Thursday, February 16, 2012
Still one follower
This weblog still has one what Blogger.com calls a "follower". Even though I have not posted anything new for quite some time. I have no idea who this "follower" but do applaud him or her for his or her loyalty and say to this one "follower" of mine, "Repent, the end is nigh!" Otherwise, I won't rapture him (or her).
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Letter to Professor Evans (or what I think of Ethics Professors)
February 26, 1997
Dear Professor,
I wish we could have continued the lively discussion on Breaking the Waves that we had nearly two weeks ago because I wanted to ask you why an atheist like you would
a) let himself be so angered by the film as you apparently were and
b) have any sympathies with Bess McNeill at all.
Before I explain my reasons for asking such questions, I want to be clear that, although you have been incautious enough as to reveal your atheism to me, you may, nevertheless, be confident that your secret is safe; I won't blow your cover to your undergrads, and you may continue to bewitch them with that ambiguity of which you are so very proud, you theological Janus, you. Come to think of it, perhaps your desire to have half of your students suppose you a theist and the other half the exact opposite was the ultimate reason behind your decision not to assign this film to your class. You perhaps feared that if you assigned this film, the class would take this as your endorsement of Director Von Trier's bell-ringing. This would explain your dislike of the final scene, which indeed wipes away all traces of agnosticism as to Bess's end. The final scene forces you to believe that Bess's faith in God was right, if, that is, you want to accept this fairy tale, which one can believe or dismiss as hocus pocus just like any other fairy tale. So, my suggestion that your assigning this film would dispel all doubt in your class's collective mind as to what you believe is surely wrong. Had you assigned it, you, no doubt, would have put in a disclaimer as to the extreme dubiousness of fairy tales, thereby safeguarding your highly prized secret. No, you refuse to assign this film because you merely think the film is not worth seeing, much less worth assigning.
Well, no, you don't "merely" think this, do you? This film angers you, and something that is "merely" thought of surely cannot provoke something that is so forceful and violent as anger, can it? I would not imagine so. This brings me, after a rather long digression (I do apologise quite humbly for the digression), to the heart of this letter, or part of the heart, at least, namely to my first question: Why would this film anger you? If I understand you correctly, the utterly unambiguous unsubtle end of the film angered you. That God at the end of the film unequivocally rewards and celebrates such a degrading and preposterous sacrifice of the self as Bess's sacrifice is so ridiculous, so outrageous, so ungeheuerlich that it could not but be an affront to your sense of Rationality, Ethics, and the Good.
But why let that anger you? The film is merely a fairy tale. Lots of mad things happen in fairy tales that go against our reasonable grasp of reality. In one fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm, for instance, a devout and pious family slowly (and presumably painfully) bleeds to death because God has willed it so. We can just say simply that this is a fairy tale and, as such, has nothing, nothing at all to do with our reasonable grasp of reality (and we all know what this is, especially those of us who have read many books and attended many years of university to firm up this grasp)--and that would be that. But things are a whole lot different if we believe the fairy tale or even if we have only the slightest twinge of a feeling that maybe, just maybe this fairy tale does have something to do with reality, in which case we are forced to re-assess our reasonable grasp thereof. We have to ask ourselves such questions as, if God is good, why would He will such a horrible death on such a good family? This question would lead us only to more painful questions like, do we even know what the good is, and this would perhaps smack us up against a most horrible suggestion, namely that perhaps our reasonable grasp of reality for all its reasonableness does not help us to understand anything at all. All this would, I imagine, be an insult to all of us who are very proud and confident of our reasonable grasp of reality, especially to those of us who have endured years and years of study just to make this reasonable grasp tighter and more secure.
But an insult can only sting if it comes from someone you put trust in. The trust gives rise to expectations or pleasantness which the insult frustrates. If there are no such expectations, then the insult loses its power. Now, you saw Breaking the Waves on the strength of my recommendation and did not like the film one bit. Your animus should be directed at me for having made you see such a worthless film but not at the film for I was the one who violated your trust and not the film, unless, of course, you did put some trust in the film. Of course, you could say that you transferred your trust in me to the film, but logic would still dictate that you should be angry with me, the primary repository of your trust, and not the film, which can only be secondary in this regard. But never once did you say something like, "You, Paul, made me waste three hours of my precious time with this utterly worthless and pointless film, and, therefore, I am pissed off at you." No, you said that this film "pissed me off." So, perhaps, I am wrong in assuming that you thought this film utterly "worthless and pointless". No, obviously you thought the film had some worth or some potential for worth that somehow was destroyed for you by the end. Otherwise, you would not be so angry with it. In other words, the film let you down.
Yes, the film let you down; I won't back down from this statement. The film let you down because it wasn't true to its, to use your phrase, "authentic core", and this you have admitted to be a tragedy. How odd then that this film with its bell-ringing happy ending should let you down because it did not end in tragedy. As odd as it sounds, I will, nevertheless, not back down from my claim: the film did let you down. And I think I know why.
This leads me finally to another part of the heart of this unfortunately rambling letter, namely to my second question: why do you sympathise with Bess at all? You could simply regard her as a pathetic, gullible naif, nay, you could regard her as insane, as schizophrenic--as the good Ms. Goodman [the student who reviewed the film in Stud Life] does--and the film would trouble your rationality not. You refuse to do so because, I believe, you see in Bess the epitome of Kant's good will, of Kant's good heart.
Yes, that's it! Bess's good heart is what you admire. If only it could be harnessed by the mighty power of the Categorical Imperative, if only Pure Reason could universalise it for our world, think what would happen, my dear Professor! Finally alle Menschen werden Brueder under Bess's gentle smile! Cold, callous Indifference and petty Selfishness would cease! The warming fire of Generosity would light up the night! Hunger would no longer embarrass us! And War would be as insignificant as historical dates in a schoolboy's lazy mind! Bess's abundant, overflowing, wild love, if only it could be controlled by our reasonable Ethical Theories, oh, would that not be the fulfillment of every wet dream of every Ethics Professor in this world! Nietzsche's deepest wish would come true: we would make Caesars with the souls of Christ.
