This is the way. Or is it?
A conversation with my wife started me on the train of thought that Disney’s The Mandalorian is an allegory for spiritual abuse & now I’ll never watch the show the same way again. Here are my spoiler-free thoughts:
While I don’t get them, I understand that there’s people out there who neither like Star Wars, nor intend to watch The Mandalorian. Immediately suspect. Nevertheless, I’ll give some background on the show so that even the most reprobate among us has the necessary groundwork.
Din Djarin (aka: “Mando”), our protagonist, is a member of culture that could fairly be described as endangered. When the Separatist army attacked his home planet, Djarin was hidden away by his parents whom we presume to be dead. Orphaned by war, Din was rescued by a group of Mandalorians that defended his city & adopted him as their own. Once he came of age, Mando adopted the creeds & traditions of the Mandalorians as his own. In the modern era, the Mandalorians live exiled from their home planet which was razed to the ground by a planet-wide Imperial attack.
As a result, Mando’s small clan lives hidden in coverts, earning their living as runners, assassins, & bounty hunters in the employ of seedy underworld characters. The Mandalorians observe a warrior’s religion which places high value on weaponry & combat proficiency. Chief among their practices is their oath to never remove their helmet in the presence of others - including amongst other Mandalorians.1
However, in Season 2, (slight spoiler) we learn that the helmet oath is a proclivity unique to a certain sect of Mandalorians which were viewed by the rest of Mandalore as a cult. As a space-aged Western, most of the show revolves around Mando’s decision to rescue, & protect, Grogu - one of his prior targets & the most objectively adorable creature on television since Webster. Mando is a lone, principled gunslinger in a hostile galaxy.
Surface Tension
In Mando’s sect, the relationships are all skewed. Their society functions together, works together, protects one another, etc. Everything looks good at first glance. But, from what we’ve seen, the relationships are literally surface level. No one gets to see people for who they are beyond the masks they wear. Y’all don’t hear me: The whole community has made a covenant to wear masks to avoid revealing themselves to each other. I feel a sermon coming on.
Because members of this cult don’t get to see each other beneath their helmets, were they to drop their facades, they would literally be unrecognizable to one another. In their society, people depend on how others present themselves superficially (armor design) to identify their neighbors.
The Cult Leader
The unmistakable spiritual leader of Mando’s sect is referred to as “the armorer”. The armorer trains the clan & reminds them of the tenets of their faith, which, as far as I can tell, is called “The Way”.2
In a pastoral capacity, this character literally equips the members of the cult to function within the cult & the world around them. The armorer forges the metal & shapes the items that get incorporated into each clan member’s armor. Said another way, the cult leader’s influence is so pervasive that it even dictates what they wear.
There’s more than one application of this metaphor for religious conformity. Think about the fundamentalism we see in “bun churches” where the men get to wear nearly anything they want, but women are always adorned (sans makeup) in ankle-length denim skirts, hair pulled tightly into buns, with head coverings.
On the other end of the spectrum, try telling me you haven’t seen these guys in the lobby of every predominately white, non-denominational church on Sunday morning:
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR79B4jB/
Finally, to put a bow on the analogy, when the armorer invokes an ideal of their faith, she explicitly reminds her people, “This is the way”. Tradition dictates a response, “This is the way”, in agreement, like an “amen”.
Because Mando’s sect is specifically referred to as a cult, there are an infinite number of facets we could explore in what the show can teach us about cult psychology. However, I want to scratch the surface of the way that spiritual abuse inevitably results from the colonization of our faith and how dangerously close that takes evangelicalism to becoming a cult.
“It’s Not About Race”
Of all the parallels to spiritual abuse, this is the one that hit hardest. The show makes clear to us that Mandalorian isn’t a race; it’s a creed. Anyone can join the community so long as they’re willing to learn & observe their ways. It doesn’t matter where you’re from. It doesn’t matter what you look like, whether you’re male or female, or what color you are.
