“Inconspicuously Christian,” has been the tagline of my online review archive (1 More Film Blog) for over a decade, so I have had some practice explaining what this description means and why I have tried to adopt it as my preferred way of integrating my faith with my film criticism.
The phrase had its genesis when I read Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel & Dimed: Undercover in Low Wage America. The author used the term “visible Christians” to describe customers who would leave her Bible tracts instead of tips while she was working as a waitress. I didn’t know then what kind of Christian I wanted to be (much less what kind of Christian movie critic), but I did know that I wanted to be. . .not that.
In the two decades since reading that passage, I’ve had ample time to meditate on why it resonated with me and to bring my understanding of the issues it addresses into slightly better focus. Here, I would like to focus on three of them.
The first and by far the most important point I would make about the motto is that “inconspicuously” is an adverb not an adjective. In other words, it does not describe the content of my faith; it describes the ways in which I try to enact it. How I act is the deeper, more important, reflection of my faith than what I claim to believe. That is not to say that theology is unimportant. Any dichotomy between belief and action is probably a false one. I simply mean that belief should inform and drive our actions rather than excuse them.
The second point took me a bit longer to realize. “Inconspicuous” is not the opposite of “visible.” The goal is not to have one’s faith be indiscernible. It is to have one’s faith be apparent through one’s action rather than through one’s visible appearance. Banners, badges, bumper stickers – all manners of tribal tokens – announce to those who see them that one is looking for acknowledgement (and, usually, approval) of one’s Christianity. But approval, if it is required at all, should be a response to our actions, not our identification. After all, God does not say “well done good and faithful servant” until one has, in fact, served. This reason is why I dropped the early and insecure habit of including a Bible verse at the end of each review. I figured that if I had to explain to readers how my analysis of a film or issue conformed to Biblical doctrine than either the analysis itself was not very good or the reader was not yet capable of seeing it as such. Either way, my job was to be Christian, not to get others to confirm my Christianity.
The third point is that being inconspicuous does not mean that one is ashamed. Fewer verses in my lifetime have received more soapbox time (and less nuanced pulpit time) than Romans 1:16 in which Paul asserts that he is not ashamed of the gospel. It is not an exaggeration to suggest that contemporary Christians seem to have embraced a weird set of assumptions whereby shamelessness requires obnoxious, persistent arrogance. Or, they are so frightened of being labeled ashamed that they overcompensate by claiming to have no shame at all – and seek to prove it by showing how brazenly they can say or do anti-social things without blushing. It is worth paraphrasing Brené Brown here: holding people accountable for hurtful behavior is not the same as shaming them, even if it triggers them to feel shame (Atlas of the Heart, xix). A useful corollary: just because you feel shame at something you said or did – even if it was intended in the service of God or at the instruction and training of the institutional Church – does not mean you are ashamed of the gospel. Perhaps you are being more Spirit-led (or convicted?) than you know, and the shame is the first indicator that there is a disconnect between what you know is supposed to be “good news” to those who hear it and the words that are actually coming out of your mouth. The absence of shame doesn’t always mean you are making a brave stand against persecution. In college, my Inter-Varsity group had a popular saying: not all persecution is for righteousness’ sake – sometimes you are just being a jerk.
To be fair, Mark 8:38 does contain a stern warning from Jesus for those who are ashamed of him or his words. Of course, if one is primarily or exclusively motivated by public praise, that is reason for introspection. But we live in an age, or so it seems to me, where there is no shortage of virtue signaling and public championing of Christianity of some ideological or social slants. One hardly needs to hide one’s Christianity to receive praise, and one may in fact, receive lots of ritual pats on the back for standing up to the exaggerated boogeyman of public scorn by shouting one’s identity, whatever it is, from the rooftops. In any culture where tribal allegiance is currency, the Christian tribe is usually big enough to make our proclaiming our inclusion in it a “no big deal.” If anything, I have received more pushback from other Christians in public spheres than I have from those who do not profess to share my beliefs. That has changed some in the last decade, but only to the extent the non-Christian readership has assumed that the label only applies to white, cisgender, Republican, patriarchal, autocrats and plutocrats. I wonder who gave them that idea?
Which brings me back to where I started. If I tell people I am a Christian before I act, before they know me, I may not be telling them anything that will help them understand my film analysis. But if I analyze films from a Christian perspective, I find that I often establish a shared point of reference from which to explore not only the art but also the philosophy that informs my analysis of it.
At the core of my film criticism are two truths that I embrace wholeheartedly even as I have practiced them imperfectly. The first is to speak the truth in love. There is so much snarkiness today. It is everywhere, but it is especially pervasive in art criticism and on the Internet – two places where quick hits of strong emotions (usually outrage) can temporarily numb smaller pains. It is important to speak respectfully and lovingly to your neighbor, even when, especially when, you are judging another’s work harshly. The second is that not all pleasure is sinful and not all sin is pleasurable. If someone finds value or worth in a film that did little for you, be happy for them if it leads them to a place of greater compassion, empathy, or virtue. If someone dismisses or disdains that in which you find value, let them. Perhaps it is not yet their time to understand. Perhaps in time you will see your current pleasures as bridges to greater and more substantial ones.
Be humble when giving your opinions and thankful when receiving the work of another’s hands. Did you know that one prominent proponent of auteur theory uses the word “soul” to describe the connection between an auteur and his or her art? Yes, being a film critic means watching a lot of mediocre movies that feel like they have been rolled off an assembly line. But it is also means that every now and then you hold the external expression of another’s heart and soul in your hands.
Handle it with care.
Kenneth R. Morefield is a Professor of English, a film critic, and, yes, a Christian. Inconspicuously Christian Film Criticism (2021) is available from Cambridge Scholars Publishing.
