Did The Da Vinci Code Get it Right?

T. Richard Snyder

August 29, 2004

One of the great delights of the summer has been the reading of Dan Brown’s page turner that has been on the best seller list for over a year, sold over 6 million copies and is being translated into 40 languages. I found myself riveted to the book well past any sensible person’s bedtime. It is a surprising read because even those with limited or no interest in art history—of which the book abounds-- have been hooked. What is not so surprising about its popularity is the challenge it sets forth to the integrity of Christianity and of Roman Catholicism in particular. Over the past several decades, the church has deservedly come in for some serious criticism and this novel taps into the mistrust that many of us have felt.

The novel turns on the search for an ancient secret that powerful, conspiratorial forces go to great lengths to keep hidden. The central historical claim of the novel is that the patriarchal Church has suppressed the feminine aspect of the divine, which, among other things has led to a warped understanding of sexuality and hidden the fact that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene--who was not a prostitute as tradition has led us to believe but rather a Goddess--and their offspring continues to this day.

So I ask, did The Da Vinci Code get it right? Is Brown’s claim purely fictional or is it rooted in some solid interpretation of history? In answer to that, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news, for those who don’t want to believe the worst about the church, is that some of what Dan Brown sets forth is speculative fantasy and in several cases, dubious history (in particular related to the claims about Jesus marrying Mary Magdalene, and the role of the Council of Nicea in 325 and what preceded it). The bad news is that the suppression of the feminine divine has been far worse than the novel portrays. What the book sets forth is only the tip of the iceberg. The suppression is more extensive, has more ancient roots, and its consequences are far more serious than The Da Vinci Code develops.

The divine as feminine was common in many ancient religions and we find it within Judaism as well. Later Judaism has a significant emphasis upon Sophia which is usually translated “wisdom” in English. Sophia, or Wisdom, is portrayed among other things as the creator, co-creator and protector of Israel. She is spoken of variously as God, a Goddess or as one of God’s intermediaries. In a striking parallel to the claims made about the divinity of Jesus in the Gospel of John, the book of Proverbs speaks of her as being present with God before the foundation of the of the world. “When God established the heavens, I was there.” And in words reminiscent of Jesus’ claim to be the way the truth and the life, Sophia says in that same passage, “whoever finds me finds life.” But her role is never fully developed, is introduced quite late in Israel’s history, and she plays no significant part in the later rabbinic tradition. By the time you get to the New or Second Testament, Sophia has been relegated to the margins.

When you read the Bible carefully there is a surprising number of references to God as feminine. God is portrayed as the mother who comforts her children, as the giver of life who suffers the labor pains of birth, as the womb out of which creation comes, as the breasts that feed us the milk of life. Interestingly, in Hebrew, the word for compassion and mercy is the plural of the word for womb.

But despite the important claims about the feminine in parts of the scripture, and Jesus’ egalitarian treatment of women, somehow all this was lost, or twisted into something quite different.

Just two stories, one of which I may have shared with you before. In the Song of Deborah, the oldest song in the Bible, Deborah the judge is referred to as the Mother of Israel. And Jael is referred to in terms reminiscent of those used by the Church about Mary, the mother of Jesus “blessed are you among women”. These were indeed high accolades, won by the women for their heroic actions in overcoming an enemy led by General Sisera. When Deborah order her general, Barak, to battle the enemy general Sisera, Barak cowered and pleaded with Deborah to assist him. She agreed but warned that the glory for Sisera’s defeat would go to a woman. Barak concurred. Later, Sisera’s troups were routed, Sisera fled, and then was killed by Jael. The ancient song praises the heroism of Deborah and Jael. However, when you turn to the book of Hebrews, written hundreds of years later, in a litany of the great heroes of the faith--absent from the list are Deborah, the Mother of Israel and Jael “blessed among women”. Who is listed? You guessed it-- Barak.

A second story. Jesus, having traveled some distance was tired. As he sat resting, a woman poured expensive perfume over his feet and dried them with her hair. Some of the disciples were livid. She has wasted precious ointment that could have been sold and the money given to the poor. Jesus, instead, defended her, saying that she had done a beautiful thing. In fact, her act, he said, was so noteworthy that wherever the Gospel was proclaimed, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her. But what is her name? The striking thing is that no one bothered to record her name. The act may be remembered, but not the woman.

