We could be. Or we could be falling victim to a common mistake, discounting something particularly because it is “popular.” My suspicion is that those who are most grieved by these songs haven’t really become acquainted with them. Nonetheless, there are tons of normal people out there who loved these songs enough to spend a dollar on them. What do they see in this stuff? And what does it all mean?

I hope to answer these questions by doing something that most of us refuse to do: taking these songs seriously. In the next few weeks, I’ll listen to and write about two songs at a time. Christ and Pop Culture has unwittingly ignored popular music for some time. This is unfortunate, because it’s clearly one of the biggest and more prevalent aspects of Popular culture that’s out there right now, even in the midst of its’ current downfall. Hopefully this series will begin to make up for this.

The Number Ten Most Downloaded Song of All Time: Ke$ha – ‘Tik Tok’
I have to say, we’re not off to a great start. There’s not a lot to like about this song, other than the undeniably catchy chorus. Nonetheless, the song is a perfect introduction to our series, being a startlingly transparent collection of pop music cliches and staples. From the opening needless cameo from rapper/mogul, P. Diddy to the straightforward description of hedonistic party life. Life’s purpose is the party, from the time we “wake up in the mornin’” and “brush my teeth with a bottle of jack.” What happens when the party’s over? Not an issue because, “the party don’t stop,” a classic pop sentiment that’s pushed to it’s logical conclusion here. In this life, who is the deity? The DJ: “You build me up, you break me down, my heart it pounds, yeah you got me. With my hands up, you got me now. You got that sound, yeah you got me.”

Really, it’s a song about social hedonism, a social contract that assumes that we are here for the sake of one another, though we have no actual responsibilities to one another. In fact, it is ourselves that is of primary importance: “The party don’t start till I walk in.” Ke$ha embraces a sort of stunted community in which the “boys try to touch my junk junk.” But don’t worry, she’ll “slap em’ if they get too drunk drunk.”

Bottom line? It’s an unsustainable lifestyle that refuses to acknowledge the very real dangers that follow from indulging. The social emphasis is commendable but not altogether surprising, and ultimately not helpful when short-circuited with a self-centered search for pleasure.

But gosh, it sure is catchy. It brings me pleasure. Ironically, though, I’ll be listening to this song (oftentimes on repeat) in the privacy of my own home.

The Number Nine Most Downloaded Song of All Time: Leona Lewis – ‘Bleeding Love’
On a list filled with self-centered, sentimental and vapid love and not-exactly-love songs, ‘Bleeding Love’ stands out. I like this song because it appreciates the love relationship without sentimentalizing it. Sure, it’s not a super-deep song, and it takes the frozen/closin’ heart metaphor a little further than it probably should (“My heart’s crippled by the vein that I keep on closin’”) but the song seems both sincere and a direct result of real emotional growth.

The song avoids blatant extremes that we see in other pop songs. Even those who try to keep her from the one she loves are friends looking out for her, not villains: “Yet I know that the goal is to keep me from falling.”

We could accuse the song of unabated emotionalism; the reasons cited for ignoring her friends advice aren’t exactly based on pure logic: “But nothing’s greater than the rush that comes with your embrace. In this world of loneliness I see your face.” Then again, how many of us always describe our love for someone else on purely logical terms? Does even Christ himself?

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• Podcast #63: If This Were a Western, Michael Moore Would be the Bad Guy

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“I’m begging you, your right to religion and freedom to exercise religion and read all of the passages of the Bible as you want to read them and as your church wants to preach them . . . are going to come under the ropes in the next year. If it lasts that long it will be the next year. I beg you, look for the words ’social justice’ or ‘economic justice’ on your church Web site. If you find it, run as fast as you can. Social justice and economic justice, they are code words. Now, am I advising people to leave their church? Yes!”

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• Star Wars: The Musical Experience

But does this match made in Heaven work? Wonderland (or Underland as it is actually called) is a visual treat. Tim Burton’s strongest suit has always been his ability to both dazzle the eye and communicate plot through his visual landscapes. The 3-D element fails to live up to the “Avatar” standard but this is a minor point. The world created is still a site worth seeing. Overall, the acting is strong, too. Helena Bonham Carter is great as the Red Queen. Depp sparkles as yet another quirky character with unusual depth.

