USU78 Posted July 30, 2019 Posted July 30, 2019 The Greeks did tragedy first, as far as we know, and best. They understood that unearned suffering was not what was tragic about the world, but rather unfulfilled potential. Oedipus was not a tragic figure because he married his mother after killing his father, both innocently, without knowing who they were or who he was, but rather something else. When he mastered the Sphinx' riddle, something nobody else in the world had been able to do, he acquired arrogance at his wisdom. Oedipus received prophetic warning about the rot at the center of the city's troubles, but he ignored it. The prophet all but tells him, "Thou art the man." All it would have taken is for Oedipus to recognize and repent of his unwitting guilt, and the curse that plagued the city would be lifted. His wisdom made him arrogant, however, rendering him incapable of repentance. He, when he finally comes to grips with his own guilt, his own guilty nature, his own arrogant refusal to recognize his as the face of the rot within, he not only cannot bear to look at that face, he makes certain he never sees another thing again in his life as he puts out his eyes and goes out into the world, abandoning the city forever. Critics call Oedipus' arrogance his "tragic flaw," and see in other tragic works the tragic flaw in each central character as the cause of tragic failure. Jacob's tragic flaw was his wisdom, too. He used that wisdom to get revenge against enemies and obtain personal advantage over even his own feckless brother. When at the Brook Jabbok, Jacob, in fear of the coming confrontation with his murderous brother whom he'd fled years before, wrestles with himself, with an angel, with G-d Himself. Unlike Oedipus, however, Jacob, who bore probably worse guilt than Oedipus, recognized in his own face the face of rot in his own life, the source of that which he feared, and he named himself Jacob the Deceiver, when asked, "What is thy name?" In doing so, Jacob crosses over from trickster/manipulator to penitent. And he receives a new name, Israel, the Prince of G-d. Yet, despite the new name and the peaceful meeting with the dreaded Esau, Jacob's story doesn't really leave us elated. There is nothing comic about it. The twist is satisfying and beautiful, yet it is not particularly happy. Yes, we're glad of the reconciliation. Yes, we're glad Jacob has become a Prince of G-d and worthy heir of Abraham's legacy, but we're not giddy at all. It is a happiness we feel, but one accompanied by relief and tears, not singing and dancing. Abraham himself had the same tragic flaw. He was the whiz kid who, after he reasoned out that there must be one G-d above the earth, moon, stars, and sun, and the representations in stone, metal, and wood were wholly inadequate to be worthy of adulation, he decides to teach his deceived and deceiving parents a lesson. He takes an ax, destroys all of the "g-ds" but one, and places the ax in the arms of the remaining "g-d." His disbelieving parents understand quite well that Abraham was the one who'd done it. Arrogant youth never keep their mouths shut about their own brilliance, so who else? And when he says, "I didn't do it. HE did!" they are clueless how to respond. Abraham's arrogance is tested beyond his ability to cope, however, when he's told that, regardless of what he'd reasoned out about G-d's nature, and regardless what he'd been promised in exchange for agreeing to worship the One G-d, and regardless of his so-long-unfulfilled hopes of that promised child with his beloved Sarah, he needed a test, a payment to be paid before the promises could be fully realized. He had to ignore what he'd reasoned out about the bloody, fake g-ds of his childhood, that they weren't worthy of worship, and he had to forget the moral implications of child sacrifice, and he had to ignore the very basic wisdom of not killing your only son if you expect to have grandchildren. He had in that moment stuck in front of his face a mirror: in that mirror, what did he see? It was, I think, the arrogant manipulator, the arrogant reasoner, the discoverer of secrets, the smartest guy in the room, who didn't believe in anything other than his own wonderfulness. So he, utterly beaten down by this true picture of himself, trudges up Mt Moriah, dying inside, ashamed of himself, horrified what his arrogance is about to cost him. When the angel stayed his hand and the ram was caught, we are not giddy with excitement. We don't sing and dance for joy. We're relieved, not elated. We weep for the pain. His pain. Our pain. We understand, if we are honest with ourselves, that it is those times when we are shown our true faces, our own moral failings, our own rot that we experience the truth at the core of our religion. It isn't about unearned suffering. That's a given for everybody. Eve lost her two boys on a single day without "deserving it." We all get rained on. S*** happens. The Greeks were brilliant. They were great at triaging the mess that is human experience. Yet they never quite got around to showing in their art what it is that is esthetically most pleasing. Our catharsis, our true catharsis comes not from weeping at Oedipus' sad fate and learning not to be arrogant. It is in showing those who faced their failures as fathers, sons, husbands, fathers-in-law who look outside themselves and recognize that "thou art more righteous than I." When Jacob receives the unearned new name, he understands it is aspirational only. He himself knows he's unworthy of it. But G-d gifts him with it nevertheless. That's comforting, isn't it? So when we look at those in authority with their aspirational titles, and when we receive promises in aspirational titles ourselves, we must never make the mistake of expecting the aspiration to be the reality. And it is in seeing suffering and striving to live up to aspirations that we experience the painful beauty that is at our religion's core. It is not something to sing or dance about. There is nothing of giddiness in it. But in the pain of those suffering others, those aspirational Israels, we see our own pain played out, and in our relief and tears at their overcoming their lesser natures to move marginally nearer the unearned aspirational titles we experience the beauty of G-d's love. 1
