The Matrix and Meaning
Marc T. Newman, Ph.D.

Would you lay down your life for a hand-carved chest of drawers that you crafted in junior high school? How about sacrifice yourself for an invention you created? If we had a chance to reflect for a minute, my guess is that we would not. These items are merely things - so far beneath us on the value scale that to discuss trading our lives for them seems ridiculous. Yet is this not the message of the Gospel -- how the
Creator came to Earth to die for His creation in order to redeem it from destruction? As the Church seeks fresh metaphors for the Good News with which to engage culture, along comes the Matrix trilogy to give us points of contact.

While some critics reveled in the trilogies' deficiencies, the images and ideas represented in the films, though incompletely developed, make them a compelling touchstone for discussion. The Matrix films mirror many of the problems and challenges reflected in the postmodern vision of the West, namely our cultural amnesia regarding religion - especially religious truth, how to deal with embodiments of good and evil in a culture that rejects those distinctions, and the nature and relative values of peace and freedom. The trilogy provides answers that are deeply rooted in our mythological past, and therefore less threatening to those distrustful of religion.

If the first film in the series toyed with Hilary Putnam's idea that we all may be nothing more than "brains in a vat," the second two films seem to have been made with philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre in mind. MacIntyre, in After Virtue, invites readers to imagine a world where all knowledge of the natural sciences has been lost, but where the artifacts of science remain. People have access to beakers and test tubes, but do not know the true purpose of the items because the context in which they had meaning is lost. Attempts might even be made to use these in some
way, and while their use might include the trappings of science it would bear little or no resemblance to the science that created them. MacIntyre says such a scenario actually reflects the current state of morality in Western culture - we have the moral words - we even use concepts like justice and obligation -- but we have essentially lost the understanding of what it means to be moral. The Matrix films represent a
similar problem. The world depicted there has lost the meaning of religion, though they have many of the artifacts.

It is clear that Christianity is known in the world of the Matrix. The words "Jesus" and "God" pepper the speech of the inhabitants of Zion, not as terms of worship and adoration, but as curses. The films boast an Oracle that knows the future, and a portrayal of the Sacred Heart of Jesus makes an appearance on a candle in a vendor's stall in the second film. The residents of Zion have a temple, prayers, and worship. What happens in Zion's temple looks more like a political rally and the
worship that follows looks more like a rave. It is contextless religion -- much zeal, little knowledge.

Whatever it is, it looks much more militant than what most Christians would find on a Sunday morning. The fictional residents of Zion know that life and death are on the line. Flesh and blood Christians agree, and say that eternal life and death are on the line in the battle for the souls of humankind. But the fervor and commitment of the inhabitants of the fictional Zion seems more consistent with the perceived threat than does what most young people see happening in their congregations on
a Sunday morning. In a culture trying to find its place, seeking a battle, it is not hard to understand why these films are so popular.

Additionally, battles have sides. Both Neo and Agent Smith are willing to sacrifice themselves in order to attain the prize - identified as "everything." In a postmodern world where right and wrong are intentionally blurred (or merely denied), the attraction of characters like Neo and Agent Smith is instructive. These characters represent embodiments of transcendent good and evil. Both do what is considered by others to be impossible - each invading the other's world in a struggle for dominion. Smith is a contagion - turning humans, who would rightly struggle against him, into clones of himself. He is the slave-maker, the sinner, the ultimate example of an unrepentant creation gone wrong. Neo is the redeemer, not merely of his fellow humans, but of human creation -- the programs and machines -- as well. Neo represents our culture's desire for a world made right.

Another fascinating feature of the final two Matrix films is that no attempt is made to portray Zion, the last human stronghold, as a kind of Shangri-La. Instead it is a gritty place of hardship. The distinction between the real world represented by Zion and the fabricated world of the Matrix is vast. In the first film, Cypher - the Matrix's Judas - represents many people's willingness to be enslaved in a comfortable
illusion instead of being free in an uncomfortable reality. The Matrix films explore the tension this generation is experiencing as the most marketing-targeted group in history tries to declare freedom from materialism. Yet a cursory survey of life on most American campuses will show that Volcom is more popular than Voltaire, and Playboy trumps Plato. (It is instructive that the Carl's Jr. hamburger chain recently
retained the services of Hugh Hefner to stump for their products.)

The Matrix films are trying to demonstrate that ugly freedom is preferable to sumptuous slavery. This is similar to what the Scriptures teach. What we see here now is fleeting, temporary (as in the Matrix), so we ought not put our trust in things seen, but in things unseen. What appears heroic in the dark of the theater is much more difficult to live out in the light of day.

The salvation message of the last film bears much greater similarity to the Gospel than does the first film. It wasn't until the final moments of the first film that any inkling of Neo's true purpose was revealed. He hints that he is there not merely to liberate humans from their enslavement but to redeem the programs and machines as well. They are the creation in rebellion, and the Creator is coming to rescue them from their fall. In the second film, the Oracle reveals her faith in Neo. Many of the programs believe. They are humanity's creation, and therefore bear some of their creator's image. Their fall is represented by Agent Smith and the Merovingian. Neo, as savior, is not only willing to die for creation; he is willing to become the worst of it - to become sin - so that it may be saved.

In the final scenes of Revolutions, after a terrific battle between Neo and Agent Smith, Neo lies in a puddle, apparently beaten. Smith, wanting total victory, wanting everything, shoves his hand into Neo's chest and transforms Neo into Smith. Like Christ, who became sin for us, Neo takes on to his body the likeness of Smith, but Smith cannot hold him. A three day wait for a resurrection would take too long for an action film, so Neo immediately begins to reassert himself and break through. Agent Smith, and all of the clones, begin to glow with an inner light - Neo's inner light - and without warning, Neo cleanses all of the Agent Smiths from the system - restoring those - like the Oracle - who had been infected by sin.

Ultimately, the Matrix films represent a throwback to the pagan myths of the dying and reviving king. In a post-Christian culture we should not be surprised to see the old myths recycled. Neo is not God -- in the machine world his power is enhanced, but Neo is not omnipotent. Still, his sacrifice, and its efficacy, gives the story its weight and allure. The ancient pagan stories were used long ago for touchstones for the Gospel (and are still used today when Christians encounter primitive cultures). There is no reason to believe that they cannot now serve the same function.

The Matrix films reveal a lot about what this generation values, about its anxieties, and its romantic hopes. The world we inhabit has its own set of difficulties - we are consistently being drawn to a manufactured unreality pitched to us from countless media outlets telling us we should be dissatisfied with our lives. We are told that all we have to do is plug in to the materialist system and we will be saved from our problems. Unlike the world of the Matrix, our problems are real rather than fictional. Fortunately, so is our Savior. At a time in history where fiction demonstrates openness to spiritual dialogue, Christians need to take the initiative. If we try to understand the myths this generation embraces, we are well-poised to introduce them to the Factual Reality who can make true their wildest hopes for redemption in the midst of this dark and dying world.