Burton wisely leaves aside the original Lewis Caroll works for a new story. It is 13 years after Alice’s original adventure, and she is now a 19 year old young women trapped in Aristocratic customs and marriage games. After facing a truly embarrassing proposal from an even more embarrassing lord, Alice runs off after a rabbit in dress clothes—yes, that one—and finds herself again in the magical world she traversed in her childhood. The movie eventually morphs into a tale of fate and war. The last part of the story becomes somewhat tired by the clichés, though not enough to sink the picture. At times, one wishes that the movie had been less driven by plot and more focused on characters and dialogue. So much happens in the film that it feels rushed, especially for a Tim Burton offering.

Themes abound in the tale of Underland. The film attempts to address the tension between fate and choice. Alice is annoyed at being constantly asked “Are you the Alice?” destined to return to Underland and defeat the Red Queen. Alice says that she makes her own choices, not some foreordained prophesy. But the reality is more complicated. Burton communicates an interplay between fate and choice that leaves them in tense dialogue. Can someone freely choose to fulfill a pre-determined event? What does this do both to choice and to destiny? Christianity struggles with similar themes. God’s rule of the world and our choices seem to partake of similar tensions. Only in the Bible, the debate is centered more firmly in relationship. Our choices do not interact with some impersonal fate; they interact with a personal Deity.

Relationships make up another theme in the movie. The Red Queen asks whether it is better to be feared than loved. This question is very old, dating at least back to Machiavelli. The Red Queen, of course, rules by fear. She threatens all opposition with imprisonment and, yes, decapitation. By such methods she keeps an iron grip on the kingdom. Yet deep down, she desires to be loved. Not just romantically but by the people of Underland and, we briefly see, her now dead parents. Her relationships with her people show the inadequacy of fear as a basis for communion.

Relationships between ruler and ruled must be built on trust and even affection. Only such bonds can transcend turmoil and reap something akin to justice. Only such bonds can move toward fulfillment of human longings. The Queen’s fearful tyranny shadows in some ways our sinful separation from God. We oppose a relationship built upon love. While we cannot make God fear us, we certainly try to place ourselves over Him, creating a relationship of painful discord. We may not impose fear on God; but we do cause fear—within our own embattled conscience.

The Queen’s reign of terror results from fears of her own. She has, well, a big head. I mean a really big head. This lack of proportion is a cause of incessant insecurity and self-loathing on her part. This insecurity and self-loathing causes her to lash out against others. She kills the king because she knew he would leave her. Those surrounding her adorn fake mis-proportions so their better physique will not incite her wrath. The world around her is a fake grotesque that merely masks bitter jealousy. Her preferred method of execution stems from her own self-image.

Here, we see the results of the Fall. When Adam and Eve ate the fruit, they saw they were naked. They covered themselves. Why? Because they felt both their own physical imperfections as well as the selfishness of their partner. Not only were they no longer perfect; they could not trust the other to accept them with those imperfections. The result was fear, loathing, and broken relationships. In the end, the Red Queen’s self-image leads both to her downfall and a lonely banishment, much like our first parents.

Thus, “Alice in Wonderland” gives the viewer much to see and much to consider. It is a visual spectacle that does not lose its touch with humanity. While far from a perfect film, “Alice” is a skillfully done work worthy of the price of admission.

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Up In The Air gets so many of our modern conundrums right that it’s hard not to classify it as a tragedy, even with some great laughs. The film explores themes of corporate greed, alienation, infidelity, and much more, but the dilemmas that really triggered further reflection were the film’s portrayal of certain dichotomies: family versus career, love versus romance, and freedom versus commitment.

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Everyone makes disciples.  Whether you know it or not, you actually are making disciples–there are people who, for better or worse, look up to you and follow your example.  What you center your life around will have an affect on those closest to you and how they live their lives.  Certainly it is possible for children to “break the mold” of their parents, but from my limited perspective, I suspect that is far more rare than we would like to admit.

