Re: the Mary Marsh incident, I’m always so curious exactly what Josh was saying at the beginning, about 38 states*, it makes me wonder exactly what kind of thing MM was pushing for. Constitutional amendment regarding religion in some sense?
And also while Josh was technically out of line, A) it’s very quaint that this is what almost gets him fired, and
B), MM directly telling a Jewish man “you don’t believe in any God I pray to” combined with her anti-Semitic remarks later on… mixed with how Josh is a very lax Jew according to Toby… Makes you wonder about how the WH is framed by the right with so many prominent Jewish staffers.
*it took me (a Canadian) several years longer than I should admit to to look up that 38 states is the # required for a constitutional amendment.
Welcome to the first letter of The Sacred Letters of Supernatural. I’m glad to have you here with me on this journey. I want to take a moment to say thank you to those who have already shown their support for the project on Tumblr and Twitter. You gave this project the kickstart it needed to get off the ground. And for those who will be jumping on board now and in the future, thank you.
I also want to thank the people over at Harry Potter and the Sacred Text, the podcast which inspired this project. I hope to take the inspiration and love for Harry Potter that you show through your podcasts and channel that into my love for the show Supernatural. I also hope to take this project and make it my own while learning from the work put into Harry Potter and the Sacred Text.
As I begin my work on this project, I find myself wishing I had a text to hold. There is something special about holding a book in your hands as you read from it, something about feeling the physical object in my hands helps me learn. But Supernatural is primarily a visual and auditory experience and I think there’s something special about that, too. We can see more details, see how characters react in body language and tone of voice. The set design, lighting, and color choices can clue us into what’s happening on screen. We don’t get internal dialogue or exposition of a character’s introspection on television, but I think many of the visual and auditory aspects make up for that.
So with that being said, let’s begin the first Sacred Letter of Supernatural.
I want to start with a personal story. When I was a young child, I did not like Chinese food. I wouldn’t eat it. When my dad tried to convince me to try Chinese food as a child, it would usually result in tears. It wasn’t until years later as an adult that I learned that when I was about four years old, I had Chinese food for dinner and a stomach bug the same evening. You maybe can see where this is going? My parents’ bed sheets were ruined, let’s just say that. But that moment, the feeling of that memory, stayed with me many years even though I couldn’t remember the actual incident. This aversion was something my dad didn’t understand. I remember very vividly sitting in a Chinese buffet with my plain chicken, french fries, and a few vegetables. My dad is trying to make me try various different foods. I keep saying no and become so upset at the pressure to “just get over it,” I cry in the restaurant. To my dad, Chinese food was just chicken or pork with noodles, rice, and vegetables. It was delicious. To me, Chinese food was the reason I had become violently ill, and my body couldn’t forget that. The body’s memory of fear can be a powerful force in our day-to-day lives.
By now, you may have guessed our theme for today’s letter: fear. The Merriam Webster dictionary defines fear as “an unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.” I also like the definition given by Google which defines fear as “an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.” I like how the second definition highlights the idea that fear is tied to our own beliefs that something is dangerous. This says to me that some people can believe that something is scary and experience fear, while others do not see the same danger. Like in my story about having this fear of Chinese food, I expected it to be dangerous while those around me did not. They couldn’t understand my fear.
But I think we can understand the fear that’s happening in the pilot episode of Supernatural. For the fandom, this episode is iconic. We will likely never forget the visuals and lines of dialogue, many of which are echoed in episodes fifteen years later, but I’ll still give you a quick recap of what happens in this episode.
The year is 1982, and we are introduced to the Winchester family on the night that their mother, Mary Winchester, dies. She is murdered by a mysterious figure who breaks into baby Sam’s nursery. When Mary goes to check on Sam, she interrupts this figure and is attacked. We see some of the ordeal, most poignantly the image of her stuck to the ceiling, stomach cut, and flames igniting around her. Her husband, John Winchester, sees her on the ceiling as well. John knows something is not normal about the way she dies.
When we fast forward twenty-two years, Sam has been in college and is living with his girlfriend. He seems to be enjoying life. But he hasn’t talked to his family in four years. Unexpectedly, Dean shows up, tells him that their father is missing on a hunting trip, and Sam agrees to help Dean find their father. To track his whereabouts, they listen to a voicemail in which John says something bigger is happening, something dangerous.
On the search for their father, they are led to a potential haunting where several men have been reported missing on a stretch of highway over the years. John had been on the case before he disappeared. The boys find out which motel John was staying at and find his room, but are caught by police and Dean is arrested. However, they are able to figure out that the ghost they’re hunting is a Woman in White and Dean’s arrest leads them to John’s journal where John has recorded everything he knows about the supernatural.
