Tag Archives: agnosticism

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Agnostic Atheist: The Day After Christmas

This episode opens with Chris, the annoying bookend morals woman, telling us all how we can experience the joy of Christmas even after we have gotten bored with our toys. Okay, place your bets now. Is it A. going to church a lot B. taking all of Whit’s advice all the time or C. giving to others?

Well, actually it’s C. Yay!

The problem with Adventures in Odyssey isn’t that a hundred percent of the official morals are terrible message. In fact, most of the time, I do agree with them. What has bothered me about AIO, as I’ve been revisiting the episodes, isn’t the message as much as the execution. The best message in the world can be spoiled by the way you convey it.

It opens with a kid named Annie hanging out at Whit’s End. She has been told to get out of the house by her parents, who are sick of her whining about being bored. Which is really their fault; after all, they only gave her a doll, and a moving teddy bear, and new shoes and a coat, and jewelry, and some kind of combination.

Yeah, she’s kind of a brat. Whit listens to her spoiled tirade, with admirable patience, and then invites her on his yearly trip to bring Christmas to a church Foster Creek, a place that has never before been mentioned and never will be again.

Annie: Isn’t that like a, well, you know?

Whit: A ghetto?

Annie: Yeah.

Whit: Well, some people call it that.

Uh, no Whit. You just called it that. If you don’t like the word, come up with another one, otherwise fucking own it.

As they drive through Foster Creek, Annie squeals over the dirt and the houses that Whit confirms are made of literal cardboard. In the church, we meet Reverend Pike, who gushes over Whit’s arrival and everything he has brought. He’s clearly coded as Black by his voice, but he isn’t using AAVE. Frankly, he’s using a voice I usually associate with the Uncle Tom-ish butler in a movie made around 1930. We also meet Tommy, a troubled boy who Reverend Pike is trying to look after.

Tommy also doesn’t speak with AAVE, but rather speaks exactly like Whit and Annie. I remember specifically noting this as a kid. Normally, Odyssey uses accents constantly, both to establish character and to disguise the fact that they are re-using voice actors. The accents they use are usually for minor, one-off characters, and they usually correspond to stereotypes. Characters will be given Italian accents because they are passionate, Scottish accents because they are brusque, New York Jewish accents because they are stingy and quarrelsome, New Jersey mafia accents because they are delinquents, all in a small town that is otherwise portrayed as culturally homogenous. Now they are going out of their way to portray this as a place where you would expect, going by stereotypes, to hear AAVE, but it’s conspicuously absent. Instead, to signal that Reverend Pike is nice, he is given a voice that screams “Uncle Tom,” and Tommy has a standard Midwestern voice.

I could argue here that it’s entirely possible that Tommy just speaks that way, or is code switching around Annie, but that wasn’t the interpretation that honestly came to mind when I was a kid. Nor do I think it was the interpretation AIO intended. When I was a kid, I knew Tommy would speak AAVE in the real world, but they were making him speak “normally” as a sort of kindness. I was surrounded by people who treated AAVE as, not an English dialect like any other, but a sign of incredible ignorance at best and actual moral decay at worst. AIO was bestowing some dignity on him that his natural accent would strip him of. The pastor’s accent though, one that is associated with submissiveness to whites, was perfectly acceptable, and in fact established him as a “good one.”

I didn’t grow up with anyone who expressed active hatred towards Black people, but a different kind of racism was ubiquitous. It was primarily expressed in a “we won’t mention that Black culture exists, because it’s such a horrible thing” approach. And let me be clear; it’s still very damaging. It enables the more violent kind of racism, but even on it’s own, it sends a constant message that Black people are inferior, while patting itself on the back for not mentioning it.

Now, thanks to others speaking out, I’ve unlearned that message. I now understand that AAVE is just like Bostonian and Cockney and Irish English, and that Odyssey’s omission wasn’t “PC.” It was erasure.

Anyway, Whit apparently wanted to bring Annie to the nursing home to meet some of his friends, but he is reminded by the pastor that they won’t let children in at this time. So he’s forced to leave her behind, with Tommy. Naturally, being the official bad kid of the episode, he drags her off to ogle a crazy cat lady. On the way, though, they are harassed by a gang called The Locos. The Locos definitely have accents. I don’t honestly know what kind of accent it is. It doesn’t sound like even a reasonable approximation of how any real people talk. It’s just kind of generically offensive.

Tommy abandons Annie, who is rescued by Mrs. Rossini, the crazy old cat lady. Annie learns that Mrs. Rossini is lonely and unsure who to trust in this neighborhood, and has developed a tough exterior to drive away the Locos, but otherwise is rather sweet. They drink cocoa and talk about her cats, Christmas, and Mrs. Rossini’s life before her husband died and the neighborhood turned bad.

Mrs. Rossini is a nuanced and interesting character, and seeing Annie open up and learn about the perspective of someone less privileged was actually very interesting. But it’s also maddening that, of all the characters in this ghetto, the only one who gets any development is the only one who could easily be interpreted as white. She, like Tommy and Annie has a standard Midwestern accent. Her Italian surname, while conceivable on an African-American, is more likely to belong to a white person. She mentions living in this neighborhood when it was nicer. Your average white conservative child is utterly ignorant about redlining. There is almost no chance they would interpret this as “this area was nice before banks began discriminatory lending practices, and city planners cut us off from all resources with a superhighway and deliberately neglected our infrastructure in favor of taking care of predominantly white neighborhoods, therefore creating a self-fulfilling prophecy of racial inequality.” When I was a kid, I interpreted “it was nice once,” as “it was white once.”

Anyway, the police catch the Locos and Annie is safely returned to Whit, and they all have a nice Christmas party together at the church. Annie is now excited to return and help Mrs. Rossini out, and Chris spells out for all of us that the Official Moral of this episode is to experience Christmas joy by helping others.

As I’ve mentioned before, Odyssey is very selective about how you are supposed to reach out to. Anyone who would cause you to question your ordinary way of thinking is treated as foolish at best, dangerous at worst. The neighborhood Whit takes Annie to is one where her values and norms might be questioned, but the only person she connects with is someone who is exactly like her aside from being older and poorer. Whit, too, doesn’t seem really connected to these people. In contrast with Mrs. Rossini, Reverend Pike is flat, and your classic recipient of the white savior trope. Annie bonds with Mrs. Rossini and plans to return regularly to bring her cat food and check up on her. Everything that Whit and Reverend Pike say suggests that Whit only comes to Foster Creek once a year, to play Santa Claus and receive their gratitude. Whites are characters. Blacks are background.

This is especially disturbing because I feel like the audience of AIO is primed to absorb toxic messages about race. It’s an overwhelmingly white subculture. It’s also an isolated kind of white. I was lucky. I grew up on the coast in an incredibly diverse county, and had many friends to educate me. I’m not sure your average AIO listener has it. Mostly they are kids in white towns who grow up hearing lots of angry rants about immigrants stealing our jobs. Plus, they are raised to treat AIO episodes as practically gospel, not to analyze and criticize them, and the show overall discourages it’s listeners from listening to those dangerous liberals who might educate them about race.

Final Ratings

Best Part: Mrs. Rossini. I wish she had been Black, but that doesn’t change the fact that I liked her.

Worst Part: Seeing how long I ranted about them, I’m gonna have to say all the accents.

Story/Moral: Normally I separate these, but this time it feels right to consider them together. This episode has good bones. The basic structure is both an interesting story and a valuable lesson. Then it animates it almost entirely with a very subtle and insidious kind of racism.

This episode isn’t about race. This episode is about charity. But what is charity when you don’t bother to see the recipients as human? When you don’t listen to their real needs? When you show up for accolades on Christmas and don’t look at the issues impacting their everyday life? What is charity when the only people worthy of real understanding and help throughout the year are the ones who are just like you?

It’s an exercise in self-congratulation. This episode preaches charity, but it doesn’t really teach it.

