In his Letter to Artists, Pope John Paul II said this,
“Even when they explore the darkest depths of the soul or the most unsettling aspects of evil, artists give voice in a way to the universal desire for redemption.”
Two things stand out to me about this quote. One is the close proximity of “evil” to “redemption.” Without sin, suffering, depravity, and despair, redemption is moot. Christians are “saved”… but from what? In many ways, it is only as we contemplate “the darkest depths of the soul” and “the most unsettling aspects of evil” that we can, as Pope John Paul II wrote, appreciate “the universal desire for redemption.”
But note: It is the job of the artist to help us get there, to “explore” the soul’s darkness and gaze upon “the most unsettling aspects of evil.” The artist helps us “appreciate” redemption by mulling the darkness that indwells and surrounds us. Or as the famed Japanese director Akira Kurosawa simply put it:
“The role of the artist is to not look away.”
Christian artists, perhaps more than any other, should abide this proverb. We should not “look away.” I don’t mean that we should delight in evil, be captivated by the macabre, or celebrate darkness (which is the most common charge against “dark” art), but that our perspective of the human condition should be unflinching and particularly acute. Feel-good story-telling may have its place. But artists — especially Christian artists — who only subscribe to a “feel-good” world have violated an essential artistic law… they have “looked away.”
However, if this true — that artistic reflections upon the horrific, the grotesque, and the fallen are necessary for an appreciation of redemption — then why are Christian artists who depict such things so often misunderstood and maligned by their brethren? The Christian artist should help us fear the darkness. But it is precisely this contemplation of darkness that, so often, gets them in trouble.
Fellow Realms novelist Mike Dellosso recently posed this question, Where Does Christian Horror Belong? The conversation at Mike’s site was lively and illustrates, I think, the bind that the Christian market (and labeling in general) forces the Christian artist into. But along the way, several commenters illustrated the tension that exists in the Christian community regarding art — specifically Christian art — and its aim. Take for instance Carol’s response:
…frankly, I am uncomfortable with the idea of horror and the supernatural. Is it a case of, “what fellowship hath light with darkness”? I don’t know. I am aware that Satan and his demons are alive and well on planet earth and they do their work where God allows. However, I would much rather think of my precious Lord and his protection over those who are called by his name. I would prefer to set my heart and mind on things above (Col. 3:1) Christian horror is an oxymoron to me. Call me old fashioned, closed minded, whatever, but I think the place for horror and monsters, evil and ugliness, should be saved for the sci-fi, suspense/horror genres, and Halloween (Phil. 4:8). emphasis mine
Please understand, I am in no way criticizing or making fun of Carol. She is probably representative of the majority of Christian fiction readers. Nevertheless, Carol illustrates the fundamental confusion regarding Christian art and its depiction of evil. Not only would she “prefer to set [her] heart and mind on things above (Col. 3:1),” Carol believes that to dwell on “horror and monsters, evil and ugliness” is a violation of that; she wonders that to “explore the darkest depths of the soul” is to have “fellowship… with darkness.” This is the crux of many readers’ rejection of the label “Christian horror.”
What is noteworthy is Carol’s citing of Philippians 4:8. That verse reads:
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Phil. 4:8 NIV)
The reason why Carol’s reference to this verse is important is because Philippians 4:8 is one of the most oft-quoted verses against the Christian horror genre. At the heart of the argument is the conviction that we cannot focus on evil without being corrupted by it, we cannot “explore” darkness without being tainted by it.
Which creates a dilemma for the Christian artist.
Is it possible to “explore the darkest depths of the soul” and “the most unsettling aspects of evil” and not be tainted by it? Is it possible for the artist to “not look away” and still remain uncorrupted? Is it a violation of Philippians 4:8 and Col. 3:1 to depict things that are ugly, impure, wicked, and godless? Must all Christian artists be “painters of light”?
