Tag Archives: atheism

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist: Tales of Moderation

Welcome to my second themed series. This one is on stewardship, which is a term I haven’t heard outside of my old evangelical Christian circles, though I’ve certainly encountered the concept. It encompasses discipline, financial responsibility and proper use of one’s talents. In Adventures in Odyssey, and other Christian media, these values were bundled together by the idea that we are all stewards of God’s gifts. In the last series, on mental health, they sometimes made good points, but overall failed to address the most important realities of trauma and emotional pain. Let’s see how they do with this one.

The episode opens with Connie helping Whit clean out his garage. Well, no, I lie. It opens with her praying, and thanking God for her amazing friend Whit, and then stating that he (God) is probably wondering why she’s bringing this up. Apparently she missed the memo on omniscience.

Anyway, while Whit and Connie were working, Connie rather self-consciously brought up a personal question. Whit owns Whit’s End, which he does not make a profit on. He also owns a publishing corporation, and has a hand in a few other businesses, here and there. In other words, he’s wealthy. Yet he lives in a house that Connie thinks isn’t much better than hers. Why doesn’t he live in luxury?

Whit admits that he once did live much more extravagantly, but he found that a simple life of moderation suited him better. Connie can’t imagine how that would be, and as an answer, Whit gives her a book of short stories that he claims will explain his reasons better than he can. At his urging, she takes a break and starts reading.

The first story is about two farmers. Their names are Bill and Ted and I have completely forgotten which one is which. I could go back and listen again, or I could just call them Farmer Woah and Farmer Dude.

So Farmer Woah and Farmer Dude both have an incredible harvest. They meet up in town to discuss what they’re going to do with their bounty. Farmer Woah declares that he’s going to live it up. He’s worked hard and he is ready to party. Farmer Dude, on the other hand, is going to divide up what he gets. Some will be saved, some donated to the poor, some donated to the church, and he will keep about a quarter to live on. Farmer Woah laughs at him, and Farmer Dude patiently says that he hopes Farmer Woah has a good time.

Farmer Woah certainly does. He eats out every night, throws giant parties, and buys a shiny new truck; one with all the impressive car words, like V-8 and turbo-charged. Farmer Dude settles for meat and potatoes at home, celebrates the New Year with his family, and repairs his old pickup.

The next year, the Blights show up. The Blights are a family of insects who, after politely introducing themselves, devour every single one of their crops, leaving Farmer Woah and Farmer Dude with nothing.

Farmer Woah is penniless. He loses his car, dumpster dives for meals, and finally has to take advantage of the charities Farmer Dude has supported. Farmer Dude, having saved so much of his previous bounty, gets to spend the year exactly as well as he did the year before. The point being, shit happens. Don’t blow all your luck at once.

Whit comes to check on her, and she says she liked the first story, though the moral was pretty obvious. Whit comments that common sense usually is. Not unkindly, but man, that was an unexpected burn. It’s not often that he turns on the snark. Next Whit asks if Connie knew what the moral was before she read it, and she admits that she didn’t, despite how obvious it seems in retrospect. He laughs and says maybe the next one will be a little less obvious. The whole scene is actually a pretty great bit of banter. This is early in Whit and Connie’s relationship, and the back-and-forth is just barby enough to show they can pick on each other without crossing a line. In other episodes I’ve complained that the Whit/Connie relationship has uncomfortably blurry boundaries and squicky power dynamics, but this time, they don’t have that problem.

The second story follows a young man who defines happiness as complete self-sufficiency. When he comes into a lot of money, he puts it all into having an up to date, fully automatic home. All goes well, until the morning his toaster starts talking to him. The shiny new gadget has, somehow, turned into a stained, crumb filled mess. It’s almost like we exist in a universe where entropy increases or something. If the young man wants good toast, he needs to periodically scrub out his toaster. And it’s not just the toaster who has a beef with him. Every appliance, from his razor to his TV to his personal shower massager has issues.

Let the record show that all the appliances have male voices except the personal shower massager. I would consider that sexist and unfunny, except there is no way in hell AIO intentionally made a masturbation joke. They don’t try to slip things past the censors. This show is where good little censors go after they die. The writers probably just figured practical things are male, froofy unnecessary things are female, and who needs more than one female character amirite? Still sexist, but the fact that they have no idea what they just did is hilarious.

Anyway, at first the young man complies with the machines’ requests, but soon he finds that he is spending more time cleaning his products than enjoying them. He snaps, hollers at all of them that if they don’t figure out a way to serve him without even the slightest inconvenience, he will turn off their electricity and gas. Which… I’m sure will be very convenient for him? Yeah, if there’s one thing established about this character, it’s that he’s a little short on foresight. He hops smugly into his car, intending to give them all some time to think it over. And, well, no sooner does he turn the engine on, but his car and garage come to life, with full throated gangster voices, asking just where he thinks he’s going.

As Connie says, it’s another fairly obvious moral, but I am constantly surprised by how many people in real life get excited about some new gadget, only to discover that shit breaks. Or needs maintenance. Or is just likely to get outdated. None of that has to be awful. Plenty of new tech is worth the upkeep. It’s just good to remember, when you’re about to get something new, that more stuff never simplifies life in the long run. When you forget that, you get clutter, not convenience.

The third story is a retelling from the Bible. It opens with a young prince who strives to be a good person. He faithfully keeps each of the Ten Commandments, and yet he still goes to every religious teacher and asks, “what must I do to gain eternal life?” All of them confirm that he does not steal, does not murder, does not lie, does not covet, and therefore he has already done everything he needs to do. The prince is satisfied, but only temporarily. As soon as he hears of a different teacher, he must seek them out.

One day, he hears word of another teacher, and finds him preaching in the streets. As the prince draws close enough to listen, he is convinced that this man truly is the greatest of all of them. He asks his question, and confirms that he has kept all the commandments since he was a child. Instead of saying that he is surely guaranteed eternal life, the teacher tells him that one thing remains. He must sell everything he owns, and give it to the poor.

The prince makes excuses to himself, which he doesn’t even seem to quite believe, and leaves in a haze of sorrow, unable to surrender his wealth.

The teacher, of course, is Jesus, and the story is taken from Matthew 19:16-24, which is also where we get that saying about a camel having an easier time going through the eye of a needle than a rich person entering the kingdom of heaven. This is one of those cases where atheism made a Biblical story resonate more, not less, with me. As a child, I just thought, “well, he’s too attached to his material possessions to listen to Jesus, and that’s bad!” Now I see another layer to it. I see the real cost of extravagant wealth. I see what happens to nations where there is a great divide between the wealthy elite and the rest. I see my own country headed that direction, when it was once supposed to be the land of opportunity. It’s not bad to live comfortably; able to fulfill your needs and be free of fear for the future, while having enough left over to pursue your passions and do things with your loved ones. It’s another thing to have more money than you know what to do with, to buy bigger and bigger houses and more and more things just to have something to do with all your money, to accumulate things you won’t ever really use or appreciate, yet be terrified of losing the status attached to your hoard of objects.

And I think there’s another layer to the prince’s story. Everything he does right is an example of goodness by omission. He’s being good by not cheating, not stealing, not dis-respecting people. That’s all well and good, but apart from not harming it, how is he making the world better? For someone who has little influence, avoiding doing anything bad might be the best they can do, but for someone of great power and wealth, goodness has to mean more than just not being an asshole. In fact, it’s poverty and vulnerability that make not being bad costly; when you have the resources to buy whatever you need, how hard is it to not be an awful person? Jesus is asking him to stop worrying about how to avoid doing things that will get him barred from heaven, and start thinking about how what he has can be used to make actual human lives better.

Connie closes the book, and Whit reveals that he’s finished the cleanup on his own, because he felt that Connie was doing something more important. You know, I want to mock this, like by saying that this must not have been a big job, given that an old man finished it alone over the course of a 20 minute episode. Or that he could have always just loaned it to her. But I’ll be honest; this moment got me right in the feels. I’ve mentored kids before, and I know how sometimes you get a sense that they’re about to have a meaningful breakthrough, and you change every plan you had to make sure that breakthrough happens. They captured the feel of that mentor moment well. Connie starts superficially flippant, but the initiative to ask the question, and keep asking for a better answer, shows a deeper hunger to understand something. What’s more, this initiative shows that the hunger is coming on her terms, not on Whit’s. At the end, she doesn’t react with a lot of loud promises to always live in moderation and never be greedy, but by quietly processing the answers she has received, in a way that suggests they will stay with her in the long run.

