A Walk through Samaria: Befriending The Catcher in the Rye’s Holden Caulfield (Part 1)
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Editor’s note: The work of apologetics often first requires entering into relationship with those whose values and beliefs depart radically from our own. In the piece that follows, Richard Decker explores how reading what might be considered problematic texts, such as The Catcher in the Rye, can help develop empathy and build common ground for the apologetic endeavor that follows. This is an important reminder that apologetics is about winning people and not arguments.
Introduction: A Walk through Samaria
As a public and private school English teacher who happens to be a Christian, I am blessed to have the opportunity to interact with many people from many different walks of life—including fellow Christians. I also have the opportunity to talk about literature and other forms of art with students, parents, colleagues, and friends. However, every now and then, typically when I am speaking with my brothers and sisters in Christ, I find myself listening to an explanation as to why such and such a book/TV show/movie/video game is un-Christian because it contains such and such content. I understand where my peers are coming from—I mean really, who wants to be both in the world and of the world? Still, I typically catch myself thinking, Is that text necessarily bad? I certainly enjoyed that book/TV show/movie/video game—even learned how to be a better person because of it! Blame it on my liberal arts education, but I think such questions deserve to be addressed because I believe we as Christians, and specifically, Christian readers,[1] have a misconception of what it means to be in the world but not of it.
One of my former professors, Dr. Stephen J. Bell, always begins his English classes with his famous weltanschauung[2] lecture. In it, Bell discusses how Christian readers must be careful not to avoid or retreat from the world as they live in it and read its literature. In other words, to truly engage with the world, we must be willing to at least enter it. In light of Bell’s teachings, I have noticed that many of us seem to think that avoidance of—or isolation from—all things un-Christian is what keeps us from becoming part of the world.
However, if avoidance is the only path to holy living, why did Christ decide to walk through Samaria instead of around it? Scripture tells us that Christ and his disciples had to walk through Samaria in order to return to Galilee.[3] Andreas J. Köstenberger, an ESV Study Bible contributor, explains that the need to walk through what the Jews would have considered unclean can be understood in two ways: one can read it as the quickest route or as a necessary route, the latter, given the original Greek, refers to a “divine necessity or requirement.”[4] If the latter is true, then this means that Christ went through Samaria for a godly purpose. In this case, it was to reveal himself as Savior to the Samaritan woman—and not only reveal himself but also to drink from her well and listen (and answer) the questions she asks.[5] Drinking from such a well, as Köstenberger mentions, would have been considered unclean by the Jews.[6] However, what mattered more to Christ was not cleanliness or uncleanliness but truth—his truth. Granted, Christ did not dirty himself, so to speak, simply for the sake of dirtying himself but to reveal truth to a woman Christ’s peers would have simply written off as unclean and unholy.
Christ and his actions reveal to us that we must sometimes go through Samaria and walk alongside those who are unclean if we want to reveal his truth. In the context of this discussion, this may mean that in order to become better ministers and purveyors of truth, we must sometimes engage with that which is unclean—like the many books and movies that many of us tend to simply write off without first listening to the questions these texts ask. When the scribes and the Pharisees were perplexed that Christ was spending time with sinners and unholy people, Christ responds by saying, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”[7] Followers of Christ should also be willing to spend time with those plagued by the sickness of sin so that we may better minister to them. But how can we care for the sick if we know nothing of their ailments? And how can we know of their ailments if we don’t walk alongside those who suffer from them and investigate the world that is the source of such sickness? How can we truly walk alongside someone without first befriending them? Such questions have led me to ask a more immediate question: “Why immediately write off and avoid books or other media without even taking the time to listen to what it and its characters have to say?” Christ certainly engaged with what we might call un-Christian in his ministry, and not a single serious Christian would call out Jesus for such actions. Yet, for some reason, when books and other media are the topic of discussion, many of us are quick to turn away without question.
Therefore, I wish to look into the idea of engaging with what may be considered un-Christian stories and characters. I propose that as we attempt to understand the un-Christian characters in un-Christian books and other media, we must seek to befriend such characters so that we can give them a chance to be heard before simply writing them off. For I believe that such reading can be beneficial for our Christian hearts and minds. Given that such an idea may be controversial to some Christian readers (or, at the very least, unsettling) and given that I only have time to discuss one character from one novel, I figured it would be best to discuss a rather unsettling and controversial character: The Catcher in the Rye’s Holden Caulfield.
Reading in General and Friendship in Particular
One of the greatest benefits to reading literature is its ability to encourage the reader to practice empathy. Karen Swallow Prior, in the first half of her discussion on the human aspect of reading, suggests as much.[8] And in her article on why Christian literary critics must learn to approach a text more lovingly, Marybeth Baggett explains how her reading of Stephen Crane’s Maggie: A Girl of the Streets, invoked feelings of empathy within her.[9] However, empathy, being a most selfless act, is arguably one of the most difficult acts to perform. And selfless reading, given that all readers are human and thus fallen, is equally difficult.
