mary_wroth got tickets to the The Grand Inquisitor, a one-act play at the New York Theater Workshop based on the only chapter of The Brothers Karamazov that I liked (Part II, Book 5, Chapter 5), in which Christ returns to Earth at the height of the Inquisition, and performs miracles the day after the Grand Inquisitor had a hundred heretics burned at the stake.

( Summarization, if you haven't already read it )

I found the performance absolutely riveting. Bruce Meyers as the Grand Inquisitor delivered an hour-long monologue with passion and fire, capturing both the Inquisitor's terrifying ruthlessness as well as his twisted and condescending sense of compassion. Jake Smith, as Christ, had probably the harder job, sitting still and listening intently, without saying a word, not even moving until the final kiss.

It was an improvement over the book, actually. Meyers was credited as the "Narrator," not as the Inquisitor, because the story is told in the third person, up until the Inquisitor begins talking to Christ, at which point it just becomes one long monologue. So Meyers sets the scene and tells the story of Christ in the street, then puts on a long black cloak and enters the character of the Inquisitor.

In the so-called novel, the story is told by the "bad brother," Ivan, to the "good brother," Alyosha. It's a poem he planned to write, but never did, and he tells Alyosha the whole story. The monologue concludes when the Inquisitor says, "Tomorrow I shall burn you. Dixi." ("Dixi" is Latin for "I have spoken.") At that point in the book, Alyosha can no longer contain himself and argues with Ivan, and the story is interrupted. The coda, when Christ kisses the Inquisitor and the Inquisitor lets him go, is explained in dialog between the two of them, following which Ivan immediately repudiates the whole thing. "But it's nonsense, Alyosha, it's just the muddled poem of a muddled student who never wrote two lines of verse."

My overall problem with The Brothers Karamazov is that it isn't really a novel, it's a bunch of philosophical discourses forced through the mouths of artificial and annoying characters, with ludicrous plot action strewn around here and there, like the sad little bushes in a concrete Midtown plaza, to justify calling it a novel. Stripping away all the novelistic trappings made the monologue much more compelling, as did, of course, Meyers's performance.

It's also well worth thinking about in light of my post yesterday. The Inquisitor represents the ultimate in cynicism (as does Ivan, just less compellingly) -- the belief that humanity cannot handle freedom, but instead prefers to be coddled by ruthless authoritarians. The song I mentioned yesterday, "Dear Leader," the one I removed from my Myspace page, took exactly that viewpoint.

Of course, Dostoevsky, with that final kiss, rejected the viewpoint as well. The Inquisitor does not change his mind, but clearly, Christ was the victor in the exchange, without having said a word.

In any case, we enjoyed the performance, as well as an overpriced but rather excellent vegetarian meal at Counter. Afterward, we went to the Strand because I really wanted to pick up a King James bible. I was hoping for a used one, but instead got a modern "study bible" with all sorts of fancy maps and such. WORDS OF CHRIST IN RED! Oh and also ten pounds of H.L. Mencken, (The American Language and its two supplements).

Tags: politics, religion

’55 ‘Origin of Life’ Paper Is Retracted

Homer Jacobson taught my first-semester progamming course at Brooklyn College in 1983 -- for which I wrote PL/I on punch cards and waited as long as 45 minutes for my jobs to run on an IBM System 360 -- and I've never forgotten the wit and elegance he brought to teaching outside his subject. And 25 years later, here he is, standing up to the creationists and showing the essential difference between science and religion: science admits when it's wrong.

Tags: religion

This is not the book to read if you want an overview of the philosophical underpinnings of atheism. Dawkins reviews them superficially, without adding anything new and without acknowledging the subtleties of the various positions. But part of his point is that the subtleties are pointless and not worth paying attention to; rather than thoughtfully discussing atheism as one possible view of the world, he gleefully trashes every form of religious belief, presenting atheism as the only worldview not worth mocking.

It's certainly a cathartic exercise for those of us who are frustrated by the amount of energy and agony wasted on belief in a mythical supreme being. So on the one hand, I applaud, laughing aloud, as Dawkins uses his acerbic wit to wonderful effect, mocking and ridiculing religion, holy books, and dogma. Every religion in the world would issue a fatwa based on the book, if any of them would read it or even take it seriously. But therein lies the problem: Dawkins is (to misappropriate a metaphor) preaching to the choir. His arguments against religion are glaringly obvious to someone like me; while I enjoy the way he says it, I don't need to be told that the Bible is a self-contradictory mess of unsavory behavior, that the Jehovah of the Old Testament is a brutal nutcase, or that creationists are ridiculous. And the people who do need to hear those things aren't going to read this book. Dawkins is mounting a very rational argument against religion, which rejects rationality and reason as bases upon which to understand the world. It's as pointless as a religious person telling a scientist that she simply needs to have faith. The book is amusing, shocking, worthy of guffaws and cheers, but ultimately pointless.

