Yeah, That Zombie Apocalypse

Big fan of Jonathan Pageau, the Quebecois iconographer and intellectual. He’s the guy, by the way, who introduced me to Jordan B. Peterson, for better or worse. Even if you, like me, kinda hate to have to sit down and watch a video (or t.v. or movie) and would rather read or listen, this lecture by Pageau, which is, far as I can tell, is only on YouTube, is well worth the the effort. In my theology professor’s words, it’s an RBD (Read Before you Die).

I mention it on my blog because it fits rather nicely with themes that I was playing with in the previous two essays, especially the idea of the necessity of being welcoming in a context that makes us uncomfortable.

The Trouble with History

I ended the previous essay by asking, “How do we say that which we cannot reduce to words, sentences, and logical thought?” The key to answering the question is to embrace the fact that we can know much more than we can say. Truly embracing this will help us stop trying to reduce reality to words.

In near Eastern mythical literature (whether Sumerian, Egyptian, or Greek) two characters who universally appear are the brothers, one who embraces good and the other evil. The hallmark of the good brother was his willingness to embrace that which we cannot know. By embracing it, by playing the hero, the good brother was able to ultimately subdue parts of the unknown and thus incorporate it into the known and structured world. In this way, that which lays beyond rational explanation becomes the “water of life,” (the domesticated “water of chaos”) which regenerates and strengthens society.

The essence of the evil brother, on the other hand, was what Peterson calls “unbridled rationality.” It is a refusal to embrace that which lays beyond what he can understand and focus only on that he thinks he can understand and thus can control.

This “spirit of unbridled rationality,” horrified by his limited apprehension of the conditions of existence, shrinks from contact with everything he does not understand. This shrinking weakens his personality, no longer nourished by the “water of life,” and makes him rigid and authoritarian, as he clings desperately to the familiar, “rational,” and stable. Every deceitful retreat increases his fear; every new “protective law” increases his frustration, boredom and contempt for life. His weakness, in combination with his neurotic suffering, engenders resentment and hatred for existence itself. [From the Introduction to ch. 5 of Maps of Meaning, p. 245.]

Heroes (the good brother of mythology) refuse to deny the great unknown of chaos, although they know they can ever ultimately subdue it and thus know all that there is to know (that is, rationality gone amok). But the thing that makes them heroes is their ability to use both rationality and technology as a tool to tame a bit of the chaos while simultaneously understanding they will never ultimately defeat chaos, or to use imagery from Gen. 2, they till the Garden and keep it orderly. They don’t exterminate the weeds completely (in Monsanto-like arrogance), only remove them from the Garden

The evil brother would consider this never-ending process futility (akin to Sisyphus rolling the rock up the hill) and would thus reject the hero manner of doing things. Instead he would carve out a world where everything was orderly and understood and chaos could play no part. Rationalism (the typical response of the evil brother) seeks to understand and control everything. It is no accident that Satan, before he fell, was Lucifer, the angel of light, or “light-bearer.” Light (ie, the Enlightenment is the metaphor par excellence of reason itself). Lucifer’s battle against the God who dared create chaos (in the beginning the world was formless and void) resulted in his being cast out of heaven and cast into a circumscribed world of his own making. And while it met his standards, we know it as hell.

Likewise the evil brother’s world is circumscribed and his reason ultimately becomes the limiting factor. There are echoes of the mythical good brother/bad brother story in the story of Cain and Able. Able (the good brother) was a shepherd; shepherds don’t (can’t!) ultimately control the sheep and goats; they rather follow them or guide them, they protect them, and allow them to develop on their own. Cain (the evil brother) was a farmer who controlled his bit of creation, killing the plants he didn’t want to grow and allowing only the good plants to grow in his fields. His circumscribed life led to a circumscribed offering that was unacceptable to God. Able’s gift, on the other hand, was found acceptable.

Of course there is a fundamental problem here (not a contradiction of facts, but what we might call a contradiction of ideas). In the Garden of Eden, tilling the ground is a virtue and God says it will be necessary. In the Cain and Able story, tilling the ground becomes the problem while animal husbandry becomes better choice. In a fundamentalist Christian context, this larger meta-story of Cain the evil brother, as illustrated by the fact that he is a farmer rather than a shepherd, needs to be suppressed because it can’t be rationally harmonized with God’s words in the Garden of Eden. The power of the meta-story therefore has to be suppressed in favor of a more logical and rational (and therefore, circumscribed) explanation.

But this contradicts the nature of reality. It is bigger than any one story. From the perspective of the Garden, farming is a virtue; from the perspective of Cain’s sacrifice, farming becomes a vice. Which is it? the rationalist asks? But that’s a question that grows out of a rationalist need to reduce the world to understandable categories. The world is bigger than that; it has high valence and as a result our minds are able to associate these images (in this case, farming) to a variety of situations in a variety of ways.

And this is the real danger of reducing Gen. 1-11 to history or fact. It is a form of rationalizing the larger truth down to something understandable and circumscribed. Our rational, circumscribed explanation works for a while, but as the world changes, cut of from the “waters of chaos” (that have been conveniently explained away by reducing myth to history), we no longer have access to the “water of life” that will revivify our communities.

Post Script to the Meta Story Essays

I began this series of essays with some thoughts about the difficulty of entering into true dialogue with people with whom we disagree. I concluded the first essay by saying that eventually, instead of “continuing to dialogue,” I dropped out of the group. Why? Because true dialog is unspeakably hard and the dynamics of the group were not such that the sort of dialog that was necessary for me was not possible in this context.

True dialog is unspeakably hard because the things we must speak about actually lie beyond the realm of what can be spoken. Each of us is unconsciously shaped by meta-stories that help us make sense of the world by transcending words and ideas. The meta-stories are thus able to unify and give meaning to our experiences. This process is necessary because our experience of the world is always larger than we can ever grasp. It is an essential feature of being limited, created beings.

True dialog is unspeakably hard because we must move beyond the realm of words and conversation (the “speakable”) and start the process of uncovering our own meta-stories that shape our perception of reality (the “unspeakable”). The group I was a part of was a group that wanted to do things. I admire that in my friends; in fact, I envy it, and that is why I stayed for as long as I did. But in my months of being part of that group I realized that what I need to “do” at this moment in time is to “pray things” rather than “do things.”

I was surprised how deeply the meta-story of the monks of Mt. Athos has become my own story. I was surprised at how forgettable books on activism were and, in contrast, how moving the life of Thomas Merton, the non-active activist was.

One does not need to be a cloistered monk to seek union with God. The monks specialize in it in order to teach those of us who live in secular society how to do it.  What I need to do is “pray things.” If the monks’ meta-story is true, I suspect that as I “pray things” while my friends and colleagues are busy “doing things,” a far more authentic dialog is beginning to happen. It is a dialog of spirit to spirit as my heart expands and the Spirit groans the larger truth to all of us.