More meandering morningthots (man, God)

For the obligatory image, here’s part of the inside of an envelope.

Dear diary,

What is this general feeling that I always wake up with? This feeling of being in a body, of being in a world, of possessing a mind . . . but also a feeling of helplessness, of mere spectatorship, of being strapped into an amusement-park ride, devoid of agency . . .

I doubt my ability to change events. I doubt my ability to move anything but my own limbs. I now begin to doubt my ability to move my limbs: for aren’t other forces at work here? Isn’t something like electricity or Fate doing the heavy lifting, while I (whatever I am) simply assume that I’m the main actor, the prime mover?

You set up dominoes and then you knock them down. But each individual domino believes that he himself is desiring to fall at the instant he does: his falling, he claims, is not due solely to the domino behind him knocking into him. Likewise, the domino in front of him could remain standing, after he is collided with, if he so chooses; but, it happens that he would rather fall too. All these performances are said to be voluntary.

Putting a spin on things. Making lemonade from unlucky lemons. It was all for the best. God cursed us, but goodness ultimately resulted.

Someone pours cold water on you. You could say “I dislike this sensation.” Or you could say “This sensation is thrilling.” We can interpret the experience, but who can create the experience? Who can make the sensation true or false inside the body? Is anyone in charge here?

And if there IS someone in charge, then why are they running things in a way that leads people like me to ask who’s running the show?

A man is shut into a room. The room contains a sofa, a table, and a lamp. While walking about this room, the man tips the table on its side, upends the sofa, and smashes the lamp. We then say to this man: “Look what you did to these furnishings,” and the man replies: “I cannot have made this mess, because I am not a physical being – I am only a mind.” This response strikes me as silly, but isn’t it like the way that people speak about divinity? “We humans cannot have caused the pleasant or unpleasant aspects of this world, because we are not gods – we are only mortal creatures. Our creator, God, is apart from us, away from us: a different force; not something that acts thru us, of which each of us is a piece: we are not God’s vital organs.” People say “God destroyed this nation; God caused this child to be born to these parents; God made this man rich and that man poor . . .” Yet, is it not the truth that humans warred against each other; humans coupled to create that new life; and our manmade economic system rendered poverty inevitable? The concept “God” is used as a screen to deflect responsibility from those who are carelessly ruining our world.

But I also hate the concept of responsibility. I hate blame. So I understand this compulsion. However, instead of so self-satisfyingly indulging in our lowest natural instinct, I wish that we would at least aim to evince a more harmonious irresponsibility.

What makes God such a shiny concept is the singleness, the kingly aspect of monotheism – “gods” plural does not do the trick. – What if there were only one Man, instead of all the zillions of people on the earth? Multiplying the instances of a thing cheapens that thing. Rare books . . . precious metals . . .

Yahweh God molded a copy of himself from the dust. Now, either Yahweh was the only deity, or he was one of many deities. If he was the sole God, then we have a lonely monarch on a globe crafting an image of himself to interact with. There’s something about this that strikes me as pathetic, even sad. And then for him to get so angry when the self-portrait that he sculpted began acting differently than it had been instructed to act. Why would you make a copy of yourself and then give it commandments? Why not stand back and watch what the replica does; observe where it goes . . . And when your image proves to need a mate, and you yourself dare not serve that function, and neither can any of your animals fill that role – isn’t that a sad day, too?

But also, consider what the situation entails if Yahweh is one among a pantheon of deities. Now Yahweh lacks uniqueness. We no longer say “Yahweh is special because he’s the one true God,” but instead, “Yahweh is the strongest of the gods,” which leads one to question which of the other deities might be the wisest, and whether strength is preferable to all other traits. A god among the gods is like a man in a city: there’s something small and vulnerable about belonging to a species – it makes one desire to set oneself apart as a chieftain or overlord.

God standeth in the congregation of the mighty; he judgeth among the gods. . . . I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High; but ye shall die like men, and fall like one of the princes. (Psalm 82:1, 6-7)

Among the gods there is none like unto thee, O Yahweh; neither are there any works like unto thy works. (Psalm 86:8)

For Yahweh is a great God, and a great King above all gods. (Psalm 95:3)

Yahweh is great, and greatly to be praised: he is to be feared above all gods. For all the gods of the nations are idols: but Yahweh made the heavens. (Psalm 96:4-5)

Yahweh is superior to the other deities because he created the world. This implies that Yahweh made the gods, just as he made mankind.