The Nehor Posted July 30, 2019 Posted July 30, 2019 Reminds me of the utter cheek and arrogance we show at baptism by putting on ourselves the name of Christ, a name and title we are unworthy of in every respect. The irony is that we are commanded to do it. The covenant is always offered long before we have the knowledge or strength to understand it, let alone keep it. The Law is the schoolmaster to Christ because only someone who understands the Law and how far short of it they are fully realizes they need Christ. 2
Robert F. Smith Posted July 30, 2019 Posted July 30, 2019 1 hour ago, USU78 said: ............................................. Abraham's arrogance is tested beyond his ability to cope, however, when he's told that, regardless of what he'd reasoned out about G-d's nature, and regardless what he'd been promised in exchange for agreeing to worship the One G-d, and regardless of his so-long-unfulfilled hopes of that promised child with his beloved Sarah, he needed a test, a payment to be paid before the promises could be fully realized. He had to ignore what he'd reasoned out about the bloody, fake g-ds of his childhood, that they weren't worthy of worship, and he had to forget the moral implications of child sacrifice, and he had to ignore the very basic wisdom of not killing your only son if you expect to have grandchildren. He had in that moment stuck in front of his face a mirror: in that mirror, what did he see? It was, I think, the arrogant manipulator, the arrogant reasoner, the discoverer of secrets, the smartest guy in the room, who didn't believe in anything other than his own wonderfulness. So he, utterly beaten down by this true picture of himself, trudges up Mt Moriah, dying inside, ashamed of himself, horrified what his arrogance is about to cost him. When the angel stayed his hand and the ram was caught, we are not giddy with excitement. We don't sing and dance for joy. We're relieved, not elated. We weep for the pain. His pain. Our pain................................ I was entranced by the beauty of your words and logic, up to this point. I was thinking that you really ought to write an essay including those very words, and I was deeply anticipating the closure following the Binding of Isaac. I was sure that you were going to seal the deal with the necessary conclusion in which God the Father actually does sacrifice his own Son as the final Great Sacrifice to end all sacrifices. And I knew that you would provide a powerful explanation that tied all your words together -- something which I knew that I could not do -- but instead you left me hanging, disappointed, and empty. Now I am not even sure that there is a unifying theme that could tie it all together. Is it even possible? 1
USU78 Posted July 30, 2019 Author Posted July 30, 2019 1 hour ago, Robert F. Smith said: I was entranced by the beauty of your words and logic, up to this point. I was thinking that you really ought to write an essay including those very words, and I was deeply anticipating the closure following the Binding of Isaac. I was sure that you were going to seal the deal with the necessary conclusion in which God the Father actually does sacrifice his own Son as the final Great Sacrifice to end all sacrifices. And I knew that you would provide a powerful explanation that tied all your words together -- something which I knew that I could not do -- but instead you left me hanging, disappointed, and empty. Now I am not even sure that there is a unifying theme that could tie it all together. Is it even possible? This is a first draft. I'm aware of the problems you present, but I'm stumped on how to deal with them. After all, in the world as experienced by man, G-d mostly introduces the Son at important theophanies and presides over councils, asking questions and giving directions. How to go about linking out experience in inching towards what we aspire to and the fully realised Melekh haOlam's experience? That's where my words are failing me. 1
Maidservant Posted July 30, 2019 Posted July 30, 2019 We are the Binding of Isaac. It's us. We have been bound on the altar that is earth. 2
Robert F. Smith Posted July 30, 2019 Posted July 30, 2019 14 minutes ago, Maidservant said: We are the Binding of Isaac. It's us. We have been bound on the altar that is earth. Does that mean that Jesus Christ was the ram in the thicket? The substitute which allows us to become unbound?
Maidservant Posted July 30, 2019 Posted July 30, 2019 (edited) 1 hour ago, Robert F. Smith said: Does that mean that Jesus Christ was the ram in the thicket? The substitute which allows us to become unbound? In one framing, yes. But then we would have to talk about Atonement theory (-ies). And honestly, we would have to unpack 'Jesus Christ' or if the ram is an aspect or principle rather than a person. Edited: And/or the Christ path, which we are all walking. On and on. I mean, we don't have to do anything, lol, but it's just not a yes or no question. Edited July 30, 2019 by Maidservant 1
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