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ESSAYS

The Kasper Collection of Contemporary Biblical Art offers more than visual impact. It invites reflection.

To enrich the viewer’s experience, we present two companion essays: one offering a broader cultural and historical framework for the works, and another highlighting the artist’s perspective and creative process.

Together, they provide context for the Kasper Collection while encouraging deeper engagement with Western Christian art and its ongoing dialogue with teaching, outreach, and contemporary life.

Book of Changes

Chapter Nineteen of the Book of Genesis contains two disturbing stories.

By Dr. Anthony Alioto

A pair of messengers (mal’akhim in Hebrew) come to the city of Sodom in the evening. Lot, Abram’s nephew, a stranger in town, is sitting at the gate. He invites the two men home for the night.

A crowd gathers. Bring the strangers out, they shout, so that we may “know them.” Lot offers the mob his two daughters who have “known no man.” No, this will not do. How dare this man, a stranger in town, set himself over us, say the men of Sodom.

The messengers warn Lot of the imminent destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Lot escapes with his two daughters and his wife. But his wife, turning around to witness the destruction, becomes a pillar of salt. Scholars suggest that this may be an etiological story, that is, a story to account for a rock formation that resembles a human figure. At the same time, it recalls an ancient taboo against looking back when fleeing from a place of doom (see Robert Alter, The Five Books of Moses, 1996).

The annihilation of the two cities echoes Noah’s flood, except here it rains celestial fire. Thinking their world has ended, Lot’s two daughters get their father drunk and commit incest to continue their people’s existence. The narrator does comment on the act, only saying that this is the origin of the Moabites and Ammonites of “our day.” Those two peoples will become enemies (see Matthew Ballou’s The Rape of Lot by his Daughters in the Kasper Collection of Contemporary Biblical Art).

Questions arise.

Does the Lord (adonai in the Hebrew) condemn homosexuality (sodomy) as many today would like to think? Until Leviticus, the Bible does not say. It may be more fruitful to ask what ancient people heard in the story of Sodom and Gomorrah?

In the previous chapter of the Bible, Abram encounters three men at Mamre. They are strangers. He offers them hospitality. One happens to be the Lord himself. The other two are mal’akhim (messengers). They are strangers, yet Abram welcomes and feeds them.

You never knew if the stranger was a god.

Besides violating the ancient rule of hospitality, the men of Sodom ignored this ancient lesson. Strangers are not to be abused is the ethic. That a stranger may be a god in disguise is common sense. Much later, in the New Testament Book of Acts, Paul and Barnabus are mistaken for Hermes and Zeus by the people of Lystra.

The purity code in Leviticus labels homosexuality an abomination (to ‘evah), a moral pollution. In ancient Israel, the moral pollution of the sinner also included Israel itself. In a similar way, in the story of Onan, Onan fails in his duty to his family and Israel by refusing to be a sexual proxy for his dead brother, which is a legal obligation. The act of “spilling his seed” (incorrectly identified as masturbation) is not condemned in-and-of-itself. Rather, Onan has failed in his moral duty to family and Israel (see Matthew Ballou’s A Spilling of the Seed in the Kasper Collection).

Reap the Whorl

Reflections on The Kasper Collection of Contemporary Biblical Art

By Daniel Otto Jack Petersen, PhD

Prelude

A man walks into an art exhibit and exclaims:

“Deconstructed Christ on a Cross! What the hell have we here?”
It is a large room and he is the only occupant at the moment.
His words echo back to him: “Hell! Here!”

Answer: this is anti-Christofascist art. There are too many colors, too many perspectives, too many Christs and religious variations to fit within (white) Christian nationalism. The collection teems with religious diversity and is capacious enough to host it all.

It just so happens Timothy Morton (they/them) is talking about fascism in their latest book, Hell: In Search of a Christian Ecology (Columbia University Press, 2024). Morton plays with the idea of hell in fruitfully obfuscating ways. Drawing on William Blake, they say that Earth is Hell and that there are two opposing iterations of Earth-Hell: that of the “demonic angels” and that of the “angelic demons”. Morton advocates for the latter.

I agree with Blake: we do live in Hell, the demonic angel version of Hell. So how do we start to live in Hell, instead? How do we get the demonic angels off our backs? How do we start to live in a Hell of angelic demons? Of good people whose goodness is exactly a feel of demonic, of incomplete, of sin? (Morton 2024: 16, all italics in original)

As the book’s subtitle indicates, this is in part an ecological series of questions:

As I write this paragraph, the Supreme Court of the country that exported its KKK values to Hitler’s Germany is busy banning abortion, enforcing prayer in public and stopping the regulation of carbon dioxide. So how do we respond to global warming in opposition to fascism? Fasces (Latin) are bunches: in fascism one acquires meaning by belonging to a bunch, a gang. Fascism is a bunch of demonic angels imposing their horrible morality in the form of terrible violence. (42-43)

Morton then wryly remarks: “If the demonic angel Lucifer had fantasized about a religion that would fuck up Earth the most, he couldn’t have done better” (43).

This note of irreverence chimes with the collection’s own heterodoxies and heresies and even touches of polyvalent diabolism. For it is a “fucked up” religion that the works of art in this collection confront, subvert, exceed, sidestep, taunt, and reimagine. They move beyond the demonic angel version of Christianity but also remind us of the resources it already contained. As Morton notes:

Demonic angels think Earth ought to burn to a cinder so that Jesus Christ can return and execute numerous enemies. Jesus was not hostile to the physical realm. He gave his disciples bread and wine, which last time I checked were made from things one can find in a biosphere such as water and grapes and wheat and bacteria. He said these things from the biosphere were his body and blood. How much more ecology do you want in a savior of humankind? (43)

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