Monday, March 13, 2017

On Callery Pears, Blind Squirrels, and "The Shack"

Tiny white blossoms stand out against an azure, late winter sky. Stunningly beautiful, but in this case, not good news. Is it a Callery pear tree? Indications are good, based on the evidence and presence of nearby Bradfords.


North American Christianity is 3,000 miles wide and half an inch deep.
— J.I. Packer, "The Quest for Godliness"


I was struck by how crisp the morning air felt as I traipsed down the road from the house. Winter has been especially mild this year, and I'm inclined to think this may mark the last true cold front of the season. Normally I go hiking when the weather is much warmer. My fear is that Callery pear trees are invading the land on which I reside, and I took the opportunity early in the growing season to snap a few pictures to assist in confirming my suspicions.

Much like kudzu, Japanese honeysuckle, starlings, and gobies, Callery pears are an especially insidious invasive species. To label them as a "Frankenpear" is to give a backhanded compliment. While Bradford pears are sterile—they produce no fruit, hence their use as ornamentals—their pollen can still create hybrids with viable pear trees. 

After Bradfords were introduced a century ago, an attempt was made to strengthen their genetically weak branch structures by creating stronger ornamental hybrids, such as the Cleveland Select. This well-intended effort to provide beauty and convenience for landscaping has left farmers and forestry officials with a looming, costly problem: fast-growing, native-hardwood-choking, invasive trees that have reverted back to their genetic roots (no pun intended). As these hybrids regress genetically through subsequent generations, their offspring regain the capacity to bear fruit.

The seeds are typically spread by starling droppings. Having a pervasive root structure, Callery pears can also grow thorns strong enough to puncture tractor tires. Dense thickets result; clearing acreage of such trees typically requires a bulldozer with steel tracks. Some state governments are now requesting farmers and landowners call a hotline in order to track the spread.

What price beauty?

This past Saturday, other than a morning faculty in-service at the Bible college where I teach, my afternoon schedule was completely free. Curiosity had gotten the best of me, so I took some time to go see a matinee of The Shack. I read the book years ago. It's been a long enough time that I've forgotten most of it.

The late Francis Schaffer (1912-1984) spoke often about how Christianity offers a framework of interpretation for culture, including music, art, and movies. This line of thinking was much of a surprise to me when I first encountered it in assigned reading as a graduate student; growing up in the semi-rural Appalachians, the culture of folk Christianity typically doesn't lend itself to intellectual pursuits. Per Schaffer:
To the new theology, the usefulness of a symbol is in direct proportion to its obscurity. There is connotation, as in the word god, but there is no definition. The secret of the strength of neo-orthodoxy is that these religious symbols with a connotation of personality give an illusion of meaning, and as a consequence it appears to be more optimistic than secular existentialism. (The God Who is There, p. 60, from Trilogy, 1990.)

The cast of The Shack (left to right): Avraham Aviv Alush (as Jesus); Sam Worthington (as Mack Phillips, the protagonist); Octavia Spencer (as one of two actors portraying Papa / God the Father); and Sumire Matsubara (as Sarayu / the Holy Spirit).

If one studies Christian theology and church history long enough, the influence of various authors becomes obvious in stories such as The Shack. The ghost of Paul Tillich and his theology looms over this movie. Interestingly enough, echoes of Martin Luther's relationship to his father are embodied in the character of Mack Phillips and his relationship with his father in the film.

As a cinephile—a person who loves movies—I watch for more than just the storyline. Art direction is something I try to discern, and the color palette of this film functioned much as I expected: at the moment the film makes its leap from being slightly plausible to becoming fantasy allegory, the colors onscreen change dramatically as well. (One of my favorite subjects to discuss when teaching graphic design to college students is the psychology of color. The film's art direction wrings forth an emotionally manipulative color schema at important plot points.)

This film is certainly crafted to elicit emotions; at times, I could hear movie goers throughout the theater sobbing. I've had a chance to discuss the film with a number of friends who also saw it. There is one common denominator which each of them has brought up: this film seems to convey the depth and richness of God's love for His children.

I should be more specific in my description: The Shack is an attempted theodicy in the form of an allegory. It is lush and visually stunning; however. . . .

What lies beneath?

Callery pear trees are quite attractive with tiny, five-petaled white flowers. The issue isn't the beauty; the issue is a matter of discernment, and awareness of just what the viewer is seeing. Beneath the surface is something with the potential to be rampantly destructive. The definition of heresy is this: belief contrary to orthodox Christian doctrine. This film has plenty lurking in the shadows. (To find a comprehensive list of the heresies in the film, click here. For a list of heresies in the book, click here.)

This film focuses on drawing out, and subsequently dealing with, feelings. Emotions, however, are not always an indicator of truth. Granted, the film does portray one thing well—namely, the love of the Father for His children. But as my friend Pastor Mike says, "Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn now and then."

Anyone with a basic knowledge of the Gospels and the words of Jesus will pick up the contradictory dialogue. If Jesus is fully God, and God cannot lie, then anything that contradicts what Jesus has said must be false. There is no escaping the law of non-contradiction.

I have a theory of why a glorified Hallmark Channel movie is emotionally overwhelming to some believers, and was actually reminded of it earlier in the day at the faculty in-service: learning styles of Americans are now skewing to visual and kinesthetic, and away from auditory. The powerful imagery of this movie, combined with a viewer's emotions, can suddenly connect-the-dots for someone who may never have fully appropriated the depth of God's love. (One would think the beauty and simplicity of the Gospel would have that effect, but I'm trying to avoid being overtly cynical. And regarding suffering and evil, there's a reason the story of Joseph in Genesis, Job, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations, certain Psalms, the teachings of Jesus, and Paul's personal experiences have been preserved for our benefit.)

Because one emotional positive does not outweigh a myriad of heretically troubling underpinnings, I can't recommend the movie. But due to my time spent in counseling, I am fully cognizant that many will be drawn to seeing it. Being an apologist, I felt compelled to go view it, so I can't condemn anyone else for seeing it lest I condemn myself (cf. Romans 2:14,15). (If the production photo of the actors shown above is offensive in what it conveys to you, you really do not want to go see this film.)

My hope is that those who have seen it will at least choose to discuss the movie with a pastor, teacher, apologist, or perhaps in a small group. Heresies are nothing new to Christianity; after all, the Gnostic gospels serve as testimony to that. Friendly conversations about the film go a long way in avoiding future problems: much like Callery pears, better to root out the dangers now rather than later.

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Postscript: the plotline of The Shack seems to borrow directly, and extensively, from the plot of a nearly-80-year-old fantasy movie that is shown regularly on both broadcast and cable television.