Spiritualism, Attitudes

Posted on June 1, 2018 by Brian H. Gill

I’ve read that spiritualism and spiritism started in the 18th or 19th centuries. Folks who take one or both seriously seem to think spiritism isn’t spiritualism. How the ‘isms’ are different depends on who’s talking.

Some say spiritualism is a religion, while spiritism is a social movement. Or spiritism is a science and spiritualism isn’t.1

I’ve seen “spiritualism” used to describe spiritism as practiced by English-speaking folks, particularly Americans. Maybe that’s a common use of the word.

Or maybe it’s just how it’s used in much of what I’ve read.

It’s what I mean by “spiritualism” and “spiritualist.” Usually. Often. Sometimes, anyway. I’m guessing there isn’t a definition that folks on all sides agree on.

I’ve seen several versions of where the beliefs began, too.

Some say they spread from upstate New York’s “burned-over district.” That’d be what started with two kids, an apple and some string. (May 25, 2018)

Whether central and western New York is “burned-over” is debatable. I see what happened as a spiritual hangover after a religious binge episode in the early 1800s. We call it the Second Great Awakening. I don’t know who first used that name or when it caught on.

I’ll be talking about writers and researchers, Salem’s infamous trials and why I think change can be a good idea:

Awakenings and the Morning After

America’s Second Great Awakening began around around 1790 in Kentucky, Tennessee and southern Ohio.

Preachers from assorted denominations affirmed feelings and rejected rationalism. They were enormously popular.

Revivalists revived, postmillennialists predicted the Second Coming. Folks got excited. Very excited. Fervor faded around 1840.

Believers noticed a distinct lack of either End Times or Golden Age.

Charles G. Finney thought folks in central and western New York were through with faith.

Finney, one of the revivalists, said the wild excitement and morning after left many feeling that religion was “a mere delusion.” He called central and western New York a “burnt district.” Maybe he was right. Or not.

Many academics thought he was, at least until recently.

A study published in 1984 said “burned-over district” folks weren’t any more or less religious than most Americans. That’s likely enough. My country had a third and fourth Great Awakening too, at least according to some. And that’s another topic.2

Roots

Folks looking at another slice of history say spiritualism’s beliefs started in Europe.

The idea makes sense, although I think the roots go far deeper.

I see my country’s Spiritualism as a homegrown ornamental, spread from imported cuttings. Sort of like kudzu.

Not exactly like kudzu, of course. Metaphors break down at some point. The trick is spotting the cracks before stepping on them. And that’s yet another topic.

Spiritualism and its European precursors strike me as my civilization’s versions of very ancient beliefs. Current forms started taking shape around the 18th century.

Lyttelton

George, 1st Baron Lyttelton, published his “Dialogues of the Dead” in 1760. He wrote a sequel, “Four New Dialogues of the Dead,” published in 1765.

The 50-something gentleman had been a Member of Parliament, written poetry and designed landscapes.

What I’ve read strongly suggests that Lyttelton’s political career enhanced his reputation as a poet and landscaper designer. By contrast, if nothing else.

He was raised to the peerage as Lord Lyttelton, Baron of Frankley in the County of Worcester in 1756. I don’t know why. Maybe it was a sort of “lifetime achievement” award.

Lyttelton’s “Dialogues” helped set the standard for later spiritism books. That may not be what Lyttelton had in mind. I’m guessing “not.”

I’m pretty sure Lord Lyttelton was thinking about history and human nature when he wrote “Dialogues.”

“…To the last Lord Lyttelton was poet enough to feel true fellowship with poets of his day….

“…Before Lord Lyttelton followed their example, ‘Dialogues of the Dead’ had been written by Lucian, and by Fenelon, and by Fontenelle…. This half-dramatic plan of presenting a man’s own thoughts upon the life of man and characters of men, and on the issues of men’s characters in shaping life, is a way of essay writing pleasant alike to the writer and the reader. Lord Lyttelton was at his best in it….”
(“Dialogues of the Dead,” Introduction; Lord Lyttelton, edited by Henry Morley; 1889 Cassell & Company edition (1889))

Or maybe the Lyttelton believed he was transcribing chats he’d had with spectral visitors. That doesn’t seem likely, since folks who knew him didn’t think he was delusional.

A century and more later, Lord Lyttelton’s “Dialogues” are still in print. I can see the appeal. The first one included celebrity spirits like Peter the Great and Pericles. He recorded chats with Plato, William Penn and a “A North American Savage.”

The names in Lyttelton’s “Dialogues” remind me of a talk-and-variety show’s guest list. Or Steve Allen’s “Meeting of Minds.”

Dialogues of one sort or another are ancient. Rigvedic dialogue hymns and Sumerian disputations predate Socratic dialogues by over a dozen centuries.3

Again, I think Lord Lyttelton saw “Dialogues” as his thoughts on history and humanity: not séance transcripts.

I’m also sure that he wasn’t trying to start a new religion. Lyttelton apparently was a Christian who had ‘done his homework’ after youthful spiritual roving:

“…He had, in the pride of juvenile confidence, with the help of corrupt conversation, entertained doubts of the truth of Christianity; but he thought the time now come when it was no longer fit to doubt or believe by chance, and applied himself seriously to the great question. His studies, being honest, ended in conviction. He found that religion was true….”
“Lives of the Poets: Volume II,” Samuel Johnson (1825))

Folks like Franz Mesmer and Emanuel Swedenborg lived around the same time as Lyttelton. They’re probably much better-known than the British peer.

