Holy Fools: Singing the Praises of Judas?

Lady Gaga’s song Judas is very Lady Gaga-ish; brash, aggressive, contentious, yet engaging, and perhaps even thoughtful.  The song reveals her familiarity with the Madonna playbook.  Step 1: Create a song charged with Christian imagery intended to toe the line of the church’s perception of irreverence and blasphemy.  Step 2: Release that song during Holy Week.  Tempest meet tea cup. Though, to their credit, a good many in the church have learned to recognize these public relation slights of hand and refuse to be baited into the furor they may have been worked up to in the past.  What is not common in the church is the vision to see that the use of Christian imagery in the arts and pop culture, even if deemed offensive by some, is often one side of a spiritual conversation waiting to be had.  Here Lady Gaga is considering how to handle betrayal and forgiveness, using the Biblical account of Judas as her metaphor.  This is Lady Gaga inviting the biblical narrative into a very broad cultural conversation, engaging notions that form the heart of the gospel.  Now I understand the discomfort.  She is singing she’s in love with the person who betrayed Christ to the Sanhedrin, the Romans and his execution while pushing the bounds of tailored modesty.  I was uncomfortable the first time I heard it myself.  But let’s take a look at this song and attempt to put aside our discomfort, and possibly offense, and see if we can’t open ourselves to a more constructive conversation.

So let’s hear from the Lady herself.  What does the song mean to her?  She says,

'Judas' is a metaphor and an analogy about forgiveness and betrayal and things that haunt you in your life and how I believe that it's the darkness in your life that ultimately shines and illuminates the greater light that you have upon you…the song is about washing the feet of both good and evil and understanding and forgiving the demons from your past in order to move into the greatness of your future.

Now the purpose of this little post isn’t to critique the content of her take on the Judas narrative, but simply to point out that she is actively engaged and wrestling with it, and to engage in a bit of the other side of the conversation.  Let’s recognize that she is acknowledging the importance of forgiveness.  In the song you find her wrestling with how to treat someone you’ve forgiven, yet who continues to betray you.  The song recognizes the social consequences of that type of relationship as she continues to attempt to constructively love her betrayer, yet finds herself clinging to him or her instead.  This is the struggle of many a co-dependent relationship.  This is also a question often asked by those in the Church as well.  The blanket availability of forgiveness for all taught in the Gospel, and Christ’s command to axiomatically forgive individuals 70x7 times for the wrongs they do you is something Christians struggle to live out in their lives.  The absoluteness of this circle of inclusion plays out dramatically in the Judas narrative as Jesus on the night Judas betrays him, and knowing of the betrayal, washes Judas’ feet.  Jesus loved and served Judas to the end.  How do we as Christians forgive our betrayers without encouraging further betrayal, or should the second half of that question even be a consideration?  Sometimes we Christians have the same questions of the Bible as the culture around us.

Additionally, Lady Gaga isn’t just engaging scripture, she’s also engaging the Christian tradition.  Interestingly enough Gaga asserts that she is “obsessed” with Christian and Religious art.  In the chorus of the song she identifies herself as a holy fool.  Now this really doesn’t have much meaning to Evangelicals and other Protestants, but the holy fool seems to have greater relevance the further east you travel in the Christian world.  This notion has its roots in medieval Christianity.  According to our friends at the Oxford Dictionary of World Religions, holy fools are, “Figures who subvert prevailing orthodoxy and orthopraxis in order to point to the truth which lies beyond immediate conformity.”  These were figures who were often employed in the extravagant late medieval European Passion Plays.  At any rate she is drawing on this tradition and casting the “character” singing the song (though I strongly suspect this is how Gaga sees herself) as someone attempting to engage the Church with perspectives they just aren’t comfortable with.  Whatever you think of her methods of accomplishing this, shouldn’t we in the Church be open to hear from those who place themselves outside of the church, or at its margins?  Isn’t this a constructive way of learning how we’re seen through their eyes?  The Spirit works in strange ways, perhaps even through holy fools.

