Christ as Cliche

[joe]

Did the subject line get your attention? Before you excommunicate me, let me explain...

As a writer informed by my faith, I want very much to avoid using stereotypes and cliches in my work. Trouble is, the "messiah" figure and/or allusion to Christ is often overwrought, and frankly cliche, when it comes to a story that is not directly, overtly, religious. That's perhaps okay when it's expected (i.e., characters like Neo in The Matrix) but is overbearing in, say, your run of the mill short story. The challenge, then, is to incorporate Christ without the flags, bells, and whistles that go off for the average reader, which might make them set the story aside (out of frustration or even sadly distaste). So, my question is this: how do we do this with subtlety and effectiveness?

[cristina]

Hi, Joe!

For one, don't force yourself to incorporate a Christ-figure in your every work you write if your Muse does not compel you to.

Then, use other allusions to Christ in addition to self-sacrifice.

Actually, not every character who sacrifices himself or herself for the rest of mankind strikes me as a Christ figure. It's only when the character displays moral qualities to a high degree (and perhaps, when the character suffers general rejection) that I think, "Aha! Christ figure!" I would not, for example, go as far as consider Harry Potter a Christ figure. Even if he does sacrifice himself to save others, he lacks other essentially Christ-like qualities (for example, he does not forgive his enemies like the Dursleys and Malfoy.)

Finally, I think the best way to learn how to balance subtlety with effectiveness is to study writers who successfully did it and analyze how and why.

[walker]

Or, to put it another way, should we attempt this at all? *thematic background music*

We started to sort of discuss this topic awhile back in this thread:

www.dappledforums.proboards28.com/index.cgi?board=arts&action=display&thread=1154119355

It sort of petered out, so I'm glad to see a new flagbearer take it up. What I began to tinker with there was an idea that mercy is a powerful contemporary encounter with Christ that does away with having to specifically Christify any of the characters of your fiction. Instead of John Smith as Christ, John Smith the sinner makes a powerful, radical, very personal Christ-like decision, and in that way we find Christ.

Now, I just read today about how Christ is in everyone, in our brothers and sisters around us. Maybe an author could attempt to find that Christ in every one of his characters, to try to find that face of God even in those who can't or won't model Christ in the ways we expect.

I, personally, don't know what it means to see Christ in each other, I don't know what that would look like, maybe someone can help me understand that. If you could make that a practice in your life, though, you could definitely incorporate that into your writing. That's one idea.

[joe]

Wow . . . I should have looked a little further for that previous post. Great insights.

I think my question is closely related to what Walker is asking. But instead of asking it beforehand, I second-guess a character afterwards, when I realize I've reflected Christ in some way (hopefully not too blatantly in a direct allegory) and then ask myself: should I keep that, water it down more, or redraw it?

As for "seeing Christ in others," that's a much deeper philosophical question (couched in the language of another cliche). I think I need to know Christ first, before I can recognize and be reminded of him in other places. That, for me, is the crucial part. Then, spontaneously or purposefully, intentionally or unintentionally, he makes his way into my work. (ps, God, I'm not complaining about it.)

[cristina]

joeb said:

Wow . . . I should have looked a little further for that previous post. Great insights.

I think my question is closely related to what Walker is asking. But instead of asking it beforehand, I second-guess a character afterwards, when I realize I've reflected Christ in some way (hopefully not too blatantly in a direct allegory) and then ask myself: should I keep that, water it down more, or redraw it?

I think the answer would be, "whatever suits the story." I've read somewhere that the story is the master and the writer is the slave. As what I mentioned in my earlier post, don't force yourself to insert a Christ figure in your story if your story does not call for it. But at the same time, if you happen to create a Christ-like figure, don't water down the similarity with Christ and, in the process, sacrifice your story, for the sole reason that you don't want your character to be overtly Christ-like. Nor should you suppress your inclination to include Christian allusions if your artistic urges tug you in that direction.

As for direct allegory, I think it's a valid genre or technique, albeit not a very popular one. Partly the fault lies with well-meaning preachers and commentators who overemphasize the allegorical aspect of a work while downplaying the other elements that make the work shine (for example, the author's word craft , characterization, and plot construction.).

