Kings and their Stories - The Bible and Game of Thrones

Kings – The Bible’s Game of Thrones

HBO’s Game of Thrones, based upon George R.R. Martin’s epic fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire, ranks among the most popular shows on cable. With its sophisticated world building, variety of characters, and complicated political intrigue, the show and books have proven themselves quite adept at enticing a culture which often derides fantasy as childish. Perhaps it is simply an aftereffect of The Lord of the Rings trilogy or the wave of Geekdom ascendant.

Either way, one cannot speak of Game of Thrones without talking of its major faults, especially for those of a more Christian upbringing. The New York Times may have termed Martin the new Tolkien, but for all the similarity in trappings, and stretched similarities they are, the substance of the two works couldn’t be different.

Where a dark cloud only threatened all that was good and noble in the Lord of the Rings, the dark cloud appears to be the very essence of Westeros, the world of Game of Throne. None of a noble character can stand tall amid the multitude of morally corrupt or at best overly pragmatic players of the game of thrones. One soon wonders if a turn for the best will ever be allowed to appear. Even the highly touted political intrigue is really only varied and subtle changes on the one idea that power does what power wills. And of course, the sex is gratuitous. One is left thinking the only difference between a harlot and a lady is that one doesn’t pretend to be noble.

However, there is no doubt that the show and the books have tapped into the imaginations and desires of the culture. This may be more of a condemnation of the culture, but I’ll allow others to discuss that.

I was once smitten with the books and continue to dwell on them from afar, especially in light of their and the show’s popularity. My main point of reflection, though, comes from comparisons of the material to the scriptural narratives of Kings (1 and 2 Samuel, 1 and 2 Kings, and 1 and 2 Chronicles). The substance of the two is quite different, and the biblical vs. novel style is pronounced, but superficially the content is quite similar – political intrigue, families struggling for power, wars and battles over succession and independence, men with questionable morals and scenes of brutality and gratuity.

While the substance of the two works are as different as night and day – Kings never forgets that the events are relative always to the following of God; Game of Thrones never forgets that all that is true, good, and beautiful is only fleeting and only power abides – I would like to outline the important superficial similarities. I think these are important, even though superficial, because they could allow one to find a way to bring the biblical tales to life for jaded modern man.

A Host of Characters

Among the aspects of Game of Thrones that makes it most delightful is the host of characters. There is the noble Lord of the North, Eddard “Ned” Stark with his brooding bastard John Snow and his feisty daughter Arya and her naïve sister Sansa. The drunkard King, Robert Bartheon, sits upon the Iron throne with his delightfully savvy master of coin Petyr “Littlefinger” Baelish. The witty and bawdy Tyrion “the Imp” Lannister rides about the kingdom seeking some meaning and a good woman to lie with. His sibling Jaime mocks all as the greatest swordsmen in the land while sleeping with his sister Cersei who seeks to expand her power as queen and hide the incestuous heritage of her children. And this is only a small sampling of the first book.

Multiplicity of characters is a key facet of the Kings narratives. Generations of characters appear with their own retinue, allies, enemies, and consorts. Scriptural parallels aplenty can be found among the Books of Kings for the characters from A Game of Thrones.

If one wishes to see a king like Robert, one need only look to Saul. Both Robert and Saul rose to their thrones in honor and ended their reigns in shame. The raising of Saul to the throne was a great shift in the life of Israel, moving them from a loosely bound tribal nation to an empire; Robert’s reign is overshadowed by his rebellion and overthrow of the crazed Targaryens and he must still contend with those who would question his rule. With the anointing of David, Saul becomes obsessed with removing this threat to his power; Robert too is consumed with destroying the last of the Targaryens claimants.

In the great King David, we see the archetype of Ned Stark. Each is a warrior, but with a great devotion to the noblest ideals. David is the man after God’s own heart; Ned is the pious Lord of the North who keeps to his patrimonial old gods. Both would rather make apparently foolish decisions in the service of their ideals.

The parallels are almost endless. Intrigue and a glib tongue surround both Littlefinger and Hushai the Archite (2 Samuel 15:32-37, 17:1-14). Westeros’ many overly zealous men of war find their model in Jo’ab (2 Samuel 3:22-30, 11:14-25, 18:9-15, etc.), David’s barely controlled beast of a general. Religious characters of both horrific and noble ideals pepper Westeros. In Kings, one sees both the great religious ideals present in Elijah and Elisha with more demonic influences in the priests of Baal and even more obscure intentions in others (1 Kings 13:1-31).

But one need not limit the Books of Kings to parallels with Game of Thrones. Think of Solomon’s rise to greatness and his fall, Mannaseh’s conversion from depraved idolatry (2 Chronicles 33:1-17), Josiah’s noble following of the law even knowing of Judah’s inevitable fall (2 kings 22:1-23:27). Jonathan, son of Saul, appears as the model of loyalty, both to his enraged father and his close friend David. Bathsheba is introduced as a stumbling block to David but rises as a power beside her husband and son. The characters are endless.

Where many see the bible as an extended morality play, these men and women are far from being simple caricatures of virtues and vices. Even the greatest among them were burdened with foibles which brought them to their knees. The Books of Kings depicts the human struggle with sin with all of its warts though never loses sight of the light man is to attain. Game of Thrones depicts these warts but fails to shine out the light.

