Wasting our Breath

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The internet is alive with the sounds of musings about the appropriateness of various types of scholars doing biblical research. The discussion revolves around a recent article by Ronald Hendel in Biblical Archaeological Review, a useful, if sometimes overeager, magazine. In it Hendel laments the policy of the Society of Biblical Literature, a professional group to which I have belonged for nearly two decades, of accepting overtures from evangelical groups in return for money they are able to bring in. The Society’s web page has a rebuttal and has invited discussion. I prefer to give my views on my blog – a place that I consider neutral territory.

I am not privy to the inner workings of the SBL. I have served as a chair of one of the program units in the annual meeting for several years, but I do not pretend to know the politics behind the scenes. I joined the society, like most young scholars, to find a job. Since that has never happened I have not become more deeply involved since I have no institutional base. It is clear, however, that over the past years conservatively motivated groups have felt an assonance with the Society, given that it is the gateway to academic respectability. The problem is that conservative/evangelical groups approach the Bible with doctrinal shackles firmly locked in place. Fearful of angering their image of God, there are questions they simply can’t ask. Secular or unaffiliated scholars are free to go wherever they believe the evidence leads. In the job market, the evangelicals are better placed to find work. In the wider academic world, however, their work is suspect.

Little did I realize as I laboriously worked away on my dissertation that many evangelical scholars flock to the field of ancient Near Eastern studies, providing, as it does, a way to avoid critical interaction with the Bible. They may thus become “Bible scholars” while leaving the confessional virgin Holy Writ intact. I entered ancient Near Eastern studies to get to the bottom of it all – to explore the origins of the Bible itself. All of us end up interviewing for the same jobs.

At the end of the day what it comes down to is an issue I’ve addressed before: who has the right to interpret the Bible? The answer often distresses scholars. It does not require a Ph.D. to read and interpret the Bible. Most times an advanced degree is a decided liability. A friend has recently pointed out that scholars write for scholars, intent on demonstrating their erudition while losing all public credibility. I’m not sure where the debate will end, but when it’s over not a ripple will be felt among the general public. The Bible will continue its reign in American society unchallenged.

iPriest

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I don’t own an iPad or an iPhone. I even have to confess to being bored with the internet on occasion. Perhaps my interests are too antiquated for the electronic age. So when I saw that an Italian priest had developed an application to allow priests to celebrate Mass I knew that the brave, new world had attained a heretofore unfathomable high. Instead of laying a missal on the altar, priests can now “double click” to the appropriate rubric with an iPad next to the body and blood of Jesus Christ.

Of course, the temptation to surf the net during Mass must be overwhelming at times. When I look out over my university classes and see a sea of laptops, knowing that university wi-fi is everywhere, I am sure they are somewhere far, far away from Numbers or 2 Chronicles. Perhaps they are checking out what is going on in Mass? A couple years back iBreviary came out for those who need the daily offices on the fly. Convenience and worship, however, were never intended to go together.

I spent this morning in a used bookstore. Some of my favorite places are among old books. The knowledge they hold doesn’t freeze up on you or crash. And often it is easier to find since you don’t have to search for exact terms in an ocean of information so vast that even intellectual whales couldn’t navigate it. Upgrades on iMass are expected to be available soon. The content, however, will remain the same as that rolling off the press in hardcopy after Vatican II. How long will it be before virtual communion is available so that commuters can partake without ever taking their hands off the wheel?

In the name of the unix, linux, and holy mac

Casting the First Stone

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I’m not overly nostalgic for a guy interested in ancient history. I tend to look at the more recent past as a via negativa for the young who might make a difference today. Very occasionally, however, aspects of society were handled better back in the 1960s and early 70s. One of the most obvious instances of a more sane society was the segregation of politics and religion. Prior to the rise of the “Religious Right” as a political machine the religious convictions, or lack thereof, of politicians played little role in their campaigns and American culture itself was much more open. A story from today’s MCT News Service illustrates this all too well.

