Yes, I really am going to say something that could be perceived as critical of the world’s currently most popular movie, Avengers Endgame. Yes, I saw it and yes, I for the most part very much enjoyed it. (No, I’m not insane to raise this topic–well, I may be insane, mind you, but this particular post isn’t a result of any potential insanity of mine 🙂 . )  Yes, as my title implies, I think part of the plot of Endgame really does strike me as if it were driven by the concept of Social Justice as understood in the modern sense, with the movie in fact removing power from white male figures (i.e. the white patriarchy). Though in all cases but one, the story does this gracefully.

SPOILERS by the way. No, I’m not going to spoil the whole movie from start to finish, but enough, including its ending.

First, I must say that pretty much all of you probably had a nicer cinema experience than I did. The showing was 3D but I got handed glasses that were not wrapped in plastic–they’d just been thrown in a box from the last person to use them. Mine were noticeably greasy and I never quite managed to get them clean. The theater in the Central American country where I currently am is one where if anybody opens the door into the theater from the lighted hall behind the entrance, light gets cast onto the screen in front. Not so much that you can’t see the movie anymore, but enough that you know the door is open. And yes, the door wound up opening many times during the 3 hour film…distracting (and I’m not even talking about the seats or anything else).

Now that I’ve written enough text to let someone who doesn’t want to see spoilers pull away without seeing anything of substance, let me say my original dissatisfaction based on the movie itself (and not just its viewing conditions) centered around the character of Thor. By the way, I’ve publicly objected to Pagan deities as characters in films that I want to watch, since real-live people actually worship these deities to this day, including Thor (and the Thor-worshipers I’ve known were not offended in the slightest that their god was portrayed as type of space alien–Neo-Pagans are not usually dogmatic about any type of doctrine). But putting that objection aside, let’s look at what happened to Thor as a character. Thor, driven by a sense of failure to kill Thanos before he could eliminate half the universe, was eager for revenge, eager to undo his failure. He even kills in cold blood a rather defenseless Thanos (who technically should be put on trial or something), yet this brings him no sense of relief. Fast forward to five years in the future in New Asgard, and the story reveals that Thor spends all his time drinking beer, eating junk food, and playing video games. He develops an obvious beer gut.

Actually if the point of this turn of events was to show that Thor went through some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and was overwhelmed by a sense of loss and failure and turned to eating, alcohol, and video games as a result his PTSD, the story would simply be showing one possible results of PTSD. Yet in fact, the story plays Thor’s fall from self-control for laughs, another character commenting at one point that cheese whiz runs through the Asgardean’s veins. At one point Rocket the Raccoon slapped him in the face to get him “to snap out of it.” The Marvel movies have dealt with Tony Stark’s PTSD with insight and grace, yet by making Thor a joke, Endgame undid a lot of the sensitivity Marvel movies had shown previously on this topic.

Yet as I thought about what was going on in the story more deeply, I realized that something important seemed be happening other than playing something serious for jokes (or “fat shaming” for that matter). I couldn’t help noticing a pattern in the movie involving the main body of white, male superheroes, who were among the most popular of Marvel’s characters. Four “white patriarchy” characters in effect get either removed from a position of power or get eliminated from the story in Avengers Endgame. Those characters are Captain America, the Hulk, Iron Man, and yes, Thor.

Image Copyright: Disney

Tony Stark dies with no obvious replacement, though his wife Pepper or daughter may fill that role. Bruce Banner seems to have been injured by gamma ray exposure and goes into what may be retirement with no clear replacement. Steve Rodgers literally retires via time travel and hands his shield over to Falcon (who happens not to be white). Thor is not eliminated as a character for future stories, but he is greatly humbled and gives up his kingship to Valkyrie, who is a woman (and not white).

And as these white male characters were cleared out of their formerly dominant roles by the story, note the inclusion of a number of prominent non-white or non-male characters in recent Marvel films. Most notably Captain Marvel. Is it just a coincidence that so many characters a SJW might consider emblematic of patriarchy (and white patriarchy no less) were eliminated from the story universe? That they seem to be getting replaced by a more diverse cast?

Someone might correctly point out that there are still plenty of white male characters in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) and yes, that’s true. Yes, but there aren’t as many anymore, are there? And the ones that are left are nowhere near as strong, nowhere as near emblematic of “patriarchy” as many modern people see it.

Yes, it does seem to me (my personal opinion) that a number of the plot elements in Avengers Endgame were driven by social justice considerations. But let’s give credit for good storytelling where it’s due. Three of the white males retired from their positions of power in the MCU were given good sendoffs. Hulk and Iron Man make heroic sacrifices. Steve Rodgers went after his heart, seeking the love of his life. Only with Thor did the movement of the plot seem crass and forced.

That’s my take on this one element of Avengers Endgame. What are your thoughts on this topic?

One of the purposes of this site is to explore the meeting of Christianity with culture broadly, and with art particularly, whether that meeting is synthesis, negotiation, or conflict. That exploration grows more and more relevant as our society transforms into a post-Christian culture. Still, the meeting of Christianity and art is as old as the Church Universal. It is interesting to consider how the early Christians made their own negotiations in a pre-Christian culture.

