The Hunger Games and Resistance
I am almost 2/3 of the way through Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games trilogy. My wife, Naomi, sped through the series in five days. Between work, school and other distractions (such as a Kindle-stealing wife), I am plodding my way through a bit more slowly. The slow pace gives me a chance to be more fully immersed in the story world – the narrative sticks with me, I think about it, and like all good stories, it impinges upon my life and colors my perspective for a while. For those who have not read the books, the plot revolves around a few central teenaged characters who are pitted against their peers, deathmatch-style, in a massively-televised competition called The Hunger Games.
On the largest scale, the novels take place in a future dystopian, post-“American” North America in which, after some great unnamed (?) event, all power is consolidated in the hands of the evil governmental authority called “The Capitol” – leaving the common folk of what used to be America to eek out a subsistence-level living in the shadow of the empire. Years before the novel takes place, there was an uprising – a revolt – of the people against the Capitol. The revolt was brutally quelled and, as a result, the Capitol instituted the yearly Hunger Games. The Hunger Games are one part death match competition and another a mixture of reality TV, government propaganda, and institutionalized violence to further cow the people into submission to the Capitol. Each year, two children (aged 12 and up) are chosen, one male and one female, from each of the twelve districts to act as “Tribute” to the Capitol – twenty-four children will go into the Capitol’s arena and one will come out. This reminds the people that it is the Capitol who holds the reigns of power; in fact, it is the Capitol who owns their children’s lives.
It is against this backdrop that the novel unfolds. The main character, Katniss, is called as Tribute along with her friend Peeta to go to the Capitol and fight in that year’s Hunger Games. Unsurprisingly, a love story unfolds. But don’t let that fool you: the story is not about children, puppy love, or even what takes place within the Arena. The story is about resistance, and the main characters become emblems of the cause. Take, for example, Peeta’s words that mix the hopelessness of the situation with the wishful thinking of resistance:
“…I want to die as myself. I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not. […] Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their games.”
These words, which are repeated throughout the story and serve as paradigmatic for the message, strike a nerve within the reader. We see heroism in them, hope and an unswerving conviction that, with back against the wall, even if they win, it is not “the bad guys” who define who a person is.
The Jesus Story and Faithful Resistance
As a student of the Bible, and with an interest in political readings of the New Testament in particular, I cannot help but allow a co-mingling of The Hunger Games and the story of Jesus. To a certain extent, author Suzanne Collins won’t let me not draw those connections: her Capitol is clearly modeled after all of the most brutal, despicable elements of the ancient empires of the Near East. Social elites within the Capitol are given such telling names as Octavia, Claudius, Darius, Flavius, Romulus, and so on – each one a pretty pointed reference to what the Capitol is modeled after. Like Octavius at the end of the Second Triumvirate, President Snow retains his autocratic power over the Capitol and the Twelve (Thirteen?) Districts while paying cheap lip service to the long-dead idea of a people’s government. As the story unfolds, Katniss and Peeta become banner images for a people’s resistance, somewhat akin to popular revolts led by various groups in first century Roman Palestine.
Though a long-silenced area of Biblical study, the story of Jesus is, similarly, a story of resistance. The history of Israel, from ca. 586 BC/E down to the time of Jesus in the first century CE/AD, is one that is marked by imperial control from above. With the exception of one brief period of independence in the 100’s BC/E, Israel was always and ever under the control of foreign powers, starting with Babylon and ending with Rome at the time of Christ. Like Collins’ The Hunger Games, the New Testament story is one whose story unfolds across a context of imperial domination and oppression. Take, for instance, these words from a Caledonian chieftain:
“[The Romans] rob, butcher, plunder, and call it ‘empire’; and where they make a desolation, they call it ‘peace.’”
Or perhaps the words of Josephus, a Jewish historian whose writings date to the first few decades after Jesus, who records the fate of the poor who attempted to escape the besieged city of Jerusalem around 70 CE/AD:
“They were accordingly beaten and subjected to torture of every description…[Titus, the Roman General] hoped that the spectacle might induce the Judeans to surrender for fear that continued resistance would involve them in a similar fate.”
It may sound silly (and under a certain amount of scrutiny, it is), but what Katniss and Peeta are for the common people of the Districts, Jesus was for first century Christians. Katniss and Peeta present a counter-claim against the Capitol: where President Snow claims to hold the power over the lives of all within the Districts, the people are galvanized to claim otherwise, that they are not the property of the Capitol and that “the bad guys” do not get to define them. When Jesus comes preaching the Kingdom of God, he is doing something remarkably similar. For, if God’s Kingdom descends upon the small, backwater province of Judea and makes claims of imminence and universality, whose authority is being challenged and, consequently, who is now out of a job? In proclaiming the coming of God’s Kingdom, Jesus pronounces a counterclaim that the powers of empire no longer hold sway — that the New Time of God’s Reign has begun and the people, at least those who align themselves with Jesus and the Kingdom, are liberated.
At this point the two narratives, The Hunger Games and the Gospel, diverge. Collins’ story, wonderfully gripping though it is, is still built upon the myth of violent resistance and expects its readers to applaud the bloody fight against the powers that be until the end. The Jesus story is much different. It calls for resistance, to be sure, but never for violence. Hear the striking words of Jesus, and compare them with Peeta’s:
“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will loves it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the good news [of the Kingdom of God], will save it.” (Mark 8:34b-35)
In other words, Jesus echoes Peeta (er, Peeta echoes Jesus) in making the counterclaim that the empire does not own you. They may kill you for what you stand for, but they can never own you; you are more than a piece in their game. But, again, the narratives are divergent: for what Jesus calls for is resolute, faithful resistance that would sooner take up a cross and die a martyr’s death than take up the sword in defiance. For the message of the Good News writ large is that humanity and all of its brokenness, of which systemic, oppressive violence is but a symptom, can be restored; the message of stories like The Hunger Games, Braveheart, or various histories of The Revolutionary War is that, with enough resolve, the bad guys can be beaten with a weapon.
And so I commend both stories to you, The Hunger Games and the Gospel. Be taken aback by the absurdity of the Capitol’s brutality, but also know that it mostly comes from ancient stock — and know that God has an answer for it. Be moved by the characters as they begin to galvanize the people, fomenting revolution in the face of great evil. But then open a Bible, flip over to the New Testament, and read about how the God of Israel and his Messiah Jesus confound the machinations of human power, dominion, and oppression in the people’s resistance movement par excellence.
 Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (New York: Scholastic, 2008), 142.
 Caledonian chieftain (in Tacitus), quoted in Richard Horsley, Jesus and Empire (Minneapolis: Fortress,2003), 15.
 Josephus, War 5.449-51, quoted in Richard Horsley, Jesus and Empire (Minneapolis: Fortress,2003), 29.
 Matthew 4:17; Mark 1:15; Luke 4:43; etc.