As a child I loved all the children's Christmas shows. Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, Merry Christmas Charlie Brown, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and How the Grinch Stole Christmas, to name a few. With no videos or cable or TiVo, these were once a year opportunities. If you missed it, you wouldn't see it again for an entire year. So, these were BIG events in my childhood.

I was so addicted to these shows that, looking back, I can now discern that everything I know about Christmas I learned from TV. Specifically, I learned from TV three big lessons about Christmas.

The first lesson I learned was from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The lesson was this: There is something special about Christmas. Something that transcended the presents, Christmas trees, meals, or decorations. Christmas, to quote from How the Grinch Stole Christmas, was a "little bit more" than all these things.

If you don't recall the show, here's the basic plot. The Grinch, who lives in the mountains high above Whoville, hates the noise associated with Christmas. So, he dresses up like Santa Claus and ties a horn on the head of his dog Max to make him look like a reindeer. In these disguises they set off for Whoville.

Once in Whoville the Grinch proceeds to steal all the Christmas presents, trees, decorations, and food. He packs all this up and heads back up the mountain just as Christmas day is dawning.

The Grinch's plan is simple. He figures that if he takes away all the Christmas "stuff" the Who's won't be able to celebrate Christmas.

But the Grinch is wrong. In the climactic scene the Who's come out of their homes and, without a single piece of Christmas paraphernalia or presents, begin to sing their Christmas song, Welcome Christmas:

Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome Christmas,
Come this way!

Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome Christmas,
Christmas Day.

Welcome, Welcome
Fah who rah-moose
Welcome, Welcome
Dah who dah-moose
Christmas day is in our grasp
So long as we have hands to clasp

Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome, welcome Christmas
Welcome, welcome Christmas Day

You can sing along here:



Upon hearing the song, the Grinch has this realization, and I quote:

So he paused. And the Grinch put a hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low. Then it started to grow...

But the sound wasn't sad!
Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn't be so!
But it WAS merry! VERY!

He stared down at Who-ville!
The Grinch popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!

Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any presents at all!
He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming!
IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!

And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?
It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
"It came without packages, boxes or bags!"
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store.
"Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"

And this realization has such a profound effect upon the Grinch that his heart, previously two sizes too small, grew three sizes that day.

So, I learned from How the Grinch Stole Christmas that Christmas was more than ribbons or tags. More than packages, boxes, or bags. Christmas was MORE.

But here was the deeply puzzling thing about How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Watch it as many times as you want and it will never be revealed just what Christmas was truly about. How the Grinch Stole Christmas is a negative tale. It tells you what Christmas isn't. But it fails, in a quite puzzling way, to tell you what Christmas is.

So as child I was left in quite a quandary. Christmas was clearly very special, but it was still a mystery. Luckily, there was more TV to watch! And a part of the mystery of Christmas would be revealed to me in that quirky tale of a mutant reindeer and his friend, the elf, who wanted to be a dentist...

On to Part 2.

From the New York Times today:

The throng of Wal-Mart shoppers had been building all night, filling sidewalks and stretching across a vast parking lot at the Green Acres Mall in Valley Stream, N.Y. At 3:30 a.m., the Nassau County police had to be called in for crowd control, and an officer with a bullhorn pleaded for order.

Tension grew as the 5 a.m. opening neared. Someone taped up a crude poster: “Blitz Line Starts Here.”

By 4:55, with no police officers in sight, the crowd of more than 2,000 had become a rabble, and could be held back no longer. Fists banged and shoulders pressed on the sliding-glass double doors, which bowed in with the weight of the assault. Six to 10 workers inside tried to push back, but it was hopeless...

Read the full article here.

First, an apology. The tone of title of this new series of mine, Things I'm Interested In, doesn't fit the tragedy of this post. I'm not blandly "interested" in death. By "interest" I mean that I'm using these posts to point you to things that capture my attention beyond the regular fare of this blog. And this Black Friday story has definitely caught, horrifically caught, my attention.

How does such a thing happen? Are people simply evil? No doubt preachers across the country will be talking about this incident from their Sunday morning pulpits. The true meaning of Christmas? Well, for some it seems to be trampling people to death to get a bargain price.

Beyond my horror, this story has had my psychologist brain ticking all day. What individual and group dynamics created this incident? Here's how I've been breaking it down.

1.) You have a highly motivated, focused person to show up at 3:30 am. This person is investing a lot to get out to the store.

2.) When this person arrives at Walmart he/she is thinking he/she is going to be the early bird that gets the worm. There are expectations (hopes) in play.

3.) However, upon arrival the shopper finds a huge crowd. Expectations are dashed. Frustration grows.

4.) The crowd grows to 2,000. Frustration turns to anxiety. The person in line does a simple calculus: There are only so many products and deals inside. Much fewer than 2,000. It appears that the shopper has gotten up early, driven to the store, and stood in line for nothing. That is, unless, the shopper can get inside first.

