Alpha and Omega

An "ouroboros" drawn by Theodoros Pelecanos, Synosius (1478)

One generation passeth away, and another cometh;

And the earth abideth for ever.

The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down,

And hasteth to his place where he ariseth.

The wind goeth toward the south,

And turneth about unto the north;

It turneth about continually in its circuit,

And the wind returneth again to its circuits.

All the rivers run into the sea,

Yet the sea is not full;

Unto the place whither the rivers go,

Thither they go again.

All things toil to weariness;

Man cannot utter it,

The eye is not satisfied with seeing,

Nor the ear filled with hearing.

That which hath been is that which shall be,

And that which hath been done is that which shall be done;

And there is nothing new under the sun.

(Ecclesiastes 1.4-9)

So, we've come to the end. We're due to take the final in a few hours, and our ecclesia will be no more. Or will it?

As my introductory blog post, a lifetime ago in August, lifted its title from the first chapter of Genesis ("...and there was light."), I thought it would be fitting to take a passage from the last chapter of Revelation for my official sign-off. Perhaps, just Omega - the end. The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that espousing such a point A to point B linearity would betray what we've learned in this class. And would lead the spirit of Northrop Frye to haunt me for my typological ineptitude.

Ironically enough, I found the above passage from Ecclesiastes as a preface to Telling It Again and Again: Repetition In Literature & Film, by Bruce F. Kawin (1972), while researching for my previously-mentioned Film Theory term paper on repetition and rhythm in the age of digital reproduction. It reminded me of the central reason, amongst many lesser ones, that the King James Version has continued to persist as the biblical English translation par excellence for the last four hundred years - its endearingly poetic language. I had already glossed over this passage in the NSRV, but it took seeing it rendered in the KJV's archaic, yet beautiful, mode for the message to strike me, causing a revelatory anamnesis. Right away, I knew I had to use it for my last post.

This is not the end, but simply the next step in a cycle. While the class may be drawing to a close, the learning and growth - an amazing amount for a 200-level course - I've undergone as part of our ecclesia lead by Dr. Sexson, will no doubt continue to expand and manifest itself throughout my life. As Amanda Jone's blog poignantly states, "Something has been planted." This end is only a beginning amongst many; an alpha and an omega.

Final Paper

Expressive Tribalism In The Bible:

What I Know Now That I Didn’t Know Before, and The Difference It Makes

Foreboding and ominous, oozing a dreaded sense of fallacious hypocrisy, legitimizing millennia of bloodshed and ignorance; I once feared the Bible. Or, rather, I feared the Bible’s misappropriation at the hand of fire-and-brimstone fundamentalists. Gravely mistaken, I misconstrued the Bible as a work of literature with its crude abuse in the hands of literalists. I am happy to inform, however, that my biblical phobia has fully receded into permanent remission, replaced by a newfound passion full of vigor and unbridled curiosity. “The Biblical Foundations of Literature” has corrected me, purging me of misunderstanding and resultant intimidation. No longer do I view the Bible as a big, bad singular volume full of contradictions, but as a varied library of shifting worldviews and narratives that pervade Western literature and thought. While it may be safe to assume that I will never regard the Bible as a revealed text, I nevertheless find comfort in its metaphorical and historical contexts. As a foundational work of literature, the Bible must be cherished for its expressive uniqueness as a manifestation of an originally tribal people’s anagogic prowess.

When first introduced to the notion of “tribal exclusivity” by our guest lecturer, a seed was planted into the back of my head. While tribal exclusivity operated within the lecture as an explanation of inter-familial (i.e. cousin) marriage, the anxiety of tribal preservation, cultic transgression, and modes of patriarchy, the term most importantly revealed an expanded way of encountering the Bible as a narrative. In essence, I underwent metanoia, reversing my “usual conceptions of time and space” (Frye 130). Serving as a powerful reminder of the negative implications of viewing ancient narrative through the lens of the present, tribal exclusivity as an analytical device fulfilled the definition of metanoia advanced by Northrop Frye in which such “a vision, amongst other things, detaches one from one’s primary community and attaches him to another” (130). Despite my realization concerning tribal exclusivity’s role as a mesocosm – a bridge to the past of the Hebrew Scriptures, primarily – it was only one of many such revelatory transformations I experienced throughout our course’s duration. Nevertheless, as a metanoic trigger and analytic lens, tribal exclusivity forms a perfect spine from which to expound upon the topic of “what I know now that I did not know before, and the difference it makes.”

While reading the Bible, one absolute constant seems to emerge: its kerygmatic, multi-source nature inherently allows for a varied multitude of interpretation and relevant experience. The Bible as a whole simultaneously serves those concerned with traditionalist theology, religionists seeking affirmations of their worldview, scholars searching for Levantine historicity, and our class – students of story and metaphor. In a way, the Bible operates as a metaphorical tree, from which various sustained meanings branch off, as Frye explains:

Suppose we thought of Plato’s myths, not as illustrating his dialogues but as the primary meaning of which the dialectic discussions form a commentary. This would lead us to the principle that metaphorical meaning has the same relation to discursive meaning that myth has to history: it is a universal or poetic meaning, and can sustain a number of varying and yet consistent renderings of its discursive meaning, just as a myth can sustain a number of historical exempla. (Frye 65)

The use of tribal exclusivity as a tool of analysis, to derive further meaning from scriptural text, inhabits the role of viewing the metaphorical universality of the Bible through a particularly discursive, historical context.

In Numbers 13, God orders Moses to send spies to Canaan, which he intends to give to the Israelites. The spies report back that the land “flows with milk and honey … Yet the people who live in the land are strong, and the towns are fortified and very large,” after which one of the spies, Caleb son of Jephunneh, insists, “Let us go up at once and occupy it, for we are well able to overcome it.” (NRSV, Num. 13.27-30). From Numbers 13, a traditionalist would most likely interpret God’s command as a literal step in delivering his chosen people to the Promised Land, with Caleb’s insistence demonstrating righteous faith in the divine logos of God. While a critical interpretation would discount such a traditionalist notion, the passage resists a solely poetic reading. Instead, as Frye observes, the Bible presents “a historical myth that by-passes conventional historical criteria: it is neither a specific history nor a purely poetic vision, but presents the history of Israel, past and future, in a way that leaves conventional history free to do its own work” (Frye 65). A reading of Numbers 13 through the lens of tribal exclusivity resists being specifically historical or solely poetic, instead it reveals a metaphorically expressed validation of tribal preservation via hostile invasion throughout “the history of Israel, past and future.”

One may argue that Caleb is faithful to God, but he seems most loyal to God’s plan for his tribe, to the regenerative violence that will ensure the Israelites’ continued survival and establish their sovereignty. When the Israelites rebel in Numbers 14 after being deceived by false reports from the other spies who fear the strength of Canaan’s indigenous tribes, God declares, “According to the number of the days, for which you spied out the land, forty days, for every day a year, you shall bear your iniquity, forty years, and you shall know my displeasure” (14.34). Of all the adult Israelites, only Caleb and another, Joshua, are allowed to enter the Promised Land immediately. As further punishment, “the men who brought an unfavorable report about the land died by a plague before the Lord. But Joshua son of Nun and Caleb son of Jephunneh alone remained alive, of those men who went to spy out the land” (Num. 14.37-38). Interestingly, Caleb is thought to be of an “old epic” source dominating the passage, while Joshua, who also gives a positive report of the Promised Land in Numbers 14:7, “is included only in verses that stem from the Priestly tradition” (Hackert 218). Ultimately, despite their originally disparate sources, the characters of Caleb and Joshua inhabit a consistent archetype of the ideal Jew willing to face adversity to ensure his people’s continued viability as a tribe, even when the rest of the tribe dissents. Caleb and Joshua enter the Promised Land, a space both metaphorical and historical, wherein the tribe will cement their identity through force and exclusivity. The Promised Land constitutes an ancient Israelite version of Manifest Destiny, simultaneously imagined and real, spiritually ordained and temporally sectarian.

