Judiasm: The Presence of Absence and Loss

As a collective that embodies as its core value a 4000 year relationship to a single God, no other ethnic group has suffered greater persecution, even while under the watchful eye of their one true God, than the Jews.

This aforementioned God, embraced within the theological tenets of Christians who appropriated the belief systems of Judaism by appending a New Testament to the Tamakh, was an ongoing source of ridicule amongst ancient cultures whose success was predicated upon the number of their individual gods available to save them. When considering Judeo Christian monotheism against a historical backdrop of polytheistic belief that was embraced by virtually all cultures for thousands of years, it is understandable that belief in the ability to uphold a personal relationship with a singular entity was incomprehensible to others and therefore a source of ridicule. This ridicule, in the form of religious persecution, was just one facet of the tremendous suffering experienced by Jews throughout recorded history.

If the polytheistic gods of ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt were often antagonistic towards mere mortals, the God embraced by the Jews was decidedly paternalistic and therefore perceived as a living, breathing presence, intimately engaged in the minutiae of each persons daily life. This conceptualization of God as father is recorded in innumerable places within the Bible, in which we are reminded in Psalm 139:14 that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” God having known and chosen us while we as yet unborn, created as we were in his likeness and image.

It is a tremendous responsibility, in a sense, to be considered chosen by the one true living God, and as such invokes the Biblical reminder found in Luke 12:48 that “from everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” God’s chosen people, selected as a living sacrifice of sorts designed to model examples of Gods provision, mercy, and grace, often suffer simply to provide a showcase for his ability to intervene.

Nowhere is this made more readily evident than in the Book of Job, wherein Satan, the adversary, challenges God to allow him to test Job in an effort to disclose an anticipated disloyalty resulting from the proposed loss of virtually everything he owns. When God agrees to participate in this decidedly capricious game, it is here that we witness his arbitrary nature in relation to man. In spite of his suffering, however, Job is eventually vindicated in the eyes of a terrifying God who restores all that he lost after reminding him of his limited ability to comprehend the wonders of his creation from within the whirlwind, while Job acquiesces to the omnipotence of God by observing in 13:15 “though he slay me, yet will I trust him.” This monumental profession of faith in the face of needless suffering has been echoed repeatedly in the annals of history by countless generations of Jews who continue to embrace the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in spite of what can often be described as often tortuous persecution.

While the God of the Old Testament required the cherubic wings upon the Ark of the Covenant to provide his footstool, the newly appropriated God of the New Testament is purported to have said in Acts 7:49 “heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me, and where will my resting place be?” While God ironically searches for a place of rest for himself, his people, by contrast, receive little respite as they find themselves condemned to wander betwixt and between accounts of abuse and persecution chronicled throughout the centuries.

One of the most graphic depictions of this aforementioned abuse encompasses the catastrophic events experienced by the Jewish people during the holocaust in the 20th century. During my recent visit to the Holocaust Museum in Skokie, I was first and foremost astounded by the architectural inclusion of towering metal “smoke stacks” outside the entrance of the museum, the instrument of cruelty utilized by those who participated in the murder of approximately 6 million Jews now recreated as art. This struck me as indicative of an all encompassing messianic hope, where grief becomes a vehicle for ultimate restoration. “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good.” Genesis 5:20.

The thematic acknowledgment of persecution continues once inside the darkened entryway of the museum, where well dressed museum proprietors stand quietly beside a conveyor belt intended to x-ray the contents of my purse as a means of ensuring security. I imagined that the proprietor looked saddened by this need, the ever present threat of anti-Semitism leaving the Jewish people perpetually guarded and wary in an effort to protect themselves. Wearing the required paper bracelet around my wrist indicating that I had paid my entrance fee, I drew a subtle analogy between this requirement and those who were tattooed as a means of identification, further reinforcing my sense of empathy. As I walked through the metal detector, I smiled warmly at the museum proprietor positioned there, in the hopes of conveying my understanding of their collective fear.

The museum, newly opened and still undergoing construction in various areas as evidenced by several “pardon our dust” signs strategically placed throughout, is a deeply moving testament to the suffering experienced by those subjected to the unimaginable horror that was the holocaust. Walking through the somber corridors, museum visitors are immersed in imagery, with flat screen televisions airing a continual loop of personal accounts and historical newsreels that provide graphic depictions of what the Jewish people endured. In one room in particular, various images that recounted the events of World War II play simultaneously, an entire wall of televisions devoted to traumatic events that can not and should not ever be forgotten. I found it disconcerting to hear air raid sirens, the roar of plane engines, and bombings interspersed with the sound of people screaming in terror during this dark and shameful period in history, the disturbing cacophony following you as you move to adjacent corridors. As the sound of air raid sirens and screaming begins to mercifully fade in the distance, it is then sadly replaced by sobbing as a televised woman recounts her humiliation at the hands of German guards, as we are continually affronted by grief throughout each room of the museum.

One of the most profound acknowledgments of events surrounding the holocaust comes with the realization that atrocities such as these occurred during our lifetime. An all pervasive social apathy ensued as the world response to Jewish persecution was viewed as an internal problem, with particular focus on appeasing the German’s being of primary concern. Fortunately, however, there existed an altruistic underground that provided a brief respite for those in need of help, without which countless others would have been lost.

