Why film Jesus?

For better or worse (and it's some of both), film (and TV drama) is the major art form of the modern era. (I guess pop music would come in second.) 

Although some legalistic Protestant sects forbid viewing movies and TV shows, that's pretty rare. In fairness to the legalistic Protestant sects, many films and TV shows are frivolous, ephemeral, and decadent. The legalists have a point, even if it's overstated. 

That said, many Christians watch films and TV dramas. Indeed, many Christians consume tons of film and TV fare. 

Most movies and TV dramas are about fictional characters. People who never existed, doing things that never happened.

A fraction of films (at least commercial films) are about historical figures. 

In terms of Christian priorities, it would be a pretty skewed allocation of resources to make an endless number of films about fictional characters, or famous people, but never make a single quality film about the one person who was (and is) far and away the most import person who ever lived (and lives!). I'm, of course, alluding to Jesus.

Seems to me that's a pretty obvious reason why we should film the Gospels. Why make so many movies about fictional characters or famous people from the past, but omit to make movies about the one and only indispensable person who ever was (and is)? Famous people are expendable. Why make an endless number of films about morally flawed real heroes, or inspiring make-believe heroes, but never make movies about the one person whom we can always count on to say and do the right thing? 

(This post isn't directed at Christians who think it's intrinsically wrong to make a movie about Jesus. I've been over that ground many times.) 

God, time, and space

"John Frame - God, time and space" by Paul Helm.

Coming home to Mother Church

Our plant at Called to Communion obtained the classified transcript of an exclusive interview with Bryan Cross. Jason Stellman is the interviewer. 

Jason: Bryan, can you briefly remind everyone why you returned to Mother Church?

Bryan: Hats.

Jason: Hats? 

Bryan: That's right.

Jason: That's intriguing, but a bit cryptic. Could you flesh that out a bit.

Bryran: Well, as anyone who's seen me has seen, I have a little hat fetish.

Jason: Yes, I noticed that.

Bryan: Anyway, Mother Church has such cool hats. I was hoping that by coming home to Mother Church, I might get a chance to don one of those super cool hats. 

Jason: Such as?

Bryan: Bishops get to wear that pointy hat: the golden (orphreyed) mitre. Cardinals get to wear a red biretta, with the cute pom-pom on top. The pope wears crimson velvet cap trimmed with white ermine, called a camauro. Sometimes he dons The triregno, or Papal tiara. 

Jason: Anything else?

Bryan: Slippers.

Jason: Slippers?

Bryan: That's right. Papal slippers rock! High Mass at St. Peter's is even better than a Liberace concert. 

Which ancient papyri are being carbon dated?

It appears as if there may be some movement in the story that Dan Wallace mentioned last year (in his debate with Bart Ehrman) about "the discovery of several New Testament papyri". As was noted in earlier reports, "the results of this study were to be published in a forthcoming book from E.J. Brill Publishing (notorious for publishing only top-quality scholarly works that none of us can afford)".

Now Larry Hurtado is reporting that he has recently returned from "an invitational conference in Oklahoma City on dating papyri (sponsored by the Green Scholars Initiative, hereafter GSI)". (It was "the Green Scholars Initiative" who had possession of these reportedly early papyri.)

Out of respect for the presenters of papers, I won’t pre-empt publication by giving details. But I can say that I found the presentations on Carbon-dating especially informative and also of some significant import.

Essentially the GSI has access to the Green Collection of manuscripts & Bibles, and several papyri were chosen for rigorous Carbon-dating. The papyri in question had been dated first palaeographically, and then very small snippets were submitted to three respected laboratories in the USA for independent dating by Carbon-14 processes....

To summarize results of the tests reported on in Oklahoma City, the results from the three labs were basically/broadly in agreement, which gives some assurance about the reliability of the process. But also, these results were broadly in agreement with the prior/independent palaeographical dating of these items. And this (as I see it) is the really larger import. It means ..., that palaeographical dating (using today’s standards and practices) by competent palaeographers can be treated as broadly reliable.

And that means that collections that don’t allow Carbon-dating can take some further basis for confidence in the practice of palaeographical dating of their items as well.

Now, you must understand that Carbon-dating can, at best, offer a date-span of X plus/minus 50 years or so, e.g., X dated ca. 150-250 CE. That’s no more narrow than responsible palaeographers would date an item. But, as I say, the Green Collection’s tests do give us a second basis for some confidence in palaeographical dating practice.

“The City of the Living God”

I’m posting some selections from T.D. Alexander’s “From Paradise to Promised Land: An Introduction to the Pentateuch”, one of the best works I’ve found on making the Old Testament understandable, especially in the light of the New Testament.

It’s important to note, as G.K. Beale does (“Handbook on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament: Exegesis and Interpretation”, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, ©2012), that the New Testament writers had the Old Testament firmly in mind as they wrote. Christ was the fulfillment of all Old Testament promises, and the language that they used “echoed” the Old Testament:

In tune with the overall movement in the book of Genesis, the author of Hebrews links the patriarchs—Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—with the divine construction of a unique city. Accordingly, in Hebrews 11 Abraham’s faith is reflected in the fact that he looked forward to “a better land,” a ”heavenly one,” a city with foundations, designed and built by God.