But, my dear Professor, render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and render unto God what is God's. Bess's good heart as Christ's soul is not of this world. This, I suggest, is what let you down. This is what angers you. Bess's good heart belongs to God, and you resent that it does because you want it for this your world. If you can't have it, then no one can, not Jan, and certainly not God, Who by your lights does not even exist. You will assert that the "authentic core" of Bess's story is a tragedy because for you it is a tragedy. It is a tragedy because your dearly held Ethics has suffered an unrecoverable loss, the loss of the only thing that can make it work, a good heart. And you rather mourn this loss, you rather mourn the lost potential of what might have been than suspend your disbelief, if only for a moment, for a fairy tale and share the miraculous joy that this good heart is not lost at all but borne to eternal life. But, of course, this good heart is rendered unto God and not unto your world, and this, even in a fairy tale, maddens you.
It maddens you so much that you deny Bess's greatest and fondest wish, the life of her beloved. For the sake of your Ethics, Jan must die, is that it? I believe this to be the case indeed. I do not know what sacrifice is more frightening, my dear Professor: the sacrifice that God demands of Bess for the sake of her love or the one that you demand for your Ethics. Let me think about this.
Bess's sacrifice is frightening indeed. As she went to the boat to meet her death, I cried. A friend of mine told me that at that moment he could not bear to be in the theater. Nevertheless, a few critics have dismissed the horror of this scene, claiming that the audience is in no doubt that divine Providence will set everything right. I can only wish that one day I can have such an easy faith as these critics and the alleged audience they write about. Yes, yes, I heard God tell Bess that He was with her, but I could only see her being butchered. And, yes, I cried because I could not bear the loss of such a trusting and loving human being. Yes, I admit it, I want her for my world just as much as you want her for yours. I could not help but think what I could do to keep her from the boat--I would have done anything--, but even if somehow I could have been put into this contrafactual, I would have been able to do nothing for Bess's faith is too great to subdue. She must go to the boat and be butchered. This sacrifice is frightening because it is inevitable.
"A ha!" I can hear you exclaim, "Despite all your vicious ad hominems at me, painting me as a blaspheming, self-deceiving Ethics Professor, you have all but conceded by your own emotions that this story is indeed a tragedy!" Yes, but my emotions are just human, Bess's smile is human and more so. Would a tragic figure smile so gently as she meets her doom? No, because tragedy belongs to the realm of the merely human. After the Incarnated Word, there is no tragedy because we humans can be more than human: Death has lost its sting. And, therefore, smiling faith is possible. I am not claiming that I know this. I can only repeat what I memorised of my catechism, but somehow I know that Bess knows this--somehow. Even though I may think her sacrifice a horrible tragedy (which I would not wish even on Ethics professors), I dare not think this too loudly lest I insult Bess's intelligence. And in insulting Bess's intelligence, I would be insulting Bess herself. I cannot bring myself to insult someone whom I admire and love. Therefore, as agonizing as her sacrifice is, I am nonetheless forced to take comfort, however thin and brittle this comfort may be, that Bess genuinely knows something that I can only parrot.
Now let's look at the sacrifice you demand. This sacrifice is necessary for this fairy tale to be the tragedy you claim it really is. As a tragedy the story would have no miracle, Jan would die, and, of course, no bells would ring. I must remark once again how odd and, if truth be told, perverse all this is: you want a story with a joyous ending to be instead a rather pointless tragedy. I say "pointless" because, to put it crudely, without the miracles there is no pay-off. We cannot but conclude that Bess's most cherished belief was simply wrong, that this woman threw herself to slaughter to no purpose other than to satisfy either the mad delusions of her mind or of her husband's evil fantasies or the whims of a cruel, sadistic God, none of which point to anything we should desire or hope for. Tragedy, of course, defies our fondest teleologies. I merely want to make clear the enormity of your sacrifice. By your insistence that Breaking the Waves is a tragedy at its authentic core, you are not only condemning Jan to death but Bess and all the charms and great power of her love to utter utter hopelessness. Whereas Bess sacrifices only her self and that is horrible enough, your sacrifice seems a thousand times more awful for you are sacrificing hope.
But now you are jumping up and down wildly, screaming at me, and your screams go something like this: "Oh, no, don't blame me for sacrificing hope. You make it sound like I want to do this, this monstrous sacrificing of hope, as if I were some metaphysical Robespierre. Bess herself says just before she dies that maybe, she was wrong. She herself has renounced hope and meets her demise in awareness of her failure. Hence, she herself realises that hers was a tragedy, which makes her--by all classical definitions of tragedy, I might add--a tragic hero. That's why I say that the authentic core of this film is a tragedy; I am merely understanding Bess as she ultimately comes to understand herself (and that is Straussian, Paul; how can you not see my argument now?). My objection to Jan's miracles and the bells is simply an observation of what even you cannot deny, Paul, namely that they just do not square with Bess's own last words, the last articulation of her 'authentic core'." Oh, now you got me! I won't even quibble that Bess's "maybe" allows us to believe that her renunciation of hope is not quite complete (a literature professor would, but I am merely a humble dabbler in philosophy). No, you really got me. How can I take comfort, even a little comfort in Bess's faith when even she renounces it? I can't unless Bess's faith is greater than Bess herself and as such does not go away even though she abandons it when she dies. But this is absurd, eh? Yes, you got me. This film, properly understood, is indeed a tragedy, and everything I have written in this letter has been like a clanging gong.
And, hence, you have been right all along. You can rest assured, my dear Professor, that Ethics is safe. Bess has met her tragedy because her wild love led her to hubris against Ethics for which she paid dearly. She may have condemned herself to pointless tragedy, but, it must be admitted, the tragedy for us is not pointless at all. It serves as a dire warning to any of us who would dare put our trust in our profoundest yearnings for a greater love and not in Ethics. I think we should call Von Trier's editor and tell him that he must needs re-edit the film.
One last question: I am sure you have seen Peter Pan at least once in your life. Did you clap to save Tinkerbell?
Love, Paul S. Rhodes
Dear Professor,
I wish we could have continued the lively discussion on Breaking the Waves that we had nearly two weeks ago because I wanted to ask you why an atheist like you would
a) let himself be so angered by the film as you apparently were and
b) have any sympathies with Bess McNeill at all.
