In Christ’s time, the faith of Israel, as it was practiced, had become corrupt. He stated that He was not sent to overthrow the law, but to put it back in its rightful place. His greatest ire would be directed at the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the scribes who dominated worship of the faithful in the temple. After all it was they who were leading the sheep astray.   

Why do so many Christians today not question the authority of their religious institutions or even the written testament of Christ’s life and teachings? It’s as if God would ensure the integrity of the faith despite apparently, before Christ’s time, neglecting to do the same for Judaism. 

History teaches us that early Christians shared an attribute that made them unpopular in the ancient world – complete and utter pacifism. The Roman Emperor Constantine was a warrior and a conqueror. He was instrumental in forming a unified Church – the universal Church we now call Catholic. During the papacy of Sylvester I, the first churches were built and first Masses recited, 300 years after the resurrection.  

This Catholic orthodoxy remains the foundation of Protestantism, Eastern Orthodoxy and most other faiths ascribed as Christian. Since the time of Constantine and the Council of Nicaea, Christianity has most obviously become more and more a tool for those who use violence to attain their worldly ends.

Indeed an outsider religion scorned by other faiths had gone “mainstream” under Constantine. It seems that Christianity may have changed more than its followers and in a real sense a religion of slaves became an institution for slaveholders.

This degradation into an acceptance of violence is among the striking aspects of the change we can see in Christianity – if for no other reason than pacifism was among its most distinguished and notable credos.  

The Christ we see in the written gospels appears purely a man of peace. Could it be that His message and life were so pure of any sort of aggression that this is an attribute that simply can’t be turned on its head or truly obscured in any effective way?     

So this Christ of our gospels told us that if we are struck on one cheek, to then turn the other cheek so we can be struck there as well. He also told us if asked for our cloak, to offer our coat as well.

Is this just crazy or maybe something reserved only for Christ and His closest followers? Does Christ actually expect us all to act this way? Have you ever considered this?  

How do you feel about that? What does your heart (forget your head for a moment) tell you about that?

Look around you and see. Hatred breeds.

It’s like the complaints of “reverse racism” we hear in the white community of America today. This is some sort of racism that whites perceive that they experience from people of color.

Forget for a moment what you’ve heard or seen about this issue. Hatred breeds. Sure, we are asked to go down the racist road and forget that it is those with the wealth and the power who are the masters of the oldest games in the book such as Sun Tzu’s classic: “divide and conquer”.

So one side hates and then the other side hates. One side ravages and then the other side ravages. What’s happening and where does it stop?

Christ knows this doesn’t work. He told us it doesn’t work and look around you. It doesn’t work.

Remember, this is the teacher who told us that although we had heard to love our neighbors, we were to love our enemies!

Is this more outrageousness… or actually something all Christians are expected to aspire to?

This is what works – it’s a little secret knowledge although it is something that should never have been secret and should never have been held up as a secret. Yet this mystery seems so obvious from His teachings even if we are so very distance from the time and place of His mission on Earth.  

When one does what Christ says and gives love when hatred is received it is exactly like a mirror. The person projecting hatred feels it come back to them three-fold. You have just given that person something…something that they refuse to give themselves. This is Love.

Man…that hurts.

Simple, but very critical this is. It is powerful and it is highly effective. Look around you. Hatred doesn’t work and it simply breeds more hatred. Give that same person hatred. You won’t win even if you’re otherwise in the right or at your best and you may even think you’ve won, but the war isn’t one battle and if you’ve believed that it is then you certainly haven’t thoroughly studied Sun Tzu after all…much less Christ.

The one who is projecting hatred and violence is self-loathing and reveals this in his or her projections. This feeds the self-loathing as one realizes this truth on some very real level or another and can finally reflect that they are most fundamentally acting in a self-destructive manner through their aggression, hatred and violence.

Love conquers all in the end as this is God. We are being had – every single one of us in this society. Never forget that either. We are being conned and only a very few of us recognize this.

No one said this was the easy route. No one told early Christians it would be easy. There have been plenty of martyrs. There has been much blood and tears and toil all for peace and justice. It is not expeditious, but it is the only way to bliss and to joy.

In the end this isn’t some system of arbitrary good and evil or right and wrong. There are good feelings and there are bad feelings and bad feelings generate bad feelings and good feelings make for more good feelings. This is also Karma or “you reap what you sow”.  

You are what you project.

Brothers and sisters, be at peace and give your love freely. While the enemy will plant violence in your ranks to justify the violence brought upon you, don’t do their dirty work for them.

Choose violence and we all lose. This is their craft and their means, not ours. The Devil always wins his own game. Of course, it’s rigged. When one truly surrenders to God and becomes His perfect tool, a shield, well then the Devil will always run and hide.

Love will win this war against war. The first battle is the one between your heart and your mind. Do what you feel. Make it love – not hate.

 

Hey Brother…where are you now?

Nowhere but down?

All alone…

Falling…through that pit…?

…Aint no home.

What can you hold onto now…brother?

It’s not there?

Long way…down….

Where is the One? Where are those we love…our brothers and sisters?

…Aint no home.

How can you even think of surrender? …Still it is a struggle?

What about all that death? What about the blood?

How many more of us fell before you?

…a moment that is replayed over and over again….

It’s not there?

Nothing you can hold?

I ask, Where are you now?

Your guns so precious….

To protect…or for this death and murder?

It’s not there?

Was your life filled with these rites…?

…what of love and of brotherhood?

Long way…down….

You may have thought it would be over now, but this is only another beginning.

You may have thought you would be where everyone else ends up, but well…

What do you have to hold onto now?

All alone…

Above it all on the 32nd floor…

So you thought, but really….

It’s not there?

Where are you now?

Falling…

“He is dead…currently…”.

You start again. Alone…from a better place…?

All alone…

How many dead? How many lives have been torn open in your bloody feast?

How much pain?

It’s not there?

Coming back again, can you see it…?

“He is dead…currently…”.

Where are you now my brother?

It’s not there?

Yes, I’m talking to you.

All alone….

May God have mercy on your everlasting soul….

 

 

This lament originally appeared on the Reveille website on October 3, 2017.

 

This is the third of four parts about Mary Shelley’s great modern myth. One more part to come.

Unlike Milton’s epic, Frankenstein is purely rooted in the physical universe and is a secular reformation of the Genesis myth. In this world, there is no God and the angels and demons are merely metaphorical creations. Mary Shelley’s presentation of man and monster is starkly modern – humanity is alone in the universe. Like the Creature, we have been abandoned to a godless existence.

For the lonesome Creature, “sin” becomes his good and death his desire (299). He warns humanity, “Beware, for I am fearless, and therefore powerful” (225). The Creature has reached the point of desperation and has “nothing to lose” in his state of complete wretchedness. The overreaching Victor is only potent through the act of creation. Like others in the story, he is ineffective against the power of the Creature. George Levine summarizes the writings of D.H. Lawrence on the subject of post-revolutionary notions that imagined the perfectibility of humankind. Mankind was given the power to shape man and “‘The ideal being was man created by man. And so was the supreme monster’” (28-9). This godless, fearless super powered being might be seen as an early Nietzschean prototype of the anti-modern man (the “modern man” as thoroughly impotent). While the Monster is a deformed Byronic hero, Victor as a failed Gothic hero becomes “a tiresome neurotic whose presence impoverishes the larger portion of the novel that bears his name” (Sherwin 898). 