Psychologically, we now have a perfect storm. Each person has a sunk cost. And rather than walk away people begin to raise the stakes by jockeying for position. Inch by inch the crowd pushes forwad. It's an irrational escalation of commitment, it's a dollar auction. We have 2,000 people playing a game as adversaries. One person starts jockeying for position. This rattles the people around them. These people fear they will be too slow. So they start pushing forward to gain an inch on a competitor. This jittery behavior soon takes over the entire crowd. Particularly as the clock gets closer to 5:00. The mass of people starts pushing forward, preparing to run. And the more jittery and hostile the crowd the more people become emotional and focused on self-preservation: "When this crowd breaks I'm moving forward. Fast." To get the deal? Probably. But I'm thinking a kind of mass hysteria began to take over as well.

I'm sure social psychologists will analyze this incident in the days and months to come. As I said, preachers will be drawing a great many lessons from this incident, decrying this worst outcome of the commercialization of Christmas. And I don't disagree. But I also keep wondering about what was going on in the crowd. What where the small steps that led to the jittery, panicky escalation? The people in that crowd are just like you and me. So what happened to them in that crowd?

In my last post I discussed a replication of Landau et. al's study in a Christian population. Specifically, we showed how Christian judgments of Christian art are affected by mortality salience manipulations. Phrased more simply, death anxiety appears implicated in Christian aesthetic judgments. I wondered in that post if death repression might be why a significant amount of Christian art is less challenging and provocative than it might be. That is, a significant amount of Christian art might be created and consumed for existential comfort and solace. That is not a bad thing. People seek out all kinds of things for comfort. But this analysis might help us understand ourselves a bit better.

But surely this analysis can only explain so much. For example, a central subject of Christian artistic expression is the crucifixion. Clearly that subject isn't one that aids in death repression!

Or does it?

Recall some of the posts from my series on The Theology of Ugly. Surf to this post and compare the two pictures of the crucifixion. Also, surf to this post concerning the Isenheim Altarpiece. Surf and come back; I want you to look at the artwork.

If you look at those paintings of the crucifixion you realize that depictions of the death of Jesus can vary markedly in how existentially difficult they are upon us. Some depictions of the crucifixion can almost look peaceful and idyllic. Some can be horrific. Some can be hopeful. Others are devastatingly hopeless. Take, for example, Hans Holbein's Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb (click for a larger view):



In Dostoevsky's novel The Idiot he describes Holbein's painting and has a character exclaim: “Why some people may lose their faith by looking at that picture!” (h/t to Kim Fabricius.)

The point here is that Christian art isn't necessarily involved in death repression. The very best Christian art can be very existentially unsettling. Further, there is the whole tradition of memento mori, much of which is motivated by Christian impulses.

Memento mori, a Latin phrase, can be translated "Remember you will die" or "Remember you are mortal." Memento mori is a broad category covering a range of artwork and cultural artifacts that share the common goal of reminding us of our eventual death. A particular subset of memento mori is the Vanitas still life genre where a reminder of death is depicted within a fairly mundane still life. The most overt example is the inclusion is a skull:



Sometimes a hourglass is added:



More subtle still, and my favorite addition, bubbles!



The point here is that, obviously, not all Christians, Christian art, or Christian artists engage with art for existential comfort. In fact, as we've seen, the exact opposite may be the case.

Can we come to understand these differences within the Christian population? Well, one approach that I've taken has been to try to quantify the existential comfort various faith configurations might provide. The tool I developed is called The Defensive Theology Scale (DTS). The idea behind the DTS is fairly simple: Which theological belief is more comforting, the belief that God will protect you from harm or that he won't (relative to others)? Obviously, the more comforting belief is that God is out there protecting you. Now, I have no means at my disposal to determine which belief is, in fact, true. But we can determine which belief is more comforting.

So, what the DTS does is ask about a lot of these kinds of beliefs assessing the degree to which a person subscribes to a whole cluster of relatively comforting beliefs. If you score high on the DTS your faith configuration is very comfortable, existentially speaking, relative to other Christians. Although we cannot know for certain why a person holds this comforting configuration we can guess that existential anxiety is implicated. Why? Because at each turn of faith this person has systematically adopted the most comforting faith positions available. It is reasonable to assume, then, that comfort is implicated in belief adoption for this person.

Now, take these insights regarding the DTS and revisit the experimental design from the last post. What might we expect about high versus low DTS scorers as they approach Christian art after a death prime? Assuming that high DTS scorers are seeking comfort we would expect that, in the face of death, they would prefer the Christian art. And, in fact, that is what we found. By contrast, low DTS scorers appear to eschew comfort. That is, when confronted with a comforting versus uncomforting belief choice a low DTS scorer is likely to choose the discomfort over the comfort. Consequently, in the face of the death prime we would expect these believers to be much less reactive, existentially speaking. That is, they should not show a stronger preference for the Christian art in the face of death relative to the high DTS scorers. And, in fact, that is exactly what we found. Low DTS scorers were much less likely to prefer the Christian art in the face of death when compared to the high DTS scorers.

These findings appear to confirm the typology I've been working with in my research. Sometimes I've used the labels "Defensive" versus "Existential" believers or "Summer Christian" versus "Winter Christian". In short, as I've argued in Freud's Ghost, while Sigmund Freud may have been partly correct that religious faith is motivated by existential fear, there appears to be many Christians who defy that assessment. And we see evidence for this conclusion in the way various Christians approach the world of art.