Ancient Christian art, some of it dating from the second century, is preserved in the Catacombs.¹ The Catacombs, as you know, is the collective name given to a web of underground Christian cemeteries excavated around Rome when the emperors were still pagan. Christianity was, in those days, an infant religion in an old civilization. The Greeks and the Romans had brought to a high state the arts of sculpture, painting, and architecture. These arts served causes of which the Christians could not have approved: the glorification of pagan emperors and pagan gods, an endless proliferation of images and temples. Yet Christians brought those arts, as they were able, down into the Catacombs, in frescoes and paintings and sarcophagi.

It’s not surprising. Humans must have art. Humans must especially have art in their sacred places. What is more notable is that the early Christians borrowed not only Rome’s art forms but, to a limited extent, its pagan imagery. The classic image of Orpheus taming the wild animals frequently appears in the Catacombs, doubtless as a type of Christ.² Other pagan representations include Ulysses and Mercury, curiously placed in the scene of Elijah’s ascension into heaven.³ There is some evidence, however, of pagan images being hidden or destroyed, indicating that not all Christians of that early time were sanguine about this artistic syncretism.⁴

Symbols were very common in the Catacombs, etched onto countless graves. Some, such as the fish or the Christogram, were exclusively Christian in their significance. Others, like the ship, the crown, and the palm branch, were shared with the dominant pagan culture of Rome. As Withrow comments in his book, however, the common pagan symbols of serpent and dog are largely rejected, with the former appearing only in depictions of Eve’s temptation and the latter used only as an accessory in hunting scenes.⁵ It is easy to understand why the serpent was rejected, and perhaps Withrow is right in his speculation that early Christians shared the Jewish conception of dogs as unclean. Whatever the reason, the pertinent fact is that Christian art did not include all Roman motifs.

The symbols of the Catacombs encapsulate the early Christian use of the art that, created by pagans, surrounded them. They added much that was new, and infused much that was old with new meaning (the laurel wreath did not mean quite the same thing to Roman pagans as it did to Roman Christians). They retained cultural symbols and even nakedly pagan imagery. And some elements of pagan art they excised entirely. (Withrow also notices the far greater modesty of human figures portrayed in the Christian Catacombs than in pagan art.⁶)

Art is not Christian. Art is not pagan. Art is human. Like all things human, Christianity puts it in negotiation with the divine to find its expression and meaning. As illuminated in the Catacombs, Christians have from the beginning attempted the synthesis of faith with culture: the addition, the retention, the rejection.

And if the defaced pagan images are any clue, we have always been disagreeing about it, too.

If visitors here at Spec Faith have read our Statement of Faith, to which we all agree if we write regular columns, they know that we believe the Bible. Part of that document reads as follows:

We believe the Bible is the only inspired, infallible, and authoritative Word of God, and our only sure source for knowing Who God is, what the Gospel is, and what we must do in response.

Unfortunately that belief in the Bible is not as widespread as it once was in western culture. In fact, more and more people who identify as Christian will say that they can’t accept things like “Jonah and the Whale” or “Noah and the Ark.” In other words, the supernatural things God did in the Old and New Testaments that seem impossible to us today.

Of course, supernatural events are not possible naturally. That’s how we know they are supernatural.

But in this day and age when myth is popular and superheroes are in TV programs, movies, and games, let alone, in books, I wonder if the skepticism we need to enjoy the mythological might not affect our understanding of the Bible. I mean, look at the amazing feats accomplished by the Mutant X, a group of “new mutants who possess extraordinary powers as a result of genetic engineering,” portrayed in a TV program some fifteen years ago.

Such characters in speculative stories do “the impossible,” but we have an understanding that, no, what we are seeing on the screen are not real people doing real things. We see it with our own eyes, but we understand it’s not true.

I realize that I’ve taken that same skepticism into the way I look at photos. There are pictures with colors so vibrant, I question if they are real or if the photographer/artist/creator has enhanced them to make them pop, to “improve” on the nature which they supposedly represent.

Then there is fake news and the stories that we must view with a questioning eye because, who knows what context has been omitted or what person has been cropped from the picture or what slant has been taken to further support or undermine the actor/politician/athlete/teacher/policeman/religious figure, or whoever.

In other words, we can hear with our ears and see with our eyes, and still we have no idea if what’s been reported is accurate and true.

How does all this affect our understanding of the Bible? Has speculative literature undermined our belief in God’s word? Has the post-truth culture in which we live, undermined our belief in the Bible?

My own conviction since I started writing is that fantasy, in particular—which is filled with magic and dragons and faeries and orcs and Gollum and worlds that exist inside wardrobes—is a vehicle to illuminate the truth of Scripture, not confuse readers about its veracity.

J. R. R. Tolkien certainly made a case for readers, even children, understanding the difference between the real and the pretend. He would be one of those scoffing at the idea that Harry Potter readers would think that witches and wizards could do all the imaginary things depicted in J. K. Rowling’s wonderful series. He had no doubt that we have the ability to discern what is real and what is imagined. Some years ago, in a series of posts here at Spec Faith, we looked at what the “Father of Fantasy” believed about myth and imagination and “wonder.”

But the world is a different place from the one in which Tolkien lived. Art is different. Stories are different. And the way our culture looks at the Bible is different.

So what does separate fantasy and myth from the miraculous? How does a reader make the distinction between the pretend of a talking donkey in C. S. Lewis’s The Last Battle and a talking donkey in the Old Testament?

Atheists so often point to Scripture as filled with the unbelievable, no different from Greek myths or stories about Roman gods.

