Maher’s ‘Religulous’ is funny but not too complicated

 

Bill Maher’s “Religulous,” a film screed against religion, is very funny and has a lot of truth to it. Religion is pretty screwed up. Maher, who hosts an HBO talk show, grabs at a lot of low-hanging fruit to mock the dysfunctional branches of faith.

Among his targets is a group, called Answers in Genesis, that opine dinosaurs were horses for early man. Other easy targets including a rapping suicide bombing enthusiast, radical Islamics and Jews, and a dimwitted U.S. evangelical senator.

Those are the lazy parts of “Religulous,” where Maher, who is a very intelligent debater, ties his foils into frustrated, rhetorical knots. Of course, he has the advantage — he demands proof. The others rely only on faith. One can’t help but feel that one reason Maher despises faith is that he doesn’t know anyone he would deem as cool who believes.

It would have been interesting had Maher tried to examine faith, and its relationship to theology and religious belief. But “Religulous” won’t tread into the serious. It’s designed to mock those who believe in Christ, virgin births, “magic underwear” or take the Bible seriously … you get the picture. It’s manna for the religion of atheism, of which Maher is a high priest … even if he won’t admit to any “faith.” 

Hey Maher! We know there’s a lot of inconsistencies in religion. How about finding some new ones. I’m tired of seeing Ted Haggard in anti-God screeds. How about examining what Camille Paglia points out, that as the world gets more unstable, more of us turn to God. In “Religulous,” Maher is a reverse Glenn Beck without tears, clucking over those “God-lovers.”

Nevertheless, pop atheism, along the lines of Maher, Sam Harris, Christopher Hitchens, Richard Dawkins, has value. There is a lot wrong with religion today. We have one political party whose members are moving away from it, and another whose members have tried to co-opt it into a political party. In Utah, the LDS faith and the Republican Party have what seems to be an eternal marriage. Maher may enrage in “Religulous” (and there are very blasphemous scenes in the film) but he is taking the time to talk with believers and deconstruct their beliefs. That he wins most of the debates underscores a troubling trend with religion — too many believers can’t defend their beliefs.

Maher’s segment on Mormonism, I’m sorry to say, is a real clunker. Instead of confronting the 21st Century LDS Church, he obviously researched old 19th century speeches that are of dubious value today. It provides punch lines for several doctrines, including a very offensive clip involving Mary and God. The only Mormons Maher talks to are a couple who have left the faith, and there’s the requisite “get kicked off property by LDS security” scene. 

I can think of dozens of Mormon scholars Maher could have interviewed and matched wits with but again, in a pop atheist screed, interesting debate only happens by accident. Maher plays funny but not too complicated. 

In fact, the most interesting parts of “Religulous” are when Maher’s subjects match him in intelligence, or at least common sense. A man who plays Jesus at a cheesy amusement park uses faith to debate on even terms. Even Maher admits he was stumped at one point. There are Christians in a battered truck stop church who ask to pray with Maher. To the host’s credit, he is very respectful of his subjects while interviewing them, although the snarkiness comes out when Maher’s with his crew.

Maher’s conversation with a senior Vatican priest, Father Reginald Foster, is alternately the most rewarding and frustrating part of “Religulous.” Foster, a very candid man, agrees with Maher on many points, including that the authors of the Scriptures can’t be relied on to be in sync with what we know today. Rather than press on and learn something, Maher just basks in the praise of having someone agree with him. How interesting it would have been had he tried to learn why Foster agrees with him and still believes in God. That, apparently, is too much for pop atheism — and Maher — to tackle.

As a close friend said, you can learn more about religion watching “Nacho Libre” than “Religulous.”

Agreed, but “Religulous” is slightly funnier. Watch the trailer here.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published long ago at StandardBlogs

‘Good Man Jesus and Scoundrel Christ’ both spiritual and blasphemous

An element that mars most religious fiction is that good and evil is established bluntly and quickly. Sunstone editor Stephen R. Carter has made a similar observation about Mormon literature. Nuance is sacrificed for the emotional satisfaction the reader expects and gets at the end. In a Jack Weyland short story, for example, we know the guy who sluffs off church isn’t going to get the virginal, hot-looking Mormon girl. In the “Left Behind” series, old Scratch himself may dominate for several volumes, but when all’s said and done, he’s joining the false prophet for a dip in the lake of fire.

