Stereotypes within The Chosen

Introduction

The Chosen seems to be breaking stereotypes left and right.  That would be a good thing, right?  People reportedly have never seen The Bible as Jenkins depicts it; they have never before understood Jesus as Jenkins depicts him.  They didn't know the disciples were "like that," and to all of that, Jenkins would clap his hands, for Jenkins has intended the breaking of stereotypes of Jesus and His disciples—stereotypes he refers to as "statues" and "stained glass windows." But is that really such a good thing?

The minute I read this, I felt an undercurrent of something else going on. I had to ask myself what "statues" and "stained glass windows" symbolize for Jenkins and what he's taking down besides "stereotypes." I also had to ask myself what he is using to take their place--presuming these stereotypes are really taking up that much space in the first place. I also wondered why Jenkins didn't target all stereotypes, not just those rooted in the historic past. Why didn't he go after "woke" characterizations of Jesus as some "cool hippie dude" who never makes people feel guilty or sends anyone to hell? Is Jenkins using that stereotype to replace "statues" and "stained glass windows" in casting the Jesus of The Chosen?

Why Break Statues and Stained Glass Windows?

For some reason, Jenkins' intention of breaking stereotypes of Jesus as "statues" and "stained glass windows" triggers all those images of COVID-ridden 2020, when we watched what felt like half the nation march from coast to coast to protest George Floyd's horrific murder. Burnings, breaking of glass, looting, and the pulling down of our nation's most iconic statues filled the news night after night, while we sat dumbfounded in housebound helplessness. Historic churches were indeed smashed and torched even in our nation's capital, and we were supposed to believe this was somehow a good thing, for all of these otherwise beautiful and meaningful sites in actuality represented oppressive "white" evil. I watched in amazement as zealous young rioters even pulled down statues of Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass. It made me think of a line from Arthur Miller's play, The Crucible, when Reverend Hale says, "Believe me, Mr. Nurse, if Rebecca Nurse be tainted, then nothing's left to stop the whole green world from burning."

Just this Sunday morning, my attention was riveted to the enormous, single-arched stained glass window that shines above the baptistry at my church. I couldn't take my eyes from the glare as I stared at the sunlight streaming through the brilliant colors in Christ's red and white robes. I studied the window carefully. Christ's right hand stretches out to me, while His left hand suggests reserve. Why would this be? Why was Christ not portrayed with both arms outstretched, as artists typically do? When I found out later that this window is called Christ the Teacher, its message came together for me. It captures a forgotten truth, a truth Solomon perceives when he personifies Wisdom in Proverbs 1:24, "I have called, and you refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded." Wisdom calls, but it doesn't coerce. I have to listen, and I have to respond. How can one window, towering thirty to forty feet over my pastor preaching below, say all this in a timeless gesture of Christ's? True art is never a stereotype but speaks a sermon all its own. And I'm not sure I heard every word my pastor preached as I pondered this window's message for the first time.

Like those rioters who got carried away in the George Floyd protests, shouldn't we examine the truth behind the "stained glass windows" we feel called upon to break? Jenkins wasn't speaking literally, but he obviously was linking "statues" and "stained glass windows" with "stereotypes" and vice versa, whether because he thinks of stereotypes, like "statues" and "stained glass windows," as being immobile and unchangeable, or because he thinks religious art is responsible for creating most people's stereotypes--or both. Like most sweeping statements, Jenkins' allusion suggests far more than he need admit to having said. And that's what makes it so hard to pin down what he really meant. But that's also why I think it's appropriate to address the full scope of what he might have meant--and of what people could have taken him to mean--beginning with the literal role visuals play in shaping our understanding of truth.