Mesmer

“Animal magnetism” is how Franz Mesmer’s lebensmagnetismus usually gets translated into English. Maybe “live magnetism” doesn’t have quite the right rhythm for my language.

Mesmer thought he’d found an invisible natural force made by all living beings.

It made more sense in the late 18th century. Humorism was Western medicine’s best theoretical model until well into the 19th century. (May 12, 2017; September 9, 2016)

If “invisible natural force” sounds familiar, it should:

“It’s an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together….”
(Obi-Wan Kenobi, in “Star Wars” (1977))

Humorism and Mesmer’s updated hypothesis weren’t a good match with reality. 20-20 hindsight sees Wöhler’s 1828 research as a turning point. Maybe so, but vitalism and humorism were still working hypotheses for another century.

Mesmer’s clinical studies and (much) later studies didn’t support lebensmagnetismus theory. But researchers did learn how mesmerism works. Étienne Félix d’Henin de Cuvillers called it hypnotism 1820. We still do. It isn’t magnetic, but it’s effective.

Animal magnetism and all that also inspired parts of George du Maurier’s “Trilby” and Robert Wiene’s “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.” And many much-sillier tales. More ridiculous, at any rate. But occasionally entertaining.

Swedenborg

Emanuel Swedenborg’s father, Jesper Swedberg, impressed Sweden’s King, Charles XI, a lot.

Charles XI saw to it that Jesper became professor of theology at Uppsala University and Bishop of Skara.

Then Jesper got interested in Lutheran pietism. He criticized the state religion’s views. His “Book of Hymns” was banned. His belief that angels and spirits can and do interact with us hadn’t helped his reputation.

Emanuel Swedenborg learned a lot from his father. He wrapped up studies at Uppsala in 1709, toured Europe, and published an airship design in 1714.

He asked Charles XII — I think they’re up to Charles XV now — to build an observatory in 1716. The king gave him a job in Sweden’s mining board instead.

Swedenborg was mostly into natural science and engineering for the next two decades. Also anatomy, physiology, cosmology and philosophy. He was right, basically, about quite a bit; including neurons and the nebular hypothesis.

He tried merging philosophy and metallurgy in his 1735 “Opera philosophica et mineralis.” Or maybe it’s “Opera Philosophica et Mineralia.” I’ve seen both titles used for the three-volume set.

My point is that Swedenborg was very smart. Think Elon Musk, Steven Hawking and Ram Dass as one person.

Swedenborg started having strange dreams around 1744. He quit his government job in 1747 and started sharing what he thought about Heaven, Hell and points between. Also what’s arguably the most imaginative End Times story to date. (August 13, 2017)

Quite a few folks liked what he said. Maybe his reputation for being really smart helped. He apparently thought his dreams and subsequent visions were a divine revelation.

Swedenborg wasn’t, probably, trying to start a new religion. But that’s what happened. We’ve still got Swedenborgianism as a Christianity knockoff.4

Alias Allan Kardec

Hippolyte Léon Denizard Rivail was born in 1804. He earned degrees in science and medicine and learned several languages.

He’d been raised in a Catholic family and married in his late 20s.

He sounds a lot like me, except I became a Catholic as an adult and majored in history and English. With as much of everything else I could find on the side.

But I’m not nearly as multilingual as Rivail. And I don’t plan on starting a new religion.

Séances were popular entertainment when Rivail was 50-something.

He got curious, wrote a bunch of books about psychic phenomena and mediums, and got spritism started.

Probably. Quite a few folks say Rivail’s pen name is Allan Kardec.

Kardec apparently wrote “The Spirits Book,” “The Book on Mediums” and the other three books in the Spiritist Codification.5

Heritage and Legacy

I figure Swedenborg, Kardec and others used or were inspired by ideas from Western esotericsim, Christian legends, European folklore and Kabalah. All of which grew out of still older beliefs.

It’s complicated. That’s putting it mildly.6

There’s also a philosophical position called “spiritualism.” And a metaphysical belief.7

I’m a Christian and a Catholic, so I think spirit exists. That makes me a spiritualist in the metaphysical sense.

But I’m not a Spiritist or Spiritualist. I don’t do séances. I think Saul’s trip to Endor was a bad idea. (April 29, 2018)

Starting in the late 19th century, some spiritualists formed churches with well-defined beliefs and procedures. Embarrassments like the Seybert Commission report and Mumler’s fraud trial hadn’t helped their public image.8 (April 11, 2018)

Spiritualists weren’t alone.

“…Satanical Practices”


(From Michele Felice Cornè, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Cornè’s “Landing of the Pilgrims.” (ca.1805))

By the mid-19th century, the Puritan image was morphing from paragon of American nobility to fanatical killjoy.

Some truth lay behind both images.

Reality wasn’t, and isn’t, that simple.

