By Tim Patrick
Illustration by Jason Seiler
Issue #206, July/August 2006

Napoleon Dynamite was the surprise cinematic hit of 2004, and in the short time since its release, it has garnered quite a following among young and old alike. The film cost just $400,000 to make but prompted movie-goers to shell out $44.5 million in sweet moolah in ticket sales and led Idaho Gov. Dirk Kempthorne to declare June 24-25, 2005, to be "Napoleon Dynamite Days."
     But it's not just politicos who are praising the film and its teenage anti-hero. Napoleon Dynamite has also received increasing acclaim among Christian theologians, with some in more progressive circles attaching the moniker "The Fifth Gospel" to the film. And as pastors and congregations hail this powerful and spiritually uplifting movie, biblical scholars seek to extract its deeper meaning through both research and a quest to locate the original copy of the shooting script.
     With some doubts lingering as to the validity of the available scripts, The Jesus Seminar has begun to assign colors to the words of the prophet Dynamite. The presence of "deleted scenes" on the recently released DVD has only increased speculation of various conspiracy scenarios, à la The Da Vinci Code. But true believers in more conservative camps make do with what they have. One prominent researcher, Professor James Hargrove of Wheaton College, has already published a commentary on the "authorized script," and frequently makes reference to the parallels between Napoleon Dynamite's words and the Old and New Testaments.
     Controversy over Napoleon's exact words will certainly continue for the foreseeable future. But while theologians are only beginning to see the light, churches small and large are quickly embracing the movie as holy writ. One Presbyterian deacon proclaimed, "I've been reading the Bible for years, and I never got this much out of Matthew, Luke, Paul or Ringo. It's sweet!"
     To true believers the spiritual parallels are startling.
     Like mythical heroes on quests throughout history, Napoleon subjects himself to a painful ordeal. In a poignant scene in the film's first few minutes, he attaches electrodes to his genitals.
     Was Napoleon wryly commenting on Christ's call to "become as a little child" when he said, "You don't have to stay here with us, we're not BABIES."
     He often flouts religious tradition to expose a deeper truth. His reference to obtaining a "delicious bass" is perfectly kosher. Not so his offer to Tina: "Come get some ham!"
     Sometimes sounding dangerously New Age—"Hold on... I forgot to put in the crystals"—Napoleon at other times seems to take pleasure in exposing superstitious beliefs, as with his announcement: "Last week, Japanese scientists explaced... placed explosive detonators at the bottom of Lake Loch Ness to blow Nessie out of the water."
     Usually an iconoclast, in certain circumstances he's not averse to calling for legalistic solutions to problems. "Get off my property or I'll call the cops on you."
     Like Jesus, Napoleon shocks public sensibilities by realigning family relationships: "Why don't you go tell your mom to shut up?"
     In the wake of heightened expectation about his mission, Jesus would often ask followers not to talk of his miracles or messiahship. Napoleon simply says: "Shut up! I am not!"
     And what about the name itself? The leadership qualities implied by a first name like Napoleon are obvious. And his surname is derived from the Greek dunamis (doo'-nam-is). According to Thayer and Smith's New Testament Greek Lexicon, the meaning is suggestive of messianic purpose:
Dunamis: strength power, ability
1. inherent power, power residing in a thing by virtue of its nature, or which a person or thing exerts and puts forth power for performing miracles
2. moral power and excellence of soul
3. the power and influence which belong to riches and wealth
4. power and resources arising from numbers
5. power consisting in or resting upon armies, forces, hosts
     Scholars are still puzzled, however, by some of Napoleon's utterances, like the enigmatic "Do the chickens have large talons?" or the zen koan-like "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."
     Rev. Joel Baker, a Baptist minister at a church outside of Atlanta, agreed. "Jesus' command to 'Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand' just wasn't working for us. But when we started to focus on Napoleon Dynamite's final words—'You wanna play me?'—weekly attendance went up 63%. This is clearly from God."
     He was quick to point out, though, that it wasn't just about the numbers. "People feel an affinity with Napoleon, Deb and Pedro. One of our church members has struggled with long-term unemployment and the recent death of a child. But he said to me, 'Pastor, if Napoleon can endure dry lips that hurt real bad, I can get through this.'"
     This reach into the heart of the faithful has even changed the face of the sacred Sunday morning worship service. Some churches are replacing their standard communion wafers and wine/juice with tater tots and whole milk.
     But not everyone is happy. Across America, the Napoleonistic trend pits laity against the clergy. One believer, calling himself "Kip," took it in stride. "My pastor laughed at me for following what he called 'this Napoleon Dynamite heresy,' but I just threw Napoleon's words back in his face: 'I'll do whatever I feel like I wanna do!' Gosh, what a freakin' idiot!"
     Yet the worries persist, both by local pastors and well known church commentators. George Barna recently expressed concern that "Christians have gone too far in replacing Biblical knowledge with media knowledge," as spoken during a press conference for his Barna Films division.
     Another pastor reiterated this view. "I find it deplorable that any church would glom on to the latest entertainment fad simply to increase attendance or the bottom line," said Luke "Skywalker" Smith of Passion of the Christ Presbyterian Church in Hollywood.
     Voices like these, though persistent, are few and far between. Each day brings with it further progress in the Dynamitization of the church, with support coming from both business and governmental sectors. Ore-Ida has seen a 150% increase in sales since it added an image of Pedro to its packaging, and the tag line, "The patron saint of 'Tots.'" Similar growth is reported for sales of tetherballs, Chapstick and Steak-Ums ("What Would Napoleon Eat?"). And the Idaho Board of Tourism has started promoting trips to the "Second Holy Land" in a series of commercials staring Jim Caviezel.
     While a vocal minority sees Napoleon Dynamite as a fad that deceives Christians and keeps them from their true savior Jesus Christ, the film continues making inroads into churches nationwide. Perhaps God is using this low-budget film to bring revival to His Church in a time of spiritual emptiness. Or perhaps the Devil is using yet another crafty scheme to draw the elect from their first true love. Only time and eternity, it seems, will reveal the truth. Until then, believers and moviegoers continue to find comfort in the words of their sainted Napoleon: "Pedro, just listen to your heart. That's what I always do."