Final Ratings

Best Part: There’s a lot of great material here, but honestly, I love the last story. I love that it’s simple, that it doesn’t bring in any twist beyond putting you in the mind of the prince, making you share his moment of weakness, and feel for yourself the difference between doing good and doing not-bad. 

Worst Part: Despite how unintentionally funny, I’m gonna go with the female shower massager. Somebody really needs to explain the Bechdel Test to AIO.

Story Rating: I think this triple fable structure was a good choice. Much of quality storytelling comes from knowing yourself. What are you trying to do with your story? How do you prioritize that? AIO cares more about theme than plot, and when they own that, they end up telling better stories. The second frame device is effective; interesting enough to draw you in but not distracting. Each individual story makes time to have fun as it makes its point, and the couple of off moments aren’t big enough to ruin the overall impact of the story. B+

Moral Rating: I like the way the messages of the three fables interact. One goes into the straightforward, practical cost, one into the emotional cost, and one into the moral cost. As Connie stated, these are all common sense, but the effect of the stories is to make that common sense memorable. These fables aren’t about convincing, but reminding us of something we already know. A+

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist: Let This Mind Be In You

At the end of every episode, an artificially bubbly woman named Chris sums up the events, declares the Official Moral and explains why it’s totally Biblical, even if the connections to the verses quoted are rather tenuous. I don’t often talk about Chris’s summaries because they rarely add anything. When I do mention her, it’s usually because the episode left a tiny window of think-for-yourself complexity open, and she stepped in to slam it shut. And that’s Chris in a nutshell; her only role is to make the official moral transparently clear, which is redundant when the episode properly illustrated it and reductive when not.

Galaxy Quest

I should add, this was my opinion long before I was an atheist. Little Christian me thought she was annoying, everyone I knew thought she was annoying, and I’ve even had current right-wing Christian AIO fans read these reviews and criticize everything but my feelings on Chris.

But honestly, seeing how Chris summarizes the moral is key to understanding a problem with AIO; they are so desperate to invoke Biblical authority that they sometimes undercut their own points.

This episode opens with Whit announcing that he is leaving for a conference, and Connie and Eugene are going to be running Whit’s End for a weekend on their own. Connie in particular is nervous about being on her own, but Whit reassures her that he has left a note with instructions, as well as contact information if they have any questions. His final piece of advice is to just do their best to do what he would do.

The next morning, Connie comes in wearing a grandpa sweater. She’s decided it will help her get into that Mr. Whitaker mentality, thereby establishing that, for the duration of the episode, she will be dumb enough to confuse role models with method acting. She finds Eugene puzzling over two sets of paint cans. They were delivered by a man who knew Whit wanted them but couldn’t remember whether he had ordered light blue or ivory. He doesn’t call Whit for clarification because plot. Anyway, Eugene recalls that Whit said something about wanting to paint the Bible room, and deduces that Whit would prefer ivory. He resolves to get the job done before Whit returns, as a surprise.

Later that day, Jack and Lucy come in, disappointed to find the Bible room is closed for painting. Lucy had mentioned the time Jacob wrestled an angel and won, and Jack doesn’t believe that’s actually in the Bible. They could only think of two ways to resolve this debate; go find Whit, or go to a special room Bible themed room for answers. It’s not like either of them have an actual book to look it up in.

Okay, what’s really going on is that they love Whit’s stories, and they now have an excuse to ask him for one. And who can blame them? He has all the advantages of background music and individualized voice actors for all his characters. Anyway, in the spirit of running the store just like Whit would, Connie decides to give the story a go.

Spoiler alert; she’s not a naturally gifted storyteller. As she starts and restarts the story about six times, Jack and Lucy mumble their apologies and bolt.

A bit later, Connie is called into the Bible room by another kid, who ignored the wet paint signs because she just couldn’t resist all the Bible themed activities. Specifically, she wanted to play with the Talking Mirror. That’s the one that, if you say a Bible verse to it, it will answer with chapter and verse, and vice versa. And it can also… yeah, no, that’s all it can do. What irresistable fun.

The mirror is acting up, repeating “For God so loved the world that he gave-” over and over again in increasingly creepy voices. Connie tries to turn it off, but it only starts talking faster, louder, and creepier. Naturally, she gets spooked, starts hitting anything that might possibly stop it, and finally it does shut off. Because she broke it.

That evening she finds Jimmy Barclay moping. Connie gets him to open up about what’s wrong. A kid at school falsely accused him of stealing a ruler, and the two of them ended up fighting and getting sent to the principal’s office. He really doesn’t want to tell his Dad, and he wishes Whit was around to advise him. Connie says she doesn’t think he has to tell his parents. He’s sorry, and he’s already been punished once. He hardly needs to get in trouble a second time, especially over something that wasn’t really his fault. This cheers Jimmy up immensely, and he heads home.

The next morning, Mr. Barclay comes by to have a talk with Connie. And to be honest, he handles the situation perfectly. He tells Connie that he values her as a family friend, and he knows she didn’t mean to give bad advice, but he and Jimmy are going through a rough time. Jimmy is going through some pre-adolescent changes, and it’s very important to Mr. Barclay that, even at this stage, Jimmy remains able to talk about things he’s going through, even if he’s afraid he might get into trouble. Somebody close to the family advising Jimmy to keep secrets? Really not helping.

There’s some times when I think AIO doesn’t handle parent/child relationships well, or mentor/mentee boundaries, but this isn’t one of those cases. It isn’t spelled out, but you get a strong sense that Mr. Barclay gets that the relationship goes both ways; that he has to be fair in his judgment for Jimmy to trust him. What we see of him in other episodes reinforces that. They also did a really good job picking a conflict where Connie could be clearly in the wrong, but you can also kind of see her logic. I have nothing snarky to say about this whole bit.

Anyway, now that Connie’s failures have fulfilled the rule of three, she goes to Eugene in a state of absolute misery. She thinks she has let Whit down by failing to step in and be him. Eugene points out that Whit didn’t want her to be him, but be like him. She’s a different person, so of course she can never handle things exactly he would, but only apply a sort of Whit-ish-ness to her regular behaviors. This is sort of vague, but it does help her. She ditches the sweater and gets back to work.

When Whit returns, he’s a bit puzzled. See, he left them a note. Remember the note? Yeah, apparently it contained both instructions on how to shut down the mirror if it started acting up, and mention that they might get a delivery of blue and ivory paint… both of which would be used for the shed out back.

Seriously. They forgot the note. The clearly written, placed in plain sight, right fucking there list. Because this is a Metaphor for Christians forgetting to read the Bible or something.

Sigh.

And now Chris’s summary begins. Now, she already talked for the first two minutes at the beginning of this. There was a skit with a professional impersonator who is actually pretty bad at imitating people, and it seemed to be setting up something. The actual episode was pretty short; there’s only 22 minutes to this episode, and Chris is going to take another two and a half to make her point. Hopefully, given that the whole episode has bent over to set up this talk, and that Chris’s parts are taking up roughly a fifth of the episode, I’d expect they have something really good in store.

After explicitly saying that Connie’s story is a parable, and giving several examples of parables in the Bible, Chris finally gets to the Official Moral.

“You see, a parable is simply a lesson wrapped up in a story. Whether Connie realized it or not, her adventure today was a parable about imitating Jesus.”

Okay, like most of AIO’s audience, I learned words like “parable” at approximately childbirth. There’s certain words that are key to an uber-Christian upbringing; parable, grace, lamb, heaven, hell, blood, sin… but I digress.

“Like the apostle Paul wrote in First Corinthians Eleven One, ‘Be imitators of me, just as I also imitate Christ.’ But imitating Jesus isn’t pretending to be him. It’s just like Connie learned today. Being Whit and being like Whit are two different things.”

This also seems fairly basic. But maybe you have some more particular applications?

“She wore a sweater like his and tried to talk like he did and even tried to fix things like he did. And she wound up making a mess. Whit didn’t mean to try to be him. He just wanted her to do the things he wanted her to do.”

Yes, I know. I was there. I heard the entire episode. What does that actually correspond to, in religious terms?

“Sometimes we make the same mistake when we read in the Bible to be like Jesus. We think we’re supposed to be identical copies of Jesus, and when we fail, we get discouraged.”

What do you mean by identical? Do you mean “as good and kind as?” Or “a carpenter’s son born of a virgin and crucified at 33?” Because one of those things you absolutely should aim to do, and the other one is literally impossible. Is there a third option I’m missing?

“But guess what? God didn’t make us to be identical copies of Jesus, or anyone else. He made us to be unique with different talents and personalities. And we are!”

