It's a Marketing Strategy, Charlie Brown

Why do many Christians aim so low in the arena of arts and culture?

Recently, a friend used his Facebook status to rant about his feelings toward the classic holiday program, A Charlie Brown Christmas Special.  Predictably, a few comments defended it, pointing to Charles Schulz’s motives for producing the special.  The cartoon special gives voice to the truest meaning of Christmas:  the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, fully God and fully man, who would offer in his life and death a chance to restore all people to God’s presence.  What could be worth ranting about?

Old Chuck searches earnestly for meaning within the season.  “There must be more to Christmas. There must be more than commercialism, more than decorating contests, more than just Santa,” he reflects.  The special peaks with Charlie’s sensible friend Linus reciting from the biblical account of Luke chapter 2, where the humble birth of Jesus is recorded.  This is the meaning Chuck has been looking for—truth in the face of trading gifts and running from pageant to party.

                        

A worthy message, and notably one which stands alone in the company of Frosty, the Grinch, and Rudolph.  But Schultz seems to have discovered in 1965 something which countless Christian authors, market researchers, and publishers have confirmed countless times since:  if you add “the Cross” to your project, the Christian audience will eat it up.  Sell it in a Christian bookstore, and it will be purchased by every demographic of well meaning people.  Add a little “bible” to it, and it’ll be a hit with the church-going crowd—even if the effort is not all that good.

To many, Schulz’s syndicated strip Peanuts is a hallowed classic, telling the story of a lovable bald kid and his faithful dog surrounded by characters whose witticisms reflect adult voices delivered through the mouths of babes.  To others, the strip is bad.

Not funny, not clever, not insightful, but the product of a niche author with a brand-loyal following.  It can be difficult to find entertainment value in it, because it’s pretty bland—yet this blandness secures its mass appeal.  Schulz’s special capitalizes on both a mass cultural appreciation of inoffensive, non-challenging entertainment, and a Christian audience who will promote and laud poor efforts, as long as they contain an element of perceived “teachability.”  Why does a viewing audience settle for this?

Culturally, Americans have devalued inspiring and challenging works.  We’ve become satisfied to consume mediocrity, and pass this along to our children, safely homogenized.  The Christian community goes a step further, retreating into its own swaddling blanket of “Christian entertainment.”  When a project includes a mention of scripture, any critical review of content disappears.  One only has to watch a Kirk Cameron movie to see that a high standard of filmmaking and directing do not apply, and why should they?  If it has a little “Bible” in it, the Christian audience will support it anyway.

A friend recently joked that the reason she didn’t make her kids wash their hands every 5 minutes was so they could toughen their immune systems.  Why wash away the germs, if they could grow stronger by fighting?   The mainstream Christian community could take a lesson from this—getting their hands dirty in the world of arts and entertainment might connect with the heart and minds of American culture outside the safe walls of the church.  Can you imagine a world where parents sat down and watched an average movie with their kids, then took time to discuss it?  Imagine discussing its values, or its artistic expression, or the way its characters voice for a deeper societal meaning.  Not every exchange need be a dissertation, but challenging ourselves to think beyond our immediate selves is part of our human responsibility. 

Back to poor Charlie Brown—remember poor old Chuck?  The message Linus shares with Chuck really can be a life-changing one.  Yet it’s delivered in the way many American churches package it, and in the way many American Christians prefer it—swaddled in a marketable way which is not deep, not challenging, and calls for no action to be taken as people live their Christian lives.  It’s too bad—the message alone is powerful enough.

Under the Dome, Part One

This year, my commute has been mentally shortened by working through a catalogue of Stephen King audiobooks. Halfway through King’s 2009 work ‘Under the Dome,’ I’m struck by the story’s allegorical take on post-911 life in America. The Dome becomes our nation’s border, or a closed ecosystem with limited and depleting resources. A drifting ex-serviceman bears the burden of every xenophobic fear of the outsider our culture can muster. The town reporter and several of the town pre-teens speak as the minority voices of free, critical, and objective thinking. Big Jim Rennie is the smug, self-righteous voice of ultra conservative "Christian" values looking to demonize all others while making an unapologetic power grab and putting political force far in front of individual liberties. King has created his vilest character EVER in Big Jim, and that’s no small feat from a guy who dreamt up a killer clown that lurked in the town sewer.

The tension between ex-serviceman Dale Barbara (aka ‘Barbie’) and Rennie is uncomfortable. As the outsider, Barbara is resigned to accept his low social status in the small town of Chester’s Mill. While the character’s past life includes being a decorated war veteran and intelligence official, he finds himself inside the town border as a short order cook and the target of suspicion, aggression, and scapegoating. Like many immigrants within our borders, his past life and achievements are invisible. At the halfway point of the book, at least, he is the quintessential "suspicious foreigner" who plays a critical servant’s role in the small town, while being despised by both the town leaders and its privileged sons.

Rennie is a monster on par with any King has unleashed. The small town political figurehead is outwardly a born-again Christian, with the dangerous self-assurance that he is always right. A used car salesman and second selectman, Big Jim brings out a voice in our culture which is everywhere in our political and cultural headlines: "I’m right, but you’re stupid and going to Hell." He is most dangerous behind the scenes, passively but aggressively manipulating the town, its officials, and its resources to personal gain.

Most intriguing is King’s attention given to the spiritual condition of his characters in Under the Dome. In King’s 1974 book ‘Carrie,’ title character Carrie White has a terrifying mother whose religious zeal, suspicion of the world, and abusive nature combine to show the dichotomy between a public faith and a private failure. 36 years later, the townspeople of Chester’s Mill who express any public faith carry their own shortcomings. From substance addiction to abusiveness, each Christian character is either struggling or is completely ineffective in a moral sense. Mostly, the town would be better off without them.

With the second half of the story still unknown, it’s difficult to guess where the story will turn. But that’s true in reality, not just in fiction. As we find many in our nation quick to demonize, stereotype, and label people who are different than "we" are, it really is hard to tell where the current tone will lead us as a nation. If it’s anything like a real Stephen King novel, the end could be pretty scary indeed.