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God…. All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them (Heb. 11:8-10, 13-16).

Particularly striking is the emphasis given here to Abraham’s anticipation of a city. The author of Hebrews stresses that Abraham’s journey to a foreign land was motivated by his “looking forward” to this city. Although some scholars find little evidence for this in Genesis, when the call of Abraham in Genesis 12:1-3 is read against the background of Genesis 1-11, and especially the building of Babel-Babylon, the interpretation adopted in Hebrews 11 makes good sense.

The author of Hebrews is convinced that the future experience of all believers involves a city. In Hebrews 12:22 he refers once more to this city, describing it as “the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem,” and later he states, “For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come” (Hebrews 13:14).

(T.D. Alexander, “From Paradise to Promised Land: An Introduction to the Pentateuch” (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, (2012 Third Edition), pg 131-132).

Köstenberger debunks Ehrman

http://thegospelcoalition.org/book-reviews/review/how_jesus_became_god

Existential eisegesis

A couple of responses are possible. First, some Arminians would say (like some Reformed theologians!) that the story of the fall in Genesis 3 is “saga,” not literal description of what happened in some geographical location during some datable time period past. Its point is theological, not historical. It is history-like without likely being history. To those who object that that is a “liberal” interpretation I ask if they believe Satan appeared to Adam and Eve as a literal serpent and, if so, which species of serpent (reduction ad absurdum)? And I ask if they believe the “fruit” of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil was literal fruit and, if so, what kind? In other words, few people other than the most literally minded fundamentalists interpret every aspect of the story literally. Many Reformed and Arminian theologians consider Genesis 3 to be a narrative about us—humanity—and our existential condition. In that interpretation, God most certainly did not literally “put” Satan in the garden; the serpent represents (for example) the tension between finitude and freedom (Kierkegaard, Niebuhr, et al.). 

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2014/03/is-the-arminian-god-good/

Several issues:

i) The duty of an interpreter is not, in the first place, to ask what he himself finds believable, but what the author and his target audience found believable. An interpreter is supposed to assume the viewpoint of the narrator (and the implied reader) for purposes of exegesis. Whether he personally considers to be credible is irrelevant to exegesis. 

Of course, the Bible is supposed to obligate the reader. 

ii) If the action in Eden is "not literal description of what happened in some geographical location during some datable time period past," is there any reason to assume the call of Abraham (Gen 12) or the call of Moses (Exod 3) is a "literal description of what happened in some geographical location during some datable time period past"?

To ask if the Tempter is a literal serpent is akin to asking if the bronze serpent is a literal snake. Or the Uraeus in Pharaoh's crown. No. But the bronze serpent wasn't just a metaphor. It was a physical symbol, standing for something else. Same thing with the Uraeus. A concrete representation. Objects that occupy real time and real space. 

iii) So Kierkegaard and Niebuhr think the serpent represents the tension between finitude and freedom. Who cares? What reason is there to think that's how the narrator understood the serpent?  

iv) Why does Olson think it's absurd to ask what kind of fruit the Edenic trees produced? It's useless to ask, in the sense that the account doesn't furnish that specific information. But why think that's a silly question to the narrator or the original audience?  

v) What Reformed theologians think Gen 2-3 is reducible to an Everyman parable? 

Fall from glory

And the angels who did not stay within their own position of authority, but left their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains under gloomy darkness until the judgment of the great day (Jude 6).

Some Christians use this text to gloss Gen 6:1-4. There are, however, a range of possibilities to consider:

i) Jude 6 is directly alluding to Gen 6:1-4.

ii) Jude 6 is directly alluding to 1 Enoch, which is, in turn, alluding to Gen 6:1-4.

iii) Apropos (ii), that breaks down into two further possibilities:

a) Jude is alluding to Gen 6:1-4 via 1 Enoch. Gen 6:1-4 is the intended secondary referent. 

b) Jude is only alluding to 1 Enoch. The fact that Enoch alludes to Gen 6 doesn't commit Jude to do the same. Commentators admit that Jude is very selective in his appropriation and adaptation of his sources. In v6, he also uses a stock phrase from Classical Greek literature.

iv) Jude is alluding to other OT passages which depict a "war in heaven" and/or "fall from heaven" motif (Isa 14; Isa 22:21-22; Ezk 28; cf. Judges 5:20; Jude 13). Scripture sometimes employs stellar imagery to figuratively depict a moral and/or political downfall. 

v) Jude is simply trading on a common Jewish belief. Popular demonology. He doesn't require a literary source. 

In Scripture, the fall of angels is generally a theological presupposition rather than an explicit statement. Something readers took for granted (e.g. Mt 8:29). 

