Christianity, Not Christian Nationalism

A friend forwarded me this post by theologian Jim Wallis in which he writes about the growing number of Democratic leaders who are willing to publicly talk about their Christian faith. He articulates something that's very important to me:

"Part of the reason why Democrats don’t talk much about faith is that they struggle to know how to express it without sounding like they are proselytizing or imposing their religion upon a pluralistic society [...] They have concerns around expressing their own faith alongside their strong commitment to the separation of church and state. And while all of that is all understandable, the reluctance to speak about faith has ceded religion to the Republicans."

While I lean toward the left in my values, I don't pledge allegiance to either party, so my focus isn't exactly the same as Wallis's. But he makes a vital point about the importance of providing a visible alternative to Christian Nationalism. 

I'm so tired of the primary Christian message these days being the push to bundle Christianity and America into a single package that everyone has to accept or reject together. I don't need to explain why that's a terrible, hurtful, dangerous movement.

What I do need to do is provide another option to that message: a vision of Christianity that emphasizes love the way that Jesus did. That's something I've been thinking a lot about lately and I'm eager to figure out how to do that better. I'm mostly over my shyness in talking about God, but I wouldn't call myself brave yet. I want to be that.

(In searching for an image to use for this post, I discovered the logo above and the organization it represents. I want to learn more about these folks and the resources they offer.)

Thinking About God

Evan Hanson and I have talked for a couple of years about producing a feature on After Lunch where we talk about the intersection of religion, philosophy, and art. The word "art" might give the wrong impression. Mostly we're thinking about movies and TV shows that spark ideas in us about religion and philosophy. 

We're very serious about doing it, but if you listen to After Lunch, you know that Evan's wife is ill and has been for a while. So Evan's time for podcasting is limited and it's impossible to predict when we'll get around to adding this series to the show.

When we first started talking about it, Evan came up with a list of topics that we could discuss. So while I try to do something with this blog, I think it might be good for me to take a stab at writing about each of these topics a little. Not instead of producing the episodes or in any way competing with that project, but just as a form of note-taking for myself. When we do get around to the series, I may use some of this or I may find that I've completely changed my mind. And it will certainly be true that conversations with Evan will challenge how I think about these topics. He's done at least as much thinking about religion as I have and endlessly more study of the world's philosophers. 

His idea for the first episode is a natural place to begin: Introductions. It'll just be a chance for us to talk about our backgrounds with religion, spirituality, and philosophy and why we're both interested in discussing those things with each other on a podcast. Evan has questions about how religion, spirituality, and philosophy are alike and how they're different. And what our relationships are to religious and philosophical texts: how we read and apply them.

I've only done basic high school study of philosophy, though I'm very interested in big ideas and excited to hear Evan explain them so that we can talk them over. I've spent a lot more time on religion and spirituality - my whole life really - and it's going to be a challenge not to ramble about my background. I'll try to be concise.

I was raised by Christian parents and have always believed in that view of God. I have doubts that I'll talk about in future posts and eventually on the podcast, but I cannot shake off the belief that someone created all of this. I don't believe this is opposed to Science. I'm sure this will get fleshed out later too, but I believe that Faith and Science are answering two different questions and that we come closest to the truth when we use them together. 

I passed the point where walking away from my belief in the Christian view of God is even a possibility. There's no part of me that wants to, however many questions I have about him. But that's mostly because I've spent my life asking those questions and receiving good answers. As it turned out, my biggest questions weren't about the believability of God, but about specific ideas about him that I heard as a kid. When I kept an open mind about the theology and allowed my vision of God to change and grow, I found that I was always led to a view of him that made sense. 

I got my Bachelors degree in Theology with the intent of going full time into ministry, but one of the benefits of that education was that I learned I didn't want to become a professional minister. I don't regret a dollar or minute that I spent though. I learned new ways of thinking about God and Scripture that I've used the rest of my life and have shared with other people. 