“The Obferation of Christmas having been deemed a Sacrilege, the exchanging of Gifts and Greetings, dreffing in Fine Clothing, Feafting and similar Satanical Practices are hereby FORBIDDEN”
(Public notice deeming Christmas illegal. Boston (1659))

“What the Puritans gave the world was not thought, but action.”
(“The Pilgrims” speech, Wendell Phillips (1855))

“Puritanism: The haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy.”
(“A Mencken Chrestomathy,” H. L. Menken (1949))

Folks in 17th century New England weren’t, I think, basically different from those living in today’s New York City, Charlemagne’s Aachen or Plato’s Athens.

I’d expect parents in any era to be concerned if their child had trouble breathing, shouted nonsense, or shook uncontrollably. Today’s New Englander might call a doctor or Poison Control Center.

Our ancestors might have consulted a shaman or herbalist. I figure we’re no more or less rational than they were. But we’ve learned a bit over the centuries. Most of us. Which, particularly for folks like me, is a good thing. (March 19, 2018; November 19, 2017)

Puritans in Salem Village didn’t have television, cable or otherwise, in 1691. But they did have books. Prophecy and fortunetelling seem to have been top topics for preteen and teen girls during the winter of 1691-1692.

Salem Village had earned a quarrelsome reputation by that time. They’d argue with each other and folks in Salem Town over property, grazing and church privileges.

They didn’t like Salem Town’s preacher, so they hired their own.

Three times, shortchanging each one. That made finding a fourth hard, which further frayed already-frazzled local nerves.

Reverend Samuel Parris took the job after Salem village added the parsonage and two acres of land to their offer. Then he went hunting for “iniquitous behavior.” And found it.

I gather that his habit of making upright church members do public penance for small infractions wasn’t appreciated.

The Salem Trials

Salem Village’s routine bickering boiled over in February of 1692.

The preacher’s daughter and a niece screamed. They also made strange sounds, threw stuff and crawled under furniture.

A doctor examined the kids. He didn’t find evidence of disease. Other kids started acting the same way.

What I’ve read sounds like kids having Olympic-class temper tantrums. Or getting at the wrong pills.

Or maybe funny fungi. I don’t know if psilocybin mushrooms grew around Salem. I’d expect hemp tea to have different effects, and that’s yet again another topic.

Folks in Salem Village assumed witchcraft was behind the tantrums, convulsions or whatever. Allegations, accusations and arrests followed.

Formal witchcraft trials started in Salem Town on June 2, 1692. Judges considered spectral and other evidence, followed due process and executed 20 people. A few more died while in custody. Some were pardoned, or found not guilty.

I’ll give the judges credit for giving landowners, beggars and servants equal justice.

Giles Corey, an elderly landowner, didn’t survive pre-trial interrogation.

George Burroughs was convicted of practicing witchcraft and conspiring with Satan. Burroughs was one of the shortchanged pastors, and the only minister executed for witchcraft.

John Willard was a constable who stopped fetching accused witches. That’s not what got him killed. Not officially. Willard was hung for using witchcraft to kill someone’s wife and make another villager sick.

The Salem witch trials and executions were unusual, even for the 1690s.9

They were still landmarks in American history when I was in school. Mostly as something we should never let happen again.

The last I heard, we still aren’t sure what went horribly wrong.

I figure the accusations, trials and hangings were what happens when politics, personal grievances and community frictions run amok. Or maybe the “witchcraft” started in a bad batch of pumpernickel. (July 4, 2017)

Human Nature

A few folks may still think the 1692-93 trials were justified.

I’d like to believe that’s not possible.

But I remember McCarthyism, political correctness and Pizzagate. I suspect spotting crazy ideas is easier when it’s someone else’s panic. (September 10, 2017; July 21, 2017)

Some folks apparently believe that the Antichrist held or holds public office, and may see themselves as the only ‘real’ Christians left.

Others believe that Christianity preaches hate and religion kills people. Some truth is behind today’s perceptions, sadly.

But reality isn’t any simpler now than it was during American puritanism’s heyday. And human nature hasn’t changed.

Sometimes we make dubious choices. Like Saul’s incognito trip to Endor and Emperor Wuzong’s confiscation of temple properties. Some are lethal, like the Jonestown deaths and Heaven’s Gate mass suicide.

But sometimes we make lastingly-useful decisions: like Hammurabi’s law code, the Twelve Tables, and Emperor Gaozu’s and Taizong’s Tang Code.10

I could look at humanity’s blunders and decide that we never learn. I prefer remembering that we’ve occasionally reviewed what’s been done — and decided that we can do better. (May 12, 2018)

We can also rely on at least some folks staunchly supporting attitudes that helped make Salem’s famous trials possible.

Slavery, Spiritualism and Satan: 1865


(From Alfred Gales, via Library of Congress, used w/o permission.)
(Alfred Gale’s “Pictorial Illustration of the Cause of the Great Rebellion” and “Pictorial Illustration of Abolitionism.” (ca. 1865))

“…Abolitionism made the war by electing a sectional President on a Sectional Platform. Its avowed object was to take away the rights of the Slave-States expressly guaranteed to them by the Constitution.
“LIBERTY, EQUALITY AND FRATERNITY!…”
(“Pictorial History of the Cause of the Great Rebellion,” Vol. II, Alfred Gale (1865))

Alfred Gale, the chap who published those 1865 broadsides, didn’t like abolitionism. Obviously.