Political Intrigues

The Books of Kings are probably overlooked as a description of political intrigue. However, one shouldn’t allow its simple style to hide the complicated political struggle that it rests upon.

From the beginning we see the movement from tribal nation to kingdom with Saul. This isn’t simply a shift in power structure, but the further forging of an identity. As a tribal nation, Israel was mixed with other kingdoms. Saul’s first duty was to clean up this situation, but he soon takes to enjoying the spoil of the pagans, garnering rejection by God (1 Samuel 15).

In the fallout another is anointed – David. David is first welcome into Saul’s house, but the king later seeks to murder this prophesied usurper. Between the two is Jonathan, a man loyal to his father but loyal also to David, his friend and the Lord’s anointed. David is ultimately run out to hide in the mountains of Judah and then off into the south to become an exiled mercenary.

When Saul and Jonathan die in battle, David returns to claim the throne, but not easily. The northern tribes of Israel immediately rebel under Saul’s remaining son. David ends up victorious, but the northern tribes will later rebel often, the cry of “Israel to your tents” ringing out from various agitators.

And this is only the beginning of David’s reign. Much more is to follow. I hope you get the idea. This is not some simple moral tale, but a great epic of men in constant struggle to keep peace and order. True, over all is the cloud of God, seeking to lead men to seek him wholeheartedly and declaring punishment for those who fail him (including David), but this does not change the political intrigue.

Compare this to A Game of Thrones. The Iron Throne, the seat of the king’s power, changes hands from king to regents multiple times over the series. The whole kingdom is always either in a state of simmering malcontent or open rebellion. Characters find themselves unable to reconcile family, friends, and ideals. Outside forces are always looking for possible ways to gain the upper hand in the kingdom’s chaos. Does any of this sound familiar?

While modern readers are used to a much more nuanced, subtle, and detailed style of intrigue which the scriptures’ simplicity can appear to eschew, this is really only a matter of style. The political substance of the Books of Kings is much the same as of Game of Thrones. They are each chockfull of power grabs, plans going awry, new alliances forming, family treachery, and foolishness inspired by the nigh near absolute power.

Excitement and Titillation

An often used critique of scriptures is that it is full of violence, sex, and immorality. I never saw this as a critique, but rather as more reason of why it’s a damningly realistic (and damn good) story.

Far too many Christians think the scriptures to be perfect morality plays, with clear moral exemplars, no blood and violence, and not so much as a hint of lascivious behavior.

These same people have apparently only read neutered summaries of “Children’s Bibles” and never dealt with the real thing. The Books of Kings are probably the most pertinent example of the Bible’s refusal to clean up just how bad men and women are.

From the get go, we are introduced to the high priest’s sons taking bribes and defiling the female servants and it just keeps going. Saul, the king chosen by God, uses God like a divine power up, is greedy in his pillaging, and flies into insanity fueled murderous rages to kill David. David becomes a mercenary in his exile, coming close to marching against Israel with the Philistines (1 Samuel 29:1-11), and commits adultery and has the husband of his lover killed. His son Absalom, after being reconciled for dispensing vigilante justice upon the stepbrother that raped his sister, ultimately rebels against and brazenly sleeps with his father’s concubines to claim the throne. Jo’ab, general of David’s army, personally kills every threat to his supremacy as top general and doing David’s dirty work (both in accord with and in defiance of his commands).

And we haven’t even got to Solomon or Jezebel or the other royal messes that follow.

Every cry of edginess for shows like Game of Thrones goes for the Books of Kings. For the Hound and the Mountain, brutal commanders, there is Jo’ab and Abner. For Jaime and Cersei, incestuous siblings, there is Amon and Tamar. For Daenerys, the budding foreign queen, there is Bathsheba and the Queen of Sheba. For the sudden violence of the Red Wedding, there is the Banquet of Absalom. For Rob Stark’s guerilla rebellion in the North, there are David’s mercenary wanderings in Judah and the south. And for all the gratuitous sex in Game of Thrones, few scenes manage to top the audacity of the open-air event of Absalom’s takeover atop Jerusalem’s palace (2 Samuel 16:22).

Excitement and titillation is not absent from the scriptural tales. What is different is that, while Game of Thrones is agnostic in its morality, the Books of Kings keep a consistent ethic, depicting horrors but making sure one sees them as horrors for real reasons. Excitement and titillation are not allowed to remain as such, but are freighted with moral critique, elevating our base response by proper intellectual reflection. The absence of such in A Game of Thrones leaves it little more than exploitation.

A Nobler Tale – Can we give this the film treatment?

It is the primacy of good over evil, even when evil is ascendant, which makes the scriptural tales so much stronger than that of Game of Thrones. Nobility and goodness is something to be mocked for the characters in Westeros. Only naïve girls like Sansa still believe in it and any man who seeks to embody it ends up dead or horrifically maimed. What people are left with is either power, if you can obtain it. The question of what is good and right is relegated to agnosticism.

In Kings, though, morality and meaning is set out strongly while it is the people who fail to live up to it. Some characters are utterly corrupt. A few are truly righteous. Most, even David, the man after God’s own heart, are men who constantly waver, some ending reconciled while others end in shame. One is always secure, though, in the all controlling presence of God who brings about the true and the good even among the horrors of the morally corrupt.