Altruism can be defined as that which compels others to display an unselfish regard for, or to devote ones self to, the welfare of others. Empathy, by contrast, is the action of understanding, being aware of, or being sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of another. Altruism implies action, whereas empathy is experienced as more a subjective or vicarious emotional state that may or may not be coupled with definitive action. One of the most interesting and impressive books ever written about definitive altruistic action during the Holocaust was an autobiography entitled The Hiding Place, by Corrie Ten Boom. In this moving book, a poignant testimony to both the resilience of the human spirit as well as the capacity for genuine kindness, author Corrie ten Boom’s Dutch family strives to protect the Jews being persecuted in her native Holland. Corrie’s father, in a public display of support for those being victimized, begins to wear a golden star on his jacket, and eventually determines to provide a means of safety for the Jews although he realizes that the German’s would undoubtedly kill his entire family if his complicity were to be discovered. Having created a secret hiding place behind a removable wall inside a closet in his home, he managed to save the lives of several innocent people while risking his own. Following disclosure to the German’s by someone who betrayed the ten Boom family in exchange for monetary gain, everyone in their immediate family was imprisoned in Ravensbruck. The entire family eventually died there save for Corrie, who was later set free and went on to help millions of people worldwide as a result of her experience.

Having read of the atrocities imposed on people imprisoned in the Nazi “death camps,” as detailed in books such as The Hiding Place or Night by author Elie Wiesel, it is shocking to consider the viciousness of those so possessed by hatred that they were unable to acknowledge the humanity of those suffering at their hands. This sequential, deliberate dehumanization of the holocaust victims, necessary for the Nazi’s to justify their numerous crimes, was painfully detailed at the museum as women recounted, for example, how they were forced to walk naked in front of the German guards, their heads shaved and names rescinded in place of numerical tattoos. Also of note are historical accounts of “excremental assault,” the goal of the Nazis to ensure the death of the spirit as a result of the physical inducement of self-loathing. This intent was executed within the camp by systematically denying any and all displays of human beauty or personal pride, the collective self-image of the Jewish prisoners no longer representative of God as they found themselves immersed in personal filth.

Since the Jewish tradition views the human body as sacred, a virtual temple of the living God, physical abuse, excremental assault, and the subsequent murder and desecration of bodies was a particular affront to the theological senses. This conveyed at least an intermittent hopelessness and despair, I believe, as the Jewish people may have looked sadly heavenward to a God who apparently no longer shared their reverence for life.

This imagery is poignantly depicted than in the second floor room of the museum, where the Book of Remembrance lists thousands of names of those who died in the holocaust. Standing there before the formidable book, encased in glass, I couldn’t help but consider Biblical prophecies concerning the anticipated Great White Throne Judgment as described in Revelation 20:11-15. “Then I saw a great white throne and him who was seated on it. Earth and sky fled from his presence, and there was no place for them. And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Another book was opened, which is the Book of Life. The dead were judged according to what they had done as recorded in the books. The sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them, and each person was judged according to what he had done. Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. The lake of fire is the second death. If anyone's name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire. “

Gazing up at the ceiling of this beautiful, almost ethereal room filled with light, I carefully reviewed the names as written there, cognizant of the fact that each name was representative of a person, a human being created in the image and likeness of God. Surely their names would be found in the Book of Life as recognition for the terrible suffering they endured prior to being recorded in the Book of Remembrance, the tiled smoke stacks that flanked the glass case once again reminiscent of artistic beauty to be found even in the midst of despair. Although the smoke that issued from the towers outside of the concentration camps may have destroyed the bodies of those murdered, here, in this place, they are a means to ensure the safe passage of the spirit back to a God who loves them.

And Justice for All: Victims of a Broken Promise

“How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others? The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that “an unjust law is no law at all.” ~Martin Luther King Jr.

It must be terribly exhausting to try and defend yourself continually when confronted with the prejudices and misconceptions of others. Racism prompts a natural procession of despair and hopelessness, and everyone who participates, whether from the front or the back of the bus, is guilty of perpetuating it. For countless generations, our nation has been socially irresponsible in promoting racist ideology that has greatly impacted our culture. This was particularly true in the past, when the lack of humanity inherent in racist views necessitated the non violent direct action of the Civil Rights movement followed by the slow, arduous process involved in repositioning an entire class of people to their rightful place of equality within a society that so often rejected them.

We are all created equal, but we do not treat each other as such. How many countless opportunities to meet and embrace those who are different do people discount within the confines of their prejudice?

Unfortunately, it is difficult at times to remain wholly free from the insidious perceptions of prejudicial thought for recipients at both ends of the color spectrum. As Dr. King states in his Letter from Birmingham Jail, his daughter experienced “ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky,” when confronted with petty, illogical racism, while black nationalists descended into a self imposed abyss of “bitterness and hatred,” and white moderates “remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained glass windows.” It was the stance of the latter, safely ensconced within the safety of their churches, that may have enabled the suffering of those oppressed to continue unabated far longer as a direct result of their inaction, prompting Dr. King to ask poignantly “what kind of people worship here? Who is their God?”

Prejudice, defined as an irrational attitude of hostility that causes injury, damage, or disregard for the rights of others, is both spiritually as well as morally corrupt. Prejudicial thought disallows for the acknowledgment of our common ancestry as children of God, with legally mandated segregation promoting a “separateness” that is contrary to the law of God. As Dr. King so eloquently stated “all segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality, giving the segregator a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense of inferiority,” a stance which was rightfully presumed to be unjust in the eyes of God and therefore necessitated abolishment. “There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the depths of despair,” Dr. King lamented. In seeking to eliminate such despair, participating in non violent direct action is therefore both a legally and morally responsible act, intended to bring injustice to light and consequently serve as a catalyst for positive change.

