For years, while Lost was running on TV, friends would tell me, “You need to watch this show! You’ll love it!” This was probably because they knew of my interest in philosophy, mythology, theology, etc. But for some reason or another, I never got around to it. Ironically, it was all the hoopla surrounding last year’s finale that got me thinking about it again, and so a week after the show ended its live run, I found myself starting Season One. Last week, I reached “The End”, and found myself sadly at the end of an amazing journey. I will honestly say that I think Lost is one of the greatest– if not the greatest– television show ever created.
This is because Lost is a mythology, in the same vein as the great mythologies of the past. Think of the Odyssey-like qualities of Lost. Like Ulysses, the characters get wrecked on an island on a journey home, try to escape on a raft that gets destroyed (Sawyer, Michael, Walter, Jin), and even speak to the dead (Hurley). Odysseus was trapped on an island for 7 years, and in TV time, the show ran seven years. Coincidence? Maybe, but I sort of doubt it.
Furthermore, Lost treated itself seriously as mythology. Many other films or shows have certainly borrowed or played upon the elements of classic mythology, but many have come off as cheap, hokey, or postmodernly cynical. While Lost is certainly postmodern in some respects, it is never cynical about its grand narrative approach. And though as a culture we may have proclaimed our disillusionment with such things, I think that we can’t help but resonate with a story like Lost.
Lost also embraces the archetypal hero’s journey, except as creators Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse have said, there’s more than one hero in this story. Lost embraces the idea of the reluctant hero, thrust into circumstances beyond his control, and forced to struggle to find his place and embrace his destiny. This journey is probably most clearly seen in Jack Shepherd, but all the major characters in one way or another struggle to rise above their personal weaknesses. In fact, this is the reason Jacob brings them to the Island: because they are alone and flawed.
Like these earlier classic mythological stories, Lost embraces its own theological/philosophical context, as well as alluding to the older contexts. Jacob could be looked at as a throwback to the human-like gods of the Greek pantheon. He could also be viewed as a slightly weakened version of the Christian God. Even the fact that he is killed has Christian connotations, because like Jesus Christ, he is betrayed by a disciple (Ben), although one wonders what redemptive purpose his death symbolized. That symbolic act belongs to Jack, who sacrifices his life to defeat the Island’s Devil, the Man in Black, to protect and preserve the Light, and to save everyone he loves. Jack of course is also a “Shepherd” and leads the Lost exiles. If things couldn’t be any more obvious, his father’s name is Christian Shepherd.
Of course, Jack is not an exact picture of Christ, because he is flawed. He also starts his journey on the Island as a “man of science” in contrast to Locke who is a “man of faith.” Jack trusts only his reason and his senses to understand reality, but he is full of anger and frustration, and it is out of these feelings that he is always trying to fix things. He tries to escape the Island, but after the doing so, he becomes the very things he despised in his father, a drunkard and an irresponsible surgeon. Through this he realizes that he has been avoiding his destiny on the Island, and returns with a different perspective. Back on the Island, Jack slowly becomes a “man of faith,” not trying to control people or fix things, but accepting the work of the hidden (divine?) hand guiding things. He admits at one point that this is not easy for him to do, but he grows in this, to the point where he takes upon himself the role of the Island’s new Protector, saying, “This is what I’m meant to do.”
Tied closely into Jack’s story is one of the greatest themes of Lost, and of all great stories, which is the human desire for love and community. All of the characters that arrive on the Island are broken in these respects. Jack has a strained relationship with his father, failed in his marriage, etc. Kate is always on the run and can never establish any stable relationships. Charlie is isolated in his addiction. John Locke also has a horrible relationship with his father, and feels handicapped (symbolized in his wheelchair) in his relationships. Each of these characters is longing for love, but is burdened and held back by their flaws. The Island is a place where these flaws are brought out, grappled with, and purged. In this, the theme of Dante’s Divine Comedy is echoed, “In order to ascend, you must descend.”
In this sense, it may be true what some people say, that the Island is a purgatorial state of sorts. I tend to think of it as a symbolic microcosm of the world itself, and the struggles of life that we face. It is simply the journey of life in concentrated form.
And when that journey is complete, when one is purified of weakness and learns to empty themselves, we arrive at love, just as in Season 6 all the characters arrive at this place they longed for—of love and community. And that is what really made this show for me. I know some people complained that not all the questions about the Island’s mysteries were answered. In some ways I couldn’t care less. Once a gimmick is explained, it ceases to be fascinating. It is the characters of Lost are who endure in my mind—their stories, their struggles, their triumphs. In the end, like Dante, after descending through hell and passing through the purifying fires of Purgatory, they rise together to see “The love that moves the sun and other stars.” In the end, instead of being “lost,” they find that they have been found.