Before I explain my reasons for asking such questions, I want to be clear that, although you have been incautious enough as to reveal your atheism to me, you may, nevertheless, be confident that your secret is safe; I won't blow your cover to your undergrads, and you may continue to bewitch them with that ambiguity of which you are so very proud, you theological Janus, you. Come to think of it, perhaps your desire to have half of your students suppose you a theist and the other half the exact opposite was the ultimate reason behind your decision not to assign this film to your class. You perhaps feared that if you assigned this film, the class would take this as your endorsement of Director Von Trier's bell-ringing. This would explain your dislike of the final scene, which indeed wipes away all traces of agnosticism as to Bess's end. The final scene forces you to believe that Bess's faith in God was right, if, that is, you want to accept this fairy tale, which one can believe or dismiss as hocus pocus just like any other fairy tale. So, my suggestion that your assigning this film would dispel all doubt in your class's collective mind as to what you believe is surely wrong. Had you assigned it, you, no doubt, would have put in a disclaimer as to the extreme dubiousness of fairy tales, thereby safeguarding your highly prized secret. No, you refuse to assign this film because you merely think the film is not worth seeing, much less worth assigning.
Well, no, you don't "merely" think this, do you? This film angers you, and something that is "merely" thought of surely cannot provoke something that is so forceful and violent as anger, can it? I would not imagine so. This brings me, after a rather long digression (I do apologise quite humbly for the digression), to the heart of this letter, or part of the heart, at least, namely to my first question: Why would this film anger you? If I understand you correctly, the utterly unambiguous unsubtle end of the film angered you. That God at the end of the film unequivocally rewards and celebrates such a degrading and preposterous sacrifice of the self as Bess's sacrifice is so ridiculous, so outrageous, so ungeheuerlich that it could not but be an affront to your sense of Rationality, Ethics, and the Good.
But why let that anger you? The film is merely a fairy tale. Lots of mad things happen in fairy tales that go against our reasonable grasp of reality. In one fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm, for instance, a devout and pious family slowly (and presumably painfully) bleeds to death because God has willed it so. We can just say simply that this is a fairy tale and, as such, has nothing, nothing at all to do with our reasonable grasp of reality (and we all know what this is, especially those of us who have read many books and attended many years of university to firm up this grasp)--and that would be that. But things are a whole lot different if we believe the fairy tale or even if we have only the slightest twinge of a feeling that maybe, just maybe this fairy tale does have something to do with reality, in which case we are forced to re-assess our reasonable grasp thereof. We have to ask ourselves such questions as, if God is good, why would He will such a horrible death on such a good family? This question would lead us only to more painful questions like, do we even know what the good is, and this would perhaps smack us up against a most horrible suggestion, namely that perhaps our reasonable grasp of reality for all its reasonableness does not help us to understand anything at all. All this would, I imagine, be an insult to all of us who are very proud and confident of our reasonable grasp of reality, especially to those of us who have endured years and years of study just to make this reasonable grasp tighter and more secure.
But an insult can only sting if it comes from someone you put trust in. The trust gives rise to expectations or pleasantness which the insult frustrates. If there are no such expectations, then the insult loses its power. Now, you saw Breaking the Waves on the strength of my recommendation and did not like the film one bit. Your animus should be directed at me for having made you see such a worthless film but not at the film for I was the one who violated your trust and not the film, unless, of course, you did put some trust in the film. Of course, you could say that you transferred your trust in me to the film, but logic would still dictate that you should be angry with me, the primary repository of your trust, and not the film, which can only be secondary in this regard. But never once did you say something like, "You, Paul, made me waste three hours of my precious time with this utterly worthless and pointless film, and, therefore, I am pissed off at you." No, you said that this film "pissed me off." So, perhaps, I am wrong in assuming that you thought this film utterly "worthless and pointless". No, obviously you thought the film had some worth or some potential for worth that somehow was destroyed for you by the end. Otherwise, you would not be so angry with it. In other words, the film let you down.
Yes, the film let you down; I won't back down from this statement. The film let you down because it wasn't true to its, to use your phrase, "authentic core", and this you have admitted to be a tragedy. How odd then that this film with its bell-ringing happy ending should let you down because it did not end in tragedy. As odd as it sounds, I will, nevertheless, not back down from my claim: the film did let you down. And I think I know why.
This leads me finally to another part of the heart of this unfortunately rambling letter, namely to my second question: why do you sympathise with Bess at all? You could simply regard her as a pathetic, gullible naif, nay, you could regard her as insane, as schizophrenic--as the good Ms. Goodman [the student who reviewed the film in Stud Life] does--and the film would trouble your rationality not. You refuse to do so because, I believe, you see in Bess the epitome of Kant's good will, of Kant's good heart.
Yes, that's it! Bess's good heart is what you admire. If only it could be harnessed by the mighty power of the Categorical Imperative, if only Pure Reason could universalise it for our world, think what would happen, my dear Professor! Finally alle Menschen werden Brueder under Bess's gentle smile! Cold, callous Indifference and petty Selfishness would cease! The warming fire of Generosity would light up the night! Hunger would no longer embarrass us! And War would be as insignificant as historical dates in a schoolboy's lazy mind! Bess's abundant, overflowing, wild love, if only it could be controlled by our reasonable Ethical Theories, oh, would that not be the fulfillment of every wet dream of every Ethics Professor in this world! Nietzsche's deepest wish would come true: we would make Caesars with the souls of Christ.
But, my dear Professor, render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and render unto God what is God's. Bess's good heart as Christ's soul is not of this world. This, I suggest, is what let you down. This is what angers you. Bess's good heart belongs to God, and you resent that it does because you want it for this your world. If you can't have it, then no one can, not Jan, and certainly not God, Who by your lights does not even exist. You will assert that the "authentic core" of Bess's story is a tragedy because for you it is a tragedy. It is a tragedy because your dearly held Ethics has suffered an unrecoverable loss, the loss of the only thing that can make it work, a good heart. And you rather mourn this loss, you rather mourn the lost potential of what might have been than suspend your disbelief, if only for a moment, for a fairy tale and share the miraculous joy that this good heart is not lost at all but borne to eternal life. But, of course, this good heart is rendered unto God and not unto your world, and this, even in a fairy tale, maddens you.
It maddens you so much that you deny Bess's greatest and fondest wish, the life of her beloved. For the sake of your Ethics, Jan must die, is that it? I believe this to be the case indeed. I do not know what sacrifice is more frightening, my dear Professor: the sacrifice that God demands of Bess for the sake of her love or the one that you demand for your Ethics. Let me think about this.
