This is an article written in 2002 by the late Mike Riddell for an online magazine I co-created and curated. The original can be viewed here on the wayback machine. I’ve thought about republishing it here for many years; today I am.
Early in 1997 my job as Lecturer in Practical Theology at a New Zealand Baptist theological seminary came to a nasty end. I was pressured to resign because of the impending publication of a novel which I had written. The book, The Insatiable Moon, was a work of contemporary New Zealand fiction, published by Flamingo. On March 1, my novel appeared in bookshops and my employment came to an end.
Time has now passed, and I am perhaps more able to get a reasonable perspective on the events surrounding that portentous day. With the passing of the months, my anger has, if anything, increased. It seems to me that I was forced to separate my faith from my art; that I could be either a teacher in the church, or an artist, but not both at the same time. I refuse to believe that this dualism is either necessary or helpful.
The storyline of the novel was always going to be potentially controversial for Baptists. It concerned a psychiatric patient who believed himself to be the second son of God, and consequently explored the interface between revelation and insanity. The conclusion left the question of the main character’s divine status deliberately unresolved.
I mentioned to my immediate superiors that the book was coming out, and might ruffle a few feathers in a predominantly conservative denomination. They requested a copy of the manuscript, and having read it, decided that my position would no longer be tenable. To my astonishment, however, the problem which they had was not theological, but related to a scene in the book of reasonably explicit sexual encounter.
The incident in question formed the pivot point of the book; an incarnational moment in which the protagonist seeks to fulfill his divine calling to father a child with the Queen of Heaven. I have returned often to the passage to try to understand what the fuss was about, without enlightenment. It is, I hope, tender, loving and suffused with spirituality. To my mind it is a ‘high’ view of human sexuality, and certainly far from prurient.
The issue, on reflection, was much deeper than whether Baptists have sex or not, and whether if they do, it is permissible to talk about it. At stake, I suspect, were totally different perspectives on the role of the Christian artist. There remains, especially within Evangelical circles, the expectation that Christian art will be essentially didactic or evangelistic.
Thus, as a friend of mine explained rather clumsily, the sex involved was between two people who weren’t married. Did this mean, he asked, that I had departed from traditional Christian expectations of the sanctity of marriage? I was initially bewildered by the question. I honestly didn’t understand it. I joked that the adultery was an oversight – I didn’t notice there was any in there until it was too late.
When I finally realized that he was serious, and that my writing was causing him personal offense, I had to painstakingly explain to him that what I was doing was writing a story. It was a story that I wanted to tell; one that arose from the dark vaults of my imagination where rationality and ethical thinking are at a low ebb. It was a work of art, not a theological exposition.
This expectation from well-meaning Christian spectators in the art world, that artists are some sort of covert evangelistic commandos, is a monkey on the back for creative people within the church. It is the reason why so much Christian art is simply poor art, because artists bow to the temptation to get a message across. The consumers of what results tend to be members of the Christian community, who are all too ready to trade taste for testimony.
Art is the product of singular vision. It comes, as a writer friend of mine had it, from one’s meditation. Unless one is committed to dragging that vision, wet and wild and pumping, from the creative womb, it is misleading to claim the title of ‘artist’. There is a deep and unique responsibility upon any artist to be faithful to that which rises within them. Anything else is the equivalent of ‘burying one’s talents’, or at least adulterating them.
The counter position, advanced by various teachers of the institutional church, is that the qualifier ‘Christian’ should dominate over any other term which follows it. Thus Christian artists must produce art which is specifically Christian, and an acceptable representation of the outlook of the church. There are consequently clear boundaries which a Christian artist dare not transgress.
I find it very difficult to feel much sympathy for this view. It is based on a simplistic view of human nature. Exponents of it seem to suggest that there is some foundational core of Christianity, upon which other vocational attributes float. The ability to write or paint or sculpt is seen as something which is tacked on to an existing Christian agenda.
In my experience, both Christianity and art drive to the very heart of being. The symbols, language and rituals of faith are naturally deeply formative of those who participate in them. But expressing art is not a matter of simply ‘applying’ faith to the creative endeavour. Rather one reaches into those murky depths where primal good and evil still struggle, and dredges material up to the surface.
It may not be pretty; it may not look very ‘Christian’. The only thing which in fact distinguishes such art as Christian is the allegiance of the artist. A Christian lawyer will not be expected to somehow establish forgiveness as the guiding principle of the legal system. I cannot accept that Christian artists should be required or even encouraged to merely give some artistic representation of the gospel.
Perhaps it is arrogant to insist on artistic integrity, and to set oneself as the only arbiter of what is morally acceptable in one’s own work. But to an artist, integrity is all. That cavern of imagination which is the source of all art must be guarded with care. Once violated, it is more difficult to restore than a hymen. God, of course, is the final judge, and Christian artists know the terror and excitement of living under that shadow.
The institutional church as judge is a poor substitute, and has an appalling record. It applauds the worst and excommunicates the best of Christian art. My dream would be for the church to simply concentrate on being the nurturing community for artists; a place where creativity is fostered and supported. And then, against the odds, to live with whatever is produced. If anyone is to lead the way out of the rational cage which the church has built for itself, it will be her artists.
In my own case, I have reason to be grateful for the bigotry of the Baptist community. My loss of employment led to a change of city, where cheaper housing has meant that I can pursue writing full time. So my art has prospered, and my faith has not suffered any mortal blows. I have, however, jumped the ugly ditch and become a Catholic. I find in my new home a much greater acceptance of me as I am, without the dualism which has marked my former Evangelical existence.
In the end faith and art cannot be separated or prioritized. They draw from the one spring, in which we find our human calling to be that of co-creation with God. Art does not need to be spiritualized. It is, if genuine, already a spiritual act. I suspect that betraying one’s art is every bit as apostate as renouncing one’s faith. Let us hope that the church may yet become a place where neither is necessary.
Mike Riddell is a novelist and writer on spirituality who lives in the south of New Zealand at Dunedin. He is also a teacher of theology at Otago university and an international speaker and storyteller, addressing topics from the life of prayer to the future of the church. For many years he has been a pioneer and innovator in the alternative worship movement. Author of nine books, Mike has an interesting and varied background including such episodes as time in a Moroccan prison and disrobing before the Auckland City Council to highlight housing issues. A former Baptist minister, he left his job lecturing Baptist students after publication of a controversial novel, and is now a Catholic layman. Mike’s special interest is in the radical application of Jesus’ life and teaching to the world around us.