JAKE VAN DORN, forty, and his brother JOE, fifty, sit at the
table watching the kitchen activity.
The house echoes with small talk:
...He got accepted at Grand Valley,
but he'd rather go to Michigan...
...Get that pink rot...
...No way Uncle Joe talk me into
cutting celery again this summer.
Rather work in the car wash.
As the CAMERA TRACKS THROUGH the dining room, it passes a
cluster of men standing near the buffet. WES DE JONG and
JOHN VAN DORN, both about forty, casually discuss a
theological point with GRANDFATHER VAN DORN. Across the table,
a young boy, about eleven, listens with rapt awe.
These are men of the soil. Their faces are sun-blotched and
weather-beaten. Wes has rolled up the sleeves of his white
shirt; John has switched to a more comfortable plaid.
...I still say that if a man has
committed the unpardonable sin, he
knows he has.
Grandfather nods head approvingly.
I don't know about that, John. It
don't seem to account much for God's
What kind of grace do you mean,
universal or specific...?