The boys end up getting rid of the Woman in White, and they find out where John wants them to go next. However, Sam insists on being back home for his law school interview the next morning, so Dean takes him home. When Sam goes inside, he lays down in bed, looks up, and finds Jessica on the ceiling like his mom. The ceiling catches on fire around her. She can’t be saved. The episode ends with Sam and Dean outside of their car, the 1967 Impala. Sam says, “We got work to do,” before slamming the trunk full of hunting supplies shut and leaving with Dean for the next case.
Moments of fear are littered throughout this pilot. Given that the genre of the show involves ghosts, monsters, and demons, it makes sense that fear would be an integral part of each episode. But I want to focus on a key scene of this episode and how fear plays a special role in defining the Winchesters’ lives.
The opening scene of the Winchester family tucking in for the night is heartwarming. Everyone smiles at least once, John and Mary are doting on their children, John appears to be an involved, helpful father as he helps tuck the boys in for the night. There is a lot of focus on Sam. We get this shot of just Sam in his crib, laughing, playing with his feet, a shot of Mary kissing him goodnight, and a shot of John specifically saying, “Sweet Dreams, Sammy.” It sets up an expectation that Sam is the main focus, if not the main character, and it adds to the sweet feeling I get while watching this scene.
But there are hints that something isn’t right. The opening scene of this episode is an exterior shot of the house at night with shadows of tree limbs crawling up the side of the home. The limbs are moving unnaturally. There’s suspenseful music playing. You know something is wrong and your fears are confirmed when the mobile in Sam’s nursery begins moving on its own, the clock stops at 8:12pm, the nightlight flickers, and the baby monitor in the parents’ room makes odd, high frequency noises. When Mary wakes up, John is not in the room. Mary sees John standing in Sam’s nursery, with more lights flickering in the hall. While Mary does not seem to be afraid, the viewer by now knows that she should be afraid. And that moment comes soon enough when she hears the tv on downstairs, and sees John asleep in a chair. She runs back upstairs to Sam with who she now knows is an intruder. We don’t see what happens between Mary and this mysterious figure, but we hear the screams and we see what happens next. John runs upstairs, finds Sam alone in the crib, and thinks everything is fine until he notices the blood dripping from the ceiling. That’s when he looks up, sees his wife on the ceiling, a slash across her stomach. He falls to the ground, looking up at the ceiling with horror as fire bursts around his wife and Sam begins to wail.
What strikes me about this whole first scene is how much we don’t see, and we can only notice what’s missing after having watched this show for its many seasons. We don’t see what happens to Sam, so we don’t know the reason for the man visiting his nursery. We don’t see Mary’s interaction with this man. John doesn’t even see the man. He only sees his wife on the ceiling, dying. And that’s why this scene is so horrifying to me. It turns the world of the Winchesters upside down, ruins every good thing we saw in their warm, family interactions, and it leaves us with many more questions than answers.
The reason the scene works as being scary is because it leaves much unknown, and fear festers in the unknown. It seems that some of the most scary moments in life are when big, important questions are left unanswered. When you’re at the doctors waiting on potentially bad news, when your life plans are derailed because you didn’t get that job or that person left you, or when you see horrendous acts of violence on the news and you can’t fathom why humans would treat each other this way. When we are left to grapple with life’s big, important questions without anyone who can give us definitive answers, it can be terrifying.
I believe the person who is trying to handle the biggest questions in this episode is John Winchester. He sees and remembers the most from the night Mary died, and therefore he has the most questions and a lot of weight to carry. Sam will never remember this night and Dean was too young to realize what was happening. None of them saw Mary on the ceiling except John, and he alone carries that image, that burden. John had just experienced an unspeakable tragedy.
The thing with tragedies is that even though they can often be explained in some way, humans still have a hard time grappling with the aftermath. While some may move on, many others become stuck in grief for extended periods of time, possibly for the rest of their lives. This is what happened to John. He didn’t have a “natural tragedy” to deal with; there was no hope for a natural explanation. And now, the world was no longer safe to him. There were new, unexplainable threats that could take his family away from him at any moment. I can imagine he felt alone in his knowledge of these threats and I can imagine that he felt completely powerless in that situation. That feeling of powerlessness, coupled with fear of the unknown, can make humans do dramatic, unhealthy things. John Winchester was no different.
A sense of control is really important for humans. We all need to feel that on some level that we are able to choose a direction for our lives, and that our choices will directly affect our environment. So, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that John’s actions after this night were an attempt to regain control after an event that shook his foundation. Thinking about John in this way helps me see his actions in the rest of the series as his way of trying to gain back a sense of control in his world. He wants to control the thing that scares him, much like I think we eventually see Dean doing. John’s fear led him to do many things that the fandom has deemed unforgivable. Whether or not you sympathize with John Winchester is entirely up to you and is influenced by your own personal experiences, but I think we can all relate to the feeling of fear in the face of the unknown, and the utter powerlessness we can feel in uncertain times.
