When I was in high school the anthem of my generation, the song which stirred the heart and made the energy flow, was “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana. I must have listened to it countless times over the years. Even now, far beyond the rebellious years of my youth, when that song happens to show up on my playlist it makes me feel, for a few moments, the same proud, vibrant angst I knew at a time when I didn’t really know anything.
There’s another song. It’s from the same period. It’s called “Smells Like Nivana,” and it’s by Weird Al Yankovic. Like most of Weird Al’s hits, it’s a parody. It’s a reflection of the original in melody, but with wildly different lyrics giving a wildly different message. While “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is a disjointed expression of teen angst, “Smells Like Nirvana” is a very direct commentary on Nirvana’s loud and often incomprehensible music. It’s written specifically to poke fun at this Seattle garage band, mocking them and the way they sing and play.
And I love it.
Don’t get me wrong. “Smells Like Teen Spirit” has deep personal meaning for me. It symbolizes a particular time in my life: the friends I had, the place I lived, and a bevy of experiences both good and bad. But “Smells Like Nirvana” does absolutely nothing to diminish that meaning. Sure, it’s a joke at the expense of the original song and the original artists. In every way, it ridicules something important to me. But that doesn’t mean I need to be offended. It doesn’t even exclude liking the parody for its humour and its tribute.
Both can exist, and my world is no worse off for it.
And boy, do I wish that was a perspective shared by more people. We seem to have reached a point in our society wherein “being offended” is somehow a valued state of being. Someone says or does anything which even appears to mock something, and in rushes the crowd, chanting righteous indignation and demanding cancellation of all that offends.
And, sadly, many Christians are right up there on the soap box. Most recently it has been the fiasco surrounding the Paris Olympics opening ceremonies, which included a scene which somewhat resembled Leonardo Da Vinci’s “Last Supper,” populated by drag queens. Christians all over the world began to steam at the ears. I couldn’t touch social media without slamming headfirst into someone expressing how this was an attack on all that is good and holy, and that the Olympic Committee should be ashamed of itself.
And I ask you: what is the point? Christian faith is mocked and derided left, right and centre. Sometimes it is done through jokes and ridicule. Sometimes we’re outright insulted. So what? I’m pretty sure our calling is to proclaim the Gospel to all people—not spend every waking minute getting all up in arms about every perceived slight that’s out there. People made fun of Jesus too. He endured it and kept doing the good he was sent to do, without distraction.
A few weeks ago I saw a copy of Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam,” but God had been replaced with the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Big whoop.
I don’t know if the Olympic presentation was intended as a joke at Christian expense or not. It doesn’t matter to me if the Da Vinci’s “Last Supper” is shown with drag queens, white Europeans, or the cast of “Friends”: it’s just a picture. It’s one artist’s interpretation of a Gospel event. Another artist may show it differently. I can accept the message as presented or reject it. And none of it has any bearing whatsoever on the grace given to me by the sacrifice of my Lord Jesus Christ. Even if, as Monty Python would have it, there was a kangaroo and a mariachi band!
It’s idolatry, whenever we move the value of our faith from what God has done into someone’s image of it. We can like the image. We can even allow the image to help us to consider and explore our faith. But the moment the image becomes so important that we replace love with outrage, then we’ve lost sight of what we’re meant to be doing.
Believe me, no matter how offended you are, no amount of indignation will silence mockers as much as any amount of love.