I fear that this same attitude has filtered into the Church. Which causes two opposing results.

First, a group of people denigrate the Bible. It’s all made up by people, filled with stories that are certainly not history. They are legend, passed down orally and exaggerated by each retelling. The danger there, of course, is that Jesus rising from the dead is categorized with all those other “myths.” In essence, then, we do not have a risen Savior. We have only a nice story.

The other result of this trend of looking at the Bible as nothing different from speculative fiction, is a denigration of fantasy and science fiction. The creative imaginings worked out in story become the evil Bible-believing Christians want to stamp out. The stories are the culprits leading people astray.

The truth is far from either position, and it’s up to us Christians who love speculative stories to state the facts clearly, I think. Yes, imaginative stories are imaginative. As a class, they are not leading children or adults into false beliefs. And yes, the Bible is true. It is not make-believe, pretend, intended for symbolic representation of a greater truth. It contains parables and poetry and picturesque language, but the events stated as historical, actually happened, to real people, even if they contained the miraculous.

The distinction needs to be clear in our minds first so we can make it clear to others who want to tear down either the Bible or speculative fiction.

As I see it, there is one major factor we must communicate: God is all powerful and can do the impossible. If we grasp this truth, then any miracle or “impossible” event recorded in the Bible has a clear and logical source. There should be no uncertainty, no skeptical denial. Since God can do the impossible, the Red Sea could part and God’s people cross on dry land. Since God can do the impossible, Daniel can survive a night in the midst of a den of lions. Since God can do the impossible, Peter can follow an angel and escape prison undetected. Basically the question should be, What couldn’t an all powerful God do?

In speculative fiction, Christians have the opportunity of creating worlds in which amazing things happen, peopled with amazing beings. Even if these speculative events make it to a screen and special effects put them before the public as if they really happened, there is no carry over to our world. People here still can’t make broomsticks fly. There are no dragons. No space ships taking us across galaxies to other worlds populated by alien cultures.

The world of imagination does not give us an excuse to dismiss the God of the impossible as if He is not real. And the record of His work in the world is not a reason to fear speculative stories, as if they must, because of their nature, lead us away from the reality of Scripture.

After I saw Captain Marvel, I read two contradictory Christian reviews—both from writers I follow and respect.

The first was the opposition from Greg Morse at Desiring God. Next came some very high praise from K. B. Hoyle at Christ and Pop Culture.

Morse at Desiring God argued the movie could show a stronger-than-all woman swooping in to save the failing men, when all hope is lost in the battle with Thanos. He suggested this could encourage men in our society to remain weak, passive, and cowardly in their God-given role as a protector.

(Beware Avengers: Endgame spoiler here: I’m glad that Captain Marvel didn’t end up being the savior in Avengers: Endgame, although I would agree that, before the film released, many fans expected she would be.)

By contrast, Hoyle at Christ and Pop Culture felt female superheroes are necessary to encourage women to have agency, and to drive back the culture of misogyny still much alive in America.

I bring only these two opinions to front because they likely represent how the Church is responding to this film. Both of these writers contributed wisdom to this ongoing discussion on feminism within our society, and, more specifically, Christianity. Yet there are a few important things to note about both of these perspectives when deciding where to land.

1. They’re addressing different audiences.

We all see feminism in different ways, depending on our own connection or experience with feminism. But we often attack weaknesses within our own subculture without regard to others in different parts of the country (or world).

Morse is speaking to the wider, secular culture living under extreme forms of feminism. For example, see the kind of feminism that advocates for killing babies. Meanwhile, Hoyle is addressing the culture living among misogyny, such as alt-right areas and fundamentalist Christianity (which, admittedly, are far more pervasive beliefs than we previously thought).

Which side should be addressed? Both, because they are both wrong and contrary to the gospel.

2. They’re overstating their point.

In only addressing one side of a problem, we tend to place blinders on and fail to moderate ourselves when necessary.

As Hoyle points out well, Morse is (perhaps unintentionally) giving the impression that women should sit on the sidelines and wait for a man to come along and protect her. Not only is that not biblical, it’s not even practical. What if she happens to be alone, an unmarried woman, or even a single mom? What should she do? Meanwhile, Hoyle implies a rather low view (again, unintentionally?) of the roles of a male protector and a female helper within complementarian theology (which I can’t tell if she believes or not).

3. They are not nuanced enough.

Whether we like it or not, this is an ethical discussion, and ethics requires nuance.

For example, we can say God hates divorce but we can’t pass judgement on a divorced person without knowing the exact details of their situation. Is Captain Marvel someone to emulate? This is not a yes or no answer. We must be able to dissect the film and character and admit that Danvers is only an appropriate role model in some ways.

The same is true of any other superhero. Secular films, while attempting to address important cultural issues, will only be able to accomplish that in part (often with a great, big helping of secular propaganda).

In making a stand for the importance of pop culture and fiction, we must be careful not to imply that they are wholly good. They can’t be. Apart from Christ, humans will only ever be able to produce a shadow of the truth. It isn’t our job as culture aficionados simply to get people to watch geeky movies and read geeky books, but to get them to both appreciate and think critically about these things. When we feel compelled due to recent cultural shifts to make blanket statements without proper nuance (i.e. “This movie is good and/or bad because feminism.”), we cut off at the knee our ability to think critically.

So where is the biblical balance about women in battle?

