Religion and its Monsters - Timothy K. Beal

Published in 2002 by Routledge, New York, NY

235 pages

ISBN: 0-415-92588-6 (pbk.)

LCC: BT160 .B35 2001

Introduction: 

Every October, as the air begins to chill and the shadows begin to lengthen as the daylight fades, monsters of various shapes and sizes come out to play. In the liminal time of Samhain where the space between worlds is thin, we celebrate Halloween by dressing up as various ghouls and monsters. Most parents play it safe by dressing their children in the fashion of classic monsters, like Dracula, Frankenstein, zombies, and ghosts. Some of us adults don ghastly makeup and prosthetics to appear as horrifying as possible, while others of us wear more risqué costumes, hoping to spark our stagnant sex lives back from the dead. On Halloween night, the masks we wear, far from obscuring our identity, often reflect our deeper natures, granting us the freedom to let loose and submit ourselves to our libidinal impulses. 

Far from obscuring our human nature, the monster is a creature that, more than anything, reveals. Derived from the Latin monstrum and connected to the verbs monstrare (to reveal) and monere (“to warn”), the monster breaks into our everyday understanding of the world, threatening to disturb and disrupt the established hierarchies by its very presence. The monster comes to the world as a messenger of divine revelation and judgment, simultaneously filling us with awe and terror. Although many of us might not think of it, the monster has an intrinsically religious dimension to it (an argument I made extensively in my undergraduate thesis). Such a connection between the power of religion and the monstrous unsettling of the human subject has been explored through a wide range of pop-culture media, most recently in Mike Flanagan’s horror series Midnight Mass. There is a long and complex relationship between the religious experience and the uncanny feeling of horror that combines terror with awe and fascination. Investigating the monsters that haunt the pages of the Jewish and Christian scriptures in his 2002 book Religion and its Monsters, professor Timothy K. Beal (Florence Harkness Professor of Religion at Case Western Reserve University) calls us to rethink how horror and religion are intimately intertwined. 

Overview:

The book is divided into two main sections. The first addresses the monsters that arise in ancient Near East and Biblical religions, paying special attention to the Leviathan and Behemoth. The second section examines horror within popular culture and the theological dimensions they possess (ie. Dracula, Godzilla, Cthulhu, etc). Accordingly, the first chapter recounts the stories of Enuma Elish and the cosmic horror of the Baal-Anat Cycle. Utilizing Mircea Eliade and Rudolf Otto’s conceptual frameworks, Beal argues that, far from these origin myths simply reflecting the establishment order out of the preexisting chaos, these stories show that “these chaos monster gods are part of a divinity that is deeply divided within itself about the future viability of the cosmos and of life as humankind knows it. Religion, in this context, is not simply cosmic, as is often asserted by modern theorists of religion. Rather, it is a locus for negotiating between the cosmic and the chaotic, which are, paradoxically, both interdependent and mutually exclusive” (22). 

In investigating these paradoxical elements of monsters in Biblical literature, Beal examines the depictions of the Leviathan and Behemoth in the Psalms. The different roles of the Leviathan in these various Psalms, Beal argues, reflect the socio-political conflicts between Israel, Egypt, and Babylon in which these Psalms were written. In the psalms of orientation, the world is one of stability and order, while the psalms of disorientation are filled with lament, chaos, and violence. The competing depictions of the Leviathan in each of these psalms (and the playfulness/violence that they possess) reflect the conditions of ancient Israel at different times (times of peace and stability vs. conflict and exile). 

In Chapters Three and Four, Beal continues his analysis of the Leviathan within the context of Job’s suffering. Beal argues that the book of Job reveals the exhaustion of wisdom and meaning within suffering, as the typical formula of “righteousness = blessed” is turned on its head. Job identifies with the Leviathan and chaos monsters, invoking an inversion of creation by lamenting the day he was born, proclaiming “let there be darkness.” In the suffering of Job, we see destruction and destitution, not for its own sake, but so that something new can be reborn. This is followed by God’s response to Job, as God identified closely with the Leviathan and chaos monsters. God, instead of reigning over the chaos and establishing order, instead “out-monsters” the monsters and Job, seeming to revel in the chaos. Here, Beal argues that we reach a dissolution of meaning within suffering, as God occupies an awe-inspiring, terrifying, and paradoxical place in relation to the category of the monstrous. 

Accordingly, since monsters in these traditions cannot be reduced to a single, holistic meaning, Chapter Five looks to the Talmud and Midrash texts of the Rabbinic tradition to read out various ways in which the rabbis grappled with these monsters (including a lengthy discussion of whether the Leviathan and Behemoth qualify as kosher). Finally, to round out the first section in Chapter Six, Beal examines the monstrous dragon in the Apocalypse of John (Revelation). Beal explores the origin of the Devil as a singular personification of evil within the text, as well as how the imagery of the Apocalypse of John has survived through the centuries, manifesting in various pop culture images today. 

