V for Vendetta: Misinterpreting Locke?

“Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.”

Although this is a relatively long quote, and takes a bit more intentional concentration because of the repetition of the letter “v,” there are some very key points to the character and purpose of the character of “V” based on his word choice. He is victim and villain; he is the “vestige of the vox populi.” These concepts remind me quite clearly of Locke, and consequently the principles that Thomas Jefferson and Thomas Paine (Common Sense) interpreted from him, as I will explain below.

At the heart of Locke’s philosophy is the understanding of the individual man as having been gifted by God with the gift of reason. Because man is reasonable and self-interested, Locke expects that he will mix his labour with the fruits of the earth to obtain only what he needs and can enjoy. There will be a few bad apples however, and it is for that reason that individuals come together and form government, for the protection of their property.

In V for Vendetta, that is the case. The people of England accepted the High Chancellor because he promised them safety, and a protection of their property in that he saved their lives (one’s property consists firstly of himself). But Locke, and Jefferson after him, feel that it is one’s duty to overthrow a government if it has stopped fulfilling its initial purpose. Locke explains that by nature people are averse to change, however, and will actually stand a lot of abuse before taking revolution upon themselves, answering the concern that with this mindset the government would constantly be changing. Locke did not want to encourage this sense of perpetual change; in fact, he was arguing against a state of chaos.

This is where the movie differs. In one sense it is the same; it is to the people that V commences his “war of words.” The movie depicts many shots of what could be construed as the “average citizen,” those in a bar, those in a nursing home, a family in an ordinary home– all with the same response to V’s words– contemplative silence and stillness. Their stillness is almost unnerving. The movie-makers believe, as Locke does, that people are inherently good, and when given the opportunity to act upon the truth, they will. V does this by blowing up buildings. Locke might also have approved the use of violence in the case of self-defense, however, that violence would be for something. As opposed to a rebellion, that simply proposes anarchy, a revolution involves a “turning,” or a restoration of government to its proper role. The movie might have vaguely implied that an alternative would be found after the present government was gone… but it is decisively vague.

Evey’s character contributes to this greatly. V teaches her a whole new worldview, if you will– a view that makes him sound like a “crazy person” at first (perhaps there is a similarity between V’s discipleship of Evey and how one might disciple someone into faith in Christ? A topic for another time). But in the end, although V is dead, Evey has clearly been converted, for it is she who pulls the lever and blows up the building. When the inspector asks her why she is doing it she says it is because people need more than a building… they need hope.

This reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from the movie: “But regardless of what weapons they try to use to effect silence, words will always retain their power. Words are the means to meaning, and for some, the annunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country.“

Even though the methods V uses to fight for truth might be a little… untruthful, to say the least, constituted by violence, destruction of property, and chaos, the mindset behind his endeavor is a noble one. The movie talks a lot about fear, and how many of the people have been forced into inaction by their fear. But V finds a way to rid himself of fear, and he teaches that to Evey as well. And his fight is a fight of love. He had forgotten that in his pursuit of revenge… but he is reminded of it by his encounter with Evey as he falls in love with her. We could debate the difference of romantic love vs. Christian love, however for the point of this conversation I’d like to include another quote:

Evey: I don’t want you to die.

V: That’s the most beautiful thing you could have ever given me.

Death is not something that should ever be accepted as “good” or “truthful.” I heard talk today of a “happy fall,” but I think that is extremely dangerous. Death always is an unwelcome intrusion into our lives, and Christ conquered death for that reason. So although V’s methods might have caused the death of others, ultimately he was fighting against a society that was orchestrated by death. That does not excuse him and his misinterpretation of Locke, since he did not even fully articulate an alternative to the present government… however, its initial attraction to me was because of this fight for Truth. A pacifist would do it with far less violence, of course.

V is the “vox populi,” the voice of the people. His role is our role, and his fight is our fight. He fought for those citizens… and because he is them, they should be constituted by the same actions. Sounds sort of familiar… maybe like Christ and the church.

Credo Ut Intelligam

“I believe so that I may understand.” St. Anselm’s famous lines, echoing St. Augustine, could be interpreted in two ways (it seems to me).

1) The definition of “belief” is one of a logical construction. This belief becomes a foundation for a system of beliefs, that when constructed, composes what could be deemed as a “worldview.” When this worldview is set, it brings about understanding, in the empirical sense of the word.

OR

2) “Belief” is a vulnerable act of faith, which does not necessarily dispel doubt, declaring the mystery of God too far beyond our comprehension to understand empirically. The individual makes the commitment to “believe,” however, and in so doing, hopes for the grace of God to encounter him or her into a relational understanding.

