christian art

Shakespeare and Spelling Bees

Manuel Luz — Fri, 25 Jun 2010 08:38:31 -0700

One of the things that we do as a local church is open our facilities to outside performing arts organizations. We believe that to be a part of the greater arts community in our area, we need to serve the greater arts community. So our church has hosted arts organizations like the city-wide philharmonic, the community symphony, private non-profit theater companies, and the local concert association, to name a few. We have an amazing group of technical artists at our church, and their volunteer service to these different organizations is in itself a testimony to these secular groups. Also, we have probably the best designed and equipped performing arts auditorium in town, which has not gone unnoticed to the larger arts community.

Lately, we have been host to the local community college's drama department. They've presented one other full-length play—Shakespeare's Henry V—on our campus so far, and our relationship with them has gone extremely well. Their last foray was "The Putnam County Spelling Bee," a Tony Award-winning musical about six pre-teen youth thrown together in the competitive subculture of the spelling bee. The production was inventive, the acting was excellent, the music was more than credible. And one other thing. The script was, well, bawdy.

Now the production was selected after the college booked our facility. And we frankly didn't know about the content of the play until after it was in production. But it still put us in a quirky and uncomfortable position—how do we respond to the inappropriateness of this play, and to the people putting it on?

So this is what we did: Nothing. I internally braced myself for the outcry of criticisms from our congregation, but frankly, it never came. The play ran it's course without incident. I think it's because our people generally understood that the content of the play had little to do with what we believe as a church. Interestingly, the only ones who voiced objections to the content of the play were the non-Christians who were involved in the play, not our church fellowship. And our technical artists used those conversations as a springboard for sharing their faith, as they interacted with them during the production.

Ultimately, the issue is not whether or not there are inappropriate words. I think the real issue is how do we respond in a relationship with those who may not share our faith. If I invite my neighbor to dinner, and he swears when he talks, do I still try to be his friend?

Of course, there are lines that must be drawn. I certainly wouldn't want my neighbor swearing in front of my young children. And I wouldn't have him taking the Lord's name in vain. But if Jesus really was a Friend to Sinners—a title He wore proudly—then whatever we do, be it host a performing arts organization or simply go out to coffee with the director, I must do it with love as my primary motivation.

Will we host them again? We haven't booked the date yet, but I look forward to the conversations that will surely follow.

Deconstructing "Christian Drama"

Manuel Luz — Mon, 24 May 2010 10:22:09 -0700

Joe looked across the coffee table from me, a spark in his eyes revealing his eagerness. He leaned into his next question. "So. What did you think? I really want to know," he asked between sips of his latte. "And don't hold back either. I want to get some good feedback that I can take with me."

It was three weeks earlier that Joe had first contacted me about a play he was producing at a local church. He had written and produced it over the last three years, and fancied himself a serious writer and craftsman. Passionate and energetic, it was obvious that he was driven to produce this play, and was personally attached to it at many levels. And so he sought out people in the area, "influential" people I suspect, to help further his production and gain credibility.

But it was one week earlier that I actually sat through his play. I cringed at the stilted dialogue that hung in the air like a boring lecture. I lamented over the one-dimensional characterizations, a hodge-podge of stereotyped caricatures (does the anti-Christian antagonist really have to be dressed like a Nazi?). And I puzzled over the dystopian story arc, what little there was, which seemed simply to exist only for the purpose of asserting Christian dogma upon the audience. It was preachy, condescending, long-winded and poorly acted.

Sitting there in a darkened church auditorium, I witnessed everything that was wrong with so-called "Christian drama."

Something happens when art is used to serve primarily as a vehicle for a message. Francis Schaeffer, in his book Art and the Bible, says that in this view:

"Art is only an embodiment of a message, a vehicle for the propagation of a particular message about the world or the artist or man or whatever...but, as I have said, this view reduces art to an intellectual statement and the work of art as a work of art disappears."

In this view, art is simplly a medium upon which truth is revealed, a vehicle for a message. And in it's worst form, art becomes simply propaganda.

But there is a larger view of art. When the Christian artist strives toward great art, his or her Christian worldview will inescapably shine from it. Because art should reflect the artist in some way—what he believes, what he has experienced, what he has placed his faith in, how he uniquely sees the world. In other words, the Christian artist should not strive to create "Christian art," but rather, strive toward honest art. And in that honesty, their art will somewhow reflect the creativity of the Abba Father, the Lordship of Jesus Christ, and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. I believe that this holds true whether you are a playwright, songwriter, choreographer, moviemaker, or poet.

All of these thoughts collided in my mind like the opening stroke in a game of billiards. And as I sat in front of Joe, fidgeting with my coffee, I took a deep breath—and then I slowly and tenderly, and as lovingly as I could, told him what I thought of his play.

To his credit, Joe accepted my opinions with grace and humility. He took mental notes of specific things I mentioned, and agreed that there were things he could do improve the artistic integrity of his play and make it more sensitive to unbelievers. We ended up talking for quite a while about it all. And at the end of our conversation, at the end of the coffee, we parted as friends.