D-

An Open Letter to Mattea: Love and Truth and the Survivor’s Bias

Hello again Mattea,

As promised, here’s a full post’s worth of a response to your comment on my Screwtape Letters review. Sorry for the delay; I’ve been a bit preoccupied with the political situation. In my post I took apart Lewis’ explanation of why sex outside of marriage is condemned, and I noted that I’ve never heard another good reason for why sex is bad, or bad outside of that specific context. You gave your explanation, and it makes sense from your perspective, but it doesn’t really contain anything that’s convincing to somebody who doesn’t already believe in, not only Jesus, but your specific interpretation of Jesus, love, and purity.

Hopefully you can see that yourself, and I don’t have to spell out why; if you’d like a fuller explanation let me know in the comments. That doesn’t really bother me because you also said you won’t tell somebody else how to live their life. As I said in that chapter, if you have made a person decision to remain a virgin until marriage, based on your understanding of your own religion, I have no problem whatsoever with that. I don’t think you’re a loser or missing out, as you seemed to think I might. Props to you for living life your own way; my only issue is with people who let their religion dictate somebody else’s sex life. Since that’s not you, we have no problem.

The part I really want to respond to starts here.

“But as a Christian, I have a deep desire to see the lives around me experience the same joy and love and peace that I have in Jesus.”

You were homeschooled, I was homeschooled, you mentioned you’re twenty-one and you have been a Christian your whole life (or at least you’ve been Christian 21 years and you are a college student, correct me if I jumped to the wrong conclusion there). I can relate to that. I was only a little younger than you when I left the faith. So much of what you said resonated with my memories of how I used to think, and particularly with my ideas of what the world outside was like. Because my access to that world was very limited, I had a lot of misconceptions about life from somebody else’s perspective.

You were willing to be very personal about your experiences and perspectives, so what I really want to do isn’t argue, so much as share what life has been like for me, growing up the way you did and then seeing another side.

For example, you said, “whenever I hear people’s stories about how they left the church, they [didn’t] believe God exists, or [they] ‘fell away.'” I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the survivor’s bias. The classic example is WWII planes, where they tried to determine structural weaknesses in bombers by analyzing the bullet holes in aircraft that returned from missions. But however much they reinforced those areas, the number of planes shot down never changed, until they realized their mistake. They were looking at the bullet holes in the planes that survived. This gave them no information about why planes fell down.

In the church, you hear conversion stories, or stories about falling away and returning to the fold. Ministers and evangelists often assume these stories are typical of people’s experiences in the secular world, but they aren’t representative at all. And, for the record, atheist activists also make this mistake. They hear stories of former believers who had traumatic, toxic experiences, and assume that is representative of all believers. Again, it’s not that simple. This is why I don’t proselytize anymore. I want everyone in the world to be happy, loved and fulfilled; I don’t presume the journey there will look the same for everyone.

So here’s my deconversion story, which I share not to convince you to leave Christianity, but just so you’ll know something of the data that you aren’t being exposed to.

My faith was built on three things. First was a model of how the world worked. It was extremely self-referential, but it still had its own internal logic. Everything held up, but every piece was dependent on every other piece. Second was a community of people who all lived according to the same framework. Third was a handful of experiences that seemed to confirm a few of those pieces, and, by extension, the entire framework.

Yes, I too had experiences that, at one point, I thought made my beliefs unassailable.  There was a time when I was walking to an acting class, and I felt extremely anxious. I prayed, and felt a presence standing beside me. There was a time when I was confirmed, and I felt like I was about to step out of my body and soar. I thought this must be the Holy Spirit alighting on me. There were many times when I spoke in tongues during church services, and there were times when someone came and delivered a message to me from God.

So, if I had experiences like this, why would I ever doubt? Well, for one thing, I learned about how people from other religions, ones I considered absolutely false or even inspired by demons, had similar experiences. I read scientific explanations for them; states of self-hypnosis, group mentalities, cold reading, altered consciousness inspired by social pressure, etc. Learning this was positively creepy, because once I knew it, I had three choices.

Number one; I could believe that, of all the religions and denominations out there, one was divine and the rest were inspired by Satan, who was mimicking God’s work. This was comforting as long as I assumed I was in the right one, but the more I thought about the mathematics of that, the more terrifying this idea was. After all, the false, Satan-inspired religions outnumbered the one true faith, and most people blindly follow whatever religion they were raised in. Statistically, what were the real odds that I had happened to be born into the one true religion? If I assumed Satan could mimic God, I could never be sure I was following good and not evil.

Number two; believe that God existed, but was not the exclusively Protestant Christian God I had been raised with. He was in, if not all religions, than most of them, and if you got some details about his life wrong he wouldn’t hold it against you, so long as your heart was in the right place. This seemed sensible, comforting, and deeply blasphemous. If I chose to believe this, I could never admit it to the Christians around me. They were the sort of people who genuinely believed Catholics and Mormons were going to hell; to propose that God might speak through Islam or Hinduism or even Wiccan was as good as abandoning our religion altogether.

Number three; believe the materialistic scientists were right. All of this was a consequence of a brain that was easily deceived by social pressure and my own expectations.

As I read more about the way these feelings of mine could be simulated by stage magicians and fake psychics, the last seemed more and more likely. Also, I noticed disturbing patterns in the way all my churches talked about evidence for the supernatural. If a story was hard to confirm, it was by far more compelling and fantastic than any that I could confirm. People had stories of a friend of a friend of a friend who was healed of cancer, or prayed a man back to live. But nobody I knew was ever healed. Oh, but that was fine! God and mysterious ways and plans and all that. Meanwhile, I had the evidence of the divinely inspired outbursts people had in church; prophecies and messages from God and speaking in tongues. Of course, a stranger walking in might say that these people were just improvising and believing they were inspired by God because of social pressure…

It was all right to have evidence for God, but nobody was allowed to talk about evidence against. If evidence lined up, it was repeated and celebrated. If it didn’t, it was dismissed on any excuse at all. This was problematic, because in my own personal life, I felt like God was letting me down.

Take that anxiety attack outside the acting class, for example. It was far from the worst I ever experienced. There were jobs I had to quit, events I had to miss, and days I spent unable to stop crying. Once I had an anxiety attack so bad I couldn’t move. I don’t remember how long, because I couldn’t even turn my head to look at a clock. I just lay on a couch, feeling like I was encased in a cement mold, crying in terror. None of those resulted in a comforting presence.

The explanation most consistent with Christianity was that God had sent me aid when I needed it but also gave me opportunities to grow on my own. But the truth is, I didn’t really need that acting class. I wanted it, but it didn’t change my life or create lasting friendships. The opportunities I missed because of anxiety attacks were more important than the one where God “saved” me.

Besides, what I really needed wasn’t a sense of an angel. I had a mental health problem, and I needed to see a doctor. I couldn’t drive because of my anxiety, and my parents were willfully blind to my condition. When I told my parents about the paralyzing attack, they said it was because I hadn’t eaten enough. They were obsessed with healthy diets, and that was their go-to explanation for any anxiety attack of mine. But I knew for a fact that I had eaten enough that day. I had been keeping track, and diet wasn’t helping. The experience taught me that my mind and my body could betray me, and my parents would not take it seriously. If God was there when I needed him most, why didn’t he tell my parents to take me to a doctor?

The explanation a scientist would give for all that, on the other hand, was that the anxiety outside the acting class was relatively mild because the circumstances weren’t overly triggering, and my disorder was less severe at that point. Because it was mild, I could fight it by envisioning a comforting image, which, because of my religious upbringing, I gave spiritual significance. Later, as my mental health deteriorated, I lost the ability to comfort myself. This makes more sense to me.

As I said, three things upheld my belief; models, experience and community. By now you have some understanding of how the experiences that once seemed ironclad evidence became flimsy excuses. Research also meant that I could see how other people understood the world differently. I could see other models that people had, and how in many ways they explained the world better than mine. What remained was community, and that scared me. Because the truth was, my place in the community was entirely dependent on my faith. I could not exist among my old friends and family as an unbeliever, as a person with an adjusted model.

