Soon I Will Be Done

My wife, Nirmala, was asleep beside me.  I was still reading.  I had put down one book and took up another, one somewhat less heavy (subject-wise) in the hope I could read myself to sleep.  It worked.  After reading the first chapter of Per Pettersen's award-winning novel, Out Stealing Horses, I put out the light. The blurb of the book had informed me that I was about to read a story of an old man who isolates himself in a cabin in a remote part of Norway, and reminisces about his long life.  The old man, it turns out, is sixty-seven.  Younger than me, I thought; it's later than you think...

The dream I had that night was very vivid.  I was walking up a mountain path; the countryside was beautiful.  Each side of the path was flanked by tall oaks and stately maples.  Their leaves were in various shades of yellow, red, and gold; although it was autumn, the weather was still very gentle.  I was alone.  As I walked up the path, I noticed a lovely woman ahead of me, standing uphill  next to a huge oak, the trunk of which had been bent and gnarled by many years of difficult weather.  As I approached her, she said  these exact words: "You think you're still young,  but you already have one foot in the grave."  She smiled and concluded with, "Don't be afraid!"

I looked down and watched a tree sloth inch across the road.  If you ever saw a tree sloth  moving on the ground, you know how very difficult it is for one to get from A to B.  They have to extend one of their very long arms, then use the muscles of that arm to drag their body along.  It's a very slow process; it looks ridiculous.   Absurd, I suppose, as an old man moving six feet a minute with the aid of a walker.

After the sloth had passed, I looked up; the woman had gone.  I suspected that the apparition was none other than Nature Herself. Leaves began to fall; I didn't feel the wind, but it was driving autumn leaves along the path.  It was now dusk.  I felt very peaceful, albeit somewhat sad.  Winter was coming, no doubt about that.

I think Nature "spoke" to me telepathically; the dream was silent until the very end, when, from somewhere and everywhere, music quietly filled my being.  It seemed as if the very trees were singing--a very chromatic arrangement of a spiritual, as beautiful as it was sad.  Paradoxically, though, I felt happy---or, at least, serene.  Something was assuring me that the really good times were about to begin. I only heard the first few notes, before everything disappeared.

The next morning I was able to recall  the one or two measures I had heard in the dream--(perhaps there had been more, I don't really know.)   I spent much of the next day finishing the arrangement which my dream had begun.  I didn''t want to forget it, so I had my son record it.  You're invited to listen. (Wish I were a better pianist; hope something still comes across.)

Soon I Will Be Done

Rezension: "Die Letzte Welt" von Christoph Ransmayr

Deutscher Literaturkreis Online

Die Letzte Welt
Ein Roman von Christoph Ransmayr
Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag
Frankfurt am Main
16. Auflage: Mai 2012

"Die letzte Welt" hat mir wohl besser gefallen als alle anderen Romane der Neuzeit, die ich gelesen habe--und ich habe viele gelesen.  Er befriedigt auf verschiedenen Ebenen: das Thema, des Autors Sprachfertigkeit, und die tiefe Bedeuting, die hinter den Worten steckt.  


Das Thema

Wenn man sich bis zum Ende treu bleibt, und gar nicht scheucht, den Mächtigen die Wahrheit zu sagen, wird man nach vielem Leiden das Wichtigste entdecken und verwirklichen.  Das Thema ist, mit anderenWorten, Tranzendenz--Erst nach der Kreuzigung kommt die Auferstehung.  Symbolisch gemeint, kommt ein neues Leben nicht selten vor, und  Geschichten, in denen jemand trotz sehr vielen Schwierigkeiten am Ende triumphiert, sind Menschen von allen Kulturen verständlich.  Dieser Roman ist ein sehr
hintergründiges Beispiel dieser Weltanschaung.

In "Die Letzte Welt"  finden wir eine Mischung von historischen und mythologischen Figuren.  Obwohl die Handlung  sich in der antiken Welt abspielt, kommen viele Anakronismen kommen vor--wie, zum Biespiel, die Mikrofonen, die Ovid ungeben, während er seine fatale Rede hält.  Die Anakronismen sind vermutlich
da zu zeigen, dass die Probleme jener Zeit den unsrigen ähnlich sind.  Cotta, ein Freund von Ovid, sucht Spuren des verschwundenen Autors in Tomi, einer barbarischen Stadt am
Schwarzen Meer, wohin ihn der Kaiser Augustus verbannt hat.  Cotta  möchte herausfinden, ob ein Manuskript von "Die Metamorphosen," Ovids Hauptwerk, existiert; das Original ging in Flammen auf.  Cotta kann Ovid nicht finden, aber etwas  Wunderliches geschieht--die Barbaren von Tomi  nehmen Namen und Merkmale von Figuren in "Die Metamorphosen" an.  Am Ende hat Cotta eine Epiphanie und findet, anstatt der dürren Landschaft von Tomi, Olymp unter seinen Füssen.

Die Sprachfertigkeit

Die Bildhaftigkeit, der Rythmus  und die Sprachmelodie von Christoph Ransmayrs Prosa sind ersten Ranges.  Als Beispiel zitieren wir den ersten Satz:

Ein Orkan, das war ein Vogleschwarm hoch oben in der Nacht, ein weisser Schwarm, der rauschend näherkam und plözlich nur noch die Krone einer ungeheruen Welle war, die auf das Schiff zusprang.  Ein Orken, das war das Schreien und das Weinen im Dunkel unter Deck und der saure Getank des Erbrochenen.  Das war ein Hund, der in den Sturzseen toll wurde und einem Matrosen die Sehnen zerriss.  Über die Wunde schloss sich die Gischt. Ein Orkan, das war die Reise nach Tomi. 

                                                                                            S. 7-8

So viele treffenden und schönen Metaphern kommen im Roman vor!  Ein Beispiel: "...die Taubstumme wusste nichts vom Lärm ihres Hauses, hörte die Tonleitern des Verfalls ebsowenig wie Cottas Schläge ans Tor"(S. 168.)  "Tonleitern des Vefalls"  --der Wind spielt wie ein Teufelskind  auf die Eisenläden wie auf
Tasten--das gefällt dem Musiker in mir.


