Desolation and Creation Speech

Speech for sale! Are you interested in a talk about spiritual problems and their connection to creativity? I would be delighted to talk to your church, college, high school, arts group, homeschool group, etc.  It is a speech I gave last night at Baptist Bible College in Clarks Summit, PA, entitled "Desolation and Creation." It was a much expanded version of this article I wrote for Comment. 

Here is an audio/screencast recording of the speech as I presented it last night. I could do it again just like that, or I could make it a more lively interactive presentation with live performances/readings, or I could present just part of that long talk, or I could provide a closer literary analysis of a few pieces. Contact me if you want to discuss this! 

 

Here is a summary of the material I covered: 

Many shadows lurk in the corners of the human mind; there are many valleys of darkness the soul may stumble through. These bleak phases have haunted human beings for at least as long as they have known how to record their thoughts.The wild varieties of desolation, depression, and despair have frequently haunted artists. Yet, for as often as artists have lain silent and exhausted through long periods, stifled under the weight of darkness, as often have others turned their pens or brushes against the shadows, describing the grief, capturing the elusive twilight, or setting the night raging through their works. What makes the difference? When both are plunged into a dark night of the soul, what shuts the mouth of one and sets free the songs of the other?

I do not know.

But here are some stories of people who overcame the darkness or at least captured it in their works.

TAXONOMY: catagorizing kinds of darkness. Discussion of the DSM, the manual for diagnosing and labeling mental and social illnesses. Confusion between “spiritual desolation and creativity” vs. “mental illness and creativity.” Artists and mental illness. Kinds of spiritual darkness.

I. MELANCHOLY

II. ACEDIA

III. DOUBT 

IV. Charles Williams and THE SCHISM

V. DESPAIR (Franz Liszt's “Czardas macabre”)

VI. DESOLATION

VII. THE DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

The “God gene” and the doubt gene.

Providence and choice, or, How to read the signs.

Darkness from external circumstances

Makoto Fujimura's Zero Summer

Bruce Herman's The Crowning

Nietzsche: “one must still have chaos in oneself, to give birth to a dancing star.”

The Doctor Diaries II.4: "The Girl in the Fireplace"

Hooray for Moffat

I find that I don't have much to say about this episode, even though it was my favorite so far. I want to make one primary observation: What a difference the writer makes!!!! This is the first episode in season two that's by Steven Moffat, and he is galaxies beyond any of the other writers. His work is not always as funny as the others', and it's nearly always more profound. This was a very serious episode, continuing and deepening the heartbreak of the one before. My only gripe is that its plot gets repeated again later (in season five), but because of the cycling nature of the Doctor's adventures anyway, that's probably thematically intentional rather than evidence of any lack of creativity.

Before watching this episode, I was thinking, man, I hope we get an episode without silly aliens one of these days. There are no silly aliens in this one. There are clockwork men made by aliens, but they are more scary than aliens without being ridiculous. Nicely done.

I do have a question for the Doctor, though. When he messes up and arrives at the wrong time, too late or too early (or in the wrong place, for that matter), why doesn't he just go back in the TARDIS and proceed to the right place and time? I dunno. Any thoughts?

The Doctor Diaries II.3: "School Reunion"

Does Pain Last Forever?

In my last entry, I wrote that there is a fine line between an archetype and a cliché. Well, this episode is just one big old string of clichés. There's the "save the children from the evil headmaster" theme. There's the "love triangle," fancied up into a love rectangle, if you know what I mean. There's the "temptation of ultimate power used for ultimate good" idea, with a good bit of "You shall be like gods" tacked on for good measure. . There's the "You really had other women before me?" surprise. There's the "You left me without saying goodbye" heartbreaker. There's the "I'm immortal and will outlive everyone I love" theme, which is a double heartbreaker. And finally, there's the old solution to the Problem of Evil, which is that all of our imperfections, pains, and sufferings really make us who we are; we wouldn't be who we are without the pain of our past.

And in spite of its being such a string of chestnuts, it works. It still tugs at the heartstrings. Well, mine anyway. That's probably because David Tennant is such a good actor, and the other aren't too shabby either.

But it puts me in another theological conundrum. Sorry, when I set out to do "cultural critique" of the series, I didn't mean to get all doctrinal in every entry. I guess that's just the default way my mind works. I'm sure I'll have other ideas as we go along, but here's what I've got for now.

Sarah Jane Smith persuades the Doctor to refuse ultimate power. He is tempted to accept an offer that would allow him to go back in time and prevent the war that killed all of his people, thus saving the lives of his entire species. Sarah Jane stops him by saying, “Pain and loss: they define us as much as happiness of love. Whether it's the world, or a relationship, everything has its time, and everything ends.” This is certainly true in our temporal realm. Our griefs become part of us; our heartbreak blends into the shape of our character. But it is true universally, eternally? The Doctor seemed to think so. He gave in to the inevitability, turned away from the power offered to him, broke Sarah Jane's heart again, and set Rose up for future heartbreak. Again, and again, and again.

