Francis Berger's Blog, page 127
April 16, 2020
There is Virtue in Fighting - S.K. Orr
For over week I have wanted to write a blog post about the virtue of toughness; more specifically, the Christian virtue of toughness - but my mind got tugged into other concerns and issues. Well, pen friend, blogger, and writer par excellence S.K. Orr has beaten me to the punch (pun very much intended).
In a suggestively titled post called Pugilistic-19, S.K. very perceptively criticizes the aversion most modern men show for standing their ground and throwing down. Though S.K. focuses specifically on physical fighting in this piece, the analogy he draws as he explores modern man's distaste for fisticuffs and self-defence requires no great effort of the imagination to unearth (bold added by me):
It seems to me in today’s soft culture, most men have no idea how to fight nor any inclination to do so, except when they’re adequately beered-up and someone insults their favorite sports team or catcalls the provocatively-dressed female they might be escorting at the moment.
The church and/or Christianity seems to have been very influential in this denaturing of male aggression during my lifetime. Indeed, most Christian men I know seem deeply uncomfortable discussing the topic of fighting or personal violence. This is a profound mystery to me.
Rail-thin as a teenager, I learned to fight early and got pretty handy at it. Violence was a natural part of my world, though the type of violence was a universe away from what transpires on the streets today. Most of my friends owned firearms; it was quite common to receive a .22 rifle or .410 shotgun as a twelfth birthday gift, whether new or handed down from father or grandfather. But not one incident of gun violence was ever recorded in my hometown when I was a teenager, even though we were all normal, healthy redneck boys. Nor were knives common. Almost all boys carried a pocketknife, but the idea of pulling one out during a fight was seen as cowardly, the sort of thing some oily Yankee hoodlum in Noo Yowrk City would do. The ability — and willingness — to dust knuckles was a mark of masculine virtue in the shaded, sidewalk-belted streets where I came of age.
And though I am old now, and if physically attacked would have to seriously harm the other person instead of just testing my abilities to put him on his backside (“fighting” per se is a young man’s game, as opposed to true physical combat), I often size up other men, watching how they move, how they carry themselves, where their eyes go, how focused or frivolous they seem to be, and I think, “I could take him,” or “That guy would fold me up and put me in his pocket if we buckled right here.”
But I don’t sense this in most men these days, even those near my age. They seem to have been…bled out in some fashion. And younger men seem positively neutered. I watch men and wonder what they would do if someone menaced their woman or their children. I sincerely hope I’m wrong about my conclusions and assumptions.
There is a thrill, a savage kind of joy that overtakes a man in a real fight. The oft-repeated descriptions of tunnel vision in combat, that narrowing down of focus to the point where only the opponent exists –this is in my experience generally accurate. When that first blow is attempted and landed, the entire body seems to fill with blood and spirit, and time slows down, and all things become clear. When the first blow is received, the spirit fights its own instantaneous battle – do I fold, do I flee, do I counterattack? – and then that remarkable brew of experience, instinct, and bloodlust floods the body and seems to take over. Japan’s greatest feudal swordsman, the incomparable Miyamoto Musashi, once wrote,
“When I stand with my sword in hand against a foe, I become utterly unconscious of the enemy before me or even of my own self, in truth filled with the spirit of subjugating even earth and heaven.”
While I have never experienced a complete disconnect from the opponent before me, I have known something of the transport, the transcendence Musashi described. And those who have been taught or have somehow come to believe that violence is per se wrong and unChristian can only see physical combat as a negative thing, even sinful. This baffles me.
The genetic delicacy and preserve-my-life-and-health-at-all-costs mentality of today’s man is a pure impediment to his wholeness as a child of God. I believe this with my whole heart. But how to remedy it? I have no answers. Having lived a life full of conflict and having accepted it as natural and even good, my attempts to rouse a man’s interior martial spirit would be like trying to tell a deaf man to listen up.
Today’s men, those who have eschewed the martial spirit, are a curious, alien bunch to me. They lack something that I honestly didn’t think a man could live without. They worry me. But I worry even more about their women and their children. No man should ever fight another man over a sports team, or an insult, or a casual date. Likewise, wives and children should know absolutely for certain that their husband, their father, will maim any man who tries to harm them, or be maimed himself in the attempt. This is not phony-tough talk. This should be the reality of all those with a Y-chromosome into whom the living God has breathed His breath. It should be as natural as raised hackles.
I hesitate to add anything to what S.K. has written. Partly because he has pretty much said all there is to say on the topic, and partly because he has said it all very effectively.
Nevertheless, I think S.K. would agree with me when I say his post is not meant to be taken as a reckless incitement to aggressive physical violence. This isn't about running around and randomly knocking heads or starting fight clubs. Nor is it a call to arms, so to speak.
It is, however, to be taken as an acerbic but completely accurate assessment of the seeming unwillingness of Christians, Christian men in particular, to take a stand and defend themselves, their loved ones, and their faith when required. Taking a stand and defending also extends beyond the physical.
True Christians accept the primacy of the spiritual, but accepting this primacy should not involve utter passivity and timidity in the physical world. In fact, displaying nothing but passivity and timidity in the physical is a sure sign that one has not accepted the primacy of the spiritual at all because such acceptance entails a certain degree of moral, physical, and spiritual courage.
Note added: I have never had the pleasure of meeting S.K. in person, but our correspondence and the work he posts on Steeple Tea have revealed him to be one of the humblest and gentlest souls I have ever known. By the same token, he is also an ex-marine and possesses a considerable martial arts background. I'm no slouch myself, but I have a feeling S.K. could kick my ass without breaking much of a sweat. Simply put - despite his external mannerisms and innate sensitivity, S.K. is one tough customer - both physically and spiritually. We should strive to be tough customers as well - especially now, in this time and place. To do otherwise is un-Christian.
In a suggestively titled post called Pugilistic-19, S.K. very perceptively criticizes the aversion most modern men show for standing their ground and throwing down. Though S.K. focuses specifically on physical fighting in this piece, the analogy he draws as he explores modern man's distaste for fisticuffs and self-defence requires no great effort of the imagination to unearth (bold added by me):
It seems to me in today’s soft culture, most men have no idea how to fight nor any inclination to do so, except when they’re adequately beered-up and someone insults their favorite sports team or catcalls the provocatively-dressed female they might be escorting at the moment.
The church and/or Christianity seems to have been very influential in this denaturing of male aggression during my lifetime. Indeed, most Christian men I know seem deeply uncomfortable discussing the topic of fighting or personal violence. This is a profound mystery to me.
Rail-thin as a teenager, I learned to fight early and got pretty handy at it. Violence was a natural part of my world, though the type of violence was a universe away from what transpires on the streets today. Most of my friends owned firearms; it was quite common to receive a .22 rifle or .410 shotgun as a twelfth birthday gift, whether new or handed down from father or grandfather. But not one incident of gun violence was ever recorded in my hometown when I was a teenager, even though we were all normal, healthy redneck boys. Nor were knives common. Almost all boys carried a pocketknife, but the idea of pulling one out during a fight was seen as cowardly, the sort of thing some oily Yankee hoodlum in Noo Yowrk City would do. The ability — and willingness — to dust knuckles was a mark of masculine virtue in the shaded, sidewalk-belted streets where I came of age.
And though I am old now, and if physically attacked would have to seriously harm the other person instead of just testing my abilities to put him on his backside (“fighting” per se is a young man’s game, as opposed to true physical combat), I often size up other men, watching how they move, how they carry themselves, where their eyes go, how focused or frivolous they seem to be, and I think, “I could take him,” or “That guy would fold me up and put me in his pocket if we buckled right here.”