I would suggest that we ignore these opportunities for cultural spiritual engagement at our own peril.  For us to unilaterally wash our hands of or write off these types of artists and songs and films and shows and other pop culture texts is to pass a type of overconfident judgment on both the creation and the artist.  Humility would suggest a more measured approach.  Just as the group U2 ponders the fate of Judas at the end of their song about his final days, Until the End of the World, we too will have to wait until the end of the world to determine their ultimate value.  But in the same way that we may ultimately be surprised by Judas’ fate, which is entirely dependent upon God’s justice and mercy, we may also be surprised in retrospect at the value of lovingly engaging the button pushers and holy fools in our cultures.

9/11 and the Dangers of Conflation

Conflation: the process or result of fusing items into one entity.

10 years... September 11 I think will always be a scar that aches a bit, with the ache asserting itself more aggressively when that date rolls around every year. The round numbered anniversaries of course tend to be occasions to more consciously rub that ache and remember what that day means to us. This is one of those years. Christians living in the US remember along with everyone else. We were no less affected by the violence because of our faith, and struggled to make sense of the senselessness of it all just like all of our neighbors. Our anguish, fear and even our injuries and deaths were no different than those of our fellow Americans who don’t count themselves as followers of Christ. While we all experienced the attacks as Americans, those of us who identify ourselves with Christ also experienced the attacks as Christians, meaning both identities experienced the trauma simultaneously. I would suggest this experience and our response to it reveals a tension that exists between these two identities which plays itself out in our experiences of both our common communities and our communities of faith. I would suggest our attempts to resolve this tension between our Christian identity and our American identity can sometimes carry us to places which are dangerous to both our faith and our nation. It’s this danger, which also plays itself out in the shadow of this anniversary, that I think I’d like to briefly survey here.

I want to acknowledge up front that there are a lot of sacred cows in play here, and the probability of divergent takes and visions are a given, particularly given the brevity of this format. This will in no way be an even remotely exhaustive, comprehensive, or thorough exploration. It’s just a few thoughts on this tension played out in 500-600 words or so. That being said, I want to begin on the civic side of this tension and acknowledge the Biblical ideas and principles that found their way into much of the mythic narrative of our founding and into many of our founding documents. We are a nation born partially out of the frustration with the sectarian persecutions and wars which took place in Europe in the 16th and 17th centuries. This “new” land presented people of marginalized faith practices with economic and religious opportunities not accessible to them in their old home. Even as the Enlightenment pushed the theological heart of these nascent ideas toward the margins of public discourse in the 18th century, the country’s founding generation still leaned on the existing religious, philosophical and linguistic framework as they constructed the governing bodies and institutions of this country. Many were men and women of faith themselves. Many were not. But most kept to some form of faith, which was part of our collective national heritage to that point.

It’s because of this framework, and the founders’ choices to work within it that Jefferson is able to write, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights…” Jefferson is building on a Christian theological foundation, asserting that all are created equal because of a common Divine Creator who values all equally, while simultaneously tweaking those constructs to reflect contemporary Enlightenment thinking, citing, “the Laws of Nature and Nature’s God” just a few lines prior as the core foundation upon which his Declaration of Independence was being built. The point here is that this nation was built on a unique foundation of faith which was already morphing before the Constitution was even written. The nation was built on a civic faith in these ideals which was not necessarily a theologically “orthodox” faith. Christianity here was politically engaged toward a civil end, much as it has been throughout its history to both noble and ignoble ends, from Constantine to Jim Crow.

In contrast, the Christian experience, both individually and collectively, particularly as it is described in the New Testament, seems to be markedly unlike this civic faith. In fact both Jesus and Paul seem to acknowledge the tension in loyalties that exists within one choosing to follow after Christ, with both counseling their listeners and readers to show respect for and demonstrate appropriate loyalty to those in positions of civic authority and the political institutions they represent, Jesus in Matthew 22, Mark 12 and Luke 20 and Paul in Romans 13. However, these same readers and listeners are also instructed to actively resist immoral and corrupt cultural practices, replacing them with moral and just ones, which will of course have subversive political implications and thus reveals the tension I spoke of in the opening paragraph. This tension seems to be assumed in the Bible. It seems to be a subset of the larger tension between the Kingdom Jesus speaks of and every political establishment that demonstrates little or no interest in that kingdom.

