The Chosen: Breaking Stereotypes and Stained Glass Windows, Part I

Defining the Problem

When Dallas Jenkins utters one of his most frequent comments--that he wants to break stereotypes of Jesus as "statues and stained glass windows"--he is linking all three as merely two-dimensional: stereotypes, people's ideas of Jesus, and stained glass windows. He would obviously appear to be saying also that a two-dimensional art form--the stained glass window--is the primary culprit in creating stereotypes of Jesus as if it goes without saying that a two-dimensional form generates two-dimensional ideas. The very idea that both a window and a stereotype can be broken shows, of course, that neither is flexible or resilient--but possesses exactly the same limitations that people's ideas of Jesus have. Enter Jenkins' fix: The Chosen that turns Jesus into a moving picture rather than a glass window and thereby breaks the stereotypes of Him that still, stained glass windows generate.

But this assumption is Jenkins' first problem: he himself is depending on a two-dimensional medium--film--to break stereotypes created by another two-dimensional medium--stained glass windows. So, despite the nature of his comment, he can't mean merely a form-over-substance problem; he must mean a substance versus substance problem. This is where things start to get ugly.

Originality Versus Authenticity

Jenkins' substance differs from almost anything outside of his show--a fact that in itself grants the verisimilitude of authenticity, regardless of The Chosen's two-dimensional form or the fictionalization of its content. Without a doubt, Jenkins' unique substance is the "human backstory" he has created to fill the "gaps" about Jesus in the Gospel record. And we can be sure that this humanity will be taken as three-dimensional, even when it is presented in a two-dimensional form.

If this humanity that is unique to The Chosen creates a perceived third-dimension, it follows that The Chosen is superior to both Scripture and stained glass windows in preventing the formation of two-dimensional ideas--i.e., stereotypes--about Jesus precisely because He is portrayed as "human." The logic would go that human portrayals of Jesus in film not only break but also prevent stereotypes.

Jenkins' Glass-House Problem

If Scripture is just as guilty of causing stereotypes--given these human "gaps"--as stained glass windows are, then Jenkins is targeting stained glass windows merely by association with the "stiffness" of Jesus resulting from minimal "human" narratives in Scripture. His stone-throwing at stained glass windows ricochets off his scapegoated target to land on his real target: Scripture itself. But he dare not say so; thus, all the effort to say the opposite, all while hoping that his show becomes the way people perceive Jesus from now on.

This seems tantamount to attacking the sufficiency of Scripture in bringing people to Jesus. If this sufficiency seems to hang or fall on readers' ability to perceive Jesus as human when they cannot, then without The Chosen, Jesus remains a stereotype. So it isn't really the fault of stained glass windows at all; it is the fault of the gaps in those windows--or, rather, the gaps about Jesus' humanity in the divine revelation of Scripture.

Jenkins' Artistic Contradictions

But Jenkins is irresponsible to associate the two-dimensionality of stereotypes with stained glass windows in the first place. Stereotypes are ideas, and windows are objects; beyond that, stereotypes rarely change because they are often true. It is only when they are not that they cause problems. Stained glass windows, on the other hand, change constantly. If they did not, they would hardly serve their function as either windows or works of art through which ethereal light passes. We are, of course, speaking literally simply because we can, not because we believe for one moment that Jenkins actually has a grudge against stained glass windows--or stereotypes, for that matter--as we shall see.

His argument goes in circles, for if we follow Jenkins' linkage of two two-dimensional forms--stereotypes and stained glass windows--we see a sense not merely of analogy, however false, but also of cause and effect, however illogical. Given Jenkins' comparison, it would appear that any picture in a stained glass window is a stereotype simply because it is two-dimensional. But if this is what Jenkins really means, then he should categorically reject any art form that is two-dimensional if he would also reject stereotypes. But this isn't what he means at all.

But supposing that a stained glass window is indeed uniquely culpable in creating a stereotype of Jesus. If that is not because the window is two-dimensional, would it be because the window portrays merely idealized or unrealistic depictions of Jesus? In other words, not a form-over-substance issue but a substance-over-substance issue? And what exactly would those idealized or unrealistic depictions be? Don't all portrayals of Jesus show Him as having a body and as being, therefore, human? And if these images are based on The Bible, is it not villainous to call them stereotypes merely because they appear in windows rather than in film?

So Jenkins hops on one two-dimensional foot when he wants to devalue Scripture, and he hops on the other two-dimensional foot when he wants to promote his show. Jenkins' message is clear: anything that doesn't present Jesus as "more human" is a stereotype.

Breaking Stereotypes about Stereotypes

All this sounds very strange if you think about it. If it is true that our culture entertains stereotypical ideas about Jesus or that they see Him as two-dimensional, it does not follow that stained glass windows in any way are the cause. Most people aren't gazing from week to week at stained glass windows. So Jenkins' analogy is a nonstarter for me. The real reason people don't know much about Jesus is because they don't read the Bible--a medium far more ubiquitous than stained glass windows.

If Jenkins wants to break stereotypes about Jesus, he should launch a new Bible-reading campaign. Instead, he has chosen to make a multi-season television series about The Bible that uses only 5% Bible and 95% fiction. So the cure for stereotypes is to fill people's minds with fiction, but they won't know it's fiction when they meet that fiction in the two-dimensional medium of film, especially if they don't know their Bibles well enough to know that almost none of that stuff is in there. Even the stuff that is in there has been so overworked that it is barely recognizable as anything biblical.