Let’s take a look at Deborah and Jael as an example of biblical, feminist icons. You may have heard female superheroes described as Deborah-types, but how true is that? Judges 4 describes the ultra-godly and wise Deborah judging Israel. Barak goes to her, and she calls him out about not going into the battle God ordered him to. Then Barak tells her he’ll go, but only if she goes with him. Deborah answers, “I will surely go with you. Nevertheless, the road on which you are going will not lead to your glory, for the Lord will sell Sisera into the hand of a woman” (Judges 4:9).

The woman she’s referring to is Jael (verse 17), who tricks Sisera, commander of the Canaan army, into her tent. Sisera, thinking he was safely hidden, falls asleep and Jael hammers a tent peg through his temple.

Judges can be difficult to interpret, since it is written in mere descriptive, factual accounts without moral commentary. What we don’t actually see is Deborah fighting. She went with him, but whether or not she was swinging a blade on the front lines of war, we can’t know for sure—although I doubt it. What we do know is that she is condemning Barak’s request. This likely means she knows Barak is being cowardly by asking her to go, and that he is using her as a good luck charm to win the battle. Because of these errors, cunning Jael will be remembered for defeating Sisera, not Barak.

Is this passage encouraging women to fight in war? That’s a stretch. In fact, the opposite seems to be true. Deborah points out Barak’s cowardice in not having enough faith to go into battle without her by saying the glory will not go to him. When we compare this with Jael’s strength, depicted here as crafty and intelligent, we hardly see Scripture advocating women being included in combat units.

Instead it seems to be giving a beautiful image of what a true female helper looks like. The word helper in Genesis 2:18 often gives us visions of piles of clean laundry and dirty dishes. That is nowhere near accurate. In fact, the same word is used more often in the Bible to describe God himself. Women as helpers is not a subordinate role, but an equal, essential one. And in the case of the battle in Judges 4, it meant life or death.

So does the Bible imply a prohibition to female superheroes? Not at all. Like K. B. Hoyle said so well, “They must know they can be agents of change—that their voices are as loud and as true, their strength and dedication just as valued and valuable, as their male counterparts.” Amen!

My father, a black belt in kung fu, drilled women’s self-defense into me as a child knowing the world we live in is not safe and that he wouldn’t always be there to protect me. We absolutely can have strong, female superheroes in our stories who embody real femininity and complement their male counterparts.

But should those heroes be on the front lines of war? Believe it not, that is an entirely different question and one of the biggest reasons we need more nuance in order to have this conversation. From what I’m seeing in scripture, not in most cases. (Although there may be extenuating circumstances in which this may not be avoidable depending on the demands of the story.)

Since women fighting in war, and possibly even being drafted into combat units, is a reality of our often extreme feminist society, I would have to agree with Morse that this is not something to be encouraged. His concern that this could lead to weaker and more passive men is not unfounded. Barak’s cowardice is as old as Adam’s sin in the garden, and we still see it today.

Last but not least, Hoyle brings up another crucial aspect of this discussion at the very end of her article: that this is fantasy. Superpowers are a type of magic system, and therefore, throw a bit of a wrench into our applying these things to ourselves. Because Captain Marvel is actually stronger and not weaker than her male counterparts, doesn’t it follow that she should be fighting on the front lines?

This is a big question that creates many more. Just remember that most of the time when reading or writing about fictional magic, we’re using unreality to shed light on reality (whether we know it or not). Is Captain Marvel’s extreme physical strength a mere metaphor for her intelligence? Some viewers may have seen it that way. But to the woman who, like Eve before her, is looking to usurp the role given to the passive man standing next to her, that is not what Captain Marvel meant.

Let us not make blanket statements for one another, but see a thing for what it is, both the good mixed with the bad. We all have different origin stories that color our view of films and books. Although we shouldn’t espouse moral relativism, we need enough intellectual humility to listen to the perspectives of others and understand how things might not be as they first appear.

Back early in 2017 I wrote a post for my personal blog that attempted to define what a makes a story Christian or not Christian. I made a chart and numbered categories that wound up being awkward and not necessarily helpful in terms of format. Yet I think I was on to something–something that’s worth simplifying and repeating here.

Note that Johne Cook, a Christian writer friend of mine years ago said something on the topic of Christian stories that I objected to at the time. I think what Johne said didn’t originate with him, but he’s the first person I heard ask the question, “Does a Christian bricklayer lay Christian bricks?” He applied that question specifically to the idea whether or not a story can be considered Christian.

The question of course points out that only a person can actually be Christian or not Christian–that no physical object has the power to believe or not believe, to have a religious life or not have a religious life. In this analogy a story is likened to what makes it up, the pixels on a screen, the printed ink on the pages of a novel, the sum total of all the letters, numbers, and punctuation marks in a tale. My objection at the time was that, “No, this isn’t fair. Stories are built out of ideas and ideas can very much either be Christian or not be Christian.”

For me, at the time, it seemed a very simple question to which I offered a clear and simple response. Yet Johne’s point has grown on me somewhat over the years. While it is true that the the words and letters in a story combine to constitute ideas, those ideas don’t occur in a vacuum. The reader brings to the story her or his preconceived notions and steers them in a highly personal way. Sometimes a reader is inspired to believe something that’s the complete opposite of what a writer intends in a story. A story about doubt may inspire belief while a tale full of references to faith can stir up religious skepticism.