But I don’t sense this in most men these days, even those near my age. They seem to have been…bled out in some fashion. And younger men seem positively neutered. I watch men and wonder what they would do if someone menaced their woman or their children. I sincerely hope I’m wrong about my conclusions and assumptions.
There is a thrill, a savage kind of joy that overtakes a man in a real fight. The oft-repeated descriptions of tunnel vision in combat, that narrowing down of focus to the point where only the opponent exists –this is in my experience generally accurate. When that first blow is attempted and landed, the entire body seems to fill with blood and spirit, and time slows down, and all things become clear. When the first blow is received, the spirit fights its own instantaneous battle – do I fold, do I flee, do I counterattack? – and then that remarkable brew of experience, instinct, and bloodlust floods the body and seems to take over. Japan’s greatest feudal swordsman, the incomparable Miyamoto Musashi, once wrote,
“When I stand with my sword in hand against a foe, I become utterly unconscious of the enemy before me or even of my own self, in truth filled with the spirit of subjugating even earth and heaven.”
While I have never experienced a complete disconnect from the opponent before me, I have known something of the transport, the transcendence Musashi described. And those who have been taught or have somehow come to believe that violence is per se wrong and unChristian can only see physical combat as a negative thing, even sinful. This baffles me.
The genetic delicacy and preserve-my-life-and-health-at-all-costs mentality of today’s man is a pure impediment to his wholeness as a child of God. I believe this with my whole heart. But how to remedy it? I have no answers. Having lived a life full of conflict and having accepted it as natural and even good, my attempts to rouse a man’s interior martial spirit would be like trying to tell a deaf man to listen up.
Today’s men, those who have eschewed the martial spirit, are a curious, alien bunch to me. They lack something that I honestly didn’t think a man could live without. They worry me. But I worry even more about their women and their children. No man should ever fight another man over a sports team, or an insult, or a casual date. Likewise, wives and children should know absolutely for certain that their husband, their father, will maim any man who tries to harm them, or be maimed himself in the attempt. This is not phony-tough talk. This should be the reality of all those with a Y-chromosome into whom the living God has breathed His breath. It should be as natural as raised hackles.
I hesitate to add anything to what S.K. has written. Partly because he has pretty much said all there is to say on the topic, and partly because he has said it all very effectively.
Nevertheless, I think S.K. would agree with me when I say his post is not meant to be taken as a reckless incitement to aggressive physical violence. This isn't about running around and randomly knocking heads or starting fight clubs. Nor is it a call to arms, so to speak.
It is, however, to be taken as an acerbic but completely accurate assessment of the seeming unwillingness of Christians, Christian men in particular, to take a stand and defend themselves, their loved ones, and their faith when required. Taking a stand and defending also extends beyond the physical.
True Christians accept the primacy of the spiritual, but accepting this primacy should not involve utter passivity and timidity in the physical world. In fact, displaying nothing but passivity and timidity in the physical is a sure sign that one has not accepted the primacy of the spiritual at all because such acceptance entails a certain degree of moral, physical, and spiritual courage.
Note added: I have never had the pleasure of meeting S.K. in person, but our correspondence and the work he posts on Steeple Tea have revealed him to be one of the humblest and gentlest souls I have ever known. By the same token, he is also an ex-marine and possesses a considerable martial arts background. I'm no slouch myself, but I have a feeling S.K. could kick my ass without breaking much of a sweat. Simply put - despite his external mannerisms and innate sensitivity, S.K. is one tough customer - both physically and spiritually. We should strive to be tough customers as well - especially now, in this time and place. To do otherwise is un-Christian.
April 15, 2020
Bodies or Souls? William Wildblood Explores A Crucial 'Corona 'Crisis' Question
Pen-friend and fellow blogger William Wildblood published a great post today, one in which he asks a crucial question most people, self-professed Christians and organized Christian institutions among them, have all but sidestepped or ignored:
There is much debate, though not in the mainstream media, about whether the severity of the Covid 19 coronavirus is sufficient to justify the current global lockdown with the disastrous effect that will have on the economy. Are the death rates so bad, or could they potentially be so bad, that we should cripple ourselves for what might be the foreseeable future?
I have come to believe that this is irrelevant. The coronavirus is not important. Whether it is just a bad flu or something more serious is really just a secondary issue. What is important is our reaction to it on a spiritual level. The fact is that we, the collective we, have no real spiritual beliefs at all and that applies to us whether we are the typical modern agnostic or the conventional religious believer or the 'spiritual' New Age type (or whatever the current version of that is). We all react to this crisis on a purely materialistic level, thinking only of the safety of our bodies. That is why we are so easily persuaded that protection, of ourselves and our medical systems, is paramount and everything else must be subordinated to that. It is why we willingly hand ourselves over to state supervision.
But what about our souls? Where do these come in?
Good question. Where do souls come in to all of this? For the answer, read the rest of William's excellent post here.
For my own part, I have been harping on about the importance of the spiritual in all of this for a better part of a month. The spiritual level - your soul - is the only level at which anything that is happening now matters.
There is much debate, though not in the mainstream media, about whether the severity of the Covid 19 coronavirus is sufficient to justify the current global lockdown with the disastrous effect that will have on the economy. Are the death rates so bad, or could they potentially be so bad, that we should cripple ourselves for what might be the foreseeable future?
I have come to believe that this is irrelevant. The coronavirus is not important. Whether it is just a bad flu or something more serious is really just a secondary issue. What is important is our reaction to it on a spiritual level. The fact is that we, the collective we, have no real spiritual beliefs at all and that applies to us whether we are the typical modern agnostic or the conventional religious believer or the 'spiritual' New Age type (or whatever the current version of that is). We all react to this crisis on a purely materialistic level, thinking only of the safety of our bodies. That is why we are so easily persuaded that protection, of ourselves and our medical systems, is paramount and everything else must be subordinated to that. It is why we willingly hand ourselves over to state supervision.
But what about our souls? Where do these come in?
Good question. Where do souls come in to all of this? For the answer, read the rest of William's excellent post here.
For my own part, I have been harping on about the importance of the spiritual in all of this for a better part of a month. The spiritual level - your soul - is the only level at which anything that is happening now matters.
A Beautiful Sight Reminds Me of a Fundamental Spiritual Truth
Madonna and Child - Il Sassoferrato Over the past month I have been working from home, and during this time I have been privy to observing, on an almost daily basis, one of the most beautiful sights the world has to offer - young mothers caring for and playing with their small children. Several young women in the village I call home are mothers to toddlers and preschoolers, and on sunny, warm days - of which we have had many - I see them out in front yards or in the street, playing, walking, laughing, exploring, singing.Occasionally I'll see an entire family walking hand-in-hand or out on bicycles. Sometimes the little ones are up on their fathers' shoulders or nestled in prams. Cherry blossoms bloom quietly in the background and the sound of birdsong fills the air. If the lockdown has had any positive effects, seeing the happiness of families being together is foremost among them. I have certainly enjoyed the extra time I have been able to spend with my wife and son, and when I see the young mothers with their children outside my window, I am reminded of those sacred, tender times when my little guy was still a baby.
The lockdown and everything associated with it did not originate from Good, but this does not entail that Good cannot arise from it. If any Good has arisen from the birdemic crisis and stay at home measures, I hope it will be in the form of renewed and fortified love within families.
The war against family has been vicious and prolonged, yet the lockdown and stay at home measures appear to have offered some moments of reprieve - a chance for individuals to strip away temporal stupidities and evils plaguing them and deepen their connection to a crucial and fundamental metaphysical and spiritual reality - a crucial and fundamental metaphysical and spiritual reality William Arkle addresses with great clarity in his work, Letter From a Father:
One of the most important ways I have chosen for you to learn what is vital for your understanding is to find yourself a part of a family situation on earth, for here you are able to go through the experience in one single lifetime, and with unbroken continuity, the experience of being a child, a mature individual and a parent.