Lectio Divina
The next segment of this letter is where we use a practice to analyze a part of the episode. We will be using “Lectio Divina,” a Christian spiritual practice for reading scriptures that involves interacting with the text on four different levels. I am following Harry Potter and the Sacred Text’s use of this practice and adapting it the best I can to the visual format. Normally, you pick a scripture or a line of text to analyze. I randomized numbers between 1 and 42 (the amount of minutes in the episode), and picked the first full line after the minute mark I was given.
Line: “That’s cus you’re out of practice… Or not.” -Dean Winchester (7:00)
Now we analyze this line on the four levels of Lectio Divina : literal (narrative), allegorical (metaphors and symbols), reflection (how do I connect to it), and invitational (what is the text asking of us or teaching us).
Literal: What’s happening on a literal level in this scene is that Dean has broken into Sam’s house, Sam has snuck up on him, and they’ve just fought because Sam didn’t know who was in his house. Dean ends up pinning Sam to the floor, saying that he was able to do so because Sam was out of practice. “That’s cus you’re out of practice.” But when Sam promptly flips him over, pinning Dean to the ground, Dean proudly but surprisingly says, “Or not.” The scene comes across as a little heartwarming, a little funny. The two seem like natural brothers.
Allegorical: To me, this is a scene about returning. Here we have the loyal child who has stayed with his father and continued the “family business” confronting what I think of as the prodigal son. You can see the tension between the brothers play out in the fighting. But this prodigal son story is not the same one that we’re used to. This isn’t the prodigal son coming back home because he realized he was wrong. Sam left something horrifying. He left for safety and found love, a career, and independence. But despite his reasons for leaving, there’s still tension when he returns. Stepping away from your family, a friend group, a job--that’s never easy even if you have strong convictions about your reasons for doing so. There are relationships there, shared experiences, and bonds. So, I think there’s a sense of betrayal from Dean’s perspective, an invisible contract that Sam broke. Then Sam and Dean have to confront all of these feelings and experiences again. I'm impressed with the way Sam and Dean handle it. Dean could have grilled Sam about why he left, made him feel bad, or approached with a hostile attitude, but he very much is happy to see Sam and wants his help. Sam ends up helping Dean even when there’s a possibility of Sam confronting his father, and Dean risks being rejected to ask for Sam’s help. They’re each risking the status quo of their lives and making themselves vulnerable to one another by reaching out and deciding to take on this task together.
Reflection: Watching this exchange between the two of them, it reminded me of when I used to play soccer as a kid. I played for about four or five years and like to think I developed a few skills. One year recently, I was playing soccer with my younger siblings on Father’s Day and I could tell that I was out of practice, but dribbling, kicking, stopping the ball -- those movements still felt natural. I was even able to give pointers to the kids. I hadn’t touched a soccer ball in years, but that knowledge is still stored in my brain.
I think that, in the same way, Sam was forced to play out his own muscle memory while fighting with Dean, and through that, is forced to acknowledge once again the reality of his childhood and his family, of what lives in the dark and why he ran. In one fell swoop, Dean shoves that all into the forefront for Sam. A few years of building walls of safety around him and now Sam is vulnerable again, using his fighting skills to protect himself when I imagine he had begun to settle into a “normal” life.
Invitational: There’s a question that jumps out at me after spending time contemplating this scene: how do you have the courage to confront burned bridges with other people? I don’t have a clear-cut answer but I think it takes some courage and understanding on both sides. There should be a realization from both parties that each person assumes some responsibility for what happened between them, and for this to happen, there needs to be a cool-down period and opportunity for forgiveness. Forgiveness is rarely easy. I can think of situations in my own life in which forgiveness seems impossible, and maybe it isn’t always an option. But for those situations in which time can heal, I think repairing a burnt bridge can be worth the effort. I see this play out between Sam and Dean. Dean has to overlook his feelings of abandonment by Sam, see the decision from Sam’s perspective, and practice some forgiveness. Sam has to have hope that he will be accepted by his family again and courage to face the people who feel hurt by his actions. I think there would be a lot of fear on both sides: fear of another fight, fear of rejection. But Sam and Dean are able to put aside their own fears and their own hurts for the sake of family and the bond they share. So maybe one thing this scene is asking us to do is to practice forgiveness despite our fears.
Thank you all for reading the first ever Sacred Letter of Supernatural. I hope you enjoyed our exploration of the theme this week. Before I finish this letter, I would like to end with a question for the audience. This question is for personal evaluation, but if you would like for your answer to be featured on the blog or to contribute to a discussion, please send your answers to my Tumblr inbox.
This Week’s Question:
How do you recognize when you’re afraid and how do you make decisions in the face of fear?