Bioshock 2 was a pleasant surprise because, in the end, Bioshock 2 was not about the danger of competing ideologies so much as it was about the power of influence.  Particularly that of a father over his daughter.  If you haven’t played Bioshock 2 and are interested in picking it up, you may not want to read any further.

Most people remember the original Bioshock because of Andrew Ryan and his objectivistic ideals based on the philosophy of Ayn Rand.  The original game showed how devastating one’s ideology can be as Rapture, the city under the sea that celebrates human freedom and achievement, is in ruin because of its celebration of said freedom.  Bioshock 2 explores both Ryan’s failed objectivism and the new villain, Sophia Lamb’s collectivistic ideals.  At first glance, Lamb seems to be a true collectivist in the same vein as Stalin, but in the end she turns out to be far more heinous.  This sets the stage for where Bioshock 2 shines–on a very personal level.

In Bioshock 2 you are a “Big Daddy,” which are these huge men who have been engineered to protect Little Sisters–which harvest genetic material called “Adam” which everyone in Rapture is hyped up on and thus have gone crazy.   As the game goes on you find out that you were a diver that came upon Rapture–your daughter was taken away and you were killed–or at least it seems you were and all the while your daughter is experimented on and held captive by Dr. Lamb.

The most engaging part of the game is found in three encounters you have with some very unique and rather seedy individuals who played a part in your demise and your daughters imprisonment.   Each encounter is unique and each gives the player the opportunity to spare or kill these very shady characters and each instance is unique in its moral implications.  At the end of the game when you save your daughter, she has the opportunity to seek revenge on Dr. Lamb who has abused and imprisoned her for so long–your moral decisions determine what decision your daughter makes in the end.

Bioshock 2 reminded me that ideologies don’t save people.  Salvation, in Bioshock 2 comes on a more personal level.  Rapture itself, is beyond saving, but one little girl is not and your influence on her in the end directs her in the way that she should go (Prov. 22:6).  This is true of the gospel–the salvation presented therein is far greater than strictly ideology.  Certainly I believe that the gospel connotes the one true ideology, but what makes the gospel unique is that God becomes man, lives among us, teaches us how to live, and dies for us because he knows we cannot save ourselves.

The ideology of the gospel is unique because it is personal–Jesus enters our world and saves us individually on a personal level so that one day we will be fit to live in community together in harmony.  Unlike most games, the salvation found in Bioshock is more realistic–its personal rather than cosmic. Bioshock reminded me of the incredible power I have to influence others, especially those closest to me for good or evil.  It reminded me that relationships are more influential than ideologies.  Bioshock 2 reminded me of the power of influence more than perhaps any other game ever has.  In spite of our very individualistic world, Bioshock 2 emphasizes the power of the family and the influence therein.

• Is Rapture Worth Visiting Again? Bioshock 2
• “It’s about important stuff!” “No, it’s about shooting people in the face”
• The Choice is Yours

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• Netflix on your Xbox 360: New ways to watch
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• “Why We Should Listen to Ken Myers”–ByFaith Magazine interviews Myers
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• Do I want to support this?

That’s the sort of watered-down fluff you’d expect from Hollywood, right? And yet, the day after I saw The Last Station, I heard a sermon with much the same message as Masha’s diatribe.

The film opens with the quote “Everything I know, I know only because I love,” attributing it to Tolstoy (rather than to his character Prince Andrei, who speaks this line in War and Peace). It’s a sentence that can be either profound or shallow, depending entirely on what is meant by “love.” Unfortunately, in its weaker moments, The Last Station settles for a definition of love that’s indistinguishable from infatuation. Masha and ultimately Valentin buy into a false dichotomy between “love” and “rules,” ignoring the fact that rules are present in all human relationships, and that they help to keep us from hurting each other.

