I read about “loss of identity” and “information overload” the other day.
“…The social dimensions of global change include the effects of technological innovations on employment, social exclusion, … and the loss of identity….
“…Furthermore, when media and the digital world become omnipresent, … the great sages of the past run the risk of going unheard amid the noise and distractions of an information overload….”
(“Laudato si’,” 46-47; Pope Francis (2015))
“Information overload” is well on its way to becoming a cliche. Or cliché, for folks who like their English with a dash of diacritics, and that’s another topic.
I keep seeing warnings against “information overload,” the Internet’s “hive mind,” and suchlike threats. But I don’t feel overloaded, informationally or otherwise, even after being online for hours.
That gives me the task of deciding whether I react to “information overload” — and how I react, if I choose to do so.
Noise, Distractions and Me
When the Pope says or writes something that doesn’t line up with my opinions, my knee-jerk response is not to assume that I’m right, so the Pope must be wrong.
In this case, though, I don’t feel like I’m experiencing an information overload.
Maybe that’s because I like having a pretty good Internet connection. And because I grew up before Internet technology got out of the prototype stage.
I have fond memories of card catalogs and treks through library and archive stacks.
But I don’t yearn for the days when it might take weeks or months to track down an assertion’s source. From my viewpoint, I’ve finally got an interface that’s almost fast enough to feel comfortable.
That said, I think Pope Francis has a point: “…the great sages of the past run the risk of going unheard amid the noise and distractions of an information overload….”
Online “noise and distractions” are very real.
I’ve gone chasing after elusive images or ideas often enough to understand the perilous allure of cat memes, Craigslist bargains and NFL scores.
Nuggets of Wisdom, Mountains of Gibberish
I’d probably be more concerned, if I didn’t know that we’ve been through this sort of thing before.
When Plato wrote “Phaedrus,” about two dozen centuries back, writing and reading was threatening the very foundations of society.
“…they will trust to the external written characters and not remember of themselves….”
(Socrates, in Plato’s “Phaedrus;” Translated by Benjamin Jowett, via Gutenberg.org)
I think Plato’s Socrates had a point.
“…this discovery of yours will create forgetfulness in the learners’ souls, because they will not use their memories; they will trust to the external written characters and not remember of themselves. The specific which you have discovered is an aid not to memory, but to reminiscence, and you give your disciples not truth, but only the semblance of truth….”
(Socrates, in Plato’s “Phaedrus;” Translated by Benjamin Jowett, via Gutenberg.org)
I’d probably be much better at memorizing poems and speeches, if I hadn’t learned to read.
On the other hand, we know who Socrates was and what he said largely because folks like Plato wrote about him. Ironic, that.
Maybe getting more than “the semblance of truth” takes a little extra effort these days.
But on the whole, I’m glad that humanity’s store of wisdom has been expanded and is being preserved in written form. And that much of it is being digitized.
Granted, the Internet’s virtual landscape includes mountains of gibberish.
But there’s nothing stopping me from looking for — and finding — nuggets of wisdom.
And, occasionally, rich veins of knowledge.
I don’t remember the gibberish-to-wisdom ratio being much different in my youth, and that’s almost another topic.
Losing My Identity?
Fearing loss of identity goes back at least to the mid-50s.
The earliest instance I remember is in “Donald’s Diary,” a Disney cartoon released in 1954.
My parents didn’t have a television set then, so I probably saw it on “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color” reruns. Which I enjoyed on their black-and-white set.
I’ve recognized fear of losing one’s identity as a real perception, but didn’t understand it. Not until I lived in Minnesota’s Twin Cities and San Francisco. Sharing a sidewalk with rush-hour pedestrians isn’t among my fonder memories.
But even after I learned what crowds of pedestrian commuters look like, I had trouble imagining what losing my identity would feel like. I’ve always been “me,” not someone else, and distinct from other individuals around me.
This isn’t the first time I’ve voted during a pandemic, but it’s the first time I’ve had reason for extra caution. That’s why I voted by mail this year.
The election results will please or disappoint me. Or, more likely, do a bit of both.
And Now, the News in Brief
Tropical storm/hurricane Zeta hit the Gulf Coast. It was 2020’s 28th named storm.
Tropical storm Eta is on its way. Hurricane season doesn’t end until November 30.
The COVID-19 pandemic may or may not be over next year.
As if that wasn’t enough, presidential campaigns are about to end with election day. Followed by — barring a miracle — America’s traditional post-election brouhaha.
Someone will, eventually, get stuck with being America’s president.
America and Elected Officials
Who wins the election matters.
Elected officials have some effect on folks who voted, or didn’t vote, for them.