Now let's quote a couple of scholars who buck the majority view:

Genesis 6 makes no reference to the punishment of the sons of God, and the punishment of chains is applied to angels on a number of other occasions in 1 Enoch (e.g. 1 En. 21; 54:3-6). J. Walton, "Sons of God, Daughters of Man," T. D. Alexander & D. Baker, eds. Dictionary of the Old Testament: Pentateuch (IVP 2003), 794b.

It is true that the punishment cited in Peter and Jude is the same punishment meted out to the angels in 1 Enoch's interpretation of Genesis 6, but it must also be admitted that this same punishment is cited in the book of 1 Enoch on other occasions as applied to disruptive angels. Furthermore, Jude does not cite marriage of angels to human women, though he easily could have. Finally, to speak of an act of porneia by the angels, as Jude does, is inappropriate to in describing Genesis 6, for there the women are taken as wives, whereas porneia is usually reserve for extramarital activity. J. Walton, Genesis (Zondervan 2001), 297.

In dealing with a passage which of itself is inherently difficult, e.g., 1 Pet 3:19 or Jude 6, one's exegesis is at best tenuous when one's interpretation rests upon  the exegesis of another notoriously problematic passage, e.g. Gen 6:1-4. J. D. Charles, Literary Strategy in the Epistle of Jude (USP 1993), 148.

Virtually all commentary, past and present, has related Gen 6:1-4 in some way to Jude 6 and 2 Pet 2:4. This is largely due to two reasons: (1) a mistaken linking of the angels in v6 with Sodom and Gomorrah in v7 and (2) the association of demons with Gen 6:1-4 which began to emerge in the 2C BC. The thread in Jude that links Israel (v5), the angels (v6), and Sodom (v7), however, is not sexual sin, rather dispossession, falling from their allotted place (109).

The angels of v6, mentioned parenthetically, share something in common with Israel in v5  and Sodom and Gomorrah  of v7: punitive intervention (110).

Verses 5-7 of Jude, taken together, as they are meant to be syntactically, stress the loss or disenfranchisement of the three subjects (112).

It is furthermore significant that Jude does not associate the fall of angels with the flood… (112).

Corresponding typology to the fallen angels of Jude might well be drawn from several prophetic oracles in the OT–oracles that serve as graphic illustrations of fall or ruin: (1) Isa 14:5-23, a taunt (v4) against the king of Babylon, (2) Isa 24:21-22, a symbolic representation of Yahweh's judgment, and (3) Ezk 28:1-19, a prophetic funeral dirge (v12) against the king of Tyre (113).

The objects of condemnation in all three texts tumble from the heavens as if stars (cf. Jude 13). A key in interpreting Isa 14, Ezk 28, and Jude 5 lies in recognizing antecedent action. Falling from glory–whether it is the king of Babylon, the ruler of Tyre, or the Christian community to whom Jude is writing–has an antecedent in the heavenly realm (115).

The Temple-City of God and its Human Antithesis, Babel-Babylon

I’m posting some selections from T.D. Alexander’s “From Paradise to Promised Land: An Introduction to the Pentateuch”, one of the best works I’ve found on making the Old Testament understandable, especially in the light of the New Testament.

Special consideration needs to be given to how the short description of the building of Babel-Babylon precedes the much longer account of Abraham’s life. God’s promise to make Abraham’s name great (Gen 12:2) obviously mirrors the aspiration of the people of Babel—Babylon, who wished to make a name for themselves (Gen 11:4). Moreover, God’s provision of a particular land for Abraham and his descendants has the appearance of being a deliberate response to the scattering of the city builders over the whole earth. More important, Abraham is set apart to be the one through whom God will advance the process of establishing his kingdom and temple-city. To this end, Abraham’s descendants will become a great nation and will include a royal line.

Beyond Genesis, the book of Exodus describes how God rescues the Israelites from building cities for a despotic Egyptian king in order that they may begin the process of constructing God’s dwelling on the earth (Gen 1:11; 25:8). Rescued from death and given both royal and priestly status, the Israelites have the opportunity to live as God’s holy nation (Gen 19:6). Although serious shortcomings still remain, with the making of the tabernacle an important step is taken toward the fulfillment of God’s creation project. This is, however, merely part of a long process that will ater include, among other things, the establishment of Jerusalem/Zion as God’s temple-city and its destruction by the Babylonians. In the light of these events, which are deeply imbedded in much of the Old Testament writings, the opening chapters of Genesis takes on a deeper significance when we observe their particular interest in the relationship between the anticipated temple-city of God and its human antithesis, Babel-Babylon.

From T.D. Alexander, “From Paradise to Promised Land: An Introduction to the Pentateuch” (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, (2012 Third Edition), pg 131.

Arminianism: The haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy

From time to time we read about Muslim morals police who patrol the streets with canes and switches to beat celebrants of Valentine Day. But in turns out this concern isn't limited to Islam:

The theme of Noah the ecologist plays well too, for instance when he scolds his child for arbitrarily picking a beautiful flower without have a good utilitarian reason to do so, for it shortens the life of the flower.  

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/bibleandculture/2014/03/29/noah-the-movie-down-in-the-flood/

This is yet another divining line between Arminians and Calvinists. In Arminian theology, cut flowers are sinful! Never get a bouquet of roses for your wife or girlfriend! 

