Why Nicholas Ma Decided To Take A ‘Leap Of Faith’ With New Documentary
At the beginning of the new documentary “Leap of Faith,” the coordinator of the project remarks: “Our society is getting meaner. People of faith need to find a way to sustain hope and kindness.”
The project — entitled “Sowing Seeds of Hope” — brought twelve diverse Christian leaders at a series of retreats and workshops. These five women and seven men, would talk across differences in ways deepening love of God and neighbor, instead of dividing them, as they struggled together with some of today’s most contentious issues. The film explores whether we can disagree and still maintain friendship and respect in a divided world.
Filmmaker Nicholas Ma, son of famed cellist YoYo Ma, had made the acclaimed 2018 documentary, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor,” on the life of Fred Rogers, the host of the long-running children’s show “Mister Rogers” on PBS.
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In an email interview with Religion Unplugged, Ma noted, “At the end of every screening, people would ask, where are the Fred Rogers of today? And I frankly didn't know the answer. And I think all of us worried that maybe the answer was, we had moved past a time where people like that could exist. But in meeting these pastors as they struggle painfully and earnestly — to truly be neighbors to each other and love each other as neighbors.”
In 2020, Ma read a Wall Street Journal article about Mennonite Rev. Gulker’s Colossian Forum, a nonprofit organization based in Grand Rapids, Michigan, “dedicated to helping Christians build healthy conflict cultures in the face of increasing social conflict.”
What intrigued Ma and his collaborator Morgan Neville was that they weren’t trying to get people to agree with each other, but to respect each other, which is one of our nation’s biggest issues today, especially in light of the upcoming presidential election that’s led to so much distrust and anger.
Initially, the filmmakers suggested assembling a group of multiple faith leaders from all over the country, but Gulker believed the project would be more valuable if all the participants lived in the same city so they could hold each other accountable. They settled on Grand Rapids because in April 2022 there was a George Floyd-type controversy when a Congolese immigrant, Patrick Lyoya, was shot by a police officer. In addition, the city was the home to many Christian denominations, education and publishing firms.
So, guided by Gulker, 12 pastors would be thrown together in a room to see if they could accept each other’s differences. They didn’t want mega or big-box churches and sought a matrix of different theological traditions (from evangelical and mainline denominations, ultra-conservative to progressive) and racial, ethnic, and socioeconomic groups.
Ma decided to title the film “Leap of Faith.”
“It really should be called “leaps” of faith because it's not one leap, and it's not the same leap for every person. Just the decision to be in that room for some of those pastors was a leap of faith. The decision to stay in that room was a leap of faith. The decision to be vulnerable is a leap of faith. The decision to respond to vulnerability with vulnerability is a leap of faith. And the belief that out of something out of the impossible comes the possible is a leap of faith in the broadest terms. I don't think anyone at the end of the year knew what would happen.”
The question arose, according to Gulker, “what does a little more love for God and neighbor matter when the world is tearing itself apart?”
Ma answered, “I guess to respond with Michael’s words, “All we have is our little faith broken and shared.” We can't know whether it's enough. That's at the core of faith. Not knowing but believing, nonetheless. I don't think this film — I don't think any film — is the answer to our political divide. But I do think that we are the answer when we see ourselves and each other truly. When we realize that what we see as a chasm may be an optical illusion. A political illusion. That’s the leap of faith we have to make.”
The pastors got to know each other and talk about their hopes and dreams through retreats, becoming friendlier with each other. Then an exercise led to division. The pastors gathered together in the center of a room had to answer questions, such as whether they memorized Bible verses. Those who answered “yes” went to one side of the room, while those who said “no” retreated to the other side.
Asked if they would officiate at a same-sex wedding, half the group said “yes” and the other half declined.
One of the pastors was Rev. Joan Van Dessel, a married lesbian United Methodist minister. She had been hoping that her growing friendship with the other pastors and “seeing the Holy One in her” would change their minds about this issue. When that didn’t occur, she revealed to the group: “The response was a lot more painful than I expected. Not even for myself, but for a whole community of people who have experienced a lot of heartbreak.”
She felt betrayed. At the same time, one of the other ministers, James Stokes, pastor of New Life Tabernacle Church of God, wondered, “Why can’t we be who we are and that be OK to the next person? Then we can find a way together to work through our differences, because it gives people the courage to show themselves as they are. Why do we try to make everybody believe and feel the same way?”
As another minister confessed, “If we disagree, it only becomes insurmountable if we don’t talk about it. I can be all that I am and still be embraced.”
Ma had hoped that this faith community could make room for all opinions. He had been worried that the pastors might not be willing to speak on record, worrying about losing their jobs for having contrary opinions or risk alienating the group.