In an article entitled “In S.C., religion colors gubernatorial race,” Gina Smith reports on the various religious slurs that now pass for political campaigning in that state. “Raghead” (for a former Sikh), Buddhist, Catholic, and “anti-Christian Jewish Democrats” are among the aspersions freely cast by those without the sin of a non-evangelical upbringing. As if only Fundamentalists are capable of making the right political decisions. As if Fundamentalists ever make the right political decisions. Fundamentalism is a blinding force on the human psyche, and those who are misled by religious leaders who claim unique access to the truth are to be seriously pitied. Conviction that those most like you are to be trusted most may be natural, but dogged belief that pristine morals accompany any religion is glaringly naïve.

The American capacity for belief in fantasy worlds is in the ascendant. No matter how many times Fundamentalists or Evangelical politicians are arrested or forced from office for the very sins they rant against, their overly forgiving constituencies come flocking back to them. Commit the sin of being born Sikh, Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim, Jewish, or Catholic and no quarter will ever be offered. No, I have no desire to go back to the 1960s, but I sure wish politics would.

Joltin’ Jesus

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Jesus has been having a hard time lately. Just last month he was hit by a car, and on Monday night lightning struck a second time. Literal lightning. A touchdown-style Jesus in Monroe, Ohio, formerly six stories tall, received the paragon of divine punishments in a Midwest thunderstorm. Struck by lightning, the fiberglass and plastic foam savior melted leaving only an eerie, Lovecraftian idol of a steel frame behind. The statue had adorned the Solid Rock Church in Monroe since 2004. According to MSNBC many motorists said that America needs more symbols like this; God apparently disagrees.

Former Touchdown/Quicksand Jesus

Obtrusive religious symbols dot many high hills and adorn many quotidian highways as signs of the donors’ faith. Lawrence Bishop, horse-trader-cum-pastor, and his wife Darlene made a substantial investment in this eviscerated Touchdown Jesus sculpture. As a camp counselor in my youth, I slept in the shadow of the great steel cross of Jumonville in southwestern Pennsylvania. The 60-foot tall cross is lit at night and is visible in three states. The monolithic cross always seemed incongruous with the blackened roasted weenies and gooey banana-boats we managed to choke down. Staring at its gleaming whiteness by night was an epiphany to many.

With the rainbow seal of approval

When my wife and I lived in Scotland some years ago, a terrific wind-storm blew through. In itself that was nothing uncommon, as any Scot will tell you. Wind gusts in this storm reached about 140 knots (160 mph), causing widespread damage. In an interview on the BBC, the sexton at one of Scotland’s cathedrals (time has robbed me of the details) recorded seeing the wind topple a statue of Jesus atop the building. He quipped, “I looked up, saw Jesus coming down, and ran for my life!” Although the exact location escapes me, the words have taken on an unexpected significance as icons crash down all around me. The demise of “Quicksand Jesus” is simply one further reason to avoid trusting in anything less than solid rock.

Jesus at the Prom

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This week I read Susan Campbell’s Dating Jesus: A Story of Fundamentalism, Feminism, and the American Girl. Parts of her autobiographical narrative seemed so familiar that it was almost like we could have been siblings. Other parts demonstrated just how widely a religious upbringing in America may vary. Fundamentalism is a powerful force, and one that often feels impossible to outgrow. The added dimension of a constant, insistent criticism of gender made Campbell’s account truly wrenching at times. Having been raised in a similar environment, I had been taught that ministry is a male prerogative, an activity women were separated from just as surely as begetting babies. Having been raised mainly by my mother, however, I was more sympathetic to a woman’s plight than most of the outspoken advocates for male privilege. Campbell’s story hit close to home.

One of the most tenacious aspects of Fundamentalism is the brain patterning it impresses on young minds. Who doesn’t know that baby birds impress parenthood on the first creature they see after hatching? Young children, trusting well-meaning parents, are impressed with a religious branding iron before they can sort things out for themselves. We make our children in our own image. Few ever undertake the intense reflection later in life to challenge these impressions. Like Campbell, I attended seminary because I was curious. Many of my classmates had no questions in their heads – they knew already that they were to be ministers. Seminary was a hoop to be leapt through rather than a rung to be climbed for a different perspective. And their children will be taught their perspective. Denominations will continue to increase in numbers as acorns roll not far from the tree, but just far enough.

