I read this book as a young teenager in the early 80’s and thought it was revolutionary. The basic thesis is that once upon a time, there was a Christian consensus in the west, and the arts benefitted from this. Artists were free to create works of lasting beauty, and they weren’t pigeonholed into “Christian Media.” Today, however, we’ve lost that consensus, and now what passes for Christian art is so utilitarian, agenda driven, and market tested that it can’t even legitimately be called art. Thus the title: Addicted to Mediocrity.
First published in 1981, the book at the time seemed like a brave stand against poorly produced Christian movies, the Christian music industry, and everything about TV in general, let alone “Christian television.” As a creative kid who loved to write poetry and draw pictures and act onstage, it was liberating to read that creative expression could be an end in itself, and didn’t have to simply be a means to get a message across. A work of art could be “Christian” simply because it was the best expression of an artist created in the image of a creative God.
But in the 40 years since its publication, either the book hasn’t aged well, or I haven’t. Reading it in my late middle age, now the tone just seems so pompous and self-righteous. Everything since the renaissance is awful, all Christian artists have sold out and all Christian consumers have settled. It is strident finger pointing, self-aggrandizing (of the dozen books listed in the “for further reading” chapter, three of them were written by his father), and, ultimately, unfair. There’s no mention of Spielberg in the movies section. Indeed, with the exception of George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola, all the filmmakers cited (Fellini, Polanski, etc) seem to be mentioned just so the author can point to how sophisticated he is. Like people who insist on calling it cinema. There’s no contemporary musicians referenced. Granted, a lot of “Christian music” really is as bad as Schaeffer says it is. But not all of it. There have been some original, boundary pushing artists in the last forty years, such as Rich Mullins, Charlie Peacock, Lecrae, and Derek Webb (yes, him too, even given where he is now) who happened to be Christians.
I would love to see this subject dealt with again, but maybe more charitably, and certainly less Anglo-centrically. I’d love an essay that considered hip hop for example— a legitimate art form that didn’t even exist in 1981. And a reconsideration of TV in the streaming age, when creative work can find a niche audience without having to test market for such broad appeal.
This one was a chore to get through the second time.