In Rian Johnson’s latest entree in the “Knives Out” movies, his detective Benoit Blanc goes to a small town in upstate New York to investigate a seemingly impossible murder that has taken place inside a Catholic church. The junior priest, Jud Duplentiy, having already ascertained that Blanc is not a believer, asks him what he feels as he stands in the sanctuary–hoping, no doubt, that Blanc will admit to a sense of awe at least.

Instead, Blanc reels off a cogent condemnation of organized religion, so well expressed and so in tune with my own outlook in these days of toxic Christianity that I sat up and clapped. And noticed that the filmmaker leaves time for that reaction, as if he expected it–and indeed, people in theaters have apparently erupted in cheers and clapping at the speech.

The murdered man is a charismatic priest, Jefferson Wicks, who so exemplifies toxic Christianity that his flock has shrunk to a few souls. Each is tormented by their own demon they have not been able to exorcise through milder means. The choleric and abusive Wicks holds out the promise of an extreme form of redemption reserved for only the privileged few. Wicks delights in driving out all newcomers to the church by attacking them from the pulpit. Jud soon realizes that Wicks and his circle have become addicted to the moment when an affronted newcomer walks out, reinforcing their sense of being set apart and better than everyone else.

Yet Johnson is not interested in getting us to hate the Church (although some have taken the film that way). Raised in an evangelical church himself, he uses the movie to explore what Christianity is truly meant to be–while also giving us an excellent “locked room” murder mystery. I’ve always thought Christianity comes in two forms: those who want to be “saved,” and those who take the words of Christ to heart and try to live as Jesus taught us to live. Johnson, like me, has little respect for the former, but plenty of respect for the latter.

Johnson shows us that compassion is rooted in awareness of one’s own failings. Jud became a priest after accidentally killing a man in the boxing ring. He has confessed his crime, he has atoned by doing time, but he has not absolved himself. Jud is not a man who would ever say “well, Christians aren’t perfect, only forgiven.” Even if Christ forgives him, Jud will never stop feeling guilty. Wicks, on the other hand, is so convinced of his own holiness that he believes he will rise again from the dead after he dies.

In counterpoint to Blanc’s speech, Johnson gives us an even more powerful moment when Jud, trying to get a piece of information from an oversharing woman over the phone, suddenly realizes that she is in desperate need of solace and that he must put aside all other concerns (even that of clearing himself of suspicion) and tend to her. He does, and comes away knowing that his job as a priest is not to try to “bring others to Christ” (as Wicks wants to do by force) but to be like Christ in all his dealings with others.

This revelation changes Jud forever. And there’s an immediate ripple effect on others. Blanc does not convert, but he is nonetheless changed as well. Solving mysteries has always been a game to him, something “fun” as he tells Jud. But at the end of this movie, he realizes that if he stands up and tells everyone who done it, he will be depriving the murderer of their chance at grace, their opportunity to confess and ask for forgiveness–not of God, but of their victims. To acknowledge the wrong and truly repent. He can tell that the murderer has taken poison and is going to die shortly; he also knows that the murderer believes entirely in sin and Hell. So he offers salvation, not because he believes in it but because he knows the murderer does. Having witnessed how Father Jud put aside his own ego, his own worldly concerns to be with another in their hour of need, Blanc is able to do the same. Jud does not bring Blanc to Christ; instead, by his own example, he awakens the Christ in Blanc.