The use of religion in this story is going to get very esoteric by the end, so there's a lot of general stuff I can talk about with no danger of spoilers. And religion and "Stephen" are two things I could talk on about for hours on end.
There's a line I read years ago in a Robertson Davies novel that I loved, and that has stuck with me: "Do you know what fanaticism is? It is overcompensation for doubt." That is a perfect introduction to "Stephen". He is fanatically homophobic because of his doubts about his own sexuality, for instance.
One thing he has said several times to moderate religious guests: "If you start doubting that [the creation story/the verses condemning homosexuality/something else in the Bible] is true, then you have to start doubting the resurrection of Christ." This is very telling. He has, or has had in the past, doubts about some parts of his faith; but he is terrified that this will lead down a slippery slope to a complete loss of faith. So he reacts by running too far in the opposite direction, being militant about every verse and every tenet, unable to let any of them be suspect.
(This is also why he's so fanatical in supporting everything the President does. If "Stephen" doubted "the surge will work" or "Alberto Gonzales is a good man", it would lead him to doubt everything Bush espouses -- including "America is great", "we should support the troops", and "family is important".)
His fanatical faith is rigid -- he holds to the letter of Catholic law, knows all the prayers by heart, does all the rituals -- but fragile, because he can't let go of any one piece or it would send the rest crashing down. And he cannot lose his faith. Distorted though it is, it's a source of strength and comfort to him. For one thing, it provides a structure with authority, and he clings to those things (notice how focused he is on rule of law, and how he recoils from dissent or even civil disobedience).
For another, it provides love. Stephen says he's a "love junkie", but he is stable and secure enough that he could go without it. "Stephen" is not. He has been desperate for love and approval, from peers and especially from father figures, since his childhood. (Note the flashback in which he recalled giving up horseback riding to play Little League, though he hated it. In the present day, note how he fawns over O'Reilly.) It's one of the levels on which he never quite grew up.
Remember when he gave up sweets for Lent, despite the debut of Americone Dream? "Stephen" described it in simplistic, childlike terms: "I made a promise to my God." Catholicism assures him that if he does the right things -- says the prayers, follows the rules, gives things up for Lent -- then God will love him. The love is not unconditional, but, if he follows the conditions, it is guaranteed.
His parents' love, or at least his father's love, was conditional too; and he couldn't fulfill those conditions. (See the Wørd: "Back Off, Old Man".) Freud would say that everything he has done since is an attempt to replace that deficient fatherly love. (The fact that he blew O'Reilly is a homosexual twist on the classic Oedipus complex.) I wouldn't say everything, but that situation definitely shaped him into the needy person he is today.
As long as he believes he is doing the things mandated by his religion, and as long as Jesus does not actually show up at his door and say "You're doing it wrong", he can believe that he has God's love. And that goes a long way to stabilizing him, to soothing his need for (Fatherly) approval.
I could go on, but I think I'm going to bump up against comment length limits soon. Questions, comments, things you'd like me to expand on?
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There's a line I read years ago in a Robertson Davies novel that I loved, and that has stuck with me: "Do you know what fanaticism is? It is overcompensation for doubt." That is a perfect introduction to "Stephen". He is fanatically homophobic because of his doubts about his own sexuality, for instance.
One thing he has said several times to moderate religious guests: "If you start doubting that [the creation story/the verses condemning homosexuality/something else in the Bible] is true, then you have to start doubting the resurrection of Christ." This is very telling. He has, or has had in the past, doubts about some parts of his faith; but he is terrified that this will lead down a slippery slope to a complete loss of faith. So he reacts by running too far in the opposite direction, being militant about every verse and every tenet, unable to let any of them be suspect.
(This is also why he's so fanatical in supporting everything the President does. If "Stephen" doubted "the surge will work" or "Alberto Gonzales is a good man", it would lead him to doubt everything Bush espouses -- including "America is great", "we should support the troops", and "family is important".)
His fanatical faith is rigid -- he holds to the letter of Catholic law, knows all the prayers by heart, does all the rituals -- but fragile, because he can't let go of any one piece or it would send the rest crashing down. And he cannot lose his faith. Distorted though it is, it's a source of strength and comfort to him. For one thing, it provides a structure with authority, and he clings to those things (notice how focused he is on rule of law, and how he recoils from dissent or even civil disobedience).
For another, it provides love. Stephen says he's a "love junkie", but he is stable and secure enough that he could go without it. "Stephen" is not. He has been desperate for love and approval, from peers and especially from father figures, since his childhood. (Note the flashback in which he recalled giving up horseback riding to play Little League, though he hated it. In the present day, note how he fawns over O'Reilly.) It's one of the levels on which he never quite grew up.
Remember when he gave up sweets for Lent, despite the debut of Americone Dream? "Stephen" described it in simplistic, childlike terms: "I made a promise to my God." Catholicism assures him that if he does the right things -- says the prayers, follows the rules, gives things up for Lent -- then God will love him. The love is not unconditional, but, if he follows the conditions, it is guaranteed.
His parents' love, or at least his father's love, was conditional too; and he couldn't fulfill those conditions. (See the Wørd: "Back Off, Old Man".) Freud would say that everything he has done since is an attempt to replace that deficient fatherly love. (The fact that he blew O'Reilly is a homosexual twist on the classic Oedipus complex.) I wouldn't say everything, but that situation definitely shaped him into the needy person he is today.
As long as he believes he is doing the things mandated by his religion, and as long as Jesus does not actually show up at his door and say "You're doing it wrong", he can believe that he has God's love. And that goes a long way to stabilizing him, to soothing his need for (Fatherly) approval.
I could go on, but I think I'm going to bump up against comment length limits soon. Questions, comments, things you'd like me to expand on?