Bess's sacrifice is frightening indeed. As she went to the boat to meet her death, I cried. A friend of mine told me that at that moment he could not bear to be in the theater. Nevertheless, a few critics have dismissed the horror of this scene, claiming that the audience is in no doubt that divine Providence will set everything right. I can only wish that one day I can have such an easy faith as these critics and the alleged audience they write about. Yes, yes, I heard God tell Bess that He was with her, but I could only see her being butchered. And, yes, I cried because I could not bear the loss of such a trusting and loving human being. Yes, I admit it, I want her for my world just as much as you want her for yours. I could not help but think what I could do to keep her from the boat--I would have done anything--, but even if somehow I could have been put into this contrafactual, I would have been able to do nothing for Bess's faith is too great to subdue. She must go to the boat and be butchered. This sacrifice is frightening because it is inevitable.
"A ha!" I can hear you exclaim, "Despite all your vicious ad hominems at me, painting me as a blaspheming, self-deceiving Ethics Professor, you have all but conceded by your own emotions that this story is indeed a tragedy!" Yes, but my emotions are just human, Bess's smile is human and more so. Would a tragic figure smile so gently as she meets her doom? No, because tragedy belongs to the realm of the merely human. After the Incarnated Word, there is no tragedy because we humans can be more than human: Death has lost its sting. And, therefore, smiling faith is possible. I am not claiming that I know this. I can only repeat what I memorised of my catechism, but somehow I know that Bess knows this--somehow. Even though I may think her sacrifice a horrible tragedy (which I would not wish even on Ethics professors), I dare not think this too loudly lest I insult Bess's intelligence. And in insulting Bess's intelligence, I would be insulting Bess herself. I cannot bring myself to insult someone whom I admire and love. Therefore, as agonizing as her sacrifice is, I am nonetheless forced to take comfort, however thin and brittle this comfort may be, that Bess genuinely knows something that I can only parrot.
Now let's look at the sacrifice you demand. This sacrifice is necessary for this fairy tale to be the tragedy you claim it really is. As a tragedy the story would have no miracle, Jan would die, and, of course, no bells would ring. I must remark once again how odd and, if truth be told, perverse all this is: you want a story with a joyous ending to be instead a rather pointless tragedy. I say "pointless" because, to put it crudely, without the miracles there is no pay-off. We cannot but conclude that Bess's most cherished belief was simply wrong, that this woman threw herself to slaughter to no purpose other than to satisfy either the mad delusions of her mind or of her husband's evil fantasies or the whims of a cruel, sadistic God, none of which point to anything we should desire or hope for. Tragedy, of course, defies our fondest teleologies. I merely want to make clear the enormity of your sacrifice. By your insistence that Breaking the Waves is a tragedy at its authentic core, you are not only condemning Jan to death but Bess and all the charms and great power of her love to utter utter hopelessness. Whereas Bess sacrifices only her self and that is horrible enough, your sacrifice seems a thousand times more awful for you are sacrificing hope.
But now you are jumping up and down wildly, screaming at me, and your screams go something like this: "Oh, no, don't blame me for sacrificing hope. You make it sound like I want to do this, this monstrous sacrificing of hope, as if I were some metaphysical Robespierre. Bess herself says just before she dies that maybe, she was wrong. She herself has renounced hope and meets her demise in awareness of her failure. Hence, she herself realises that hers was a tragedy, which makes her--by all classical definitions of tragedy, I might add--a tragic hero. That's why I say that the authentic core of this film is a tragedy; I am merely understanding Bess as she ultimately comes to understand herself (and that is Straussian, Paul; how can you not see my argument now?). My objection to Jan's miracles and the bells is simply an observation of what even you cannot deny, Paul, namely that they just do not square with Bess's own last words, the last articulation of her 'authentic core'." Oh, now you got me! I won't even quibble that Bess's "maybe" allows us to believe that her renunciation of hope is not quite complete (a literature professor would, but I am merely a humble dabbler in philosophy). No, you really got me. How can I take comfort, even a little comfort in Bess's faith when even she renounces it? I can't unless Bess's faith is greater than Bess herself and as such does not go away even though she abandons it when she dies. But this is absurd, eh? Yes, you got me. This film, properly understood, is indeed a tragedy, and everything I have written in this letter has been like a clanging gong.
And, hence, you have been right all along. You can rest assured, my dear Professor, that Ethics is safe. Bess has met her tragedy because her wild love led her to hubris against Ethics for which she paid dearly. She may have condemned herself to pointless tragedy, but, it must be admitted, the tragedy for us is not pointless at all. It serves as a dire warning to any of us who would dare put our trust in our profoundest yearnings for a greater love and not in Ethics. I think we should call Von Trier's editor and tell him that he must needs re-edit the film.
One last question: I am sure you have seen Peter Pan at least once in your life. Did you clap to save Tinkerbell?
Love, Paul S. Rhodes
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Questions regarding the Brave New Definition of "Marriage"
Take the Halpern definition of marriage as a "union of two persons." Not only is this definition new, lacking any historical or legal pedigree, it is also vague to the point of being unsustainable in public policy. Certainly we must ask many questions of it that are difficult to answer. Exactly what sort of union does it have in view? Given that the union no longer answers to a procreative norm, what marks it out as something of particular value to society, worthy of public recognition and support? Is there even a standard against which it can be measured? If it is a union based on love, how shall we define love, and is the mere profession of love sufficient? Need the love, or at all events the commitment, be sexual? Sexual or otherwise, why should the union in question be a union of only two? And if a union of two, why should it continue to be exclusive? Why, for that matter, should it be for life? Such questions are not merely hypothetical. They are being put, and they will be put, not only in civil discourse but if necessary also in the courts.
--Douglas Farrow, Divorcing Marriage, "Facing Reality", pp. 155-6
--Douglas Farrow, Divorcing Marriage, "Facing Reality", pp. 155-6
Friday, September 3, 2010
What Theism does not require
The purpose of this post is not to argue against the Atheist that God exists. The point of this post is simply to remind certain Theists in this country that belief in God does not imply other beliefs. For instance, belief in God does not imply belief that America is His special messenger or His special Angel of Vengeance. From this it follows that a Theist need not believe that it is America's divine mission to spread its version of democracy throughout the world or to kill millions of people to do so. Theism also does not require belief that the free market is God's way of rewarding the righteous on earth. In fact, nothing about Theism prevents the devout believer from thinking insanely successful Capitalists are not righteous at all but thieving bastards, whose outrageous larcenies and depredations cry out to God for sulfurous vengeance. It should also be noted that whereas it is possible to defend Theism with philosophical argument (e.g. the Five Ways of Aquinas), the beliefs in the divine mission of American Imperialism and the virtue of Capitalism can be held only by a willfully blind faith.