Historically, engaging in non violent direct action has proven a profound and effective means of encouraging individuals to “see the moral light and give up their unjust posture.” In having recognized that not all opinions are created equal, Socrates, for example, stated “the unexamined life is not worth living,” and championed the concept of philosophical enquiry via application of what is now defined as the Socratic Method. As a proponent of dialectic practice that compelled others to either further substantiate or reject their previously held beliefs as a result of posing relentless questions regarding such topics as virtue, knowledge, morality, and justice, Socrates was considered a “gadfly,” or nuisance, in Athenian society. Because virtually any thought or idea that effectively challenges the status quo may be perceived as anarchistic to those who cling to it, Socrates persistent questioning of traditional thought angered many who deemed him a harbinger of chaos, and an ultimate threat to complacent society. Following his imprisonment, Socrates steadfastly refused admonishments on behalf of his supporters and friends to escape his decidedly unjust fate as a political scapegoat, reasoning that it was not morally acceptable to do so. If he chose to escape and thereby evade the Athenian justice system, he believed he would in effect be guilty of “inflicting evil” on society by failing to obey their laws. As a pioneer of non violent direct action, Socrates, like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., remained a modicum of the virtue and justice he so diligently supported.

The tremendous communicative power inherent in non violent direct action lies in its ability to “create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks to so dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored.” In presenting himself as the quintessential living sacrifice, Dr. King embodied what Paul preached in Romans 12:1. “Therefore I urge you brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God-this is your spiritual act of worship.” As an integral part of this spiritual act of worship, Dr. King embarked upon a “process of self-purification”, wherein he repeatedly asked himself “are you able to accept blows without retaliating? Are you able to endure the ordeal of jail?”It was this Garden of Gethsemane~like willingness to reflect upon the challenges that lie ahead, and his willingness to seek justice on behalf of the multitudes as mandated by his godly heritage, that enabled Dr. King to become not only a voice within his generation, but one of the most respected men of this century. By invoking non violent direct action, his words became the source of strength upon which the power of his conviction was carried, lending credence to a message far greater than any jail cell could contain.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. successfully brought to the light of human consciousness that fact that we are genuinely equal, and without the fear and strife that we allow to separate us, we are one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

At least that's the way it should be.

The Lust of Aggression:Pious Injunctions of Pacifists Like Us

“How long do we have to wait before the rest of men turn pacifist? Impossible to say, and yet perhaps our hope that these two factors-men’s cultural disposition and a well-founded dread of the form that future wars will take- may serve to put an end to war in the future, is not chimerical. But by what ways or byways this will come about, we cannot guess.” ~ Freud

As a collective, human beings demonstrate an indisputable predisposition towards aggression, which as an instinctual behavior is not readily brought into submission. As a primal expression that serves as an integral component of mans determination to survive, instinctual aggression may be deemed culturally unacceptable, although it is often necessary, as Freud observes when he states “ for it is war that brings vast empires into being, within whose frontiers all warfare is proscribed by a strong central power.” While distinctly cultural or theological mandates to assume a pacifist stance to ensure peace are admirable, these unattainable, chimerical goals have not proven realistic throughout history. Although Sigmund Freud declines to guess the means by which men may be ultimately prompted to assume a pacifist philosophy with the intent to ameliorate an inherent tendency towards aggression and thereby decrease instances of war and warlike behavior, it is readily evident that instinctual predispositions towards aggression are innate and therefore non-negotiable.

Whereas Freud promoted “a strengthening of the intellect which tends to master our instinctive life,” Plato, for example, readily encouraged focus not only upon intellectual reasoning but also on the existence of the soul. This differentiation between body and soul, with all of its theological implications, remains a central theme in modern culture. Plato argued that we are in continual conflict within ourselves, as reason wars with appetite while spirit wars with the flesh, our appetites appropriately described not only as arising from hunger but sexual desire as well. As Plato compelled us to subject appetite to reason in a quest to uphold the sanctity of the human spirit and thereby appease a higher power, Freud states “thus the instinct of self preservation is certainly of an erotic nature, but to gain its end this very instinct necessitates aggressive action.”

While a predetermined “aggressive instinct” may be considered undesirable by some, it is this same instinct that can be credited to a certain extent with the propagation of the species and the continuation of life, a desire which in and of itself is sanctified by the same higher power Plato’s dualism hoped to appease. Freud aptly recognized that aggression shares polarity with desire by contrast, providing incentive for action in relation to a desired object as he states “in the same way the love instinct, when directed to a specific object, calls for an admixture of the acquisitive instinct if it is to enter into effective possession of that object.” Without an instinctual sense of aggression, love would be the ultimate pacifist spectator sport, with hate the inevitable outcome of frustrated desire. This would be a precursor to inevitable “crimes of passion,” as the sublimation of the desire nature has the capacity to incite war.

Just as erotic desire often precipitates an instinctual aggressive response, a theological desire may be fulfilled in a similarly aggressive manner. Freud observes “the simulation of destructive impulses by appeals to idealism and the erotic instinct naturally facilitate their release,” and it is such release in response to religious idealism that prompts holy wars. In this context, the One True God of the perpetrators is deemed to be “on our side,” with the natural procession of such thought being war in the name of self-righteous anger. Whether considering the atrocities of the Spanish Inquisition or the indignation of those who declared jihad on the “infidels” of the United States on September 11th, 2001, it was instinctual aggression that provided a catalyst for action, as the assassins “drew their strength from the destructive instincts submerged in the subconscious.” Although the greater percentage of people in a traditional Judeo Christian society may readily deny the aggressive instinct that would compel them to pronounce angrily that God was in fact on their side while simultaneously citing biblical mandates that effectively identify them as pacifists who “love thy neighbor as themselves,” Freud astutely observes that such pious injunctions are “hard to carry out.” With the untapped power of the collective unconscious subject to desire for war, one can imagine that little impetuous has been necessary throughout history to compel violent action, especially when considering those who have done so in the name of their gods.