Der Inhalt, Eine Interpretation

Aber es ist der Inhalt, der uns am meisten fesselt.  Der Roman betont die Verwandlungen, die Metamorphosen, die die Zeit unabänderlich mit sich bringt. "Keinem bleibt seine Gestalt" liest Cotta auf einem verfallenen Fähnchen, Worte von Ovid, als Cotta die Ruine der Villa besucht, wo Ovid als Verbannter wohnte.  Die ersten Verwandlungen sind grausam. Ovid, unmittelbar vor seiner Verbanning, hielt eine Rede zur Öffnung eines grossen Stadions in Rom. Er war nur einer von vielen Rednern, obwohl er unter den Bewohnern Roms sehr populär war.

Eigentlich wollten die Bürokraten und die politischen Handlager, feststellen, ob er ihre Macht bedrohte, und ihn aus dem Weg schaffen, wenn das der Fall sein sollte.  Wie erwartet, priessen alle anderen Redner den Kaiser mit vielen blumigen Sätzen, als ob er ein Gott wäre.  Die einzige Ausnahme ist ein Mann, der sich in allen Umständen treu bleibt.  Ovid beginnt seine Rede  mit "Bürger von Rom."

Er erzählt von einer Pest, die eine Insel verwüstete, eine Pest, die kein Mensch überstand.  Die Leichnamen liegen überall.  Sie verfaulen auf den Strassen.  Dann steigen Amerisen von einer Eiche hinab und bedecken die Toten.  Dann werden alle wiederbelebt--als Ameisenmenschen.  So symbolisiert Ovid seine gefährliche Behauptung, dass der totale Staat die Seele und die Körper der Bürger abtötet.

Als der Roman 1988 erschien, bekam er kein Druckerlaubnis in Rumänien, damals noch eine Diktatur, weil man Ovids Rede auf die rumänischen Verhältnisse in Bezug nehmen könnte.  Der Autor beobachtete, "Ich habe damals eine fast kindliche Genugtuung empfand, dass ein Betroffener, der Zensor, eine Passage der
Letzten Welt durchaus richtig verstanden hat."

Der Kaiser hört nichts; er schnarcht.  Aber seine Ratgeber passen gut auf.  Ovid ist sofort auf ein Nestchen am schwarzen Meer lebenslänglich verbannt.  In der barbarischen Stadt Tomi verbreitet Echo, eine Figur aus "Die Metamorphosen," die jetzt eine "wirkliche" Frau ist, Ovids Geschichten überall.  Die Barbaren werden durch Ovids Einbildungskraft ziviliziert: sie nehmen die Merkmale und Namen der Charaktere an--sie verwandeln sich in lebendige Literatur.  Alle Geschichten werden zu Ende erzählt, bis zum Ende erlebt.  Ein anderer Name für Ovids Haputwerk ist "das Buch der Steine."  Alle werden zu Stein mit drei Ausnahmen: Ovid,
Cotta und Arachne.  Warum nur diese drei?

Arachne ist eine echte Künstlerin, eine Weberin.  Sie ist taubstumm, also in sich gekehrt und kann sich nur durch Kunst mit den Leuten der Umwelt verständigen.  Ihre Webbilder rufen "eine heimliche Sehnsucht nach einer fremden Welt"  hervor.  Als sie ihre Fensterläden aufstösst, hört man "das ohrentäubende Gezeter der Möwen."  Auf ihren Webbildern sind die Vögel, die in den Himmel steigen,  so bildhaft geschildert, dass man meint, dass sie aus dem Teppich in den Himmel von Tomi fliegen werden.  Diese
Teppichvögeln und die Möwen sind Symbole der Tranzendenz; sie sind "die Zeichen der Befreiung aus aller Schwere."  Der wahre, bis zum Ende beharrende Künstler steigt gleichsam mit in die Wolken; die Vögeln  kommen wieder, sie haben nämlich eine wichtige Rolle am Ende. Arachne entkommt also dem Steinschicksal.

Cotta hat hier eine  wichtige Einsicht: "Er fragte sich, ob die Metamorphosen nicht von allen Anfang an gedacht waren als eine grosse von den Steinen bis zu den Wolken aufsteigende Geschichte  der Natur." Der Künstler spinnt aus seinem Innern eine Bildwelt, die die Natur wiederspiegelt und verklärt--ein altesThema.

Der Fall Arachne ist ein Beispiel eines Aufstiegs; für ein Beispiel eines Absturzes--und im Roman sind viele--ist der Fall von Bautis, dem Fallsüchtiger.  Er hat keine rege Innenwelt wie Arachne; er ist nicht klug, ist vereinsamt und unglücklich.  Ein Schiff, das eben im Hafen gelandet hat, bringt viele Waren für die Einwohner der Stadt. Eine von denen ist ein sogenanntes Episkop, das in  den Besitz von Bautis den Fallsüchtigen kommt.  Das "Wunderwerk" vergrössert selbst "die wertlosen Dinge" des Lebens und zeigt sie schimmernd auf die Wand.  Die imponierten Einwohner wähnen dass die Abbilder heilen können: Man sucht Wundern und ein scheinbarer Wunder geschieht.  Bautis ist übernacht populär geworden  und "lallt" vor Begeisterung.  Aber die Wunder erscheinen sehr selten.  Die Einwohner kommen nicht mehr; Bautis ist vereinsamter, verstörter und unglücklicher denn je.  Er stirbt in seinem Eckchen wie ein Hund und wird zu Stein.

Arachne und Bautis sind Gegenpolen.  Die Weberin hat ein festes Ich; sie ist in sich gegangen und hat viele Wunder geschaffen.  Bautis hat ein schwaches  Ich; der Hoffnungsloser hoft noch auf Wunder von aussen. Damit vergleicht der Autor die breite Innenstrasse des Künsters, die zum Glück führen kann, mit der 
Sackgasse religöses Wunschdendenkens.   Hier sehen wir auch ein gutes Beispiel des grossen Könnens des Autors, der uns viele wichtige Sachen des Lebens zeigt und sogar lehrt, ohne je didaktisch zu werden, weil alles so bildhaft und schön erzählt ist.

