Article
Belief
Culture
Film & TV
4 min read

Hollywood’s streaming hope, here’s why

Today’s darker world of turmoil has viewers seeking solace.

Nathan is a speaker and writer on topics related to faith, life and God. He lives near Seattle, Washington. His writing is featured frequently in The Seattle Times. nathanbetts.com

An actor dressed in an ancient Middle Eastern way is filmed by a large camera.
Filming The Chosen.
Angel Studios.

Whatever you think of Christianity, just skimming the streaming options on Amazon or Netflix tells you that Christianity is by no means in decline; if anything, as one recent article in The Economist reads, it “is having a moment.” 

Amazon Prime’s House of David, Netflix’s Mary, and the series The Chosen are a few of the streaming options mentioned in The Economist article titled “Christian entertainment has risen”, which also notes the approximate 280 million people viewership worldwide of The Chosen

Sure, not all of these shows are the highest in production quality and they don’t necessarily garner great reviews across the board. House of David, the article cites, has been described as “wooden and cheap-looking, humourless and dull.” Negative comments have been shared about other Christian films as well ranging back to Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ

Yet, with all the mixed reviews of the various Christian streaming options available today, I could not help but wonder exactly why has there been such an uptick in Christian films and shows.  

There are two reasons hinted at in the article that stood out to me. The first thought revolves around the need for faith. The second is hope.  

At one point, the writer observes that the surge in biblical films is not necessarily a sign that Hollywood has now seen the light as much as it is indicative of the fact “that the world right now feels very dark.” People are searching for some light. The head of the Wonder Project, the independent studio that made House of David, adds: “Today people want to watch things that ‘restore faith’”. 

Personally speaking, I have lowered my intake of news over the last year primarily because I found that it either gets me down or increases my anxiety levels. The decision to tune out news outlets felt like the wise choice in limiting the ambient angst in my life. As I have shared this with friends, I have found that I am not alone in this; not by a long shot. 

Yet, with all the gloomy news we see around us, I’ve come to believe that even in our age of cynicism and scepticism, we still want to trust in others, our friends, our spouse, our leaders, and dare I say, God. 

The common thread among the surge of Christian television shows and films is that they present a world we want to live in. They are telling stories that involve redemptive endings; massive themes are covered, ranging from temptation and forgiveness, humility over pride, healing of wounds, and perhaps greatest of all, life after death. I wonder if one of the reasons we are attracted to these shows is the fact that they carry narratives that speak to the very core of who we are, who we struggle to be, yet who we want to become. They present a world of pain, struggle, turmoil, and darkness that also includes healing, strength, peace, and light. In a word, they fill us with faith. 

The Economist writer adds that “in a saturated streaming market, these films and shows are offering that most of Christian values—hope—to their makers.” Speaking now as a person living in America where the daily news cycle consistently offers us some type of disaster to digest, I find myself paying close attention to any possible signs of hope, and that includes the shows I stream.   

The more I live, the more I realize that every one of us is trying to figure out how to live in a battlefield of different pressures and struggles presented to us in life 

Not too long ago, I got into an unexpected conversation involving faith with the person who cuts my hair. Midway through the haircut, she told me that she and her husband were going to church that weekend. From our conversation, I had gathered that she was not religious at all so I gently asked her why they were going to church. Her voice slowed down and got shaky. She moved the scissors away from me. She then looked at me through the mirror and said, “My husband and I just had a baby and life has been very stressful. We are not sure we are going to make it. We are going to church because we need something to hope in.” 

The more I live, the more I realize that every one of us is trying to figure out how to live in a battlefield of different pressures and struggles presented to us in life. The question has always been, “How is it possible for us to live and perhaps even flourish in this type of world?” The ubiquitous nature of entertainment options available to us in our technological age might be unique to us, perhaps. But what is not new is our desperate need for faith and hope to sustain us. The rise in Christian entertainment reminds us of this truth.  

We might not need Amazon Prime video or Netflix to survive in this world, but the offering of faith and hope found in the films and storytelling within those streaming services are the exact ingredients we need to live. When you think about it like that, it’s easy to understand why Christian entertainment is indeed having a moment. 

Essay
Belief
Creed
Football
Sport
6 min read

Argentina’s adoration of Lionel Messi

The icon of the beautiful game holds a nation's gaze, giving insights into redemption.

Matthias is a priest-theologian, and Centre Lead for St Mellitus College, Chelmsford

A child on the shoulders of a parent wears a light blue and white stripped football top, waves the Argentinian flag
Pedro Chosco on Unsplash.

“Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” 

The words recited by the priest during the Eucharist as the chalice and host are lifted, inviting participants to fix their gaze on Christ, encapsulate the profound truth that what we gaze upon has inordinate power to shape us. It is a truth echoed not only in spiritual practices but also in our everyday experiences. In a world flooded with visual distractions, an age dominated by screens, this act of beholding is a counter-cultural reminder of the reality that our gaze determines our desires and, ultimately, the people we become.  

Of course, our gaze is not limited to religion or technology; it also relates to culture, and our idols in music and sport deeply influence us for better or worse.  

This truth became vividly real to me during our family travels through South America last summer. Our synaesthesically-rich itinerary of truly memorable encounters with the vast natural and cultural heritage sites of the continent coincided with Lionel Messi’s triumph in the Copa América. As a family we enjoyed witnessing the national celebrations of the football giant taking his foremost place in the pantheon of La Albiceleste – the Argentinian national team. As part of our backpacking through Argentina, we visited Rosario, the birthplace of the great man. 