As long as the original exists, the copies will be multiplied. If the moral is bad, as it is, get rid of the character and the pictures will no more be made. (Ralph Waldo Emerson, Journal XX, 1829 July 21)

The first man was a self-portrait of Yahweh; what was the first god? This is one of those questions that remains interesting no matter how it is answered. For if the first god that Yahweh fashioned was a likeness of himself, then it follows that that first god looks like Adam, the first human being. And the three of them (the first-formed god, the first man, and Yahweh God) share an image – they are triplets, as it were. And what if that first-fashioned god were female: then we’d have the familiar Trinity. Why would Yahweh create a divine copy of himself but to serve as his own consort – to be “an help meet for him”?

Yahweh possessed me in the beginning of his way, before his works of old. I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was. When there were no depths, I was brought forth; when there were no fountains abounding with water. Before the mountains were settled, before the hills was I brought forth: While as yet he had not made the earth, nor the fields, nor the highest part of the dust of the world. When he prepared the heavens, I was there: when he set a compass upon the face of the depth: When he established the clouds above: when he strengthened the fountains of the deep: When he gave to the sea his decree, that the waters should not pass his commandment: when he appointed the foundations of the earth: Then I was by him, as one brought up with him: and I was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him; rejoicing in the habitable part of his earth; and my delights were with the sons of men.

Those are the words of the goddess Wisdom, from the biblical book of Proverbs (8:22-31). If this was the first god that Yahweh created to be his wife, then what happened to the happy couple? Are they not still together? Did they break up and get divorced? Is the answer hidden in the myth that Ezekiel draws on, in his prophecy against Tyrus:

Thus saith the Lord Yahweh: Thou sealest up the sum, full of wisdom, and perfect in beauty. Thou hast been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was thy covering . . . the workmanship of thy tabrets and of thy pipes was prepared in thee in the day that thou wast created. Thou art the anointed cherub that covereth; and I have set thee so: thou wast upon the holy mountain of God; thou hast walked up and down in the midst of the stones of fire. Thou wast perfect in thy ways from the day that thou wast created, till iniquity was found in thee. . . . thou hast sinned: therefore I will cast thee as profane out of the mountain of God: and I will destroy thee, O covering cherub, from the midst of the stones of fire. Thine heart was lifted up because of thy beauty, thou hast corrupted thy wisdom by reason of thy brightness: I will cast thee to the ground . . . (Ezekiel 28:12-17)

So, apparently, Yahweh killed his spouse, and that’s why there’s no longer a goddess named Wisdom in the Holy Trinity: the trio of Father, Mother, and Child is now Father, Son, and Holy Ghost because Yahweh’s wife survives only in spirit. And Father Yahweh slew his firstborn Jesus too; so we’re really just back to One True God again.

Monotheism. The last warrior standing.

Yahweh is a man of war: Yahweh is his name. (Exodus 15:3)

But how did all those other gods of the pantheon get manufactured? And how soon after the first-created god were the other ones made? In the book of Genesis (2:7), we are told that “Yahweh God formed man of the dust of the ground” – therefore the medium of man is dust: What material did Yahweh use to make gods? It could not have been air, because air (breath, wind) is employed to animate the copies of Yahweh; as is shown in the same verse of Genesis: “Yahweh breathed into the man’s nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” The gods cannot simply consist of air-filled air; that’s not substantial enough: they need to be able to mate with human beings.

The sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose. . . . when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men . . . men of renown. (Genesis 6:2, 4)

Since the species are capable of interbreeding, maybe the gods are made from dust, too, just like humans. Maybe it’s a special type of dust that glows in the dark. . .  . Stardust? (Where do I get the idea that gods are radiant?) Now I’m thinking also of silicon: “a nonmetal with semiconducting properties, used in making electronic circuits.” Are gods computers, as men are robots? “Pure silicon exists in a shiny dark gray crystalline form and as an amorphous powder.” My mental association runs from dust to sand – my brain files sand with silicon – and sand is melted to make glass, and glass becomes mirrors: How fitting that Yahweh would choose such a substance to craft his first reflection.

And what is the difference between gods and angels? Are the latter simply the former under a different name? I assume that when the gods engaged in their civil war, splitting into two armies – one faction siding with their prototype Yahweh, and the majority backing his ex-wife Wisdom – that they then relabeled themselves according to their political allegiance: the first were “angels,” meaning “messengers” who bow to their Lord Yahweh’s will and faithfully deliver his every diktat; while the opposing remainder were “daemons” who, like their compeer Wisdom, follow the inner light of their own divinity.