Wie ich schon angedeutet habe, ist dieser Autor virtuös.  Ein Haupthema ist dass, obwohl man einen Genie misachten kann und viele Schwierigkeiten auf seinen Pfad werfen kann, kann er, wenn er noch weitergeht, seine eigene Welt schaffen--und auch deren Einwohner.  Es ist Ovids Einbildungskraft, die eine Namenslose in die grosse Künstlerin Arachne verwandelt.  Der amerikanisher Kritiker Harold Bloom schrieb Ähnliches über Shakespeare, nämlich, Shakespeare hat Hamlet geschaffen, und Hamlet hat uns 
gewissermassen geschaffen, wenigstens neu gebildet.  Vor Hamlet käme kein Beispiel eines so starken erweiteten Bewusstsein, weder in der Literatur noch im Leben, vor; seine Worte haben seitdem unser Bewusstsein erweitert und erneut.  Wir sind Hamlets geworden, wie die Weberin in eine Figur aus "Die
Metamorphosen" verwandelt worden  ist.  Man denkt auch an die neue Physik, nach welcher der Beobachter eine grosse Rolle spielt, und sogar eine Welle in ein Teilchen verwandeln kann.  Noch treffender ist die hinduistische Philosophie, die behauptet, dass das Bewusstsein primär ist; es schafft die ganze Welt und nicht umgekehrt.  So viele wichtigen Ideen liegen zwischen den schönen Zeilen dieses Romans!

Nicht nur der Inhalt, sondern auch der Stil ist originell.  Im Roman erscheint ein Stilelement, das, so weit ich weiss, zum erstenmal in der Literatur vorkommt.  Das braucht einige Worte zur Erklärung.  Wir kennen zwei Typen von Beobachtern in Romanen; erstens, der sogenannte allwissender-Betrachter--wie bei Kafka--der alles sachlich beschreibt.  Zweitens kommt die sogenannte "erlebte Rede" in dem der Beobachter, ohne Zitatszeichen, in den Kopf von einer Person gerät.  Zum Beispiel, wenn die Person optimistisch ist,  könnte der erlebte-Rede-Beobachter so etwas schreiben: "der Tag war blau und die Vögel, hoch in der Luft, schienen als ob sie mit ihren Körpern wunderschöne Sätze aus Licht mit Satzzeichen versehen wollten."  Und wenn die Gestalt pessimistisch ist, vielleicht schreibt der "erlebte Rede" Beobachter Folgendes: "Der Weg war steinig und schmutzig.  Überall waren Würmer, die sich unter einer barmherziglosen Sonne in den Tod wandten."  In "Die Letzte Welt" kommt etwas ganz Neues vor, was ich "erlebte Erde" nenne.  Als Cotta in Tomi ankam, war die Küste flach.  Als "das Buch der Steine" zu Ende kommt, und die meisten Einwohner zu Stein geworden sind,  ragen Steine auch in der Landschaft auf.  Auf der letzten Seite lesen wir: "Aus Rom verbannt, aus dem Reich der Notwendigkeit und der Vernunft, hatte der Dichter die Metamorphosen am Scharzen Meer zu Ende erzählt, hatte eine flache Steilküste, an der er Heimweh litt und fror, zu seiner Küste gemacht und zu seinen Gestalten jene Barbaren, die ihn bedrängten..."  Also hätte man dieses Stilelement ebensogut "erlebte Personen" nennen können.

Als die Landschaft und die zu Stein gewordenen Personen zeigen, dass die Geschichten zu Ende gekommen sind,  erscheint der Berg Olymp, Symbol der Tranzendenz.  Ovid ist sich selbst treu geblieben und trotz der Jammerjahren  kommt er aus der Zeit in die Ewigkeit.  Genie hat gesiegt!  Die göttlichen Vögel fliegen von den Teppichen von Arachne in die Luft. Ovid ist zu einem "unverwundbaren Kiesel" und auch zu einem Kormoran, der "strich über die Schaumkrönen der Brandung oder hockte als trimphierendes Pupermoos auf dem letzten, verschwunden Mauerrest einer Stadt."  Ovid schuf eine Natur, und jetzt is er 
die Natur.

Cotta triumphiert auch; er findet was er so lange suchte.  Er steigt auf den Berg, weil er ahnt ,dass er noch zwei Silben zu entdecken hat.  Er spricht sie laut, und beantwortet das Echo mit hier! Er hört seinen eigenen Namen.  Der Name "Cotta" ist nicht erwähnt;  man ahnt, dass er Ovids Name hinausruft, der jetzt ebensogut sein Name sein könnte, weil auch seine Geschichte zu Ende gekommen ist.  Oder vielleicht hat er "Atmen' gerufen, und "Brahman" kommt als Echo zurück.  Eine Kombination von Christentum (Auferstehung) und Hinduismus (Eins mit dem All werden), die sehr befriedigend ist.

Ein Tausend-und-Eine-Nacht Reichtum von interessanten Figuren hinter denen sich eine sehr raffinierte Ideenwelt allmählich zum Vordergrund kommt--"Die Letzte Welt" ist ein sehr schöner lesens- und nachdenkenswerter Roman, dem einen festen Platz in der Weltliteratur zukommt.

Anmerkungen


Mein besonderer Dank gilt Mary Upman vom Deutschen 

Literaturkreis in Baltimore.  Sie hat diese Rezension vorsichtig korrigiert und 

verbessert  

Vielen Dank, Mary!

Weitere Artikel auf deutsch von Thomas Dorsett (Googeln 

Sie den Titel und dem Namen, Thomas Dorsett)

1. Jakob der Lügner von Jurek Becker

2. Die Weisheit und das Alter von Thomas Dorsett

3. Die Herrlichkeit des Lebens von Michael Kampfmüller

4. Ruhm von Daniel Kaufmann

5. Liebste Fenschel! von Peter Härtling


Die Mitglieder vom deutschen Literaturkreis online machen eine Pause bis 

den 11. Januar, 2015, wann wir "Schubert" von Peter Härtling besprechen 

werden.  Wir laden sie ein, den Roman mitzulesen; meine Resenzion wird am 

Ende Januar erscheinen.

                                                                       TD

THE TORAH, THE TALMUD AND THE CONSTITUTION

l. The Declaration of Independence and The Constitution

Many years ago, I wrote an essay, now lost, entitled, "The Folly of Our Times." In the article I presented the proposition that every age has at least one moral blind spot.  Subsequent generations, having learned to see what a previous one didn't, are amazed--How on earth did they accept that?  An example I gave was that of Thomas Jefferson, a great founding father of our country.  He was the principal author of the Declaration of Independence, including the phrase, "all men are created equal."  The third president of the United States was certainly one of the best politicians this country has ever had.  And yet...Jefferson owned slaves.  How was he able to accept something so heinous?  Truth is, he wasn't heinous.  It was the folly of his times.

