You can now download a complete .pdf of my book review of Ted Turnau’s Popologetics.
T. David Gordon also wrote a review for the OPC magazine, Ordained Servant. You can find it here.
The author responds to Gordon on his website here, which gets followed up by another response here.
See here for part 1, part 2, part 3.
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Chapter 6 has an interesting discussion on violence and nudity in popular culture, especially in movies and TV. Turnau argues that context is crucial in evaluating these things. So, when it comes to violence, “the narrative context of the violence and the way violence is used in the story count for a great deal” (91). In other words, “we must be able to see the difference between exploitation and truth-telling” (93). When it comes to violence, I can see that this is a valid approach. A movie that seeks to entertain with its gratuitous violence has to be evaluated differently than one that includes violence as part of the plot, but does not glorify it or portray it in unnecessarily graphic ways.
Turnau argues the same for nudity, but this is far less convincing. He compares two movies to illustrate, Paul Verhoeven’s Showgirls and Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List:
Both contain a lot of female nudity. But can we say that nudity means the same thing in both films? Not really. Both films project very different meanings of female nudity: one in which women are reduced to sexual objects for male viewing pleasure; the other to show realistically how women were humiliated and abused during a historical tragedy. Just because both films have material that is not suitable for children does not mean that both films are morally objectionable. An approach that condemns all nudity and seeks a safe distance is too blunt a tool to be really useful for dealing with popular culture. (93)
Here I have to pause and say, “Not so fast; I’m not so sure.” For us to say, “Nudity is okay, as long as it realistically shows the humiliation and abuse of the naked person,” – that leaves a lot of room for rationalizations in a pornographic society. Turnau tries in this book to be nuanced in his approach to culture, but this is a place where he is not nuanced enough.
But that is even less concerning than his approach to blasphemy. Unfortunately, Turnau does not have much discussion on this. What he does is appeal to filmmaker Brian Godawa and his book Hollywood Worldviews: “He points out that the Bible is filled with references to and descriptions of sex, violent acts, and profanities and blasphemies” (93). The Bible tells the truth about what wicked men do. What matters again is context. In the Bible blasphemers and profaners of God’s Name receive their just punishment. So, for instance, in 2 Chronicles 32, Sennacherib blasphemes the LORD, but he ends up being killed by his own sons as he worships his god. Where does that ever happen in popular culture today? Instead, God’s Name is misused and abused thoughtlessly and repeatedly, with no consequences. I wonder if this is a blind spot for Turnau. When he analyzes the Eagles’ song Heartache Tonight, he offers plenty of insightful critique of the sexuality that pervades the song, but there’s no mention of the blasphemy. For myself, discipled with the Heidelberg Catechism, I can never forget the words of Lord’s Day 36, “We are not to blaspheme or to abuse the Name of God by cursing, perjury, or unnecessary oaths, nor to share in such horrible sins by being silent bystanders.” It is a grievous sin that provokes God’s wrath to the utmost. A zero-tolerance policy should therefore be the ideal, though personally I struggle with implementing such a policy with consistency.
In the same chapter, Turnau provides some “Rules of Thumb for Adults” (as well as some for children). His second point is, “Know what offends and degrades.” At the conclusion of this section, he writes that “…different Christians are going to have different sensitivities to darkness and degradation” (102). Some are very sensitive to darkness, whereas have a higher tolerance, but all of us have to learn to respect and love one another. We cannot impose our standards on brothers and sister with different darkness-sensitivities. I do wonder how the author squares these thoughts with what Paul writes in Ephesians 5:10, “Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.” Or Romans 13:12, “So then let us cast off the works of darkness…” Could it be that developing a sensitivity to darkness is a sign of growing spiritual maturity?
Those are my most substantial concerns with Popologetics. One other concern is that this book is pitched to people who have the capacity to think deeply about culture and worldviews. Those who read it, persevere with it and learn from it are going to be those readers who are accustomed to more intellectual pursuits. There may not be a simple way to approach popular culture from a Christian perspective. There are simple ways that Christians do it, but they are vulnerable to critique, as illustrated in the book. It’s quite simple to compartmentalize your thinking about popular culture and pretend that it has nothing to do with your Christian faith. It’s quite simple to reject popular culture all together, not have a TV, not watch movies, and only listen to psalms and hymns. But the approach that Turnau proposes requires work and deep thought and, even if the willingness is there, the capacity is not necessarily. The author recognizes that to some degree in his concluding chapter. This is a problem not just with Turnau’s application of Reformed apologetics to popular culture, but a problem with Reformed apologetics itself. It is evidenced in the enormous lack of materials to teach Reformed apologetics to young people. I do not have the answers; I simply pray that we could find a way to address this.
Popologetics is an engaging and thought-provoking book. It deals with a subject with which Reformed believers need to continue wrestling. Oftentimes our approach has been determined by fear, rather than by careful reflection. If not by fear, then by virtual thoughtlessness. The fearful approach is more consistent with an Anabaptist than a Reformed heritage. The thoughtless approach is more consistent with the world than with the church. Somehow we have to navigate our way through cultural engagement in a way that best honours God. Even if he stumbles at some points, Ted Turnau has pointed us in the right direction.
