God's Image and Likeness

As most if not all of us know, it's written in the Book of Genesis that God made us in his image and likeness.  Somewhat strangely, God's portrayed there as speaking to himself prior to our creation.  "Let us make man [or mankind, or human beings, depending on the translation] in our image, in our likeness" God muses, or suggests to himself.

It happens that there were (and are) others besides the Hebrews and their successors in interest in Genesis who believe that we're the image and likeness of God or the gods, or at least believed that God or the gods resemble us to a startling degree.  The ancient Greek and Roman pagans, for example.

Certain of the ancients portrayed their gods as being hybrids, odd mixtures of humans and animals.  The ancient Egyptians did this, of course.  Certain cultures conceived of them as being particular animals.

It's interesting to speculate on the reasons for our tendency to worship divinities so like ourselves (at least, I find it interesting); our tendency, in other words, to worship ourselves.  The observation that this is what we do is so commonplace that it's thought perfectly natural or to be expected.  So we say things like "if horses had a god, it would be a horse."  Very well, then.  In that case, why do we so think and expect?

The simple fact is that physically, we're not particularly godlike.  If physical attractiveness or ability are worthy of worship or are considered to be aspects of divinity, a human god would seem unworthy.  There are animals far more graceful, more beautiful than we are as a rule.  There are animals faster, stronger than we are; animals that fly though we cannot; animals that are physically superior to us in many ways.  Why would anyone think that God or the gods would look like us, appear to be like us or resemble us, i.e. that we're the image or likeness of a deity?

The belief that humans are the image of God would appear to require a level of self-regard which is baseless almost to the point of lunacy.  Nonetheless, that has been and may even remain the belief of many.  Perhaps the apparent silliness of such a conceit led the religious to maintain that God or the gods were, in effect, super-humans, that is to say exceedingly beautiful, powerful and knowledgeable humans who are also better than normal humans in that they're not mortal.

That may have been the case with, e.g., the ancient Greek and Romans, but wouldn't seem to include the ancient Hebrews, who weren't inclined to picture God as having the physical form of a human being, portraying God variously as a burning bush or column of fire, etc.  But the God of the ancient Hebrews had various human characteristics nonetheless, if not physical attributes.  He was a jealous God, and could be an angry and vengeful one as well.  These characteristics are not those one would expect an almighty being to have, but are uniquely those of humans among the creatures of God, as far as we know.  The ancient Greek and Romans similarly portrayed their gods as having these human emotional characteristics and others, such as lust. 

So it appears that at least in recorded history, there's been a tendency to anthropomorphize the divine in one way or another.  Perhaps this came about due to the fact that animals came to be domesticated and we came to employ technology to alter our environment and so came in our opinion to dominate and tame the world.  Genesis of course indicates this was God's intent, to give us authority over the world and its other, lesser, creatures.  Not knowing much of anything else about the world, we may have come to believe that we were the supreme beings of creation, and thought that the Lord of creation would necessarily be like us, only grander.  Such a view would also be consistent with what came to be the hierarchical nature of our societies; as we typically had kings or oligarchs, so would the world in general.

Even so, it's difficult not to think the supreme being would be limited by being or appearing to be human in any significant manner.  This seems clear enough now, given our knowledge of the vastness of the universe and the resulting knowledge that we humans and our planet are almost unimaginably insignificant in comparison.  The creator or intelligence inherent in the universe probably would not be something which looks like us or is like us.  Perhaps our gods were in the past not considered to be supreme in the sense which is common at this time.  They had limited authority and power, peculiar to believers and their place in the world (universe) rather than authority over the entire universe.

We know that pagan philosophers in the West came to think the Olympian gods were not in fact real, but were meant to be representatives of the deity or aspects of the divine portrayed in a way comprehensible to the common people.  The "god of the philosophers" wasn't peculiarly human or like a human.  The philosophers were largely Deists or pantheists, like the Stoics.

The notion of God as perfect, all-good, omnipotent, omniscient is so unlike any notion we can reasonably have of ourselves that it's plainly unreasonable to think that we're created in God's image and likeness.  As that notion was entertained by pagan philosophers and as early Christians were eager to accommodate Christianity to philosophy, the Christian doctrine that God became man generated problems it took centuries to resolve.  Whether they were actually resolved is questionable.  The claim that Jesus was at one and the same time fully human and fully divine is unsatisfactory, but it was necessary for the heresies which maintained that he was not fully divine while human to be quashed, and quashed they were, though in a most mysterious way.

