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“X-Men” comics have challenged us politically, existentially, and more recently, spiritually. A lot of us have been talking about our religious upbringings and the theological implications of Jonathan Hickman’s “House of X,” “Powers of X,” and all of the “Dawn of X” books. In light of Passover, Easter, Mid-Sha’ban, and the other springtime holidays, we thought now would be a great time to talk about ways in which “X-Men” has made us consider our beliefs.
For more discussion on the issues discussed here, check out our regular coverage in Mutantversity!
On Religion and X-Men
“X-Men” #7 opens on the mundane, the physical, zooming into Melody Guthrie waking up on Krakoa in a bed of bubbles, complaining of an inability to sleep well. It closes on the extraordinary, the spiritual, of Aero flying after so many years tethered to the ground, Nightcrawler’s words next to her smiling face: “I think I need to start a mutant religion.”
What do these nine words mean for Kurt and for Krakoa writ large? Informed by the journey Hickman and Yu takes us on throughout these 20-some-odd pages, what can we infer from its placement here at the end about the reasoning behind this statement? Moreover, what does Kurt’s questioning versus Cyclops’s willful ignorance versus Melody’s wholehearted embrace of the ritual of Crucible tell us about it’s purpose in Hickman’s plan and the uneasy feeling that it leaves in the pit of my stomach?
Before we get to the external, of me, the writer, let’s talk text, and of structure.
The structure of “X-Men” #7 is interesting. We open and close on Melody/Aero, signaling that she is the most important person in this issue, yet she is not our focal character. Much of the issue is focused on Cyclops and his dialogs with Wolverine and Nightcrawler, though it should be noted that when Crucible begins, she is front and center. Yet even then, she is relegated to a subservient position to Apocalypse. This is intentional, as Crucible is a trial and only through overcoming a trial from a position of inferiority to a position of superiority is it completed, but it still is odd that throughout it, [–A–] (Apocalypse from here on since I cannot type in Krakoan and my attempt just looks silly,) Nightcrawler, and Cyclops remain the most vocal and the most present, with Melody relegated to responses.
This begs the question: why are we not firmly in Melody’s perspective, experiencing Crucible as she is?
One argument is that it is a ritual, plain and simple. The one administering the ritual is never understood to be the most important part, they are simply the most knowledgeable in its rules and a facilitator for the true focus, the recipient. Sure, a priest knows the words of the eucharist and administers the crackers and wine but it is not for their benefit, rather for the benefit of the one consuming.
However, it stands out.
To take an example of the opposite, consider the first rebirth in chapter nine of “House of X” and “Powers of X.” We saw these resurrections from the perspective of the mutants involved. We stayed with them through the questioning of Marvel Girl, of Cyclops, and of Penance. The art places them in a position of strength and godliness to the other mutants. Sure, we cut back to Professor X and Cyclops chit-chating, but they are unimportant. They do not question, they do not push. It is a scene in service of a different narrative.
We were insiders, experiencing, rather than outsiders, watching. With Crucible, we are with Cyclops and Nightcrawler, both mutants, yes, but both outsiders to the ritual, who remind us with each panel that there are big, existential questions about their new status quo that have yet to be satisfactorily asked or answered, some of which are further deepened and complicated by the solution of Crucible to the problem of preventing (a possible) mass suicide of those harmed and de-powered by M-day. To use the parlance of the issue: to repair those who were broken. More on that in a bit.
Continued belowWhy are we now on the outside instead of on the inside? What is it about Crucible that is more conflicting than the general process of rebirth and the accompanying ceremony that came after with Storm? Hickman poses these questions for us as an in to Nightcrawler’s thoughts on Krakoan society but also as a way to signal to us the audience that, unlike in “House of X” and “Powers of X,” the time for questions has arrived. The time to ask is upon them and if they do not ask, they risk falling into blind obedience to whoever has the loudest voice and the flashiest solution.
This brings me back to Nightcrawler and the title of the issue: ‘Faith.’ For Kurt, a devout Christian, Krakoa represents a dream come true and a theological nightmare, not in the same way that Eternity or The Living Tribunal, both entities that are embodiments of conceptual ideas that exist outside of and also OF the universe, might be to the idea of a singular, even greater capital-G God, but instead to the purpose of heaven and the execution of God’s will. Because if immortality is no longer the purchase of heaven and hell, “then what lure is eternity?”
He struggles and worries and has questions that come not from Crucible itself but from the process it is meant to bottleneck. Christianity is built, fundamentally, on the idea that Earth is not the ultimate goal. It is a trial, a place to illuminate our souls and determine where they will spend the infinite. Sure, it’s 100,000,000x more complicated than that, and it is not an idea I personally place purchase in, but if we believe in immortal souls, if we believe in an original sin we are meant to overcome in order to go to heaven or hell, and we believe that our actions on Earth are meant to assist others in going to one place or the other, then Earth is nothing more than a Crucible: a bottleneck for reward or punishment.