Requisite to a greater understanding of how tribalism expresses itself through literature, particularly in the Bible, is an elaboration upon tribal exclusivity’s inherent relationship to marital practices. As our guest lecturer noted, the marriage of cousins was common and even encouraged up until recent history, all for the sake of preserving the tribe’s exclusive purity. Abraham bounds his servant by oath, telling him, “you will not get a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites, among whom I live, but will go to my country and to my kindred and get a wife for my son Isaac” (Gen. 24.3-4). The servant, pleading with God for success, finds the perfect candidate in Rebekah, Isaac’s first cousin once removed. In essence, Abraham establishes the practice of endogamy – marrying within one’s own group – that becomes a central aspect of traditional Judaic culture and Biblical literature. Were the Israelites to endorse exogamy, or marriage with outsiders, one may safely assume that Judaism would not exist as a unique ethno-religious identity today.

Despite the importance of tribal exclusivity through endogamy, important limits exist within the Hebrew Scriptures. In Leviticus, God makes a general statement, “None of you shall approach anyone near of kin to uncover nakedness: I am the Lord” (18.6). A laundry list of sexual restrictions follows, specifically declaring what constitutes incest, including relations with parents, your father’s wife, siblings, grandchildren, a daughter of your father’s wife, aunts, and so on. Of course, the list purposefully refrains from barring relations between cousins; as such practice was not considered incest but a valuable vanguard of tribal purity. When applied to Genesis, however, the restrictions against marrying your daughter-in-law (Lev. 18.15) or a woman and her sister (Lev. 18.17) conflict with the stories of Judah’s marriage to Tamar and Jacob’s marriage to his cousins Leah and Rachel, rival sisters. According to the HarperCollins Study Bible’s footnotes, such conflict between Levitical law and the sacred patriarchs is easily resolved by the fact that such discrepancies “occurred before the Sinaitic law code became operative” (Milgrom 178). Yet, interestingly enough, the restriction against marrying your brother’s wife in Leviticus 18:16 seemingly opposes “the institution of levirate marriage” (Milgrom 178). Outlawing levirate marriage directly conflicts with the early endogamic practices of Israelites, in which a male was mandated to marry his deceased brother’s wife should he leave behind no son (Deuteronomy 25.5-10). Consequently, the conflict between imagined law and social reality reveals a certain tension between the logos and praxis of tribal exclusivity. Before taking the “Biblical Foundations of Literature,” a discordant relationship between the written word and lived experience may have proved bothersome, but I now welcome such tension as a simple extension of our class’s ever-evident mantra, “God loves conflict.”

Indeed, were no conflict to arise from the endogamous practices of traditional Judaism, were the Israelites and their descendents to not engage in tribal exclusivity, Isaac Baashevis Singer would have been unable to write The Slave. Without opposition to his love for Wanda, a gentile, the Jewish protagonist in Jacob would only possibly face the adversity of being a slave to Jan Bzik. Most likely, Jacob would not even be a slave, as a great deal of the abuse perpetuated by European gentiles upon Jews stemmed from misunderstandings fostered by the insular tribalism of both groups. Even if Jacob were enslaved, it is fairly safe to postulate that he would have accepted the offer to marry Wanda and integrate himself into her village. Jacob and Wanda’s love would not be forbidden, would not warrant violent recourse by gentiles or excommunication by Jews, and, thus, would not generate conflict. Instead of driving the narrative to possess an engaging, constantly undulating parabolic shape, Jacob’s story would simply flounder as a boringly flat, demotic account. No conflict, no story.

As described by our guest lecturer, a persistent concern with procreation exists throughout the Torah, especially in Genesis. In the Priestly writer’s account of Creation, God’s first command to the newly created humans is to “Be fruitful and multiply” (Gen. 1.28). Immediately, the anxiety of tribal preservation emerges within the Hebrew Scriptures as a literary agent of paramount significance. The importance of preserving one’s tribe becomes most painfully evident through the story of Lot’s daughters. Fearing that their people are no more, the anathema of incest transforms into a viable last resort so that they “may preserve offspring through [their] father” (Gen 19.33). Getting Lot drunk on wine, both daughters proceed to rape him; a poetic retribution for previously offering them up for gang rape by the angry mob in Sodom. Nevertheless, the expositional intent of the unnamed daughters remains pure, not vengeful, even if its execution constitutes a shameful act. What may have otherwise been a grave transgression instead becomes a misguided act of tribal dedication. As a result of their mistaken incest, Lot’s daughters give birth to Moab and Ben-ammi, the eponymous ancestors of the Moabites and Ammonites, respectively. By utilizing a failure of tribal preservation as a shameful etiological account to mock their neighboring rivals, the Israelites metaphorically reassert their own tribal identity as a “pure” or chosen people.

In order to engender a well-rounded portrayal of tribal exclusivity as it relates to marriage and procreation in the Hebrew Scriptures, exceptions to the theme must be explored. Amongst ta biblia, The Book of Ruth presents a particularly moving and well-crafted short work of literature. The story of Ruth, a widowed Moabite, remaining steadfastly loyal to her Israelite mother-in-law Naomi, and vice versa, allows for the temporary reversal of tribal exclusivity should an outsider demonstrate sufficient reverence towards their adopted kinsfolk. After marrying Boaz, Ruth ensures the continuation of Naomi’s family through the birth of a son:

Blessed be the Lord, who has not left you this day without next-of-kin; and may his name be renowned in Israel! He shall be to you a restorer of life and nourisher of your old age; for you daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven sons, has borne him.” (4.14-15)

While Ruth’s child may not be Naomi’s biological grandson, he presents a solution to the anxiety of tribal preservation. Instead of being simply a family tale, The Book of Ruth may very well be an allegory for “the continuity of the nation, an extension of the idea of family continuity. The Judeans, like the family of Naomi, returned from exile and rebuilt their community” (Berlin 213). By marrying Boaz, Ruth allows for a surrogate genealogical line to flourish in her deceased husband’s stead, and enables the eventual birth of King David (4.21). Cultivating the future of Israel through conception, it seems only fitting that much of the story “is linked to the imagery of harvest” (Frye 155). Ruth, if anything, becomes an integral agent of tribal preservation and a key player in Israel’s establishment of exclusive sovereignty through the mythically unifying kingship of David.

When viewed through the lens of the present, the presence of divinely ordained genocide in the Hebrew Scriptures conflicts with modern-day, traditional notions of a merciful God. By thinking of genocidal narrative as an expression of tribal exclusivity and preservation, however, the obscuring veil of modernity may be lifted so as to attain a metanoic realization. As punishment for “opposing the Israelites when they came up out of Egypt,” God promises to blot out the Amalekites (I Sam 15.2). The prophet Samuel orders King Saul to “utterly destroy” the Amalekites, and to “not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey” (I Sam 15.2-3). Sauls spares the Amalek king, Agag, and the choicest livestock, ostensibly to be used as burnt offerings, consequently incurring the wrath of Samuel. Declaring that “rebellion is no less a sin than divination,” Samuel and God reject Saul “from being king” (I Sam 15.23). Under a literalist scope, Saul’s harsh punishment results from being disobediently merciful, however slightly, in committing genocide. Considering, however, that the Amalekites continue to reemerge throughout the narrative, with David resuming their slaughter, a superficial reading of the text fosters obvious inadequacies. By applying Occam’s Razor, we come to the simplest solution: the story of Saul’s destruction of Amalek is a metaphor. Rather than being an endorsement of genocide, Saul’s rebellion and ultimate punishment serves the dual purpose of reiterating the authority of God’s logos and the need for a competent king to protect Israel from its rivals. Yet again, we are reminded that God loves conflict, God loves mythos, as do the Israelites. Through regenerative violence against a common enemy, Israel reinforces its identity as a cohesive, uniquely exclusive tribe that continues to persevere in the enactment of its own story. In our age of melting-pot multiculturalism, the idea of erecting and constantly rebuffing boundaries of tribal identity (i.e. “We are Israel. You are Amalek.”) may seem foreign or backwards, yet such sectarianism was – and still is – an integral function of community-cohesion and self-identification in the Levant. Certainly the ancient Israelites and Amalekites of "actual history" engaged in countless bloody conflicts, committing what may be viewed today as horrible atrocities against one another, but the biblical or kerygmatic portrayal of such events serves primarily as an allegorical proponent of tribal exclusivity, of communal identity, of solidarity.