Mike, great, great, post. Well said. Here’s my opinion on the matter . . . if there is anyone qualified to write in the horror genre it should be the Christian. We, more than anyone, know the tension between light and darkness, good and evil. We’ve experienced it and continue to experience it everyday. To look away and ignore the struggle, the dichotomy, and to pretend it doesn’t exist simply because we’re uncomfortable with it is to do a disservice to ourselves and every other Christian out there wrestling with the same forces. This is going to come across as very weird (but hey, it won’t be the first time I’ve been labelled weird) but I believe horror fiction is a celebration of what Christ accomplished on the cross. We don’t have to be in bondage to the darkness anymore, we’re no longer slaves to evil. We can triumph (we HAVE triumphed already!). In the end, light always wins, it always pushes back the darkness.
Not to be snide, but a simple bit of logic can wipe away the critics that use the Philippians verse. There, Paul is only saying the church in Philippi (and, by extension, the church at large) we should think about some things that are x. He didn’t say “don’t think about things that are not x”. I think this is a false dilemma argument, which basically says that you can do either option a or option b, when it reality you could do a and b. Or c and d, too.
Going from “Christians should think about x things,” to “Christians should not write horror stories,” is a HUGE inductive leap that I don’t think has been fleshed out properly.
Good thoughts Mike…and Mike!
I just finished reading Deuteronomy, and I am always struck by the repetition of blessings and curses toward the end of the book. Moses recounts the blessings of obedience in just a couple of paragraphs, while he goes on and on about the horrible things that will happen with disobedience. The descriptions within can make a reader shudder.
The prophets also spend a majority of time warning of consequences, with smaller sections talking about future hope/promise. Why is this? Perhaps it mirrors the evening news, where it seems we dwell on the terrible happenings of the day rather than the blessings and good news.
I have come to believe that horror (along with fantasy, another problem area in CBA fiction) can speak of the battle of good and evil more directly than typical fiction genres. The horror of human depravity and the spiritual battles we have with a very real adversary bring into greater contrast the light of true Christianity.
It won’t resonate with every reader – so those who don’t like it probably shouldn’t read it. Likewise, I won’t be picking up Amish fiction anytime soon (unless Mike or Mike writes *their* take on Amish fiction).
I like to compare this to physics. Open a door between a dark area and a light area–what happens? The light spills over into the dark. That is how I see “Christian horror.” The dark stays there, but now you see the light. Bring in enough light, and you can eventually get rid of the darkness.
But the dark can NOT put out the light. It only shows the contrast, and can actually make the light look brighter.
Traditional Christian fiction is like turning on a light in a room that is already lit. Maybe it banishes the shadows that lurk in the corners, or makes the room a little brighter than it was before, but there’s not a big contrast. There’s nothing wrong with that, though!
I think there is room for BOTH types of Christian fiction. People are different and in different situations, and therefore need light in different ways. One doesn’t necessarily exclude the other.
What Christian horror can’t be is something that glorifies evil. As long as the light in the dark story “wins” in the end, or if it doesn’t we see the consequences of that loss, then there’s no reason Christian can’t be classified as horror and do its job to glorify God, directing readers to the light in the darkness.
I simply don’t think the passage works there. Paul’s talking to a bunch of Christians facing persecution and death, from prison, not a pack of writers whose worst-case scenario is a rejection letter. Just saying.
While I’ll be the first to say there’s a line between exposing darkness and indulging darkness, on that same line I’ll say most opponents simply miss the point.
To spin the question: What is true, noble, just, pure, lovely, of good report, virtuous, or praiseworthy?
Verse nine: The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me, these do, and the God of peace will be with you.
Okay, so what did we learn, receive, and see in those before us? To phrase it as it is in the Timothy letters, what is this gospel we were taught?
Yes, Scripture says “Forgetting what is behind and pressing on to what lies ahead” (New Kaci Paraphrase Ed.). It also says, repeatedly, in many ways, “Remember the former thins long past,” “Remember how I led you by the hand from Egypt,” “Remember how I fed you and cared for you in the wilderness for forty years,” “Remember the crossing at the Sea…”
Remember.
I think that’s what the “darker” genres of fiction do. Remember.
Is it possible to “explore the darkest depths of the soul” and “the most unsettling aspects of evil” and not be tainted by it? Is it possible for the artist to “not look away” and still remain uncorrupted?
