The Art of Examining Art
The Content We Consume (Part 2)
Quick Recap
We are currently in our series on the Sanctified Imagination. As a reminder, our imagination is that place in our minds in which all thoughts, images, and senses dwell (whether from ourselves or elsewhere).
Our imagination is built up of a number of “Building Blocks”, or the things we give our minds so that we can imagine the future and live into that future. A Sanctified Imagination is one that is being fed building blocks of the Kingdom and can imagine (and live into) a Kingdom future.
Our last article dove into the first of those building blocks: the content we consume. So far, we’ve learned that something is good/bad (or holy/profane) not based on the subject matter, but on how that piece of content handles that subject matter. A “bad” topic does not mean negative impact on our imagination nor does something being topically “Christian” mean it will have a positive impact.
Now, we’ll learn how to discern whether a piece of content is good/bad (holy/profane), in order to choose for ourselves content which will make our imaginations more like Jesus’.
Perhaps the most logical question to follow up our last article, “The Holy & the Profane”, would be:
“So then, how do I know if something is holy or profane, if I can’t just look at the subject matter?”
At least, that’s the question I was asking as I came out of my 90s-Youth-Group-and-VeggieTales-upbringing. For me, it was clear that just because something was “Christian” didn’t mean it was helping me become more like Jesus. Plus, I was encountering art outside Christendom that was helping me become more like Jesus.
There wasn’t a one-to-one correlation, and the discrepancy was off-putting.
Although all Christian art should point us to authentically following Jesus, that isn’t the reality of the world we live in. Instead, we must examine the media before us and choose that which is truly good. And by “good”, I don’t dare lean into subjective metrics about what we like and don’t like.
Good art is the product of human creation which contains the seed of the Kingdom of Heaven, even if not fully realized.
In order to examine the music we listen to, the shows we watch, the games we play, (etc.) we must first know what the Kingdom of Heaven is, and then we must ask, “does this point my soul to that Kingdom?”
If only there were some rubric we could use to plug each media item into and then see clearly if something is “good” or “bad”!
But the process isn’t like that at all.
Examining art is, in itself, an art. And (similar to art) some of us will have a predisposition — almost like an intuition — to the task. Others will have to work harder or lean into the wisdom of those with such a predisposition (or both). But there’s nothing else for it, the work must be done.
Below, I’ll document some questions I ask to help me discern whether the content I’m consuming is helpful (or not) to becoming more like Jesus. These are not all of the questions that can be asked, mind you, but they may get you started.
After you read, comment below with other questions we could be asking, and perhaps this article will become a resource for many.
The People Question
Much (if not most) media today treats humans as less than human.
In fact, there’s a good argument to be made that most of our music, shows, games, (etc.) use humans like props or ornaments. At best, people are often shallow and oversimplified, and at worst they are objects to be lusted after, dominated, or disposed of.
But not all media is like that.
In the silly — and yet strangely profound — Lego Movie, the entire plot serves to create a moment in which a father sees that his perfectionism has harmed his relationship with his son. This leads to reconciliation and humanization. At the end of the film, the characters become more human, not less.
So then, this is the first question we ask ourselves when considering if media is good: “how does this art want me to see people?”
That doesn’t mean the media will convey utopia-like relationships and happy Lego Movie endings.
In Les Misérables, most of our main characters are hated or oppressed by people or society as a whole. But this is done in such a way that we, the readers, see them differently. The convict becomes the hero, the prostitute the martyr. This novel is not “good” because it is “clean”, but because it helps us become truly clean. Hugo’s work helps my imagination become transformed more into the image of Christ, and it does this even though it drags me through the muck of 19th-century France.
Or, better yet, it helps transform my imagination because it drags it through the muck..
Art that will mold me well must be art that wants me to see all humans as equally bearing the image of God.
Plenty of “Christian art” violates this principle.
The western church today often peddles in media that dehumanizes people, especially if they are a political or ideological enemy. Whether its an armchair-theologian-YouTuber getting clicks by calling others heretical, a conservative movie company flooding the market with anti-woke media to combat “those people”, or even an author jumping on the romantasy bandwagon by creating the same human-as-lust-object content and thinking its holy because the sex scenes fade to black.
It is all bad and profane art because it deposits little seeds (or building blocks) into our imaginations that make us more predisposed to see other humans as objects for whatever purpose our sin nature should conjure for them.
But good and holy art forces us — wrestles us, even — to see someone who is different than us as fully human. What else was To Kill a Mockingbird when it was published in 1960, but a way for Harper Lee to force the reader (through excellent art, mind you) to see all humans as human.
It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. […] There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.
C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
The Morality Question
We, like all humans throughout history, struggle to align what we call “good” and “bad” with God’s definitions of those terms. It’s so incredibly easy to become people who, for one reason or another, say “this is right” when God has clearly said “this is wrong”.
We hoard money when we should give it away, embrace immoral sexual relations for ourselves or others despite God’s clear boundaries, and berate others with judgmental words or thoughts instead of humbling ourselves before God.
Much of the media we consume is telling us what is “good” and what is “bad”. When this is overtly done, we are rarely fooled, but overt isn’t usually the case.
This is our second question: “what does this art tell me is ‘right’ and ‘wrong’?”