Other examples of beliefs commonly mistaken to be corollaries of Theism are: the notion that Israel has the absolute right to treat Palestinians like pieces of shit, the idea that Chastity Balls really prevent fornication and do not indulge the incestuous fantasies of really, really creepy dads, the belief that Glenn Beck is NOT a certifiable lunatic, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
Theism is merely the proposition that there is a personal, almighty being that created the universe and sustains it. Such a proposition has NOTHING to do with murderous American Imperialism, Capitalist Catastrophes, the fascist state of Israel, the sleaziness of Chastity Balls, or Glenn Beck's hyperventilating histrionics. And for this only one thing is appropriate to say: Thank God!
Other examples of beliefs commonly mistaken to be corollaries of Theism are: the notion that Israel has the absolute right to treat Palestinians like pieces of shit, the idea that Chastity Balls really prevent fornication and do not indulge the incestuous fantasies of really, really creepy dads, the belief that Glenn Beck is NOT a certifiable lunatic, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
Theism is merely the proposition that there is a personal, almighty being that created the universe and sustains it. Such a proposition has NOTHING to do with murderous American Imperialism, Capitalist Catastrophes, the fascist state of Israel, the sleaziness of Chastity Balls, or Glenn Beck's hyperventilating histrionics. And for this only one thing is appropriate to say: Thank God!
Friday, July 30, 2010
De gustibus vero disputandum est
One night my dear mother (may God rest her eternal Soul!) and I were in the car, coming home from somewhere. Probably from the grocery store, but I really can't remember (because I am old and decrepit). We were listening to the radio. It was a classical musical station, most likely 99.1 FM (Now Joy FM--you happy-clappy evangelicals can go fuck yourselves because you are barbaric boobs who, if you ever attain the Beatific Vision, will be utterly unable to appreciate it because you have shown yourselves utterly impervious to the sublime, but I digress). I have no idea what was playing but shall never ever forget that it was a piece in which violins were quite prominent indeed. For I said to Mother that I thought violins sounded like cat screams. Mother got angry and proceeded to chide me for what by her lights was an obvious aesthetic stupidity on my part.
Right now I am listening to a recording of Bach's works for solo violin, and the violin is miked rather closely. In other words, the violin is rather loud. It does sound like a very raw, shrill scream even when it plays Bach's blissful fugues. But a cat scream is not at all an apt description, of course, and my Mother was right to dismiss it as an idle stupidity of a child who just wants to hear his own chatter. The scream of the violin does not express the ephemeral irritation of a savage id. It expresses the pain of human longing. And if one cannot see the beauty in that, then he might as well be a self-absorbed cat.
I shall be forever grateful that my Mother bullied me into liking the painful sound of the violin. Especially now that she is dead, and even after twenty-two years of her absence, I still long to see her, and the only thing I know that can articulate this enormous, enduring, and ineradicable ache is a persistently screaming violin.
Mutti, ich liebe Dich, and Du gehst mir schmerzlich ab.
Right now I am listening to a recording of Bach's works for solo violin, and the violin is miked rather closely. In other words, the violin is rather loud. It does sound like a very raw, shrill scream even when it plays Bach's blissful fugues. But a cat scream is not at all an apt description, of course, and my Mother was right to dismiss it as an idle stupidity of a child who just wants to hear his own chatter. The scream of the violin does not express the ephemeral irritation of a savage id. It expresses the pain of human longing. And if one cannot see the beauty in that, then he might as well be a self-absorbed cat.
I shall be forever grateful that my Mother bullied me into liking the painful sound of the violin. Especially now that she is dead, and even after twenty-two years of her absence, I still long to see her, and the only thing I know that can articulate this enormous, enduring, and ineradicable ache is a persistently screaming violin.
Mutti, ich liebe Dich, and Du gehst mir schmerzlich ab.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Why I am not a Protestant
[This is a scene from a play that I never wrote. Actually, I just wrote this scene, and it's not very good. I include it here because it does have the merit of explaining why I would never be a Protestant.
The play was supposed to about Marlene Nowotniak. She is a very bright 16 year old girl and a very beautiful one as well. She likes to frequent a used bookstore, owned by Friedrich Nietzsche (I just decided to put Nietzsche in for the hell of it), who has as his indentured servant a very bizarre but orthodox Catholic, Ken Silenus. Ken tries to convince Marlene of the need to believe in Catholicism to understand Shakespeare properly. Marlene will have none of it, though, saying that she likes Shakespeare just fine as an atheist.
Much to Ken's horror, the charming and elegant and witty Marlene falls head over heels for a quaterback from her High School. His name is Scott Coiler, and he is a grunt, the type that thinks poetry is for the limp-wrists. Ken, alarmed by Marlene's rather embarrassing public displays of affection with Scott, sternly warns Marlene of the dangers and sinfulness of pre-marital sex, but Marlene does not heed and does it, anyway. Then Scott goes off and gets saved at a Bible Youth Camp. Upon his return Scott promptly dumps Marlene because she is an imbiber of secular humanism. Other boys at the High School dump their girlfriends for the same reason. Marlene starts to
fight back. She starts the Dumped by Elmer Gantry Club, which proceeds to trumpet loudly the names of the boys who were players before they got saved--and after. This irks the Christian Youth Group, named Dudes for Christ. The Youth Minister, John Knox, has a sit down with Scott about this matter. Scott suggests that the kook at the used book store put Marlene up to this, whereupon John Knox and he go pay Ken Silenus a visit.]
(Mr. Knox and Scott enter. Ken is at the cash register, puffing away.)
Ken: Yeah, I am just about to close. What the fuck do you want?
John Knox: Hello, Mr. Silenus, my name is John Knox. This will just take a second, I promise. I think you know Scotty here.
Ken: (exhaling a great big wad of smoke) Yeah, I've seen him around.
