Disciples and Handmaids Asunder
The deconstruction of religious explanations for The Handmaid’s Tale.
I. Mission
At first read, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale might lead one to believe that Gilead, the society in which the novel is set, came to fruition at the behest of a sort of alt-Christianity. That is, the framers of the Gilead society structured their new order using select themes and phrases present in the Bible. However, upon further scrutiny, one would find that the employ of this alt-Christianity does not serve in every way to indoctrinate Gileadan females, or even males, into the new social structure detailed in the story; in some examples it serves to empower those that have been stripped of power, in some ways it can be used to argue against the caste-like system of Gilead, and at other times it evinces the overall unsustainability of Gileadan class hierarchy through examples of cognitive dissonance within characters themselves. This essay will introduce outside opinions as to what the intended meaning of the The Handmaid’s Tale might be in order to illustrate the multiplicity of meaning present, such as the seemingly fundamentalist Christianity exercised by Gilead in its utopian goals (it isn’t quite fundamentalist, according to one source), a second source discusses that the Christianity employed has roots in the Jewish holiday Passover and how the Bible was used in the totalitarian system, a third source discusses where in the Bible one might find a similar philosophy to that of The Handmaid’s Tale, and a final source -an interview with Margaret Atwood- details to us the fact that even the author does not feel, at least publicly, that Christianity is to blame for the rise of Gilead. These sources and their different inferences from the novel clearly portrays for us that the novel has no one central pedestal for which the overall structure of the Republic of Gilead stands, and the multiplicity of meanings inherent to the tale bring forward the conclusion that no single entity can be proven to add to the integrity of the overall authoritarian system.
II. Fallacy: Does Christianity Give Way to Stability in Gilead?
Throughout The Handmaid’s Tale, Atwood mentions religious themes that, loosely read, will come off as being one of the main driving forces for maintaining the new structure of the society, referred to as Gilead. This is done with the use of certain portions of the Bible as a method of brainwashing, such as the Rachel and Leah school the narrator describes being forced to attend. During the Ceremony scene, the narrator recalls that the Commander goes over “…the old Rachel and Leah stuff…we had it read to us every breakfast…” (Atwood 88) when she was forced to endure incessant exposure to scripture from the Book of Genesis, that depicted women as more or less the property of men, at the Red Center, where women were repackaged to fit into the new society. This type of repetition would be quite frustrating, and some women would sooner take their own lives than assimilate in the new society, a definite instability. Even large events called Prayvaganzas were used in efforts to indoctrinate the women, going insofar as to have a Commander quote from the Bible at the Prayvaganza described in the narrative: “Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection” (Atwood 221), telling women to submit quietly to men. The Commander at the Prayvaganza goes on to say that “…Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression” (Atwood 221) to blame women for man’s original sin. The women are said to be damned from the start, but, to free themselves of this inherent damnation, “[they] shall be saved by childbearing” (Atwood 221). The focus on childbearing being the only thing that would save a woman from sin is an overt attempt at religious indoctrination for the purposes of a society that essentially tolerates women only for their childbearing capabilities. The banner for the Women’s Prayvaganza is noted by the narrator to have on it written the phrase “God is a National Resource” (Atwood 213), appearing further that the religion of Gilead is a means of control. Framing the deity of the country’s religion as finite or tangible, implied through God being identified as a resource, may lead an initial reader to posit that religion is the culprit for the new society’s structure. The refusal to allow women to read even the Bible would lead one to the quick conclusion that Christianity is the rope that the Republic of Gilead uses to bind the wrists of her people. This is quickly proven to have the opposite effect, however, as will become evident with a more diligent reading.
Reading deeper into the intended structure of Gilead and the religion behind it, one sees that in some ways it serves to empower those that have been stripped of power, namely Aunt Lydia and other Aunts. The narrator tells about how some women who inherently desire power over other women may abuse the religion to justify galling behavior. For instance, Janine confesses at a Testifying that she had been gang-raped in the past, and is asked by Aunt Helena “whose fault was it…who lead them on?” (Atwood 72), to which the observers chant in obedient agreement that the rape was Janine’s fault. When the narrator describes Aunt Helena as “…fat, she once headed a Weight Watchers’ franchise operation…she’s good at Testifying” (Atwood 71), she is showing that Aunt Helena is an example of an abuser of religion as a means to have power. The narrator implies that, because Aunt Helena was fat, and keeping in mind the events that gave rise to Gilead occurred in somewhere near present day America, she had less power than fairer women did at attracting a mate. This inference would assert that she became an Aunt in order to use the power that came with the title to take out her physical, personal insecurities, with virtual impunity, on those who have had any kind of extramarital sex, rape or no. This was opposed to her actually caring about the religion and the emotional well-being of the people expected to practice it. No doubt the handmaids would harbor resentment for the Aunts and for the Christianity being forced upon them, which weakens the argument that the religion of Gilead creates structural stability in its society.