It’s economics that drive these “happy endings.” Most readers of such fiction desire a belief to be reinforced. Religious-themed novels that really explore belief, and all its contradictions and perspectives, tend to languish unsold on shelves. After all, they’re not “faith-promoting.”

Of course, there’s also demand for polemics against religion. Atheism has its fervent believers, too. Philip Pullman, best known as the author of “His Dark Materials” series, has penned the slim, and quite spiritual, “The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ, Canongate U.S., 2010,” a re-telling of The New Testament Gospels. Pullman’s title is ironic. Jesus is certainly selfless, but he isn’t always that pleasant of a fellow. And Christ isn’t really a scoundrel; he’s weak and serves as a Boswell for Jesus, who he envies. In Pullman’s novel, Christ allows himself to be manipulated by an “angel” who describes himself as one of “legion.”

But I’ve gotten ahead of myself. In Pullman’s ‘Gospel,” Mary gave birth to twins. The strong one she named Jesus. The weaker twin is Christ. Mary, believing Christ is the Messiah, favors him over Jesus. As a youth, Christ uses this maternal advantage to appear to be more pious than his rougher brother. As adults, Jesus — a much stronger-willed and more disciplined man than Christ — assumes the spotlight and Christ shrinks into the background. 

In Pullman’s account of Jesus’ 40-day fast, Christ is re-cast as Satan the tempter. Jesus rebukes Christ as forcefully as he does Satan in the traditional New Testament, but Christ’s reasons to feed Jesus are based in practicality, rather than a dark desire to see Jesus fail. In an interesting twist, Jesus even scorns Christ’s awed claim that he, Jesus, is divine.

The “angel” exploits Christ’s need for sanction and approval from authority by teaching that religion is better utilized as something for lesser mortals; a larger than reality “Church of God” run by wise men. The “angel” asks Christ to secretly follow Jesus around and record his deeds. In fact, the angel suggests that Christ embellish and change some accounts, suggesting that spiritual “truth” is often more important than historical accuracy.

In the most controversial passages, Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane prays to a God he no longer seems to believe in. Christ plays the role of Judas in setting up Jesus to be crucified by the Romans. Afterwards, the “angel” supplies Christ as “Jesus resurrected,” and then spirits him off to a foreign land where he assumes a new life with a wife and family and watches as his brother becomes a religious icon. These experiences turn Christ, ironically, into a man as cynical as Jesus eventually became.

Midway in Pullman’s novel Christ gradually becomes a more sympathetic figure and Jesus a more cynical figure. Jesus’ lament in the garden underscores his growing disillusionment with prayer and a belief in an expected Messiah. Christ’s spirituality improves initially as the “angel” brings the order he craves, but that order he craved turns corrupt, even criminal, as Jesus is led to death.

Pullman sees Jesus as just one of many prophets of that period, whose death would have quickly extinguished his 20 minutes of fame. It takes an organized conspiracy to turn him into a “resurrected Messiah,” who conveniently then disappears. In a humorous denouement, Christ realizes the mysterious “angel” was probably just a cunning businessman.

Pullman is a talented writer and his prose is both spare and lyrical; it reminds me of Naguib Mahfouz’s Islamic novel “The Harafish.” Is it blasphemous to Christianity? Perhaps, but that shouldn’t draw believers away from “The Good Man Jesus and The Scoundrel Christ.” Critiques, even polemics, against our most cherished beliefs should not be feared by anyone who wants to improve their mind. There are excellent defenses of Christianity and organized religion — C.S. Lewis’ “Mere Christianity” comes to mind — that provide balance to Pullman’s writings.

Pullman’s novel has nuance, it makes us think, and there are truths in it that the honest reader will acknowledge.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardNET