Thursday, June 13, 2019

Legends, Fantasies, Stories

I'm prompted by a small source today, found in another little issue of Lutheran Quarterly, to write about something that the Lutherans (and in the last century of so the Episcopalians) have been rather more fond of than any other Protestants: "Legends" of the saints, and more broadly the use of fiction, imagination, and fantasy.

This may be a surprise for some - a very common belief among Christians is that in Luther's zeal, he did away with "false legends" of the Romans in favor of strictly using the scriptures (and a literal, historically "inerrant" [whatever that means] understanding of scripture at that). Many opponents of Lutheranism even charge Luther of getting rid of the Apocrypha (those nifty books in the center of many Roman Catholic Bibles). But the Lutherans never really opposed these things in the way that either the Calvinists or the Radical Reformers would. The Lutherans were never iconoclasts, nor did they try to remove joyful things like musical instruments from worship. Lutherans recognized that these things could be used for edification and praise, even if they scandalized their opponents.

Luther certainly attempted to purge the preaching of references to stories that drew attention away from the work of Christ. He also certainly tried to get preachers to focus more on the works of Jesus than the works of say... St. George the Dragon-Slayer. And there were certainly a number of stories that he thought contained such stinking nonsense that it would be best if no one read them anymore. Kind of like how I don't think any of you all should be reading or letting your kids "Twilight" - it's just silly nonsense that normalizes gross and harmful relationships. Luther also roundly condemned invoking the saints. But that doesn't mean Luther wanted to get rid of stories. Also - Luther certainly didn't get rid of the Apocrypha. He translated it all, and put it at the back of the Bible for consultation - following a pre-existing tradition that these books weren't of the same "stuff" as the Hebrew Scriptures or the New Testament. But publishers back then and today generally try to cut down on expenses and tended not to print them.

But Luther and his colleagues observed, like with the Apocrypha, there are all kinds of nifty, fun, and edifying stories, legends, and myths in the Church that can actually help people understand the faith. Johann Steiger makes this quite clear in a neat little article about Luther's use of the legends of St. Christopher in preaching and teaching.

Here's St. Christopher having a RUFF day

For you all who don't know - St. Christopher is a fun medieval legendary character who "was" either a super tall dude, an actual Giant, an actual Ogre, or a Cynocephalus (dude with a dog's head) - which to the average early Medieval mind was definitely a sort of person, who their weird great-great-uncle definitely saw or was killed by when traveling through Egypt, or China, or somewhere inconceivably far away from rural medieval Germany or France. St. Christopher at any rate was a really strong jerk who served the king of Canaan (which again, was definitely a contemporary nation to the story, even if it didn't exist for centuries, history be darned). Eventually he found out that the King of Canaan feared the devil and figured if the devil was so powerful, he should probably just serve the devil instead. So he went to serve the devil with some other jerks, when he eventually found out that the devil was scared of Jesus. So he figured he'd serve Jesus instead, and become an even more powerful jerk. In time he met a Christian hermit, who thought he was kind of a dummy, and said the best way he could serve Christ was to help people ford across a treacherous, unfordable river. In time, a small child asked to cross the river. The river swelled up, and Christopher discovered the child was heavier than anyone ever before him. Christopher found himself in grave danger, but in time managed to cross the river - only to discover that he bore with him the Christchild - who tells him his service is good, and beckons him to place his staff in the ground. The following morning - Christopher discovers his staff has been transfigured into a palm tree.

This story was incredibly popular throughout Europe, and found its way into countless works of art. Most of those artworks, particularly the ones Luther was familiar with, were of Christopher holding tight to his staff as he tried to cross the river, while a placid infant Christ calmly resting on his shoulders (often with a globe in his hands). Luther interpreted the story to his listeners on multiple occasions - telling them at a wedding that the Staff symbolizes the Word of God, which is Christopher's only support through the treacherous waters as he brings Christ from one side to the next. So too must the couple cling to God's Word in times of trouble in their relationship - knowing that the Word is strong enough to bear their troubles and their station in life is a holy one, because it is in service to their spouse. Later, on St. Christopher's Day (one of those mythical, pagan days that Luther allegedly wanted to end) Luther argued that the images of Christopher that so many see can actually be a symbol for all Christians. Luther argues that "Christ-bearers" are weighed down by Christ into baptism, so that they may be lifted up in Christ's mercy. Later Luther uses the image of Christopher to counter his accusers in the Radical Reformation. Where they accused Luther of being slack in the imitation of Christ's suffering, Luther counters that we need not seek suffering out - it will find us one way or the other and Christ will be there for us. (Johann Steiger, "Luther on the Legend of St. Christopher," Lutheran Quarterly v. XXV no. 2 (2011) p. 126-137).

Luther's not the only one to make that point though. Melanchthon also points to the legends of Christopher as particularly telling among others tories of Barbra, Cyprian, Augustine, and others. InArticle XXI of Melanchthon's Apology to the Augsburg Confession, Melanchthon notes that there are great stories for us to take strength from, it's just that people take the wrong lessons! People will hear a wonderful story about the fictional St. Christopher and his admonition to strength while carrying Christ in preaching and sharing the Good News, and preachers will make them leave with the understanding that they ought to pray to him instead of Jesus. Melanchthon complains "... these clowns, endowed with the knowledge of neither faith nor the administration of public affairs, have invented stories in imitation of the epics, in which there are nothing but superstitious examples about certain prayers and fasts, to which certain things are tacked on in order to earn revenue." (Apology XXI:32-41) Pretty much, people in a place of influence were telling believers invented stories to convince them to give more money to the bishops. The heart of the matter is exploitation, not imagination. And with it, and admonition to true preaching.

Just because something is legendary, doesn't mean it isn't true. Indeed, legends can reveal much truth, and bring much joy. Good ones capture our attention, and bring us a sense of profound wonder.  And this doesn't stop in the medieval period. Contemporary fiction, most famously comic book stories, do this in the modern period. X-Men of course is a story about people who are both insecure and way cooler than us who have super powers. But it's also an allegory on civil rights - in particular the rights of people of color (in the early period) and LGBT+ people (in more contemporary stories). Spider-Man is about coming to terms with yourself. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was/is 90s period gender studies for teens with all the great and all the terrible that entails. All of them are hit-and-miss - with great parts and just awful parts. The presence, or lack, of historic veracity should not concern us so much as what the content reflects and calls for.

We share and we interpret our stories through our faith, and through our convictions, we see for where something divine is at work through the images. We can also reject crappy and unedifying stories that lead people into wacky nonsense. And we can talk about images and stories, and how they help us understand the world. God actually wants us to understand God's will and ways - it shouldn't surprise us that pictures can drive us to understand. And we enter into a conversation of faith and fiction. And that's a really rewarding thing we can do - and we're best equipped when we read theology.

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