Wait, first it sounded like this was going to be about being flawed, but now it sounds like it’s about being an individual. Could you clarify?

“In Philippians Chapter two verse five, it says, to have this mind in yourselves, which is like Christ Jesus. Or, have an attitude like Jesus did.”

Ok, still pretty vague, as everyone has their own idea of what Jesus’ attitude was and it tends to correspond pretty closely to their political beliefs.

“We can’t be Jesus, but we can be like Jesus, as we let God work through us and change us. Imitating Jesus is a lifelong process that happens as we study his word, the Bible. Kind of the same as the letter Whit left for Connie and Eugene.”

Again, I heard the episode.

“We also become more like Jesus through talking to him through prayer, just like Whit told Connie to call him if she had any questions.”

And you still have yet to explain what being “like Jesus” actually means. That is, beyond “not being him,” which I already had covered.

“And we can be like Jesus when we obey him, by doing the things he has taught us to do. In fact, there isn’t anything greater in this life for us to do than to learn to be like Jesus.”

Well, I’m glad we’ve got that established. Still don’t have the faintest idea what you think being like Jesus means, or why you think kids are genuinely confused about the difference between being something and being like something. But hey, at least you kept talking about this for two minutes and thirty seconds (seriously, I timed it).

Final ratings

Best Part: Mr. Barclay’s handling of the situation with Jimmy. He’s honestly a lovely character. I can’t wait for some of the Barclay family centric episodes. 

Worst Part: Given that I spent half this article ranting about it, I think it’s got to go to Chris’ neverending summary. 

Story Rating: This is another case where there’s the bones of a good story, but the execution is horribly shoddy. C-

Moral Rating: What even is the moral here? You know, if I was assigned to write a persuasive essay where I failed to even make it clear what I was arguing for, I would probably get a failing grade. So on that rationale, I’m actually going to give this an F. 

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist: The Other Woman

This is the conclusion of the mental health series, and I’ll give both my final ratings for this episode, and my ratings for the topic as a whole.

A bit of background for this episode; at one point in the series, Tom Reilly becomes mayor of Odyssey. He has been a city councilman for a while, but wasn’t interested in seeking a higher office until some circumstances forced his hand. Bart Rathbone, recurring villain, ran against him and lost, which had something to do with the fact that he is a greedy, selfish pathological liar and, frankly, hilariously incompetent. And if I was writing this a couple years ago I’d make some comment about how it was implausible that Bart would even be taken seriously as a candidate, but obviously I can’t do that now… is it 2020 yet?

Anyway, this episode opens with Tom announcing that he is still considering whether or not to run for re-election, and he indicates that he is leaning towards not. This excites Bart, who thinks he might have a chance to be elected this time around, so long as he’s fighting some lesser opponent. He urges his family to think of ways to discourage Tom from running, which leads his wife and son to follow Tom around town.

They catch him going to Hillingdale Haven, which seems to be a kind of hotel or club, and get pictures of him wandering the grounds, romantically entwined with a woman. This raises the question of Tom’s wife. She hasn’t been around for years, but as far as anybody knows she isn’t dead and they aren’t divorced. Bart’s son insists he has seen her once, and this woman isn’t her; she is blonde, and Tom’s wife definitely wasn’t.

They take pictures and bring them to a tabloid. The editor is thrilled, especially when they tell him where the photos were taken. Hillingdale isn’t any kind of resort. It’s a mental hospital.

Naturally, when the story breaks, it comes out that Tom isn’t cheating at all. Tom’s wife, Agnes, has a passion for hair dye, and every couple of months she’s trying out a new color. Her mental illness is, of course, the reason why nobody has seen her, especially while Tom was on the campaign trail. It’s also the reason why Tom has finally decided not to run for a second term. He’s tired of the scrutiny of mayoral life, and the job has kept him away from her far too often. He’s done with it. This announcement does not give the Rathbones the joy they expected. Instead, Bart, for once, feels ashamed of himself.

This episode, as you surely notice, is the only one that explicitly mentions mental health. In all others, I rely on either cases where someone is showing the symptoms of a mental illness, which is not named as such, or someone is going through a short-term reaction to a stressful event; the kind of reaction that is not a mental illness in context, but in which handling the situation is still a mental health question, if that distinction makes sense.

You also probably notice that this episode has almost nothing to do with Agnes. She’s a plot device used to create a false scandal; any innocuous explanation could substitute. I’ve almost left her out of my summary entirely.

But this episode does discuss mental health, albeit in something of a footnote. After Tom’s announcement, Whit and Eugene talk a bit more about Agnes’ condition. What puzzles Eugene is that he has never heard about her. He understands why her mental illness wasn’t public knowledge, but he has never heard it brought up in church (Eugene is a Christian at this point in the series). Whit explains that, when praying didn’t improve her condition, people stopped being comfortable with the discussion.

“At first they prayed for her healing, but she just didn’t get any better. It was awkward. Eventually people stopped asking Tom about it, and Tom stopped mentioning it.”

This is something I’ve wanted to see from AIO for a while: an admission that prayer and faith don’t always work. Every Christian knows about somebody who wasn’t healed by prayer, who wasn’t spared suffering because of their faith. It’s typically not talked about, because it raises questions they are uncomfortable with. And Whit, surprisingly, admits it. When Eugene asks for his thoughts on the answer to those questions, this is the best Whit can do.

“I think there are a lot of Christians who have a hard time dealing with things like unanswered prayer. We want God to heal in our timetable, and problems like mental illness make it even messier for us. We like happy endings. We want these people to get better and get on with their lives, like good Christians… Christians who can’t cope are like poor advertising. They’re embarrassing to us. It raises questions we find hard to answer, like where is God when we become mentally ill?”

Here’s where we get a bit iffier. He’s admitting that stigma exists, but he isn’t really discouraging it. He isn’t exactly encouraging it either; clearly he’s sympathetic towards Agnes and doesn’t seem to think the problem is with her faith, yet he falls into stigmatizing language anyway. He doesn’t say “Christians who have a medical condition,” but rather “Christians who can’t cope.” The phrase “get better and get on with their lives, like good Christians,” casts a complimentary image of people who don’t get better because they’re not good Christians. Even if he’s not supporting this image in all cases, he is indirectly indicating that those who suffer mental health problems are at least sometimes at fault.

When Eugene asks, Whit tries to answer his own question.

“It leaves us where we’ve always been, stuck with the frailty of our humanness. Dependent on the power of God’s will, and obliged to keep praying hard for the Mrs. Reillys of the world, and the Tom Reillys who help them.”

I want to like that answer, because it is doing something rare in AIO canon. Whit isn’t conjuring up some theologically contorted answer. He’s just saying, a bit indirectly, that he doesn’t know. I feel like I’ve been waiting for that since starting this project. And, honestly, I really like to reward people who have the guts to admit that. It’s not easy for anybody, but I think that so many situations would improve if we were all just a little more honest about the limits of our own understanding.

That said, there’s a couple things that stop me from giving full credit. The first is that he doesn’t say “help people like Tom and Agnes” or “work to destigmatize their situation so they don’t have to hide like this.” He just says “pray.” To be fair, I know many religious people who would take it as a given that if you pray and then fail to also do what you can, you might as well not have prayed. But I also have known many religious people who, having prayed, feel they’ve done enough and can move on with clear conscience. And most importantly, it makes the real takeaway of this episode feel less like, “accept that some people have mental health problems that don’t go away on our time table” and more like “accept that, and for goodness sake don’t let it cause you to question the power of prayer!”

I’d have liked it if they had tried to deal with this problem, rather than just point it out and then pat themselves on the back for noticing it.

Final ratings (for the episode)

Best Part: While her appearance is incredibly brief, the interaction between Agnes and Tom is sweet. They tease each other in an obviously still in love way. Also, I do love that what you see of Agnes isn’t her being stereotypically “crazy,” but rather you get a conversation fairly typical of any old married couple, with a few key lines that reveal her conditions. 

Worst Part: I suppose I’m most frustrated by the description of Agnes’ actual diagnosis. They describe it as a “deep depression” but then she mostly shows symptoms of mild dementia? I mean, it’s possible to have both, but this feels less like an attempt to add nuance and complexity to her symptoms and more like they were lazy. 

Story Rating: There’s a lot wrong here. First of all, the tone is horribly inconsistent. All the Rathbones are decidedly buffoonish villains, so naturally an episode with all three will be joke heavy. The scenes of them bickering as they try to follow Tom are pretty funny, but when Agnes Reilly’s mental health problems are revealed, the tone shifts awkwardly.

