Insert Moral Here: A Brief Critique of Christian Fiction through the Lens of Thomas Mallory's Morte Darthur

By Brianna Springer
American Christians have created a bubble for themselves. Perhaps the most visible is the "Christian" bookstore. For the faithful, these estab­lishments are little snatches of celestial rest. Gener­ally they are meticulously clean and play wholesome, elevator-like music at a sleep-inducing volume. Their shelves are lined with books that promise happier, more peaceful lives. For children, brightly colored plush toys abound, just like in secular stores. Only there's a difference. These cuddly creations spout a plethora of Christian platitudes at the push of a button.
All of this can seem quite pleasant, even virtuous. On reflection, however, the modern Christian approach to culture is ineffective and impotent. It sterilizes hu­man nature and makes complex problems seem simple or non-existent. This trend is nowhere more sadly evident than in the realm of popular Christian fiction.
Gone are the days of Thomas Mallory and Fydor Dostoevsky. Authors of that brand and caliber wrote from a Christian perspective, but they wrote with subtlety, finesse, and realism. In their place are writers such as Lori Wick and Frank Peretti. This new breed is professedly, unabashedly, and even—if one may so express it—disgustingly Christian. Far from subtle, many modern Christian authors bludgeon their readers with the gospel. Somehow, Christians have come to believe that, if a work is to be profoundly Christian, it has to be grotesquely explicit and heavy-handed. Such thinking is misguided.
So what does it mean to be "profoundly Christian" if overt references to Christ and salvation don't fit the bill? Two of the most common misconceptions are: "To be profoundly Christian, literature must have a moral" and "To be profoundly Christian, literature must portray clear distinctions between good and evil." Both of those statements are partially true and thus partially helpful. Mallory's Morte Darthur, how­ever, simultaneously demonstrates and transcends their
deficiencies.
First, "To be profoundly Christian, literature must have a moral." There are many morals that one could reasonably draw from Mallory's masterful recount­ing of Camelot's demise. "Do not commit adultery" or "Be loyal to your king" are two obvious examples. Those injunctions play key roles in the work. If nei­ther occurred to the reader. Morte Darthur would not be as powerful and Mallory would not be as awe-in­spiring. Such negligence would reduce the work to a morass of battle scenes and overblown speeches. But to view Morte Darthur as merely conveying the wis­dom of those two commands is to settle for a shallow reading that loses the scope of Mallory's accomplish­ment.
Second. "To be profoundly Christian, literature must portray clear distinctions between good and evil." This maxim is problematic when applied to Morte Darthur. True. Mallory does paint as villains some characters who commit immoral acts. Most notable is Sir Mordred, recalcitrant knight and killer of his father the king. However, even more striking are Mallory's sympathetic portrayals of Sir Lancelot and Guinev­ere, two adulterers whose misdeeds prove the catalyst for the tale's disastrous events. Sir Ector's eulogy of Lancelot expresses Mallory's empathy succinctly and pointedly:
Thou were the courteous! knight that ever bore shield. And thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse, and thou were the truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever loved woman, and thou were the kindest man that ever struck with sword [emphasis added].The phrase "truest... of a sinful man" is key. Mallory shows a deep and abiding understanding of human reality. He skillfully avoids the trap of oversimplification.
Good and evil exist, granted, and Mallory freely acknowledges that much. But he refuses to enforce a strict dichotomy between the two among his charac­ters. Mallory vividly demonstrates that good and evil are both within the potential of every man, even every good man.
That message may be more difficult to stomach than saccharine accounts in which good always does good, evil always does evil, and good always triumphs nicely and neatly at the end. If the reader wants only perfect heroes, Mallory's brutally honest depiction of the demise of Arthur will be troubling. The reader is not comforted by any flawless triumph of virtue over villainy. On the contrary, he is reminded that even "good" guys can be bad.
Through the course of Morte Darthur the reader grows to love Lancelot, and Guinevere. Such affec­tion is fitting. He identifies with them. He may even see himself in them as he vicariously lives the adven­tures of the Round Table and the court of Camelot. The twist at the end. the war between Arthur and Lancelot, is all the more jarring and effective. Mal­lory is saying in a subtle but profound way, "Beware! These giants stumbled. You are no better than they. Take care."
At first reading, the flaws Mallory paints onto his
great heroes may seem surprising and out of step with any Christian message or moral in the work. On fur­ther consideration, though, one discovers that it is pre­cisely the opposite. Like the heroes of the Bible, from King David to the apostle Peter, readers learn more compelling and important lessons from the fallibility of heroes than from their perfection. It is aggravating, perhaps, that Lancelot and Guinevere failed so miser­ably, but it is more true to life and helpful that they did so.
Mallory forces readers to wrestle with their own frail, fallen humanity. He does not placate desires for easy resolution. Morte Darthur is sobering. Long after the reader flips the final leaf of the volume, the questions the story raises will not easily be put aside. Nor should they. Insipid moralizing fades away. Morte Darthur remains because Mallory challenges readers on the visceral, intellectual, spiritual, and moral levels alike. Without sugar-coating it, Mallory makes the universal personal.
That is what all great writers must do to be worthy of the designation. Christian authors should hold themselves to the same high standard. They must real­ize that not everyone lives in the bubble. If Christians don't meet people where they are, they'll never meet them at all.