It seems unsurprising that particularly in ancient times, we worshipped gods which were strangely similar to ourselves.  But it also seems clear that an almighty God of the universe wouldn't be like us, wouldn't be especially or exclusively concerned with us and our affairs and how we act, or what we eat, or who we have sex with, or whether we keep holy the Sabbath day.  Christopher Hitchens claimed that religion is a relic of the selfish childhood of our species.  I don't think that's the case as I don't think a belief in the "god of the philosophers" for example can be considered childish, but religions which make the claim humans are significantly like God and our affairs God's special concerns may be.

A Heritage of Torment

It's difficult to believe this blog has been around for so long a period, but six years ago I wrote a post regarding the decision made by the people of Catalonia in Parliament to ban the practice of bullfighting.  Proponents of the practice evidently reacted by petitioning the courts of Spain for relief, and now something called the Constitutional Court of Spain has determined that the ban is illegal.  From what I read, the basis for its ruling is that bullfighting is a part of Spanish heritage, and therefore can only be banned by Spain's central government, not a regional government.

It apparently took the court six years to decide that bullfighting is a part of Spain's common cultural heritage.  Regardless, it seems that under Spanish law, the central government alone has jurisdiction over this heritage, and so the regional government exceeded its authority by implementing the ban.

I can't help but wonder what this common cultural heritage may be and how and why the central government of Spain may alter it, if indeed it can.  "Heritage" by definition involves the history of a nation, and presumably no government of any kind can modify the past.  It could certainly modify how the past is perceived or understood, but banning bullfighting not only does nothing at all that impacts bullfights held before the ban; it likewise doesn't require that bullfighting which has taken place be thought of at all let alone in any particular way.

Presumably, the court hasn't ruled that only Spain's central government has the authority to do what can't be done, however.  It must be inferred that the court has, instead, determined that only the central government may ban something which has happened in the past from taking place now or in the future, provided it is a part of Spain's common cultural heritage.

Spain being no better generally than most other nations, its common cultural heritage may be said to include some less than admirable things, e.g. fascism, civil war, slavery, the Spanish Inquisition (which nobody expects) and, some would even say, genocide in the Americas.  Is it therefore the case that only its central government may prohibit such things?  Probably not.

So, it must be the case that only certain historical practices which took place in the Spanish nation constitute a part of its common cultural heritage, and so are inviolate unless and until its central government decides otherwise.  Bullfighting is one of them, it seems.

I think it's entirely fair to say that bullfighting consists of the highly stylized (even ritualized) process by which a bull is slowly tortured and killed by men on horseback and on foot through the use of sharpened metal weapons.  To some of us, it has special significance due to the fact that those torturing the bull, and particularly one of them, place themselves at some risk of being killed or seriously wounded by the animal being tortured.  The experience of observing the spectacle is said to be enhanced if the torture is engaged in a particular way, e.g. by controlling the animal's movements by the use of some cloth in a certain fashion, or striking the animal in a particular pose.

Assuming this is part of Spain's common cultural heritage (and setting aside the fact that if it is, it's not something some of us would take pride in), there remains the question why a particular part of Spain may not decide to prohibit bullfighting.  This question seem especially appropriate given the fact the court decided that Catalonia may "regulate the development of bullfighting" and "establish requirements for the special care and attention of fighting bulls."

What exactly are the powers to regulate the development of bullfighting and establish requirements for the special care and attention of fighting bulls?  If they're extensive enough, Catalonia can likely ban bullfighting for all practical purposes.  It could, for example, adopt a law that bulls may be fought, but only without the use of weapons of any kind.  Matadors may punch the bull, or attempt to wrestle it, but can't stick it with a sword.  Perhaps picadors would have to ride their horses sitting on them backwards, or could not ride horses, but instead could only ride other men.  Possibly, a very large tax on bullfighting may be imposed (not as satisfying an option, but far less silly).

Catalonia may explore these option and others, I would think.  Also, if the animus against this practice is particularly strong in any case, they could simply ignore it, and the practice die out for lack of interest and money.

The problem, of course, is that in the interim animals will continue to be tormented and killed as part of a grisly display for the delight of those humans who find such things enjoyable, and those who adopted the ban or supported it will be outraged.  It may be possible to continue to impose the ban regardless of the court's ruling, and force those who want to kill bulls or see them killed to have recourse to whatever remedies the law provides.  And this may be effective itself.

It may be the court's ruling is motivated at least in part by the perception the ban is an effort at Catalan independence.  It may be, in other words, that the court's ruling is purely political, and that it's felt the ban must be found legally invalid in order to avoid seeming to admit such independence.  If that's the case, there may little effort to enforce the ruling for fear of provoking a reaction.

