The Salvation Story Pattern

Note: This material was originally published on CatholicExchange.com in two parts, on June 21, 2024 and July 5, 2024.

PART I

You may have been taught at some point in school that most stories follow a basic structure. Beginning, middle, end. Exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, conclusion.

You may also have heard of stories having different types of conflict: person versus person, or self, or society, or environment. These categories point to the fact that every story involves some form of relationship.

The Christian view of history also involves a story structure, which describes the arc of history in terms of God’s relationship with humanity. The Gospel, or “Good News,” is essentially belief in a story.

As a Catholic who consumes a lot of fiction, I gradually noticed a pattern existing in most stories, present across times and cultures, that reflects aspects of the Gospel story structure. The pattern I see goes like this: there is an initially positive relationship; the relationship is broken through a breach of trust or responsibility; one of the parties attempts to repair the relationship; a death and resurrection take place; the relationship is restored, and perhaps becomes even better than before.


The Original Relationship

In the backstory or beginning of the narrative, there is a harmonious relationship. It might be between individuals, or it might encompass entire families, communities, nations, planets, or planes of reality.
In the Abrahamic religions, this part of the story is the creation of the world, the garden of Eden, and our first parents. Adam and Eve lived in right relationship with God, with each other, and with nature.
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At some point, however, the harmony is interrupted, and the relationship breaks down. This is usually due to a mistake, failure, or betrayal. It could also be a death or some other tragedy. However the breakdown plays out, it has deep and lasting consequences. Trust is broken, the parties are alienated, and others can feel the ripple effects. In folklore and fiction, this is when Psyche betrays Cupid, when Claudius kills King Hamlet, when Scar kills Mufasa, when Maui steals the heart of Te Fiti.

In the Bible, this is when Adam and Eve break God’s commandment and eat the forbidden fruit. Their relationship loses its innocence as they realize they are naked—in other words, vulnerable to being misused and hurt. Instead of feeling safe and loved, they feel they must protect themselves from each other and hide themselves from God. As a result of their transgression, sin enters the world, and human beings are cast out of Paradise and must work the land in order to survive.

It is important to understand that Adam and Eve were not the only ones who suffered for their actions. All of creation likewise fell from the original state of innocence and happiness. Sin causes human beings live to at odds with God, with each other, and with the natural world.

This kind of micro-macro dynamic is apparent in many folktales and fantasy stories, where characters may be deities who embody an aspect of nature, or monarchs responsible for many people. In such cases, the state of the relationship is reflected on a larger scale in their environment. When the prince is transformed into a beast, or the princess falls under a sleeping curse, or the queen loses control of her ice powers, the people around them suffer along with them. Any iteration of the myth of Hades, Persephone, and Demeter will show this, as their relationships determine the cycle of the seasons. In Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker’s transformation into Darth Vader directly parallels the Galactic Republic’s transition to the Empire. The family dramas of such archetypal characters are reflected in the cosmic conflicts of their stories.

The relationship may experience ups and downs, but if there is any interaction or reunion, it remains imperfect and incomplete. Eventually, one of the parties must take the initiative to try to repair the relationship.


The Journey
In order to restore the relationship, one of the parties must go on a journey, often with a downward or inward direction. The protagonist enters another world, usually characterized by darkness and death. The Greeks called this part of their myths katabasis, the journey to the Underworld, the land of the dead. But this place can also be a place of meeting, reckoning, and revelation.

The Incarnation of Christ and the Harrowing of Hell can both be seen in this step. Jesus descended twice, first by leaving Heaven to be incarnated as a human being on Earth, and then, after His own death, by going to Hell and freeing the souls of the just who had died before His paschal sacrifice.

Many contemporary heroes have a similar step on their quest. Star Wars media is replete with examples of this, the first and most iconic being the Death Star. In more recent Disney films, Anna enters the ice palace to talk to her estranged sister, and Moana sets out to restore the heart of Te Fiti.

This journey presents great risks. In some cases, the protagonist must confront death itself, either as the power keeping their beloved from them, or in the form of the beloved themselves. Obi-Wan Kenobi in A New Hope, Luke Skywalker in Return of the Jedi, Anna, and Moana all know that the person they are approaching is dangerous and might harm them. Christ, too, knew that He would suffer at the hands of the very people He came to save.