One can make the point that since only the writer can be Christian (or not), Christian writers should follow the inspiration they receive and attempt to craft the best stories possible in terms of being entertaining and thought-provoking, without worrying whether or not their content is Christian. I actually see a point to this, to writers of personal faith following where inspiration leads them, focusing on the quality of the storytelling and letting whatever religious elements enter the tale to do so naturally (in fact, these are the kinds of speculative fiction stories from Christian authors I sought to collect in the Mythic Orbits 2016 and Mythic Orbits Vol. 2 anthologies I’ve published).

Yet from the reader’s point of view, I find this unsatisfying. We can in fact identify what kinds of ideas are the “bricks” of a story and say in a general sort of way if the story is Christian–that is, if a story’s ideas line up with notions in harmony with Christian thought. We can also say in general if the ideas that line up with Christian thought are portrayed in a positive or a negative light. It’s perhaps clearer to reference stories that are hostile to Christianity as a means to define a type of tale than it is to identify we might think of as “friendly,” so I’ll give examples of both.

I broke up stories into a number of different categories I considered Christian, which I’m going to list below (abandoning the numbering system and chart I created before that was more confusing than helpful). With each positive example, I will also list a negative example:

Top Ten Christian Fantasy Books according to theartistlibrarian.blogspot.com

1. Christianity or Christian ideas overtly referenced in the story and the reference is central to the tale (as in without the religious reference, the story would disappear). Tosca Lee’s Demon, a Memoir would fall into this category. Scriptural demons are referenced and are the subject of the story in a way that reinforces what the Bible says about demons. The Da Vinci Code would be a negative example of this type–Christian ideas are central to the story, but the story goes out of its way to refute or marginalize those ideas.
2. Christianity of Christian ideas are overtly referenced in the story but the references are not central to the story (as in, you could edit out the references to faith and still have a story left–which doesn’t necessarily make the references unimportant). Larry Niven’s and Jerry Pournelle’s The Mote in God’s Eye or A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle qualify. A negative example, in which Christianity is overtly referenced but could be edited out (changed to a form of non-religious statism perhaps) would be Margaret Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale. Note that Handmaid’s Tale gives a great example of what I mean by the ideas of a story not occurring in a vacuum. I may see in the story an attack on all of Christianity based on the implication that all Christianity is inherently oppressive to women and naturally would lead to the type of dictatorship seen in the story–yet others might only see an attack on a false version of Christianity and find nothing to be concerned about with Handmaid’s Tale. (Note also someone might reasonably disagree with me on how central to the story the Christian references are in Handmaid’s Tale).
   

   Polar Bears: Baddies in Narnia, Good guys in The Golden Compass. Image source: Patheos.com

3. Christianity or Christian ideas are referenced in a story indirectly, but are clear, in a way central to the tale. The first and most important example of this would be The Chronicles of Narnia books by C.S. Lewis. A negative example stems from Phillip Pullman’s The Golden Compass.
4. Christianity/Christian ideas are referenced indirectly, but are clear, in a way not central to the story. This probably happens more often than I think, but I find this to be a bit of a rare bird among the stories I read. Richard New’s short story “Escapee” has an indirect but-easy-to-deduce reference to Christianity that is not central to his plot (this story was published in Mythic Orbits 2016). Frank Herbert’s Dune novels make reference to religious institutions that are not Christian-but-are-like-Christian that could probably be removed from the story and which mostly reference those institutions negatively. Though Hebert also referenced Christian ideas of a messiah-figure in ways that are central to his story and they reveal that sometimes it’s difficult to say if a reference is positive or negative–but Hebert definitely was not interested in promoting traditional Christian ideas of the Messiah.
5. Christianity/Christian ideas are referenced in a way that’s debatable, in a way central to the story. By “debatable” I mean that no effort is required to remove any Christian content when a book gets made into a movie (as L’Engle’s Wrinkle in Time had all its Christianity edited out). When made into a movie, the content is simply ignored or re-interpreted in a way other than Christian. I would say The Lord of the Rings is an example of this. Christian notions of good and evil and how the ring represents evil, the example of Frodo as a sort of suffering Messiah, Aragorn as a returning-Christ figure, Gandalf as a resurrected-Christ figure, are all central to the story, yet are routinely ignored by most people who view the screen version of Tolkien’s work. The best negative example I could come up for this is Robert Heinlein’s Revolt in 2100, in which a fundamentalist government takes over the United States (and is defeated by the “good guys” in the tale). What makes this debatable is Heinlein created a new, futuristic religion that runs his dictatorship that isn’t directly related to Christianity–so his shot at the Christian faith isn’t as overt as Margaret Atwood’s.  Yet maybe this novel would be better listed with my #3 type of story above–while it’s possible to create a tale that criticizes Christianity in a way so indirect as to be debatable, most people writing anti-Christian allegories aren’t too subtle.
   