There have been a number of tries of putting scriptural tales on the screen. Often the translation is done through the lens of either a simplistic Christian morality which neuters the worst aspects or through some reimagining, foisting modern themes on the ancient stories. A few attempts have been made at instilling “excitement and titillation” into what is ultimately still a neutered story (see the recent The Bible). Never, as I know it, have we had a good translation to film of these stories that seeks both honesty to the material and creative freedom in the wide gaps needing interpretation. It should be remembered that the narrative scriptures are not written as modern novels or screen plays but as a record of the life of Israel. This record has large swaths of material unwritten and hidden to history that would need the hand of a talented scribe to flesh out.

It’s true that I am leery of Hollywood or cable television doing this right, but there is definitely some great work of art to be done here. A Game of Thrones has revealed that the superficial draw it shares with the books of Kings is hugely viable. We should find a way to tap into that. We cannot baptize A Game of Thrones, but perhaps we can baptize its style with biblical substance.

The Haunting of Failing God's Love

I have been haunted by ideas of love.

This was impelled by a decision from this past Sunday. Coming out of Mass with my Aunt from out of town, a friend of mine followed quickly to say hello. He asked if I was heading out and I responded that I was, ostensibly because my Aunt was with me and didn’t want to make her feel out of her element at a Church gathering where she didn’t know anyone. Perhaps it was my own imagination, but I thought I saw disappointment cross his face as we parted, perhaps even some frustration.

I was kicking myself the whole way home, telling myself I should have stayed. Mentioning my thoughts to my Aunt, I about got ripped a new one for making such a decision based on assuming how she’d feel. She would have gladly stayed. If I’m truthful with myself, though, I think my real problem wasn’t with protecting her but was my own cowardice. In that moment where my friend came up and asked if I was leaving, I was set with a challenge that I believe I failed.

The challenge was that of being loved and loving in return. My friend was offering the love of friendship and fellowship to me. It was an offer that, like all offers of love, requires of a person the acceptance of the sweet wounding. It is the wounding of the heart, the allowing of one’s rough, course exterior to crack and bleed, to allow another to share in one’s life.

Yes, there are different degrees of this. The love of my friend was different from the love of a parent and child or husband and wife. Still, it was the love of friendship and all love requires the acceptance of this wounding – the breaking of one’s stony heart to make way for living flesh.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to accept the offer. While I’ve seen him often, I haven’t had the chance to casually converse with him in a while. And it was not just him. Along with him was his girlfriend whom I need to get to know better. And another young woman was with them I wish to get to know much more than the little I already do. There was so much good here to live out, the possibility of love in friendship to share along all in the wounding that comes from it. If one wishes to have some glimpse of this wounding, thing of the usual, awkward silences when words and ideas fail us, where people try to just enjoy another’s presence yet desire to return to the more manageable state of conversing where each hides teasingly behind conversations. Lovers and family tend to be the only ones comfortable in such silences.

It is that wounding that scared me. This event was my first impetus of the thoughts of love: the failure of a man in sharing himself out of a fear of sharing himself, a fear of the pain of having one’s heart cracked to whatever small or large extent.

A second impetus is the recent writing of a friend concerning receptivity and dancing. I have little to speak about dancing besides my reverential awe before the beauty of bodies in motion. Receptivity is something I’m more adept at, though my thoughts on receptivity all revolve around God.

Where my dance-writing friend is obsessed with relishing in the freedom of the experience of receptivity (the contradiction-loving, hedonistic, heretically-leaning modernist that he is) I am personally haunted by what lies behind the experience, what gives it substance. Idealistically, this is love. I spoke of love’s wounding as a cracking, bleeding heart earlier, and this was because love is ultimately about the reception of the other, the acceptance of the other into oneself (the cracking of one’s heart by the spear of another’s love) so as to share with and offer oneself in return (the bleeding which pierces the other). Dancing shows this marvelously – each must have an awareness of the other, accept what the other is offering (the shifted foot, the twisted hip, the outstretched hand, the open arms) into oneself. In this way, one then offers oneself in return (a responding foot, a shift of the shoulders, a hand to grasp, a body to hold). This reveals the sharing, the reciprocal gift of oneself in love.

This is love idealistically, love as an idea. However, 1 John 4:8 does not allow us to remain in the realm of the idea when it comes to love. God is love. Love is a person. What does this mean?

Let me return to Sunday morning, and go to those moments before my friend came out to find me, before I left the church. I was receiving the Eucharist, the life of God in, with, and under the species of bread and wine. The mystery is a deep one. My prayer before reception, or that which I pray often, is for my heart to be made worthy as a home for my Lord so as to love as he loves. I do not pray it well, as will be (and has been) made apparent.

This prayer is asking for an effect, the effect of love. However, the effect is, in some fashion, a person. It is asking to share in God’s life. This comes about by being loved by, and receiving the love of, God. He then moves one to love those around oneself. Man’s love, if it is true love, is infused with God’s life. The East seeks to articulate this in a theology of synergy between God’s divine energies and man’s acts. The West speaks of the created grace of the indwelling spirit which transforms the person into the likeness of God. Both are ways of saying that, in first being loved by God, we may then, in the light of this primordial love, love those about us.

