The White Lotus season three went out with a bang. Multiple bangs, actually. (You should have gathered that much from the intro to the first episode — but from here on out, spoilers!)
The gross older Ratliff brother transforms into a human being. The best character, Chelsea, dies (of course), with her boyfriend, Rick, essentially killing her (the only love he has) by murdering his father (the love he so desperately wants). Laurie, a walking midlife crisis, gets her Emmy-worthy monologue moment. Gaitok achieves his big promotion for the worst reason ever. And the North Carolina five go home in one piece, at least until Tim goes to prison. Notwithstanding a few unresolved issues and some plot holes — is nobody rattled by the mass shooting? — the season and especially the finale are spectacular.
But while everybody is either talking about the murder-suicide that wasn’t or still bemoaning the uncharacteristically weak theme song, two parallel reveals in the final episode are worth exploring for their spiritual significance, in keeping with this season’s theme.
Specifically, religious faithfulness will cost you something — but both Piper and Belinda conclude the cost is too high.
Let’s start with a moment that helped fuel those fateful piña coladas: Piper Ratliff’s admission that her quest for the simple life of Buddhism must end because the food at the monastery, though it was vegetarian, “You could tell it like wasn’t organic. And it was just kind of bland. And, I don’t know, it was kind of like, could I like really eat this for a whole year?”
The room is small. The mattress is stained. There’s no air conditioning. So that’s that. Piper’s religious quest is over.
“I know I’m not supposed to be attached to this kind of stuff, and I don’t want to think that I am, but like, I don’t know, I think I am,” Piper tells her parents before breaking down into tears. “I know I am.”
The comforts of upper-class modernity are just too hard to give up for spiritual pursuits, even temporarily. Walking away from an inanimate, little-“g” god like Buddha is no great loss, of course, but ask any number of nonbelieving Americans why they don’t follow Jesus, and if they’re honest, they’ll give the same answer: I’m more comfortable without Him.
That brings us to Belinda, the masseuse from the Maui White Lotus resort, whose apparent faith has seemingly influenced her decisions since season one — until now. Belinda’s morals begin taking a backseat when she shacks up with Pornchai, her wellness counterpart at the Koh Samui White Lotus, whose job it is to teach her his tricks as a Thai masseur. Reminiscent of Belinda’s plans to open a spa with Jennifer Coolidge’s iconic character from seasons one and two, Tanya McQuoid, Belinda and Pornchai fantasize about opening a wellness center of their own together.
Belinda continues to backslide, however, when she’s confronted by Greg, aka Gary, the unsettling multimillionaire who murdered Tanya, his wife. He’s hiding out in Thailand, away from the authorities who suspect him of foul play in his wife’s death.
Greg offers Belinda $100,000 in exchange for her silence — “blood money,” as Belinda rightly calls it. But when that offer later spikes, Belinda is willing to play ball. It turns out, Belinda’s morals can be bought for a price, and that price is $5 million. In the end, Belinda not only takes the money but runs, ironically leaving Pornchai in the same situation Belinda once found herself in: dreaming of a better life but abandoned by the one person who could have made it happen.
White Lotus isn’t a Christian show — far from it, in case the homoerotic incest didn’t give that away. But as social satire, it has a way of communicating truth about the human condition and, in this case, the spiritual realm. And this particular lesson about the cost of faithfulness imperfectly mirrors Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 6: “You cannot serve God and money.”
Christianity’s costliness offers a bit of a paradox. After all, the Bible teaches that salvation is truly a free gift of God, not based on our works of righteousness. With His blood, Jesus paid sin’s full debt for all who repent and believe, which is why this Easter season, we worship the risen Christ who said on the cross, “It is finished.”
But while this salvation is a gift and the only source of abounding grace, true joy, and divine peace, Jesus also warned His would-be followers to first count the cost. Here’s the Son of God in Luke 14:
Now great crowds accompanied him, and he turned and said to them, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish.’ … So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.”
That’s why it’s so hard for rich men — or today, comfortable Americans — to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. For to be a Christian is to sacrifice our desires daily and suffer with Jesus. It’s not glamorous or comfortable or lucrative. From the outside, it can look bland and small and stained. But it’s the only way to life, and life abundant.
Most cost-counting doesn’t present itself as $5 million wire transfers. It often looks more like whether to give up small comforts. Either way, when it’s time to count the cost, choose better than Piper and Belinda. The cost of Christianity is significant — but even millions of dollars isn’t worth comparing with eternal glory.
As always, Jesus said it best: “For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?”
