One need only scroll through social media, watch the news, or read a newspaper to confront the reality that we live in a world filled with pain and suffering. Each day unveils yet another source of dis-ease: wars, pandemics, addictions, ecological woes, mental health crises, the countless -isms (racism, ageism, sexism, etc.) that demean humanity and threaten our ability to be in relationship with one another, with creation, and the Creator. The Christian doctrine of original sin offers a theological interpretation of this brokenness. The fragmentation of the world, Christians posit, indicates a primordial frag-event of disobedience, a âFallâ that shattered the original harmony and communion of creation. According to this teaching, our current taxis reflects the metataxis of sin that turned Godâs world upside down. Thus, as noted in the last chapter, the author of Genesis 3 can voice agreement with Thomas Hobbes to the effect that human life is often âsolitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.â This sentiment could be shared, too, by other biblical writers. The Book of Job, the poets behind the Psalms, the Prophets of the Old Testament, the four Evangelists who wrote the Gospels anchored in Jesus Christâs ignominious Passion, Death, and Resurrection: none of these turn a blind eye to sin or discount human suffering. We are, as it were, born into and live within sinâs âhorror story.â The Christian believer, however, does not believe that sin or horror is the final word in this story. Another word or Logos has revealed another way for us to live.
The truth we cannot deny about the human condition is that because we are born into a sin-scarred world we, too, are damaged. Nothing within the created order is quite as God intended it to be. The world as God created it to be, Gerard Manley Hopkins suggests, radiates âthe grandeur of God.â Yet the diaphanous splendor of Godâs work has been sullied. He writes:
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wears manâs smudge and shares manâs smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
Fallen humanity is alienated from creationâs primordial goodness. Yet our alienation from it does not mean that it is no longer saturated with Godâs glory. This, at least, is Hopkinsâs belief:
And, for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things
Hopkins believed God intended the world to be an icon revealing and inviting beholders into communion with the Divine. Yet sinful humanity has tarnished and distorted Godâs work. To cynical and pessimistic eyes, our world has become an infernal icon that reveals and is drawing us into a hopeless abyss. Yet the Christian believer has reason to hope, as Hopkins hoped, that we have not exhausted creationâs glory. We have reason to believe, that is, that sinful alienation can yet be overcome through an act of divine reconciliation.
Hopkinsâs hope has deep scriptural warrant. Recall that, in Genesis 1, God surveys the whole of creation and sees that âit was very goodâ (1:31). Only a few chapters later, in Genesis 6 and 7, humankindâs wickedness unleashes a Flood that nearly wipes out all living beings. These etiologies or âorigin storiesâ are not news accounts; they are myths expressing and exploring the truth of human sin and its consequences. At the same time, these biblical narratives recount that God labors to free humankind from the shackles of sin. In Psalm 68 we hear, âOur God is a God of salvation, and to God, the Lord, belongs escape from deathâ (68:2). From Abraham to Moses to the Prophets, God seeks to redeem and heal fallen humanity. For Christians, Godâs desire to save humankind culminates in the Incarnation, where the Word or Logos of God âbecame flesh and lived among usâ (John 1:14). In the words of the Apostlesâ Creed, Christians believe that Jesus Christ was âconceived by the Holy Spiritâ and âborn of the Virgin Mary.â They believe that, through Jesus, God enters our horror story to free us from the snare of evil and liberate us into the life of Godâs Kingdom. In word and deed, Jesus proclaims Godâs Reign, Godâs anti-horror story, and invites us to find our place within it.
In this and the next three chapters, I use NoĂŤl Carrollâs âcomplex discoveryâ plot to continue exploring how horror films can function as theologically illuminating infernal icons. The movements he sees as constitutive of many horror plotsâonset, discovery, confirmation, confrontationâare also operative within the Gospels. To introduce complex discovery plots, I begin with a discussion of Jaws (1975). Next, I look at Rosemaryâs Baby (1968). Based on Ira Levinâs book, RB traces the events that lead Rosemary Woodhouse to become impregnated with, and give birth to, Satanâs son. The inhuman insemination by the Dark Transcendent should be seen as a photographic negativeâor, better, an infernal iconâof Christian belief in the Incarnation of Godâs Word in Jesus Christ. As an infernal icon, RB depicts an antichristology that presumes and exploits anâat least implicitâtheological worldview of its viewers. For the filmâs satanists, the Antichristâs birth promises to prolong sinâs grasp on history; for those who profess belief in the Incarnation, Christâs birth begins the subversion of sinâs taxis that inaugurates Godâs Reign on earth and renews creation. Now, over fifty years after its debut, the film is hailed as an icon of horror cinema. Approaching RB as an infernal icon will create an opening for the filmâs depiction of the onset of the Antichrist to disclose its Christological depths.
(excerpted from chapter 7)
Les mer