The difficulty we as Americans face is that our political establishment does have some vestigial and perhaps even some active interest in the principles and actions that characterize Jesus’ Kingdom. I would suggest however that this seeming slackening of that tension is more apparent than it is real. Anecdotally, if this were not the case the reigning general consensus among Evangelicals regarding the state of our culture and government would probably not include the words “hell” or “hand basket.” So where does this leave us? I would suggest that Biblically speaking, this tension between the Christian and their government, even if that government takes a welcoming stance toward them, is a good thing and that some of the confusion we often feel and experience, which often makes it way into our liturgies around civic holidays and remembrances such as Memorial Day, Independence Day, Veterans Day and 9/11, has its roots in our attempts to resolve or work out this tension. We are right to want to recognize the faith of our country’s founders. We are right to recognize the unique role the ideas that rose from that faith have played in our national and political institutions. But we do a disservice to both our faith and our nation when we merge the two into one entity, and then merge both into one personal identity. Without the tension we lose the ability to speak prophetically to those in power. We become more easily co-opted by those in power as a means to accomplish the ends of this kingdom. And most dangerous of all we begin to lose our identity and the unique identity of Jesus’ Kingdom. This is dangerous then not only to us, but also for our nation in that it loses the unique Christian voice that in many ways serves as its conscience. Attempting to resolve this tension allows it to be quieted and silenced. Something to keep in mind as we struggle to live with both identities…

Ruth Orkin and the Male Gaze

I was struck by this photo recently, American Girl in Italy. There was an article on its 60th birthday, and the photos subject, Ninalee Craig was offering her remembrances of the photo. The photo was taken by Ruth Orkin in Florence, Italy in 1951. The two women were both traveling through Europe by themselves and met as part of their travels. They decided to take photos capturing the experience of traveling as a single woman in Europe at the time, and thus this photo was born. Now 83, Craig is adamant that the photo is not a negative symbol of harassment, or anything in that vein saying instead, “It’s a symbol of a woman having an absolutely wonderful time!” This is a great example of the hermeneutical eyes a person brings to an image. The first time I saw the image I felt the men were a threat, though she suggests they never crossed any lines of inappropriateness. What most struck me about the photo after spending some time with it is the hermeneutical power of the male gaze.

I’m not going to delve too deeply into this concept, partially because it’s something I’m actively wrestling with. But I do want to throw it out there for conversation… The notion of the male gaze first draws on French Psychologist Jacques Lacan’s notion of “the gaze”, the realization that you are a visible object to others. The idea is that our identity and actions are partially shaped by our experience and awareness of others watching us. This also comes in to play then in critiquing visual culture, or the images that bombard us every day. British film critic and theorist Laura Mulvey used this notion of the gaze to help construct a manner of describing what she perceived to be a primarily male-centric image creating construct in film making. She suggested films are made primarily from the perspective of a male subject, which sees women as objects of desire. Thus from her perspective films tend to codify the cultural gender constructs of men as actively looking and women as being passively looked at. This is a bit of what is rolling around in my head as I look at Orkin’s image. What is of particular interest for me is the manner in which the male gaze affects, and interacts with feminine identity.

Now I know as a man I’m treading on dangerous territory broaching anything having to do with feminine identity. What do I know about that? I’ll admit I know far less than I probably should. That being said, I do want to comment on what I perceive to be the influence the male gaze has on identity in both masculine and feminine circles. I find Craig’s commentary on the different reactions she gets to the photograph from men and women telling. She says, “Men who see the picture always ask me: Was I frightened? Did I need to be protected? Was I upset? They always have a manly concern for me. Women, on the other hand, look at that picture, and the ones who have become my friends will laugh and say, ‘Isn’t it wonderful? Aren’t the Italians wonderful? ... They make you feel appreciated!” Her experience is that men are concerned (perhaps because they best know dark potential of the male gaze) and women can tend to appreciate the experience of being the object of the gaze. It seems to me that the different reactions from men and women reveal something of the affects of the gaze. I’m not sure I’m prepared to go further than that right now, but I’m becoming increasingly aware of the eyes I’m prompted to look through when viewing images in film, TV, photography and online.