But the United States of America is much more than the sum of its local, county, state and federal governments.
(Local, parish or borough, and so forth, for Alaska and Louisiana. And that’s another topic.)
Mere Anarchy and Echo Chambers
Experts, anonymous and otherwise, keep warning about the dangers of social media.
Apparently we’re living in echo chambers, exposed to nothing but opinions matching our own.
I must be doing something wrong.
Folks with opinions that aren’t even close to mine routinely contribute to my social media feeds.
I’ve read warnings against the fascist who’s been campaigning. And dire warnings of what shall transpire, if the antichrist gets elected.
No matter who wins, some folks I rub elbows with online will be disappointed. Previous experience tells me that I’ll be tripping over sentiments like the ones Yeats expressed:
“…Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world….
…The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity….”
(“The Second Coming,” W. B. Yeats (1919))
Whoever gets the Oval Office job, I figure it’ll be the end of civilization as we know it.
Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
It’s a Changing World
The last real-world equivalent of your standard post-apocalyptic movie scenario was the Late Bronze Age Collapse. That was a tad over three millennia back now.
The Black Death, maybe, although we didn’t end up with abandoned cities. Depopulated villages, yes. Cities, no. And that’s yet another topic.
I’ve noticed that change happens.
The world I grew up in didn’t have the Internet. Folks I knew didn’t have telephones.
Space travel was science fiction until my teens, and nobody had landed on Earth’s moon until after I graduated from high school.
“She’s smart as a man” was supposed to be a compliment in my good old days. Which aren’t, happily, coming back.
I think some of the recent half-century’s changes have been for the better. Some haven’t.
I’m pretty sure the next half-century will be the same. Except for how it’s different.
Prayer is a good idea. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2566–2567)
I’ve added the following “Prayer for Our Country” to my daily routine.
I figured the prayers were appropriate before the election, and will be after the votes are counted.
Maybe it’s an obvious point, but I’ll make it anyway. The prayers as written are for groups. I changed pronouns like “we” and “our” to “I” and “my” where appropriate.
“Prayer for Our Country
“Most Holy Trinity, we put the United States of America into the hands of Mary Immaculate in order that she may present our country to You. Through her we wish to thank you for the great resources of this land and for the freedom which has been its heritage.
“Grant us peace, and may all citizens respect one another. May the Holy Spirit give our President wisdom to lead our country in ways that are pleasing to You.
“Enlighten our Congress and civic leaders and instill in them knowledge and understanding to enact laws that protect the sanctity of life — from the unborn to the elderly;and promote the good of all people.
“Make all of us aware of our responsibility as citizens to uphold the principles of life, liberty justice and equality.
“Send Your Holy Spirit upon our beloved country. Make us people of faith in time of uncertainty. Make us people of hope in times of trouble. Make us people of compassion with those who are less fortunate. Make us people of peace in our homes, our communities, our country and our world. We ask this through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
(From a handout at Parishes on the Prairie Area Catholic Community; Our Lady of the Angels, Sauk Centre, Minnesota.)
The handout had five prayers, so it should have been “prayers.” But that’s nitpicking.
“Prayer for Our Country — continued
“O Jesus! Divine Savior! Be merciful, be merciful to us and to the whole world. Amen.”
“Powerful God! Holy God! Immortal God! Have compassion on us and upon the whole world. Amen.”
“Grace and Mercy, my Jesus, during the present danger! Shield us with Thy Precious Blood. Amen.”
“Eternal Father, show us mercy in the name of the Precious Blood of Thy only Son; show us mercy we implore Thee. Amen.”
(From a handout at Parishes on the Prairie Area Catholic Community; Our Lady of the Angels, Sauk Centre, Minnesota.)
“It May Be the End of Civilization as We Know It”
(Dik Browne’s “Hagar the Horrible” (February 25, 1973))
I’ll indulge in the occasional nostalgic thought.
But my memory is too good for me to yearn for the “good old days” of my youth. And I know too much history to imagine that any of our golden ages would hold up to close inspection. That’s yet again another topic, for another day.
I think today’s America is a pretty good place to live. Even during election years.
And I’m sure we can do better. I’ve talked about that before:
How many folks know where to find the common-sense advice is another topic.
All Hallow’s Etymology and Equinoctial Attitudes
I’m not sure how many folks know that “Halloween” means “All Hallow’s Eve” or “All Saint’s Eve” — or care where the word comes from.
I’m also not sure why some Christians get conniptions about this autumn equinox celebration and its pagan roots.
I wouldn’t expect to convince a tightly-wound zealot that kids wearing costumes and collecting candy doesn’t lead to Satanic cults. I’ll grant that some adult costumes are disturbing. And that’s yet another topic.
