New York Filmmaker Woody Allen has created movies of just about every type imaginable: comedy, drama, suspense, satire—even a musical. But all his movies seem to have one thing in common: they all insist that life is random—that you can’t count on anything except, perhaps, suffering. “To live is to suffer,” Allen says, according to a story by Jennie Yabroff in the August 8, 2008 issue of Newsweek.

 I’m not much of a movie-goer, and I haven’t seen many Woody Allen movies, but I’ve always kind of liked him from afar. It’s not that I think Woody would be my buddy if we ever met. As far as I know we have nothing in common other than the fact that he lives in New York City, and I’ve been there. But I like it that he plays the clarinet, and that he is a creative genius who doesn’t take himself seriously. That last quality is rare among celebrities.

It is also, ironically, the way Jesus said human beings should live. This is ironic because Woody Allen doesn’t believe in Jesus or in much of anything. Life, as far as he can tell, is random. By definition, there is nothing to believe in.

This is not the point where I pontificate about the sad state of unbelief in today’s society. I don’t know how to do that without sounding—in fact, being—arrogant. Though I am a believer and Woody Allen is not, I don’t feel superior. If we ended up in the same room, it would be me who considered the experience a privilege.

So it bugs me that what I will say next runs the risk of sounding condescending. Nevertheless, here it is: as I read Jennie Yabroff’s story in Newsweek, I felt sorry for Woody Allen.

According to Yabroff, Allen says he still lies awake at night “terrified of the void.” At age 72, he continues to create movies at the pace of one a year not because he has so much to say, but “simply to take his mind off the existential horror of being alive.” Allen says, “It’s much more pleasant to be obsessed over how the hero gets out of his predicament than it is over how I get out of mine.”

Allen insists that he remembers being aware of death when he was still little Woody in the crib, though he admits wryly, “maybe I stayed in the crib longer than other kids.” It’s the convergence of life’s randomness and the awareness of impending death that keep Allen awake at night. “I can’t really come up with a good argument to choose life over death,” he says, “except that I’m too scared.” This may just be sardonic wit offered to get a reaction from listeners, but it doesn’t seem like it.

As I sat reading the Newsweek story, I wondered why Woody Allen and I are so different on this one point—why I don’t lie awake at night fearing the void. I wondered why I am able to believe that life has an ultimate purpose, while he is not. It is not because I’m better or smarter than he is.

Woody Allen has good evidence for his point of view. Nursing homes are filled with elderly people diminished to mere shells, simply waiting to die, while young beloved mothers die tragically at the hands of drunk drivers, who live on to drive another day. I know all the stories; I have experienced a few of them myself. But still, I believe.

I read the Newsweek story on a Thursday evening. Then on Friday evening, I settled down in a comfortable chair and read completely through the gospel of Mark. The contrast is remarkable. There is a reason why Mark’s gospel has stuck around since it was written in A.D. 55. I can’t help thinking Woody Allen would gulp this down like a man dying of thirst in the desert, if only he weren’t convinced it’s a mirage.

Mark tells the story of a man who had ultimate clarity about life’s purpose. He died a martyr, but shortly thereafter, incredibly, was resurrected—this according to multiple documented eyewitness accounts. His followers ever since have believed He is the Messiah: Immanuel—God with us.

So this is the ultimate question: Is God with us or not? Woody Allen honestly doesn’t think so. I honestly do. Those of us who believe contend that, since Jesus conquered death Himself, it has been conquered for all the rest of us as well. Never mind about life’s apparent randomness, there is a purpose, and it includes living on through eternity.

I know this is a stretch. Faith is a stretch. But stretching is a very good thing for human beings to do.

B.W.

To read Jennie Yabroff’s Newsweek story, visit: http://www.newsweek.com/id/151533/page/1