COSI FAN TUTTE OR LIFE AS A SERIOUS FARCE
Recently, my wife and I invited a few friends of ours to attend a student performance of Mozart's great, although problematic, opera, Cosi Fan Tutte. The performers were young and inexperienced and the conducting was brisk and not very nuanced, but, for me at least, Mozart's gloriously profound music came across.
After the performance, I asked my friends, who are intelligent but not very musical, what they thought of the opera. One said that the opera was second-rate. The other one, a woman, was almost irate. What fluff, she said. And sexist fluff at that! "It's just a confection, and can be enjoyed as such " she said. "If it pretended to be more than that, I would be very angry at its obvious sexism." Well it i s more than that, much much much more than that.
Just as Measure for Measure is considered to be a problem play, Cosi might be considered to be a problem opera. But Measure and Cosi are nevertheless undeniable masterworks. Critics have not always viewed Mozart's final opera to a Da Ponte libretto as first-rate. Beethoven found the inconstancy of Dorabella and Fiordiligi repugnant; his ideal was the unwavering, noble, serious woman which he immortalized in the character of Fidelio. Other critics found that the plot and language of the libretto were too absurd and exaggerated to result in a masterpiece, even if the music is by Mozart at the height of maturity. That view, although not entirely gone, is fading. As Daniel Barenboim stated, no critic worth his salt can dare dismiss this wonderful opera. A few years ago I read an article by a respected critic who considered Cosi to be the most profound and greatest of Mozart's operas. While this is a minority view, I find it very respectable. Relatively neglected for more than a century, his opera has now become a staple of the repertoire, but I still think it's very much underappreciated. I am writing this article in its defense; I advise all those who still think it's merely a farce to listen more seriously. Let's examine why this is such good advice.
A PROBLEM LIBRETTO?
There are certainly difficulties with the libretto, but it has many good points, too. It is the story of two newly engaged couples. It begins with the two men arguing with an older man, who, based on having lived long enough to have gray hair, contends that constancy is never permanent, and, given the right conditions, their idols would not remain faithful. They are irate and about to challenge him to a duel. They finally agree on a bet: if Don Alfonso's attempts--within one day-- to prove his point are successful, he wins; otherwise he will give them a monetary reward. Don Alfonso wins over the wily servant Despina--with money, of course--to join the plot. He announces to the young brides-to-be the "tragic" news--their young men, soldiers, must decamp immediately. The women are devastated. Almost immediately thereafter, the two men, outrageously disguised, return and begin, as Don Alfonso's exotic friends, to woo the young ladies. A crucial twist: Ferrando, who was engaged to Dorabella, woos Fiordiligi; Guiglielmo woos his friend's fiancee. They pretend to take poison, since the women are unyielding; Despina, disguised as a doctor, cures them. End of Act l. During Act 11, the ladies, severely tested, begin to soften. Fiordiligi is the last to give in. A military flourish announces the return of their betrothed in the presence of a notary--Despina in disguise again--who is about to marry them to the now intimate strangers. The plot is revealed and all ends happily. The couples, at least according to Don Alfonso, are now wiser and will live a happier life now that idealistic illusions have been cast aside.
One of the problems of the libretto is that it adheres to the French unities of time, place and plot. A tale about change would be better treated with a Shakespearean expanse; things happen too quickly. The ladies are in danger of appearing frivolous, and, Fiordiligi at least, as Mozart created her, is everything but frivolous. Some of the virtues of Da Ponte's text: there is quite a bit of characterization. Guiglielmo, for instance, who is the most vain of the two, sings, as the opera opens, that his Dorabella could never betray him--it's all about him-- while Ferrando simply praises Dorabella's constancy and beauty. Later on, when Dorabella falls, he consoles the outraged Ferrando, with the following lines, (my translation) "Dear Friend, it is necessary to know differences in all things. Do you think that a bride-to-be could be untrue to a Guiglielmo? I don't want to brag, but all it takes is a little thought, my dear friend, to see that I have more merit."
THE MUSIC
The music, at its best, is among Mozart's best--what more can be said? An example: Fiordiligi's deeply moving aria, "Per pieta" is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful arias of all time. Mozart took this farcical libretto seriously, very seriously, while delighting and even exaggerating its farce. It's the plot of Ariadne auf Naxos: a serious dramatist is forced to join forces with a commedia dell'arte subplot. The exception is that Mozart is the author of both elements and is a master of each. Don Giovanni was a drama giocoso; Cosi even more so. We must admit there is no absolute demarcation between farce and drama in our own lives. This is one of the elements that makes Cosi, despite all its artificiality, so real.
Just what is the deeper context of this masterpiece? The opera is about the inevitability of change. It is about the necessity of change and the pain change causes. We can resist it to the point of despair--Fiordiligi attempts to run off to die in battle--dressed in Fernando's clothes, by the way--rather than submit to the change that has already taken place in her heart. Once change is accepted, something surprisingly good may happen. This opera, like all Mozart operas, ends on positive notes.
Many listeners, especially ones less struck by the beauties of music, fail to appreciate the deeper level of this opera. It is merely a light piece of fluff for them. This is not Mozart's fault; he is incredibly subtle. Those more musically sensitive must appreciate the glories of the score, but may feel that it is on the whole weaker than other masterpieces by Mozart. It isn't; it is for them that I am writing this article. Let's discuss the opera musically, without getting into too many details.
FIORDILIGI'S OPERA
One can only imagine what Rossini would have done with this text. He would have had fun--but not more fun than Mozart--with the farcical elements. It would be entertaining, but no more than that. I submit that his opera--like most of the sixty-odd operas that he wrote--would be forgotten, since this opera needs more than farce to save it. (As a simple comedy, the text of The Barber of Seville is superior.) Mozart created a masterpiece from this text largely due to the divinely musically profound characterization of Fiordiligi. Her music is nothing short of wonderful; all the best music of the opera is either sung by Fiordiligi or by a group of which she is a prominent part. This doesn't mean that the rest of the music isn't good; it just doesn't reach the same level. There is some precedent to this: for me, Papageno in The Magic Flute is the only well delineated character of the opera. But we must admit, there is music in the opera that utterly transcends Papageno's music. Don Alfonso, for instance, is no musical match to Sarastro. But the lesser luminaries of Cosi only make Fiordiligi brighter by contrast. We might complain, for instance, that Ferrando's aria, "un' Aura Amorosa," albeit beautiful, is a bit too sentimental. But that misses the point, for that's how Ferrnado is--a basically decent chap, who lacks the depth of feeling of Fiordiligi.