October 31 is also the feast day of St. Wolfgang of Regensburg, AKA The Almoner.1
There’s a story about him and an axe, which has nothing to do with Halloween or Carrie Nation.
Seems that towards the end of his life, Wolfgang of Regensburg decided to become a hermit. Probably due to a political situation.
He’d picked a quiet area, but apparently didn’t know exactly where to put his hermit’s cell. So he prayed, threw an axe, and built his cell where the axe landed.
Time passed. Wolfgang of Regensburg died on October 31, 994. A church near his hermit’s cell became a pilgrimage site. Pilgrimage traffic probably accounts for a town, St. Wolfgang im Salzkammergut, that’s been there since at least 1183.
There’s an axe on display in the town that’s billed as being St. Wolfgang’s.2
Apple Bobbing: My View
I’ve read that apple bobbing, a game associated with Halloween, is a divination game.3
That could be a problem. Not because it’s a game. The “divination” part. That’s a bad idea on any day of the year. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2116)
On the other hand, I participated in apple bobbing as a child and youth; and didn’t get a whiff of the ‘divination’ angle.
Maybe I wasn’t paying attention. Or maybe the ‘divination’ thing has faded from our heritage. At least where apple bobbing is involved. And that’s yet again another topic. Topics.
Then there’s holly, mistletoe and Zagmuk; and that’s still more topics:
And now, let me tell you a tale from a world whose inhabitants aren’t dead — but aren’t alive, either.
Waiting on a Dead World
They grew in the light of a golden sun. They studied the soil, stones and waters around them. They studied the stars and fire. They studied their world’s myriad forms of life. And they recorded what they had learned.
They lived, engendered more of their kind, watched their young grow and learn, and they died. But their sun continued to shine, and their young grew old, studied, and added to their store of knowledge.
Stars do not grow old, as living things do: but stars change.
As their store of knowledge increased, they came to know that in time their star’s inner fires would fail, choked in ash which had accumulated over ages beyond imagining.
Armed with that knowledge, they could prepare.
Some decided to accept the end of their world as their own end, and the end of all who would come after them, accepting what was to come.
Others built tiny worlds, moving them as the once-golden sun grew, consuming its inner worlds and scorching their home. They lived, grew, engendered and died: and learned.
In time some of them grew restless. They turned their eyes to the stars; left the shrunken, glaring ember that had been their sun behind; and sought other suns.
A few would not die with their world, and would not leave. They had learned, long ago, how to record their memories, habits and desires in forms which could endure boiling oceans and the hot wind which swept air from their home.
And so, as their star billowed out, puffing its substance into the void, they left copies of their minds: buried under miles of rock. Not as inert patterns of memory and habit: but active as their living forms had been. For in this way they thought that some part of themselves, at least, would endure.
And endure they did: as their sun burned the last of its fuel and shrank to a white-hot spot in the sky of their now-airless world.
At last they ventured up, in mechanical bodies well-suited to the vacuum and cold.
Standing on a dead world, their sun a point of light which would have pained living eyes, they discovered that near-immortality was not quite as satisfactory as they had imagined.
Their artificial bodies were adequate, but did not provide the quality of sensation which they remembered.
Some learned to be content with their new form.
Others decided that they wanted to taste, to smell, to touch as they once had. They wanted to live as creatures of flesh and blood again.
It was not a futile desire. The methods they had used to inhabit mechanical bodies could also be used to impose their will on organic creatures, and draw sensations from the living hosts.
There was nothing living on their world. But, they reasoned, just as some of their own kind had traveled the void between stars, others might come to their world.
So they built a huge pattern of concentric rings, surrounded by a pulsing radiance which could have no natural source.
And they waited.
After a very long time, a moving point of light appeared in their sky. It drifted down, until even living eyes could have recognized a mass of cylinders and spheres: a vessel built to carry living beings from world to world.
The vessel landed, opened, and living creatures stepped out. And were met by the waiting minds.
Observations from NASA’s Spitzer Space Telescope suggested that asteroids and terrestrial planets might orbit at least one in every 100 white dwarf stars.
That could mean that before they became white dwarfs, they had planetary systems like ours.
Make that “had a planetary system.”
We’ve yet to find a star and planetary system that’s just like ours.
Still Seeking a Solar System Analog
(From NASA, ESA and A. Feild (STScI); used w/o permission.)
(The Solar System and Upsilon Andromedae’s planetary system.)
