“Apparently you cheerfully accept a man who comes to you preaching a different Jesus from the one we told you about, and you readily receive a spirit and a Gospel quite different from the ones you originally accepted.”
Christians should not promote The Chosen.
There. I said it. Mind you, I wouldn’t necessarily judge someone for merely watching it. It would depend on their motives.
I’ll get to my reasons for disliking the show myself, but first I want to address two bad arguments critics are making.
The second commandment
Contrary to the claim of some,1 The Chosen does not “violate the second commandment” against making idols. (a) Among other things (more in a moment), the commandment has to do with the Divine Essence—God as He is by nature—which is formless. It does not concern the human form of Christ—which was entirely ordinary. When a filmmaker depicts Jesus of Nazareth, he isn’t presenting us with a false version of Christ’s deity, but merely portraying his humanity.
(b) The second commandment has to do with creating images to be worshipped—not for other purposes. That’s why it refers not only to the Divine Essence, but also to “anything in the heavens or on the earth or in the sea.” (Exodus 20:4)
Nothing in existence is to be imaged for the purpose of worship.
Pretty exhaustive, right? . . . But then God turns right around and tells Moses to “make two cherubim from hammered gold, and place them on the two ends of the atonement cover” on the Ark of the Covenant (25:18).
Wait a minute: hadn’t God just said NOT to make images of “anything in the heavens”???
Ah, but those golden cherubim weren’t objects of worship.
That is what the second commandment prohibits.
God’s holy word
Neither does The Chosen violate Scripture’s warnings to avoid adding our own thoughts and ideas to God’s word, contrary to what Randall LaCelle has argued. In this same vein, LaCelle also slams creator/director Dallas Jenkins for saying that “the people who only want to read the Bible won’t be watching this series.”
This is a baseless criticism. The Chosen would only be “adding to Scripture” if its writers and director claimed it was divinely inspired content meant as a continuation of, or supplement to, the Bible.
But they’re not claiming that, nor even suggesting or hinting at it. With this or any other Bible-based dramatization, it’s understood by everyone in the production and by the general audience that the storytelling isn’t intended as a parallel authority to Scripture. It’s tacitly understood that the storytelling is just an imaginative attempt to “fill in the blanks” where Scripture is silent.
Such dramatizations have to be critiqued on other grounds.
Who’s behind this production?
A stronger case is made by those who observe that the studio producing The Chosen is Mormon-owned. This fact may—or may not—present the Christian with a problem.
Consider the larger societal context: innumerable artistic and cultural expressions are enjoyed and/or participated in by Christians, when the majority of those things aren’t coming from Bible-believers. That doesn’t make them inherently “wrong.”
It means they require discernment. Big shock, huh?
So let’s do some discerning here. “Mormon-owned” doesn’t equate to Mormon church-owned. See the difference? If Angel Studios were specifically owned by the Latter-day Saints church, then a case could be made that the studio is a front for church fund-raising.
That doesn’t appear to be the case here. The co-founders and owners of Angel Studios are Mormons, yes—but their projects are crowdfunded, not church-funded. And Scripture nowhere tells us to avoid doing business with unbelievers. What if I found out that Mormons owned my local grocery store? Should I then go to a competitor, blithely ignoring the fact that the other store is likely owned by non-Christians who spend their money on things God wouldn’t approve of?
I actually contacted Angel Studios, and learned the following from “project specialist McKenzie”:
Angel Studios is not owned by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, nor are we associated with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Our mission is to tell stories that amplify light, which are defined as “Stories that are true, honest, noble, just, authentic, lovely, admirable, or excellent.” While not everyone in our company shares the same beliefs or religion, we will work with anyone who aligns with our mission.2
I have no problem with that.
Now, if Angel Studios made a point of advertising themselves as a Mormon organization, and if they said, “Profits from The Chosen are going to the LDS church”—in that case, we’d have to apply Paul’s instructions regarding cultural participation in 1 Corinthians 10:19-31. Paul told the Corinthians that they
may eat any meat that is sold in the marketplace without raising questions of conscience. For “the earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it.” [Psalm 24:1] If someone who isn’t a believer asks you home for dinner, accept the invitation if you want to. Eat whatever is offered to you without raising questions of conscience. (But suppose someone tells you, “This meat was offered to an idol.” Don’t eat it [vv. 25-28].
There’s a spiritual principle here that we need to apply to The Chosen. Let’s paraphrase Paul as if he were addressing our subject today:
Feel free to enjoy (or view or read) any legitimate works of art in the cultural “marketplace,” without raising questions of conscience.3 For “the earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it”—including human creativity, which isn’t evil in and of itself. But if there is content in the art that presents a temptation to you, or leads you away from devotion to Christ—or if the content-creator reveals that they’re doing this the sake of promoting idolatry—then don’t participate.
It’s evident from Scripture that two spiritual issues are paramount:
What message is being conveyed or promoted through the vehicle of art? Does its content mean that you shouldn’t be promoting it?
Even if you view this art privately, is its content going to cause you to stumble in your walk with the Lord?
Here’s a related example: I actually own a copy of the Book of Mormon.4 I have it for purposes of understanding and refutation of the Mormon belief-system.
Would I let it inform my Bible-study? No.