Remembrance and Rejection
Throughout the story, there is often an element of trying to remember or discover one’s identity, or one party trying to make the other party aware of their true identity. This is a recurring theme in Scripture, as God’s prophets urge His people to remember who He is and who He has called them to be.

This theme is common in movies too. Luke Skywalker is determined to remind Darth Vader of his former identity. Mufasa’s ghost urges the self-exiled Simba, “Remember who you are.” Anna reminds Elsa of how close they were as children. Moana sings to the rampaging deity, “This is not who you are. I know who you are.”

At the moment of meeting, there might be a rejection of the identity or relationship. The prophets leading up to Christ were rejected and sometimes killed by their own people. He knew that not all would acknowledge Him when He came in person.

One possible reason for this rejection is that the lost party may not realize that they are lost. At the other extreme, they may recognize that they are lost, but think that they are beyond hope. Both of these attitudes are essentially a form of arrogance, which leads them to reject the call to remembrance and reconciliation.


Resurrection and Restoration

The meeting leads to the climax, which involves some kind of death, either literal or symbolic. There may also be a second betrayal, possibly even greater than the first. There is often an element of sacrifice and an appearance of loss or failure. Ultimately, though, the death leads to a kind of resurrection or rebirth.

When Christ came to restore humanity’s relationship with God, the people responded by killing Him. But His death led to His Resurrection, defeating death and making His identity clear to His followers.

This is also a moment of revelation, when one or both parties realize who they are and what they mean to each other. Christ’s disciples did not fully understand His divine identity, or the magnitude of His love for them, until He died on the cross and rose from the dead. The revelation can be a moment of horror—for instance, upon witnessing the supernatural events surrounding the death of Christ, the centurion declared that He was truly the Son of God. For examples in film, Darth Vader did not know he still had a capacity for love until he saw his son suffering out of love for him, and Elsa did not understand her sister’s love for her until Anna sacrificed herself to save her.

With the climax comes the reversal of the curse, the lifting of the exile, the restoration of the relationship. When the royal family is restored, the kingdom in turn is renewed. Anakin Skywalker reconciles with his son at the same moment the galaxy is freed from the Empire. Elsa’s openness to love enables her to thaw the snow in Arendelle. Te Fiti lifts the blight from Moana’s island home. Persephone’s travel plans ensure the return of spring.

​Adoptions, marriages, coronations, or political alliances ensure the continuation and stability of a family, a dynasty, a nation, or an entire world. Likewise, Christ’s sacrifice sealed the New Covenant in His blood; His ministry established the Church on Earth; and the Bible ends with the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.


PART II

When I point out biblical parallels in a secular work of fiction, I do not assume that they were intentional on the writer’s part. But stories often reveal truths about God and the Gospel regardless of a writer’s intentions. The enduring popularity of stories that follow the pattern of the Gospel is evidence that they resonate with something deep in the human psyche: our spiritual needs and our ability to recognize truth.
 
Myth and Fact

Why does the Christian mythos seem to be embedded in so many others? Is it divine inspiration, spiritual warfare, cultural osmosis, artistic imitation, or some combination of these?

The second-century saint Justin Martyr pointed out in his First Apology that many pagan myths are analogous to aspects of the Christian story. Many involve virgin births, half-divine heroes, and dying gods. Mythologist Joseph Campbell recognized the structural consistency of different cultures’ folktales, and believed they were variations of the same truth.

But this does not mean that Christ is simply one more deity among many, or that Christianity is no truer than any other mythology. C. S. Lewis’ conversion to Christianity, described in his autobiography Surprised by Joy, hinged on the realization that Christ was the only instance when a myth—that is, a symbolic truth—also became a historical event. Lewis writes in his essay “Myth Became Fact”:

"God is more than a god, not less; Christ is more than Balder, not less. We must not be ashamed of the mythical radiance resting on our theology. We must not be nervous about “parallels” and “pagan Christs”: they ought to be there--it would be a stumbling block if they weren't. We must not, in false spirituality, withhold our imaginative welcome."