Some of the 4,000-plus exoplanets we’ve found bear a passing resemblance to worlds in our Solar system. At least two, HIP 11915 b and Upsilon Andromedae e, are about as heavy as Jupiter and in similar orbits. And HIP 11915 is almost a twin to our sun.
HIP 11915 b might be part of a planetary system that looks like ours. But it’s the only planet we’ve found there so far.
Upsilon Andromedae e is the outermost planet orbiting Upsilon Andromedae A, the brightest of two stars in a widely-separated binary.
The outermost that we’ve found, at any rate.
Upsilon Andromedae’s planetary system is arguably the closest to a Solar System analog that we’ve found.
Mainly because of its Jupiter analog, and having a set of inner planets: Upsilon Andromedae b, c and d.
Problem is, the inner planets are more massive than Jupiter, almost certainly gas giants.
Upsilon Andromedae d, that’s the one with the cockeyed orbit, spends at least some of its time in the star’s habitable zone.
With roughly 10 times Jupiter’s mass, it almost certainly has no solid surface and isn’t habitable. A rocky moon orbiting Upsilon Andromedea d might support life, and that’s another topic.1 (June 30, 2017)
Metaphors and the Lives of Stars
“Dead stars” is a misnomer, since stars aren’t alive. Unless Olaf Stapledon’s fictional speculation was right.
“…Stars are best regarded as living organisms, but organisms which are physiologically and psychologically of a very peculiar kind. The outer and middle layers of a mature star apparently consist of “tissues” woven of currents of incandescent gases. These gaseous tissues live and maintain the stellar consciousness by intercepting part of the immense flood of energy that wells from the congested and furiously active interior of the star….”
(“Star Maker,” Chapter XI – Stars and Vermin, 3. Stars; Olaf Stapledon (1937), via gutenberg.net.au))
Saying that white dwarfs are “dead stars” makes sense, though, as a metaphor.
And, I think, sounds nicer than calling the things “degenerate dwarfs” and rolls off the tongue — another metaphor — more easily than “stellar core remnant.”
Either way, a white dwarf is what we get after when a small- to medium-size star runs out of fuel. “Small to medium” means between about 0.07 and 10 times as massive as our sun. Any smaller than that, and there isn’t enough internal pressure to have fusion reactions.
William Herschel spotted a white dwarf, 40 Eridani B, in 1783. Three astronomers, Henry Norris Russell, Edward Charles Pickering and Williamina Fleming, confirmed that 40 Eridani B spectral class A — white-hot — in 1910.2
Sirius, Procyon and Weighing Stars
(From Akira Fujii; via Hubble Space Telescope, ESA, NASA; used w/o permission.)
(The Winter Triangle: Procyon, Betelgeuse and Sirius. The tiny green bracket between Procyon and Betelgeuse highlights the Cone Nebula.)
Friedrich Bessel noticed that Procyon and Sirius, the dog star, wobble. In 1844 he said that Procyon and Sirius were double stars, and that their companions hadn’t been spotted.
Alvan Graham Clark found a faint companion for Sirius, “the Pup” — AKA Sirius B— in 1862. John Martin Schaeberle observed Procyon B in 1896. Both were dim, but white-hot.
Cutting a long story short, knowing the distance to Sirius and Procyon told astronomers how far Sirius B and Procyon B were from their brighter companions. That, timing their orbits, and noting how much they wobbled, showed how massive each star is.
Sirius A is twice as massive as our sun, give or take. Sirius B’s mass is around half that. Procyon B is about six tenths as massive as our star.
We’d learned that the more massive stars are, the hotter and brighter they are. Except for Sirius B and Procyon B and other white dwarfs.
Sirius B is about as hot as Sirius A, so every square mile of its surface should be as bright as the bigger star. But Sirius B is something like 10,000 times fainter.
Turns out that Sirius B is only 12,000 kilometers in diameter, 7,300 miles: smaller than Earth.
For main-sequence stars, that’s tiny. For white dwarfs, it’s normal. And means that at least white dwarf may have a planet that’s wider than its star.
By the way — these numbers are all approximate, but pretty close. Astronomers are still fine-tuning what we know about the universe.3
“Vastness” and Questions
“Many a hearth upon our dark globe sighs after many a vanish’d face,
“Many a planet by many a sun may roll with a dust of a vanish’d race….”
(“Vastness,” Tennyson (ca. 1889) via Bartleby.com)
Finding evidence of dust, debris and maybe comets around white dwarfs wasn’t, I suspect, a surprise. Finding remnants of a planetary system so close to the star may have been.
The last I checked, scientists figure that when our sun runs out of hydrogen and becomes a red giant, it’ll be bigger than the current orbits of Mercury, Venus and maybe Earth. When it finally collapses and becomes a white dwarf, the inner planets will be gone.