I don’t know why. Maybe because it polarized politics and religion. Or maybe he thought slavery’s legality should be left to state legislators. Or he thought slavery was a fundamental right. My guess is that states’ rights were his main concern.

Maybe he really thought abolitionism was a Satanic conspiracy. I don’t.

Most Americans living north of the Mason-Dixon line call Alfred Gale’s “Great Rebellion” the American Civil War. In large part, I think, because the Union won.

Calling it the War Between the States or Second American Revolution might be more accurate.

I’m pretty sure it’s still a hot-button issue, particularly for folks whose towns and states suffered from the Union’s “total war” policy and post-war carpetbaggers.

The war didn’t settle the states’ rights issue. America is still divided over how to balance state, federal and local rights. I’m not surprised.

About a third of a billion folks live in my country. We’re not particularly conformist. We probably couldn’t agree on anything: even which ice cream flavor is “best.”

State sovereignty wasn’t the only reason the Confederate States of America joined forces in 1861. Americans were divided over technology, tariffs, territorial control — and slavery.11

The Confederacy lost, the Union won, and a century later we were still cleaning up the mess. We still are. What impresses me isn’t so much that slavery was banned: but that it’s become unfashionable. (February 18, 2018)

Alfred Gale’s heavy-handed appeals to traditional American beliefs suggests that he was a Christian. Or was trying to influence Christians.

I don’t know why he apparently believed state rights were more important than human freedom. That isn’t an option for me. Not if I’m going to take my faith seriously.

“Right Reason”

I think slavery is a bad idea: whether it’s legal or not. The same goes for genocide. A few things are just plain wrong. And a few things are always right. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1954–1960, 2313, 2414)

Universal law, “right reason” that doesn’t change, isn’t a new idea. Or uniquely Catholic.

“Right is right if nobody is right, and wrong is wrong if everybody is wrong.”
(“Life Is Worth Living” (1951-1957), Program 19, The Venerable Fulton J. Sheen, via Wikiquotes)

“…True law is right reason conformable to nature, universal, unchangeable, eternal, whose commands urge us to duty, and whose prohibitions restrain us from evil. … This law cannot be contradicted by any other law, and is not liable either to derogation or abrogation. Neither the senate nor the people can give us any dispensation for not obeying this universal law of justice. It needs no other expositor and interpreter than our own conscience. It is not one thing at Rome, and another at Athens; one thing to-day, and another to-morrow; but in all times and nations this universal law must forever reign, eternal and imperishable….”
(“The Tusculan Disputations,” Cicero (ca. 45 BC) Book V, p. 153; translated chiefly by C. D. Yonge (1877) [emphasis mine)

“Allergic to Change”

“Humans are allergic to change. They love to say, ‘We’ve always done it this way.’ I try to fight that. That’s why I have a clock on my wall that runs counter-clockwise.”
(Grace Hopper; quoted in “The Wit and Wisdom of Grace Hopper,” Philip Schieber, OCLC Newsletter (March/April 1987))

“Change is not made without inconvenience, even from worse to better.”
(Richard Hooker, quoted in Samuel Johnson’s “A Dictionary of the English Language” (1755))

I don’t see a problem with having pet peeves and personal penchants. I’ve got at least my share of both. But I see wisdom in remembering that my preferences may not be “universal law … eternal and imperishable.”

Learning to agree with God makes sense. Imagining that God agrees with me, not so much. (Romans 12:2; Catechism, 562, 1783, 2085, 2745)

If I believed today’s America was perfect, I’d resist any threat to the status quo.

My memory’s too good to believe that.

‘The good old days’ before 1965 — weren’t. They’re not coming back. For which I’m duly grateful.

Nostalgic daydreams aside, we’ve never had a Golden Age. Not since the first of us decided to let “I want” overrule “I should.” We’ve been dealing with consequences of that decision ever since. (February 4, 2018)

Getting off to a bad start hasn’t kept us from remembering that we can do better. Or trying, with varying success, to live up to our potential: instead of down to our worst urges. (May 12, 2018; February 18, 2018)

Our societies, our world, this universe are all “in a state of journeying,” moving toward an ultimate perfection. But we’re not there yet. (Catechism, 302)

Part of our job is keeping what’s right in our societies, and changing what’s not. (Catechism, 1917, 1928–1942, 1825, 1996, 2415; “Laudato si’;” “Gaudium et spes“)

Make that my job. I must work for justice — “as far as possible.” That includes respecting humanity’s “transcendent dignity.” My ongoing inner conversion is important too. (Catechism, 976–980, 1888, 1915, 1929–1933, 2820)

I think Richard Hooker is right: change is inconvenient.

It’s also the only way we will get closer to that ideal society we keep hoping for.

I can’t change the world, or even my nation.

But I can try acting as if I love God and my neighbors. And see everyone my neighbor. Everyone. No exceptions. (Matthew 5:43–44, 22:36–40; Mark 12:28–31; Luke 6:31 10:25–27, 29–37; Catechism, 1789)

It’s simple, and very far from easy. Believing it with all my heart is harder. But I think it’s worth the effort.