Jefferson, wittingly or unwittingly, undermined this folly with his own words, with which he began the Declaration of Independence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.  That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.  

It took a long period of slow moral progress for people to see what their predecessors hadn't.  They interpreted what Jefferson wrote; they asserted that the text implied fuller equality than Jefferson had imagined.  Thus, the deeper meaning of the text must contravene inequalities which were among the follies of previous epochs.  The term "men" is now extended to include men and women of all races.  Although a folly of our time still persists that believes it is correct to uphold the centuries-long abrogation of gay rights, the equality clause is increasingly interpreted to deem this assertion to be immoral.   Judicial progress demands increasing inclusion.  

All men are created equal!  This "immortal declaration" trumps mortal ones based on follies of previous ages.  It was an axiom for all the framers of the Constitution--Jefferson was among them--and is perhaps even more so for lawmakers today.  

It is obvious that legal documents from the past must be interpreted according to the wisdom of the present, so that anachronistic follies can be cast aside.  The spirit of the law must supersede the letter of the law.  Of course, there are persons who deny this spirit and demand that judges simply carry out laws exactly as they were written.  These literalists rage against so-called "activist judges" whom they believe subvert justice by judgments that have passed through the alembics of an "activist" conscience.  In my opinion, an "activist judge" is one who makes a decision with which one disagrees.  Judges must interpret.

Laws must also be  respected.  New interpretations must not go against the law; they should, however, reflect not only what a law says but also what it implies.  (If a majority is convinced that a law is no longer tenable, it must be modified, or even eliminated, and replaced by a law closer to the highest standards of justice.) As one might expect, Jefferson said it best.  The following is on panel four of the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, DC: 

"I am not an advocate for frequent changes in laws and constitutions, but laws and institutions must go hand in hand with the progress of the human mind.  As that becomes developed, more enlightened, as new discoveries are made, new truths discovered and manners and opinions change, with the change of circumstances, institutions must advance also to keep pace with the times.  We might as well require a man to wear still the coat which fitted him when a boy as civilized society to remain ever under the regimen of their barbarous ancestors."

ll. The Torah and the Talmud

The same reasoning applies to the interpretation of the Bible.
(Please feel free to replace "Torah" with "Bible" or "Scripture" if you wish, and "Talmud" with "Commentary."  Although I will be referring largely to Jewish sources, what I have to say is universal. )  Before we proceed, I would like to lay my cards on the table.

I do not know of any indication for a god that exists beyond human consciousness.  Subsequently, I assert  that there isn't  a shred of objective evidence that supports belief in intervention in human affairs by an external, divine source. To some this means I'm an atheist, but I don't consider myself that--I am actually religious. I believe that there exists something transcendent within that may be called God or  Nirvana or the Inner Light.  I think that this inner light is more real than the will-o'-the wisp of a superficial self lost in a swamp of its own making.

It is obvious, therefore, that I don't interpret any scripture literally.  However, I do think many things can be learned from scriptures; if read correctly, they can be guides for the perplexed.  (I also believe that many things can be learned from Shakespeare, Goethe, etc.)  For this reason, I am incensed when atheists trash the bible and other scriptures as if they were mere compendiums of barbarity from the past, as incensed as I would be if a critic should claim that a play by some schlepp from Vassar is superior to Hamlet.  (Richard Dawkins, Bill Maher, etc. you're wrong on this one, as I will soon make clear.)

Defending the bible, I feel like a lawyer from the Civil Liberties Union trying to free someone who admittedly has caused a lot of trouble, yet has a good heart.  This is especially true of the Torah, which was written by humans so long ago; many behaviors that seemed right then seem wrong now--sometimes very wrong. I will name just a few,  injunctions that people who think the bible is a farrago of cruelty and nonsense, love to quote--This list is by no means exclusive! 

Ten Quotes from the Torah That No Longer Apply

(All quotes are from "The Jewish Bible, Tanakh, The Holy Scriptures, The Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia--Please recall that the Torah is composed of the first five books of the bible. and form the heart of the Christian Old Testament.)

1.  Deuteronomy 17: If there is found among you...a man or woman who has affronted the Lord and transgressed His covenant--turning to the worship of other gods and bowing down to them, to the sun or the moon or any of the heavenly host, something I never commanded..you shall take the man or the woman..out to the public place, and you shall stone them, man or woman, to death.

2, Exodus 22: 17 You shall not tolerate a sorceress.  (That is, you should not let a sorceress live.)

3. Leviticus 20:13--If a man lies with a male as one lies with a woman, the two of them have done an abhorrent thing; they shall be put to death.

4. Leviticus 20:12--If a man lies with his daughter-in-law, both of them shall be put to death.

5. Leviticus 20:27--A man or a woman who has a ghost or a familiar spirit shall be put to death. (This law refers to fortune tellers and mediums.) 

6. Leviticus 20:9--If anyone insults his father or mother, he shall be put to death.

7. Leviticus 20:10--If man commits adultery with another man's wife, the adulterer and the adulteress shall be put to death.

8.Leviticus 34:13--Take the blasphemer outside the camp, ..and let the entire community stone him.

9. Deuteronomy 22-(If a woman is found not to be a virgin on her wedding night) the men of her town shall stone her to death.  

10. Exodus 32:14--Whoever does work on the Sabbath shall be put to death.

Every civilized twenty-first century person would consider all of these injunctions to be barbaric.  But are detractors justified in their opinion that the bible is basically inhumane, an atavistic nightmare  from which we all must wake?  I will present three arguments against this view.

1. Scriptures were written a long time ago by human beings, and thus never completely transcend the mores of the historical context in which they were written.  It is not surprising that they contain difficult passages, like the ones quoted above.  Injustices and harsh punishments were ubiquitous in the ancient world.  These cultures took slavery, for instance, for granted.  The list of injustices I quoted remind  one of the intolerance of many aspects of Sharia law, codified about a thousand years later.  The ancient code of Hindu law, written by Manu perhaps as long ago as the fifth century B.C.E. turns Jefferson's "immortal declaration" on its head--for the ancient Hindus, all men were decidedly not created equal.  An example: if a Brahman abused a member of a lower caste, he was to be punished very lightly; if a lower caste abused a Brahman, however, he was to be killed.  Torture and mutilation of criminals, widely practiced in most ancient cultures, were not advocated by the Torah.