1.
To understand the logic, theoretically and methodologically, behind our study of death and Christian aesthetics we'll need to review a few ideas. First, a primer on Terror Management Theory (TMT). Last year in a presentation here at the university I used some of the pictures below to walk through the main ideas of TMT. To begin, the terror of "Terror Management" is existential terror, mainly the anxieties we feel upon approaching death. To quote Ernest Becker:

“The animals don't know that death is happening and continue grazing placidly while others drop alongside them. The knowledge of death is reflective and conceptual, and animals are spared it…But to live a whole lifetime with the fate of death haunting one's dreams and even the most sun-filled days--that's something else.”

In short, humans are the only animals on the earth that consciously know they are approaching their death:



And, as Becker notes, this approach causes existential anxiety and terror:



How do we cope with this anxiety? We cope by creating cultural worldviews that allow us to approach death via activities that taken on symbolic, transcendent, and religious significance. We approach death by investing in cultural activities that give life meaning:



Once we imbue life with cultural "significance" we are able to calm (or repress) our existential fears:



In short, according to TMT theorists, one feature of culture is death repression. Again to quote Becker:

"The fear of death must be present behind all our normal functioning, in order for the organism to be armed toward self-preservation. But the fear of death cannot be present constantly in one's mental functioning, else the organism could not function."

2.
How, then, might we use these ideas to determine if Christian art is implicated in death repression? Recall from Part 1 of this series that TMT researchers have demonstrated that artwork can be a repository for cultural ideals and values. In short, some artwork can encode and symbolize the cultural values and ideals that make life meaningful and significant, existentially speaking. Consequently, in the face of death, these cultural symbols are clung to, preferred, and protected. These cultural products become existentially important to us.

What we did on our laboratory was to replicate Landau et al.'s study with American iconic art using Christian art in a Christian population. The logic of the design was as follows.

First, we selected as our stimuli two pieces of art. One was an overtly Christian piece of artwork and the other was neutral. According to TMT, for Christian participants the Christian art would be existentially important. That is, the Christian art activates symbols implicated in how Christians might manage death anxiety. Conversely, the neutral art (a landscape) plays no such function:



Prior to evaluating the art the participants were randomly assigned to one of two conditions. In the Mortality Salience condition the participants completed a short essay about what they think will happen to them when they die. This essay primes death awareness:



Participants in the control condition completed an essay about an unpleasant but non-death related experience (dental pain).

After going through the priming conditions we expect that those in the Mortality Salience condition would feel more existentially unsettled relative to the control participants:



The question then becomes: How will these participants handle/manage their anxiety? The prediction is that in the face of death the Christian participants would prefer the Christian art relative to the neutral art:



This tendency is believed to be due to existential reactivity. The Christian participants, in the face of death, are gravitating toward symbols (unique to their worldview) of death transcendence. Presumably to soothe/comfort themselves. By contrast, it was expected that Christians in the dental pain condition would display no such reactivity. That is, feeling existentially settled (relative to those in the Mortality Salience condition) there is no psychological motive to prefer one painting over the other (other than personal preference). In sum, we basically poke at a person's existential worldview to see if it kicks back at us.

The outcome? Well, it's a little more complex than this, but we were able to replicate Landau et al.'s findings. In the face of death (relative to the control condition) participants significantly preferred the Christian art over the neutral art.

What is interesting about these findings is that by "preferred" we also mean aesthetic judgments. That is, Christians in the death prime condition rated the Christian art better as art. In short, death issues were affecting aesthetic judgments.

The question of these posts is Why is Christian art so bad? This research might provide us one answer. Specifically, if many Christians are using their faith as an existential defense mechanism (a position I argue in Freud's Ghost), then Christian aesthetics are routinely being pushed around by death anxiety. As a consequence, this art is less challenging and provocative. The goal of this "death repression art" is sweetness and comfort. Artistic quality has been sacrificed for psychological needs.

But is this the case for ALL Christians? Nope. More on that in Part 3.

Next Post: Death and Christian Aesthetics

As a psychologist, this whole process is interesting to me. Surf to the link and take the polls. Very intriguing.

1.
Thanks for the comments to the last post. They made me want to post a bit more about the category “Christian art” before proceeding to Part 2. So, an Interlude: What is “Christian” about Christian art?

First, I’m no expert on art or Christian art. So my personal thoughts on this are amateurish. Always feel free to illuminate me.

My first response to the question “What is Christian art?” is to specify what art is versus something like “decoration” or “home décor.” In my mind, art must have some kind of symbolic significance. As such, art is a form of communication, a commentary or claim or sermon or critique. When you approach art you expect it to speak to you. In contrast, when we decorate with pictures we don’t approach the pictures as forms of communication. We see them as “window dressing.” A splash of color that might affect our mood but isn't likely to prompt reflection.

Admittedly, this distinction quickly breaks down upon examination. It’s a definition influenced by modern art in a post-patron period. For example, under this definition is a Renaissance portrait considered to be art or just very expensive home décor?