Will it tempt me to start leaning Mormon in my beliefs? Not in the slightest.
Would I lend it out to an immature believer? Heavens, no.
In that case it’s not “wrong” for me to own or read the Book of Mormon.
But it could be wrong for someone else. And it would be wrong of me to give my copy to the “wrong” person; someone too spiritually immature to handle it properly.
The Chosen should be approached in a similar way. If you watch it, I’m not judging you for that; I don’t know what’s in your thoughts or conscience when you watch. You have to decide for yourself whether it’s going to adversely affect your relationship with the real Jesus. “Who [am I] to condemn someone else’s servants? Their own master will judge whether they stand or fall.” (Romans 14:4)
I will, however, suggest that it’s not a good idea to promote it. “Word-of-mouth, it seems, is largely responsible for the show’s success[.]”5 That word-of-mouth has largely come from those who profess to know and love the Christ of the Bible.
Might’ve been better if they’d kept their mouths closed.
The Chosen is theologically inconsistent
In the interest of objectivity I’m going to start with an example of illegitimate criticism of The Chosen, again from Randall LaCelle:
When Mary and Joseph lose sight of a young Jesus, they then find Him in the temple, and The Chosen Jesus asks them, “Did you not know I must be in the house of my father?” What? The Bible says, “Be about my Father’s business.” This is typical of a Catholic-inspired production to place the emphasis on a church building instead of obedience to the Father in heaven.
Well, no; actually, this kind of argument is typical of Christian reviewers of film who, in my experience, have a terrible habit of ignoring context and nuance.
I agree with LaCelle that the line should be “in my Father’s business.” Why? Because the Greek wording in Luke 2:49 is “en tois tou Patros mou”: literally “in the ____ of the Father of me.” That blank is there because there’s no noun in the Greek at that spot. However, “the” is written in Greek as tois, which is plural—thus indicating that “house,” singular, cannot be the intended word here. The most natural and theologically neutral way of rendering this phrase is simply “in my Father’s things,” because “things” is plural, and is general enough to include anything the Father might be doing.
A few English versions actually do use the word “things” here—but more translations use a very reasonable substitute: “business.” This is another word that’s broad enough, like “things,” to include whatever the Father may have been up to that would involve His Son.
But the translation “my Father’s house” has been inherited from the King James Version, and is in fact the most common rendering of that phrase in Luke 2:49. So LaCelle’s assumption that this is some sort of “Catholic” infiltration is totally off-base and unfair to the writers of The Chosen.
A more plausible-seeming target is a line of dialogue frequently pounced on by detractors. In season 3, episode 3, a rabbi
steps directly in front of Jesus and says, “If You do not renounce Your words, we will have no choice but to follow the Law of Moses.” Jesus steps closer to him and says, “I am the Law of Moses.”6
The statement “I am the law of Moses” is found nowhere in Scripture; it sounds like dialogue found in the Book of Mormon. I say “sounds like” because Dallas Jenkins denies that the BOM was the inspiration behind that line. But even if it were, would that mean The Chosen is promoting Mormonism here?
Well, let me ask you this: would you reject “2+2=4” if the Book of Mormon said it?
Just because a cult book says something doesn’t automatically make it false. Or, try reversing the scenario: if an evangelical, Bible-believing preacher says something from the pulpit . . . does that automatically make him right?
Of course not.
Secondly, the controversial line in The Chosen isn’t quite the same as its alleged inspiration in the BOM. Here’s the full Mormon verse: “Behold, I am the law, and the light. Look unto me, and endure to the end, and ye shall live; for unto him that endureth to the end will I give eternal life.” (3 Nephi 15:9)
Notice two things here. First of all, that verse has “Jesus” saying “I am . . . the light,” not just “the law.” But the real Jesus likewise called himself “the light”—yet that doesn’t make the BOM’s “Jesus” the same as the Biblical Jesus. By the same token, then, for the “Jesus” of The Chosen to say “I am the law of Moses” doesn’t make him the “Jesus” of Mormonism.
Secondly, the line in The Chosen doesn't entirely match the BOM version, so it’s simply inaccurate to accuse The Chosen of “quoting the Book of Mormon.” That’s why I said it merely “sounds like” the BOM’s line. It’s just as plausible (though Jenkins denies this too) that a writer on the show was actually inspired by none other than the great Charles Spurgeon, who said: “Christ is the law incarnate.”
Intriguingly, Spurgeon said this 31 years after the publication of the Book of Mormon—but I highly doubt that any of the critics of The Chosen will now denounce Spurgeon as being “inspired by Joseph Smith.”
Leaving aside for the moment the question of whether anything from a cult should be “adapted” to a supposedly Christian artwork—is it possible to understand the line “I am the law of Moses” Biblically?
It sure is.
All communication, without exception, works by context. While the assertion “I am the law of Moses” isn’t found in Scripture, it can be interpreted as the application of a truth that IS found in the Bible: the fact that one of Jesus’ titles is “the Word (of God).” (John 1:1, 14; Revelation 19:13; cf. John 14:6)
Now, isn’t the Mosaic law part of the (written) Word of God? . . . So, if Jesus is the personification of God’s word as a whole—meaning that Christ is the ultimate expression of divinity—then isn’t it reasonable to say that he’s “(the personification of) the Law”?