I don't know if Joe will do anything with what I said. I don't know if this will change anything he does now or in the future.

But I tried to be honest and grace-filled with him. And as artists, that is always what we must strive for.

The Art of Bread

Manuel Luz — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 13:31:16 -0700

Typically, this blog waxes eloquent on the deeper theological points of faith and the arts. But today, I thought I would just be goofy and share a story about my wife about a dozen years ago. It is a reminder that we, as artists, should strive toward the greater art—and often, it comes with a price.

In our family, this story is folklore, the kind of tale that has been retold over the dinner table over the course of more than a dozen years. Or to paraphrase the words of Kung Fu Panda: "Legend tells of a legendary bread maker whose bread making skills were the stuff of legend..."

Day 1: My wife, Debbie, finds a book on baking bread in the bookstore. She buys it, thinking that she'll save the family money in the long run. "After all, after a few loaves, it should pay for itself."

Day 4: Debbie calls up her friend and resident bread authority, Teresa, to tell her that she's going to try to bake bread. "I'll bring a loaf over when I'm done," she remarks.

Day 7: Debbie has baked her twelfth loaf of bread, and they still haven't turned out. Bread bricks, dark brown and heavy laden, line the kitchen counter top. Our two boys, Eric and Justin, have been watching Disney videos for three straight days now, and are beginning to wonder why Mommy won't come out of the kitchen.

Day 12: I walk in the door at the end of the day, remarking, "Another door stopper, honey?" I am greeted with a cold, silent stare from Debbie, who is in the kitchen, the telltale signs of wheat flour on her blouse. I notice that the boys have been wearing the same clothes for three days.

Day 17: Debbie calls me in tears. "I've tried everything," she explains. "I need a bread making machine." I try to console her, but she is late. "I have to go to Teresa's to watch her bake bread. Don't wait up for us tonight..."

Day 23: Debbie has resorted to bribing our sons with toys from the drugstore to get them to try samples of her bread. I have begun contemplating building an outdoor barbecue pit with the leftovers. The house is a shambles, and cobwebs are beginning to collect on the ceiling.

Day 24: Debbie calls me at work and announces proudly, "I got my bread to rise!" Unfortunately, she cannot remember what she did differently to make it so. I am now seriously considering seeking professional intervention.

Day 26: As I drive into the garage, I notice that the mile high pile of clothes on the washing machine has disappeared. Two adorable clean children greet me at the door. As I enter the house, it is obvious that the hallway is vacuumed and the kitchen is clean. "What's for dinner?" I ask hesitantly. "Chili," Debbie responds coyly. "And some homemade bread."

What is Christian Art anyway?

Manuel Luz — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 13:21:24 -0700

One of the ideas I’ve grappled with over the years is, What is Christian art? I mean, what makes an artistic expression like music or drama or dance uniquely Christian? What does that term mean anyway? And I’ve come to the conclusion that it isn’t necessarily anything that has Christian symbolism or religious themes or doves and crosses. More than anything, Christian art must begin to reflect the overarching story of God, the Meta-Narrative, that our Triune God is in the process of redeeming that which has fallen, that which He had created, that which He loves.

The story of all that is, is the story of God. He takes His pen in hand to write this story: Creation, Fall, Redemption. All of history, all of the Bible, all of what was and is and will be, reflects this three act play of Creation, Fall, and Redemption, that God is writing in the universe.

But that’s not all. He writes this story in our souls as well. For all of us have our own stories, our own vignettes of how God’s grace has saved us, changes us. And our stories enter into His larger story of the redemption of the universe.

And this distinction can be subtle or overt. It certainly need not be forced or made formulaic. But it must affect us as artists. It must affect our art. Hilary Brand and Adrienne Chaplin contend in their essential book, Art and Soul: Signposts for Christians in the Arts:

"In working through the most central plot of the Bible’s “grand story”—creation, fall and redemption—we have put in place the beginnings of a worldview. Through these spectacles we can begin to view and perhaps question the many assumptions that are tossed in our direction. Questioning assumptions is, of course, very much in the spirit of the post-modern age, but it is also the spirit of Christ."

We stand in the shadows of differing worldviews—a mosaic of religions, philosophies, mindsets, and historical eras. And in one way or another, art has been an expression for all of these co-existing yet unaligned worldviews. And we also live in a broken world. Because of the fallen nature of this earthly existence, we are thrust into unintended complexity—the universe has been invaded by sin, and as a result, we have disorder, distortion, disease, dysfunction. The universe does not operate as it was intended. We as Christians share the worldview that God created the world and in spite of the world’s broken nature, He is in the business of rescuing it and redeeming it. And in one way or another, our art should be an expression of that. This is what Christian art should be, honest in the brutal and complex realities of this world but also revelatory in the redemption of it.

So when we compose songs or choreograph dance or edit film or write a book, God’s story is told in some small way. Creation, Fall and Redemption. When you can see your art in this way, then I think you can begin to frame what it is to make Christian art.