Who gets to BE Jesus?

It is important to exegete the text that hate groups give us, for both strategic and educational purposes. I’ve seen a lot of hot takes on the “he gets us” commercial from Christians on both the right and the left. On the left, it focuses mostly on the identity of the hate groups and the theological/philosophical problems with the money spent. On the right, it mostly focuses on reinforcing justifications for hating various social groups perceived as sinners. All of this draws attention to the campaign (which delights its sponsors to no end, I’m sure.)

Apart from the VOX article I linked above, I haven’t seen much thoughtful examination of the theology or missiology of the implicit claims of the advertisement itself, though. And at the risk of taking up more airspace for an advertisement funded by hate groups, I’d like to offer a power analysis of the images and what they tell us about the theology of those funding the ads.

Willie James Jennings argues in The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race, that white theology since the 1400’s has always had a theology of the “Great Chain of Being” where whiteness and maleness are closer to godliness. He shows us how this was explicit in early Spanish and Portuguese colonial and missionary activity, and how it has become implicit in the American church today.

The series of images in the ad employs codes or tropes that involve specific power dynamics along that Great Chain of Being. Generally, the people doing the washing, those with power, are those who are most obviously “Christian” and closer to God from the perspective of the cis-gender straight white funders: a policeman, an abortion clinic protester, a sober friend, a priest. In all the images, both characters have their shoes off, implying that each is washing the feet of the other. But in interrogating these images, I think it’s important to point out that the person who gets to “be” Jesus for the other in this snapshot is usually the person with more social power.

No trans people get to “be” Jesus in the images. No women get to be Jesus for a man. No black person gets to be Jesus for a white person. If there is a white man in the frame, that man always gets to be Jesus (except for image 11, which is notable because neither man has to be the servant of the other).

Below is a break down of the images, and a short description about what I perceive the power dynamic is in each one. I also include a reference to the codes or tropes being deployed; at least, this is how I read the ambiguous story in each image. I think it’s important to note that while age, class, racial, and political differences are highlighted in the vignettes, there are none where any power dynamics are actually overturned. This is especially clear with binary cis-gender dynamics: there are no men washing women’s feet, or women washing men’s feet. All the women wash women’s feet, and all the men wash men’s feet.

1) Washer: Young white man with bleach-blond hair.
Washee: Older white man.
Setting: Dining room with retro decor.
Background characters: A woman serves dinner, and a younger woman watches.
Implied codes/tropes: Perhaps this is reconciliation over a generational conflict, or represents an an inter-family problem. Women are bystanders. Men are in the foreground. Whether the young or old man has more social power here is a bit ambiguous.

2) Washer: A brown policeman, possibly or Latino or PAI ethnicity.
Washee: A young black man.
Setting: A gritty urban street.
Background characters: none
Implied codes/tropes: Probably referencing recent police violence against black people and Black Lives Matter. The policeman clearly has more power.

3) Washer: A blonde teenage white girl with the word “perfect” printed on her tank top.
Washee: Another teenage white girl with red hair.
Setting: A high school hallway
Background characters: Other students of possible Asian, Black, and Latino ethnicity.
Implied codes/tropes: These girls may be generic stand-ins for cliques at school, like popular kids and misfits, or cheerleaders and punks or goths. The blonde girl has more power.

4) Washer: An older white rancher or cowboy.
Washee: An older Native American man.
Setting: A desert campsite with a truck and a campfire in the background.
Background characters: none.
Implied codes/tropes: Historical conflict over colonization. “Cowboys and Indians.” The cowboy has more power.

5) Washer: A white woman woman in her 30’s or 40’s wearing a blue sweater.
Washee: A young woman in brown overalls with a tattoo on her leg.
Setting: A family planning clinic with a motel in the background.
Background characters: Abortion clinic protesters, signs lowered, one of whom appears to be watching the foreground characters.
Implied codes/tropes: A protester is likely washing the feet of an abortion clinic visitor, (although it’s possible that the reverse may be true). The protester has more power.

6) Washer: A red-haired woman, smiling and leaning in.
Washee: A woman with an anguished expression.
Setting: A messy kitchen with alcohol bottles on the floor.
Implied codes/tropes: Alcoholism and recovery. The sober friend has more power.

7) Washer: White man with a hard hat, possibly an oil field worker
Washee: Young woman, possibly an Asian or Native American environmental protester, with a “clean air now” sign nearby.
Setting: An oil field
Background characters: None.
Codes/tropes: Environmentalism, climate change, and protests over pipelines by indigenous people. The oil field worker has more power.

8) Washer: A white middle-aged woman.
Washee: A brown woman, possibly Latina, holding a baby.
Setting: In front of a bus in a suburban neighborhood.
Background characters: Adults and children who appear to be passengers on the bus.
Codes/tropes: Immigration, anchor babies, and suburban moms. The white woman holds more power.

