FROM THE EDITOR'S DESK
Crucifying Stormtroopers:
On Taking Offense
by Kimberly Vrudny, Senior Editor of ARTS: The Arts in Religious and Theological Studies
RYCA, Crucified Stormtrooper on view at St. Stephen Walbrook church in London as part of "Stations of the Cross." Photo courtesy of Art Below
I’m not sure what confluence of forces made it such that I saw a story about the sidelining of a life-size crucifixion of an Imperial stormtrooper literally hours after reading Doris L. Bergen’s chapter on “Storm Troopers of Christ: The German Christian Movement and the Ecclesiastical Final Solution,” in Betrayal, Susannah Heschel and Robert Ericksen’s edited volume about German churches and the Holocaust—but there I was, deep into my observance of Lent, corresponding with a different artist whose work also appeared in the show and offering one theological perspective.
St. Stephen Walbrook church in London was preparing to open its exhibit, “Stations of the Cross,” featuring a sculpture by Ryan Callahan (RYCA) of one of the ubiquitous Star Wars’ figures hanging from a cross, when the story broke that the church had decided to move the sculpture from its location near the altar after parishioners took offense. Indeed, when he showed a smaller version at a London gallery in 2014, he was accused of blasphemy. In terms of a defense, RYCA explained, “It’s not making fun of any particular religion and certainly not Christianity.” He suggested instead that the sculpture was a comment on the expendable nature of the movie’s faceless stormtroopers. In light of the most recent controversy, RYCA has affirmed, again, “This is a crucified stormtrooper and has nothing to do with religion. It is not a method of capital punishment reserved for the son of God. This work is like many of my works, using symbology and pop culture and mixing them up to create a new narrative” (https://news.artnet.com/exhibitions/crucified-stormtrooper-art-exhibition-1243118; accessed 21 March 2018).
I can certainly appreciate why the parishioners took offense, as it seems that the show was mounted not in a gallery or even a side chapel, but in the church’s main worship space. Certainly, the sculpture must appear to trivialize the meaning of the cross to the faithful ones who gather there for worship. The Reverend Jonathan Evens of the church defended the exhibit, saying, “This is an exhibition of images designed to provoke thought from artists grappling with their response to the challenge and scandal of Christ’s cross.” But context matters. Maybe there were curatorial choices that could have mitigated congregational pushback. But alas, the latest scandal in theology, art, and culture is upon us.
Even though I can understand the congregation’s offense, I do not share it. Rather, I take issue with a related sent of offenses. In an age when neo-Nazism and nationalism(s) are on the rise with some old and with some new scapegoats to target, is it not time for Christians to wrestle sincerely with what New Testament scholars are learning about the historical Jesus? Was he someone who died for blaspheming the tenets of his faith, or was he someone who the Jewish authorities, maybe even reluctantly, handed over on charges of treason in order to protect their nation and its cultic practices centered on the Temple in Jerusalem? Biblical scholars are bringing to light how Jesus may have resisted the Romans by suggesting that not they but God alone had a right to the Jewish taxes, by attracting a large following of people who hailed him (not Caesar) their king, and who practiced what we today would call active nonviolent resistance in his teachings about forgiveness and turning the other cheek. (See, for example, Richard Horsley, In the Shadow of Empire.)
In other words, historical-critical scholarship is suggesting that far from being someone who easily accommodated to imperial purposes, such that his followers could do the same (as in Germany under Hitler and in South Africa under Verwoerd), Jesus’ model was more akin to people like Nelson Mandela in South Africa and Martin Luther King, Jr., in America, someone who peacefully and nonviolently advocated for the creation of a just society no matter the cost. And the cost for him, as a Jewish citizen under Rome, was high, as it was for Bonhoeffer, and for Mandela, and for King.
In an age of Brexit, Trumpism, and other nationalist movements—what does it mean to be a disciple of Jesus? Does he produce stormtroopers, or does he produce members of the resistance? This is what RYCA’s crucifixion raises for me, and so it is not the sculpture but its implications that unsettle me.
Doris Bergin concludes her essay about German Christians under the Third Reich by indicating that, under Hitler, the balance among German Christians clearly and catastrophically went in favor of the stormtroopers. “The ideal of a people’s church, Christian anti-Jewishness, racial antisemitism, an antidoctrinal, romantic understanding of religion—those were all familiar themes to Germans of the 1920s and 1930s. German Christians pulled them together into a movement dedicated to the creation of a church that would provide spiritual expression to a racially pure nation” (Ericksen and Heschel, Betrayal, 65). And because Christians have not, en masse, grappled with the role of Christian theology in the Shoah, and have not participated in the re-imagining for which Johannes Metz called, it is not surprising that once again Christians are first among those joining the bandwagon behind nationalistic and even fascist movements. Christians in the United States overwhelmingly voted for Trump in the 2016 elections (81% of white Evangelical Christians voted for Trump, as did 60% of white Catholics; http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2016/11/09/how-the-faithful-voted-a-preliminary-2016-analysis/ [accessed 21 March 2018]), and the far right is on the rise in the Netherlands, Scandanavia, even Germany—often citing Christian justification for its positions.