So is learning from past progress. And blunders. And that’s still another topic:

1 Distinctions:

2 Awakenings:

3 Dialogs and an author:

4 Research, ideas and dreams:

5 Miscellaneous background:

6 Old ideas:

7 More distinctions:

8 Image and scrutiny, late 1800s:

9 Remembering Salem, 1692-1693:

10 Ideas and efforts, good and otherwise:

11 War and aftermath:

Posted in Discursive Detours | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Mediums

Posted on May 25, 2018 by Brian H. Gill

“Séances date back to the 1800s…. Spirits were manifested, tambourines flew, ectoplasm impossibly erupted from entranced mediums. Then, after forty years of this, rather embarrassed by what they’d started, one of the sisters, Margaret Fox, confessed that they were frauds. The miracles which had started it all off had been a scam. But her confession made very little difference and spiritualism continues to appeal to many people today.”
(“Derren Brown: Séance,” Derren Brown (2004))

‘Chat with the dead’ séances popularized by the Fox sisters are still endemic in American culture. So are religious beliefs and practices they inspired.

Their contribution to my country’s story began with a prank in 1848, when the two younger Fox sisters were living in Wayne County, New York. Kate and Maggie convinced their mother and older sister Leah that they’d made contact with a spirit.

Friends of the Fox family, enthusiastic Quakers, believed the girls: and helped launch spiritualism. Leah took charge as their manager and the girls grew up, enjoying considerable success as mediums. Until their story started unraveling.

Kate and Maggie developed serious drinking problems, denounced spiritualism, and eventually died.1

I suppose a melodrama could be based on their lives. Whether their fictional personas would be victims or villains would depend on an author’s viewpoint.

Either way, I’m pretty sure the Fox sisters faked their séances. Many years later, apparently after a change of heart, Maggie explained how they created their first illusion:

“When we went to bed at night we used to tie an apple to a string and move the string up and down, causing the apple to bump on the floor…. Mother listened to this for a time. She would not understand it and did not suspect us as being capable of a trick because we were so young.”
(Maggie Fox, quoted in New York World (October 21, 1888) (via Wikipedia)

Kate had been 12 and Maggie 15 when they did their ‘apple on a string’ trick. That’s ‘old enough to know better.’ But I suspect we’re looking at an adolescent prank that got seriously out of hand.

I’m quite the Fox sisters knew their spirit rapper was a trick. But I don’t know why they did it. Another question is why their parents and other adults acted as they did.

My guess is that many Americans were looking for an alternative to gloom and predestination. Can’t say that I blame them.2

“…Departing, Leave Behind Us….”

Important as they are in American history, the Fox sisters weren’t the first folks to say they talked with spirits.

We’ve had mediums of one sort or another for upwards of two dozen millennia.3

That’s assuming some of today’s educated guesses about why folks decorated cave walls in Australia and Indonesia are right.

Maybe they are. Or not.

We know that folks left pictures of skulls and bones on cave walls. They painted pigs and dogs, too. And geometric symbols. And hands. Lots and lots of hands.4

Some of the markings were and are hard to reach. The folks who made them almost certainly thought their work was important. We’re not looking at prehistoric doodles.

What we don’t know is why they left those images and symbols.

I think there’s a lesson in what we’ve learned about hieroglyphs and Alcheringa.

Egyptian Hieroglyphs

Egyptian writing from around the 31st to 6th centuries BC used pictures of birds, animals, and objects. Hieroglyphs endured long after folks living in the area forgot their meaning.

Assuming that hieroglyphs were ideograms or pictograms, like today’s “telephone” and “baggage claim” symbols, made sense. Seeing them as ideograms also suggested that ancient Egyptians were very interested in birds, feathers and insects.

In 1799, Napoleon’s troops found a stone tablet, about the size of a movie poster, with hieroglyphic, demotic, and Greek marks on one side. Thomas Young and Jean-François Champollion’s analysis of the Rosetta Stone let scholars start reading hieroglyphs.

Hieroglyphs, it turns out, can be ideograms, phonograms or logograms: depending on context. Ancient Egyptians hadn’t been obsessed by birds, feathers, bugs and more birds.

We’re not sure how, or if, Egyptian hieroglyphs relate to the Greek, Latin and other alphabets we use. But at least now we can read what ancient Egyptians wrote.

Perceptions and Knowledge

We can make educated guesses about why folks left pictures and designs on cave walls in Indonesia, Australia and elsewhere.

But without something like a Rosetta Stone, I strongly suspect we can’t be sure what they meant to their creators.

Even then, we’d have to first understand the artists and their culture. Sometimes that takes time. And rethinking our own perceptions and attitudes.

Baldwin Spencer Gillen learned about the Alcheringa from folks who apparently had tried explaining what we call “the dream times” or “dreamtime” to a foreigner. With very limited success.

Nearly a century later, European scholars were realizing that Alcheringa isn’t what we think of as “fantasy.” (August 4, 2017)

One more example: a ‘hashtag’ symbol cut into a cave wall.

We can be very nearly certain that Neanderthals made it.

Carving it into the wall took time and effort, so it’s there for some reason.

We don’t know what that reason was.