JK: Well, I am with the Dudes for Christ, and Scott here is my main dude in Christ. Aren't you, Scotty?
Scott: Amen, Dude. (High fives Mr. Knox)
Ken: (muttering under his breath) Ab homine iniquo et doloso erue me.
JK: And we're here to... (finally notices Ken's T-Shirt, which reads: "I'd rather be a gay porn fluffer than a Protestant.") Mr. Silenus, I realize, we live in a free country and you have the God-given right to express whatever you want...
Ken: (exhales yet another great big wad of smoke, this time in the direction of John Knox)
JK: ...but I must tell you that your T-Shirt does not send off good Christian vibes. Scotty here told me you're Catholic, and that's cool. We respect that.
Scott: Did your priest tell ya to be his fluffer in confession?
JK: Now, now, Scotty, that doesn't send off good Christian vibes, either.
Ken: (throws his cigarette down on the floor, stamps it out, and fishes in his front pants pocket for another)
Scott: Well, did he?
Ken: No, I was too busy sacrificing Protestant babies in the crypt. (lights the next one in the chain)
JK: Our Lord told us not to dis our enemies, remember? Scotty? Not that we think Catholics are our enemies, of course. No, Mr. Silenus, we are, as Vatican II, your most recent council, decreed, Brethren in Christ. That t-shirt of yours really does not jibe with the Spirit of your own denomination, does it now, Mr. Silenus. As one Christian to another, as one brother in Christ to another brother, I would tell you to take it off.
Ken: Nah, it's cold.
JK: I got some extra Dude for Christ t-shirts in my duffel bag. You want one of those?
Ken: No, I do not. See, I really would prefer to be a cocksucker than a Protestant, especially one in his late fifties who goes around carrying Dude for Christ t-shirts.
JK: Now, look here... I'm 49, and...
Ken: Just, please, state your business here. I am about to close.
Scott: Stop feeding Marlene all your bullshit!
Ken: And what bullshit would that be, Scott? Praytell, like telling her any guy who would fuck her and leave her is a paradigmatic asshole? Bullshit like that, Scott?
Scott: Whatever
Ken: You are a textbook example of a grunt.
JK: Yes, Scott sinned, Mr. Silenus. "There is no one who does good, not
even one." Romans 3:12. We're all sinners, Mr. Silenus, but we've all been
washed clean and pure of our iniquities in the blood of the lamb, Jesus
Christ...
Ken: That one righteous dude!
JK: (JK is ready to high five Ken, and Ken in a moment of reluctant charity
lets him) Yes, isn't God awesome?
Ken: Now, let's do the wave.
JK: Mr. Silenus, this is an awesome message of mercy and love that we are trying to spread in an area where the kids desperately need it. Their parents make them feel worthless if they get anything less than a five on their AP exam or they don't make the first string of the football team.
Ken: Of if they throw six interceptions for three consecutive games.
Scott: Hey!!
JK: Now, Scotty, he has a point.
Scott: Whatever.
JK: The kids have no hope unless they can prove themselves to be successful candidates for the upper-middle-class. And we want to tell them that hope does not depend on that kind of social status. No, it is light years more permanent than that for it rests in the permanent and final sacrifice of that one righteous dude, Jesus Christ. He'll love you no matter what, even if you do get a four on the AP or make it only to second string.
Ken: Your point:
JK: This is a message that is really saving kids' lives and is giving them hope, and now it is being undermined by Marlene Nowotniak's club. She is making us look bad.
Ken: Yes, and?
JK: Could you just talk to Marlene for us? Could you tell her that she is doing much more harm than good?
Ken: No, and I got to close. Bye.
JK: I know you think we are spreading anti-romanist heresy. Yes, I know you are a very, er, gung-ho Catholic. But we are bringing people to Christ. We are snatching kids away from their despair...
Ken: ...and their responsibility.
Scott: Look, I sinned, okay? The whole state knows I boinked Marlene. But
you sin, right?
JK: The Lord knows I do, my man!
Ken: Please, no high five this time.
Scott: And you sin. You're sinning right now by filling your body with
that shit. And you're body s supposed to be a temple for God.
Ken: (blowing smoke in Scott's face) So, sin is sin, eh?
JK: Exactly. We are sinful by nature, and it is by Christ's mercy alone
that we are covered with that awesome grace that makes us acceptable to Him.
Ken: So, smoking a fag is as depraved and rancid as deflowering a sixteen
year old.
Scott: I would never blow a fag. I don't do that shit. I ain't no homo.
JK: Scott, "fag" is British for cigarette. Calm down.
Scott: Well, I don't smoke neither.
JK: In God's eyes, yes. It's all equally evil.
Ken: Mr. Knox, I will not dissuade Marlene from her campaign. I will only encourage her. Now, if you will be so kind as to remove your heretical asses from my establishment.
Scott: But she don't even believe in God. She believes in Darwin and that crap.
JK: Scotty here has a point. Do you really want the secularist poison to
prevail over the Gospel?
Ken: Yup. I really do. Because I vomit at the notion that the theft of a paper clip is as evil as, say, the systematic gassing of millions of innocent men, women, and children.
JK: Not one of us is innocent.
Ken: Oh, yes, we are all totally, comprehensively, fucking depraved. So depraved that God has to mask us with a bodycast of grace just to look at us. I want to be loved for who I am, not for some mask I wear. And if God can love us only with a mask, then fuck God.
JK: "The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body."
Ken: Oh, shove James up your ass. You people love James 3, but you're not so hot on James 2. Or James 5, where he mentions sins that cry out to the heavens for vengeance. Well, what your main dude Scotty did is just such a sin.
Scott: Show me that in the Bible, asshole.
JK: Now, Scotty.
Ken: Fuck the Bible. I am talking about what was in front of your very eyes, what you touched, whose sweet voice whispered "I love you" in your ear. A beautiful woman who loved you so much she gave you her everthing, her body, her soul. She put her very temple at your disposal. Even though you are the Protestant paragon of the totally depraved Adam, whose good deeds, if thereare any, are nothing but filthy rags. But she loved you all the same, and if that's not the incarnation of gratuitous grace, of amazing grace, of the free, unmerited gift that you Prots always yap about, then fuck Luther's God. And to reject such amazing grace is nothing less than the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost. A cocksucker, as perverse and vile as he is, shows more gratitude towards God's creation than do you, and that's why I wear this t-shirt with pride.