If change, pain, loss, endings, and heartbreaks are necessary to being human, how could Heaven be possible? The promise of Heaven is a place without tears. We are never told it is a place without change, so that is one possibility: there, we will develop eternally, changing, growing, blossoming, learning. But we have faith that we will never lose anyone there. That we will never have our hearts broken. That we will never have to say goodbye to so much as a tin dog that we love. Does that mean we will stop being human?

Perhaps not. Here is an idea. Perhaps our pain, grief, and loss will go on into Heaven. They are part of us, and it is we who are redeemed, not some shadow of ourselves. Maybe there will even be some kind of sorrow that is eternally redeemed on through our heavenly existence, in a vital, evolving, real life. There seems to be the tiniest bit of Biblical evidence for that: Christ's scars were visible on His resurrected body. In Revelation He appears as a Lamb “looking like it had been slain.” If even His pain goes on into eternity, I imagine ours will, too. So perhaps Sarah Jane was right. Maybe pain and loss define us as much as happiness and love.

Here's a poem I wrote on this subject ages ago; it appears in my collection Caduceus.

He Descended into Hell

Christ endured through three dark kinds of death:

His body, cold; His spirit, tormented;

His two-fold nature, from the Trinity,

somehow divided, lonely. There, the shade-as-

fire flaming dim unquenched Him; ashed-

thick-air untarnished Him, though plunged in Hades.

For harrowing [I wonder] He alone went

wandering: exquisite pains eternal

wracked Him, packed in one three-day atonement

through His Father’s solitude infernal.

He wears His wounds forever from that war-

fare, bears His glory in the beauty of His scars.

The Doctor Diaries II.2: "Tooth and Claw"

All-Pervasive Providence

Well, this episode did get my wheels turning! Besides the great speeches by Queen Victoria about wanting to hear from our loved ones who have passed on -- which are worth the price of the show on their own, by the way -- this story is causing me all kinds of mental trouble about two equal and opposite problems I have relating to PROVIDENCE.

Here's the situation. Without giving too many spoilers, I'll just say that the Doctor discovers that two guys, now dead, foresaw a terrible danger and set up a scenario for escaping from it. In other words, this plot is a retelling of the classic providence-prophecy-fulfillment story. There are many manifestations of this story in myth, legend, folktale, history, theology, fiction, and film throughout time. There is the simple prophecy-messiah version (like in The Matrix) and its inversion, the prophecy-doom story (think of Oedipus Rex). But then there is the more complex version, in which a person of high intellect, spiritual sensitivity, or both foresees a future situation and sets it up by his own actions, either to bring it about (if it is a great good) or to prevent it (if it is a great evil).

The Harry Potter series is an example: Dumbledore, it turns out at the end, foresaw everything and set it up by playing Harry, Snape, and others as his pawns. He even had to violate their personhood in various awful ways to bring about the eucatastrophic ending, taking advantage of their loves, their hates, their strengths, and their weaknesses to deploy them according to his grand plan.

Sherlock Holmes is another example, although his visions are usually retrospective: he sees what has happened, rather than what will happen -- but this frequently (not frequently enough) enables him to see what will happen next so that he can (sometimes) prevent a further crime or (nearly always) catch the crook. The Robert Downey Jr. films, while they were travesties of the Holmes character in just about every way, did play up the foresight aspect of Holmes's abilities: in the movies, Holmes would foresee a series of events in slow motion, then enact them at normal pace. This was, however, pretty much always just a nasty fight, rather than a mental game of chess.

Then there is the quintessential example in recent literature: A Prayer for Owen Meaney by John Irving. This strange, creepy, sprawling novel turns out in the end not to be sprawling after all: every last little detail was driving towards one end, one day, one event. Owen Meaney was a prophet who knew the date of the day he would day and knew the skills he would need to perform his last heroic deed on that day. So every experience, every piece of knowledge, every conversation, even, went towards making that day what he knew it had to be. He was the voice of God, telling everyone who knew him (and everyone who reads the book) that God exists and that God plans every last little detail of our lives for a Purpose.

But I don't think Owen Meaney was really about that, not really. I don't think it teaches a theological message so much as an aesthetic one. I think Owen Meaney is not about the power of God, but about the power of the Novelist. Within the story, we are led to believe that God told Owen Meaney everything he needed to know, and that God set up each event, all to prepare for the final scene. Yet it wasn't really God who did all that -- it was John Irving. So the book was really "about," in my analysis, how the novelist chooses each event carefully, crafts each conversation, and structures the relationships among plot elements to lead to the conclusion.

