The Bible and Doctor Who- How Not to Scare your Friends Away from Awesome Things

How do we get someone we know to enjoy something that is not immediately enjoyable? I recently tried to get one of my best friends to watch Dr. Who. He pulled up Netflix and started on Season One, episode one, “Rose.”

Those of you who have watched the entire series are now probably feeling exactly what I felt—excitement that my friend was trying, but apprehension that he decided to try from the beginning. Most fans will agree that the pilot is not the strongest episode. In fact, after seeing the terrible CG plastic men and hearing Mickey complain just one time too many, most of us were surprised that this is what we have to thank for rebooting the entire Dr. Who franchise.

In short, for those who know nothing of the show except how much their friends go on and on about it, this is a terribly frustrating time for new would-be Whovians. It’s a great buildup for a great fall—like going to see Napoleon Dynamite after hearing everyone quote the lines for a month.  They begin to suspect that it was just too good to be true.

Now let me actually talk about the Bible for a bit.

Let’s say you have a friend that has never really done anything with religion. (He’ll probably say it like that too—religion. Not faith, or Christianity, or even Jesus. Just all of religion). His face goes blank when the conversation brings up topics like prayer, church, the Bible, or worship. And you want to introduce him. You tell him how great it is, that a life with Christianity is better than a life without. And you loan him your Bible.

You start him in the New Testament (the Old is just complicated and we wouldn't want him getting the wrong ideas about selling off family members into slavery or bending fish hooks into spears), and probably the book of Luke (since it’s the one they made a movie about). And you sit back and watch him read, eager to see his life change.

And after a few chapters, he looks up sheepishly to say, “This is kinda dumb.”

How?! How could the greatest story on earth be condensed down to “dumb?” The hardest thing to understand at this point is that not everyone sees this story the same way you do. If you’re like me, this may be the first story you were ever told. It’s been told to you in so many different ways, in so many different books, films, and songs, that you take it for granted. But to your friend, the story is new, and the story is weird.

First of all, it doesn’t even begin with Jesus. It starts on this supporting character John the Baptist, whoever he is, and there are angels appearing in dreams. This is all well and good until Mary starts singing. (Am I even supposed to read that? I guess I’ll just skip it.) But now this guy Zechariah is spouting off this prophecy and it’s all too much. I’m on Chapter 2 and the only thing I’ve heard about this Jesus guy is that he hasn’t even been born yet. Can I flip forward a couple of chapters and start again?

Let’s say he goes on to Chapter 2—Now there’s a pregnant woman forced to come home for some reason and the whole birth Jesus only takes about six sentences so I have no idea how the whole Christmas season is supposed to be based on that. And there are angels again, but they’re just shouting at some shepherds on a field. I can’t. I just can’t.

OK. If you look at it that way, it might be kind of weird. But just stick with it. It gets better.

And it does.

Because the first season of Dr. Who isn’t just plastic men and whiny boyfriends. We meet Captain Jack Harkness, see the end of the world, hang out with Charles Dickens, and fire a missile into 10 Downing Street.

By the time the new watcher reaches “The Empty Child” (episode 9), they’re hooked. They realize:  “Wow…this is dark. And I’ve come to like these people. And him. I really don’t want him to die.”

And then he does. He survives through so much and then he finally can’t take it anymore. They’re at the end of the season and Christopher Eccleston sacrifices himself. Rose Tyler looks on in horror because there is nothing she can do.

And he dies.   

Boom. Resurrection. For some, death is only a new beginning.

Now, I’m not trying to say that Dr. Who is a Jesus allegory (any hero can be a Jesus allegory if you try hard enough).* But he is a powerfully awesome alien who has the power to resurrect if given the proper circumstances, thus the introduction of David Tennant. Our Doctor is now back: newer, shinier, and with better hair.

It is at this point that most viewers have no trouble whatsoever continuing with the series. Yes, there is some initial pull-back towards Eccleston’s goofy facial expressions and baseball-mit ears, but we’ve grown so comfortable with the supporting cast of Rose, her mom, Captain Jack, and Mickey that we’re willing to give these following chapters a chance.