I repeat, no scripture completely transcends the world in which  it was written.  They are replete with unacknowledged follies of their times.  However, if an entire scripture didn't at least partially transcend its time and indicate a path for further development, it can no longer serve as a guide and is best discarded.  Is this the case for the Torah?  We have come to the second point of my argument.

2. "I have a home in Glory Land that outshines the sun"--such are the lovely words of a spiritual.  Well, I know a verse from the Torah that outshines all others.  Leviticus 19:17, arguably the most important religious advice in any scripture: "Love your fellow as yourself." (It is often translated as, "Love your neighbor as yourself.")  This command is as holy as it is secular; it applies to peoples of all faith as well as to atheists and agnostics.  It is very psychologically astute: if you don't love yourself, you're not going to love your neighbor.  It implies that both loves are to be learned and practiced simultaneously.  It is the basis of all moral life.

The importance of this statement is obvious and needs no elaboration. I will therefore go to the third point of my argument, which answers the question, "The Torah might have a diamond, but what about all the coal?"

3. One of my favorite quotes from the Talmud is, 'What is the Torah?  It is the interpretation of the Torah." In other words, each generation must interpret and not blindly follow tradition.  Recall what I wrote about the follies of past ages--as people become more morally astute, they must discard that which previous generations believed to be right, when one's conscience is certain that it is wrong.  What is the criterion by which one judges?  Leviticus 19:17, of course!   I will give an example.  A rabbi told me that over 85% of his congregation supports gay marriage.  Why?  Because opposition to it is in opposition to the Great Commandment. This would undoubtedly have surprised the Ancient Hebrews, but morality has progressed since then--thank G-d!
We have come to a deeper understanding of Leviticus 19:17.  Simone Weil has been of help here:  she wrote that the commandment implies that we are to love our neighbor's desire.  In other words, to be worthy of love, neighbors don't have to look like us, or even act like us as long as their desire is in agreement with Leviticus 19:17.  (This is obviously true regarding gay marriage: homosexuals are as capable of love as are heterosexuals.)

In addition to this big diamond, there are many little diamonds in the Torah. It succeeds on many levels--as history, as literature, as a repository of great insights. Sure, there are difficult passages.  It makes as much sense to reject the Torah, however, as it is to reject a person for a few peccadilloes committed in his youth.

Is there room for interpretation?  Always.  But let our conscience be our guide: Anything that our deepest sense of justice believes cannot pass through the alembics of Leviticus 19:17 can never be purified or be considered as such--it's that simple, it's that complex.

Summary

All laws of the United States must be in accord with "all men are created equal"--interpreted in the broadest, most inclusive sense.  But laws are the basis of how behavior is to be judged; they do not demand that we do our best.  A bad politician and a good lawyer are both created equal; this does not imply, of course, that their actions are morally equivalent. It is Leviticus 19:17 that reveals what we should  do and how to do it; it is therefore primary.  Compared to the Great Commandment, "all men are created equal" is but a corollary, albeit a very beautiful one.  Both are essential.

Everyone agrees that the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution are great documents.  My advice to those who think the Bible is something less: take the coal out of your eyes and see.

A Literary Near-Death-Like Experience: The Final Scenes of Goethe's Faust Part 2

During a recent course I gave on Goethe's Faust, I was impressed by many things in Goethe's masterwork, not the least of which is the remarkable and strange ending to the second half of the tragedy, which has been exercising the pens of critics since it appeared in 1832, the year of the author's death.  For some, it's a completely unexpected and gratuitous ending, much like a deus-ex-machina ending of a play by Seneca or Plautus. For others, Faust gets exactly what he deserves, salvation.  I would like to add my own interpretation, which is somewhat between the two.  First, a little background  information.

Faust is perhaps the most ambiguous of all literary masterworks.  Criticism of Dante's Inferno might range from A to D; criticism of Shakespeare's Hamlet might range a little farther into the alphabet than that.  In other words, critics basically agree; there is not a school of thought, for instance, that considers Hamlet to be a rogue, while another group of scholars considers Hamlet to be a saint. But criticism of Faust entails the entire alphabet--Some critics might have an A view, as it were, while others have a completely opposite Z view.  This is true of no other major work of literature with which I am familiar.

The ending of part two of the tragedy is especially problematic.  I offer in this essay a new angle from which to view the ending, one that goes beyond, as it were, the entire alphabet!  Before we turn to the ending, however, I would like to summarize briefly part one and part two, emphasizing the aspects that make the ending incongruous for some, inevitable for others.

FAUST

Goethe, born in 1749, published the final version of Faust Part 1 in 1808.  There is an earlier version called the Urfaust in which most of the elements of the drama first appeared; it dates from the 1770s when Goethe was in his twenties.  Faust Part Two, as mentioned previously, was published in 1832; Goethe had been working on it for decades, and was still perfecting and adding to it in his eighties.

The story of Faust is well known, so I will be brief.  Faust, the most prominent scholar of his age, is dissatisfied.  He is after Truth, not truths.  He understands that "we are not able to know," which drives him to despair.  Revelation, which guided mankind in the past, is of no use in the post-Kantian pseudo-medieval modern world which Faust inhabits. ("I hear the Gospel, but I lack belief.")  He makes a pact with the devil; if Mephistopheles can enable Faust to experience eternity, even for a moment, the scholar is willing to forfeit his soul. Since trying to find Truth through knowledge has proven to be futile, the devil suggests that the inexperienced Faust might find what he is looking for in the world of sensuality.  Faust's youth is restored; a love potion fills him with desire.  He seduces a young, beautiful innocent girl, Gretchen, who is his social inferior.  As she relates in an immortal poem, Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel, her peace has been destroyed.  Faust gives her a sleeping potion; she is instructed to slip it into her mother's drink, so he can seduce Gretchen at home while the older woman sleeps. She never wakes up.  Gretchen becomes pregnant; Faust abandons her.    Her brother curses her for the shame she has caused and dies in a duel with Faust, who is aided by the devil.  Having gone mad with grief, the poor girl drowns her newborn daughter; she is condemned to death for this crime.  Faust, spirited to the prison by Mephistopheles, attempts to save her, but it is too late.