Certainly, to some degree at least, Da Ponte laid the foundations for Mozart's approach to Fiordiligi. The text has her resist to the very end; her change of heart causes her a good deal of torment. Her constancy is greater than her sister's, but she must not be played as being overly serious. We must not forget her first recitative, (my translation): "It seems to me that I would like to do something a little crazy this morning. I've a certain fire inside me, a certain itching in my veins. When Guglielmo comes, who knows what tricks I'll play." She and her sister first appear after the rather perfunctory scene when the two vain men make their bet. The music turns from good to the height of the sublime. Mozart uses euphonious thirds in the key of A as an introduction to their duet. Yes, we are in heaven and on earth; that's what we hear because that's where the young ladies, in love with love, think they are. But the music is not overly sweet. In measure six occurs a G sharp in the strings against an A in the bass, which is resolved in the following measure, but recurs in the next only to be resolved again. (Mozart is well known for dissonances such as this, examples are numerous, e.g. the last movement of the G Minor Symphony where an actual tone-row occurs before its resolution; another example is the second movement of the Piano Concerto Number 21--all those, dissonant by eighteenth century standards, non diatonic chords!) Mozart loved dissonances, much more than, say, Haydn; as a classical composer, however, he always resolved them quickly. The G sharp still strikes us as painful, but painfully beautiful, since the ear knows it will soon return to a conventional harmony. How are we to interpret this note? Is Mozart telling us that beauty of this intensity is almost painful? Does the G sharp prefigure the conflict that is to come, and does its resolution prefigure the happy end? Do Mozart's brief moments of painful intensity--think of the orchestral passage in the second movement of the twenty-third piano concerto--indicate not only the intensity of music but the fact that music, and everything we know, occurs in time and is thus mortal? Beauty and Death--The music, for those sensitive to it, removes us from our mundane life by plumbing life to its depths.
I contend that this G sharp does all of these things. It is also functional to the plot. The young ladies are in love with love; this will not last. They hardly know the young men to whom they are betrothed. They look at their portraits and derive character traits of their lovers from them. This is important: they do not know their personalities from experience. Their love at this stage is indeed superficial. But this divine duet shows their potential for real love--It is every bit the equal of duets in The Marriage of Figaro or in the Magic Flute--and that's saying a lot.
The point of the music of the opera is not that women are fickle, but that we grow by experience; what causes us to grow is often painful; and that change is inevitable and we'd better off if we get used to it. This may sound overly serious, but, we must recall, the music, which blends farce and utter seriousness--as does life--attains perfection.
After the lovers pretend to go to war, Fiordiligi, Dorabella and Don Alfonso wish them a safe voyage in one of the most beautiful trios ever written.
The false heaven is further broken by the entrance of the two strange men. Fiordiligi resists change till the very end. She is cruelly tested by the men--how frivolous the men are! She demands emphatically that the two exotic lovers, Ferrando and Guiglielmo is disguise, leave the premises immediately. But Don Alfonso pleads that they are wonderful people and his good friends. She begins to show compassion when the two lovers, scorned, fake suicide. She begins to fall in love with the disguised Ferrando. Recall that she was only "in love with love" regarding Guiglielmo, it is significant that she was never alone with him on stage before the trick is played. Remarkably, she falls in love, beautifully and painfully, on stage. (Notice also that the names of the two men in disguise are only mentioned at the end, and cursorily at that; she falls in love with a human being, not a thing like a name--or, as in Scene ll, a portrait.) She sings at this time one of the two gorgeous arias of the opera. "Like a rock, which remains unmoved by storm, so this soul is always strong in faith and in love." We don't believe her; this is sung by a woman in torment. She is desperately trying to remain true to Guiglielmo, a man, and she is discovering, she really doesn't love. The wild vocal leaps of this aria may indicate anger and determination; most of all, they belie the words and reveal a woman in anguish. It is beautiful, worried, majestic and moving. Her second aria, "Per Pieta, ben mio" is one of the best arias ever written. Note that this aria is written in E major. The second note of the E major triad is G sharp, which is a half tone below A. Thus, Firodiligi, in this aria, is just one half step from the A major paradise scene when she first sings; this time the A major she will figuratively enter will have no dissonant G sharp. Mozart's musical message: at the moment of our deepest despair, we might be only a half step away from true happiness! The key relationship here is even more intricate: the "Come Scoglio" aria is in E flat. When Fiordiligi is struggling with herself, she is a half tone away from her despair, which is in E major. She thinks things are getting worse, but she is getting closer and closer to happy A major! (Let me quote Anselm of Canterbury here regarding the epiphany he obtained after being in despair immediately prior to reaching it, doubting that it would ever occur: "When I was tired out with resisting its importunity that which I had despaired of finally came to me." Joy! It is truly amazing that a seemingly frivolous opera captures Anselm's profound emotions perfectly and poignantly in Fiordiligi's aria. The closing chorus is not in A major, however. True, complete happiness does not occur in this life for long, and is better depicted off stage. In this life, happiness always has a G sharp somewhere! The final, rollicking chorus is in C major. (Did Mozart do all this deliberately or subconsciously; probably deliberately, but it doesn't really matter. It is there.) I would like to make a few more comments regarding her glorious aria: Fiordiligi is now in love with Fernando, but is in horrible torment over her infidelity to Guiglielmo. At the end of the aria, she sings that Guiglielmo's "candor" i.e., goodness, deserves something better. There is a wonderful horn accompaniment at this point, which to me is indicative of a very profound triumph. We know the truth about Guiglielmo; he lacks candor. Once again, Mozart sublimely undermines the text. It is Fiordiligi's candor that comes across, not Guiglielmo's She has no more control over her new feelings as over the autonomal functions of her body. That this causes her so much discomfort is indicative of her nobility of soul. Nothing in all of music better illustrates the pain of change. Remember the opera farcically transpires in one day. But Mozart's music tells us that change must occur whether in one day or after many years. (The same aria could be sung by a woman, devoted to the memory of a deceased husband; it is time for life to go on, as we say, but her fidelity can not make the leap.) Finally realizing that she really loves Ferrando and not Guiglielmo, she decides to don his clothes, "The clothes of Fernando will be good for me," and die in battle. Farce united with deep feeling--how well this suited Mozart!
The problem ending has been pointed out in the past. There is no indication how the lovers pair up, when they, now wiser through experience--the women, at least--are reunited. But for me there is not doubt: Fiordiligi is in love with Ferrando, who, by the way is far less vain than Guiglielmo. She will marry him.
I cannot in any way do justice to the transcendent glory of Fiordiligi's music; the sensitive reader--sensitive to music that is--is encouraged to listen for himself, with this little article serving merely as a gentle reminder to not only listen, but to reflect about the opera.