Sure seems like it to me.
But what about the whole question of “adapting” a cultic statement in the first place (again bearing in mind that this doesn’t appear to have happened in The Chosen)? With a shrug, I ask—Why not? After all, the Biblical writers did it. Here and there in Scripture, both Testaments, we find writers borrowing certain terms or phrases from the pagans—but giving them new meaning. For example, some of what the Canaanites said about Ba’al gets applied to Yahweh in the Psalms.7
Being a fan of both science fiction and comedy, I can imagine overzealous Christian critics of art getting ahold of a time machine and traveling back to Bible times to lecture the psalmists on how their lyrics “couldn’t be Christian” if they’re coopting material from poems about the Canaanite storm god.
What’s ironic is that almost nobody watching The Chosen would have learned of the theoretical connection between the Book of Mormon and “I am the law of Moses” if well-intended but misguided critics hadn’t drawn attention to it.
What matters, then, is:
The meaning of The Chosen’s own words in context, and—
How the show’s intended meaning compares with Biblical teaching.
“I am the law of Moses” isn't a real problem. But other things are.
Such as . . .
(a) A scene that’s very problematic in the seventh episode of season 2. “Jesus” tells Matthew, “I’ve been forming fragments of teaching in My mind for some months now in preparation for the sermon [on the mount]. I’m ready to organize them.”
Later on, “Jesus” actually seeks Matthew’s feedback and help in organizing his sermon notes. They begin “working together on Jesus's upcoming sermon[.]”
More than this, there’s also Jesus’ psychological state to consider: “In season 2, Jesus was very nervous to give His Sermon on the Mount.”8 Supporting evidence is found in the scene in which “Mary” speaks with her son just before his sermon:
[Mary] “I am proud of you.”
[Jesus] “Maybe wait to say that until after I'm done, in case I mess up in front of such a big crowd.”
And this is just one aspect of a larger melodramatic mutation of the actual Biblical event. Christian apologist and Bible-teacher Mark Fairley relates that it was this particular segment of The Chosen that shifted him from his initially open and hopeful outlook toward the series:
I think going into the second season, though, was when I began to struggle a little bit with it. It seemed to me that in the balance between staying faithful to the Bible and dramatic storytelling, they began to move a bit too much towards dramatic storytelling . . . . I had issues with Jesus having to rehearse the Sermon on the Mount and then getting it wrong and having to rework it. That's artistic liberty too far, because now you're changing the nature of Jesus. . . .
. . . I think the moment that really killed a lot of my enthusiasm, and it's a bit of a strange one, was the preparation for the Sermon on the Mount. . . . This kind of slapped me across the face so hard that it kind of pulled me out of the story, because it was very clear to me that they were trying to overlay 21st-century sensibilities on that scene. They were essentially trying to present it as a modern-day concert. They had a stage with flags; they had a backstage area; a couple of disciples were the bouncers that were stopping the non-VIPs from going back there; there's lots of people running around in the background in preparation for the big show; the women are clearly the wardrobe department.
There's a scene where the women and Jesus are talking about what color to wear and what would make him stand out against the backdrop. And then Jesus goes out on stage to give his big performance and at that point it seemed they were trying way too hard to contort the gospel for modern audiences. It's like they were saying, “Hey, guys, the Sermon on the Mount was like a first-century rock show. Jesus was like the rock star of his day.”
All of this is Biblically absurd. First of all, it’s impossible to imagine the real Jesus being “nervous” about preaching. And even if we assume Jesus “needed” to do sermon prep, he certainly wouldn’t need a sinner’s help. Moreover, the Lord didn’t need sermon prep:
“I do nothing on my own but say only what the Father taught me. . . . I am telling you what I saw when I was with my Father. . . . For the Father loves the Son and shows him everything he is doing.” [John 8:28, 38; 5:20]
“I don’t speak on my own authority. The Father who sent me has commanded me what to say and how to say it. . . . I say whatever the Father tells me to say.” [12:49-50]
So, not only are those particular scenes in The Chosen nonsensical, they implicitly insult God’s ability or willingness to guide the Son’s ministry, as well as undermine the sheer gravitas of that ministry. Aside from being a terrible take on the gospel accounts themselves, it’s just bad writing (more on that in a moment).
(b) Another problematic scene that doesn’t explicitly contradict Scripture, but implies a contradiction, is in episode 7 of season 1. Nicodemus asks Jesus, “Is the Kingdom of God really coming?” To which “Jesus” responds: “What does your heart tell you?”
The real Jesus would never have asked a sinner that question, “for he knew what was in each person’s heart” (John 2:25); he knew that “[t]he human heart is the most deceitful of all things, [a]nd desperately wicked.” (Jeremiah 17:9). The real Jesus wouldn't have given others the impression that they ought to trust their hearts.
But far worse is what happens immediately after that dialogue. Nicodemus seems to realize that he’s in the presence of deity, so he kneels before Jesus, takes his hand and kisses it. “Jesus,” inexplicably, is taken by surprise: “You don’t have to do that. . . . What are you doing?”
I’m sorry—what??