Of course this is an entirely anecdotal observation from one woman, but I think we, particularly those who are Christians and believe that men and women are both created in the image of God, ought to be mindful of how the simple perspective of the images that surround us affect our experience of being the image of God. Did God create women to be the passive objects of the male gaze? Theologically I would strongly lean toward “No” on that answer, however I must confess that sadly my actions, and the actions of those Christians around me reveal no strong inclination to be critical of or even aware this construct. Perhaps this will help with the awareness side of that equation. Anyone want to join me in the attempt to push back?

Ryan Lizza, Michele Bachmann and the Francis Schaeffer I Know

Each generation of the church in each setting has the responsibility of communicating the gospel in understandable terms, considering the language and thought-forms of that setting. – Francis Schaeffer

Ryan Lizza’s recent The New Yorker article chronicling the evolution of Minnesota Representative and Presidential candidate Michelle Bachmann’s thought and faith as they relate both to her private person and to her actions in the public arena of politics reveals her strong and foundational affinity for evangelist, apologist and theologian Francis Schaeffer. Not so coincidentally (I am writing about this…) I to share a strong and foundational affinity with Mr. Schaeffer. I was struck though by the different shapes our respective affinities have taken; and even though I believe Schaeffer becomes distorted when seen through Mr. Lizza’s eyes (he suggests Schaeffer advocated the violent overthrow of the government, which I have a hard time finding in his writings), his article reveals something of the tension within Schaeffer’s thought, and by extension within much Evangelical thought, and reveals some of Evangelicalism’s imperfections in the process, which I would like to sift through, consider and perhaps offer a suggestion or two on some Schaefferian means (as seen through my eyes) to wrestle with them.

I was introduced to Francis Schaeffer while attending an Evangelical college in the early 90’s. We read his book How Should We Then Live? as a part of “Western Man” (the course’s title) which was a World History course. It was fascinating reading for me. He made connections between culture and theology that resonated with my spirituality at the time, and put into words thoughts I had not been able to articulate. I came to the book as a lover of the arts, primarily music and film at the time, though from a background that viewed the arts with great suspicion. He took the arts seriously, respecting them as valuable in and of themselves, and as a window into understanding culture, philosophy and theology. In addition in his book Art and the Bible he chides the Evangelical Church for its latent Platonism, valuing the spiritual over the physical. He instead suggests that the two (the spiritual and physical) make up one whole reality, thus their interpenetration must become a core assumption in order to understand the fullness of a person. Because of this the physical and therefore the arts have value theologically. Schaeffer pointed me down the road I’ve traveled to play in the intersection of theology and the arts.

There is however the other side of Schaeffer, the one that grows out of that last set of ideas that not only values the physical world of the arts, but also values the culture that produces them, and believes that culture should fully reflect what he would call a “Biblical Worldview”. This is the Schaeffer Mr. Lizza suggests Mrs. Bachmann, and much of Evangelicalism has embraced, and the truth is, in spite of the distortions in Mr. Lizza’s understanding of Shaeffer’s means of accomplishing this end, he’s right about his basic assertion. Lizza uses the label “Dominionism” to describe their position, suggesting that Evangelicals who hold to Schaeffer’s ideas believe that Christians are expected to shape and mold the secular cultural and political institutions so that they embody the “true truth” (Schaeffer’s description) of the Bible. And here we reveal the tension I wrote of earlier.