In the 1818 novel’s introduction, this condition is allegorized through “the tale of the sinful founder of his race whose miserable doom it was to bestow the kiss of death on all the younger sons of his fated house, just when they reached the age of promise” (xvi). For Shelley, this is our fate as well as the fate of the house of Frankenstein and his seemingly deathless creation. Wilt describes this doom as “an economical universe” or by Levine using technological jargon, it is “entropy” (Wilt 36, Levine 17). Technology and, most importantly, the technological world that we have created is the very cause of the stunning powerlessness of modern mankind. This impotence – the broad theme of much of modern twentieth-century literature – is ultimately the albatross around our necks as we stumble through existence in search of some light of hope.

Ultimately, the Creature represents the world that we’ve created. The Creature is ours. Fallen humanity, using its mind or what it believes is the best tool available to it, has pieced together this world from the relics and dreams of the past. George Levine summarizes this well:

The duality of our relationship to creator and creature is an echo of our relationship to the technology that we worship even as we recognize that it is close to destroying us. Another way to express the duality, in technological terms, is through the idea of entropy. Victor’s overreaching is an attempt to create new  life. He fails to recognize the necessary secular-scientific myth of entropy: that in any closed system, the new energy generated will be less than the energy expended in its creation, and that ultimately the system will run down. It took a great deal of death to make the new life; the making of the Monster is at the expense of all of Victor’s immediate world – brother, father, bride, friend. The world of mere matter is both finite and corrupted. Without the incalculable presence of divine spirit, creation can only entail destruction larger than itself. It is, ultimately, this nightmare image that the Monster represents to our culture. (17)

The mitosis of these meanings for Mary Shelley’s monster is indelibly linked to both our subconscious and the formations that come from our mental complexes. This demon is what we, as faulted humans, create. It is what we will. In Milton, as in Genesis, humanity exchanged knowledge for immortality. Ever after, we have sought to regain what we have lost – that is Life – through the very gift that was to be our greatest curse in this Faustian exchange. Like Adam and Eve, humankind remains convinced that knowledge can bring us closer to some higher state – whether it is the aloofness to simply accept our doom or the means to return to some sort of utopia. The promises of the Enlightenment, rational and empirical thought, science and technology have lifted our hopes to the heavens. Frankenstein is a very clear rendering of the height of these dreams and the precipices that fall dangerously below us.

This search for redemption – for paradise – has consumed our thoughts since ancient times. As Woodard explains, “If man’s dominant trait is the will to survive, he has another almost equally strong: to recapture the lost perfection which he knows through his emotional and neural inheritance to lie somewhere in his past” (577-8). Yet these myths of our genesis point to the flaw in our intellectual strategy, or have we forgotten knowledge has come with a price?

The participant in Mary Shelley’s work witnesses young Frankenstein’s intellectual pursuit as a consumption of his energies leaving him numb to external influences. At one point Victor comments that, “nothing contributes so much to tranquillise the mind as a steady purpose – a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye”, yet later he feels “like one doomed to slavery to toil in the mines” (7, 65). For Manson and Stewart, this is modern heroism in “the Promethean struggle against the bounds of the finite, driven simultaneously by the individual’s capacity for divine-like creativity and the ironic recognition of his limitations” (232). The pagan myth of Sisyphus is also evoked with this heroic imagery.

“If the riddle can be answered” Frankenstein has found more than just a temporary paradise of his own creation (7, Woodard 578). What we see in Victor’s singular pursuit, though, is he has “lost all soul or sensation” and he asks, “why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute, it only renders them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst and desire, we might be nearly free, but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us” (124). As Woodard concludes, “The growing cortex, which was to be man’s glory, was also to be the source of his most traumatic experience” (577). For Sherwin, “the universal life principle” that Frankenstein thinks he has captured through is intellectual creativity, “can never be his instrument for correcting existence” (897). Similarly, the intellect is powerless to solve its own problem of existence. Ironically, the answers seem buried in humanity’s need for the puzzle to be solved with a simpler and more platonically sensual experience without the constant throbbing of our troubled minds.  

The monster of our collective neurology is the world that we have created. Mary Shelley’s novel anticipates modernity and the darkest fruits that our minds have conjured like no other writer before her. The strides of medical science have allowed us to extend the quality and length of life, while making it possible to transplant animal parts into human bodies, eliminate whole populaces through the release of man-made plagues and chemical substances, and possibly even clone soulless replicants for organ harvesting. The Creature represents the gadgets and machines we worship, the buildings, power lines and smoke that have replaced our natural surroundings and the computers, televisions and Blackberries that have taken over our lives. In its most gruesome reality, possibly, is the Monster as atomic weaponry.

Somewhere in all of this is the human soul that stands alone and remains disconnected like Frankenstein’s creature. The existence we continue to tunnel for is just a childhood memory that once gave us, like Victor, “exquisite pleasure” – a memory that barely registers among the complex clutter of playthings and maddeningly noisy pacifiers that make a modern life (39). We remain disconnected from this place we have made and these things that are our creations. For Paul Sherwin this is critical: “The result of all this frantic alienated labor is a being geared in self-torment. As such, the Creature is also a figure that reveals, with more startling accuracy and profundity than discursive reason can command, the existential condition of its progenitor: his relation-disrelation to his world, his thoughts, and himself” (896). The world, like our intellect, is the symptom and a cause of all modern woes.

Paul Sherwin’s psychological probe into Mary Shelley’s novel strikes more than a few chords of the modern condition. Frankenstein, for Sherwin, has removed himself from the stark reality of his world and from “ordinary awareness and relatedness”. This world “recedes from him in much the manner that a dream fades at the instant of awakening” until he can curl up in “a zone of reality where he can be utterly alone” (892). The Monster is “a marginal or boundary being” that Sherwin calls “a powerful representation of our uncertain lot, suspended as we are between knowledge and power, nature and supernature, objectivity and subjectivity” (891). In the attempt to find ourselves, we have made ourselves a monster (Cottom 60). The monster we are dissolves from one reality into another and is most monstrous, in fact, because it can not be satisfactorily defined. The law-breaking bolt of lightening that reanimates the animalistic parts of our being deepens our madness with every crashing repetition of our recreation. We come to represent something we have never understood and have never really been willing to confront. In the end, like Frankenstein, we are, after all, the Creature itself.

Mary Shelley uses the imagery and evocations of the natural earth to establish a striking contrast with the “filthy” creation of Victor Frankenstein. Victor’s power, as Sherwin understands it, is “the power to wound” and the natural world is the victim of this monstrousness we’ve constructed (886). For Daniel Cottom, “All power, whether it be over nature or over society, represents a monstrous misrepresentation of desire” (66).