So we see what the disciples have to say. We take the story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection and use it to learn more about ourselves and our place on earth. Acts through Revelation is now less about that beginning story and more about learning what to do with the story we’ve been told.

And it’s awesome. The deeper you go, the more you understand. You get to love David Tennant and Matt Smith and every little supporting character they adventure with. Then you get to the end and think, “Well that was great. What now? Where shall my Dr. Who adventure take me?”

This depends on what kind of person you are. Many will go back and do the whole thing again. Most will probably begin again from their favorite point, maybe repeating it over and over until they can quote it by heart. Some, however, will be so inspired that they decide to see where all of this came from. Those few will return to the original begun many years, to see the forty years of stories and history leading to what we know today.

The Old Testament is not easy. It takes time, energy, and a pile of reference books to understand, mainly because it was written by and for a culture so far separated from our own. The issues of those cultures, the questions and struggles, are very different than those we see today.

The 1960-‘s-80’s were a very interesting time. From the point of view of a television show, the original Dr. Who series toyed with the technology available, seeing just what they could convince the audience to believe, with very little explanation. 

                                                       Yeah. No explanation.

The reboot of the show in the 2000’s had to follow different rules because it had a very different audience. People today aren’t going to wait around to find out why this strange guy has super powers. We aren’t going to wait to find out why/when they are where they are, who the supporting characters are, or why this strange man wants to do this in the first place.

So that’s my argument—if you want to tell someone about the bible or about Dr. Who (they may not have equal importance, but they are both absolutely important), make sure you do it the right way. These are complicated issues based on years of history and culture that the uninitiated will not understand without help.

Let’s not toss our friends into “the Vashta Narada eat your face”or “bald Elisha sics bears on kids.” There are better stories to begin with.

*Naysayer author says: “He IS doomed by a kiss though. That’s pretty cool.” 

Building Our Own Towers

So here’s my heretical statement of the day: we need to think less about heaven.

Toni Morrison won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1993. At the Nobel Prize Award Ceremony, Morrison told the story of a blind, but wise old woman, who teaches a group of children that using stories to understand other people is the greatest ambition of language. I highly suggest reading the entire speech, for it is magnificent: http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1993/morrison-lecture.html

Despite its beauty, most of this speech will not apply to this post. One section, however, considers the story of the Tower of Babel, from Genesis 11:1-9

1 Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. 2 And as people migrated from the east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. 3 And they said to one another, Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly. And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. 4 Then they said, Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth. 5 And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built. 6 And the Lord said, Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. 7 Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another's speech. 8 So the Lord dispersed them from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. 9 Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth. And from there the Lord dispersed them over the face of all the earth (ESV).

This has been a standard of biblical teaching in my life for as long as I can remember. It’s a really easy story for kids to understand: the people tried to build a tower to heaven, and God didn’t like it. Why? It’s often seen as an arrogant defiance against God, humanity seeing itself as worthy of living beside Him regardless of His wishes.

Another way that I’ve liked to look at it is that the people wish to “make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.” This is their way of rejecting God’s plan for them to spread and grow. This was their attempt to stand still and be gods in their own eyes.

Either way, God confused the builder’s languages so they couldn’t communicate. And it’s just about impossible to build anything unless you can communicate. This was their punishment for trying to reach heaven before their time, for trying too hard to live higher than man was meant to live.

And I thought this way for twenty-three years, until I found Toni Morrison’s speech in a textbook I was teaching from. She threw a new light on the traditional interpretation, through this section, a part of the blind old woman’s speech to the children:

“The conventional wisdom of the Tower of Babel story is that the collapse was a misfortune. That it was the distraction, or the weight of many languages that precipitated the tower's failed architecture. That one monolithic language would have expedited the building and heaven would have been reached. Whose heaven, she wonders? And what kind? Perhaps the achievement of Paradise was premature, a little hasty if no one could take the time to understand other languages, other views, other narratives period. Had they, the heaven they imagined might have been found at their feet. Complicated, demanding, yes, but a view of heaven as life; not heaven as post-life.”

Beautiful.

The story is really complicated by verse six, the reason God gives for why their languages should be muddled: “Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them.”