Rebirth breaks this.
Earth is no longer a bottleneck but instead the whole bottle. It is the end-all, the be-all, and so the ultimate purpose of our actions is up for grabs. The rules have changed and so have the rulemakers and this scares Kurt because it’s clear to him that no one is considering the theological ramifications of rebirth when they create the rituals that govern them. Apocalypse came up with Crucible because to him, strength is through spitting in the face of death, saying fuck you to the ones who would deny your mutantness, and taking it back, inch by bloody inch.
It is a religious argument, rather than a practical one. You can see it in the way Apocalypse conducts the ceremony. He taunts, berates, and questions Melody to see if she understands what Crucible is asking of her. He wants to know why she wants to be a mutant once more and makes clear that she must earn her death.
The Church has long held that suicide is a sin, Dante even dedicates an entire ring in the seventh circle of hell to it, yet they say dying in holy combat, even on a suicide run, is enough to get into heaven. It is a religious argument, rather than a practical one. For Apocalypse, then, why is suicide bad but death by combat not? Both are deaths and both result in resurrection as per the laws of Krakoa, yet one is taboo and the other accepted. For the council, it may be a practical matter. It may be the same for Apocalypse too, who has a very ancient view of life and how it should be lived, what gives it value, and what violence’s purpose is, therefore what violence is constructive and communicative, and what is destructive. This becomes less important when you consider that because he is old, he knows the power of ritual and ceremony and creating tradition, which becomes often-unquestioned religion after a generation or two.
What’s particularly important to note about Crucible is that it is both a baptism and confirmation of sorts. Now, I may not know my Christianity that well, and it is denomination specific, but broadly speaking baptisms are symbolic of dying and being reborn with Christ while confirmations are an acceptance of Him willing, often involving the adoption of another name. But Crucible is a baptism of blood and fury, done willingly yes, but still violent and forceful. There is only Apocalypse’s way and in order to reach the other side, you must pass his test to satisfaction. It feels very weird to be writing this as a Jewish person, by the by, but I will soldier on.
Continued belowMoreover, as we are shown prior to Crucible, Exodus is already crafting a religious narrative to justify three things: Crucible, hatred of humans, and a devil. It is a deeply religious story, and an insidious one. It is of a pretender, one Wanda Maximof, the Scarlet Witch, one who the children recoil in fear from as if it were a shanda to say her name, who stole their powers, the things which make mutants, mutants, from one million of their kind. Why? Because “that’s what they do — the worst of them — they decide what’s right for all of us.”
Rejecting her is the reason they have Crucible, why it is necessary to do, and why it is the only way to reclaim who they once were. It is a narrative that reinforces itself and makes it hard to argue with. Who wants to be the one to argue on the side of the devil?
Nightcrawler sees this and recognizes the threat it poses to Krakoan society. Not because there is anything inherently wrong with Crucible’s goals or, it can be argued, its methods, but because the foundation is built on spiritual sand. It may remain solid for a while but eventually the sands will shift and that which is built upon it will be knocked off balance, topple, or worse, be swallowed by that which was meant to sustain it. It is a ritual in search of a meaning, evoking other, familiar rituals in its language and process without the theological considerations beneath those, and Kurt wants to fix that. He wants to give mutants greater answers to larger questions and provide a framework that reinforces the aims of Crucible with love at the center rather than hate and anger and fear.
He once sought that in Christ. What, or who, does he seek it in now?
This theological discussion, however, belies the more troubling implications of Crucible, namely, the practical, physical, societal ones, exactly as Hickman planned.
Who gets to be resurrected? What does it mean to be worthy? What is “whole” and what happens to those who do not wish to be “whole?” Does that end up creating a society that shuns former mutants who do not wish to regain their powers? Or what about those who do but find Crucible distasteful? Will they be shunned? Seen as lesser? Or people to be pitied? And, most importantly, who decides all this? Who makes the rules that say what must be accomplished in Crucible and what happens if the arbiter becomes corrupt or fanatical?
These are not questions being asked as yet in the text and since Crucible is to be central to the resurrection protocols for those forcibly converted on M-day, those lack of questions from the community is worrying. Consider this. If you have an overly strict guardian, then the burden of proof becomes too high, even for those who want to join, and especially for those who never wanted to leave in the first place. It goes from a ritual of self-fulfilment and acceptance back into the community and instead into a gate, arbitrarily and capriciously refusing entry to any deemed “unworthy.”