Therefore, the precepts of Mando’s sect promote racial diversity in whom they allow to join the community, so long as they all agree to conform to the culture of that community once they’re inside. A community that, in the expression of its faith, is decidedly homogenous.
*taps microphone* Is this thing on? 🎙
My bantha soap box
If you’ve been following me for some time, you know that I’m writing a book on this very subject. White evangelicalism (in the broadest interpretation of the evangelical label) has captured the hearts of many minorities with the lure of diversity.
But, when it comes to applying its theological interpretations of the gospel into the practicalities of how we love our neighbors - especially in areas of justice - we learn that the functionality of diversity was merely window dressing. A bait & switch.
There is a tremendous amount of confusion & pain that result from leaving (or being ejected from) such congregations which appropriately results in deconstruction. Questions abound:
How did my friends & family develop such a different understanding of Christianity than me?
Can racism & nationalism be extracted from Evangelical Christianity?
Do they not see racism in the church, or are they ignoring it?
Is it too late for the Church to be saved (pun intended)?
If I leave this spiritually abusive space, where do I go?
Are advocates of toxic theology even saved?
I want you to know, reader, that you are not crazy. You’re not alone. And you’re not wrong. You have permission to leave & to leave others behind. Therefore, we need to forge a path of healing from spiritual abuse absent “both sides” ideology. We don’t need to reconcile with the White evangelical church. The White evangelical church needs to be reconciled to Christ.
What Have You Done For Me Lately?
Because all relationships in Mando’s covert are pragmatic (how are you serving the community?) & not identity-based, acceptance in the cult is not based on character. It’s what you do & ascribe to rather than who you are. How can you benefit me? The problem with such a philosophy is that value is not found in the mere fact of being an image bearer of God (Imago Dei). But rather value is bestowed based on how I benefit from you. You can be a great person, doing the right thing, & still be alienated.
As an example, in the first season, there was a moment where Djarin found himself outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, & outplanned. He broke the code of his community to do something good - rescuing Grogu. However, his actions violated his vows. Season 1 Spoiler: To the surprise of Mando (and the audience), his sect comes to aid him at the last minute. It could be said that this is evidence of a healthy religious community ethic, but the very thing that made the rescue such a notable surprise was the fact that the rescue was so contrary to expectations based on the normal community ethic.
Further, the reason that the community decided to come to his aid was not because he was a noble person committed to a noble task whose character was valued by the community. It was obligation emanating from the sense that he held the same core beliefs and took the same oath. Said another way, even this rescue was transactional, rather than altruistic.
Conversely, whether behavior is seen as a sin committed against the community isn’t defined by a moral shortcoming resulting in deprivation of relationship and love for one another, but deviation from performance & superficial recitation of beliefs.
Charity Starts (and Ends) at Home
Further, Mando’s community is a true meritocracy. Capitalism all the way down. You get more from it the more you perform. And you only have rights to what you can defend. As he secures higher bounties, Mando gets to level up his armor. This is a practical upgrade as well as a status symbol.
And this, of course, makes him a target - within the community and without. However, within the sect, there are no moral admonitions (for example) against jealousy. Rather, Mando’s presence serves as a motivator within the community: work hard enough and you can have success too. Look at the good it did for Mando. This is the way.
In Space, No One Can Hear You Scream, “Acts 2:42”.
Someone is reading this and thinking, “But Mando (and presumably the clan) gives the excess from his earnings to the foundlings (orphans) raised within the clan. That sounds like Acts 2:42-44 to me.” It’s worth discussing. That passage reads:
42 They were continually devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.
43 Everyone kept feeling a sense of awe; and many wonders and signs were taking place through the apostles.
44 And all those who had believed were together and had all things in common
NASB. The Mandalorians are learning together, eating(?) together, living together, and sharing with each other. They’re doing “life-on-life” together. Sounds good, right? Sorry, I should have given a trigger warning on the phrase “life-on-life”.