In this situation, if you will only learn to pay close attention to it, are all the mysteries of the universe that matter to you.
If you take the trouble to stand apart and observe closely all the relationships that exist in your family situations, you will be able to observe as completely as you will how the problems of life arise, why they arise and how they are solved.
The family situation is a very special gift to you and one day you will be surprised that you took it so for granted.
The family situation is veritably a very special gift, and it is my deepest hope that many have used the events of the past month of 'staying at home' to rediscover this profound truth. Everyone seems to understand the temporal and material justifications for family - procreation, protection, economic benefit, etc. - but it seems an increasing number of us are forgetting the spiritual aspects of family, which is precisely what Arkle draws our attention to in the passage above.
The family situation is the foundation of spiritual learning for it contains all the mysteries of the universe that matter to you as an individual. Even individuals who have no family of their own can harken back to their childhoods, to their experiences of being children, of having parents or a parent.
Put simply - the family is the bedrock of Truth, Beauty, and Virtue. It has been and remains the foundation of Goodness. I am reminded of this everyday when I see the young mothers and children or families outside my window or when I spend a sunny afternoon with my wife and son.
Evil is working feverishly to foment chaos in the world, but its efforts have generated a most unexpected and, likely, unintended side effect - the potential strengthening of families. I take this as a sign of grace, and I hope people are taking full advantage of it because I have a feeling family will play an even more vital role going forward. In fact, I would go as far as to say family (and some trusted close friendships) may be all that matters in the months and years ahead. The seed of any future worth having is nested inside these close, concrete interpersonal relationships based on love.
Of course, not everyone thinks the potential strengthening and deepening of families during the birdemic is a good thing. On the contrary, some believe the birdemic crisis presents the perfect opportunity to do away with family once and for all, as demonstrated by this erudite "family-abolition scholar" who has recently been making the rounds after having completed a book on the subject.
Some of my readers are averse to considering the reality of demons and demonic possession. This short interview might just inspire some of these readers revisit their assumptions.
Evil hates families and thinks we deserve more.
I don't know about you, but I find Arkle's vision far more inspiring and beautiful.
To say nothing of true.
April 14, 2020
The Effectiveness of the Fear Regime Nullifies "That Will Never Happen"
The birdemic virus is real. I know a few people who have contracted and recovered from it. Their experiences of being infected ranged from "nothing worse than a common cold" all the way to "I've never been so sick in my life." Yes, the birdemic virus is real and, yes, it can make you ill. If you are elderly and/or suffer from other health issues, the virus can even precipitate death. So there you have it - the birdemic virus is definitely real.
Taking the above into account, I have found the level of concern elites the world over have broadcast during the birdemic crisis to be unreal. That is not to say that none of them care about the well-being of their citizens; perhap a few of them actually do. Notwithstanding, it strikes me as odd that this concern would express itself in what amounts to prison and terror tactics.
Let's be honest, the swift implementation of a fear regime has been the most common response to the birdemic virus. The ruling class and the media have essentially scared the population into total submission, which is rather troubling considering the perceived threat the birdemic virus poses and the subsequent responses to this perceived threat have both been wrong.
The fear regime has managed to grind the world to a halt instantly and has kept it in what amounts to suspended animation ever since. But even fear has its limits, which might help explain why some countries around the world are considering lifting their lockdowns, fully or partially, in the very near future. Either way, a tidal wave of unimaginable and unthinkable actions and events have transpired over the past month, events and actions with which most of us are still struggling to come to terms.
The big question on everyone's mind is what happens next? Will things return to normal as some pundits claim? Or will a new outbreak send us all scurrying back to our homes after a week or two? Or will we emerge from our homes only to face an unimaginable economic and financial cataclysm?
No one knows for sure. Despite this, and after all that has happened, I am still amazed by the things people claim to be sure about. I am not an overly pessimistic person, nor I am a paranoid, but if the lockdown and the fear regime that inspired it has taught me anything this month it's this - I now live in a world which the inconceivable has become perfectly conceivable.
I mean, who among us would have believed we would be spending most of Lent in what amounts to a state-enforced curfew and lockdown? Who among us could have guessed all major professional sports leagues would suspend their seasons for weeks on end with no plans to restart them in sight? Who could have fathomed churches around the world would be forbidden from holding services within the confines of their walls?
If I told you a month ago that in a month's time half the people you would encounter in the street or a grocery store would be wearing face masks, you would have smirked and said, "What? That will never happen!" I would have been inclined to express the same notion. Yet here we are. That will never happen has happened. And as far as I'm concerned, the success of the fear regime ensures "that will never happen" will keep happening until each day is reduced to the level of a mind-numbing surprise.
At a deep level, I feel the successful implementation of the fear regime was a massive test whose main purpose was to gauge our collective reactions to a series of inconceivable "that will never happen" events.
If the birdemic was a collective test, we failed - epically.
Despite this massive failure, most people I encounter continue to cling to "that will never happen" notions. For example, I was speaking to a neighbor the other day and we got to talking about jobs and unemployment. I expressed doubt about my part-time job in Austria. True, I teach online at the moment, but I have no idea what September may bring. After all, the university is closed. The border between Austria and Hungary is closed. The economies of both countries are set to take massive hits. Taking all this into account, there's a chance I might be let go come September, but when I told my neighbor as much he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, "Aw, that'll never happen," he said.
At first I thought he was just trying to comfort me, but as we continued speaking it became clear that he really believed my job would be secure in September. In all fairness, I hope he's right, and I appreciate his optimism, but his certainty about the future - especially set against the backdrop of what we have just experienced - started me thinking.
How can people who have experienced a month of prolonged Establishment-sanctioned hysteria and terror continue to have faith in the Establishment's integrity? How can they be so assured of things the Establishment will never do? How can they still believe in lines the Establishment won't cross? How can they still believe in a return to normal in a few weeks' time?
The answer? Simple. They don't see the evil unfolding before them. Bruce Charlton elaborated this point on his blog today. His insights penetrate into what fuels the "that will never happen mindset":
Indeed, most people cannot conceive that the largest, most powerful, most influential people and organisations can have evil intent - except perhaps some of the large corporations. When it comes to Western Governments, mainstream mass media, charities and NGOs, Global Establishments such as the United Nations and its World Health Organisation - people will not recognise evil intent; and no amount of evidence will ever change their minds; because they assume (metaphysically) that these organsations are necessarily well-motivated.
Well, for better or for worse, I don't fall into that category; which is why I remain perfectly open to the possibility of things "that will never happen" happening. In fact, over the past month, I have almost come to expect it.
If "that will never happen" still exists, it exists only within ourselves now - within our own thoughts, beliefs, and actions. I imagine the day will come when all of us will have the chance to show evil what "that will never happen" truly means. I pray we all possess the faith, hope, and love required to ensure whatever these "thats" end up being "will truly never happen."
Taking the above into account, I have found the level of concern elites the world over have broadcast during the birdemic crisis to be unreal. That is not to say that none of them care about the well-being of their citizens; perhap a few of them actually do. Notwithstanding, it strikes me as odd that this concern would express itself in what amounts to prison and terror tactics.
Let's be honest, the swift implementation of a fear regime has been the most common response to the birdemic virus. The ruling class and the media have essentially scared the population into total submission, which is rather troubling considering the perceived threat the birdemic virus poses and the subsequent responses to this perceived threat have both been wrong.