However, it’s hard to see why anyone would follow the teachings of the film’s Tolstoy (Christopher Plummer)—even he doesn’t believe anything he’s written, it seems. I’ve always been somewhat troubled by the little I know of Tolstoy’s beliefs about sex after his conversion to Christianity: in his rejection of the body’s goodness, he’s always seemed more Gnostic than Christian to me. If the film is similarly troubled, however, it decides to eliminate any tension by simply having Tolstoy disavow his professed beliefs. In a conversation with Valentin, Tolstoy recalls an affair with a woman in the Caucasus and laughs lustily when Valentin begs him, “Please, don’t torture yourself.” Contrary to Valentin’s expectations, this earthy Tolstoy suffers no remorse for sins of the flesh, presumably because they were committed in “love.”

Robbing Tolstoy of his convictions has the unfortunate effect of rendering him an unsympathetic and inexplicable character. If Tolstoy falters in his convictions, in regard to celibacy or poverty, then why is it so important to him to write a new will that leaves the rights to his written works to the Russian people, rather than to his family? This is the central conflict of the movie for Tolstoy and his wife Sofya, who, quite understandably, objects to the new will. Sofya may be a little childish and melodramatic (in one of the best lines of the movie, Tolstoy tells her, “You don’t need a husband—you need a Greek chorus!”), but because we have no evidence of real moral conviction on Tolstoy’s part, and because Sofya is played by Helen Mirren, viewers have no choice but to side wholeheartedly with her.

Based on my limited knowledge of Tolstoy’s later-in-life philosophy (everything I know, I know from his influence upon Gandhi) and on one brief line in the film, I can guess that Tolstoy’s motivation for the will was guilt over his privileged life and his prosperity. That’s something I can understand and admire. If we could see the film’s Tolstoy wrestling with such guilt, we could sympathize, even if disagreeing with his decision. For some reason, though, the film seems to have decided that a deep, internal conflict between the love of mankind (although Valentin does get the nice token line, “I’ve never seen mankind!”) and the love of the human with whom you’ve become one flesh is less interesting than a conflict featuring an external villain. Enter Paul Giamatti as a mustache-twirling Chertkov, the disciple who wants to form the Tolstoyan movement in his own image.

If Tolstoy is not motivated by conviction, his decision to leave his wife Sofya and die in peace and quiet seems like nothing but the foolishness of a grumpy, selfish old man. In essence, though the film doesn’t seem to realize it, Tolstoy is doing what Masha claims he’s all about: loving without rules. If you love without rules, then what’s to keep you from leaving your wife of 48 years when you are frustrated with the challenges of married life? What’s to keep the passion between Valentin and Masha from changing to hatred or indifference in an even shorter period of time?

Back to that sermon I mentioned. We’ve all probably heard or read something similar: it was along the lines of that cringe-worthy mantra, “It’s not a religion—it’s a relationship.” First of all, I hate the negative use of the word “religion,” a word with possibly the same root as “ligament,” implying being connected and tied to something. Religion and relationship are not mutually exclusive words. Furthermore, if we focus on the relational aspect of our Christian faith without acknowledging the commitments upon which any meaningful relationship is forged, we end up with something as superficial as the infatuation between Valentin and Masha. If our faith is based on emotional highs of feeling connected to God, then we have little to hold us steady in times of suffering or doubt.

The Last Station wasn’t a great movie, but it did bring into stark clarity how much contemporary Christians are parroting the popular messages of our culture. You’ll hear from many evangelical pulpits today the assertion that we should forsake “religion” and get back to the basics of Jesus’ teachings. Ironically, this is what the real, historical Tolstoy believed himself to be doing when he rejected the Orthodox church in favor of a simpler, more “authentic” Christianity—and yet, how easily that simple faith began to draw in elements from Buddhism, Gnosticism, and more. So often, when we claim to pare down the gospel to its basics, we begin borrowing from other, less worthy sources, because we have abandoned the framework of religion that keeps us tied to a deep, fulfilling orthodoxy. This, I fear, is the ultimate fate of any purely relational approach to Christianity.