   The religious cult leader in Conan the Barbarian–a shot at Christians? Eh, maybe…maybe not…Image source: Tumblr.com

6. Christianity/Christian ideas are referenced in a way that’s debatable, in a way not central to the story. We could argue Tolkien’s The Hobbit contains Christian symbolism, though I’m not quite sure what that would be. Clearly story does not hinge around such symbolism. Negative examples might be found in Dune or other science fiction that portray quasi-similar to Christian figures not central to the story in a negative light. Perhaps though the James Earl Jones religious leader in the original Conan the Barbarian movie might qualify as a peripheral covert negative reference to Christian leadership. Maybe. 🙂
7. Moral Message. A story without any clear references to Christianity, whether overt or allegorical. Even if someone tries to insert Christian references, they don’t quite fit. Yet the story shows a world of conflict between recognizable good and evil, in which we cheer for the good and fear the evil. The original Star Wars (i.e. Star Wars, A New Hope) was like this. The way to subvert a moral message is to have a story that promotes something as good in the tale that actually isn’t moral. Without giving a specific example, I think Christians would in general object to stories that promote a sexually immoral lifestyle as a good thing.
8. Amoral Message. Sometimes a story is just a story and even when you look at it from all angles, not much in terms of moral content can be found. An event or series of events happen without any real discernible commentary on good or evil, right or wrong. When I made my original chart for this, I listed Kat Heckenbach’s short story “Clay’s Fire” as an example of this (from Mythic Orbits 2016). Yet as I discuss this topic, I find it’s rather hard to enjoy a story in which there is no morality at all. Sure, “Clay’s Fire” and a number of other stories that focus on events, in particular on survival, can be interesting without an sense of right or wrong appearing in the tale. But most stories have some form of morality, right? A truly moral-neutral story is a rarity. Though it’s true that a negative version of an amoral message would be to present characters in which everyone is totally a shade of gray to such a degree that the story questions if good and evil aren’t merely matters of opinion and are not in fact based on this people do.
9. Immoral Message. The story flips the standards of right and wrong as Christians understand them. Killing enemies is good and enjoyable (as in Heinlein’s Starship Troopers) because our species needs to propagate. Or taking pride in oneself is good (Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged) even if at the expense of others. Satan is a good guy, angels are boring, witches are cool, Christians are sinister (all of us), etc, etc. Not too many Christians write this kind of tale. Though I suppose we could as a satire.

So anyway, I’ve shown it’s possible to look at the ideas in a story and pass it through some kind of a matrix. Note that it’s also possible to pass a story through a search for dirty words and sex scenes and have it come up clean but in other ways be anti-Christian. For example, I’ve only read part of the Da Vinci Code, but I don’t remember it cussing or being racy. Yet it clearly is intended to imply Christianity is false (a product of an ancient conspiracy) and always has been.

Which of course means on the other side a story could have foul language and suggestive themes but still have ideas that support Christianity. That’s not me suggesting I want to read stories with foul language (I don’t because I don’t want to say those words in my mind as I read) or that I want to read erotic scenes (I don’t because that will cause me to visualize the scene in a way not good for me), but that the question of what does it mean for a story to be “Christian” is more complex than a simple check for things people often find offensive. And it’s more complex than the categories I made.

Yet I hope my list of categories helps readers think about the kind of work worth their time to read–and the kind of stories authors want to craft. Gray, morally neutral stories do exist, but in fact, most stories are morality tales in one sense or the other. So as we lay our “Christian bricks” into stories, we should be aware of our moral content. Yes, we should follow what interests as readers and what inspires us as writers–yet we really should think about stories in terms of “Is this good? Is this right?”

What are your thoughts on story types? On what it means for a story to be Christian? Please share in the comments below:

Everyone loves origin stories, especially those that explore the beginnings of beloved characters in greater detail. While storytelling structures of yore would often place the origin story at the beginning of the story – as usually happens in real life – modern audiences like to be introduced to characters who are already somewhat possessed of their unique talents/powers and making their mark on the world. Once these characters become an industry fixture (when there is enough audience demand and profit potential) then prequels are made, delving deeper into the characters’ backstories to plot the course of how they got to where they were when they were first introduced.

Image copyright Warner Bros.

Nearly ever iconic character in modern memory has had their story told in this flip-flopped way: Darth Vader, Batman, the X-Men, James T. Kirk, John Connor, Vito Corleone, and on and on. We are introduced to a memorable character in their full glory and we say, “Wow! How did they get here?” Of course, prequels are also a safe bet because studios and publishers never know how audiences will receive the continuation of a story, but if it’s known that audiences loved the character so far, it’s easier to tell the story that led up the awesomeness. Cha-ching.

Probably the biggest entry into the pop culture prequel library this year will be The Joker starring Joaquin Phoenix. Numerous Batman films and shows have explained how the Joker got to be who he is, but only enough to make him a competent bad guy to trade blows with the Dark Knight. One of the goals of prequels is to make the characters sympathetic and relatable (did you ever think you would see Darth Vader as a chubby-cheeked kid?) and judging from the trailers, The Joker seeks to do that, at least to an extent.

Everyone knows that the Joker is a bad guy, and it would be in poor taste to make the audience cheer for him (though this approach strangely worked for Tom Hardy’s Venom). Since we live in a world that delights in evil, people will cheer for the Joker regardless of his depravity. The movie studio knows this, and I have little doubt they will try to make the Joker as charmingly perverse as possible.

My question is: why are the origins of evil so fascinating? Why do we crave stories about corruption? There is no simple answer, but I think it strikes at the heart of our human nature; namely, that we are all born into sin. This sin manifests itself in countless ways but we recognize that seed of sin in others more depraved than we are and think, “Could that happen to me?” After all, we share the same dark seed. It could grow into a penchant for lying, drug addiction, or a psychotic murder spree. We see a character like the Joker (although he is fictitious, we only have to look at the evening news to find twisted psychopaths) and we wonder if people like us, who would never dream of actually murdering people with a clown smile, could somehow morph into a monster. Origin stories and prequels outline those steps, sometimes with frightening implications.