It's unlikely that the historical Nicodemus became aware as early as John 3 (on which this scene is based) that Jesus of Nazareth is God-incarnate; certainly the passage gives no hint that he gained such insight that quickly. But if Nicodemus had knelt in worship, the Biblical Jesus would hardly have questioned or rebuffed it. While he didn’t go around saying, straight up, “I am God,” or, “Worship me,” nonetheless Jesus accepted worship—as his due—on a number of occasions.
Is Dallas Jenkins possibly not aware of this Biblical data? I find that hard to believe. And it doesn't appear that there was some logical, contextual reason for The Chosen’s “Jesus” to talk this way in the scene. It's not the same as the account in both Mark 10:18 and Luke 18:19, in which Jesus asks a man, “Why do you call me good? Only God is truly good.” From Mark and Luke, complemented by the larger context of the New Testament, we can reasonably infer that the Lord wanted the man to think—about the meaning of goodness; about God as the Standard of goodness; and about how that applies to Jesus as God's Son. The Lord knew he wasn't aware of Jesus' true identity, so He wanted the man to be thoughtful about his choice of words.
By contrast, we get no hint of such thoughtfulness or depth in The Chosen’s version of John 3. Dallas Jenkins’ “Jesus” is actually mystified by Nicodemus's impulse to worship.
And that is Biblically unacceptable.
(c) Randall LaCelle, cited earlier, observes that the show portrays John the Baptist as “arrogant, disrespectful, and always questioning Jesus. . . . In the Bible, John stated, ‘I must decrease,’ so why does The Chosen portray him as arrogant?”
Fair question; examination of some of The Chosen's dialogue seems to bear this out, as in season 2, episode 5:
Now we see Jesus and John the Baptizer sitting together with John citing Scripture: “It is right there in the Book of Moses (Leviticus 20:21): ‘If a man takes his brother’s wife, it is impurity: he has uncovered his brother’s nakedness. They shall be childless.” Jesus responds, “I understand it’s against the Law of Moses, but I’m here for bigger purposes than the breaking of rules.” “You minimize incest?” says John. “Of course not,” says Jesus. “All of this will be addressed, but I’m not ready to get into the specifics.” John quips, “You appear not to be ready to get into the specifics of a lot of things.” Jesus urges him to stay on topic[.]
There's a jarring flippancy to the whole thing. "Jesus" and “John” don't seem to take each other's ministry seriously enough. John's apparent stance is worse, of course, because in Scripture he was fully aware that Jesus was this Lord.
This “John the Baptist” doesn’t exactly come across as the reverent man of God who described Jesus as “greater than I am—so much greater that I’m not worthy even to be his slave and carry his sandals.” (Matthew 3:11)9
Continuing his bizarre way of talking, The Chosen’s version of John says he intends to hold King Herod accountable for his sexual immorality:
“I'm going to march straight into his court and tell him to his face! My followers will love it! . . . I get arrested all the time. It's what radicals do. I'll be fine. Herod is afraid of me. The people hold me to be a prophet, some say Elijah himself.”10
Really?
Really??
This "John the Baptist" cannot be taken seriously. Nor can Dallas Jenkins' comment that the series’ head writer, Ryan Swanson, is “a genius.” The great irony here is that in the midst of shooting this very scene, Jenkins says that
we started tweaking some of the dialogue. And the actors—there were a couple lines that didn’t quite feel right to them—and fortunately I had Ryan Swanson with me . . . and so we were able to think through the meaning of the scene and make some adjustments to the rhythm of the scene.
“Think through”? . . . To borrow a line from The Office (whose writers were actual geniuses), “I think you’re underthinking it.” Should've kept on “adjusting,” Dallas.
(d) The same penchant for bad dialogue manifests itself in episode 1.4, when Andrew races home to tell Peter what John the Baptist had just revealed:
[Andrew, out of breath] It was incredible.
[Peter] Andrew, who did you see?
[Andrew] The Lamb of God—he who takes away the sin of the world. . . . We were standing by the Jordan, and John the Baptizer pointed at the man, who was walking . . . . Simon, are you listening?
[Peter, despondent and bitter] Yeah, yeah . . . . You’re just not saying anything. . . . Was he a big man? . . . Rich? . . . Didn’t seem he could get us out of this debt to Rome? Or maybe he was a doctor. [Gives Andrew a look] No? So he can’t help with Eden’s [mother], who’s now living with us, Andrew. So pardon me if I’m not exactly jumping out of my sandals because Creepy John pointed at someone.
Again: really? I should buy that Peter would have spoken of John as “creepy”? I mean, “Creepy Joe Biden,” I can understand, but “Creepy John the Baptist”? The question must be asked: Based on what we know of Peter from the New Testament—along with the fact that “everyone thought John [the Baptist] was a prophet” (Matthew 21:26)—is it realistic to think Peter would have spoken of him like this?
Mind you: The Chosen’s version of “John” really does seem creepy, in a way. So in that fictional context I suppose the fictional Peter’s reaction is natural. But then, all that means is that The Chosen doesn’t portray either John or Peter in the way Scripture portrays these men. I have no problem with the injection of comic relief into a drama—but there’s a difference between artistic and absurd.
Another case in point:
[Andrew] “I was standing next to john the baptizer . . . and [Jesus] walked by, like, out of nowhere. And John freaked out. He said, ‘Behold—’ ”
[Peter] “I’m eating a new bug.”
