In Field of Dreams (1989), Ray takes the pen in his hand to sign over his beloved Iowa farm when his daughter falls from the bleachers. Doc Graham comes to save her, knowing that if he steps off that baseball diamond, his dreams of playing major league baseball will end. He does the right thing, of course, the choking girl lives, and he strides back into that magic cornfield appreciative of his opportunities.
But the most important thing that happens in that moment is the line from Ray’s brother-in-law Mark: “When did these baseball players get here?”
I’ve recently had a similar experience. If you read last week’s post, you will notice my topic is virtually identical. (I know—either it is or it isn’t, a la “literally.”) This one is different because I have known about my topic, The Chosen series, from the beginning. I just hadn’t watched it even after the recommendations of some, the deep insistence of many more.
My reasons seemed logical: I am very particular about images of the Savior. This recent painting by Salustiano Garcia Cruz, for example, has created controversy in Spain and around the world because it depicts a young and unnaturally handsome Jesus. (The link doesn’t show the whole image, which is a good choice, I think.) This link, in contrast, shows the oldest depictions, the last of which is a dark-haired, brown-eyed man who is rather plain. The scripture are clear on the topic: Isaiah 53:2 tells us that there is no comeliness or beauty. Somewhere along the way, pictures became very European, and quite white, discussed briefly here.
My second concern was the language. It was just too modern. They did not use the word “okay” in the first century (first known use 1839.) Or “weaponize” (1957). Not to go on too long, it was just more than I was willing to manage.
It’s not that I was not impressed entirely. I had watched scenes for a few years. For example, when the woman in the marketplace touches the hem of his garment, the event is much more active than I’d imagined. The crowd is pressing hard. There is no way He could have noticed her touch. Rather, it was the fact that power left Him to heal her because of her faith.
And I knew the data: Crowd-funded, wildly popular, authentic history, diverse casting, a SAG exemption to continue filming during the strike. Wikipedia doesn’t do a bad job. This article has more depth and external links to reviews plus explanations of various controversies. The writer, Ajo Romano, has this conclusion:
Therein lies the true power of The Chosen: Its depiction of Christ is pleasing enough to summon this kind of loyalty from fans. But despite the themes it engages with, its avoidance of politics is so deft that it never does the Christlike work of challenging its audience’s concepts of unconditional love, government oppression, and what it means to truly embrace the marginalized.
Still feeling too clinical in my assessment, I decided to go to the theater to see Season 4, Episodes 4-6. It was a 3.5 hour commitment. I was all alone in the place. I was deeply moved several times, to tears. In one (no spoilers), Jesus is watching olives being pressed for oil. There are tears in his eyes, and we can see He knows what is coming. This video connects the process to Gethsemane, a Hebrew word which means “a press of oils.”
So, I’ve apologized to the people to whom I said I was fine to admire it but not watch it. I’ve committed to seeing two episodes tomorrow, and the rest. It’s a personal decision, of course. I was already converted to Christianity (10 years old, in the car, “Christmas is real” experience). Now I can say there is more to know. It’s like going from being a “So what?” convert to a “Now I see!” one. Like all those baseball players who’ve been there all along.