The Faust of Part One is a rogue.  In his striving for Truth, he is completely amoral. ("I have neither scruples nor (self) doubts, and do not fear hell or the devil."  A classic example of a noble end supposedly  justifying ignoble means. The Faust of Part Two continues his ceaseless striving, but with a major difference: in the first part, Faust is responsible for the deaths of four members of one family; in part two Faust seeks and obtains enormous political power and affects--and destroys--many lives.  With the devil's help, he mercilessly decimates the army of one who has declared himself emperor, since the current one is an unjust fop.  Prior to the devil's intervention, the alternative and presumably more just emperor's side was winning.  As a reward for his savage victory, Faust requests and receives from the emperor a coastal area; his life work now is to reclaim huge stretches of land from the sea.  (Perhaps a symbol of his working against nature rather than with it.)  The land reclamation proceeds with the devil's help--it would have been impossible without it.  Faust dies, an old man, before his life work is completed.

THE A AND THE Z OF IT

As mentioned previously, the interpretation of Goethe's work has been quite problematic.  The "A" interpretation asserts that Faust, after committing many misdeeds, sincerely repents and is justified for being  proud of his land-reclamation project which will, in his opinion at least, provide a major benefit to mankind. The "Z' view is that Faust remains a miscreant to the very end.  If the latter case is true, his salvation at the end is gratuitous and completely undeserved.  Let us now briefly discuss the arguments of each side.
The so-called "perfectiblists" assert that Faust attains the height of moral existence, after a life of misdeeds, before his death.  This has been the standard view, and, until relatively recently, had remained largely unchallenged. Alleged proof of this transformation occurs in several sections  at the end of the text. Faust is furious that a loving, elderly couple, Philemon and Baucis,  still live on the coastal area which he has received from the emperor. (Baucis asserts that Faust's project was morally very suspect.  She asserts, correctly that he used slave labor and utilized  "black magic" to  assist him in the construction, which took place mostly at night.) Faust, bent on owning everything on the land he is working on, decides to forcibly evict the couple.  His henchmen, along with Mephistopheles--possibly accomplishing Faust's secret desire--terrorize the couple who die on the spot.  Their property catches fire and burns down. Faust curses their action and washes his hands of it--he insists that he merely demanded their eviction, not their demise.  This has been interpreted by some as genuine repentance.  Later on, immediately before Care (that is, Anxiety, in the form of a woman) blinds the 100 years old Faust, he admits the following (in my rough translation): "I have only desired and accomplished, storming powerfully through my life; previously I was big and tough; now I proceed cautiously with wisdom." In his last monologue, Faust asserts the importance of his legacy and is convinced that "the traces of his life on earth will last forever."

The "Z" critics--and I cast my lot in with them--find no evidence of a great moral awakening; Faust remains immoral--or amoral--to the very end.  He repents about what happened to the elderly couple--but these are merely words and are not followed with any change in behavior.  His assertion that he "only desired and accomplished" does not result in any moral transformation either. His assertion that he now "proceeds cautiously and with wisdom" is more due to the fact that he is 100 years old, rather than due to a moral epiphany.  In his final monologue he is as grandiose and self-centered as ever.  Faust for the "Z" critics is a man  who uses any means whatever to reach his ends. He shows not the slightest concern for his enslaved workers.  He has caused considerable pain and suffering in the first part and a good deal more in the second part.  He is, in this view, a megalomaniac and a scoundrel.  The final two scenes, in which heavenly hosts declare him saved and then transport him to heaven, appear to this group of critics as to be either a parody or an unconvincing deus ex machina ending--albeit without the appearance of a god.  I would like now to present my interpretation, in which Faust remains an unredeemed rogue throughout both parts of the play--and yet, at the end, is worthy of redemption.

FAUST'S TRANSFIGURATION AS A NEAR-DEATH-LIKE EXPERIENCE

Immediately before his final monologue, the blind Faust leaves his palace, pleased by the sounds of workers.  He believes he is hearing sounds of construction on his land-reclamation project: "How the sound of spades delights me/ This is the mass of people indentured to me/ who reconcile earth with earth/ who give no borders to the waves/ and give strict limits to the sea." (lines 15139-15143.) Once again, Faust is deluded--the sounds he hears are from demons digging his grave.  Faust subsequently dies and is placed in the freshly dug grave.  "The terrible jaws of hell" open on stage left.  Mephistopheles is ready to claim Faust's soul according to the terms of the wager. Then something miraculous happens. This "something" as we shall see, has many of the characteristics of a near-death experience.

In the stage directions, Goethe writes that a "Glory above from the right" appears.  This has been translated by David Luke (Oxford University Press) as "A flash of glory from above right."  We are now experiencing the brilliance of the divine light becoming manifest in the world; such epiphanies had often been depicted in medieval art as a vision of a saint, which takes the form of a brilliant apparition above him, as we can see in a rather typical painting of that era by Hans Baldung Grien, (1511).

The heavenly hosts bear glad tidings for Faust's immortal part: "Come in serene flight, ye divine emissaries, animate dust and forgive sins--Reveal friendly hints to all natures, all ye hosts floating above," (lines 11676-11684). The message of the angels is clear: they proclaim that in the divine realm all individuals are completely forgiven, no matter what they have done on earth.  Thus, Faust deserves redemption as much as anyone else. A chorus of angels then strews roses from above, symbols of divine, unconditional love.

Already two major characteristics of a near-death experience have become manifest: a flash of divine light from above and the revelation that all--in this case Faust assumes the role of an Everyman--deserve and receive unconditional love from on high.

Near-death experiences, visions of an afterlife by those in a coma or determined to be clinically dead for a period of time, are remarkably consistent.  This article does not claim, nor does it absolutely deny, that these experiences transcend the psychological; it does, however, assert that NDEs show a remarkable consistency and reflect deep  insights into the human condition. As archetypes of our collective unconscious, their contents illustrate innate, profound patterns of thought and belief.  It is therefore not completely surprising that Goethe, who had a a deep understanding of human nature, ended his great drama with great final truths. (That these truths are expressed in ways consistent with NDEs is, however, quite remarkable.) It is quite possible--even likely-- that Goethe believed that what happened to the fictive Faust after his fictive death could happen to real, flesh and blood people after death. (It has been documented that Goethe thought that death is not final.)

