One
of the benefits of my editing job is that I get to learn new things from my
clients. Not too long ago my new tidbit was the word bildungsroman, a
term that has been around long enough that Webster’s Online rates it as an
English word. I guess I don’t travel in the right circles: when I looked it up,
I was expecting it to be treated as a German word, but it’s not.
Anyway,
for those of you who haven’t learned the term yet, a bildungsroman is a
coming-of-age novel, “a
novel about the moral and psychological growth of the main character.” A tragedy in that genre would, I suppose, involve a
protagonist who either refused to grow up or grew up crooked. But I would guess
that most bildungsromans are comedies: the protagonist learns his lesson and
lives happily ever after.
With
that in mind, let’s take a look at Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. The
elevator-talk version of the plot is this: the protagonist, Winston Smith, a
formerly married man who is becoming increasingly skeptical of the ruling
authorities, and Julia, a female co-worker, another anti-authoritarian, fall in
love and have a series of conjugal trysts. The authorities catch them in
flagrante delicto (another word that I would have expected to be italicized) and
use what would today be called “enhanced rehabilitation” to turn them against
each other. After their return to society, the lovers meet, but the affair is
dead, and the protagonist decides to join the side of the the authorities.
From
the time I was first able to read the book and understand it in the late 1960s,
I have always thought of it as a tragedy: the authorities, whose evil is
limited only by their incompetence, employ torture to break Winston's will,
they take away from him everything that gives his life meaning, and he ends up
gladly becoming one of them.
I was
not the only one who read it that way. When anyone said, “This is like
something out of Nineteen Eighty-Four,” everyone I knew or had ever even
heard of would immediately know that the speaker was talking about dystopia,
tyranny, evil.
But that
was before the year 1984, and it was certainly before “9/11 changed
everything.”
I
wonder if my conservative Christian brethren would now read the book as a
comedy, a triumph of good over evil. Would they not point out that Winston and
Julia were involved in an extramarital affair, and if the purpose of the civil
government is to punish evildoers, it was fulfilling its job by having its eyes
everywhere, capturing them, and persuading them by whatever means to end that
affair? Perhaps more importantly, Winston and Julia were contemptuous of
authority, doing everything they could to avoid being subject to it. Doesn’t
the book’s final line, “He [Winston] loved Big Brother,” describe perfectly the
attitude all subjects are to have toward the powers that be, ordained of God?
Aren’t those who would read the novel as a tragedy thereby glorifying sexual
immorality and rebellion?
The
shift in reading from tragedy to triumph may indeed indicate that the American
evangelical church is maturing in Christ, that it has taken the gloves off and
is urging the powers that be, ordained of God, to unsheath the sword against
evildoers. But I find it not irrelevant that today’s “mature” church matches
the surrounding culture (one denounced both inside and outside of churches as
sexually immoral) in rates of abortion, divorce, bastardy, and fornication—not
to mention plain old, garden-variety, let’s-stop-attending-church apostasy—a
feat it had not achieved in the days when the book’s title was synonymous with
hell on earth.
As
the American evangelical church celebrates the establishment of an imperialist
police state that not only makes Orwell’s nightmare seem tame by comparison but
is getting to the point at which it defies parody, let me suggest that if Jesus
reads Nineteen Eighty-Four as a comedy, we are on the verge of a turning
to Christ in this nation that is beyond our wildest dreams as the spy state
leaves evil nowhere to hide and uses enhanced methods to convince people of
their need to submit to authority. Libertarians and anarchists will either
become statists or be left behind, but rank-and-file Americans will turn to him
in droves.
Or,
if that omniscient state turns against us, we could be on the verge of
persecution beyond our wildest imagination. In that case, if the saying that the
church grows fastest where the persecution is the worst is true, we’re in for
massive turning to Christ that way too.
But
if Jesus reads the book as a tragedy, American evangelicalism has some serious
thinking to do.
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