Ross Douthat, a columnist for the New York Times, serves up a fine article: Dan Brown’s America. Brown is, of course, the best-selling author of The DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons, both of which have been made into hit movies. Douthat suggests that Brown’s success relies on — or at least is a symptom of — a shift in American public religion.
Douthat argues that American religion has devolved into vague spirituality, divorced from any sort of structure or serious doctrine. His critique of ”spiritual” or “religious” Americans is insightful, but he doesn’t let them off the hook. The New Testament does not present religion this way.1
These are Dan Brown’s kind of readers. Piggybacking on the fascination with lost gospels and alternative Christianities, he serves up a Jesus who’s a thoroughly modern sort of messiah — sexy, worldly, and Goddess-worshiping, with a wife and kids, a house in the Galilean suburbs, and no delusions about his own divinity.
But the success of this message — which also shows up in the work of Brown’s many thriller-writing imitators — can’t be separated from its dishonesty. The “secret” history of Christendom that unspools in “The Da Vinci Code” is false from start to finish. The lost gospels are real enough, but they neither confirm the portrait of Christ that Brown is peddling — they’re far, far weirder than that — nor provide a persuasive alternative to the New Testament account. The Jesus of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John — jealous, demanding, apocalyptic — may not be congenial to contemporary sensibilities, but he’s the only historically-plausible Jesus there is.
For millions of readers, Brown’s novels have helped smooth over the tension between ancient Christianity and modern American faith. But the tension endures. You can have Jesus or Dan Brown. But you can’t have both.
- One might argue that it doesn’t quite present Jesus in Douthat’s way either back↩