Instinctual aggression, however, is far more encompassing than that which manifests outwardly in the guise of passion, war, or the anger of gods who entreat the masses to kill others on their behalf. Far more insidious is the instinctual aggression of an intellectual nature, where violence is executed in the realm of ideas. While war may manifest as casualties on the physical plane that are readily observable, it is the death of the mind, emotions, and spirit that often betrays the greatest instances of man’s inhumanity to man.

Propensity for war in the intellectual realm is wholly indicative of a distinct lack of pacifistic rational thought, wherein presumed cultural superiority assumes an inevitable moral superiority that is often a harbinger of further abuse. This intellectualism of war enables those who employ such strategies to assert an often wildly destructive bias promoted by those who assume a stance of cultural or moral superiority, the outcome of which is the oppression of those not deemed worthy of higher thought or consideration, as occurred during Kristallnacht or the Holocaust to follow, to name but one example.

When contemplating the indisputable biological model that supports the existence of mans aggressive instinct, Freud wisely observes “that there is no likelihood of our being able to suppress humanity’s aggressive tendencies.” While this perspective may initially be considered a fatalistic caveat that negates even the potential for pacifistic behavior, Freud counters by stating “in any case, as you too have observed, complete suppression of man’s aggressive tendencies is not an issue; what we may try is to divert it into a channel other than that of warfare.”

In both recognizing and respecting inherent aggressive tendencies, Freud challenges us to employ reason as a means of harnessing the formidable energy that aggressive instinct provides. Although an utopian political ideology embraces a world where threat of war gives way to reason, the diversion of indisputable aggressive energy into such channels as the study of law, science, and medicine allows us to “rest on the assurance that whatever makes for cultural development is working also against war.”

The Iron Finger of God:Spiritual Perspectives of the Native American's

As an ethnic group that embodies as its core value the interrelatedness of nature as an integral component of the human spirit, the Native American culture is reflective of a gentle, all encompassing spiritual perspective which has precipitated undeniable strife when viewed in contrast to more traditional, Judeo Christian beliefs. These beliefs, written by the proverbial iron finger of God upon inflexible stone tables as described by Chief Seattle, is understandably a source of existential conflict as he states “your God is not my God. He loves your people and hates mine. He folds his strong and compassionate arms lovingly about the paleface and leads him by the hand as a father leads his infant son-but he has forsaken his red children-if they really are his.” Although this acknowledgement is indicative of a perceived racial disparity that extended into the theological realm, I maintain that Chief Seattle did not believe that Native Americans were controlled by the white man’s God.

The concept of God as father is recorded in innumerable places within the Bible, in which we are reminded, for example, in Psalm 139:14 that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” created as we were in his likeness and image. If we assume that this likeness and image encompasses all races as would befit a just and holy God, then Chief Seattle’s observations to the contrary are illustrative not of resignation, but rather of recognition of the hypocrisy inherent in the white man’s beliefs. Matthew 5:44-45 further entreats us to “love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who despitefully use you, that you may be sons of your father in heaven, for he makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust alike.” If these Bible passages are representative of the professed faith of that same Christian collective who defrauded the Native American population of their human rights, essentially denying that the red man was created in the likeness and image of their God as evidenced by their oppressive acts, then these white men were truly the ones in need of absolution to ensure that they became “sons of their father in heaven” themselves.

The Native American culture, by contrast, is comprised of pantheistic views that recognize the divinity inherent in nature, which promotes a deep respect for life regardless of form. In this global perspective, the polytheistic gods of the elements conspire not to condemn or cause division, but to unite one and all under the watchful eye of the Great Spirit. The wind, the sun, the water, and the darkness of night itself fall under the jurisdiction of this spirit, who imparts wisdom to those who seek it by recognizing that life is but a passing shadow as well as a gift. Chief Seattle eloquently observes that “our religion is the tradition of our ancestors-the dreams of our old men, given them in the solemn hours of night by the Great Spirit, and it is written on the hearts of our people,” and it is within these hearts that the Great Spirit prevails even in the face of loss and injustice. Far from relinquishing the faith that sustained the Native American people to submit to control to the white mans God, Chief Seattle steadfastly maintained that in spite of the acquisitiveness and greed that deprived his people of their rightful heritage, “every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. The very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than to yours, because it is rich with the blood of ancestors and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch.”

It is this self professed “sympathetic touch” that illustrates the wisdom of the Native American culture. While appearing to acquiesce to the theft of their land and the denial of their human rights, for example, the Native Americans realized that it is not the land in and of itself that was of such tremendous value, but rather the significance of the events that occurred upon it that ascribed its true meaning. This perspective is evidence of a deep and all abiding sense of integrity, a strength of character that far superseded any need by Chief Seattle to submit to control of the white man’s God as representative of the Native American people. To the contrary, he wisely concedes to no more than an anticipated eternal presence visited upon the white man by the spirits of his ancestors as he observes “at night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled and still love this beautiful land. The white man will never be alone.” This simple profession of faith in and of itself clearly indicates that Chief Seattle did not believe that he was controlled by the white man’s God, but that rather he was controlled by no more than the Great Spirit itself.

As a woman of Native American descent raised within the theological framework of traditional Judeo Christian beliefs, I profess to be a Christian but find the acts visited upon the Native American people deplorable. These acts are of particular offense when considered within the context of the professed faith of their oppressors, and the despair perpetrated in the name of an almighty God must have been considerable. In spite of these offences, however, Chief Seattle reflects peaceably when regarding the fate of his people, his pronouncements relevant to the triumph of the human spirit brave and ennobling. Controlled by no more than a resolute faith in the continuum of an eternal life where energy cannot be destroyed, Chief Seattle wisely observed “there is no death, only a change of worlds.”
I have no doubt that his personal integrity would ensure him a place of honor in the eternal realm, whether beside the proverbial Great Spirit or an almighty God who finally embraced him as his son.

