Chris Seay and Scott Erickson Explore Saintly Sinners in The Gospel According to LOST

When I was in high school, I took a course having to do with expressions of faith found in many facets of everyday life. Our teacher urged us to seek out forms of entertainment that were “spiritually stimulating,” and that phrase has stuck with me ever since. It’s a phrase I can readily apply to my most cherished stories, the ones I consider true epics of our time. Lord of the Rings. The Chronicles of Narnia. Harry Potter. And now, LOST. All use fantastical elements to explore deep theological themes, and they seem to come to many of the same conclusions - though, of course, with one season left to go, my favorite television show could throw me for a loop and end in a manner entirely inconsistent with my worldview. But given the journey thus far, I find that unlikely, and in any event, the questions the show generates may turn out to be just as important as the answers it provides.

That’s the view taken by Pastor Chris Seay, the author of The Gospel According to LOST. Seay is not the first to write a book on these lines; What Can Be Found in LOST is written from a comparable perspective but covers only the first three seasons. Frankly, I’m a little surprised it’s taken so long for someone to lay claim to this particular title, as similar tomes on the convergence pop culture and Christianity have filled shelves since Robert Short started the trend in 1965 with The Gospel According to Peanuts. I’m guessing that others may have held off in hopes of discussing the series as a whole; I wouldn’t be surprised if Seay released a new edition in a year or two taking the final season into account. But it makes sense for him to have published it now, when LOST frenzy is at such a high point and when there’s still so much room for speculation.

While What Can Be Found in LOST is very concerned with how Christianity and various other religions are presented in the show and lists dozens of specific references to particular theological themes, The Gospel According to LOST, like Short’s classic work on the lessons to be found in the comic strips of Charles Schulz, takes a more character-driven approach. LOST has introduced dozens of compelling characters; Seay puts most of his focus on 14 of them, assigning each individual (or, in two cases, couple) a patron saint status (usually tongue-in-cheek). To emphasize this portrayal, each of the featured castaways is depicted as a saint in a series of full-color paintings printed on glossy paper in the middle of the book. Black-and-white reproductions of these images herald most of the book’s chapters.

Though my brother, an art major, immediately proclaimed them “kitschy,” I think that these portraits, created by Scott Erickson (www.thetranspireproject.com), add a very cool visual element to the book. Each character is painted in the style of a religious icon, with a large yellow circle around the head serving as a halo. At the top is a Latin word, which fits with the Others’ reverence for that ancient language. Unfortunately, my Latin is pretty rusty, but I have a pretty good idea of what many of them mean. “Felix” is a nod to Hurley’s luck; “Pater” refers to the idea that Jacob is, in a sense, the father figure that most of the castaways so sadly lack. A little note in the back with translations might have been nice, but perhaps part of their purpose is to get us to do a little digging for the meaning on our own.

Each painting has a different background filled with objects relevant to that particular character. John, for instance, holds a knife, while a small wheelchair sits near the top of the paintings and the Smoke Monster looms in the background. Sayid gazes dolefully out from in front of an Iraqi flag, while a chicken is perched atop his halo as a reminder of his willingness to kill from an early age. Several other paintings contain an element indicative of violence, lest we forget that these “saints” have the capacity to destroy. A good example is Erickson’s painting of Charlie, not found in the book but viewable on his website; he holds Aaron in one hand and a Virgin Mary statue in the other, as if weighing whether he is more committed to Claire and her son or to his addiction. In the background, a fire blazes on the beach, a nod to a moment when, in an effort to do what he believes is right, Charlie resorts to an act that endangers many. His label reads “Quadrivium,” which as best as I can determine means “crossroads” each major character comes to at least one critical crossroads, but Charlie’s choices are presented in a particularly dramatic manner.

Charlie doesn’t get a chapter to himself in Seay’s book, but he is lumped together with Hurley in the “Blessed Losers” category. Both come to feel that they are cursed, though Seay suggests that their reactions are just as potent as the circumstances that seemingly bind them. Like many, he seems to suspect that Charlie put a little too much stock in Desmond’s predictions, leading him to doom himself instead of taking advantage of the tiny window of opportunity for escape that presented itself after he fulfilled his mission in the season three finale. Meanwhile, rather than believing that the Numbers have caused his troubles, he blames Hurley’s father for setting little Hugo down a path of self-loathing. He compares him to the Biblical Ishmael, saying both were essentially ditched by their fathers; it’s among the more tenuous connections he makes in the book, but it’s interesting nonetheless. I also appreciate that he passes along Damon Lindelof’s assertion that Hurley is the most “morally grounded” character on the show, citing as a prime example the fact that, unlike so many other castaways, when presented with a compelling reason for revenge, he refuses to resort to violence.