Here’s that momentous occasion as told in the Gospel of John:
. . . John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! . . . .
The following day John was again standing with two of his disciples. As Jesus walked by, John looked at him and declared, “Look! There is the Lamb of God!” When John’s two disciples heard this, they followed Jesus. ...
Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, was one of these men who heard what John said and then followed Jesus. Andrew went to find his brother, Simon, and told him, “We have found the Messiah[.]” . . . .
Then Andrew brought Simon to meet Jesus. Looking intently at Simon, Jesus said, “Your name is Simon, son of John—but you will be called Cephas” (which means “Peter”). [John 1:29, 35-37, 40-42]
Obviously some details, like additional conversation between Andrew and Peter, are omitted. But as far as tone is concerned, what do we see here?
Reverence. Solemnity. Profundity.
A spiritual earthquake: “The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”
Two thousand years later, The Chosen’s take on it: “John freaked out”; “I’m eating a new bug.”11
(e) Being the only One who “takes away the sin of the world,” Jesus established himself as “the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through” Him (John 14:6).
Note very carefully the definite articles in Jesus’ wording: “the way, the truth, and the life.” A few years later Peter remembered that truth when he declared to Israel’s pompous religious leaders: “There is salvation in no one else! God has given no other name under heaven by which we must be saved.” (Acts 4:12)
Do we find this same kind of dialogue in The Chosen? Not quite:
Jesus says, “I'm here to preach the good news of the Kingdom of Heaven, a Kingdom that is not of this world, a Kingdom that is coming soon, where—yes—sorrow and sighing will flee away. I make a way for people to access that Kingdom.” [Episode 2.1]
Did you catch that? “A way”—rather than “the way.” Hmm, where have I seen dialogue like that before? . . . Oh, right: from a demon.
As we were going to prayer, a certain girl having a [demonic] spirit of divination met us, who brought her masters much gain by fortune telling. Following Paul and us, she cried out, “These men are servants of the Most High God, who proclaim to us a way of salvation!” She was doing this for many days.
But Paul, becoming greatly annoyed, turned and said to the [evil] spirit, “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her!” It came out that very hour. [Acts 16:16-18]12
Forgive me for wondering what “spirit” guides the “genius” dialogue in The Chosen.
Collateral damage
Lines blurred—and maybe crossed. Aside from the content of the series itself—and, as we’ve seen, it opens itself up to criticism fairly often—it also produces a degree of “collateral damage”: it dumbs down fans’ ability to discern Biblical truth.
As mentioned earlier, one of the big evangelical knocks on The Chosen is that it has some degree of Mormon involvement. I argued that that by itself isn't necessarily a problem. But it can become a problem if it results in making Mormonism, a cult, seem acceptable in the eyes of fans. Joe Cristman argues (and I agree) that
the situation has not been helped by the Creator, Director, Co-Writer, and Executive Producer of the show, Dallas Jenkins, who has often responded to this controversy with joking and implications that he may work more Mormon references into the show. Jenkins has also been unclear regarding his understanding of the clear distinction between Christians and Mormons, and how they are fundamentally separate faiths.[Italics mine.]
This is true. Responding to accusations that he equates Mormonism with Christianity, Dallas Jenkins offered the following “clarification”:
If I actually made this statement—“Evangelicals and LDS love the same Jesus,” or, “LDS are Christians”—that would be a problem. And here's why: not because there aren't LDS folks who are Christians and not because there aren't LDS and evangelicals who love the same Jesus, but because it would be wrong of me to ever say that any one group believes any one thing altogether. That is just a level of arrogance that I don't have.
Jenkins’ remark on “arrogance” functions as a diversion to get the listener to ignore the fact that he's dodging the central issues:
What does Mormonism teach about Jesus and salvation?
What does the Bible teach about Jesus and salvation? And—
Are the two compatible?
It doesn’t serve the Great Commission to publicly judge and condemn Mormons or evangelicals as individuals. But someone like Dallas Jenkins who professes to know Christ—and who wades into the filmmaking world in partnership with individual Mormons—ought to be clear in his own headspace about the crucial differences between the two religions. And, when asked about it, he ought to be able to spell it out so that the public knows where he’s coming from.
But it seems obvious that Jenkins doesn’t want to be held to that standard. He continues:
. . . it's something that I actually believe has been a problem over the years with many people . . . : whatever title or label that someone has had assigned to them, or that they've assigned themselves or whatever group they're part of, that we oftentimes will label the entire group as having a particular belief or a particular personality.
It would be just as dumb for me to say that all LDS are Christians as it would be to say that all evangelicals are Christians, or that all Catholics are Christians, or any other faith tradition.
I agree, Dallas, but you should be able to articulate that Mormonism isn’t Christianity.13 His second evasive tactic, after expressing (feigning?) concern about arrogance, is to address individuals rather than “isms.” But on this issue it’s the “isms” that matter.
Jenkins then adds that, by the same token—i.e., considering only individuals—“it would also be dumb of me to say that none are [Christians].”