So, why do disparate cultures have variations of the same story, even predating the coming of Christ?

Justin Martyr theorized that demons overheard the prophecies foretelling Christ, and inspired similar tales in pagan poets so that Christ would appear to be merely one of many such legends.

Personally, I think more in terms of the Image of God and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. God has “set eternity in our hearts” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Even before the Incarnation, people could perceive that the world is not the way it should be, and sense that a hero is needed to heal and restore it. God “shows no partiality” in revealing truth (Acts 10:34). Thus, some pre-Christian philosophers and folktales pointed to Christ without being conscious of it.

Brian Godawa examines Joseph Campbell’s famous “Monomyth,” also known as “the hero’s journey,” in Hollywood Worldviews: Watching Films with Wisdom and Discernment. Godawa argues,

"Christians need not deny a Monomyth that is reinterpreted through different traditions. We need to only understand it in its true nature from God’s own revelation. After all, God is the ultimate Storyteller, and the Scriptures say that he has placed a common knowledge of himself in all people through creation and conscience … Christianity is itself the true incarnation of the Monomyth in history, and other mythologies reflect and distort it like dirty or broken mirrors." (Godawa 69-70)

St. Basil the Great also used the imagery of mirrors in his “Address to Young Men on the Right Use of Greek Literature.” He argued that young Christians should study the works of pagan authors, in which they could “perceive the truth as it were in shadows and in mirrors,” as preparation before studying the deeper, clearer truths of sacred scripture.

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm believed that the oral tales of their culture contained religious meanings that had been forgotten as they were passed down. They considered the folk tales “remnants of ancient faith expressed in poetry,” as G. Ronald Murphy, S.J., explains in The Owl, the Raven, and the Dove. The Grimm brothers’ collected stories synthesize elements of not only Christianity but also German, Norse, Greek and Roman mythologies. Their characters’ adventures represent the soul’s spiritual journey, with tests and failures, betrayals and reconciliations, separations and reunions, death and resurrection.

Like Samwise Gamgee says in the film version of The Two Towers, such stories stay with us even if we do not fully understand them at the time. Our hearts, made in the Image of God, can still recognize their truthfulness. We keep returning to stories of rescue, redemption, and reconciliation because they speak to our deepest longings. We dimly remember a happy past, and we yearn for a future where things will be better.

 
Why does this matter?

Christ calls us to evangelize, and entertainment media reaches people of all different worldviews. An awareness of the salvation story pattern can help us talk about our faith in the context of the culture we live in. And whether a story develops or deviates from the pattern of the Gospel, it can help us articulate our beliefs by providing points of comparison.

Obviously, not all stories adhere to every step of the pattern. But even those that do not can still point to Christ in an imperfect, incomplete way. One long-beloved example of this is the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Orpheus seems to prefigure Christ in his journey to the Underworld, but he fails to bring his bride back to life. His failure demonstrates that human beings cannot save themselves from death. Plato argues in his “Symposium” that the reason Orpheus failed was that he was not willing to die in order to save Eurydice. In this way, the myth of Orpheus illustrates humanity’s need for a divine Savior who is willing to lay down His life for His beloved.

Learning to recognize our values in a story can deepen our appreciation of them as we view them in a new context. It is one thing to talk about the concepts of justice and mercy; it is another thing to see Jean Valjean and Inspector Javert wrestle with them in Les Misérables.

St. Basil points out that even stories with elements directly opposed to Christian values can help to strengthen them by providing contrast. As Steve Turner says in Imagine: A Vision for Christians in the Arts, “the ideas we end up disagreeing with can have the effect of making our faith more vital by forcing us to examine what we really believe.”

Finally, recognizing echoes of the Gospel in popular media can create organic opportunities to talk about faith with other people, even in casual settings. Simply explaining why the latest movie resonated with you may open the door to share your worldview with someone.

To be a Christian is not merely to believe in the historicity of a long-ago or far-off story. It means believing that our lives are part of a story, which is still unfolding and ultimately will have a happy ending. It means accepting the invitation to play a role in the plot and participate in the resolution. It is, in a sense, to believe in “happily ever after”—or, as Julian of Norwich put it, that “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

​Learn more from the corresponding podcast episode.