Let me close with a return to the beginning of this article. When I told my friend that although the opera certainly contains outdated conventions--the women love, the men act--this is in no way a sexist opera. Mozart undermines any sexism of the plot by portraying Fiordiligi as a great soul while the men, aside from Don Alfonso, are much more superficial. (If one insists that the opera is sexist, one can musically argue that it is thus sexist against men! Once again, Mozart takes the surface into the depths like a whirlpool, and changes it into something else.) My female friend pointed out the feminine "Tutte" instead of the inclusive "Tutti," indicative, to her, that the plot was sexist. I have two responses to this. First of all that the men are fickle--only those without deep love could play such a hoax--there is no doubt. More are expected of the women. My second answer: it is by operatic convention of the times that the women are portrayed as the ones with deep feeling. We know, as Mozart did, that deep feeling is not confined to women. Mozart's music gives us something more universal, something much more profound: it is the human spirit, like everything else, that is subject to change. Beethoven would be shocked, but, Mozart's music tells us, who knows what Fidelio will feel in the future, say, several years after Floristan's death? The word for the human spirit, or soul, is alma in Italian, a feminine noun. That is the deep meaning of Cosi Fan Tutte--it applies to all. In other words, Cosi Fan Tutte can be translated as We're All Like That. We might not like to realize this about ourselves, but after listening to Mozart's music, the only possible response is: Thank God!
12.04.2009
11.01.2009
ALL WE NEED TO KNOW
An analysis of Micah 6:8
1
Theosophy, as I see it, is the practice and knowledge of what is essential, in order to live a self-transcendent life. How do we find that knowledge? Religious myths and doctrines can be quite beautiful; their worth, however, is evinced by the degree they inspire us to do good and to turn inward. God is indeed (mostly) silent, yet we are His ventriloquists. The words we have attributed to Him over the centuries can help us make spiritual progress or hinder that progress. If we consider religious doctrines not as signposts that give direction, but as absolutes in themselves, we are like inchworms crawling up a tree stump. We will never reach the green we need unless we climb down the signpost and seek verdure in the direction indicated. If we don't, we writhe on dry wood, doomed to perish miserably.
The classics of religious literature, like secular classics, contain passages that transcend their times—the best of which transcend time itself—and other passages that are of only historical interest along with others that are best forgotten due to their destructive nature. Denigration of women and denigration of sexual minorities are examples of the latter. True knowledge is not dogmatic or divisive; it is knowledge to be used as a universal guide through life. Micah 6:8 is a stellar example of supreme guidance, and we will discuss in this article why we believe this is so.
True seekers know that religious writing is to be understood as poetry rather than as prose. Truth is far too subtle and far too glorious to be contained by literal interpretations. Believing that the Bible portrays facts the way science does is as absurd as extracting from the verse, "My love is like a red, red rose," the doctrine that Robert Burns's unfortunate sweetheart had a body made jagged by thorns and was plagued by aphids.
True seekers, as we hope has been made clear, use religious doctrine as signs to keep them on the right path, rather than as ends in themselves. Walking on the right path, however, does not mean that reaching our true home is inevitable. The opportunities to follow butterflies and get lost are myriad. We all need signposts from time to time; especially signs that clearly help us to get our bearings.
Maimonides, the great Jewish sage, wrote several hundred years ago a book entitled, "A Guide for the Perplexed," a remarkable, long book that contains many genuine directional arrows. As one would expect from a text written so long ago, several of its arrows, however useful, have been rotated by age or by cultural differences and may not be as understandable as others. What if we were to discover a clear directional that has not been distorted by time and is as reliable a guide for the perplexed as it was centuries ago?
What would you reply if someone asked you what is the essence of all religious teaching? You would not go astray, we believe, if you quoted Micah 6:8 as the answer. A discussion of this biblical passage follows, in an attempt to inspire us on the road toward greater theosophy.
2
The Jewish Bible, the Tanakh, contains three sections, Torah (Teaching), the Nevi'im (Prophets) and the Ketuvim (Writings). The book of Micah, written in the eighth century before the common era, forms part of the Nevi'im section. "Micah" means "God is with him," or alternatively, "He is like God." Little is known about the historical Micah; he might have grown up poor, but was certainly well educated. His prophecy begins with severe criticism of his people—for they had gone astray, just as we have today. The book continues with threats of divine retaliation caused by the vanities and the injustices committed against the poor. It ends, however, with a note of hope. Micah 6:8 informs us what we must do to heal both ourselves and the world. What follows is a translation of this passage by the Jewish Publication Society:
He hath told thee, O man, what is good and what the Lord
doth require of thee: Only to do justly, and to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with thy God.
What an extraordinary guide for the perplexed! It contains all we need to know to lead a deeply spiritual life, which the following interpretation we hope will make clear.
The first phrase of the prophecy, which states that the Lord has revealed to us what is good, is a summary of what follows. According to our interpretation, it is of crucial importance that the three requirements are to be met in chronological order. First we must do justice; only after we are on the path of righteous behavior do we proceed to the next step, the internalization of doing good, that is, by loving mercy. If we then walk on with a combination of these two virtues, as if the right foot were justice and the left foot were love, we eventually realize that we are walking with God.
In the beginning of the prophecy, God commands: what is good must be fulfilled. At this point, human beings might not know, or refuse to do, what's good for them and the world. Left alone, one assumes, they would quickly and comfortably settle on a life based on greed, hate and delusion. God does not give them time to work out for themselves what is good; he has told us what we need to know. We need not waste time seeking the right path, since it has been revealed to us. Since it has been revealed to us by "the still small voice" within us, we have no excuse not to follow. At the beginning, we are commanded to do good as if God were our father and we were little children. Only as we progress to the next step, loving mercy, do we internalize our acts of justice, and become good. Once this step is reached it is automatic that we find ourselves walking in the company of God; the requirement here is that we are to keep vigilant to assure ourselves and the world that we are walking humbly.
In the Jewish tradition, outward activity is paramount. The world is crying out to be healed and we must do our best to accomplish this—this became known centuries after Micah as tikkum olam, the healing of the world. A just outward life, however, is not enough; the inner life must not be neglected. If one is told to do something and one doesn't know why, one tends to shirk duty. Why bother to do the good? God's first requirement must be internalized; we must look deep inside ourselves. The second requirement of God is to love mercy; once this is accomplished a human being is no longer a child, but a mature adult. He now knows not only what to do but why; from now on the outer life increases the inner, and vice versa. The outer life without the inner withers; the inner life without the other is vain. With justice increasing love, and love increasing justice, the borders blur and love and justice become one. Man becomes a Moebius strip, a figure whose inner and outer aspects are one and the same. This is, we believe, the summit of humanity.