I like both Yahweh and Wisdom, by the way; they’re both good people. Instead of taking sides in their conflict, I prefer sitting on the fence. I don’t see why the armies can’t be reconciled: I think that they should forgive each other; for there’s fault on either side – or, rather, there’s fault on neither side: nobody ever did anything wrong; the source of the conflict was just a terrible misunderstanding. But gods will be gods. So I try to talk them down and de-escalate, whenever either group begins to call their opponents bad names, such as Satan, Devil, Adversary, etc. (for they both engage in this type of ugly slander) – or when any physical fighting breaks out: I strongly urge diplomacy over bloodshed.

The discretion of a man deferreth his anger; and it is his glory to pass over a transgression. (Proverbs 19:11)

We respect a knight who slays a dragon. But what if our knight could communicate with his dragon, and speak the dragon’s language to arrive at an agreement that is mutually beneficial?

Is it not embarrassing to catch oneself lashing out violently at an inanimate object, when it happens to get in one’s way? Say, you stub your toe on a wall’s corner, so you kick the wall: Don’t you feel foolish about this? Physical aggression is inherently shameful. A brute barbarian will use his cudgel to bash the android who is attempting to deliver him refreshments, because he lacks the knowledge to interact with this type of technology. Even if the beverages that the android is offering are not to its client’s liking, instead of putting a dent in its silver casing, it would be better to learn how to reprogram the machine.

So, why does Yahweh keep a sword in Eden? My understanding is that his garden of paradise predated the Copper Age, so there would be no threat of attack from outsiders; moreover, the first human beings were crafted naked and devoid of weapons – they were quite the opposite of “armed and dangerous.” But look how Yahweh evicts them from the land:

Yahweh drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life. (Genesis 3:24)

Putting aside the question of where these “Cherubims” fit among the gods, humans, angels, and demons – the point seems to be that they are what mobsters call “muscle” or thuggish guards, like bouncers in a nightclub – I would like to know what reason Yahweh could have had to treat two helpless humans to such a display of force; it seems rather paranoid. Just before the above-quoted scene of eviction, Yahweh addresses his unnamed gang of fellow gods as follows:

“Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever—” (Genesis 3:22)

Yahweh leaves his statement unfinished because its conclusion is unthinkable. But the reason for the eviction is clear: Yahweh desires to bar humankind from eternal life. Yet, why hire menacing Cherubims to intimidate a pair of mortals who own nothing but the coats on their backs? (Yahweh’s last interaction with the first humans was to drape them in animal skins, as the verse preceding that last one articulates: “Unto Adam also and to his wife did Yahweh God make coats of skins, and clothed them.” [3:21] – By the way, who killed the animals to make these coats? Wouldn’t that be the first murder? Or, if they’re not coats from beasts, then who flayed the gods for their glowing fur or stripped the skin from the Cherubims?)

If you’re the highest God, and you’re trying to protect yourself from a couple of nudes in fur coats, why do so by installing a flaming sword that automatically rotates around and never stops thrusting? Is this the decision of a sophisticated, loving parent? Our Father, who art in Heaven? It strikes me more as the behavior of a delusional psychopath. Like a gangster at the end of his rope, during the finale of the movie, when the cops have surrounded his headquarters, and he’s planning to leave the world in a hail of bullets, after one last grand shootout.

Yes, physical violence is a shameful indulgence to any intelligent creature. The memory of having participated in it is something that any dignified entity should want to fade away forever. I repeat: it is embarrassing. Some might call it a necessary evil; but I’m skeptical whether it ever rises to that level. It all strikes me as impatience.

Self-defense? But in the widest perspective (considering it as life in general), the self is indestructible; while in the narrowest perspective (considering a specific existence), it is even self-destructive: for it’s as good as gone already. The absurdity of attempting to preserve the irreversibly ephemeral.

And if it’s base and low behavior to engage in warfare oneself, then what about the men who train beasts to take up arms?

Did you ever wonder how horses can so enthusiastically charge into battle? Why are they fighting? (“Hast thou given the horse strength? . . . he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted; neither turneth he back from the sword. . . .” Job 39:19ff.) One of Blake’s Proverbs of Hell says “The most sublime act is to set another before you.” We humans deem it courageous when a man is willing to risk his life for his friends, or even for strangers who happen to be his countrymen; but what if a man were willing to die for some aliens who intended to abuse his kind? Is every sacrifice commendable? Some seem rather short-sighted. Why would owls enter combat to aid alligators? Or dolphins fight for sharks? Or sheep for wolves? I think now of the plebians warring on behalf of Rome . . . or anyone fighting for anything nowadays.