Then there’s the lack of clear stakes. The main thing at stake seems to be whether or not Tom will run for mayor. It’s hard to root for this when he is so clearly ambivalent to start out. We also know he has main character plot armor. If the writers really wanted him to run again, he would shrug this controversy right off. I suppose we are expected to feel that, since Tom is second only to Whit in his perfectness, we should just want him to be the Eternal Mayor For Life and be devastated at any course that doesn’t keep him in charge forever. 

…. yeah, for failing to put together the events in any compelling or aesthetically satisfying way, this gets a D.

Moral Rating: As I said, I’m not sure if the message is supposed to be “love and support the mentally ill and their caregivers,” which is good, but poorly executed, and I’d give a C+, or “don’t let the mentally ill good Christians out there shake your faith,” which I’d give a D for screwed up priorities, or just “don’t make assumptions and try to smear people with gossip,” which is solid, well illustrated even though the story itself is bleh, and I’d normally give it an A. I’ll split the difference: B-

Ratings for the Mental Health Topic

Best Episode: Letting Go

Worst Episode: Nothing to Fear

Good Things They Said: Support people who are struggling, accept that bad things will happen but face them anyway. Sometimes people of faith still have mental health problems. These all should be common sense, but unfortunately even misconceptions this basic are endemic to both religious and secular communities.

Bad Things They Said: Religion fixes all the things, most mental health problems are spiritual, and people who lack religion can’t cope with death or traumatic life events. All of these are not only inaccurate, but for Christians with mental health issues they can actively make their problems worse.

Things They Failed to Address: Actual, accurate descriptions of mental illnesses and disabilities, the role of conventional medicine. I don’t think this show has to be a PSA on mental health, but I do think that, if you’re going to broach the issue, you should research it as best you can. Furthermore, while conventional medicine is still in trial and error mode when it comes to mental health, it has also healed or at least alleviated the condition of many, many people. I’m not even going to say that this show, created for and by Christians, shouldn’t have promoted religion as a potential source of healing. I’m saying that an episode that, for example, promotes therapists and psychiatrists as a tool God provides for us would have been great.

Overall Rating: The bad messages are emphasized far more than the good ones, and sometimes directly oppose them. The things they fail to address are key to the topic as a whole. Because of this, I think the bad really outweighs the good here. D- 

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist: Where is Thy Sting?

This episode begins very shortly after the last one left off. Connie and her mother are going through Mildred’s things, and they discover a lovely music box that plays “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name,” is inscribed with “From Bill, First Timothy 6:17-19, in my prayers that you may find true treasure.”

Then they go pick up Connie’s father, Bill, at the airport. He is surly, but rather than rest up at a hotel, he wants to go straight to the funeral home and discuss arrangements. They meet with the funeral director, a local pastor and Mildred’s pastor from New York. As they talk, Connie says that she wants the funeral to be more than just a standard dour experience. She has been thinking about how hopeful Mildred was at the end, and how for Christians death isn’t an end, but a transition to a new and better life. She wants the funeral to focus more on celebrating that. Bill is furious.

“If you’re thinking that my mother’s funeral service is going to be some kind of a party, well then you’re on the wrong track.”

The others try to calm him down and suggest a balanced service, in which they talk about the sadness of her loss but also the hope she felt for a life afterwards, but Bill isn’t interested. He continues to mock Connie’s idea, accuses everyone else of ganging up on him, then storms out.

Now, usually I give a full summary and save my thoughts for the end. This is going to be one of the exceptions. There’s just too much to talk about here, and too much that changes from scene to scene, so I have to give my analysis as I go. Here, Bill is clearly being an asshole, and I don’t think his grief is an adequate excuse. Everyone else in that room is grieving too, with the possible exception of the funeral director. What’s more, all of them will need different things to help them through. That’s a pretty normal situation after someone dies. Connie shared the thing that is helping her through this, and how she would like to incorporate that into the funeral. But she didn’t demand it; she merely brought it up, which is what this meeting is for. Bill clearly needs something else, and doesn’t seem to know exactly what that is, which is rough. But his first response is to attack Connie, who is hurting just as much as he is. That’s only okay if you’re about five.

Afterwards, Connie talks the situation out with Jack and Eugene. It’s Eugene, of all people, who takes it upon himself to explain how Bill is probably feeling.

“Alas, take it from one who has explored many philosophies of life and death. If he considers death a void, then it may make him wonder if life itself is a void as well.”

This introduces us to the idea that, without God, there is no such thing as coping. They illustrate it with Bill, who is not only an atheist, but a nihilist. Contrary to popular belief among fundamentalists, most of the time those two don’t go together. I’m not going to say it’s never accurate, only that nihilism is not a sustainable ideology. We don’t do well with lacking meaning – it’s a human thing. To be a nihilist is to crave for a reason to be anything else. But that reason is not necessarily found in religion. I find it primarily in the people I love and the fight for social justice. I’ve known atheists who find it in a futurist’s utopian vision, an artist’s work, a family to care for, or a never-ending search for self-improvement. All of these things have value, here and now. It’s just a matter of discovering what speaks to you.

The idea of a nihilistic atheist being the norm is common. Fundamentalist Christians cling to it particularly hard, I think partly because they spend so much time putting down the worth of the world we have here. It is constantly compared to the value of the glorious, eternal afterlife. The present world is, at best, a pale facsimile, and at worst an active distraction. Switching mentalities from that to one where earthly love and human well-being is a perfectly valid reason to live and have hope is well, a bit awkward to pull off, even if you’re just switching your thinking temporarily to empathize with an unbeliever. I also think there’s a bit of confirm bias and survivor’s bias mixed in. Confirmation bias because fundamentalists want to see atheists this way, rather than consider that someone might be satisfied and happy without God, so they assume any happy atheist is lying. Survivor’s bias because the rare nihilistic atheists are the most likely to convert, and thus are the former atheists Christians are most familiar with.

This idea is impressed on the audience more when Connie’s mother talks to Bill, back at the house. She tries to reiterate Connie’s point about the balance of life and death, and the reward for believers.

“Well, that’s great, but if you believe the way Bill Kendall believes, you live and you die and the people you leave behind spend years trying to get over losing you.”

She also shows him the music box, and asks if he knows what the inscription means… kind of a weird question, given his clearly expressed disinterest in the Bible. He doesn’t know, he’s annoyed by the whole thing, and he goes for a “walk,” and isn’t seen until the viewing is almost over.

When he turns up, at the very end of the viewing, he is staggeringly drunk. He cries, snarks, and waxes poetic… if you expand the definition of poetry to slobbering doggerel.

“I am grieving the loss of my mother the only way I know how. You do it by having happy funerals and I do it by trying to forget.”

I have mixed feelings about this scene. On the one hand, I love how, despite his relentlessly dickish behavior, you are made to feel for Bill. He’s no simple villain. He’s a human being who is expressing his pain destructively, but you are made to feel his grief along with him nonetheless. On the other hand, it’s clear that the writers of AIO struggle to understand how a non-believer truly thinks and acts. Even for a nihilistic atheist, Bill’s statement is a little too on the nose, too perfectly aligned with where the writers are determined to take us.

Bill manages to behave through the funeral, and afterwards he goes up with Connie and her mother to view Mildred one last time. He reflects that the service was actually quite beautiful, contrary to his expectations. He also reveals that he and his second wife are getting a divorce. He feels like a failure on every level; he can’t keep his marriages together, he missed his mother’s final days because he was off on a cruise, and he can’t help making a mess of the mourning process, swinging his grief around like a club that keeps everyone at bay. Connie comes in with her solution. He needs to become a Christian. She emphasizes that the Bible verse on the box was an exhortation to pray for unbelievers, especially those obsessed with money and fancy living, and how it proves that Mildred wanted nothing more than for Bill to accept Christ. Bill reiterates that he can’t believe, and can’t forgive himself either. Connie tries again, and Bill runs off. Connie’s mother reflects that they probably won’t see him again, and how she’s realized that she has a choice between handling life the way Connie does or handling it the way Bill does, and it’s about time she became an official Christian.

I’ve already explained how bad that dichotomy is, so I’ll go into the other big problem with this scene. Based on my experience, there are two ways to deal constructively with someone acting like Bill; someone full of pain who is simultaneously incapable of caring for themselves and lashing out at others. First, you can put up some boundaries to protect yourself from their attacks, and focus on your own healing. Second, you can sit down with them, listen to them, let them vent while taking nothing they say personally, and hope that somewhere along the line you both figure out what they need. Both are valid choices. The latter can be noble and admirable, but when you can’t juggle your pain and theirs at the same time, which is typical, there’s no shame in the former. Better to successfully heal one person than try and fail to heal two.