The fear regime has managed to grind the world to a halt instantly and has kept it in what amounts to suspended animation ever since. But even fear has its limits, which might help explain why some countries around the world are considering lifting their lockdowns, fully or partially, in the very near future. Either way, a tidal wave of unimaginable and unthinkable actions and events have transpired over the past month, events and actions with which most of us are still struggling to come to terms.
The big question on everyone's mind is what happens next? Will things return to normal as some pundits claim? Or will a new outbreak send us all scurrying back to our homes after a week or two? Or will we emerge from our homes only to face an unimaginable economic and financial cataclysm?
No one knows for sure. Despite this, and after all that has happened, I am still amazed by the things people claim to be sure about. I am not an overly pessimistic person, nor I am a paranoid, but if the lockdown and the fear regime that inspired it has taught me anything this month it's this - I now live in a world which the inconceivable has become perfectly conceivable.
I mean, who among us would have believed we would be spending most of Lent in what amounts to a state-enforced curfew and lockdown? Who among us could have guessed all major professional sports leagues would suspend their seasons for weeks on end with no plans to restart them in sight? Who could have fathomed churches around the world would be forbidden from holding services within the confines of their walls?
If I told you a month ago that in a month's time half the people you would encounter in the street or a grocery store would be wearing face masks, you would have smirked and said, "What? That will never happen!" I would have been inclined to express the same notion. Yet here we are. That will never happen has happened. And as far as I'm concerned, the success of the fear regime ensures "that will never happen" will keep happening until each day is reduced to the level of a mind-numbing surprise.
At a deep level, I feel the successful implementation of the fear regime was a massive test whose main purpose was to gauge our collective reactions to a series of inconceivable "that will never happen" events.
If the birdemic was a collective test, we failed - epically.
Despite this massive failure, most people I encounter continue to cling to "that will never happen" notions. For example, I was speaking to a neighbor the other day and we got to talking about jobs and unemployment. I expressed doubt about my part-time job in Austria. True, I teach online at the moment, but I have no idea what September may bring. After all, the university is closed. The border between Austria and Hungary is closed. The economies of both countries are set to take massive hits. Taking all this into account, there's a chance I might be let go come September, but when I told my neighbor as much he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, "Aw, that'll never happen," he said.
At first I thought he was just trying to comfort me, but as we continued speaking it became clear that he really believed my job would be secure in September. In all fairness, I hope he's right, and I appreciate his optimism, but his certainty about the future - especially set against the backdrop of what we have just experienced - started me thinking.
How can people who have experienced a month of prolonged Establishment-sanctioned hysteria and terror continue to have faith in the Establishment's integrity? How can they be so assured of things the Establishment will never do? How can they still believe in lines the Establishment won't cross? How can they still believe in a return to normal in a few weeks' time?
The answer? Simple. They don't see the evil unfolding before them. Bruce Charlton elaborated this point on his blog today. His insights penetrate into what fuels the "that will never happen mindset":
Indeed, most people cannot conceive that the largest, most powerful, most influential people and organisations can have evil intent - except perhaps some of the large corporations. When it comes to Western Governments, mainstream mass media, charities and NGOs, Global Establishments such as the United Nations and its World Health Organisation - people will not recognise evil intent; and no amount of evidence will ever change their minds; because they assume (metaphysically) that these organsations are necessarily well-motivated.
Well, for better or for worse, I don't fall into that category; which is why I remain perfectly open to the possibility of things "that will never happen" happening. In fact, over the past month, I have almost come to expect it.
If "that will never happen" still exists, it exists only within ourselves now - within our own thoughts, beliefs, and actions. I imagine the day will come when all of us will have the chance to show evil what "that will never happen" truly means. I pray we all possess the faith, hope, and love required to ensure whatever these "thats" end up being "will truly never happen."
April 13, 2020
A World of Eyes Without Faces - Systematic Dehumanization During the Birdemic Crisis
It's early days yet, but I posit the face/surgical mask will become the lasting symbol of the birdemic totalitarian takeover.
For a while it appeared toilet paper might take the prize, but the desperation over clean backsides appears to have abated. By the same token, an obsession for wearing face masks in public has become more intense and widespread. Some clever companies have even begun creating stylish face masks for fashionistas who simply refuse go out into the street unless their masks match their shoes.
As far as I know, the wearing of face masks was already an established custom in countries like China, Japan, and South Korea well before the birdemic takeover, but the trend never really caught on in the West. Well, the birdemic appears to have changed all of that. I can't say for sure, but I have a feeling face masks will remain a part of everyday life in Western countries long after the ridiculous panic and fear subsides.
In some circumstances I am sure a face mask can offer the wearer some protection against airborne viruses or help protect others against the wearer's germs, but as is the case with almost everything in life, certain criteria and methods need to be in place in order for the practice to prove effective. I am no medical expert, but I am under the impression that only a few of the masks out there offer any real protection. I also suspect face masks often offer no protection or do more harm than good. For example, people don't always wear the masks properly or end up touching their faces far more than they would under normal circumstances.
The effectiveness of face masks is debatable. What is not debatable is the sense of security it appears to provide the wearer. Let's face it, the birdemic has struck abject terror in the general population. People appear willing to do anything to reduce their risk of being infected by the virus. Some countries have mandated people wear face masks when they go out in public. Perhaps they believe masking everyone will create an aura of safety and responsibility. I don't know.
But I do know this - I don't like face masks in public. There is something inherently dehumanizing about masking the human face. A crucial channel of communication and existence is denied when the human face is hidden. True, eyes are the windows to souls, but faces are windows to human personality.
Stop and think about all the non-verbal communication a human face is capable of transmitting; this non-verbal communication is a vital part of the human experience. Facial expressions often reveal as much if not more than mere words can, especially when it comes to emotions. A deep frown or a gentle smile broadcasts far more than a verbal expression of sadness or pleasure ever could. The human face is an important and powerful channel, one we all use to interact with others and the world. Faces contain critical reservoirs of information that help us read and interact with others; that important channel is now being veiled from sight.
This may sound overly dramatic to some, but I believe the measures taken in response to the birdemic crisis all contain purposive dehumanizing elements. In fact, I would go as far as to claim that the entire process has been intentionally dehumanizing right from the start. Put another way, the mandated responses are deliberately and systematically humiliating us and depriving us of essential positive human qualities and rights, both individually and collectively.
Lockdowns, social-distancing, work-from-home, church closures, face masks, and all the rest of it can all be rationally explained away at the temporal level; and this is exactly what most people appear to be doing as they passively accept whatever restrictions are imposed upon them. But can the same be said for the spiritual level?
I view the birdemic response as an intrinsic part of our current spiritual war. Seen from this perspective, the demonically-inspired dehumanizing elements within most of the measures we have all been ordered to take become glaringly obvious. A trace of humiliation stains all of it. Humans are social creatures, yet we are being ordered to social distance; to limit all non-essential travel and meetings with others; to avoid gathering in groups of more than two or three. Even when we are in public, we are being mandated to keep a two meter distance between ourselves and others. And when we are out in public, what do we see? Masked people. Eyes without faces. All the while, less visible forms of pernicious dehumanization are quietly taking place in the background as people are deprived of their jobs, businesses, and livelihoods.
As I have already stated, there is something fundamentally dehumanizing about all of it - but I find the masked faces particularly troubling. We are made in God's image and faces are a big part of that image, yet that image is being masked and hidden from view. When we hide the human face, we are, in essence, hiding God.
That might sound a little over the top, but that's how I feel about it. The other restrictions may eventually be eased or lifted to some extent, but I have a feeling the face masks will stay even after the supposed danger has passed.
George Orwell said that if we wanted to see a vision of the future, we should imagine a boot stomping on the human face forever, but Orwell never could have imagined the human face would be masked.