[cristina]

I would like to add that there are Christ figures in literature in movies that do not turn off the average reader but may offend the devout Christian. An example I can think of is the attempt to make Anakin Skywalker a Christ-figure by making him virginally-conceived. Well, he did restore balance to the Force, but only after he broke every conceivable tenet in the Jedi code and turned evil himself. (I, personally, would think Luke Skywalker would be a more appropriate Christ-figure, but this is another discussion altogether.)

Still another example I mentioned in the thread Walker was talking about: Forrest Gump as Christ figure (the part when he just ran aimlessly for three months. At one point, a youth followed him and told him he will follow FG wherever FG goes. Then, later on, someone wipes FG's face with a shirt and an imprint of a face was left on the shirt. THen, many other people followed FG. When FG stopped, his followers waited for some profound message then he just said, "I just got tired of running.)

[joe]

I absolutely agree, Cristina... and wouldn't push a Christ figure into a story for the sake of it. I also agree that the story ultimately dictates the decision of what to do when a writer realizes, in revision, that he or she has unintentionally drawn upon Christ -- directly or indirectly. But all of that goes to the question posed by Walker, above: when Christ is reflected in some way, should an author start second-guessing that choice because society (and I guess a larger audience) deems this to be cliched? It can be addressed by forcing the issue and turning the cliche on it's head, or removing the cliche altogether. Over-drawing that connection might be too much like hitting someone over the head with a bible, and turns fiction into religious propaganda; Watering it down too much, or removing it altogether, is like a rejection of the writer's faith, which results in the issue to begin with. Tough spot to be in: bible-thumper or lukewarm. (I'm exaggerating, but only for sake of discussion.)

I'd definitely join in on the Star Wars discussion, if you start it.

In the meantime, here's an example from William Faulkner's Light in August (borrowed without permission from wikipedia, linked below):

Joe Christmas, whose name is obviously symbolic (J.C.), can be viewed as a Christ figure. He showed up in front of the orphanage on Christmas day, symbolic of Jesus' birth. On a side note, Faulkner has 66 total characters in his book, and there are 66 books in the Bible. His death (at age 33) is described in terms of rising and serenity. The bullets from Percy Grimm's gun pierce the wooden table behind which Christmas crouches like nails through a cross. Lena and her fatherless child parallel Mary and Christ. Byron Bunch acts as the Joseph figure, acting as father for Lucas Burch/Joe Brown. Christian imagery can be found throughout.

As detailed by Hlavsa's Faulkner and the Thoroughly Modern Novel (Charlottesville: U of Virginia P, 1991), Light in August has 13 chapters, as does the Gospel of St. John. Each chapter in Faulkner corresponds to themes in John. For example, echoing John's famous, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God," is Lena insistent faith in the "word" of Lucas, who is, after all, the father. John 5, the healing of the lame man by immersion, is echoed by Joe's repeatedly being immersed in liquids. The teaching in the temple in John 7 is echoed by McEachern's trying to teach Joe his catechism. Most important, the crucifixion occurs in John 19, the same chapter in which Joe, slain and castrated.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Light_in_August#Christian

[cristina]

joeb said:

But all of that goes to the question posed by Walker, above: when Christ is reflected in some way, should an author start second-guessing that choice because society (and I guess a larger audience) deems this to be cliched?

It's one of the temptations all of us writers experience -- to want to please everyone. To let our preconceived notions of what "the public" likes cramp our style. I'm not saying we should totally ignore the market. Writing, after all, is a form of communication and we must consider our audience. But sometimes, the market wants something fresh without knowing it.

I am reminded of Louisa May Alcott. She started her writing career writing sensation stories, the kind that was popular. But it was her works like "Hospital Sketches" and "Little Women", which she based on her personal experiences, that made her famous. In "Good Wives", Jo (whom Louisa May Alcott patterned after herself) at first wrote sensation stories for a newspaper on the excuse that "it's what people like to read". It was only when she wrote what she really wanted to write that a book publisher took her seriously.