Don’t worry: I don’t give away the story.  I understand that the book on which Philomena is based, starring Judi Dench, goes into greater detail regarding the Catholic Church’s role in suppressing information and extending the emotional pain and suffering of a woman searching for her 50 year old son whom she has not seen since he was taken away at age three. But the film is about more than what happens when she searches for him; it encourages us to look at our own relationship to organized religion and the spiritual quality of faith. 

Despite what the Church did to her and to countless other Irish girls, Philomena remains loyal to the nuns and the Catholic institution to the point of discouraging scrutiny. Martin, on the other hand, the journalist who agrees to help Philomena find her son and write the story of their reunion, abides by reason and critical thinking. He no longer practices Catholicism or believes in God. The film sets them up as foils exposing contrasting views about religion and faith. But that’s not how I see it. The real foils are Martin and Sister Hildegaard while Philomena rises  above them both.

While Martin cannot forgive Sister Hildegaard (i.e., the Church) for keeping the truth from Philomena, Sister Hildegaard cannot forgive Philomena for ever becoming pregnant. It was not enough to punish her with painful childbirth, but she continues to exact penance in the name of the Church. Martin and Sister Hildegaard are actually two sides of the same coin. Martin rejects organized religion and Sister Hildegaard is owned by it. Neither one is able to forgive, which, ironically, is one of the very virtues organized religion claims to impart and for which organized religion is not required.

The physical state of these characters further demonstrates their levels of spiritual development. Sister Hildegaard depends on a wheelchair or cane and remains confined to the cloister. Her views on sexuality reflect her narrow-mindedness. Like the space she moves in, her spiritual growth is limited. Martin, on the other hand, depressed from losing his former prestigious job, takes up running. And although he is not very good at it, his effort symbolizes a willingness to grow spiritually. He comes to respect not Philomena’s religion, but her faith. Philomena is the true heroine, surpassing them both. Physically, she is quite mobile with her new hip – “titanium, so it won’t rust” – and while she doesn’t run, she flies with Martin to America, symbol of freedom, in search of her son. But it is she who lifts the shade to see the sky/heaven showing her openness. Her views on sexuality are non-judgmental and she embraces everyone she meets with respect. Everyone is “one in a million.” Spiritually, Hildegaard is stuck, Martin is moving, and Philomena has arrived.

As she sits in the confessional booth, Philomena realizes that she does not need the Church to forgive her as much as she needs to forgive the Church. And when she does, it does not mean she gives up her faith. Christ is her image of God, but she need not remain loyal to the Church, to organized religion or to rituals such as confession and communion, in order to have it. Martin threw away faith with religion. Sister Hildegaard gave up the ability to expand her love for others when she married the Church. But Philomena’s faith extends beyond the abbey walls to include even her Self. Philomena quietly suggests that the spiritual quality of faith without religion is not only possible, but perhaps, desirable.

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