9) Washer: A middle-aged woman, possibly white or Latina.
Washee: A young woman in a hijab.
Setting: The front yard of a house in a neighborhood.
Background characters: Two men, likely the husbands or partners of the women in the foreground.
Codes/tropes: Immigration, anti-Muslim prejudice, hijabs as an indicator of Muslim identity. The non-Muslim woman has more power.

10) Washer: A young black woman
Washee: A young woman, possibly white or Latina
Setting: A protest and counter-protest conflict, the subject of which is unclear, but vaguely something related to “cancel culture.” Signs include “Shut him up” and “Silence hate” and a “No censorship” symbol.
Background characters: Diverse young people, at least three with megaphones.
Codes/tropes: Cancel culture, mass protests. (As someone who has been to many protests, it always amuses me how little media portrayals of protests actually look like real-life protests). The power here is ambiguous, but it could be the woman with lighter skin.

11) Washer/Washee: This one is unique among the others, in that it’s two older men, one white and one black, sharing foot-washing space in a tub.
Setting: A house porch in a rural setting.
Background characters: A woman can be seen through the open window in what appears to be a kitchen. Another character is dimly visible behind the post.
Codes/tropes: Racial reconciliation. Again, this one is unique in its portrayal, but it reveals something important about the way the funders think about power. A black man washing a white man’s feet would too clearly replicate slavery. But a white man washing the black man’s feet would too clearly reveal who gets to be Jesus in this dynamic, directly exposing the White Christian Nationalism of the funders. This image may also be a reference to the famous Fred Rogers story.

12) Washer: A white male priest.
Washee: Possibly a young black gay man or nonbinary person, roller skates near by.
Setting: A beach.
Background characters: None.
Codes/tropes: Homophobia and church trauma. I’m sure the designers of the advertisement saved the most poignant and obvious for last, because one of the strategies of the campaign is to salvage the reputation of churches that have inflicted harm on LGBTQIA+ persons.

I want to contrast these images with the image below, which is from the pilot of the cult-hit television series Firefly. Although Joss Whedon, the creator of the series, is problematic in his depiction and treatment of women, I felt this scene from the show is more reflective of my own theology about Jesus. In it, an upper-class prostitute blesses a priest who is having a vocational crisis after falling in with the crew of the ship. Inara gets to “be Jesus” for Shepherd Book.

In my own theology, Jesus is always flipping the script. Outsiders often understand Jesus better than the insiders. Jesus tells his followers that the best place to find him is in prison, among the poor, or among the sick and disabled. Christians often think of themselves in the role of Jesus as “servant-leader,” washing the feet of people who are marginalized and thus demonstrating their Christ-like-ness. But Jesus identified himself as those people, not just a servant to them.

This is the sticking point for conservative evangelical theology in general, and White Christian Nationalism in particular — Jesus identifies himself with the people powerful Christians often reject. This makes the whole “washing feet” metaphor problematic, because it puts low-status people in the role of servants; yet they, and not the righteous religious people, are the ones with whom Jesus most closely identifies.

As a progressive pastor who has spent a lot of time undoing the damage that “bait-and-switch” evangelical megachurches have done to LGBTQIA+ persons and other Christians with more inclusive theology, I’m particularly sensitive to multi-million dollar ad campaigns funded by hate groups that intend to make evangelical Christianity more cuddly. It also rankles when Christians who profess to be moderates use spiritual bypassing to give this kind of messaging their approval.

The way we evaluate whether or not a message “gets” the Jesus who really gets us is this: Does it flip the script?

“Frozen” and the Gospel

Our worship team sang select verses from “Let it Go” from the Disney movie Frozen during worship on Sunday. I couldn’t help smiling as I imagined what some of my clergy colleagues would think. I have friends who are worship snobs (of both the liturgical and contemporary varieties) who would be horrified. But as I reflected on the message of the song and of the movie, I thought it was entirely appropriate as we enter more fully into this Lenten season, especially with a congregation of people who have been hurt or burned by churches in the past.

I’ll share that I’m someone who is highly critical of the Disneyfication of culture, but I also really appreciate Walt’s original vision and, doggone it, Disney just does so many things so well. For me, knowing and appreciating Disney is part of cultural literacy, and for us homeschooling parents, visiting Disney World is just as important as visiting Washington, D.C.

So I was amused to see a news article about a pastor who got his nose out of joint about the movie. (Although I also wonder, How hard is it to find a right-wing pastor somewhere in America who isn’t foaming at the mouth about something? This is news?) The big issue, of course, are the casual ways the movie refers to a gay relationship and, he argues, bestiality.

