that it cannot do is change people – at least in any meaningful way.

Religion works primarily on the concept of behavior modification. This process relies heavily on fear and shame – fear of consequences and public shame – to keep people in line.

Of the town, one of the villagers says, “You don’t misbehave here. It’s just not done, did you know that?” You maintain a respectable public face, and if you don’t, the townspeople will be sure to let you know.

That is, until chocolate comes to town. And in this movie chocolate is so much more than just chocolate. Chocolate is freedom and, yes, chocolate is indulgence, but most importantly, chocolate is grace. And through a town held in the power of religion like a vice grip, grace, freely offered, starts to flow – changing people, giving them permission to love and forgive one other, ultimately setting them free.

The failure of behavior modification is seen most clearly in the movie when both players take on the problem of a failing and abusive marriage, with Vianne giving shelter to the wife and the Comte attempting to reform the husband.
Vianne simply offers the warmth and love of friendship, and this shell of a woman begins to come to life again.

The Comte however, believing that his religion (and thus his identity) are on the line, enrolls the husband in a program of moral reform with all the vigor of a drill sergeant. Initially we see some results with the husband dressing better and even offering flowers and an apology to his wife.

The good deeds that stem from behavior modification, however, only go so deep. In this case, the flowers and apology do not flow from a truly broken or humble heart – they are only one more attempt to control.

When the husband’s apology goes unaccepted, he flips out and shows the true nature of his heart by exploding in a spree of violence that hurts much of the town.
Realizing the failure of his program of reform, the Comte kicks the husband out of town saying, “What you have done puts you beyond anyone’s help… beyond my help, anybody’s help!”

This is the final failure of religion: behavior matters more than the person. When change doesn’t happen or true brokenness is exposed – you’re gone. You’re out. Done. Finished.

Of course, the Comte at this point is on the verge of his own self-quake. His religious control has been challenged and found wanting. His own identity is being shattered. The false pretense of his life is being exposed. He is on the verge of a breakdown. He is on the verge of repentance.

One thing has to happen first. He has to give in to the power of grace. In pain and frustration he breaks into the chocolate shop bent on destroying it. “I feel so lost,” he cries out.

In his spree, however, the tiniest bit of chocolate touches his lips. And that tiny bit is all he needs. His self-control, gone. His fast, out the door. He looses himself in the largest chocolate eating binge that town has known. He wakes the next morning, lying with chocolate stained face and hands in the open broken window of the chocolate shop – exposed for all the town.

This is where religion ends and the power for authentic transformation begins. This is so difficult, however, because it means following a path of brokenness, where everything you’ve put your trust in or built your life around is exposed and ultimately peeled away.

“I feel so lost.”

And it is here – exposed and broken – our crutches and facades successfully removed, that grace steps in. The brokenness first forces us to say, “I’m worse that I realized.” And that is good. And then grace replies, “Sure. But you’re more loved that you know.” And this – this is even better.

Praise to the One who pursues the lost and gives hope to the broken.

“Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’ For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” –Jesus of Nazareth

JONATHAN is a pastor with a passion to equip churches to understand the dynamic nature of the gospel and learn how to better contextualize that gospel for a variety of cultures & people groups. Jonathan was on staff for 5 years as a pastor and teacher at The Journey, a missional church in St. Louis; he is a student of culture and created The Journey’s cultural engagement ministries that have attracted media attention worldwide. Jonathan lives in Tupelo, Mississippi with his wife Ashley and their two daughters Cora & Nola. You can learn more about Jonathan and his organization, Rethink Mission on his website. You can also follow him on Facebook and Twitter.

You can read all of the posts in the Grace Week Series here.