This is getting long, so I'll save for another post the questions about how religion, spirituality, and philosophy are alike to me and how I think they're different. And what my current relationship is to the Bible, the religious text I'm most familiar with, and how I read and apply it.

The Express Purpose of Interfering

I just finished reading The Peril at End House, a Hercule Poirot mystery by Agatha Christie. It's very very good, but I was especially struck by a bit of theology that Poirot brings up.

There's a minor spoiler in this, so if the book is on your reading list and you want to remain totally surprised, you'll want to skip this whole thing.

Some set up: Poirot and his buddy Hastings suspect that someone is trying to murder a young woman named Nick. It's an unusual case, because they're trying to prevent a murder instead of solve one. That's one of the things I love about the book. 

But here's the spoiler: Nick's cousin Maggie is dressed similarly to Nick at one point and is killed instead. Shortly after, Poirot and Hastings talk about what happened. Hastings is narrating and begins:

"It's really amazing the way Nick has escaped. It seems almost incredible." 

And suddenly I remembered the tone in Frederica’s voice as she had said: "Nick bears a charmed life." 

I shivered a little. 

"Yes," said Poirot, thoughtfully. "And I can take no credit to myself. Which is humiliating."

"Providence," I murmured. 

"Ah, mon ami, I would not put on the shoulders of the good God the burden of men’s wrongdoing. You say that in your Sunday morning voice of thankfulness — without reflecting that what you are really saying is that le bon Dieu has killed Miss Maggie Buckley." 

"Really, Poirot!" 

"Really, my friend! But I will not sit back and say 'le bon Dieu has arranged everything, I will not interfere.' Because I am convinced that le bon Dieu created Hercule Poirot for the express purpose of interfering."

It's a profound, important idea that Poirot expresses. Hastings offers a quick, simple platitude about the Providence of God being responsible for saving Nick, but he hasn't thought through the implications. Hastings is never the deepest thinker, but someone a little more thoughtful would realize what Poirot points out: that God can't just get credit for saving Nick. If Hastings is right, then God must also taking the blame for murdering Maggie.

Poirot goes even deeper though and dismisses the idea that God had a direct hand in the affair at all. In Poirot's view, God has placed his people on the Earth to act on God's behalf. We don't get to sit back and wait for God to fix the world. We have to understand that it's our job to fix it as God's agents. That the way he fixes it is through us. 

It's a terrifying responsibility that more of God's people need to take seriously, but I think Poirot is absolutely right.

3 Non-Fiction Books I Read in 2018

As I go though the books I read this year, I should clarify right away that very few if any of them were published this year. This isn't like my movies list; it's just everything I read.

I don't typically read a lot of non-fiction, but I'm trying to get better at that. With limited reading time, I've traditionally focused on made-up stories. Sometimes though, you wanna know what other people think about stuff without having to dig through symbolism and characters to get at it. Here's what I was interested in last year.

Everything You Wanted to Know about Indians But Were Afraid to Ask by Anton Treuer

I've been interested in American Indian people and culture since I was a kid. As a fan of Westerns, it always bugged me that Indians were assumed to be villains and I always perked up when a movie or show offered a different perspective.

As an adult, I haven't been as involved in Indian issues as I would like to be, but I want to change that. Minnesota has a large Indian population and there's an American Indian school in my neighborhood that we sent David to for Middle School. That was a great experience for him and through the school we started getting a glimpse of the issues that are important to the local Indian community.

In an effort to learn more, I picked up Anton Treuer's book. He writes that American Indian culture is something that is imagined by outsiders, rather than understood. That's been true of me, but Treuer's book has helped. It's a collection of questions and answers, divided into categories, that can either be read cover to cover or just referred to by whatever topic the reader is interested in. I read it cover to cover and am eager to continue learning.