That didn’t bother me while I was writing “Waiting on a Dead World.”
Maybe our current models aren’t spot-on accurate. Maybe the “golden sun” and the once-habitable world weren’t just like Earth and our sun.
And maybe those who “would not die with their world, and would not leave” moved their planet to a slightly higher orbit.
We can’t do that. Not yet.
But we do have the science and most of the technology to move small asteroids: a couple centuries after developing steam engines and decades after launching our first spaceships. A billion or so years from now, my guess is that we’ll have learned a few new tricks.4
If folks who are a bit like us live on other worlds, maybe they’re at least as smart as we are. Or have been around longer than we have. Or both.
I think the question isn’t whether or not my fictional “waiting minds” would have a planet to wait on. The real question is how I, as a Christian, could have written something like that story. And would admit having written it.
I live in a vast, ancient universe.
We’ve known it was big and old for a long time. Some of us have realized that, big and old as what we see is: it’s not bigger or older than God.
“The heavens declare the glory of God; the firmament proclaims the works of his hands.”
“Terrible and awesome are you,
stronger than the ancient mountains.”
“All your works give you thanks, LORD and your faithful bless you.
“They speak of the glory of your reign and tell of your mighty works,
“Making known to the sons of men your mighty acts, the majestic glory of your rule.”
“Indeed, before you the whole universe is as a grain from a balance, or a drop of morning dew come down upon the earth.”
Over the last few centuries, we’ve learned that it’s much bigger and older than some of us thought. I’m okay with that.
I also figure that God is large and in charge, no matter how much we learn.
“Our God is in heaven
and does whatever he wills.”
Philosophers and Models
Some ancient philosophers said that we live in a world that had a beginning and will have an end.
Others said that we’re in a world that had always been here and always will be.
They couldn’t both be right, assuming that reality is real, so the eternity or transience of the world encouraged ancient philosophical debates.
We’ve learned that Earth had a beginning. And we’re learning about how it’s likely to end.
The bad news is that our sun burns — fuses, actually — hydrogen, and has already expended about half of its reserves.
The good news is that our sun can keep burning hydrogen for something like 5,000,000,000 years. On the other hand, it’ll keep getting brighter and hotter before that happens, by 1% every 100,000,000 years. Give or take a bit.
Assuming that mathematical models we’re using are an approximate match to reality.
That’s not an unreasonable assumption, since we’re finding examples of molecular clouds, protoplanetary disks and stars that match the models.5
Again, assuming our current mathematical models are an approximate match to reality.
Earth, Eons and New Puzzles
What we’re learning about stars and how they work says that our sun should have been only 70-75% as bright in Earth’s Archean eon as it is today.
If it had been that bright then, Earth’s water would all have been frozen.
But we’ve learned that our planet had liquid water in the Archean. And that the atmosphere probably wasn’t different enough to have kept Earth sufficiently warm.
I could take that inconsistency, demonstrate that hills east and north of Sauk Centre are no more than a few thousand years old, and proclaim the veracity of Bishop Ussher.
But I won’t.
For one thing, I know that my town is on land that was under glaciers several times recently. “Recently” on a geological time scale, that is.
Besides, I figure that what we haven’t learned all there is to know about Earth, the universe and everything in the last century. But we have learned. And now we have more puzzles to solve.
And I’d be astounded if physicists, cosmologists, geologists, and all the other “ists,” were all wrong — and all came up with pretty close to the same ages for Earth and the universe.6
“…God, the Creator and Ruler of all things, is also the Author of the Scriptures – and that therefore nothing can be proved either by physical science or archaeology which can really contradict the Scriptures. … Even if the difficulty is after all not cleared up and the discrepancy seems to remain, the contest must not be abandoned; truth cannot contradict truth….”
(“Providentissimus Deus,” Pope Leo XIII (November 18, 1893))
Faith, Reason and Me
It’s been years since someone told me I shouldn’t talk about science and religion.
My guess is that he felt I should pick a side, and either ignore or attack the other.
Given my country’s cultural history, I see his point.
I’m not sure how many folks assume that a person can accept either science or religion: but not both.
Folks who are rabidly religious and warn the rest of us about the Satanic snares of science don’t help. Neither do those who apparently think that religion, particularly Christianity, demands abysmal ignorance.
I’m also not sure how many American Protestants really believe that Catholics can’t be Christians because the pope is the antichrist. And that’s yet another topic.7
And because I’m a Catholic, using my brain isn’t an option. It’s an obligation. So is reading and understanding the Bible. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 154–155, 101–133)
I’m also obliged to embrace truth. All truth. Including truth we find in the natural world. (Catechism, 32, 41, 74, 142–150, 2500)
If I’m doing it right, paying attention to this universe will point me toward God.