Thus, when I pray to God to help me love in my approach to the Eucharist, I am praying to be graced with his life, to be loved by Him so I may love. I am praying that my heart crack to its depths as He makes known His living there and that my heart bleed with my life infused with His own. What is this but sanctity itself?

This makes the reciprocal receptivity between men, in a word love, that much more awe-inspiring. Many are intrigued by the thought that, in loving the other, one also loves God for God resides in the other’s heart. This is wonderful. However, it is not terrifying (or at least not absolutely terrifying). What is terrifying is that, in truly loving the other, you love them as God loves them. The true lover, the man who has received the love of God, in loving his friend, his parent, his wife, loves with the love of God in, with, and under his own. One’s love is not only infused with Him, but in some ways is Him (for He is love). More terrifying still, is that we who stand before the Cross know what the love of God is, the love which is love unto death, a heart cracked wide open to bleed all one is for the other. I think the dancer knows this as well, that he must be wounded by the beauty of his partner, the awesome sight and feel of her movements and respond by pouring himself out in his own.

This is all very important for the man who has just received the Eucharist to realize. He is a man who has been given the love which is God. And he can fail it. The man who, enlivened by the Eucharist, hides from the wounding of love offered also hides from the love he has just received, hides from God and fails Him. He becomes unworthy, perhaps even blasphemes, if he does not, and chooses not, to love. It is like a dancer who, fearing to be vulnerable before his partner, does not remain aware of how she moves. He denies her as the coward denies love. As the coward denies God.

Acknowledgements and thanks to Joseph Ramos for the impetus by experience and Don Thomas for the impetus by thought.

Enslavement to Freedom

A friend on Facebook has put up a status asking “What does FREEDOM mean to you, in the deepest sense of the word?” It’s one of those questions that everyone thinks is obvious but religious fools such as myself (O how unworthy I am of such a title) tend to throw a wrench in.

Most of the answers run along the lines of the typical religious philosophical answer – the ability to discern and choose the good – or the more secular answer – lack of external constraint. Not surprisingly, more than a few also bring in a purely religious dimension without descending into philosophical distinction, such as choosing God or no longer being a slave to sin.

Full blown disagreement hasn’t begun quite yet, but I’m guessing that’s mostly because those who would become involved in such a discussion realize just how quickly it will descend into a religious discussion wherein knives will be drawn.

My own answer goes along with the more religious answer: Freedom is the Will of God. At least in my own experience, it’s an answer which goes against the grain of thought. There is no mention of choosing, no discussion of lack of constraint, and no appeal to some interior transformation. Freedom, in my mind, has nothing to do with man, and everything to do with God.

The intimations made toward my own answer are given by a more secular acquaintance actually. FREEDOM is, he says, “Freedom from tyrants. Freedom from people. To do as I will. … As Christians like to put it, slavery to myself.”

O the wisdom he proclaims.

While my acquaintance may have been somewhat flippant in claiming “slavery to myself,” I believe he could use no more poignant a phrase.

For man, there is no such thing as a lack of constraint. The man who has no external constraint is still constrained, interiorly, by his passions and desires. A very rational man may be interiorly constrained by evidence and logical argument. Even the man who seeks to “possess himself” through discipline is only applying a new semi-external constraint to himself, hoping it may descend into his passions and desires to become a new interior constraint.

Man as man is always constrained. The idea of freedom as lack of constraint, humanly, is meaningless. We must always proclaim ourselves as constrained in some fashion, even if it is slavery to oneself, one’s interior state. The secular man, seeing no way out he wishes to take, will settle for such freedom, seeing as more desirable than anything else.

This leads me to my own answer to the question of “What is FREEDOM?” Freedom is the will of God. Why does this have any more meaning than any other definition or description of freedom, though?

It has to do, not with us, but with who God is. We tend, in our everyday life, due to our own finitude, to think of God in finite terms. This is completely wrong. God, being Who He is, cannot be bound by our thoughts. Anselm’s definition of God, put forward in his ontological argument for God’s existence is "that-than-which-no-greater-can-be-thought.” I don’t think Anselm went far enough. God is “that-which-is-greater-than-anything-which-can-be-thought.” If one has an idea of God, God is greater than this idea, for the idea is a boundary. God is without bound, without limit.

To be without bound, though, to be without limit, that is freedom. Some may wish to say that, like man, God is bound by Himself. This, though, implies that there is something beyond God which God, were He not bound by Himself, could choose. You think there is something which can be thought which is greater than God. Quite bluntly, the god you’ve bounded is not God.

Stop thinking. The moment you think of what God is, you’re thinking about what God isn’t, for He is not bound by the idea you’re crafting or contemplating or now throwing away.

God, therefore, acts, by definition, with no constraint. His will is the only will which can possibly ever be free. To align to His will then, to take upon oneself this will that is not bound, is to take upon oneself, through union with Him, freedom! Freedom is God’s will!

To my more philosophical friends - Sartre was wrong! Man is not condemned to freedom; he must strive to become enslaved to it!

Paradoxically, to be a slave of Christ, understood by Paul not as doing what he tells you, though that may be the beginning of this most blissful of slaveries, but as having one’s very members act AS HE ACTS, is to be fully free, for He, and only He, acts with full freedom.

Enslave thyself to Christ and live the Freedom of God.

And so I hopefully become more a fool. Such blessed folk they are.

