Religion is a tricky business in music; even despite exceptions like Kanye West’s “Jesus Walks” and Sufjan Stevens’… every song he’s ever made, Mr. Christ doesn’t often have a place in popular music. Yes, yes, the whole concept of “Christian rock” is an obelisk jutting conspicuously up out of the ground, but unless you and I want to start discussing the merits of Scott Stapp’s faith, let’s keep that out of the discussion. Last year, Rick Moody wrote an article in Believer entitled “How to Be a Christian Artist,” a portrayal of the Danielson Famile and the fine line they walk between making a snake-oil mockery of their faith (à la the aforementioned Christian rock genre) and allowing it to be hidden. It is difficult to compromise artistic integrity with genuine piety; at what point do the sentiments echoed in the song become blasé, or, worse, “churchy?”

This division is what Sufjan Stevens has bridged so well; by using God and his faith in metaphorical terms, he deflects most of the accusations of proselytizing his fans. Stevens’ faith isn’t confined to a cathedral or a prayer group, but effuses throughout his entire existence. Although his interpretation of John Wayne Gacy, Jr. is indicative of original sin, (his line “I am really just like him” referring to the fallen state of all men, regardless of action, is particularly chilling) the manner in which he approaches the idea doesn’t reek of dusty bibles or uncomfortable pews, but instead presents a refreshing take on faith. Stevens must know how uncomfortable the subject could be for many listeners, but continues down his path of identification with a clown-nosed serial murderer, backed by quiet, tortured arpeggios. By the end of the song, Gacy is almost (key word, almost) presented as a sympathetic character, a troubled young boy who only wanted to preserve the beauty of his victim’s youth… albeit by killing them. It gives me shudders every time I hear Stevens cry, “Oh my God,” and I’ve heard it enough to supposedly be accustomed to it. The message, at least to me, is clear: faith should make you uncomfortable. It should make you question what place you have in the world, and to think about the places of others. Faith without contemplation and careful consideration is nothing more than blind zealotry. To me, at least, Sufjan Stevens is one of the premiere Christian artists in America today, working hard to prove that the term “Christian artist” is not an oxymoron.

Of course, there’s always the literal approach. To this end, Baltimore’s Page France sings us a song about none other than the big guy himself, “Jesus.” Departing significantly from Stevens’ metaphorical meditations, Jesus Christ himself makes a quite visible appearance in the song, popping up from the ground. “Jesus will come through the ground so dirty, with worms in his hair and his hands so sturdy,” Michael Nau croons with a hint of Jeff Mangum’s off-kilter tenor. The tale of zombie Jesus only intensifies in oddity, seeing as how Jesus “will dance while we drink his wine, with soldiers and thieves and a sword in his side.” The result is a strange mish-mash of biblical imagery and pastoral fancy, with bears and bees dancing in copses of fruit trees with Jesus and the narrator. To say the least, it’s unconventional, and that’s exactly what I like about it. Instead of praising Jesus on high, on a cloud far-removed from humanity, Page France brings us a Jesus who is not above reveling and cavorting with us (the man did turn water into wine, after all), transmuting him into a sort of Dionysian caricature. But, after all, if there was any Greek character who closely paralleled the stories and activities of Jesus, it was Dionysus. Page France’s Jesus is a Jesus I would be glad to know, a deity who isn’t above having a little fun. Of course, behind it all is the trope of the resurrection, albeit in a more earthy fashion. I don’t think that the worms in his hair received too much of a mention in the scripture, but they might have been there. After all, he was dead for three days, wasn’t he?

Oi, but you can’t joke about stuff like that, can you? It’s a “sensitive issue.” That’s why most artists tend to skirt around the religious issue. Either that, or it’s all they really sing about, often in the simplest of devotional terms, offering really nothing new to the hymnal canon other than a dedicated youth market. Which is exactly why I, as an agnostic, respect the artists contained within this article. Faith always contains a certain amount of doubt, of questioning, and a desire to explore new forms of worship and a relationship with God. Sufjan Stevens and Page France are forerunners in a field of conscientious Christians, artists concerned with walking the thin line between religion and art. It can be traversed. It just takes a little faith.

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