Let us return to the beginning: God gives us requirements. They are the same for Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, Christians and Muslims; they are also the same for agnostics and atheists. Working for justice and loving mercy enhance the humanity of all. It is important for us, racked as we are by religious and political strife, to realize that according to this great prophet, God does not require us to believe anything particular, that is, parochial, about Himself. There is no mention that we must believe that God literally gave the Ten Commandments to Moses, not to mention requiring us to believe in such things as a virgin birth or that Jesus of Nazareth is God's only begotten Son. We need not take our poetry literally; we need only walk down the right path.
According to Micah 6:8, God reveals Himself first as abstract commands or requirements. Once these requirements are fulfilled, one finds oneself walking with God. The Lord, previously concealed, now reveals Himself inwardly as a person; man has finally found his true companion. That God is found through working for justice and love is of crucial importance. It implies that God is not found in dogma, ritual, theological writing or in philosophy books. (I must pause here. While writing this on a train traveling from Alleppy to Chennai, I hear a noise. I look up and see several injured people, young and old, some on stretchers, being led down the aisle of our bogey, inches away from my eyes. The conductor tells us that they had been injured when their bus overturned during a pilgrimage to Shabarimallai, a famous religious site in Kerala. O how I wish I could convey to them that one doesn't have to go on dangerous pilgrimages to find God. God is more easily found beside you, at home or wherever you may be, by living a life of love and wisdom.) You need not even call God God—call Him the Self, Nirvana or whatever you feel appropriate. Follow this path and you will find Something so great, so beyond words, that any description thereof, even by using the word 'God,' the most transcendent word we have, is like a lightning bug's light compared to the sun's.
Lord knows, we humans are vain creatures. There is a danger of hubris everywhere, even here—that is why God qualifies the verb 'walk' with the adverb 'humbly'—the final requirement. There is no room for a person here to claim, "I am walking with God; therefore I'm superior to those who do not." If such a thought arises, one must rededicate himself to a life of good works and of inner development. As Lao Tse taught, we must go to the foot of a mountain and meditate until only the mountain remains. To work for justice is our walking meditation; to love mercy is our silent meditation. Practicing both is our path.
3.
According to Jewish tradition, a Greek asked the great sage Hillel to explain to him the meaning of the Torah while standing on one foot. Hillel told him that which one doesn't want others to do to oneself, one should not do to others. Hillel said that this was the true meaning of the Torah and that the rest was commentary. In other words, stop all sinful actions with the implication that once the barrier of sinful action is removed, one's true nature, to do good and to be good, can be realized without impediments. Wonderful advice, but how do we accomplish this? By following Micah 6:8; only thus are the masks of sin removed and our true nature revealed. There is no more we need know; to do right and to be right is the direct path to God and to ourselves.
Thomas Dorsett
Ramanatom@gmail.com
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Chennai, India
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USA
An analysis of Micah 6:8
1
Theosophy, as I see it, is the practice and knowledge of what is essential, in order to live a self-transcendent life. How do we find that knowledge? Religious myths and doctrines can be quite beautiful; their worth, however, is evinced by the degree they inspire us to do good and to turn inward. God is indeed (mostly) silent, yet we are His ventriloquists. The words we have attributed to Him over the centuries can help us make spiritual progress or hinder that progress. If we consider religious doctrines not as signposts that give direction, but as absolutes in themselves, we are like inchworms crawling up a tree stump. We will never reach the green we need unless we climb down the signpost and seek verdure in the direction indicated. If we don't, we writhe on dry wood, doomed to perish miserably.
The classics of religious literature, like secular classics, contain passages that transcend their times—the best of which transcend time itself—and other passages that are of only historical interest along with others that are best forgotten due to their destructive nature. Denigration of women and denigration of sexual minorities are examples of the latter. True knowledge is not dogmatic or divisive; it is knowledge to be used as a universal guide through life. Micah 6:8 is a stellar example of supreme guidance, and we will discuss in this article why we believe this is so.
True seekers know that religious writing is to be understood as poetry rather than as prose. Truth is far too subtle and far too glorious to be contained by literal interpretations. Believing that the Bible portrays facts the way science does is as absurd as extracting from the verse, "My love is like a red, red rose," the doctrine that Robert Burns's unfortunate sweetheart had a body made jagged by thorns and was plagued by aphids.
True seekers, as we hope has been made clear, use religious doctrine as signs to keep them on the right path, rather than as ends in themselves. Walking on the right path, however, does not mean that reaching our true home is inevitable. The opportunities to follow butterflies and get lost are myriad. We all need signposts from time to time; especially signs that clearly help us to get our bearings.
Maimonides, the great Jewish sage, wrote several hundred years ago a book entitled, "A Guide for the Perplexed," a remarkable, long book that contains many genuine directional arrows. As one would expect from a text written so long ago, several of its arrows, however useful, have been rotated by age or by cultural differences and may not be as understandable as others. What if we were to discover a clear directional that has not been distorted by time and is as reliable a guide for the perplexed as it was centuries ago?
What would you reply if someone asked you what is the essence of all religious teaching? You would not go astray, we believe, if you quoted Micah 6:8 as the answer. A discussion of this biblical passage follows, in an attempt to inspire us on the road toward greater theosophy.
2
The Jewish Bible, the Tanakh, contains three sections, Torah (Teaching), the Nevi'im (Prophets) and the Ketuvim (Writings). The book of Micah, written in the eighth century before the common era, forms part of the Nevi'im section. "Micah" means "God is with him," or alternatively, "He is like God." Little is known about the historical Micah; he might have grown up poor, but was certainly well educated. His prophecy begins with severe criticism of his people—for they had gone astray, just as we have today. The book continues with threats of divine retaliation caused by the vanities and the injustices committed against the poor. It ends, however, with a note of hope. Micah 6:8 informs us what we must do to heal both ourselves and the world. What follows is a translation of this passage by the Jewish Publication Society:
He hath told thee, O man, what is good and what the Lord
doth require of thee: Only to do justly, and to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with thy God.
What an extraordinary guide for the perplexed! It contains all we need to know to lead a deeply spiritual life, which the following interpretation we hope will make clear.
The first phrase of the prophecy, which states that the Lord has revealed to us what is good, is a summary of what follows. According to our interpretation, it is of crucial importance that the three requirements are to be met in chronological order. First we must do justice; only after we are on the path of righteous behavior do we proceed to the next step, the internalization of doing good, that is, by loving mercy. If we then walk on with a combination of these two virtues, as if the right foot were justice and the left foot were love, we eventually realize that we are walking with God.