Athelstan

4 For it is impossible, in the case of those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, 5 and have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come, 6 and then have fallen away, to restore them again to repentance, since they are crucifying once again the Son of God to their own harm and holding him up to contempt (Heb 6:4-6).

One thing I've noticed about a lot of TV dramas over last few years is what seems to be the increasing pattern of dramas in which there's not a single admirable character. These are often well-written, well-acted shows. For instance, when Justified first came out, I watched a few episodes. Graham Yost has a good ear for catchy, memorable dialogue. That's quite unusual these days. It also had colorful characters in the Southern Gothic tradition, although I found how it stereotypes Southerns off-putting.

But the main reason I bailed on the show early on is that not a single character was admirable. I don't care about the characters. I don't care who lives or who dies. There's no one to root for. 

As the pop culture and cultural elite rebel against Christianity, this seems to be a trend. And it may not be coincidental that we have a spate of superhero movies to compensate. I think superhero movies are the current version of the classic Western genre, which was often a stark morality play. 

Which brings me to the second season of Vikings. The men are wanton killers and the women are treacherous. Just about everyone's a villain. The only honor-code is blind allegiance to your kith and kin. It has some cute kids, but you know the little boys will grow up to be wanton killers, too, so it's like reading about the Canaanites. There's that foreboding. Saplings that grow crooked. 

There are degrees of evil. Some are worse than others. Floki is like the psychopathic clown from a horror flick. 

There's also the nonsense of the shieldmaiden. We're supposed to believe Viking society was egalitarian. Women fought side-by-side men in armed combat. But in a warrior culture, where physical strength and stamina are all-important, there can be no equality of the sexes. Let's not confuse mythology with reality. 

There's only one somewhat sympathetic character, and that's Athelstan. He's the kidnapped monk. Young, weak, impressionable, and conflicted. By "weak" I don't mean physically weak, but lacking a resolute character.

In the first season he adapted to the vikings, in terms of outward conformity, yet he also resisted. When they went to the pagan shrine at Uppsala, he took a crucifix, hidden in his garments, to steel himself against the heathen surroundings. 

But by the second season he's more fully assimilated to the social mores of his captors. He murders with impunity. He's adopted their outlook Become a backslider or apostate.

Yet when he accompanies a raiding party to Wessex, his sublimated Christian conscience begins to resurface. He spares a bishop from death by torture through mercy killing. At Mass, he goes through the motions of taking communion, but he discreetly spat out the wafer. 

Presumably, he doesn't think he can, in good conscience, receive communion. In his backslidden state, the sacrament would be a malediction. 

He's tormented by visions. At one point he prays for spiritual restoration. Asks God for a sign. 

Immediately, he receives a sign, but it appears to be diabolical rather than divine. When he became acculturated to viking society, he crossed a line. At this point in the show it remains to be seen whether God will ever forgive him and restore him. 

Studied ambiguity marks the show's viewpoint regarding the supernatural. Is Athelstan just hallucinating? Does the heathen seer (seiðmann, galdrmann) truly know the future? 

At one point, Athelstan is captured by King Egbert's soldiers, and the bishop proceeds to crucify him as an apostate. According to Michael Hirst:

I was doing my reading and discovered that there were at least two monks that had been written of who had been captured by Vikings and taken back to Scandinavia. In fact one of them, later on, was captured by the Saxons raiding back in England and they crucified him as an apostate. 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/28/vikings-season-finale-season-2-all-change_n_3175975.html

That tradition is presumably indebted to Heb 6:6. Since an apostate crucifies Christ a second time, an apostate is crucified to exact poetic justice. Whether that's historically accurate, I can't say, but that's the literary inspiration for the tradition in question. 

Noah divides

Opinion is divided on Aronofsky's Noah. What's somewhat striking is that this doesn't always fall along predictable lines. Ken Ham panned the film. Yet, to judge by reviews (I haven't seen it), the film checks all the right boxes for a young-earth-creationist flood. It has a global deluge. It has antediluvian herbivory. It has the special creation of Adam and Eve. And it has a strict YEC-chronology. Just 10 generations between Adam and Noah, which makes Methuselah the living grandfather of Noah. So it's ironic that Ham dislikes it so much. 

Of course, Aronofsky is co-opting antediluvian herbivory as a pretext to propagandize his vegan ideology. So I understand why creationists like Ham resent the political opportunism. Still, the essentials are surprisingly faithful to a YEC interpretation of the flood account.

For his part, Brian Godawa despises the film with a passion. He hates the film the way Anakin Skywalker hates the Tusken Raiders. To a great extent, this is driven by his opposition to the misanthropy of modern environmentalism. And he dislikes Aronofsky commandeering the flood account as a vehicle to promote that ideology.

Yet Godawa is a contributor to the Biologos Foundation. The current flagship of theistic evolution. The nemesis of young-earth creationism and intelligent-design theory. So it's striking when Ken Ham and Brian Godawa, who are hermeneutical antagonists, both pan the film. 