In some examples, the new alt-Christianity of the Republic of Gilead can be used to argue against the caste-like system of Gilead, like when the narrator and Ofglen take their walk past Soul Scrolls, the building that housed paid prayer machines. When the narrator tells that “there are five different prayers…you pick the one you want…and punch in the number of times you want the prayer repeated” (Atwood 167), she shows how the Republic of Gilead monetizes piety, which leaves handmaids, because they are allowed no property, forever unable to be as holy or as religious as Wives or Commanders; they could never dream of being able to pray as much as an automated machine. But this actually undermines the nature of the class divisions, as seen when Ofglen asks the narrator “do you think God listens…to these machines?” (Atwood 168), to which the narrator answers no. These two handmaids, examples of the larger system of handmaids as a whole, do not believe that being more pious actually places someone among a higher class. Having a machine pray for you is, according to the alt-Christianity of Gilead, a righteous thing to do, yet, counter to this way of thinking, nobody was fooled by it. It was too obviously untrue, and in this case the skepticism shared by the narrator and Ofglen are actually an example of how Mayday, the main defiant driving force against the stable Gileadan religious class structure, would be inevitable when people unite against the common enemy in such plain sight.
Examples of cognitive dissonance (that is, one person’s supposed beliefs conflicting with their actions or behavior) throughout The Handmaid’s Tale break up the very foundation of religion’s use as a means of control over the women in Gilead. Before the Ceremony, the Commander ceremoniously reads passages from the Bible. His readings are a Gileadan effort at keeping the handmaids, as well as Wives, in a stable state of submission. However, the narrator undermines this when she writes “the Commander, as if reluctantly, begins to read [from the Bible]” (Atwood 88), showing that the dissonance within Commanders was apparent. This inner contradiction shows weakness (instability, at least) at the very head of the society. How could the subjects be expected to believe something their master would not? One would find it difficult to believe that the Commander holds stock in the alt-Christianity after he says that “Nature demands variety, for men…It’s Nature’s plan” (Atwood 237). He substitutes the word God for Nature, evident through the usage of the capital ’N’ in ‘Nature’. Why would he not use God, if he fully had faith in the religion he was beholden to? Even the narrator herself acts (at least in the image she paints of herself for the other women) as though she has bought in to the new structure and is a devout alt-Christian, but this is most clearly proven otherwise when she, talking to God, says “though maybe it’s not Your doing; I don’t believe for an instant that what’s going on out there is what You meant” (Atwood 194). It is not believable to her that the God detailed in the Bible would condone the way Gilead is run. If the narrator experiences these feelings, then surely others would have the same sentiments, which would result in further structural destabilizations in Gilead.
III. What Does Atwood Say About the use of Christianity?
During a primary, casual read, it might seem that Margaret Atwood’s A Handmaid’s Tale sets religion as the spiritual equivalent to a ball and chain. However, taking into account the examples of abuse of religion with little power to gain some power, the examples of the alt-Christianity in the novel that are clearly not believed by the characters, as well as the cognitive dissonance seen in the characters actions compared to their held beliefs, one would be hard pressed to contend that religion added to the sustainability and overall stability of the Gilead societal structure. What’s more, an answer in an interview Atwood did with Sojourners Magazine pretty much shuts the lid on the false impression of a Christianity-based stability. When asked about the theocratic nation of Gilead in her novel, Atwood claims she is aiming to critique “the abuse of power, not Christianity” (Sojourners). There. Any argument on the topic of the abuse of Christianity would be a stretch, especially after hearing what Atwood has to say about the values of the theocracy. To further the distance between Christianity and Gilead, Atwood “[does not] consider these people to be Christians because they do not have at the core of their behavior and ideologies what [she]… would consider to be the core of Christianity,” (Sojourners). As to what she thinks is the core of Christianity may be anyone’s guess, but the point is driven home here. She has created an exaggerated form of Christianity, although, in the context of the Bible as a work, one might humor that everything wrong with Gileadan Christianity is actually present within the Bible, the so-called inerrant word of God, and so maybe the Gilead theocracy wouldn’t be as one-off as she makes it seem. But I am not here to argue with Atwood’s personal religious beliefs. Christianity can’t provide stability to Gilead; the author’s personal views conflict with this notion and evidence in the text itself makes it believable that such a view on Christianity does not really work on the ones it aims to empower (the Commanders) nor the ones it aims to oppress (the Handmaids); hardly a sturdy foundation for structure.
IV. Other Discourses on Religion in the Handmaid’s Tale
This portion of the paper serves to cement the idea that the multiplicity of meanings that religion holds in The Handmaid’s Tale prevents its usage as a means for structure. The Politics of The Handmaid’s Tale by Gorman Beauchamp, A Chilling Look at a Fundamentalist Dystopia by Ed Doerr, and A Politics of Auto-Cannibalism by Maria Christou all centralize around the topic of meaning in the novel, but none of the three present the same or even similar points.