Ethics in Scripture (Or why exegetes need to drink more)

All scripture, inspired of God, is profitable to teach, to reprove, to correct, to instruct in justice (2 Tim 3:16)

There is a constant tendency in theology today to focus upon the ethical. It’s not a new tendency as the large corpus of ethical manuals from past few centuries attests to. Morality has always been an important aspect of the spiritual life, the very beginning steps in moving toward God and a path one never leaves behind but instead ingrains more deeply (or rebuilds in the case of consistent sinners) as the years go by.

Still, this ethical focus can cause a major hang up in tasks such as exegetical work. Take for instance the story of Abraham. At many points certain stories present ethical quandaries. Twice, Abraham lies about his wife Sarah, naming her his sister, and she is almost claimed by other men. Lot, the nephew of Abraham, offers his daughters to the wicked men of Sodom and Gomorrah and later gets them pregnant himself. Sarah lets Abraham get Hagar, her slave, pregnant but then, after her own son is born, seeks to have her sent away. It all culminates in Abraham, at the behest of God, preparing to sacrifice his son Isaac and only at the last minute does God hold his hand.

All of these instances seem to present us with moral quandaries, normally because some act of wickedness is committed but the perpetrators, the patriarch and his family, isn’t condemned. Various interpretations are given, normally entailing some relativistic argument concerning changing cultures or the author’s secret intent of leaving it open to future generations interpretations. Rarely is it thought that the readers, both us and the contemporary, read these tales with a tradition that already give us a hermeneutic to read such texts. And maybe that tradition includes stories meant for barrooms.

I believe the story of Lot (Gen 19) is such a story. He is clearly a buffoon. We have the tale of a man who entertains angels. There is quite a bit of evidence that he knew the angels he brought into his home were divine beings, bowing down before them when he met them. So isn’t it odd that he would try to protect them by offering his daughters? Many want to try and read this as a sign of the times, but I just want to say Lot was an idiot. These are angels! They don’t need meddlesome humans to protect them!

It gets worse when the two angels take matter in their own hands, pulling Lot back in the house and blinding the crowd of Sodomites who have surrounded them. Are the angels really waiting until Lot’s offer is denied or are they sighing, pulling the fool in and stopping this stupidity before he gets himself killed?

When the angel-men direct him to run, Lot at first laughs thinking they’re jesting. Really? These guys just blinded a crowd of sex-crazed fiends about to kill you. Why aren’t you doing exactly what they say? Ultimately, the two have to lead him and his family BY THE HAND the next morning when he continues to linger. Outside the city, instead of just running to the mountain, he complains they’re too far and ask to run to the nearest city. The angels relent and let him go.

In the end though, after the fiasco of Sodom and Gomorrah, Lot ends up in the mountains anyway! Then things get kind of gross. Up there in the mountains, his daughters get him drunk and he sleeps with his eldest daughter. Now, one time would be somewhat believable if a bit scandalous. This happens twice, in successive nights, in the same exact fashion. Fool me once…

Now, one could strive to analyze the various ethical quandaries (protecting the angelic guests, offering the daughters, sleeping with said daughters) and will probably be left scratching one’s head. There’s not much in the way of condemnation.

Then again, if anyone’s heard an old bar story about a stupid buffoon, more often than not the story of someone’s crazy uncle, one can see all the signs. And those stories aren’t really filled with great tracts pointing out “This man is foolish and is thus punished.” No, the gales of laughter at the man’s predicament are considered enough.

But isn’t the story of Sodom and Gomorrah a dark, serious story, why would such a tale be woven into it? Read Shakespeare, even Homer and Virgil, and one will find comedic characters buried right in the midst of larger more serious tales. We do the same thing with modern movies, especially “family friendly” tales; there is always some character, or especially a pair of characters, getting into humorous event after humorous event as the hero goes about his epic tale, even right in the midst of the climax.

The ethical quandaries we so desire to find in every corner of scripture isn’t a sign of a problem in scripture but a problem in man. We have an obsession with ethics. In the ecumenical climate this is made even worse; everyone agrees on being ethical (we believe) so that’s made a basis of all inter-religious (or inter-cultural) endeavors. What’s left at the table are ideas that scripture could really be about more divisive aspects, like Christ as the fulfillment of all man is, or about the least divisive of aspects, like men being stupid and the stupid things that happen to them. Paul tells us all scripture is profitable for teaching; he didn’t say that that teaching omitted stories of foolish men doing foolish things.

I’m just saying, perhaps exegetes need to stop taking their texts so seriously. Maybe go read it in a bar. Maybe there needs to be a new test for exegesis: how does one read it while drunk?

Corpus Christi and Fear of the Lord

To fear the Lord is the beginning of wisdom;
all who do so prove themselves wise.
His praise shall last for ever!

Psalm 111, 1^st Vespers of Corpus Christi

Much of the faith today is utterly misunderstood. Many wish to simply lessen it to an ethical system. Others wish to dwell solely upon the psychological benefits. Still others see it solely as a cultural duty, paying respect to the traditions of their forefathers. Quite a few see it as a metaphysical chore, paying their time to the transcendent gatekeeper.

A major problem is that few really understand “Fear of the Lord” as the Israelites understood it. This was not terror or trembling, though that was often a part of it, but utter awe. Recognizing this great power, this great person, that one could not comprehend controlled not just the greatest power but life itself. This isn’t animation, or keeping souls in bodies as many see it, but true life, the very existence of all things. Nothing is something at His word and thus all somethings are enervated by nothing else than His life.

