A Nightmarish Reality

Forty years after the Roe v. Wade decision shook our society with its brutality, the villains in Albany and Washington, DC, are completing the destruction of what's left of our already degenerate culture. Within days of the anniversary of the infamous Supreme Court ruling, which (like the same court's earlier but later overturned Dred Scott decision) "authorized" the barbaric treatment of fellow human beings, the thugs in our state and federal capitols issued two more mandates to seal our fate. Not content with the blood already shed in surgical abortions in New York alone since his predecessor legalized this violence against the most vulnerable members of society a generation ago, the current governor is giving abortionists even more license to ply their trade. Almost simultaneously, the warmongers in Washington are officially putting women in combat units. A sobering look at the nightmare that awaits the unfortunate female soldiers appeared in the Wall Street Journal on January 24, 2013. With curtailed liberties, military-style checkpoints at airports, pornography that passes for mainstream entertainment and a general descent into barbarism, one wonders how much further degraded our society can become.

The Problem of Vampires

The obvious way to find out how something works is to study its parts. Hence, machines are taken apart, and organisms are dissected. For this reason, the undying fascination with vampire narratives, which combine the "man vs. monster" and "man vs. self" themes, may not be an entirely perverse preoccupation. After all, these beings (despite their lack of vivacity) are more or less human, qualifying them—as Alexander Pope suggests—for our "proper study." But what exactly is it about the undead, these deconstructed humans, that holds our interest?

For one thing, there is the problem of the role of free will in the transformation of an ordinary human into one of the damned (variations on this point notwithstanding). The stuff of nightmares, facing the permanent loss of God's grace and friendship in a hellish existence with no escape is a very real possibility for anyone with a pulse. The fancy that this fiendish outcome can be effected in an instant by an involuntary bite is perhaps cathartic, enabling us to better appreciate our capacity to choose good or evil.

Another aspect of vampire stories that captures our imagination is their having eluded mankind's doom—the surrender of time through death. This may be the primary glamour of the idea of vampires, rehearsing a very old temptation indeed: "Ye shall be as gods." However, ultimately we know that this escape from mortality has its own horrors. Aside from the gruesome need to feed on humans, vampires are forever trapped in an endless succession of creeping tomorrows, reliving (or at least reëxperiencing) the same ennui.

As monsters, vampires (like Grendel and goblins) are traditionally relegated to the night, further confining them and putting a damper on their insatiable thirst. Along with a crucifix or a stake in the heart, the rays of the sun are lethal to them. This physical intolerance of daylight is emblematic of their moral condition. Incorrigibly gnashing their teeth in the outer darkness, what they cannot bear is the sun of God's justice.

From Old English to Broken English

This year marks the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible, and a new edition is being advertised as one the Stuart king would “loveth.” However, the text regarded for generations as the gold standard in literary circles for its elevated style of English has apparently been denuded of “thee, thou, ghost, hath and shalt.” Evidently, the publishers believe the modern reader to be either too sophisticated or too challenged to make use of the 17th century text.

Has the long-familiar style of precepts such as “Thou shalt have no other gods before me” been improved upon? Is “As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you” too difficult for modern English speakers? Is nothing sacred?

It’s true that our language has sustained almost violent changes since Old English first emerged as a distinct tongue. By Chaucer’s day, hearty toasts of “Was hael!” had long become quaint. No doubt much of the early medieval verse enjoyed around the wassail bowl would have been virtually Greek to the London scribe now regarded as the father of English poetry. Likewise, try getting someone’s attention today with a Chaucerism such as “Herkneth if you leste” and see how that works out.

With the language forged on English soil having been conveyed around the world, a strange alchemy has taken place, resulting in a multitude of dialects. These far-flung lingoes, whether Jamaican, Australian or Brooklynese, all have their own charms; it’s the butchering of the language that can be depressing. Beyond the banality of common chatter, correct grammar appears to be an abstract concept, and any faith still held in the future of sound English has been sorely tried. Between the double negatives and the misconjugations perpetrated by people whose native tongue is supposedly the language spoken and written by the descendants of Anglo-Saxons, modern English is taking a beating. Add to that the proliferation of meaningless utterances such as “like” and we’re practically living a Mad Max–like existence.