What’s not okay is to insist on this being the moment the other person radically change their worldview, so they can grieve correctly and heal in the way you’ve decided they need to. Healing is complicated, beliefs are complicated, human development is complicated, and all of the above are incredibly personal. In the scene at the funeral, what Connie does is like trying to collect an insect with a sledgehammer. She is saying he can’t heal and grow unless he somehow acquires a belief in God. He doesn’t believe, and can’t will himself to accept it, because nobody can even at the best of times. Bill is too raw for her statements to do anything but drive him deeper into a feeling of hopelessness.

I do agree that, in the long run, Bill needs deep, transformative change in order to become a functioning adult. But Connie, at the end of this episode, expects him to convert entirely to her method of coping, and offers no other way to help him. In a way, she’s doing the same thing he did to her earlier in the episode. She goes about it in a nicer way, but she is still more hurtful than helpful, for exactly the same reason; she’s refusing to acknowledge that his pain needs to be dealt with on its own terms.

Final ratings

Best Part: When Jack and Eugene go to the funeral and are just their adorable selves. Which is to say, Jack quietly listens and hugs and makes everything feel a little warmer, and Eugene goes on a ramble about “the historical development of necrology and it’s impact on Etruscan archaeology…” and then remembers he’s at a funeral and apologizes a few thousand times. It’s sweet. 

Worst Part: It’s a tough call between the various lines that oversimplify the nature of unbelief, and how unbelievers can cope with death. The worst, I think, is actually Eugene’s. Eugene is a kind of intellectual jack of all trades, and at this point in the series he’s actually something of an agnostic. Eugene is probably my second favorite character after Connie, but all too often, AIO uses him as a legitimizing mouthpiece. He confidently asserts something that we are to assume is well founded, because A. he’s smart and B. he’s not a full-fledged believer so it’s also coming from an objective perspective. But of course, those statements are written without any actual research. His statements don’t follow his character or a coherent philosophy, but are simply what the writers want him to say, dressed up with the aide of a thesaurus.

Story Rating: Honestly, if I just look at the bare bones plot, without the ideas explicitly discussed, it’s a pretty good idea for a story. The central conflict is between two different methods of grieving; that’s interesting. The execution isn’t all bad either. Many of the scenes are well constructed and much of the dialog sounds like how actual humans talk. There’s still a bit that’s stilted, but overall… B – 

Moral Rating: “If you don’t believe in my exact religion, clearly you can’t cope with death and you’re doomed to misery forever.” D – 

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist: A Touch of Healing

This episode takes place during a period where Whit was off in the Middle East, being a missionary adventurer archaeologist (no, I’m not making that up), and Whit’s End was run by his son Jason and his old friend Jack. This was actually a pretty good time. See, they couldn’t bring in a new character who would usurp Whit’s status as most perfectest human being, and instead they replaced him with two guys with good hearts and human flaws. Jason is proactive and inventive, eager to adapt new technology and trends to engage the kids at Whit’s End but often too hasty. Jack is more cautious and old fashioned. He needs Jason’s energy to keep up with the times, but he can also see where Jason is rushing in without considering all the potential drawbacks. As a result, formulaic answers delivered by a Mary Sue were replaced with actual debate and compromise, and room for the audience to think longer about an issue before deciding who they agreed with. It not only made the morals less trite, but also tended to force the episode quality up.

In this episode, Jason has developed a new program for the Imagination Station. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, which is astounding because it is a major part of the AIO canon; in brief, it puts kids into a world where they act out a story, programmed in by Whit or Jason, but brought to life “by the power of imagination.” It does actually seem to penetrate the mind directly, rather than just being a glorified virtual reality machine, which has some freaky ass implications. But I’ll have more opportunities to get into this later.

For now, Jason has realized that, since disabled kids can imagine they don’t have disabilities, he can program the Imagination Station to put them through an adventure, completely able bodied. Jack felt like there could be problems with this, but couldn’t offer anything beyond a vague bad feeling, and Jason more or less took that as a challenge. He went straight from idea to implementation to trying the program out on some Whit’s End regulars.

His first test case, Jenny, does not go as planned. Jenny was born blind. She can’t accurately imagine being sighted, and as she talks about it upon leaving the Imagination Station, it seems that she also doesn’t really see her blindness as a fault. It’s just a part of her, and she has a good life just the way she is. The second one, with Zachary, who became quadriplegic in a car accident, goes much better. He walks and runs, and what’s more, sees this as absolute heaven. This is, by the way, the same Zachary from Letting Go, but earlier. He was still adjusting in that episode, but here he’s positively raw from the double shock of losing his father and becoming disabled. As soon as he is pulled out of the program he becomes enraged and demands to be sent back. His mother, Eileen, who was not informed about what Jason was about to do, is furious. Jack takes Eileen’s side, but Jason can only think about how happy Zachary was during the program, and can’t understand their problem.

Meanwhile, Connie and her Mom are welcoming Connie’s paternal grandmother, Mildred into their home for the foreseeable future. Connie’s father, as you may recall, is largely absentee, and Mildred is dealing with some ongoing heart problems. It says a lot about Connie’s family life that she’s the one unanimously chosen as the best suited to take care of her grandmother. Mildred is sweet, warm and utterly delightful. Unfortunately, during her visit, her health takes a sudden and dramatic turn for the worst. She is admitted to the hospital, and when Connie visits, the two of them spend much of their time in prayer.

The next day, Jason finds out from Eileen that Zachary was a wreck after the Imagination Station. He threw tantrums and, when he finally went to bed, she found him crying in his sleep. He has also been refusing to go to physical therapy. PT apparently has the potential to help him, but it’s a slow, frustrating process for a kid who is already emotionally scarred. Zachary says that there’s no point anymore, since he can just go into the Imagination Station and walk like he could before. Eileen asks how Zachary is supposed to cope with reality when Jason has created a perfect fantasy for him to escape to. Jason, still wanting to defend his invention, thinks that maybe later on, Zachary’s experiences in the Imagination Station can help him be more motivated to go through therapy. Jack takes him aside and tries to show him how he’s undermining an already stressed out parent. He argues that it’s always been a policy of Whit’s End to never contradict parents when it comes to their kids. Jason doesn’t like that policy. I don’t either, but in this instance I’ve gotta take Jack’s side. He’s started messing around with Zachary’s healing process without even consulting his mother, and that’s seriously unacceptable.

The episode then cuts to Connie and Mildred in the hospital. By now, Mildred knows her own body pretty well, and she wants no more hopeful double talk from the doctors. She lists the problems, the transplants she would need to survive and her slim odds of getting them, and sums up her condition as terminal. The doctors are stunned, but admit she’s right. Mildred thanks them for their honesty, and Connie asks her why they have been praying if there’s no realistic hope.

Instead of saying they are praying for a miracle, Mildred says that the prayers aren’t for herself, but for Connie; for her to have strength, whatever happens next. A short time later, she slips into a coma.

Over the next several days, while Connie works to prepare herself for the worst, Whit’s End is mobbed by disabled kids. Jason sees that Zachary’s not alone in his reaction. These kids have a brief experience of cheap release, but they leave either angry, because they have to return to a reality that now feels doubly unfair, or disappointed, because like Jenny they lack the experiences that let the program work on them. For those who can use the program, they mostly went through the same kind of pain Zachary did. The Imagination Station makes them go from a world where they’re struggling to learn how to be different, to a world where everything is as it was before, and then are thrust back into the real world, with no coping mechanisms, no tools to adapt to the transition. He hasn’t invented a way to heal them, but a way to torture them. He suspends the program indefinitely, until he can figure out a way to make it genuinely work for the kids, and apologizes publicly for the damage he has done.

Jack goes to visit Connie and Zachary. The conversations he has with both of them are about turning to God for emotional healing, even when the physical healing we hope for doesn’t come. These talks are both very different from the ones Whit gives. Jack spends a lot more time listening. There’s no railroading them into a predetermined point, so you get the sense that he doesn’t come in with an agenda. He hears what the other person says, gives his honest response, and then listens to see what they made of it. You know, like an actual conversation. With Connie, they meander through faith, prayer, sin, pain and the afterlife. She doesn’t emerge with any new answers, but she feels heard and loved in a way she didn’t get in the previous review. With Zachary, there’s a “let me tell you about Jesus” talk, but it comes up naturally as a result of Jack sharing his philosophy on spiritual healing, and Zachary asking to hear more.

