X-Men may have been the most excrutiatingly-awful long-running show of my childhood. This particular clip has been a running joke since it first aired in 1992. I felt compelled to share it.
The devil is *fine*.
Lately, I’ve been watching a lot of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It comes on at one in the morning in WGN, and they happen to presently be airing the absolute peak of the shows quality, season four. I am consistently amazed at the depth of the storytelling in a way I never was before; in the past, I got far too caught up in my love for everything good about Deep Space Nine that I tended to write off The Next Generation for being episodic alien-planet-of-the-week sort of stuff, with cranky special effects and a ship that amounted to a luxury hotel in space. I’m still not a fan of the fact they they stage plays on the ship, but let’s move past that.
As I said, they’ve been showing season four, which happens to include some absolutely amazing episodes, from “The Best of Both Worlds, part 2,” to “The Loss,” in which Deanna Troi loses her empathic abilities, to “The Wounded,” in which a rogue starship captain is causing a bunch of havoc in Cardassian space (featuring the first appearance of the Cardassians and of Marc Alaimo) to “Devil’s Due,” which aired last night. “Devil’s Due” is yet another entry into Trek’s ambiguous relationship with religion.
It’s in a long tradition of Trek dethroning false gods. From Vaal in “The Apple” to, um, God in The Final Frontier and again and again and again, this is a franchise that has long loved to cast down myths and make the universe a safer, if less mysterious and more boring, place. I’m being overly critical, of course, but the recurrant theme is that people are capable of making their own paradise without the need for gods, at least false ones. This episode deals with that quite explicitly.
According to Ventaxian lore, a thousand years ago, while the planet was in the midst of ecological disaster and war that threatened to destroy them all, a devil figured named Ardra arrived, and promised to provide the planet with a thousand years of peace and prosperity, at the end of which the planet and all its inhabitants would be given over to her. Lo and behold, a thousand years pass, and Ardra arrives, with all the great powers she was purported to have (nothing, of course, that the Enterprise wasn’t capable of), and claimed her planet. But of course, it wasn’t really her, and after an episode’s worth of tormenting Picard and the planet, she’s revealed to be a con artist, but the real tour de force is Picard’s demonstration that Ardra, even if this really was her, hadn’t accomplished anything; the Ventaxians had made their paradise themselves.
It’s an article of faith in the Trek universe that our unmitigated potential is immense, if only we would claim it for ourselves, and as much as I love these shows, I can’t help but disagree. In the solely-material world of The Next Generation, even folks of terrifying and godlike power like Q are to be resisted decried, fought and simply dismissed. What gods there are – from Q to Trelane to Flint — are mercurial at best. Instead, consistently, purely human potential is glorified, even when its a madman like Khan, who is treated with a bizarre admiration for the entirety of “Space Seed.”
This is, of course, at odds with the Gospel, with Catholicism — while we do believe that mankind is capable of great things, we predicate that greatness on the loss of self and submission to God, who raises us up, and not on our own efforts at greatness, which, we have seen countless times, and inevitably doomed to crash and burn. Pride goeth before the fall, and all that. Star Trek presumes, though, that material progress will eventually be matched by spiritual progress, that mankind will eventually figure out what to do with the horrifying things we’re capable of. It’s the only explanation I can think of as to how the people of the twenty-forth century aren’t entirely fixated on the holodeck. And yet, how little evidence we really see for that in the show!
No, instead, we have the same weak, fallible people. They haven’t grown. The fight and falter and stumble and trip, face addiction and corurption, fight wars, grow paranoid (Ben Maxwell, “The Wounded”) and harbor grudges and nurse hatreds. They’re us, just us, and we’re supposed to presume they’ve overcome their spiritual decay? No, they haven’t overcome a thing. In fact, all the evidence suggests that what Star Trek shows us is a military, fascist dictatorship. There’s no religion. There’s no economy. As one article I read so appropriately put it, “if daily life is not concerned with familiar economic activities and the whole of life is not informed with religious purposes, then what is life all about in Star Trek?”
Ronald D. Moore, one of the brains behind Deep Space Nine and the genius behind Battlestar Galactica, was consistently stymied by this; why, he wanted to know, is everyone obsessed with Starfleet? Why does everyone just say “there’s nothing I want more than to put on the uniform and explore the galaxy”? So he tried to write characters for whom this wasn’t true. He gave us journalist and writer Jake Sisko, and was the driving force behind Wesley’s eventual abandonment of his Starfleet path. And yet, the question presents itself; there’s no economic life, there’s no spiritual life; the only human accomplishments left are either learning Tae Kwan Do at the adult learning annex or joining the military. In the military, there’s meaning. In the military, there’s purpose. There’s direction. There’s moral force.