Remember how I described that model? How circular and self-referential it was, and how it stood on its own but moving or removing a single piece would send the whole thing crashing down? I envied those with other models, because they were malleable. They could be shifted around, repainted, parts replaced, replacement parts replaced again, and the whole thing still stood. They could learn that a certain part didn’t work, and make it into something better. I loved truth. I was afraid of going to hell if I happened to be wrong. So I decided to let my beliefs fall apart, and see if I could build up something better.

This was not when I lost my faith. This was when I remained in the church, but debated people, questioned my ideas, and tried to reform myself. It was also when I made new friends, and it was then that I discovered something. I had been miserable all along.

This is another statement of yours that got me.

Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ – Philippians 3:8

I’m only “preaching” to you because I want you to have what I have. He really is everything.

I remember feeling that way. I remember believing that nothing in my life was good except the love of Christ, and I’m not even talking about my anxiety disorder. I’m talking about something I had been raised with since birth; the understanding the only thing of any worth was the love of Jesus Christ. In prayer and worship I meditated on this and believed. In those moments of worship I felt an overwhelming love that I lived on.

That love was like candy. It was an intense, blissful sensation that produced energetic highs, and then let me crash down. It did not build me up into a strong, resilient person, because to believe myself worthy of God’s love I had to degrade myself as sinful (the irony of that worldview; I was filth, and only by acknowledging it wholeheartedly could I allow myself to feel the high of a God who loved me despite my worthlessness). My soul, for lack of a better word, was emaciated, an anorexic surviving on tic-tacs and glue. When I left the church for the company of unbelievers, the love they offered me was not the empty, worldly thing that had been described to me. It was a rough, flawed love, not an idealized one, but it had the nourishing qualities of crusty bread, crunchy apples and thick stew. The ideas and love I was encountering were soup and bread and apples and milk. Being seen as the weird, curious, queer boy I was, and loved for it, put meat back on my bones.

After years of questioning, I realized that atheism made more sense to me than any of the religions out there. It was a pragmatic decision. I am perfectly comfortable sharing the world with people who have religious beliefs. I am also comfortable with the idea that I might one day encounter new evidence that might change my mind. In the meantime, I am growing, I am learning, and I am loved.

And that’s what I, in turn, want for you. I don’t care whether you find it in Christianity or Buddhism or some other religion or abandoning religion altogether. If you have it now, I am happy to hear it. If you don’t, don’t be afraid to go looking for it.

Sincerely,

Lane William Brown

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Agnostic-Atheist: The Boy Who Didn’t Go to Church

This episode opens with recurring child-in-need-of-a-lesson Jack stopping by Whit’s End just in time to catch a rehearsal of a church skit. Ah, church skits. I remember you well. In retrospect, they were fun to put on, but the plots tended to teeter just on the edge of “so bad it’s good” without quite making it there. This episode captures the obliviously cloying blandness perfectly.

Jack wants to watch, because he loves theater, and while they set everything up he chats with Whit. Whit mentions that he hasn’t seen Jack around at church much lately. Jack knows he’s in trouble, and stammers something about being busy. Lucky for him, Whit drops it. Yeah, that won’t last long. You know if Whit doesn’t immediately rant, he’s already forming a manipulative ploy to make Jack do what he wan- I mean, a brilliant plan to set the young whippersnapper back on the right path.

Connie comes along and announces that they can’t do the rehearsal after all, because their lead actor is out sick. Everyone is disappointed, but Whit suggests handing Jack a script and letting him read the part. Jack is thrilled, and everyone else takes their places.

The play is about a charitable group called the Brotherhood of Dutiful Youth, or The Body. Er, BODY. BoDY? I dunno, it’s a radio show. Their leader is Mr. Headley, whose job is to tell everyone to do the exact things they do every week. First he sends out I. C. Freely to locate people who might need help. Then Miss Lipman and R. U. Listening go talk to them about their problems and figure out what they need. Hans Armstrong does most of the actual work, and John LeFeet, Jack’s character, is essentially everyone else’s chauffeur.

He doesn’t find this work particularly satisfying, so one day he decides to quit and start his own group, called the LeFeets. It doesn’t go so well. They can’t even manage step one; find people who actually need help.

Yeah, that’s about 3/4 of the episode right there. There’s a lot of filler, mostly body based puns. And let me be clear, I have nothing but respect for that. It’s just not great for review purposes.

Anyway, after being unable to help anyone for, um, ages, they finally get a gig… delivering a care package. Carrying stuff. Which is kind of exactly what they had been doing all along. Initially they are mad that this is all anyone seems to want from them, but after the job has been completed, John LeFeet realizes he feels great. In fact, he hasn’t been this happy since he left The Body, so he disbands the LeFeets and returns.

Unfortunately, he returns to find an empty room, where I. C. Freely is just packing up the last of her things. She explains that without John LeFeet, they had no one to take them anywhere, and couldn’t do anything.

Bit of an ableist conclusion, if you ask me.

No, but for real, there was no way they could just find somebody else with a car, or, like, drive themselves. They had to have John LeFeet or they were all sitting around in this room twiddling their thumbs. Or, at least they weren’t able to get up and help people, but they were able to get up and go find other jobs? This level of logic is pretty typical for a church skit, to be honest. It also creates a mood whiplash, as all the puns and silliness end and John realizes he has ruined everything, and falls to his knees with an epic “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Even this is pretty normal. About a third of skits are all puns until the end, until you realize that because somebody failed to evangelize their neighbor/disobeyed a law that made no sense and could easily have been explained but wasn’t because this is a metaphor for original sin/went to a party, everything is terrible forever. But again, Jack hasn’t been to church much lately, so he’s apparently forgotten how preachy skits work. He asks Whit about the sudden tone change, and Whit explains that people have been leaving church lately, and this skit is there to show them why that’s so terrible. In his words;

“A lot of people are like John LeFeet. They don’t like where God has put them. Instead of being a foot, they’d rather be a hand or a head. After a while they start feeling like they really aren’t getting anything out of the church, so they stop coming.”

This is bullshit on so many levels.

First, that’s not why most people stop going to church. They stop believing, or come to feel their religion is not the most important part of their life. Nothing about that story addressed faith or belief. But perhaps that’s deliberate, because the second issue is that it’s going to be performed at church, in front of people who are still going. It’s not meant to address the concerns of non-church goers, regardless of what Whit says. It’s meant to stop other people from leaving.

Which brings me to the second point. Whit says God has placed everyone in the church exactly where he wants them. I’ll put aside my own beliefs (or lack thereof) and argue on his terms for a moment. People change, evolve, learn and grow. Just because God places someone in one place at one time, why would that mean he wants them to stay there forever? Consider Jack, for example. Let’s say he was feeling dissatisfied. He’s also just proven that he’s a good actor. He loves the theater, and since they didn’t have enough people for an understudy, clearly they need more people like him. So why didn’t Whit bring him back by inviting him to help with the play to begin with? Why guilt trip him, instead of utilizing his talents?

And that guilt trip is my third, and final point. This isn’t about making people feel joyful and satisfied in their work. It’s not about understanding them as evolving human beings and working with them. It’s about making them feel like if they ever change things then everything will be ruined and it’s all their fault. It’s sugar coated coercion.

Which, come to think of it, is another reason why people leave the church. Kind of hard to develop an authentic faith with all that pressure.

Final ratings

Best bit: the puns, which to be honest aren’t that great, but I still have nothing but respect for them.

Worst bit: Seriously, none of these people have cars?

Story: I actually liked the setup. Just not where they went with it. C-

Moral: Poorly thought out. D-

 

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Agnostic-Atheist: Bad Company

Yesterday, I wrote my first positive review of an AIO episode. The story was decent, and the moral was on the importance of being kind and loving to everyone. Unfortunately, when I was listening to it, the happy feels did not last long, because right on the other side of the tape was this shitshow.