I remember listening to Taylor Swift’s song “Anti-Hero” for the first time. Something like a mix of sadness and muted anger washed over me as I listened because the song has a pretty clear “right and wrong” philosophy. Although I recognize the tongue-in-cheek nature of Swift’s song, the underlying principle is that she’s recognizing and glorifying her “bad” behavior and her unwillingness to “look in the mirror” to the culmination of a dream of ultimate vindictiveness.
And the listener comes away with the idea that this is “right” and justified.
If you think my analysis is wrong, find me one person who listened to “Anti-Hero” and then said, “wow, I should forgive those who hurt me and not scheme about ways to get back at them.” I wish you luck.
What I’m getting at is this: bad art contains the seed of a different kingdom, that if allowed to grow in our imagination, will reap death.1 It may be art that is executed with excellence of the craft, but ultimately pulls the culture that consumes it further from the Kingdom of Heaven.
But there is art out there, even made by those who are not vocal Christians, that points us to something different.
The Netflix show Arcane is dark and gritty, and just about every character does what seems good in their own eyes. It’s not a happy show, but it is one that holds up for examination the consequences of a twisted set of moral principles, and does it in a way that makes me want to step back and ponder. In fact, because of the show’s dark backdrop, moments of kindness and forgiveness burn bright and ring true in a way that “Christian” art rarely does. It’s not a show that is created (as far as I know) by or for followers of Jesus, and yet it contains undeveloped seeds of the Kingdom all the same.
It turns out that all of us, even as wicked as we are, bare the image of God upon our hearts, and thus contain the capacity to create art that points to the coming Kingdom — even when we don’t realize it.
As maturing followers of Jesus, we must cultivate art (both that we create and consume) that creatively aligns us with God’s definitions of “right” and “wrong”. Sometimes that comes by creating grimy and raw art that bears openly the consequences of human sin.2
The Divine Question
When I was young, maybe thirteen or so, I read the His Dark Materials series by Philip Pullman. I recall sitting on the back porch while nearing the end of the final book. The details are fuzzy now, but at some point I realized the main character was trying to kill God. I was young — perhaps twelve — and I didn’t know what to do with that. But it felt wrong, so I closed the book and never finished.
Years later, after college, I would hear Pullman’s work described as the “anti-Narnia” and would listen to his interviews, and my experiences began to make sense. Even as a kid, I suppose I understood that Pullman’s work was not “just a story” but a claim about God. It was theology.
Pullman is a talented artist, to be sure, and the books are well crafted.
But they are also untrue. And I don’t mean untrue in the sense that they’re fictional, I mean untrue in the sense that they convey that which is untrue about reality. About God. Pullman sees “God” as a lie best put to death by humans. He is wrong, though the reasons why are for another post.
For now, all I mean to do is urge us to ask our third question: “What does this art want me to believe about God?”
This is the Divine question.
Very few pieces of media will handle that question as directly as Pullman’s. In fact, I think many pieces of media will not address it at all, and that’s okay. Asking the question is still important, for it trains us to not only see what others say about God, but to dig deeper into an awareness of what we think about God.
What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us. ... Worship is pure or base as the worshiper entertains high or low thoughts of God.
A.W. Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy
Perhaps one of the most obvious ways this has crept up for me is in the way “good guys” use power in the media I consume. For me, I grew up loving all things action. Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Lord of the Rings, Jason Bourne, Gladiator, Braveheart, Saving Private Ryan, Black Hawk Down… if there were good guys fighting bad guys, I was pretty much in.
And it wasn’t just because of the violence. Even as a young kid, I was drawn to stories of sacrifice for others, which is often a feature of these films. Yet (with few noticeable exceptions) self-sacrifice is not how “good guys” win in our media. “Good guys” win because they defeat (often kill) the less-moral enemy via combat.
Without meaning too, I began to think this was how the ultimate version of “good guys” act. I mean, God is God because he can defeat any enemy, right? Jesus is King and though He died on a cross, that’s just an interim thing until He comes back Revelation-style and bathes His enemies in blood…right?
Suddenly the idea of owning a glock and putting a bullet in the head of someone who threatens my family seems kinda Jesus-like.
As it turns out, those action movies and video games were (for me, at least) giving me a false narrative about ultimate good, and therefore God Himself. They were planting building blocks in my imagination that my sin nature (and perhaps demonic forces) were using to build up an image of a world in which I could by like God by killing those who were morally inferior to me.
The truth is that God is not “good” because He can defeat His enemies through combat, but is “good” because He was willing to die for His enemies. Therefore, art that tells me someone is “good” because they have the capacity and willingness to kill others, is pitching me a false narrative of goodness and therefore God.
Good and holy art will wrestle my imagination to try and see God as He truly is.
No art will do this perfectly, but the best art will fiercely strive for it.
So… No Media Then?
Obviously, no media lives up to a perfect answer to our three questions.
But that doesn’t mean we refuse to consume media and art while in this world. We don’t have to make communities that read only C.S. Lewis and Wendell Berry, patting ourselves on the back for being so holy.
Next week, we’ll delve into how to consume art that fails our questions.
Hint, it means we don’t consume but rather dialogue.
Compare this to the analogy of “birth” that James gives us in James 1.
Which makes me think of the book of Judges.