Contradictions?

Entry #7
Work: The Bacchae

Class discussion yesterday clarified some things. First, I felt myself a little lost by the long choral passages, having a difficult time penetrating their poetry and finding their significance in the tale. Dr. McCarthy's explanation helped. Euripides was known for his poetry in the sing-song-y chorus passages, and they serve as a type of imagery to further texturize the play. I likened them to the expansive passages in a George Eliot novel that she used to break up the action--or perhaps just because George Eliot was a very verbose writer!

Returning to the introduction, Blessington comments that, "The Bacchae is not just drama; it is also a major contribution to Greek thought, for it warns of the emotion that Greek rationalism, prone to abstraction, was in danger of forgetting" (xiv). As I've commented earlier, I can see and understand that need for a balance between the intellectual and the spiritual. However, what brings me pause is to think that sex and excessive imbibing of the "spirits" is the desired way to the emotional. It is as though there was no other way to revel or connect, no real avenue to the abstract, without an artificially induced state. I don't know. Maybe because wine came from the grape (of the earth) that it was considered a mystical substance. I guess that it still is by many today. And perhaps it is my own searching in vain, finally rejecting that state and finding it in a truly natural way that I find it....naïve. To me, it's like cheating and accepting an inferior look-alike--like wanting leather and settling for naugahyde.

One last thought: I did find it humorous that Cadmus and Teiresias threw themselves so exuberantly into the celebration. I suppose that's a contradiction of what I've just said, but there's something about it. Maybe it's because Cadmus is the elder and is still able to connect with his "inner child." Or that Teiresias is the prophet, someone one would think of as serious and solemn, yet he doesn't hesitate to adorn himself and head for the hills to join the women. The duality of what might be considered sage & fool in one body is appealing to me. Contradiction or not, I like it.

Till later...

The Song Remains the Same

Entry #6
Work: The Bacchae by Euripides

So the moral of the story seems to be "honor the gods or else." Or, as the Messenger laments,

"To be moderate and honor godly things/is best. I think it is the wisest possession/For mortal men, if they use it well" (1150-52).

Ruler, man of ego, denying the spiritual realm, suffers great punishment. His people, having been denied their god--once the dam of repression breaks loose--are at the mercy of its most ardent passions.

This god of fear is not so unlike the Christian god. I think of Sodom and Gomorrah, of the great flood, and of other plagues and pestilence said to be punishment for the immoral nature of man. In this case, the immorality is overly worshiping one's own intellect, one's own power of reason. But it's still fear-based: honor the god or suffer the consequences.

Many other thoughts on this piece, but I think I will wait until after the class discussion. I have come to the conclusion, with very little understanding of the Greek mythology, that Bacchus and Dionysos are one and the same. Also, I am not sure, at the end of the play, where my sympathies lie. I feel repulsion at the idea that reason is all, and yet I abhor the idea of an egotistical god. Perhaps the moral, that true being is somewhere between the extremes, is the point, and that, I can live with.

Till later...

Introduction to The Bacchae

Entry #5
Work: The Bacchae by Euripides

After several failed attempts at reading with a headache, I'm glad I made the prudent choice and backed up to read the Introduction to The Bacchae.

I'm always surprised to learn that some people can keep all the characters in a particular mythology straight. I don't know why. In this country with its predominant Christianity, even my children, who have very little religious exposure know the characters of Moses and Noah, not to mention Jesus Christ. Sage is even aware that his middle name, Bartholomew, was also an apostle who was flayed alive. It's just a different set of characters from a different time and place, I suppose. Still, I get so confused by the multisyllabic names and variant spellings that I'm in awe of anyone who can talk intelligently about the characters' histories.

One line in the introduction that stands out to me is "The Bacchae is a warning that Greek civilization should not place ideas before people" (xv). Having been immersed lately in 19th centrury black women writers, I've grit my teeth and have shaken my head more than once at the idea that a book, an ancient book, could be held up and be simultaneously used to oppress a people, justify actions against an entire people, and finally, be the hope for a people. As Blessington says in his introduction, "reigned-in spirits will break loose" (xiv) Thank god.

Onward to the reading of the play--Perhaps with some dim thought to offer upon completion.

Till later...

The Ego is Everything

Entry #4
Work: Ajax by Sophocles

Greek tragedy goes well with black coffee. I sat this morning, reading through the second Sophocles play for my Religion in Literature course. It's very difficult to reconcile the Greek state religions with my own non-theistic spiritual views.

In the interest of sparing the reader a summary, those visiting this page can find a fair job of it on Bastard Net . We have a character, driven by jealousy and scorn (the coveted weapons of Achilles have "democratically" been awarded to Odysseus rather than Ajax. Ajax, of course, feels he was the more deserving recipient).