Campbell’s memoir is a gentle indictment of the male establishment. What once began as a biological division of labor has been given a religious imperative; male dominance is ordained by God, and women have no option but to comply. Even as the divine gets pushed into an unlit corner of everyday life, the deity may always be drawn back out for a session of gender oppression before being tucked safely away again. In these days of advanced technology and wide perspectives, women are still held down as some kind of inferior sub-species by men who believe that they are the default version of the image of God. It is time to be honest and admit that the only reason women are kept from the male preserve in any field is because of a jealous green-eyed god called privilege.

Nebuchadrezzar’s Dream

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One of history’s great ironies is that, despite being visually oriented creatures, we often do not know what famous people looked like. The further back in time we go the more difficult the reconstruction is. Ancient people practiced portraiture, although their efforts may have been hampered by stylistic conventions. Egyptian artwork is recognizable at a glance, and Mesopotamian art, with its weightier, angst-laden form is easily distinguished. Their stylized images generally do not allow for direct correlations to Renaissance portraits. When searching for specific individuals, even famous ones, however, the likeness may be completely absent.

Among the most notorious (from a biblical viewpoint) ancient emperors was Nebuchadrezzar. Demonized for his role in the destruction of the sacred temple in Jerusalem, Nebuchadrezzar becomes the hypostasis of Antiochus IV Epiphanes in Daniel and even worse in Christian apocalypticism. For all that, Nebuchadrezzar seems to have been a jolly good fellow. An able emperor, he was noted for his building an empire and the loveliest gardens in Iraq. Yet no images of him survive. They may be out there, buried, waiting to be found, but we do not know what this emperor looked like.

A recent web search nevertheless turned up the clearly Greek version of that famous, if forgotten, face on an onyx cameo. It even appears on Wikipedia’s page for Nebuchadnezzar II as an actual image of the man, the legend; this despite the fact that William Hayes Ward, in the American Journal of Archaeology in 1887, explained how the cameo was an early forgery. Originally an “eye of Nabu,” the proto-cameo was the eye of a statue, the pupil of which was carved by a reconstructionist Greek artisan into what he supposed Nebuchadrezzar looked like – a Greek warrior – centuries after the fact.

From Ball's Light from the East

This might be a simple historical curiosity were it not for the fact that evangelical websites and wikis are quick to claim that this clean-shaven, Olympian-profiled vision of masculinity is an actual image of Nebuchadnezzar. Why? He occurs in the Bible and therefore must be “proved” to have been historical. Not only for the real Chaldean Empire, but also for the fictional one concocted by Daniel. Seeing is believing. While history did not see fit to leave a lasting image of Nebuchadrezzar, evangelical websites will use the tried and true god-of-the-gaps methodology to show us what he actually looked like (not).

Dissing Mother T.

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I pity the fool who challenges a powerful religion. Compelling religion. Tall towers. Tears of regret. The Empire State Building has a famous tower light show. Depending on the occasion, diverse wavelengths of light splash off the iconic skyscraper, and those who have the scorecard can see what’s important. In a city like New York there are countless occasions – holidays, Yankees and Mets games, significant birthdays. New York also houses a significant Catholic population. So it was not a popular decision on the part of the owner of the building to turn down a request to light up the town in honor of Mother Teresa’s centenary. I’m sure it was uttered with the purest of intentions, but the words of Bill Donohue, the president of the Catholic League, made me shiver just a little: “His [the owner’s] decision to double down at this juncture – in the face of massive support for our request – is something he will regret for the rest of his life” (according to the New York Daily News).