And so, Starfleet is everywhere. They’re on the Federation council. They have their own commander-in-chief. We’ve even seen them stage a coup. It’s the only thing that commands any kind of loyalty; it even has a spiritual force to it. Picard reminds us in “The First Duty” that “the first duty of a Starfleet officer is to the truth, be it scientific truth, historical truth, or personal truth,” and that if that cannot be accepted, one does not deserve to wear the uniform of the Fleet. Indeed, we find again and again that within the confines of the military establishment, there is endless search for personal meaning, from Data to Worf to Troi to Bashir and again and again and again and again. It seems that the only place in the future you can find meaning in yourself is in the last form of public service out there.
Star Trek is all about casting down false gods, except the biggest of them all: Starfleet itself.
Three days ago, the United States of America celebrated it’s two-hundred and thirty-third anniversary. It was celebrated in the conventional way; there were parades and fireworks, cookouts and family gatherings. Those who live close enough to their families joined together to honor liberties we possess here, the way of life we’ve forged. We remembered, to some extent anyway, our shared history, shared heritage, shared problems, and shared future. It was essentially day in which the United States, all fifty of them, renewed the bonds of community and union between themselves, waved the flag, and recalled that we’re all in this together.
I did not post that day.
It’s no secret that I have…difficulty with patriotism, at least patriotism here in the United States. I’m certainly not immune to it, inured to its effects, but it does warrant a great welling of skepticism and discomfort. It’s never been anything I’ve felt with particular force, but rather have brought a great deal of aplomb to the entire thing, enduring it where and when I must, but otherwise not giving it a great amount of thought. I am American, for whatever that’s worth; I always have been, and to spend much time reflecting on that never made much sense to me, at least until those years after September 11, 2001 brought patriotism to a strange and dangerous place.
As far as I could tell, patriotism assumed a decidedly virulent form, whereupon it became closely associated with political policies and support for the Administration. It assumed a robust military action, a belief in America’s natural supremacy, and a demand that we “support our troops,” the meaningless compromise that became the obligatory opening to any criticism of the war in Iraq. “Now, of course, I support the troops, but…” Patriotism became a set of particular political beliefs, a series of policy positions, a whole ethic, instead of what it is and truly should be: the love of country as the loyalty due family. This is, of course, nothing new, but it was strange to witness it, once I stepped back enough that I was even capable of witnessing it. This goes back right to the founding, to the very fact that the United States was formed to adhere to specific principles and ideals; from the very beginning, the love of the country has been caught up with the love of republicanism, if not democracy.
But if this is required, then it isn’t really freedom we’re letting ring, is it?
The basic rights of man are ancient; they were established by God and are found in our very nature, before the Constitution was written, before the United States even existed, and at the very pinnacle, the very crown of which is the freedom of conscience. That is, in the end, my freedom and your freedom to disagree about, well, anything, really. It’s my freedom to say “God Damn America” and “Screw the Troops” if I so please, although I’m probably not going to so. It’s my freedom and your freedom to love each other and ignore the government. See, that’s the thing; our natural rights weren’t superseded by our civil rights, like social contract theory asserts; instead, they’re supposed to form the foundation of civil rights, which should codify and limit the power of the state to exercise force over them by giving them concrete form and expression.
So. As John Adams put it, at least in the miniseries, “That is liberty, and liberty will reign in America.”
I’ve been trying to put together a coherent post regarding natural vs. civil rights, but so far, it’s turning into a long, incoherent, rambling monologue. I’m quite disappointed; I suppose my thoughts on the matter were not as clear as I’d hope. I will have to approach it again after a break. Till then, courage.
So I’ve been spending time on a website called Omegle. Omegle is a strange little website, crafted as it as to invite anonymous conversation between two randomly selected partners. This chaos is beautiful in its execution — it’s the thrill of the gamble. You go to the website, make your connection, and you could find yourself speaking with anybody about anything. Much like a slot machine, you lose most of the time. You get trolls prowling for cyber-sex and probably the occasional pedophile. But you can dismiss them easily enough, disconnect from the chat at any time, and try again. And when you win, oh, you win. I’ve found myself in wonderful conversations. I’ve discussed the theology the body as it relates to masturbation with a young man who had asked if I had any porn I wanted to share. I’ve found myself relating over linguistics. I’ve chatted music with a teenager from Germany with pristine English, and religion with a recent college grad who I found quite delightful.
In fact, it was her who pointed me, as we discussed dance, to a fairly old article at Catholicity, called “Tango and the Theology of the Body.” I don’t have appreciably more to add, but I certainly felt the need to share it. So h/t to Danielle for pointing it out to me.
To the observer, following looks like a passive activity. Nothing could be further from the truth. As a follower, I must be ready to go in any direction at any time. My partner might ask me to pivot, step across myself and execute ochos (figure eights), or pause while he crafts figures on the floor by himself like an ice-skater. While the possibilities are endless, the dynamic is always the same: The man invites, the woman responds, and the man receives the woman’s response.