In the end, Eileen and Zachary both are converted. Mildred dies, but Connie finds comfort in her belief that they will see each other again in heaven.

It is clearly indicated that the official message is that God is a more powerful force for healing, particularly mental and spiritual healing, than medicine and technology. I don’t agree with that basic premise, in partly because I think the latter exist and the former don’t, and also because my experiences with mental health have shown the opposite. Religion tended to exacerbate the problem, modern medicine had very good results for me. At the same time, this topic is handled with unusual nuance in this episode, and that does make it better.

In this episode, characters who disagree with the official moral aren’t strawmen. They have reasons and are given the space to fully explain them, so even though they end up proved wrong, you can still think about circumstances under which they might have been right. If Jason had collaborated with physical therapists and parents, for example, he might have set up a more helpful program; perhaps one where it’s a reward for therapy, to make the results more tangible.

The other thing that works well here is that there’s something organic about how faith is used. Connie, Mildred and Jenny have a long personal history of faith, so it makes sense that they turn to it. As for the conversion, while I don’t like what Jack says (he calls people who don’t believe in Jesus “spiritually handicapped”) I do think he has a right to share his faith with those who are interested, and Eileen and Zachary don’t feel forced into an out of character religious experience for the sake of the story.

Science has brought us a long way, but there are many things they can only alleviate, or haven’t been able to solve at all. The history of science is also full of therapies that were tried and did not work, or have the potential to be applied in both helpful and abusive ways (think electroshock therapy or lobotomies). While meds have made a significant difference in my life, and therapy can help many others, for other people religion is genuinely a source of emotional healing, and that’s great. When it comes to mental health, I’m happy for anyone who finds something that works for them.

Of course, this episode avoids a big potential problem by only portraying characters who are happy to turn to Christianity for healing. I’ve already talked some about ways that religion can be counterproductive for people with mental health problems. In the next review, Connie’s father shows up for Mildred’s funeral, and we get to look at how AIO treats characters who are hurting, and unwilling to convert.

Final ratings

Best Part: Jack comforting Connie. It was so genuinely warm, and after Fences I was really ready for her to get talked to like a human being and not a troublesome project.

Worst Part: They keep referencing an earlier episode where Jason tried to invent an arcade game that taught kids about the Bible, and Jack was so shocked because, you know, video games. That episode, to AIO’s credit, did not force Jason to realize video games were evil; only that they were loud and needed to be put in a soundproof room so they don’t disrupt the rest of the shop. The writers almost seem to feel guilty about making that compromise, because now Jack keeps saying that they can’t be healthy, what with all the lights and noise and punching buttons.

Literally, he complains about the kids punching buttons. The whole time, I’m thinking, “you hear that your childhood BFF invented something that literally induces hallucinations in minors and you’re fine with this, but video games are bad because buttons???”

It was a minor point that didn’t detract too much from the overall episode, but it was still annoying.

Story Rating: The dialog was natural, and the conflicts progressed very naturally. At no point did the story feel like it was relying on contrivances or manipulation to make it’s point. I got genuinely invested in all the characters and how things were going to turn out. A

Moral Rating: I think the basic point is problematic, but of all the takes on this idea, they took the best one. C +

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist: Fences

When this episode begins, Connie is waltzing through Whit’s End, narrating her sundae-making like she’s on a game show and complimenting everyone in sight. Her father is coming to town. As we learned in previous episodes, Connie’s parents have divorced, a rarity in Odyssey, and her father lives back in California. We, the audience, have never met him, and it’s implied that she has barely seen him since they moved. So it’s devastating when, upon arriving home, her mother says he cancelled his trip.

Apparently her father’s new wife’s mother is sick. Connie tries to be understanding, but she can’t help but mope through life for the next several days, and things only get worse when she learns that her father has a chain of upcoming business trips and meetings, and so has no plans to reschedule his visit with her.

Whit and Eugene, her coworker, notice her sudden change in behavior and ask her about it. She is honest about how she feels; miserable, mixed with a little guilt over feeling miserable. No matter how often she tells herself the reasons for his cancellation were out of his control, the hurt will not subside. So she goes through the motions of her ordinary life, hoping that eventually non-nauseating emotions will return again. Whit and Eugene have an aside about how she is behaving. They agree on the following; 1. Connie is upset about her father, 2. They want to help her, 3. Connie won’t let them help her.

The first point is rather obvious. She says as much, explicitly. The second is an admirable response, and an expected one. The third, however, is bizarre. The problem is not that she won’t let them help her, but that there’s nothing they can do to help. Connie’s sadness is not an inappropriate reaction. Whit and Eugene cannot change her father’s mind, nor can they fly to California and drag him back to see her, and furthermore Connie can’t ask them to. Instead of accepting this, they frame it as Connie being stubborn, and hope for her to get her mind back on God. It feels almost like they are blaming her for not enabling them to fix her. What do they expect? Do they want her to give them an itemized list of things that will make her feel better? There’s nothing wrong with her. A truly upsetting thing happened, and she’s going to be blue for a little while.

Now, I can think of one thing they could do that might make her feel better, if not immediately, then in the long run; validate her pain. Part of what’s hurting is the contradiction between her conscious desire to defend her father, and her unconscious understanding that something is up with his behavior. And one character does do this, albeit accidentally. Her elderly neighbor, Mr. Mitchell, is having a fence put up, courtesy of his son, who hopes it will help protect him. While they watch the construction, they chat about family. Connie asks, if his son lived in California, and couldn’t come visit, but Mr. Mitchell could get around more easily, how often would he visit? Mr. Mitchell says he would make the trip four or five times a year. Connie is dumbfounded, but Mr. Mitchell doesn’t think it’s a surprising answer. He loves his son, and no matter the distance he would have to make visiting a priority. Connie realizes that the problem isn’t her. It’s her father. Yes, life gets in the way, but the problem isn’t that this one time, he had trouble with his schedule. The problem is that Connie, his own child, is about seventieth on his list of priorities, which just makes him a shitty human being.

What does this revelation make Connie? A feminazi.

No, seriously. That’s what they think the next logical step in this character arc should be.

She gives a Bible study lesson that consists of listing every man who ever screwed up in the Bible, quoting verses that announce that men are filth (it’s never pointed out that she’s using examples where the Bible is actually saying humanity is filth and using “men” and “all actual human beings” interchangeably because sexist archaic language) and making posters of male models with their heads cut off. This causes every girl in her Bible study to spontaneously form the Men-Haters Club and go around locking boys in closets.

Again, I’m not making this up. That is literally what happens; they corner guys, lecture them on how awful they are, and lock them in closets. Because of one crappy lesson.

There is so much wrong with this. First, if Connie has the ability to so radically change people’s behavior with one lesson, that is a seriously misapplied talent. She should be going into peace talks and hostage negotiations. Second, this reaction makes no sense as a consequence of what happened to her. I thought it was weird even when I was a kid, and now I find positively enraging. I’ve also known actual women who, after a series of traumatic experiences, went through a distrusting-men-generally phase, but mostly it’s nothing like this. They are still basically tolerant and get-along-y towards the real human beings in their lives, but take a little longer to really trust new men, and get really into analyzing the ways that male privilege and toxic masculinity does teach men to solve problems in aggressive, hurtful ways. That’s not to say people who aren’t truly, actively mean to men in general don’t exist, just that there’s really only one type of person who does that; an asshole. Connie’s not an asshole. That’s what gets me really mad. Why the show is willing to assassinate Connie’s character like this? Of all the ways for her to act out, why the hell did they go with something uncharacteristically mean and petty?

I’m sure the answer has nothing to do with a desire to squeeze in a message about how feminism equals men hating, so as to discourage their female listeners from paying attention to actual feminists.

Anyway, Whit gets mad at her and tells her not to come back to Whit’s End until she gets her act together. He’s not firing her, he’s just… grounding her? I’m not saying it’s unreasonable for him to keep her out like this in response to those things, just pointing out that his role in her life is weird. He switches so frequently between mentor who happens to also be her boss and boss who happens to be her mentor that it gets hard to figure out the boundaries.

The resolution is shitty and contrived. Mr. Mitchell has a heart attack, on his porch and out of sight because of his fence, and he nearly dies but a series of coincidences let Connie find him just in time. She’s a hero, and Whit arrives to lecture her about how the fence that nearly killed him is a metaphor for the bad writing attitude that is cutting her off from people who want to take care of her. If she wants to get better, she needs to let people help her, and also God. God will fix everything, and if he hasn’t already it’s because she didn’t let him. Connie says that he’s right, and she’s now suddenly her normal happy self. Her father’s still a piece of shit, and he’s still rejecting her in a way that would fuck up a real human being in a serious long term way, but she is totally fine, because she realized her whole life can be explained with a metaphor about fences.

