As you may of noticed, I haven't exactly been hitting the keys over the last couple of months. But I'm back, and have a few thoughts on 50 Shades of Grey and why faith doesn't seem to matter to so many people.
50 Shades of What Ever
Unless you've been under a rock of late, you know that the film adaptation of the best selling book 50 Shades of Grey was released in theaters this past Friday. In the week or so leading up to the movie's release I saw posts galore on Facebook from (mainly) women of faith decrying the film for exploiting and degrading women. Some of these posts were people writing in their own words the feelings of disgust they felt at the movie and the books, others were links to Catholic or Evangelical sites covering the story and expressing their outrage at the film in logical, orderly prose.
It reminded me somewhat of what happened when The Da Vinci Code came out a decade ago. In that case a sort of cottage industry grew up of authors writing books and putting together videos exposing the historical and theological errors of the Dan Brown pot boiler. The phenomenon came and went, and I'm not sure people were swayed one way or the other by the catholic response. Those who were inclined to believe the narrative of a purely human Jesus who secretly married and had children and a corrupt Church covering up the truth proposed by the movie were not going to be moved by the arguments made by believers, and those who know the truth weren't going to go see the movie to begin with. As for the great middle who went to see the movie as pure entertainment, not knowing or caring about the controversy, they very well may have been swayed to believe the narrative presented by the film. But not because we didn't make good enough arguments or present history accurately enough, rather because we didn't come back with a competing, and just as compelling narrative.
Fr. Barron, in a video on C.S. Lewis, points out that Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien set about to use their fantasies to present a competing narrative to the prevalent secular materialist mind set that had already taken hold in the mid twentieth century. While both men may not have used that language, they understood the power of myth to shape minds and world views. In recasting the story of creation, fall and redemption in the form of an adventure story they were attempting to "evangelize the imagination," to use Fr. Barron's words. The problem today is that we lack this creative imagination. We have ceded the arts to the postmoderns, relying strictly on dry argumentation to get our point across.
The answer is not to give up on scholarship and traditional apologetics, but to use those tools while reclaiming our seat at the creative table as well. There are traditional Christians trying to make movies and write literature, but they range from noble failures to out and out artistic train wrecks. Films like 2006's Bella and (to a lesser extent) Gimme Shelter from two years ago give me hope, but we have a long way to go. What separates those two movies for me is that, while both were made from a faith based perspective, neither took for granted that the viewer was a believer. Both had pro-life themes, but didn't villainize the other side. Both tried to change the narrative while acknowledging that theirs was not the dominant one. Too many faith based films take the truth of their position and the sympathy of the audience for granted. What this leads to is a sort of cinematic echo chamber where we end up talking to ourselves rather than cinema being an avenue to engage the culture and effectively challenge the prevailing narrative. Until we do that we should expect more Da Vinci Codes and 50 Shades coming at us unabated.
The Grand Narrative Scapegoat: Humanae Vitae
One of the great cultural narratives that shades how many Catholics view the world is that the great exodus out of the Church began with Paul VI's 1968 encyclical Humanae Vitae, which reaffirmed the traditional Christian teaching on artificial contraception. The narrative goes that Catholics left the Church over this issue, and those that remain simply ignore the restriction on contraceptives. Unless we become more "realistic" about this and other sexual matters, like homosexuality, we will continue to see parishes empty out, or so the narrative goes. The narrative is not completely wrong (I've met people who say they stopped practicing their faith over the teaching on contraceptives, and I know gays who struggle with the issue of faith and sexuality). This narrative though is incomplete, and a tad outdated.
Here's the problem: there is evidence that the exodus from organized religion in the United States, among both Catholics and Protestants, started as early as 1965. Contraception is one issue that drove people away, but other issues were and still are facing the Church as well. We are struggling now with the issue divorced and remarried Catholics and how they are to be cared for, as if this is a new issue effecting Sunday attendance at Mass. But, while the divorce rate exploded after 1970, statistics show a steady increase in the divorce rate through the 1950's and 60's before taking off in the 70's. It's easy to say that the drop off in Mass participation is a result of the Church's "intransigents" on these and other issues of sexual morality. But how do we explain that from roughly 1975 on the percentage of the U.S. population identifying themselves as Main Line Protestants dramatically fell off the table. Our separated brothers and sisters long ago liberalized their teachings on human sexuality (the Church of England modified their teaching on contraception in the early 1930's, and today only 36% of British men in a recent survey identify themselves as Christians). Many ecclesial communities have also adopted women clergy, and in some cases have accepted openly homosexual prelates into their ranks. Yet none of these innovations, some of which have been called for by progressive Catholics for decades, has done anything to stem the tide out of their pews. Why is it that we think following such policies will work for us when they haven't worked for others?
In insisting on this widely accepted narrative we've missed the forest for the trees. The changing mores on human sexuality reflects a deeper philosophical change in the culture. Accepting Christ means saying no to something else. It's Jesus who puts the conditions on us, not the other way around. He told the rich young man to give up his riches, but the man couldn't do it, going away sad. But we can take out "riches" and plug in any number of material things or willful desires: it could be that beach house we have or always wanted, it could be a relationship with a person we genuinely love, it could be freedom of movement or it could be the choice of career. It could mean sacrificing sexual activity. The injunction to pick up the cross and carry it everyday will always be at the heart of the Gospel message, and that is the stumbling block, not divorce, contraception or acceptance of gay relationships as normative. Those are symptoms of a larger problem.
We live in an intellectually fractured age. We live a strange mix of a sort of functional libertarianism that still wants big government when it wants it, but otherwise individuals want to be left alone. We care passionately about the rights of sexual minorities and animals, but care little for the poor and marginalized. We reject organized religion but are seeking some spiritual connection by way of yoga, eastern mysticism, self help gurus and, increasingly, the occult. Most believe in some sort of afterlife, but don't see the importance of funeral rites or prayers for the dead. How we celebrate funerals, apart from the formal prayers and liturgical gestures, no longer reflects a hope in the life to come, but is strictly a remembrance of what has ended. I'd say we've become like the ancient Egyptians, who buried loved ones with coins and food for the journey over the river of the dead, but this practice at least looked forward to a life to come. In our case I've seen bottles of scotch, cartons of cigarettes and even scratch off lottery tickets placed in caskets where rosary beads use to be. Everything is about the here and now, and the creature comforts the dearly departed once enjoyed, not the eternal joy we hope for him now.
We could clear the decks of all traditionally held sexual mores, apart from rape which seems to be the only universally accepted restriction on sexual activity, and people still would not return to church. Why? Because the problem isn't sex; it's the prevailing spirit of secularism, materialism, consumerism and radical individualism: a collective world view of which the sexual revolution is a symptom.
If Humanae Vitae didn't exist we'd have to invent it, because without that narrative we'd have to face the fact that we tried to read the signs of the times after the Council, but failed, or more accurately only partially succeeded. We certainly failed in understanding what the entire concept of being able to read the prevailing narrative meant. We thought we were being called to spot trends, latch onto fads and ride political waves. We became locked onto micro movements and missed the big picture. If there was a big take way, it was for us to join in on the secular humanist parade as opposed to offering a counter narrative of Christian humanism. Unless we step back and see the big picture of what being a disciple of Christ is all about we will continue to stumble through history blind. Unless we really understand what the Christian narrative is at it's core, and express it, and really live it, radically, we should not hope that the tide will be turned any time soon.
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