• What ‘The Last Station’ Could Have Been
• Prude or Romantic?
• Fallen Angels

• Six Days in Fallujah
• Six Days in Fallujah, lasted about six days.
• Mixed Messages

Every week, Richard Clark and Ben Bartlett acknowledge and respond to the big issues in popular culture. We love feedback! If you’d like to respond you can comment on the website, send an email to christandpopculture@gmail.com, or go to our contact page. We would love to respond to feedback on the show, so do it now! Subscribe to us in iTunes by clicking here. While you’re at it, review us in iTunes! We’ll love you forever!

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• Podcast #39: Stewart Versus Cramer
• Podcast #66: A Thanksgiving Debriefing
• Podcast #74: Love is Messed Up

To put it crudely, if Christianity is a fantasy religion, then Judaism is a science fiction religion. If the former is individualistic, magical, and salvationist, the latter is collective, technical, and this-worldly. Judaism’s divine drama is connected with a specific people in a specific place within a specific history. Its halakhic core is not, I think, convincingly represented in fantasy allegory. In its rabbinic elaboration, even the messianic idea is shorn of its mythic and apocalyptic potential. Whereas fantasy grows naturally out of Christian soil, Judaism’s more adamant separation from myth and magic render classic elements of the fantasy genre undeveloped or suspect in the Jewish imaginative tradition.

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• …or for worse.
• It is Kind of Disturbing
• The Dangers of Television

Previous Installments:

Pre-season: Lost’s Biggest Question.

Pre-season, part 2:  Lost’s Free Will Dilemma.

Season Premiere: ‘Lost’ Patience.

What Kate Did: Poor Jack.

The Lighthouse: Sawyer’s Choice

Warning! If you are not completely caught up with Lost, you won’t want to read any further.

Drew wrote,

As Rich so humorously pointed out last week, there have been some pretty heavy handed indications in Lost of a dualistic relationship between Jacob and the Man in Black, but I am beginning to wonder if the relationship is truly dualistic.

Jacob is dead, but he is still clearly at work.  The end of last season and last week’s episode make me wonder if Jacob doesn’t have a master plan.  So here is a short list of reasons why Jacob might just be . . . holy:

1.  Clearly he has worked out some very complex circumstances by which the Oceanic 815 passengers end up on the plane and consequently on the island.

2.  The “Others,” especially Ben and Richard clearly fear him.

3.  He has given Richard long life, healed John Locke from paralysis and healed both Rose and Juliet’s sister from terminal cancer.

4. It seems that Jacob had a part in saving young Ben Linus when he was nearly shot to death.

5.  In last year’s finale–the MIB claims that he will find a “loophole” by which he will be able to kill Jacob. Jacob responds by saying, “when you do, I will be right here my friend.”

That is certainly not a comprehensive list.  The objection that I suspect will be brought up is that Jacob ordered the extermination of the DHARMA Initiative, but I think it is now unclear as to who was really influencing Ben–Jacob or the Man in Black?  Further, did not God order the ban on the Ammorites when “their iniquity [was] complete” (Gen. 15:16).

I know people draw Biblical comparisons unnecessarily all the time with shows like Lost, but I think there may be a significant one at play with Jacob. When Ben confronted Jacob at the end of last season, Jacob tells Ben he has a choice, but Jacob knows Ben pretty well by this point and when Ben berates Jacob for ignoring him, Jacob responds in a way that he surely knew would set Ben on the course of action that would result in his death: “what about you?”

It seems a willful death on Jacob’s part at the hand of a supposed servant and friend.  Now Jacob seems poised to break down Jack to the point of making him the protector of the island.  I need to stop making predictions, but I suspect that Jacob is going to work on Jack and turning him from “annoying irrational Jack” into “wonderful hero Jack.”

Is Jacob holy?  Probably not, I can’t imagine Lost giving credit to an all powerful and good God, but right now it kinda seems that way.

Richard wrote,

Wow Drew, you’re really really going out on a limb there! I like it! Your five reasons, though I’m sure many fans will say are somewhat questionable, are nonetheless a convincing case for Jacob’s omnipotence and general goodness.

The omnipotence thing is something I’ve been wondering about for a while. Lost did such a good job building up the mythos of this “Jacob” before we even met him, that I just assumed that the logical Lost-style twist would be the startling fact that he was in fact just some guy. I was basically settled on this opinion until I read your email, and now I’m not so sure.