I was torn between putting this under the upcoming social issues theme, to talk about the shitty straw man representation of feminism, and mental health, to talk about what they teach kids about how to handle stressful, painful situations. It ultimately went under the latter because I think the straw feminist problem of the former is fairly obvious; too obvious to even be worthy of analysis. What’s more insidious is the fact that they let a misguided attempt at making fun of feminism get in the way of handling an important character moment for one of their most significant cast members. Connie is being rejected by her father. That is one of the most painful experiences possible. Yet, instead of showing how she gradually goes through a grieving process and eventually arrives at a semblance of acceptance and closure, they force her to lash out in a way that is out of character, then berate her for not being perfectly well behaved throughout the entire episode.

There is nothing complex or constructive here. Worse, because her actions do not resemble actual human behavior, this show, which prides itself on being a moral authority for kids, does not leave them with any constructive guides on how to handle real pain. Instead it has aphorisms about shutting people out and how that’s bad; it’s true, but without a well-constructed story, those aren’t enlightening. They’re just generic cliches. AIO is capable of writing complex character stories, as we saw last week. But unfortunately, this type of story, where they go for a contrived, cheap plot device, an obvious epiphany, and no real character growth, is far more common.

Final ratings

Best Part: the brief moment of happiness at the beginning

Worst Part: The Men-Hater’s Club

Story Rating: Contrived and awkward. D –

Moral Rating: Remember everything positive I about the last episode? This is the complete opposite of that. Also D –

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist: Letting Go

This week I’m going to talk once again about an episode that does better than average. My current theme is mental health, and this episode starts on the topic of grief.

This episode follows Zachary, who lost his father in a car accident that also left him in a wheelchair. He comes home early one day to find his mom, Eileen, being walked home by a guy. This guy is Blake, who she met at work and has started dating. She was waiting to see how this worked out before telling her son, and now that Zachary knows, they decide to all get dinner together.

All is a foursome, not a threesome; Blake lost his wife to cancer several years ago and has a daughter, Jill. Throughout dinner, Jill is sweet and chatty. Zachary tries to follow suit as Blake asks him about his interests. Unfortunately, Zachary quickly realizes that Blake is faking interest in science and model trains in order to connect with him. The longer the conversation goes on, the more stilted and uncomfortable it becomes.

Eileen convinces Zachary to give Blake and Jill a second chance, and they go out to the mall a few days later. Jill drags Eileen off to look at cute hats, and Blake attempts to impress Zachary with his pitching skills at a speed throw. After boasting about his college days, he throws an utterly pitiful fastball and nearly throws out his back. This actually nearly creates an opportunity for some real bonding; Zachary prefers laughing at Blake, the actual human being, rather than making stiffly polite chitchat with Blake, the guy reciting All The Right Things. Blake tries to capitalize on this banter with an invitation to a baseball game, but this kills the mood. It’s only later that he learns that ball games used to be Zachary’s guy time with his father.

Despite these fumblings, the four continue to hang out as a group. One day, Jill corners Zachary and starts talking future plans. She hasn’t seen her father so happy in ages, and is one hundred percent ready for a new Mom, to the point that she has already been researching wheelchair accessible houses for them all to live in. Full points for good intentions, but she freaks Zachary out, understandably. This prompts a confrontation between boy and potential-stepfather. When Blake comes over a few days later to pick up Eileen for a theater date, Zachary asks him point blank if he plans on marrying her.

Blake doesn’t know yet, but he does really like her. He counters with his own honesty challenge; what does Zachary really think of them? The honest answer is that Zachary doesn’t like the way Blake is rushing his way into their lives. Blake sees his point, but feels the need to remind Zachary that more peoples feelings are at stake than just his.

Afterwards, Blake finds himself conflicted. He postpones their theater date to instead go out to dinner and talk. He does feel bad for moving so quickly, and understands how this must feel to Zachary, who hasn’t had nearly as long to move on as Jill has. When Eileen comes home to tell Zachary about this, she finds him watching old home videos of his dad’s birthday. The anniversary of which, by the way, is tomorrow, the same day that Blake and Eileen have moved their theater date to.

That morning, Blake finds out that Eileen has taken the day off work, and goes to check on her. He learns she is being hit unexpectedly hard by her former husband’s birthday, and tells her how his wife’s birthday has the same effect on him. He offers to drive her and Zachary out to the cemetery, even though it’s a two hour trip.

At the grave site, the two of them reminisce. Zachary’s dad had a great sense of humor; Eileen tells a story about how he made her crack up in the middle of their wedding vows. Zachary realizes that, like Jill, he wants to see his Mom happy like that again. Eileen has her own realization. She never gave Zachary the “he’s not a replacement for your Dad” speech. There is a difference between being open to new, good experiences and forgetting the old ones.

Zachary says he’s ready to give Blake another chance, and a while later, they all go to a baseball game together. As they pile into the car, Zachary finds himself talking to Blake, not like a Dad, not like a distrusted doppelganger, but just like a couple of people who are excited to see some baseball together.

What makes this episode work is that Zachary isn’t rushed into a moral epiphany. He is allowed to have mixed feelings, moments of frustration, and conversations that don’t end in everything being magically better. Instead, he goes through a variety of reactions, none of which is perfect but each of which moves him a little closer to a healing. Nor does anybody else react perfectly. Everyone is in a new situation, and everyone makes at least one mistake that they have to learn to get past.

Like many shows (secular and religious) AIO often ends on a moment of revelation, as if all flawed behavior could be fixed by just realizing what was wrong. The reality is that healthy, appropriate reactions to tough times are a skill, just like writing or cooking or running a marathon. With any skills, no matter what you think should happen, actually doing it is another matter. There will be mistakes made before the desired result is reached. Epiphany therapy shows just set up people to believe that, if they can’t just will their emotions into matching what they think they should feel, there is something wrong with them. Worse, they can lead to people supporting those who are struggling to think that, if the grieving or hurting person just understood how they were supposed to feel, they would stop being so inconveniently miserable. We need more stories like this, that show what realistic adjustment looks like.

Unfortunately, this approach is pretty rare on Adventures in Odyssey. Over the next few weeks, I will get into some examples that are more typical of how they approach pain, grieving and mental health crisises.

Final Ratings

Best Part: There’s a lot of options I could pick from. For purely subjective and arbitrary reasons, I like the moment when Blake messes up the speed throw and his perfect nice guy facade to reveal a still pretty nice guy.

Worst Part: I honestly can’t think of a scene in this episode that didn’t feel authentic and moving.

Moral Rating: Honest and affirming without being cloying or preachy. A+

Story Rating: Well rounded characters with relatable conflicts resolved realistically. Also an A+

Reviewing Adventures in Odyssey as an Atheist: Afraid, Not!

For my first theme in this reboot, I’ll be talking about how Adventures in Odyssey handles mental health. The fourth episode I ever reviewed was awful. It took a kid with every symptom of an anxiety disorder, made her fear magically go away by singing about God, and ended by informing anxious kids everywhere that God’s love casts out fear. Sounds positive, but the real world impact of that message tends to be damaging to people with real medical problems. They absorb the belief that their condition wouldn’t exist if they just loved God enough, which tends to A. actively make the symptoms worse and B. discourage them from seeking treatment. That’s not to say you can’t use religion to comfort fearful kids, just that you need to be thoughtful about how you use it.

This episode takes up the topic of childhood anxiety again, and I’m happy to say it genuinely does a better job. The story opens with a kid named Danny refusing to go to school. His parents assume he’s just going through a school-hating phase, so they give him a lecture about the importance of education and see him off. But before the day is over, his mother is called to come pick him up. Sometime between leaving home and getting to school, Danny got a black eye.

It takes a while to get him to open about what happened, but it turns out he has a stalker. No, seriously. Danny walks to school every day. A girl from another school has a crush on him, and she has been cutting classes to follow him around. She’s been getting aggressive, chasing him and demanding that he say he likes her, and finally she punched him in the face. Which… wow, dark shit. I’m not even going to say this is unrealistic, because I know this kind of thing sometimes happens, but it’s unusual for AIO. They’re usually too committed to the Mayberry picket fence image to admit that this kind of intense harassment is a reality.

