Forgetting the Creator: How Stephen Dedalus Rejects God
Bethany Mills
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At the conclusion of James Joyce’s novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, the protagonist Stephen Dedalus articulates his profound longing to understand his creative talents. As the young man has become aware of his abilities as an artist, he has spent considerable time trying to decide how he can reconcile these creative abilities with the notion of God as the all-powerful Creator. His early experiences with an oppressive Jesuit school and the Roman Catholic Church have led him to believe, however, that any sort of dynamic, enlightening experience with God is impossible. For Stephen, the only way to find fulfillment is to abandon deliberately the Church and the very idea of salvation by Christ’s grace. Yet as long as he refuses any Christian influence in his existence, Stephen will never be able to understand how the Creator defines “what the heart is and what it feels.”
From an early age, Stephen develops as an artist through his fascination with color and visual art, but he never recognizes that this could lead to a connection with God. For example, after reading The Count of Monte Cristo, Stephen replicates a scene from the novel by building “an image…out of transfers and paper flowers and colored tissue paper and strips of the silver and golden paper in which chocolate is wrapped.”2 Though he has some sense of wonder at this work, he sees no higher purpose in it: ultimately growing bored with the creation, he soon destroys it. This creation is enjoyable to him simply because it is beautiful and encouraging to the imagination. As he is only a child, Stephen does not appreciate the power that lies in the act of creation. Nor does he realize, or even begin to perceive, that his earthly act of creation could lead to a better understanding of God’s power as the Creator.
Stephen longs to understand the concept of God even before he realizes that his art could help him in this endeavor. For instance, when studying a geography lesson, Stephen asks himself, “What [is] after the universe?” He can only conclude, “Nothing.” Soon after, he realizes that the subject is too vast for him to comprehend, and he concedes that “only God could do that.”3 Having begun school only recently, Stephen is too young to realize that he is beginning to think about God’s infinite power. Rather than an all-powerful Creator, God seems to him a convenient answer to questions too complex for a boy to grasp. However, once Stephen begins to see the overwhelming influence of the Church in his life, he begins to consider more carefully his perception of God.
Initially, Stephen is confused by the Roman Catholic Church and the influence it has on him. Perhaps he even exhibits an “attraction-repulsion response,” where the Church seems so odd that he cannot help but want to become more involved as a way to learn more. 4 Since Stephen is so engaged by what seem like mysterious aspects of the Church, he finds it relatively easy at first to ignore any doubts he may have.
We see this relationship early in the novel, when Stephen visits the rector at Conglowes, his Jesuit boarding school, to explain why he has broken his glasses. Entering the room, he sees the rector writing at a desk, but also notices “a skull on the desk and a strange solemn smell in the room.” Before he is completely unnerved by the sight, Stephen sees the rector’s “kindlooking face.” The rector even smiles at the young boy, and cordially accepts Stephen’s explanation of the accident. Stephen is so grateful that he thanks the rector and leaves the room in tears.
While Stephen recognizes this man as an example of kindness and stability, he is not entirely reassured: he has noticed the somber skull on the table and the generally oppressive atmosphere of the rector’s study. Though Stephen may believe this experience has liberated him from some of his fear, there is a bit of complexity to the encounter.5 Perhaps confused by the solemn details in the midst of the rector’s kindness, Stephen first exhibits his desire to find an entirely fulfilling, enlightening connection with God.
A similar experience early in the book shows that neither Stephen’s material nor his spiritual needs are met by his current religious understanding; the cold tone of the passage suggests that Stephen is upset by this. When he becomes ill at Conglowes and goes to the infirmary to recover, Brother Michael cares for him, bringing soup and relating the day’s news. Stephen even feels that Brother Michael is being “very decent” to care for him. However, Stephen also notices the weakness of the “cold sunlight” that filters through the window, and thinks often of the “cloudy grey light” outside. This ambiguous atmosphere, simultaneously caring and a bit frightening, is enhanced by the fact that Brother Michael reads Stephen stories of “accidents” and “shipwrecks.” This is hardly suitable material for the ill, homesick and rather confused child. Brother Michael also fails to provide promptly the medicine Stephen needs, and Stephen’s most memorable image of the man is of his “sorrowful face.”6 When Stephen does at last recover, he is left with a need for more complete fulfillment. Since attending a religious school is his most comprehensive exposure to Christianity thus far, Stephen begins to associate the institutional Church with the spiritual wanting of which he has only recently become aware.
From early in the novel, Stephen’s perception of the Church, not the Church itself, is what prevents him from truly knowing God. Stephen feels distant from, and even alienated by, some aspects of his religion. Perhaps this is due to his uncanny capacity for emotion and feeling. Though the boy is sensitive enough to contemplate the significance of holy water, Stephen’s uncle Charles must sprinkle the water on him, since Stephen is still too small reach the font on his own. Perhaps this, the thought of being excluded physically, is what causes Stephen to declare that he cannot “share [his uncle’s] piety.” 7 Stephen remembers another time when the Church did not provide the comfort he had sought: Stephen has been taught that he should feel nothing but joy when he receives his first Communion. However, he can only think of the “sick feeling” he experienced on this day.8 In spite of the alienation he feels, though, Stephen still senses some obligation to his church. He wants a direct, personal connection with his Creator–he wants his first Communion to be “the happiest day of his life”–but his efforts to find this within the confines of the Church have failed. Stephen does eventually begin to find some sustaining power in the Church, though he is drawn to it out of necessity rather than from a true desire to accept God’s sovereignty.
