Explainer
Art
Culture
Identity
5 min read

Controversial art: can the critic love their neighbour?

What to do when confronted with contentious culture.

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

Two people run though a darkened art gallery towards a body lying amongst photography paraphanalia
Audrey Tautou and Tom Hanks, The Da Vinci Code.
Sony Pictures.

In the wake of the controversy over the Olympic opening ceremony, based as it was on a fundamental misunderstanding on the part of Christians as to what was being portrayed, you may be perplexed or confused by the different ways Christians respond to controversial art or media portrayals that are perceived to be an attack on core Christian beliefs. If that is you, here are some thoughts as to why it is that Christians react in a range of different ways.  

Our responses are always underpinned by depth of relationship with and commitment to Jesus, the one who has turned our lives upside down and filled us with his Spirit. Our sense of what it is that Jesus has done for us and what it is that relationship with Jesus means to us is the determinative factor affecting our response when we perceive the One we love and who loves us to have been maligned or mocked. 

For some, we feel a need to stand with or defend Jesus whenever we perceive that he is under attack, and we have seen that instinctive response apparent in reactions to the Olympic opening ceremony. However, instinctive emotive responses run the risk of pre-empting more reasoned or reflective responses. That has certainly been the case here, as what many Christians perceived to have been a parody of the Last Supper was not actually that at all. Instead, the sequence was a portrayal of the feast of Dionysius, so had nothing to do with the Last Supper at all.  

Christians, as here, are often too quick to make allegations of blasphemy without actually understanding what is being portrayed. I have, unfortunately, seen many similar examples within my lifetime. In the 1970’s and 80’s films like Monty Python’s Life of Brian and Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ resulted in thousands of Christians demonstrating outside cinemas, while Christian organisations, like the National Viewer’s and Listener’s Association headed by Mary Whitehouse, lobbied for those films to be banned.  

God does not need human beings in order to be defended, particularly from perceived mockery. 

However, interestingly, the release of The Da Vinci Code in 2006, although it dealt with similarly controversial material for Christians, did not result in mass protests. Instead, through seeker events, bible studies, websites and booklets, churches encouraged discussion of the issues raised by the film while clearly contesting the claims made about Christ and the Church. 

The protests against such films often did not tally with the content of the films themselves and displayed a lack of understanding of them, their stories and meaning. As Richard Burridge, a former Dean of King’s College London, has said of Life of Brian, “those who called for the satire to be banned after its release in 1979 were ‘embarrassingly’ ill-informed and missed a major opportunity to promote the Christian message”. Life of Brian portrayed the followers of religions as unthinking and gullible and the response of Christians to that film reinforced that stereotype.  

As a result, the Church had to learn again that the way to counter criticism is not to try to ban or censor it but to engage with it, understand it and accurately counter it. The Da Vinci Code events, bible studies, websites and the like that the Church used to counter the claims made in The Da Vinci Code featured reasoned arguments based on a real understanding of the issues raised, making use of genuine historical findings and opinion to counter those claims. These created a conversation with the wider community that was far more constructive than the kind of knee-jerk reactions we have seen to the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games. 

Some of these knee-jerk reactions derive from a sense, in the West, that the dominant place Christianity used to have in society has been eroded leading some to think that our values and beliefs are under threat. This reveals an underlying insecurity which it is surprising to find in those who believe that God is all-powerful and in control of human history. God does not need human beings in order to be defended, particularly from perceived mockery.  

Indeed, the reverse is the case, as, in Jesus, God deliberately entered human history to experience human life in all its facets, including real mockery and suffering, to show that such experiences are not defining and can be transcended through love and sacrifice. Such a God does not require those who follow to become defensive themselves when the path of mockery is actually the path to resurrection and renewal.    

Cultural comment is as much about love for neighbour as any other aspect of Christian life. 

So, what might a more constructive and productive response to controversies entail? Taking time to reflect and to understand what it is we are experiencing would be a much better place to start. The Olympic opening ceremony was a celebration of French culture, which highlighted images from the Louvre in particular. Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Last Supper’ is in Italy and does not include a blue Dionysius. With some reflection and investigation, that would quickly have become apparent. Similarly, the scene to which Christians objected in The Last Temptation of Christ was just what it said on the tin, the last temptation Jesus faced. It was a temptation that he rejected, and the film was all the more powerful as a depiction of the incarnation as a result. 

