In writing this article, I don’t mean to “lay into” a church whose culture differs from my own. In fact, just a few years earlier, I could have been Eastern Orthodox due to what I thought were our doctrinal affinities. What spurred me to write was the fact that Eastern Orthodoxy is often favorably compared as a mystical or sensuous alternative to all other comers in the realm of Christendom–that is to say, all of Western Christianity once the various Oriental Orthodoxies are excluded. I don’t believe it would be hyperbole to say that EO is sometimes championed as (dare we say it) the One True Church,1 albeit by certain Western Christians that, oddly enough, find a reason or two to stay in their current tradition. Mind I suggest why they might end up staying?
1. EO’s emphasis on rather, um, “1337″2 forms of praxis.
I know the Christian life isn’t guaranteed to be easy… and in fact, it usually isn’t. If someone described the Christian’s pilgrim path as learning in a dojo from the Master, I’d think he was an otaku. But soon after, I’d think it was a pretty nifty metaphor. If he started showing me how to initiate Bullet Time, I’d suspect that I was being fed more icing than cake at this juncture. If you can withhold your stones for a moment, allow me to say that I tend to view elaborate systems of hesychastic breath control and noetic cleansing as similarly non-standard fare for the Christian life. Why? Well, it tends to make the ultimately accessible practice of communion a rather “leet” and elite affair, as not all of us are predisposed to monasticism, much less the exact same methods for achieving it as recorded by St. Gregory Palamas in the fourteenth century. Furthermore, the concept of even honest seekers having a “clouded nous” runs roughshod over the ancient idea of a natural “law written in their hearts” (Rom. 2:15).
2. EO’s uncharacteristic skepticism of God-given creativity.
The idea of the clouded nous (“mind”) also resurfaces in numerous frank injunctions to avoid even “the imagination.” Not the sinful imagination, mind you, but the whole imaginative apparatus. Even the beloved St. Seraphim Rose considers the imagination to be a consequence of the Fall of Man (much like St. Augustine did with sexual intercourse), even labeling it “one of the lowest functions of the soul and the favorite playground of the Devil.” Likewise, most of the showstopping visualizations received by a coterie of Roman Catholic mystics and Western saints are often viewed with suspicion due to their possibly imaginary origins.
John Keats once wrote that there is “a holiness to the heart’s affections,”3 and I’m inclined to agree with him. (No doubt this is because one of my major talents at this point seems to be stimulating the imagination through fantastical stories.) Sure, we all go astray in our affections, but God gave us said affections for a reason: to guide us to Truth. God speaks to us in our dreams–why not our desires?
“And therefore while so many think it the only valour to command and master others, study thou the Dominion of thy self, and quiet thine own Commotions. … They who are merely carried on by the Wheel of such Inclinations, without the Hand and Guidance of Sovereign Reason, are but the Automatous part of mankind, rather lived than living, or at least underliving themselves.”
–Thomas Browne, Christian Morals (1716)
I wish I would have published this a few days ago, on the Feast of St. Teresa of Avila, because one of the most potent images of the spirit and flesh combined is focused around a vision she experienced. When a graduate class I was in was once presented with an image of Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s imposing sculpture The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, a fellow student of mine snickeringly remarked that Teresa “looks like she’s having an orgasm,” with the requisite leering about the room (the student, not the room… was leering… never mind).
After all, it’s common knowledge that cenobites are incapable of orgasm and the flesh and spirit never mingle, correct?
Before you censure me for building a straw man argument, 1 I’ll remind you that it is a common assumption that being a sexual creature and a Christian are essentially incompatible.2 Want proof? Just search “Christian erotic,” or, God forbid, “Christian pornography” in Google and see what you come up with (don’t do it now while you’re reading the article). Before you hit Christian screeds, you’ll find snarky bloggers and such reminding the Internets public once again that Christianity and sex just don’t mix.3
First, I think it’s important to understand that healthy sexuality isn’t sinful if it’s truly good. I mention this specifically because there seems to be an odd complex in most Western cultures that identifies “the naughty” (which once meant “wicked”) with the pleasing and healthful (i.e., sex). If I flip open to the murky back pages of my local alternative weekly, I find clubs whose names are designed to be mockeries of ecclesiastical terms for impurity and failure, like “Iniquity,” “Vice” and the like. If what we’re enjoying there is so good, why not call it good instead of bywords for evil?