Frankenstein, is rooted in the ideals of Romantics like Wordsworth, Coleridge and, of course, Percy Blythe Shelley. Nature is contrasted with what is monstrous in the novel. The delights of natural beauty and peace almost entirely escape the notice of Victor as he works in his lab, is pursuing his creation, or is steeped in his miserable suffering. His “eyes were insensible to the charms of nature” in “a most beautiful season” (63). He is so immersed in his work that sights that had always provided “supreme delight” such as “the blossoms or the expanding leaves” are missed (64-5). His “labours” are no longer “alleviated by the bright sun or gentle breezes of spring” (187). Through the sweat of his brow, Frankenstein is blinded to what is truly sublime and real.  

Nature proves its healing properties after Victor collapses in emotional exhaustion and after he has been confronted by the Creature in the cottage (74, 180). In better circumstances nature could create “the most delightful sensations” and fill Victor with “ecstasy” or cheer him with “emotions of gentleness and pleasure” (85, 185). The Creature also has his spirits lifted by the beauty of nature. He exclaims, “the past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and the future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy” (149-150). Thoughtlessness in a moment in time seems the only place that can transcend the miseries of this world.

Frankenstein, like the rest of humanity, struggles to recapture something that is lost, and yet the redemptive qualities of nature are all around. Victor’s friend Henry Clerval, likened to the Romantic Percy Shelley, best represents humanity’s connection with nature. Clerval was “alive to every scene; joyful when he saw the beauties of the setting sun, and more happy when he beheld it rise, and recommence a new day. He pointed out to me the shifting colours of the landscape, and the appearances of the sky. ‘This is what it is to live’, he cried, ‘now I enjoy existence!’” (205-6). For Clerval was “a being formed in the ‘very poetry of nature’” and “his soul overflowed with ardent affections” for the nature “he loved with ardour” (208). Manson and Stewart comment that nature is “the medium which the individual of heightened imaginative capacity is able to penetrate and so experience the infinite in which all is unified” (229).

Mary Shelley’s Romantic dualism is evident in Walton’s initial description of the half-dead Frankenstein that “Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, the every sight afforded by those wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth”. His life is “a double existence” and through his misery, he is seen as able to lift his being “like a celestial spirit” as he is able to “retire into himself” (25-6). So as Frankenstein’s creature takes on multiple meanings, nature stands as a literal rock that is central, but separate, from this world. Nature is paradise, peace, tranquility and filled with the powers of healing. It is most markedly, what the Monster is not. In all its complexity and rich ambiguity, the mythos that Mary Shelley has created can be reduced to a simple binary language.

Nature becomes the other important character of the text. It is most directly connected with the possibility of the infinite and through the cycling of its seasons, the fixtures of the earth are the most permanent and least affected by the mortality that haunts the other characters of the piece. Lightening is the creative spark that brings the Creature to life. The mountains of Switzerland stand as gods that can “prognosticate peace” or “mock at [one’s] unhappiness” (92). Victor’s journey into the valleys of his boyhood paradise is “a scene of singular beauty” that is “wonderful and sublime” and appears as “habitations of another race of beings” (120). In his dreams that night, after the crashes of lightening and rushing of the river lull him to sleep, the “grand shapes” of “maternal nature” – “the unstained snowy mountaintops, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods, and ragged bare ravine; the eagle, soaring amidst the clouds” gather round and “minister” to him (120-1, 123). These are the only spirits that seem to dwell in Frankenstein’s world as there are no other gods to hear the pleading of the mortal suffering below.

Marina Abramović – the Grandmother of Performance Art

The last great Avant-garde movement in the pictorial arts was its commodification by artists like New York’s Andy Warhol. Warhol’s approach was holistic and his art was inexorably interconnected with our modern lives, culture (even lack of…) and with the images we created both for and of ourselves and that were so essential in how we were to be presented on the world’s stage for our “fifteen minutes of fame”. For Warhol, performance was always a part of art and the artist him/herself became an integral part of the body of work.

Which brings us to Marina…. I’m the first to admit I’m a bit of a philistine and have the cultural sophistication of the country mouse showing off an underdeveloped intellect for his city cousins. For me, though, on the heels of the Pop Art movement, Marina Abramović was able to propel art forward and keep it on the cutting edge where art must continuously move or it will surely decay from its own inertia. To do this, she and her fellow performance artists had to confront more than just the art establishment, but all norms we held so dear including those of the patriarchy and the fractured self. They did this by bringing the audience into the art on a deeper, more intimate level through the use of the body and the personification of this “new” medium.

Certainly, others are more qualified to show how performance art developed, but it has obvious roots in Dadaism, Surrealism, and apparently emerged from post-Minimalist “happenings” that started to take place after the war and which saw expression through the expositions that were part of the Counterculture Movement of the 1960s. Plastic art had become passé, so a new, living art was made manifest in each moment of the performance.

Marina’s work explored postmodern and feminist themes, the body and dualism, ritual vs. mysticism and the important issues surrounding love, emotion and relationships. Her years of work with her long-time companion and partner, Ulay, explored our male and female halves and the intersections of our lives.

It seems that a great deal of performance work is beyond the reach of many and that’s ok and what one might expect from a movement that is so recently of the Avant-garde. I am reminded of something Joseph Campbell said in Hero with a Thousand Faces and that was undoubtedly a piece of ancient wisdom, “Anyone unable to understand a god sees it as a devil and is thus defended from the approach.”

So Marina’s work remains unapproachable for the masses, although I suspect it’s becoming less exclusive now that we’ve seen tribalism, tattoos, body-piercing and a less self-conscious body awareness as part of our social masque.

My original exposure to performance art was through the genius of Laurie Anderson and a late appreciation for Yoko Ono and her marvelous work. Then I saw the film The Artist is Present about Marina’s MOMA retrospective and show. I was stunned. It was absolutely beautiful, powerful and moving.

In art, I experience one of my many apparent, and in this case, too real contradictions. Art is our darkness merging with our light and this is where human beauty and frailty must fully emerge. Marina, through her strength, humanity and artistic sensibility embraces this darkness and makes it something I can only call angelic. She is that powerful of an artist and the medium is of such a purity of truth. It is a lightness of being that explores the darkness as something that we should never really be threatened by. See her Relation in Space with Ulay, Freeing the Mind and see what you can of Rhythm 0, A Living Door of the Museum or Lips of Thomas. Performance pieces are meant to be repeated by other artists and in a real sense they are “owned” by all of us, although I suspect that no artist will be able to fully replicate the experience of Rhythm 0 will they? That’s another great Abramović innovation – living art that rides along the mouth of the abyss.

Her masterpiece, The Artist is Present, is literally as universal and as eternal as Leonardo’s Mona Lisa and at least as profound and important of a work.

These blogs are never really about the artists or judgements of them as individuals, but explorations of their art. There is something disingenuous in this though and, indeed, downright impossible with Marina and her work. In Marina’s work, Marina is always there deeply and richly human. In a sense you must make a judgement, but she isn’t just Marina anymore either. You become part of the work as much as she is. Her vulnerability becomes your vulnerability. The art isn’t just a body of work, but something intangible, emotional and powerfully spiritual. Her strength becomes your strength. If you see her work as only feminist, well you’re missing at least half of it.

Nothing impacts me more than her best work – nothing, because it is holding a mirror up to myself and exposing who I really am without the masks and the artifice. As an artist, and it is the artist in me that tells you this…well, I am completely in love with Marina Abramović. Is there anything more beautiful than that?

This was originally posted on the Reveille website on September 28, 2017.