This is the same with Tooth and Claw: it wasn't the two dead characters (Sir Robert MacLeish's father, and Prince Albert) who figured out what would happen in the future and then crafted each detail to set up the events of that fateful full-mooned night: it was screenwriter Russell T. Davies. So again, this is not a TV show about God's providence or about humanity's great foresight: it's about the art of writing.

....which leads me to my two theological problems.


I. I have a really hard time believing in the seriousness of Providence when it is depicted in fiction, and yet I ['m supposed to] believe it in real life. I have a hard time believing in anything, from the fact that I exist to the fact that Philip Petit walked a tighrope between the Twin Towers to the fact that God exists. So it's no wonder I have a hard time believing in Providence in fiction, never mind for real. When I encounter a Dumbledore or an Owen Meaney, I'm awfully skeptical. I tend to think it's cheesy. I tend to think that "nature red in tooth and claw" makes for more gritty, manly, serious Art.

(That's the second time I've come across Tennyson's "In Memorium A.H.H" today--coincidence? or Providence?)

But I'm a Christian, and a "Reformed" Christian at that. I do believe in Providence. And that is my second theological problem.

II. I have a really hard time believing there is anything BUT Providence. I am more Calvinist than Calvin. I just don't see how there can be any such thing as Free Will. I find it impossible to wrap my head around the concept that God c/would make creatures so entirely separate from Himself that they could make decisions contrary to His will. I don't see how little Me can make any decision at all, in a metaphysically meaningful way. He's God. He knows everything; He plans everything. EVERYTHING.

Which means that my theological system makes Him responsible for evil. And that's a big problem. Not that there is any way to solve The Problem of Evil, even with free will. But I certainly have gotten myself into a doctrinal mess. And all that from one little episode of Doctor Who. Look what a well-trained mind can do. Maybe that's why they say ignorance is bliss -- maybe I should go back to just drooling over Benedict Cumberbatch and leave the cultural analysis to Slavoj Žižek.

The Doctor Diaries II.1: "The New Earth"

Fear and Love

This episode is mostly just wildly fun. I mean, who doesn't want to watch David Tennant's body get possessed by a sexy female's psyche? I only wish that scene were 20 minutes long. Do you remember the original Star Trek episode "Turnabout Intruder" in which something much the same happens to Kirk? Anyway, the real fun of those episodes is watching an extremely talented male actor play the part of a woman. Kirk did it mostly by crossing his legs and filing his nails, as I recall, which was pretty amusing. Tennant's brief stint as Cassandra consists primarily of self-observation, with predictably hilarious results.

But anyway, is there anything serious to be said about this episode? I think so. There are two serious themes I want to point out.

The first is one I mentioned in the previous post: bringing our fears to life. This one is packed with things that just get deep into primal fears: disfiguring disease, slow death locked in a tiny cell alone, the zombie-like pursuit of half-humans. Each of these is melodramatic in the show, but is based on a real fear. Disease is a hideous, real enemy. There are diseases that destroy the body; worse are those that destroy the mind. These diseases can reduce their victims to something as terrifying, and terrified, as the "flesh" in this episode. Claustrophobia is a real fear, too, as is the terror of dying alone. Although each of these fears is quickly passed over in favor of action and humor, there are serious moments. Most notable is Cassandra's brief attack of conscience: after she visits the mind of one of the clones, she is stunned by the loneliness and emptiness she felt there: "They have never been touched."

This leads to the other serious theme: the particular twist on The-Battle-of-Good-vs-Evil that The Doctor personifies. His kind of goodness is embodied in his two hearts: he is, in fact, a man of double kindness, double love. Time and time again he is willing to exchange himself to save others. He finds the giving of love and kindness to be exhilarating adventures, thrilling, joyful opportunities. I don't think I will forget the expression of delight on Tennant's face as The Doctor pours medicines into a solution, then invites all the zombies to come bathe in it and be cured. His eyes and smile at that moment are more the rain of love than that magical shower-bath. As the zombies wash their illnesses away, then touch each other with the hiss of healing steam, he just stands rapt by the goodness spreading from himself outward, through the suffering crowd. As they are cured, he goes about hugging and touching them in a beautiful representation of Christ's healing love.

So, in the midst of silly aliens and sci-fi goofiness, I found inspiration and a challenge. Good stuff. 

The Doctor Diaries: II.Xmas

"The Christmas Invasion," since it was a Christmas special, doesn't really count as episode one. It's a full hour of extra pleasure on top of the whole season, before it even begins! And it is packed full of fun. In just one episode--ok, less than one--ok, just one scene--Benedict Cumberbatch had to move over on his throne to share with David Tennant. That man can act! Oh, he plays up me like a pipe: he knows all the stops, he sounds be from the top of my compass to the lowest note. He's a laugh-riot, he's a tear-jerker.