Plenty of sexism exists in the play -- not surprising considering it was written in approximately 400 B.C. But, also, justifications of ego and attribution of actions to the gods seem at first odd, but upon reflection, I think things haven't changed all that much. We have a president standing at the podium (pulpit) decrying the ungodly enemy and swearing to lead them to the light. Okay, hyperbole on my part, I admit, but seventy-one percent of Americans agree at least to some extent.

Death before dishonor...that still exists in our military code, though mutiny (as Ajax's act, though thwarted by Athena) is still frowned upon. I don't know if mutiny is the proper term; Ajax is not leading a revolt, but rather staging his own personal and very final protest. So, let us just term it a one-man mutiny. He's brought consequences to his family, slave wife, son, and bastard half-brother by his actions. Or at least, he's willing for them to suffer the consequences. His parents also will suffer. His father, a curmudgeon to start, will be crushed, his mother, left alone. All for pride and ego. His slave wife laments, pleads with him to consider those very consequences: she will be called names, taken into servitude by another, her son will also fall into slavery, the pain and sorrow that will be visited upon his parents, and her absence of a country. She will belong no where. "Not to remember kindness is to be called no longer noble." Attempting to shame him is in vain. Ajax takes his own life with the sword given him by his enemy.

Then there is the issue with the prophet, Calchas, more or less a side issue of which we hear little. If Ajax lives, Calchas will be called a false prophet. If Jeanie Dixon lived in this time, her purse would no doubt be much lighter, and after a time, she would have no need of it. One wrong prediction and you're out, it seems. But, alas, we know that Ajax will die.

And is this play really about the death of Ajax? Or is it about something else? Odysseus, marked for death by Ajax before Athena's spell, is his arch enemy, the possessor of the coveted weapon of Achilles. It is Odysseus that prevents Agamemnon from following protocol and meting out proper posthumous punishment upon Ajax (tossing him out to become carrion for the birds as a symbol of the animals Ajax slaughtered). Odysseus argues for his proper burial and for the restoration of his reputation as a valiant warrior for the state. Some today would say that it was a wise political move. He is defending a man who denounced the need for intervention of the gods, preferring instead to serve himself instead. Blasphemy? Perhaps fearlessness instead. As we are told, "There is no law in a city where there is no fear, no order in any camp that is not fenced about with discipline and respect." It is implied that these orders, this means of governing, comes from the gods, and only a fool defies the gods. I'm not advocating force (not at all) as a means of expressing ones individuality, but anything counter to the state, even passive resistance, seems to be a crime not only against government but against the gods. Perhaps Ajax found his own god deep within himself.

I have many more thoughts, but I feel a re-reading is in order before those thoughts are expressed. Good play. Shake-my-head-in-wonder play.

Till later...

Many Thoughts

Entry #3
Work: Philoctetes

I've become accustomed to literature classes filled with students hoping only to fulfill a humanities requirement. The class (as predicted by another student) was a little smaller the second day, but of those present, most contributed to the discussion.

Several comments caused me to drop back and think about Philoctetes a little differently. One student said that she felt that Philoctetes possessed admirable qualities, one being his willingness to accept Neoptolemus's friendship, to forgive with little hesitation yet another betrayal perpetrated against him. She also said she felt he had a good attitude considering the length of his exile.

In a peripherally related comment, she answered in the affirmative when Professor McCarthy asked the question: "Is a small evil justified in light of the greater good?" That surprised me, as I know this student to be very religious. I replied with the words of Joseph Campbell that "every action is evil to someone." The greater good is often times a relative and possibly political judgement.

Backing up and falling back on some backyard psychology, if a person were isolated from humanity for as long as Philoctetes, any kind of human contact might be met with a desire to endear it to oneself. Also, Philoctetes was still burning with his long-felt resentment. Once the betrayal of Neoptolemus was revealed (by his own volition), Philoctetes reassessed his view of N., lumped him together with the "do whatever it takes" Odysseus, and retreated to his cave to pout. Well, perhaps pout is too flippant a word.

But along the way...it occurred to me that Philoctetes could have no faith in the sincerity of N, could not abandon his resentment towards Odysseus and sacrifice for the "greater good," and not until a divine intervention could Philoctetes see that his resentment stood in the way of a purpose higher than his own personal feelings. His belief and faith in a power greater than himself may not have replaced his resentment without the deus ex machina--Heracles's appearance.

It raises the question: If we cannot see the manifestation of divinity, are we doomed to the lower human instincts?

Till later...

Upon finishing the play,

Entry #2

Philoctetes, I couldn't help but relate it to the toxic nature of resentment and the process of amends-making.