 

Ecce Aeon: The Last Temptation – A Gnostic View

Gnostic Christianity is different than orthodoxy in very critical ways and one of the most important is the role of Christ in humanity’s ultimate salvation. From the apostle Paul, orthodox Christians were taught that it was belief itself: in Christ; in His sacrifice; and in His resurrection from the dead, that provided the faithful salvation and redemption from original sin. Faith itself became central to Orthodoxy and the role of works became somewhat ambiguous or at least debatable within post-Reformation Christianity.

Gnosticism, on the other hand, was always about the knowledge or the Way. Works were central and Christ could be seen as the culmination of a long-line of spiritual teachers through history. Salvation, for Gnostics, was to come from works or by following the path that Christ had led us.

Certainly, it should be understood that Gnosticism was and always has been as varied as early Christianity itself. So despite this view being somewhat distilled for simplicity’s sake and coming from one perspective, this is generally what the believers in “secret knowledge” held to be true with Christ and his role in our salvation.

Critically, for Gnosticism, the mythology and the symbolism surrounding this mythology has always been less important than the historical Christ himself. Call it spirituality stemming from a real-universe pragmatism and not some seemingly arbitrary set of laws and rites coming from on high. Darwinism becomes completely compatible with this form of Christianity as one comes to recognize that Christ, as the Son of Man, must be the first, or at least among the first, fully evolved or “actualized” humans on planet Earth. Without getting too much into the essentiality of reincarnation and its relationship with Gnosticism here, suffice it to say that we are all evolving through a succession of lifetimes and on our way to a Christ-like existence that will return us to Paradise.

This is an important part of the Gnostic view of Christ and is consistent with the Jesus we can see from a purely historical perspective. Christ was an Apocalyptic and Messianic Jew. Indeed, if one sees nothing else about the historical Jesus, one is left with this. His life and gospel centered on this belief. The Messiah was to come and lead the people back to the garden – to a New Jerusalem – and this was something that Christ believed and that was critical in His message. Indeed, as His understanding became complete, He saw His own destiny and the destiny of his disciples intertwined with this truth.

He taught this message to his followers. He taught them His belief that this would all happen in their lifetime. Then, at some point, near the end of His mission on Earth, something happened.

So orthodoxy struggles with this event that we have come to call the last temptation of Christ.  According to the orthodox canon, this is what took place in the Garden of Olives on the night before Christ was betrayed by Judas and taken into custody by the authorities. The somewhat ambiguous orthodox reading we generally get of this event is a view of the human-side of Christ struggling with the fear of death. For Gnostics though, there is an entirely separate reading possible.

Before we get into that though, it is important to provide the sort of historical perspective we have today of Christ and his relationship with our world. Certainly, we can see a Christ who was at odds with the world of His time. Apocalypticism was set against the worldly and the Messiah was to bring us to a more spiritual existence here on Earth than what the world had provided.

As the dominant form of Christianity in the west since the reign of the Roman Emperor Constantine, orthodoxy has an interesting relationship with the world we live in today. In a real sense, orthodoxy must indeed claim some responsibility in helping to create and maintain the world that we live in – at least in the west. It is apparent that the success of orthodoxy is founded on its very institutionalization and eventual acceptance in this world.

For the heretical Gnostic though, the world has always been one of evil and rampant injustice. The world, for many Gnostics, has always been a sort of living hell lorded over by Satan and not by God. Indeed, if not for some strength found in this knowledge, Gnosticism would have been truly eradicated from existence thanks to millennia of efforts by those who claim the right belief of orthodoxy.

So for Gnostics, the world is really the same today as it was in the time of an Apocalyptic Christ. There is no demand on Gnosticism to explain their part in maintaining a world that indeed oppressed and even attempted to eradicate them. There was no Apocalypse, Christ was crucified and the world was not saved, but the world continued to exist in sin and evil. The righteous continued to be sacrificed and oppressed. Real orthodoxy (“heretical” Gnosticism) was suppressed while heresy (“orthodox” Christianity) sat on the right hand of its lord and master – Satan.

Christ’s gospels – His good news – can be summarized in two words: “Follow me”. Through this life that became known as the “apostolic” life, He and later His followers showed the Way and proselytized the Word. So while orthodoxy, particularly the Protestant brand of orthodoxy, focuses on the crucifixion and that Faith (alone) can bring about salvation, Gnosticism presents a savior who provides knowledge of the truth and shows us “the Way” to salvation through His teachings and life.

Remember, there was no emphasis on faith in Christ’s teachings. The importance of faith over works was a later innovation that reflected a less active and less socially subversive form of Christianity.

Which brings us to the last temptation of Christ. Quickly summarized, this is when Christ and the disciples were at Gethsemane after the Last Supper and prior to His betrayal by Judas. That night, Christ who had recently been made aware of God’s exact plans for Him asked God to “let this cup pass” before calling for God’s will and not his own.

The traditional reading, it seems, is one of a human Christ fearful of death. We can look to mainstream cinema with Mel Gibson’s apparently fearful Christ begging for release from the traps that have been set for him. One might even go so far as Nikos Kazantzakis’ reading that a doubt-riddled Christ was tempted by the visions of a mundane life he could have shared married to Mary Magdalene (apologies if I missed any of this never seeing either film or reading Kazantzakis’ text). All of this is completely understandable from our own existences and perspectives.

For Gnostics though, one need not agree with any of this. Christ was a part of a legacy of martyrs whose courage would be more in line with Leonidas than our own fear-ridden selves. If indeed sacrifice was something that Christ was willing to accept when it was presented to him, than it is likely that this individual – likened to God Himself – considered others before Himself. This, it seems, is more consistent with the Messiah who actualized a life lived through supreme sacrifice.

Christ believed that He was on this Earth to fulfill His ultimate mission – to lead us, His flock, to the Promised Land or back to the Garden that was the Kingdom of God on Earth. He was an Apocalyptic after all. This was the ultimate fulfillment of His destiny that was tied directly to the redemption of all of humanity. This was to be all of our moment, but instead it had become evident that none but Christ were prepared for this. Other than Christ, none had become truly fulfilled or actualized through the holy knowledge and the Way shown to us by Christ.

Indeed, after the temptation, the disciples are found asleep. Christ commented that, “…the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” It seems likely that this shed light on humanity’s ultimate failing and helped Christ see the purpose behind God’s plan. Once the authorities had come for Christ, the disciples quickly took a powder and once the shepherd was smitten, the sheep were scattered. By the next evening, even his closest disciple, Simon Peter, who had followed the incarcerated Christ, would deny him thrice before the cock crowed twice.

In a very real sense – and this is something people have failed miserably to see – we all crucified Christ. We were all complicate. We all are guilty. In the most fundamental and real sense – we are all, like Jesus Christ himself, Jews! We have all fallen short and this is no less true today than it was over two thousand years ago in ancient Judea.

Here’s the reality check folks…. None of us were ready. Through hindsight, we can see that Christ was at least two thousand years early and his experiences with His sleeping and fleeing disciples has emphasized this for all of us. If they weren’t ready, how could we have been ready? Turns out we had a whole lot more burning to do before we could join Christ in Paradise after all.