Then, we can see that what the Christ who embraced human life through the incarnation calls us to is a charitable hermeneutic (how we interpret), when it comes to receiving, understanding and commenting on the culture around us. Cultural comment is as much about love for neighbour as any other aspect of Christian life. Our charitable hermeneutic was summed up for us by St Paul when he wrote of going through life looking for “whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable”. Sister Wendy Beckett, the cultural commentator who most recently has best exemplified this charitable hermeneutic achieving huge popularity as a result, wrote of “a beautiful secret … that makes all things luminous … a precious gift in this confused and violent world”.  

With the beautiful secret of a charitable hermeneutic, we might, perhaps, look again at the Olympic opening ceremony and appreciate the intent of Thomas Jolly, the artistic director behind the ceremony, when he said that religious subversion had never been his intention: “We wanted to talk about diversity. Diversity means being together. We wanted to include everyone, as simple as that.” 

 

Article
Ambition
Comment
Death & life
Economics
4 min read

Forget the Rich List, wealth needs deeper foundations than money

Your neighbourhood might be cool or gentrified now, but where will you go when you die?

Jamie is Vicar of St Michael's Chester Square, London.

A red Ferrari parked on a posh London Street
Parked Ferrari off Belgrave Square, London.
John Cameron on Unsplash.

To drive from Clapham to north of the river in London, you go past a warning sign. It's not an LED flashing one, instead it's painted on a Victorian building in uneven serif lettering:  

'For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?'  

It implies that the man (or the woman) on the Clapham omnibus, whatever their wealth, ignores it at their peril.  

I recently made that same journey from living in Clapham – a place of relative wealth to one of alleged extreme wealth, in Belgravia. My initial reflections are that people are people, and that wealth doesn't resolve all our problems. There's actually far more poverty, both physical and spiritual, than meets the prejudice. 

But that Victorian sign speaks to our aspirations, for those with a little, and those with a lot. We think that more is more. Cities feed the striver, and in that pursuit of wealth some argue that our cities are losing their souls. While South-West London might not be the most drippingly cool places in London, they have historically been places for those who are in professions that are cool-adjacent. Of those involved in academia or journalism, Josiah Gogarty wrote in the New Statesman:  

'These professions never promised luxury, but they did deliver a respectable middle-class lifestyle for even the moderately successful. But try buying a house in centralish London today off an income that isn’t made in, or by servicing, the City.'  

As it happens, this week I heard one journalist on the radio saying a comfortable amount to have in his bank would be £7 million. How much is enough? 

But for grads in service professions with healthy cashflows and bonuses, you can still rent in ‘centralish’ London. No doubt the affluent who house-share have buoyed Clapham Common Westside into the position of having the highest average household wealth of anywhere in the UK, at over £100k. Gogarty continues:  

'Call it Claphamisation, after the London neighbourhood of choice for graduates with dependable jobs and straightforward tastes. Gentrification took your money, or forced you to care about money more than you would’ve done otherwise. Now Claphamisation is coming for your cool.'  

In other words, gaining the world means losing your soul. 

Both riches and coolness are irrelevant as the casket is lowered into the ground. 

But even those markers of mainstream wealth and its own version of cool are uncertain as the annual Sunday Times Rich List over the weekend reflected. Your heart mightn't bleed for those falling off their perches, with a threshold of £350 million. But economic turbulence also unsteadies the presumed foundations of wealth. 

Wealth needs a deeper foundation than money. And soul needs a warmer foundation than cool. Harvard Professor Dr Arthur Brooks, says that love is 

 'what the human heart really, really wants. And a lot of people are thinking, you know, if I have the money, and I buy the stuff, then I'm going to get more love.'  

Wealth, and I would argue coolness, are intermediaries to this love. 

Tending to our souls means opening ourselves to a love that is far richer than what's on the surface. That's not to say that Christian theology denies the physical, however. It teaches an embodied understanding of our souls. I was all too aware of this standing by a coffin, taking a funeral this week. We are material beings and made of material. But our inner settled-ness in what drives us and what we are devoted to far outweighs the trappings of life. 

I have seen people dazzled by their own wealth and others seriously unimpressed by it. And while most of us would quite like the chance to find out for ourselves that wealth is an imposter, both riches and coolness are irrelevant as the casket is lowered into the ground. 

Those serif letters on that sign on the edge of Clapham are easily ignored. They seem out of place as the cars and Lime bikes zoom past. But the words aren't disembodied: they were spoken by someone. When a rich young man, sure in his own good living and upstandingness, turned his back on Jesus, he was sad, holding onto his wealth. The eyes that looked on him still loved him. 

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