Mother Teresa, to many, is the epitome of Christian charity and selflessness. Devoted to helping the poorest members of a cruel world, she lived a life that many religious leaders could stand to emulate. On the front page of the same newspaper carrying this human interest story was the headline of how Seton Hall’s finalist for university president withdrew from the search after requesting a $300 K salary for the job. He is a priest, after all. Beg pardon, a Monsignor. And a professor of Christian ethics. I pity the fool who takes ethics seriously.

Somewhere between a 300,000 dollar salary and abject poverty, many religious believers are boggled by the mixed messages broadcast by their leaders. Most people in western religions are trying hard to avoid hell, complying with the traditions and new demands made by the spiritual CEOs. In a seminary setting someone once said to me that if Mother Teresa had advocated for responsible parenting (that great lumbering demon of birth control) perhaps the roots of the great poverty she daily redressed in Calcutta might have begun to dissipate. But the word from on high had been uttered and was immutable. She would not live to see her name up in lights. From what I’ve read about her, I have a strong feeling that Mother T. is just as happy to stay out of the limelight. I pity the fool who doesn’t understand.

A picture is worth $300,000

Long, Dark Tea Party of the Soul

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I remember a time when it was considered bad taste for politicians to utilize their religion to garner votes. Crass and vulgar, it was considered an impropriety not unlike bribery – offering power in exchange for support. Two for tea, and tea for two. Elect me and I’ll make America a Christian nation again, i.e., in my own image. What perhaps bothers me the most about this culture is its deep-rooted arrogance in co-opting history, decorum, even the very imago dei itself. The lie in the service of the truth is a very powerful weapon. When a case is erected on a house of cards, architects must be careful indeed.

A very ancient image for the king was that of the shepherd. This is not surprising since the early kings were not afraid to confess to being gods, and characters like Dumuzi, originally a man, later became divine. And Dumuzi was a shepherd. Sheep are seldom classed among the most intelligent of mammals, being natural followers rather than leaders. When a sheep with the right stuff led the flock, he reserved the right to claim divinity.

The same dynamic is at work in Tea Party mentality. Although the leaders would be swift to deny – the truth is in the denials – that they are anything but humble servants, old ideas die hard. Civilization was built around the idea that leaders got their mojo from on high. Kings were only gods in disguise. Modern politicians are Joe the Plumber in aspect, but Belial under the skin.

Dumuzi leading a follower to a Tea Party?

Bible Experts All

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I seldom write follow-ups to my own blog posts – I’ve always found self-referential academics somewhat distasteful, and besides, what is creativity without some variety? Nevertheless, it seems that yesterday’s post has garnered a bit of interest in the disaffected outlook of a self-professed biblical scholar. (Actually, I have three “higher education” diplomas rolled up neatly in tubes in some untidy closet that show that some universities also accuse me with this charge.) Perhaps I need to clarify.

When reading a blog post, it is very difficult to determine the position of a writer’s tongue in relative proximity to his/her cheek. (Those with eyes to see, let them hear!) The subject might be funny if it weren’t so deadly serious. Despite my reservations with Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris, and Bill Maher, they have all underscored a vital point – biblical literalism is very dangerous. This is even more so the case when, in their own minds, all people are Bible experts. We attend school and learn to read. Some learn to read more deeply than others, yet all “know what the book says.” There is no way to dispute that belief. Belief is belief, requiescant in pacem. Some commenters wondered why the opinion of “Bible experts” should matter at all.

When I’m feeling ill, I would prefer to ascertain the opinion of someone who has actually earned a proficiency in human physiology. When the car breaks down (again), I prefer to have someone who understands machines well as the repairer. When many, many people want to know what God doth require of thee, they turn to individuals who have not been thoroughly trained in Bible. I taught in a seminary for many years, and as an administrator, became quite familiar with the accrediting requirements of the Association of Theological Schools, the nation’s main seminary accrediting agency. I may unequivocally state that few seminarians emerge as full-fledged Bible scholars. Some “denominations” do not require any seminary training at all. So when your spiritual life breaks down, most folks head to an “expert” ill-equipped to handle the Bible, a homeopathic (no slur intended) literary diviner.