See here for part 1 and here for part 2.
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So, generally speaking, I am on board with Turnau’s approach to popular culture. However, I do have some questions and concerns. I also want to raise one point that some readers may struggle with, but with which I personally don’t.
Let me begin with that. It has to do with common grace. It was Abraham Kuyper who first popularized this concept, if you can call writing a three-volume theological tour-de-force popularizing. Kuyper introduced common grace to the Reformed world in his writings, and especially in his three-volume Gemeene Gratie (Common Grace). Kuyper’s formulation of this doctrine came under intense scrutiny from later Reformed theologians such as Herman Hoeksema and Klaas Schilder. For those who share the heritage of Hoeksema or Schilder, common grace is at best regarded with suspicion, and at worst with outright rejection.
The doctrine of common grace was assimilated by Cornelius Van Til into his Reformed apologetics. Van Til argued that, through what has been termed “common grace,” unbelievers are enabled by God to do things that are true, good, and beautiful. They can do these things despite themselves and their covenant-breaking rebellion. So, in practical terms, this means that an unbeliever can produce a piece of beautiful music in some genre or other. When a Christian hears that piece of music, he can praise God for it. However, Van Til also emphasized another teaching of Kuyper: the antithesis. There is a fundamental divide between believers and unbelievers in this world. There are covenant-breakers and covenant-keepers and there is no neutral ground between them. The antithesis is a “limiting concept” on common grace. In principle, unbelievers are at war with God and unable to do anything good, true, or beautiful. We expect unbelievers to produce fruits consistent with their unbelief. But, in practice, unbelievers often surprise us. Sometimes unbelievers make better art, music, and movies than Christians do. How do we explain that? It must somehow be a result of God’s work in this world.
One of the critiques sometimes levelled at the concept of common grace has to do with the terminology. There is some merit to this criticism. The point has been raised that the Bible does not speak of God’s grace in ways that do not reference salvation. This is a point well-taken. While recognizing that God “shines in all that is good,” it would indeed be better to speak of God’s kindness or perhaps his restraining the evil in this world for the sake of the elect.
I raise this point because, since VanTil’s method is premised on an acceptance of common grace, Ted Turnau’s method in Popologetics is too. But, like Van Til, Turnau also honours the antithesis and uses it as a “limiting concept.” This is evident, for example, in the questions he proposes to ask as part of his worldview apologetics. Question 3 reflects common grace: “What is good and true and beautiful in this world?” Question 4 works with the antithesis: “What is false and ugly and perverse in this world (and how can I subvert it)?” A balanced approach is also evident when he critiques those who hear God’s voice everywhere in popular culture. We have seen the fruit of a common grace doctrine unrestrained by the antithesis in the Christian Reformed Church, where, like some of the figures mentioned in Turnau’s critique, new revelation beyond the Bible is claimed to be coming from such unlikely places as The Simpsons or U2. Turnau does not want to go in that direction and I do not think he does in Popologetics.
See here for part 1. I concluded part 1 by asking, Does Turnau succeed in what he sets out to do?
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In general, I would have to say that he does. Let me explain how.
The first four chapters provide the framework for Turnau’s approach. He defines popular culture and how it relates to the worldview concept. He argues for an approach to popular culture that takes into account the entire worldview behind a given “text.” It is not enough to simply deal with what’s on the surface of a movie or song. Those things are only the fruits. One has to dig deeper and try to discover the roots – the entire worldview of the person producing this cultural artifact. Chapter 4 lays out a “theology of popular culture,” exploring how the Christian view of creation, fall, and redemption help us to get a better grasp on what is going on around us in popular culture. What we have with the framework is a straight-forward presentation of Reformed theology and apologetics.
The second part of the book offers a critique of several “not-so-helpful approaches to popular culture.” These are approaches that are commonly found amongst Christians. These range from an approach that simply ignores popular culture to one that embraces everything in popular culture as being an expression of the voice of God. His critiques here are compelling and well-considered. Turnau makes a good case for being more careful and balanced in how we approach popular culture.
But it’s not enough to show where others have gone wrong. In the second part, Turnau did express some appreciation for aspects of other approaches. But it’s in the third part that he finally lays his cards on the table and pieces everything together for his own approach. Chapter 10 explains the method and then chapter 11 applies it. His method consists of asking and reflecting on five important questions:
He then illustrates the method with several “texts” from popular culture: a 1979 song from the Eagles (Heartache Tonight), a documentary film (Grizzly Man), a Japanese anime and manga (One Piece), a family action-adventure movie (Kung Fu Panda), and social media (Twitter).
The book is well-written and well-packaged. By well-packaged, I mean to say that the author recognizes that he’s trafficking in concepts that will be new and unfamiliar to many readers. To help them out, Turnau has provided effective diagrams and illustrations. Each chapter and each part also ends with a concise summary of what’s been covered.
