The Weaker Brethren 0 comments

Ten minutes (or less) into any conversation about art and religion and the subject is likely to veer toward a discussion of scandal, blasphemy, and censorship. The most common examples to be trotted out are Piss Christ and The Last Temptation of Christ, works created by artists who are rebelling against, or estranged from, the Christian faith. But there is another type of conflict under the heading of art, religion, and censorship: the conflict that occurs between Christian artists and their communities. Image has already chronicled several such confrontations and will continue to do so.

For those of us who believe in the importance of imagination in the life of faith, it is tempting to dismiss most of these intramural conflicts as symptomatic of Philistinism and Puritanism within the churches. We have all encountered paranoid fundamentalists looking for evidence of the occult—or for any indication whatsoever that human beings have a sexual life—in every canvas and short story they examine.

But even if we bracket off the fundamentalists and other culture warriors run-amok, there are still a substantial number of thoughtful Christians who find themselves in conflict over art that is deemed too controversial to be given exposure within the community of believers. Dismissing such conflicts out of hand would not only be arrogant, but it would also deprive us of an opportunity to explore the intersection between faith and its expression through culture.

Take, for example, the recent trend among evangelicals that has brought many of them out of their cultural isolation and in quest of art that explores the entire range of human experience. Though this is one of the most heartening trends within the churches, the moment of truth may have arrived: either the barriers will be breached or the signal for retreat will be sounded.

The pressure points in such conflicts center on the middlemen—the pastors, editors, music producers, and curators—who want to bring art to the larger community. Caught between cautious superiors and the possibility of rebellion from activists in their audience, these middlemen try to balance expedience and principle. They deserve sympathy and encouragement, and prayers.

When a conflict arises in this type of community, the most frequent line of reasoning put forward by those who want to restrict access to art is what I call the "weaker brethren" argument. It derives from St. Paul 's discussion, in Romans 14 and 1 Corinthians 8, of actions that serve as stumbling blocks to the faith of a "weak brother." Those who are strong in their faith know that eating meats that are used for pagan rituals is acceptable; after all, meat is meat, as God well knows. But if you can avoid giving offense to the weaker brethren you should, to enable them to concentrate on more important issues.

To what extent is the weaker brethren argument applicable to the arts? The answer, it seems to me, would depend on the context. If the context is the specific locus of worship, then the argument has effect. Hanging a controversial painting behind altar or pulpit would interfere with the prayers of some of the faithful. But what of the art gallery, or the publication that is not officially tied to a church denomination? In these instances the weaker brethren argument begins to break down. The weak have responsibilities too, and the answer for them is to simply not read the book or attend the exhibition. Otherwise a small group gains absolute power over the larger community.

The problem is that those who object to allegedly controversial art do not like to think of themselves as weak. On the contrary, they claim to have a strength (i.e., orthodoxy/purity) that the permissive or liberal individuals lack. Also, it is often unclear just how these spokesmen for the weaker brethren got themselves appointed to that position. Have the brethren been scientifically polled? Is the hesitant publisher concerned about giving scandal, or only about losing sales through bad publicity or facing an unpleasant fight with his board of directors?

Presumably we have an obligation to help the weaker brethren become strong. But how is that to happen? Artists are often told that the community is "not ready" for their work, and that a gradualist approach is necessary. The problem with gradualism, however, is similar to that of an ancient Greek mathematical problem: if you travel half the distance to a point an infinite number of times, you will still never reach that point, however close you may appear to be. There are times when experiencing the shock of the new is the only way a community can progress to a new level of insight. That has been the way with art in Western history. So long as the artists and those who mediate their work are willing to explain themselves, to provide the aesthetic and moral context of their work, there is a chance for growth. I have met very few Christian artists who take the modernist position of utter indifference to their audience. But if their work is withdrawn and left in obscurity, artists are helpless. What publishers, editors, curators, and their ilk need is courage and a demonstrable belief in the quality of the art they stand behind. Then the debate can commence. More often than not, the ranks of the weaker brethren are smaller than their spokesmen contend, and some of the brethren have been looking for the chance to grow strong.