A wealthy sheikh decides on a visionary project that would be of benefit to his people (not to mention front door access to his favourite British sport). Having already built a dam for irrigation, he would now like to stock it with salmon for fly fishing. Money is no obstacle, only the initial stubbornness of a narrowly fixated scientist who is maneuvered into heading the project by a government desperate for a good news story from the Middle East. Throw in a dying marriage, an attractive entrepreneur, and a hint of the current debate between faith and science – mix with the peculiar British penchant for understated comedy, and we have 90 minutes of great entertainment and good story telling. I enjoyed it immensely.
Sorry – can never hear the “peacemakers” beatitude quite the same again after Monty Python.
Unless I hear it in a translation from the Aramaic text. Here it is:
Healed are those who bear the fruit of sympathy and safety for all,
they shall hasten the coming of God’s new creation.
(Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called sons and daughters of God)
In my public harangues I have often drawn a distinction between sympathy and empathy. Sympathy, it seems to me, while exhibiting compassion for another, has tended to stand back and not get too involved – a bit like Lucy’s “I love mankind” sentiment. “Empathy” is much more focused and particular, revealing some costly identification with another person – hence Lucy’s follow through “It’s people I can’t stand!”
In the context of peacemaking, “bearing the fruit of sympathy” might be the appropriate stance. A peacemaker serves best when, assessing the whole picture, is able to bring all parties to the negotiating table. An effective arbitrator needs to be one step removed in order to create the space where reconciliation can be restored. It would not be possible to exhibit empathy for either or both parties without projection or transference/counter-transference issues muddying the waters.
The translation from Aramaic seems to bring greater clarity to the peacemaker’s role.
Time to consider another Beatitude from the syntax of Jesus’own native language:
Happy are they whose passion radiates with deep abiding purpose,
they shall envision the furthest extent of life’s wealth.
(Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God)
Again, a translation of this Beatitude from the Aramaic text calls forth fresh vision.
Many of my ilk equate purity of heart with Puritanism – the less said the better – especially with our Down Under larrikin ethos.
The “pure in heart” terminology gets little airing because of the layers of acquired negative cultural accretion.
But “passion radiating with deep abiding purpose?” That’s different. Yet it is the same.
We might call it single-mindedness, yet it transcends mind – even soul and heart – and embraces the interests of all. It is not a single mindedness born of stubbornness, but of having considered all matters from every conceivable perspective. Empathy and compassion are involved. It is in sync with the preceding beatitudes.
This is a state that eclipses our cultural peculiarities.
“So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Mark 16:8
So ends the earliest gospel narrative, describing the reaction of the women who, on arriving at the tomb where Jesus’ crucified body was laid, and expecting to perform the last rites of anointing, were confronted instead with his absence and a startling message of resurrection. Terror and amazement were the initial response, not joy and vindication of realised hope.These were for later.
This picture of a flimsy suspension bridge across a wide watery chasm evokes for me something of what I imagine such a confrontation may have meant to those who first entered the empty tomb. Like a good many folk, I have my irrational fears and phobias. When I first saw this image, it awoke my two boss bêtes noirs – a panic of water and a fear of heights. Both evoke instant nausea. Yet the picture draws me in. I am curious to see what’s on the other side, and I am almost compelled to make the first tentative step, trusting that the cable and the flimsy slats of wood will hold. Terror, amazement, hope and purpose combine into a terrific maelstrom that can be negotiated only one step at a time.
Is resurrection like this? It is a call to something new and transformational. Bridges are archetypes of transition. What is known and familiar is left behind for a new thing that is as yet undiscovered and inviting of exploration.
Terror and amazement are appropriate initial responses.
The empty tomb of the first Easter must have been like that for the friends and followers of Jesus. They said nothing to anyone for they were afraid. Obviously, someone sometime took that first tentative step and said something, because we tell the story today.
The Spirit of Compassion by Raynor Hoff (1894–1937), carved from marble on the South Australian National War Memorial, unveiled in 1931. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Healthy are they who from the inner womb birth forth compassion,
they shall feel its warm arms embracing them.
(Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy)
Mercy is often depicted as the grudging letting go of rightful retribution or discipline for a wrong, along the lines of “OK, I’ll let you off this time,but you’re on notice. Don’t let it happen again.” It is often associated with a Western understanding of jurisprudence, allowing for some melioration of the hardness of the cold scales of justice
The word in Greek is eleos, taken after the god Eleos renowned in Hellenistic mythology for pity and compassion. The stories relate to shelter and reprieve for those caught in the maelstrom of political and military conflict.
The translation from Aramaic reinforces not only the notion, but the depth of commitment and nurture behind compassion. Indeed it is a quality that is birthed rather than decided. It is warm and flowing, eschewing all association with jurisprudence.
We may know some such merciful ones.
Recent attention on Uganda has contrasted the viral Stop Kony campaign (for justice) and not so well known rebuilding programs such as those run by the Irene Gleeson Foundation which provides shelter, food, health care, education and vocation for former child soldiers and the following generations. The latter is the face of mercy.
As long suffering readers of this blog may know, I am fascinated with synchronicities (aka “co-incidences”), so off I hied myself to see “A Dangerous Method“, a movie on the early professional life of the guru of synchronicity, Dr Carl Jung. I found the movie somewhat dis-satisfying, although I appreciated the exploration of his relationship with Professor Sigmund Freud, beginning with mutual admiration and the possibility of the passing on of a mantle in the fledgling field of psychotherapy, but ending in bitter acrimony. Freud’s inflexible, dogmatic and narrow theory of human problems originating in sexual repression cut no ice with the more mystical and open-minded (albeit disciplined) methods of Jung. Movies have to sell, especially when dealing with such dry and rarified topics as this), so much focus was on the vexed sexual relationship between Jung and his troubled patient (eventually intern), Sabina Spielrein. This gave scope to some nodding references to transference and counter-transference, one of Jung’s more widely accepted gifts to the helping professions. His work on individuation and archetypes found mature form later in his life’s work, and was perhaps beyond the scope of this film.
The references to synchronicity were a little contrived and overdone, but having my awareness raised, I could not help but wonder at events that unfolded during the rest of my day. Having attended later in the evening the opening of the annual Stations of the Cross art exhibition at Wesley Church in the City, I took an alternative route on foot to where my car was parked, even stopping to grab a bite to eat earlier than I might have. Passing the Town Hall, I heard the familiar voice of a well known Noongar elder addressing a crowd gathered in the foyer. I stopped and went in. It was the opening of a photographic exhibition sponsored by the Wilderness Society in support of their campaign against the Woodside gas hub that conflicts with indigenous heritage and cultural interests. Some would go as far as to say that big business and economic expediency is “crucifying” again the interests of the original inhabitants of the land. Was it synchronicity that I should be arrested by a familiar voice to have my attention drawn to a topic of which I have more than a passing awareness following a contemplative experience of some artistic expression of the spiritual centre of my faith?
I succumbed and took in “The Hunger Games” at the local multiplex – a greybeard amongst herds of youth.
The screenplay is the first of several based on a popular teenage trilogy surpassing, it is trumpeted, the Harry Potter and Twilight series. Eschewing magic tricks and supernatural themes, it paints a picture of a post-apocalyptic dystopian future where the dominant population relies for its cohesion and control on the scapegoating of 12-18 year olds from its surrounding subjugated districts (the ancient story of Theseus lives again). The ability to spiel this as “reality show” entertainment keeps the masses hypnotised and subjugated. This futuristic merging of “Gladiator” and “The Truman Show” with its promise of raising unknowns to celebrity status, even though only one out of each season’s 24 will survive, touches on the angst and ambivalence torn between skepticism and idealism that is the ubiquitous mark of adolescence of any generation.