If we are children of God, we are dead to our sin natures (Rom. 6:11) but we are still living in this body of death, which yearns for its old nature. This is the struggle that Paul talks about in Rom. 7:14-25. As believers, sin no longer reigns over us, yet we are still dragging around its corpse, so to speak. And sometimes, our dead sin nature can still exert a powerful influence over us. Christians have been caught up in depravity and debauchery as perverse and horrifying as anything the secular and pagan worlds have experienced. We need to follow Paul’s command in Rom. 6:11 – consider ourselves dead to sin. In other words, believe it, because it is true.

Personally, I have little interest in finding out how a psychopath became psychotic. I’d rather not dwell on exactly how the seed of evil blossomed into this particularly hideous flower. But if you do enter the warped mind of the Joker, remember that the power that controls him holds no sway over you. You are free. Believe it.

Realm Makers Bookstore just wrapped an amazing weekend at Great Homeschool Convention in Cincinnati, Ohio.

As we mentioned last week, guest stars included novelists Gillian Bronte Adams, S. D. Grimm, Kerry Nietz, and Rebecca P. Minor.

I joined the bookstore to feature Lorehaven magazine for two of the three vendor days. As before, we chatted with homeschool parents and kids. We shared free Realm Makers Bookstore bookmarks with many people, and helped many others find great Christian-made novels in fantasy, science fiction, and similar genres.

From left: novelists S. D. Grimm (Children of the Blood Moon series) and Gillian Bronte Adams (The Songkeeper Chronicles series)

Realm Makers co-founder Scott Minor’s report

The Realm Makers Bookstore contains fiction titles for every age and maturity level by Christian authors, both traditionally and self-published.

With this increasing and ever-broadening selection of books, we have attended twenty-seven events over the last eighteen months.

This includes four secular fantasy cons, four book fairs, two comic cons, seven weekends at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire, two Christian conferences, one school book fair, and seven homeschool conventions.

Scott Minor (left) helps Christian homeschool parents explore the Realm Makers Bookstore’s offerings of Christian-authored fantasy, sci-fi, and other books for all ages.

I have learned that most preconceived notions I heard about both markets were not true.

We’ve been welcomed by both secular and Christian events. The negative response we get from each market is about equal.

We are meeting Christians who love fantasy in all of these places. We are also selling the same titles to people who are not Christian.

The Christians who I’ve spoken to appreciate all manner of fiction, not just Christian fiction.

That being said, we’ve sold around 1,400 books at the first four homeschool festivals this spring. We sold around 800 books at all the previous eleven events since August 2018 combined.

From left, foreground: author Kerry Nietz, author S. D. Grimm, and Realm Makers co-founder Scott Minor.

Kerry Nietz signs another copy of A Star Curiously Singing.

Kerry Nietz’s report

I found the conference really encouraging for several reasons.

First, even though fantasy rules the speculative market—largely due to J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis—science fiction did well. Not only did I sell books across my list, from Amish Vampires in Space to The Superlative Stream, science fiction books represented a sizable portion of the overall sales.

Second, most of my sales were to underrepresented fiction readers, meaning boys and their dads. We have a large Frayed poster we use, and buyers told me that that was what drew them in. Face it, robots are cool. Both sexes are intrigued by them, but they especially appeal to the Fortnight / Minecraft / Roblox crowd. I love that. Love that I can us my stories, infused by my technical background, to reach an important demographic. (I was able to sell to other demographics too, though. One memorable sale was to a pair of nuns.)

Third, someone I met at a homeschooling conference last year sought me out at this conference to tell me he bought one of my books and liked it. He’s reading the second book in the series now. That’s the goal of the bookstore (and Lorehaven) realized there. Reaching a new reader with books he can enjoy.

Before the bookstore’s Saturday, April 27 opening, Kerry Nietz and I took a chance to survey the mission field at Great Homeschool Conventions in Cincinnati.

E. Stephen Burnett’s report

Once again, I’m led to conclude: the homeschool market is perhaps the leading frontier to find new fans of Christian-made fantastical novels.¹

One homeschool mom told us about her historical studies. She was reading books about genocide and domestic segregation. With this material, she planned to share with her children not some kind of “SJW” propaganda, but a balanced perspective on how humans have behaved in history. In short, she was looking for true-life and fictional narratives that would challenge her kids!

Another parent also helped run libraries in a particular area. She believed some of these books would be perfect for their libraries’ collection.

One mother appreciated my and Kerry Nietz’s Lorehaven t-shirts. They sport the magazine’s logo and the tagline Finding Truth in Fantastic Stories | Lorehaven.com. “I’m intrigued by that,” she told us. We provided a free Lorehaven bookmark (see its design here). I also shared the magazine’s mission to help Christian fans: we review the best Christian-made fantasy books, and provide free resources to help fans better explore these stories for the glory of Jesus Christ.

She lit up. And subscribed to the digital magazine for free, of course!

Yes, Christians in homeschool families, who already love fantastical and challenging books, have these big needs.

They need excellent Christian-made fantastical novels.

They also need resources—like Lorehaven with Speculative Faith!—that help us find and explore the best stories for God’s glory.