Wesley J. Smith reprobates the film for the same basic reason Godawa does. Misanthropic environmentalism. However, I've never been clear on Smith's theological outlook, if any. He used to be a consumer advocate, coauthoring four books with Ralph Nader. So he's hard to peg.

Finally, there's E. Calvin Beisner. He's an OPC elder, and archfoe of the radical environmentalist agenda. So you might expect him to pounce on the film for the same reasons Smith and Godawa pan it. Yet he came away with a more varied impression of the film:

I saw Darren Aronofsky's NOAH yesterday and actually enjoyed it. It was far less bad than I anticipated and in some respects was quite good. Its environmentalist message was muted from what one expected from the first script--still there, but not dominant. It (mostly) "gets" the sinfulness of man and the justice of God that responds in righteous wrath. It doesn't get God's mercy and grace or the way Noah and the flood and its aftermath presaged the person and atoning work of Christ. It pretty poignantly portrays the difficulties of a walk of faith and obedience to God, but because in it God Himself never speaks, it misses the real foundation of that faith--propositional revelation from the God who speaks and shows (to adopt the title of Carl F. H. Henry's magnum opus).
As Thornbury points out in his review, the movie is far less simplistic than lots of Christians will think. Yes, it’s got wrong theology—lots of it. (So have Lewis’s Narnia tales and the movies based on those, and Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings tales and the movies based on those.)
Two of the reviews I linked point out, rightly, the misrepresentation of the fallen angels. Even that isn’t so straightforward as it might first appear, though. The movie presents them as fallen not because they were more merciful than God but because they disobeyed the Creator by helping Cain’s descendants damage the earth through industrialism—which of course is itself untrue. And yes, the movie falsely portrays some fallen angels as repenting and serving God’s purposes after all and so earning their way back into heaven. What do we expect from moviemakers who don’t understand the gospel of justification by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone or Christ’s unique relationship to the human race through the incarnation that differs so starkly from His relationship with the angels [Hebrews 1–2]? But the idea that some fallen angels might decide to do the right thing instead of the wrong thing—well, it’s not true to what the Bible teaches about angels, but it is partially true to what the Bible teaches about human sinners: that even the unregenerate are capable of doing what theologians call “civic righteousness,” not true righteousness, which arises from true love of the true God, but right acts good for the community. Even the idea that those fallen angels who helped Noah understood mercy while the Creator didn’t needs to be met with careful literary consideration. Is the movie intentionally conveying that message as true? Or is it conveying the unregenerate mind’s failure to understand the pretty inscrutable fact that God is holy and righteous and just and hates sin and is loving and gracious and merciful and loves sinners, and causes His sun to shine and His rain to fall on the just and the unjust—so that from the perspective of the unregenerate [including the moviemakers], those fallen angels “got” mercy better than God did, though in reality [not the perspective of the moviemakers], God did was indeed merciful?
And there are many, many more theological errors in the movie—each of those reviews covering some, none covering all, and plenty not covered in any of them. It is filled with major theological errors—most importantly that it completely misses the grace and mercy of God and the place of Noah and the flood in redemptive history as pointers to the atoning and restoring work of Christ on the cross and in His resurrection and ascension and His rule from heaven over and through His church—all stuff, by the way, that would hardly have been understood at all by Noah, or even Abraham, or even Moses, or even David, or even any of the Prophets (1 Peter 1:10-12), which suggests that a movie that leaves those things unclear, barely hinted at (as in the rainbow at the end), does a pretty good job of portraying how (little and poorly) the flood would have been understood by the people in Noah’s own age.
I might add: the movie also presented creation as a six-day affair, and it didn't try to add thousands or millions or billions of years between creation and Noah. In that regard, it was faithful to the Genesis text. Would that lots of folks who get down on it for its (many and real and sometimes very bad) departures from the Biblical text would give it credit for getting that part at least generally right.

So, as I say, it's somewhat hard to pigeonhole reactions to the film. They don't necessarily correlate with where you range along the theological spectrum. Some who might be predisposed to pan it like it. Some who might be predisposed to pan it like it (with caveats).

In the Image of an Atheist Hollywood Director

http://www.alankurschner.com/2014/03/30/the-noah-movie-is-blasphemy/

Rock monsters

Although Walsh is awfully shy about expressing his true feelings, from reading between the lines I get the nagging impression that this wasn't his favorite film:

http://themattwalshblog.com/2014/03/29/im-a-christian-and-i-think-noah-deserves-a-four-star-review/

Petrified angels

I'm going to comment on a positive review of Noah:

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2014/march-web-only/noah.html

I haven't seen the film. I don't plan to. To judge by reviews, I'd find it irritating to watch. Also, I've seen lots of disaster flicks with fancy CGI. 

Noah is another entry in this filmography. It asks big questions: Are humans worth saving? What is the place of justice and mercy in existence? How ought people relate to both powers greater than themselves and to the world in which they dwell?

Are those questions posed the same way we find in Genesis?