Regardless, I think for for the question at hand the definition holds up okay. Specifically, should the art I buy at a Christian bookstore (let’s say a picture of Jesus) be considered art? Or is it just Christian home décor? I think it’s art. Poor art, perhaps, but art. Why art? Because the piece was selected for its communicative value. It’s a declaration of belief. As such, it’s art. Plus, the picture of Jesus is probably treated as art by the owner. Throwing away a picture of Jesus is probably not the same as throwing out a picture of a duck you bought at Hobby Lobby. Because of the symbolic value, the Jesus picture it is treated differently. I’m basing my definition of art upon that symbolic value.

2.
All this thinking about Christian art reminded me of something I’ve been needing to read. Specifically, my friend Paul, a colleague at the university, has always spoken highly of an essay written by Paul Tillich about religion and art. You can find the essay online here.

One of the interesting things Tillich does in this essay is contrast the content of the artwork with its style. More specifically, Tillich contrasts religious versus non-religious content and style.

The contrast of content is easiest to see. Specifically, a piece of art can have overt religious content (e.g., a bible scene) or not (e.g., a landscape).

The more interesting move Tillich makes is contrasting religious and non-religious style. What is a religious style? For Tillich, the style of the artwork is the overall manner in which the artwork is presented that can communicate messages which transcend the object/content of the artwork. For example, cubism is a style irrespective of the content of the painting. Given Tillich's definition of religious, a style is considered to be religious if it makes a commentary upon ultimate, transcendent, or existential issues. A religious style points us to something deeper or higher than mere appearances.

With these notions in hand, Tillich is able to divide artwork into four categories:

Artwork with…
1. Non-Religious Style & Non-Religious Content
2. Religious Style & Non-Religious Content
3. Non-Religious Style & Religious Content
4. Religious Style & Religious Content

Tillich goes on to give examples in each category. For example, for Non-Religious Style & Non-Religious Content Tillich gives Jan Steen’s The World Upside Down:



Obviously, Steen’s painting has no overt religious content. As for style, despite its vitality and dynamism, Tillich suggests that the painting doesn’t point us deeper or higher. It lacks an existential or religious style.

For the second category, Religious Style & Non-Religious Content, Tillich cites Picasso’s Guernica:



Again, the content is non-religious. But for Tillich, the fractured style of Guernica, which captures the fractured moral and physical situation in the wake of the WW2 bombing of Guernica, communicates a deeper, religious message. Although the content of the painting is non-religious, the style of the painting is very much so.

For category three, Non-Religious Style & Religious Content, Tillich cites Raphael’s Madonna and Child:



Here the content is overtly religious. But the style, for Tillich, is non-religious. Although beautiful, the style of the Raphael painting doesn’t point to deeper realities. The painting is certainly well done, but the style could be applied to any object without adding any spiritual significance to it.

Finally, there is the fourth category, Religious Style & Religious Content. As an example, Tillich cites El Greco’s Crucifixion:



The content is religious and the style is also religious. The religious content is obvious. As for style, the moody background, the shape of the body, the ecstatic look on the Savior’s face, all communicate, stylistically, a deeper message beyond the mere subject matter. The content is deep but the style is deeper still.

3.
Three comments on Tillich’s scheme and the question of “Christian art.”

First, I think it important to note along with Tillich that “Christian art” doesn’t have to be overtly religious to be “Christian.” In fact, some of the most Christian art that exists is overtly not religious (e.g., Picasso’s Guernica). I would also argue that art that is overtly aimed at being anti-Christian might also be co-opted by Christians and rendered religious. Not via some kind of sloppy borrowing, but by a subversive move, akin to the "deeper magic" in C.S. Lewis' tale The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Take, for example, Piss Christ from my last post. Although the work might have been intended to be shocking and blasphemous, the artist might have missed the fact that a deeper Christian impulse exists in the work. For example, see this theological take on the work. I know many of my students see Christmas in Piss Christ. Do you? I certainly do.

Second, I think that most would agree that the best overt Christian art is that of Category 4. This is the kind of Christian art that calls us into deeper reflection. It is overtly Christian art and it is hard on us, challenges us, and, to use a favorite buzz word of theologians, it interrupts us. In my last post when I spoke of “good Christian art” I’m speaking of Tillich’s Category 4.

Finally, like Tillich, we should worry some about Category 3. In the last post when I spoke of “bad Christian art” I was speaking of this category. That is, this art is overtly religious but its style, although beautiful, doesn’t convey any deeper spiritual or religious truth. Worse, as I hinted in the last post, this art goes easy on us. A striking contrast with Category 4 art. This Category 3 art looks, stylistically speaking, like the stuff you buy for home décor, just with a religious twist. It may be Christian art on the surface, but at a deeper level it just might be hurting us.

Next Post: A Terror-Management Perspective

In the summer of '07 I posted about a presentation I attended at the annual APA convention regarding the psychological functions of art. I'd like to repost some of that material here and then follow up with a Part 2 telling how I engaged this topic in a Christian population. Specifically, I've just finished a study on the impact of death anxiety upon Christian aesthetics. I'm preparing that study for publication with three talented students of mine who ran tons of subjects and entered tons of data: Thanks Andrea, Kyna and Brooke! While waiting on that product I'd like to share with the readers of this blog how that research turned out.

The talk I attended at APA was Mark Landau and Jeff Greenburg's presentation on A Terror Management Perspective on Art's Psychological Function.