I found a lot in this book that was thought-provoking. Let me just share two items in particular. Chapter 7 discusses an elitist approach to popular culture. This approach distinguishes between high and low culture. One of its chief proponents has been Kenneth Myers, author of All God’s Children and Blue Suede Shoes. Myers and others like him argue that Christians should be culturally aware and involved, but not with popular or low culture. Instead, Christians should focus on traditional, high culture. Functionally speaking, that would mean learning to appreciate classical music and opera, rather than something like jazz. Turnau traces the historical roots of this distinction and illustrates how, from its beginning, it contained “implicit racial and class prejudices” (113). He then provides a case study with jazz. For many years, there was a widespread animus amongst white people towards jazz, “because it was the music of black people” (117). Moreover, “the complex rhythms and melodic and harmonic depth were all overlooked as being animalistic, too unreserved and unrefined to be taken seriously as culture” (114). However, over time this has changed and now jazz is played in venues like Carnegie Hall. Says Turnau, “The categories of high and low culture were, in fact, historical constructions, and ones founded on racist attitudes and perspectives; and the recognition of jazz as a high art form proved it” (116).
Another thought-provoking element in this book has to do with the Canadian media scholar, Marshall McLuhan. If you recognize that name, likely you know his famous aphorism, “The medium is the message.” This was part of my education at some point and I have long taken it to be a self-evident truth. Until Popologetics, I have never read a thoughtful Christian critique of what Turnau calls McLuhan’s “media determinism.” He argues that McLuhan overstates and oversimplifies the relationship between form and content. It would be better to say that “the medium deeply contours the message” (140). Another problem is that McLuhan goes too far in the formative power he attributes to media. Turnau offers more arguments, but I won’t rehearse them here. If you’re intrigued, by all means I encourage you to read the book for yourself. I found it especially interesting because this critique has application beyond popular culture. For instance, how we think about “the medium is the message” has a bearing on how we approach the use of projectors in public worship.
Popologetics: Popular Culture in Christian Perspective, Ted Turnau, Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing, 2012. Paperback, 346 pages, $20.89.
It was 1992 and there was a lot of time to spend on the bus between home and university. From time to time, one of my good friends from high school would be on the same bus and we would get to talking about all kinds of different things. On one occasion, we got into a rather intense debate about whether Christians should watch movies. There is this phenomenon known as the “cage phase.” People, mostly on the younger side, discover the Reformed faith and they become intolerable – they should be put in a cage, hence “cage phase.” I had been a rather worldly young man in my teen years. Having finally become serious about my faith, I was going through my own cage phase. It seemed to me that a true Reformed believer must abandon popular culture completely. Hence, no movies, no rock music (I threw out hundreds of tapes), no TV, no worldly books, absolutely nothing that smacks of the world. It must be all or nothing. My friend on the bus disagreed, although from what I remember his reasons were not particularly Christian or well thought out.
It took a few years for this cage phase to wane. Along the way, I began to develop a more balanced and biblical view of popular culture. I can look back now and see how it happened step-by-step. I discovered the writings of Cornelius Van Til and Reformed apologetics. I read some essays by John Frame applying Van Til’s teachings to popular culture. I had to take a fine arts option in university and art and music were definitely out, since I’m neither artistic nor musical. That left film studies. In Film Studies 200, I learned that film is not merely entertainment, but also art in its own right. By the time I graduated from university, I could again appreciate various aspects of popular culture. I began writing cultural critiques for Reformed Perspective magazine, critiques of movies like Star Wars and musicians like Tom Cochrane, Bryan Adams, and Shania Twain.
All of this is to say that the issues discussed in this book by Ted Turnau resonate with me. I’ve been thinking about them for over twenty years already. What should Christians do with popular culture? Do we thoughtlessly embrace it as the background for our daily lives? Do we reject it altogether, since it comes from the world and the world is given over to sin? Or is there another way, a better way? Ted Turnau is convinced that there is a better and more thoughtful way for Christians to engage popular culture, a way which will serve our neighbours best and also give more glory to God.
Ted Turnau is an American teaching cultural studies in the Czech Republic. He has a Ph.D. in apologetics from Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia. That brings me to the first important characteristic of this book: it is an application of Reformed apologetics to the field of popular culture. Several times throughout the author indicates his indebtedness to Reformed apologists such as Cornelius Van Til and Greg Bahnsen. Just like Jason Lisle applied Reformed apologetics to the question of origins in his book, The Ultimate Proof of Creation, Ted Turnau seeks to apply it to how we think about movies, music, TV, and other forms of pop culture. As I mentioned, others (like John Frame) have done this before, but only in a limited way. To my knowledge, this is the only book-length attempt. Turnau lays out the book’s purpose in the Introduction: “…this book is for those who want to be able to give an intelligent, warmhearted, biblical answer back to the worldviews presented in popular culture” (xvii). Does Turnau succeed in what he sets out to do?
Pastor of the Free Reformed Church, Launceston, Tasmania.
YINKAHDINAY 