Amen.  Those of us who pray typically end our Divine petitions with this word.  Interestingly, throughout the Bible, Jesus begins many of His teachings with this utterance, sometimes saying it twice depending on your translation of Scripture.  No matter how many times it is said, its true meaning belies a trust in God.  Thus, when you conclude your prayer with it, you are entrusting what has been said to God.  As will become apparent, I hope, from reading this review of Lilies of the Field (1963), such a sentiment perfectly describes the plot.  Such a movie works on so many levels, not just for a Catholic reviewer, and this is a fact I had forgotten since I last saw it while in grad school.  Back then, I looked at it in a broader historical context.  Today, with my Faith strengthened somewhat in the intervening years, I have a different perspective.  Either way, I look forward to talking about this one.

Given that Lilies of the Field is set in the desert of the American Southwest, it is difficult to see any of the title flower when we open on Homer Smith (Sidney Poitier) driving down a lonely, dusty road.  He is alone, too, and his car is in need of assistance when he pulls off at the nearest collection of buildings he comes to, in the middle of nowhere.  Observing his arrival is Mother Maria (Lilia Skala).  If the name does not give you a clue as to her identity, then her habit and those of her sister nuns confirm that Homer has stumbled upon a convent.  They are a collection of female religious from Eastern Europe who have crossed most of two continents and an ocean in order to build a new community.  There are five of them and their needs are great.  So, too, is their commitment to prayer, as exemplified in Mother Maria who sees Homer as being sent by God.  He is adamant that he is there only to get some more water in his engine and then he will be on his way.  Yet, it quickly becomes apparent that these women are probably in over their heads, so the good-hearted Homer is persuaded to help fix the roof of their convent.  Being a contractor by trade, he expects to be paid.  Instead, he is invited to a simple supper of bread and milk.  After quickly eating, they bond over teaching the sisters some English.  The next morning, Homer once more approaches Mother Maria with the hopes of payment.  This time, she shows him the ruins of a building she hopes will become a chapel.  It is a task well within his power to complete, but the nuns have neither all the building material or the skill to do it themselves.  He is eager to be on his way, though says he will clear out some of the detritus so that whoever it is that commences construction will have this part completed, at least.  Little believing that he will be receiving any compensation for his labor, nonetheless he attempts Bible verses with Mother Maria in order to demonstrate the rightness of his cause.  She responds with other lines that emphasize the importance of charity.  Thus, the following Sunday he is driving the nuns to Mass taking place in a roadhouse parking lot.  The service is for the Catholic population who, at this point, have no building in which to worship.  Homer, being a Baptist, foregoes participation for a full meal inside with the proprietor, Juan Acalito (Stanley Adams).  Juan advises that Homer not stick around and get stuck helping the sisters in perpetuity.  Oddly enough, this is also the council given by Father Murphy (Dan Frazer), the Franciscan priest who wanders the countryside administering the Sacraments.  With this advice, Homer is ready to leave the next day when Mother Maria asks for a ride into town where she is to meet with Mr. Ashton (Ralph Nelson), owner of the local construction company.  Mr. Ashton and Homer have a bit of a contentious exchange, punctuated by the former referring to the latter as “boy.”  Homer responds by insisting on his trade and being in the employ of the nuns, and in turn Mr. Ashton gives Homer a job two days a week driving one of the company’s bulldozers.  Things are progressing well until one evening Mother Maria grows impatient with Homer for buying food instead of more bricks for the chapel.  The result of their argument is him driving away.  Yet, he returns after three weeks.  Juan asks why Homer has come back, and the latter has no good answers.  He is willing to complete the chapel, though wants to do the work all on his own.  This attitude continues even when more bricks begin being donated by the community, who are also desirous of a place of worship.  Because of this, they also want to help with the construction, but Homer still insists on being the sole laborer.  He sees it as his chapel.  As such, his efforts become a spectator sport, with that same community watching as he totes bricks to and fro, cementing them into place one-by-one.  Eventually, though, Juan tricks Homer into accepting assistance, and for a time Homer wonders about his role.  Following complaining to Mother Maria about wanting to be the only one to build it, she subtly nudges him into being the overseer for the entire project.  Mr. Ashton, who had also wondered about where Homer had gotten to, comes to the site to find Homer efficiently making sure everything is running smoothly.  Mr. Ashton offers Homer a better job to stay, but he turns down the position.  Homer adds that he will be moving on once the work is done.  This is something Mother Maria senses that evening, despite her invitation for him to stay for the first Mass to be said in the chapel.  With the nuns singing the Gospel song he had taught them, he leaves the dining hall, gets in his car, and drives away.

The song at the end of Lilies of the Field, which is sung a number of times throughout, is called “Amen.”  Hence, you can understand why I discussed that word in the introduction.  It makes for a great conclusion to a movie that is a testament to the power of prayer.  It may not always turn out exactly as you hope it will, and I doubt that Mother Maria envisioned an African American showing up at her convent.  At the same time, when you live a life of prayer, you are better able to recognize how God responds to your requests, as is the case with the nuns.  The sending up of our supplications to the Almighty is the focal point of the entire film, and this makes it special.  It is what the nuns’ lives are about, though this should come as no surprise.  Instead, what is better is the effect that it has on others, namely Mr. Ashton, Juan, and, of course, Homer.  The first two are the subtler, but no less important examples.  Homer asks Juan why the proprietor is not at Mass with the others, and he says that he has customers on Sundays from which he would rather make money.  There is also his advice to Homer about not falling into the nuns’ so-called trap.  However, later on he is playing a key role in the building of the chapel.  As for Mr. Ashton, he brings a load of bricks for the nuns, and is soon committing to donating further materials for a hospital and school.  Still, it is with Homer that the power of prayer truly shines in the movie.  Much of what God does is a mystery.  That may seem like an excuse, but people who think in this manner use that logic to avoid answers to uncomfortable questions.  Faith is not easy.  It takes effort, the supreme effort of pursuing a goal we will never reach in this lifetime.  Doing so can lead many to a career as a wanderer, which is one way of describing Homer at the beginning.  Mr. Ashton puts is more bluntly, calling Homer “shiftless.”  It is the nuns’ unshakable belief in Providence that has the biggest impact on Homer.  He may get back on the road as the end credits begin to roll, but he leaves knowing that God will provide for him, too.

The thing that triggers Homer’s exit at the end of Lilies of the Field is Mother Maria finally, if somewhat accidentally, thanking Homer for all he has done.  She is not perfect, but who is?  At any rate, she has much to be thankful for, and giving such sentiments to God is also prayer.  Try it some time.  Just say, “thank you, Jesus,” doing so from your heart, and you will have said as good a prayer as any saint could muster.  I say thank you, Jesus, for this film.