Without equivocation, we can agree that there is much religious art to reject, statues in particular, for no statue has any place whatsoever in worship, as we know from the Second Commandment alone. We can also acknowledge that religious art--much of which we must reject--has played a significant role in worship across the centuries and certainly in the great cathedrals of Europe throughout the Middle Ages. Clearly, this role has not been without idolatry, in direct violation of our Lord's words that we must worship Him in spirit and in truth (John 4:24). And yet, if we were to say that worship contains no visual element, that is not true, as we know from studying the artwork within both the Jewish tabernacle in the wilderness and the Jewish Temple. Both were fashioned "according to the pattern," as referenced in Exodus 25:9,40 and also in Hebrews 8:5. Visual art played a significant and symbolic role in true worship from the beginning of the Jewish nation and will do so during the millennial reign of Christ, for which the Temple will be rebuilt.

It is a mistake to divest our faith of its historic roots, and religious art is a vital part of this heritage. It is also a mistake to dismiss all tradition as formal "religion," as the Apostle Paul makes clear, distinguishing between the "traditions of man" and the traditions of the apostles. On the one hand, he writes, "So then, brothers, stand firm and hold to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by our spoken word or by our letter" (II Thessalonians 2:15), and on the other, he warns, "Beware lest anyone spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ" (Colossians 2:8). Clearly, there is tradition that is worldly and tradition that is godly, and the modern craze to eradicate "tradition" from Christianity is at best wrongheaded. When we cut ourselves off from our religious heritage by sheering our faith of its historic beauty--in art and in song--we lose the truth of our sacred archetypes and run adrift with every new wind of doctrine.

The stained glass window in my church (the central window of many, in fact, that surround the entire sanctuary) testifies to the universal truth of all truly Christian denominations: that Christ's teachings are the focal point of our preaching and that Christ Himself is the center of our faith. Mine is not a Catholic or an Episcopalian or a Lutheran church; it is a Baptist church--a conservative Baptist church. I am so thankful this church survived the Seeker Sensitive Movement which went on a rampage beginning nearly two generations ago to purge "worship centers" of offensive symbols and "churchy" icons. With the loss of much "tradition" came also the loss of centralized authority. Many churches were left with almost nothing but noise and their own boring selves.

Stripping choirs of their robes and congregations of their choirs, platforms of their pulpits and baptistries of their crosses, this movement even robbed churches of their steeples. Pipe organs and pianos disappeared with the hymnals. Even pews were removed for more metal and shine. Seas of folding chairs that made turning the sanctuary into a gymnasium a snap sent a message loud and clear: there is nothing distinctive--nothing "stereotypical"--of our faith. Everything from rafters to rows had been reinvented. Drums, cymbals, steel guitars, flashing lights, and, for some, even smoke, filled the void of lost tradition as pastors chatted from ghost lecterns with Scripture projected on a huge screen. Is this church? Somewhere, somehow, conservative churches still held the line, as did some High-Church churches who prized liturgy and ritual. Long before this movement, a group of conservatives in South Carolina had a vision of curating what has become one of the largest and finest collections of religious art in the entire United States on the campus of Bob Jones University.

It isn't necessary to link religious art with idolatry, and it certainly isn't accurate to link art with stereotypes, even when that art is "inaccurate," as much religious art is. There is a world of difference between a symbol and a stereotype and between a stereotype and an archetype. Doesn't Jenkins understand this? Are stereotypes really the problem for Jenkins, or is tradition itself the problem--tradition in the best sense of the word? Jenkins isn't asking me to abandon the visual element of my faith. He is asking me to trade one visual representation of Jesus for another--to replace images that are historic and timeless with those that are contemporary and "relevant." What he doesn't acknowledge is that I am in far more danger of forming stereotypes about Christ from watching his show than I am from admiring a gorgeous, historic stained glass window. The window isn't asking for my "willing suspension of disbelief" in its overwhelming verisimilitude of reality. I know that, for all its beauty, it is clumsy in its innocent symbolization of truth. But Jenkins is asking me to suspend my disbelief, even calling his show "authentic" when it is almost pure fiction.