I understand that movies need to make money, and that production costs have gone up with the number of special affects, and with the growing size of the cast. Hence, movies with superheroes or super-villians are likely the most expensive.

I also understand that movie makers like to have a sure thing. Hence, when Harry Potter sells hundreds of thousands of copies of the first book in the series, and lines start forming to get copies of the next books, making the stories into movies seems like a fairly safe bet.

But I can’t help wondering—is the mad dash to make money squeezing movies into a narrow slot? Must they be movie re-tellings of books or comics . . . or of other movies? Is there no room for a brand new story made originally for the screen?

I’m not the only person to wonder about this trend:

We all know it’s true. Every single movie that’s overly promoted is what exactly? A sequel, a remake, a reboot, a movie adaptation, take your pick. (“Hollywood’s Need for Original Scripts”)

Since movies are considered an art form, albeit a pop art form, I wonder what having so little original material says about our creativity as culture.

At the least, I’d say our art, when it comes to movies, is subservient to the money it makes. Again, I understand that those who produce movies invest great sums without any assurance of a return on that investment. Movies aren’t like books. When the UK publisher, Bloomsbury took a chance on an unknown debut author, they ran a print run of 500 copies. Five hundred! In other words, their investment was rather small. Sure, they had to pay for editing and layout and cover design and so on, but if the book failed, they likely would not lose thousands of pounds. (As it turns out those first edition copies are now worth upwards of $90,000.)

But I wonder if the movie industry isn’t squeezing itself needlessly. Seems to me there was a time not so long ago that quiet movies with smaller casts were quite possible. In 1968 a movie with an original screenplay became a $56 million success. I’m referring to Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner starring Spencer Tracy, Sidney Poitier, and Katharine Hepburn. Big stars at the time, so I’m guessing this was not a cheap movie.

As it happens, that movie did what art sometimes does: it molded as well as reflected the culture in which it was made.

When special effects gained so much in the computer age, I was right there applauding with everyone else. Now, at long last, movies could depict the magical creatures of fantasy and science fiction in a realistic way. Our imagination came to life on the big screen!

Perhaps this fact alone explains the explosion of speculative movies in the 21st century. On one list of top box office successes, of the 25 movies that made the most money in this century, twenty-one were speculative movies.

I applaud this trend.

I do not applaud the lack of original material.

One site decrying the fact that movies are reliant upon adapted material says the answer lies with moviegoers. The approach is much the same as the one I took fifteen years ago when I longed for more publishers to give Christian fantasy a chance. Since money drives the industry, we consumers of art need to speak the language of those making the art work available to us.

With books, self-publishing has had a huge impact on the availability of speculative fiction, including Christian speculative fiction. A quick look at the library here at Spec Faith should convince a reader of that fact.

Could the same thing happen with movies? Only time will tell. But the task seems rather daunting—finding the actors, the staging, the skilled technicians, and of course the great screenwriters. Making a movie is not as simple as putting up a YouTube video.

I don’t know what the answer is. But I for one, would like to see the art of movie making include original scripts, written for the film media and not dependent on an adaptation.

Going to homeschool conventions can be overwhelming.

I actually had several friends from my local homeschool co-op, who went up to the Great Homeschool Conventions Fort Worth one together and roomed together. I knew that was a possibility, but wanted the downtime of retreating to a solitary hotel room at night.

I say this because bookstores are my retreat, like the empty hotel room. The vendor hall is large, noisy, and intimidating. You want to make the best decisions about where to spend your money, and you want to find books and curriculum that align with who you are as a homeschooler. It can be over-stimulating.

The Realm Makers Bookstore booth was a nice oasis for me at the convention. I stopped by their booth several times during the Fort Worth Great Homeschool Convention to browse their books.

As a Christian who loves fantasy books, you get a couple of different reactions when you talk to other Christians, especially homeschoolers.

There’s the “Not fantasy! What about that whole ‘suffer not a witch to live’!” response.

Then there’s the “I’m okay with fantasy as long as it is Tolkien, Lewis, or a biblical allegory.”

And finally there’s the “You too! Who’s your favorite author!”

Browsing Realm Makers Bookstore, I got to discuss with the authors and the people running the booth the books we love reading, exchange favorite authors, get book suggestions that are like favorite authors, talk about themes we enjoy, and philosophies of parenting and sharing books with kids. (I like to slowly expose them to concepts that contradict the Bible, so I don’t dump them in uncharted territory with no clue other than a few proof-texted verses on what the rest of the world thinks.)

But you know what was the coolest feature for me (aside from filling my backpack with books to read)?

They have a writers’ conference.

My daughter wants to be a writer when she grows up. She has book ideas, and plans. A lot of plans. I got to talk about their writer’s convention, and learn all about the teen track, and hear how the teacher from the writing curriculum she uses sometimes teaches the teen track. I got a bookmark (yay bookmarks!) with a link, which I, of course, looked through when I retreated to my hotel cave that night. I thoroughly enjoyed poking around the website and signing up for Lorehaven, and seeing all the bits and bobs there were.

So far, I’ve read two of the books I bought at Realm Makers. I have two more to read, and then I’ll start ordering sequels. I was restrained and only bought the first book in several series!

Editor’s note: Realm Makers Bookstore is open today and Saturday, at Duke Energy Convention Center in Cincinnati.