But what makes Noah work, even in its more messy bits, is that it usually avoids asking those questions pedantically. Instead, it embeds them in a story shared by the world's major religions (most ancient mythologies as well). 

To say it embeds them in a story shared by the world's major religions (as well as most ancient mythologies) is, if true, decidedly pluralistic. Owes more to the spirit of Joseph Campbell than the Spirit of God.

And it retells the story with a startlingly fresh imagination, generally strong writing, and great acting talent—Russell Crowe, Jennifer Connelly, Emma Watson, Ray Winstone, Anthony Hopkins.

Hopkins is at that age where he's becoming typecast as the generic authoritative patriarch. 

The Bible often leaves out things that make for good storytelling, like dialogue and scene-setting sensory details, because that's not its genre. Even the gospels tell us that Jesus performed many more miracles than are recorded, because there simply isn't enough room in the books for everything.
Noah respects the human's imaginative capacity by thinking of itself as a story about how it could have happened. Where the text says something, Noah does that thing. But where it is silent, the filmmakers worked hard to examine tradition, other texts, and what they know of people to think about one way the story could have worked out. (Even the most controversial of their narrative choices—something I won't spoil for you—has echoes of other Bible stories in it; it's probably not what happened, but things like it happened later, so it's not inconsistent.)

It's true that Gen 6-9 is insufficient to make a feature-length film. If that's the aim, then the screenwriters have to include a lot of filler. 

However, that's not the only way to film the Bible. If you film Bible stories as part of a continuous TV series on the historical narratives of Scripture, then a cinematic version the flood account needn't be 139 minutes long (in the case of Aronofsky's Noah). It doesn't require all that additional padding to turn it into a stand-alone viewing experience.    

Reportedly, the good folks at Industrial Light & Magic (the special effects company founded by George Lucas) did some of their most complicated work on this film, and it shows. The ark is enormous. The animals are fantastical, but plausible. The rock giants (Handel and Aronofsky's rendering of fallen angels, one interpretation of the Bible's "Nephilim") are emotionally resonant in the manner of Peter Jackson's rendering of Tolkien's ents. The account of creation is pushed into hand-drawn animation, which fits its place in the narrative.
I admit it: at first, I found myself raising an eyebrow and wondering how much I should have to suspend my disbelief at some of the things that happened in Noah. For instance: rocks that glow and, when hit, start fires. Giant lumbering fallen angels encased in rock. Plants that sprouted from the ground.
Then I remembered something very important: this is a depiction of an antediluvian world, a world that is both very young and different from the post-flood world. In this world, it has never rained. Snakes apparently had legs, only ten generations ago (see the account of the fall of man in Genesis). Men live for centuries and centuries, something that changed after the flood, according to the Bible. And miracles happen a lot, both before and after the flood.
So when things happen in the movie that seem "magical," I have to remind myself that I'm a modern American living in the twenty-first century, for whom "magic" means "sleight of hand" and "enchantment" is part of fairy tales, not reality.
It would not have been so in the past. And, frankly, as a modern who is also a Christian, I believe in some fairly "magical" stuff—such as the idea that baptism does something significant, or that there is some sense in which the Eucharist is a particular means of grace, or that speaking to an invisible being through prayer makes sense.

The problem with ransacking ancient Near Eastern mythology, 1 Enoch, Middle-Earth, &c., to flesh out the plot is that Noah's world suddenly becomes indistinguishable from Clash of the Titans. You might as well as Marvel Comic Book characters like Thor to liven up the action.  

That makes it less believable, not more believable. That reduces it to generic mythology, interchangeable with spare parts from other myths and pious fictions. 

Catholic cognitive dissonance

I'm going to comment on some statements in this article by a Catholic film critic:

http://www.ncregister.com/blog/steven-greydanus/chill-out-about-noah

Let’s begin by recognizing that most Christians are familiar with a strictly Sunday school version of the Noah story. Children love the stories of creation and Noah’s ark for an obvious reason: children love animals. These stories loom large in picture books and children’s Bibles, which play up the cute animals, sanitize and smooth out the narrative, and so forth.

I've read a number of Christian reviewers make that sweeping claim. Speaking for myself, I rarely attended Sunday school as a kid. I wasn't raised on a cartoon version of the flood narrative. Likewise, many people come to the Christian faith as adults. They had no Christian upbringing.

Whatever the movie looks like, I expect some pious moviegoers, especially biblical literalists, will be upset or angry about anything in the film that goes beyond the biblical text…

Well, Catholics are literalists when it comes to the Bread of Life discourse (John 6). 

Likewise, in the flood narrative, the “sons of God” who took wives from the “daughters of men” have widely been interpreted in both Jewish and Christian exegesis as angelic spirits of some sort. Developed Christian angelology doesn’t easily lend itself to the notion of angels fallen or unfallen marrying human beings, despite attempts of some commentators to paper over the problem with theological speculation.

