A-Z Romances: Oke and Non-Transcendental Religion

On my main blog, Votaries, I have several A-Z Lists. For one list, I read a new book by fiction authors, going A to Z. For "O," I read The Bluebird and the Sparrow by Janette Oke

Janette Oke writes religious romances. They are similar to Grace Livingston Hill's romances: the religious context is clearly Christian evangelical but in a rather ecumenical way. Christian Light. Protagonists don't swear or behave badly, but there isn't a whole lot of theological discussion going on either.

In the review on Votaries, I argue that the lack of theological discussion doesn't make the romances nonreligious. After all, religion has a social, even therapeutic side. My big question, in that review, was "Why is it that religious fiction often can't capture the transcendental nature of religion?"

As, say, C.S. Lewis's fiction does. 

This time around, I decided to give Oke another try. My current A-Z List on Votaries is about characters and character-building. Is there a connection between rather bland religious fiction and lack of decent character development?

Based on the book I read--Beyond the Gathering Storm--the answer is, "Yes!" 

The book takes place in the early twentieth century (the time frame is difficult to ascertain since automobiles are treated as newcomers to the streets but Hitler is mentioned as causing problems in Europe). The main female protagonist is a young woman working as a typist in the big city. Her not-unfriendly employer asks her to move into his large house and become his cook on the side. Even by today's standards, this suggestion borders harassment since Christine isn't sure if a refusal will result in the termination of her employment. 

Instead of saying, "No" for perfectly comprehensible reasons, both by 1900s standards  and by current standards, Christine tells the employer that she has to pray about it. 

She then writes her parents. Instead of writing back and saying, "Are you an idiot? That is an unbelievably dangerous position to place yourself in. And not what we agreed to when we helped you get through your typing course," the parents write back that Christine needs...to pray about it. 

Okay, so apparently, it is God's problem that a young woman and her parents don't have the brains God gave them. 

It's hard to see a transcendent God in all this--rather, God is the person who gives (obvious) advice to stupid people. 

It's the kind of scene that makes Pamela look positively fleshed out. Pamela is also quite pious but her religious beliefs, while not entirely transcendent, at least provide some solid philosophical stances. She doesn't belong to the same class as Mr. B but she maintains that she deserves to be treated with equal respect because she and Mr. B are equal in the eyes of God.

Pamela has a belief system. With Christine, I could never figure out her belief system except she is nominally Christian.  

In a later scene, Christine is put off by the rowdy and vulgar friends at Boyd's picnic. (The friends are portrayed as flappers, which again, confuses the time frame. Hitler was causing issues in Germany by the 1920s, but it is doubtful that anyone would have referenced him in Canada as a possible cause of war in Europe as early as that.)

I gave the character a pass regarding the rowdy friends: there is nothing more uncomfortable than being at a shindig that involves forced extroversion with unlikable people. Christine is well within her rights to counter, as she does, by inviting Boyd to church. 

He attends and is not impressed. Both Christine and the writer seem to think that Boyd's lack of enthusiasm is not due to social connections taking time to development but to Boyd's inherently shallow nature. "Church" is a signal of virtue, not a frank appraisal of what C.S. Lewis acknowledges can be an occasionally mundane and trite and tedious commitment. 

In fact, Boyd tries to compromise by thinking up outings he and Christine can enjoy together. Christine is disappointed because presumably Boyd's reaction means he is not of her world. But since she treats church much like an outing--the Correct Type of Outing--it's hard to see how Boyd has misread the situation here. 

This is Church as Performance Art, much the same way much so-called social justice is people waving their arms around rather than going into inner cities (or out into the countryside) and registering people to vote (or setting up medical clinics). 

Boyd conveniently turns out to also be an abusive bully, so Christine never has to face any reality about her beliefs. Her beliefs are Good. His are Bad. She doesn't even have to grapple with anything as difficult as "What if he is a fantastic boyfriend and serious student and loyal help-meet--but indifferent to religion? What choice would I make then?" 

Not a lot of character and transcendence here (though the second story in the novel about Henry and a widower at least involves two decent people building a relationship based on honest interactions). One suspects that Christine's church isn't that different from her wishy-washy response to most of the people in her life: it would be blown down in one roar from Aslan (as Paul warns about all churches). And what would be left? 

The characters don't seem to know.