Yes, I’m listening to tapes. I didn’t want to give Focus on the Family any of my money, so instead I got my Mom to give me all our old cassettes and invested in one of the planet’s last walkmans.

This is how Chris opens the episode.

“Choosing our friends is one of the most important choices we’ll ever make, because our friends often affect the way we act and how we think.”

As far as she goes, I agree. The people who are close to us affect our behavior, and it’s worthwhile to choose your influences wisely. I also don’t think this necessarily contradicts the message of the previous episode. You can show basic human decency to someone who isn’t your close friend; in fact as a general rule you should. But there are definitely ways to put those two ideas together that aren’t good.

There are two plots in this story. In the first, Donna Barclay is going to hang out with her friend Rachel. As she tells her Mom where she’s going, Mrs. Barclay expresses some concerns. She thinks Rachel is rude and a bad influence. Donna insists that Rachel doesn’t influence her behavior, that all the pair of them do is wander, chat and window shop. Mrs. Barclay wants to trust Donna around her, but it’s clear that’s a struggle. Ultimately, she doesn’t stop Donna from going, despite her misgivings.

Meanwhile, Connie tells Whit about a new Bible study that’s got her excited. He immediately starts probing about where it is, who leads it and what they will be teaching. And, with only the information that A. a friend invited her and B. it’s not affiliated with a specific church he knows of, he starts warning her off of it.

“Just because it’s a Bible study doesn’t mean that they’ll teach the right things about the Bible.”

Connie has to promise to give a full report to get him off her back.

Again, he doesn’t tell her she can’t go… but this feels very different from the case with Mrs. Barclay and Donna. In one case you have a parent/child relationship. Mrs. Barclay sounded like the typical mother adjusting to the fact that her daughter is now a teenager. Expressing some misgivings but trusting Donna’s judgment was a completely reasonable reaction. Whit, on the other hand, has a nebulous friend/employer/mentor relationship with Connie. There is a power imbalance, but not a clear sense of where his influence in her life begins and ends. Sometimes he actively interferes with her life, and other times he lets her make her own decisions. In this episode, he doesn’t stop her from going, but he doesn’t stop her in a way that seems very magnanimous, like he’s showing such generosity by letting her go to this Bible study which he has not personally vetted. Mrs. Barclay’s ambivalence is acknowledging Donna’s independence. Whit’s ambivalence suggests that he feels entitled to dictate Connie’s religious development.

Donna and Rachel meet up at the mall. In the space of about a minute, Rachel complains about Donna’s parents, complains about all parents, says she hates church, says she not only stopped going but made her parents stop… They are working so hard to establish her as a BAD INFLUENCE I’m honestly shocked that she doesn’t invite Donna to a strip club. Although, for all that, the one thing she doesn’t do is mock Donna about going to church. In fact, she specifically says, “no offense, it’s all right if you like that kind of thing. I just don’t.”

Next, we see Connie at the Bible study. Turns out, this isn’t a conventional Bible study. The leader, Mr. Grayson, doesn’t believe in the divinity of Jesus, and has a Quaker-like philosophy about the divine speaker in all of us. They aren’t even going to be reading the Bible tonight. They’re drawing from another book by a modern historian. We cut away before we find out the details of what that book says, what it’s qualifications are, whether this book is one of several they study or whether it’s their surrogate Bible, or anything else specific about their religious philosophy. The point is that this man’s version of Christianity isn’t the same as Whit’s. As far as the episode is concerned, he is established as BAD INFLUENCE and we can move on, back to Donna and Rachel, who are being tailed by a mall cop.

Apparently Rachel’s a shoplifter. Yeah, we jumped straight from “doesn’t go to church” to “actual thief.” Donna only finds out when the mall cop catches up to them. Rachel takes off, leaving Donna to deal with the fallout. Donna chooses to pay for the earrings herself to stop them from pressing charges against Rachel. When they meet up later, not only does she not get reimbursed, but Rachel actually mocks Donna for being such a… nice and responsible person?

Next Connie returns to give Whit her report. She’s confused, because she thinks some of what Mr. Grayson said made sense. At the time she had a lot of questions, but when she asked them, Mr. Grayson did this thing where he offered counterarguments? Like, instead of just insisting he was right, he had evidence and sources and shit? She’s not used to logic, so it was very disorienting. Luckily for her, Whit has an answer to all of his arguments.

“Mr. Grayson is wrong. Absolutely without question or doubt wrong.”

Well, that’s that settled. This episode doesn’t even give us Mr. Grayson’s arguments in full. It’s just Whit repeating that he’s right because he’s right because he’s right because he’s right. Then he admonishes Connie for not being careful about what information she puts into her head.

“Keep an open mind? Open to what? To teachings that go against the Bible?… You need time to grow in the Lord, mature in the word. Then maybe you’ll be able to defend yourself against ridiculous ideas… This is why I was so concerned about you going to that Bible study. You have to be careful about who’s teaching you and what they’re trying to teach.”

Remember kids, if you go to hell for having the wrong ideas, it’s your own fault. Better to cocoon yourself in one perspective so you never risk having a wrong thought.

But what if you’re cocooned in the wrong perspective from the-

NO WRONG THOUGHTS!

In all seriousness, Whit claims to be nurturing Connie’s faith, but is it really faith if you just refuse to listen to somebody else’s side? Who died and made Whit the one true prophet of the Lord? He’s pressuring her to conform all of her beliefs to his; what he calls faith, I call control.

But what I call control they call faith, so her story ends with Whit agreeing to lead his own Bible study for Connie and her friends. We are all expected to be happy about that. Anyway……

After the events of the day, Mrs. Barclay comforts Donna. Needless to say, she and Rachel are no longer friends. I’m pretty happy about that. Rachel is a spiteful little brat who doesn’t deserve a friend like Donna. Her refusal to reimburse Donna for the earrings is proof that she’s the kind of person who will take advantage of someone else’s kindness. She’s toxic and Donna should stay far away from her. That’s not what bothers me about this storyline.

What bothers me is the pervasive attitude that, because Rachel is a non-believer and doesn’t go to church, Donna should have expected this. Mrs. Barclay’s concern at the beginning is that Rachel is a bad influence. Rachel has clearly not influenced Donna in the least; the behavior of the two girls could not be more different. Yet, Donna isn’t treated, by her mother or the episode, like a smart, kind girl who should have been trusted all along. She’s treated like a girl who was doing something wrong simply by associating with Rachel, and has now learned the error of her ways.

Final ratings

Best bit: I dunno. The ten seconds Mr. Grayson got to talk? Not because I agreed with him either, but at least he sounded like someone you could have an interesting, nonjudgmental conversation with.

Worst bit: Literally everything else.

Story: There’s barely a story to review here, outside of the moral. Just a mess of straw men and designated moral authorities. F

Moral: “Don’t hang out with people I disagree with, they’re all evil.” That’s not even an F. That’s like a Z-

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Agnostic-Atheist: The Greatest of These

This episode opens with a classroom spelling bee, and a kid named Oscar has the final word. He alone will determine whether his team ties with their opponents, or loses. The teacher has said that the losing team will do the winning teams homework, but if they tie, there’s no homework for anyone. And the teacher seems to have a soft spot, because he gives Oscar the shortest word yet, “laugh.”

Oscar steps up and carefully sounds it out.

“L. A. P. H?”

Thankfully the poor kid makes it out of the school alive.

In the very next scene, his team captain from the bee, Robyn Jacobs, finds out she is also partnered with him for the upcoming science fair. This would upset anyone, and Robyn is a smart perfectionist who lacks patience with those less gifted than her. And here I’ve got to give AIO credit. They are not the best at the whole “show don’t tell” thing, but this opening was great. It established the characters and their conflict perfectly. I know where this story is going, but I don’t feel like I’ve been talked down to.