My point in tracing some of the biblical tradition is to point out that the place of the feminine in the picture we have of the divine has been systematically suppressed by those who wrote the history and controlled the religious order of things, whether Jews, early Christians, or as Brown says, the hierarchical Church. The suppression of the feminine is a far larger problem than simply that of the Roman Catholic Church.

The suppression of the feminine divine has been systematic, systemic, and sustained.

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The suppression has taken two forms: the cultural and the political. Both of these are lifted up in The Da Vinci Code.

Culturally the suppression of the feminine divine has been accomplished by hiding, discarding, or reinterpreting the metaphors and symbols that speak of God or the divine in feminine terms. Whatever we mean when we use the term God or the Divine, or Higher Power, we are speaking of a mystery. In order to speak of mystery we are forced to rely upon metaphors and symbols that express something of our deepest experiences. Metaphors, myths and symbols can never speak directly about mystery—they point to it obliquely, convey something of its power but only obscurely, but never, ever capture its fullness. And to treat them literally is to court absurdity. If I say I fell head over heels in love, you’d catch my meaning and rejoice for me. But if you treat my statement as literal, you’d probably rush me to the emergency room.

Metaphor is the language of mystery. Symbols are the art of mystery. Dealing with them is one of the things that gives The Da Vinci Code its power. As I mentioned, there are many metaphors and symbols for the divine. They are powerful because they convey the truth of our experience of life’s great mystery. In some cultures and at some times in history, those metaphors and symbols were exceedingly rich in their complexity and breadth. The feminine metaphors of God as womb, breast, bosom and lover are part of that fullness and richness. But in a male dominated religion, those feminine metaphors and symbols have largely been hidden and forgotten. The keepers of the language and art have seen to it that the cultural dimensions of the divine have been truncated. The various symbols and metaphors that are literally or figuratively buried in The Da Vinci Code’s fictional account are in keeping with the truth.

Politically, the suppression of the feminine divine has been accomplished by limiting or eliminating women as interpreters of the tradition and revealers of the truth. The origins of Israel and of the Jesus Movement were extraordinarily egalitarian in terms of both class and gender. In Early Israel some of the key political and religious leaders were women. The judges, several of whom were women, were akin to temporary kings. However, It was not long before the priesthood and royalty became dominated by men--and women were no longer allowed in the role of religious and political leaders. Similarly, in the Early Church many of the leaders were women—churches were housed in their homes and they were the acknowledged leaders of these fledgling communities. It was not long before they were told to be silent in church, be obedient to their husbands and assume a secondary role as supporters rather than leaders. Today, some churches still deny ordination to women, effectively eliminating their voices from the official and authorized language of the church or academy. Other churches have marginalized women so that their role is considered secondary and their voice therefore less important or authoritative. The Da Vinci Code’s portrayal of male dominance and women’s supression, however fictionalized it may be at points, is painfully accurate in its overall historicity. Interestingly, the book itself falls prey to this in some measure by portraying the female protagonist as more of a novice learner than her accomplished male counterpart.

Brown sets the issue in terms of a conspiracy. Again, I think the problem is much deeper and far more extensive than Brown develops. The problem is the result of more than a conspiracy. Certainly there have been conspiracies throughout history. Anyone who has followed the lead-up to our pre-emptive attack on Iraq should understand the possibility of conspiracy. But there is something far more insidious at work in the patriarchal control of the culture and power arrangements. The problem is that of an elite. An elite doesn’t even need to conspire—although it may. An elite serves its own cause by doing what is best for its members, whoever may be their representatives in power at the time. The privileges that have accrued to men from the suppression and oppression of women and the feminine divine have kept most of us from ever facing the devastating consequences of the status quo. So even those of us who may have always been quiet bystanders and silent beneficiaries share in the problem. Patriarchy has at time involved conspiracies. Most of the time, however, it simply has involved going with the flow.

So what? What if the feminine divine has been suppressed. Is that all that bad?