It is, however, indeed quite recognizable as postmodern stereotypes. Is your brain hurting yet? None of this makes one iota of sense, but, of course, it doesn't have to. Jenkins' ends justify his means, and if his audience is raving over his show--and they are, all over the world--then he doesn't have to explain his fallacies. He just has to keep crowing that they work. And they do. They work as well as propaganda has always worked.

People have essentially stopped thinking critically about their faith and have simply started enjoying it. To be fair, that in itself is a gross generalization, for there are numerous reports of people who have just now started reading their Bibles because of Jenkins' show. And we don't have to explain why; Jenkins had piqued their interest. But it is fair to expect those who are now reading The Bible to be bothered by the unending changes Jenkins has made. And if they aren't, why not? Because he has fed them a whole new line of cultural stereotypes that feel authentic merely because they are visual in ways that stained glass windows are not.

The answer is not to swing the pendulum away from stereotypes that are mostly true all the way over to original episodes that are not true. Ratio to ratio, the stereotype may have as much as 75% truth, whereas The Chosen has 5% truth. So we are breaking everything familiar to replace it with the entirely fictional. Good idea, Jenkins.

But Jenkins makes two unfalsifiable claims in The Chosen's ability to depict Jesus as "human": first, that his humanized Jesus is "authentic" and second, that his fiction is "plausible." When he says "authentic," he doesn't mean historical; he means original; he means believable.  But his show isn't believable because it's believable. It cannot achieve credibility when it is false. And originality doesn't achieve authenticity by the sheer definition of the word. Both "original" and "authentic" point back to the source of origin, which is not God but Jenkins himself. A bold claim indeed to have authored stories about Jesus that never happened.

If Jenkins were to define his terms as the rest of us must do, he would see how preposterous his claims really are. Just because they seem unfalsifiable doesn't mean they aren't false. His show is no more authentic than the navy blue braided belt I had years ago that said "genuine simulated leather." And his episodes are no more plausible than a medieval stained glass window that depicts Jesus emerging from a rose. For that matter, a medieval audience enamored with the supernatural and also with spontaneous generation might perceive that image as far more plausible than, for example, the image of Jesus dancing like a commoner at a wedding.

Idealism as a Stereotype

So we are back to a form-over-substance debate, after all. Jenkins is indeed rejecting--along with stained glass windows and stereotypes for their two-dimensionality--anything that presents too idealized a portrayal of Jesus. But wouldn't it stand to reason that something as inherently beautiful as a stained glass window will be seen as "ideal"? And if that ideal inspires--as ideals do--why should that ideal also, then, be seen as a stereotype?

But Jenkins would appear to say the same about Scripture. It is too "ideal" because it fails to depict Jesus' humanity to the degree that Jenkins and his fans demand. Ironically, however, if Jenkins' "ideal" portrayal of Jesus is the one that shows Him to be "more human," we still have an ideal--just one of Jenkins' choosing. Jenkins has argued himself into a corner by repeatedly dichotomizing what is idealistic and what is realistic about The Gospels' portrayal of Jesus, as if these are opposites. In doing so, he runs the risk of spouting heresies.

Jenkins has yet to embrace the paradox that Jesus is the realistic ideal in every fiber of His being. The fact that everything Jesus did in The Gospels was human doesn't seem to occur to Jenkins. He wants more evidence of Jesus' humanity, and he is positive his audience wants more. But he won't call any of this new fiction "extra-biblical" material because, if there is anything he has thought through well, it is that his show doesn't pretend to be The Bible--which is exactly how he justifies adding to it without getting in trouble. Except that Jenkins has already gotten himself into a heap of trouble, but he keeps popping right up out of the rubble from all the stained glass windows and stereotypes he is breaking.

But if we pull even one shard of stained glass from the scrapheap and hold it up to the sun, we begin to put the thousand-piece puzzle back together. Not only is it not true that Jenkins' fiction is either plausible or authentic; idealized portrayals of Jesus are not unrealistic, and stained glass windows don't generate stereotypes, even when or though they contain "idealized" depictions of Jesus. If we take the time to actually look through a stained glass window, we might be as enchanted as we once were when we first watched a movie.

The changing light creates a movie of its own, if only we take time to watch. And, as it turns out, the experience of watching this changing light come and go through an iconic depiction of Jesus as the Shepherd or the Teacher or the Crucified Lord or the Judge or the Coming King isn't stereotypical at all. In fact, it is breathtaking. Isn't that why the image was made into a stained glass window in the first place?

Gazing up at 10:00 of a fresh, sunny August morning in the nave of Cologne Cathedral proved one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life, memorable over three decades later. The light itself, streaming in through a panoply of the windows, intersected in space as if to form a cross of rays, linking the tangible world with the intangible in ways medieval artisans felt in the design of their sacred imaginations. It is the modern inability to perceive the exalted view of beauty in worship that proves its own blindness, falsely labeling as a stereotype that which is in actuality not only an archetype but a true work of art.

The Relatability of Transcendence

Have we lost not only our Bible knowledge as a culture but also the upward look of our faith that feeds the soul's thirst for spiritual transcendence? Maybe if we had more "stained glass windows" to look up to, rather than fastening our eyes on the dull screen, we might find that we don't need anything "relatable" at all. What we need is a touch of the remarkable--a touch that comes only from the Holy Spirit as evidenced in His Word. But Jenkins will be one of the last ones to notice as he writes yet another plausible, authentic, but fictionalized script for his albeit two-dimensional show.

If God's Word is found, as he says, to include "gaps" so wide that it requires a seven-season series of at least eight episodes apiece to fill them--95% of which, by his own admission, is pure fiction--then it would appear that it is God's Word, rather than Jenkins' show, that contains only 5% truth.