Purely from my own perspective, I would prefer to know what the Bible, in its own context, language, and words, is more likely to have meant. Delusions and all. Can’t buy that at your local church, with rare exceptions. That is the role of the humble Bible expert. As with any field of study, it is obvious when you have found a true expert. Such a one will readily admit that she or he has more questions than answers.

Seaport Mystic

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While at Mystic Seaport yesterday epiphanies of America’s religious life lined up to be encountered. The museum owns the Charles W. Morgan, the last surviving American whaler from the nineteenth century. The connection between whaling and religion is, as I’ve posted about before, Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. Whaling was a barbaric, inhumane business – particularly for the whale – but it had all the justification that BP or Exxon still utilize in the destruction of our oceans: the product is in demand and pockets are very nicely lined indeed. Moby Dick is, however, the story of an inaccessible, at times angry god, who leads to death as easily as enlightenment. The Morgan is dry-docked undergoing extensive restoration, yet is still open to the public. Stooped over in the blubber room, imagining the horrors of the place, Melville was my only comfort that something akin to nobility might have come from whaling.

The Seaport also offers an exhibition called “Voyages” – a look at the way the sea has played and continues to play a role in the life of an America that most people associate with a large swath of dry land. The first display tells the story of a family of Cuban immigrants rescued from a tiny fishing boat while trying to get to the United States. A nearby display features Neustra Senora de la Caridad del Cobre. This mythological character is a goddess emerging from the conflation of the Virgin Mary and the African goddess (through the mediation of Santeria) Oshun. The story of the Cuban family associates the origin of this goddess’s concern with seafarers through the chance find of a statue of the Virgin floating at sea near Cuba in 1606. Our Lady of Charity, the Catholic version, is the patron saint of Cuba, and the syncretism of these goddesses has led to a new mythological character on view in Mystic.
Neustra Senora de la Caridad del Cobre

Further along in the same building, in the story of immigration, is the painting shown below. A Jewish family is shown disembarking before a Lady Liberty with “America” written on her crown in Hebrew. The inscription on the sand asks whether the new world has room for the righteous. It is a poignant reminder that acceptance in the United States religious world is often a difficult one. Even today non-Christian religions are viewed with suspicion by many in America. The sea has brought us all together, however, since historically immigration has meant crossing the great waters somehow. One of the gifts of the sea that we are still struggling to grasp is what it means truly to offer freedom of religion to those from far distant outlooks in a world that daily requires less of the gods.

Religious Democracy

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An op-ed piece in yesterday’s paper raised some important issues concerning religion and the unfortunate fall of Mark Souder. The article, by E. J. Dionne, pointed out that Souder once said, “To ask me to check my Christian beliefs at the public door is to ask me to expel the Holy Spirit from my life when I serve as a congressman, and that I will not do.” This pointed affirmation of faith is precisely the dilemma of a democratic system that allows for freedom of religion. All religions (those that are serious attempts to deal with the supernatural, in any case) are defined by the conviction that their practices, their beliefs, their ethics, are correct. When a religious individual is elected, or even converted after election, in a democratic system their religion is given power. With their faith they vote on issues that cut across religious boundaries, binding those who do not agree to their personal faith stance by law.

Europe in the Middle Ages is perhaps the most obvious example of what might happen when one religious body (in that case, the Roman Catholic Church) gains excessive political power. Problem is, these days folks don’t agree on which is the right religion. America was not founded as a Christian nation, let alone an evangelical Neo-Con one. It has become, perhaps because of this fact, one of the most actively religious nations in the developed world. As befits a consumer mentality, religions are offered in a marketplace. Within Christianity alone there are aisles and aisles of churches from which to choose. When a public servant is elected and her or his religion dictates their votes, have we not just lost freedom of religion?

