Saturday 8 August 2015

Oresteia: Guilty or Not Guilty?





Oresteia at the Almeida theatre is one of the best plays I have seen recently. Aside from the imaginative set designed by Hildegard Bechtler, the part of Klytemnestra grippingly portrayed by Lia Williams, a beautifully re-imagined script by Robert Ike; the key themes, of reality vs. perception and justice vs. mercy of this ancient text by Aeschylus continue to be relevant in today’s context.



Some of the questions raised for me were - to what extent is society responsible for an individual’s brokenness and her or his subsequent misdemeanour? And since there is no such thing as an objective perception, how valid is each individual’s subjective perception[1]?  



Orestes’ matricide and murder of his mother’s lover can be directly traced to his father’s murder of his daughter, Orestes’ sister, Iphigenia. Agamemnon, the King of Argos and Orestes’ father had, “for the greater good”, sacrificed Iphigenia in order to win the Trojan War.  They triumphed in the war and Agamemnon returned to a seething wife, Klytemnestra who, in her husband’s absence, had taken on a lover, Aegisthus. Klytemnestra then murders Agamemnon in a revenge act reminiscent of a sacrifice with three symbolic strikes. Later on Orestes, Klytemnestra's and Agamenon’s son, spurred on by his sister Electra, kills their mother and her lover to avenge their father’s murder. The same people who encouraged Agamemnon to sacrifice his daughter – an act that kick started the cycle of violent murders - then try Orestes in a law court setting. The cycle of violence in Oresteia began with a prophecy stating, "The child is the price". This same prophecy that led to the sacrifice of Iphigenia now stands as a judgement over Orestes during his trial. Thus the prophecy unchangingly ran parallel to a series of murders it had catalysed. Who then is really guilty of the murder of Klytemnestra and Aegisthus? Agamemnon? Society? Electra[2]? Orestes? All of the above? None of the above?



 



On an episode of QI (J5) Stephen Fry mentioned how the Traore and the Kone tribes in Africa have staved off revenge wars for hundreds of years. When another member hurts a member of the tribe, instead of retaliating, the wronged individual goes to an innocent third party and takes the anger out on him by saying “your mother is a bean eater”. That innocent third party then passes on this insult to another etc. This practice ensures that the wronged person is (sort of) avenged whilst preventing a cycle of never ending violence. This Traorean and Konean practice is similar to divine justice, except that divine justice does not diss your mama.



The rest of this article will discuss divine justice not as a substitute for the judiciary but rather as mitigation for personal revenge. The judiciary is absolutely necessary for an orderly society and does oftentimes satisfy the need for anger and/or personal revenge at another’s wrongdoing.



Divine justice offers mercy to anyone who recognises her/his own guilt. The murder of Christ, also an act of self-sacrifice on his part, serves as a surrogate for the wrongdoings of others and puts an end to the cycle of revenge violence. This, sadly, is not always realised in the present. And even sadder is that Christianity has been used, and is being used, to justify violence. However, this does not take away from the power of Christ’s self-sacrifice via his crucifixion. His sacrifice demands participation on human part. It demands that we allow God to forgive us as well as to give us the grace to forgive others. There is a scientific dimension to forgiveness: Judith Orloff, the Assistant Clinical Professor of Psychiatry at UCLA, in an article entitled Emotional Freedom in Psychology Today, explains that revenge not only reduces one to one’s worst state but also leads to stress and low immunity. She goes on to argue that the survival of the human species is dependent on forgiveness.



The words “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us” are part of the Our Father, a prayer from the bible described as being taught to the disciples of Christ by Christ. To forgive others begins with recognition of one’s own imperfect state. Charles Griswold in his book Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration suggests that “forgiveness is more at home in an ethical scheme that emphasises our irremediable imperfection”. The family, friends and church members of the victims of the recent Charleston shootings powerfully embody the divine justice of mercy by their radical forgiveness of the shooter. The son of one of the victims, less than twenty-four hours after his mother and eight other church members had been gunned down in a hate crime down during a prayer meeting, declared, “we forgive him because love is stronger than hate”. The loving self-sacrificial act of Christ, the Son of God, can and does serve as a cycle-of-violence-ending, redemptive act (if we choose to participate). The Oresteian prophecy of “the child is the price”, perceived through the crucifixion, breaks the cycle of violence instead of catalysing never-ending acts of revenge.





































[1] I hope to attempt an engagement with the issue of perception in the near future
[2] In the re-imagining of the play at the Almeida theatre, Electra was a figment of Orestes’ imagination. Orestes had invented a sister, resulting in a split personality, perhaps as a result of his childhood trauma.

Saturday 11 July 2015

Adam & Eve – Time Travellers?