Representing a crucial paradigmatic shift in the tribal identity of Israel, the development of Judaic monarchy arouses unique literary tensions. The total transition from the relatively anarchic and decentralized system of judges to the centralized, monarchial authority of kings was not instantaneous or without resistance. Constituting the central arc of First and Second Samuel, the authorship of text pertaining to the emergence of Judaic monarchy is composed of “a group of early narrative sources upon which later editors and compilers drew” (McCarter 390). Amongst these sources, some express suspicions of the institution of kingship, while others support it (McCarter 390-1). Thus, a tense narrative of differing mores and attitudes emerges. In a particularly anti-monarchal verse, God tells Samuel that in their insistent requests to be given a monarch, the Israelites “have rejected me from being king over them” (1 Sam. 8.7). The differing biases of First Samuel’s sources seemingly originate from a larger debate on the merits of a king’s temporal authority versus the spiritual authority of God and his “divinely appointed” representatives. A sectarian worldview, stemming from an intrinsic sense of sacred exclusiveness, alongside Judaic monotheism, with its central tenet of exclusive devotion to one supreme “Lord,” combine in resistance against a powerful desire to raise a king and be “like other nations” (1 Sam. 8.5). As Frye notes, a new sense of typology develops touting a forward-directed vision of Israel’s place in history:

The most important single historical fact about the Old Testament is that the people who produced it were never lucky at the game of empire. Temporal power was in heathen hands; consequently history became reshaped into a future-directed history, in which the overthrow of the heathen empires and the eventual recognition of Israel’s unique historical importance are the main events. (Frye 83)

The wish for temporal success and a forward idealization of Israel’s exclusive position in history contributes to the perceived need for a strong, central government. Ultimately, the Israelites’ demand for a king who "may govern us and go out before us and fight our battles" (1 Sam. 8:20) wins out. The transformation of Israel into a monarchy only reflects the surface of a larger, evolving societal dynamic, as the expression of tribal identity manifests in an increasingly nationalistic, broader level. Exit the Twelve Tribes of Israel, enter the Jewish People.

Tribal exclusivity obviously exists independently of monotheism or polytheism, but not of mythos, through which it is expressed. Nevertheless, the exclusive monotheism of the Israelites played a major role in the formation of their own unique brand of expressive tribalism. Throughout much of the Hebrew Scriptures, the prophets, judges, and God constantly occupy themselves with dragging the ancient Israelites kicking and screaming into monotheism. God commands Hosea to take for himself “a wife of whoredom” (Hosea 1:2), serving as an allegory for God’s own relationship with his unfaithful bride, Israel, who keeps straying to the comfort of Canaanite and Mesopotamian gods. Born in a polytheistic environment, surviving millennia of discrimination and violence; the Jewish identity places great emphasis upon the adversity through which it has persevered. Without a doubt, the Yahweh of the Hebrew Scriptures gives cause on multiple occasions to believe that he is not a particularly easy god to follow. For instance, in First Samuel, God slaughters at least seventy people for not celebrating the Ark of the Covenant’s arrival in Beth-Semesh, leading the rest of the town to cry out, "Who is able to stand before the Lord, this holy God? To whom shall he go so that we may be rid of him?" (6:20). Without conflict, Yahweh would not be Yahweh, and neither would the Israelites be Israelites. As scars serve as physical testimony of what one has endured, the Hebrew Bible operates as a metaphorical testimony of a Semitic people’s struggle to coalesce into a single, communal whole, to carve out a tribally exclusive identity.

Unfortunately, the Bible aptly demonstrates that justified violence, bigotry, and oppression can manifest as dark by-products of a tribally exclusive worldview. Yet, tribal exclusivity in itself is not necessarily evil or wrong, but a facet of humanity as metaphor is a facet of storytelling. We still engage in exclusion to define who we are, but on a more multidimensional scale, from ethnic blocs to nation states to sub-cultures to social cliques. Shaping the mythos through which it was expressed, ancient Israelite tribalism in turn continues to reinforce Judeo-Christian and Western identities through the legacy of biblical narrative. Narratives inform us of whom we are not literally, but metaphorically. Therefore, everyone should love the Bible, believers and non-believers alike, as a monumental library of literature with the anagogic potential to help shape your own story. Respect the creative power of logos.

Work Cited

Frye, Northrop. The Great Code: The Bible and Literature. New York: Harvesy/HBJ , 1982.

Hackert, JoAnn “Numbers Introduction and Annotations.” The HarperCollins Study Bible. New Revised Standard Version, Including the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books With Concordance. Eds. Harold W. Attridge, et al. Revised Edition. New York: HarperCollins, 2006. 194-254.

McCarter, Kyle “1^st & 2^nd Samuel Introduction and Annotations.” The HarperCollins Study Bible. New Revised Standard Version, Including the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books With Concordance. Eds. Harold W. Attridge, et al. Revised Edition. New York: HarperCollins, 2006. 389-473.

Milgrom, Jacob “Leviticus Introduction and Annotations.” The HarperCollins Study Bible. New Revised Standard Version, Including the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books With Concordance. Eds. Harold W. Attridge, et al. Revised Edition. New York: HarperCollins, 2006. 150-193.

Video Update

Even though our last class period has come and gone, I still intend to compile the picture and video elements from the Samuel presentation's semi-botched slideshow into a simple video. I should be able to post it by Sunday, Monday at the latest. (EDIT 12/18: Unfortunately, the madness of finals week won out. In retrospect, I was a little naive thinking I could make the video while already being over-extended and sleep-deprived.) Ideally, I wish I could just turn back the clock and not automatically assume the projector would operate as a separate display, like most, instead of only mirroring the desktop and thus preventing the software (Livid Union) from working. Ah, well. A video-nerd can only dream.

Not that I want to be "that video guy," but here's two more short experimental pieces I worked on, for the same class as my Peter Quince video. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to create a "final version" of the Peter Quince video - it'll have to wait until break. Only reason I'm sharing these two projects is because they, however loosely, yet again borrow from concepts discussed in class.

-Frontierspace Ricorso (a.k.a. "Space Cowboy")

http://vimeo.com/7785593

Password: spacecowboy

An abstract genre-response project inspired by the connections between Sci-fi and the Western and the "ricorso" of their recycled themes and tropes, as well as the individual's relationship with technology and the supposed frontier. Not happy with some of the found footage we used, but it had to be abandoned at some point.

Props to Vico for the name.

-Three Whys for Voltaire (a.k.a. "Questions")

http://vimeo.com/8027588

Password: questions

The first version of our final project. Required to be based on a quote. Went for a slowly flowing, meditative feel. Currently working on a second, finer cut/composite to be turned in today.

On the off-chance anyone's interested, both of these will shown at the Multimedia Concert this Sunday at 7:30pm, in Howard Hall, along with other Music Tech/Film major collaborations.

An Absalomic Poem and Random Bitterness

Digging through old files on my computer, attempting to mine some documents saved previously with information relevant to my seminar term paper for Film & Doc Theory (MTA 469), I stumbled upon a poem written on a whim last year.

Late night

Alive with manic pulses

Two halcyon weddings

Thrice removed

Sit we here in Absalom

A family bereft of new

One dead

Three more to come

In the light so faint

A moon

What exactly was running through my mind eludes memory. I only vaguely remember impulsively writing it in the wee hours, when I should have been rewriting a screenplay, evidenced by the first two lines. Makes sense, traditional screenwriting is a bastardized form of logos, sucked dry of creativity by an overabundance of conventions, strict formatting, and narrative formulae. Certainly, there exists numerous talented artists who got their start writing for the screen, i.e. Charlie Kaufman, but the majority of "great film scripts" seem to be generated by people who first gain autonomy as a filmmaker. Once you're P.T. Anderson, you're able to exert a lot of creative control over your own writing, but this isn't so for John Q. Screenwriter. Selling a "spec script" as an unknown usually requires strict adherence to the bastardized form mentioned above or it'll be thrown out by a studio's script reader. Of course, there exists solid, tried and true reasons for this - following those "formulae" helps create a tightly constructed, active story that can be easily read and analyzed quickly by prospective producers. A story that comfortably operates within our mainstream mythos. And, very important to note, despite many commonalities and an abundance of intertext, film and literature are two considerably different beasts, with distinctively separate strengths and weaknesses. So, my assessment of screenwriting from a literary standpoint is somewhat unfair.

Wow, I've gone way off tangent. Fallen off the cliff. Missed the original target completely. I guess the memory of writing that poem dredged up my loss of romance with the previously sacred "film script." Coincidentally, my experiences with film often cause me to feel like Absalom in the painting above, routed and strung up by my hair. At least I checked myself by the end of it. No more disillusioned rants, I promise.

