Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts

Monday, November 7, 2011

Thoughts about and from Čapek's The Absolute at Large

Looking for some fun speculative sci-fi satire? I recommend Czech writer, Karel Čapek's The Absolute at Large (1922). I finished reading this after watching (again) Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris (1972). This is a more fitting combination than it might sound. I think we often consider sci-fi to be about science, or, as Susan Sontag claimed, about disaster. But what all three of these examples show is how sci-fi also spends a lot of time thinking about religion, spirituality, and god/God. All three approach this subject differently and each to great effect. Čapek's approach is more humorous and satirical, but that doesn't diminish the potency of his point, rather it enhances it. For Čapek, the human debate about deity and the demand for absolute truth is rather ridiculous, not because God is dumb, but because our approach to and conception of deity is absurd, as is our insistence that everyone conform to our conception of the Divine (the Absolute). The problem of religion has little to do with religion and more to do with people. In the end, Čapek blasts humanity and its institutions way more than he does religion.

Here are a few passages I found especially great:

It is a foible of our human nature that when we have an extremely unpleasant experience, it gives us a peculiar satisfaction if it is “the biggest” of its disagreeable kind that has happened since the world began. During a heat wave, for instance, we are very pleased if the papers announce that it is “the highest temperature reached since the year 1881,” and we feel a little resentment towards the year 1881 for having gone us one better. Or if our ears are frozen till all the skin peels off, it fills us with a certain happiness to learn that “it was the hardest frost recorded since 1786.” It is just the same with wars. The war in progress is either the most righteous or the bloodiest, or the most successful, or the longest, since such and such a time; any superlative whatever always affords us the proud satisfaction of having been through something extraordinary and record-breaking.
--
                “Look, here, sir,” he [Captain Trouble] said after a while, “what are they squabbling about over there, anyway? Some boundary or other?”
                “Less than that.”
                “Colonies?”
                “Even less than that.”
                “Commercial treaties?”
                "No. Only about the truth.”
                “What kind of truth?”
                “The absolute truth. You see, every nation insists that it has the absolute truth.”
                “Hm,” grunted the Captain. “What is it, anyway?”
                “Nothing. A sort of human passion. You’ve heard, haven’t you, that in Europe yonder, and everywhere in fact, a . . . a God, you know . . . came into the world.”
                "Yes. I did hear that.”
                “Well, that’s what it’s all about, don’t you understand?”
                “No, I don’t understand, old man. If you ask me, the true God would put things right in the world. The one they’ve got can’t be the true and proper God.”
                “On the contrary,” said G.H. Bondy (obviously pleased at being able to talk for once with an independent and experienced human being), “I assure you that it is the true God. But I’ll tell you something else. This true God is far too big.”
                “Do you think so?”
                “I do indeed. He is infinite. That’s just where the trouble lies. You see, everyone measures off a certain amount of Him and then thinks it is the entire God. Each one appropriates a little fringe or fragment of Him and then thinks he possesses the whole of Him. See?”
                “Aha,” said the Captain. “And then gets angry with everyone else who has a different bit of Him.”
                “Exactly. In order to convince himself that God is wholly his, he has to go and kill all the others. Just for that very reason, because it means so much to him to have the whole of God and the whole of the truth. That’s why he can’t bear anyone else to have any other God or any other truth. If he once allowed that, he would have to admit that he himself has only a few wretched metres or gallons or sack-loads of divine truth. You see, suppose Dash were convinced that it was tremendously important that only Dash’s underwear should be the best on the earth, he would have to burn his rival, Blank, and all Blank’s underwear. But Dash isn’t so silly as that in the matter of underwear; he is only as silly as that in the matter of religion or English politics. If he believed that God was something as substantial and essential as underwear, he would allow other people to provide themselves with Him just as they pleased. But he hasn’t sufficient commercial confidence in Him; and so he forces Dash’s God or Dash’s Truth on everybody with curses, wars and other unreliable forms of advertisement. I am a business man and I understand competition."
--
“Everyone believes in his own superior God, but he doesn’t believe in another man, or credit him with believing in something good. People should first of all believe in other people, and the rest would soon follow.”
-- 
“A man may certainly think that another religion is a bad one, but he oughtn’t to think that the man who follows it is a low, vile, and treacherous person. And the same applies to politics and everything.”
I'd also recommend reading Čapek's brilliant play R.U.R. - Rossum's Universal Robots (1920). I first read it in my high school sci-fi class and only recently rediscovered and reread it. I loved it in high school and love it more now.