Schaeffer wants to respect and value the arts and culture as expressions of the “mannish-ness of man” (Schaeffer’s description) but at the same time wants to shape them so that they embody the truth found in the Bible, which is a fine goal. Folks with dearly held beliefs tend to articulate strong critiques of culture and politics and seek to shape them to more closely resemble those beliefs. The issue of tension here within Schaeffer’s framework is that Schaeffer seems to want to travel down two mutually divergent roads. He seems to want to take New York Yankee Catcher Yogi Berra’s advice and upon coming to the fork in the road, take it. At one end of the tension is the absolute belief in the absolute truth of God as revealed through the Bible calling it, “the absolute infallible Word of God.” At the other end of this tension is the call for the Christian to love those around them in a self gifting, self sacrificial manner. At this end Schaeffer acknowledges, “Biblical orthodoxy without compassion is surely the ugliest thing in the world.” The article tends to assert that Schaeffer’s followers, and perhaps Schaeffer himself tend to tip the scale, weighing truth as more valuable than love. Granted Schaeffer suggests the emphasis on truth is loving, writing, “Truth always carries with it confrontation. Truth demands confrontation; loving confrontation nevertheless.” From this perspective it’s unloving to abandon people, through apathy, lethargy or fear to untruth. It’s clear, given the existence of this tension that Schaeffer himself wrestled to balance these apparently competing interests. So let’s do a little (very little given the brevity of the blog) wrestling ourselves.

If one holds that both sides of this tension are equally valuable, which I believe Schaeffer would, then the question becomes one of means as opposed to motivation. One would have to unwaveringly hold to this absolute truth while actively and imitatively embodying that truth in the love of God revealed through Jesus Christ, essentially recreating the Incarnation. Jesus simultaneously through both words and actions revealed and embodied the truth and heart of the Father. It seems that Mr. Lizza, and by extension others in the culture, see only the propositions of truth and not the divine heart of love when viewing Mr. Schaeffer and Mrs. Bachmann. Granted some of that vision comes and goes with faith; however this article begs the question of whether Schaeffer (the theologian/evangelist/apologist) or Bachmann (the politician) were or are, “communicating the gospel in understandable terms, considering the language and thought-forms of that setting.” I would humbly suggest that they fell and continue to fall short here given their emphasis on the propositional side of truth. The gospel is more than a set of facts or principals. To articulate the propositions of truth without embodying them in the actions of self gifting love distorts them, making them exactly what Schaeffer called them, “the ugliest thing in the world.” The understandable terms that communicate to this generation must include both.

Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, and Samson: The Blog I Didn't Write

Have you ever seen something that wasn’t there? You know, you see something out of the corner of your eye, perhaps a face outside your window, and think, “What IS that?” and when you turn for a double take you see it’s just the leaves on the tree. Well, that’s a great metaphor for my experience trying to write this particular blog entry. I thought I saw something, but upon further review, it just wasn’t what I thought it was. Let me back up a bit and walk through how I arrived at this place of suspicion.

A few weeks ago while listening to a sermon on Samson, the really strong guy from the book of Judges, I was struck by what I thought were really strong parallels between Samson’s story and the over-arching Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader narrative told over the course of all six Star Wars films. (Yes this is the type of stuff that crosses my mind during sermons… welcome to my world.) In both cases there were prophecies concerning their lives. For Samson it was that he would be a Nazirite and deliver his people from the Philistines and for Anakin the prophecy was that he would bring balance to the Force. As they grew they were both set apart for service, for Samson as a Nazirite and for Anakin as Jedi. They both embody a certain impetuousness and impulsiveness. Both are often more likely to behave how they wished then how they ought. They both fly into murderous rages, slaughtering large numbers of people, Samson with the Philistines and the jawbone of an ass, and Anakin with the Tusken Raiders and of course his lightsaber and the Force. They both suffer disabling injuries because of their poor decisions. Samson has his eyes gouged out, and Anakin lost his legs and arm and was badly burned. Finally they both end up fulfilling the prophecies told of them through their respective somewhat self-sacrificial deaths. Slam dunk right? It’s obvious George Lucas was just retelling Samson’s story through Darth Vader. A younger version of me might have seen these intriguing parallels and run with it, but after a second look I just couldn’t justify that strong a relationship between the two.