I've written about Terror Management Theory (TMT) before. TMT is rooted in the work of Ernest Becker and his Pulitzer-Prize winning book the Denial of Death. Following Becker, TMT suggests that we overcome our fears of death by creating cultural worldviews that imbue life with significance and create a path for literal (e.g., the religious belief in life after death) or symbolic (e.g., children, a book you publish, a building named after you) immortality. Thus, cultural worldviews become vital, from an existential standpoint, to us. Consequently, the worldview is vehemently defended in the face of threat. This is often done by denigrating persons who hold values different from our own. In short, one of the deep psychological sources of interpersonal and group friction is existential dread.

What does this have to do with art? Well, Landau noted that art often encodes, represents and portrays the symbols of our cultural worldview. If so, death-denying dynamics are involved in art. Some examples from studies Landau noted:

1. When made to contemplate their death, subjects looked longer at iconic art (e.g., Washington crossing the Delaware) compared to symbolically neutral art (e.g., a landscape). The TMT view of this outcome: As death existentially unsettles the subjects they seek solace in the symbols of their worldview. Thus, they stare at iconic American art longer.

2. Subjects with high needs for structure, when made to contemplate their death, were more dismissive of abstract art. Again, the TMT view is that these subjects seek meaning and structure in life for existential solace. It makes them feel more in control. Thus, when made to feel existentially unsettled these subjects were dismissive of art that was formless, chaotic, and abstract. Abstract art was existentially unsettling them.

3. When made to contemplate death, subjects were much more uncomfortable misusing a culturally meaningful object (e.g., using a crucifix to hammer in a nail). Again, thoughts of death imbued these objects with even more sacred meaning, leading to increased discomfort at misuse (and greater anger at others misusing the object). Landau speculated if this existential reactivity lies behind public responses to works of art like Piss Christ. That is, while some might trace their outrage at Piss Christ to anger over blasphemy the deeper psychological cause might be the fear of death.

Walking away from Landau's presentation I wondered: Might this be an explanation for why Christian art is, generally, so poor? Here was my reasoning. Suppose religious faith is implicated in death repression, at least in some quarters of our souls (I know I don't like the prospect of dying). If so, Christian art would seek to minimize existential threat. Christian art would tend toward the sweet, soothing, and consoling. Christian art would be "easy," existentially speaking, upon us. This facet of Christian art might explain why little of the art we find in Christian bookstores is challenging, aesthetically and theologically. Further, this might explain why serious Christian artists, who seek to push and challenge their audiences, find churches so inhospitable to their work, seeing the "sweeter" art dominate in Christian churches and homes.

These were the questions behind the study we just completed. More in Part 2.

Next Post: What is "Christian" about Christian art?

1. Lifestyle Gaps
In the recent book unChristian, the Barna Group has done some interesting research on how people perceive Christians. Much of the research focuses on the opinions of younger persons and people who are not Christian. The general conclusion of the Barna research is that young "outsiders" (non-Christians) and young Christians have a very negative view of the Christian brand. More specifically, they tend to see Christians as "unChristian" in their attitudes and behaviors.

One of the adjectives applied to Christians is that they are hypocritical. The data on this adjective is presented in Chapter 3 of unChristian. Here are some highlights from that research:

--84% of young "outsiders" (non-Christians) report personally knowing a Christian. However, only 15% of these individuals report seeing a qualitative lifestyle difference between the Christian they know and themselves.

--Engaging in the following lifestyle activities are statistically equivalent when comparing Christians with non-Christians:

gambling
visiting a pornographic website
stealing
consulting a medium or psychic
physically fighting
consuming alcohol to the point of intoxication
using an illegal, nonprescription drug
lying
getting back at someone (revenge)
saying mean things behind a person's back

--There are some differences between Christians and non-Christians. Christians are more likely to own a bible and go to church. Christians are less likely to use profanity, although not by much (26% Christian, 38% non-Christian). Christians are more likely to help a homeless person, but not by much (53% Christian, 45% non-Christian). Interestingly, Christians also differ from non-Christians in that Christian are less likely to recycle (68% to 79%).

Looking over all this data the authors of unChristian coin the term "lifestyle gap" as the root issue in perceptions of Christian hypocrisy. Specifically, there is a gap between the lifestyle Christians say they live versus the lives they actually live. Phrased negatively, non-Christians fail to see a lifestyle gap between themselves and their Christian friends. Being a Christian doesn't seem to have any impact upon how a person lives.

2. On Lies and BS
Now, anyone remotely familiar with the gospels knows that religious hypocrisy drove Jesus nuts. Jesus hammers hypocrisy in the gospels. So it's a bit worrisome that his followers--Christians--are generally seen as hypocrites. How did this situation come about?

To answer this question I'd like to make an analogy between what goes on in the moral realm with notions related to truth-telling. Specifically, I'd like to borrow from Harry Frankfurt's work analyzing BS and lying to suggest that Frankfurt's distinction between lying and BS might help us understand the cause of the "lifestyle gap" implicated in Christian hypocrisy.

In his best-selling essay Harry Frankfurt, Princeton philosopher, sets out to distinguish lying from BS. Specifically, is there a difference between telling a lie versus BSing someone?