Philoctetes is alone ten years on an island, having been wronged by a friend, and his resentment is strong enough that he would rather die and rot, becoming food for the birds he brought down with his magic bow and arrows (now having been relieved of both in another deception) rather than forgive or even think about his own survival.

In order to be sober, I must not let the poison of resentment lead me back to drink. In order to live, I must forgive.

Another character, Neoptolemus, younger and not tainted (we suppose) by the betrayal that Philoctetes has suffered, demonstrates amends in action. He cannot in good conscience perpetuate another betrayal.

It takes the intervention of a god, Heracles, to set Philoctetes back on the path of purpose.

Till later....

First Day

Entry #1
Introduction

My first day of "Religion in Literature" -- COMLIT 141.

The reading list interested me (albeit a little intimidating -- as Professor McCarthy explained, I knew I would have to "read" in a different way). It is as follows:

Bacchae, Euripedes, and The Frogs, Aristophanes
Electra and Other Plays, Sophocles
Japanese No Dramas, ed. and transl. Royall Tyler
The River Between, Ngugi Wa Thiong'o
Collected Plays 1, Wole Soyinka
Sunset Limited, Cormac McCarthy
You've Got to Read This, ed. Ron Hansen and Jim Shepard
Holy Bible (with the notation: You don't have to buy this. Bring it from home or borrow from a library)

Interesting, yes. Intimidating, as anything written in a year succeeded by the initials B.C. has always been for me. I remember reading The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer in high school. We read it in the original Middle English, and though once into the rhythm of it, it was a hoot, finding that rhythm was near excruciating.

So, today was the first day of class, an introduction of sorts. As Professor McCarthy took roll, he asked each of us to tell him something about ourselves to help him remember us. One student said he was called "Crazy" because of his unruly hair. I didn't think his hair was all that crazy, but, hey, if he's fond of his sobriquet, good for him. There was a lover of Beat poetry, a New Jersey transplant, and I think I said something about liking nice canes (walking sticks) and that I have four teenagers and still possess a degree of sanity. I considered saying, "I can get away with wearing Harvard t-shirts on this campus because my oldest son is a first-year student there," but I didn't want to sound a) like a braggart or b) defined by my children's accomplishments. Maintaining sanity while raising four teenagers is, in my opinion, a strong statement about my mental fortitude.

Another young man made a statement that stiffened my spine. He said that the most remarkable thing about him was that he was in recovery for heroin addiction. I didn't quite catch if he used the word "recovered" heroin addict or "recovering" heroin addict, but I understood quite clearly that he was early on--in the first year or two, if that. How did I know? Because it's still a badge of pride. It's still defining. And it's a dangerous place to be. I had to make those decisions my first semester. Sometime in the second, I broke my anonymity with several people, and by now, it's common knowledge with anyone on campus who knows me, but I wanted...well, I wanted very badly to flag that young man down after class, tell him to guard his anonymity and prove himself as a student before he lodged in the minds of everyone he encountered that what made him him was his past. Granted, it can be used for much good...so very much good...but people have to see he's made of something more than used hypodermic needles and glazed-over eyes.

,,,,,

While I was having coffee this morning, I began reading Sunset Limited, the book by Cormac McCarthy, Professor McCarthy's brother. It is a "novel in dramatic form" (I believe that's what the front cover says. It's not right here beside me.). I read about a third, almost half of it while I had my coffee this morning. Two characters, one black, one white in the black man's apartment after he has rescued the white man from committing suicide by throwing himself in the path of a train (the Sunset Limited). The black man is religious; the white man, an atheist. The white man's "purpose" or "meaning," he says, is culture, and culture has disappeared for him; therefore, there is no reason left to live. Professor McCarthy mentioned today in class that literature is very often the result of religious expression. I think it is nearly always the result of spiritual expression. Religion, I believe, is merely the way in which those things most elusive, most resistant to capture by the written word, must be expressed. And in that way, I saw the white man as deluding himself. No one who appreciates culture can truly be atheist. If they believe in the aesthetic, they believe in a god. That god is not required to have a face.

Back to the class:

I paid particular attention to Professor McCarthy, his gestures and his demeanor. He's very soft-spoken, upbeat, and seems to have a rumbling passion for his subject hiding just below the surface. College courses, English especially, facinate me, not only because of the subject matter, the authors and times covered, but the ones who teach: why they teach, what drew them to their subject, the relationship they have with their subject, as well as their teaching philosophy (which can never remain hidden very long in the classroom). More on this later, I'm sure.

The only thing that makes me nervous so far in this class is the 50% of the grade comprised of exam scores. I would much rather write papers!

Till later...