Teaching for many years in a seminary is a sure way of becoming aware of the limited training that religious leaders generally receive (if any). The short time they spend being educated does not equip them to think through all the implications of their convictions. They attain the pulpit and the congressional leaders who happen to be in their congregations receive an inchoate theology confused by their three years earning a “Master of Divinity” degree. Not all are equal to the task. Those religious leaders with promise, often because of internal church politics, end up in smaller venues, their voices effectively silenced. Those with the most strident voices reach larger congregations, often without the humility of admitting that the more you learn about theology they less you know. Their congregants, armed with faulty perceptions of their own religion, burst into their congressional chambers full of conviction based on problematic conceptions. It is a very serious dilemma.

Perhaps what is needed is an oath of office for politicians rather like the Hippocratic Oath for physicians. Perhaps they should swear to put their own religious outlooks in check while considering social issues on which their constituents vary widely. Perhaps their integrity in truly representing the population they govern would lessen the impact of their inevitable personal foibles. And naturally, this oath would not be superstitiously sworn with a hand on the Bible.

Robots and Religion

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One of the constant duties I have as a “Robot Dad” (Soccer Mom just doesn’t apply here) is seeking funding for my daughter’s high school FIRST Robotics team. Always a supportive layman in the scientific venture to understand our world, I have encouraged this interest although I am pretty hopeless when it comes to understanding how it all works. So last night I found myself at a fund-raising, public-awareness event at the local minor league stadium. The Somerset Patriots stadium is just down the road, but I’d never been to a game before. I really don’t feel comfortable participating in crowd dynamics; I’d rather sit back and analyze than participate. And I have no real interest in sports. I wondered how I was going to survive being in such a foreign environment for several hours. Then my wife pointed out a, as it were, godsend.

Last night was “Faith Night” at the Somerset County Ballpark. The event was sponsored by Somerset Christian College, “the ONLY licensed and accredited Christ-centered, evangelical, undergraduate college in New Jersey.” Located in the appropriately denominated Zarephath, New Jersey, the small, extremely doctrinal college bought the privilege of a pre-game sermonette. Not too often does a public sporting event begin with references to “our Lord Jesus Christ;” I looked around for him but then remembered he’d been hit by a car just under two weeks ago. One of the administrators addressed the crowd and, trying to capture the elated, anticipatory feel of the moment, compared his college to a baseball game. I was busy handing out fliers and missed the early stages of his rhetoric, but when I heard him say, “third base is love,” my mind shifted to a more familiar baseball analogy I’d learned in high school. I imagined the prospective students’ interest when he went on to declare, “home base is Heaven!”

As two Christian motorcycle clubs solemnly rode their hogs around the field and local Catholic schools hawked their own fliers in competition, the sound system belted out any pop songs that had the word “faith” in them, no matter what the context. It was a circus-like atmosphere. I was surrounded by techies deeply immersed in science and human learning. We, in turn, were surrounded by an aggressive Christianity eager to claim as much territory as possible. Above it all wafted scents of searing flesh and deep-fried snacks. It seemed to me that a microcosm of American life was indeed evident at the stadium last night. Perhaps there is nothing as American as baseball after all.

Lead us not...

Indiana Wants Me

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The conservative evangelical Christian camp sometimes makes blogging on religion just too easy. The paper this morning reveals yet another evangelical, abstinence-only soap-boxer being caught with his boxers down. Indiana Representative Mark Souder is stepping down because of an extra-marital affair. To fill in the gaps on other such evangelical infidelities, I recommend Max Blumenthal’s Republican Gomorrah.

No, I do not rejoice in such revelations. The suffering of families brought on by such blatant hypocrisy cuts me deeply. The lesson we should all be learning from this is that self-righteousness is a sham. For all their faults, the more liberal factions of society are ready to admit that people are people and not cookie-cutter angels. They are inclined to admit that temptations exist, yet statistics demonstrate their marriages tend to be more secure and less plagued with infidelity. I tend to think it is because evangelical teaching has lost sight of what is truly important: people have always been, and still are, people. The belief that God has made one class of people better than others, and that saying sex doesn’t exist gives you the right to live in a pre-Edenic fantasy world, the Neo-Con is in very deep denial. No wonder many evangelicals distrust psychology!