That right there is a dangerous statement, because Latter-day Saints could easily construe him as implying (and in fact I think he is) that they can be Christians and Mormons and that’s perfectly okay. Indeed, if you peruse the comment section beneath this and other videos in which Jenkins talks about Mormonism, you’ll see many LDS members chiming in with words of support and appreciation for The Chosen itself and for Jenkins’ “definitive (final) comments on the ‘LDS issue.’ ” This would seem to mean that they are interpreting him as defending Mormonism.
But Jenkins deflects possible criticism by again playing the “arrogance” card, insinuating that calling out doctrinal differences constitutes “a level of arrogance that I don't possess.”
. . . [W]hen I've talked about my brothers and sisters in Christ and I've talked about those LDS folks that I know who love the same Jesus I do, I'm referring to some of the friends that I have who identify as LDS who I've gotten to know very deeply, over the last few years in particular, and have had hundreds of hours of conversations with, and I stand by the statement that those friends of mine that I'm referring to absolutely love the same Jesus that I do.
Now, you may still go, “Well, that can't be true! That can't be true!” And that's your right to think that. But it's not fair to say, “Oh, then you are now speaking about everybody.” I know plenty of evangelicals who I would say don't know the same Jesus that I do, and don't love the same Jesus that I do, but I was speaking about some friends that I have. And I was also speaking about Jesus of Nazareth, the Jesus of the gospels, the Jesus that we’re portraying in the show. And I do believe and do stand by that statement.
In other words, Jenkins’ defense boils down to suggesting that both camps, Mormons and Christians, have hypocrites among them. Indeed, this video as a whole logically implies that Mormons and Christians are collectively on the same footing: some members are true followers of Jesus, and some aren’t—therefore implying, in turn, that Mormonism is a valid expression of the Biblical faith. What Jenkins studiously ignores is that even though many evangelicals aren’t true believers, faithful evangelicals are faithful to the real Jesus—while faithful Mormons are faithful to a false Jesus.
I’m evaluating Jenkins’ words, not his heart. But in my opinion he’s substituting obfuscation for clarity. One would think that if this was intended to be his “final” comment on the Mormon-vs-Christianity front, it would have been the perfect time to clarify what, in fact, he does believe with regard to the doctrinal differences between Mormonism and the Bible. He could so easily have put that matter to rest.
If he’d wanted to.
But I don’t think he wanted to. After all, (a) Jenkins is working with Mormons (albeit just a handful of individuals, not the LDS church itself) and, I think more importantly, (b) he shoots many scenes “at the Motion Picture Studio South Campus, which is owned by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” in a replica of Jerusalem. “This is the first time a production not affiliated with the church has been allowed to use the Jerusalem set,” reported Trent Toone for the Deseret News, and it “may have saved the show millions in building a set[.]”
Obviously the LDS church has shied away from other non-Mormon productions, but made an exception this time around. It stands to reason that if Jenkins were to publicly brand LDS doctrine as unbiblical, The Chosen would be “despised and rejected” by the cult as surely as the Jews rejected Christ. So Jenkins has a vested interest in keeping the LDS church happy, because he really, really loves that set.
It would be sad, but not shocking, to see a Christian in the filmmaking industry corrupted by money.14 But it’s possible there’s a much darker dimension to this arrangement:
“The Chosen” was interested in filming at the Utah set even as it produced its first season in Texas. But the church had not permitted outsiders to use the set before . . . .
The turning point came in July [2020] when some church leaders saw the show and were willing to discuss the idea of making the set available. They were kind enough to have a conversation with Jenkins during a month when church leaders normally take their vacations, he said.
“We found that we had the same goal in mind, which was to make Jesus known around the world,” the director said.15
“The same goal . . . make Jesus known.” So, in other words . . . the same Jesus?
So much for Jenkins’ attempt at distancing himself from accusations that he believes Mormonism is a legitimate form of Christianity. How could he possibly have made that horrendous statement if he was aware that Mormonism and the Bible do not proclaim the same Jesus?
Yet he goes on to argue that
what I believe is more important than that [i.e., controversy over his “unclear” statements] is the content of the show, because anyone who is worried about some of the things I say outside of the show—anything that I say outside of the show is going to be seen and heard a fraction of the amount that the show is.
So the content of the show, which I think is far more relevant to this discussion, is what I think should be most paramount, because, like I said, that's . . . in every country in the world now and being seen by lots of people. And as I've said many, many times, the content of the show has zero influence or input from any formal faith tradition or church. None.
But if that’s the case, then why did the LDS church change its mind about letting The Chosen use its film set only after “some church leaders saw the show,” at which point they “were willing to discuss the idea of making the set available”? It seems to me that LDS leaders must have construed “the content of the show” as proclaiming the same “Jesus” Mormonism proclaims. And although one could reasonably argue that that’s a misinterpretation on their part, nonetheless it implies that Jenkins’ “Jesus” has been theologically so watered down that even cultists find him acceptable. It also makes sense that the LDS church finds Jenkins’ show useful to their own agenda, since they are very intent on promoting themselves as a “Christian” organization.
Jenkins goes on to affirm some core Biblical doctrines—including, praise God, the Trinity—and to insist that The Chosen is no substitute for one’s own study of Scripture. All well and good. But still, he’s evasive when it comes to the core issue: conflating Mormonism with Christianity. He steadfastly refuses to clarify that.