Conversely, true sinfulness is really neither sexy nor desirable if we see our moral failings for what they are. If Christians at any point call that which is good a sin, then we have a definite semantics problem that must be corrected–sin in and of itself is at its core baleful ignorance, twisted goodness, and imprisonment in one’s self. If indeed sin is darkness, then, like its namesake shadow, it has no real substance of its own. Unfortunately, this can oftentimes apply to how people deal with each other sexually or with their own pleasure privately, thus necessitating the need for our term “lust.”
However, any Christian, no matter how pious, should be at a loss to explain away the naturally sensual qualities of those good things God gives us. Asceticism is only a means to the end of enjoying God more fully, not the Christian’s ultimate mission in life.
Though some more charismatic types may disagree with me, I also believe that simple moderation and balance are form one of the key planks of the Christian life. The Greeks knew this, the Romans knew this, the Buddha knew this, surely Lao Tzu knew this… like the Golden Rule, this seems like a principle basic to our common morality.
I also agree with the fine folks over here that Christ’s famous injunction against lust was not directed against admirers of the female form, but those who were scouting out an opportunity to homewreck, or worse. If admiration increases our faith in our Creator without trampling on any other virtues, I find it difficult to see the sin in rejoicing in our God-given sexual attributes (including the imagination). I know this seems quite vague, but that is the nature of trying to moralize on such a deep and wide aspect of our existence that is so frequently frowned upon or minimized.
So there’s my QED. For the Christian, life matters, and is thus to be lived circumspectly. And, despite what our culture may bellow around us, sex matters as one of the most powerful aspects of human experience. The crux of the problem for most secular erotic literature is its treatment of human sexuality as something random and inconsequential, yet incredibly powerful. It can change the protagonists’ lives entirely, and yet we’re asked to believe that our fleeting hope for two of them to stay together is a mere vestige of an antiquated belief system. In any case, if we believe our pains and pleasures have both been hallowed by Christ, then much of the rest of it falls into place.
If you’ll notice, Bernini’s work is part of an altarpiece. Some may cry Catholic syncretism or pagan resurgence or some nonsense, but I see a little bit of God-made humanity showing its redemptive colors. We are sexual beings who must relate to both humanity and a loving God, not misbegotten creatures of either primordial filth or mawkish sexlessness.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: christianity, melancholy, nerds, sehnsucht, the trap, time, timewasters
Revised: 13.10.2009.
Upon returning to this here blog, I discovered a link I had put in an otherwise blank draft post entitled “On Escapism.” (The link was to the curious essay “The Rabbit Hole: Anime and Escapism” from the on-hiatus or defunct Tachikomatic Days.) It was apparently part of an ongoing discussion, one which I intend to extricate from solely anime-watching and assorted nerdery.
No, what I wish to discuss today is the concept I call “cocooning,” or the deliberate and repeated self-withdrawal into private worlds of either one’s own or someone else’s devising.1 I’m no stranger to it, and I doubt you are either. In our current postmodern cultural climate, where everything seems to be subject to change and pop culture rewards us with endless variations on the same themes, cocooning could be considered an almost sensible response. But I digress…
As both a Christian and a person who cares about what’s real and what’s not, the brief but profound isolation from reality that is escapism causes at least titters of worry on my part. At one point, I maintained a full-blown obsession about it, if you can believe that. In any case, we all have our little cocoons of ephemera to amuse us and belief to sustain us, so in one way it’s unavoidable. Part of it, I suppose, is the old dividing line between what makes a hobby a hobby and an obsession an obsession. Like food or drink, it might be up to us to use such things responsibly. I’ve seen some even suggest that, especially among consumers of more creative cultural products, the obsession in question may provide a good mirror of their own lives and conduct and a worthy tool of reflection. I for one have always used concepts, the written word, and other inanimate personages to learn more about myself.
I suppose I’m saying all this because I maintain a healthy (in size, not in actual health) cocoon around myself these days. I feel more aware of those around me than I used to, however.
God willing, we won’t end up as the dessicated husks with a telepresence depicted in every major sci-fi dystopia from The Matrix to Surrogates.
Gentle reader, I yield the floor to you: what’s your opinion on this matter?
1Good gracious, that’s a convoluted definition. What am I, Samuel Johnson?