When Nightcrawler asks “why shouldn’t they be able to be the very best version of themselves — or perhaps an even better version?,” and Cyclops counters with, yes but what happens when “the best version of themselves would be being reborn in a copy of Magneto’s body with his powers,” we are seeing this train of thought play out, though from the opposite extreme. They do not, however, question the premise of Crucible in terms of its practicality. Sure, Nightcrawler questions the theological ramification and this exchange questions bits of the resurrection protocols, but it quite conspicuously fails to interrogate Crucible’s weakest points.
This is clearly by design. For one, it’s not the purpose of the issue, as this is more about the title: “Faith.” If these questions were meant to be asked and discussed, Hickman could have had Cyclops discuss them with Wolverine. It’s clear that Cyclops has misgivings about Crucible, and goes to Wolverine to discuss the practical ones but he is shut down, even though Wolvie shares his own misgivings, and instead sends him to talk it over in more abstract terms with Nightcrawler. He accepts the decisions made by the council, even if he disagrees, and so for him, the matter is settled and the practical implications are ones they’ll have to deal with, though the spiritual ones can be hashed out by those not of the council.
Continued belowWhen I first read this issue, Crucible filled me with a deep distrust. It was visceral and I felt deeply uncomfortable with it in much the same way Wolverine seemed to here. Many of the reasons above applied, yes, but I felt the same about the scene from “House of X” and “Powers of X.” Not everyone felt this way. Many saw both as revelatory and bought into it, exactly as presented, which is not a judgment. We buy into story elements all the time, be it the existence of people who can shoot laser beams out of their eyes or the fear of loss in a character we’ve spent hours with. But I couldn’t. Why was this?
It can’t just be the intentional seeds of doubt planted by Hickman in “X-Men” #7 because I felt the same about “House of X” and “Powers of X,” and, as I showed early, the presentation in those issues couldn’t be more different. It has to be something else, something not of the text and instead, of me, and to get into that, we have to back-up a little and get a bit personal.
Quick background: I am Jewish. I was raised Jewish, and I am proud of my heritage. I’ve made no secret of that before (see, like, 12 paragraphs ago) but I struggle with my faith. I question a lot, even about things that seem fundamental, though I would make the argument that Judaism is built upon the idea of always questioning, always wrestle with G-d and Their Emissaries and Their laws to make them meaningful. Therefore, I find that when there are no questions being asked, when redemptive violence is the answer to the question of what underpins our society, I start to worry.
This is why I spent so much time just before on why the lack of practical questions was worrying, despite the glut of theological ones. This is also one reason why the initial ritual from “House of X” and “Powers of X” struck me as odd: almost no one is questioning these rituals. Again, Wolverine, Cyclops and Nightcrawler all express their own fears and questions surrounding Crucible but they are in the minority and it is a very limited amount of critical thought.
However, I also realize that I have to take a step back because I am not viewing these rituals as an insider, I am viewing them as an outsider.
In “X-Men” #7 and “House of X” and “Powers of X,” we see that the rituals are wholeheartedly embraced by the mutants, even if the cracks are starting to form in the shape of the trio above. I won’t argue it’s cultish as others have because, well, it’s not, though religions and cults share foundational elements; it’s why so many cults appear to be religions and share characteristics. However, I can see why one might make the argument because, to an outsider, many rituals we take for granted as normal seem outlandish and strange.
Take for example the holiday of Sukkot in Judaism. We built temporary structures, often of scaffolding and branches and leaves, to live in for seven to eight days. During that time, during our prayers, we walk around in circles, chanting about being delivered from our enemies and how great G-d is, all while wrapped in prayer shawls and carrying four types of plant branches and a fruit and shaking it in six directions. It sounds ridiculous when I describe it, but when you’re doing it, and if you’ve been in the culture, it’s the ritual of the season.
Is this also the case with Crucible and the “How Do I Know You?” ceremony? Perhaps.
For me outside, it is strange and foreign, an unknown quantity that does not line up with my own worldview and so it produces a knee-jerk, gut reaction to how off it all seems. Upon further exploration and consideration, however, it becomes less so. The ritual of rebirth is meant to show comradery, to demonstrate that the one who came out is the same as the one who died, and to do so in a ritualistic manner. I don’t know if they kept this up, and it appears that they did not as the ceremony served its purpose. But if it did, the bones are there for a ritual that gets passed down, taking on new meanings as the generations go by.
Crucible, too, may suffer from my prejudices, viewing it from a starting point of “this is wrong” rather than as something different. It is meant to confirm that you want to rejoin the culture, that you remember what it is like to be a mutant, and that you still stand up proudly. It is a strange ritual but this is a strange world and to dismiss it out of hand is not very Jewish. To question one’s own uncomfortability is just as vital as questioning the thing which makes you uncomfortable. However, if a new idea is not questioned by those who practice it, especially if it is new, then to be wary is justified, for bad ideas often bloom from flowers that grow hidden and uninvestigated.