Enjoy yourselves some sci-fi!

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Your Life as a Mormon Woman is an Exploitative Horror Film

Okay. That's not true. The title is just an attention-grabbing lie. But there's this funny parallel I found between the latest issue of the the nonprofit LDS publication Segullah and the poster for the 2008 film adaptation of Scott Smith's horror novel, The Ruins.

Now, I kinda doubt the Segullah team had any idea this happened, but I think it is pretty awesome. Particularly since the latest issue of "writings by Latter-Day Saint women" is titled "Tetherings" and discusses issues of how we "forge and sever ties with people." An interesting topic; the articles could be worth reading.

The Ruins is also kind of about forging and severing (mostly severing), but instead of ties with people, it is more interested in cutting gross invasive evil out of your body. Perhaps the cutting in this example of exploitative soft-core torture-porn, where evil resides in remote Mexico (a logical place given America's well-reasoned fear of immigrants), is examining how we forge and sever ties with people, nature, and foreigners. "Get away from nature! it kills you!" "Get away from Mexico! it kills you!" Hmmm. It seems The Ruins is much more dire than Segullah. Didn't see that one coming. Unless the underlying message of this issue of Segullah is, "Get away from being an LDS woman! it kills you!" Based on Segullah's mission statement and from reading their blog, my guess is that isn't the message. But the visual parallel between these very contrasting media is very funny.

I'll have to pick up a copy of the new Segullah issue and put it next to my copy of Smith's book, which I'm gearing up to read sometime this summer.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

In the Cathedral


The Choir of the Cathedral of the Madeleine put on an exceptional carol service Monday night. Every year my family tries to go up and hear at least one of the carol services. We've often tried to go to the Christmas Eve service, but this year it worked out better to go on Monday, which I have no problem with because it seems that the Madeleine Choir is incredible any time they perform.

The choir entered singing "O Come, O Come Emanuel", which the audience is invited to sing along with during the fourth, fifth, and seventh verses. A couple behind us failed to note this detail and began belting out the first verse at full volume. I felt momentarily annoyed because "O Come, O Come Emanuel" is one of my favorite carols and the choir's performance is always about the most overwhelmingly gorgeous thing in music. But I couldn't be annoyed with this couple, even if they weren't the best singers and certainly couldn't harmonize with each other, because they were so happy to be there and singing and you could tell they loved that song and the opportunity to sing it in the Cathedral of the Madeleine with the choir. So it was still a lovely experience.

This service included several songs I hadn't heard the choir perform before, like the "Coventry Carol", "Myn Lyking", and "Jesus Christ the Apple Tree". Beautiful, all of them. "Jesus Christ the Apple Tree" was particularly wonderful to me and I wanted to share the text with you here.

The tree of life my soul hath seen,
Laden with fruit and always green:
The trees of nature fruitless be
Compared with Christ the apple tree.

His beauty doth all things excel:
By faith I know, but ne'er can tell
The glory which I now can see
In Jesus Christ the apple tree.

For happiness I long have sought,
And pleasure dearly I have bought:
I missed of all: but now I see
'Tis found in Christ the apple tree.

I'm weary with my former toil,
Here I will sit and rest awhile:
Under the shadow I will be,
Of Jesus Christ the apple tree.

This fruit doth make my soul to thrive,
It keeps my dying faith alive;
Which makes my soul in haste to be
With Jesus Christ the apple tree.

- poem set to music by Elizabeth Poston (1905-1987)

If you haven't yet been to the Cathedral of the Madeleine, I'd recommend visiting. It's a lovely place; one of my favorite in Salt Lake.