“For from the greatness and the beauty of created things their original author, by analogy, is seen.”
Maybe that helps explain why I didn’t and don’t feel guilty about writing a story that depends on what scientists say about stellar evolution.
Life, Death and Dante’s Wood of the Suicides
Then there are the folks in the story who “…left copies of their minds…” and “…discovered that near-immortality was not quite as satisfactory as they had imagined….”
The basic idea, putting someone’s mind into a computer or robot, is a science fiction staple. Examples go back at least to the hapless townspeople in Frederik Pohl’s 1955 “The Tunnel Under the World” and Arnim Zola in Jack Kirby’s 1977 Captain America #208.8
Some stories assume that the process is a transfer: that Our Hero’s or The Villain’s consciousness stop being in one body and end up in another.
Others assume that the memories and personality are copied into another body. Depending on what the author wants, that results in duplicate characters, an Evil Twin or something entirely different.
Writing “Waiting on a Dead World,” I chose the copy option: skipping over the relatively brief interval when the original versions and the copies were both around.
And ignoring the existential angst and animus which might result from two versions of the same individual coexisting.
Neuroimaging and Pickled Brains, Altruists and Lab Rats
We’ve learned quite a bit about how brains work since Arnim Zola first tangled with Captain America.
Neuroimaging is still science fiction. It’s also one of a growing number of new medical diagnostic technologies.
But we still don’t have the tech to scan someone’s brain and upload his or her personality into a computer and/or robot.
That didn’t keep an outfit called Nectome from announcing that, for a fee, they’d pickle your brain: promising to preserve it until someone learned how to revive or rebuild it.9
The pickling process would be fatal. MIT cut ties with the project, and that’s yet again another topic. (May 2, 2018)
Whether or not someone who had his brain pickled is legally dead may be debatable.
My guess is that answers depend on who’s talking, what current laws say, and the odds of ‘revive and rebuild’ tech being developed.
And, as some science fiction authors have realized, folks with such technology would need reasons to revive and rebuild a pickled person. On the ‘up’ side, they could be altruists. Or maybe they ran out of lab rats.
But my “waiting minds” probably weren’t pickled. What I had in mind was more along the lines of Arnim Zola’s approach.
Which brings me to Canto XIII — thirteen, how appropriate 🙂 — of Dante’s Inferno.
Dante’s Hell: Seventh Circle, Second Ring
(From Gustave Doré; via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Virgil, Dante and Pier delle Vigne in The Wood of the Suicides.)
“So I put forth my hand a little way,
And broke a branchlet from a thorn-tree tall;
And the trunk cried out: ‘why tear my limbs away?'”
(“The Divine Comedy,” Inferno, Canto XIII, lines 32-33 (ca. 1308-1320) Trans. by Dorothy Sayers (1949))
Following the “you won’t know the players without a program” principle, here’s a short who’s who for Canto XIII:
A poet who took a wrong turn
Another poet, who’s leading Dante through Hell
Pier delle Vigne
A diplomat who allegedly dissed his boss, killed himself and now looks like a tree
Nasty critters with wings, claws, human faces and bad attitudes
Canto XIII finds all of the above in the Wood of the Suicides, or Wood of the Self-Murderers. Or, as Dante put it:
“Non era ancor di là Nesso arrivato,
quando noi ci mettemmo per un bosco
che da neun sentiero era segnato….”
(Inferno: Canto 13, Dante, via Dartmouth.edu)
In Dante’s version of Hell, folks who killed themselves experience a unique doom.
When their disembodied souls land in the seventh circle’s second ring, they take root and sprout as trees. They’re currently getting clawed by harpies and bludgeoned by profligates. Then, after the Last Judgment, it gets worse.10
I realize that sounds harsh.
But let’s remember that Dante’s Hell wasn’t supposed to be pleasant. And that his “Divine Comedy” is an epic narrative poem, one of the world’s great literary works: and not on a par with Sacred Scripture.
“Here Shall They Hang” — Wood of the Suicides and Clueless Critics
That said, Dante’s Wood of the Suicides reflects Catholic beliefs about body, soul and responsibility.
More accurately, it reflects Catholic beliefs for folks who understand poetry. I’ll get back to that.
Folks whose souls landed in his dreary forest had, in a sense, tried to separate body and soul.
Their punishment, after the Last Judgment, would be to have the bodies they threw away — “spoils” in lines 104 and 105 — hung in their branches.