Anyways. Before this class, I was vaguely aware of Absalom, in other words I assumed I knew his story. I'm not sure what the "two halcyon weddings" reference, or what I assumed they were referencing. At least "A family bereft of new / One dead" coincides with the murder of Amnon (for raping Tamar) and David's later grief following Absalom's death at his own command.

Paper Notes and Blogflooding

First off: I should have published this post last Thursday (12/3).

By and large my blog-activity has slowed down considerably; I never seem to have a "dead week" before finals, but rather a "dead month". Researching and stressing over my 20 page film seminar paper, amongst other projects and studying, has left me intellectually drained. Then again, I think I tend to place these blogs on a pedestal too often. Once I'm writing, everything's fine, getting over the anxiety of what to write is the difficult part. That being said, I have a lot of ideas and unfinished blogs I still want, or compulsively feel a need, to complete and post. If only I had enough time to unleash a biblical blogflood. There's never enough time.

Which brings me to my paper. Despite devoting a considerable amount of time preparing it, giving it a lot of thought, and even presenting it, the paper itself remains incomplete - a jumble of ideas lacking connective tissue. Apologies if the presentation also seemed a bit shaky and disjointed; I can usually manage my stage fright, except when caffeine and sleep deprivation are thrown into the mix. Jittery, to say the least. As a sort of cathartic exercise, and to make up for not previously writing a "paper topic" blog, I've transcribed an elaborated outline from my index cards.

-INTRO: Beginning from the end. How what I've learned has personally affected me.

• Before taking this class, I feared the Bible as an ominous, single volume.
• Now I realize my bible-phobia really stemmed from fundamentalist literal interpretations and misappropriations, not the book itself.
• I've come to no longer view the Bible as a big, bad book full of contradictions, but to love it as a varied library of shifting worldviews and narratives that pervade Western literature and thought. Foundational text(s).
• I think everyone should love the Bible, believers and non-believers alike. While I don't regard it as a revealed text, I nevertheless find comfort in its metaphorical and historical contexts.
• Respect the power of logos, especially in this Age of Chaos.

-TRIBAL EXCLUSIVITY: implications thereof

• How it reinforces and perpetuates the worldviews and subsequent stories of the ancient Israelites. How it manifests in their mythos.

-GENOCIDAL NARRATIVE: an expression of tribal exclusivity

• Within the Hebrew Scriptures exists numerous accounts of genocides commanded or ordained by God
• Conflicts with modern-day notions of a merciful God when viewed through the lens of the present.
• Example: Samuel, on behalf of God, commands Saul to destroy the Amalekites - including women, children, even animals - in First Samuel.
• God/Samuel rebukes Saul for sparing King Agag and the best livestock (ostensibly to be used for burnt offerings).
• God originally promised to blot out the Amalekites in Exodus, after their raids upon the Israelites returning from Egypt.
• Despite being supposedly killed off by Saul, the Amalekites continually reemerge in the narrative - often only briefly. David continues to slaughter them.
• Apply Occam's Razor - the simplest solution: it's a metaphor!
• God loves mythos, God loves conflict.
• No doubt, both the ancient Israelites and Amalekites/Agagites of "actual history" engaged in bloody conflicts, committing what would be viewed today as horrible atrocities against one another, but the biblical or "kerygmatic" portrayal of such events serves primarily as an allegorical proponent of tribal exclusivity, of communal identity, of solidarity.

-EXCLUSIVE MONOTHEISM: more conflict, more mythos

• Tribal exclusivity obviously exists independently of monotheism or polytheism, but not of mythos, through which it is expressed.
• Nevertheless, the exclusive monotheism of the Israelites contributes uniquely to their own brand of tribal exclusivity.
• In much of the Hebrew Scriptures, the prophets/judges/God constantly seem to be dragging the Israelites kicking and screaming into exclusive monotheism. God wouldn't be God without conflict, neither would the Israelites be the Israelites. They attempt to resist the paradigmatic shifts of tribal identity and mythos, failing ultimately and serving to deter the contemporaries of the authors and/or redactors of such books from transgressing against the tribe.
• Example: Women resisting the patriarchy and exclusive monotheism in Jeremiah 7, making offerings to Ishtar, the "Queen of Heaven."

-DEVELOPMENT OF JUDAIC MONARCHY: transformation of tribal exclusivity

• Throughout First Samuel, there exists stories and passages with a prevalent anti-monarchy bias, often referred to as the "Republican source" (as opposed to the pro-kingship "Monarchial source").
• Example: God saying, "...they have rejected me from being king over them." (I Samuel 8:7).
• Conflicts of exclusive monotheism with monarchy and of Hebrew tribal exclusivity with the desire to be like neighboring nations, who have kings to "protect" and represent them.
• Expression of tribal exclusivity on an increasingly nationalistic, larger level. Exit the Twelve Tribes of Israel, enter The Jewish People.

-A NOTE ON QUOTES/SUPPORTING EVIDENCE:

• The events of Samuel act only as a spine in my exploration of tribal exclusivity's expression(s) in the Bible.
• Includes several quotes integrated from other books (Genesis, Numbers, Leviticus, etc.) in the Hebrew Scriptures, and a liberal dose of Frye.

-CONCLUSION: in outline form

• Exclusivity is not necessarily an evil or wrong, but a facet of humanity.
• We still engage in it, but on a larger scale: nation states, subcultures, etc.
• Narratives inform us of who we are not literally, but metaphorically.

Samuel Group Script (2 of 6)

Here's my Samuel script from our group presentation, reformatted to read correctly in blog-form. My section is the second of our "redacted" patchwork of six, between Natalie's and KT's. An uneasy mix of simple dialogue and actual quotes/semi-quotes, read it as you would an outline. The plot elements and significant intricacies of Samuel are difficult to completely relate in a short-format script with any sense of narrative coherency.

Side note: I'll soon be posting a video slideshow of what was supposed to be shown by the projector during our puppet show, had there not been technical difficulties.

FIRST SAMUEL

CH. 11 - 17

NARRATOR: A month later, Nahash the Ammonite besieges Jabesh-gilead. Upon learning of the news, Saul slaughters a yoke of oxen and threatens the same fate to any who do not rally behind he and Samuel. It works, Saul now leads an army of three hundred and seventy thousand.

Enter Saul and company.

SAUL: Charge!

The Israelites massacre the Ammonites.

ISRAELITES: Long live King Saul! Death to any who doubted him!

NARRATOR: Saul fulfills his role as a kingly defender. The people rejoice and renew his kingship before the Lord at Gilgal. Samuel delivers his farewell address.

SAMUEL: You do remember that I judged all of Israel without once giving into corruption? And, yet, you still want a king?

ISRAELITES: Yes! How many times do we have to say it?

SAMUEL: You're getting in over your heads, you won't like monarchy. Trust me.

The Israelites groan.

SAMUEL: Fine! But you shall know the wickedness you have done in the sight of the Lord is great in demanding a king for yourselves.

Exit Samuel. Enter Saul and troops.

NARRATOR: With "troops like the sand on the seashore," the Philistines muster to battle Israel. In order to make an offering before the Philistines' arrival, Samuel tells Saul he will meet him in Gilgal within seven days.

SAUL: What's taking him so long? It's been over seven days! Bring the burnt offering here, I'll do it myself.

Saul makes an offering to God. Enter Samuel.

SAMUEL: What have you done!?

SAUL: Samuel! Well, I... I... th-the people were slipping away from me. The Philistines are gathering over in Michmash, you weren't here when you said you would be. What's a king supposed to do?

SAMUEL: You have done foolishly; you have not kept the commandment of the Lord your God. The Lord would have established your kingdom over Israel forever, but now your kingdom will not continue!

Enter Jonathan and Philistines.

NARRATOR: Despite the severity of his impending punishment, Saul continues to prepare for battle with the Philistines. Unbeknownst to Saul, his son Jonathan has raided the Philistine camp with only his armor-bearer as a companion, driving the Philistines into a panic. Learning of the tumult at the enemy camp, Saul's forces strike, causing the confused Philistines to flee.

SAUL: Cursed be anyone who eats food before it is evening and I have been avenged on my enemies!

NARRATOR: The troops find a tantalizing, oozing honeycomb, but restrain their appetites in fear of Saul's oath. Jonathan, having not heard his father's charge, dips his staff into the honeycomb and indulges himself.

