Use the Force, Luke
The religion in genre and the genre religion.
      by Rachel Hyland

Gabriel Byrne as Satan in End of Days. So where do I sign up for evil?

Along with Fantasy and Horror (and, y'know, other stuff chicks dig), Science Fiction is as beloved of its acolytes as is the Catholic Church. There just aren't any snacks. (Mmm mmm. This is some good body of Christ!) Plus, tithing? Please. The average genre fan spends far more than ten percent of their weekly earnings at their houses of worship. Comic book stands. Sci-Fi specialty stores. eBay. Those church-goers have no idea of the sacrifices it takes to appease our gods.

Whether it be the graven idols of Whedon, Carter, Caron, Surnow, Cameron, Lucas, Spielberg or -- may God help you -- Katims, all genre fans worship these golden calves with impunity. We stick Crichton up on our wall, Spike on our desktop. We collect cards with Mr. Garibaldi and G'Kar on them, we play Monopoly games in which you can purchase a Death Star (I shouldn't wonder), and we buy comic books with Wolverine on the cover that we don't dare read. We break Commandments left and right, what with the non-respecting parents thing, and the not keeping the Sabbath day holy thing, and the coveting of thy neighbor's ox thing.

And, y'know. That doesn't even take into account all the pagan blessings we ignore, the mystic Wiccan rites we bastardize, the Ancient Greek tenets that we break, the Scientologists that we laugh at cruelly. (Which is fun, but perhaps a little harsh, do you think? ... Nah.)

In fact, genre fans may well be some of the most religious people on the planet. Even while often holding to a personal faith that enriches their lives in ways other things can't, they can still enjoy the experience of other theology -- and enjoy it even more when it is twisted, turned and transmogrified out of all recognition. Whether the Celtic-based Deryni rites from Katherine Kurtz's novels, or the polytheism of some other ancient civilization as interpreted by countless writers, or the simple, oft-challenged Catholicism of one Agent Dana Scully, believing in genre means never having to say you're sorry for that accidental Holy War. (Well, except for that killing-of-Doyle thing. That was touch-and-go there for a while.)

If there is anything the genre religion preaches above all else, it is tolerance. Of color, creed, race, and just about everything else. (Hell, we even tolerate Third Rock from the Sun.) The books we read, the movies we watch, the shows and comic books and music we get so wrapped up in, show us to ourselves at our most human, demonstrate more fully than any sermon or commandment, that no matter what the belief, people are essentially the same. That everyone, no matter their planet, their time period, or their relative abilities to wear black, is motivated predominately by the religion that plays the biggest part in their lives.

And sure, while we happily suffer witches to live, and routinely forget our abeyance towards Mecca, and pretty much have impure thoughts on a second-ly basis, divinity to many of us lies not in the rhyme, but in the reason. Because we have experienced so many forms of faith, we have no reason to hate any of them. And with no reason to hate anyone for their differing views, we can be comfortable in our own.

And what's not to be contented about in our choice of faith? Genre has brought us together, has made us question, has made us admire, has made us free. It is something we can all believe in; man, woman, and Wheel of Time fan alike. And if you were to ask me what I believe ('cause, naturally, you'd want to), I would tell you that I believe religion -- all religion -- is beautiful... and is yet beautiful beyond belief. (Especially the Church of Rachel. Sign up now!)

So, hopefully, you can pack up your lynch mob now and go on home.

We welcome your comments on The 11th Hour and this feature. Please send letters to: letters@the11thhour.com

< Previous Page