Today’s Feast of Corpus Christi is really meaningless to those lacking such “Fear of the Lord.” It was commented to me today that Corpus Christi is a kind of odd feast, or perhaps even lacking real substance, because it did not align with a moment or event in Jesus’ life. Perhaps it is a redundant celebration of Holy Thursday?

To say so tends to miss the mark. In Holy Thursday we celebrate the gift of the Liturgy, the gift of Christ instructing us in the act by which we may experience, participate, and receive the graces of his act of salvation. Corpus Christi, while by no means over shadowing such a celebration, reveals a more focused mystery: the very matter by which we experience, participate, and receive the Grace of Christ – His Body and Blood.

Many hurdles of the modern faith must be jumped to realize the full mystery present here. Firstly, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, born of the Blessed Virgin, shed His blood and gave over His body for our salvation and sanctification. Secondly, we receive, eat and drink, consume His Body and Blood, the Body and Blood of God, when we receive the Host and Chalice from the altar.

Both require faith. Thomas Aquinas’ great hymn for Corpus Christi, Pange Lingua, sings of “faith for all defects supplying / where the feeble senses fail.” No theologian or believer speaks of the great mystery being understood by the feeble senses. To the eyes, tongue, and nose there is not more than bread and wine. In faith, however, one receives He who commands life and death.

He who inspires the great Fear comes to us as in the guise of humble bread and wine to be consumed by us. We don’t just depend on Him, we receive Him.

To fear the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom, for it is only in light of such fear that such humility and such a life giving gift may be seen for what it is – that which we must adore and all our life must seek out.

Radical Capitalism and Distributism

The following article was sent to me by a friend to try and explain to me the merits of unfettered capitalism. I'm skeptical to outright disagreeing. Below is my commentary in red with some final remarks at the bottom.

Catholic discussion of economic policy usually takes place on a ridiculous level of abstraction. What is fairness, and can the market accomplish that? Shouldn’t the civic order bear responsibility for the health and well-being of its members? How can we balance the demands of social equality and individual ownership?

These are all very high-minded questions, but they have essentially nothing to do with either the core choices we face or the operation of the state as we know it.

Let’s state with utmost clarity the issue at the outset: There are only two possible ways to organize the economic life of a nation. There is the market way, which relies on voluntary exchange, protection of private property, and no unwanted invasions of another’s space. The result of this system is commonly called the free market, or capitalism, if you will, but both terms are too limiting. The voluntary, property-rights approach encompasses more than economic exchange; it also encompasses the whole of the voluntary sector that empowers houses of worship, charitable institutions, the family, and every other institution that serves an intermediating role between the individual and the state.

The other system is very different. It uses the state to intervene in this voluntary system by use of the police power of force, coercion, guns, and jails. That means more laws enforced at gunpoint, taxation, forced redistribution, monetary manipulation, nationalization, war, and all the rest.

There is no third system.

You can invent all the terms you want – solidarism, distributism, fascism, democratic socialism, localism, or any other -ism – but it is logically impossible to get around the central issue of consent vs. coercion, of market vs. the state. You are either forced by law to do something – and the law always means force – or you are not. This is also true of the management of individual sectors of society, such as business relationships, education, international relations, consumer protection, care of the vulnerable members of society, health care generally, and all the rest.

Either voluntarism or force will prevail.

[There is a certain truth about this. There is definitely a dichotomy between that which is freely chosen and that which is forced upon oneself. However, and this is where I believe his dichotomy lacks, there is an option of what may be termed voluntary coercion. In many ways this goes back to the idea of the Social Contract – man, to better live communally, agrees to live under certain laws, regulations, and power structures so as to foster a community of virtue. We do this in the political sphere and I think it is very foolish to act differently in the economic sphere.

In matters of right behavior, there are certain actions considered “crimes.” In general, they cause harm to another or to the community at large, but more fundamentally, they inhibit or harm the community’s ability to foster virtue – the more fundamental aspect may be found debatable so we will work with the more general.

Laws, with penalties, are applied to those who commit these crimes in order to set boundary lines for right conduct, thus engendering a culture that understands “directions” it cannot tend toward. Thus, they not only act as methods of keeping people from committing crimes, their explicit effect, but also point toward those actions which fulfill a life of virtue. The commandments are negative and enforced while the beatitudes are positive and offered – the commandments also implicitly point to the fulfillment of the beatitudes without explicitly enforcing them.

So there can be coercion that is voluntarily allowed. In fact, Tucker seems to imply as such – there shall be no forced exchange, no denial of another’s private property, and no unwanted invasion of another’s space. While one’s optimism may make one believe that man is fundamentally good and these laws do not need to be enforced, I would hope one’s realism might see that it is possible for one, or even a minority, to choose to disregard the laws. Further, certain of these occurrences will require some force, either in keeping these deviants held from committing crimes (indefinitely or until they are corrected) or in making sure those tempted to deviancy to not commit acts of deviancy.

Acts of deviancy can occur in the economic realm. If Joe walks into Mike’s house and takes his TV after beating Mike into submission, Joe has committed an act of deviancy regarding human relation and, more specifically and pertinent, regarding economic relations. There has been a transfer of the TV, but committed against the economic laws. How does Joe address this grievance?