SAUL: God, shall I go down after the Philistines? Will you give them into the hand of Israel?

No answer.

SAUL: God?

No answer.

SAUL: Alright! Who's been eating? Sin's arisen today! Or as the Lord lives who saves Israel, even if it is in my own son Jonathan, he will surely die!

JONATHAN: I tasted a little honey with the tip of the staff that was in my hand; here I am, I will die.

A commotion erupts amongst the Israelites.

ISRAELITES: Shall Jonathan die, who has accomplished this great victory in Israel? Far from it! As the Lord lives, not one hair of his head shall fall to the ground; for he has worked with God today.

Exit all.

NARRATOR: And so the people ransomed Jonathan, saving his life.

At God's behest, Samuel goes to Bethlehem to find a new king amongst the seven sons of Jesse.

Enter Samuel, Jesse and sons.

Samuel inspects the sons, looking the oldest, Eliab, up and down.

SAMUEL: Tall and handsome. Surely, you must be the one.

The voice of God interjects.

GOD: Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.

Samuel nods and continues to inspect the sons.

SAMUEL: Nope... not this one, nope... him neither. No... the Lord has not chosen any of these. Are all your sons here?

Enter David.

JESSE: Here's the youngest, David, just in from keeping the sheep.

Samuel is taken aback.

SAMUEL: You're eyes, they're beautiful!

GOD: Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.

Exit all. Enter Saul and his court.

NARRATOR: With the new king-to-be anointed, the spirit of the Lord departs from Saul, leading his mind to torment him.

SERVANT: My king, perhaps the music of a skilled lyre player will sooth you?

Enter David, playing the lyre.

SAUL: Ahhh, yes.

NARRATOR: Finding relief in David's music, Saul takes him under his wing, making the future-king his armor-bearer.

Around the valley of Elah, both the Israelites and Philistines gather in preparation for battle. The Philistines send forth their champion warrior, Goliath. Standing six cubits and a span tall, decked out in bronze armor, and wielding a huge iron spear, no one dares to duel him.

GOLIATH: Come! Choose a man for yourselves, and let him come down to me. If he is able to fight with me and kill me, then we will be your servants; but if I prevail against him, then you shall be our servants!

The Israelites tremble in dismay.

NARRATOR: For forty days, Goliath continues to call for challengers. Tending his father's sheep, David only hears of Goliath's challenge after bringing food to his brothers.

DAVID: I've protected my father's flock from bears and lions, killing them, just as I will kill the one who defies the army of the living God.

Goliath and David face off.

GOLIATH: Come to me, and I will give your flesh to the birds of the air and the beasts of the field.

DAVID: You come to me with sword and javelin; but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This very day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you down and cut off your head; and I will give the dead bodies of the Philistine army this very day to the birds of the air and the beasts of the earth, so that all may know that there is a God in Israel.

Goliath charges after David, who slings a stone and strikes the Philistine directly on the forehead. Falling on his face, David grasps Goliath's sword and kills him.

The Israelites cheer, while the Philistines flee.

Saul glowers with jealousy.

SAUL: Who is this David?

The Slave as a Modern Critique

Bohdan Khmelnytsky (left) with Tuhai Bey (right) at Lviv, by Jan Matejko (1885)

Even after hearing the constant praises of Isaac Bashevis Singer sung, The Slave surpassed my expectations. An extremely moving period narrative centering around timeless themes, all integrated together without relying upon the overplayed tropes that often emerge from the archetypes of forbidden love and the fugitive/outcast. Singer had a real mastery over the creative powers of logos.

Through Singer's words, I became enmeshed in the worldview of a seventeenth century Yiddish Jew in Poland. So often narratives attempting to evoke a certain time and place fall victim to the lens of the present, but Singer seems to have ably avoided doing so while nevertheless keeping the story relevant to the modern reader. In fact, his choice of using Poland under the siege of Muscovites, Swedes, and Cossacks as a setting, with the Chmielnicki massacres being a major contextual pivot point, seems particularly deliberate in allowing the formation of parallels to modern day society. The history of European Jews is fraught with massacres, purges, burnings, pillaging, extortion, and so on. Yet, the catastrophic slaughter of Jews at the hands of the Cossacks remains one of the darker spots in an already bloody tapestry. Just as the gentiles and Jews do not live up to Jacob's ideals, neither do the Jews or gentiles of today live up to Singer's ideals. The hypocrisy of the Jews in Josefov and Pilitz, in spite of the "catastrophe," seems a very poignant critique of modern behavior and corruption, even with the horrors of the Holocaust still within living memory.

Peter Quince Video: Rough Cut

Created this experimental short for one of my film classes, in which we were assigned a "Remix" project that had to consist entirely of already existing content, both visual and audio. After finding a public domain mp3 of a reading of "Peter Quince at the Clavier," I searched through archival footage for relevant imagery. Thus far, this is the result.

At this point, it's still a rough cut. In the next week or two I plan on fine-tuning it and adding in some more elements and texture in Adobe After Effects.

http://vimeo.com/7606894

Password: WallaceStevens

The Times They Are a-Changin' (I Samuel 7-8)

1st Samuel 7-8, thoughts and summaries:

-Ch. 7: The ark comes to rest at Kiriath-jearim, where twenty years pass "and all the house of Israel lamented after the Lord" (1 Samuel 7:2). Is this a twenty-year lacunae, in which God continues his holy temper tantrums, killing non-celebrators here and inflicting tumors there? After all, the Israelites have yet again strayed into worshipping other deities and idols. Much of the history of early Judaism seems to involve God and his prophets dragging the "house of Israel" kicking and screaming into exclusive monotheism. According to the Harper Collins Study Bible, the meaning of the original Hebrew word in place for "lamented" is uncertain. Of course, I could easily be over-analyzing, and the Israelites are simply lamenting to be delivered "out of the hand of the Philistines" (7:3).

To be saved from the Philistines, Samuel tells the Israelites, "Direct your heart to the Lord, and serve him only" (7:3). Out of need, yet again, the Israelites obey and put away their "Baals" and "Astartes" (7:4). At Samuel's behest, all of Israel gathers at Mizpah, where he judges and purifies the people in a ritual that "anticipates the later observance of the Day of Atonement" or "Yom Kippur" (footnotes p. 399). The Philistines hear of this convenient gathering at Mizpah and launch an attack. On Israel's behalf, Samuel offers a whole burnt offering and cries out to the Lord. Accepting the offer, God "thundered with a mighty voice against the Philistines and threw them into confusion, and they were routed before Israel" (7:10). Israel regains the previously tumor-ridden towns of Ekron and Gath, amongst others taken by the Philistines, and maintains peace with the Amorites. Samuel carries on his new role as judge, traveling along a circuit through Israel. He builds an altar in Ramah, his home.

-Ch. 8: Samuel's sons turn out to be corrupt like Eli's, proving themselves unfit to succeed in his place. Yet again, the Book of Samuel presents a critique of hereditary succession. Israelite elders congregate at Ramah and point out to Samuel that he is old and his sons do not follow in his ways, so they ask of him, "appoint for us, then, a king to govern us, like other nations" (8:5). I find it interesting that the Israelites want to be like other people; I can imagine the jeers of outsiders, "You country bumpkins don't even have a king yet! Get with the times!" This irks Samuel, who prays to the Lord for guidance. God answers:

"Listen to the voice of the people in all that they say to you; for they have not rejected you, but they have rejected me from being king over them. Just as they have done to me, from the day I brought them up out of Egypt to this day, forsaking me and serving other gods, so also they are doing to you. Now then, listen to their voice; only - you shall solemnly warn them, and show them the ways of the king who shall reign over them." (8:7-9)

Telling Samuel not to take the people's request personally, God's monologue establishes earthly monarchy as being a rejection of his role as the true and only king. By extension, such a monarchy would replace God's divine appointment of judges with a hereditary dynasty of kings, the same type of inherited power warned against in the portrayal of Eli and Samuel's sons (footnotes p. 400). Plotz remarks, "The Bible is refreshingly meritocratic: again and again it measures the worth of men by their deeds, not their bloodlines," except for the patriarchs (126). Makes me wonder how later adherents of the "divine right of kings" reconciled dynastic, royal absolutism with the anti-monarchial views of First Samuel.