A boot stomping on a masked human face forever - that will become the symbol of the birdemic totalitarian takeover. Count on it.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
On a somewhat silly side note, Billy Idol's song Eyes Without a Face takes on a whole new dimension within the context of a permanently masked public. The song obviously has no direct connection to the birdemic crisis or face masks, but some of the lyrics extend beyond the song's original framework of detailing a betrayed/tainted love relationship:
Eyes without a face
Got no human grace
You're eyes without a face
Such a human waste
You're eyes without a face
And now it's getting worse Note added: The only humanizing effect of the current lockdown I can think of is increased family time at home. Let's hope and pray that is not disrupted while the lockdown measures are in effect.
For a while it appeared toilet paper might take the prize, but the desperation over clean backsides appears to have abated. By the same token, an obsession for wearing face masks in public has become more intense and widespread. Some clever companies have even begun creating stylish face masks for fashionistas who simply refuse go out into the street unless their masks match their shoes.
As far as I know, the wearing of face masks was already an established custom in countries like China, Japan, and South Korea well before the birdemic takeover, but the trend never really caught on in the West. Well, the birdemic appears to have changed all of that. I can't say for sure, but I have a feeling face masks will remain a part of everyday life in Western countries long after the ridiculous panic and fear subsides.
In some circumstances I am sure a face mask can offer the wearer some protection against airborne viruses or help protect others against the wearer's germs, but as is the case with almost everything in life, certain criteria and methods need to be in place in order for the practice to prove effective. I am no medical expert, but I am under the impression that only a few of the masks out there offer any real protection. I also suspect face masks often offer no protection or do more harm than good. For example, people don't always wear the masks properly or end up touching their faces far more than they would under normal circumstances.
The effectiveness of face masks is debatable. What is not debatable is the sense of security it appears to provide the wearer. Let's face it, the birdemic has struck abject terror in the general population. People appear willing to do anything to reduce their risk of being infected by the virus. Some countries have mandated people wear face masks when they go out in public. Perhaps they believe masking everyone will create an aura of safety and responsibility. I don't know.
But I do know this - I don't like face masks in public. There is something inherently dehumanizing about masking the human face. A crucial channel of communication and existence is denied when the human face is hidden. True, eyes are the windows to souls, but faces are windows to human personality.
Stop and think about all the non-verbal communication a human face is capable of transmitting; this non-verbal communication is a vital part of the human experience. Facial expressions often reveal as much if not more than mere words can, especially when it comes to emotions. A deep frown or a gentle smile broadcasts far more than a verbal expression of sadness or pleasure ever could. The human face is an important and powerful channel, one we all use to interact with others and the world. Faces contain critical reservoirs of information that help us read and interact with others; that important channel is now being veiled from sight.
This may sound overly dramatic to some, but I believe the measures taken in response to the birdemic crisis all contain purposive dehumanizing elements. In fact, I would go as far as to claim that the entire process has been intentionally dehumanizing right from the start. Put another way, the mandated responses are deliberately and systematically humiliating us and depriving us of essential positive human qualities and rights, both individually and collectively.
Lockdowns, social-distancing, work-from-home, church closures, face masks, and all the rest of it can all be rationally explained away at the temporal level; and this is exactly what most people appear to be doing as they passively accept whatever restrictions are imposed upon them. But can the same be said for the spiritual level?
I view the birdemic response as an intrinsic part of our current spiritual war. Seen from this perspective, the demonically-inspired dehumanizing elements within most of the measures we have all been ordered to take become glaringly obvious. A trace of humiliation stains all of it. Humans are social creatures, yet we are being ordered to social distance; to limit all non-essential travel and meetings with others; to avoid gathering in groups of more than two or three. Even when we are in public, we are being mandated to keep a two meter distance between ourselves and others. And when we are out in public, what do we see? Masked people. Eyes without faces. All the while, less visible forms of pernicious dehumanization are quietly taking place in the background as people are deprived of their jobs, businesses, and livelihoods.
As I have already stated, there is something fundamentally dehumanizing about all of it - but I find the masked faces particularly troubling. We are made in God's image and faces are a big part of that image, yet that image is being masked and hidden from view. When we hide the human face, we are, in essence, hiding God.
That might sound a little over the top, but that's how I feel about it. The other restrictions may eventually be eased or lifted to some extent, but I have a feeling the face masks will stay even after the supposed danger has passed.
George Orwell said that if we wanted to see a vision of the future, we should imagine a boot stomping on the human face forever, but Orwell never could have imagined the human face would be masked.
A boot stomping on a masked human face forever - that will become the symbol of the birdemic totalitarian takeover. Count on it.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
On a somewhat silly side note, Billy Idol's song Eyes Without a Face takes on a whole new dimension within the context of a permanently masked public. The song obviously has no direct connection to the birdemic crisis or face masks, but some of the lyrics extend beyond the song's original framework of detailing a betrayed/tainted love relationship:
Eyes without a face
Got no human grace
You're eyes without a face
Such a human waste
You're eyes without a face
And now it's getting worse Note added: The only humanizing effect of the current lockdown I can think of is increased family time at home. Let's hope and pray that is not disrupted while the lockdown measures are in effect.
April 11, 2020
This Easter, Escaping Raskolnikov's Delirious Lenten Dreams Involves Coming Forth Like Lazarus
He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it, that it would cost him great striving, great suffering.
But that is the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.
These are the closing lines from the epilogue in Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. Many readers and scholars criticize the inartistic and contrived qualities of the epilogue claiming it does little more than neatly tie up thematic loose ends and set the stage for Raskolnikov's eventual moral regeneration.
Though I can understand criticism of the epilogue from the point of view of narrative form, I can't help but feel that those who read the culminating portion of Crime and Punishment from purely literary and aesthetic perspectives have basically missed the whole point of Dostoevsky's transgression and redemption narrative.
At its most fundamental level, Crime and Punishment is a story of birth, death, and rebirth. Raskolnikov commits himself to murder in order to prove that he belongs to the race of higher men - men who exist beyond the confines of good and evil; men who are not only free to but also obliged to do away with the restrictive bonds of old religious-based morality and pioneer a new morality of the superman. This, in essence, is Raskolnikov's transgression. As he embraces the cold faith of secular humanistic logic and reason, he abandons God and suffers spiritual death.
And what would the world look like if it were run by those who, like Raskolnikov, had abandoned God and embraced the cold faith of secular humanistic logic and reason? I believe this question tickled the back of Dostoevsky's mind as he wrote Crime and Punishment, for it seems his overall intention was not to simply illustrate the devastating effect the abandonment of God could have on one man, but rather the devastating effect such an abandonment could have on civilization.
Raskolnikov's spiritual death writ large and the world that would result from it. A turning away from God's Loving Creation and the willful embracing of the nightmare world of predator and prey. Dostoevsky could see the writing on the wall as the nineteenth century drew to a close. Much of his work is an attempt to make his contemporaries see it as well. But the vast majority of his contemporaries disregarded Dostoevsky's prescient spiritual warnings and instead barreled headlong in a murderous and de-spiritualized twentieth century.
The cryptic nature of most apocalyptic prophecies requires intense symbolic interpretation, but even those detailed dissections of the various predictions made by various prophets of doom leave traces of dissatisfaction and doubt in the mind. Can one ever truly be sure what the plagues referred to in these prophecies truly mean or what the mystical four-headed dragons really represent? Dostoevsky does not veil his prophecies in obscure chimerical motifs. Unlike Nostradamus, Dostoevsky is a prophet of doom with a zoom lens - he understands that any understanding of catastrophe at the macro level invariably springs from a catastrophe at the micro level; and for Dostoevsky, the root of any microcosmic cataclysm was invariable individual and spiritual.