Researchers have suggested plausible answers. Maybe it was the neanderthal equivalent of a coat of arms or medieval hallmark. Or a “no exit/turn around” sign. Or something completely different. For all I know, it could be a very early tic-tac-toe grid. (May 5, 2017)

We’d know more about the ‘hashtag’ and Indonesian cave paintings if we could interview the folks who made them.

But that isn’t an option.

Or is it?

Scholars and Storytellers

I haven’t read about an archeologist whose research included séances.

That’s odd, considering 19th century fascinations with Egyptology and speculative necromancy.

Or maybe not. I get the impression that many serious scholars in the 19th and 20th centuries were trying to distance themselves from pop spirituality.

Storytellers, happily, needn’t stick to “just the facts.” The adventures of an archaeologist-spiritualist duo could make many a rousing tale.

Something along the lines of “The Ghostbreakers” and “Phantom of Chinatown.” Or “Poltergeist” meets “The Mummy.” Or an Iron Man spinoff: “Raiders of the Lost Arc Reactor.” They don’t make movies like that any more. Not quite. And that’s another topic.

Remembering Endor

Endor was an important Canaanite city around the time Seti I was restoring order and stability in Egypt.

The last I heard, we’re still not sure who did what during the religious and social upheavals of Akhenaten’s reign. And that’s yet another topic.

We’re pretty sure Endor was in the Jezreel Valley. The city’s exact location got lost somewhere during the last three millennia.

That’s not surprising. Endor isn’t there any more. Considering what happened during and after the Late Bronze Age Collapse, it’s a wonder we know as much about the city as we do. (May 12, 2018; May 26, 2017)

Folks in my branch of Western civilization probably recognize Endor mainly as the home of a medium. We don’t know her name.

She’s “a woman in Endor” in my Bible’s translation of 1 Samuel 28:3–25. Most English-speaking folks probably think of her as the “witch of Endor:” a more colorful, if less accurate, title.

Whether she’s called a medium, witch, necromancer or ’êšeṯ ba‘ălaṯ-’ōḇ bə-‘Êndōr, consulting ghosts and spirits is a bad idea. (Leviticus 19:31, 20:6, 20:27; Deuteronomy 18:10–11; Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2116)

For one thing, there’s little or no guarantee that you’ve reached the intended person. Not all spiritual beings are ‘good guys.’ (Catechism, 329–330, 391–395, 414)

Noticing that something is a bad idea is one thing. Believing that someone who acts badly is a bad person — is another bad idea. (Catechism, 1776–1794, 1861)

That’s one reason I don’t fling epithets at spiritualists. Or materialists.

I’m sure that Western materialism and America’s Spiritualism — Spiritualist religious beliefs, not the philosophical position — don’t accurately reflect reality.

That doesn’t keep me from accepting that folks can sincerely believe materialist or Spiritualist ideas.

Folks who knowingly fool Spiritualists with fake séances are another matter.

Deliberately presenting something that’s not real as truth is yet another bad idea. (Catechism, 2476, 2482–2484)

But I don’t see a point in going ballistic over fake mediums and wannabe prophets. Or emulating Marlowe’s fictional Faustus:

1 Celebrities and sensations of yesteryear:

2 Free will, God and Holy Willie; my view:

3 Mediums, fortunetelling and all that:

4 Art, artists and understanding:

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Progress and Vagueness

Posted on May 23, 2018 by Brian H. Gill

First, the good news. I’ve made some progress today.

The not-so-good news is that today’s progress amounts to 30 words that I probably won’t delete before evening.

On the other hand, I expect I’ll have more words finished at day’s end than I started with. That’s better than some days. But not as good as some others.

If that all sounds rather vague, I’m not surprised. I’ve been feeling rather vague today. Maybe the weather has something to do with that.

It’s a gray, overcast drizzly sort of day. Ideal for not going outside and working on a sunburn. And with that profound thought, I present links to vaguely-related posts:

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Homer, Hegel, History and Hope

Posted on May 12, 2018 by Brian H. Gill

Folks who saw virtue in unquestioning devotion to established values didn’t like the 1960s. No institution, custom or belief seemed safe from scrutiny.

Even the idea of progress — a cherished heirloom from the Age of Enlightenment — was challenged, disputed, and ultimately rejected.

Visions of a technotopia, where our greatest challenge was deciding how to spend our leisure time, were fading.

Hopes for nuclear power’s abundant clean energy were giving way to fears of an atomic holocaust and reactor meltdowns. Assuming that pollution didn’t kill us first. (July 28, 2017; February 17, 2017)

Perhaps even more disturbing for social Luddites, the nation’s youth seemed ill-suited for their assigned role as torchbearers for liberty, conformity and suburban living.

Earnest articles and op-eds warned that television was rotting the minds of America’s youth. And popular music was subverting values which so many held dear:

“…Creature comfort goals
They only numb my soul
And make it hard for me to see….”
(“Pleasant Valley Sunday” The Monkees (1967))

“…If the mind is baffled
When the rules don’t fit the game,
Who will answer?…”
(“Who Will Answer?” Ed Ames (1967))

“…Go ahead and hate your neighbour
Go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of heaven
You can justify it in the end….”
(“One Tin Soldier” Dennis Lambert, Brian Potter (1969))

Some felt it was the end of civilization as they knew it. I think they were right.1

America has changed. So has the world. I think some changes were improvements. Some aren’t turning out as well as I’d hoped. And many are simply change: which happens, whether we like it or not.