Adam & Eve – Time Travellers?

(This blog post is inspired by Terminator Genisys)






Sarah Connor and Guardian (Terminator Genisys, 2015)

I do not know if it is intentional or not but Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese in the Terminator Genisys, especially in the scene where they travel back to the future naked in a time machine, bear a resemblance to Eve & Adam. Perhaps this idea of Sarah & Kyle as prototype humans is alluded to in the use of the word ‘Genisys’ in the film’s title? Although somewhat bonkers on the face of it, the concept of Eve & Adam as time travellers, could work within the biblical narrative of the origins of humanity.

By the time the story of Eve & Adam was metaphorically re-imagined and chronicled in Genesis, the first book of the bible, the division of time in contemporaneous Mesopotamia, which contributed to the cultural landscape of Israel, was similar to modern time-division of seven days comprising a month and twelve months comprising a year (see http://history-world.org/mesopotamiancalander.htm). Human understanding of time was to remain relatively unchallenged until the emergence of Einstein’s theory of relativity in the early twentieth century. Regardless of one’s perception of time, either as a linear abstraction or as a spacetime curvature, there is a common strain within most concepts of time which has not yet been satisfactorily challenged and that is: time has a beginning, and most likely, an end point. The big bang theory of the universe supports this thinking, so does the creation story in Genesis. Paul Davies in About Time: Einstein’s Unfinished Revolution describes the big bang theory as “the orthodox cosmology”. Thus a synergy between an orthodox cosmology and, what I term, ‘an unorthodox creationism’ (by this I refer to the idea that God created the universe(s) through cosmological processes and universal, primordial forces) can be sought by laying both positions side-by-side as an intertwined continuum. 

These two positions of orthodox cosmology and unorthodox creationism, viewed together reveal a time-bound universe that offers a glimpse of eternity lying just beyond its periphery. Seen this way, the story of Eve and Adam can then be read as the story of us all experienced over and over again through time. This is seemingly supported by Genesis 5 vv.1-2;

‘This is the book of the generations of Adam. In the day[1] that God created man, in the likeness of God made he him;

Male and female he created he them; and blessed them and called their name Adam in the day he created them’ (KJV)

In this creation narrative, more similar to the one described in chapter 1 and a little less so to the one in chapter 2, both the female and the male of the human species are called ‘Adam’[2]. Are the biblical creation stories then a story of the creation of each and every human person? Understood this way, each person is individually fashioned by God in God’s image to offer a glimpse of eternity via each individual’s unique genetic matrix. And just like the Eve and Adam described in the creation story of Genesis chapter 2, we all make the same mistake of wilfully distrusting God over and over again.

Sarah and Kyle are aided in their quest to halt the inevitable destruction of the world that they call Judgement Day by Guardian, a Terminator. Is Guardian a Christ-like figure? Or is John Connor, Sarah and Kyle’s progeny and the possible sender of Guardian? Like Christ, Guardian is devoted to Sarah Connor and by implication her quest to save humanity from destruction. And like Christ he does not remain dead but is ‘upgraded’ in a resurrection process - that’s as far as I can take that analogy! Were Sarah and Kyle successful in their quest to halt Judgement Day or is JD an inevitable point in time, like its locus of beginning? The bible, which begins with the creation of the universe in the book of Genesis, ends in the book of Revelations with a metaphoric description of Judgement Day i.e. the destruction of time-bound creation. Thankfully, Revelations does not end with this gloomy prospect; it ends with the beginning of a time-transcending new creation. The inexorable unravelling of spacetime thus culminates in an eternity-immersed universe holding a new earth populated by resurrected, ‘upgraded’, Eves and Adams.



[1] The Hebrew word for ‘day’ used here, yom, refers both to a “point in time and a sphere of time” (Zodhiates, Lexical Aid to the Old Testament, 2000).
[2] The Hebrew word ‘adam’ translates to ‘man’ i.e. a human person similar to the usage of homo in Latin.

Thursday 30 April 2015

The Image as Burden



The Image as Burden
(The title of this article is taken from Marlene Dumas’ current exhibition at the Tate Modern).

 

 Martha - Sigmund's Wife (Marlene Dumas)

Art is inextricably intertwined with human culture and undergirds all our forms of expression. In language it speaks in prose and poetry, our soulful beings express themselves in pitch-perfect music, our hands potter, paint, pencil and pixilate, whilst our feet pirouette. The creative spirit that makes up the fabric of our beings expresses itself inexhaustibly in art. The idea that humans are made in God’s image undergirds Christian thought; the Hebrew word for image in the 1st Testament is ‘tselem’ roughly translates as an ‘effigy’, whilst in the 2nd Testament the Greek word for image (eikon) means 'icon'. Understood simply, humans, created in the image of God, are the artistic expression of God; A visible form in this space and time of an invisible Being transcendent of, and yet immanent within, the matrix of matter.

