In my freshman literature course in high school, we were doing a unit on John Steinbeck’s beloved novella from 1937, Of Mice and Men. On the first day of the unit, our teacher sat on a stool at the front of the classroom and decided to read the first chapter aloud to us. I don’t remember exactly what happened in that first chapter, but I do remember being taken aback by some of the words coming out of my teacher’s mouth: a startling amount of Jesus Christs, Goddammits, and Swear to Gods. She read them so matter-of-factly, without looking up, without a hint of reaction to the shocking vulgarity of the words…and at a Christian school! 

God’s second commandment to “not take the name of the Lord your God in vain” was very strictly adhered to in my parents’ house. Any time we would hear someone say “oh my God,” even on our favorite TV show, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, my mother would lovingly remind us, “Don’t use God’s name unless you’re talking about Him or talking to Him in prayer!” 

So when fourteen-year-old me, at my private Christian high school (fresh from my private Christian middle school) suddenly heard all this blasphemy and swearing, I was baffled. My innocent ears clutched their pearls. 

I went home that day and told my mom about it; not in a way where I was intending to tattle on my teacher or anything, just in a “this was wild” kind of way. But I did also feel a little uncomfortable with it—a part of me was genuinely worried that if I said those words out loud, or potentially, if I even read them in my head, I could be sinning, and the next thing I knew God would be stamping my passport for a one-way ticket to Hell. 

My mom, of course, was also uncomfortable with the language in the book, and was shocked that they would have us read something with so much blasphemy (“at a Christian school!”). She encouraged me to confront my teacher about it, to “stand up for my beliefs,” and respectfully ask her to please give me a different book to read for credit instead. I remember standing at my teacher’s desk before class the next day and telling her just that. She teacher was very kind, and tried to explain to me: 

“I understand your concerns, but this book is a classic piece of literature, and represents a people group and time in history that is valuable for us to study and understand. As Christians, we need to engage with the world around us—and unfortunately, that sometimes includes accurate and uncomfortable representations of the ways people talk, which might be different from our own.” 

“My mom says there are ways we can do that without indulging in things that go explicitly against God’s commands.” 

The conversation ended there, and my teacher agreed to assign another book for me to read instead. From then on, during Freshman Lit, while my classmates read and had discussion groups around Of Mice and Men, I would relocate myself to the hallway, sit in front of some lockers, and read my new assignment: a historical fiction novel I’d never heard of called The Copper Sun by Sharon M. Draper. 

The Copper Sun is about a girl kidnapped from her village in Africa and taken to the American South, where she’s separated from her family and sold into slavery. The narrative contained various depictions of abduction, rape, death by sharks, beatings, infidelity, gun violence, disease, poisoning, domestic violence, lying, deceit, and revenge. In its entirety, the whole book was shockingly graphic, intense, and rated “R” in every possible way—except, of course—no blasphemy. 

Looking back, the irony is not lost on me how we traded one bad thing for about a thousand others—and at the end of the day, I don’t think one was really better or worse (blasphemy or graphic content). Instead, this experience really altered my perspective on how I viewed morality, my Christian values, and how I approached stories, content, and language in both the secular and religious spheres. The question of what media Christians should be engaging with has been an ongoing and complicated one, as we continue to wrestle with what it means to be, as the Bible says, “in the world, but not of it.” 

This gosh darn phrase is so flippin’ vague. 

Now, nearly fifteen years after my Freshman Lit course, I definitely approach content and language very differently; I mean, I work in theatre, film, and comedy—where the “f” bomb is dropped constantly as a filler word, and God’s name is only said after throwing back a shot of whiskey. At this point, my ears are far from clutching their pearls, and where I “draw the line” often depends on the context. I’m not saying at all that it’s suddenly okay to be disrespectful and yell “Jesus Christ!” when you stub your toe—but I am saying I think it’s finally time to go back and read Of Mice and Men. 

Sophia Medawar

Sophia (‘19) double-majored in theatre and religion and insists that her life is a “storybook.” She lives in an apartment above a flower shop in downtown Chicago and has multiple roles working across the arts in comedy, music, theatre, film, and visual art—though her greatest passion is writing. Her work includes stage plays, screenplays, and articles, focusing mostly on cultural trends, comedy, reviews, and religious satire. She loves road trips, visiting her family in Grand Rapids, hunting for the perfect latte, and rescuing plants from the flower shop’s dumpster.