Matir Theou.It’s difficult to find something that hasn’t already been said, pondered, or pontificated upon regarding the Blessed Virgin Mary, so I doubt it behooves me much to try. Just about everyone knows that the BVM is the earthly mother of the Christians’ savior, Jesus. Of course, to what extent her early influence continues on Christendom at large is hotly disputed. As I heard a very Anglo-Catholic priest say once, though: “She was His mom, you know.” It does stand to reason that she would, as the medievals say, have Jesus’ ear…
I suppose what I and allegedly many other folks would object to is the exaltation of this all-too-human woman to the status of deity. I’ll even admit that, whatever the saints’ relation to our lives, she is indeed the first of the Christian era, and possibly the greatest. But does she work miracles, like Christ? Does she act as an advocate in our distress, like Christ? Did she ascend into the heavens or was sinlessly conceived, like Christ?
See? That’s pretty scary, isn’t it?
It’s this rather limited type of Mary that I envision taking the time out of her busy schedule to pester children about their rosaries or inform us of future tourist traps.
Unfortunately, my quick fix to this perennial “goddess problem” was to isolate the incomprehensible God into the “paternal” Father, “maternal” Spirit and “filial” Son, following in the footsteps of a few others that shall remain nameless (or should they?). Blech… perhaps the best lesson to take from all this is to simply let God be God instead of confine Him/Her to simple gender binaries.
So can Mary give us any amont of help or solace whatsoever? Let’s just say the jury is out for the nonce. One thing I know for sure, though–Mary herself, in whatever capacity she still operates, must have been far less passive, milquetoast, and Caucasoid in her own time than how various churchmen have dutifully portrayed her at sundry times and places. And as long as she directs us continually to God, I don’t see why her lovingly looming presence should be considered that much of a problem for the mature Christian.
And the angel came in unto her, and said, “Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.” And when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and cast in her mind what manner of salutation this should be. And the angel said unto her, “Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God. . . . For with God nothing shall be impossible.” And Mary said, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word.” And the angel departed from her. Luke 1:28-30 and 37-38
How fitting that, on the feast day of St. C. S. Lewis*, I post to this here blog. Now for you liturgy wonks out there, you know that acknowledging a saint’s day for someone as modern as Mr. Lewis here means only one thing: I’m a blinkin’ Anglican (or rather, Episcopalian). Or almost, anyway… I’ve attended several services and am quite excited about attending a more traditional one when I come home for the holidays.
As I previously considered myself somewhere in the galaxy of the Churches of Christ, or at the very least in the Restoration Movement that seeks (insofar as it is possible) to reconstruct the original first-century Church. Unfortunately, this has been tragically reduced to mean no imagery, ornamentation, or elaboration of any kind on the Christianity which we see a glimpse of in the New Testament. Even the witness of mere decades after the Church was founded apparently details apostasy only, with no light. Thus, we have no stained glass, no musical instruments, no choirs, no chancels, no liturgy, no prayer books, no healings, no speaking in tongues, no candles, no crosses, no pastoral guidance from anyone beyond your congregation, and no ladies in positions of authority. Granted, some of this may even be violating Biblical implications if we ever overstep our bounds!
Needless to say, the Episcopal Church is a huge jump to make from this, but as I grew up, I realized I was ready to make it. Perhaps it’s just a late-in-youth rebellion and a desire to extricate myself from my rocky last semester at my conservative college, but in the Episcopal Church I see a lot of what I hoped the Church of Christ would grow to become: a church that takes advantage of its founders’ desire for Christian unity and the “ancient ways” to open up new vistas of beautiful worship services, time-hallowed words, and ample room for disagreement. Ironically, I find that most of the things that concern me the most about the Episcopalians (nobody’s perfect, and I haven’t been confirmed yet either) are those that are least covered by their detractors, like infant baptism and the authority of the episcopate. And what their detractors love to harp on, I barely notice.
Consider:
Objection 1: THEY HAVE GAYS!!!
Note: There are gay people in your church, too. In fact, I guarantee it. I guess my ambivalence on this is based on my indecision on the precise moral status of homosexuality–nature or nurture? Does it really impede Christian service, regardless of whether they’re proud of it or not (a lot of Bible majors at my school actually admit to struggling with addictions like pornography and alcohol) ?
Objection 2: Women can’t be priests. And I should know, I’m a Baptist.