Granted there are undeniable parallels here; however upon further review there is perhaps as much Faust or Hercules as there is Samson in Vader. For that matter the ancient stories, events and mythologies that pre-date the record of Samson’s exploits in Judges may have had an influence on the shape the telling of Samson’s story takes. The point being that every story or narrative borrows from and is in conversation with the stories and narratives that surround it and precede it. To quote Solomon, generally credited as the writer of Ecclesiastes, “There is nothing new under the sun.” To suggest that Vader’s story IS a spot on retelling of Samson’s just doesn’t do either justice. Interestingly, it seems to me that the core of the parallels between the two characters lies in the flawed, self-absorbed nature of their temperaments. Granted there are plot parallels as well, but they might not seem so analogous without the personal similarity.

At any rate, I wanted to share my thought process and suggest that seeing the similarities and analogies that live in the stories all around us as they converse with both contemporary and historical narratives including scripture is, I believe, helpful and necessary to building appropriate hermeneutical contexts as we try to make sense of them. I also wanted to suggest caution in that process when the desire to find allegorical parallels instead of analogous ones presents itself. Allegory may be a helpful tool in the belt of pedagogy, but it can greatly curtail the larger narrative conversation. With that said, any interesting narrative parallels that jump out to you that you’d like to share?

Whatever is Lovely Part V: The Long and Winding Road Home

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things – Philippians 4.8 (NIV)

So where does this leave us? How does the Incarnation, the extra-propositional nature of truth and Theo-Drama help us in practically applying Paul’s admonitions here? As I stated in the introductory portion of this extended blog I’ve come to believe the shortest most efficient line between two points is typically or perhaps often the least godly/Biblical route to take. Hopefully, the winding routes of my reasoning have been a fitting embodiment of that notion… for better or for worse. The over-arching point being that simply avoiding a story, film, painting, recording, etc because it isn’t true, right, pure or lovely at first blush means you miss the possibility of seeing generously as God does, or experiencing unconventional encounters with truth, or learning to act out the divine role gifted you by God. From this perspective encounters with the arts and pop culture become exercises in finding the truth, nobility, loveliness and admirability (yes I believe I made up that word) that exists and lives in them, and in those that created them. It becomes an opportunity to think on such things, meditating ultimately on the generosity and graciousness of a God who still sees flashes of these things in God’s own divine handiwork.

As a final thought I want to acknowledge that approaching the arts and pop culture texts from this perspective still doesn’t provide a free reign to engage any and all arts and texts. There are many texts I cannot engage because of the emotional and spiritual damage they cause me. The best example of this for me is slasher films. I can’t watch them because, one I squirm too much, and two because the graphic depictions of brutality and gore stay with me in a way that I feel is very unhealthy. I can’t say however that these films are bad for everyone. I know many people who engage with these narratives and the ideas they embody in healthy ways. And many of these films do engage with big picture ideas. (Think Hostel, Saw, or Scream) But as much as I might admire the engagement of these big picture ideas from a distance I can’t relate to them at close range. Others can’t engage art or texts that overtly portray or describe sexuality. Some can’t engage arts or texts that arouse doubt, or fear in them. We all have our weaknesses, but I might suggest the lines of appropriateness are drawn in each individual as opposed to absolute lines drawn for every person in every situation, which perhaps is a topic for another blog down the road. At any rate I hope that this little excursion has shown that Paul’s request to the Philippians here is more by road and less interstate than is readily apparent.

Whatever is Lovely Part IV: All the World's a Stage

Whatever is Lovely Part IV: All the World's a Stage
The third and final doctrinal lens I want to employ to help clearly see the true, noble, right, pure and lovely all around us, particularly in the arts and pop culture is the lens of theo-drama. This of course borrows/depends heavily on Balthasar’s concept of theo-drama, but I will swerve and sway a bit from the centerline of his thought. What is of use in understanding Paul here is the story God is telling through history, that is the drama of redemption that has been playing out since the construction of this stage we call Earth. If we were to interpret Paul here in the manner of the “straw man” I built in the first part of this blog, then there’s much of the divine story Christians should avoid. Perhaps we shouldn’t celebrate the deception of Jael or Samson’s lack of nobility or the systemic injustices of Solomon or Abraham’s impurity or the vile ugliness and violence of the crucifixion. And don’t mention Song of Solomon. Just don’t.