The real question involves what is behind either visual representation. If within the pattern of the window--in my church's case, Christ the Teacher--is the unchanging truth that makes any pattern meaningful, then the window is not a stereotype, any more than any absolute is a stereotype. Indeed, the very fact that it is a window (and a stained glass window, at that), allowing the entrance of changing light through the lens of unchanging colors, captures in symbolic form the paradox of truth as dynamic but absolute. The pattern is static, but the light is not. And the interplay between the pattern and the light meets in an almost third dimension through the colors that do not change in the pattern but that do change in the light. A stained glass window, far from symbolizing a stereotype or creating a stereotype, is in actuality the eloquent antithesis of a stereotype. Far transcending the realm of earthy stereotypes, the window points to truth itself, and only a fool would confuse a stereotype that needs to change with an absolute that cannot change.

So, absolutes are absolutes for a reason: they are dynamically true all the time. A stereotype, on the other hand, is static--true only some of the time. It is a mirror, not a window--reflecting society's norms and ideations. For this reason, sooner or later, Jenkins' Jesus will become a stereotype--if he isn't based on one already--because he reflects not only Jenkins himself but the culture that shaped the way Jenkins is. For all his "authenticity," this Jesus isn't real. He is not a window to truth; if he is even a mirror, he reflects a mirage--the mirage of what it means to be "human" or "relatable" in a world gone insane. Jenkins wants us to see his Jesus as more real than the Jesus of centuries of stained glass windows because this "Jesus" was born yesterday without time to generate stereotypes. Surely, Jenkins has not taken upon himself the task of canceling religious culture and of submitting all Biblical heroes to the indignities of revisionist history that hopes to spark a revolution. But I do think Jenkins assumes he has caused a paradigm shift in the way the world sees Jesus, and it is really, really disturbing that he thinks his Jesus can exist in our culture apart from an entire backdrop of our historic faith.

Whether or not Jenkins has succeeded in creating another Jesus, the popularity alone of The Chosen series will likely do one of two things:  it will cause viewers to reject anything traditional about Jesus--including even The Bible--as a stereotype, or it will lure viewers into the self-fulfilling prophecy of seeing the Jesus of The Chosen everywhere--even in The Gospels, even though he isn't there. This will, therefore, create a mega-stereotype that eats up all other stereotypes, for Jenkins' Jesus will be the new control on what we can and cannot perceive as true. I call this deception, but Jenkins calls it artistic license. AI says Jenkins "aims to depict Jesus as a charismatic, humorous, and deeply human person who lived and interacted with others in a grounded, authentic way." This is the Jesus who is supposed to replace "statues" and "stained glass windows." I don't think so. The end result is this: by linking “statues” and “stained glass windows” with stereotypes, Jenkins has not only stereotyped religious stereotypes, he has risked branding all that is historic and traditional (even The Bible itself) as the probable cause of our world's greatest misconceptions of Jesus.

Why Not Break "Woke" Culture Stereotypes?

In reality, the most prevalent worldwide stereotype of Jesus today is arguably the "hippie" Jesus. This Jesus is not only a stereotype uninformed by Scripture; he is a false Jesus embraced by a decadent "woke" counterculture. This Jesus promotes tolerance and full inclusion of all lifestyles, and he seldom preaches against sin--except the societal sins of racism, materialism, and capitalism. Why Jenkins fails to mention this "Jesus," we have already suspected. This Jesus has done more damage in my lifetime than any medieval stained glass window has ever done throughout the centuries. Oddly enough, it is this Jesus that has prevailed in High-Church denominations that have gone "woke." That being the case, isn't it a bit disingenuous of Jenkins to target the stereotypes of Jesus he calls "statues" and "stained glass windows," when these images have often already been replaced by pop culture?

Jenkins' casuistry is definitely up to something, for, whether this concern over "statues" and "stained glass windows" is a straw man or a red herring, the big lie is Jenkins' assumption that most people see Jesus as "stiff" and "stuffy." I don't really see how that could be true, after nearly two generations of seeker-sensitive purging of traditional "churchy" lingo and symbolism, not to mention the ubiquitous "woke" agenda of progressive Christianity and the prevalence of contemporary Christian music. Arguably, if Jenkins is betraying his bias against not only what he sees as outdated, formal stereotypes but also against tradition itself, isn't he throwing out the proverbial truth with the "stained glass window" stereotype? But who's noticing? People like what Jenkins is dishing out. And, if he wants his Jesus to be a catalyst for change, he has succeeded, but not because his Jesus has brought a corrupt culture to their knees.