The question is thus not between voluntarism or force (for pure voluntarism is impossible due to faults in human nature and so force will always be needed) but the source and form of the force. Does it come from a centralized government? Does it come for the local community? Are there varying levels?

To make such a wide-sweeping, absolute dichotomy is trying to create a red-herring. There is no dichotomy, because force will always be needed. One can claim invincible optimism, but I don’t think that healthy for oneself or for others ones ideas will be affecting. Men fail and so the other men must have a means of be sure the failure does a) spread and b) harm the community.]

In some ways, the choice is nicely summarized in the story of the shepherd, as told by Jesus and recorded in the Gospel of John, chapter 14. Jesus says: “Whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber. But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens it for him.”

Here we have stated with utmost clarity the issue of invasion vs. invitation. The property in the story is private (owned by someone) and protected from intruders by a gate. If a person sneaks into the sheepfold without permission, this person is a thief, a robber, someone who does not intend well, someone who intends to do damage. But if he comes in through the gate and is let in, he is someone to trust.

Organizing the whole of society along the lines of the story, we can either have a system that permits robbery or we can have a system that relies on agreement.

Again, there is no third option.

[Very bad exegesis though it is wonderful eisegesis. This passage has nothing to do with “letting in.” Jesus is not the shepherd because the gatekeeper opens the gate for him, but the gatekeeper opens the gate for him because he is the shepherd – it is Jesus’ authority and nothing else that lets him in. There is no issue of invitation.

Tucker is quite right that anyone entering other from the gate is a thief and a robber. However, one enters by climbing over the fence because one is a thief and a robber (the entering by the fence does not make one a thief and robber, but being a thief or robber requires entrance by the fence). If one was not, if one was a shepherd, one would come by the gate.

“Organizing the whole of society along the lines of the story” (while foolish) implies that the “system” must allow only those invested with proper authority (how that power is invested is another topic) to enter by the gate and those who enter by any other means must be considered robbers and thieves, for otherwise they would come through the gate and act as shepherds.

No discussion of voluntarism or coercion here, just a discussion of recognizing proper authority (or, as Tucker likes to term it, coercion).]

…

[This is for the most part rhetoric saying that if what has not been outlined above is not the matter of discussion people are not getting to the heart of the matter. If I agreed with his above outline, I would quite agree with him on this point.]

…

People imagine that they can introduce a bit of regulatory force into the mix without much consequence, but this is pure illusion. Once we let intruders into the sheepfold, we don’t really know for sure what the intruder will do. And the intrusion alone creates a problem that cries out for another intervention – which is to say, more invasions of property rights, more uses of uninvited action that amount to robbery. It is not possible to disguise the essential nature of what is going on by having the state do the invading under the cover of law. The moral issue of thievery vs. voluntarism is still there.

This is why Jesus did not say: “If, however, the seeming thief or robber announces that he has been democratically elected, or otherwise appointed by the civic authority, to sneak into the enclosure, it is not a problem at all.” There is no such proviso. Jesus specifically said that the only person to trust is he who enters the approved way, and only then once the gatekeeper lets him in. The addition of the state changes nothing.

[This assumes a centralized government. In a country as large as ours (or most European states really), a centralized government becomes a bureaucratic mess, trying to handle all kinds of level of governing, across a wide and diverse population. This will naturally incline toward socialism unless you decentralize the government.

There also seems to be an odd placement of “rights” versus “law” coming into play. Law is seen as the method by which the invasion of rights takes place rather than the guardian of these rights – a flip in political philosophy and one I don’t think one will like the conclusions of. In this case, one’s rights are the determinant factor and so all law (at least economic) should be done away with in order to make sure these rights are not invaded. This assumes that rights, by their nature, foster virtue. The current social milieu, blindly seeking the loosening of all limits upon so called rights, tends to imply that this rights talk fosters individualism inimical to virtue.

While one may assume that communal beatitude will come from this, it implies a primacy of the individual that I find questionable. In many ways society is built upon the relinquishing of rights to another; in the family the spouse relinquish themselves to one another and then to their children to build the family; in the neighborhoods neighbors relinquish gluttonous property expansion to one another to build community; in schools students relinquish intellectual autonomy to bring about communal intellectual fecundity with a professor. Protecting the sanctity (or dignity) of these kinds of relations will not only protect the relations (and those involved) but foster the virtuous expansion of relations. Protecting the rights of the individual, while not running counter to promotion of relations, does nothing to foster them. If the above is any indication, it may foster an mentality that is ultimately inimical to the promotion of relation.

Tucker seems to think that there is no need for government and again uses his faulty eisegesis to prove it. Tucker’s little false proviso is a red-herring. It makes clear that he believes no one has the right to enter the approved way, allowing his hatred of politicians to be revealed as “seeming thieves and robbers” (my agreement with him being irrelevant). It also continues in placing “let in” as an interpretation of the text, causing further confusions with his little false proviso – democratic election, chosen to be let in, does not make one a shepherd, but the shepherd must be chosen to be let in, thus democratically elected. Confusion abounds around this little eisegesis and really needs to stop.]