In context of the passage, and interpreted from my own personal “worldview” (as flawed as that term can sometimes be), I think the second one is much more in line with St. Anselm’s meaning. Anselm spends a good deal of the beginning lamenting his fallen nature, and the barriers that keep him from knowing God. In that context, I think it is valid to say that he has not been influenced by the modernistic pride found in the first interpretation, which values absolutes and does violence to God by categorizing him and limiting him to a specific sphere. Anselm seems to propose God is the initiator of the relationship and is the powerful one, not the person he’s encountering.

Agents of Renewal, Educating for Shalom

I am now at college. I’ve been at orientation for a week now, and in some ways, it seems way too long of a period for that sort of stuff. I would much prefer to meet my friends in the classroom than being shoved together in ice-breaker games that force us to have many conversations with many people in such short succession that nothing sticks. But, its near the end of the week and certain people are becoming more knowable to me, and vice verse.

But I know the college is intentionally spending a lot of time introducing us to the community, and that I can appreciate. The language of “conversation,” a very postmodern concept, I think, is brought out a lot. They are not trying to give us answers, or disembodied unconnected facts as I said earlier, but ask the right questions and let us wrestle with them. Their mission statement, to be “agents of renewal, in the academy, church, and world” is not seen as an simply thing, but something to be discussed and that has huge ramifications and depth. Even the word “orientation” is defined, by returning to the roots of the word, the navigational term for facing east. The orientation is meant to chart our course during the supposed next four years that we are here.

Two of the orientation days specifically have impacted me exceedingly. The first was the day we did service-learning. It was the first day I started getting to know the group I had been placed in, and I got to encounter them by seeing their selflessness and hardworking care for the poor, which was awesome. We were at a low-income housing facility, cleaning up houses that had been abandoned. So on top of getting to know the group (well, half of them technically) I encountered stories of brokenness through the objects left behind, sometimes pictures, sometimes evidences of crack. It was heartbreaking and at the same time showed me their stories, placing me in their shoes. And we were providing manpower for the organization that was severely underfunded.

The other really exciting day was the one that talked about the Reformed-ness of the school. One of my favorite authors and postmodern philosophers is Dr. James K.A. Smith, more commonly referred to as “Jamie” around here, opened the day about what it meant that we are a “liberal arts college.” One of the other professors even went so far as to say our major doesn’t matter. The language he used was so close to the language I used in my paper on classical education, it was a little scary. He stressed that its not about wealth, power or status or occupationally oriented, but that it forms the person, showing what the “good life” looks like. It shapes our desires, and forms what we love, and that love gives rise to “what really matters” and provides some knowledge. And with knowledge comes responsibility to the Kingdom.

The most beautiful part was the encounter with a movie. Film and music are highly valued here, more so in recent years than in the past. They’ve always been able to write well and succinctly, but now the focus on what’s normally referred to as the “arts” is complementing that quite well. He showed a clip from the movie, “Little Miss Sunshine,” that showed a family that wasn’t prestigious, wasn’t beautiful, weren’t successful. But they did know how to do one thing really well– Love each other. That is what the kingdom of God might look like… to use Rodney Clapp’s language, we are called to be a “peculiar people.” And we should not wait for said kingdom. As Kuyper said, “There is not one square inch of creation over which Jesus Christ does not say, that’s mine!” It is our job to be agents of renewal, bringers of shalom for that Kingdom.

Silly Rabbit, Trix are for Kids!

John Piper would rephrase that, “Silly women, Church is for men!”

The assumptions this video makes about women is astounding. It wouldn’t be enough to simply say, “The Bible says women can’t be in leadership, so women I think your ministry is going to be defined in some other way.” That is erroneous, but respectable at some level. Yet Piper does not say that. Instead, he tells women to pray for leadership, to pray their children into leadership, to not waste their life on soaps or feel overwhelmed at a stage in their life when they have three (or was it six?) kids under the age of six. Does Piper believe that women are good for anything except praying and popping out babies? The more kids you have, the more likely it is that at least one of them will be a boy!

Piper’s advice assumes a clearly subordinate view of women, which is lucky for him, since he happens to be a man. Women are supposed to love their leadership, and help that leadership with their gifts. Which is certainly true. But Piper does not acknowledge the submission goes both ways. He seems to think women don’t have any gifts, and would prefer to watch soaps than be involved in the church, or if they do happen to be creative and articulate, that creativity and articulateness needs to be limited to prayer. Has Piper ever actually talked to a woman?