That’s certainly not the case for Kate, Patron Saint of Beautiful Killers; Sawyer (Kindhearted Con Men); Sayid (Tormented Humanitarians); or Ben (Dutiful Tyrants). In each of these chapters, Seay raises questions about the circumstances in which violence might be permissible, and about whether the killer alone should bear responsibility for actions that have communal consequences. He often reminds us that the castaways, as a group, are equally guilty of the crimes of which they accuse the Others. I can think of many examples beyond the ones he cites for such instances of violence (so frustrating, in part, because I thought it so likely that they would ultimately end up as allies); among the most troubling for me are Jack’s plan to blast as many Others into oblivion as possible before leaving the Island and Sun’s total lack of remorse over killing the Other holding her captive. In these and the cases Seay cites, there is always some justification for the violence. But he encourages readers to think deeply about the ramifications of such actions. At the same time, he stresses again and again that LOST is largely about redemption and shares his conviction that there’s hope for even those as murderous as Ben and Sayid.

Of course, I’ve always had a mildly alarming soft spot for Ben, so I was particularly interested in what Seay would have to say about him. I disagree slightly that Ben willingly swapped his daughter’s life for his own; in his convoluted mind, I believe that he really thought reverse psychology was the most likely road to saving Alex’s life, and that if he gave himself up Keamy would simply gun down everyone on the Island, including her. And it seems worth noting that Ben had been urging Alex to make for the Temple for days, and that if she’d listened to him the first time, the scenario might have played out much differently. I wouldn’t say that Ben is a man incapable of love. But I agree that he has formed very few genuine connections to other people in his life. In the aftermath of the Purge, Ben seems to feel genuine regret only for the death of Horace, who invited his father and him to the Island. In the wake of the Oceanic 815 crash, he bonds most closely with John, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to kill him - twice!

Ben is one of three characters Seay plugs into the Parable of the Prodigal Son. He discusses it, along with the parables of the missing coin and sheep, in a chapter entitled Jesus Wrote a Best-Seller, which comes in the middle of the book but feels more like an introductory chapter, as it has to do with Jesus’ use of stories to illustrate important concepts. He particularly focuses on these three tales found in Luke 15, as “Jesus seems to be the first storyteller to captivate large audiences... with a series of stories all about this abject quality of being missing or adrift or just plain lost.” In a general sense, one could argue that each of the castaways is like the Prodigal Son, walking a long, broken road to redemption. But he specifically focuses on Jack, the Man of Science (or Patron Saint of Wounded Healers), who flees the Island and his so-called “destiny” only to take a leap of faith and return “home,” where Seay speculates he will ultimately find a welcome akin to that in the parable. I hadn’t made that particular connection before, but like Seay, I compared Ben to the jealous brother in the story, who feels he has been a faithful, hardworking son for years and has never been properly acknowledged. I was delighted to see him also draw the comparison between the father in the story and Mr. Kwon, a truly exemplary father (a real rarity on LOST) and quite possibly my favorite flashback character.

Seay focuses very little attention on the religious background of most characters. While What Can Be Found in LOST includes a fairly exhaustive list of different religions and how they come into play on the show - a list that would be significantly expanded in light of the last two seasons - Seay rarely gets into the specifics of religious beliefs, with the exception of Eko (Patron Saint of Warlord Priests). Here, the two books have the most in common, as both mention Eko’s erroneous interpretation of the Biblical passage describing the Baptism of Jesus and both list the writings on his “Jesus Stick” and provide probable context. Many of Seay’s thoughts on Sayid’s violent streak apply to Eko, and while he maintains that the murder that led to Eko’s life of crime was an evil act, he admits that the situation is muddied since his actions likely saved his younger brother Yemi’s life, or by another token, allowed Yemi’s young soul to remain untained by such grievous sin. Here, Seay shares some startling facts about the conditions in many countries, including Eko’s homeland of Nigeria, that turn children into hard laborers, slaves or soldiers.

John Locke (Patron Saint of the Fatherless) essentially gets two extra chapters to himself; one focuses on the philosopher for whom he is named and another on the dichotomy between the Man of Science and the Man of Faith, but both ultimately focus on our favorite knife-wielding castaway and point out that his faith is not really as strong as one might think. Seay details some of John’s darkest moments while also illustrating that at times, his faith has been misplaced. I would agree with most of what he says about John in these extra chapters. I’m not so sure about his actual centric chapter, in which Seay first overstates his notion that John was initially untrustworthy and then seems to forget that for the second half of the fifth season, the confident leader who appears to be John is merely an imitator - and a very sinister one at that. In light of what the season five finale revealed, it seems inaccurate to talk of John finally stepping into a longed-for leadership position, and rather startling to compare his journey with that of Jesus (though, prior to the finale, seeing him as a Christ figure wasn’t as much of a stretch). I would argue that John is much too damaged a character to truly mirror Christ, but he does powerfully demonstrate the sorts of struggles many “Men of Faith” endure. Striking a balance between pragmatic Jack and meaning-starved John is gentle, tormented Daniel (Patron Saint of Mystic Scientists), who possesses a brilliant scientific mind but still concedes that, as Seay puts it, “at the limits of our understanding there must be something much greater at work.” It seems fitting to end the book with him in an effort to resolve this dichotomy at the heart of LOST - and it’s a nice bookend for me since he is my favorite character introduced in the second half of the series.