Instead, the latter part of his video doubles down on the dodge:
So, where do I stand on some of these issues, and why don't I give more clarity in general about what I believe about all these different faiths? . . .
Now, to be fair, I've probably said some things that have been confusing, as well, and that's on me to try to give that clarity but—
—he never actually does. Instead, he expresses his
hope that we can take the lead and not, not, kind of fostering this tribalism that I see so common [sic], where it's, like, “All right, we are in one group and . . . if you say something, even one thing, that violates what we understand or we believe or we agree with, then you are no longer in that group and you must now be considered dangerous, or you must now be considered a part of another group.”
So we can basically construe Jenkins as saying: “I’m not going to be held accountable to the Biblical differences between Christianity and cults.”
I would argue further that he seems more concerned with promoting his show than with seeing cultists get saved. And, given the growing popularity of The Chosen—especially among those who don’t affirm the Biblical faith—his evasiveness contributes to blurring the line, in the public’s view, between the Kingdom and the cults.
Randall LaCelle, cited earlier, quotes Jenkins as saying in an interview,
“Our intentions are different from the Bible’s intentions.” The Bible’s intentions were to uplift Christ, so what are his? He states that the show will be, “What the audience wants or needs to see.” This TV show, carefully crafted to tug at your emotions, doesn’t encourage viewers to sacrifice cherished sins. It subtly swaps Scripture for mystical Catholic doctrine and cheap humor. Furthermore, show writer Tyler Thompson claims the Bible is “good literature” but not infallible.
Such reports are, indeed, quite disturbing. Anyone who promotes The Chosen may be unconsciously aiding and abetting the advancement of a cult.
A platform for promoting falsehood. “Aiding and abetting” also applies to the off-screen activities of “Jesus” himself, series star Jonathan Roumie. The New Yorker’s Gideon Jacobs tells of Roumie using his newfound fame to promote unbiblical Catholic teachings and mysticism.
More than Robert Powell, Willem Dafoe, Jim Caviezel, or other actors who have worn the big sandals, Roumie channels the Saviour offscreen, as a Christian influencer. On a Catholic meditation app called Hallow, worshippers can offer a novena accompanied by his image, or pray using a rosary made by Ghirelli, an Italian jewelry brand that he partners with.
LaCelle expands on the rosary angle:
Roumie has a “rosary live” broadcast which attracts many viewers. On the Livestream, he teaches viewers the Catholic rosary, to pray to dead saints, and pray to a dead Mary as well as ask her for the forgiveness of sins. . . .
“Your depiction of Jesus has got the attention of the Catholic world in a big way,” Roumie is told in one interview. (He admits his depiction of Jesus is inspired by the Pope, whom he personally visited and received a blessing from.)
Jonathan Roumie also recounts his experience with a woman who lost her son. The woman was convinced that if she touched the hem of the garment Jonathan Roumie wore, she would be able to connect with the soul of her son.16
On the steps of a Catholic church Roumie was visiting, Jacobs reports a woman as saying, “We just want a picture with Jesus!”
I’m guessing she didn’t know that this “Jesus,” being unable to raise the dead, tries to communicate with them . In preparing to play the role of Lonnie Frisbee, in the film Jesus Revolution, Roumie visited Frisbee’s grave in order to pray to him and seek guidance from him. This practice is known by several labels, including “grave soaking.”
Roumie talked about this in an interview. But why was he being interviewed? Likely not because of his role in Jesus Revolution—but because he’s “Jesus.” The case can easily be made that Roumie wouldn’t have his current sphere of influence among religious types or “seekers” if so many professing Christians didn’t support The Chosen.
This contrasts with earlier dramatizations of the earthly life of Christ, such as my personal favorite, Jesus of Nazareth, starring the inimitable Robert Powell. Most of those involved in the production weren’t actual believers—but Christian viewers also didn’t have to worry about the director (Franco Zeffirelli) or the writers or the stars using the popular and influential miniseries as a platform to promote false religion. It simply didn’t happen.17
Earlier I quoted Mark Fairley in regard to what led him to become disillusioned with The Chosen. I think Mr. Fairley lives up to his last name with his closing comment on the subject:
So, I’m in a weird place with it right now. I watched the trailer for season 4, on YouTube recently. I read lots of comments from people underneath, saying they’ve become a Christian through watching the show; I believe one of the cast members has become a Christian through it; many people are finding it encouraging—they’re saying it’s causing them to go back to their Bible with more passion. Lots of positive comments; lots of good fruit, it seems. . . .
I want to give [the makers of the series] credit for getting in[to] the arena; that’s my natural instinct here, because I know how hard it is to try, and to create something. Having experienced this side of the fence, I'm desperate to be able to say to them, “At least you're trying. You're stumbling; you're making mistakes; but at least you're in the arena.”
But personally I've just lost my personal enthusiasm for it. I just no longer trust that they're faithfully trying to tell the gospel story accurately anymore, and therefore I've lost my interest. It's just not what I thought it was.
I also note the other controversies regarding the Mormons, the Catholics, the presence of a Pride flag on set—and this other comment where one of the writers apparently said he thought the Bible was good literature but not infallible. And that perhaps explains why they're playing so fast and loose with it. . . . So I just don't feel comfortable going forward with it myself, and that's my personal arc with The Chosen.