In the beginning of the prophecy, God commands: what is good must be fulfilled. At this point, human beings might not know, or refuse to do, what's good for them and the world. Left alone, one assumes, they would quickly and comfortably settle on a life based on greed, hate and delusion. God does not give them time to work out for themselves what is good; he has told us what we need to know. We need not waste time seeking the right path, since it has been revealed to us. Since it has been revealed to us by "the still small voice" within us, we have no excuse not to follow. At the beginning, we are commanded to do good as if God were our father and we were little children. Only as we progress to the next step, loving mercy, do we internalize our acts of justice, and become good. Once this step is reached it is automatic that we find ourselves walking in the company of God; the requirement here is that we are to keep vigilant to assure ourselves and the world that we are walking humbly.
In the Jewish tradition, outward activity is paramount. The world is crying out to be healed and we must do our best to accomplish this—this became known centuries after Micah as tikkum olam, the healing of the world. A just outward life, however, is not enough; the inner life must not be neglected. If one is told to do something and one doesn't know why, one tends to shirk duty. Why bother to do the good? God's first requirement must be internalized; we must look deep inside ourselves. The second requirement of God is to love mercy; once this is accomplished a human being is no longer a child, but a mature adult. He now knows not only what to do but why; from now on the outer life increases the inner, and vice versa. The outer life without the inner withers; the inner life without the other is vain. With justice increasing love, and love increasing justice, the borders blur and love and justice become one. Man becomes a Moebius strip, a figure whose inner and outer aspects are one and the same. This is, we believe, the summit of humanity.
Let us return to the beginning: God gives us requirements. They are the same for Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, Christians and Muslims; they are also the same for agnostics and atheists. Working for justice and loving mercy enhance the humanity of all. It is important for us, racked as we are by religious and political strife, to realize that according to this great prophet, God does not require us to believe anything particular, that is, parochial, about Himself. There is no mention that we must believe that God literally gave the Ten Commandments to Moses, not to mention requiring us to believe in such things as a virgin birth or that Jesus of Nazareth is God's only begotten Son. We need not take our poetry literally; we need only walk down the right path.
According to Micah 6:8, God reveals Himself first as abstract commands or requirements. Once these requirements are fulfilled, one finds oneself walking with God. The Lord, previously concealed, now reveals Himself inwardly as a person; man has finally found his true companion. That God is found through working for justice and love is of crucial importance. It implies that God is not found in dogma, ritual, theological writing or in philosophy books. (I must pause here. While writing this on a train traveling from Alleppy to Chennai, I hear a noise. I look up and see several injured people, young and old, some on stretchers, being led down the aisle of our bogey, inches away from my eyes. The conductor tells us that they had been injured when their bus overturned during a pilgrimage to Shabarimallai, a famous religious site in Kerala. O how I wish I could convey to them that one doesn't have to go on dangerous pilgrimages to find God. God is more easily found beside you, at home or wherever you may be, by living a life of love and wisdom.) You need not even call God God—call Him the Self, Nirvana or whatever you feel appropriate. Follow this path and you will find Something so great, so beyond words, that any description thereof, even by using the word 'God,' the most transcendent word we have, is like a lightning bug's light compared to the sun's.
Lord knows, we humans are vain creatures. There is a danger of hubris everywhere, even here—that is why God qualifies the verb 'walk' with the adverb 'humbly'—the final requirement. There is no room for a person here to claim, "I am walking with God; therefore I'm superior to those who do not." If such a thought arises, one must rededicate himself to a life of good works and of inner development. As Lao Tse taught, we must go to the foot of a mountain and meditate until only the mountain remains. To work for justice is our walking meditation; to love mercy is our silent meditation. Practicing both is our path.
3.
According to Jewish tradition, a Greek asked the great sage Hillel to explain to him the meaning of the Torah while standing on one foot. Hillel told him that which one doesn't want others to do to oneself, one should not do to others. Hillel said that this was the true meaning of the Torah and that the rest was commentary. In other words, stop all sinful actions with the implication that once the barrier of sinful action is removed, one's true nature, to do good and to be good, can be realized without impediments. Wonderful advice, but how do we accomplish this? By following Micah 6:8; only thus are the masks of sin removed and our true nature revealed. There is no more we need know; to do right and to be right is the direct path to God and to ourselves.
Thomas Dorsett
Ramanatom@gmail.com
% Dr. Mridula Jose
Mico Colony
Chand Apartments
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Chennai, India
Telephone 24918194
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Baltimore, MD 21210-2810
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10.30.2009
AN INTERVIEW WITH GOD
Spike Lee once requested that only a black person should interview him regarding one of his films. This created a little uproar among those of other ethnic groups, but it didn't bother me. Those with shared cultural affinities tend to be close to each other's, if not on the same, wavelength. After all, if one wrote a book on Jewish cooking, one might request to be interviewed by a bubby rather than by an ammama.
I suspected that this Spike Lee anecdote entered my consciousness, after a period of several years, for a reason. Then, while staring at an elm, I was struck by a flash of inner lightning--Perhaps I could use this same principle to land an interview with God. Although there are a great many differences between us, we have one thing very much in common: we are both invisible old men, powerless, too. So I prayed for an interview. To my surprise, God agreed. He would meet me in my very next dream.
On the evening of my dream, my wife prepared a lovely meal of rice, dahl and bindhi; I ate too much, of course. Later on I expected, as usual, to meet the god of indigestion; I was delighted, upon falling asleep, to find the Ancient of Days sitting at my kitchen table.
Poor God, I thought, he looks like me.
--Where's the beard, I asked Him.
--This is already the beginning of the third millennium C.E., not B.C.E., He responded. --Even old men's styles are not eternal.
--May I ask you anything at all?
--Ask away. My response, though, may be the usual one--Absolute, I-don't-care-what-you-want, Silence.
--You are obviously an old man like me. A friend of mine who attends a liberal synagogue, informed me that all references to You as a guy have been removed from the synagogue's prayer books. How does that make You feel?
His Face lit up like a thousand suns. Well, maybe not a thousand, but bright enough to make me uncomfortable. Like that dreadful mall at Kenilworth, only much, much worse.
--If you don't want Your image to evaporate in the middle of this interview, please calm down.
--All right, shayn-- He looked hurt. --They don't call Earth h e, do they? It's not fair.
--Why not?
--Earth, that is, Nature, is always metaphorically female. Why do I have to become an It? It's not fair.
(Good God, I thought; just like me, He's only a male metaphorically.)
--In Yiddish--by the way, I often do monologues in Yiddish at the center of intergalactic voids; nobody laughs--Nature is feminine, as she is in all languages where half the nouns are attracted to the other half. (Your English nouns are far too proper for that.) She's all powerful and I'm non-existent. She controls you and I never intervene. But I'm still Nobodaddy, not Nobomommy! I insist on that!
---Why?