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Yes, I’d say it’s possible not to become tainted or corrupted. However, I do think there’s a risk of being adversely affected by looking and exploring and it’s something all artist’s need to keep in mind.
About a year and a half ago I figured out satan’s game. Long story short, I did some studying of the occult, threw it up against what I knew about world religions, and I uncovered his great deception. Not that I was discovering anything new…nope, to the contrary actually, but the pieces finally fit together in my mind. I happen to know that made satan mad, and he’s toyed with me since, but that’s another topic. What is relevent is that after studying the occult, I felt…dirty? It’s hard to put it in words, but it’s as though it left me with some negative residue. I knew I would need to spend extra time with God to burn it off.
“What is true, noble, just, pure, lovely, of good report, virtuous, or praiseworthy.” Paul is describing the remedy. When this world leaves us feeling soiled, we need the remedy. If we are feeling depressed, we don’t need to explore the darkness of the soul, we need the remedy.
If someone comes to me and says, “I’m feeling depressed,” I’m not going to say, here’s a horror novel. I’m going to say something more along the lines of what Paul said and recommend they try to stay focused on good things.
As one who is skilled at the art of feeling depressed and who tends to freak out pretty easily (Frank Peretti’s, The Oath gave me nightmares), I tend to shy away from horror. I don’t think it’s wrong for Christians to write horror. But I do think we should understand there are risks and that sometimes, it’s contra-indicated.
I understand what Jessica is saying but here’s a caveat. What if that depressed person needs to face the demons of their soul? Would I give suggest they watch a rerun of Night of the Living Dead? No.
But I would and did give a copy Darlington Woods to a friend beset by monster of his soul, most of which still exist there because of his unwillingness to face them. The difference in the two is simple: one offers little hope the other offers redemption. Redemption is the key.
Could be, but in that case I doubt the person would even admit they were depressed… I’m thinking more in terms of brain chemistry, I guess. Certain things affect brain chemistry positively (such as focusing on those things Paul talk about), others are a drain (such as…anything dark or evil).
I dunno. When I’m down, I just know I can’t handle much ‘dark’ even if it’s redemptive…
Interesting post Mike. You quoted Carol as saying: “I am uncomfortable with the idea of horror and the supernatural.” I find the idea of Christians being “uncomfortable” with the supernatural as very odd and puzzling. I’ve even heard Christians say they don’t believe in the supernatural. Uh, God is supernatural by definition. Jesus’ resurrection is supernatural. I see this contradiction as a sign of modernist/naturalist thought creeping into the Christian’s mind and distorting their view of the world. Perhaps we need horror to shock people back to reality.
“Whatever is true.”
Is evil not true then? Is that why we aren’t supposed to think about it? Because evil doesn’t exist and is therefore false?
If evil is true, then in fact, I’m pretty sure this verse just commanded us to think about it. A lot. Even if it makes us “feel” dirty. Those who warn fellow Christians off of thinking about the truth in horror, are sinning with good intentions.
…but let me tell you what I really think! 😉
“Is evil not true then? Is that why we aren’t supposed to think about it?” I think this is stretching Paul’s words. Evil is a reality. Saying it’s ‘true’ seems a confusion of terms to me. I think it’s safe to say Paul understood the nature of evil and wanted others to understand it too. Understanding the nature of evil, I think, humbles us to realize it can drag us down and overcome us if we aren’t careful. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t portray it truthfully in life and in our writing. Just means be careful, especially in such a solitary endeavor as writing.
Last thing then I’ll shut up. I recently got myself in trouble stepping out into evil territory. I knew it was a danger zone, but I went anyway thinking it was worth the risk if it meant a soul would be saved. Perhaps that soul will be saved eventually because of seeds I planted, but a lot of residual damage was done (by me) due to the fact that once you step out into those murky waters, your own vision becomes murky too. Lies start to sound like truth. In hindsight, I don’t know that God calls us to “martyr” ourselves like that for the sake of another soul, and if we do choose to step out in that way, we shouldn’t feel ourselves any more righteous for doing it.