Pim van Lommel, a Dutch cardiologist, has done much research regarding NDEs.  Examples of his research have appeared in many prestigious journals, including The Lancet.  He is the author of the well-received "Consciousness Beyond Life; the Science of the Near-Death Experience", which I have reviewed. To his surprise, he discovered that about 20% of 62 of his patients who suffered clinical death had an NDE.  All of the patients had cardiac arrests and had come under his care for this reason.  We will use his book, and especially Moody's list of typical Near-Death Experiences, on which van Lommel elaborates, as a reference as we discuss Faust's final moments. (Moody, the author of the 1975 Life After Life is a seminal figure in the field of NDEs.)

I have found five aspects of a NDE that apply to Faust.  We have already briefly mentioned two; I will now proceed to discuss these two in more detail along with the three other aspects.

1. "The Perception of a Brilliant Light or a Being of Light"

We have already seen that a flash of light appears after Faust's death radiating from a whole host of beings of light.  Although they initially appear above the stage on the right, they and their light soon permeate the whole stage.

2. Unconditional Love

On page 284 of his book, van Lommel writes, "During a NDE, the encounter with 'the light' is felt to be the most intense and most essential part of the experience.  This encounter is always accompanied by an overwhelming sense of unconditional love and acceptance.  At this point NDErs feel completely enveloped by the enlightening and all-encompassing consciousness."

We have already mentioned corroboration of this factor in the play's final two scenes.  The roses strewn by the celestial beings represent unconditional love; the angels declare that forgiveness of sins applies to "Allen Naturen" that is, to everybody. The angels (lines 11800-11805) leave no doubt that love and forgiveness are always finally victorious: "Loving flames, reveal clarity/So that Truth can heal/Those who condemn themselves/So that they cheerfully/Leave evil behind/In order to blessedly join/ Universal unity."  What could be clearer?  Faust had "condemned himself" throughout his entire life by thinking only about himself and by acting extremely selfishly throughout.  (Faust here represents all humanity; every religion has its version of "we have all gone astray.") It is important to note that the angels proclaim as a general rule that truth will heal those who condemn themselves by committing evil.

Critics, even those in the so-called "A" group who assert that Faust has genuinely repented, have always found Faust's redemption to be problematic.  As one might expect, the "Z" critics, who assert that Faust remains a scoundrel to the very end, find the ending offensive and completely unjustified. It makes no sense to them.  It turns conventional (that is, earthly) morality on its head.  But that's precisely the point.  Let us turn to an assertion of Zen Buddhism for clarification here.  Zen philosophy asserts that deep down we are all enlightened. No exceptions. There is, as it were, an indestructible diamond inside everyone.  Our ignorant and evil deeds cover up the diamond with mud.  In some individuals, the layer of mud is very thick, in others, less so.  Enlightenment--represented by the universal truths manifested by the divine beings after Faust's death--washes the mud  away, no matter how thick it had become.  The diamond is then visible, although  it may still need further cleansing, as we shall see in Faust's case.  The manifestation of this diamond--which some can achieve in life--is redemption.  In this interpretation, one's true self, the diamond, is always there, no matter how concealed.  Uncovering this eternal diamond is inevitable; mud, the superficial layer, is not immortal and is eventually washed away--after death, or sometimes, (rarely) before.  In this interpretation, therefore, Faust's redemption isn't problematic at all. That he possessed an internal diamond in no way justifies the thick layers of mud Faust accumulated in his lifetime.

One might object here that in a NDE the person is conscious--albeit with a higher consciousness--throughout.  At the end of the tragedy, Faust is really dead; there is no indication that he is conscious of his redemption.  Or is there? We will now assert, with evidence presented by the next three points, that Faust might indeed aware of what is going on.

3.  The Out Of Body Experience

A bodiless consciousness, often observing the inert body of the observer, is a hallmark of NDEs. "During an out-of-body experience," Dr, van Lommel writes, "people have verifiable perceptions from a position outside and above the lifeless body" (page 19).  How does this apply to Faust?

In my interpretation, Faust has left his inert body; his consciousness has now left the stage to become, as it were, part of the audience.  From his new vantage point, Faust is observing everything.  We will give further evidence to support this view a little later.

A critic, J.M van der Lamm, an ardent member of  the "Z" group, finds Faust's redemption to be completely unacceptable. He asserts that "Faust has nothing to say or do in the last scene.  He has neither power nor authority, but rests in the arms of attending angels.  They carry him, or that which remains of him and is immortal,...providing the motion of which he himself is now incapable.  The great man of action is now the man of inaction," (Seeking Meaning for Goethe's Faust, Continuum International Publishing Group, London, 2007, page 151). What is gratuitous for him is inevitable for me: the mud has been washed away.  I would refer Mr. van der Lamm to the quote of Goethe on the the very first page of his book: Wir sind Originale weil wir nichts wissen--that is, "We are individuals because we know nothing."  When the truth is revealed, the mud disappears and the diamond is manifest.  He is not now "a man of inaction"--he has become  part of a universal consciousness on its way home. "The great man of (destructive) action" is now, thankfully, dead.  The diamond, the essential nature of everyone and in everyone, shines on.

In a famous painting of Hieronymous Bosch, (1450-1516), "Visions of the Afterlife" several aspects of a NDE experience are depicted, such as the light, the ascent, the tunnel.  (Van Lommel found that the "tunnel experience" was present in only 21% of his cases, however.)

4. "Encounters with Spiritual Beings And/Or With the Deceased"

Whenever a NDEer  encounters someone known to him or her, that person, often a relative, is no longer among the living.  Despite all the varied aspects of a NDE, there are no exceptions to this fact.  I find this to be astounding.  If we were dealing with usual dreams here, one would expect that an NDEer,  entering, say, the tunnel, would see at least occasionally see close family members on the earthly side, begging him not to depart.  This is never the case.  There are no good-byes at the beginning of the tunnel.

In the final scene of Faust, there is no one among the living who witnesses Faust's apotheosis.  Even Mephistopheles, who defined himself in the first part as "a part of that power"--has disappeared, since the deepest reality does not include his, at best, partial, subjective, truths.  The only encounter Faust with someone known to him on earth is with "una poenitentium, formerly known as Gretchen" who rejoices as Faust's returns to her. Gretchen asserts: "Surrounded by the noble chorus of spiritual beings/The new arrival is scarcely conscious of fresh life..See how he is leaving behind the bonds of earth of the old shell.. .Give me permission to instruct him;/ The new day is blinding him still." This request is granted by the Mater Gloriosa, the Virgin in her Glory, as opposed to the statue of the "Mater Dolorosa" of the first act, depicted as mourning the crucifixion of her Son.