( "Ridicule is the only weapon which can be used against unintelligible propositions." )

The one thing I've taken away from this book is that I'll no longer waffle when asked what my religious beliefs are. He opens the book talking about the "religious" beliefs of people like Einstein, whose many references to God are largely metaphorical. Einstein described himself as a "religious nonbeliever" and his religion as the sense "that behind anything that can be experienced there is a something that our mind cannot grasp and whose beauty and sublimity reaches us only indirectly and as a feeble reflection." [19] I have often been reluctant to call myself an atheist because it seems reductionist and arrogant, to claim that one fully understands the universe and its possibilities. However, I do not believe in the supernatural; if there is a "God" then he, she, or it is just as subject to natural law as we are. We might not understand all of natural law, but I firmly do not believe there is anything outside of it. Dawkins' point is that my viewpoint is essentially a-theistic, in the sense that I do not believe in a personal "God" of any sort. ("Theism" is the belief in a personal God, while "Deism" is the belief that God is in no way still involved in workings of the universe.)

So yes, I'm an atheist, but I'd rather spend my time rejoicing in the wonders of the natural world than making fun of people who've found answers I don't agree with. A blistering attack on fundamentalism is long overdue, but this blistering attack on religion as a whole is a waste of energy.

( Part Two: Other critical reactions )

Tags: books, religion

bobhowe pointed me to an article in the Times of London that says a study shows,

Religous belief can cause damage to a society, contributing towards high murder rates, abortion, sexual promiscuity and suicide, according to research published today.

It's not the most solid of research work, relying mainly on the fact that the U.S. is more religious than most other "prosperous democracies" but also has the highest rates of murder, STD transmission, and abortion. The more secular western democracies do seem saner than the U.S., but I'm not sure if there's any causality there, or if perhaps people seek religion when they feel their society is in trouble.

I've been listening to a lot of early Bob Dylan, thanks to the recent release of No Direction Home and Live at the Gaslight: 1962, mikeskliar's lending of Live at Carnegie Hall, 1963 and my belated purchase of Live 1964. Dylan's song "With God On Our Side" appears on several of those albums (here's a sound clip of a gorgeous version with Joan Baez). It's one of his early protest songs, among the better of an often strident lot, and the Times article reminded me of it.

I liked the albums more than I thought I would. I think Dylan has aged well; his early years as a Woody Guthrie imitator don't do that much for me. But despite some tedious songs ("It's Alright Ma, I'm Only Going On and On For Ten Minutes Over Two Chords") and some silliness (howling "I'm going down to West Texas behind the Louisiana line" in his ersatz hillbilly accent, apparently not realizing that Louisiana is east of Texas) there is some great music on these discs. His gorgeous version of the traditional "Barbara Allen" on the Gaslight Tapes, his beautiful melodic harp on the No Direction Home version of "Blowin' In the Wind" or his credible Sonny Terry rhythms on "Sally Gal" proving that he can indeed play harp when he bothers to pay attention to it.

He was indeed so much younger then. What ever happened to the charm and humor and openness that makes Live 1964 such a delight? Listen to the laughter, the freewheeling duets with Joan Baez and interactions with the audience ("Does anyone know the first verse to this song?" he asks at the start of "I Don't Believe You," a sweet presage to the later bitterness of 1965, when he snarled "I don't believe you" at a fan protesting his shift to electric rock).

Tags: music, politics, religion

As a recovering Catholic (for better or for worse, one is never an "ex" Catholic any more than one is an "ex" alcoholic), I can't let the Pope's passing go without some comment.

Let me start with one point. People are joking in various ways about the loss of the "infallible" Pope. No one in modern times has ever claimed the Pope was "infallible" except under a very narrow set of circumstances. Basically it is only when he speaks as the head of the Church (rather than as a private person, or a theologian, or a diplomat), to define a point of doctrine once and for all in a way that will be binding for the entire Church. This was more or less settled at the First Vatican Council in 1870, although a significant schism resulted (dissenters became known as "Old Catholics").