Mesopotamia: Historical Relevance In Art and Culture

In seeking to explore the nature of our collective human existence, relevance and meaning can be ascribed in great depth when examining the roots of Mesopotamian culture.

Mesopotamia, whose name derives from the Greek words mesos, or middle, and potamoi, or river, translates literally into the “land between two rivers,” and it is within this fertile crescent of land nestled between the magnificent Tigris and Euphrates rivers that civilization originates. In this context, Mesopotamia is highly significant indicator of civilization as mankind evolves from one comprised primarily of nomadic hunter gatherers to that of a collusive community, members of society harnessing the incessant flow of available water sources to create irrigation systems for farming. This evolution of thought and ingenuity predicated the development of cities along the rivers in the region, cooperation amongst the people being paramount to the concept of civility.

Mesopotamian culture is representative of civilization in that it exemplifies those qualities which make us human. When considering the tremendous historical time frame that has elapsed from the movement of hominids off of the African continent two million years ago, Mesopotamia is revealed as a fascinating civilization that is unparalleled in the annals of recorded history for its significant contributions to our modern world. It is here beneath the dusty tels that archeologists uncover the wonder of the Mesopotamian people, while diverse and extensive written accounts give further credence as to the considerable relevance of this collective to our present day society.

During my recent visit to the Mesopotamian Gallery at the Oriental Institute in Chicago, I was first and foremost impressed by the boundlessness of historical data encased there. Immersed in the rush and minutiae of our daily lives, it is common to view ourselves as a macrocosm of sorts, the definitive representatives of a successful culture in which we emerge as triumphant. In viewing the artifacts of the Mesopotamian exhibit, however, it becomes readily evident that we are in fact the microcosm of a much greater whole, our society merely reflective of many thousands of years of acculturation in which we are essentially little more than beneficiaries of the contributions provided by our predecessors. This experience was humbling, in a sense, in that it aptly illustrated the richness inherent in historical artifacts, our individual achievements being wholly reliant upon all that has gone before.

In the midst of these artifacts, of particular interest to me was the scribe. As an avid reader, I regarded with curiosity the role of a scribe as an active contributor to the economy, employed by the government as administrative bureaucrats. I found it amazing that in the context of history, the written word originated only 5,000 years ago, its primary intent simply to provide a means of record keeping related to the movement of goods and services, workers, payment of wage, and tax collection. Scribes were compelled to record administrative matters in such exhausting detail that to date such records remain the most readily available and prolific indicators of Mesopotamian culture, enabling scholars to review and recreate the daily life experiences of this ancient world.

In addition to their bureaucratic responsibilities, scribes played a fundamental role in other key areas of Mesopotamian culture, and as such were held in high regard. Scribal training was comprehensive and unrelenting in its scope, with students required to memorize copious amounts of information and practice their acquired skill by copying data for countless hours per day. It is because of this extensive training that many scribes became teachers, doctors, and advisors to the king. It is to our tremendous benefit that the value of creative writing was eventually realized, the laborious efforts of the scribe now utilized not only for administrative purposes but rather to record the earliest literary and historical texts, the utilitarian function of recording the number of grain fed rams transferred from one party to another becoming secondary to the art form potentiated.

Beyond the scope of its original mundane heritage, writing developed into a rich literary tradition with texts that extolled the exploits of gods, kings, and heroes illuminating a society that valued its poetic traditions. These works included hymns, laments, proverbs, love poems, royal inscriptions, myths, and epic tales, the latter of which may have been written for the entertainment of the royal court. The Epic of Gilgamesh is one such tale, heralded as possibly the oldest recorded story known to man. Without the talent and dedication of the scribe to the written word as art, a tale such as this would have been lost and long forgotten.

As a culture rich not only in art but also in religious tradition, Mesopotamians embraced a myriad of gods and goddesses, often in an effort to harness the terrifying and unpredictable forces of nature while simultaneously protecting them from the demonic. Just as the Epic of Gilgamesh relays an early Sumerian version of a great flood story analogous to the historical account in the Book of Genesis, additional metaphors regarding the creation of man from mere clay to serve the gods as embraced in Mesopotamia is paralleled in Judeo Christian themes. While the Hebrew tradition credits Yahweh with breathing life into God’s servant Adam, so do the Sumerian’s believe that they were created to work that the god’s may be enabled to merely breathe in comparison.

While this perspective of man as a fearful servant forever striving to appease malevolent, capricious deities initially struck me as particularly archaic, I was compelled to respectfully reconsider my position when entering the area of the Oriental Institute Museum that housed the formidable Winged Bull of Khorsabad, or Lamassu. Standing sixteen feet high and weighing forty tons, I approached the sculpture with awe, trepidation, and reverence. Having attended the exhibit alone, I still could not help but wonder aloud into the empty space surrounding me when regarding its majestic presence.

“Oh my God,” I whispered as I reached out to touch the cool gray stone, “this is unbelievable.” In the shadow of this monument to ancient tradition, it was suddenly comprehensible why previous cultures embraced a polytheistic belief system, my own monotheistic, Judeo Christian heritage now seemingly simplistic in comparison. Looking up into the face of the Winged Bull of Khorsabad, I found myself transfixed, even mesmerized, as I momentarily considered the possibilities regarding its inherent divinity. This human headed bull, with a long curled beard, expressive eyes that communicated both power and wisdom, and horns symbolic of divinity, was entrusted with guarding the palace doorways at Khorsabad to "repulse the wicked." Standing in humility as I regarded his majestic strength, it is wholly conceivable that the Lamassu was entirely capable of such an assignment, and that he was also somehow aware of the compelling presence he maintains to this day.