Moving away from religious texts, the second section of the book examines the role of monsters within popular culture and how they often carry religious connotations. In Chapter Seven, Beal analyzes the image of the Leviathan in the early modern project of statecraft. Beal argues that the modernist project of the Enlightenment can be viewed as an attempt to establish order after the chaotic events of the seventeenth century (assassinations, regicide, executions, the Thirty Years War, etc). Accordingly, Beal examines Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan, a sovereign monarchical creation that ensures the rule of law through sole hegemonic power. As such, the Leviathan of Hobbes ensures that “the terror of social chaos is overcome only by the greater terror of this one sovereign lord” (94). 

Shifting the horizons of the monstrous eastward, Chapter Eight examines the role of colonialism in making monsters out of other people’s gods. Beal uses the example of the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz and their connection to Hinduism (namely Hanuman) as a way to begin thinking about the lasting effects of 19th-century colonization and the demonization of Hindu gods in various travelogues. Here, Beal makes a distinction between monsters of orientation (the monstrous gods of the Other serving to reify one’s religious norms) and monsters of disorientation (the monsters revealing the strangeness of one’s tradition by critiquing, ungrounding, and unsettling one’s norms). Both of these views (Demonization vs. Romanticism) are still caught in the long and pervasive history of colonialism, which Beal is quick to note. 

In Chapter Nine, Beal analyzes the figure and narrative of Dracula. Using the work of Mary Douglas’s Purity and Danger, Beal posits Stoker’s Dracula as a story of English purity and the contaminating danger of the Other that pollutes and defiles the purity of Victorian England. Dracula, for Beal, serves as a figure of the Other within the guise of sameness. The figure of Dracula thus carries with him both a primitive, strange Christianity and a plethora of Jewish stereotypes, reflecting great anxiety within Victorian English culture (especially in regards to immigration and anti-Semitism). Beal also examines the role of blood within religious traditions as both a taboo and a central component of sacrifice. 

In Chapters Ten and Eleven, Beal takes us to the movies as he examines the role of cinema-going as a modern-day ritual. He examines the films of Nosferatu, Dracula, and Metropolis, arguing that these films “may be viewed as a conjuring and banning, an exorcism, in this sense: in it the monstrous is conjured and captured on screen in order that it may be eradicated from the fantasies and nightmares of its viewers” (152). He also notes of Metropolis’s ideological underpinnings, which sentimentally seeks to unite capital (brains) and labor (hands) under the guidance of the heart, thus rendering revolutionary rage impotent (a point all the more chilling in its interwar German context). 

Beal also tackles the genre of eco-horror, the destruction of the environment, and the relationship between science and the monstrous in the films Alien, Godzilla, and Jaws. According to Beal, as the modern scientist attempts to naturalize and demystify the monster, the horrific and terrifying aspects of the monster are also removed. Beal dips his toes into a bit of film theory as he examines the cinematic techniques (such as camera angles and shots that suture together the perspectives of subject and object) in various monster films. Once the monster is fully revealed within the frame, it is no longer mysterious and unknown and is therefore also doomed. 

Finally, Beal ends the book by looking at the work of H.P. Lovecraft and the genre of cosmic horror. Beal points out how Lovecraft has become a kind of saint within horror subcultures and how horror fans have attempted to construct a cohesive Cthulhu mythos of monster gods from Lovecraft’s corpus. Lovecraft’s legacy continues to be felt within film and music, with several writers and lyricists taking inspiration from Lovecraft’s work. For Beal, “Lovecraft’s writings are steeped in an American theological discourse of terror inherited from Jonathan Edwards, Cotton Mather, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and others. Indeed, Lovecraft is a theologian without God” (184). Through all of these examples, Beal argues that despite the monster’s often politically and religiously conservative function (ie. the monster warns us of vices to avoid and punishes that which challenges the established social order), “our desire for the monstrous other often undermines this purpose. It draws us away from home and over the edge” (196). 

Commendations: 

Religion and its Monsters is immensely accessible and packed with some great insights. The writing is not overly academic and flows nicely as each chapter builds on the previous. In addition, each chapter is relatively short, yet highly informative. The first section of the book is exceedingly strong, as Beal describes the various ways in which monsters appear in ancient Near East and Biblical literature. Beal brings his solid foundation in ancient culture and Biblical literature and makes the content easy to grasp. Beal is well-versed in this material and he strikes a delicate balance between describing the texts simply, yet retaining a level of nuance and complexity. This makes for an exceedingly quick, yet valuable read for the average person who is interested in the intersection of religion and horror. In addition, Beal manages to subtly sneak in some deeper theory now and again, but he makes it relatable by incorporating examples from film, literature, and music. Although some of these examples are a bit dated (the book was written in 2002), it is still immensely readable and easy to understand. As such, this text would be great for an introductory undergraduate Religious Studies course.

