TITLE: The Gospel According to Tarantino AUTHOR: Joe Johnson DATE: 7:59:00 AM ----- BODY:
Religion is often considered the domain of the sacred. Everything else, including movies, beer and comfortable underwear, is the profane. That doesn't necessarily mean it's dirty, just that it's somehow tainted by the material world. It isn't that special, untouchable realm of holiness.

Christianity really messes up those categories, especially in the Incarnation of the Word - in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. And that tension of fully God and fully man has confused most of us ever since. In nineteenth century revivalism - and in many areas of contemporary Evangelicalism - abstaining from "worldly amusements" (as the old Southern Baptist "Faith and Message" used to put it) was the test of holiness. It became evidence of a Christian's Christianity.

But let's just begin with the basic idea that "the Word became flesh" and that one of the fundamental scandals of Christianity is that it blurs the boundaries of sacred and profane. A dusty (probably a bit smelly), ancient Jew is considered the holiest person ever to live. Still, does that mean sacredness can stretch further into the really profane? into the realm of sex, violence and a potty mouth?

(Speaking of "potty mouth") In an interview Bono did with Rolling Stone he talked at length about the question of reconciling - or even thinking there could be reconciliation - between the sacred and profane. He saw that the inability to live with that tension ultimately undid Christians like Elvis Presley and Marvin Gaye. They could sing about Jesus and girls but never at the same time. It was said of Elvis that he would record a gospel album and go home with a mistress. Listen to Gaye's classic What's Goin' On album to see him flip between Jesus-centered music and drug songs. This is the same guy who revived his career with "Sexual Healing" though lost his life to the gun of his fundamentalist father.

There are a number of films that push the marriage of sacred and profane to points of abandon. Kevin Smith's Dogma (1999) is an attempt to create a somewhat affectionate critique of religion - at least an insider's contemplation - with deviant sexual humor, apocryphal plot points and a giant crap monster (Smith is a Catholic). Constantine (2005) is a story of redemption in a violent, but surprisingly reverent world of demons and harsh social textures. The Exorcist is perhaps the most disturbing film of the recent era, but the story was written as a testament to the power of faith and the reality of good and evil in this world.

But even more impressive - and confusing - are the movies that don't appear to have a religious or Christian perspective. Miguel Arteta's The Good Girl (2002), written by Mike White and staring Jennifer Aniston, is about an affair between a woman and an adolescent. But it touches on the reality - and even the language - of sin. It prods at Texan Christianity but accepts its sincerity. Robin Hardy's The Wicker Man (1973) is a story of a small island dedicated to paganism, including orgies and ritual sacrifice. But the primary police investigator is a devout Christian who maintains his integrity despite temptations and danger.

The ultimate example is a surprisingly moralistic film from a writer/director named Quentin Tarantino. Pulp Fiction (1994) is a massive assault of style, perverse characters and dialogue. It famously inspired a string of dark and violent independent films, and contains homo-sadistic rednecks, hit-men, rampant drug abuse and stays grounded in the dark underworld of blue collar criminal activity. One of the primary characters - perhaps even the main character - is Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson). Jules is half of an enforcer team that kills a room of young men to take back a mysterious brief case for their employer, the crime lord Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames). Winnfield, in the moment before he assassinates quotes the poetry of Scripture. He uses - and abuses - Ezekiel 25.

But Jules witness an event. After a stream of close-range bullets fly past, he thinks he's seen a miracle. Vincent (John Travolta), his partner, interprets it as mere luck. And in many ways, the story - or at least that aspect of the story - is about how these two people respond to divine intervention. Vincent is the skeptic. Jules is the faithful. As the movie draws to its conclusions, Tarantino makes a surprising statement about the two paths these men take. Jules' remains a mystery, unknown to us except in his final statements of intent. Vincent's is perhaps a judgment against his lack of faith.

Does Jules undergo a religious - yes, even Christian - conversion? And does he become the hero of the story through it? After my third or fourth viewing, I actually caught this aspect. Iit became clear that Jules has become a man of primitive but sincere faith. Consider his words to Ringo (Tim Roth), who is holding him up at gunpoint. Jules turns the table on Ringo, gaining the uperhand:
Jules: I want you to go in that bag, and find my wallet.
Ringo: Which one is it?
Jules: It's the one that says Bad Motherf***ker....
Jules: Wanna know what I'm buyin' Ringo?
Ringo: What?
Jules: Your life. I'm givin' you that money so I don't hafta kill your a**. You read the Bible?
Ringo: Not regularly.
Jules: There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.'
I been sayin' that s**t for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your a**. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherf***er before you popped a cap in his a**. But I saw some s**t this mornin' made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin': it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous a** in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that s**t ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd.

So can you recommend Pulp Fiction to the church body? Or is it so buried in the profane that the sacred is unrecognizable? Or perhaps I'm missing the whole point. Perhaps Pulp Fiction is simply about characters, and Tarantino's genius is that he creates characters with integrity and complexity to exist in his stylized world. Perhaps Tarantino doesn't see the conflict that undid Marvin Gaye and Elvis Presley because he's personally unconflicted. And maybe that gives him a little bit of freedom to allow sacred and profane to coexist, at least in Pulp Fiction and in Jules. Is Pulp Fiction a Christian film? Not exactly. But it does allow the possibility for God to break in, and that's half way to the Incarnation - the ultimate statement of sacred profanity.

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