God Has a Name by John Mark Comer

I heard about this on Phil Vischer's Holy Post podcast where Comer was a guest. It got me interested in hearing more of what he had to say. I don't talk much about religion here, but it's a deep interest of mine and I was attracted to Comer's vision of God as a being with a specific personality, as opposed to a construct or model based on what worshipers want him to be. Comer digs into a passage in Exodus where Yahweh reveals his nature to Moses. I don't agree with every assertion Comer makes, but his understanding of God's nature is thoughtful and lovely.

God According to God: A Physicist Proves We've Been Wrong About God All Along by Gerald Schroeder

This is older than Comer's book, but it's been sitting on my shelf for a while and it was Comer's book that made me pull it off and read it. I don't remember why I originally purchased it, but it was probably the same impulse that made me interested in Comer. Using scientific observations of nature, Schroeder asserts that God has a personality and that he wants to partner with humanity rather than control us.

Coming at it through the lens of science is interesting, but I found Schroeder's voice rather dry and other authors cover the same ideas in more compelling ways. Comer is more persuasive about the personality aspect in God Has a Name and professor John Walton covers the partnership aspect especially well in his Lost World of Adam and Eve. To anyone interested in this kind of theology, I recommend those books instead.

The Year in Movies: 1927

The King of Kings (1927)

After the heavy-handedness of Cecil B DeMille's original Ten Commandments, I was nervous about how he'd portray Jesus' story in King of Kings. And I was right to have some of those fears. HB Warner's Jesus tends to be over-serious and often sounds like he's quoting himself instead of having conversations. And I hated the way the film portrays Mary Magdalene's conversion as a miraculous act that's possibly even against her will. (It's really well done from a technical standpoint; I just hate the theological implications.)

But the movie does great things with Magdalene and by the end of the movie I had no doubt that at some point she'd made her own decision to follow Jesus. And there are some great, human moments for him, too, especially in his interactions with kids and the woman caught in adultery.

And of course DeMille knows how to create a spectacular set, so every scene in the movie looks like an elaborate Renaissance painting. It's a gorgeous film to watch.

Metropolis (1927)

If you asked me a month ago if I'd seen Metropolis, I would've told you, "Yes," but that's almost not true. I have a crappy, murky, horribly framed print of the heavily trimmed down version, so that's what I've seen a few times. Recently though, I watched the restored version with all the extra footage. It looks great and improves the story significantly. The edited version I'm used to retains the plot, but cuts out a lot of character stuff. This time, I cared more for the characters than I usually do.

But I still have many of my usual problems. I love the theme about the relationship between heart, head, and hands, but the movie is so eager to get that point across that it makes some dire mistakes. It's super didactic, for one thing, but that's not as bad as the way its characters act. People do the craziest things, not because it makes sense to the story, but because they have to in order to make the analogy work. Drives me crazy.

But I do like the characters and the world and the concepts and above all else the look of the film. It's visually astonishing and needs to be seen if for no other reason than that.

The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog (1927)

There have been many versions, but this is my favorite. No surprise, since it's Hitchcock, but for reasons that I can't go into without spoilers, I also love this story best. The others add their own plot twists, but end up diluting an an almost perfect story.

It (1927)

There's a contrived misunderstanding in order to drive a wedge between the romantic leads, but it's no worse than the plots of most modern romantic comedies. And few of those have leads as likable as Clara Bow and Antonio Moreno. Or goofy best friends as adorable as William Austin. It's easy to see why It is such a classic.

Tarzan and the Golden Lion (1927)

For some reason, Tarzan has a sister and a best friend who are in love with each other. Jane is in the movie, but she doesn't do anything. Sis gets all the plot (that's her in the poster above). Also, Boris Karloff plays an African warrior.

So the movie makes some weird choices, but James Pierce is a great Tarzan. He's not wearing a goofy wig, for one thing, nor does he occasionally stop to pound his chest like Elmo Lincoln and Frank Merrill would do. He's just a straightforward, clean-cut hero who happens to wear leopard skins. And he looks really cool hanging out with his pet lion. It's a minor Tarzan film, but a memorable one.