Seay shows different examples of love via Sun and Jin (Patron Saints of Discontented Fishermen) and Desmond and Penny (the Lovers). The former, he argues, are representative of the struggles most married couples face, albeit on a grander scale. Meanwhile, he compares Penny’s steadfast love for Desmond, despite his missteps, to God’s love for each “lost sheep.” Desmond, meanwhile, is the man struggling to come to grips with a love that he feels he does not deserve. They are, he says, “the truest example of love on LOST (aside from Rose and Bernard),” and he sees their story as comparable to the Biblical account of Hosea and Gomer. Incidentally, I loved the little shout-out to Rose but wish she had gotten more attention; she’s always struck me as an especially benevolent character, not to mention a woman of deep Christian faith, and her belief that Bernard was alive, despite all evidence to the contrary, is just as remarkable as Penny’s.

The enigmatic Jacob (Patron Saint of Fathers) gets a chapter to himself despite the fact that, up until the season five finale, it was by no means clear if he even existed. Nonetheless, it’s clear now that he’s been woven into the fabric of the show from the beginning. The question remains whether he is as good as he appears; after all, the Biblical Jacob may have received the blessing of his father and gone on to produce the 12 Tribes of Israel, but he was also a tricksy fellow who was as fallen as any of LOST’s castaways. Seay addresses these similarities while also speculating as to the true nature of Jacob based on what we’ve learned about him: that he has an enemy and many devotees; that he is apparently ageless; that people heed his lists; that he has guided the destinies of various castaways but believes in free will; and that he views history as moving toward something greater rather than simply repeating in cycles. As for me, I fervently hope that this final season will cement my affection for Jacob rather than undercutting it.

Seay’s book is a fairly slim volume; with fewer than 200 pages, it can be easily read in one sitting if you’re inclined to spend an afternoon poring over the mysteries of LOST. If you’re a devoted fan of the show, you’ve probably drawn a lot of these parallels before, especially if you’re approaching it from a Christian perspective. Still, Seay has compiled a commentary that is accessible and intriguing, and quotes at the beginning of the chapters and anecdotes sprinkled throughout the pages add something new to the conversation. While I think he could have gone into greater depth with his examples and perhaps included a few more characters - Claire, Boone, Shannon, Michael, Walt, AnaLucia, Libby, Frank, Charlotte and Miles are among those who barely rate a mention - there’s something to be said for keeping it short and sweet, and for limiting character studies to a dozen archetypes.

The Biblical quotes come from a new translation called The Voice, which seems to be along the lines of The Message, using extremely contemporary language in order to appeal to a modern readership. It’s certainly not as poetic as the King James, which is particularly noticeable in Psalm 23, but it is easily comprehensible. The book is mostly free of typographical errors, though one rather amusing one remains; an endnote explains that the quotes from the show “are taken from the author’s transcription of Seasons 1 through 7 of the LOST DVD series.” Perhaps he knows a little more than he’s letting on...

Seay has an engaging writing style, and he infuses his observations with humor that usually elicited a chuckle from me. Once in a while he indulges in hyperbole to make a point - every man who watches the show is in love with Kate; none of the castaways prefer John to Jack in season one - and some of his jokes fall a little flat, especially since he has a tendency to repeat himself in the context of a different chapter (okay, we get it; the female castaways wear a disproportionate number of tank tops). But the humor clearly comes out of a deep familiarity with the show, and most of it is genuinely funny.

Similarly, while I don’t always agree with every aspect of his character analyses, he makes many points that come from a true love of this ragtag band of flawed individuals. Some of his observations, such as singling out Sawyer getting glasses as a critical step toward his seeing himself as part of a group, struck me as especially astute. He maintains a light tone throughout the book, and while he holds up certain behaviors and attitudes as worthier than others and clearly is working from a Christian viewpoint, he rarely comes across as preachy. Ideal for church study groups or individual LOST fans who frequently mull over these topics on their own, The Gospel According to LOST is a great book to read in order to prepare for a deeper engagement with this fascinating show in its final season.