On the contrary, Jenkins' recent depiction of Nicodemus shows a Jesus who does not want to be worshipped. As hard as this is to believe, when Nicodemus attempts to kneel and to kiss Jesus' hand after he realizes that Jesus is the Messiah, Jonathan Roumie as Jesus says, "You don't have to do that. What are you doing? You don't need to do that." Not only does that not happen in John 3, I guess Jenkins didn't read the next chapter where Jesus talks with the woman at the well about worship, commanding that those who worship God must worship Him in spirit and in truth (John 4:24). Just prior to this, Jesus says, "for the Father seeketh such to worship Him" (John 4:23). Then two sentences later, Jesus reveals to this woman that He is the Messiah: "I that speak unto thee am he" (John 4:26). The inference is clear: Jesus is the Great "I Am," one with the Father who "seeks such to worship Him," and The Gospels tell of multiple people who fell at Jesus' feet to worship Him. But not so for Jenkins' Jesus. He's apparently so human and so humble that he doesn't want to be worshiped.

Why Not Replace Stereotypes with Truth?

But we haven't solved the riddle yet. If Jenkins' Jesus is simply his own version of the already popular "woke" Jesus of pop culture and progressive Christianity, how do we account for millions of viewers' expressions of surprise at seeing Jesus differently than ever before? If they already see Jesus as a "hippie," and if Jenkins' Jesus does little to contradict this perception (just look at the clothing he wears--not merely simple but uncharacteristically frayed and shabby), then how are they seeing Jesus differently? It would be impossible to describe people's conscious versus unconscious ideas about Jesus, but perhaps many of Jenkins' viewers see Jesus consciously as playful and permissive but unconsciously as noble and sedate. Is this because all they know about Jesus comes from glimpsing a "statue" or "stained glass window," or is there yet a third perception of Jesus that viewers have absorbed from reading the Bible? If this perception is majestic and dignified rather than "relatable," it does not follow that it is a "stereotype" any more than any "stained glass window" is a stereotype. We are delving into the word of the subjective and the subconscious, but if we consider that 60-70% of Jenkins' audience claims at least some religious affiliation, they most likely have some knowledge of The Bible.

But if their perceptions of Jesus are changing from watching The Chosen, that would seem to suggest one of two things: either that these people never really knew the Christ of Scripture in any dynamic way, such that The Chosen could fill that void for them, or that The Chosen is indeed portraying a different Jesus. It must be noted that perceptions of Jesus are changing among people who already thought they knew Him. I think we know that Jenkins presents a different Jesus, although he would argue only that he is presenting a different "side" of Jesus--the side that anchors His authenticity as a "relatable" human being. Jenkins has said all along that he doesn't want The Chosen to replace The Bible, but he does want his show to make The Bible more accessible to viewers.

If this were really his motive, however, why don't we ever hear him addressing the massive Biblical literacy void among even professing Christians today? And how does he suppose he will fill this void--even if he wants to--by making a show that is 95% fiction? Bible knowledge alone will create Biblical literacy, and Bible knowledge culminating in a life-changing, personal relationship with Christ is guaranteed to break stereotypes of any kind. Anybody knows that, if you want to break stereotypes, you have to investigate the truth. Go back to the primary sources and read with an open mind. But Jenkins isn't even drawing from secondary historical sources. His source is himself, and his episodes arise ex nihilo, apparently.

Who ever heard of Peter fist-fighting or gambling or fishing on the Sabbath? Or who ever heard of Matthew being "on the spectrum" or of Little James having a disease Jesus doesn't cure? And whoever viewed Mary Magdalene as a thirteenth disciple or Judas as a victim? Apparently, Jenkins did. And now millions of people are buying into his outrageous imagination--and what happens if or when God's Word doesn't spark their lust for entertainment but asks for full concentration instead? I just don't understand the hype anyway--how a show about a man pretending to be Jesus in episodes that never happened is somehow turning the world upside down. But is it really? The proof is in the pudding, right?