Christ was a subversive. The leadership of Judea, Herod and the rabbinical council, used the powers of persuasion to make sure the people would have Barabbas, not Christ, pardoned for the Passover Feast. Although he washed his hands, Pilot and the Roman Empire weren’t to tolerate Him any more than the Jewish leadership would.

A story goes that when the apple on a tree ripens, one morning one of the apples has fallen from the tree in full readiness. Some days later, one or two more will follow and then one morning all but a few stubborn apples will have fallen from the tree. Christ is the Son of Man – fully actualized or the fully “evolved” Human. He was to find the truth and the Way before anyone else – someone had to do it.

For Christ, the greatest joy was the salvation of humanity through the realization of this Heaven on Earth. His brothers and sisters would find the peace and the joy that He had found – nothing could be greater for Him than this. Nothing. Recall He is not like us in this, but has completely surrendered to God the Father, has become one with the Father, and simply enacts God’s will. He is no longer really the self but the oneness of All and this is the transformation of the wholly sacrificial life – only superficially a sacrifice in that one abandons the worldly life for the spiritual oneness with God. God’s will was always Christ’s only real prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, that beseeches the Father that His will be done. This was ultimately His prayer that night as it was every other night.

Simply put, Christ’s ultimate fulfillment and joy can only come with our redemption. Indeed, He is the good shepherd who leaves the flock of many in search of the one lost sheep. This key characteristic is lost in the swirl of confusion and distortions surrounding an orthodoxy that maintains a stark division between those to receive grace and those who are to be denied the same.

There are scriptural indications in this canon of orthodoxy that Christ believed this human destiny for the Kingdom of Heaven was near at hand. When He became aware that He was to be crucified, that dream, His greatest hope for humanity, was immediately smothered – for the time being anyway. He had to ask God to pass this cup. Not for Himself, but for all of us. He was being perfectly consistent in His last moments – in the time of His last temptation – and in the end would remain consistent for, if anything, the fully realized Christ is consistent.

…Yet we know not what is best for any of us at any given moment. We do not have perfect understanding, thus we pray only one prayer in the end and then give thanks. We surrender.

Religious studies textual critics have found clear evidence that supports this argument or at least that refutes a great deal of the orthodox line. It turns out that the oldest manuscripts match the calmer Christ of Luke’s gospel who only asked the cup be passed once, and not the Christ of Mark who is “troubled unto death”. Luke’s gospel wasn’t without alterations either though, and the appearance of the soothing angel and a Christ sweating drops like blood were both later additions. According to scholars, proto-orthodox leaders were attempting to quell the docetists like Marcion by playing up the humanity of a Christ who was fearful of death.

Christ’s agony wasn’t fear of his own mortality, but something much greater than this. Christ suffered in the knowledge that His generation – His flock – was not to find this ultimate salvation and peace.

So orthodoxy presents us a Christ who really is a victim and who shows the agonizing and all-too human fear of someone with the realization of their impending role as victim and sacrifice. With Gnosticism, we lose a great deal – if not all – of the joy of the crucifixion (and, presumably, the resurrection) since there is the additional sorrow one feels for a Christ who faced His destiny with thoughtless courage for Himself and selfless care for all of us sinners who were, ultimately, the very ones who saw to His riddance from this miserable world.

The path of the avatar is always the same. In the beginning, the searcher goes inward or into the desert where it is only him and his demons. Once he reaches the enlightened state, the path must be forever outreaching – to truly serve God’s will and be his instrument on Earth one must serve every living creature and bring them into the peace and holiness that the enlightened one has found.

Remember, the first shall be last and the last shall be first. Christ simply can not be truly fulfilled – can not be in the Heaven of the Garden – if there is even one lost soul who is left out. Christ will be “out” searching for that one last, lost sheep. Christ must lead us to the Garden, but we are so weak that He must also hold that gate open for us! So He is the last one in, because He is the one with real strength. His humble, deceptively human appearance hides the angelic superhuman who is the Son of Man.

The Last Temptation of Christ showed us this strength, not His human weakness.

So get ready brothers and sisters. Get ready for eternity. Live life not only as it is your last day, but the first day of eternity. Actualize. Go ahead and burn. Go ahead and be yourself. Do what you feel.

Then, and only then, will you find the Way.

This post originally appeared on the Reveille website September 28, 2017.

 

Walter L. Wakefield in his Heresy, Crusade and Inquisition in Southern France, 1100-1250 includes an appendix that relates the documented inquisitional deposition regarding one Peter Garcias of Toulouse that took place in 1247. What’s interesting, of course, is the accused heretic’s description of his heretical or Cathar beliefs in the mid-thirteenth century. Here’s a rundown.

  • The heretic was unsure if there were indeed two gods or not, although he claimed the one who made the visible world was not Him that made the invisible.
  • The heretic made the Marcion claim that ‘…the law of Moses was nothing but shadow and vanity, and that god who gave that law was a scoundrel and malign’.
  • The heretic made the docetic claim that Christ, the Virgin Mary and John the Evangelist came from heaven and were not of this flesh. He further stated that John the Baptist was one of the ‘greatest devils there ever was.’
  • When showed a hand and asked if flesh will rise again, the heretic replied that ‘flesh will not rise again except as a wooden post, striking a post with his hand.’ This was a refutation of the essential orthodox belief that in the end of days the dead would literally rise from their graves to live again.
  • The heretic insisted that ‘Jesus led no one out of hell’.
  • The heretic stated that ‘matrimony was prostitution and that no one could be saved with his wife’. Further, he claimed that ‘the fruit forbidden to the first parents was nothing other than the pleasure of carnal coition…’. He claimed that the only accepted matrimony was ‘that of the soul with God’.
  • The heretic stated that ‘justice ought by no means to be carried out by condemning anyone to death.’ Not only were his beliefs against capital punishment, but against the war and violence that characterized society.
  • The heretic pointed out that it was during the pontificate of Sylvester I (r. 314-355) at the time of Constantine’s rule that the Church started celebrating the Mass and started owning property. Further, he argued that the Roman Church was ‘a harlot who gives poison and the power to poison all who believe in it’ and that it would be gone in twenty years; that the ‘Mass was worthless’; ‘all preachers of the cross are murderers’; and the cross was nothing more than ‘a bit of cloth on the shoulder’ or ‘wood’. These statements refuted the magical qualities of transubstantiation where orthodoxy held that during the rite of the Mass, the bread literally turned into the body of Christ and the wine transformed into the literal blood of Christ. These heretics also disdained the sign of the crucifix which they saw as an instrument of murder and argued against the powerfully magical and mystical qualities of holy relics and artifacts. Indeed, the heretic claimed that ‘no miracle which can be seen by the eyes is anything’. It is hard for us to realize how important these beliefs were to orthodoxy and the awesome power that was to be contained in these rites and artifacts.
  • The heretic derided the use of Latin, a language that the vast majority of worshipers did not understand, in church and stated he owned the gospels written in the vernacular. Owning the vernacular gospels was a sign of heresy. Pre-Reformation orthodoxy held that the Church must intercede between lay humanity and God.
  • The heretic denied there was purgatory and any power for alms or prayers to aid the dead. Indeed, he went on to discuss the heretical belief that the unsaved departed were reincarnated into another being.
  • The heretic claimed only the select angels who fell to Earth would be saved.