Furthermore, when it comes to the complexity and nuance of religious “Othering” in a colonial context, Beal pulls off his analysis with remarkable clarity and tact. He rightly points out the colonial roots of both demonizing and romanticizing Eastern religions, and how both are caught in colonialist narratives regarding the Other. Beal also rightly points out the conservative underpinnings of monster narratives, as the monster often represents a transgressive challenge to the established social order, and must therefore be eliminated. Beal emphasizes that these monsters often reflect the anxieties that a particular society possesses, and their appearance in literature and film are ways in which the society attempts to articulate and disarm their anxiety. While I think there is more to the monster on a psychoanalytic reading (the role of neurosis, hysteria, projection, splitting, etc), Beal's analysis is still an immensely helpful starting point for investigating these deeper questions. 

Finally, while the second half of the book is not quite as cohesive as the first, Beal’s strongest chapters here include his comprehensive analysis of Bram Stoker’s Dracula and his and a great overview of the ideology at play in Nosferatu and Metropolis. Here, Beal shows off his talent for multidisciplinary analysis, as he utilizes history, theology, and anthropology (namely, Mary Douglas’s famous text, Purity and Danger) to systematically argue for the conservative ideology within Dracula's narrative. 

Likewise, Beal also points out the liberal ideology that pervades Metropolis, which attempts to render real revolutionary impulses impotent and reconcile labor and capital. Thus, the film serves as a defense of capitalism in an increasingly fragile Weimar Republic, which eventually gave way to fascist authoritarianism. While, admittedly, this was a bit of a tangent from the main focus of religion and monsters, I still found it to be a sharp and useful analysis (admittedly, I also minored in history, focusing on German history as well as Judaic, Holocaust, and Peace Studies, so Metropolis was required watching in several of my classes). While Beal occasionally meanders into loosely related tangents from time to time throughout the book, they are still almost always interesting and well worth the time. 

Critique: 

On the other hand, while Beal writes with remarkable depth and accessibility about religion, the book is almost exclusively focused on the Judeo-Christian traditions (except for a brief chapter on colonialism and Hinduism). The first section of the book is tightly written and brilliantly builds in a natural progression. The second half of the book, however, is much more disjointed as Beal loosely connects pop-culture monsters to religion. While some of his examples in this section are strong (such as his chapter dedicated to the figure of Dracula), some others are much more threadbare. For example, Beals’ utilization of the flying monkeys and the Wizard of Oz and their connection to the Hindu figure Hanuman was a bit of a stretch. To be fair, I also understand that it was an attempt to use a relatable example as a jumping-off point for his discussion of colonialism, so I can’t fault him too much. 

Furthermore, while this book serves as a useful introduction to the relationship between religion and the monstrous and is great for introductory readers, the specialist will find not much new ground covered. In terms of theory, Beal introduces Otto’s concept of the numinous as Mysterium tremendum et fascinans (mysterious terror and fascination) and Eliade’s concept of the Eternal Return, which are frameworks that I also heavily utilized in my undergraduate work. While Beal introduces Eliade and seems to lightly critique this framework, he also utilizes much of his thought. Following Eliade, these concepts rely on the opposing dualities of the sacred and the profane (ie. cosmos and chaos) as these mythic structures repeat themselves through history (a concept that shares much with the works of Jung and Campbell). Though confessedly, I’ve since moved to a more Lacanian analysis over a Jungian archetypal framework (more cynical readers could say I’ve simply traded one charlatan for another), Beal doesn't address the issues of Eliade’s thought (not to even mention Eliade’s troublesome personal biography). 

This critique also applies to Beal’s final chapter on H.P. Lovecraft. While Beal seems to fawn over Lovecraft’s work and influence, there’s not even a passing acknowledgment of Lovecraft’s beliefs in Anglo-Saxon superiority. While I also deeply appreciate his work and find it fascinating, I also think that ignoring these more troubling aspects of Eliade’s and Lovecraft’s works is a missed opportunity. This is especially true since Beal rightly recognizes the conservative impulse that runs throughout much of monster literature. While Beal hints that monsters can have a more radical impulse, he does not dive too deeply into this line of inquiry. While this can be a useful avenue to pursue further, it still left the book feeling a bit rushed and incomplete toward the end. 

Conclusions:

Overall, Religion and its Monsters is an incredibly useful book that introduces the reader to the fascinating connections between religion and horror. While specialists in this field may find sections of this text redundant or conventional, anyone new to this niche topic will find much to savor in this short, but meaty book. As such, this book is a perfect primer for students in the fields of religious studies or media studies, or for anyone who wants to learn more about the fascinating commonalities between monsters and the religious texts that they haunt (and are haunted by them, in turn).