Catholics have a bad habit of theorizing about economics and politics in ways that sneak the state in under the cover of personal morality. Is it right to do nothing to help the suffering when the means are easily at your disposal to help? If you say that doing nothing would be wrong, and that action needs to be taken – so the argument goes – the next step is to say that “society,” meaning the “state,” must therefore act.

But there is a huge difference between individual or institutional action and state action, and it is the essential difference highlighted in Jesus’ story of the shepherd you can trust versus the intruder you cannot. To slip so easily from moral obligation to political policy is a dangerous game. In the name of enforcing Christian obligation, you can inadvertently create a nation of thieves and robbers, or those who benefit from thieving and robbery. This is what happens when you ignore the distinction between invasion and invitation.

[He’s completely correct in saying that the state should not take the burden of social reform and this should include the issue of economic reform/action. The government should self-regulate its own finances, but should not become a police force for every level below itself. Economies should be primarily local, with large global business only occurring in matters of shipping and exporting goods unable to be easily obtained locally in a good condition – basically between various local economies but not being an economy of its own.

In fact, it is funny that he not only lists individual action as the way to go, but institutional action – there is a need for some governing body, for any group or institution will have some set of rules by which all members must abide. Both Tucker and I agree that this cannot be the centralized state. Where he wants to throw out the whole thing, I want to move it to the local level. If you throw out the whole thing, you’ll either get the system I call for on one side, localized bodies governing themselves, or a kind of anarchy that will probably stabilize itself in a plutocracy. If both, and everything in between, are possibilities by nature of system, then it is no good enough to foster virtue. A system must be found and implemented which fosters virtue (not enforces, think 10 commandments and beatitudes) and isn’t simply at the mercy of whether human nature is especially sinful or benevolent at the time.]

We need to bring these political and economic discussions out of the realm of abstraction and back down to earth. No matter what your political values and priorities, the essential distinction between voluntary and forced action needs to be stated at the outset.

Scholar Jennifer Roback Morse argues that the very existence of the state creates a kind of “occasion of sin” for every member of society. The state stands ready to provide the shortcut to achieve your highest values, bypassing the need for consent. It is the institution prepared to invade the sheepfold with any excuse and under any cover. She has put her finger on a core problem of the modern age – and Catholics need to be aware of it.

[This is a little paranoid and a bit to cut and dry. There can be no pure anarchy whether in politics or economics. Even if it works in theory, it assumes perfectly virtuous citizens and no one with a mental disorder that may affect their ability to relate (aspergers or psychopathy). There will always need to be the possibility of force, not as formative but as preventative measures.

This also applies to the economic model, unless we assume that the combination of incredible charisma and deviant desires are impossible. Sometime, somewhere, the possibility of people getting harmed will exist and so there must be some measures in place.]

My biggest issue with tucker this is the virtue neutrality of pure, voluntary capitalism. I agree with much of the critique of the current state of economics, but a radical shift to unfettered trade would do justice to no one. It may remove the power of the big corporations, but it would do nothing to localize economics and would harm the consumer in the long run because of it. When large multi-national corporations are the ones in charge, even if their faces are changing as new corporations make product/service x better, faster, cheaper, the local individual ultimately remains a wage-slave – the corporations hold the capital, passing it down to the employees who must seek them out in order to be able to survive.

Now, one may say “well, don’t be so pessimistic about human nature,” but I’m being very realistic. Humans are greedy and self-serving just as they can be altruistic. Corporations actively work the system to stay in power, even going out of the system to stay in power. In order to drive up profits, they can be cut throat in how they handle smaller local shops, making sure they don’t take their customers.

Big corporations may be able to offer the large employment, but wage-slavery does not foster persons gaining fulfillment in work. The job becomes just that - a job. Life is further divided where one’s work really has nothing to do with one’s person.

The best model is to build local economies with their own protection built in. Don’t look at the government and say “make everything more local” or “get out of the way so we can rebuild things locally.” Just do it. That’s why I’m liking distributism.

Distributism isn’t about some sort of socialist/communist make sure everything has the same stuff. The “distribute” idea comes into the natural “distribution” of ownership that is developed. Employing oneself should be optional, not required. In the current system, it’s basically a requirement. Everyone works for someone else. In a centralized economy, that’s the only way. In a decentralized local economy, the distributist ideals of shared ownership can flourish. However, to be sure that the economy doesn’t recentralize itself, some intervention must be had by local powers – such as a guild system which oversees that each member of the guild does not become a monster and oversees the proper promotion of new businesses.

So I guess, in a way, I agree with Tucker in so far as the voluntary must have primacy over coercion, but I don’t think one can get away from all coercion – laws and regulations are needed to make sure things don’t blow up or people don’t commit crimes. These laws and regulations, however, should come from the local government, not from a centralized, overweight, bureaucratic, money-driven nut house like DC.

Pastoral Plan Listening Sessions

In trying to get direction for the archdiocese of Galveston/Houston, the Archdiocesan Pastoral Council is hosting a set of "Listening Sessions" to get input from the Houston population concerning its strengths and weaknesses and what would like to be seen. For Young Adults, a specific session has been created, but any session would love to have your input.

This is especially important for Catholics who don't feel too involved to be a part of. The archdiocese needs to know how it can best nurture and form the faith of all its members.

Pastoral Plan Listening Session for Young Adults

There are other Listening Sessions scheduled. Check out the archdiocesan website on The Pastoral Plan for more information on the endeavor.