The Unknown (1927)

The plot is essentially an EC Comics horror story fleshed out to full length, but that's not a complaint. Once I figured out that's what it was, it let me predict the broad strokes of the outcome, but I love chilling tales of comeuppance for evil people, so I didn't enjoy it any less.

The bigger challenge was getting past Nanon's (Joan Crawford) goofy chirophobia. It's not goofy because it's irrational, but because it's so easily dropped when the plot needs it to be.

Still, the movie has a lot of style and the effects used to make Lon Chaney appear armless (like integrating the feet of an actual armless man to make it look like Chaney's manipulating objects with his toes) are seamless and amazing.

College (1927)

Buster Keaton's version of a sports movie. It's neither my favorite Keaton film nor my favorite sports movie, but I still cheered at the end and had a great time throughout.

 London After Midnight (1927)

I watched the reconstruction with stills and it made me mourn the loss of the real version. It's a very cool story that I'd rather not spoil and the sharp-toothed stranger has a fantastic, iconic look. It deserves a better remake than 1935's Mark of the Vampire (which is enjoyable on its own terms, but not a good version of London After Midnight).

The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything: A VeggieTales Movie (2008)

Who's in it: Pirate vegetables.

What's it about: A flawed trio of servers at a pirate-themed dinner theater are pulled back in time and asked to help a princess rescue her brother from their evil, pirate uncle.

How is it: It's impossible for me to review this objectively. I'm hugely fond of writer/filmmaker Phil Vischer and the VeggieTales DVD series he co-created with Mike Nawrocki in the '90s. They're hilarious, the songs are great, and the retellings of Biblical stories are inventive and fun. One of the best features of each DVD was the "Silly Songs with Larry" segment in which Larry the Cucumber comes out and sings a silly song. And the best of these was "The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything."

The animation was crude - especially by today's standards - but it was hugely popular and when Vischer and Nawrocki finally made the big screen feature film, Jonah: A VeggieTales Movie in 2002, they included the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything in the supporting cast. It didn't come as a surprise that several years later the trio got their own movie a year after the original Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy concluded.

Despite the fact that TPWDDA seems sort of genetically engineered to appeal to me, I not only didn't see it in the theater, but I didn't even see it at all until this past week when I got the hankering to start watching some pirate movies again.

The most surprising thing about it is that - like the "Silly Songs" segment of the original show - it's pretty secular. TPWDDA teaches values, but they're not specifically Christian values. The flaws that the heroes have to overcome are things like fear and laziness, issues that everyone can relate to. And they succeed by deciding to embrace adventure and do the right thing regardless of the consequences. There is a weird bit at the end in which the princess and prince's father presents himself as sort of an Aslan-like character who may be an analog for God, but it's a speedbump in an otherwise fun, piratey adventure.

The animation has come a long way since the DVD series, but it doesn't stand well next to Pixar, DreamWorks, or really any of the major animation studios. And while the story is romping (lots of shipboard adventure, island hopping, and killer cheese curls!) and the songs are great (I especially love the "Rock Monster" parody of "Rock Lobster" over the end credits, but there are fun, original songs too), it's neither as meaningful as WALL-E or as raucously awesome as Kung Fu Panda, both of which came out that same year. As a movie for VeggieTales and ocean adventure fans though - of which I am both - TPWDDA is thoroughly enjoyable.

Final Grade: B

The Power of Stories: Superman, Jesus Christ, and the Life of Pi

SPOILER WARNING: Massive spoilers for Life of Pi in this post. Seriously, I'm going to reveal the whole thing.

The irony is that Life of Pi would have been much more powerful for me if I hadn't known how it was going to end, but I wasn't at all interested in seeing it until I heard the spoilers. Visual spectacle isn't enough - by itself - to lure me to a film and I have a limited tolerance for lost-at-sea/stranded-alone-on-an-island movies. With Life of Pi though, the ending lifts the film to something that's going to stick with me probably for the rest of my life.