As stated before, the diamond is now apparent, but still has traces of mud on its surface and in need of further cleansing.  Gretchen will restore it to its original brilliance by teaching Faust something that was so very lacking in his earthly existence, love.

5. Universal and Culturally Bound Aspects

As mentioned earlier, unconditional love is experienced in virtually all NDEs.  This is also astounding.  One would expect that Westerners, whose religions assert that the good will be rewarded and the bad be punished in the afterlife, would not always encounter absolute acceptance in their NDEs.  There is almost never any aspect of judgement in a NDE.  The myth of Christ welcoming those on His right to heaven and condemning those on the left to hell proves to be just that, a myth; it dies with the body of the NDEer.  It is truly noteworthy that an important aspect of the teaching of the three Abrahamic religions, namely, some form of judgement, is completely absent in the dying minds of NDErs who practiced one of these religions during life.

Other aspects of NDEs are not universal.  NDErs often interpret the beings they encounter according to the religious symbolism they had been familiar with in life.  Christians often see Jesus; Jews, Hindus, etc. don't. This for me provides evidence that Faust is having a NDE-like experience.  Many of the spiritual beings he encounters have their origin in Christian, specifically Catholic, mythology.  This is the faith in which Faust grew up. (I imagine that by the time Faust is perfected, the cultural myths will have abated, leaving nothing but everything, the diamond of universal consciousness.)

In Part 1 of Faust, Faust contemplates suicide because he despairs of ever reaching universal knowledge.  It is Easter morning and he hears the joyous sounds of Christians celebrating the Resurrection.  Even though he does not believe that the Resurrection ever occurred, he is swept away with joy.  It reminds him of the delights Easter provided in his childhood.  The celebrations invade his being and turns him away from suicide.  "Earth has me again", he asserts. Although the Church can never have him again, its symbolism remains deep inside him. This is, I think, why Catholic mythological figures appear at the end.  It is his NDE; it contains universal truths as seen and imagined according to the cultural tradition in which Faust was raised. The faces might be different, but what's behind them is the same.  I think Goethe, a lapsed Protestant who asserted that he was decidedly not Christian, uses these symbols because they would be familiar to Faust as he reaches the first stage of his transfiguration.  This is consistent with my statement that Faust is now part of the audience, experiencing the afterlife in terms he would understand.

What the angels, having carried "Faust's immortal part" into the higher realm, proclaim in lines 11936-11937 is one of the most famous and most important revelations of the drama: "We are able to redeem those/Who never cease to strive." This is undoubtedly what Faust, now in the audience, as it were, would want to hear.  (It is also undoubtedly what the ever-active Goethe would want to hear as a revelation from on high.)  But the angels that Goethe imagines do not leave it at that; they delve deeper into the essence of things.  The lines are ambiguous; they are a "this side/that side" welcome.  Faust needs to hear something he can relate to, the "this side" aspect for one whom "the new day still blinds."  But it subtly leads Faust beyond, the "that side" aspect of the lines.  The German word for redeem, "erlösen," also means to release, in this case, release from chains.  That type of striving is now over!  In addition, the angels do not proclaim that only the strivers are redeemed; that they can redeem the active does not imply that they can't redeem contemplatives.  As stated previously, they are perfectly capable of redeeming everyone.  (A less driven person might well hear the angels proclaim, "We can redeem (release from all chains) those who were satisfied with what they had."

All earthly striving is now to be transcended and replaced by something deeper which really isn't striving at all.  This view is proclaimed by the Mystical Choir, in the famous last lines of the play, which sums everything up for Faust and for us all: "Everything that is not permanent/Is merely a symbol;/ What cannot be reached/Is reached here;/What can't be described/Is accomplished here/ The eternal-feminine/ pulls us on."  The "eternal-feminine", of which Gretchen was a good example, is the power of love.  Notice that Goethe has this power pull us.  This is reminiscent of NDEers who feel them selves being drawn rapidly into a realm of light.  It is a passive process.  Faust sees his immortal part being taken rather than striving towards ultimate reality. At this point, one no longer has the choice of rambling through space, as it were; the individual satellite has come sufficiently close to be captured by the gravity of the transcendent realm--it will and must land there without any further action of its own. It is a dis-covering, an uncovering of the diamond inside.  Faust is finally learning his lesson, the lesson.  Love, not egotistical striving, is what ushers in eternity. There are many aspects of the drama that apply to humanity as a whole, and this is the most important of all of them.  I think Goethe would agree with me that this is something, better sooner than later, that we will and must learn, too.

Summary

The last two scenes of Faust Part 2 reveal several typical aspects of a NDE, something, to my knowledge, that has never been asserted before.  Whatever a NDE is, it certainly illustrates what a dying mind universally deems to be of the utmost importance.  Although NDE-like experiences have occurred throughout all times and cultures--albeit not with the frequency of today, due to increased awareness of these encounters--there is no evidence that Goethe had any knowledge of this phenomenon.  It is more likely that Goethe, who had profound knowledge of the deepest truths of the human condition, revealed these universal truths at a time for Faust when all earthly vanities are cast away, namely, after death. This after-death revelation is the essence of virtually all NDEs. This is why Goethe's deepest insights have so many characteristics of those who have had transcendent experiences after clinical death; this is why understanding NDEs helps us see Faust's salvation in a new light.  Whether he was aware of it or not, Goethe thus depicted a NDE-like experience in the last two scenes of his great play, perhaps the most beautiful and profound example of such in all literature.

Goethe Essays by Thomas Dorsett

(All are accessible on the internet by googling the title in question along with thomasdorsett, or by accessing my blog, thomasdorsett.blogspot.com)

1. Goethe's Prometheus
2. Wanderers Nachtlied ll
3. Who Never Ate His Bread in Tears
4. Goethe's Wanderers Nachtlied und ein Einfacheres
5. A Fictional NDE-like Experience from Goethe's Faust Part 2
6. An Analysis of Two Schubert/Goethe Lieder