On the surface, the two concepts of lying and BS seem related. We instinctively feel that both lying and BSing have some relation/application to truth, or, more precisely, the lack of truth. That is, when we call a speech act a "lie" or "BS" we are stating that we are unsatisfied with what we have just heard. Specifically, we don't think we have been spoken to truthfully.

But according to Frankfurt the relationship between lies and BS is more complex than at first it seems. Lying and BSing are not quite the same thing. What, then, is the distinction between lying and BSing?

Summarizing greatly, Frankfurt's analysis is this. Lies and liars are very concerned with truth insofar as they are trying to hide the truth from us. In fact, a necessary condition of a lie is a knowledge of "how things stand," of the truth.

But BS, according to Frankfurt, is a speech act that is indifferent to truth. A BSer speaks about things asking us to treat his speech as a legitimate transmission of information. But in reality the BSer neither knows of what he speaks nor is concerned to "get things right." Quoting Frankfurt (*'s are mine):

"It is impossible for someone to lie unless he thinks he knows the truth. Producing bulls**t requires no such conviction. A person who lies is thereby responding to the truth, and he is to that extent respectful of it. When an honest man speaks, he says only what he believes to be true; and for the liar, it is correspondingly indispensable that he considers his statements to be false. For the bulls**tter, however, all these bets are off: he is neither on the side of the true nor on the side of the false. His eye is not on the facts at all, as the eyes of the honest man and of the liar are, except insofar as they may pertain to his interest in getting away with what he says. He does not care whether the things he says describe reality correctly. He just picks them out, or makes them up, to suit his purpose." (pp. 55-56)

In the end, Frankfurt suggests the following distinction lying and BS. Lying is a distortion or hiding of truth. By contrast, BS is an indifference to truth. This distinction might make BS appear to be more mild than lies, but Frankfurt would disagree. According to Frankfurt, indifference to truth is much worse than hiding it:

"[The bulls**tter] does not reject the authority of the truth, as the liar does, and oppose himself to it. He pays no attention to it at all. By virtue of this, bull**it is a greater enemy of the truth than lies are." (p. 61)

Why would Frankfurt make this claim? For Frankfurt, liars at least care for the truth, if only to hide it. But when a culture gets saturated with BS then concern for the truth gets lost on a grand scale. What worries Frankfurt is that people are getting lazy and careless about the truth. And as we grow mentally lazy and careless the truth gets lost. All that remains in civic dialogue is BS, advertising, and spin.

3. Moral BS
Why is there a lifestyle gap in the Christian population? Most non-Christians see the answer as a clear case of hypocrisy. Christians don't live up to their ideals because they are hypocrites.

I'd like to quibble with that analysis. I don't think that, at root, Christians are hypocrites. Borrowing from Frankfurt's analysis, I don't think Christians are willful liars, morally speaking. Rather, I think Christians are more like moral BSers. Let me explain.

The word hypocrite comes from a Greek word--hypokritēs--which means "actor." And the most common definition of a hypocrite is the following:

--a person who puts on a false appearance of virtue or religion

The point here is that the notion of a hypocrite is similar to Frankfurt's notion of lying. That is, the hypocrite is like a liar in that the hypocrite is "acting" and putting on a "false appearance." In short, deceit is the core notion of hypocrisy.

Given this definition I would thus disagree with the label "hypocritical" being applied to the general Christian population. I live within the Christian population so I know these people well. And from what I know of Christians few of them are willfully deceitful. Few seem to warrant the label hypocrite.

But clearly there is a lifestyle gap. If so, what is my explanation for the gap if not hypocrisy? My answer is that we have no good word for what is going on. Hypocrisy, with its notions of intentional deceptiveness, isn't a good word for the phenomenon. The best word I have for the problem is BS, as defined by Frankfurt. The problem with Christians is a kind of moral BS.

Recall, according to Frankfurt BS is an indifference to truth. This indifference to truth is often caused by a kind of laziness, of failing to do the work to "get things right." This is what I see happening among Christians. I don't see a lot of willful hypocrisy, but I do see a lot of talk about righteousness and holiness and compassion with little energy devoted to examining how all that talking is cashing out in the real world. In short, Christians talk a great deal with little effort expended in moving from words to deeds. Outsiders hear all that Christian moral chatter and they also observe the lifestyle gap. The only word they have for what they are observing is hypocrisy, but I think a better word is BS.

Christians just stand around in church BSing, morally speaking.

4. The Disjoint between Orthodoxy and Orthopraxy
The root cause of Christian BS is the disjoint between orthodoxy and orthopraxy in the Christian tradition. Specifically, for a variety of reasons, Christianity came to emphasize "right belief" over "right action." Being a Christian meant one believed certain things (e.g., that Jesus was the Son of God). Assenting to these propositions and mastering the God talk that surrounded them grew to define what it meant to be a Christian. But once orthodoxy became separated from orthopraxy the specter of moral BS entered. That is, as Frankfurtian BS is decoupled from truth so Christian belief became decoupled from discipleship. The disjoint didn't (and doesn't) emerge because of willful deception (hypocrisy). Rather, the disjoint was (and is) due to a kind of carelessness, a thoughtlessness that entered the Christian faith.

To the outsider, the only word to describe what they saw was hypocrite. But I think a better word is now at hand.

