My generation first met the happy, hippie “Jesus” in our 1970s and ’80s CCD classes. He was a super-nice dude, not scary or stern or particularly demanding. This was a new, enlightened era, after all, and the old paradigms would no longer do. As I’ve often described of those vacuous catechetical times, “the God presented to us was a God who hardly needs to be worshipped, since he’s our pal…” It almost seemed like we remade Christ in our own image and then began to worship ourselves.

We were told that everyone loved and wanted this new “Jesus.” But is that true? After a few years of this laughing, relatable Jesus—and not the serious, mysterious, Man of Sorrows of the previous twenty centuries—the pews emptied. The cataclysmic loss of faith went on for decades, and it continues to this day. “You will know them by their fruits,” the real Jesus said (see Matthew 7:15-20), and the long-term fruit of happy, hippie, lopsidedly human “Jesus” has been utter destruction. The Story of Easter: A... Miller, Jean Best Price: $1.89 Buy New $4.99 (as of 03:46 UTC - Details)

Just when we thought we had blessedly stamped out the cartoon, CCD “Jesus,” a newer, slicker incarnation of this caricature has seeped back into the Catholic Church in the form of The Chosen—a wildly popular TV soap opera created by Mormons and Protestants who admit that it is a fictionalized Gospel with fictionalized characters. The show has infiltrated the imaginations of countless Catholics, many of whom should know better. This time, the open promotion of relatable, bro-Jesus is not fueled by “progressive,” dissenting Catholics only, but by faithful, traditional Catholics as well.

The devotion to this show is real, as the much-hyped fourth season (of seven) is upon us, and the buzz among Catholic influencers, friends, families, parishes, and schools is growing. From this massive commercial enterprise emerges copious merch to be bought, promotional reels entertaining millions, and even a “ChosenCon” extravaganza attended by thousands of fans from around the world.

Being the rigid buzzkill that I am, I have discussed serious concerns about the series with my blog readers here, with Fr. Robert McTeigue here, and with Leila Marie Lawler here. You can go to those links to get the specifics of heresy and blasphemy, an overview of Catholic principles and Christology violated, and the general modernism and anti-Catholicism that pervades the show and the set. The grave issues mentioned by concerned Catholic critics often cannot shake the devotion of the show’s Catholics fans, as the emotional hold on them is as strong as any other soap opera—and that is by design.

Indeed, creator Dallas Jenkins promises a “very, very emotional” upcoming season, which is exactly what viewers are craving. If you doubt me, go to the comment section of any of The Chosen’s YouTube videos or Facebook/Instagram posts and see for yourself. Laughing, crying, cry-laughing, weeping, belly laughing, relating, getting chills, emoting, fangirling, and feeling like “Jesus is my BFF!” is the constant and general tenor. The question of truth? Not so much.

For purposes of this article, I would like to address the defense of the show that Catholic fans have given when presented with serious concerns. The most common defense goes like this:

“Sure, the show is not perfect! But despite the problems, The Chosen is bringing countless souls closer to Christ!”

The question then becomes: Which Christ? Ludwig the Builder Newman, Jonathan R Buy New $12.99 (as of 03:46 UTC - Details)

Let’s do a thought experiment: Imagine a family matriarch, a great-grandma who is an icon within that family, known and dearly loved. The stories and intimate knowledge of this beloved woman are shared, celebrated, memorized, and handed down through the family, each generation careful to preserve, protect, and cherish the traditions and family history surrounding their matriarch.

Now imagine an outsider to the family—in fact, an opponent to the family who, for as long as anyone can remember, has actively undermined and contradicted the family in fundamental ways. The outsider begins to tell the world about the family’s matriarch. In the new telling, the great-grandma’s life is distorted by a presentation of different life facts, habits, character traits, and beliefs. Even the matriarch’s personality is now completely changed, hardly recognizable when compared to the family’s longstanding, well-preserved memories.

Do the members of great-grandma’s family know her more intimately from hearing the outsider’s retelling? Do those who never knew her before now have a genuine and intimate understanding of the woman they never met? Or does the new narrative push everyone now further away from her, leaving her real memory distorted and a counterfeit in her place?

I think the answer is clear.

Read the Whole Article