I think that's an anachronistic interpretation, based on reading later Intertestamental literature (i.e. 1 Enoch) back into Genesis. I disagree with that interpretation: 

http://butthesethingsarewritten.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-nephilim.html

It has been recognized for some time that the early chapters of Genesis, i.e., Genesis 1–11 (the pre-Abrahamic primeval history), represent a literary form quite different from later, historical texts.

In fact, Pope Pius XII in Humani Generis characterizes these chapters as “not conforming to the historical method” as practiced by ancient as well as modern writers, calling them instead “a popular description of the origin of the human race and the chosen people” in “simple and metaphorical language.”
This is not to say that Adam and Eve or Noah and the flood are only metaphors for something that never happened. The pope adds that these early chapters still “pertain to history in a true sense” (“which however must be further studied and determined by exegetes”). But clearly the accounts of creation, Adam and Eve and Noah and the flood are not historiography in the same sense as, say, the Gospels. That is, they are not a record of human experiences in living memory, based directly on eyewitness testimony, interviews with eyewitnesses, and so forth. The Gospels offer historical evidence for the basic outline of Jesus’ life that even unbelievers must reckon with.
The early chapters of Genesis are different. They describe events thousands of years before Genesis was written — events which, in some cases, no human eye witnessed. While it’s possible to imagine the stories of Adam and Eve and Noah being handed down by oral tradition for thousands of years, no believer accepts Genesis 1–11 based on the trustworthiness of millennia of oral tradition. Even if the writer of Genesis saw the whole flood story exactly as it happened in a vision from God, that would make it true, but it still wouldn’t be historiography in the same sense as the Gospels; it would be visionary writing.
In fact, the writer of Genesis mentions neither visions nor millennia of oral tradition; he doesn’t say where his material comes from, or on what authority he has it. Historical criticism suggests that the stories as we have them incorporate material drawn from a number of ancient oral traditions (“popular narrations,” Pius XII calls them). Of course, we believe that the selection and shaping of sources was under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.
Pope John Paul II said of the story of Adam and Eve:

Following the contemporary philosophy of religion and that of language, it can be said that the language in question is a mythical one. In this case, the term “myth” does not designate a fabulous content, but merely an archaic way of expressing a deeper content.

Following these papal sources, we should be able to say that it is not beyond the pale of Christian orthodoxy, and defined Catholic teaching in particular, to classify the Flood narrative in Genesis as divinely inspired mythology. Again, that to say this is not to say that there was no flood or no Noah. It is simply to say that the writer of Genesis did not have the kind of historically verifiable access to the events he was writing about that pertains to writers of history.

i) To say Gen 1-11 is metaphorical rather than historical is a rearguard action. That reflects the triumph of modernism in contemporary Catholicism. It's certainly not the traditional view of Gen 1-11.

ii) Scholars who deny the historicity of Gen 1-11, or treat it as metaphorical, don't suddenly view the rest of the Pentateuch as historical. Scholars who take that view of Gen 1-11 don't think the patriarchal narratives, or Exodus, or wilderness account, constitute a record of human experiences in living memory, based directly on eyewitness testimony, interviews with eyewitnesses.

By the same token, Catholic NT scholars like Raymond Brown, Joseph Fitzmyer, John Meier, and Luke Timothy Johnson, are fairly skeptical about the historicity of the Gospels. They spend a lot of time trying to sift the historical residual from the legendary embellishments–as they see it.

iii) But here we also witness a profound tension in modern Catholic piety. For instance, the same pope who characterizes these chapters as “not conforming to the historical method” as practiced by ancient as well as modern writers, calling them instead “a popular description of the origin of the human race and the chosen people” in “simple and metaphorical language,” also said:

we pronounce, declare, and define it to be a divinely revealed dogma: that the Immaculate Mother of God, the ever Virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory. 

http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/pius_xii/apost_constitutions/documents/hf_p-xii_apc_19501101_munificentissimus-deus_en.html   

Likewise, the same pope who said "the language in question is a mythical one…an archaic way of expressing a deeper content" also commissioned a new catechism, which his successor had a leading role in editing. That document makes claims such as:

The deepening of faith in the virginal motherhood led the Church to confess Mary's real and perpetual virginity even in the act of giving birth to the Son of God made man. In fact, Christ's birth "did not diminish his mother's virginal integrity but sanctified it." ^(499). 

^{http://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p122a3p2.htm} 

When the Church asks publicly and authoritatively in the name of Jesus Christ that a person or object be protected against the power of the Evil One and withdrawn from his dominion, it is called exorcism. Jesus performed exorcisms and from him the Church has received the power and office of exorcizing. In a simple form, exorcism is performed at the celebration of Baptism. The solemn exorcism, called "a major exorcism," can be performed only by a priest and with the permission of the bishop. The priest must proceed with prudence, strictly observing the rules established by the Church. Exorcism is directed at the expulsion of demons or to the liberation from demonic possession through the spiritual authority which Jesus entrusted to his Church (1673). 

http://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p2s2c4a1.htm 

In the most blessed sacrament of the Eucharist "the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ and, therefore, the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially contained" (1374). 

http://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p2s2c1a3.htm

John-Paul II was devotee of Fatima: 

http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/rc_con_cfaith_doc_20000626_message-fatima_en.html

This raises an interesting question. Why not interpret "Mary's real and perpetual virginity even in the act of giving birth" as mythical or metaphorical language? Why not interpret demonic possession and exorcism as an archaic way of expressing a deeper content? Why not  interpret the claim that "the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ and, therefore, the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially contained" in a wafer as mythical or metaphorical? Why not treat the Assumption of Mary as a metaphor? Why not treat Marian apparitions like Fatima as mythical or metaphorical? 