Welcome to the Table of Contents of my online series of essays entitled The Theology of Calvin and Hobbes.

Last school year I wrote a series of essays for an "online book" about The Theology of Peanuts. I had such fun with that project and so many of you enjoyed it that I thought I'd offer up this sequel, The Theology of Calvin and Hobbes.

I grew up with Peanuts so that was a natural place for me to begin, but during the writing of The Theology of Peanuts many of you (mostly former students of mine) expressed your fondness for Calvin and Hobbes. Demographically, this makes sense. Calvin and Hobbes appeared from November 18, 1985 to December 31, 1995. I was in college and graduate school during those years, a bit too busy to notice or keep up with the Calvin and Hobbes phenomenon. But for many of my former students Calvin and Hobbes was a large part of their childhood.

So I was late in coming to Calvin and Hobbes, but after The Theology of Peanuts I was looking for something new to explore. Consequently, I promptly went out and purchased The Complete Calvin and Hobbes and sat down to read. The three volumes of The Complete Calvin and Hobbes weighs over 22 pounds, but it is a beautiful bit of publishing. I sat, read, laughed, and pondered through the spring and summer. I now count myself to be a fan of Bill Watterson's genius. My affection for Calvin and Hobbes now rivals my love for Peanuts.

So welcome to The Theology of Calvin and Hobbes.

Table of Contents

Prologue: Incurvatus in se

Part 1: Human Nature
Chapter 1: "Virtue needs some cheaper thrills."
Chapter 2: The Democracy of Sinners
Chapter 3: A Vindictive, Twisted Elf

Part 2: Wagons and Wills
Chapter 4: The Wagon Ride
Chapter 5: "Quit playing with your oatmeal and eat it."
Chapter 6: Get Rid of Slimy Girls

Part 3: The Immanent Frame
Chapter 7: Spaceman Spiff and Religious Experience
Chapter 8: Monsters Under the Bed
Chapter 9: "I can't figure out this death stuff."

Part 4: Satan
Chapter 10: Bully
Chapter 11: "The world seems like a pretty mean place."

Part 5: Grace
Chapter 12: Calvinball
Chapter 13: "All shall be well."
Chapter 14: Hobbes

Epilogue: "Let's go exploring!"

1.
On December 31, 1995 Calvin and Hobbes came to an end. It had been a remarkable run for the strip. But being just ten years old many felt that the strip ended too soon. Many wanted more.

But for those who were following Watterson's career the ending came as no surprise. In the later years of the strip Watterson began taking extended sabbaticals and newspapers were forced during those times to recycle older strips. Watterson seemed burned out.

Some of this burnout was likely due to Watterson's epic battles with his syndicate, Universal Press, over the merchandising rights of the strip. As a new cartooner Watterson had signed a contract giving merchandising rights to Universal Press. So when the strip got hot it was natural for Universal Press to want to cash in: Calvin and Hobbes movies, action figures, coloring books, kids clothing lines, posters, a stuffed Hobbes. This was a normal and natural thing to do. Peanuts and Charles Schulz, that icon and influence upon Watterson, had set the tone. The Peanuts gang, particularly Snoopy, had been plastered on every conceivable product. Heck, Snoopy even sells insurance.

But Watterson balked. He wanted no part of merchandising. His reason was artistic independence and integrity. Watterson felt that the world and characters of Calvin and Hobbes had an integrity, a truth, that would be lost if his creation got slapped onto Frisbees or coffee mugs. So Watterson refused. Legally he was in a difficult spot. He had already signed over those rights to Universal Press. But his leverage was that could quit, walk away from providing them with one of the most popular strips ever written. The battles were long and difficult and appear to have taken a toll on Watterson. At the very least he came away disillusioned. But to Universal Press I'm sure Watterson was perceived to be insane. What is the harm in allowing for a few tasteful and hand selected items to be created? We are talking millions and millions of dollars. Most of it going into Watterson's pocket.

But Watterson said no. He turned down millions to protect the integrity of the strip. Today, there are no Calvin and Hobbes products on the market. Any you see are rip-offs and copyright violations (most notoriously the car decal sicker with a naughty Calvin peeing).

So Watterson won. And in 1995 he finally walked away from it all.

2.
As noted in the very first essay of this series, the main theological focus of Calvin and Hobbes is its Augustinian view of human nature. This is clearly signaled by the names of the two lead characters, each named after two thinkers with notoriously dim views of human nature. And, as we have observed, Watterson's characters stay true, for the most part, to that commentary. We are a self-absorbed and selfish lot.

In Chapter 4 we added to this commentary on human nature by examining the wagon and sled ride motifs in the strip. We noted how the wagon and sled ride hinted at a kind of fatalism or determinism. This theme is also consistent with the notions of predestination espoused by John Calvin. In short, not only are our wills depraved there seems little we can do to change the situation. Again, all this fits neatly into an Augustinian formulation.

3.
Or does it?

In the final strip on December 31, 1995 we are given one last sled ride:



And in this final sled ride none of the prior motifs of fatalism, determinism, or predestination are found. Further, the existential angst and ruminations often associated with the wagon/sled strips has also vanished. Rather, what we find is a sled ride that seems open-ended and hopeful. The feeling is one of adventure. Not inevitable doom.