Let me suggest that the consequences of this suppression have been disastrous. By allowing patriarchy its full sway, we have reaped a whirlwind. In our male controlled nation, over 75% of the poor are women and children. Every 12 seconds a woman is physically abused. You may have seen the front page of the local paper this week that describes three horrifying incidents of such abuse right here in Waldo County. Throughout the world, the majority of women are treated as second class. Here at home, women continue to confront glass ceilings in most jobs (including the Church and Academy) and professional women earn about 70% of what their male counterparts earn. Despite educational achievements equal to a man, a woman predictably will receive substantially lower wages. Divorced women end up in poverty at a far greater rate than divorced me. And so it goes.

Just as debilitating as the economic and abusive consequences of patriarchy, but less obvious, are the losses we experience to the fullness of our humanity. Western forms of patriarchy have resulted in the loss or diminishment of many aspects that are critical to the wholeness of each of us, whether male of female. We have maximized competition at the expense of collaboration. We have substituted power over for power with. We have confused aggression with assertion. We have exchanged manipulation for honesty. Education largely serves to control rather than to nurture. Communication has become more monologue than dialogue. And each of us loses.

Beyond the stimulation offered by a good mystery, Brown’s book points us to the task that remains. It is critical for everyone’s healing and wholeness that the lost feminine be recovered. This recovery is as important for men as it is for women. The recovery that is necessary includes both the political and the cultural.

Politically, we need to restructure the power arrangements that have oppressed women throughout the centuries. Women’s power to decide, their right to be heard, freedom from want, protection from abuse, and the exercise of their full capacities all need to be secured through legislation that guarantees rights, education that empowers, enforcement that protects, and economic development that provides full security and meets basic needs. Some gains have been made in these areas but much remains to be done and the task will be extremely demanding and will take enormous commitment over the long haul.

Culturally, we need to re-imagine the divine. The mystery that we call God cannot remain locked into the dominant formulas of Jewish and Christian religion. When we lost the feminine images and symbols we reduced God to a distant, impersonal force—a supreme, controller and judge. In order to recover the fullness of the mystery of life we need to re-imagine what we have called God. If the heart of universe is primarily or only a stern judge we shall wallow in guilt and fear. If the source of life is primarily or only a controlling parent, we shall remain infantilized. If God is primarily or only an idea, we shall experience life only from the neck up. What the feminine metaphors offer us is a connection with the breadth of life’s experiences: the excruciation and exhilaration of birth; the warmth and nurture of being fed at the breast; the solace of being embraced. .

That is why I asked us to sing “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” after sharing our joys and sorrows. Strikingly, that hymn, written by a black man—like so many other songs growing out of the black experience—conveys a depth that touches most of us far more powerfully that what most of us have been exposed to in organized religion. When we are able to break out of the limits of the rigid, literalistic and impoverished language of patriarchal religion and are free to allow the power of other metaphors to engage us, we discover how deep and rich the mystery of life truly is.

It is no wonder so many have given up on God. We need to be able to re-imagine the world and the deepest mysteries of life in fresh ways.

This will not be easy. I personally find it difficult to break the power of the inertia that has carried most of us along throughout our lives. It is familiar and it is tempting to remain so comfortable. To engage in this task will be every bit as daunting as the search undertaken in the Da Vinci Code. There are no easy answers. Just as in the book, there will be many mis-steps. Just as in the book, we will need each other to find the way. That’s is what I appreciate most about this congregation and the U.U. denomination in general. Here is a community in which we are supported to take the risks of exploring the great mysteries of life. And, just as in the book, in the end, we will undoubtedly be surprised by what we discover.

It was a great thriller—that book. But grappling with the mysteries of life is even more of a thriller. When life ceases to be a mystery, when the challenge of discovering the unknown gives way to the unexamined assurances of the known, our spirits have already died. Then, rather than taking the risks of living, all that is left will be to content ourselves with watching life as spectators and voyeurs.

There may be much that The Da Vinci Code got wrong. But what it got right offers us the challenge to engage in the search for the fullness of the mystery of the divine. May we relish the challenge to discover the depths of the mystery of life, of the divine.