Renee Girard’s ground breaking work on “mimetic theory” came to mind. At the risk of over simplifying his work, his anthropological studies reveal a universal pattern of societies maintaining stability and cohesion through vicarious scapegoating mechanisms. This effectively deals with societies’ inherent violence by using a sacrificial victim as a lightning rod upon which our aggression can be projected. Hence, in just one respect, the sacred and solemn nature of war memorial celebrations and the feting of national heroes.
In “The Hunger Games” when a tribute falls, the crowds gathered around the giant TV screens stand and show respect by raising their arms in a three fingered salute. When some of the competitors salute each other in this way, the games masters are disquieted. This is not how the game is supposed to be played. Subversion of mimetic theory is possible and demonstrated.
What startled me however, was a poignant moment in the screenplay (concerning the character Rue) where the teenagers around me rose as one and offered the three fingered salute. For them, something in this story touched and involved them deeply.
I’m not certain if the device of the salute was intentionally linked to a style of genuflection practiced by the early Christians, where the position of the three fingers is similar to that which begins the sign of the cross.
It is Renee Girard’s contention that the story of the voluntary sacrifice of Jesus on a cross and his subsequent raising up unveils, subverts and renders society’s propensity for scapegoating powerless. Girard offers an alternative understanding for the role that the cross plays in the Christian story. Jesus taught and demonstrated a way of life that subverted the powers to the extent they needed to silence him. He submitted to his public and humiliating crucifixion. He was raised and his continuing life in his followers exposed the inadequacy and inferiority of society’s violent systems of control. A new way forward was revealed.
Is the Hunger Games a parable for a similar message? Is this why it resonated so emphatically with my cinematic companions?
Statue of Lady Justice in Frankfurt (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Wake up, you who long deeply for a world of right relationships,
you shall be encircled by the birth of a new society.
(Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied)
“Righteousness” is a loaded word. I look back to the evangelical influences of my youth and remember the championing of this term under the backdrop of good WASPish moralistic rectitude. Later, when I examined the Greek basis of the translation, I discovered it had more to do with “justice”, and I moved from an attitude of feeling I needed to appease some disassociated code of imposed behaviour to one of striving for worthy cause.
In other words, I stopped feeling I had to justify going to the movies on a Sunday and shifted my focus more positively to the core business of discerning what was right and just action for members of the community who were hard done by. The inner shift of motivation was from “fear of doing the wrong (unrighteous) thing” to an awareness, and then a hunger and thirst, for the righting of wrongs in our life together.
I am invigorated further when I consider the nuances of a translation from the Aramaic text. The element of relationship and community is brought into sharper focus. The dangers and risks of “strident crusade” approaches to matters of justice are mitigated and the elements of “shalom” or “salaam”, the gift of the eastern vision of peace through right relationships comes to the fore.
Something to be mindful of in the process as well as the end of some of the causes we fight for.
Wake up, you who have softened what is rigid within;
you shall be open to receive the splendor of the earth’s fruits.
(KJV version: Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.)
This one, in traditional expression, has been one of the most misunderstood of the Beatitudes. It has evoked caricatures of the quintessential wimp, habitually unable to say “boo!” to a goose, somehow becoming a mouse that roars loud enough to acquire all that others strive for.
Rather, and the translation from Aramaic renders it such, the Greek word “praus” bespeaks a calm spirit that remains un-agitated when the uncertain instabilities of life descend upon us. It speaks of a certain perspective that has acquired inbuilt shock-absorbers creating the malleability of disposition that can withstand the blows and ride out the storm.
One then “inherits the earth” without possessing it. An open and undemanding face towards the cosmos (aka all that is) is a stance of receptivity, something that indigenous spirituality has taught us well.
It is counter-cultural however, and the basic premise of this beatitude, whether translated from its Greek or Aramaic text, is a direct challenge to any way of life that is built on a grasp for power and acquisition. Its subversiveness invites scorn and derision, for there is no other defense available to those who would manipulate people and chattels to their own ends.
Indeed, in this Lenten season, it enhances and expresses the “servant-leader” style modeled by Jesus for his followers.
Wondering Pilgrim 