Samuel delivers his convincing warning to the Israelites of what monarchy will entail. The king will appoint their sons to be soldiers, commanders, fieldworkers, and makers of war implements, while their daughters will become his perfumers, cooks, and bakers. The best of their fields, vineyards, and olive orchards will be given to courtiers, as well as one-tenth of their grain and vineyards being given to courtiers and officers. He will also take their slaves, the best of their livestock, and one-tenth of their flock. Samuel concludes, "And you shall be his slaves. And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom who have chose for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you in that day" (8:18).

Nevertheless, the Israelites stubbornly refuse to listen, demanding to be like other nations and have a king who "may govern us and go out before us and fight our battles" (8:20). Samuel relays the message to God. Granting the request, God tells the judge and prophet to "Listen to their voice and set a king over them" (8:22). Plotz asks if you can blame the Israelites for wanting a king, giving insight into their refusal to compromise with Samuel.

Really, can you criticize them for wanting a monarch? We just finished a book, Judges, which is all about what happens when there is no leader - mass murder, gang rape, anarchy, and so forth. The Israelites have lived through a nightmare. Samuel's theoretical warnings against kingship fail against the lived misery of Judges. Kings may be corrupt and brutal, but the Israelites aren't stupid for choosing monarchy over anarchy. I would have done the same. (Plotz 127)

Until reading First Samuel, I never envisioned myself siding with monarchists, but I also may have done the same. Samuel's later interactions with Saul, the first king, make me only more sympathetic to the cause of Jewish monarchy.

To be continued...

Of Mice and Tumors (I Samuel 1-6)

When we were first assigned our presentation groups, I must admit I was a little disheartened to be dumped with First and Second Samuel. Being unfamiliar with Samuel, the books seemed to form a dark, unknown behemoth, a giant of scripture I knew would take a lot of effort to conquer, especially given the amount of difficulty I was having at the time just getting through Genesis.

After taking the plunge, however, let it be known that there's nothing scary about the Book of Samuel. While it is certainly long, with its share of boring parts, Samuel presents numerous compelling narratives and an interesting account of a changing worldview amongst the Israelites - the transition from a system of judges to monarchy.

In our group, we divvied up First and Second Samuel into sections to specialize in based around actual stories, so as not to start and end arbitrarily. My section covers chapters 11 to 17 in First Samuel, so I took pretty detailed notes up until chapter 17, afterwards forcing myself to take fewer so I could finish sometime before the end of my lifetime. Since my sleep-deprived mind is not in the right frame to post a long, coherent essay based on my scribbled notations, (Exhibit A: my rambling thus far) I've decided to post an embellished version of my notes instead, in installments.

1st Samuel 1-6, an outline:

-Ch.1: Hannah, being barren, asks God to give her a son, in exchange she'll offer up the child to serve God for the entirety of his life. Samuel is born, Hannah makes good on her promise and brings him to the Shilonite priests, reciting an ancient poetic prayer of thanksgiving most likely absent from the original story (1 Samuel 2:1-10, footnotes p. 392).

-Ch.2: The sons of Eli, chief priest of Shiloh, are corrupt, taking the meat offered to the Lord, refusing to allow worshippers to burn the fat of the meat before taking it (2:12-17), laying with women who "served at the entrance to the tent of meeting" (2:22), et cetera. By transgressing against cultic sacrifice, they show themselves unfit to succeed their father. A critique of hereditary priesthood.

• Eli, "If one person sins against another, someone can intercede for the sinner with the Lord, but if someone sins against the Lord; who can make intercession?" Eli's sons do not listen, "for it was the will of the Lord to kill them." (2:25)
• An anonymous holy man visits Eli and tells him of the harsh destruction of the Shilonite priesthood, that the Lord declares: "I promised that your family and the family of your ancestor should go in and out before me forever," but now "those who despise me shall be treated with contempt" (2:30). According to the anonymous man, God will cut off Eli's family's strength, prevent them from reaching old age, cause members of his household to die by the sword, with both he and his sons dying on the same day, and survivors being relegated to serve under God's new priest just to earn a morsel of bread (2:31-36).
• The Harper-Collins footnotes describe this section as being written by the Deuteronomistic Historian, "chiefly concerned with establishing the ascendancy of the Zadokite priesthood" (p. 394).

-Ch. 3: Samuel ministers "to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread" (3:1). God calls to Samuel, telling him, "I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them. Therefore I swear ... that the iniquity of Eli's house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever" (3:12-14). Eli asks Samuel the next morning what it was God told him, ordering him not to hide anything. After Samuel tells him everything, Eli simply replies, "It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him" (3:18).

• Samuel's vision confirms the oracle of the anonymous man, establishing him officially as a prophet who goes on to be known by all of Israel.

-Ch. 4: After being defeated by the Philistines, the Israelites bring out the Ark of the Covenant from Shiloh, in an attempt to sway the outcome of their next battle. This scares the Philistines, who fear the mighty "gods who struck the Egyptians with every sort of plague in the wilderness" (4:8). Interestingly, they seem to think Israel worships multiple gods. Regardless of the panic, the Philistines win yet again and capture the ark. Eli's sons, who accompanied the ark, are killed.

• When Eli hears the news, he falls back, breaks his neck, and dies.
• Eli's pregnant daughter-in-law goes into labor upon hearing the news, dying after birth. Before dying, she names her new son Ichabod, meaning "'The glory has departed from Israel,' because the ark of God had been captured" and her relatives killed (4:22).

-Ch. 5: Wherein God goes to town on the Philistines, making them completely regret ever laying hands on the Ark of the Covenant.

• Placing the ark in the temple to Dagon (originally a Syrian god) in Ashdod, they wake up to find the idol of Dagon toppled over. Putting the statue back upright, the next morning they find Dagon fallen over again, with his severed head and hands lying on the threshold of the temple. This story is used to create an etiological account of the then-contemporary taboo of stepping on the threshold of Dagon in Ashdod.
• God inflicts "tumors" upon the people of Ashdod (5:9). The footnotes describe these tumors as probably being the result of bubonic plague, common in coastal cities (p. 397). Plotz, on the other, seems to think of them as hemorrhoids (125). Makes me wonder if the translation he read translates the original word as "hemorrhoids" instead of the more generic "tumors", or if he's taking some journalistic license for the sake of being humorous.
• Spooked, the Philistine leaders gather to decide what to do. The residents of Gath volunteer to take it. Big mistake. They're inflicted with tumors too. They send the ark off to Ekron, who, you guessed it, become tumor-ridden and start dying off in a "deathly panic" (5:11).

-Ch. 6: The Philistines finally send the ark away for good, with a guilt offering of five gold tumors and five gold mice, mirroring the number of Philistine lords. "Tumors and mice are characteristic of the plague" (footnotes p. 397). Plotz cites an article in Biblical Archaeology Review that speculates the gold tumors were actually phalluses, "and that the real affliction ... was not hemorrhoids but erectile dysfunction" (125). I know phalluses were widespread throughout antiquity, but it seems like a stretch to me, something Frye might deem a result of being blinded by historicity.

• Sent away on a cow-drawn cart, the ark makes its way to Beth-shemesh. Upon seeing the ark, the residents rejoice and make offerings.
• At least seventy of the "descendants of Jeconiah" are killed for not rejoicing with the rest of Beth-shemesh, although the Harper-Collins Study Bible includes a translation note denoting the Hebrew words as meaning "seventy men, fifty thousand men," without further explanation, leaving me confused. Seventy or fifty thousand - that's a huge disparity. Does it mean seventy died out of fifty thousand or that fifty thousand and seventy died? Fifty thousand seems like too large a population for one town in ancient Israel, then again the Bible is hardly married to numerical accuracy.
• Either way, God's slaughter leads the people of Beth-shemesh to ask, "Who is able to stand before the Lord, this holy God? To whom shall he go so that we may be rid of him?" (6:20). I find this passage extremely interesting. The people of Beth-shemesh go from rejoicing over being in the presence of God through the ark to wanting to be rid of him. God is like a big, spoiled bully of a child that Beth-shemesh at first welcomes with open arms, but soon tires of his "holy" temper tantrums, opting to ship him off to the next gullible town.

To be continued...

Baptisms & My Religious Backstory

Today's talk of baptisms caused two experiences of mine to bubble up to the surface of my memory.