For my six-year-old son, the trip was a chance to step into the world of his hero. Visiting the modest house where Messi grew up, his kindergarten, the playground where he would have played, and the club he represented before moving to Barcelona and global fame was fascinating. But far beyond all these famous sites was the immediate visual bombardment of graffitied murals across the city’s walls celebrating his legacy, life and achievements. They highlighted how deeply intertwined Messi’s story is with the local and national consciousness. Navigating our way through these vibrant backstreets and billboards, our own human senses blurring in the Argentine cultural imaginary, we reflected on how we were also manoeuvring our way through a modern-day pilgrimage. 

For the figure of Lionel Messi commands etheric resonances far beyond the immediate significance of his footballing career. His story is about more than sporting success, and as a cultural icon in Argentina he has now surpassed Diego Maradona. Messi’s journey conjures a strikingly messianic arc, encapsulating themes of death and resurrection. From his emergence out of humble beginnings before being flung into international stardom, his resignation from the national team amid public outrage to his triumphant and redemptive return, leading Argentina to World Cup glory. 

Along our travels, we were surrounded by beauty; in creation, culture, and human creativity. This beauty and artistry also shines forth in Messi and his craft. Watching someone of such skill and elegance on the pitch, and such apparent humility away from the cameras, embodies the joy of the beautiful game. Messi’s place within the Argentine cultural imagination, as a social actor producing and reproducing a shared sense of meaning that verges on the spiritual, is also cemented in the country’s cultural delights. These narratives of new beginnings and flourishing are evident not only the vibrant street art, but also in the exquisite steaks and fine Malbec wine consumed in the fashionable Buenos Aires restaurants frequented by footballers and other celebrities.  And, in the ubiquitous ‘Number 10’ football strips we saw worn by every second visitor at the breathtaking Iguazú Falls. This powerful symbiosis between Messi and the collective idea of ‘Argentina’ means that his triumph in 2022 became a communal act of redemption for a nation whose imagined identity is intricately tied to the sport, the culmination of a wider set of imagined bonds fostering a collective sense of belonging, meaning, and beauty. 

Beauty and the Church 

This appreciation for beauty resonates deeply with the Christian tradition. Beauty matters – not only in life but also in the Church, in worship, and in encounters with the divine. Just as Messi’s artistry captivates, so too should the Church inspire awe and wonder. The synaesthetic experience of Christian worship, the harmony of liturgy and sacred music, provides glimpses of the divine and transcendent beauty and is designed to draw the gaze upward, to behold Christ and his beauty. In the early Church, when Christians emerged from the underground catacombs and built churches and cathedrals, pagans marvelled at the beauty of the liturgies occuring inside. The order, reverence, and otherworldly radiance of Christian worship captivated those who encountered it. 

The importance of beauty in worship echoes the Transfiguration, where Christ’s divine glory was revealed and transfixed his disciples. On Mount Tabor, Christ unveiled the divine radiance that transforms all who behold him, all who fix their eyes on him. The beauty of God transforms us when our minds are oriented toward God. This is not merely aesthetic – it is theological: our entire being is beautified. St. Maximus the Confessor argued that when our mind is oriented toward God, it is beautified by him, and as this beauty flows outward it also shapes and transforms our being. Conversely, when we turn our attention away from God, we lose this radiance and harmony, becoming shapeless and disordered. 

Beauty, then, is not just a peripheral concern; it is integral to worship and formation, to our becoming fully human and being fully transformed into the image of God. The Church should be a place where we encounter the beauty of Christ, where the liturgy itself becomes an icon that draws our ears and eyes, minds, hearts, and bodies towards God. 

The Redeemer gazing back

In our culture, we are drawn to watch figures like Lionel Messi, whose brilliance and beautiful artistry inspire devotion and cement collective cultural and even spiritual meanings. Yet, while football and an individual’s life story might inspire and unify, as we are reminded by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, they nevertheless remain penultimate. These worldly things, be they football, fame, or even national unity, cannot satisfy our deepest longings and thirst for ultimate meaning, and will ultimately fade away. In the wider spiritual imagination, these moments of beauty do however encapsulate a deeper, lasting reality, and so may point beyond themselves, toward the source of all beauty – God Himself. And this is where theology and the gaze converge, bringing us back to where we started: that what we choose to look upon shapes us profoundly. As we navigate a world filled with distractions and idols, it is a reminder that what we choose to behold not only reflects our values but also shapes the people we are becoming. The question is then, where – or rather at whom – are we directing our gaze? 

Our South American travels culminated in Rio de Janeiro, at the feet of the iconic statue of Cristo Redentor. Standing atop a mountain, Christ himself gazes over the metropolis, the shimmering beaches, the favelas, and the Maracanã Football Stadium. With outstretched arms, the statue is an enduring symbol of Christ’s immanence. Not a distant, transcendent God removed from our world, but the present Christ.  

In considering what shapes us – be it football legends, the wonders of creation, or the allure of our screens – it becomes evident that only one gaze has the power to redeem. The story of Lionel Messi may inspire us, but the story of Jesus Christ redeems us. Only in Christ do we find a beauty that is both immanent and eternal, calling us to fix our eyes on him and be transfigured by his glory. For we can only behold him at all because he was beholding us first. 

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