The fuss earlier this year over some restored language in the English version of the Catholic missal underscores what decades of insipid linguistics can do to people. Rather than go to the trouble of responding to the priest’s “The Lord be with you” with the correctly translated “And with your spirit,” the partisans of the hail-fellow-well-met texts of the last decades have been collectively cleaving to the “And also with you” reply. God forbid we should strain ourselves.

Is it unrealistic to expect articulate speech? The proponents of slothful discourse would do well to recall the sage admonition of Professor Higgins to Eliza Doolittle: “You’ll get much further with the Lord if you learn not to offend His ears.”

I don’t think it would kill us to rise above street jargon every now and then, especially, perhaps, in church. For those infatuated with novelty, here’s an idea: Why not render unto God what is God’s? What say ye?

Ambiguity in Tennyson's "Ulysses"

Alfred Lord Tennyson famously remarked, "There is more about myself in 'Ulysses,' which was written under the sense of loss...but that still life must be fought out to the end." While the poem does express the benign aspects of the heroic condition, there is a definite undercurrent that complicates that view.

The situation in "Ulysses" is borrowed from Dante's Commedia. Ulysses convinces his men to leave hearth and home behind once more to sail beyond the Pillars of Hercules into unknown waters. On one hand, the Greek hero is striving for more than just enough, to just "hoard, and sleep, and feed." He embodies the impulse for discovery and achievement.

However, the text contains elements that point to a less favorable view of Ulysses' impulse. For example, the image of "lights [which] begin to twinkle from the rocks," paired with Ulysses' exhortation to "follow knowledge like a sinking star," suggests a disastrous outcome for the mariners. Another problematic element is the echo of Milton's Satan in Ulysses' purpose, to "strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." Interestingly, in Dante's earlier version of this voyage, the crew keep a course "to the left," indicating the root meaning of "sinister."

Harold Bloom has commented, "Tennyson is the most extreme instance I know of the imagination going one way, and the will going quite another." The ambiguity in Tennyson's verse no doubt contributes to the lasting acclaim bestowed on the work. Remarkably, despite his death in 1892, the poet can be found on YouTube, reading "Ulysses."

The five wits

If you were to ask any nine-year-old to name the “five senses,” there’s little doubt that you'd receive a prompt and correct reply. However, it would be far more difficult these days to find anyone, young or old, who has even heard of the five wits. What was once known to every member of society – from the smallest child to the most sophisticated adult – is all but forgotten today.

The five wits, or interior senses, complement the exterior senses of taste, touch, hearing, sight and smell. As useful as these familiar senses are, a clue to how essential the interior senses are is found in the expression “to lose one’s wits.” Comprising memory, judgement, fancy, imagination and common sense, the five wits are employed as we go about our business every day.

An extremely popular animated film from several years ago featured to great comic effect a sincere but hapless fish who could not recall anything of her past, even up to the moment. Memory enables us to move forward, drawing upon our experiences, usually unconsciously. Without memory, we would be quite at a loss, blundering through every moment with no frame of reference.

Another of the wits that sustains our daily activities is the power of judgement (also known as estimation). Facilitating a reasonable assessment of our abilities in any given situation, judgement is critical to decisions ranging from the appropriate response in a social situation to projecting future outcomes for any endeavor. It is to be hoped that this faculty is in operation when we are planning any long- or short-term course of action.

The interior sense that permits us to step outside of ourselves and our direct experience is fancy. Shakespeare’s minstrel asks, “Tell me, where is fancy bred/Or in the heart, or in the head?” This faculty might be associated with dreamers – and rightly so. It is what sets innovators apart from the crowd. The iPod, for example, is a product of fancy; its invention was a radical departure from any gadgets that were in existence at the time, and illustrates the power of this seemingly lightweight faculty.

The fourth wit, often confused with fancy, is imagination. This sense is a great facilitator, reconciling particular ideas to universal principles, as well as shaping our recollections into a mental vision. While fancy conjures up the previously unknown, imagination sorts out what is known and applies it creatively.