It's a magical world. Let's go exploring. And the best friends start off.

4.
John Hick in his important book, Evil and the God of Love, compares and contrasts two great traditions in Christian thought when thinking about the brokenness of the world. The first stream is the one we are familiar with, the Augustinian tradition. The Augustinian tradition explains the evil of the world (and the depravity of humanity) by positing a Fall from Grace. In the beginning there was Paradise. But Paradise was lost when humankind freely chose to rebel against God. Due to the Fall, all creation, human nature included, has been contaminated.

The Augustinian worldview has been the dominant strain in Christian thought, the "majority report" as it were. But Hick notes that there is an impulse in Christian thought that preceded the Augustinian system. The church father Irenaeus was a major thinker in this tradition and, thus, Hick names this "minority report" in Christian thought the Irenaean theodicy. In contrast to the Augustinian formulation, the Irenaean position places Paradise at the end of human history rather than, as Augustinians see it, at the beginning of human history. Rather than falling from Perfection Irenaean's see us as moving toward perfection. Simplifying greatly:

Augustinian System: Paradise to Fall
Irenaean System: Fall to Paradise

To quote from Hick (p. 214):

There is thus to be found in Irenaeus the outline of an approach to the problem of evil which stands in important respects in contrast to the Augustinian type of theodicy. Instead of the doctrine that man was created finitely perfect and then incomprehensibly destroyed his own perfection and plunged into sin and misery, Irenaeus suggests that man was created as an imperfect, immature creature who was to undergo moral development and growth and finally be brought to the perfection intended for him my his Maker. Instead of the fall of Adam being presented, as in the Augustinian tradition, as an utterly malignant and catastrophic event, completely disrupting God's plan, Irenaeus pictures it as something that occurred in the childhood of the race, an understandable lapse due to weakness and immaturity rather than an adult crime full of malice and pregnant with perpetual guilt. And instead of the Augustinian view of life's trials a a divine punishment for Adam's sin, Irenaeus sees our world of mingled good and evil as a divinely appointed environment for man's development towards the perfection that represents the fulfillment of God's good purpose.

This Irenaean view has a different temporal focus than the Augustinian view. As Hick notes (p. 237) "The Augustinian type of theodicy looks to the past...for the explanation of the existence of evil in God's universe. In contrast, the Irenaean type of theodicy is eschatological." It looks toward the future.

5.
So here at the end of this journey, contemplating the final sled ride of Calvin and Hobbes, I cannot help but wonder if we've got it all wrong. The world of Calvin and Hobbes isn't Augustinian at all. It's Irenaean. Specifically, as Hick notes, what we see in Calvin and Hobbes isn't the malice of a depraved adulthood but the stumbling about of childhood immaturity. The view of human nature is dim in Calvin and Hobbes, but dim in a way that suggests movement into God's Future. In short, the final open-ended sled ride of Calvin and Hobbes completely recasts all we've witnessed in the strip. It was a mistake to find Augustinian gloom in Calvin and Hobbes. And we always knew that. There is just too much joy and hope to be found in Calvin and Hobbes. And so here, at the end, we find the key:

The answers await us. God is in our future. Not our past. So don't look back.

Friends, it's a magical world.

Let's go exploring.


THE END

Regardless as to how a Christian feels regarding the relationship between church and state, this side of eternity we, as fellow travelers on this planet, must decide how we will live with each other. We are, for better or worse, forced into being political creatures. We must, collectively, decide how we will live together and manage our collective dreams, desires, and life-projects.

As a Christian, my deep desire is that we manage those decisions peaceably, without conflict or bloodshed. In America, as elsewhere, we've chosen to abide by the vote of the majority of the people. This might not be the best system, but as a peaceable solution I find it Christian in its impulse. Election Day isn't the coming of the Kingdom of God. But insofar as Election Day allows a conflicted and violence-filled people to collectively manage their shared fates in a peaceable way I find Election Day to be a bit of sunlight from the edges of Eternity.

Election Day, November, 1884
If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest scene and
show,
'Twould not be you, Niagara--nor you, ye limitless prairies--nor
your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado,
Nor you, Yosemite--nor Yellowstone, with all its spasmic
geyser-loops ascending to the skies, appearing and disappearing,
Nor Oregon's white cones--nor Huron's belt of mighty lakes--nor
Mississippi's stream:
--This seething hemisphere's humanity, as now, I'd name--the still
small voice vibrating--America's choosing day,
(The heart of it not in the chosen--the act itself the main, the
quadriennial choosing,)
The stretch of North and South arous'd--sea-board and inland--
Texas to Maine--the Prairie States--Vermont, Virginia, California,
The final ballot-shower from East to West--the paradox and conflict,
The countless snow-flakes falling--(a swordless conflict,
Yet more than all Rome's wars of old, or modern Napoleon's:) the
peaceful choice of all,
Or good or ill humanity--welcoming the darker odds, the dross:
--Foams and ferments the wine? it serves to purify--while the heart
pants, life glows:
These stormy gusts and winds waft precious ships,
Swell'd Washington's, Jefferson's, Lincoln's sails.

--Walt Whitman