It is Easter 2020, and I imagine many readers are wondering why I am babbling on about Crime and Punishment and Dostoevsky and prophecy on this day of all days. That's a good question. All I can tell you is this - when I woke up this morning, I was reminded of a passage from the epilogue of Crime and Punishment; and as I recalled the passage, I was suddenly struck by how eerily similar our current situation has become to Raskolnikov's prison hospital dreams. I urge you to read the following passage carefully (please do not skip over it! - paragraph segmentation added by me):
He was in the hospital from the middle of Lent till after Easter. When he was better, he remembered the dreams he had had while he was feverish and delirious. He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible new strange plague that had come to Europe from the depths of Asia. All were to be destroyed except a very few chosen.
Some new sorts of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once mad and furious. But never had men considered themselves so intellectual and so completely in possession of the truth as these sufferers, never had they considered their decisions, their scientific conclusions, their moral convictions so infallible.
Whole villages, whole towns and peoples went mad from the infection. All were excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretched looking at the others, beat himself on the breast, wept, and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know whom to blame, whom to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They gathered together in armies against one another, but even on the march the armies would begin attacking each other, the ranks would be broken and the soldiers would fall on each other, stabbing and cutting, biting and devouring each other.
The alarm bell was ringing all day long in the towns; men rushed together, but why they were summoned and who was summoning them no one knew. The most ordinary trades were abandoned, because everyone proposed his own ideas, his own improvements, and they could not agree. The land too was abandoned. Men met in groups, agreed on something, swore to keep together, but at once began on something quite different from what they had proposed. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction.
The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.
As in Raskolnikov's delirious Lenten and Easter dreams, a plague grips our contemporary world this Easter. This epidemic appears to have a real, physical, microbial element to it, but as in Raskolnikov's dreams this material infestation represents but the surface of a deeper and more deadly spiritual sickness.
Our world has become the Raskolinokian nightmare world of mad and furious men convinced they are in possession of the truth - never have men been so assured of their scientific conclusions; never have they been more satisfied by their own moral convictions; never have they been so persuaded of their own infallibility. Yet this conviction of infallibility is based entirely on the ultimate transgression - a hubristic and sinful belief in their own high-mindedness through the willful and intentional abandonment of God.
Just as Raskolnikov sought to prove his superiority through murder, our contemporary Raskolnikovs seek to prove their superiority through evil. They seek to prove their excellence the same way Raskolnikov aimed to prove his - by demonstrating transgressions simply do no exist - that man is free to compose his own ideas of good and evil and is, consequently, not only free, but also duty-bound to impose these ideas upon society. Raskolnikov's ultimate sin is the sin against God's Loving Creation - the ultimate sin of our civilization truly is Raskolnikov's sin writ large.
It is no coincidence that the story of Lazarus plays a central role in Raskolnikov's eventual moral and spiritual redemption, and it is in the epilogue that this redemption comes to fruition. When Sonya reads the story of Lazarus to Raskolnikov, she makes it expressly clear that confession is key to his redemption. But confessing to the crime is not enough; in addition to repentance, Raskolnikov must open himself to the truth of the Gospels - to open himself to the possibility of rebirth through the conscious decision to accept the light and love of Christ as the only way to leave the sin of spiritual death toward which his misguided logic eventually led him.
And what were all, all the agonies of the past! Everything, even his crime, his sentence and imprisonment, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact with which he had no concern. But he could not think for long together of anything that evening, and he could not have analysed anything consciously; he was simply feeling. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind.
Under his pillow lay the New Testament. He took it up mechanically. The book belonged to Sonia; it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. At first he was afraid that she would worry him about religion, would talk about the gospel and pester him with books. But to his great surprise she had not once approached the subject and had not even offered him the Testament. He had asked her for it himself not long before his illness and she brought him the book without a word. Till now he had not opened it.
He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind: “Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least….”
Raskolnikov opens himself up to the possibility of spiritual rebirth through a shift in thinking - through the conscious abandonment of theory and the acceptance of faith and love. He knows Sonya believes on Jesus, and he understands that her convictions and aspirations can become his. All he has to do is decide and commit. In essence, Raskolnikov begins to understand the words Jesus expresses to Martha in the Gospel of John:
25 Jesus said onto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:
26 And whosever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believst thou this?
For me, these words not only encapsulate the meaning of Easter, but the essence of Christianity. This opens up the possibility demonstrated, once again, by the closing lines of the epilogue in Crime and Punishment:
the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life.
The crucifixion and resurrection of Christ is the beginning of that new story; of that gradual renewal and regeneration of man. But the renewal and regeneration can only occur if we believe in Jesus; if we believe on Jesus; if we wholeheartedly believe in the promise He demonstrated and offers to us all.
If we believe in Christ and the Resurrection, we will pass from one world into another and begin our initiation into a new unknown life. If we refuse to believe in Christ, if we knowingly and willfully turn our backs on the promise Christ offers, we will remain trapped in the nightmare world of theory; a world in which we cannot become Creators but will diminished into being nothing but destroyers.
As was the case with Raskolnikov, the high-minded pretexts and justifications we assign to our destructive activities will not be able to mask the inherent evil motivation driving these activities. Of course, without a sense of moral conscience grounded in the Reality of God, this inherent evil is rarely recognized. Raskolnikov is unable to maintain his high-minded theory when it is pitted against his innate understanding of good and evil and the reality of God. But the playing out of this battle in the microcosm of Raskolnikov had no effect on the eventual social, spiritual, and historical developments at the macroscopic level. Unlike Raskolnikov, twentieth-century man experienced no crisis of conscience over his transgressions. Yes, he was punished for his crimes, but unlike Raskolnikov, this punishment has not yet translated into any form of genuine repentance.
Without genuine repentance, our world remains stuck in God-less theory - a God-less theory that is antithetical to Creation. Destruction is its only logical motivation and and its only logical outcome as demonstrated by the lies and deceits spurring our own contemporary plague.
A world stuck in God-less theory cannot be reborn because it does not believe, but the option remains open to individuals within the God-less theory world, as Raskolnikov's delirious Lenten dreams indicate:
The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.
That Raskolnikov dreams his visions during Lent and into Easter is not accidental. The link Dostoevsky draws here is both clear and commanding. The theory world of infallible convictions is incapable of renewal as long as it remains fixed to its evil and sinful pact. There is no Lazarus at the macrolevel; then, as now, Lazarus exists only at the microlevel, but he can only be reborn, can only renew, can only escape the claws of destruction and death through belief.
Above all else, our task this Easter is to formulate the right answer to the question Jesus poses to Martha before he raises Lazarus in the Fourth Gospel:
And whosever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?
Belief comes first, but it should also be supported by living in Christ. Our belief in Jesus should inspire a life in Jesus, especially this Easter as the spiritual and material plague infecting our world continues to spread and consume everything in sight.
If we believe, we can be renewed like Raskolnikov or reborn like Lazarus.
If we believe, we too will be able to come forth and share in the glory of God.
I wish all my readers a happy and joyous Easter.
Note added: Raskolnikov needed to endure great suffering to atone for his sins, but this does not imply that all genuine repentance involves the same level of suffering.
But that is the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.
These are the closing lines from the epilogue in Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. Many readers and scholars criticize the inartistic and contrived qualities of the epilogue claiming it does little more than neatly tie up thematic loose ends and set the stage for Raskolnikov's eventual moral regeneration.
Though I can understand criticism of the epilogue from the point of view of narrative form, I can't help but feel that those who read the culminating portion of Crime and Punishment from purely literary and aesthetic perspectives have basically missed the whole point of Dostoevsky's transgression and redemption narrative.