This post originally appeared on the Reveille site September 20, 2017.

 

The prophets of doom always, always get it right about the big one. The End will come. The great civilizations of the world have always fallen. It’s inevitable. In the Western world one can go back as far as ancient Crete. The blasphemies of the king had led to his fall. His infidelity became the queen’s and the secret of a bull-headed monster stalking the labyrinth below his royal palace was manifested and made somehow real. Soon Minoans would hear prophecies whispered in dark caves about the end of the world. Would it be a volcano, or a tsunami, or even foreign invasion? It matters not – Crete fell. Rome fell. Every civilization before us has eventually fallen into ruin.

The real trick of prophecy has always been about timing. Every age has had its prophets all claiming that theirs was the end time and, of course, missing the mark and precipitating their own fall instead.

Christian lore claims that no one will know the time that the end will come. Indeed, an apocalyptic Jew and carpenter’s son named Yeshua Ben Yosef believed he lived in the end of times. What if we are right in the middle of our end now? Would we be going out on a limb to declare these the end times?

Sure, we have a world that is twisted inside out and fashioned together from some nightmare born of our unconscious Id. There is murder, nah even mass slaughter and genocide. There is war and slavery. We have famine, plague and injustice in every corner of this world. There are perversions that would make Pasiphaë blush. Our animal brothers and sisters are bred for slaughter, for excruciating torture and for unholy vivisection. Theft, greed, arson, unimaginable cruelty all…you know, we’ve got the whole shebang don’t we? Most of this has been around for a very long time, but in many ways it’s probably getting worse and more…systematically efficient….

Hiroshima changed things. Now we have the power of the atom – the power of life and death on a global even a solar scale. Today, it isn’t just the powerful with their interests in maintaining the status quo that wield these weapons either. Indeed many of the most powerful nations have abandoned or dramatically reduced their self-destructive arsenals. Yet on the other extreme we have Pakistan, India, Israel and now North Korea and what looks to be a future with more “rogue crazies” getting their hands on nukes in an age where war and murder seem just as popular as they were a millennium or two ago.

So we see another unprecedented series of disasters in the making with the unchecked consumption of planet Earth and the effects of man-made climate change. First the great Behemoths named Katrina and Sandy rose from the sea and now another Leviathan named Harvey has made landfall. There’s more, of course, but these disasters have come from man and come from the dysfunctional world we have all worked to stitch together from so many bones, bonds and from the exploitation of the meek and the weak.

As if that’s not enough…yeah, there’s more. We have a society wholly unprepared with our latest technological revolution – AI. Like throwing a match in a powder keg, we barely seem cognizant of what we are charging into. In our arrogance and pursuit of pharma-profits, we are ill prepared for the next global pandemic and are dealing with the terrible self-inflicted “opioid crisis” that is claiming more lives than AIDS or even traffic fatalities. Computational propaganda and the nefarious tools of the world’s security state have left our people and societies vulnerable in more ways than we can count or really even understand.

That leaves us with those in charge – a veritable bevy of hopped up auto-fellate demons whipping us all madly as the drum beats rhythmically on this slave-ship we call our world, but is it really ours? Some they fool always and others only sometimes, but they can’t…well you know how that goes. Remember, they know and they know what they are doing. They have this worked out and have for many generations. Remember, you’re not paranoid when everyone is out to get you….

This is their war after all. Divide and conquer. Blame the blacks, the Hispanics, the immigrants and those wanting another handout. They deny the truth and can barely see past their own noses. Maybe that’s what gets them in the end. They care only for themselves…their pleasures and just keeping things the way it’s been for, I don’t know, thousands and thousands of years now.

Our public education system has failed under bad government management – privatize it. Our social security system is broken – privatize it. Terror fills our streets – lock down society, restrict liberty and bring back safety. Drugs are destroying our children and our future, wage a war on drugs and get tough on crime. Our businesses can’t compete on a global scale, stop hampering them and give them the open hand. Our culture – our very lifestyle – is threatened, close the borders. You can be wealthy and powerful too, so taxes must be kept down while we stop the government handouts and beef up the power of our armed forces. It goes on.

Then there is the Antichrist. He keeps coming back with his cohorts. No need to name names, they know who they are. Our last great president, who transformed this nation, and indeed the world, was the wounded prophet of this unholy age. So is the time now? Are we in the middle of the End?

Ralph Nader calls it Omnicide. Hunter Thompson said, “The truth, when you finally chase it down is almost always far worse than your darkest visions and fears.”

This much we should agree on. This world is unsalvageable and utterly corrupt to its evil core. We must build something new from the ashes of this terrible world we took an entire history to fashion. We must work together to build a better place for all God’s children. A place we can call home. A place we can return to in peace, love and fellowship. …Our planet Earth.

This post has been only slightly altered since it was first posted on the Reveille website on August 31, 2017.

 

Aspirin Go-Carts

(or The time A couple of Hits were misses)

 

Itsy, bitsy

spiders

walking across my brain.

 

When is it time to call

the vicar?

or did you trade my golf card for a thousand boondoggles?

 

A small wire brush,

some toothpicks,

and maybe a cigar.

 

Why stop at the numbers and all those letters

why not catch a mirror?

Isn’t that your biggest picture

of the capstones

made of ice

mountains in the snow?

 

After all the crap flies,

will you sample tastes like bread,

or of fruit

from within the garden deep in your lovely dale?

 

I drank your wine

and I admit it

but I stopped at the mayor

he’s sending aces like a slackhammer

or the jack of hearts in gold peacocks.

 

Anyway

what time was your appointment

with the vicar?

Was it one or was it only two? I can ever remember him crouching

like a panther

or maybe a griffon

but I got through that by 1992.

 

The Wheel of Fortune

called

‘send a G-spot vibrator

and a pack of Marlboro and shampoo’.

they didn’t have any

black dresses

in your size,

but they had this

piece

of candy

and an apple…

made of ripe, red glue.

 

Sign the check over baby

It’s time to see the Corona Candlestick

of his eye

in the night time like a baby, blue-green goygarlo.

While I sat in my guitar

with your tool and a simple thing sifting for treasure.

And it didn’t matter

And what about

my soul

and my spirit

and a night on the town

like a ghost

in the hallways.

You know that tincan laugh

in my

soul? It wasn’t just yesterday,

it was today.

 

Isn’t riches better than right?

Or didn’t you learn that in school?

A maiden once sold me something,

but I left it on her nightstand

with a bowl of fruit and my glasses.

 

Yesterday aint today anymore,

and tomorrow sits on a rail track

with a troll or was it just his likeness

under a rainbow gastank

and in the darkness of the bottom.

and

our

soul.

like fire

in your eye

and hastiness

in your breath.

 

Wasn’t this what you wanted,

or did we sit in a puddle of mercy-killings?

Anyway, send me a song in

the middle of it,

somewhere where the Kalico Kats sing.

I didn’t ask for yellow custard

or this piece of shit harpy song either Castro.

Mice play all day anyway,

they ride on ears like

puke fungus popsicles

and the afterbirth of Hannibal Ayatollah your mother and a priest with V.D.