Regardless, though, I wonder whether the Spanish people are well served by a court ruling that bullfighting is part of their common cultural heritage.  A heritage of gaudy, gruesome torment of animals wouldn't seem something to be proud of.

Esoterica and its Adherents

"Esoterica" may refer to things known only to the initiated, a select few. It's specialized knowledge available solely to those who come to be aware of it through means unavailable to most, i.e. to ordinary folk.  That's what it refers to in this post, in any case.

Esoterica, for my purposes, includes special knowledge pertaining to things both profane and sacred.  It's been a part of Western culture since ancient times; at least such knowledge has been claimed to exist and be possessed by those fortunate few who obtain it.  I don't pretend to know much of anything of Eastern culture but suspect esoterica plays a part in it as well, we humans being what we are. 

We see it in ancient times in the Eleusinian mysteries and in the mystery religions and cults which flourished during the Roman Empire, where initiation into the mysteries was required to obtain knowledge and salvation.  It was necessary that initiates perform or participate in certain ceremonies or rituals.  It required in some cases a special kind of learning, astrological learning, for example.  Those called the Gnostics pretended to esoteric knowledge, and it was claimed that such as Hermes Trimegistus obtained and wrote of it.  It was connected, as may be guessed, with mysticism and magic.

It didn't by any means disappear after Christianity took hold of the Empire, Christianity having its share of esoterica.  But Christianity at most inhibited for a time esoterica which may be said to be unrelated to Christian doctrine.  From the 17th century on, it seems that esoterica and what may be called esoteric societies have cropped up seemingly as an alternative to Christianity.  Those societies still flourish today.

There are of course the Masons.  Then there are the Rociscrucians and lesser known societies such as the Ancient Order of Druids, formed in the 18th century.  The Knights of Columbus appears to be a kind of freemasonry for Catholics.  The Illuminati and the Bilderberg Club are favorites of conspiracy theorists of various kinds.

My favorites are the Ordo Templi Orientis and Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn.  The latter was created in the 19th century, the former in the 20th century.  These two even more than others were devoted to the magic arts and ancient pagan gods and goddesses, or at least rituals they imagined were involved in pagan worship.  The Ordo Templi Orientis was founded by the very odd Aleister Crowley who, in certain photographs, bears a remarkable resemblance to Uncle Fester of the Adams Family, especially as he appears in the movies.  Crowley seems to have worshipped every god at one time or another, though he was partial to ancient Egyptian deities.  He claimed to have been contacted by an entity named Aiwass while in Egypt, and with his assistance wrote a book which became the foundation for his religion, called Thelema.  It's not surprising that L. Ron Hubbard was influenced by him.

The Order of the Golden Dawn included William Butler Yeats among its members, and seems to have been associated with Crowley as well.  It was also devoted to the magic arts (Crowley liked to use the spelling "magik").  Meetings of these societies involved dressing in what were thought to be  clothing worn by ancient Egyptian priests.  The Egyptian craze resulting from the discovery of Tutankhamen's tomb may have influenced the societies and their members.

It seems that peculiar clothes play an essential part in meetings of these societies, even those more common societies with which we're familiar.  The Masons don aprons and other items they imagine were worn by medieval builders.  The Knights of Columbus wear special hats, sashes, capes and carry swords, at least when they've attained a special rank.

I wonder what it is that prompts adults to gather together and wear costumes which would otherwise be considered silly, and engage in arcane rituals.  I understand that such societies can be a place for what we like now to call "networking" and suppose that if this results in financial or professional success it could well be worth dressing like a fool for an hour or so, especially when everyone else is similarly attired.  Is it thought to be a way of carrying on a tradition?  An elaborate game of dress-up for adults?  Is it thought to impress others, or please the gods or God, or render the wearer more potent in magic or knowledge?  Do these societies instill a sense of brotherhood?  Do they please the animal in us, these rankings and this hierarchy?

One would think that acquiring esoteric knowledge or power need not be something requiring a gathering of a community appropriately dressed, although the recitation of certain words and the conduct of certain ceremonies would seem to have been required for magic of any kind for a very long time, and throughout our history.  Gatherings associated with esoterica would therefore seem to satisfy more of a social impulse than anything else.  Perhaps that's a sense of brotherhood or a sense of comfort in the knowledge that others are as we are and want what we want, and willing to do what's being done.

But esoterica and the quest for it seems to be, like so much else of what we do and think, the result of our persistent desire, even need, to control things beyond our control, e.g. such things as death, our fate, others, the world, the universe.  Associated with that desire or need is our fear of such things, especially death and the loss of self.  This seems to be one, at least, of the bases of our religious instinct.