My own baptism was fairly lackluster, no prolonged dunks in a river for me. At least I remember it, vaguely. A Catholic baptism, on Easter, at the tender age of seven. Far more aware of the proceedings than an infant would be undergoing the same, I nevertheless was oblivious to the full meaning of the ritual. It was more of an item on a sort of spiritual checklist, along with First Confession, First Communion, on down to Confirmation (which I never made it to). While Mass was often a bore as a kid, I remembered being excited for the baptism, but probably moreso for the Easter egg hunt that was following the ceremony than the actual ceremony itself. Still, I generally enjoyed the spectacle of ritual and I still do to an extent, sans the innocence of my childhood gullibility.

Despite the fact that neither of my parents were Catholic, I was a de facto Catholic until about age 12 due to their enrolling me in a Catholic elementary/middle school - "St. Mary's Academy" in The Dalles, Oregon. Of course, according to the Church I'm still a Catholic, I think you have to be excommunicated to be taken off the rosters after being baptized. Makes you wonder about the validity of membership numbers issued from the Vatican. Anyways, as a small-town, poor private school, St. Mary's by that time was far different than the stereotypes most people associate with Catholic education. We wore no uniforms, although I remember the issue being continually brought up and debated amongst parents and teachers. Only my fourth grade teacher was a nun, and she had retired from the convent to live with her cats in a trailer park double-wide by that point. Every now and then murmurs of what amounted to corporal punishment circulated, but save for a few exceptions the discipline was only a little more strict than the area public schools. No rapping of knuckles with rulers. The priests of the neighboring church had an active role in the school's operation, but were resigned more to guest lectures, heading the youth group, and teaching religion classes, while a female layperson ran the actual day-to-day administration as principal.

Mrs. Richie, the principal, was often genial, especially when parents were around, but also fully capable of transforming into a frigid, disciplinarian prone to outbursts. I remember one of the "older kids" being violently berated (verbally) and suspended for bringing a small statue of Buddha to school. She equated the action to a full declaration of paganism, flirting dangerously close to - gasp! - Satanism. The woman could have benefited exponentially from even the most cursory reading of Buddha's teachings.

After sixth grade, my family moved from The Dalles to Scottsdale, Arizona. Total culture shock ensued. I went from being in a class of 19, in semi-rural Oregon, to a class of 450, in the metropolitan sprawl of Phoenix and its suburbs. Now in public school, I increasingly became what equates to a lapsed Catholic, identifying simply as a Christian, one who still harbored some Catholic tendencies. By the time we moved to Spokane, Washington, halfway through my sophomore year of high school, I had become a lot more skeptical of organized religion. Regardless, I still cherished my years at St. Mary's, where everyone knew one another and were generally good friends - it greatly contributed to the person I am today. Whereas, in Scottsdale, the onslaught of awkwardness and social hierarchy accompanying puberty was in full swing. The caustic nature inherent in most middle schools was compounded by the generally materialistic and shallow cultural atmosphere of the pseudo-Californian upscale suburb. I remember kids getting brand new BMWs for their first cars and girls getting rhinoplasty or even breast augmentations while still in high school. After moving to Spokane, MTV's vomit-inducing ode to bratty, self-possesed prodigal daughters who represent the extreme in American materialism, My Super Sweet 16, shot an episode on a girl from my high school. Still, my experiences in Scottsdale - no matter how bitterly remembered - were also very formative in my growth as an individual.

To avoid the writing of a novel - Alex Thomas: A Memoir to Bore You - in one blog post, I'll revert to a flowchart. After all, I still have my second baptismal story to get to. To wrap it up, my religious progression, or degression depending on your point of view, goes roughly so:

Catholic -> Self-spiritual Christian -> Skeptical Christian -> Experiments with Eastern theology/philosophy and Unitarian Universalism (another story for another time) -> Naturalistic Pantheism -> Disillusioned Skeptic -> Open-minded Nontheist (still have some pantheist inclinations, but I use nontheist as an umbrella term to avoid using more specific labels, such as agnostic or atheist, that I will only end up abandoning for others)

Despite the continual growth of skepticism in my personal beliefs, my interest in the subjects of religion and theology has also grown. I think this interest in belief systems stems from a broader proclivity towards learning and examining the interconnecting stories of humanity, from animist creation myths to Judeo-Christian parables.

During my senior year of high school, a friend of mine had a spiritual revelation, supposedly on a mountaintop. How biblical. He went from being a militant atheist to being a militant evangelical, enthusiastic in the way new converts often are, eager to prove himself worthy of his newfound religion. I, on the other hand, had recently renounced all ties to my Christian faith and was on a syncretic bender of picking and choosing beliefs from world religions, particularly Buddhism. Luckily, I spared myself later embarrassment by not publicly announcing myself as a Buddhist as so many fake-baked, hip, enlightenment-seeking Westerners do today in what amounts to a "Buddhism Light" of casual, haphazardly appropriated, highly romanticized philosophy.

Attempting to rise above my base urge to tell my friend he was making a huge mistake, I decided to attend his baptism and at least feign support as he was "officially" born again. Biting my opinionated tongue, at the time framing it in the vein of "What would Buddha do?" How am I better than my constantly proselytizing, fire-and-brimstone spouting friend if I too am judgmental? After all, his atheist, alcoholic mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer, which no doubt played a major role in his newfound faith. I felt sorry for him.

Ironically, his baptism took place during Easter, just like mine. The members of his new church were very welcoming, almost too welcoming, as if they could smell I was a non-believer in need of some saving. The Easter sermon centered around the story of Thomas the Doubter. A strange feeling crept over me, as if this had been arranged, as if it was the pinnacle of my friend's constant efforts to convert "Alex Thomas the Doubter". Further troubling was the fact that an odd amount of church members seemed to be turning their heads towards me, kind smiles in full effect, and that the minister announced that he knew there were some Doubting Thomases in the congregation, asking if they would like to now declare Jesus Christ as their savior. His sermon was hardly that convincing, still I ashamedly shrunk down in my pew, trying to shake the feeling that I was being watched. After what seemed an eternity, my friend and his younger brother (whom he had successfully recruited) delivered testaments to the iniquities of their oh-so-long lives living in the dark, now erased by the "glory" of Jesus Christ. Then came the dunk tank.

Afterwards, I kept quiet about my own experience in the church for fear of seeming like some conspiracy theorist. Interestingly enough, though, my friend seemed to give up on converting me soon after. During one of our fairly civil debates, he cited the advice of Jesus to his disciples to "shake off the dust that is on [their] feet as a testimony against" anyone who does not welcome them or their teachings (Mark 6:11). He explained that he had essentially done all he could for me. His metaphoric dusting of sandals did nothing to squelch the lingering suspicion about my experience at his church, that he had attempted one last great evangelical act by telling his fellow parishioners about me, in hopes of making his friend Doubting Thomas take a drink of their kool-aid. Then again, I was a bit paranoid.

Our friendship had already dwindled quite a bit, we had both been hanging out with different crowds for awhile. After heading off to college, we were relegated to being Facebook friends, very rarely talking to each other. Once his mother's cancer went into remission, his fanatic devotion seemed to ease up. Months later, he posted "notes" that seemed to reflect a questioning of his beliefs. Eventually, his profile no longer displayed "Christian" as his religion. Finally, some very anti-Christian remarks seemed to be popping up on his page. He had completed the circle: raging atheist to raging evangelical to raging atheist yet again. A raging ricorso. While I can be overly critical at times, he seems incapable of moderating himself. No matter the doctrine, he must impose his views upon others. I still feel sorry for him.

No Rest For The Wicked

Opened up Plotz's Good Book to a random page, searching for his musings on Samuel without using my common sense and b-lining to the table of contents. Page 197, his first sentence on Isaiah Chapter 48 leapt out at me:

The line so nice God uses it twice: "'There is no peace,' says the Lord, 'for the wicked.'" This is the closing verse of Isaiah 48, and of Isaiah 57.