This section troubles me, while at the same time filling me with optimism. It first makes me wonder why God would want to stifle humanity’s growth so substantially. Were humans so immature that God had to set them back thousands of years? Then this verse makes me wonder about our world today—a world I see on the cusp of rejuvenating that one language. The spread of global language through the internet, what our society can accomplish when we are able to achieve one language, boggles my mind.

But Morrison made me think that the confusion of the languages wasn’t God punishing mankind. Confusing our languages was His way of making us grow, of teaching us to love each other. It was a parent making His children go to school, to learn, to turn into human beings rather than letting them experience joy when they were young.

If God is love, then this was His way of teaching us to love each other.

It reminds me of Jesus’ words in Luke, when the Pharisees began harassing him about heaven and God’s plan:

Luke 17:20-21—"20 Being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he answered them, The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed, 21 nor will they say, "Look, here it is!" or "There!" for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you (ESL)."

Of course, at the time Jesus was in the midst of them (while they did their best to ignore what He was really trying to say). But His message was clear—concentrate more on the people around you, on the Kingdom of God around you, than on the heaven that is to come.

Every time we concentrate on achieving a personal heaven rather than helping and loving our fellow man, we are building another tower.

Is this heresy?

Possession

I recently saw the movie The Devil Inside, Directed and Written by William Brent Bell.



In a nutshell, it’s another faux-documentary horror film, cashing in on the success of the Paranormal Activity franchise. A woman named Isabella embarks on a mission in Italy to discover what really happened to her mother, who allegedly murdered three people during her own exorcism. Isabella joins up with two unauthorized exorcists and becomes involved in a series of exorcisms while she tries to discover the truth.

I personally loved the acting, particularly by the demon-possessed mother, played by Suzan Crowley.


The way the filmmakers depicted the possessions and the exorcisms were gruesome and terrifying. Unfortunately, the movie did broadcast many of its moves and there were very little surprises storyline wise, but it kept my attention because I had no idea how these things were going to take place.

And it felt rather short—only 83 minutes.

But this isn’t supposed to be a movie review. This is the story of where my mind went after seeing it. That next Sunday my preacher taught on prayer on fasting, using The English Standard Version of Mark 9:14-29

14 And when they came to the disciples, they saw a great crowd around them, and scribes arguing with them. 15 And immediately all the crowd, when they saw him, were greatly amazed and ran up to him and greeted him. 16 And he asked them, “What are you arguing about with them?” 17 And someone from the crowd answered him, “Teacher, I brought my son to you, for he has a spirit that makes him mute. 18 And whenever it seizes him, it throws him down, and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid. So I asked your disciples to cast it out, and they were not able.” 19 And he answered them, “O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.” 20 And they brought the boy to him. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. 21 And Jesus asked his father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood. 22 And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” 23 And Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.” 24 Immediately the father of the child cried out and said “I believe, help my unbelief!” 25 And when Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.” 26 And after crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, “He is dead.” 27 But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose. 28 And when he had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” 29 And he said to them, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer and fasting.”

This is a familiar passage, but one that has always puzzled me. Why could the disciples not cast out the demon? Why is this demon different from all the others? Why does Jesus make a point to ask how long this has been happening?

So here is my real question: Is it heresy to suggest that the boy was not possessed at all? That the “demon” who throws the boy down, making him foam at the mouth, grind his teeth, and become rigid, is actually just a medical condition, such as epilepsy?
Could this be why the disciples were not able to help the boy? Jesus gave them authority over demons, not over this—they were pastors, not doctors. Jesus knew when He saw the boy that this was no demon, which was why He asked how long the boy had been like this. It was a life-long condition, not a recent possession. And to “expel the demon” was actually to heal the child.

But how to explain that to his disciples? Jesus said, in verse 29, that “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer and fasting.” Could this be His commandment to his disciples for how to help heal the sick? Could this be Jesus’ way of saying, “Medicine won’t be able to heal this boy for thousands of years. For now, pray and fast, and let God do the rest?”

For thousands of years, people have taught and believed that the boy was demon possessed.


The Bible, no matter the translation, says the word “demon.” I suggest that it could be otherwise. Is this heresy?