“We shall take our flight, when all souls take their flight,
to seek our spoils, but not to be rearrayed,
for the spoils of the spoiler cannot be his by right.
“Here shall we drag them, to this gloomy glade;
Here shall they hang, each body evermore
Borne on the thorn of its own self-slaughtering shade.”
(“The Divine Comedy,” Inferno, Canto XIII, lines 103-108 (ca. 1308-1320) Trans. by Dorothy Sayers (1949))
Some folks in Dante’s day didn’t know much about poetry:
” ‘here shall they hang:’ Nowhere, perhaps, does Dante assert more clearly than in this moving an terrible image his conviction of the intimate and unbreakable bond between spirit and flesh. The Suicides willed the death of the flesh, but they cannot be rid of it: their eternity is an eternity of that death. (The absurd charge of heretically denying the resurrection of the body was brought against Dante on the strength of these lines, but only by those to whom the language of poetic imagery is a sealed book.)”
(Dorothy L. Sayers’ footnote to “The Divine Comedy,” Inferno, Canto XIII, line 107; “The Divine Comedy 1 Hell,” Dante Alighieri, Translation by Dorothy L. Sayers (1949); Penguin Classics reprint)
And that’s still another topic.
Being Human: Body and Soul
As a human being, I’m a body and a soul. My material and spiritual parts are designed to work as a single unit. Death separates body and soul, but it’s a temporary situation. They’re reunited before the Last Judgment. (Catechism, 362–365, 990–991, 1005, 1038–1041, 1059)
So, what’s that got to do with suicide?
Backing up a bit, human life is sacred. All human life: yours, mine, everyone’s. It’s a gift from God. (Catechism, 2258)
If I murdered someone, I’d be taking that person’s God-given life. (Catechism, 2258–2317)
Taking my own life would make a bad decision worse. I’d go straight to my particular judgment, with no time to reconsider and repent. (Catechism, 1021–1022, 2280–2283)
But I won’t tell anyone that a suicide victim is in Hell: irrevocably damned. I’m not sure why some folks share that despairing thought.
For one thing, despair is a bad idea. (Catechism, 2091)
For another, I’m expected to stay hopeful. And pray:
“We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives.”
Avoiding Suicide: Help is Available
Suicide is a personal topic for me.
I lost a dear friend that way, and have felt the impulse occasionally.
In my case, feeling suicidal from time to time shouldn’t be a surprise. Depression is a major risk factor. That’s something I’ll save for another post.
Today, I’ll mention a resource, and leave it at that:
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 800-273-8255
A free, 24/7 service that can provide suicidal persons or those around them with support, information and local resources.
I was going somewhere with all this. Let me think.
A story beginning with a golden sun and curious folks — ending with disillusioned minds waiting to dry-gulch unsuspecting explorers.
Stars, planets, science and metaphors.
Tennyson’s “Vastness” and a rhetorical question.
Faith and reason, science and religion.
Life, death and being human.
“In the Image of God:” Creativity Included
I’ve known folks who don’t like fiction because “it isn’t true.” They have a point, and I wouldn’t try forcing them to read Carroll’s “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”
But I won’t stop enjoying stories, and on rare occasions writing my own. I don’t see a problem with that.
That’s because humans are made “in the image of God.” (Genesis 1:26–28)
Learning about this world, using our knowledge to develop new technologies, and using our imaginations is in our nature. Science and technology are part of being human. (Catechism, 35–36, 301, 303–306, 311, 1704, 2293–2296)
Part of our job is admiring and describing God’s universe. That’s not even close to thinking we own this world. (Sirach 17:1–14; Catechism, 283, 341, 2415)
We’re also made with a reflection of God’s creativity.
“…To the extent that it is inspired by truth and love of beings, art bears a certain likeness to God’s activity in what he has created….”
I figure that what the Church says about art applies to writing: putting words together and recording the result. It’s one of the many ways a human can reflect God’s image.
And it’s something that I can do well: or mess up.
Science Fiction and Attitudes
Back in my first time through college, an earnestly-Christian chap told me that science fiction was evil. He didn’t quite put it that way, but that’s the idea.
The problem, he told me, was that the genre kept describing technical problems that humans resolved by using our brains.
Again, he didn’t quite put it that way. He wouldn’t or couldn’t explain how his view lined up with our “dominion” over this world.
I suspect that what bothered him was the genre’s sometimes-overt contempt of faith, religion, and suchlike “superstitions.”
Make that the contempt expressed by some science fiction authors.
It’s Alive! — Oh, ICK!!
Oddly enough, science fiction and an assortment of allegedly-Christian offshoots share a Gnostic loathing for the material.