The Stoic injunction to be undisturbed by things beyond our control strikes me as having a profound effects.  Not only does it quiet our fears and concerns and our foolish ambitions, thus making happiness a possibility, but it renders certain all-too-common irrational conduct unnecessary and unreasonable.  It isn't necessary to accept complicated rituals and rules or believe in magic or gods to attain happiness and tranquility.  Esoterica is irrelevant.  We need only exercise control of ourselves.

Mark Twain's Mysterious Stranger(s)

I've been less adoring of Mark Twain than others for quite some time, and have written of him unkindly in a few posts here in this very blog.  It may be that my view of him and his work is an example of familiarity, of a sort at least, breeding contempt.  The comedic Twain, teller of tall tales, the Twain of Hal Holbrook, creator of stock characters and folksy dialects, which seems to be the more popular Twain, I find annoying.   But I acknowledge that it may be that Twain did what he had to in order to make a living and thrive in this world and this required pandering, or that the familiar Twain of which I speak is in the nature of a caricature.

One thing I find quite interesting about him, however, is that work called The Mysterious Stranger.  I call it that here, in any case.  There are said to be 3-4 versions of this work, and each has been given its own title.  There is apparently no finished version; finished by Twain in any event.  His executor/biographer, Albert Bigelow Paine, himself a writer of fiction and other things, is said to have created a version with an ending by slapping together 3 different versions and doing some creative editing with their texts together with a publisher named Duneka.

This work or more properly these versions or drafts of a work were written during the latter part of Twain's life, and address the subject of religion.  They feature the Prince of Darkness himself, or some versions do, or it may be that this character is merely his nephew, also named Satan.  It also may be that the Satanic figure is intended to be a different figure entirely.  I read that one version features Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.  That obviously isn't the version I've read, and I'm not interested in reading anything about those two characters, though I am willing to imagine, fondly, what the Devil might do to them.

I don't wish to enter into the debate regarding which version is truer to Twain.  I assume I've read the Paine version.  It certainly has its problems.  It must be wondered whether we do any author a service by publishing unfinished work posthumously, especially where the author left different versions of the work lying about at the time of death.  This is an indication that the author was never satisfied with what was written, and in fact never thought it should be read.  In that case, we wrong him by doing so or at the least do something he/she didn't want us to do.

Nonetheless, assuming that some part of the versions written by Twain are present, I think it fair to say that the satire engaged in is not the broad, sometimes knee-slapping, overt satire Twain otherwise indulged in (for example in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court).  It is a grim, serious, and simply written tale, sometimes sinister, sometimes hectoring.  What is most interesting, I think, is the indifference of the Satan-figure to humans in general or particular humans, and especially as to what is called their "Moral Sense."  This he considers a peculiarity of humans and an unnecessary burden.

His indifference is striking.  Unfortunately it's rendered less striking by his propensity to lecture about the defects of human kind.  By all accounts Twain was prone to dwell on our many problems and deplorable nature and conduct, but I like to think that the lectures were inserted after his death.  They become repetitive and are boring, the point being already quite clear.  Also, he inserts himself into human events now and then.

The Satan-figure is quite willing to use his powers to benefit and do favors for some, and seems to have no real malice.  Our happiness or unhappiness isn't of much concern to him, it seems.  As might be expected, when he bestows benefits it's likely things don't turn out well for the person benefited, and as a result of the benefit.  He or she dies, or someone else does, or goes mad.  Episodes of Rod Serling's Twilight Zone come to mind, inevitably.

The overwhelming impression I receive from this work is that the concerns of humans, their deeds, problems, thoughts, and beliefs, even as to matters right or wrong, are small and insignificant and of no interest to Satan, or God, or the universe.  I think the Satan-figure could very well be a substitute for God, despite his name and the fact he refers to himself as an angel. 

Simply put, I think it's the intent or one of the intents of the work to point out that we flatter ourselves enormously by thinking we have any importance in the universe or the Divine Plan, if there is one.  The universe wasn't made for us, and isn't bound by our conceptions of right and wrong.  What happens merely happens, and there need be no reason to it; at least no reason humans would understand or appreciate.

The late Warren Zevon wrote a song called The Vast Indifference of Heaven.  Is this indifference what Twain was contemplating in his later years?  Did it comfort him, appall him, confirm him in his belief regarding our foolishness?  The vastness of the universe suggests that we're creatures of great pretensions, and our concerns with what is not in the power of our wills foolish indeed.  Perhaps Twain was something of a Stoic in that respect, at least.  But I have difficulty believing that he felt the universe to be divine in any sense, or that we shared in any divinity, which would seem to establish he wasn't a Stoic in the ancient sense.