Piper has a death-grip on control. His fear-based language is apparent when he says that there are some women-dominated churches that have driven men away. Well, maybe it shouldn’t be put at the blame of the woman (weird, does that sound familiar? “That woman you put here with me…”) but recognized as a way in which the church has conformed to the men-dominated culture. The culture was able to be dominated by men because they defined power as physical strength. Does Christianity claim the same thing? If so, if the strong are powerful, then it would make sense for men to be in leadership. Yet Christ’s gospel tends to be a gospel of reversals– the weak are strong in the picture of the church.

It is a pity that many women would be certainly fine with Piper’s assessment of them. It is the church’s role to bring women up to their full potential (the same goes for men), not subordinate them.

“That’s Not Fair!”

When I was younger and would get punished for something wrong I had done (and believe me, this happened often) I would usually mutter, “That’s not fair!” under my breath. However, I was wrong. The problem was that it was fair.

Yet what if my childish sense of justice was on to something. What if justice isn’t as much about fairness, punishment, and vengeance, but about unfairness, reconciliation, and grace?

Now I am not advocating that parents stop punishing their kids. There is an aspect of punishment, especially for children in the process of being trained, that is similar to a doctor breaking a bone so he could set it. It is a necessity if the person wishes to be restored to proper health. However, my use of the word “restored” is the previous sentence is intentional. When one has the power to choose the consequences for the specific situation as a parent does, one should keep in mind that the one who has done wrong is fundamentally, essentially, and naturally good. The wrong they have done is only a virus, or a parasite of the goodness. To punish them to such an extent that one alienates the child from himself as punishment (as sometimes happens– for instance, if the child says, “I hate you!”), that is acting as if the child is fundamentally bad, and not allowing the restoration to take place. Restoration can only take place in relationship. Often it is more often than not a reaction out of a self-preserving fear.

I would advocate, as difficult as it is, a nobility that stems not from self-preserving interests, but from modeling ones life after Christ. Christ again and again saw the good in people and trusted them into not sinning anymore. If he had reacted with condemnation and judgment upon those who had done wrong, they would have been prone to despair and anger and would have rejected him, because they knew they could never get better on their own. But with His help, with his trust and his healing, they could be disciplined to be better. It required vulnerability on his part and a lot of faith… but he knew that they were created good. And his purpose was to restore them to that goodness. Is it not the work of his church to continue that ministry?

Another Pilgrimage

I discovered this morning another project that invites the reader to go on a pilgrimage with a famous writer.  George Orwell. But, instead of reading his story in a book, the reader gets to hear Orwell from his own mouth– through his diaries, posted on a blog every day, in real time exactly seventy years after they were originally written. Here is the link:

http://orwelldiaries.wordpress.com/

And a further more personal note on pilgrimages. I have often wondered if the order of books that one reads is in itself a type of pilgrimage. For instance, how differently would a certain book impact me if I had (or had not) read an entirely separate book before hand?  Once such book I’m reading currently is Colossians Remixed. Many of the discussions on Postmodernism I have already read multiple times, in some cases, often in books that are referencing it. What if I had read this book first, or what if I hadn’t read any of the others? Not to mention, my particular setting from which I am reading greatly affects how I encounter the book.

This is the same for writing as well… I began writing a paper in May, after just reading What Would Jesus Deconstruct? and Solomon Among the Postmoderns, and so my paper was heavily influenced by Derrida’s deconstruction. However I abandoned the paper for multiple reasons, and now, after starting from scratch, the books most heavily influencing the paper are Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death and Being Consumed by William Cavanaugh. Very different outcomes, that’s for sure, especially since the paper is about education. And none of the books listed would be categorized as books about education.

“The Life You Save May Be Your Own: An American Pilgrimage”: Book Review

The language of journey is not one unfamiliar to the postmodern sojourner. Globalization has made travel accessible to the average man like never before. Our late-capitalist culture is in fact structured by an emphasis on mobility, often accompanied by a detachment from people and places in one’s individual dream of success.

Paul Elie’s use of the word is quite different however in his book, The Life You Save May Be Your Own: An American Pilgrimage. Instead of viewing an individual’s story of success due to his profound detachment from everything except himself, Elie weaves four individual stories of contemporary Catholic writers together: Dorothy Day, Walker Percy, Flannery O’Connor, and Thomas Merton. One might not see much that these four have in common except the era in which they wrote, the fact that they wrote, and their Catholic faith; they each came from very unique backgrounds and wrote in a very unique way. Yet Elie uses both their similarities and dissimilarities to form an overarching story, recognizing particular themes that characterized their lives at certain stages and writing those lives together thematically.

He uses the notion of “pilgrimage” to recognize the fluidity of the events of their stories, and does not summarize their lives in such a way that makes them seem larger than life, thus buying into the Hollywood idea of “fame,” but instead displays the unique blend of life that is both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.