The principal convinces Danny’s parents to call the police. They’re worried that’s too drastic, but eventually agree. I’m torn about this solution. On the one hand, I think this does need to be taken seriously. On the other hand, I’ve heard some scary stories about cops being sent to handle misbehaving kids and taking things way too far. Danny seems to be seven or eight, and this girl is implied to be only a little bit older. I worked with aggressive kids for about five years and could probably do a whole post on my thoughts and experiences, but this isn’t the place for it. So I’ll just say that it’s complicated and cops usually aren’t well informed about the difference between handling a kid and an adult. (not that they have all been doing great with the latter either, #blacklivesmatter)

Anyway, the next morning Danny is afraid to go to school, even though his father has agreed to drive him until the girl is caught, but before this conflict is resolved they are called to the station to identify a girl the police found in the woods. The girl is scared straight offscreen, and everybody expects that Danny should be fine from now on. A woman cop even jokes about how this isn’t actually that unusual, and how she once gave a kid a fat lip because he said he wouldn’t say he liked her.

Um, ew. Seriously lady, either you followed him and pushed him around for several days, in which case that wasn’t ok and the fact that you think it was makes me think you shouldn’t be a cop, or you just had a stupid one-time fight and learned from it, in which case you were being a regular kid, in which case you shouldn’t be comparing the two situations and normalizing her behavior.

I do feel the need to acknowledge that part of their intent is to emphasize that Danny isn’t a wimp for being beaten up by a girl, no matter how he feels. That is great, honestly. That’s an important message, especially coming from a show that is normally so gender conformist. I just have a problem with how they went about it.

After this uncomfortable detour, the episode gets back on a good path. As I said, people tend to assume he’s fine now, but he’s not. He puts off walking home from school until the last minute, because even though the girl probably won’t bother him again, he can’t be sure. When one of his teachers realizes what’s going on, he offers to give Danny a ride home, but Danny refuses. The kid isn’t just terrified of his stalker. He’s also scared of the kids, who might mock him for needing help and being beat up by a girl.

I think Danny’s reaction is much more nuanced and realistic than the portrayal of Shirley in that earlier episode on anxiety. I like that he’s torn between different fears, that he feels like he doesn’t have good options, and that he feels the pressure to put on a brave face even though he doesn’t want to. He feels like a person in this episode, in a way that designated-lesson-learning-kid-of-the-week often doesn’t. After he refuses his teacher’s offer of help, he spends the walk home looking out for signs that the girl is still out there, waiting for him. When he starts hearing snapping twigs, he tries to convince himself it’s all in his head, until he no longer can deny that there is definitely someone else in the woods with him.

Just as he’s about to run for it, Whit emerges. This being a small town, Whit already knows the rough outline of what happened, and he listens to Danny talk about it some more. He tells Danny that he gets scared sometimes too, and when he does there’s a Bible verse he likes to remember. He offers to teach it to Danny while they walk together, giving the kid a face-saving excuse to have some companionship.

Isaiah 41:10. Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.

The next morning, Danny tells his parents he doesn’t want to be driven to school. He wants to walk, and use his verse to stay brave. They remind him that his father doesn’t mind, and it’s okay if he’s not ready to walk to school, but Danny insists. He wants to learn to face his fear. I really love that. This is how you actually deal with fear; not by finding a way to erase it, but finding a way to move through it, even when it’s hard. And for the record, I don’t care whether that way is a Bible verse or an Oprah quote or showtunes from Dr. Horrible’s Singalong Blog. I personally prefer the latter, but you do you.

As he’s walking through the woods, he gets ambushed by Rusty, a recurring bully character. Rusty teases him for having been beat up by a girl and then demands his lunch money, but Danny starts shouting his Bible verse. Rusty, already freaked out by this weird behavior, hears somebody approaching to investigate and takes off. That person turns out to be Whit, who congratulates Danny on standing up for himself, and the two walk off together into the sunset.

Well, not the sunset, because it’s morning, but there’s a definite metaphorical sunsettiness.

This episode is good because it never tells Danny that he doesn’t get to be scared. Instead, it gives him tools to be brave despite his fear, and vicariously makes the viewers stand up for themselves. This is how battling real world anxiety works, whether normal or pathological. The religious angle is much healthier here; there’s a universe of difference between “truly loving God stops you from being afraid” and “God is looking out for you, even when you are scared.”

Final Ratings

Best Part: Danny standing up to Rusty

Worst Part: the whole bit with the cops

Story Rating: B+

Moral Rating: A+

Reviews as an Agnostic Atheist: Bad Company Revisited

A while ago I did a standard review of the episode Bad Company, and on reflection I don’t think I did a good job expressing what truly bothered me about it. I spent too much time snarking and not enough time analyzing.

To recap, this episode has two plots. In one, Donna Barclay hangs out with her friend Rachel, who is no longer a Christian. Rachel shoplifts, abandons Donna with a mall cop, lets her take all the consequences and even mocks her for being a sucker. In the other, Connie goes to a Bible study with one of her friends, only to discover that the man leading it has radically different views from her mentor Whit. She comes back confused on several theological points, and Whit’s answer is that she was wrong to have tried a new Bible study to begin with. He doesn’t counter the other leader’s logic or reasoning at all. He just dismisses it and says that Connie should have focused on just learning Whit’s version of Christianity, which is obviously correct because…..

It just is, okay?

What stood out to me most about Bad Company isn’t that both Rachel and the alternative Bible study teacher were wrong, but that Connie and Donna were treated as wrong to even give them a chance. They were both warned to be careful, punished for reaching out, and praised for deciding to avoid people like that. The teacher was not a bad person, just a person who disagreed with Whit, and while Rachel was genuinely awful, this was treated as an inevitable consequence of her lack of faith.

I’ve talked about other awful AIO episodes. I’ve reviewed one where Connie learns she is a fundamentally horrible person, because she can’t be perfectly patient a hundred percent of the time. I’ve reviewed one that tells kids with anxiety disorders that if they can’t banish all their fear, it’s because they don’t love God enough. Most recently, I reviewed a lesson about Christmas charity that consists almost entirely of racist tropes. I’ve certainly established that AIO can churn out terrible morals. But I don’t think that’s what is worst about them.

Even shows I love sometimes have an episode with really messed up messages; Doctor Who comes to mind, and it’s my favorite show of all time. But the thing about Doctor Who is that overall, it celebrates adventure, empathy and intelligence. Watching it makes me want to go to new places, help people who are hurting, and educate myself. The bad messages that pop up every so often in an episode are balanced out by a series-wide message that encourages me to grow as a person.

Adventures in Odyssey is just the opposite. There are episodes with messages that are pretty good. But looking back, I don’t think I can attribute much personal growth to them. The underlying message of the series is to distrust outsiders and to trust authority without question, but only authorities AIO itself approves of. They will brand their truth as God’s, but they demand that you take their word for it that, of all Christian interpretations out there, they are the ones who have it all figured out.

Realizing this difference between episodic messages and series wide themes made me realize I can’t approach this series like my other reviews. In my reviews of Veggie Tales and The Screwtape Letters, I worked hard to present a balanced, fair analysis. For both of them, I could produce sincere praise. Chapter by chapter, The Screwtape Letters had many ideas I disagreed with, but ultimately it was about knowing yourself and trying to become a better person. Story by story, Veggie Tales  had a couple morals that were under-thought, but ultimately it was about telling kids they were loved and should pass love on to others. I can get behind all that. But the only  constant assertion of Adventures in Odyssey is that Whit, mouthpiece of the show, is always right.

Because of this, trying to review the “good episodes” of AIO makes me feel like a placating doormat. I don’t want to paint it in the worst light; this was still a big part of my childhood. I’d love to be nostalgic. But the truth is, when I try to do a positive review, it comes out something like, “yeah, some characters did bad things and then there were consequences but then forgiveness so I guess everything is fine here.” The reviews feel phoned it, because the episodes they were based on felt phoned in.

I wondered about the incredible blandness, and I realized that the writers are constantly held back by the need to reaffirm the same morals over and over again, to stick to the official script, and above all to not inspire out of the box thinking. As a result, the morality tales, while technically good, don’t ever exactly move me to become a better person. AIO has the most depth and conviction behind it, not when it is portraying real goodness, but when it is conjuring up a battle of good and evil, where good is Odyssey and evil is everything outside its borders.

Furthermore, the show never gets better. I’ve already sampled episodes from across about a decade, and if anything the quality is definitely declining. This is what happens when you set yourself up to be above criticism. You weed out people who would tell you that you could stand to improve. So, of course, a show created by people with that approach never improves. It either stagnates or degrades. And it takes it’s captive audience along with it.

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-