However, for us Christian readers, and especially those of us who seem to be quick to write off any text that has traces of the un-Christian, such empathetic reading is relevant. Christians are called to be selfless in all things, which includes the reading of great literature. But when one considers many of the characters of great literature, it can be rather difficult to be selfless—to be empathetic. Such a difficulty may arise when we attempt to empathize with, say, The Catcher in the Rye’s Holden Caulfield. Holden is a difficult character with whom to walk alongside: he is blunt, rude, at many times vulgar, and seemingly not a person that readers should emulate. However, by befriending Holden Caulfield, we will discover that we both seek to defend innocence and expose superficiality, and in turn, will see that sometimes, that which is un-Christian, can sometimes revel to us the most Christian of truths.
When considering befriending Holden Caulfield, we must first understand what it means to be a part of a friendship. C. S. Lewis’s understanding of such a relationship makes even befriending Holden possible. In The Four Loves, Lewis explains that one aspect of true friendship is when two or more people desire to go against the grain, seeking out a particular truth in a way that is unique—different from all others within their community. And true friends, Lewis continues, are those who separate themselves from the status quo in a fashion that resembles rebellion.[10] Such a stance, Lewis suggests helps to solidify friendship. By befriending Holden, we will discover that, like Holden, we seek to defend innocence and resist—or rebel against—superficiality.
To Befriend Holden Caulfield
On the very first page of the novel, Holden appears to invite readers to befriend him, and Christian readers would be wrong to not accept his invitation. Holden begins his story by addressing his listener with the phrase “if you really want to hear about it.”[11] It is well known that Holden is in a psychiatric hospital of sorts; his listener, one can assume, is a counselor or psychoanalyst. This setting establishes the novel’s frame narrative. However, the listener is not named, nor does he speak. It is as if the novel itself is inviting readers to take on this identity and assume the role of listener—not passively, as eyes scan over the page, but actively, sitting face-to-face with Holden. If we are to take on this role, we at once begin the journey of befriending Holden by participating in his narrative with open minds and hearts and reading in accordance to what Alan Jacobs refers to as a form of reading that understands that not only books themselves but also their characters become neighborly beings during and after the act of reading.[12] Therefore, it is important for us to treat literary characters the way we would want to be treated.
However, we may wonder why Holden appears to ask them to befriend him, and such an answer may lie in Holden’s desire to find an ideal parental figure. In the essay “The Saint as a Young Man,” Jonathan Baumbach discusses Holden’s attempts at finding an authority figure he can look up to. According to Baumbach, Holden not only seeks to defend the innocent but also seeks one who will also defend his own innocence. In order to be such a defender, Holden must be taught how to defend—a burden that the adults in Holden’s life must bear. In Baumbach’s words, Holden “is looking for an exemplar, a wise-good father whose example will justify his own initiation into manhood.”[13] Furthermore, Baumbach explains that Holden’s attraction to older women represents his need to find a motherly figure. “Where the father-quest,” says Baumbach, “is a search for wisdom and spirit (God), the mother-quest is a search not for sex but ultimately for love. They are different manifestations, one intellectual, the other physical, of the same spiritual quest.”[14]
Unfortunately, the parental figures in Holden’s life fail to provide him with the answers he seeks and fail to show him what Baumbach refers to as a “God-principle,” which is essentially a system through which a metaphysical entity cares for physical beings.[15] Baumbach is clear that no adult is able to tell Holden where the ducks of Central Park go when the lake freezes over, a question Holden continuously ponders throughout the novel.[16] In The Catcher in the Rye: Innocence Under Pressure, Sanford Pinsker explains that by asking where the ducks go, Holden seeks to know if there is a God who will rescue him from corruption,[17] which, as Pinsker argues throughout his work, is adulthood. Essentially, Holden asks not only the other characters he encounters but also, by extension, readers, “Who is my father and mother?” and “Who will save me?”
We have the opportunity to be the adults who befriend Holden and serve him by being the role model he so desperately seeks. Of course, readers cannot literally serve Holden—or befriend him for that matter. To serve and befriend a literary character like Holden, readers must allow him to play a part in shaping their “ethical agency,” defined by Marshall Gregory in Shaped by Stories as our ability to make moral choices.[18] Befriending Holden also involves what Gregory refers to as “reflective assent,”[19] or deep consideration for what has been read. And finally, readers must see Holden as what Gregory calls a “narrative companion,” or a character who rests in readers’ imaginations and has the potential to influence their decision-making even after their eyes no longer look at the page.[20] For Gregory explains that to imagine something is just as real as any other action one can take in real life, and that even our real-life friends (as opposed to fictional, literary friends) are also our friends when they are not around us because they are still on our minds—and still can influence the choices we make when we are simply thinking of or imaging them.[21] Friendship is both a physical and mental activity, and befriending Holden means allowing him to enter into our imaginations so that he may have a chance to influence us as we live out our lives.