Let us begin with the Beauchamp article, The Politics of The Handmaid’s Tale. Here Beauchamp considers “the plausibility, in light of current conditions, of the future depicted in The Handmaid’s Tale (Beauchamp 13). Beauchamp goes at length discussing historical parallels to The Handmaid’s Tale both in America (the Religious Right of the Republican Party) and abroad (Iran and the U.S.S.R., among others). But Beauchamp keeps returning to this idea behind a fundamentalist theocracy (despite Atwood claiming the society to not be, in her view, fundamentalist). Even Beauchamp suspects that “Atwood knew little about the specific varieties and vagaries of American fundamentalism and maybe cared less” (Beauchamp 18) and thus the false belief that a fundamentalist take on Christianity in the novel can be ruled out. He goes on to say that “…she projects instead a suprahistorical entity whose origins exist more in demonology than in sociology” (Beauchamp 18) in which he moves away from a fundamentalist argument on Christianity’s usage in the tale. The fact that, although some relationships between fundamentalism arbitrarily exist between Gilead and Christianity, the resulting Republic of Gilead from the novel was pure creation; fiction.
The only aspect of structure that may be observed in the text comes to us from Ed Doerr’s A Chilling Look at a Fundamentalist Dystopia where Doerr shows us the “theme of surrogate mothers…comes straight from the Bible” (Doerr 25). This contradicts Beauchamp’s contention that “the practice that provides the central metaphor of the novel — the handmaid’s indentured service as surrogate womb — has, of course, no sanction in Christian theology, fundamentalist or otherwise” (Beauchamp 18). Beauchamp is obviously not a theologian nor an avid Bible-reader, because Doerr gives us evidence for inspiration drawn directly out of Genesis 30, “where Jacob’s wife Rachel, unable to conceive, turns her maid over to her husband: “Here is my maidservant Bilhah as a consort, and Jacob had intercourse with her. When Bilhah conceived and bore a son, Rachel said, ‘God has vindicated me; indeed he has heeded my plea and given me a son!’” (Doerr 25). It is here perhaps that Gilead asserts the reasons for the oppression of the Handmaids and others, but it is a small block to balance the weight of enormous structure upon and therefore would not be a viable method for indoctrinating Gileadan citizens due to its superficiality. Where Beauchamp and Doerr do not meet at middle ground, one can clearly see the multiplicity of meanings that can be drawn from the text and doing so is to have an intentionally fallible argument.
Maria Christou can see the daunting task of attributing Christianity to any one function in Gilead with her A Politics of Auto-Cannibalism. She talks about the multiple meanings of Christianity’s usage, saying “in short, critics have suggested that the Bible features as a tool for suppression in The Handmaid’s Tale whilst also pointing out its function as a tool for subversion, thus revealing its complex role in the novel” (Christou 411). Apparently, it is obvious that any singular position that may be imposed on Christianity is difficult and reduces the depth of a Christianity with multiple, contradicting usages. Christou moves further by relating Gilead to Nazi Germany, and suggests possible inspiration from the Jewish holiday Passover. “Both The Handmaid’s Tale and the story of the Passover are survival narratives with political significance; both are preoccupied with the question of sacrifice; and both present us with an auto-cannibalistic type of consumption” (Christou 413) that Christou relates to Derrida’s take on eating and politics being sacrificial in essence. This perspective is another addition to the building list of meanings one can draw from The Handmaid’s Tale and serves to prove the point of this argument: Christianity, through its multiple and often contradicting uses, cannot serve to be structurally stable or significant for Gileadan society.
V. Conclusion
Despite many critiques attempting to do so, and the casual readers’ instinctual relation of Christianity to the structure of the Gileadan theocracy, placing any centralizing theme or meaning to Atwood’s description of the usage of Christianity in The Handmaid’s Tale would be to ignore the enormous depth one receives when deconstructing this false notion of a singular meaning for Christianity in relation to maintaining a stable regime. After considering myriad examples within the text, hearing what other critics have said about the story, and even what Atwood herself has said on the topic of religion in the novel will surely lead one to the conclusion this paper sets forth: through multiple usages and implications, Christianity does not allow much stability in the society of Gilead at large nor within the individual experience of being a Gileadan citizen.
Works Cited
Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale. First Anchor Books Edition, New York, NY, Random House, Inc., 1986.
Beauchamp, Gorman. “The Politics of “The Handmaid’s Tale.” Midwest Quarterly, vol. 51, no. 1, Sept. 2009, pp. 11–25. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=44641582&site=ehost-live.
Christou, Maria. “A Politics of Auto-Cannibalism: Margaret Atwood’s the Handmaid’s Tale.”
Literature & Theology, vol. 30, no. 4, Dec. 2016, pp. 410–425. EBSCOhost, doi:10.1093/litthe/frv030.
Doerr, Edd. “A Chilling Look at a Fundamentalist Dystopia.” Humanist, vol. 50, no. 3,
May/Jun90, p. 25. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=10488040&site=ehost-live.
Parker, Robert Dale. How to Interpret Literature: Critical Theory for Literary and Cultural Studies. 3rd ed., Oxford University Press, 2015.
“What Theocracy Looks Like?”. Sojourners Magazine, July 2017, p. 12. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=a9h&AN=123730614&site=ehost-live.