This final artistic image of the Lamassu effectively summarizes my foray into the tremendous historical relevance that defines Mesopotamia, wherein I have developed a deep respect for the significant contributions made by a culture that remains eternally relevant, poignant, and fascinating.

Ancient Rome: Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely

As astutely observed by British historian Lord Acton, power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Nowhere is this adage more evident than in the historical information available to us concerning ancient Rome, as attested to in the melodramatic images portrayed in the television series of the same name. Although the theatrical presentation was superb, with impressive attention to detail evident in the costumes, sets, and actors interpretation of material, the miniseries aptly details the violence inherent in Roman culture. From the “bread and circus” wholesale slaughter of innocent men and animals that qualified as entertainment for the debased appetites of the Roman citizens, to the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, to the subsequent murder and debauchery practiced within confines of the politically sanctioned Roman Catholic church, no other ancient civilization to date has been more rife with controversy.

Amongst the ruins of the Coliseum, the blood of countless victims now long since dissipated nevertheless cries out for justice and recognition. That murder was heralded as sport, in direct contrast to the sporting events of the Grecian culture that encouraged the demonstration of skill and mastery in exchange for olive leaves, is a cause for shock in and of itself, and will forever encapsulate the activities of ancient Rome in my mind as unnecessarily violent and visceral. Although the “newsreel” component of utilizing the activities of the Coliseum to relay current events to the masses creates an interesting parallel to our modern day focus on items considered newsworthy, the fact that this activity was yet another precursor to murder detracts from its innovative feel. While imagining the Coliseum being built in such a manner so as to accommodate enough water to allow for naval battles to be fought there engenders a grudging respect for the genius of their architectural ingenuity, the specter of death remains formidable enough that I consider myself fortunate not to have been a citizen of ancient Rome myself.

Of particular interest from a theological perspective is the life, teachings, and events surrounding the death of Jesus of Nazareth. Although relatively well versed in Biblical teaching garnered in my youth, Paul of Tarsus and his road to Damascus conversion pales in comparison to the revelation of thought I experienced in a recent humanities class while discussing both his motivation and the political meandering required to bring these teachings to the masses in an effort to convert them. It was amazing for me to learn that Jesus of Nazareth, considered from a Roman perspective to be a rural teacher in an occupied territory, strategically avoided entering the larger Greco Roman areas of his time. I was not aware that Jesus had taught within specific geographic confines for political reasons, his gospel being limited to the Jews available to receive him in predictable venues free of potential subterfuge.

Remaining within the confines of smaller fishing villages such as Capernaum and Galilee, the teachings of Jesus would have been allocated and restricted to those of a cult had it not been for the wider dissemination of his views by Paul of Tarsus. Jesus in fact does appear to have avoided entering highly populated Greco Roman cities, as evidenced by his failure to visit Sepphoris, a mere seven miles from Nazareth. As proximity does not necessarily imply access, Jesus remained within the confines of his class with intent. In spite of this caution however, Jesus was eventually crucified as sanctioned by Pontius Pilate, who appears in all four canonical gospels. In a metaphorical display enacted to promote his innocence, Pilate washes his hands of Jesus blood as described in Matthew 27:24, and therefore presumably absolves himself of responsibility. The response of the Jewish spectators who cry out in Matthew 27:25 “let his blood on us and on our children” creates a definitive historical statement that subsequently promoted centuries of anti-Semitism, the ultimate responsibility for the crucifixion of Jesus being displaced from its wrongful ownership amongst the Romans onto the Jews. It is therefore ironic that the Nicene Creed acknowledges the guilt that Pontius Pilate so vehemently denied, when Constantine the Great and his bishops incorporated the categorical statement “he suffered and was crucified under Pontius Pilate” into their pronouncement of faith. After the death of Jesus, Paul of Tarsus was determined to bring the teachings of Jesus to the larger cities, an action without which modern day Christianity would for all intents and purposes not exist.

Paul was enabled to transverse this larger geographic area as a result of the civilization that Rome exemplified. The ability to walk upon paved roads in relative safety as a result of Roman law, Paul was a Greek Jew and Roman citizen more apt to be recognized and accepted in the venues Jesus eschewed. As the author of what scholars deem the seven authentic letters, namely I Thessalonians, II Thessalonians, I Corinthians, II Corinthians, Philemon, Romans, and Galatians, Paul of Tarsus is directly responsible for introducing the precepts of Christianity to the masses.

The Book of Galatians is considered to be Paul’s first epistle was written between 48 and 52 AD. One school of thought places the date of Paul's writing this letter before the Jerusalem Council, which addressed the issue of whether the law of Moses, particularly circumcision, remained binding on New Testament Christians. The argument favoring this time of writing is that the letter to the Galatians does not mention the Jerusalem Council. Had the council met prior to the date of Paul's writing his letter, it would have been logical for Paul to have mentioned the decisions of the apostolic council in Jerusalem, since Paul's letter dealt with the same issue addressed and resolved by the Jerusalem Council. Since Paul made no reference to the decisions of the council that addressed the issue, it is asserted that Paul must have written his letter to the Galatians before the Jerusalem Council, which would place the year of writing around 48 to 49 AD.

Another school of thought places the date of Paul's letter after the Jerusalem Council, and to support this timeframe, it is asserted that after the council met Paul began his second missionary journey. He then revisited the churches of Galatia and, according to Acts 16:4, then delivered the decisions reached by the apostles and elders in the Jerusalem Council. Paul then proceeded to Greece, where he spent more than a year and half teaching in Corinth. While in Corinth, false teachers created confusion amongst the churches in Galatia by asserting that the Gentile Christians must be circumcised according to the law of Moses to be saved. This false teaching of the Judaizers threatened the true gospel of salvation by God's grace alone through faith in Jesus. This false teaching also endangered the faith and salvation of the Christians in Galatia, and was in direct conflict with the decision made on behalf of the Jerusalem Council, which stated that circumcision was unnecessary to be saved. Paul consequently wrote a letter to the Galatians in an effort to clarify and uphold the true gospel which states that we are justified by grace through faith without the works of the law to prevent the Christians in Galatia from losing their faith and salvation.