At its most fundamental level, Crime and Punishment is a story of birth, death, and rebirth. Raskolnikov commits himself to murder in order to prove that he belongs to the race of higher men - men who exist beyond the confines of good and evil; men who are not only free to but also obliged to do away with the restrictive bonds of old religious-based morality and pioneer a new morality of the superman. This, in essence, is Raskolnikov's transgression. As he embraces the cold faith of secular humanistic logic and reason, he abandons God and suffers spiritual death.
And what would the world look like if it were run by those who, like Raskolnikov, had abandoned God and embraced the cold faith of secular humanistic logic and reason? I believe this question tickled the back of Dostoevsky's mind as he wrote Crime and Punishment, for it seems his overall intention was not to simply illustrate the devastating effect the abandonment of God could have on one man, but rather the devastating effect such an abandonment could have on civilization.
Raskolnikov's spiritual death writ large and the world that would result from it. A turning away from God's Loving Creation and the willful embracing of the nightmare world of predator and prey. Dostoevsky could see the writing on the wall as the nineteenth century drew to a close. Much of his work is an attempt to make his contemporaries see it as well. But the vast majority of his contemporaries disregarded Dostoevsky's prescient spiritual warnings and instead barreled headlong in a murderous and de-spiritualized twentieth century.
The cryptic nature of most apocalyptic prophecies requires intense symbolic interpretation, but even those detailed dissections of the various predictions made by various prophets of doom leave traces of dissatisfaction and doubt in the mind. Can one ever truly be sure what the plagues referred to in these prophecies truly mean or what the mystical four-headed dragons really represent? Dostoevsky does not veil his prophecies in obscure chimerical motifs. Unlike Nostradamus, Dostoevsky is a prophet of doom with a zoom lens - he understands that any understanding of catastrophe at the macro level invariably springs from a catastrophe at the micro level; and for Dostoevsky, the root of any microcosmic cataclysm was invariable individual and spiritual.
It is Easter 2020, and I imagine many readers are wondering why I am babbling on about Crime and Punishment and Dostoevsky and prophecy on this day of all days. That's a good question. All I can tell you is this - when I woke up this morning, I was reminded of a passage from the epilogue of Crime and Punishment; and as I recalled the passage, I was suddenly struck by how eerily similar our current situation has become to Raskolnikov's prison hospital dreams. I urge you to read the following passage carefully (please do not skip over it! - paragraph segmentation added by me):
He was in the hospital from the middle of Lent till after Easter. When he was better, he remembered the dreams he had had while he was feverish and delirious. He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible new strange plague that had come to Europe from the depths of Asia. All were to be destroyed except a very few chosen.
Some new sorts of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once mad and furious. But never had men considered themselves so intellectual and so completely in possession of the truth as these sufferers, never had they considered their decisions, their scientific conclusions, their moral convictions so infallible.
Whole villages, whole towns and peoples went mad from the infection. All were excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretched looking at the others, beat himself on the breast, wept, and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know whom to blame, whom to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They gathered together in armies against one another, but even on the march the armies would begin attacking each other, the ranks would be broken and the soldiers would fall on each other, stabbing and cutting, biting and devouring each other.
The alarm bell was ringing all day long in the towns; men rushed together, but why they were summoned and who was summoning them no one knew. The most ordinary trades were abandoned, because everyone proposed his own ideas, his own improvements, and they could not agree. The land too was abandoned. Men met in groups, agreed on something, swore to keep together, but at once began on something quite different from what they had proposed. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction.
The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.
As in Raskolnikov's delirious Lenten and Easter dreams, a plague grips our contemporary world this Easter. This epidemic appears to have a real, physical, microbial element to it, but as in Raskolnikov's dreams this material infestation represents but the surface of a deeper and more deadly spiritual sickness.
Our world has become the Raskolinokian nightmare world of mad and furious men convinced they are in possession of the truth - never have men been so assured of their scientific conclusions; never have they been more satisfied by their own moral convictions; never have they been so persuaded of their own infallibility. Yet this conviction of infallibility is based entirely on the ultimate transgression - a hubristic and sinful belief in their own high-mindedness through the willful and intentional abandonment of God.
Just as Raskolnikov sought to prove his superiority through murder, our contemporary Raskolnikovs seek to prove their superiority through evil. They seek to prove their excellence the same way Raskolnikov aimed to prove his - by demonstrating transgressions simply do no exist - that man is free to compose his own ideas of good and evil and is, consequently, not only free, but also duty-bound to impose these ideas upon society. Raskolnikov's ultimate sin is the sin against God's Loving Creation - the ultimate sin of our civilization truly is Raskolnikov's sin writ large.
It is no coincidence that the story of Lazarus plays a central role in Raskolnikov's eventual moral and spiritual redemption, and it is in the epilogue that this redemption comes to fruition. When Sonya reads the story of Lazarus to Raskolnikov, she makes it expressly clear that confession is key to his redemption. But confessing to the crime is not enough; in addition to repentance, Raskolnikov must open himself to the truth of the Gospels - to open himself to the possibility of rebirth through the conscious decision to accept the light and love of Christ as the only way to leave the sin of spiritual death toward which his misguided logic eventually led him.
And what were all, all the agonies of the past! Everything, even his crime, his sentence and imprisonment, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact with which he had no concern. But he could not think for long together of anything that evening, and he could not have analysed anything consciously; he was simply feeling. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind.
Under his pillow lay the New Testament. He took it up mechanically. The book belonged to Sonia; it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. At first he was afraid that she would worry him about religion, would talk about the gospel and pester him with books. But to his great surprise she had not once approached the subject and had not even offered him the Testament. He had asked her for it himself not long before his illness and she brought him the book without a word. Till now he had not opened it.
He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind: “Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least….”
Raskolnikov opens himself up to the possibility of spiritual rebirth through a shift in thinking - through the conscious abandonment of theory and the acceptance of faith and love. He knows Sonya believes on Jesus, and he understands that her convictions and aspirations can become his. All he has to do is decide and commit. In essence, Raskolnikov begins to understand the words Jesus expresses to Martha in the Gospel of John:
25 Jesus said onto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:
26 And whosever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believst thou this?
For me, these words not only encapsulate the meaning of Easter, but the essence of Christianity. This opens up the possibility demonstrated, once again, by the closing lines of the epilogue in Crime and Punishment:
the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life.
The crucifixion and resurrection of Christ is the beginning of that new story; of that gradual renewal and regeneration of man. But the renewal and regeneration can only occur if we believe in Jesus; if we believe on Jesus; if we wholeheartedly believe in the promise He demonstrated and offers to us all.
If we believe in Christ and the Resurrection, we will pass from one world into another and begin our initiation into a new unknown life. If we refuse to believe in Christ, if we knowingly and willfully turn our backs on the promise Christ offers, we will remain trapped in the nightmare world of theory; a world in which we cannot become Creators but will diminished into being nothing but destroyers.
As was the case with Raskolnikov, the high-minded pretexts and justifications we assign to our destructive activities will not be able to mask the inherent evil motivation driving these activities. Of course, without a sense of moral conscience grounded in the Reality of God, this inherent evil is rarely recognized. Raskolnikov is unable to maintain his high-minded theory when it is pitted against his innate understanding of good and evil and the reality of God. But the playing out of this battle in the microcosm of Raskolnikov had no effect on the eventual social, spiritual, and historical developments at the macroscopic level. Unlike Raskolnikov, twentieth-century man experienced no crisis of conscience over his transgressions. Yes, he was punished for his crimes, but unlike Raskolnikov, this punishment has not yet translated into any form of genuine repentance.
Without genuine repentance, our world remains stuck in God-less theory - a God-less theory that is antithetical to Creation. Destruction is its only logical motivation and and its only logical outcome as demonstrated by the lies and deceits spurring our own contemporary plague.