Maybe that was a cheap shot… but seriously, Mr. Non-Denominational shouldn’t stick his nose into the Roman Catholics’ business. We already know they disagree. I note that in the Bible, deacons, presbyters (“priests”) and bishops are described in male terms (I Tim. 3), although deaconesses obviously exist and are greatly lauded by St. Paul (Rom. 16:1-2). So could this distinction possibly be extended to include “presbyteresses” and “bishopesses” as well?!
Objection 3: They’re all a bunch of liberals.
Have you ever disagreed with anyone in your church hierarchy? If you’re from a non-hierarchical church, have you ever disagreed with anyone in your church? Also, remember this is usually coming from groups for whom everything is too liberal–even sundry opinions.
Objection 4: Their numbers are dwindling. Therefore, they must be wrong.
If I went by that assessment, I would have left the Churches of Christ before I had any disagreements with them whatsoever.
Objection 5: There’s too much variety in thought and doctrine! Somebody tell me what to believe!
*phew* Thank God.
*Ah heck… as per these folks, why not just call him St. “Jack” as he was colloquially known…
I think he is a she.
—Someone in Ranma, I’m Sure of It
Anime >> Ranma 1/2 (Eps. 1-5)
You know, after a semester of writing scholarly screeds and attempting to write my beloved fiction once more, I almost forgot the simple joys of the rant, or what I like to call “recreational nonfiction.” So, here goes:
After reading reviews and a few pseudo-reviews about how awesome Rumiko Takahashi’s Ranma 1/2 series is, I decided to bite the bullet and check it out online. I already knew that it was about a hermaphroditic martial artist engaged to… no, that’s not right. It’s about this guy named Ranma Saotome and his father, see, and they find these mythical Cursed Springs. Mr. Stereotypical Chinese Man tries to warn them of its fell waters, but they continue to train near said Cursed Springs. So Dad falls in and is cursed with transforming into a panda whenever he’s hit with cold water, and his son Ranma is cursed with turning into a “busty” (lovely reviewing term, ain’t it?) red-haired girl who still looks oddly like Ranma. They end up staying with the Tendo family, which includes the quick-to-anger martial arts girl Akane. Unlike every other screwball romantic comedy in anime or manga, these two actually have a professional background for their beating the crap out of each other constantly.
The main problem with this series, although the premise is admittedly pulled off quite well, is that the episodic and repetitive nature of the manga shows up apparently in the anime as well. There are 36 manga volumes and 161 anime episodes of this series, so you could spend a good portion of your life simply consuming Ranma 1/2 and related properties. Thus, after I sat through about five episodes, I knew I had basically seen what it had to offer… I guess (LAWL!). Essentially, new threats or suitors for either Akane or Ranma occur and reoccur on a frequent basis, along with anime-style “awkward situations.” Now, I give credit where credit is due here to Takahashi et al. for basically inventing a truckload of anime cliches… these weren’t cliches at the time–they were REVOLUTIONARY (sort of) !
Final Grade: B.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: manga, melancholy, moe, nerds, reviews, sehnsucht, surreal
“Your mischief has gone far enough, Lil’ Strawberry…”
–Doll Shakedown in Rozen Maiden
Manga >> Peach-Pit’s Rozen Maiden (Vols. 1-3)
I decided to take a trip in the Wayback Machine to a series that I have almost finished at this point (due to my avarice in gobbling up each installment): Peach-Pit’s Rozen Maiden. With the creators’ suggestive-sounding nom de plume, a rather shojo feel throughout and a downright creepy Gothicism, you think that I would despise it. But all things considered, Rozen Maiden is an intriguing little work. The blurb on the back advertises it as a “metaphysical comedy,” and it definitely does not disappoint.
The beginning of this series is where its strength lies–enter Jun Sakurada, an obstinate, oversensitive, emo lad who for some reason or another has chosen to withdraw from school, his friends, and his loving sister Nori. To give the audience some idea of how utterly petty Jun is, we find him doing the only thing he loves nowadays: buying cheap crap over the Intarwebs, then hastily returning it before the “risk-free trial period” expires. Yeah, he rolls like that.
In his computer desk one day, a note appears with the question of to wind or not to wind. He chooses “wind.” By “wind,” they mean “wind up a doll,” and by “wind up a doll,” they mean “bring said doll magically to life.” Over time, all seven of the dolls are expected to accumulate in his home, eventually destined by their creator, the Dutchman (?) Rozen, to battle for supremacy. Even… to the death?