Paul’s mission was to spread the gospel of Jesus quickly to ensure conversion of as many people as possible due to his apocalyptic world view, wherein the world was expected to come to an end within a short period of time. By traveling to large cities, Paul increased the effectiveness of his teaching exponentially, and thereby secured a tremendous number of converts. Accepting the death and resurrection of Jesus as the gospel truth, Christians were now exempt from observing the minutiae of the 613 laws of the Torah, or mitzvot, and were instead assured of justification before God simply by merit of their faith in Jesus Christ.

In what was aptly described a “bizarre trajectory” of events, the Roman Emperor Constantine legitimized Christianity in 313 AD as a result of a personal epiphany that resulted in his conversion. The Christians, once compelled to practice their faith in a clandestine fashion to avoid not only censor but death, were now catapulted from their underground status as a church to that of the mainstream political elite. Church’s, or basilica’s, were built to accommodate the newly converted Christians following Constantine’s lead, and ironically the very society that killed Jesus less than 300 years prior now revered him as Lord and Savior. With the formalization of the aforementioned Nicene Creed that acknowledged the responsibility of Rome in murdering the representative of their faith, the circle was now complete.

Just as the hubris of ancient Greece was considerable, so to is the hubris of the Roman’s in establishing what they believe to be the One True Church following the conversion of Constantine. Amongst these doctrinal beliefs is the infallibility of the Pope, wherein statements made in ex cathedra, or “from the chair,” are apparently divine revelations uttered by the Pope while under the influence of the Holy Spirit. This teaching presumes that the Pope is a chosen vessel for the Holy Spirit and divine revelation, and that he is therefore incapable of error. While these ex cathedra pronouncements have been rare, even amongst the pomp and circumstance for which Catholicism is noted, I would personally contest this theological perspective by referring to Matthew 23:9. “And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one father, and he is in heaven.”

In looking down upon ancient Rome, I’m fairly certain that God was saddened by much of occurred there.

Egypt: Land of the Pharaohs

Egypt, located in eastern North Africa, is home to what is considered by most to be the world’s most impressive ancient civilization. As the quintessential “gift of the Nile,” Egyptians were dependent upon the life giving waters of the river for successful agriculture, without which the people would be subject to famine. Within this proverbial “land of the black soil,” or Kemet, the Egyptians flourished, but it is integral to an understanding of Egyptian culture to consider the “red land,” or land of death, that extended far beyond the banks of Nile. The Egyptians may have been prompted to philosophical considerations regarding the afterlife when regarding the desolation of the desert sands, wherein a poorly timed venture could easily result in death.

Commentary regarding ancient Egypt is often inclusive of the perception that it was a culture inordinately preoccupied with death. While the Egyptians did observe elaborate burial rituals and provide for what was intended to be the care of the dead, it is within this context that we understand that it was concern for the eternal life of the soul that prompted these rituals, wherein death was not viewed as an absolute, but rather as a new beginning.

These observations are readily evident in the display presented at the Field Museum in Chicago, where viewing the Ancient Egypt exhibit promotes deep respect for a culture representative of exquisite beauty and surprising sophistication that captures our imagination to this day. Upon entering the exhibit, one finds themselves walking into the replica of the tomb of Unis-ankh, the experience of which in itself gives one pause for thought. Touching the cool stone walls, some of which are encased in acrylic to protect the integrity of the artwork, it is breathtaking to consider the great care and reverence of those entrusted with the task of creating these eternal homes. Of particular interest is the “false door” of the tomb, intended to be the portal of the spirit, or Ba, of Unis-ankh. The Ba was traditionally depicted as a human headed bird, and represented the personality, character, or individuality of the deceased. Although the Ba resided within the tomb, it was enabled to exit through the richly engraved stone portal door at will, to intermingle with those who had not yet crossed over into the afterlife.

While the Ba of Unis-ankh enjoyed the intermittent freedom of the afterlife, his Ka, or spirit double, was entreated to reside within the structure of the tomb beside his remains for all eternity. The Ka, an exact physical and emotional replica of an individual infused at the moment of conception within the living heart by the god Khnum, was released by death but required the accouterments of mere mortals to survive. It was believed that the Ka could not live unless the body was preserved, although an enterprising Ka could adapt to living within a strategically placed image of the body as depicted on the walls of the tomb if necessary. Being wholly dependent upon the objects and offerings left within the tomb, the Ka required provisions of food, drink, and clothing. Because the needs of the Ka were ongoing, the families of the wealthy often employed others to attend to the tombs of the deceased. It is interesting to note that the etymology of the word Pharaoh translates literally as “great house,” the Egyptians believing that upon being crowned a god took possession of the body of a Pharaoh. This imagery is therefore apropos to the cultural focus of the Egyptians regarding the need for elaborate burial rites and entombing of the ancient kings, the Pharaohs body being the home of a god, the tomb representative of the eternal home of Pharaoh as god-king.