I get a lot of criticism for reading too much biblical stuff into Lost, and with most popular culture, I think this would be a correct criticism. Our site is certainly not about reading spiritual messages into cultural artifacts when there are none. In this case though, I think Lost has made it pretty clear that Biblical thought and imagery is a big part of the show.

And so, it’s entirely possible, and I would argue probable, that Jacob either represents or in some sense is, a Judeo-Christian God figure. And of course, just as in the Bible there are all sorts of questions about the character and nature of God that, even when understood as best we can, provide us with an opportunity for debilitating confusion and questioning.

Maybe I’ve written about this too much in these water cooler posts, but I’m getting more and more worked up about it every week. Since Drew was such a trooper, making all sorts of predictions, I’m going to stop beating around the bush and make a pretty bold claim of my own: Lost is simultaneously about the necessity and near impossibility of faith. It’s Job’s story arc. And Christian’s need to embrace this because it’s the most honest representation of the Christian faith I’ve seen on television that I can remember, even if not specific.

If you’ve never wanted to take God to task for his choices concerning your life, you viewed Ben’s act at the end of last season as unforgivable and villainous. If you’ve never tried to fix situations that make no sense on your own, you will struggle to relate to Jack. If you’ve ever been frustrated by your lot in life and found it hard to be content with your own lowly circumstances, then you won’t be able empathize with Locke. If you’ve never felt as if you had no choice but to do the wrong thing, and then run from those consequences all your life, then you probably are just annoyed by Kate.

As for me, the more this season goes on the easier I am on these characters, and the more invested I am in their journey. And like them, sometimes I want to make God answer for – or at least answer – these mysteries.

• Sawyer’s Choice
• Lost in Religion
• Poor Jack

• RetroPost: Out With the Old? Netflix and Rethinking Film
• Out With the Old? Netflix and Rethinking Film
• Fight Clubs . . . at Church?

The evolution of the Graphic Novel has made that statement far less powerful today, seeing as how many find value in comics. Even university English programs now offer courses in which students are required to read at least one, if not multiple, graphic novels. But I think of equal value are the works of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby and other comic book others from years past (The Silver Age of Comics, as it has been termed). These comics helped us think carefully about issues that even the Bible challenges us to reflect on,  such as race, war, justice, self-identity, etc. The X-Men movies brought again to the foreground the way in which comic books raise questions regarding prejudice. There’s something, then, that perhaps Wolverine can teach us about how we view different races, and how we relate to people of a different sexual orientation.

My personal favorite was always Captain America. What’s interesting about the Cap. is that his creation came out of the WWII era, as a response to the wickedness of the Nazis. The creators behind Captain America had heard enough complaints against U.S. involvement in the war, and were personally convinced that what the Nazis were doing was wrong and as a result they created the Captain to inspire hope and support for U.S. involvement. The first issue contained a drawing of the Captian punching Adolf Hitlher in the face and it sold more copies than some national magazines like Time. Here is an example of how a comic book had greater motivation than simply to entertain, it was created to inspire and give hope.

Of course I don’t think it would be wise to allow your world to revolve around comic books (in other words don’t become “Comic Book Guy” from the Simpsons). There are other mediums, of course, that are equally competent in communicating these truths and there are other things more important that you ought to be doing than reading Spiderman. The Bible should be our primary read and there we find the themes of comic books more helpfully presented and showcased.

Yet, there’s no need to fear that reading comic books is necessarily a waste of your time. Spiderman can teach us about inner turmoil and responsibility. Gambit, from the X-Men, can teach us about bearing the burden of our past. And Captian America can inspire us to do the right thing, even when it appears it’s not popular. It’s not always clear, nor is it always Biblical, but comic books can help us wrestle with biblical morality at a whole other level, and for that we can express our appreciation.

• Marvel Insults and Apologizes
• I Knew There Was a Reason I Hated DC
• Pop Culture 180, Part 1: Giving up Halo for E.M. Forster