The film's framing sequence is an adult Pi talking to an unnamed writer. The writer has recently abandoned a book that wasn't working and ran into Pi's uncle, who encouraged the writer to seek out Pi. "He said you had a story that would make me believe in God."

Most of the movie is Pi's relating that story to the writer. It's a tale of Pi's survival aboard a lifeboat with a starving tiger and - for a while anyway - some other animals. Pi's story is shot with impossible beauty: Water reflects sky perfectly, colors are hyperreal, and the story becomes even more fantastical when Pi finally lands on a carnivorous island that's shaped like a human.

Finally, Pi relates a conversation he had with a couple of insurance investigators who were looking into the cause of the sinking ship. He told them the same story that he's just told the writer, but they can't believe it. They need something realistic to put into their report, so he tells them a second, far more horrifying version.

In the second tale, the tiger and other animals are all metaphors for other characters. The story as it really happened involves a brutal cook, the death of Pi's mother, and cannibalism. Since I knew the real story going into the movie, I didn't get to experience for myself the disappointment and horror of realizing that the second story wasn't just Pi's trying to appease the investigators, but was in fact the truth. Filmmaker Dan Trachtenberg does a great job of describing that experience though in a conversation he had with David Chen on the Slashfilmcast.

Pi explains to the writer that he's told two stories that account for the 227 days Pi was lost at sea. "Neither explain the sinking of the Tsimtsum," he says. "Neither make a factual difference to you. You cannot prove which story is true and which is not. You must take my word for it. In both stories the ship sinks, my entire family dies, and I suffer. So tell me, since it makes no factual difference to you and you can’t prove the question either way, which story do you prefer? Which is the better story?"

The writer thinks it over. "The one with the tiger."

"And so it is with God."

As Trachtenberg points out in the link above, a filmed version of the actual events on the lifeboat would have been repulsive to watch. It would have been like Hostel or Human Centipede. As filmed though, we still experience Pi's suffering and share in his emotions without being disgusted by his actions. When he - a vegetarian - cries over having to eat a fish to survive, we can relate to that in a way that we couldn't if we understood what it was he was actually eating.

That's the power of storytelling. We use symbols to represent deeply personal experiences so that other people can relate to them.

Comics writer Chris Roberson made some waves for saying, "I believe in Superman the way some people believe in Jesus." Some folks took that as commentary on whether Superman and Jesus are fictional or non-fictional, but I understood it as being about their power as symbols. To find out for sure, I contacted Roberson and he went into some more detail. "Superman works as an aspiration figure," he said, "someone who serves as a moral model for people to follow. W.W.S.D. What Would Superman Do? Superman is powerful enough that no force or laws can restrain him, but he does good because he CHOOSES to do so. He lives by his own moral code, regardless of circumstances."

In that sense, Superman and Jesus Christ are symbols for some of the same things: compassion, sacrifice, and truth, for example. There are certainly differences between the two men, but what makes Superman an enduring figure is the example he sets of the awesome potential of humans for good. And that's essentially the same purpose that Jesus was trying to serve.

It's also interesting and sad that both have been co-opted by groups for other purposes so that they've also become symbols for less noble ideals, but that's why it's important to remind ourselves what they originally stood for. And we do that through stories, too.

In Life of Pi, Pi's uncle claims that Pi's story would make the writer believe in God. Whether or not that happened is a question that's left to the audience to figure out, but Pi's point still stands. Like with Superman, whether or not God exists as a literal being is a separate issue from what God represents. Pi's not saying that it doesn't matter whether or not God is real. He's just saying that since we can't prove it either way, the more important question is whether we - as humans - stand for the things that God (and Superman) stands for: selfless compassion and justice for others. And we come to understand those things through stories.