And then in the next scene Connie shows up to ask Whit what agape means. So much for subtlety. Now, if you didn’t grow up with Bible camp, you’re probably pronouncing that uh-gayp and wondering how bad Connie’s high school must be if she doesn’t know it means “hanging open.” That’s what’s confusing her. She found it in the Bible Study she leads. It’s in a passage about love, and they’re trying to figure out how “hanging open” applies to love in any kind of Biblical sense.

Er. That came out wrong.

Anyway, Whit explains that it’s a Greek word, pronounced more like uh-gah-pay, and if he tells her now it will spoil the end of the episode deprive her of valuable experience. Valuable looking-up-Greek-words experience.

Connie leaves and Robyn shows up, steeling herself for her meeting with Oscar to discuss their science project. Her preferred method of venting is a long rant over ice cream, which, you know, valid. Unfortunately, she doesn’t realize that the whole point of venting is to get your bad feelings OUT, so you can act like a decent human being when the time comes. When Oscar shows up, she’s a fucking brat to him.

Which is a shame, because Oscar actually has a pretty good idea for a model volcano. With a little encouragement from Whit, he gets the idea out there, and Robyn starts actually treating him like a partner.

While the kids work on their project, Connie continues her research, and Whit engages in a little research of his own. Connie discovers that agape means unconditional love. Whit figures out that Oscar has dyslexia.

Before they can do anything with this information, Robyn and Oscar are ready to test their volcano. They call Whit and Connie in to observe, and initially it works, but then, when it’s time to shut it off, the thing doesn’t stop. It keeps going and going and overloads. Fake lava is splattered all around the room and their project is a smoking mess.

Robyn, distraught, tries to figure out what went wrong. The answer is discovered almost as soon as she looks at the on/off switch. Oscar never shut it off.

She calls him dumb and useless and storms out. Oscar agrees with her, and follows her out in tears.

A few days later, Robyn is talking to Whit about trying to change partners. Whit tries to get her to give him another chance, and when she won’t listen, he explains that Oscar’s dyslexia is to blame for the error, because it makes him read things backwards.

Wait, what? Like, that’s not only not how dyslexia works at all, but how would that apply to the switches even if it were true? The switches would just say, “no” and “ffo.” Still pretty easy to see which one is off, on account of it’s got an F in it. And again, NOT HOW DYSLEXIA WORKS. 

Anyway…

Robyn now feels bad for how she’s been treating him, but Whit isn’t done. He talks to her about agape; unconditional love. The kind of love Christians are supposed to have for everyone. Robyn tries to point out all the times she has helped Oscar, but Whit doesn’t let that slide either. If her treatment of him elsewhere in this episode is anything to go by, she might have done him favors, but that’s not the same thing as love. She treats him in a way that makes him feel pathetic for needing her help in the first place. Oscar didn’t deserve that. He deserved loving treatment from Robyn, right from the start. Not when it was easy, or convenient, or when he was doing what she wanted him to do. He deserved to be loved all along.

Oscar shows up, and Robyn apologizes to him. She says she wants to keep working with him, and finish their project together. Oscar, being a nice guy, accepts her apology and they get back to work.

Unconditional love is a topic that many Bible school teachers don’t handle well, in my experience.

In my own upbringing, unconditional love was a concept used in many ways. Sometimes it was used to mean “have compassion even when it’s inconvenient.” Other times it was used to mean “don’t set reasonable boundaries with abusers, that could hurt their feelings.” What I like about this episode is that it is made abundantly clear that Oscar’s behavior might be frustrating to Robyn, but it’s not harmful. Robyn is smart. She has a lifetime of As ahead of her, and one project won’t spoil that. That might be why her teacher put them together in the first place. Robyn doesn’t need yet another perfect grade. She has the privilege of being naturally intelligent and non-disabled. What she needs is to learn patience for other people who aren’t as quick as she is.

Oscar, meanwhile, isn’t trying to take advantage of her. He’s genuinely trying his best, and you can see that even before you learn about his learning disability. For once, I think Whit is completely right. There could have been any number of reasons why he was struggling; dyslexia, problems at home or just not being bright as she was. Robyn could see that his heart was in the right place. She could see that he needs help. Her compassion and kindness shouldn’t be dependent on knowing exactly why.

Final ratings

Best bit: Oscar. Everything about Oscar.

Worst bit: Seriously, though, that’s not how dyslexia works.

Story: B+

Moral: A

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Agnostic Atheist: Emotional Baggage

This story opens with Connie’s Mom talking to someone on the phone. Apparently there’s a surprise visitor coming. When Mrs. Kendall hangs up there’s some light-hearted banter. Connie will be giving up her room, and banished to the sofa. She and her Mom are joking about cricks in the neck and the resulting Quasimodo posture.

Then Connie learns the mystery guest is her Aunt Helen, and completely loses it.

As previously mentioned, Connie’s parents are divorced, but apparently her Mom is still on friendly terms with many people from her ex-husband’s side of the family, including Helen. Connie, on the other hand, has nothing but bad memories of Helen. The two of them are actually quite close in age, and Connie remembers being bullied by her. Mrs. Kendall doesn’t remember things the same way. She just recalls two kids being a bit bratty together, sometimes getting along and sometimes not. This dissonance only makes Connie more angry, and she storms out of the house.

The story cuts to Whit. We first find him talking to a girl, Tracy, while he organizes some leftover materials. He’s got lumber, bricks, and random sacks of feathers. He has no idea what to do with all of it, other than keep it neat for now.

Tracy has sought him out for the scoop on which of her friends are going to a party. Turns out, she’s trying to avoid a whole crowd of girls from the cheerleading squad. There’s been middle school drama.

Specifically, Harriet Paulson picked Bobbi McCormack instead of Donna Barclay for the cheerleading squad, but Donna didn’t really want to join, so she was going to step down, giving Gailene Harding, an alternate, a chance to step up, and Gailene had promised to make Tracy her flag bearer. So by picking Bobbi over Donna, Harriet cheated Tracy out of the flag bearing squad. Tracy believes the whole gang had it in for her, and was trying to get her hopes up and then crush them.

Whit feels the urge to give her some kind of advice, but he’s still dazed from simply processing all of that. His train of thought is interrupted by a call from Mrs. Kendall, which is how he finds out about their fight. He finds Connie in the back room of Whit’s End, where she’s setting up an old cot, determined to avoid Helen for the duration of the visit.

With a little prying, he gets at the real reason Connie is so angry. Helen introduced Connie’s father to the woman he left her mother for.

Connie doesn’t even know if her mother knows, and isn’t sure how to tell her. The divorce is still fairly fresh. Whit doesn’t know the story beyond those broad strokes, but he does think Connie is probably overreacting. Which… I think he might be right, but he might also be wrong. He doesn’t know Helen, Connie’s father or his new girlfriend. All he knows is that Connie is hurting, which he acknowledges, and he does allow her to stay at Whit’s End until Helen leaves. But he clearly isn’t happy about it.

When he goes back to the front, he finds Tracy’s situation has already been resolved. Turns out, Harriet Paulson wanted Tracy to be her flag bearer all along anyway, so clearly there was no conspiracy. Whit talks to Tracy about how she narrowly avoided carrying around a grudge for her entire life. He compares grudges to infections that take over your soul, and also to carrying a heavy load through your life. Tracy, high on her new revelation, wants to take on the world. She wants to tell everyone in the world how wonderful people can be if you give them a chance. She wants draw cartoons of people carrying around heavy boulders labeled “grudge” and show everyone on the planet, so they’ll know how silly they are being.

This gives Whit an idea.

He sets up a relay race with the leftover bricks and feathers. He ropes Connie in, under the pretense that Tracy needs a partner. The rules are as follows:

  1. The first person in each team runs to the end of the field, picks up an object, and brings the sack back to their partner, who must repeat the process.
  2. The next round is the same, only you pick up two objects. This goes on for four rounds.
  3. At any point, the runner can choose bricks or feathers. There are no extra points for choosing a brick.