Because, non-existent to the intellect, I'm hidden, I'm absent. Those hunter gatherer guys left. Who knows if they'd ever come back? Soldiers went off to war. Who knows if they'd ever come back? I left before I even arrived. A real guy, no? Your Mother--trees, stars, dogs, people--is everywhere. She's almost everything; I'm almost nothing, You don't follow any of my commandments, only hers; at least you can get my metaphorical gender straight, no?
--Well if You are, from our perspective, just about nothing and nowhere, why should we bother with You?
--You're the illusion, Man, not me.
--Huh? Is that a joke?
--I'm Sirius.
--Huh?
--Sirius is one of the largest stars in the cosmos. Its gravity is tremendous, far greater than h e r s, Earth's. Let's pretend for a minute that it's infinitely greater than Earth's, and I'm Sirius. Cosmically speaking, I am very powerful. But you are so far away from Me that you don't feel my pull. Viewed from your little blue pebble of ignorance, I am indeed almost nothing.
--Kindly stop referring to Mother like that; after all She raised me without any help from You! It's inevitable that we defy Your gravity, since You're so far away. Earth's is all we feel. Do You expect us to jump off a cliff, if we had to, for the sake of a hidden Old Man who is hardly there?
--Yes. If you did, I'd save you, though no one would be able to tell.
--In other words, kerplop.
God smiled. --You're a great betrayer; both of us agree on that. But Whom have you betrayed, Me or Her? Are We not One and the Same? Are you, as an individual, real? Who is empty, you or I? Let me tell you the truth...
I was about to scream, when my bladder, which is in many languages a feminine noun, woke me up. After a long pause, I heard her voice--Had to save you from that Hindu stuff... Now you're really empty, she said dryly. Thank God! I exclaimed, and went back to bed.
Spike Lee once requested that only a black person should interview him regarding one of his films. This created a little uproar among those of other ethnic groups, but it didn't bother me. Those with shared cultural affinities tend to be close to each other's, if not on the same, wavelength. After all, if one wrote a book on Jewish cooking, one might request to be interviewed by a bubby rather than by an ammama.
I suspected that this Spike Lee anecdote entered my consciousness, after a period of several years, for a reason. Then, while staring at an elm, I was struck by a flash of inner lightning--Perhaps I could use this same principle to land an interview with God. Although there are a great many differences between us, we have one thing very much in common: we are both invisible old men, powerless, too. So I prayed for an interview. To my surprise, God agreed. He would meet me in my very next dream.
On the evening of my dream, my wife prepared a lovely meal of rice, dahl and bindhi; I ate too much, of course. Later on I expected, as usual, to meet the god of indigestion; I was delighted, upon falling asleep, to find the Ancient of Days sitting at my kitchen table.
Poor God, I thought, he looks like me.
--Where's the beard, I asked Him.
--This is already the beginning of the third millennium C.E., not B.C.E., He responded. --Even old men's styles are not eternal.
--May I ask you anything at all?
--Ask away. My response, though, may be the usual one--Absolute, I-don't-care-what-you-want, Silence.
--You are obviously an old man like me. A friend of mine who attends a liberal synagogue, informed me that all references to You as a guy have been removed from the synagogue's prayer books. How does that make You feel?
His Face lit up like a thousand suns. Well, maybe not a thousand, but bright enough to make me uncomfortable. Like that dreadful mall at Kenilworth, only much, much worse.
--If you don't want Your image to evaporate in the middle of this interview, please calm down.
--All right, shayn-- He looked hurt. --They don't call Earth h e, do they? It's not fair.
--Why not?
--Earth, that is, Nature, is always metaphorically female. Why do I have to become an It? It's not fair.
(Good God, I thought; just like me, He's only a male metaphorically.)
--In Yiddish--by the way, I often do monologues in Yiddish at the center of intergalactic voids; nobody laughs--Nature is feminine, as she is in all languages where half the nouns are attracted to the other half. (Your English nouns are far too proper for that.) She's all powerful and I'm non-existent. She controls you and I never intervene. But I'm still Nobodaddy, not Nobomommy! I insist on that!
---Why?
Because, non-existent to the intellect, I'm hidden, I'm absent. Those hunter gatherer guys left. Who knows if they'd ever come back? Soldiers went off to war. Who knows if they'd ever come back? I left before I even arrived. A real guy, no? Your Mother--trees, stars, dogs, people--is everywhere. She's almost everything; I'm almost nothing, You don't follow any of my commandments, only hers; at least you can get my metaphorical gender straight, no?
--Well if You are, from our perspective, just about nothing and nowhere, why should we bother with You?
--You're the illusion, Man, not me.
--Huh? Is that a joke?
--I'm Sirius.
--Huh?
--Sirius is one of the largest stars in the cosmos. Its gravity is tremendous, far greater than h e r s, Earth's. Let's pretend for a minute that it's infinitely greater than Earth's, and I'm Sirius. Cosmically speaking, I am very powerful. But you are so far away from Me that you don't feel my pull. Viewed from your little blue pebble of ignorance, I am indeed almost nothing.
--Kindly stop referring to Mother like that; after all She raised me without any help from You! It's inevitable that we defy Your gravity, since You're so far away. Earth's is all we feel. Do You expect us to jump off a cliff, if we had to, for the sake of a hidden Old Man who is hardly there?
--Yes. If you did, I'd save you, though no one would be able to tell.
--In other words, kerplop.
God smiled. --You're a great betrayer; both of us agree on that. But Whom have you betrayed, Me or Her? Are We not One and the Same? Are you, as an individual, real? Who is empty, you or I? Let me tell you the truth...
I was about to scream, when my bladder, which is in many languages a feminine noun, woke me up. After a long pause, I heard her voice--Had to save you from that Hindu stuff... Now you're really empty, she said dryly. Thank God! I exclaimed, and went back to bed.
9.16.2009
Is It A Crime To Be DWB--Democratic While Black?
It's only been a few weeks since the confrontation between Henry Lewis Gates, Jr. and Sargent Crowley set the newsworld aflame with brief fireworks. As you recall, Gates was approached on his own property by a police officer after someone called the police, suspecting a burglary. Gates apparently became very angry and rude; the officer eventually lost his cool, too, and arrested Gates for disorderly conduct. It is my opinion that both men behaved badly. The officer, however, had no right to arrest him, and should have said something like, "I'm sorry for the mix-up, Sir," and left, ignoring Gates's rude behavior. I believe race was not the only issue in this conflict; class also played a predominant role. Not to mention a lack of civility, so apparent these days.