 Marlene Dumas’ exhibition comprises a diverse range of portraiture and other pieces to explore this idea of humanity in God’s image. By mainly focussing on the face, she portrays it as a satisfactory tool for the exploration of human personhood. What it means to be human, and even our individual essences, can be seen in our faces, and by extension, to know God begins with looking into one’s face. Of Martha – Sigmunds’ Wife, she says ‘God cannot be painted because He isn’t a man. But if He had been a woman, He would look like this sometimes’ (italicisation is mine). The longing to capture God’s visage, perhaps in order to validate and/or transcend the wretchedness of human reality, is redolent in all of Dumas’ faces. By no means is the human soul idealised or romanticised, quite the opposite - she often perverts, heightening the darkness in us by twisting or enlarging facial structures. Of this distortion of reality, she explains “the close up was a way for me to get rid of the irrelevant background information, and making facial elements so big increased the sense of abstraction concerning the picture plain’ (M. Dumas, 1985).

As the face can be distracting or misleading in understanding the other, it would be unfair to conclude that Dumas is an advocate of physiognomy as an exhaustive tool in understanding humanity. In no way does she limit the human soul to the face. If anything, she challenges our perceptions drawn from observing others by forcing us to go beyond the visible to the invisible aspect of our humanity. In room 9 of the Dumas exhibition at the Tate Modern, two paintings of Dumas’ daughter are placed side-by-side, Cupid and Reinhardt’s Daughter. Although both are of Dumas’ daughter, Helena, by changing the skin colour of one from Caucasian to Negroid, she challenges the viewer’s perception and subsequent interpretation(s). Suddenly the observer realises that one’s observations and subsequent conclusions of another, has been refracted through skin colour, experiences and cultural indoctrinations. When we look at others, do we really see them? Or do we see our past beliefs reflected in their faces? Immanuel Kant in his Critique of Pure Reason holds that objective reality (if achievable) can only be arrived at, not only through pure concepts but through our experiences. Experiences, intuitions as well as inherent ideals are therefore important, but they can and often distort the truth. Our summation of someone or something can never be truly objective as it is impossible to experience something outside of ourselves. To really see the other as she/he/it really is - one would have to completely annihilate one’s indoctrinated and inherent conceptions and by so doing, erase one’s ability to appreciate the other. Abstract art attempts this annihilation of a priori and a posteriori knowledge, perhaps more of the latter than the former. From the deconstructed, often cubist, perceptions of the post-impressionists such as Picasso and Braque, to the complete voiding of reality as attempted by Malevich’s Black Square. Modern abstraction, by its deconstructive and surrealistic forms or non-forms, challenges us to rise above our inherent and indoctrinated conceptions of reality. Perhaps the belief is that only in leaving reality behind, can the transcendent aspects of our beings, not subject to culture, glimpse the Transcendent Otherness of God. Although, a keen abstract art lay enthusiast (and one day I would love to blog on this), I believe that God is better apprehended, engaged with and understood in our matter-bound, space and time forms. Christians believe in the Incarnation; for the transcendence of God to engage with us, the Divine had to be bound up in human form. The Incarnation validates human experience. It is okay and even special to be human; it can, however, be burdensome to carry the image of God.

 

The Image as Burden, the title of Dumas’ exhibition takes its name from a piece of work (seen above) in Room 10 of the exhibition. The painting is of one person carrying another and reminiscent of Mary contemplating the body of Jesus. Death weaves its way through this poignant exhibition, like a Kandinskian ephemeral spirit. To be alive is to be vulnerable to the inevitability of death. Even the Transcendent immortal form of God is vulnerable and experiences death when it is bound up in human form. Dumas, via oil on canvas, starkly depicts the Crucifixion in Solo, and in a drawing reprising Holbein’s The Body of Christ in a Tomb portrays Jesus’ dead, post resurrection body. This mortality of humans is our primary plague. Perhaps it is even to be blamed for our oppression and aggression towards one another. Dumas persistently tackles human to human oppression through apartheid, racism, terrorism, war, despotism and misogyny, by giving a face to individual pain in the midst of plural suffering. I was particularly struck by The Mother, in it a woman kneels in the middle of a mass graveyard, quietly weeping over the grave of her son whilst clutching his portrait. For Dumas, mass suffering is overwhelming, not just because of the number of casualties, but because of the individualities of those in pain. 