Connie is surprised by that last rule. It seems like there’s no point to having bricks as an option at all. Clearly, she hasn’t yet realized she’s being preached at.

Tracy, under Whit’s instructions, runs first and chooses bricks every time. At the end Connie is staggering around under a bag of ten bricks, long after everyone else has left, and Whit takes the opportunity to lecture her on grudges. He tells her she’s choosing to hold onto her grudge against Helen, and it’s destroying her from the inside. He tells her she needs to let God take away her anger.

Then Mrs. Kendall shows up. Before When even began his game, he called Connie’s Mom and told her to come over, stating that Connie was ready to talk. He says he was taking a chance, which I think is putting it rather mildly. Connie concedes and goes back to her house to get ready for Helen’s arrival.

You know, I nearly liked this one. I do think grudges can be destructive. I do think it’s important to learn how to forgive. But the way Whit goes about teaching this lesson to Connie is terrible.

First of all, he draws a simple equivalency between a little middle school drama and a turbulent, broken family. Kids Tracy’s age are collectively going through an asshole phase and need to learn to give each other second chances and not jump to conclusions. They have an equal opportunity to learn and grow. Family is complicated. There are power imbalances and subtle dynamics. Nobody can assume, from a ten second summary, to understand exactly what’s going on in someone else’s family. Connie might be simplifying Helen in her mind. She might be remembering a distorted version of her childhood, and falsely attributing bad intent to what happened later. Or maybe Helen truly is manipulative and cruel. Maybe she did intentionally set Connie’s father and his new girlfriend up. I don’t know, and neither does Whit. The second possibility matters, because if Helen is that bad, maybe Connie’s anger is a necessary defense mechanism.

Second, even if Connie is holding onto a grudge, Whit is applying far too much pressure to make her give it up NOW. It’s like his pride as a community fixer is at stake, and he will make Connie give in whether or not she’s ready. He sets up a humiliating game, lectures her when she’s exhausted and then puts her on the spot with her mother. Is Connie genuinely forgiving at the end of this episode? Because I think a normal human being would just be too beaten down to keep arguing.

Third, once again, instead of understanding the real underlying cause of a problem, Whit is just deciding that certain emotions she’s feeling are WRONG and she needs to stop feeling them today. That will make him feel good in the short term, but as to whether or not it will make her life better, well, that’s pretty much a crapshoot. Genuine healing takes time and it’s not Whit’s job to set that schedule.

Listening to this episode, what stood out to me was that Connie is clearly still adjusting to life after her parent’s divorce. Superficially, she’s doing pretty well, but there are deep wounds under the surface and she hasn’t really processed everything yet. Her Mom also seems to have already processed things, but isn’t in a good place to empathize with where Connie is. If I were in Whit’s shoes, my priority would be to give Connie a space where she can feel safe to talk. That means no assumptions and no judgment. Just listen to her talk about what happened, from her perspective, and how that made her feel.

One thing I’d want to say to her is that when something like this happens, we often feel the need to blame someone. That can be tricky, because sometimes one or two people of the people responsible are also people we don’t want to blame. Connie’s father cheated. She loves her father. It’s very likely that, on some level, Helen is being used to wall off a whole flood of bad feelings about him. This is completely normal. I think it would be good to point out that possibility, but gently, and not with any demands that she agree with me today.

Connie is a person, flawed but ultimately sociable and warm. She doesn’t want to be this walled-off, angry person. The problem, as I see it, is that she doesn’t have the resources to deal with this shitty situation. Her mother is overwhelmed by her own issues, she’s been cut off from all her former friends, and her closest confidante is a man who views everyone around him as a project. Give her a space to sort through her feelings properly, and she will come to the right conclusion.

Final ratings

Best bit: The thirty seconds of mother/daughter banter before everything goes to shit.

Worst bit: The goddamn manipulative bullshit relay race.

Story: Completely trampled by the moral. D

Moral: Went for something good but completely missed the mark on execution. Also D

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Agnostic; A Matter of Obedience

 

This episode centers around Tom Reilly, a longtime friend of Whit’s. Tom is every old timey stereotype in the book; the positive ones, that is. From the perspective of the Adventures in Odyssey team, old fashioned and traditional is automatically better. For example, the Bible School class Tom has been ask to substitute teach, though inherently Biblical and therefore wonderful, has been tainted by the teacher’s newfangled ways. As Reynold the teacher’s pet explains;

“We learned that the word obedience as it appears in the New Testament is translated from the Greek word hupakoe, meaning to give fulfillment of God’s claims and commands, and hupatage, which means to bring under subjection.”

“Anything else?”

“It took us the whole class to learn about hupakoe, Mr. Reilly.”

How? You defined both words in one sentence.

I’ve been in plenty of Sunday School classes (and regular classes) where the teachers touched on the Greek, Hebrew and Latin root words. It never took up a whole class, in fact never more than a minute. If it did, it was because the root words were genuinely interesting and enlightening.

I also find this an ironic criticism. This series never stops praising the Bible, and emphasizing the importance of studying it, but God forbid you learn the copy in your own home is just a translation. God forbid you learn anything about the original language, and the subtleties that may have been lost. Tom rants for a while about this Bible School where they don’t read the Bible, never mind that, in a sense, that’s exactly what they were doing. He realizes that the duty of truly teaching them about obedience has fallen to him, and decides to tell them a story.

Not a story from the Bible, mind you. Just something that happened to him as a kid. You know, REAL Bible study stuff.

Tom’s father was a country doctor during the Great Depression. One day he asked Tom and his sister Becky to deliver some medicine, while he went to see another patient. Before he left, he gave Tom a list of instructions.

  1. Take the Single Path through the Gloomy Woods. It’s long and windy, but it’s a direct route, so they won’t get lost.
  2. Take a knapsack of food, because the trip will take most of the day and they will be hungry.
  3. Don’t play around. This means you, Tom. You can’t afford to waste time goofing off.
  4. Don’t talk to strangers on the way.
  5. Knock on the house with the blue door, and tell the man there who you are. Don’t knock on any other doors, because the people in that area don’t trust strangers.

He also advises his son to take a pocketknife, on the general principle that every story needs a Chekhov’s Gun. Becky also brings a book, because this good old-fashioned story wouldn’t be complete without Tom making fun of people who read for fun she doesn’t want to get bored.

Naturally, Tom goofs off on a bridge over a stream and promptly loses the knapsack, and they spend the bulk of the trip suffering hunger pangs. He nearly breaks rules four and one, when a stranger approaches and offers to show them a shortcut and food, but Becky talks him out of it. When they finally emerge, Tom is so desperate for this whole ordeal to be over, he runs up to the first house he sees and knocks on a red door.

Becky points out how red is an extremely un-blue color, but Tom brushes her off on account of… reasons?

Of course the woman who opens the door assumes they are evil pranksters who must be locked up in her basement while she goes for help. Naturally.

Luckily, she leaves the key in the door. Tom joyfully announces that Becky’s book will finally be useful for something. He tears out a page, pushes it under the door, knocks the key out with the pocketknife, pulls it under the door and unlocks it from the other side.

They finally follow their father’s directions to the letter, complete their mission and get some food. And if the story had stopped there, I honestly would have thought it was fine. A bit obvious and trope heavy, yes. But overall, a standard children’s morality tale. Unfortunately, this being Adventures in Odyssey, we can’t just stop there. We have to have the moral explained to death, to make absolutely sure we don’t engage in any independent thought.

As Tom says to his class;

“That little adventure taught me how important it is to obey. Even when it’s not convenient or when I don’t understand why I’m being told to do something, and even when I don’t want to. I tried to make excuses and argue, and I was wrong, and suffered because of it.”