Here’s the problem: As good as it sounds, it’s problematic when a church’s philosophy stops there, and churches that frequently cite this passage usually stop there. Let’s keep going:
45 And they began selling their property and possessions and were sharing them with all, as anyone might have need.
The church, as described in acts, wasn’t keeping the best & giving the leftovers to those with need. They were neutralizing their excess so that there was equality and no one was in need. Not very capitalistic. In fact that’s starting to sound like socio…Nvm. And because of this, in verse 47, we learn that the early believers gained favor with all the people, not just those within their religious community.
See, the picture shown to us by the author of Acts is not just that the church community was benefitting from the church community, but the entire community was benefitting from the church. My friend, Kate Boyd talks about this in her book, An Untidy Faith, when she says, “sometimes the ‘greater good’ for us blinds us to the ‘common good’ for all".3 That's what a healthy church should look like.
Now, lest Mando’s cult be accused of being purely selfish, the remainders of the spoils earned from their capitalistic endeavors could be designated to the less fortunate - the foundlings. But it goes to the less fortunate among the Mandalorians. This is what I like to call Trickle Down Orthopraxy. Any residual wealth is still serving THEIR community. Even their charity is selfish.
In the Galaxy but Not of it
The metaphorical role of armor in this allegory can’t be overstated. For now, I’ll have to do a drive by on allusions to “the whole armor of God” (Eph. 6), or the role that the threat of shame has in controlling the community vis-a-vis exile and subordination should you drop your mask and reveal your true self. I hope to pick that back up again at a later point because there’s A LOT there. However, for now, I want to talk about WHY armor is so important to this cult.
Note that Mandalorian armor isn’t just decorative; it’s very practical. Somehow, every piece of it seems to conceal a unique weapon or gadget for combat. This isn’t imagined for protection within the community; it’s for facing the threat of conflict outside of their body.
Said another way, the Mandalorians are armed to the teeth because they’re expecting conflict. Moreover, their helmets serve not only as masks to obscure they’re true identities, but as the filters through which they view everything. Tactical filters. Mando’s cult views itself as an embattled community.
Therefore, every member of this community is equipped for facing down “the world”. The better equipped, the better SUITED they are to function in the hostile, secular world outside. In a similar way, the hallmark of evangelicalism (both as a religious and political identity) seems to be a sense of embattlement against “the world” (or more recently, “the culture”). As Skye Jethani of The Holy Post podcast often notes, evangelicalism seems to be defined by what it stands against rather than what it stands for.
People who wake up feeling as though they are walking out of their homes into Afghanistan in some sort of spiritual war on terror will see every neighbor as a potential enemy combatant and, therefore, feel a greater need to go armed. This, of course, leads to an “us vs. them” psychology; fear, and suspicion of anyone that shows a hint of disagreement with their perceived reality.
As such, they feel the need to travel in packs. They patrol the information super highway together like a task force. And they grow increasingly less like the savior we’re called to emulate who made himself utterly vulnerable because he loves us.
The more we ascribe to an embattled theology, the more insular our church communities look & the closer to cults they become.
Anyway, that’s just how I feel about it. Tell me why I’m wrong. I’m not wrong. But tell me anyway.
No word yet on how that works when two Mandalorians become a couple. Also, like, at what point in a relationship does a Mandalorian couple take the big step of revealing their faces to one another? Third date? A year? Wedding night? I’m picturing a whole Mandalorian purity culture movement with data pads entitled, “I Chose to Never Remove My Helmet for Dating”. Meh; the title is a work in progress.
As a reminder, the original adherents of Jesus’ teachings were referred to as “followers of the Way” & persecuted as a cult by the rest of the Jewish community. Acts 9:1-2. If that’s not on the nose enough for you, I don’t know what is.
Yeah, and the whole book is good like that, btw. I got an advance copy.
Have you seen Moon Knight’s take on avatars?
How does Mando's knowledge and appreciation of the Tuskan Raiders fit your metaphor (which I enjoyed, btw)? It shows an acceptance of others outside his own clan. Or maybe it's another of Mando's eccentricities.