I’m cautiously optimistic about our future, partly because I know a bit about our past.

The Walls of Troy

That’s part of Troy VII’s acropolis: what’s left of it after the Trojan War and Late Bronze Age collapse.

Until around the 19th century, most folks thought the Trojan War had happened pretty much the way Homer described it in the Iliad: the non-mythic parts at any rate.

Then some European scholars took what they’d been learning about ancient history, and compared that to Homer’s account. Parts, at least, didn’t match what they expected. Either their educated guesses were wrong, or Homer’s epic poem was basically fictional.

Quite a few decided that they knew more about history than some ancient chap. Some also figured the Iliad, fictional or not, was composed by some other poet.

Academic one-upmanship — it’s a real word — followed. A humorist’s opinion probably made as much sense as many: Homer didn’t compose the Iliad. It was some other Greek in Homer’s day — whose name was Homer.

There’s still considerable debate about how much of the Iliad is strictly factual. Even Thucydides figured Homer had stretched the facts a bit, and that’s another topic.

I think poets of ancient Greece were a bit like today’s screenwriters: more interested in drama and spectacle than accountant-like precision.

Professional scholars weren’t the only folks who wondered if Troy really existed: and if it did, where we might find “the lofty gates of Troy.”

Frank Calvert, an Englishman born in Malta, learned about Hisarlik, a hill in what’s now northwestern Turkey that might conceal Troy’s ruins.

Frank and his brother Frederick bought a farm that included part of the hill. They uncovered part of what Frank thought was Troy.

A German archeologist, Heinrich Schliemann, met Calvert and thought the Englishman was right. Schliemann dug into the hill and uncovered what had been a city. More exactly, he excavated Trojan ruins from at least two periods.

Schliemann had also, regrettably, obliterated what we are pretty sure had been significant parts of the city. Archeologists are much more careful these days. As I keep saying, we do learn. Eventually.

It’s still not unanimous, but these days most academics think Troy was real and Hisarlik is where the city used to be.2

The Trojan War was real, too, and almost certainly part of the Late Bronze Age Collapse. We haven’t had a catastrophe quite like it since. (November 3, 2017)

“Nothing Stands Still”

Descendants of folks who survived the Collapse eventually returned and lived where Troy had been.

But the city never fully recovered. Partly, I think, because the river which flowed past Troy kept carrying water and sediment to the sea.

The site’s a few miles inland now. Troy’s natural harbor long since filled in and became farmland.

The Hellespont is still part of an important trade route, but today’s major east-west crossing point is Istanbul. Another three millennia or so, and some other place may be the region’s major metropolis. It’s like the fellow said:

“πάντα χωρεῖ καὶ οὐδὲν μένει”
“Everything changes and nothing stands still.”
(Heraclitus, As quoted by Plato in “Cratylus”)

Learning From the Past: Or Not

Our cultures and tech change. So do our jobs, roles we play in society. But human nature doesn’t change. Not that I can see. Whether that’s hopeful or not may depend on attitude:

“Perhaps the cause of our contemporary pessimism is our tendency to view history as a turbulent stream of conflicts — between individuals in economic life, between groups in politics, between creeds in religion, between states in war. … History has been too often a picture of the bloody stream. The history of civilization is a record of what happened on the banks.”
(Will Durant, As quoted in “The Gentle Philosopher” (2006) by John Little at Will Durant Foundation)

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
(“The Life of Reason: The Phases of Human Progress,” George Santayana (1905-1906))

“What experience and history teach is this — that nations and governments have never learned anything from history, or acted upon any lessons they might have drawn from it.”
(“Lectures on the Philosophy of History,” Georg Hegel (ca. 1830s) Introduction, as translated by H. B. Nisbet (1975))

The Durant and Santayana quotes are closer to what I think than Hegel’s. I am quite sure that we’re not doomed to ignorance and futility.

But I can appreciate Hegel’s viewpoint.

The Enlightenment was in progress when Hegel was growing up. Enlightenment ideals, valuing liberty and reason, offered hope for a better future. (November 6, 2016)

As an adult, Hegel saw the French Revolution’s bright promise of Enlightened and rational government produce the Cult of Reason and mass executions.

Napoleon sorted that mess out. He had been a military commander for the Revolutionary government before having himself elected Emperor of the French.

Meanwhile, Europe’s other leaders continued having their subjects slaughter each other in a seemingly-endless succession of turf wars. Napoleon followed suit, which brings me back to Hegel. He saw Napoleon just before the Battle of Jena-Auerstedt.

Hegel was a 30-something university professor at the time. Napoleon won, adding the Kingdom of Prussia to the French Empire.

Hegel’s brother joined Napoleon’s army and was killed a half-dozen years later, when Napoleon learned why invading Russia is a bad idea.

German states joined other countries for the War of the Sixth Coalition. Or War of Liberation, depending on who’s telling the story.

Hegel published the second volume of “Wissenschaft der Logik,” “Science of Logic” around that time.

The War of the Sixth Coalition ended in 1814. Napoleon was exiled to Elba, ushering in an era of peace — which lasted until the War of the Seventh Coalition in 1815.