In my view every follower of the real Jesus should feel “uncomfortable” with The Chosen. If you’re “okay” with it—or an enthusiastic supporter of it—please ask yourself whether you’re “keeping [y]our eyes on [the real] Jesus” (Hebrews 12:2).
Such as Joe Cristman, “Why Christians Shouldn’t Watch ‘The Chosen’,” The Aquila Report (6 Feb. 2023; accessed 25 Sept. 2023).
Email on file; italics mine.
Paul himself was familiar with pagan writings; see especially his form of argumentation in Acts 17.
See also: Hank Hanegraaff, “The Basics Of Mormonism” (Christian Research Institute, 9 June 2009; accessed 25 Sept. 2023); Marian Bodine, “The Book of Mormon Vs The Bible,” Christian Research Journal (9 June 2009; accessed 25 Sept. 2023).
Cole Burgett, “King Laugh: Jesus of Nazareth In the Chosen,” Christian Research Journal (16 Feb. 2022; accessed 25 Sept. 2023). For the record, I disagree with Burgett’s seemingly positive view of The Chosen. His article—for the usually solid Christian Research Institute—strikes me as basically plugging the show on the basis of dramatic features Burgett finds laudable. He ignores the issues I’m focusing on in this article.
Episode synopses, dialogue, and photos from the entire series can be viewed at Allacin Morimizu’s blog Allacin's Free Illustrated Summaries of Christian Classics | The Chosen TV Series (accessed 26 Sept. 2023).
See Moshe Weinfeld, “ ‘Rider of the Clouds’ and ‘Gatherer of the Clouds,’ ” Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society 5 (1973), 422-24.
A New Testament example is the Apostle Peter’s second epistle, in which he “uses a significant number of Greco-Roman concepts, such as the series of ideas in 2 Pet 1:3-4, culminating in the idea of participating in the divine nature.” (Peter H. Davids, The Letters of 2 Peter and Jude (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2006), 128) In 1:4 Peter tells us we “may become partakers of the divine nature, after escaping the worldly corruption that is produced by evil desire.”
“Although the author has borrowed the expression partakers of the divine nature from paganism, his meaning is clearly Christian. He does not mean apotheosis (man becoming a god) in the pagan sense, but rather that believers have an organic connection with God. Because of such a connection, God can truly be called our Father. Conceptually, this bears the same meaning as Paul’s “in Christ” formula. The author’s statement, though startling at first, is hardly different from Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians that they “may be filled up to all the fullness of God” (3:19).” (The editors, New English Translation (Richardson, TX: Biblical Studies Press, © 1996-2017), 2Pet. 1:4 n19 (accessed 25 Sept. 2023; italics mine).
Standing For Christ, “John The Baptist ARGUES WITH JESUS?!🤦 The Chosen Butchered John The Baptist! The Chosen Season 2” (4 Mar. 2023; accessed Oct. 2).
“This was considered one of the least worthy tasks of a slave, and John did not consider himself worthy to do even that for the one to come, despite the fact he himself was a prophet.” (Editors, New English Translation [Richardson, TX: Biblical Studies Press, © 1996-2017], Matt. 3:11 n16 [accessed 29 Sept. 2023])
There are certain lines of dialogue that Allacin Morimizu omits from her recounts of The Chosen episodes. I’ve had to find those clips on YouTube.
Yet another instance where The Chosen inserts a bad joke into a scene that deviates from the Biblical version is when Peter tries to assure Jesus that “I’ll go with you to the ends of the earth.” To which Jesus responds: “I hope so, Simon. But I seem to remember there was a problem. Something about . . . Andrew’s feet.” (Episode 1.5)
The context (which you can see if you back up the clip to the beginning) involves mockery of Andrew’s dancing, when Jesus and his disciples are at a wedding. Now, perhaps I should cut The Chosen a little slack here, because this isn’t the Biblical scene at the Last Supper in which Jesus prophesies, “I tell you the truth, Peter—this very night, before the rooster crows twice, you will deny three times that you even know me.” (Mark 14:30) However, the dialogue in that scene of the show begins with the same kind of declaration from Peter that we know he made at the Last Supper, and it carries the same gravitas—but then The Chosen’s “Jesus” spoils it with ill-timed humor.
Perhaps the show will remedy that when it actually depicts the Last Supper. Given that possibility, I’ve relegated this example to a footnote rather than as part of my main argument.
Ironically, many English translations of Acts 16:17 render the phrase in question as “the way,” because the translators assume that that’s the intended meaning. However, the literal Greek wording is: Houtoi anthrōpoi . . . katangellousin hymin hodon sōtērias—“These men . . . proclaim to you [a] way of salvation.” There’s literally no “the” before “way.”
Jenkins and every other Christians should also be able to articulate why Catholicism isn’t Christianity, either. But that’s a discussion for another day.
Of course Jenkins would argue that the cost-savings that result from using the LDS-owned set benefits the show, rather than representing material gain for himself.
Italics mine.
Italics his.
This goes for the more recent Passion of the Christ, as well: it’s well known that director Mel Gibson and star Jim Caviezel are staunch Catholics—yet they haven’t been known to use The Passion to gain new adherents to Romanism. There’s far more religious neutrality in this case than with The Chosen.