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The Steven Spielberg film version of Michael Morpurgo's renowned children's book, War Horse – about the relationship between the titular animal and a faithful two-legged friend during the First World War – has had its own battle with the critics.

Some have applauded Spielberg, seeing echoes of grander days of Hollywood, drawing comparisons with westerns where the landscape played as great a part as the actors; and yes, there is schmaltz and melodrama aplenty, but it still manages to tug at the heart strings. Others have lambasted it for its idealised portrayal of rural England, cardboard acting, and the veteran director manipulating us to reach for the hankies during the horse's plight. Even hardened film aficionados have been cursing Spielberg through their tears: 'A horse?Caught in a war? Of course I'm going to cry!'
 
It's not just critics reaching for the tissues. After seeing the film my wife found herself with a line of women in the loos having to readjust make-up because of tear damage.
 
Why do stories like this stir compassion within us? Perhaps because even though horses have been used for centuries to carry men into battle, in this film the horse is an innocent. The juxtaposition of that which is 'pure' surrounded by horror screams at us that something is wrong.
 
The horse isn't the only innocent in the film. There's the orphaned French girl and her protective grandfather, and a 14-year-old German soldier - lying about his age, too eager to be a man - and his protective older brother. And then there are the young Devonian men, ripped from the heart of the English countryside and thrown into war. This, in part, is why Spielberg overplays the rural landscape - to provide a stark contrast with the apocalyptic no man's land of the Somme.
 
This instinct for outrage when innocence is attacked is arguably a trait inherited from our Father God. Time and again in the gospels when Jesus is faced with that which opposes God's shalom, his intended wholeness for the world, he acts to help. The leper cries out, 'If you are willing, you can make me clean', and Jesus, 'filled with compassion', responds 'I am willing... be clean'.
 
May the sight, even the very thought, of innocence betrayed continue to upset and disturb us, and may we act with the instinct, immediacy, and heart of Christ in response.
 
 
Jason Gardner
Youth Pastor, St Peter's West Harrow

Author: Jason Gardner