As befits a king, the great pyramids were a monumental testament to the relevance of Pharaohs in ancient Egypt. While many believed that slaves were employed to erect these eternal dwellings, I share the opinion of those who promote a less cynical view, embracing the concept that it would have been considered an honor to participate in the building of the pyramids from both a cultural as well as a theological perspective. In providing a spectacular tomb for their revered god-kings, an estimated 20,000 to 30,000 Egyptians built the great pyramids over a period of 80 years. While envisioning these laborers pushing the tremendous limestone blocks up created ramps to their intended positions in the blazing heat, the rays of the sun that warmed them could have been readily perceived as an encouragement of sorts, the proverbial Eye of Horus looking down upon them as the gods bestowed protection and power to those who served. As architects achieved accurate pyramid shapes by running ropes from the outer corners of the structures to the planned summit, astronomers and priests were instrumental in choosing the pyramids sites to that they would be on the appropriate axis in relation to sacred constellations. Because of the cooperation and community involved in what was doubtlessly considered a royal undertaking of remarkable achievement, every participant in the building of the great pyramids would have recognized their role in perpetuating the eternal life of the Pharaohs, and thereby promoting the glory of ancient Egypt. These are hardly the thought processes of slaves, but rather demonstrates the pride of craftsmanship of a culture intent on preserving their majestic heritage.

In spite of these efforts, however, I was dismayed to learn that although the Bible states in the Book of Ecclesiastes 1:9 that “there is nothing new under the sun” (and I should therefore not be at all surprised by human nature) theft and desecration of the ancient tombs proliferated in the ensuing centuries. Because of the sacrilegious nature of the theft, the most disturbing element of which was the belief that those interred in robbed graves had been denied an anticipated afterlife, the pyramids were eventually regarded as convenient advertisements of where the unethical could access the treasure of others. Although most do not embrace the mysticism of a potential “mummy’s curse,” it seems both appropriate and applicable for those who desecrated the tombs of the kings of Egypt to fall prey to such a phenomenon. While we have garnered magnificent cultural and historic artifacts, for example, from the opening of King Tuthankhamen's tomb, I cannot help but wonder if the cobra that killed the canary belonging to Howard Carter had not been dispensed by the angry gods to appease the boy king for disturbing his slumber.

When considering the necessities of the Egyptian afterlife in relation to the mummification of the body, the preparation of the tomb, and the provisions made on behalf of the Ka, I would be remiss in failing to mention the ritualistic needs of the spirit as provided for in the Egyptian Book of the Dead. It is here that we grasp the fullness of meaning that the afterlife held in Egyptian culture, a display at the Field Museum dedicated to the concept of Negative Confession being of particular interest. There is, I believe, a significant thematic correlation between the concept of a negative confession and the Ten Commandments, wherein the entreaty to refrain from such things as murder, dishonesty, or theft is embodied in the Negative Confession itself, a sample of which translates as “not have I killed.... not have I borne false witness…not have I despoiled the thing of the god.” The idea of post-mortal judgment is conveyed in Book of the Dead, Spell 125, which consists of two long lists of denials of wrongdoing by the deceased, one of which is spoken before Osiris, while the other is spoken before the 42 judges. A review of the lists reveals the types of activities the Egyptians believed were contrary to maat, or truth, with deeds inclusive of blasphemy, thievery, murder, and dishonesty again reflecting traditional Judeo Christian themes. Accompanied by the translation of the Negative Confession is an elaborate display at the museum, which depicts Osiris presiding over the weighing of the heart of the deceased against the feather of maat in the presence of the 42 judges and the god Thoth, who presides both to ensure the accuracy of the balance and to record the results. Standing nearby is the demon Amemet, who waits to voraciously swallow the heart that fails to meet the requirements of maat, assuring the eternal damnation of the wrongdoer.

For the Egyptians, the matter of ethics in declaring vehemently, as in the negative confession “I am pure,” was firmly grounded in their religious world view, religion and morality being anything but mutually exclusive concepts. At the basis of all moral and ethical behavior in ancient Egypt was the concept of maat, which was also an essential element of royalty. It was every Egyptian’s duty to conduct his or her life in accordance with maat, and conversely to avoid committing deeds considered isfet, or wrongdoing, or to engage in gereget, the telling of falsehoods, both of which were considered the opposite of maat. When considering the highly ethical perspective of the ancient Egyptians, it is particularly appalling to consider the behavior of the thieves and robbers who not only disturbed the tombs of the dead, but often times desecrated the bodies as well. This sacrilege reflects a deplorable greed, and promotes what can only be described as an initial sampling of man’s inhumanity to man. There truly is nothing new under the sun, is there.

In acknowledging the Egyptian focus on the sun as being the equivalent of a god capable of purveying truth and grandeur, it is also of interest to note discussions concerning King Tutankhamen’s immediate predecessor, King Akhenaten. King Akhenaten, a revolutionary attributed with having implemented a monotheistic belief system during his reign that embraced the sun as not only a life giving force but rather attributing to it the divinity of a god, promoted the worship of Ra in exclusion to all other religions or deities.

While one can imagine this creating philosophical controversies amongst a collective that had historically embraced polytheistic views, it may have been considered a welcome relief to artisans who were now entreated to create a single solar deity amongst their artwork. By extension, the act of worship itself was also streamlined by King Akhenaten’s stance, as he relayed the qualities of Ra to the masses by enabling Egyptian society to worship him directly and bask in his figurative rays. This “theology by proxy” is in itself an interesting concept, and as discussed may in fact be the henotheistic equivalent of accepted Judeo Christian views of Jesus as the Son of God, worshipped as one component of the trinity. Although King Akhenaten’s reign was relatively short lived within the perspective of history, his affiliation with Ra as sun-god remaining to this day, modern day sun-worshippers willingness to revere the king as god Aten-Ra is questionable considering his described appearance!

Of the many ancient cultures available to us as a result of the dedicated work of archeologists, scholars, and the recently defined Egyptologists themselves, ancient Egypt remains by far one of the most fascinating accounts available to us to date. It is readily evident that Egypt’s extensive contributions to historical art and culture are innumerable, and it’s therefore necessary to encourage those identified as Egyptologists to continue explorations into this ancient world to ensure that nothing is lost to future generations.