What Would Buffy Do?

Is it possible to call for help ironically—and really mean it?

by Todd Hertz | posted 5/01/2004

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On this shared journey, the Scoobies supported one another, held each other accountable, and occasionally backslid as they learned what it meant to be human, to be alive, and to stand against evil. But what they believed in passionately was the presence of good, the need to live ethically, and the ability to make the world a better place by caring. Because of that, many spiritual values worth Christian exploration are core to the Scoobies' walk. Riess' book reads like a primer to these key spiritual values—self-sacrifice, mentoring, sinfulness, forgiveness, redemption, etc.—using the common language of Buffy to explain and probe. And since all the teaching analogies come from a show that's aired its final episode, the book is a comprehensive reflection on what Buffy had to say about spiritual matters.

One example of Riess' insight comes in the chapter on negative emotions and the spiritual journey. She lines up the show's three slayers, Buffy, Kendra, and Faith, to show how differing degrees of passion affect an individual's walk. (No, Buffy wasn't the only slayer in her generation—long story.) Kendra shows no emotion. She doesn't let anger or happiness enter into her job. Faith is the anti-Kendra. She is 100 percent emotion, both venting and reveling in her slayage. Buffy, Riess asserts, is the balance. Her checked emotions aid her on her path, but they don't control her.

Many of Riess' lessons stem from the show's very nature. Buffy's world is very ambiguous—there are definite blacks and whites, but there's also a whole lot of gray. Characters are not merely good or evil. A human who is bitten by a werewolf has to learn to control his inner beast, but in a way so does every character on the show.

Buffy's ambiguity extends to how events unfold. Situations are not tied up when the music swells each week. Instead, consequences unfold for several seasons at a time. Choices matter. Decisions in season two return to haunt characters in season six. The guiding principles for these decisions are the characters' intense love for others and their dedication to do good. But everyone messes up—often in the same way again and again—and when they do, Buffy's thesis rings true: We might be strong alone, but we're stronger together.

Before Buffy, the role of slayer was a lone duty. There were no Scoobies. Vampires facing Buffy are often surprised to see her little vampire-killing club. "The slayer doesn't have friends!" But this is what makes Buffy stronger than all other slayers. She isn't alone on her journey. In true biblical fellowship, she walks with accountability, a mentor, and fellow travelers.

Not that Whedon set out to promote a biblical view of life—hardly. In the fourth season, Scooby-member Xander explains why Buffy is a hero to him. "When it's dark and I'm all alone and I'm scared or freaked out or whatever, I always think, 'What would Buffy do?' "

Like much in the show, this works at multiple levels. It's a satiric jab at those tragically unhip kids who wear WWJD bracelets. It's another litmus test (are you among the chosen who are cool enough to watch this show?). And yet it's not simply a joke—far from it. It's an acknowledgment that in a world of ambiguity, a world where good is in mortal combat with evil, we desperately need a reliable guide.

Is it possible to cry for help ironically—and really mean it? If so, maybe this is what it sounds like. "What would Buffy do?"

Todd Hertz is associate editor for Campus Life magazine.

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