(Regarding bestiality, Rev. Swanson is apparently seeing something I’m not—either that, or it’s just another way to casually link consensual gay relationships to something nonconsensual and abusive).

I’m not the only one who sees that Frozen may be the most Christian-themed movie Disney has released since Pinocchio. I’m impressed that Disney had the courage to poke fun at past Disney tropes of falling in love, marrying, and living happily ever after. Someone on their creative team obviously paid attention to feminist critiques of the role Disney plays in the social education of girls (and boys) over the last several decades. (This movie definitely passes the Bechdel test). The overarching message of the movie is that “true love” isn’t about the hormonal rush of finding your sexual mate, but the self-sacrificial agape love that one sister has for the other. Both heroines overcome their separation and shame through the power of love. I think it’s a great illustration of the Good News.

As for the song “Let it Go,” I don’t agree with Garbarino’s assertion that it represents Elsa’s “fall.” I believe her “fall” was the years she spent locked in her room with her parents’ well-meaning but wrong-headed teaching that her feelings and her power were meant to be closeted. Her answer—self-imposed exile—was not freedom either, but when she sings, “no right, no wrong, no rules for me” she’s not denying the existence of morality. She’s celebrating the fact that her gift is no longer subject to the moral judgment of others. She’s a woman claiming power that she has been told to hide her whole life. I can see why that would make Rev. Swanson uncomfortable. It’s too much like Tamar in Genesis 38 turning the tables on her slut-shaming father-in-law and the double standards of his culture.

More than any other Disney movie, this is one where we see both the light and dark side of community and social life. Community can be judgmental and censorious, but it can also draw us into life-giving relationships. Even when Elsa thinks she has run away, her actions continue to have an impact on the community. There’s probably a great sermon in there, too.

Finally, the conventional Disney hero, Prince Charming, becomes the villain. The movie shows us the way some people use social and political power and ginned-up moral outrage to gain advantage for themselves at the expense of others. I’m sure this message wasn’t lost on Rev. Swanson, either. The moral and spiritual messages of this movie do not look like the Christianity he believes.

But they look like what I believe.

Noah’s Nonexistent Nosy Neighbors

This March, the blockbuster film Noah will hit theaters. I’m going to be preaching on the story of Noah and the flood this Sunday.

I always find the movie versions of Bible stories fascinating, because everything—everything—depends on the interpretation. I like to ask people, “If you were the director, how would YOU tell this story?” Who would you cast in what roles? Does the race or ethnicity of the people you cast matter? Where do you set the story? In the story of Noah, which has virtually no dialogue, what words do you put into people’s mouths? Why? Every camera angle, every CGI bird or snake, every line of dialogue, every music choice for the soundtrack are interpretations of this ancient story.

I find the trailer for Noah fascinating because there is no mention of Noah’s neighbors at all in the text. (You can read the story here.) I grew up hearing the popular version of the story: Noah must have had tremendous faith, because he obeyed God. His neighbors laughed at him, because who builds a boat in the middle of a desert? Boy, I bet they were sorry when the rain started falling!

Yet there is no mention of Noah’s location. He could be on an island, for all we know. The story probably originated in a place we call the Fertile Crescent, so it’s unlikely the author is thinking of a desert. There is no mention of neighbors. Perhaps no one lives nearby. So why a desert? And why do we feel it necessary to add skeptical neighbors? Is it because many of us who have never been to the middle east imagine that it’s all desert, and that we imagine people walked around in it wearing bathrobes and head scarves? Is it because as religious people, we find it galling to have skeptics point out our irrational faith, so we have to make them the bad guys? I find it fascinating that this version of the story still holds such sway over people’s imaginations. We just assume this is part of the story, like we assume that Jesus had long hair and a beard. We no longer even recognize these as interpretive choices that we make about the text. For us, they are part of the story.

Several non-religious folks I know wonder, “What does it matter? It’s a made-up story anyway.” But regardless of whether you are a true believer or not, the way we tell stories matters. Does it matter that Noah’s neighbors, never mentioned in the text, are portrayed in the popular telling as skeptics who laugh at his faith? Yes. Does it matter how “the wickedness of humankind” which God seeks to destroy is portrayed? Yes.

And if it matters to non-religious folks how the story is told, how much more should it matter to believers! This is why we need to study rhetoric, and film, and theories of interpretation (hermeneutics). As believers, if we don’t study the stories critically, we just embed our own prejudices in them and pass them along to the next generation. As skeptics, if we just exchange old myths for new ones, we do the same.

The author(s) of this story had an agenda. In order to faithfully read the Bible, interpret it, and apply it to our lives, we need to figure out that agenda and what it means for us today.

Which is why you need to come to worship at Saint Junia on Sunday 😉