These segments of the story God is telling recorded in the Bible are not always noble, right, pure or lovely. In fact they’re often the stories of great wrongs committed by those committed to God. The stories aren’t always uplifting, and are often ambiguous at best (read Judges and Ecclesiastes). At worst they curiously seem to lionize racial violence (Joshua), and reveal a God who likes to gamble (Job). These evils and ambiguities however are all a part of the larger story of redemption God is telling. God does not attempt to clean up this messiness. In fact it seems to be central to the divine narrative. So we should explore this muddled tangle of vagaries and see what it might reveal to us about both the story of God and the God of the story.

We are going to work backwards a little bit here, and start with some basic dramatic theory and work toward its intersection with theology and what that means to us practically as we interact with the arts and pop culture texts around us. According to Balthasar one of the benefits of theatre (he meant this to be applied only to the stage, but I believe much of this can be applied to film as well) is that it makes the drama of existence explicit so that it can be observed. It objectifies and makes visible the tensions that exist in our experiences so that we can view them from the outside, yet at the same time still sense them subjectively. It’s as we travel through these tensions as a story unfolds that we reach the “truth” of and at the conclusion of the story. There’s a sense in which this “traveling” through the story, assuming the audience’s suspension of disbelief, creates a space for a type of revelation to occur. Theologian Aidan Nichols suggests this theatrical or filmic journey allows us, “the enjoyment of the projection of what we already tacitly know about human living, on the one hand, and, on the other, an excited anticipation of something further to be discovered, a possible solution to life’s enigma, which the play will implicitly disclose.” In short the theatre (and film) incarnate truth so that it can be encountered in a living, dynamic manner unavailable to other forms and expressions. All of this of course is endowed with a greater weightiness in light of Christ’s incarnation, or put theatrically, after the Son’s appearance as he shared the stage with humanity.

I want to quickly note three outcomes of the Son’s appearance on our stage (all borrowed from Balthasar), lay it over this brief discussion of dramatic theory and touch a few of their effects in relation to our interaction with the arts and pop culture texts. First, the Son’s appearance on our stage opens a dramatic dialogue between humanity and God. God makes Godself intimately relatable to us through the Son’s appearance. God does this not only to open up this possibility of dialogue, but it seems in expectation of it. The Son is set on the stage of human history in the expectation that this divine provocation would result in humanity taking up their end of the divine/human discourse. The second outcome follows the first in that humanity is expected to partake in the drama of redemption. Humanity is on the stage with the Son. We are not spectators but participants with our parts to play. In particular every Christian is gifted a divine role in the story, which we learn and grow into. The third outcome then is that the Christian’s part of the story opens the door to conflict with a world which prefers the status quo. The Christian’s participation in the sacrificial love which has brought about and is bringing about the world’s redemption inherently subverts the world’s structures of power, thus amplifying the existing tension and conflict.

So what does all of this mean then for our creation and consumption of the arts and pop culture texts? I want to first note that the stage and the screen to an extent imitate the incarnation. They embody story in a manner similar to the way the Son embodied the divine story, and so any truth they reveal is an embodied narrative truth. Drama is one of the languages God chose to use when communicating with us (one could make the case it’s the primary language), and so should be respected even when employed by non-divine hands. If we assume the arts, particularly here drama and film, reveal a kind of human impulse to imitate, consider and respond to the greater divine drama that is ongoing all around us, reflecting them as a mirror, or microcosmically reframing the divine story through the eyes of the playwright or screen writer, then we are witnessing the human divine dialogue in progress. Note that the writer doesn’t need to intentionally set out to accomplish this. The divine drama is ongoing whether or not humanity perceives it. Any story we tell participates in some way in that story. So when we partake in a drama or film we are witnessing at least the human part of the divine dialogue, though often we are graced to witness the divine part of that dialogue in humanity’s stories as well.

I will leave this here for now and address what all of this put together means for those choosing to follow Christ and interact with our culture and the arts it produces while still only considering what is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and admirable in the last part of what has turned into a very long blog…