What I found sadly typical was how this incident was discussed on television. Nearly all the black commentators defended Gates; nearly all the white commentators sided with the police. How egocentric! If there were an Empthay Rorschach test many of us would fail; time and again we demonstrate our inability to give an sympathetic response to figures we see. That wonderful Native American proverb that suggests that we walk a mile in our neighbor's moccasins before we judge him is lost on large sections of people. There are always, thank God! exceptions: Colin Powell did indeed criticize Gates's behavior. Many of us missed our opportunity to act nobly and objectively, like Powell did. Unfortunately, I didn't hear of many examples of whites criticizing Crowley.
Whites have another good opportunity to be better and to act accordingly. There is much opposition to our president today, some of it--no objective person can doubt this--because he is black. Congressman Joe Wilson, who has a record of wanting to keep the Confederate flag flying over South Carolina government buildings, shouted out "You lie"--during our president's health-care speech, a lie heard around the world. Thousands of white protesters have demonstrated that many of the bubbles in their boiling blood contain racial caricatures. Obama in white face as The Joker? The Zoo has an African lion and we have a lyin' African? Send him back to Kenya? The so-called birther movement? All of this is disgraceful. I have no doubt that some of the vitriol--by no means all--stems from the fact that Obama is guilty of being DWB--democratic while black.
Whether one supports Obama or not, it should be apparent to all that he is trying to do his best to improve America. He certainly has not been bought off by special interests like many other politicians. That we have elected a black president--because he was thought to be the best candidate, not because of his race; that we wouldn't have come to this decision if we had not transcended racism, to a significant degree, if not completely--and I hope, not merely briefly--is a triumph for Americans of all colors.
As an aging white man myself, a member of the ethnic and age group most opposed to Obama, I was especially pleased to discover a fellow old white man, former president Carter, has apparently walked a mile or two in Obama's moccasins. President Carter has no motive to play politics at his age; he stated the truth at he sees it, namely, that racism is behind some of the criticism of Obama. He stated his case vociferously and eloquently. Some entities, like Carter, Verdi and good wine, seem to have gotten even better with age. I agree with him completely.
There is an odd disconnect in all these protests. Most of them come from whites who are not rich. Why are they arguing against their own interests? It's as if those who stormed the Bastille in 1789 had shouted, "We want the king to build himself a newer, bigger Versailles!" or "Let Marie Antoinette keep the cake--We deserve only crumbs!" Why, oh why is the whole pack of cards shouting, "Off with our heads?"
Ignorance, fear of the unknown, feelings of powerlessness, manipulation from the far right and other factors are involved. Racism, alas! is involved, too.
I cannot laugh along any longer with commentators who mock--an easy task--the far right. I'm getting scared.
I do not contend that all those who are behaving badly are bad. People who feel disenfranchised tend toward the d side of the devil-angel spectrum. Racism, however, is a poor self-defense for negative feelings; it must be confronted as such.
I am not asking whites to feel guilty, I'm asking them to feel. I'm asking that we do what everyone should do--act according to what's best in us which is what's best in everyone. Black people as such are nobody's enemy! They are not The Other; The Other is the inhuman element in all of us.
A postscript: Here we go again! Have you noticed that the vast majority of white commentators have repudiated President Carer's opinion? Look in the mirror and try to convince yourself that the color of your skin hasn't strongly influenced your views in this matter. If you're honest, you will go to a neighborhood different from your own and walk a mile in someone else's shoes.
What I found sadly typical was how this incident was discussed on television. Nearly all the black commentators defended Gates; nearly all the white commentators sided with the police. How egocentric! If there were an Empthay Rorschach test many of us would fail; time and again we demonstrate our inability to give an sympathetic response to figures we see. That wonderful Native American proverb that suggests that we walk a mile in our neighbor's moccasins before we judge him is lost on large sections of people. There are always, thank God! exceptions: Colin Powell did indeed criticize Gates's behavior. Many of us missed our opportunity to act nobly and objectively, like Powell did. Unfortunately, I didn't hear of many examples of whites criticizing Crowley.
Whites have another good opportunity to be better and to act accordingly. There is much opposition to our president today, some of it--no objective person can doubt this--because he is black. Congressman Joe Wilson, who has a record of wanting to keep the Confederate flag flying over South Carolina government buildings, shouted out "You lie"--during our president's health-care speech, a lie heard around the world. Thousands of white protesters have demonstrated that many of the bubbles in their boiling blood contain racial caricatures. Obama in white face as The Joker? The Zoo has an African lion and we have a lyin' African? Send him back to Kenya? The so-called birther movement? All of this is disgraceful. I have no doubt that some of the vitriol--by no means all--stems from the fact that Obama is guilty of being DWB--democratic while black.
Whether one supports Obama or not, it should be apparent to all that he is trying to do his best to improve America. He certainly has not been bought off by special interests like many other politicians. That we have elected a black president--because he was thought to be the best candidate, not because of his race; that we wouldn't have come to this decision if we had not transcended racism, to a significant degree, if not completely--and I hope, not merely briefly--is a triumph for Americans of all colors.
As an aging white man myself, a member of the ethnic and age group most opposed to Obama, I was especially pleased to discover a fellow old white man, former president Carter, has apparently walked a mile or two in Obama's moccasins. President Carter has no motive to play politics at his age; he stated the truth at he sees it, namely, that racism is behind some of the criticism of Obama. He stated his case vociferously and eloquently. Some entities, like Carter, Verdi and good wine, seem to have gotten even better with age. I agree with him completely.
There is an odd disconnect in all these protests. Most of them come from whites who are not rich. Why are they arguing against their own interests? It's as if those who stormed the Bastille in 1789 had shouted, "We want the king to build himself a newer, bigger Versailles!" or "Let Marie Antoinette keep the cake--We deserve only crumbs!" Why, oh why is the whole pack of cards shouting, "Off with our heads?"
Ignorance, fear of the unknown, feelings of powerlessness, manipulation from the far right and other factors are involved. Racism, alas! is involved, too.
I cannot laugh along any longer with commentators who mock--an easy task--the far right. I'm getting scared.
I do not contend that all those who are behaving badly are bad. People who feel disenfranchised tend toward the d side of the devil-angel spectrum. Racism, however, is a poor self-defense for negative feelings; it must be confronted as such.
I am not asking whites to feel guilty, I'm asking them to feel. I'm asking that we do what everyone should do--act according to what's best in us which is what's best in everyone. Black people as such are nobody's enemy! They are not The Other; The Other is the inhuman element in all of us.
A postscript: Here we go again! Have you noticed that the vast majority of white commentators have repudiated President Carer's opinion? Look in the mirror and try to convince yourself that the color of your skin hasn't strongly influenced your views in this matter. If you're honest, you will go to a neighborhood different from your own and walk a mile in someone else's shoes.
8.26.2009
Does God Exist?