I have found a couple of occasions recently to point out that there is a fine line between an archetype and a cliche. A really great work of art, or a really popular one, taps into those universal archetypes so that the very first time you read or watch it, you feel you've always known it. The minute I met Harry Potter, for instance, I felt I had always known him. He immediately became a permanent member of my mental dramatis personae. The enduring myths work this way: they have a limited cast of familiar characters, and they play the same few themes over and over again in endless variation: always new, always timeless, always familiar.

Doctor Who shamelessly piles archetypes on top of cliches, shakes the whole thing up, then dumps the resulting mixture on our willing heads. One moment there's a blatant piece of plagiarism--such as when the Doctor gets his hand chopped off, a la Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader. Just before that, there was a direct quote (with citation) to The Lion King, of all things. But those pop-culture references are more than just hilarious. They are also meaningful. The Lion King, for instance, is a retelling of Hamlet. Now, in 2005 Tennant had not yet performed his critically-acclaimed Hamlet on either stage or screen, so the Lion King reference and the subsequent sword fight cannot be references (more like prophecies?), but he was already a noted stage actor and had played Romeo at the RSC. So the Star Wars reference taps into timeless archetypes of family antagonism, while the Lion King reference and the sword fight point to Shakespeare's eternal appeal--and showcase Tennant's sword-fighting skills.

I want to comment on another skill of his that Shakespeare's original audience would have particularly admired. Actors in those days were highly praised for being able to pull off sudden, wild changes of emotion. Leontes in Winter's Tale, for instance, goes from loving to murderously jealous in no-seconds flat. Obviously, Tennant is a consummate master of the sudden mood shift. Yet he adds another, deeper layer below the changeability: his Doctor maintains a kind of permanent calm underneath the "wild and whirling words": a self-confidence, a sexual confidence, a sense of power and control. That's a huge part of what we love, I'm sure. My sister Nadine says he has every facial expression known to man, too, which certainly helps!

Two more points and then I'm done for today. Even before I started watching these, I was wondering what it is that gets Americans addicted to British television. I mean, we even went crazy over Downton Abbey, which is--you've got to admit--pretty lousy television. I still don't know, but I just want to point out that Russell T. Davies and the rest know they've got us hooked, so they can even make a cultural joke a serious plot point: the necessity of a cup of tea. "Very British," says Mickey, right before it saves the Doctor's life. Sweet.

Finally, one aspect of Doctor Who that just gets me every time is how the writers know how to tap into what creeps us out the most--killer angel statues, for instance, or in this case, people we love all walking, walking, walking, climbing, standing on edges, lemmings to their doom. Our fears, our horrors, coming to life on screen. And then all being solved by a loving, appealing, darling of a man. Who could resist?

The Doctor Diaries: prologue

I think I might keep a blog diary as I watch my way through David Tennant's career as The Doctor. Why should I do that? Why would anybody want to read that? And why am I so far behind the times?

Well, first of all, a couple of colleges do pay me to talk about my favorite books (although they don't pay me much). And I sometimes review movies (like here and here). And of course any cultural product can be read as if it were a text. Hence, I'm going to "read" Tennant's Doctor Who series like a text. Who knows -- maybe I will have some literary or cultural insights. At the very least, I'll have tons of fun! I don't know if you'll want to read along. I hope you will.

 But wait, next question: why now? Why an eight year old series, instead of what's running this year? Two reasons. One personal, one cultural.

The cultural reason is that 2013 is the Doctor's 50th anniversary, so it's a perfect year to do a bit of a retrospective. I hope everyone is rewatching old seasons in preparation for this year's festivities.

The personal reason is that I was homeschooled, raised in a conservative family, never got to watch television except for a couple episodes of Star Trek at my grandmother's house in the summers, so somehow that got translated into me now being stuck as a permanent teenager. I never had those teenage crushes on movie and tv stars. I never had lots of teenage stages of identity crisis--until my 20s. I started the whole search for my identity in fashion, personality, taste, etc. pretty much in grad school. And now I'm stuck. Weird. I think I'll be a teenager until I'm 80. That's ok; it worked for Queen Elizabeth I.

Elizabeth as a young lady

Elizabeth as a not-so-young lady

 
The result is that now, in my 30s, I'm in love with Benedict Cumberbatch and addicted to tv shows for the first time ever. So, as a homeschooled, English teacher, writer, would-be nerd, I think I might share my thoughts as I watch David Tennant strut his foxy, inter-dimensional stuff.

No promises: I guarantee nothing. Nothing regular, nothing permanent. Who knows: I might post once on this and never again. I have real classes to teach and real books to write. But for now, well, we'll see. I hope you're watching, too, and having fun with the Doctor's 50th year. Please share your Doctor stories with me! Cheers.