I often ponder why this disconnect should exist at all. It seems that evangelicalism has been singularly poor at providing the tools to cope with reality. If temptation doesn’t exist for the blessed, then why bother developing strategies to deal with it? When the newspapers come out, it is easier to cast the first stone at the liberal media for airing dirty laundry than it is to examine your own hamper. Yet even the Bible itself has one important character criticizing the religious establishment as whitewashed tombs. No, I do not respond with glee to the sad outing of Mark Souder. I simply wish evangelicalism would truly advocate the honesty upon which it claims to be based.

Awaiting the Evolution

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My daughter’s taking the mandatory New Jersey high school biology tests this week. Probably designed to ensure that basic health risks are factored and understood, it is one of the few bulwarks of the correct teaching of evolution in the United States. As anyone who follows my college Michael Zimmerman’s blog in the Huffington Post realizes, Creationism is a constant menace to our country. Although many simplistically assume that the threat is gone, it is, alas, sleeping but not dead. Perhaps quiescent under the administration of a moderate president, the Creationists have not gone away. I fear an imminent backlash along with popular apocalyptic hype for the year 2012. The Creationists are out there, just beyond the perimeter fence. I can feel it.

Having grown up under the umbra cast by the Creationists, I know their resiliency well. In a high school current events class, I participated in a Creationist-Evolution debate that classmates still remember some three decades later. It would be a situation laughable if it weren’t such a serious threat. While society has continued to evolve since Scopes, most Americans are still convinced that there is something insidiously evil about evolution, as if the devil generated the first simple cells and set the entire process running. In a society where Creationists daily benefit from the advances of science – as any search for evolution on the internet will demonstrate – they hold their feet firmly on the brakes nevertheless, awaiting a snow-white stallion at the parting of the literal clouds overhead.

I am not alone in foreseeing this whiplash that’s about to come. Many analysts who know the radical Evangelical camp share my fits of nerves and jitters. The educated elite suppose they’ve been eliminated, but those of us who know the world of the uneducated faithful tremble with a fear not inspired by the Maya. Sarah Palin is one of the most popular people in this country right now, and the Creationists, I assure you, are already staring at their watches and counting each passing tick.

Neo-Cons marching straight to the polls

Wicker or Wicked?

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While I continued officially unemployed I keep to a strict regimen of not watching television except on the weekends. Since we don’t have cable or even a digital conversion box, my viewing is limited to grainy VHS tapes or DVDs. Many of them I’ve watched over and over. Last night I picked out one of perennial favorites, The Wicker Man (1973, of course!) for late-night viewing. Although classified as a horror film, the only terror comes at the very end in a scene that I always find difficult to watch. What keeps me coming back to this film is its unrelenting criticism of religious hypocrisy. (That and the longing evoked by the footage of a Scotland I left many years ago.)

Briefly told, a Highland police sergeant, Neil Howie, is lured to a fictional Summerisle in a mouse-and-cat game where he ends up the victim of a neo-pagan cult. The stunned Christian constable cannot believe the superstition evident on the island could still exist in modern Britannia, leading to one of the highlights of the film. Questioning Lord Summerisle, played by a striking Christopher Lee, Howie accuses him of paganism. “A heathen, conceivably,” Summerisle concedes in a tight shot, “but not, I hope, an unenlightened one.” Howie is shown growing increasingly rude and unsympathetic, forging a makeshift cross to lay over a Druidic burial. He threatens Lord Summerisle with being investigated by the authorities of the Christian nation under whose aegis he falls. The tensions between religions grow until the final scene.

The constant interplay between control and conviction raises again and again what the true nature of religion is. Summerisle reveals that the neo-paganism began as an expedient way to encourage the locals in growing new strains of crops. The images of palm trees in the Hebrides may seem unwarranted, but having strolled among them on the Isle of Arran nature itself belies the orthodoxies of convention. Does religion rule by force of law, depth of conviction, or pure expediency? The makers of the film were wise enough to leave that to the viewer to decide. No wonder that on many a bleary-eyed weekend night, ousted from my once stable career by the overtly religious, I choose to watch, yet again, The Wicker Man.