JK: It sounds like you worship earthly creatures. It is my duty as a Christian to warn you against idolatry.
Ken: It is my duty as a very tired shopkeeper to tell you to leave, please.
JK: I'll be praying for you.
Ken: Sure. Now go, please.
Scott: (on his way out) Marlene is not God, and Mary isn't God, either.
Ken: Whatever.
The play was supposed to about Marlene Nowotniak. She is a very bright 16 year old girl and a very beautiful one as well. She likes to frequent a used bookstore, owned by Friedrich Nietzsche (I just decided to put Nietzsche in for the hell of it), who has as his indentured servant a very bizarre but orthodox Catholic, Ken Silenus. Ken tries to convince Marlene of the need to believe in Catholicism to understand Shakespeare properly. Marlene will have none of it, though, saying that she likes Shakespeare just fine as an atheist.
Much to Ken's horror, the charming and elegant and witty Marlene falls head over heels for a quaterback from her High School. His name is Scott Coiler, and he is a grunt, the type that thinks poetry is for the limp-wrists. Ken, alarmed by Marlene's rather embarrassing public displays of affection with Scott, sternly warns Marlene of the dangers and sinfulness of pre-marital sex, but Marlene does not heed and does it, anyway. Then Scott goes off and gets saved at a Bible Youth Camp. Upon his return Scott promptly dumps Marlene because she is an imbiber of secular humanism. Other boys at the High School dump their girlfriends for the same reason. Marlene starts to
fight back. She starts the Dumped by Elmer Gantry Club, which proceeds to trumpet loudly the names of the boys who were players before they got saved--and after. This irks the Christian Youth Group, named Dudes for Christ. The Youth Minister, John Knox, has a sit down with Scott about this matter. Scott suggests that the kook at the used book store put Marlene up to this, whereupon John Knox and he go pay Ken Silenus a visit.]
(Mr. Knox and Scott enter. Ken is at the cash register, puffing away.)
Ken: Yeah, I am just about to close. What the fuck do you want?
John Knox: Hello, Mr. Silenus, my name is John Knox. This will just take a second, I promise. I think you know Scotty here.
Ken: (exhaling a great big wad of smoke) Yeah, I've seen him around.
JK: Well, I am with the Dudes for Christ, and Scott here is my main dude in Christ. Aren't you, Scotty?
Scott: Amen, Dude. (High fives Mr. Knox)
Ken: (muttering under his breath) Ab homine iniquo et doloso erue me.
JK: And we're here to... (finally notices Ken's T-Shirt, which reads: "I'd rather be a gay porn fluffer than a Protestant.") Mr. Silenus, I realize, we live in a free country and you have the God-given right to express whatever you want...
Ken: (exhales yet another great big wad of smoke, this time in the direction of John Knox)
JK: ...but I must tell you that your T-Shirt does not send off good Christian vibes. Scotty here told me you're Catholic, and that's cool. We respect that.
Scott: Did your priest tell ya to be his fluffer in confession?
JK: Now, now, Scotty, that doesn't send off good Christian vibes, either.
Ken: (throws his cigarette down on the floor, stamps it out, and fishes in his front pants pocket for another)
Scott: Well, did he?
Ken: No, I was too busy sacrificing Protestant babies in the crypt. (lights the next one in the chain)
JK: Our Lord told us not to dis our enemies, remember? Scotty? Not that we think Catholics are our enemies, of course. No, Mr. Silenus, we are, as Vatican II, your most recent council, decreed, Brethren in Christ. That t-shirt of yours really does not jibe with the Spirit of your own denomination, does it now, Mr. Silenus. As one Christian to another, as one brother in Christ to another brother, I would tell you to take it off.
Ken: Nah, it's cold.
JK: I got some extra Dude for Christ t-shirts in my duffel bag. You want one of those?
Ken: No, I do not. See, I really would prefer to be a cocksucker than a Protestant, especially one in his late fifties who goes around carrying Dude for Christ t-shirts.
JK: Now, look here... I'm 49, and...
Ken: Just, please, state your business here. I am about to close.
Scott: Stop feeding Marlene all your bullshit!
Ken: And what bullshit would that be, Scott? Praytell, like telling her any guy who would fuck her and leave her is a paradigmatic asshole? Bullshit like that, Scott?
Scott: Whatever
Ken: You are a textbook example of a grunt.
JK: Yes, Scott sinned, Mr. Silenus. "There is no one who does good, not
even one." Romans 3:12. We're all sinners, Mr. Silenus, but we've all been
washed clean and pure of our iniquities in the blood of the lamb, Jesus
Christ...
Ken: That one righteous dude!
JK: (JK is ready to high five Ken, and Ken in a moment of reluctant charity
lets him) Yes, isn't God awesome?
Ken: Now, let's do the wave.
JK: Mr. Silenus, this is an awesome message of mercy and love that we are trying to spread in an area where the kids desperately need it. Their parents make them feel worthless if they get anything less than a five on their AP exam or they don't make the first string of the football team.
Ken: Of if they throw six interceptions for three consecutive games.
Scott: Hey!!
JK: Now, Scotty, he has a point.
Scott: Whatever.
JK: The kids have no hope unless they can prove themselves to be successful candidates for the upper-middle-class. And we want to tell them that hope does not depend on that kind of social status. No, it is light years more permanent than that for it rests in the permanent and final sacrifice of that one righteous dude, Jesus Christ. He'll love you no matter what, even if you do get a four on the AP or make it only to second string.
Ken: Your point:
JK: This is a message that is really saving kids' lives and is giving them hope, and now it is being undermined by Marlene Nowotniak's club. She is making us look bad.
Ken: Yes, and?
JK: Could you just talk to Marlene for us? Could you tell her that she is doing much more harm than good?
Ken: No, and I got to close. Bye.
JK: I know you think we are spreading anti-romanist heresy. Yes, I know you are a very, er, gung-ho Catholic. But we are bringing people to Christ. We are snatching kids away from their despair...
Ken: ...and their responsibility.
Scott: Look, I sinned, okay? The whole state knows I boinked Marlene. But
you sin, right?
JK: The Lord knows I do, my man!
Ken: Please, no high five this time.
Scott: And you sin. You're sinning right now by filling your body with
that shit. And you're body s supposed to be a temple for God.