In regard to taking offense, then, we might well ask why parishioners will decry artwork linking Christ with a stormtrooper, but not the reality of Christian accommodation to nationalistic impulses. Is this the “new narrative” that RYCA is inviting us into? Or is he concerned about the dispensability of Nazi lives? Is he saying something about the dignity of every human life?
To be clear, I recognize that there are other issues here—not least of which are those pertaining to the curation of the exhibit, artistic intention, and the mixing of sacred and secular symbols. I am pleased that the compromise was to move the sculpture to a less central space in the sanctuary rather than to remove it altogether. This is not the first time that I have been perplexed by the things against which Christians are and are not willing to protest. In some ways, Victoria Barnett’s book, For the Soul of the People: Protestant Protest Against Hitler, is an attempt to undersatnd why Christians were largely unwilling to protest the destruction of Jewish life during the Third Reich when they were willing to protest other totalitarian demands by Hitler. There are important lessons to be gleaned from its pages, and I commend it to readers of ARTS who are interested in society, culture, and our current political situation. I am going to open the comment section in the online edition to invite a conversation among our readers on this latest scandal, and I do sincerely encourage you to add your voice to the site. As always, I thank you for your readership.
ARTS is pleased to publish this issue, with its portfolio, poetry, regular feature articles, and book notes. Richard Rosengarten invites readers to consider retablo as the theological architecture upon which Frida Kahlo painted her autobiographical works. Jeffrey Brackett wrestles with whether his mandalas are necessarily “spiritual” in his reflection for “in the studio.” Helen Boursier shares her experience of working with women in an immigrant detention center on the Mexican border. Martin Shannon and Mons. Timothy Verdon outline how the Mount Tabor Ecumenical Centre for Art and Spirituality was born. I am very pleased to include a new short story with an accompanying image by artist and culture critic Bob Haverluck. Patrick Beldio and Kiki McGrath pick up commentary on the 500th anniversary of the Reformation by describing their curation of a show on the subject which was mounted at the Dadian Gallery at Wesley Theological Seminary. And Mark McInroy rounds out the issue by noting the contents of three new titles in theology and the arts.
Let me close by acknowledging that this issue marks the end of our third decade of publishing; our next issue will begin our fourth. Your membership in SARTS and subscriptions to the journal have kept us running all of these years, for which I am grateful. Please, spread the word to keep this work going. —kv
St. Stephen Walbrook church in London was preparing to open its exhibit, “Stations of the Cross,” featuring a sculpture by Ryan Callahan (RYCA) of one of the ubiquitous Star Wars’ figures hanging from a cross, when the story broke that the church had decided to move the sculpture from its location near the altar after parishioners took offense. Indeed, when he showed a smaller version at a London gallery in 2014, he was accused of blasphemy. In terms of a defense, RYCA explained, “It’s not making fun of any particular religion and certainly not Christianity.” He suggested instead that the sculpture was a comment on the expendable nature of the movie’s faceless stormtroopers. In light of the most recent controversy, RYCA has affirmed, again, “This is a crucified stormtrooper and has nothing to do with religion. It is not a method of capital punishment reserved for the son of God. This work is like many of my works, using symbology and pop culture and mixing them up to create a new narrative” (https://news.artnet.com/exhibitions/crucified-stormtrooper-art-exhibition-1243118; accessed 21 March 2018).
I can certainly appreciate why the parishioners took offense, as it seems that the show was mounted not in a gallery or even a side chapel, but in the church’s main worship space. Certainly, the sculpture must appear to trivialize the meaning of the cross to the faithful ones who gather there for worship. The Reverend Jonathan Evens of the church defended the exhibit, saying, “This is an exhibition of images designed to provoke thought from artists grappling with their response to the challenge and scandal of Christ’s cross.” But context matters. Maybe there were curatorial choices that could have mitigated congregational pushback. But alas, the latest scandal in theology, art, and culture is upon us.