I guess I automatically assumed that somewhere within the Bible resided the oft-quoted passage "No rest for the wicked." A great example of assumptive falsity. Yet another Biblical misquote that has erroneously established itself in our culture's collective conscious? I thought, perhaps, that another translation/version of the Bible contained a rendering of the verse closer to the common saying. As Isaiah 48:22 is essentially identical in the NIV, NSRV, and NKJV, I went back to considerably older English translations, along with the Latin Vulgate and newer Catholic versions. Here's what I could find online:

"Pees is not to wickid men, seith the Lord." (Wycliff Bible, late 1300s)

"There is no peace, sayeth the Lord, vnto the wicked." (Geneva Bible, 1599)

"There is no peace, saith the Lord, unto the wicked." (King James Version, 1611)

"There is no peace to the wicked, saith the Lord." (Douay-Rheims Challoner Revision, 1752)

"(There is no peace for the wicked, says the LORD.)" (New American Bible, 1970)

"There is no peace, says Yahweh, for the wicked." (New Jerusalem Bible, 1985)

"non est pax dicit Dominus impiis." (Latin Vulgate)

While I'm in no way fluent in Latin, I know that "pax" literally means peace, leading me to the conclusion that no translation offers a direct basis for the inclusion of "rest". Seems the common replacement of "peace" with "rest" emerged simply as a derivative phrase referencing the original, with the separation of the two versions fading from memory over time.

When read by itself, isolated from any additional context, the passage appears to be a declaration of retributive justice. Isaiah prophesies the fulfillment of God's promise to restore Israel to the Jews, delivering them from Babylon. Cyrus, ruler of Persia, is promised victory by God so that he may conquer Babylon, free the Israelites and allow their return to Zion. On a side note, Plotz makes an amusing connection to modern day events:

Cyrus remains a great hero to modern Iranians as the father of Persia. Cyrus is also a hero to Jews, because he liberated them, redeemed Jerusalem, and was famously tolerant of Judaism. So, you have Iran, a nation led today by an anti-Semite who calls for the destruction of Israel, sharing a hero with Jews, who revere said hero for restoring Israel. And what did Cyrus conquer? Babylon: modern-day Iraq. As I'm writing, Americans are fretting about Tehran's rising influence in Baghdad and Iraq's possible transformation into a vassal state of Iran. Twenty-five hundred years later and it's the same fights, the same land, the same people.

(197)

Back on track. God makes good on his promise, pledging to heal the Israelites despite their past transgressions. Chapter 57 provides a strong context, in which God promises (through Isaiah) he will not "always be angry," despite Israelites "turning back" again and again, but will provide peace for all but those who persist in being wicked. When taken into such context, "There is no peace ... for the wicked," resists being a statement of retributive justice so much as a warning that the impending salvation of the Israelites will not be extended to those who are unrepentant, who continue in their wickedness.

I dwell in the high and holy place,

and also with those who are contrite

and humble in spirit,

to revive the spirit of the humble,

and to revive the heart of the contrite.

For I will not continually accuse,

nor will I always be angry;

for then the spirits would grow faint before me,

even the souls that I have made.

Because of their wicked covetousness I was angry;

I struck them, I hid and was angry;

but they kept turning back to their own ways.

I have seen their ways, but I will heal them;

I will lead them and repay them with comfort,

creating for their mourners the fruit of the lips.

Peace, peace, to the far and the near, says the Lord;

and I will heal them.

But the wicked are like the tossing sea that cannot keep still;

its waters toss up mire and mud.

There is no peace, says my God, for the wicked.

(Isaiah 57:15-21)

Milton's Satan

Apologies if you're in Brit Lit I, this will be a bit of a rehash.

Today I recited, not so well, a passage from Book 1 of Milton's epic poem about the Fall of Satan and Men, Paradise Lost. The poem begins with Satan and his compatriots, after having lost in a civil war against God, awaking in Hell. Reminds me of waking up with a hangover and wondering what happened, what now? Finding themselves as exiles, opponents of God, they resign to their fate, essentially saying, "Well, guess we gotta be evil now! Shucks." They get about to establishing themselves, with Satan and his right-hand man Beëzlebub delivering copious monologues and soliloquys. Given Milton's background as a Puritan reformer and Latin Secretary under Oliver Cromwell, remaining committed to the ideas of the Commonwealth after the English Civil War and Restoration (of monarchy), his portrayal of Satan as a complicated, even sympathetic character, who rebels against the absolute monarchy of God, is surprising. Below is the excerpt I chose to recite, part of a speech by Satan concerning his thoughts on Heaven and God:

Farewell happy fields

Where joy forever dwells; Hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.

What matter where, if I be still the same,

And what I should be, all but less than he

Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least

We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built

Here for his envy; will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:

Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav'n.

(Paradise Lost 1.249-263)

Satan says goodbye to Heaven, nevertheless remarking that a mind like his can make "a Heav'n of Hell." Critiquing God's leadership, he asserts that his mind "will not be changed by place or time," he will not error like God supposedly has. Elsewhere in the poem, he openly admits that God is more powerful, the reason his force of fallen angels lost. In fact, God failed to inform them that he was omnipotent - a point of contention. Regardless, Satan sees himself as an equal of God's, just a little less powerful than he "Whom thunder hath made greater." He still views himself and his colleagues as angels, 'What matter where, if I be still the same," who have found safety in Hell where they "shall be free" from God's autocratic rule and "may reign secure" on their own. Finally, Satan sums it all up, "Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav'n."

Imagine my surprise in finding the most complex, shades-of-grey portrayal of Satan being made by a 17th century Puritan reformist? Even today, amongst believers and skeptics alike, including a nontheist like myself, the figure of Satan is almost always associated with absolute evil - an unbending antagonist.

Milton's Satan, hero of moral relativism? God, don't tell the moral absolutists!

"Waked in the elders by Susanna"

I think I've been putting off posting my thoughts on the Book of Susanna and Wallace Stevens' "Peter Quince at the Clavier", because well, I felt I had been beaten to the punch. What could I say that hasn't already been said in someone else's blog? Then I just resolved to write about my own encounter with the two works, instead of specifically expounding upon the nature of music or beauty.

The Book of Susanna turned out to be an intriguing read, its brevity refreshing. A tightly constructed narrative for the period, I enjoyed it as both a folk motif and an early example of the courtroom drama archetype - Law & Order: Babylon. [Daniel's youth places the story as ostensibly during the exile in Babylon (footnotes 1471)] The use of Daniel as an Atticus Finch figure is particularly interesting.

Upon a first cursory reading of Steven's poem week before last, I wondered about the title's meaning. Not sure if it was mentioned in one of the classes I missed or in someone else's blog, but the poem's Wikipedia entry has a well-cited explanation:

The Peter Quince of the title is the character of one of the "mechanicals" in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Stevens' poem titles are not necessarily a reliable indicator of the meaning of his poems, but Milton Bates suggests that it serves as ironic stage direction, the image of "Shakespear's rude mechanical pressing the delicate keyboard with his thick fingers" expressing the poet's self-deprecation and betraying Stevens's discomfort with the role of "serious poet" in those early years.

(link)

Later readings inflicted me with a sense of musicality, which led to seek out the recordings made by Dominick Argento and Gerald Berg mentioned in the Wikipedia entry. A failure, unfortunately, they seem pretty obscure. Eight copies of the Dominick Argento album that includes musical scores of "Peter Quince at the Clavier" - An American Romantic (1979) - are for sale on Amazon, from $39.95 up to $155.44.

Apparently, the scene of Susanna and the Elders proved a popular subject in paintings. Central to the abundance of Susanna paintings was the easy justification of a nude female subject. I found these two, amongst others, on a cool blog that focuses solely on artistic depictions of women in the Bible:

http://bible-women.blogspot.com/

Top: Jacques Stella (1596-1657), French Classical painter

Above: Théodore Chassériau (1819-1856), French Romantic painter

I titled this blog with a quote summing up the passage that first really leapt out at me from Steven's poem.

Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk,

Is music. It is like the strain

Waked in the elders by Susanna;

(lines 7-9)

Such a strong longing for beauty, whether musical or physical, experienced as feeling - sexual and otherwise. A musical sensuality, near explicit, "The basses of their beings throb" (line 13). Far more than the folk motif of an upstanding woman misjudged by society, Stevens transforms Susanna into musical metaphor, into metaphor for beauty as an inversion of Platonic universals summed up in the passage below:

Beauty is momentary in the mind -

The fitful tracing of the portal;

But in the flesh it is immortal.

(line 51-3)

Steven's beauty doesn't exist as a permanent form in the mind or separate from the physical world, but persists in immortal moments of impermanent flesh. The "strain" wakened in the elders by Susanna's beauty, regardless of their amoral intent, is immortal. By touching "the bawdy strings / Of those white elders" (lines 61-2), and then escaping their machinations, Susanna's music creates a "constant sacrament of praise" (line 66) playing in perpetual memory.