Finally, common sense, the fifth wit, helps us to keep our feet on the ground and enables us to make sense of our world. Although (as has often been observed) it may not seem to be very common sometimes, this faculty is essential for all of us. A healthy supply of common sense, in fact, makes having a sixth sense (or would that be an eleventh?) superfluous.

Reaching across divisions

Those who enjoy good cinema might want to check out two wonderful Iranian films. "Son of Maryam," directed by Hamid Jebelli, and Kamal Tabrizi's "The Wind Carpet" are very different, at first glance. The first is a serious, almost mystical drama, and the other is a mostly lighthearted comedy. However, there are interesting similarities that would resonate with anyone who appreciates ardent narratives conveying hope.

Both stories include a blind child who reaches out to touch the face of someone who exemplifies an alien group. In storytelling, blindness often signifies spiritual insight or wisdom. The blind child would seem to be a surrogate for the community itself. This rapprochement occurs between Christians and Muslims in "Son of Maryam." "The Wind Carpet" connects members of an intimate Iranian community with representatives from a foreign society, Japan.

In "Son of Maryam," the tension between Muslims and their Christian neighbors is expressed in the juxtaposition of the rooftop "adhan," or Muslim "call to prayer," and the presence of the village's lone Catholic priest on a nearby roof, climbing a ladder to affix a cross to the church spire. The potential discord is also expressed in a dream in which the young protagonist, Rahman, fulfills his religious duty by loudly vocalizing his Islamic faith in opposition to the prayers of Christian mourners. This tension is reconciled by the coincidence of Muharram, the annual Muslim mourning period, and Rahman's personal mourning for the deceased priest. The cultural tension in "The Wind Carpet" manifests itself in language barriers, which are overcome with much difficulty. Also, the obvious cultural differences are reconciled in the development of personal relationships.

Another similarity between the two films is the generosity shown to strangers. The local Persian community pulls together in "The Wind Carpet" to fulfill the dream of a Japanese visitor's late wife, whose carpet design was selected for an upcoming festival. Everyone races against the clock, working in triple shifts, using skills passed down over generations to complete the carpet in time. In addition to the great sacrifices made by everyone involved in the making of the carpet, many small kindnesses are extended to the foreigner and his little girl. In "Son of Maryam," the village imam visits the injured priest and charges young Rahman to take good care of "this man of God." Moreover, on his journey to the city to find another priest to come to the sickbed, Rahman is aided by a Christian boy, with whom he forms a very cordial bond.

The reconciliation between divided communities that is envisioned in these films might inspire some constructive peacemaking in our time. One publication is attempting to help readers to "see alternatives to conflict" as part of its "peace journalism" initiative. One can only hope that The International is successful in this endeavor. For more information on Iranian cinema, click here.

Japanese lessons

The study of "nihon'go" (the Japanese language) is an immersion in "reigi," or etiquette. Evaluating the proper thing to say (and do) in any given situation is a nuanced but critical component. This aspect, in addition to the necessity of mastering three writing systems (Kanji, Hiragana and Katakana), makes learning Japanese quite a challenge.

First of all, it is imperative to use politer forms of speech when addressing a person who is older or otherwise superior in rank. For instance, while it is acceptable to greet peers in the morning with "Ohayo," the more formal "Ohayo gozaimasu" must be used to address a superior (such as one's manager). Similarly, the informal "ee" (yes) would be replaced by "hai" in speech directed at someone higher up in the social hierarchy. 

Moreover, men and women employ different usages and even differing pronunciations. The verb "desu" (to be), for example, is pronounced as one syllable by men and as one and a half by women. All of this is further complicated by the general indirectness of Japanese expressions.

Upon entering the office of a superior or in leaving it, the expression "shi-tsurei shimasu" (meaning "to lose etiquette") is often used, overtly illustrating the importance of reigi in Japanese culture. However, "gomen kudasai" is the thing to say when entering a shop, if the shopkeeper is not in sight. For other situations, the all-purpose "sumimasen" serves to get someone's attention, to excuse oneself or even to express gratitude. 

There is at least one nihon'go phrase now widely recognized throughout the world: sayonara.