Even though I can understand the congregation’s offense, I do not share it. Rather, I take issue with a related sent of offenses. In an age when neo-Nazism and nationalism(s) are on the rise with some old and with some new scapegoats to target, is it not time for Christians to wrestle sincerely with what New Testament scholars are learning about the historical Jesus? Was he someone who died for blaspheming the tenets of his faith, or was he someone who the Jewish authorities, maybe even reluctantly, handed over on charges of treason in order to protect their nation and its cultic practices centered on the Temple in Jerusalem? Biblical scholars are bringing to light how Jesus may have resisted the Romans by suggesting that not they but God alone had a right to the Jewish taxes, by attracting a large following of people who hailed him (not Caesar) their king, and who practiced what we today would call active nonviolent resistance in his teachings about forgiveness and turning the other cheek. (See, for example, Richard Horsley, In the Shadow of Empire.)
In other words, historical-critical scholarship is suggesting that far from being someone who easily accommodated to imperial purposes, such that his followers could do the same (as in Germany under Hitler and in South Africa under Verwoerd), Jesus’ model was more akin to people like Nelson Mandela in South Africa and Martin Luther King, Jr., in America, someone who peacefully and nonviolently advocated for the creation of a just society no matter the cost. And the cost for him, as a Jewish citizen under Rome, was high, as it was for Bonhoeffer, and for Mandela, and for King.
In an age of Brexit, Trumpism, and other nationalist movements—what does it mean to be a disciple of Jesus? Does he produce stormtroopers, or does he produce members of the resistance? This is what RYCA’s crucifixion raises for me, and so it is not the sculpture but its implications that unsettle me.
Doris Bergin concludes her essay about German Christians under the Third Reich by indicating that, under Hitler, the balance among German Christians clearly and catastrophically went in favor of the stormtroopers. “The ideal of a people’s church, Christian anti-Jewishness, racial antisemitism, an antidoctrinal, romantic understanding of religion—those were all familiar themes to Germans of the 1920s and 1930s. German Christians pulled them together into a movement dedicated to the creation of a church that would provide spiritual expression to a racially pure nation” (Ericksen and Heschel, Betrayal, 65). And because Christians have not, en masse, grappled with the role of Christian theology in the Shoah, and have not participated in the re-imagining for which Johannes Metz called, it is not surprising that once again Christians are first among those joining the bandwagon behind nationalistic and even fascist movements. Christians in the United States overwhelmingly voted for Trump in the 2016 elections (81% of white Evangelical Christians voted for Trump, as did 60% of white Catholics; http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2016/11/09/how-the-faithful-voted-a-preliminary-2016-analysis/ [accessed 21 March 2018]), and the far right is on the rise in the Netherlands, Scandanavia, even Germany—often citing Christian justification for its positions.
In regard to taking offense, then, we might well ask why parishioners will decry artwork linking Christ with a stormtrooper, but not the reality of Christian accommodation to nationalistic impulses. Is this the “new narrative” that RYCA is inviting us into? Or is he concerned about the dispensability of Nazi lives? Is he saying something about the dignity of every human life?
To be clear, I recognize that there are other issues here—not least of which are those pertaining to the curation of the exhibit, artistic intention, and the mixing of sacred and secular symbols. I am pleased that the compromise was to move the sculpture to a less central space in the sanctuary rather than to remove it altogether. This is not the first time that I have been perplexed by the things against which Christians are and are not willing to protest. In some ways, Victoria Barnett’s book, For the Soul of the People: Protestant Protest Against Hitler, is an attempt to undersatnd why Christians were largely unwilling to protest the destruction of Jewish life during the Third Reich when they were willing to protest other totalitarian demands by Hitler. There are important lessons to be gleaned from its pages, and I commend it to readers of ARTS who are interested in society, culture, and our current political situation. I am going to open the comment section in the online edition to invite a conversation among our readers on this latest scandal, and I do sincerely encourage you to add your voice to the site. As always, I thank you for your readership.
ARTS is pleased to publish this issue, with its portfolio, poetry, regular feature articles, and book notes. Richard Rosengarten invites readers to consider retablo as the theological architecture upon which Frida Kahlo painted her autobiographical works. Jeffrey Brackett wrestles with whether his mandalas are necessarily “spiritual” in his reflection for “in the studio.” Helen Boursier shares her experience of working with women in an immigrant detention center on the Mexican border. Martin Shannon and Mons. Timothy Verdon outline how the Mount Tabor Ecumenical Centre for Art and Spirituality was born. I am very pleased to include a new short story with an accompanying image by artist and culture critic Bob Haverluck. Patrick Beldio and Kiki McGrath pick up commentary on the 500th anniversary of the Reformation by describing their curation of a show on the subject which was mounted at the Dadian Gallery at Wesley Theological Seminary. And Mark McInroy rounds out the issue by noting the contents of three new titles in theology and the arts.
Let me close by acknowledging that this issue marks the end of our third decade of publishing; our next issue will begin our fourth. Your membership in SARTS and subscriptions to the journal have kept us running all of these years, for which I am grateful. Please, spread the word to keep this work going. —kv