Finding some Christian element in such things… equips us to contribute something meaningful to a conversation with others that goes beyond scolding.
For a show dripping with irony, The White Lotus, whose third season has now excitingly concluded, has sincere points to make. Some of these points are hidden behind graphic imagery, sensitive subject matter, and “adult situations,” while remaining nonetheless profound. I have never been one to advocate for why a Christian can or should watch morally ambiguous media, nor have I been one to dictate when not to view it. The value I see in finding some Christian element in such things is that it equips us to contribute something meaningful to a conversation with others that goes beyond scolding, whether that scolding is real or just perceived.
An interesting point The White Lotus has made in its first three seasons comes from the name itself. Lotus is a reference to Homer’s Odyssey. When Odysseus comes across the island of Lotus-Eaters, his crew are at first relieved to have found food. However, Odysseus warns them not to eat when they see the effect it has on the inhabitants. Everyone on the island is lethargic and inactive. They aren’t imprisoned by an outside force, but by their own apathy, which is induced by the abundance, pleasure, and drowsiness the lotus provides. In the show, The White Lotus is the name of a chain of high-end, luxurious resorts found in exotic locations around the world. The guests who can afford attendance here require an abundance of wealth. This entitles them to experience the utmost pleasure this world can offer. It is not just an escape; it is an abdication.
But what would the show be without a twist?
We find out in the opening moments of each season’s first episode that something tragic has occurred: a murder (well, we’re to assume it’s a murder, anyway). We are given little other information: no who (neither the victim nor the perpetrator), some when (as it is always the end of the week), and no why, or how. This death will now hover over every moment of the week until our curiosity is satisfied. What will be the circumstances that lead to whose demise?
The show is not reducing this to “rich = bad; poor = good,” but is satirizing the feigned concern for the poor that often characterizes the interactions between social classes.
Lest you think the main value in this show is the murder mystery element, know that it truly lies in the character dynamics and dialogue. Considering the lotus symbolism, keep in mind that this resort could not run without the efforts of those who could never dream to afford using its services as guests. The show contrasts these two classes of people, highlighting the disparity through the staff’s interactions with the guests. While the guests themselves are well-traveled and worldly in one sense, they are also oblivious to the world of those who serve them. This is often depicted humorously through many conversations involving a shipping/real estate heiress (played by Jennifer Coolidge), but it also creates intense conflict amongst the characters.
As Christians, our mission is not to try to eliminate class, as the “poor will be with [us] always” (Matthew 26:11), but to identify with them to the degree that we identify with Christ ourselves (cf Matthew 25:35-40). The show is not reducing this to “rich = bad; poor = good,” but is satirizing the feigned concern for the poor that often characterizes the interactions between social classes. It is not a didactic presentation, but an instructive one nonetheless.
If Odysseus is the model for the hero who must endure hardships, complete challenges, and slay monsters in order to get home to his family, then the island of the Lotus-Eaters stands as the first obstacle to his growth. If he stays, he does not fulfill his goal nor does he return to his responsibilities of wife and children. He loses out on his opportunity to love.
Likewise, every season of The White Lotus has featured characters with stunted male maturation. I was fascinated by the way the show depicted each character’s pornography habits in a negative light, though not in a shameful finger-wagging manner. The story showed that porn was holding each of them back from the authentic relationships in their lives, and even more surprisingly, we witnessed their growth when the habit was interrupted. This pattern is not presented as obviously in Season Three as it is in Seasons One and Two, but there are allusions to this theme in the bro-ish character, Saxon (Patrick Schwarzenegger). Porn’s detrimental effects were featured too heavily in the first two seasons for it to be accidental, and while Saxon’s moment in the Season Three finale is not quite a St. Paul-level conversion, it shows a moment of profound growth from where he began just one week prior. This complements the Christian prohibition of pornography, which is a sin ultimately against charity, a way of seeing another person as merely an object.
Mimetic desire is the idea that our wants are not produced inside of us, but from an external “model” …We do not want the thing for itself, but because our model wants it first.
Another prominent theme from every season of The White Lotus is that of desire and what shapes it. There are many rivalries and “micro-aggressions” amongst all of the characters throughout all three seasons, but one stands out between two thirty-something male friends from college who are attending with their wives. Another, from Season Three, has three middle-aged women who have been friends since high school but went their separate ways in adulthood. Not surprisingly, things from their past have come back to haunt them and old rivalries resurrect themselves as the vacation brings out various aspects of their personalities. In Season Two, one friend attributes the tension between them to the other’s “mimetic desire.” Without it being spelled out so clearly, there are hints of mimetic desire and mimetic rivalry between the three friends in Season Three.
Briefly, mimetic desire is the idea that our wants are not produced inside of us, but from an external “model,” who unconsciously shapes them. We do not want the thing for itself, but because our model wants it first. Some may recognize this idea from the Christian scholar René Girard. This concept is what contributes to what he calls the “scapegoat mechanism,” which involves the victimization of an undesirable party within a community in order to unite that community around a common cause. While Girard’s reach certainly goes beyond the Church, the fact that the show would cite his theory with overt biblical language (“scapegoat” is a term from Leviticus 16:22 and Girard attributed this idea to his return to faith in Christianity) is telling.
Girard saw in biblical stories—first in that of Joseph from the Old Testament and ultimately in Jesus—a breaking of the scapegoat mechanism. Instead of participating in the escalation of desires with his neighbor and then finding another innocent victim to take the blame for why that desire was unfulfilled, Jesus desired to become the victim himself to show the bankruptcy of the whole system of mimetic desire. Christians, as those who participate in the Body of Christ, the Church (cf. 1 Cor. 12:27; cf. Col. 1:18), also are meant to participate in this breaking of the scapegoat mechanism. Our desires are no longer shaped by our neighbor or the world, but by Christ, even if it means being the victim as he was.
Is this a ringing endorsement to binge The White Lotus? Not necessarily. Are there objectionable elements in the show that may distract us from the reflective, or even possibly spiritual fecundity? Yes. What I think is worth taking away from a show like this are the subtle elements within that a Christian especially can appreciate. Picking up on these elements allows us to contribute to a discussion about a popular piece of media in a unique way that is not obvious proselytization, nor acquittal of its problematic content. Perhaps your insightful comment with an unexpected Christian twist is just what moves your friend or coworker’s needle to a follow-up conversation.