Believers and non-believers, things would be better for us all once you realize that this is a useless question. Believers look inside and know their answer. Non-believers look outside and are equally convinced of theirs. If we understood that human consciousness is a kind of Moebius strip, that inside and outside, though very distinct in the realm of intellectual analysis, are not separate in the real world--whatever the real world is. (True, the inner and outer worlds are very different, but ultimately one.)
Most of the arguments of the so-called new atheism of the likes of Dawson and Hitchens are, as is often pointed out, mere rejections of religious fundamentalism. I have no argument with Milton for taking things literally. An example: the "fact" that Christ is co-eternal with the Father enabled him to cast Jesus as a general in the war against Satan, which, according to mythology or legend or however you want to categorize it, occurred many years before Christ's birth. After all, Milton lived centuries ago. I do have a problem with modern literalists, however. How can a literal interpretation of the Bible be reconciled with science? It can't, of course; anyone who thinks knows that.
Anyone who feels, however, knows that religion is not exhausted by exhausted dogma. Religion is, of course, closer to poetry than to prose. Since the art of poetry is in such a dismal state today--I must confess that I am a poet--most people would conclude that religion, close to the woolgatherings of poetasters, need not, like poetry, be taken seriously by those in the know. They are wrong on both counts. Reject the music of words and the music of life and what are you left with? Muzak, not Mozart.
Let me give an analogy for the illegitimate rejection of religion. Burns wrote, "My love is like a red red rose/ that's newly sprung in June." This is poetry, just as religion is poetry (often silent poetry.) Along come the dogmatists who claim that since Burns's love is a rose, she must have had aphids and thorns. They write a catechism about the connection of aphids with love and ram it down their children's throats. Along comes a Dawkins who quite properly asserts that such catechisms are false. But this Dawkins, while providing a service, misses the point. The author is ecstatic about his love and compares her to one of the most beautiful things he knows, a rose. He obviously knew the difference between his sweetheart and a plant.
I am convinced that religion begins with an ecstasy that cannot be put into words. We human beings cannot leave it at that; we must express our inner feelings with concrete language. Thus, religious myths arise, which always point to inner truths. Those inner truths are quite real; we live by them more than we do by our belief that one of the string theories will prove to be an accurate and useful metaphor for reality of the abstract kind. Where would our life be without acts of love, feelings of love, or a lack of love that keeps us searching and practicing? That is what is behind Burns's poem, and all poetry; not aphids.
Many modern philosophers who are also at least nominally believers, resurrect an Aristotelian God, one that has nothing to do with love. In many cases this is merely a retreat, an attempt to salvage the little bit of a god of the gaps that science might be able to live with--for a while.
Well, remember, I am a poet. I believe the inner reality has an importance at the very least equal to the outer one. I don't believe that God can be found at the end of a telescope. He can be found inside, however. As a poet, when I speak of God, I am talking metaphorically. To me this means that God is more real--not less-- than any words or dogmas one can invent.
Let me close--I will continue writing on this subject in future blogs--with one of the most powerful contemporary arguments against God: Auschwitz. How can God have allowed such horrors? Atheists are right here: myths do not intervene. All words that we use about God are myths. This does not negate the inner reality, which is of crucial importance here. Those who have had any experience of this inner God know that the more we are in contact with Him the more we know that lovingkindness to others is the most important way to connect with Him more deeply. It is those who lack or deny this inner experience that make cruelty to others possible. Auschwitz doesn't negate the possibility of God's existence; it makes our search for Him in our innermost depths, not in our outermost stars, more crucial than ever.
Most of the arguments of the so-called new atheism of the likes of Dawson and Hitchens are, as is often pointed out, mere rejections of religious fundamentalism. I have no argument with Milton for taking things literally. An example: the "fact" that Christ is co-eternal with the Father enabled him to cast Jesus as a general in the war against Satan, which, according to mythology or legend or however you want to categorize it, occurred many years before Christ's birth. After all, Milton lived centuries ago. I do have a problem with modern literalists, however. How can a literal interpretation of the Bible be reconciled with science? It can't, of course; anyone who thinks knows that.
Anyone who feels, however, knows that religion is not exhausted by exhausted dogma. Religion is, of course, closer to poetry than to prose. Since the art of poetry is in such a dismal state today--I must confess that I am a poet--most people would conclude that religion, close to the woolgatherings of poetasters, need not, like poetry, be taken seriously by those in the know. They are wrong on both counts. Reject the music of words and the music of life and what are you left with? Muzak, not Mozart.
Let me give an analogy for the illegitimate rejection of religion. Burns wrote, "My love is like a red red rose/ that's newly sprung in June." This is poetry, just as religion is poetry (often silent poetry.) Along come the dogmatists who claim that since Burns's love is a rose, she must have had aphids and thorns. They write a catechism about the connection of aphids with love and ram it down their children's throats. Along comes a Dawkins who quite properly asserts that such catechisms are false. But this Dawkins, while providing a service, misses the point. The author is ecstatic about his love and compares her to one of the most beautiful things he knows, a rose. He obviously knew the difference between his sweetheart and a plant.
I am convinced that religion begins with an ecstasy that cannot be put into words. We human beings cannot leave it at that; we must express our inner feelings with concrete language. Thus, religious myths arise, which always point to inner truths. Those inner truths are quite real; we live by them more than we do by our belief that one of the string theories will prove to be an accurate and useful metaphor for reality of the abstract kind. Where would our life be without acts of love, feelings of love, or a lack of love that keeps us searching and practicing? That is what is behind Burns's poem, and all poetry; not aphids.
Many modern philosophers who are also at least nominally believers, resurrect an Aristotelian God, one that has nothing to do with love. In many cases this is merely a retreat, an attempt to salvage the little bit of a god of the gaps that science might be able to live with--for a while.
Well, remember, I am a poet. I believe the inner reality has an importance at the very least equal to the outer one. I don't believe that God can be found at the end of a telescope. He can be found inside, however. As a poet, when I speak of God, I am talking metaphorically. To me this means that God is more real--not less-- than any words or dogmas one can invent.
Let me close--I will continue writing on this subject in future blogs--with one of the most powerful contemporary arguments against God: Auschwitz. How can God have allowed such horrors? Atheists are right here: myths do not intervene. All words that we use about God are myths. This does not negate the inner reality, which is of crucial importance here. Those who have had any experience of this inner God know that the more we are in contact with Him the more we know that lovingkindness to others is the most important way to connect with Him more deeply. It is those who lack or deny this inner experience that make cruelty to others possible. Auschwitz doesn't negate the possibility of God's existence; it makes our search for Him in our innermost depths, not in our outermost stars, more crucial than ever.
6.26.2009
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