Against all odds, this is all carried out with almost saccharine sweetness at times. From the tough-girl-with-a-heart-of-gold Shinku (who makes Jun her “manservant”) to the precious Hinaichigo (“Lil’ Strawberry”), all main characters are fully explored and given backstories in “the N-Field” (apparently synonymous with Jung’s collective unconscious!). Jungian references are my big weakness, sorry.
As always, the fragility of the various dolls and the deadliness of their capabilities are frequently drawn upon for dramatic irony and cognitive dissonance. The rather hallucinatory design of most of the work can get under your skin if it weren’t for the (sometimes forced) comedic relief segments. And for those who think it looks creepy, I have to say… that’s the idea. It’s not just Gothic, it’s Gothity-Goth-Goth Goth.
And that says nothing of the series’ broken villainess, Suigintoh. We don’t much about her this point, save that she’s bad news. Oh, and she’ll tear your arm right out of its socket. (Read and see…)
So pick up a copy of Rozen Maiden… get in touch with your effete feminine side today!
Final Grade: A-.
Employees of Croach & Croach Jr. MUST NOT:
touch, breathe on, or stand too near Mr. Croach Jr. unless they wish to be fired immediately.
No children are allowed in any room Mr. Croach Jr. occupies.
Any member of the staff who has recently handled a child must undergo immediate quarantine.
–Notice at Croach & Croach Jr., the Proto-Hollow Fields
Manga >> Madeleine Rosca’s Hollow Fields (Vols. 1-2)
If you are one of those insufferable wights who believe that any story involving something magical or mysterious is automatically child’s play, you probably won’t like the Hollow Fields series very much. I would assume you’re not one of these, however, since you’re taking valuable time out of your day to read this weblog.
That said, the Australian Ms. Rosca’s Hollow Fields is an adorably Gothic tale in the tradition of another Poe-writ-small, Lemony Snicket. In fact, she even lists Snicket among her influences. Anyway, the basic premise of Fields is that Lucy Snow, the precious, bunny-eared heroine of the series, has been sent by her somewhat neglectful parents to a prestigious boarding school in the vicinity of Nullsville. Unfortunately, she ends up getting sidetracked and, with obligatory stuffed animal sidekick Dino in tow, she stumbles upon the secretive steampunk nightmare that is Ms. Weaver’s Academy for the Scientifically Gifted and Ethically Unfettered. In short, a school for mad scientists.
The “Engineers” that run the school are essentially undead corpses that have been kept alive through the magic of steam and clockwork-driven technologies. The children are essentially ensnared through a misleading contract. Every week, a child must be sent to the Windmill for a permanent “detention.” And yet, somehow, a light, silly air befitting an “All Ages”-rated comedy permeates the work, making it a manga I wouldn’t mind my children reading.
Well, except Summer’s evil Deathtrap maybe.
My only major quibble is… well, major. It’s the irritating habits of some characters to repeat quirks (i. e. Lucy’s constant treatment of Dino as if he’s alive, Groundskeeper Croach’s groundless hatred of children, etc.) and Lucy’s incessant st-st-st-stuttering. Venerable manga st-st-st-stereotypes all, but still annoying nonetheless.
Final Grade: A-.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: enemies of the state, freedom, politics, the trap
It is obvious that reporters and average Joes blame anarchism in ignorance; they know no better. But it is as obvious that the rioting punks try to free-ride on a thoroughly misunderstood and propagandized label. They don’t riot and destroy because they have read and understood anarchism as described by the great anarchist thinkers; they riot under the name of anarchism because they understand it the way it is used by statists trying to make people fear level organization and non-hierarchy. In using anarchism as a reason for destruction, they are playing the statists’ game and reinforcing the myth of freedom as a threat rather than a promise.
Proudhon, just as any other great anarchist thinker, was clear on anarchism being order. But it is an order based on equality, freedom, and mutual individual respect; in this sense it is, indeed, the opposite of the current state of society. In anarchy, no individual can be sacrificed for a greater good and no individual is persecuted for his beliefs or choices. No individual’s right is greater than any other individual’s; the very foundation of anarchy is every individual’s equal right to life and liberty.
–Per Bylund, “Blame Anarchism?” (2008)
Just a reminder, sports fans: we are now syndicating some of our geekier reviews to The Healing Touch.