Stephen first experiences major instability in his life when he must leave an unfulfilling but relatively ordered life at Conglowes to move with his family to Dublin. Life in the city is confusing for the boy, especially as he recognizes that his father is involved in what seems like a distant political struggle. Stephen’s new life feels strange and empty; he becomes aware of a “vague dissatisfaction” growing within him.9 Since the church has been the one comforting “force of habit” in his life, Stephen sets aside any questions he may have and seeks this familiarity.10 However, Stephen does not truly seek God’s presence, and his negative perceptions of religion begin to return. For instance, he senses a disconnect between the vivid color his inner artist adores and the pure, entirely colorless imagery the Church seems to value.11 He begins to discern that the artistic longings he has felt since childhood are at odds with the rather strict structure of the Church. However, he does not fully acknowledge this divide, and still feels compelled to seek spiritual fulfillment from a church he does not entirely accept.
In an attempt to fill some vague desire for God with practices that, regardless of their effectiveness for him, are familiar and comforting, sixteen-year-old Stephen attends a church retreat. The retreat is dedicated to Saint Francis Xavier, who is described as a “young and brilliant […] man of letters.”12 Perhaps Stephen recognizes himself in this description, and senses that the Church might, on occasion, fulfill his need to create. However, Stephen does not heed the speaker’s message of salvation and grace through Christ alone. Instead, he interprets the sermons on his own, crafting an idea of salvation that cannot truly endure. Stephen listens to warnings against the “wretched world” and “all worldly thoughts,” but his repentance seems more about a desire to find physical pleasure than to receive eternal life. Indeed, Stephen considers heaven a place where it is “still and faintly luminous and the air [is] sweet to breathe.” Here, he is so interested in the personal delight he hopes to attain that he all but forgets his salvation would not be possible without Christ. Rather than acknowledging Christ’s great sacrifice for him, Stephen can only focus on the “shimmering lights and quiet fragrances” that surround him as he fervently prays to a God he does not know how to accept.13
How little Stephen understands this God becomes evident in the subsequent passage. Tormented by memories of his past sins, Stephen decides to confess. He has finally realized that his confession must be an honest, heartfelt effort, and he seeks the guidance of a priest. Though he finds the image of “a soul in the state of grace” after forgiveness appealing, Stephen is also troubled by the “black cold void waste” that has been so familiar in his life. 14 While he does confess to the priest, and even feels his life to be full of “peace and virtue” after doing so, Stephen simply cannot grasp the concept that he must embrace God entirely in order to live a truly Christian life.15 Soon after, he attends Mass with his schoolmates. Perhaps this passage is intended as a test for Stephen to decide if he has accepted Christ. He does seem excited by the idea of receiving the blood and body of Christ during the solemn service, but the chapter ends abruptly, just before his turn at the altar arrives. We never learn whether Stephen chooses to accept this Communion.
Perhaps he refused, for it soon becomes clear that Stephen will not allow the Church to influence his life any longer. The novel’s penultimate chapter concludes with a scene symbolic of baptism but devoid of any other overtly Christian content. Stephen, ultimately, is the one who chooses to wade into a river in his bare feet, who believes he alone must rescue his own soul from the “grave of boyhood.” With utter independence, Stepen hopes to create “as the great artificer whose name he [bears], a living thing, new and soaring and beautiful, impalpable, imperishable.”16 This last word is perhaps the most important: Stephen sees himself, his own works as an artist, as the way to eternity. Nowhere in this new life of his is there any place for a church, let alone for God.
Although he is moving away from the Church, Stephen does not reject it decisively until the book’s conclusion. First, he invents his own sort of theology, thinking of himself as a “priest of the eternal imagination,” and determining that the Church is utterly unnecessary. As this “priest,” Stephen even thinks himself able to perform an act reminiscient of Communion, “transmuting the daily bread of experience into the radiant body of everliving life.”17 This ability is entirely fulfilling to him; gone is any desire to find salvation through God’s grace. Indeed, Stephen seems to devote much of his energy over the next few pages to lustful thoughts about a girl, and even wishes she would sin. Finally, after noticing the profound change in Stephen, a friend asks about his belief system. Stephen reveals quite plainly that he neither affirms nor denies the validity of Communion. Yet rather than exploring this further, he simply, coldly states that he “will not serve” the Christian God.18
So confident is Stephen in his refusal to serve that he never questions this decision. His mind is made up; no longer does he feel any desire to learn about, much less know, the God for whom he previously longed. Since he has not accepted the possibility of salvation, Stephen sees this as the end: “I tried to love God,” he states. “It seems now I failed.”19 Were he to recognize the reality of God’s unconditional love and forgiveness for those who truly repent, perhaps Stephen could overcome this doubt and begin to love God. But we know he will not do this: in this novel, Stephen’s story ends with a simple diary entry in which he again articulates his longing to discover by himself, to define his beliefs independently, to create his own meaning in his young life. Though styled as a prayer, Stephen’s final words appeal to his own, carefully crafted idea of creation. They are clearly not a plea to the Christian God whom he has so decisively rejected.
1. Joyce, James. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Boston: Bedford, 1993. 218.
2. Ibid, 65.
3. Ibid, 27.
4. Centola, Stephen R. “‘The White Peace of the Altar’: White Imagery in James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.” South Atlantic Review 50.4 (1985): 93 - 106.
5. Joyce, 60-61.
6. Ibid, 34-36.
7. Ibid, 64.
8. Ibid, 52.
9. Ibid, 68.
10. Ibid, 71.
11. For a detailed discussion of this idea, see Centola’s article.
12. Joyce, 101.
13. Ibid, 125.
14. Ibid, 127.
15. Ibid, 131.
16. Ibid, 150.
17. Ibid, 192.
18. Ibid, 206.
19. Ibid, 208.