Speaking under these circumstances, the Pope is said to be speaking Ex Cathedra (literally, "from the chair") and it happens only rarely. The last time was in 1950 when Pius XII issued Munificentissimus Deus, declaring that Mary had been assumed into Heaven without dying. It has been argued that Paul VI's encyclical affirming the ban on contraception (Humanae Vitae, 1968) was issued ex-cathedra, but this is not commonly accepted. (In fact, it was probably one of the single stupidest things the Catholic Church has done in modern times.)

Thomas Cahill wrote about "infallibility" in the Times yesterday, perhaps one of the only worthwhile bits of reading in the sea of imbecilic coverage since Saturday. Regretfully but sternly, he says what almost no one has been saying: that whatever his gifts as a diplomat and spokesperson, John Paul II damaged the Catholic Church perhaps beyond repair. Preaching against the use of condoms as millions died of AIDS, undercutting his own statements about Third World debt and treatment of the poor by aggressively supporting rapacious dictators in the name of anti-Communism, and systematically purging the Church of any shred of independent thought (in Cahill's words, "the ranks of the episcopate are filled with mindless sycophants and intellectual incompetents"), he has driven millions away from the Church.

Furthermore, his blind insistence on celibacy and his misogynistic refusal to consider any role for women in the Church has thinned the ranks of the priesthood in the U.S. even as the number of Catholics has increased. (Lots of interesting statistics at Future Church.) And his successors are likely to think exactly as he did, given that only three of the cardinals voting for his replacement were not appointed by John Paul II.

I doubt I'd be part of the Catholic Church no matter what direction it had taken, but one really has to wonder what would have happened in the world over the past quarter-century had John Paul II, who spoke with perhaps the most moral authority of anyone on the planet (someone pointed out that he had been seen live by more people than any other human in history) had spoken out against bigotry, rather than in favor of it; had encouraged a rational approach to sexual health and practices in the Church rather than covering up for child abusers and promulgating nonsensical and dangerous doctrine; or had evinced even the slightest support for the priests and nuns who worked so hard, and in some cases died, for the poor of Latin America and other places.

One should not allow the misbehaviors of its hierarchies to disguise the good that Catholic organizations do or the many Catholics who work hard for social justice. But it is a shame that the most genuinely Christian people in the Church are doing their work in spite of, rather than with the support of, the hierarchy.

Tags: politics, religion

Mother Jones this month had a surprisingly refreshing article (use code MJJ9AK to view the whole thing) on the failures of the left, which spoke to me more than almost anything else I'd read on the subject. The central thesis of the piece, written by Garret Keizer, is this:

The essential problem of the American left is not that it uses the wrong language or doesn’t read the Bible or doesn’t know how to relate to just-plain folks. The essential problem of the American left is that it has been displaced. Its current position in the liberal imagination is that of a dumped first wife.
(  What now sleeps on her side of the bed... )

Tags: books, music, politics, religion
Current Music: John Herald, "McKinley"

Evolutionary historian Edward Larson says that natural selection favors evangelicals and other religious extremists, who tend to have large families, over the rest of us, who don't:

But among white, middle-class Americans, religious people are having children at a much higher rate. More and more and more children percentage-wise than non-religious people. There's a survival value in religious beliefs. They have a sense of purpose. They feel their mission in life is to multiply and be fruitful. The whole Darwinian concept -- evolution -- is on the side of evangelical Christians. They're growing by any measure.

Apparently, unlike the god that most evangelicals espouse, evolution helps you even if you don't believe in it.

Tags: politics, religion
Current Music: John Lennon, "God"

My attempts to have a rational conversation with my right-wing acquaintance the other night failed utterly, of course, running inevitably into the glazed stare of the True Believer. The Wall Street Journal reviewed a new book, Debunked, which is a similarly futile attempt to bring some rationality to conversations about the paranormal -- trying to explain that probability, for instance, virtually requires events of the sort people think of as "psychic."

It also mentions an interesting twist to the astrology "debate" I'd never considered:

By considering the cumulative wobbles in the dynamics of the solar system, [the authors] show that astrology has lost track of where the Earth is in relation to the other heavenly bodies. If being born at the end of July made you a Leo 2,000 years ago, it should make you a Cancer today. But the astrological charts have not changed in that time.

Not that actual science will have any effect on the true believers, but I'd never heard that point mentioned before. I don't know enough cosmology to confirm it but it certainly makes sense.

Tags: politics, religion, stupidity