Each time I have been to see the Image as Burden, I come away with questions. Dumas examination of ideological issues in today’s world raises for me the question of purposefulness. Is there a point to suffering? What is humanity’s destination? And perhaps most pertinently, why are we made in the Image of God?





Sunday 22 March 2015

Religion = Bad: Science = Good



Religion = Bad: Science = Good







Religion = Bad: Science = Good is, arguably, the predominant school of thought in our post-Enlightenment zeitgeist. The more verbose strand of modern thinking asserts that religion, which is completely separate from science, is antiquated and dangerous and that science, which has absolutely nothing to do with religion, is progressive and good. However, such a distinct dichotomous separation of science and religion does not exist.



Historically, a considerable proportion of the major scientific discoveries came via the church. The most popular and often incorrectly relayed history of the church and science is the persecution of Copernicus on his declaration of heliocentricity of Earth. The reception of Copernicus’ postulations was varied and far more complex that anecdotally relayed in modern lore. Religion and in particular Christianity, far from being antagonistic to science, nurtured scientific thinking and scholasticism. Indeed, for many centuries monasticism was often synonymous with scholasticism. The history of the church is littered with great scientific minds. For the purposes of preserving time and sanity, I can only mention a few here. Notably are, Ishaq Ibn Hunayn (808-873) a Christian Physician. Ishaq other than translating many key Greek scientific texts into Arabic wrote extensively on medicine and on ophthalmology in particular. Many of the texts that were to later catalyse a revival of scholasticism in the Latin West came from translations of ancient Greek writings by Ishaq and other contemporaneous scholars. In AD 703, the Venerable Bede, a Christian exegete published On The Nature of Things and Time. On the Nature is an impressive attempt to try and mathematically and physically explain the cosmos. In more modern history, one of the first scientists to propose The Big Bang theory was Monseigneur Georges Lemaitre, a Belgian priest, physicist and astronomer. Lemaitre was the first scientist to propose the expansion of the universe and to derive what was to be later known as the Hubble constant. In Biology, Gregor Mendel, an Augustinian Friar, established many of the rules of hereditary now known as Mendelian laws. Mendelian laws are the foundation of contemporary science of genetics.



The idea that religion is the antithesis of science and by extension, education as a whole, is not only reductionist, but also incorrect. Yes, on the face of it, religion is sometimes used erroneously as an excuse to antagonise scientific progress by fundamentalists. On the other hand, the reductionist view that asserts religion as the antithesis of science also breeds fundamentalism; which is why opinions at extreme ends of a spectrum of thought often mirror one another in tone. Science = Good: Religion = Bad has the same echo as Science = Bad: Religion = Good. Some of the greatest atheist and agnostic thinkers of our time, instead of glibly dismissing religion, recognise its implicit anthropological benefits. George Eliot (real name Marian Evans) whilst asserting a staunch disapproval of Evangelical extremism, recognised the value of religion. Below is an excerpt from the introduction to one of her greatest works, Adam Bede:




“The Jesus of Dinah Morris is a literal reality, the incarnate Son of God, but to the author of Adam Bede he is the personified projection of humanity’s best self: most essentially, the sympathising love that binds husbands and wives or parents and children, and extends beyond them to Samaritans and strangers. Eliot could write in 1859 ‘I have no longer an antagonism towards any faith in which human sorrow and human longing for purity have expressed themselves…I have not returned to dogmatic Christianity…but I see in it the highest expression of the religious sentiment that has yet found its place in the history of mankind’”.




Albert Einstein notably comments in The World As I see it, ‘A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty - it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man’. 



Therefore, to dismiss religion as antiquated and insidious is not only ignorant but also dangerous. To do away with religion, even if it were possible, is to throw the baby away with the bathwater. Religion, which has been, and is, very wrongly used for violent purposes, has at its heart a persistent message of hope for humanity. Christianity, in its scriptures and doctrines, asserts humanity (females and males) has being made in God’s image thereby challenging us all to an ever-higher state of being in ourselves and with one another. One could say its vision of humanity, as glimpsed in Christ, is evolutionary. Humankind can only survive, ascend as a race whilst preserving and advancing our cosmos, if we love our neighbour as ourselves.











Some References (not explicitly mentioned in blog post)



‘Medieval Science Technology and Medicine: An Encyclopaedia’. Eds. Glick et.al. 2005, Taylor & Francis Group.




Greek-Arabic-Latin: The Transmission of Mathematical Texts in the Middle Ages. Science in Context 14/(1/2). 2001. Lorch, Cambridge University Press.




‘Georges Lemaitre: Life, Science and Legacy’. Holder & Mitton, 2013. Cambridge University Press.





‘Gregor Mendel: The First Geneticist’. Orel, 1996. Oxford University Press