Or the organic, at any rate.
“Two guys I would not want along on a camping trip. If H. G. Wells was uncomfortable with nature, Hugo Gernsback had issues with the whole surface of the Earth….
“This illustration reproduced from the magazine SCIENCE AND INVENTION of February 1922, shows a city 10,000 years hence as conceived by Hugo Gernsback…. The city the size of New York will float several miles above the surface of the earth, where the air is cleaner and purer and free from disease carrying bacteria….”
I’ll admit to a bias. I like being human. I enjoy being a creature that’s made from the stuff of this world and God’s ‘breath.’ (April 29, 2018)
I also agree with God’s evaluation of this universe: that it’s “very good.” (Genesis 1:31)
Even if I didn’t, my opinion wouldn’t count for much. God’s God, I’m not, and I’m okay with that. (January 14, 2018)
My “Waiting on a Dead World” isn’t, by any reasonable definition, a “religious” story. Not the sort that lends itself to an Anamianiac “Wheel of Morality” analysis.
But I think it’s “inspired by truth and love of beings” — and may have a moral of sorts. Then again, maybe not.
Kidnapping and Murder, Rules and Principles
“Waiting on a Dead World” involves technology that we don’t have yet, and circumstances that we won’t face for a very long time.
Even so, I’m pretty sure that what the “waiting minds” were planning at the end isn’t right.
I’m not so certain about who or what the copies of long-dead people would be.
Maybe they’re persons with free will. Or maybe they’re merely automata, carrying out programmed functions. Persons or automata, the story ends as they’re about to “impose their will” on folks who flew into their trap.
Maybe the process hijacks the host’s body, leaving the victim’s personality as a passenger but otherwise intact. Or maybe it erases the host’s memories before planting others. Both options are bad news for the victim.
We don’t have rules for how the story’s imaginary technology should be used. But we do have natural law: principles that haven’t changed, and won’t. (Catechism, 1954–1960)
I figure that what the “waiting minds” did would be analogous to kidnapping or murder: which are both bad ideas. (Catechism, 2268–2269, 2297)
So how come I ended the story by saying that “it was worth the wait” — and didn’t soliloquize on the depravity of the waiting minds?
It’s a matter of personal preference and a point I wanted to make.
I don’t enjoy slogging through preachy passages. I figure others don’t, either. Besides, giving readers credit for having good sense strikes me as reasonable.
And a point I had in mind while writing the story is that having a body and a soul is natural for humans. The same would apply to other folks who are like us, but not human.
I suspect that even a born-again Gnostic disciple of Hugo Gernsback might, after several eons of cleaner and purer unlife, want to smell the roses. Or at least be able to.
“Downloading Consciousness: Related Fiction”
Jordan Inafuku, Katie Lampert, Brad Lawson, Shaun Stehly, Alex Vaccaro; CS181: Computers, Ethics, and Public Policy; Engineering & Computer Science; Stanford University (June 1-2, 2011)
I'm a sixty-something married guy with four kids in a small central Minnesota town. One of the kids graduated from college in December, 2008, and is helping her husband run a business and raise my granddaughter; another is a cartoonist and artist; #3 daughter is a writer; my son is developing a digital game with #3 and #1 daughters.
"The Princess and the Goblin" is a classic - at least in the sense that it's been re-published many times since 1871, with enough folks buying the reprints to justify yet another reprinting.
The story can be, and has been, described as ...
science-fiction-and-fantasy and faith-belief-religion
Barron's book is an intelligent, informed look at Catholicism's first two millennia.
"Catholicicsm" is "A Journey to the Heart of the Faith" in the sense that Barron touches on the core, the basics, of what the Catholic Church is and ha...
If you've seen the 1997 Derek Jacobi Central Independent Television/ITV screen adaptation of this Ellis Peters novel, you know the setting and general plot.
The mystery is set in England's Shrewsbury region, during what folks started ca...
This blog's header image is from NASA Photo ID ISS011-E-5487, taken 188 nautical miles, 348 kilometers, above 17.6° N, 2.8° E: available from Earth Science and Remote Sensing Unit, NASA Johnson Space Center.
The opinions expressed in this blog are my own. As a Catholic layman, I make an effort to be informed about the teachings of the Church, and will repeat what I have found. For more 'official' statements, I suggest that you talk to a priest or deacon in your area. Or check out the 'Official' websites on my Blogroll page.
I make an effort to select meaningful and qualified information for the external links I create. However, I have no control over websites or blogs other than mine, and cannot be held responsible for their contents.
I have very limited control over advertisements and video links appearing on this blog. I do not necessarily endorse any of them.