Ken: (blowing smoke in Scott's face) So, sin is sin, eh?
JK: Exactly. We are sinful by nature, and it is by Christ's mercy alone
that we are covered with that awesome grace that makes us acceptable to Him.
Ken: So, smoking a fag is as depraved and rancid as deflowering a sixteen
year old.
Scott: I would never blow a fag. I don't do that shit. I ain't no homo.
JK: Scott, "fag" is British for cigarette. Calm down.
Scott: Well, I don't smoke neither.
JK: In God's eyes, yes. It's all equally evil.
Ken: Mr. Knox, I will not dissuade Marlene from her campaign. I will only encourage her. Now, if you will be so kind as to remove your heretical asses from my establishment.
Scott: But she don't even believe in God. She believes in Darwin and that crap.
JK: Scotty here has a point. Do you really want the secularist poison to
prevail over the Gospel?
Ken: Yup. I really do. Because I vomit at the notion that the theft of a paper clip is as evil as, say, the systematic gassing of millions of innocent men, women, and children.
JK: Not one of us is innocent.
Ken: Oh, yes, we are all totally, comprehensively, fucking depraved. So depraved that God has to mask us with a bodycast of grace just to look at us. I want to be loved for who I am, not for some mask I wear. And if God can love us only with a mask, then fuck God.
JK: "The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body."
Ken: Oh, shove James up your ass. You people love James 3, but you're not so hot on James 2. Or James 5, where he mentions sins that cry out to the heavens for vengeance. Well, what your main dude Scotty did is just such a sin.
Scott: Show me that in the Bible, asshole.
JK: Now, Scotty.
Ken: Fuck the Bible. I am talking about what was in front of your very eyes, what you touched, whose sweet voice whispered "I love you" in your ear. A beautiful woman who loved you so much she gave you her everthing, her body, her soul. She put her very temple at your disposal. Even though you are the Protestant paragon of the totally depraved Adam, whose good deeds, if thereare any, are nothing but filthy rags. But she loved you all the same, and if that's not the incarnation of gratuitous grace, of amazing grace, of the free, unmerited gift that you Prots always yap about, then fuck Luther's God. And to reject such amazing grace is nothing less than the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost. A cocksucker, as perverse and vile as he is, shows more gratitude towards God's creation than do you, and that's why I wear this t-shirt with pride.
JK: It sounds like you worship earthly creatures. It is my duty as a Christian to warn you against idolatry.
Ken: It is my duty as a very tired shopkeeper to tell you to leave, please.
JK: I'll be praying for you.
Ken: Sure. Now go, please.
Scott: (on his way out) Marlene is not God, and Mary isn't God, either.
Ken: Whatever.
Targeted facebook ads
Well, there's been a lot of concern and consternation about privacy on the social networking site facebook. The Powers that Be at facebook want information from you, so that they can tailor ads just for your specific needs and wants. This is creepy, I must admit, but after seeing the latest ad targeted at me, I must say that the Huckstering Big Brother at facebook is not prying all that much into my facebook page. In the last two days I have been writing quite a bit about Israel. And, what do you know, I get this ad:
Yeah, I am a Christian, but hardly one who has a hard-on for Israel. I'm Catholic. The New Israel for me is the Catholic Church. The Modern State of Israel has no religious significance for me at all. I don't believe that slitting the throat of a Perfectly Red Heifer will hasten the Rapture. I don't believe that a rebuilt Temple is God's will; it is nothing but an insane fantasy that, if actually realized, would make the whackoes in the Middle East even more apeshit than they already are.
No, I don't stand with Israel. I think the world would be a better place if the United States stopped sending Israel billions of dollars in aid every year and gave that money to a worthier cause like, say, CitiBank. And it could give the weapons to a worthier clientele, too, like, say, English Soccer Fans.
I must note that the Israeli Propaganda Machine is getting very desperate indeed if it is now asking Christians to sign an "Israel Pledge". If it's as successful as all those Virginity Pledges have been, AIPAC will soon see 50% of its base bearing bastards by Palestinians and Chomskyite self-hating Jews.
Of course, I could be all wrong about the fuck-up that sent this ad to me. Perhaps, it isn't a fuck-up at all, but a Mossad marker. They're on to me. Targeted ad leads to targeted assassination. Makes sense after all. I am critical of Israel. I have knives in the kitchen. I have chairs. And while I don't have any pipe handy or crowbars, I do have real scary yard tools. I must be a terrorist.
Tell Congress you support Israel and we'll send you a free book. Join Christians United for Israel and sign the Israel pledge today!Facebook Huckstering Big Brother is obviously a dumbfuck that needs to take a remedial reading course for everything I've written about Israel has been denunciatory such as, say, "Israel can go fuck herself." Or facebook Big Brother's data-collecting program just saw that I am a Christian who mentions Israel repeatedly, sufficient criteria to trigger the program's algorithm to send that ad to me. In other words, facebook Big Brother has even less understanding than Searle's Chinese Box, and this is supposed to worry me?
Yeah, I am a Christian, but hardly one who has a hard-on for Israel. I'm Catholic. The New Israel for me is the Catholic Church. The Modern State of Israel has no religious significance for me at all. I don't believe that slitting the throat of a Perfectly Red Heifer will hasten the Rapture. I don't believe that a rebuilt Temple is God's will; it is nothing but an insane fantasy that, if actually realized, would make the whackoes in the Middle East even more apeshit than they already are.
No, I don't stand with Israel. I think the world would be a better place if the United States stopped sending Israel billions of dollars in aid every year and gave that money to a worthier cause like, say, CitiBank. And it could give the weapons to a worthier clientele, too, like, say, English Soccer Fans.
I must note that the Israeli Propaganda Machine is getting very desperate indeed if it is now asking Christians to sign an "Israel Pledge". If it's as successful as all those Virginity Pledges have been, AIPAC will soon see 50% of its base bearing bastards by Palestinians and Chomskyite self-hating Jews.
Of course, I could be all wrong about the fuck-up that sent this ad to me. Perhaps, it isn't a fuck-up at all, but a Mossad marker. They're on to me. Targeted ad leads to targeted assassination. Makes sense after all. I am critical of Israel. I have knives in the kitchen. I have chairs. And while I don't have any pipe handy or crowbars, I do have real scary yard tools. I must be a terrorist.
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