 

Once isn’t enough for a good time

eighty is plenty too much.

how did we cipher

your rhythm,

or was it the ante

that cost me your grief all that night?

 

Why don’t you put away

the caplets

three aren’t enough to kill the cow?

 

This isn’t the time for Easter plenty

or grabass with a green

jackass too.

Hector was your lover,

give it a blow.

He wasn’t your master,

or a slave,

but brother in soul.

 

I sat with her the other day

and she said,

quiet,

you had your turn.

now have a gas,

and a splinter

in the stern.

You know how it feels

like a drop of mercury

through that whole.

Now we know

not to play like evil children

in the garden

with all those spinning crow.

 

That was your last night

and things only got better,

for the worse.

After all the money

you named a carton of ink spots

the carnation

of limpid and

eyelids of ice in warm milk undergarments.

 

Read the ingredients.

This isn’t the end

but a picture

of blue-green plants which wonder

why the hell

we sat in a tunnel like brigands

in the east

 

cast

of your

sunburn

eyes.

 

This poem was published on the Reveille website on August 29, 2017.

This is the second part of this feature on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Make sure you read part one first and you may wish to wait until all four parts are published.

This lost paradise that is the setting for the second Fall of a Modern Prometheus, is a world divided into itself. The rational human has supplanted his emotional soul as the social animal has gone within himself to explore the deepest questions of mortality and immortality. The explorer Walton has left behind his sister and society to answer the secrets of the north while Victor Frankenstein seeks the Philosopher’s Stone in his temple laboratory in Ingolstadt. Wilt dramatically unveils the scene: “Victor Frankenstein raises his hands over the mortal scraps on his table and calls down into them the ideal. There is in the ordinary celebration of this mystery always a space between the altar and the chapel; the priest is both dangerously separated from the community and together with it” (36). The explorer-priest Frankenstein can never be completely apart from that which connects him to humanity even as he soars above “the herd of common projectors” (286).

This public-private dichotomy or world divided plays the Promethean theme of the overreacher and rebel against Frankenstein’s purported “chief concern” or “the exhibition of the amiableness of domestic affection and the excellence of universal virtue” (xxiv). George Levine, exploring the text along with Kate Ellis’ “Monsters in the Garden: Mary Shelley and the Bourgeois Family,” argues that Percy Shelley’s claims (in the preface he wrote for the 1818 edition) are more than “a devious defense of a possibly offensive story”. Ellis, according to Levine, reads the text as “an attack on the very traditions of bourgeois society that it purports to be celebrating” (13-14). Victor is never satisfied with his domestic situation – by bourgeois standards, indeed, his relationship with his “sister”/lover might be perceived as something monstrous. Victor’s unquiet soul never seems at rest in the domestic garden of his family. Instead of domestic “bliss” Victor has chosen to go off and secretly create his own Monster.

So for Mary Shelley, as well as for her mother, this is another characteristic of a fallen humanity. Humanity is divided into the public and the private; intellect and emotion; the outward exploration of what lies within and the domesticity in the home that is the social ideal of bourgeois reach; and there is man and woman. Shelley’s introduction references History of the Inconstant Lover with a vision that is morbidly reflected in the novel – “When he thought to clasp the bride to whom he had pledged his vows, found himself in the arms of the pale ghost of her whom he had deserted” (xv-xvi). Man had deserted woman and, as Daniel Cottom points out in “Frankenstein and the Monster of Representation”, “within the novel’s final retreat from the darker regions of creation there is the central figure of a woman who is partially made and then torn apart” (69). Walton’s vessel is purely masculine. Indeed, woman can not be represented in the public world “out there” and are “missing in the authorship of the monster” (Cottom 69).  

Kate Ellis shows how the structure of Mary Shelley’s novel, “with its three concentric narratives, imposes on the linear unfolding of the plot” the separation of the “outer” world of male discovery and the “inner” world of female domesticity (124). Men and women move through these separate spheres of the public and the private until finally these worlds collide with the ferocity of the Monster or of Frankenstein mutilating his golem’s unfinished, monstrous concubine. Ellis notes that in this world, “’insiders’ cannot leave, or do so at their peril” and “’outsiders’ cannot enter; they are condemned to perpetual exile and deprivation, forbidden even from trying to create a domestic circle of their own” (137). By his own sequestering act, Victor becomes more and more estranged from his circle as he spirals deeper into his creation’s world.

There is no place for the angelic women in the novel as, indeed, none of them can survive it. Frankenstein’s mother martyrs herself for her adopted daughter, a framed Justine is unprotected by the impotent men of the house of Frankenstein and finds her pathetic end at the gibbet, and finally Elizabeth is throttled on her wedding bed by her new husband’s abomination. The violent collision of the primal beast without (or the subconscious within) invades the domestic household within (or the society without) and, as Levine concludes, “The threat of such intrusion is central to the meaning of the Frankenstein metaphor and brings us to the edge of the conception of civilization and its discontents”. For Levine, domestic affection imprisons the individual striving to break free so that in the end, “there is no peace” in either “a defective society or a rampant individualism” without a sort of compromise (14). Yet the story outside of the story seems to leave us without the hope of satisfactory compromise and clouds Walton’s return to society in a shroud of haunted dearth.

The shifting meanings of the Creature have become abortive life (301). The asexual union of man and lightening gives us the “incomplete Creature” for Paul Sherwin, “whose inside is hopelessly divided from his outside, is indeed a ‘filthy type’ of the modern Prometheus” (896). For George Levine, the book’s meanings “point centrally to the way ‘Frankenstein’ as a modern metaphor implies a conception of the divided self, the creator and his work at odds”. Inside our civilized selves, like “the Monster leering through the window at the horrified Victor and the murdered Elizabeth” is the “monstrous, destructive, and self-destructive energy” of the human animal (15). This is the hideous, nameless Monster without a mate, without a friend, and without a place, but it is also something fearful within ourselves.

This fallen world where the Monster roams, another of the Monster’s meanings, is a place where humanity had long been separated from its generative “primal unity” (Manson and Stewart 228). Long ago, in the primeval state, according to Woodard, humanity was connected with nature and “undifferentiated from it, in a thoughtless and perfect unity, unpuzzled and at home” (577). To Manson and Stewart “whatever creative force existed outside the individual and between all the human faculties” was lost as “human faculties became divided against themselves” (228). Humanity began to take sides, formulate something new, and the world was to “fragment into alien and unrelated forms” (Woodard 577).

This fractured world can only be defined by difference. Difference is what the Creature comes to represent and, because of his monstrousness, is how he must be defined. In the beginning, the cause of the De Laceys’ unhappiness eluded the Monster, until his education became more complete and he learned about “the division of property, of immense wealth and squalid poverty, of rank, descent, and noble blood” (156). Gradually the artificial world that humanity created is exposed as something evil and malignant to the naïve outsider and after learning of this evil intermixed with the good, the Creature reveals, “my wonder ceased, and I turned away with disgust and loathing” (156, Pollin 101). As George Levine explains, “the notion that the world of men is itself ‘monstrous’ is a constant motif of the novel” (12). Clearly, it seems, it is this propensity of our society to differentiate and create monstrosities, often through categorizing and separating ourselves, that makes our world so “monstrous”. 