This is exactly how God relates to us. He never forces us to do anything. He constantly invites us to take the next step in Him. The problem is that most of us have very little experience following. We don’t know how to wait. We don’t know how to be sensitive to His lead. We don’t know how to remain in the present rather than yearning for the past or racing to the future. Tango teaches all these skills on a very concrete level, skills that transfer wonderfully into our relationship with Christ.
There’s another reason tango has been good for my Catholic faith, and it has to do with Pope John Paul II’s theology of the body. The pope’s fundamental premise is that the body reveals God. When we look at male and female, the very structure of the body tells us that it’s made for union. Male and male aren’t made for nuptial union. Female and female aren’t made for nuptial union. Only male and female are made for nuptial union.
In Iran, the authorities control the streets. Is it really over?
I’m dismayed at the effectiveness of the state to quash the demonstrators, but quash them they have done. Gatherings are more or less impossible, and Mousavi has been effectively silenced. As much as I will regret the end of this ill-starred Green Revolution, I think it speaks wonders for the people of Iran: there is a limit to what they will put up with, but they are at this point not yet angry enough to engage in a violent uprising. And so, having made themselves known, they’re going to sit back and let this farce run its course. They have few options; while they could continue to demonstrate, they risk further destructive violence at the hands of the state, and nobody has a moral obligation to risk their lives. But they’ve shown their teeth, even if they haven’t lashed out, and the Islamic Republic needs to be very much aware now that they’ve got a viper in that basket of theirs.
Let’s take some time to remember them in prayer.
Lord, be merciful to Iran. Let them know that man was made to be free, and that tyranny is the enemy of public good. Teach the, Holy One, your mysteries, the worth and dignity of human life, through which oppression is impossible, for it is impossible to keep man from being free. Lord, enliven their consciences with hope and charity, and move in their hearts that they may have the courage to do as they should.
Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison.
My good friend MaryEllen went to Brazil for a month as part of a university study-abroad program. She’s been learning Portuguese, having actuall lived in Portugal for a year, and decided to take advantage of this great opportunity. By all accounts it was a great trip, if a little harried sometimes, and she seemed to dig it.
She’s also a really good amateur photographer, with a fantastic eye and a great sense for composition. She took some fantastic pictures while she was down in South America, and has graciously allowed me to share a few of them. I call these a “visual catechism” based on a proposed project we’ve been discussing; go ahead and take a look! You’ll see what I mean.
I spent a good chunk of last night redesigning the Saint Superman banner. This is one of nine or ten draft designs. What do you guys think?
I spent further time in the library today pouring over writings from Christine de Pizan, in this case Le Livre des Trois Vertus and some criticism of her La Cite des Dames. The simple act of research is draining as hell, and I consequently haven’t been going over bloggable material today. I’m only just now checking the news, and, whoa, surprise surprise, it’s all about Michael Jackson. But then, I suppose Pope Benedict could have died and MJ would be dominating the coverage. There’s little talk about continuing events in Iran — but what is there is hopeful – or even the recent coup in Honduras.
Speaking of which, a missionary in Honduras has written about her experience of the events, notable in her lack of a dog in this fight. She is emminently non-partisan.
After watching the international news last night, I’d like to clear up a few things concerning the recent political upheaval in Honduras. The coverage these events are getting on the international level is horribly unbalanced! For those of you who don’t have time to read a long explanation, here are the basics:
Every international news outlet, following CNN’s lead, is speaking out in favor of Mel Zelaya, saying the Honduran government has executed an illegal coup, and Zelaya should be re-instated. All of these outlets seem to have forgotten that Zelaya broke the law by defying both the Honduran National Congress and the Supreme Court, and that he planned to throw out the constitution in favor of a new socialist manifesto (which he planned to draft, I’m sure, with the help of his good friend Hugo Chavez).
Every national (Honduran) news outlet has swung to the opposite extreme, saying that there has been no coup d’état, and everything that’s happened in the past 48 hours is “completely constitutional.” It’s true that Roberto Micheletti, as president of the National Congress, would succeed the president if, for some reason, the president couldn’t fulfill his duties – but how justified were the Honduran armed forces in using force to oust the president and effectively drop-kick him to Costa Rica? Why didn’t they recognize that they were giving Zelaya a golden opportunity to form a dangerous alliance with Chavez and every other socialist leader in Latin America?
Give her a read. It’s good need-to-know sort of stuff, and deserves more attention than Michael Jackson’s will.
My old roommate Steph, and most of her immediate family, may have contracted swine flu. Apparently, someone at her little sister’s ROTC camp came down with it, and spread it to her, who then spread it to the rest of the family. They’re getting checked out now, but Steph’s sisters are all having a lot of trouble breathing, and are, if nothing else, very sick, even if it’s not swine flu. Keep them in your prayers. I know I will.
UPDATE: It’s not swine flu.
I haven’t posted any Superman-related material in a while, and came across this on YouTube. It’s the trailer for the original 1948 Superman serial, and I have to say, I’m quite impressed with what they pulled off. I love the classic Buck Rogers-style villain they gave him, too.
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