Intolerance, Exclusivity and the Heirs of Abraham

A thread on a forum I frequent has motivated me to wonder something about the so-called Abrahamic religions, i.e. those which look back to the patriarch Abraham as a founder, directly or indirectly.  What I wonder about them may strike some as disturbing or even blasphemous.  I wonder whether there is anything peculiarly good about them; whether, in other words, they in themselves contain or preach anything good, that hasn't as it were been borrowed or assimilated in the course of their histories from elsewhere.

Above is a picture in stained glass, I think, depicting Abraham about to sacrifice his son in accordance with the will of his God.  I sometimes think of the God of the Old Testament as a kind of colossal, unsleeping cat, toying with his creation as a cat would a mouse.  A cat without a cat's usual charm and grace, though, and without its vast capacity to sleep, and doing no harm by doing so.  Whether urging the chosen people to destroy the Canaanites and take their land, laying waste to entire cities, flooding the world, or playing torturous games with Abraham and Job, he's perpetually doing something to us.  He seemingly made us to be the objects of his whims.

A particular belief in a particular God has been the cause of much violence and many wars, it's true.  But was it so, is it so, when one of the Abrahamic religions is not involved?  As far as I know, the pagans of the ancient Mediterranean didn't war against each other because one group worshipped Isis and one Mithras, for example.  Tolerance of religious beliefs was characteristic of the Greco-Roman world, except, of course, when it came to the Jews and Christians.

Greeks and Jews we know rioted against each other in Alexandria.  Roman suppression of the Jews in the two "Jewish wars" was ruthless.  The Roman state, periodically and with varying degrees of seriousness, persecuted Christians, but with nowhere near the seriousness depicted by Hollywood and others.  But violence against Jews and Christians was not motivated by the fact that they believed in Yahweh or Jesus as opposed to one or several of the pagan gods.  It was motivated by the fact that they believed themselves to be exclusively in possession of that which is right and good by virtue of the fact they worshipped their particular god and refused to recognize as right and good and indeed despised anything they did not think right and good--including pagans, the Roman state, and pagan institutions.  They were considered anti-social, as they were against pagan society and culture.  They appeared to subvert society, traditional religion and the government.

Jews and Christians were exclusive, sometimes militantly so, and intolerant.  Once Rome became a Christian Empire, it persecuted pagans far more relentlessly and effectively that the pagan empire persecuted Christians.  Islam, once founded, was similarly exclusive and intolerant, and engaged in great conquests in the name of its God.  Christianity was an imperial force as well.  All over the world, people were "saved" by being made Christian.

There are works of art inspired by religion, and they can be said to be goods peculiar to particular religious beliefs.  What of wisdom or ethics can be said to have resulted only by virtue of the Abrahamic religions, however? 

I would say nothing, not really.  All that was or could be said on those topics was said before Christianity or Islam existed, and developed independent of Judaism, primarily due to the ancient Greeks.  If one discounts unsubstantiated claims such as Plato or Solon got lessons from Moses, there's nothing to indicate the Greeks were influenced by Judaism in any significant respect.  That Christianity borrowed extensively from pagan philosophy is clear.

It's often claimed that Christianity brought with it the idea of love, something said to be absent from paganism.  Readers of Plato's Symposium might find that surprising.  But Christian love has much more often than not merely been given lip service.  If there was such a teaching, it's been ignored as a practical matter.  And arguably, the love touted by Christianity has never been capable of realization.  One simply does not love everyone.  Respect and dignity were accorded to all by the pagan philosophers; a much more achievable goal.

Well, that's what wondering can do.  But what can be expected from religions which hold themselves out to be the only way to God, the only way to worship God, but conflict in the name of God until all believe the same?

The Unending Past

It occurs to me that the past is never past.  Not, at least, in the sense that it ends, or is done.  The past is ever growing.  It is never over, never finished, and becomes larger--and more imposing--with each moment.

We may of course, if we wish, distinguish it from the present.  What we experience, think, feel and do now isn't part of the past, but will be in an instant.  Like all else that we experience, think, feel and do, then it will be beyond us and unalterable.  We may do now things which will alter or correct the consequences of what took place in the past, but what happened has happened and cannot be changed.

This is a misfortune.  What we are is necessarily due to the past, what we will be and what we will do is necessarily formed by the past.  We're entrapped by it, to a certain extent at least.  We're slaves to the past.  More often than not, we'd like to change it, and are barred from doing so by time's arrow.

The past is what we regret; it is all that we regret, obviously.  We're unable to regret what hasn't taken place.  As we're constantly reminded of the past, by people who speak of it or by places where something occurred, regret is a part of our lives unless we've done nothing to regret, ever.  No human being can make that claim, unless delusional.