Several wars, epidemics and a cholera pandemic later, Hegel was living in Berlin. He got sick and died. Doctors said it was cholera, possibly because the disease had reached Berlin by that time.

A lifetime immersed in Europe’s turf wars, epidemics and politics might leave anyone a trifle less than optimistic about humanity’s capacity for learning from mistakes.

“…The Future, Far as Human Eye Could See….”

“…For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,
Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be…
“…Till the war-drum throbbed no longer, and the battle-flags were furl’d
In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world….”
(“Locksley Hall,” Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1835))

I’m not sure why I think Tennyson’s imagined “Federation of the world” isn’t entirely a poetic pipe dream.

I’ve known folks around my age, with similar backgrounds, and some who aren’t, who apparently feel that government leaders don’t learn, or can’t. Others see climate change, genetically modified organisms, vaccines or the Internet as a dire threat.

There’s probably considerable overlap among those groups.

I think folks who fear that it’s the end of civilization as we know it — are right.

But unlike many, I think that’s a good thing. Partly because I think we may finally have seen the end of Western civilization’s empire-collapse-rebuild cycle. (April 15, 2018; February 5, 2017; July 24, 2016)

And partly because I think God didn’t botch humanity’s design. (July 23, 2017)

“We Should Work Together”

We’re made “in the image of God,” matter and spirit, body and soul. Each of us is a person, made from the stuff of this world and filled with God’s’ ‘breath.’ (Genesis 1:26–27, 2:7; Catechism of the Catholic Church, 355, 357, 362-368)

God gave us dominion over this world, and let us decide how we’ll act. The first of us made a really bad decision. We’ve been dealing with its consequences ever since. The mess we’re in isn’t God’s fault. (Genesis 1:26; Catechism, 390, 396-401)

Our circumstances have changed, but not our nature. We still have “dominion” — and the responsibilities that go with it. (January 21, 2018; August 20, 2017)

What we decide to do is still up to us. We all have free will. We can decide that loving our neighbor, and seeing everyone as a neighbor, makes sense. (Matthew 5:43–44, 22:36–40; Mark 12:28–31; Luke 6:31 10:25–27, 29–37; Catechism, 1704, 1730, 1789)

That’s not easy for me. But easy or not, I think it’s a good idea. So is passing along what we’ve learned, and some of our goals.

“…In this sense the future belongs to you young people, just as it once belonged to the generation of those who are now adults…. …To you belongs responsibility for what will one day become reality together with yourselves, but which still lies in the future….”
(“Dilecti Amici,” St. John Paul II (March 21, 1985))

“…The answer to the fear which darkens human existence at the end of the twentieth century is the common effort to build the civilization of love, founded on the universal values of peace, solidarity, justice, and liberty….”
(“To the United Nations Organization,” St. John Paul II (October 5, 1995))

Building a close approximation of St. John Paul II’s “civilization of love” will take many generations of hard work, and willingness to remember that truth and love matter.

“…For our part, the desire for such dialogue, which can lead to truth through love alone, excludes no one, though an appropriate measure of prudence must undoubtedly be exercised. We include those who cultivate outstanding qualities of the human spirit, but do not yet acknowledge the Source of these qualities. We include those who oppress the Church and harass her in manifold ways. Since God the Father is the origin and purpose of all men, we are all called to be brothers. Therefore, if we have been summoned to the same destiny, human and divine, we can and we should work together without violence and deceit in order to build up the world in genuine peace.…”
(“Gaudium et spes,” Second Vatican Council, Bl. Paul VI (December 7, 1965) [emphasis mine])

Working together to build a better world.

It won’t be easy, but I think it’ll be worth the effort:

1 Change happens, so does how we see it:

2 Troy, Homer, and all that:

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May 5, 2018: Pre-Brillig Writing Progress

Posted on May 5, 2018 by Brian H. Gill

My first serious try at writing a book started several years back, if you count thinking about how I’d do it and learning about ‘book length’ style and format conventions.

Actual writing, entering and saving words, started about a month ago. (April 3, 2018)

I wrote well over a thousand words during one day: re-read it the next, and started over. My progress, such as it, has been like that ever since.

I’ll get a few hundred words written one day and re-write that down to nearly nothing the next. Some days I leave rewriting, if any, until anther time.

Other days I delete more than I write. For me, that’s progress. I could worry that I’m not following some famous or respected author’s method. But that doesn’t make sense to me.

Some of the best ‘how to’ advice I’ve seen was from a published author who described the usual ‘organize your time/information/desk/whatever’ stuff.

He said folks should try whatever seems reasonable to see if it works. And that the ‘right’ way to write is the one that works for a particular author.

That make sense. To me, anyway.

Yesterday I ended the day’s writing with a bit over two dozen more words saved than when I’d started. That’s good news.

So, in a very different way, is an ongoing visit from #2 daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter. I’ll be enjoying their being here again today, and don’t expect to get much writing done until after brillig. If then.

I therefore will stop writing, post this, share the following excerpt and inevitable links to more of this blog — and enjoy the visit.

“…’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.”
(Jabberwocky,” Lewis Carroll (1871) via Wikipedia)

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