“It was a struggle. Speaking on the record, saying what they really thought was a decision they each had to make, and I think each of them did choose to at different moments during the documentary,” Ma said.
Ma started interviewing people directly on camera just to understand what their reasoning was and how they were reacting to contrary opinions.
“I didn’t think the group would allow as much pain and discomfort into the discussion as they did in the second meeting. And I doubted they would be able to find any answer other than holding their own or changing their minds,” Ma said.
The other surprising response to same-sex marriage was Rev. Gulker’s “I don’t know,” considering he has two LGBTQ children. As the project progressed throughout the year, he realized his work with Colossian Forum to deal with polarization probably emerged out of his personal agenda so his children wouldn’t feel the pain of rejection due to their sexuality. Previously, he had tried to keep his family and work separate, but he couldn’t do so here.
Gulker allowed Ma to film him having frank personal discussions with his teenage children. He confessed, “I sometimes feel stuck between my organization, my church, and my family and I don’t like it. With some issues, it seems impossible to speak without being misunderstood.” As Ma remarked, “To understand how these questions of what it means to love across differences are not theoretical but deeply, deeply personal reminds us. that they’re never theoretical if we’re willing to see them honestly.”
There were other topics of contention, such as Christian nationalism, poverty, immigration, even the Lyoya shooting, but only homosexuality rose to the forefront. Ma, a married gay man with children, didn’t set out to make a movie about sexuality and doubts he would have taken on this project if he had known how it evolved.
“I would have been very curious to hear a robust conversation around any of those other issues. But that wasn’t what they chose to talk about. The depth and emotional intensity came to the fore when they talked about sexuality,” Ma said.
Ma said he can’t fully explain why sexuality became a central topic among the group.
“I think in moments of stress we long for assurance. Categories and rules give us more certainty. Differ-ences in sexuality can undermine that certainty,” Ma said.
Ma humorously mentions that he has no control over the Spirit’s movement: “And if there’s a lesson I think all these pastors learned and perhaps I learned by being in relationship with them, is that you have to listen and heed that movement. And as that became the topic, it became my goal to listen and understand what this story might be.”
At one point, the rift threatened to derail the program with some of the progressive pastors splitting off the group. But the group was brought back together when Rev. Joan was asked to lead worship. It helped to unite everyone and authentic bonds began to develop. The pastors connected more deeply, especially as they shared more intimately their stories and became more vulnerable with each other.
A poignant moment towards the end of the film happens when one of the conservative ministers stands in front of the group and said, “I’d like to reintroduce you to my friend,” before pausing to add, “My sister Joan.”
Joan later responded, “I don’t want a church without [listing the names of the conservative pastors in the group]. It’s not just a nice thing to say. It’s something I really mean.”
The documentary argues that whatever one’s theological positions, they must result in a deeper love of God and neighbor. Ma said he’s is encouraged that after the project concluded, pastors continued to pursue deeper connections with each other and the churches they lead, inviting others to worship at their congregations.
“Because of his friendship with Joan, Artie hired someone who identifies as non-binary for his Christian business leaders forum. Then he invited Molly, one of the most liberal of the pastors, to attend his conservative ‘Believe in Our City’ event — and she came back for a second day,” Ma added. “James [a pastor from a Historically Black Church] called Joan after watching the movie to say he now understands what she went through and wants to find ways of collaborating because he admires her. And Joan’s relationship with Artie allowed her to reclaim her Baptist heritage and incorporate what she loved back into her spiritual life. It’s a beautiful circle of transformation and change that is full of possibility.”
Ma said that expecting love of neighbor will persuade your opponents to believe or vote like we do, is probably not going to happen. Yet he’s proud of the group who ate together, listened to each other, and managed to stick together even when things got difficult. So he doesn’t see pastors not changing their minds about gay marriage as a failure.
“What is interesting to me as a filmmaker is how people grapple with hard problems. If you're a politician, an activist, or an organizer, your hopes may be to change people's minds. But as a filmmaker my hope is to offer a window into the minds of other people. And a reflection back to our own struggles,” Me said.
Ma said all the pastors want the other ministers to see issues from their perspective, but that’s not feasible.
“In choosing relationships first, they're making something else possible. Watching the relationships between these pastors grow and deepen in the year and a half post filming reminds me that we are always transforming.”
Ma also said there’s a challenge for his audiences once they’ve watched the film.
“I hope every person thinks of three relationships in their life that they want to love across better than they did today and find the strength in this film to do that. We can't know what the outcome of that will be, but I deeply believe that if you hang in there despite the differences, [especially in an election year] it will be beautiful,” he said. “That is the world we want to live in.”
Brian Bromberger is a freelance writer/journalist who works as a staff reporter and arts critic for The Bay Area Reporter weekly newspaper in San Francisco.