The Last Rubicon

“I could have prevented that murder and Deb accepts that. But she hasn’t accepted me. What I am…And I’m not sure she ever will.”  — Dexter Morgan, "Dexter"

For years now, I have watched "Dexter" with fascination. You could, rightly so, make the argument this is not the kind of show people of faith should be watching. There is little redeemable about the morality presented in "Dexter," and the edges of the show are far from polished.

But that doesn't mean it can't be an interesting thought problem. In my opinion, few shows reflect the moral quagmire that is the United States of America in 2012 better than "Dexter." The "hero" at the center of the show isn't really a hero at all. He's a cold-blooded killer, who takes a life, or multiple lives, in each episode. Yet he is still set up to be the hero.

We are a culture that worships the anti-hero, that believes the ends justify the means, and seems to have no compunction with being entertained through savage brutality. "Dexter," then, is a perfect reflection of this mentality. Dexter Morgan may be a psychopath, but he's our psychopath. He claims he makes the world a better place by indulging in his need to kill, and it's possible that's true. He also has a code, which is meant to make us feel better about appreciating his work.

One of my favorite episodes occurred in season three, when a family friend asked Dexter to help her end her life as she suffered from a terminal disease. Dexter, though, was troubled by the request and couldn't quite comply. Throughout the series the writers have endeavored to make him more "human," which is a curious duality for a show that's essentially about a serial killer. But, then again, maybe that duality is to make us feel better about ourselves for watching.

Last season, I was fascinated as Dexter Morgan struggled with the idea of God. Though this is far from a Christian show, I thought it handled the topic well and offered a somewhat favorable view of Christianity — if a bit skewed. Dexter, ultimately, came down on the side of veering away from faith — something necessary for him to continue to indulge in his darker urges.

But as the countdown clock has been placed on the series — "Dexter" will end after next season — it has freed the show up to tell the last story it has, one of acceptance. You see, Dexter has always done his work in secret, though he's longed acceptance for who and what he is from those closest to him. But is that possible?

His sister — Deb — is not exactly a moral paragon, but she is devoted to what she sees as the nobility of the criminal justice system. But Dexter works outside that system, and does so proudly. The question has always been how those two philosophies could be reconciled — or if they could.

The show moved to answer that last remaining story this season, as Deb found out who her brother really is. At first she recoiled in horror. Then she dug in and tried to correct the situation. But, slowly, it seems as if this story is going another way.

Just four episodes into the seventh season, it's impossible to say for certain how this story arc will end. But it seems that the show is suggesting that Dexter's way of viewing and interacting with the world isn't all that bad.

At the end of last night's episode, after seeing her legal recourse fail, Deb came to accept that the only way to keep a killer from killing again was to allow Dexter to handle it. He did. He then asked her how she felt. She said she felt glad, instantly wondering what that meant about her. Dexter's response was that it made her "human."

As repugnant as that idea might seem to us, it's hard not to wonder if there's a note of truth in that. Look at the world; look at the way we interact with one another; look at the way we seem to view justice. The Bible presents a different story, but it's hard to escape the feeling that "Dexter" is an apt reflection of the world as it today. That should give us all a moment of pause.