Devout Catholic intellectuals are by turns skeptical and superstitious. Rationalistic and fideistic.  

Gen 6 & 1 Enoch

Among other things, Aronofsky's Noah has revived a popular interpretation of Gen 6:1-4. The specific details owe more to 1 Enoch than Genesis. I'm going to quote Genesis and the "parallels" in 1 Enoch, so that we can compare and contrast them directly. (I'll be quoting from Nickelsburg's translation in his commentary on 1 Enoch.):

When men began to multiply on the face of the land and daughters were born to them, 2 the sons of God saw that the daughters of man were attractive. And they took as their wives any they chose. 3 Then the Lord said, “My Spirit shall not abide in man forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years.” 4 The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown (Gen 6:1-4, ESV). 

And when the sons of men had multiplied, in those days, beautiful and comely daughters were born to them. And the watchers, the sons of heaven, saw them and desired them. And they said to one another, "Come, let us choose from ourselves wives from the daughters of men, and let us beget for ourselves children."
And they were, all of them, two hundred, who descended in the days of Jared onto the peak of Mount Hermon (1 Enoch 6:1-2,5). 

Enoch, righteous scribe, go and say to the watchers of heaven–who forsook the highest heaven, the sanctuary of the(ir) eternal station, and defiled themselves with women. As the sons of earth do, so they did and took wives for themseles (1 Enoch 12:4). 

Why have you forsaken the high heaven, the eternal sanctuary; and lain with women, and defiled yourselves with the daughters of men; and taken for yourselves wives, and done as the sons of earth; and begotten for yourselves sons, giants? (1 Enoch 14:3).

Notice what is present in the Enochian passages, but absent in Genesis. There's nothing in Genesis about the "sons of God" coming down from the sky. There's nothing about their banishment from heaven, as a divine punishment for desertion or concupiscence. There's no contrast between heaven and earth ("sons of heaven/sons of earth").

Although one can see how the authors of 1 Enoch might use Gen 6:1-4 as a springboard to evolve the notion of an angelic fall, that's not something we can legitimately read back into Genesis, for key details are missing. So these aren't real parallels. The specific idea of fallen angels is crucially absent in the primary text of Genesis. There's no downward motion, or expulsion from heaven. The "sons of God" aren't "sons of heaven" in contrast to "sons of men" who are "sons of earth." So a back-to-back comparison undermines rather than underwrites the angelic interpretation. 

Genesis: the introduction of God’s “holy temple city” on earth

I’m going to be posting some selections from T.D. Alexander’s “From Paradise to Promised Land: An Introduction to the Pentateuch”, one of the best works I’ve found on making the Old Testament understandable, especially in the light of the New Testament.

The opening chapters of Genesis introduce themes that will be central in the subsequent narrative. Principal among these is the expectation that the earth is to become God’s dwelling place through the construction of a holy temple-city. As God’s vice regents, humans are to extend his authority over the earth, at the same time ensuring its sanctity as a sacred space. Tragically, tempted by the serpent, Adam and Eve betray their Creator and thereby lose their royal and priestly status. Expelled from Eden and alienated from God, human beings try to establish a name for themselves by using their God-given ability to build an alternative city. Though their initial attempt is thwarted by God, the aspirations of those who built Babel-Babylon live on. Against this background, the book of Genesis records the call of Abraham, with whom God will begin the long process of reversing the consequences of humanity’s rebellion against its Creator (T.D. Alexander, “From Paradise to Promised Land: An Introduction to the Pentateuch” (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, (2012 Third Edition), pg 130).

The least Biblical Bible film ever

Noah's director Darren Aronofsky, a self-described atheist who made the Oscar-nominated hit The Black Swan, has described the movie as is "the least biblical biblical film ever made" and called Noah "the first environmentalist". According to one early review, the name "God" is not actually spoken at any stage. 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/film/film-news/10717724/Noah-epic-awash-in-flood-of-controversy-for-green-agenda-and-taking-liberties-with-Bible.html

Open theism on the silver screen

Darren Aronofsky: Ari put it a good way by defining it—since we're both parents—as this: If you're a parent with too much justice, you destroy your child with strictness. And if you're a parent with too much mercy, you destroy them with leniency. So being a really good parent is about finding that balance, which I think is in the story of Noah. Actually, it's similar to the story that God goes through. At the beginning of the story of Noah, he wants justice, and by the end he [offers] mercy through the rainbow, and grace. It was that balance that interested us. 

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2014/march-web-only/darren-aronofsky-interview-noah.html?paging=off