These events are told in such a way that it brings to mind a journey, a procession, a pilgrimage. This pilgrimage, unlike the language of the postmodern sojourn, is one of commitment, of sacrifice of self, of love of neighbor. And by recognizing the communal nature of each individual in the story, the reader is not wholly separate from the story, and is invited to become a sojourner too, aligning herself with the struggles and triumphs of those in the book that are both particular to the place and time in which the subjects experienced them, but are also proverbial enough that one can see herself in each event as well.

The role of reading/ writing contributes to this, partly because the four people discussed are authors themselves and were extremely well-read, which links the reader simply because she is reading the book. It is even a greater point of interest if the reader finds writing an enjoyment as well, for it is well known that the best writers are also very well read. Also the author is fully present (albeit invisible) throughout the book as an author/reader himself.

This book is a work that is a unique blend of history and autobiography yet is queerly lacking any sense of theological agenda while not shrinking from discussing the religious, spiritual, Catholic identities of the authors.

One review that I particularly appreciated was written by Andrew Moore, who summarizes the book and gives specific key points about each author.

http://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.cgi?path=41871088455808

I agree with him that Elie did not take advantage of the Catholic faith of his subjects to explain what exactly it means to be Catholic, especially since the title is supposed to suggest this book is not just for Catholics, but non-Catholics and any American in general.

The beauty of story, and a well-written story at that, is that it attracts the heart of all who read it, and encourages them to step out and live such a story themselves.

Happiness

“No man chooses an evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.” ~Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.

Perseverance

According to Thomas Merton, Perseverance isn’t “a matter of getting a bulldog grip on the faith and not letting the devil pry us loose from it…” it is a matter of letting go rather thank keeping hold. “I am coming to think that God (may He be praised in His great mystery) loves and helps best those who are so beat and have so much nothing when they come to die that it is almost as if they had persevered in nothing but had gradually lost everything, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but God.”

~Thomas Merton, in a letter to Dorothy Day, February 4, 1960. Quoted in The Life You Save May Be Your Own, by Paul Elie, (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux; 2003). p. 301.

The Shack: A Book Review

I have always had an instant, gut reaction against the word “Papa.” So when I received a copy of The Shack for my birthday, and the note on the inside said, “Spend much time with Papa,” I had to mentally coach myself to accept the frame of mind behind the statement, even if I disliked the word for “God” my friend had used. I figured it was just a pet name that the giver of the gift used, and chose to share with me. Well, no thank you, I thought, I’ll call God something else, thanks.

But as I began reading the book, I realized the use of the word “Papa” was not an arbitrary matter of opinion. The word is intrinsic to the narrative of the story. Because my reaction to the word was very similar to the main character, Mack’s reaction, and he too had a close friend, his wife, who used the word regularly.

So I was forced to interact with my disdain for the word. I have no problems viewing God as “Father,” and even “Abba” is foreign enough that even though people have translated it as “Papa,” I can appreciate the ancientness of it and the intimacy of it. However, the word Papa brings to mind too many Laura Ingalls Wilder books, books that pictured a perfect family atmosphere, with loving parents and adoring brothers and sisters (despite the hardships of the setting around them). That picture always brings to head bitterness and envy that I direct at anyone who ever had the gift of calling their father “Papa.”

But as I read the book, my friend’s exhortation rang true for me. Spend time with Papa. Because, despite the logical inconsistencies of the situation, that is exactly what Mackanzie Allen Phillips sets out to do. Putting aside his anger and frustration at the unimaginable pain he was experiencing, pain that he projected on the God he knew to be all-powerful, he relinquishes control of his pride and enters a place of deep sorrow, guilt, anger, and hate, a place where his lack of control is epitomized. And he is met by God there. His leap of faith is definitely rewarded in totally unexpected ways. My traditional Christian language that I’m using to describe the situation seems inadequate in the face of how surreal the situation described was.

And as the narrative progresses, the distinction between Mack and myself slowly disappeared. Even though I was surrounded by noise and distractions as I read it, I could put all my surroundings aside and find myself in the shack with God, a God I didn’t want to imagine, a God who wasn’t safe, who didn’t fit into my preconceived notions and who didn’t let me control our interactions so I didn’t get hurt. This God invited me to let go of everything and seek relationship and love with him, the triune God who modeled love so completely in the persons of God the Father, the Son, and the Spirit.

This book might not be something I intellectually grasp my head around, or even agree with, but that’s not the point. The point is that God is there, always, waiting for me to seek relationship with him, to model my life after his, and to love him and his children. And even if situations like the ones described by Mack are at the least few and far between, an act of humility would be for us to realize that we can not see everything. There is a real that exists to be seen, but it can only be glimpsed the closer we get to Christ.