North-American Comixmeister Robert Crumb, presents a massive comic adaptation of the Book of Genesis; French artist Marc-Antoine Mathieu, creator of Comics de l’Absurde such as the Julius Corentin Acquefacques series, elaborates yet another absurd piece with God as its main character; and Finnish independent comic artist and editor Tommi Musturi, finally gathers his Samuel character’s stories in one single book allowing us to read it as a coherent body of work and perhaps under a new meaningful light.
In Bible 101 or Symbolism 101, one learns the importance of number three. In several strands of the Cabbalist tradition, three is the number that makes up the first enclosed, concise, tangible space (after 1=point and 2=line). Taking this in account we may begin to think of these three books as a drawing of a prism through which one can read them. Reading one book will help us then read the others in some way.
Throughout the Middle Ages, Christian scholars based on Jewish practices (such as the Tripartide Cabbalist method of the Notarikon, Gematria and Temurah) arrived at a set of reading principles or methods which dealt with any of the given texts of scriptures on four levels, some deeply and highly spiritual than the other: these levels were the literal, the allegorical, the tropological or moral, and the anagogical. Despite the fact that there is a hierarchy among these levels I have no wish whatsoever to place a hierarchy among these books but we have to start somewhere and organise this somehow. I believe that these books present themselves with these levels in relation to their common “text” or at least an “idea” no matter how vague this idea of God may seems to be. In my view and according to this metaphor of the Bible’s reading principles, it is as if Robert Crumb’s book is the presentation of the literal/historical level, Mathieu’s is the allegorical level and Musturi’s is the anagogical level.
Perhaps this analogy is not a very good one or even ridiculous, but the point is that the comparison of these three works, according to such a perspective will reveal that they do present a reading of the idea of God according to several degrees of intensity or through different set of instruments. As I said before there is no hierarchy among these three books or views; this is just an excuse to help us read it with some sort of ad hoc method.
Before we engage with each title, it is notorious how the tropological level is missing. That is somewhat to be expected of course because none of these books or authors had any wish to become moralistic. This reminds us one of the differences, perhaps even an abyss, the existence between morality (a lesson that one wants to teach someone else through some sort of superiority), and ethics, which is something purer and harder to attain and support at all times. Morality functions inasmuch as the person who wishes to convey it deeply, believes that he or she are absolutely certain that the principles and paths they are proposing are good. They do not understand how someone else cannot see the way they see things and the world. Therefore they give advise, they show us what’s “best for us”, usually in a patronizing manner. Ethics may be seen as deontology, an equilibrium of one’s acts and the common good, not as a set of principles, but as thoughtfulness upon the consequences of one’s act and a consideration of others. Force, power, superiority, imposition, if present in the equation of a relationship, it annuls the very existence of the ethical. I surmise that all these authors have strong, even selfish, perhaps, views of the world, not little, prêt-a-porter ideas and beliefs. They do not, however, seek to impose their own view of God on their readers – because there is one idea of God in all of them. These authors do away with this. There is no interpretative path of the notion of God in order to create a dogma or even a short list of behaviours or choices one must make to lead the good life, or a life of good. They use fiction in order to make a real and tangible search for God. I say fiction with no exception, for Crumb recreates the fiction of the Beresith.

Many are comic books that aim for literal adaptations, interpretations or even downright fictions upon fictions. A handful may be quite interesting, but most are unremarkable at best, or at its worst, idiotic drivel (Manga Jesus!). But even the extreme Chick tracts are actually worth having a look at (I wouldn’t recommend reading them all in one go, as I have done for it may cause serious brain damage and God fearing paranoia). A few interesting projects are to be found in humorous exploits such as Knockabout’s collective volumes, Outrageous Tales from the Old Testament and Seven Deadly Sins, or a very personal interpretations such as Chester Brown’s adaptation of St. Mathew’s Gospel (in which the parables of Jesus are not translated into images, we just see Jesus telling them to their half-witted audience). Yet another anthology tackling godhood was the French Flammarion 1994 collective book Le retour de Dieu, in which Mathieu participated with “L’ascension”. Slightly off topic but on the subject, is a group of North-American comic series that have dealt with God whether as a character or an exploitable notion. We can quote The Sandman, The Preacher and Testament. To varying different degrees these series have worked their way into commentaries upon religion, the churches, its fictions and principles, as well as presenting their own image of the gods, or whatever idea they have of a Godhead, including of course, the Judeo-Christian Yahweh God. Gaiman’s perspective is the most poetic in its original sense of “making”, in which there is room for several “truths”, none annulling the others, and all passable as living forms of fiction. Ennis’ and Dillon’s series have an axe to grind and it does it well. Its ending is, at one time, horrible, violent, deserved and outright funny (I hope not to spoil anyone’s reading but God is shot in the face with a six-shooter). Rushkoff’s and Sharp’s Testament is less interesting, for it goes back to a slightly irritating and basic Manichean attitudes, but it tries to expand upon ideas that Gaiman brought to the forefront in contemporary mainstream comics.
Grant Morrison, Warren Ellis and J. Michael Straczynski, among many other writers, have also managed to slip their own versions of the creator, the Big Gang, the Genesis, etc., usually with an over-the-top sci-fi tone, in their high-octane and wacky works.
Jesus does not appear as often but there are a handful of interesting projects focusing on him directly or indirectly. I have no wish whatsoever to present lists here but I’ll mention Chester Brown’s adaptations once again, as well as Joann Sfar’s and Emmanuel Guibert’s Les Olives Noirs series, and Bruce Mutard’s (hopefully) ongoing Jesus stories.
This was all to point out that Mathieu, Musturi and Crumb are not alone in their endeavour and that in some cases they may be actually responding to a call consolidated in the human psyche, with some standing in the territory of comics. Addressing God can take many forms but more often than not, fiction can take us into a stranger yet truer territory. Literature is filled with examples of this, of course. In music for instances, The Residents, have at least two direct approaches to the concept of God. First in a Bible-belt-saga-cum-theological/allegorical-satire with God in Three Persons, and later on in Curious stories from the Bible, which turns into song some of the texts (and commentaries) of the Holy Writ. This band is known for its wacky, uncanny narrative conceptual albums, and this is a way to show that fictions are sometimes the best tool to address this subject matter. Actually, to quote Wittgenstein, from his Tratactus, 6.432 “Gott offenbart sich nicht in der Welt”, “God does not reveal himself in the world”. Therefore fiction coax Him back into a manageable unit, which we can analyse, ponder about, criticize, reframe or whatever crosses our minds. These three books are three forms of such coaxing.