As Tom talks, he puts the emphasis on “why,” even though that does not apply to the story. Each rule came with a clear explanation from his father, and he disobeyed it anyway. He goes on like this for a while, to make it clear that obeying is always, always good and disobeying is always, always bad. If we learned “obey people who give directions that make sense and are for the good of everyone involved,” we learned the wrong lesson. We should have learned unquestioning obedience.

Obedience, I think, is an act of trust. It is only virtuous if we are trusting those who have earned it. Sometimes they earn that by giving us clear reasoning. Other times we choose to trust someone because of their track record. And yes, some people start out in an authority role, like a teacher, parent or boss, and it’s worthwhile to trust that they got that position for good reasons. There’s a difference between that and blindly following someone who gives directions that are damaging and foolish.

I don’t trust leaders who try to argue obedience is something we all automatically owe them. It tells me they know the foundation of their authority is weak.

Final ratings (because I’ve decided that should be a thing)

Best bit: Every named character follows a Tom Sawyer theme. It’s moderately funny when you notice it.

Worst bit: Anti-intellectualism – fun for the whole family!

Story: It’s hardly a masterpiece, but it’s not bad. B –

Moral: Once again, they skirt close to a good message, but explain it to death and add problematic elements in the process. D

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist; A Tangled Web

This episode opens with Connie making plans with her friend to sneak away and see a concert. In classic “as you know, Bob,” style, she reveals to us that her mother wouldn’t approve of her going, which is why it needs to be a secret. Dun dun dunnnnnn!

She asks Whit if she can leave work early, and he says he’s fine with it, but asks for her help sorting through some books. Some are ones he bought, and others he wrote himself. He picks up one and laughs, saying it’s a particular favorite of his. He isn’t really clear on why; the main adjective he uses is “cute.” Connie is curious, and despite Whit is happy to let her take a break done and read it.

The story is about a kid who is described as good, but going through a stage where he wants more independence. He wants to go to Whit’s End to check out some new displays, but his parents tell him to pick up some flour. His dad needs to use to car for work, and his mom needs to stay home and watch the baby, so he’s the only one who can do it. Instead of going straight to the store, he decides he can do both. Naturally, he ends up both losing track of time, and losing the money.

When he arrives home, he tells his mom that some bigger kids stole the money from him. In standard morality tale style, the lie escalates until he’s receiving an award from the mayor for… reasons? Anyway, he ends up in front of a big audience, being given honors he knows he doesn’t deserve. He takes a deep breath, and accepts it. He lives out the rest of his life without ever being found out.

Connie is startled by this ending. Narrative convention dictates that he be found out, and learn that you can’t get away with lying. Whit asks her if he really did get away with it. For the rest of his life, he has to remember that one time he deceived his mother, and it weighs on him long after everyone else has forgotten the whole incident. It shouldn’t surprise any of you to know that Whit figured out long ago that Connie was going to this concert and lying to her mother. He tells her she still has the afternoon off, if she wants it, but she should think hard about what she’s doing.

The episode ends with Connie calling up her mother.

I have complicated feelings about this episode. Complicated here means, “I essentially agree with their point, but details of the execution bother me, and I’m honestly unsure whether the pros outweigh the cons.” Lies can occasionally be justified, such as when you’re protecting yourself or someone else from abuse, but in most cases they just trade a little temporary inconvenience for an emotional cage. Whit’s story illustrated this very well.

On the other hand, his methods were manipulative. There’s something ironic about telling a lie to convince someone to not lie. My approach, if I were in Whit’s place, would be to ask her why she doesn’t think her mother would approve. Sometimes, when you make someone spell their reasoning out, they realize on their own that it’s a bad idea. Other times, you learn that you have been misjudging them, and that they have better reasons for their actions than you thought. Maybe her mother is manipulative and stifling, and Connie just needs to get away and be herself for a bit. I’ve been there. If that’s the case, and I think the concert is not a good place, maybe I could offer her a safer means of escape.

Speaking of which, it isn’t clear why this concert is so bad. In Adventures in Odyssey, the word “concert” is automatically suspect, unless modified by “classical” or “Christian.” Also, parents are always right, unless they are non-Christian, in which case they are always wrong. In my world, though, there are a number of factors that affect whether this is a little bad or extremely bad. Will Connie be exposed to drugs and alcohol and do I trust her to be responsible about that? How far away is the concert? What kind of people will she be with? Does somebody know exactly where she’s going and when she’ll be back? Does she have someone she plans to check in with at any point? The writers of the show and I have very different values. They worry that about the state of her soul, which is best protected by controlling her tastes, influences and sexuality. I mostly just care about her safety; if she’s sneaking off to see the Grateful Dead in the park I don’t see what the problem is.

An open, honest conversation about his misgivings would have run the risk of Connie going ahead with her plans, but you know what? When you genuinely respect someone, you take that risk. You try to minimize the damage they can do to themselves and prevent them from hurting others, but other than that, you respect their right to learn from their own mistakes.

And in a way he did, in that he gave her the afternoon off, but I actually feel like it would have been less manipulative to simply say, “no you can’t have the afternoon off.” He would be perfectly within his rights; she made a commitment and chose to ask at the last minute. Instead he does her a favor, which makes her feel indebted to him, and then guilt-trips her.

So in the end, I think I’m coming down on this episode having more negatives than positives. I still think it’s better than some of the previous episodes I’ve reviewed, as there is a genuinely good point in here, but the execution is manipulative and hypocritical.

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist; Nothing to Fear

Revisiting these episodes is reminding me of what a pedestal they were on. In my family, Adventures in Odyssey episodes were imbued with a kind of mystical reverence. I believed they held keys to existence and that taking their advice seriously was the secret to good Christian living. Not as much as the Bible, of course, but they were awfully Biblical and, frankly, easier to understand.

I’ve briefly worried that this is biasing my reviews. Am I blaming them too much for screwing with people’s heads, just because the status they held in my family helped them screw with mine? Then I realized that no, it can’t just be me, because they weren’t passively placed up on that pedestal. They actively campaign for the position. I mentioned in my first review that an annoying lady named Chris gives us a preview of the moral, and a summary of it, just in case we haven’t had the point thoroughly hammered into our head yet. She also makes promises that the upcoming episode will answer our questions, interpret the Bible and make our lives generally perfect.

For example, in this episode she says we will learn a way to make our fears go away, and never come back. Those are her exact words, “go away and never come back.”

The protagonist, Shirley , opens our story with a nice scream, because her friend Jake is showing off his pet mouse, Luther. And by friend I mean “asshole who occasionally associates with her.” After deliberately shoving a phobia of hers in her face, he laughs, and Whit comes over to see what the trouble is. He learns that Shirley is scared of mice, as well as heights, fire, crowds, being alone, turtles, the merry-go-round, toy guns, stuffed animals, the street, the woods, bikes, the dark, loud noises… he actually fails to find something she’s unafraid of. He even asks if she’s afraid of him, and she says, “no, except when you wear your big jacket. It’s kind of creepy.”

Whit gets her to gently hold Luther, which seems to be helping her realize there’s no danger, until it bites her. She drops it and the mouse runs off. This isn’t the part I have a problem with. Gradual, controlled exposure to sources of anxiety can help people overcome fears, both ordinarily and ones that are parts of mental illness. I’ve sometimes used a kind of self-guided immersion therapy to deal with my anxiety disorder. It’s just bad luck that Luther the mouse doesn’t cooperate.

Unfortunately, supportive, gradual exposure to triggering stimuli is not the actual theme of this episode. The actual theme is what Whit tells her.

“There are fears we need to overcome, not just because they are harmful to us, but because they show a lack of faith in God. The Bible says that perfect love casts out all fear.”

To make his point extra clear, he compares God’s love to a light switch in a dark room. You don’t have to move the darkness out to make room for the light. One is there, or the other is. The light casts out the darkness instantaneously.