For these reasons, befriending Holden is quite possible, and it is, arguably, Christian readers’ duty to befriend him. The underlying theme of Jacobs’ Theology of Reading is to approach a text lovingly, just like one should approach a person lovingly, which is what Jacobs considers the “hermeneutics of love.” Granted, Jacobs is clear that it is agape as opposed to philia that allows readers to approach a text lovingly,[22] but, arguably, it takes agape to truly befriend Holden given his language and delinquent behavior throughout the novel.
We must love Holden by befriending him and letting him dwell in our imagination—especially since Holden has not been loved in such a way by any other authority figures. According to Baumbach, Holden’s history teacher Old Spencer is too caught up in justifying his own actions. This self-concern causes him to act more childish than Holden, who, in spite of criticizing Old Spencer in his mind, treats him with respect—an example of a reversal of the roles of father and child and the catalyst that sets Holden off on his journey to find a true authority figure.[23] Old Spencer, Baumbach explains, fails to give Holden what he truly needs: someone who will come down to his level and see the world the way he does by claiming that Holden “knew absolutely nothing” in his history course,[24] which may be the case on the surface. But Old Spencer does not take the time to truly see—or read—Holden and listen to the questions Holden asks underneath the surface.
The same can also be said of Mr. Antolini, who at first appears to truly care for Holden, but then proves otherwise. When Holden goes to Antolini’s to spend the night, Holden updates him on some of his adventures in Pencey, and Antolini offers sound advice.[25] Antolini appears to be speaking to Holden on the level that Holden has wanted others to speak to him the entire novel. However, while Holden is sleeping, Antolini is found “patting” Holden’s head.[26] Holden is obviously shaken by this, and as he is rushing out of Antolini’s apartment, makes the following heartbreaking statement: “That kind of stuff’s happened to me about twenty times since I was a kid. I can’t stand it.”[27] Holden, in a very sixteen-year-old way, suggests that he has been molested in one form or another many times in the past. Up until this point in the text, Holden has struggled with simply finding a person who can meet him on his level, but now one sees that he has also been violated by those around him. Baumbach, too, recognizes that though Antolini’s words are well intentioned, his violation of Holden causes him to lose respect for Antolini in particular and father figures in general, and Baumbach equates this loss of respect to a “loss of God.”[28] As Christian readers, we must act differently: we must not write Holden off by deeming him immature, ignorant, or subhuman. Instead, we must provide Holden with the love that has been denied him by befriending him so that, as we interact with children similar to Holden in real life, we may allow Holden to dwell in our imaginations in such a way that we choose to not write off these children as well.
[1] And by “readers” I mean not only readers of books but also of any text—be it a video game, movie, TV show, or even a person.
[2] German for “worldview.”
[3] John 4:1-4 (English Standard Version).
[4] Andreas J. Köstenberger, “John: ESV Study Bible Notes,” in ESV Study Bible, ed. Lane T. Dennis et al. (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2016), 2027.
[5] John 4:7-26.
[6] Köstenberger, 2027.
[7] Luke 2:16-17.
[8] Karen Swallow Prior, “How Reading Makes Us More Human,” The Atlantic, June 21, 2013, https://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2013/06/how-reading-makes-us-more-human/277079/.
[9] Marybeth Baggett, “In Love with the Word: A Charge to Christian Literary Critics,” MoralApologetics, March 16, 2020, https://www.moralapologetics.com/wordpress/2020/3/16/in-love-with-the-word-a-charge-to-christian-literary-critics.
[10] C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves, Signature Book (New York: HarperCollins, 1960), 102.
[11] J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye (New York: Little, Brown, 1991), 1.
[12] Alan Jacobs, A Theology of Reading: The Hermeneutics of Love (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2001), 64.
[13] Jonathan Baumbach, “The Saint as a Young Man,” in Holden Caulfield, ed. Harold Bloom, Major Literary Characters (New York: Chelsea House, 1990), 65.
[14] Ibid., 69.
[15] Ibid.
[16] Ibid.
[17] Sanford Pinsker, The Catcher in the Rye: Innocence Under Pressure, Twanye’s Masterwork Studies, ed. Robert Lecker (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1993), 37-38.
[18] Marshall Gregory, Shaped by Stories: The Ethical Power of Narratives (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2009), 24.
[19] Ibid., 75.
[20] Ibid., 81-83.
[21] Ibid., 81-82.
[22] Jacobs, 66-67.
[23] Baumbach, 67-68.
[24] Ibid., 10.
[25] Salinger, 187-88.
[26] Ibid., 192.
[27] Ibid., 193.
[28] Baumbach, 66.