Even if we're not reminded in waking life, though, it lurks within us and is resurrected in a peculiar way in dreams.  Just last night I dreamt of something I regret, something which took place long ago, something which I regret so profoundly that it appears in dreams in some form or other, not frequently but all too often, and I regret it all over again; regret it as I did when I first learned of it.  I say "in one form or other" because the dreams aren't reenactments of what I regret, but odd vignettes, pictures or dream-events which derive from the regret.

It was something I wanted to take place and did not.  As a result, something else took place.

It's hard to conceive of anything more futile than regret, or explain the pain of dreams that provoke it and bring to a kind of half-life that which is regretted.  But such is the nature of the past that dreams can't be avoided,  Also, that which is now isn't what would have been, and the contrast is impossible to ignore, so waking life will also bring regret if we let it.

The unchangeable past is clearly beyond our control.  An aspiring Stoic, therefore, should be indifferent to it and not allow it to disturb him.  But the past is unending, and grows for each of us as we age.  The past is the most formidable obstacle to our tranquility.  It doesn't altogether help to understand it isn't something within our power, however, because we forever wish that it was, and can't prevent it from haunting us in our dreams.

There's Something About "Hamilton"

There's something about it, I think, that would explain its success and also explain why I wonder at it...and its success.  I don't mean to say that as musical theatre goes, it's bad.  We speak after all of entertainment, and that which entertains always has a value unless it corrupts.  There is no corruption here.  There is, instead, an overwhelming but unsatisfying sincerity.

I should admit that historical inaccuracy concerns me.  So, for that matter, does incongruity unless it is humorous, as it is in the case of farce, for example.  One can argue that incongruity, inaccuracy and humor are to be expected when history is put on stage, and there is an element of truth in that argument.  But when they're combined with sincerity, a problem results.  It's not possible to be sincerely inaccurate.  It's possible to sincerely strive to make a point and to do so while being deliberately inaccurate, though.  Accuracy in that case is avoided in an effort to make a moral point, or to engage in propaganda.

Looked at as a piece of musical theatre of the Broadway type, I would describe that portion of it which precedes the intermission as manic.  I'm not a fan of rap, but would think that even a fan would recognize that an effort is being made to compress decades into an hour or so, and that this numbs the mind and the senses.  We seem to race through time; there are no stops, no pauses.  It's like listening to someone doing an extended drum roll.  After intermission, things slow down.  There are actual melodies, but to me there is nothing memorable in them.  Usually when exiting a musical I find I can remember one or two songs fairly well.  That was not the case, for me, with Hamilton.

The inaccuracies are more galling than outrageous.  For example, Hamilton (the person, I mean) participated in more than one duel.  The cause of one of them is addressed--the affair with Mrs. Reynolds.  Jefferson, Madison and Burr didn't confront Hamilton about his adultery, though.  James Monroe did, and Hamilton challenged Monroe to a duel over it.  Aaron Burr brought about a reconciliation between the two, however, and a duel was avoided.  Presumably, the creator felt it was necessary to concoct some confrontation that didn't take place, and say nothing of Burr's friendly efforts, but I have no idea why; unless it was to show Burr, Jefferson and Madison in a bad light.

Incongruity as humor, or farce, is evidenced in the person of George III, and he thereby became my favorite character as he was certainly the silliest.  I longed for the silly.  Incongruity as humorless, however, was evidenced by the fact that in the case of this particular performance, virtually every historical figure known to have been white was played by a black actor.  Is this wrong?  No, but it's inaccurate and incongruous.  One can't help but wonder what the reaction would be if white actors played historical figures known to be black.  I think it would have been exceedingly negative.  Why is it otherwise when black actors play white characters?  Certain actors no doubt are given opportunities they wouldn't normally have.  That is fine.  But it would seem to me to be better in trying to create opportunities to create new roles, new plays, rather than bringing history to the stage.

The sincerity of the effort can't be doubted, but sincerity can be deceiving, in the sense that it induces some to accept inaccuracies as accurate.  I can't help but wonder how many feel that what appears on stage here is all of it historically accurate.  They shouldn't, I know, as this is theatre, and for that reason I'm more annoyed by the inaccuracies than outraged by them.  But in depicting history we should strive to be accurate.  Otherwise, people like Oliver Stone are free to indulge in fantasy and portray it as history. 

Maybe I've read too much Santayana and Orwell, but I'm sensitive to games we play with history just as I'm sensitive to claims that history cannot be known, which itself encourages gaming.  But it can be known, to a reasonable degree of certainty, and must be known if we're to learn from it and know what we are and how we became what we are.

Hamilton is so popular that I assume what I write about it will be unpopular, if indeed it's read.  I don't begrudge it its popularity as a piece of theatre, though I found it less than overwhelming and not worth the ridiculously high price of admission.  I merely hope it's thought of as no more than that, and not as history especially.