This is incredibly harmful, because it won’t always work, and when it doesn’t, it creates feelings of shame and inadequacy on top of the existing fear. To be clear, I’m not just saying it won’t work because I don’t believe in God. Many people of different and mutually contradictory beliefs find comfort in their beliefs. A religion doesn’t have to be true to be consoling. I even rather liked the Veggie Tales episode on being scared. But Veggie Tales also affirms that fear is normal and okay. Whit makes any lingering nervousness a direct measurement of your lack of faith.

Shirley goes home to get the bite looked at, and has an intense nightmare about a giant mouse eating her alive. She wakes up to her Mom using the vacuum cleaner, which is also a source of anxiety for her. As she sobs in her mother’s arms, she asks why she has to be afraid all the time, and her Mom is unable to calm her down.

So, for the record, the official stance of this episode is that Shirley is a “scaredy-cat.” Chris actually uses the dictionary definition of scaredy-cat to introduce her. Shirley’s also called a coward by Jake. Whit protests that but seems to object more to the name-calling than the accuracy of the statement. The one label he doesn’t want to put on her is “crazy,” which disturbs me. I wouldn’t call Shirley crazy either, but I would say she shows every symptom of having an anxiety disorder like me.

  • Time. Shirley talks like a seven-to-ten year old, in terms of both voice and vocabulary. Everyone acts as if she’s been this fearful all her life. It’s normal for children to go through phases where they are a bit shy or anxious, but typically they get over them. Longstanding anxiety like this is a sign that something’s chemically imbalanced.
  • Intensity. Look at that list. Look at the severity of her reaction. Look at how pants-wetting panic is her default mode. That’s not normal.
  • Lack of a cause. A child who is experiencing stress at home or has been through a traumatic event will probably have some heightened anxiety for a while. Shirley’s home life seems to be happy and stable.
  • Irrational fears. A few of the things that scare Shirley are rational, like fire, but most are completely harmless. She can intellectually acknowledge that she’s not in danger, but is still afraid.
  • Quality of life. This is the most important one. It’s the ultimate divider between mentally healthy and in need of help. Do the symptoms interfere with your ability to go about your everyday life? Do they take something away from you? Shirley is miserable. She is driven away from places that are supposed to be happy and safe, because she can’t control her fear. She cries over her inability to stop being afraid. She has an anxiety disorder, and she should see a doctor.

For the record, I’m not saying she needs meds. Maybe she does and maybe she doesn’t. I’ve known people who rushed to medicate themselves or their children when some patience and therapy would have done the trick. I’ve known people who put off much-needed medication because of nebulous stigmas, and I include myself in that category. What Shirley needs is between her and her hypothetical doctor, but what she doesn’t need is to be taught that if she can’t control her fear it’s because she’s a bad Christian.

Meanwhile, Jake decides to punish her for losing Luther by luring her into the basement of Whit’s End and exposing her to darkness and generally scary noises. He even rigs boxes to fall over and such, just to maximize the creepiness. Did I mention he’s an asshole? His plan backfires and he falls into his own booby trap. His ankle is twisted and he can’t go get help, so Shirley has to make her way through the dark to find someone. She does this, because people with anxiety disorders are often quite brave in a crisis, because they’re used to being scared so suddenly being in a scary situation doesn’t faze them she sings Bible songs and is filled with the love of Jesus and is magically fearless.

Afterward, she gets some ice cream at Whit’s End and talks to Whit about how Jake will be okay, although he’s grounded for pretty much eternity. Shirley explains, for the benefit of the audience members who haven’t gotten the point yet, that loving Jesus is magical fear-repellent. She declares that she might never be afraid again. Connie then comes in with a cool bug she found, which causes Shirley to shriek in terror.

Whit and Connie laugh. Because it’s funny that her lifelong battle with irrational terror isn’t over yet. Because it’s funny that either she doesn’t love Jesus enough or vice versa. Because somewhere in the development, they decided to end every goddamn episode with Whit laughing, and who gives a shit whether this undermines the whole point of the story.

I have emphasized the medical because, the way Shirley is written, it’s easy for a person with actual mental health issues to identify with her. I remember I did. And the sad truth is that this kind of message isn’t even uncommon in religious circles. I’ve known many Christians who are supportive and knowledgeable about mental health, but I’ve also known Christian communities that stigmatize it and treat it as pure lack of faith. Because of this, I’ve known people who have suffered silently and attempted suicide, rather than seek treatment. When you heap guilt and threats of divine condemnation on top of a chemically fragile mind, the cost can include a human life.

And what really bothers me is that, with that final scene, there seems to be some inadvertent admission that this magic bullet isn’t quite so flawless as they make it out to be. There’s no other indication that this whole “love Jesus and stop being afraid” thing might not be that simple. Remember how Chris opened the episode? Yet, it makes sense that on some level they know it’s an exaggeration. I mean, they must have felt how their own worship never makes the fear go away completely and permanently. Brains just don’t work like light switches. Despite this, they are comfortable telling impressionable, inexperienced children that if they experience fear, it’s because they lack adequate faith and love in Jesus.

Thankfully, I didn’t actually listen to this episode that often. It scared the crap out of me.

Watching Dogma With a Nun

A few weeks ago, I wrote a review of the movie Dogma, an old favorite of mine. At the end of it, I promised to write something about my journey figuring out how to follow advice from a certain character; advice to try having ideas, instead of beliefs, because an idea you can always change if you need to. I also hinted that it would have something to do with my experience watching this with my friend RJ, who is in the process of becoming an Episcopalian nun. This post ended up being harder to write than I expected, because the conversation RJ and I had about the movie quickly became very personal.

What RJ and I ended up talking about (other than squeeing over all our favorite bits) was theodicy, and the question of how atheism answers the meaning of life. These, in my opinion, are two of the most difficult questions in all of religion, because they can’t escape being incredibly personal. I can put my meaning of life in the most beautiful prose, and I have, and I can’t make that feel meaningful to someone else. In turn, I can hear explanations for evil that I can intellectually acknowledge are at least internally consistent, but I can’t find any of them satisfying. One of the things I appreciated about the conversation with RJ was how she admitted that she’s still figuring things out, and that the answers she has work for her, but she doesn’t expect them to convince anyone else.

I’ve been involved in a number of discussions about faith, evidence and belief, and it seems the one point that is consistently overlooked, by religious and non-religious people alike, is the influence of community. Not just the influence of community on what we believe, but on what we don’t want to change our minds about. I remember vividly from my Christian days how much that affected me. There was fear of ostracism, but even more than that, there was fear that if I stopped believing, I wouldn’t know who I was anymore. From birth, I had been raised to make religion an integral part of my identity, and how I saw the world. It was difficult to leave religion, even when it completely failed to make sense to me, because it would mean leaving behind my entire sense of what the world was and where I fit into it.

When I ventured out, in search of a new worldview, I found myself both drawn to and afraid of communities that were similarly agreement-centric. I was used to relating to people by believing the same things they did, and defining myself that way as well. At the same time, I was evolving very rapidly, and every time I bonded with someone over shared ideas, I felt like I was glimpsing a future where I was rejected for someday having a new idea. I’ve now started to realize certain things (like people being quick to insult those who disagree with them, or trying to bond with me over ideas instead of actions) as anxiety triggers.

After a few years of drifting through social circles and philosophies, I met RJ. One of the things I noticed early on was that she talked about other people she liked by listing their faults, not as insults, but as endearing quirks. This made me finally relax around someone. Perhaps without realizing it, she was saying, “be different from me, be irritating, show me your worst side, and I’ll still like you.” I try to be open with people as much as possible, but that still comes with a certain degree of anxiety most of the time. RJ is one of the few people who I can be as open as I want to be without any anxiety.

The other reason I had trouble writing this post is that I felt it would in some way become an advice post. I didn’t think I could tell about my journey away from beliefs and towards ideas without giving some pointers to people on that same journey. So here’s the only thing I know; find people who you know will care for you even if you change your mind. It takes a while, but it’s worth it.