A world stuck in God-less theory cannot be reborn because it does not believe, but the option remains open to individuals within the God-less theory world, as Raskolnikov's delirious Lenten dreams indicate:
The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.
That Raskolnikov dreams his visions during Lent and into Easter is not accidental. The link Dostoevsky draws here is both clear and commanding. The theory world of infallible convictions is incapable of renewal as long as it remains fixed to its evil and sinful pact. There is no Lazarus at the macrolevel; then, as now, Lazarus exists only at the microlevel, but he can only be reborn, can only renew, can only escape the claws of destruction and death through belief.
Above all else, our task this Easter is to formulate the right answer to the question Jesus poses to Martha before he raises Lazarus in the Fourth Gospel:
And whosever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?
Belief comes first, but it should also be supported by living in Christ. Our belief in Jesus should inspire a life in Jesus, especially this Easter as the spiritual and material plague infecting our world continues to spread and consume everything in sight.
If we believe, we can be renewed like Raskolnikov or reborn like Lazarus.
If we believe, we too will be able to come forth and share in the glory of God.
I wish all my readers a happy and joyous Easter.
Note added: Raskolnikov needed to endure great suffering to atone for his sins, but this does not imply that all genuine repentance involves the same level of suffering.
The Village Storks Have Returned
I have become a little wary about birds since the birdemic - especially corvids - but the sighting of one particular pair of birds in my village has filled my heart with joy. Our village storks have returned from their overwintering. I am not sure when exactly they returned, but I happened to notice them the other day. Their arrival coincides well with the blossoming cherry trees and Easter. In other words, I take the storks as a sign of hope.
April 9, 2020
As Then, The World Still Cannot Save Itself Now
- excerpted from The Everlasting Man, G.K Chesterton
All the great groups that stood about the Cross represent in one way or another the great historical truth of the time; that the world could not save itself. Man could do no more. Rome and Jerusalem and Athens and everything else were going down like a sea turned into a slow cataract. Externally indeed the ancient world was still at its strongest; it is always at that moment that the inmost weakness begins. But in order to understand that weakness we must repeat what has been said more than once; that it was not the weakness of a thing originally weak. It was emphatically the strength of the world that was turned to weakness and the wisdom of the world that was turned to folly.
In this story of Good Friday it is the best things in the world that are at their worst. That is what really shows us the world at its worst. It was, for instance, the priests of a true monotheism and the soldiers of an international civilisation. Rome, the legend, founded upon fallen Troy and triumphant over fallen Carthage, had stood for a heroism which was the nearest that any pagan ever came to chivalry. Rome had defended the household gods and the human decencies against the ogres of Africa and the hermaphrodite monstrosities of Greece. But in the lightning flash of this incident, we see great Rome, the imperial republic, going downward under her Lucretian doom. Scepticism has eaten away even the confident sanity of the conquerors of the world. He who is enthroned to say what is justice can only ask:
‘What is truth?’ So in that drama which decided the whole fate of antiquity, one of the central figures is fixed in what seems the reverse of his true role. Rome was almost another name for responsibility. Yet he stands for ever as a sort of rocking statue of the irresponsible. Man could do no more. Even the practical had become the impracticable. Standing between the pillars of his own judgement-seat, a Roman had washed his hands of the world.
All the great groups that stood about the Cross represent in one way or another the great historical truth of the time; that the world could not save itself. Man could do no more. Rome and Jerusalem and Athens and everything else were going down like a sea turned into a slow cataract. Externally indeed the ancient world was still at its strongest; it is always at that moment that the inmost weakness begins. But in order to understand that weakness we must repeat what has been said more than once; that it was not the weakness of a thing originally weak. It was emphatically the strength of the world that was turned to weakness and the wisdom of the world that was turned to folly.
In this story of Good Friday it is the best things in the world that are at their worst. That is what really shows us the world at its worst. It was, for instance, the priests of a true monotheism and the soldiers of an international civilisation. Rome, the legend, founded upon fallen Troy and triumphant over fallen Carthage, had stood for a heroism which was the nearest that any pagan ever came to chivalry. Rome had defended the household gods and the human decencies against the ogres of Africa and the hermaphrodite monstrosities of Greece. But in the lightning flash of this incident, we see great Rome, the imperial republic, going downward under her Lucretian doom. Scepticism has eaten away even the confident sanity of the conquerors of the world. He who is enthroned to say what is justice can only ask:
‘What is truth?’ So in that drama which decided the whole fate of antiquity, one of the central figures is fixed in what seems the reverse of his true role. Rome was almost another name for responsibility. Yet he stands for ever as a sort of rocking statue of the irresponsible. Man could do no more. Even the practical had become the impracticable. Standing between the pillars of his own judgement-seat, a Roman had washed his hands of the world.
Prayer Request For Father Stephen Janos
My pen friend Father Stephen Janos was diagnosed with cancer and has recently undergone an operation.I became acquainted with Father Steve through this blog. An erudite Berdyaev scholar, Father has translated much of Nikolai Berdyaev's works into English. Most of his exceptional work is available online at the Berdyaev.com site he maintains.
I am not a member of the Orthodox Church, but that does not preclude me from understanding that Father Steve belongs to an increasingly rare category of people in this world - a true man of God.
I humbly ask you include Father Steve in your prayers.
Many thanks.
The Separation of Church and Christianity
Before I wade into this post let me say that I derive no satisfaction or joy from criticizing churches. Though for many years I have held the view that churches in their present forms are not essential to Christianity, I did not rub my hands together in glee when churches the world over closed their doors. I feel no resentment at all toward churches.I harbor respect for churches and the instrumental role they have played in the faith throughout history. I feel indebtedness toward all the saints and theologians. I love to be present within church buildings. I have a weak spot for traditional Christian art, stained glass, vestments, hymns, prayers - all of it.
I very much would have preferred the churches proved me wrong. I would have preferred churches proved they truly were essential. I would have preferred churches used this current crisis to spark an authentic Christian Renaissance, one that bathed the globe in the light of Christ. Believe me when I say I very much would have preferred all of that. But my preferences are irrelevant.
By obediently closing their doors on their congregations and obsequiously bowing to secular authorities, churches across the West have made three things glaringly obvious (at least to me):they don't believe what they preachthey lack moral couragethey have surrendered all semblance of religious authority An irrevocable separation of church and Christianity has taken place. As far as I am concerned, this separation marks the end of churches as a necessary part of the Christian faith, at least in their current forms. The future of serious Christianity will not involve churches, at least not as we have known them. Put another way, serious Christians now officially live in a post-church era.
Even if churches survive the current lockdown, they will but shadows of their former selves (and in many cases, that's not saying much). Perhaps the pews will continue to fill. Perhaps the masses and services will go on. But in my mind, all of this will continue purely at a symbolic level. The essence supporting the symbolic has been extinguished. Simply put, Christian churches in the West have given up the Ghost.
Nevertheless, believers will remain (some among the clergy itself), and it is the believers that will keep Christianity alive. Believers - true, dedicated, serious Christians - will answer the call the churches have neglected to answer. They will keep the spirit alive, maintain or re-establish certain traditions, and create new traditions most likely starting at and remaining at a small localized level.
More importantly, I think these believers will become trailblazers. They will participate in Christianity's continued and necessary development. They will push Christianity forward. They will eventually take the step our ancestors neglected to take two centuries ago.
At one level, the separation of church and Christianity is a lamentable catastrophe.
At another level, the separation could mark the start of a new era - a new consciousness.
The end of churches is not the end of Christianity; on the contrary, the end of churches could just mark the beginning (or return to) a higher, more genuine Christianity.