The godlike act of creation is driven by an egotism that is meant to “separate and elevate” Victor from the rest of humanity (Manson and Stewart 238). To find his place in the world, Frankenstein believes he must become a messianic figure apart from the world. According to Sherwin, “putting together and dismembering are one” for Frankenstein and the Creature “lacks a phenomenological center” in the “absolute disjunction” of its parts. The Creature is a mirror of the creator who “is similarly unbalanced, a confused collectivity” (896). This disjointed imbalance permeates the entire novel as, indeed one can argue, it permeates the entire world that we have hobbled together. 

The social networks of our civilization have created the hegemony of difference. The Creature, because of his hideousness and unnatural birth, is an outcast from this society. So horrible is he, in fact, even his creator must turn away in disgust (171). This then, is an important feature of the novel’s description of our fallen world. The world that humanity has created relies on these differences to define itself. Those within the social network have a place in the hierarchy of difference and those who can not be defined as belonging are cast aside as “the Other”. The nameless Monster is without place and an outsider before he becomes a rebellious criminal, or as Mary Shelley’s philosopher father would have stated, he was a criminal because society placed him there (Sutherland lec 29). Our societies are defined by difference and by the divisions we have created. Our societies continue to divide and differentiate so that individuals are placed by varying degrees outside of the spheres of acceptability. In the end, there are those outside of these spheres who have no place within these social networks, and that only can function as they are defined – as social rebels.

As the signs of the Monster shift, he comes to represent all of humanity displaced from its primordial center. This is a fallen humankind that has lost its place and is desperately seeking to find its way again. For Paul Sherwin, “Frankenstein is empowered, and at times disabled by the despair over the human condition, whose limits condemn the creator’s sublime quest to the status of an extravagant, desperate wish” (897). Fashioned together from pieces of lifeless flesh and jolted to life through an unearthly mysterious life-giving quality, the Monster roams the planet completely disconnected from the mystical essence that gave him life. He is disjointed and removed from himself and apart from the rest of humanity.

Isolation, at the heart of the human condition, is the final place of the explorer who has delved to the greatest depths of his soul. Here within, is where we meet the creature in all his ugliness. Isolation and loneliness is the mortal wound of a monster built with a human heart. Early on, the explorer Walton, pines for the friend whose absence becomes “a most severe evil” in a letter to his sister (10). With this hope deep in his heart, he has headed into the frozen arctic wastelands where, ironically, his last hope for comradeship resides. Mary Shelley’s epistolary framework for the novel helps to emphasize this utter alienation.

The Creature complains that “misery made me a fiend” and while Adam had Eve to share his thoughts, the Creature is alone, “miserably alone” (128, 172-3). Throughout the text, this is his constant drumbeat of sorrow. In exchange for a mate, he vows to conform to society’s desire for his ostracism. He laments, “I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me: and, in the bitterness of my heart, I cursed him” (172-3). As Sherwin points out,

The Creature’s utmost desire is that another reciprocate his need for sympathetic relationship, and even after he becomes searingly conscious of his exclusion from the human community and begins to objectify the negativity he arouses in others, we recognize that his aggression is a by-product of disintegration, not an innate drive that has been cathartically unbound. (890)

Victor’s journey into the deepest secrets of the universe of solitude result in the creation of a being that is a manifestation of the darkest depths of Frankenstein’s self. It is something so private and hideous, that Victor can only manage to flee from it and abandon it to a pathetically lonesome existence. The Creature, like Victor’s subconscious, desires only to rectify his abandoned condition, and as he is repeatedly spurned at every turn, his aggression and vengeance is realized.

Despite his attempt to abandon the Creature, Victor can not actually rid himself of the demon that is his after all, and he is drawn down into his creation’s world. His secretive and unnatural experiments form the beginning of his isolation and as the Monster destroys Victor’s world, Victor becomes more and more the shadowy reflection of his creation and its despicable alienation. Victor walks about “like a restless spectre, separated from all it loved, and miserable in the separation” (227). The space between Frankenstein and those he loves and the society at large becomes “an insurmountable barrier” (211-2). By abandoning his creature, Victor has abandoned his materialized inner self. His efforts to put the genie back in the bottle, though, only serve to pull his form into alignment with the disjointed existence of his isolated and secretive self.

Hang on as this the second of four parts.

 

Seer of the Self-Medicated Generation

Sometime, way-back in the greener part of the mid-80s when the Reagan Revolution was in full swing, I was at one of those university talks that Hunter S. Thompson used to give. You could smell the whiskey before he even walked into the narrow auditorium packed with students and other assorted freaks. Like some latter-day FDR, there, extending from his mouth, was his trademark cigarette holder and a lit Dunhill. In one hand, he held a glistening, even glowing, lowball glass filled with ice and the golden-brown elixir. Just like you’ve heard, bags of high-quality sens and psilocybin along with the occasional pre-rolled number were tossed at him from everyone in the front dozen or so rows.

He mumbled a barely coherent ramble, but it was an experience to be invited to join his posse of fellow questers obligatory student chaperone and all. It was another calling…and another refusal…Hunter like some fox peering out of the brush before whipping a white-tipped red tail in your nose.

America misses Hunter. He was a surgeon with a steel jackhammer scalpel that cut to the core of their black little hearts. The buffoons, that is, the ones in the center of our public spaces…the ones destined to be eviscerated whenever they crossed paths with the good doctor.

That’s what we miss. America needs Hunter now more than ever. Maybe the pain got to be too much. I don’t know. I just know it’s a shame he’s not here to put them all in their proper place.

Young America had Mark Twain. Like Samuel Clemens, Hunter had one true masterpiece – the great American novel. He was the sounding for our age and like the humorist of the previous century who came and went with a great comet, Hunter served as our early warning system. Through a self-conscious and drug-addled geas he tagged Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream (1971), Hunter set out to find what we had all lost steeped in this war machine culture that America had become. His failure became an instantaneous American literary treasure.

We count on those who position themselves on the outskirts to throw some light on these harbingers and Hunter was no exception. In another work of magical mayhem, Hells Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs (1967) Hunter documented his time with Sonny Barger and the Oakland Angels – a band of violent, white, working-class misfits who felt they had been left behind by society and the elites of like those in nearby Berkeley. Unity and a don’t give a shit attitude of total retaliation gave them strength. Like the scorpions of the Apocalypse, the Angels rode in and rolled on leaving the writer a bloody pulp, afraid and alone in the end. Just like you and me, he wasn’t one of them, and the Angels could never be accused of doing anything half-assed.

Most of Hunter’s works appeared in various periodicals like Rolling Stone, the San Francisco Examiner, the Nation, National Observer, The New York Times and Playboy. He was a journalist by trade. A couple of the more notable anthologies of these essays include The Great Shark Hunt (1979) and Generation of Swine (1988). Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72 (1973) is an insightful look at the apparently timeless politics of the time and a crooked president basking in glory and the secrets hidden then, but that would soon lead to his spectacular self-immolation.

Where is Hunter in the time of Trump? Are you out there? Time to ask for volunteers…. Who is training the next generation? Sam Kriss can’t do this all by himself. At least his words are still with us. Help us Hunter!

This post originally appeared on the Reveille website on August 23, 2017.