Nearly everyone reads To Kill a Mockingbird. Published 50 years ago in 1960, the book has never been out of print, and according to the 2010 Renaissance Learning study on what kids are reading, To Kill A Mockingbird was the most-read book for American high schoolers, if you don’t count those Twilight books. Late-night college dorm discussions can count on To Kill a Mockingbird to bring everyone together.
Not that everyone agrees about the book. Earlier this anniversary year, a Wall Street Journal article by Allen Barra filleted To Kill a Mockingbird as “a children’s book” that doesn’t deserve its place among American literary classics. Barra argued that the book lacks moral ambiguity, as especially evidenced by the character of Atticus, an unimpeachable hero who, according to Barra, is merely a “repository of cracker-barrel epigrams.”
Commenters and bloggers have taken Barra to task for his characterization of this beloved text. So let me take my place among them, because To Kill a Mockingbird remains relevant today with implications for the church.
It’s not such a simple book as Barra supposes. [Spoiler Alert!] I believe the book’s main theme is tolerance. Racial tolerance in 1930s Alabama is the most famous example. But that’s just one application of the theme. Atticus also teaches his children that they need to tolerate racist whites—the hard-working kind (the Cunningham clan), the elderly (Mrs. Dubose), and even the lazy, indignant, dishonest types (Bob Ewell and most of his progeny). In every case, Atticus invokes the logic of the same “cracker-barrel epigram” to inculcate his strain of tolerance to his kids: You can’t really understand someone else until you “consider things from his point of view”—in other words, “climb into his skin and walk around in it.”
Certainly Atticus shows impeccable character and courage as a lawyer. Working as a defense attorney, I resonate with Atticus’s story. Atticus passionately defended a case despite the moral opprobrium he knew he would garner. I am likewise encouraged to passionately defend all sorts of clients who, whatever their flaws, have rights that deserve upholding.
But the tolerance theme is not so straightforward. In the end, Atticus fails to do precisely what he teaches his children. After the trial of Tom Robinson, the evil Bob Ewell approaches Atticus, spits in his face, and tells the lawyer he’ll get him if it takes the rest of his life. Atticus dismisses Ewell as nothing to worry about. Even after Ewell threatens a defenseless widow and attempts to burglarize the judge’s house, Atticus still sees no threat. He ultimately fails to understand the danger posed to his children by a coward with a knife, a grudge, and a little alcohol. As a result, his children are nearly murdered. No one else is fooled by Ewell. The sheriff understands Ewell’s cowardly nature perfectly. The judge sits reading with a shotgun on his lap. With a few stinging threats, Mr. Dias runs Ewell off from threatening the widow. Even Aunt Alexandra, by no means the most prescient of characters, predicts that he will try to pay off his grudge. It is only Atticus, adrift in his world of unimpeachable lawyering, who fails to see Ewell for who he is, proclaiming in the novel’s denouement that he can’t conceive of a man who’d try to kill children. He should have seen it coming. Atticus’s attitude illustrates the limits of moral tolerance and the courage required to stand up to evil, demonstrated by Boo Radley.
For all that we can learn from the book about godly tolerance, To Kill a Mockingbird warns the church to beware tolerating evil. The widespread failure of churches today to even attempt church discipline as outlined in Scripture underestimates the power of false doctrine and sinful behavior. The apostle Paul strongly remonstrates against false doctrine (see 1 Timothy 6) and urges the Corinthians to judge those within the church (1 Corinthians 5:12). Yet many American churches see open sin as just another Bob Ewell that will never be much of a problem. This is not how Jesus told us to encounter evil, particularly where the church meets the world. Jesus’ command that we be “wise as serpents” (Matthew 10:16) is fleshed out by Paul’s exhortation that we “not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21).
So what could Atticus have done? There’s nothing in the Bible against using the legal system to defend yourself or your family against the world (Romans 13). Atticus could have asked for an injunction against Ewell, or even encouraged prosecution for assault and communicating a threat (in most jurisdictions). He also could have kept a shotgun handy (remember his nickname was One-Shot Finch!) or confronted Ewell to his face.
Many people read To Kill A Mockingbird as the story of a Christ-figure who suffered unjust oppression because of his moral stand. But tolerance can go too far. The book is really about the ultimate failure of a good man to stand up to evil because he underestimated evil. If the church does the same, we have missed the point of To Kill A Mockingbird.
Is there enough evidence for us to believe the Gospels?
In an age of faith deconstruction and skepticism about the Bible’s authority, it’s common to hear claims that the Gospels are unreliable propaganda. And if the Gospels are shown to be historically unreliable, the whole foundation of Christianity begins to crumble.