The other day, I skimmed an article sounding the alarm about tens of thousands of churches in America that expect to be permanently closing soon. The total may reach 100,000 in the next few years, representing one-quarter of all churches in America. Most of these are small community churches where members used to have an impact on their neighborhoods. Why this is happening requires complex analysis, to be sure, but, not only are many people abandoning worship altogether these days, many others have cast aside the small church with its accountability in favor of attending megachurches where no one knows when or whether they come or go. And many aren't really "attending" at all but are merely viewing services "remotely."

Where The Chosen fits into all of this is an honest question. For someone making a worldwide impact, what is Jenkins producing besides millions of loyal fans who not only binge-watch his show but who also scoop up his glut of merchandise? Where are Jenkins' new converts going? Or is even that terminology too quaint to use these days? The Chosen has been a "thing" since 2017. In all that time, what has happened to those who claim to have encountered Jesus? Are they being discipled and encouraged to become active in their local churches? Or has Jenkins somehow unconsciously directed them away from traditional worship and church membership? Are they following another Jesus? And if they are, is this show actually helping to bring about the great falling away, even while claiming to point millions of people to Christ? I'm not convinced that Jenkins, in breaking stereotypes of "statues" and "stained glass windows," has not smashed the very idea of church itself as archaic and naive.

Jenkins doesn't seem to understand that, without dependence upon the Living Bread of Truth--God's Holy Word--all he has to offer his hungering crowds is a stone or a serpent or a scorpion. And I don't think he has broken stereotypes of Jesus at all. I think he has fossilized pop culture stereotypes of Jesus into the collective consciousness of untold millions of people, with literally no end in sight. As he says often, "We're just getting started." And he means it. The Chosen Adventure is an animated comedy aimed at children, whose conception of Jesus as a cartoon will be embedded into their earliest formative memories.

Jenkins is also planning various other multi-season series: one about Moses, one about Joseph, and one about the Book of Acts. If we doubted Jenkins' self-appointed mission to shape a global worldview for generations to come, we need to sit up and see what's really going on. As prolific as Jenkins has become in the world of "faith-based" media, The Chosen has resulted in one of the grandest deceptions in the history of Christianity:  that an authentic portrayal of Jesus--or of anything from the Bible, for that matter--is to be found outside of Scripture.

What Are We Left With?

When Jenkins said he wanted to break stereotypes of Jesus as "statues" and "stained glass windows," he arguably had in mind the entire worldview that produced those works of art and everything that surrounds them. But I don't think he was talking about idolatry, and his concern doesn't seem to involve observing the Second Commandment, or he wouldn't be breaking it left and right by turning Jonathan Roumie into an icon and placing him in one situation after another off set where people jokingly refer to him as "Jesus." Jenkins has clearly crossed boundaries that Scripture forbids. He has created another Jesus. This Jesus is far more than a stereotype; he is an idol.

Ultimately, this "Jesus" requires no faith at all. We walk by sight these days. And that's exactly what an idol does for us. Unlike religious art and historic archetypes, idols don't point beyond themselves to larger truths. They claim to be "authentic" in their own right. They have power in themselves to do what God--or The Bible, apparently--cannot do. They profess "relatability" because they are made in our own image, and they claim viability when, in fact, they are deaf, dumb, and blind. And they do this, all while making us believe that it is God Himself and His inviolable Word that slumber inert, waiting for a jumpstart from human hands. It doesn't matter that Jenkins didn't chisel his idol from marble or that he didn't solder stained glass into a window. He has thrown "statues" and "stained glass windows" into the fire in order to shape his own golden calf. But he needn't have bothered, for you can find this calf, this "Jesus," everywhere—everywhere, that is, except in Scripture.