Confessions of a Liberal Puritan

Thanks to a link and recommendation from keswindhover, I recently found butterfly's fascinating and intelligent Jan. 4 post on "Martyrs and Heroes", which not only got me (and, judging by the comments, many other people) thinking about questions of self and self-sacrifice in the LotR and BtVS mythologies, but also reminded me of some of the things I'd been thinking about on vacation and had been meaning to write on when I got home.

The following may, or may not, be coherent (they were turning out the lights on me in the library as I was writing the last paragraph -- early closing time due to semester break -- so no time to refine or edit). And it also contains spoilers -- if, that is, there is anyone who has not yet seen "The Return of the King" at least once.

The morning before I went to see "Return of the King" for the second time with my sister (who was just seeing it for the first time), I got into a rather depressing conversation with my brother, about (as he saw it) the total absence of morality or concern for the welfare of others in the dominant culture of the U.S. in the 21st century.

What had set my brother off that particular morning was learning the night before that his (legally-separated, but still very dear to him) wife would lose her government-funded health insurance this Spring and be faced with a choice between buying health insurance for herself and her three dependent children through her teachers' union (which would leave no money leftover from her Teacher's Aid paycheck to pay rent on their apartment) or going without (a terrifying prospect, given her recent health problems).

My brother works a subsistence-level job himself, and so is unable to help pay for health insurance for the wife and step-children he still regards as his family, and I think the shame and frustration of that was very hard for him to bear.

Moreover, his second-oldest step-son -- a very bright and talented young man who had received a partial wrestling scholarship to attend a decent private college, and was home for a visit over Christmas -- had had so much trouble meeting his basic living and tuition expenses during his first semester of college that he was talking about dropping out and joining his older brother in the armed forces, in order to get health insurance and enough money to live on.

All of this may help to explain the vitriol with which my brother began to denounce the "get-rich-by-any-means-and-screw-the-poor-and-powerless-just-because-you-can" ethos of the American government and business community. He concluded that anyone who even half tries to live by Christian values (thanks to his wife, he still attends a Pentecostal church every Sunday, after many years of nominal atheism) can look forward to being "Jesus' punching bag" and getting the crap beat out of him in this life. He acknowledged that this might be preferable to the alternative (seeking to get ahead by any means and thus becoming "the devil's butt-monkey"), but was angry and depressed about the lack of a better choice for himself and his family.

Later that day, as I sat on a plush couch next to my sister (the movie was being shown in one of those "theater-pubs", where the seating more nearly resembles a comfy living room and the concession stand offers a choice of wines and mixed drinks, as well as gourmet snacks and entrees, in addition to the ubiquitous soda pop and popcorn) watching "The Return of the King" unfold on the big screen before us, I couldn't help but think about my brother's words with part of my mind.

And I was struck by the fact that this movie (which is, of course, extremely popular) is all about duty to others and the need to be true to our oaths and callings.

The ruler of Rohan leads his riders down upon that vastly superior army of orcs and nightmares, with no real hope of victory or survival, because that is what loyalty to themselves and others required.

Faramir leads his own version of the 'charge of the Light Brigade' into certain doom because (as he tells Gandalf) if he is not loyal to his father and the people within those city walls, then where does his loyalty lie?

Aragorn is able to call up a deadly ghost army to aid them all in their time of greatest need because the consequences of disloyalty and oath-breaking are so terrible that not even death can offer an escape.

Sam refuses to abandon Frodo, even after Frodo has sent him away, because -- much as he cherishes life and the simple joys of the Shire -- love and loyalty are stronger in him than the drive for self-preservation. When Sam, who can barely walk himself and knows he cannot carry the ring for Frodo, finds the strength to pick up and carry Frodo to the end of their journey, I cry every time ("He ain't heavy, mister; he's my brother").

Maybe it's because J.R.R. Tolkien was writing the original LotR books at a time in the last century when duty to others was a more widely-accepted and religiously-supported value -- maybe THAT's why this movie and so many others in the SF and fantasy genre (created by people who presumably grew up reading Tolkien and other writers from that time) seem to have such a strong sense that mythology SHOULD promote morality, . . . and preferably a morality which says that sacrificing personal safety and comfort in order to prevent or alleviate the sufferings of others is a "Good Thing" (I'm using that expression in the '1066 AND ALL THAT' sense -- not so much in the Martha Stewart sense).

[For an interesting discussion thread on duty and self in the past vs. the present, see the Jan. 1 post by jonesiexxx in her LJ, comparing those themes in the films "Kill Bill" and "Master and Commander".]

But even if -- and it's still a big "if" in my mind -- the strong ethical content in movies like the LotR trilogy and the original 'Star Wars' trilogy or in genre TV series like BtVS, AtS, 'Babylon 5', or the 'Star Trek' franchise (particularly 'Deep Space 9' -- to my mind the most theologically and ethically developed of the Treks), is all just based on leftovers from previous generations, based on mythologies and world-views we sort of remember but no longer believe in, and is roughly analogous to spending money inherited from your grandparents (very nice while it lasts, but ultimately an unsustainable lifestyle, since you're spending the capital accumulated by others and making no effort to replenish or add to the account yourself) . . . .

Even IF, I say, all this is true, then I still find hope in the fact that so many people are ATTRACTED to these ethical worlds that others have created and are willing to pay money to visit them over and over again -- that so many people seem HUNGRY for a world-view which asserts that honor and loyalty and faithfulness and willing self-sacrifice for the real good of all (not just the convenience and comfort of the majority) MAKES SENSE at some basic level of the universe.

This suggests to me that, contrary to what my brother seemed to believe that particularly stressful and depressing morning, many people in North America at least WANT something better than being "the devil's butt-monkey" for the sake of personal gain.

[For a fascinating exploration of the idea of spending the intellectual capital inherited from previous generations, see Dorothy L. Sayers' essay on "The Lost Tools of Learning."]

However, I am not quite ready to accept that we're all just living on ethical left-overs, and that once the refrigerator is empty, that will be it.

If, as anthropologist Clifford Geertz suggests in his essays in THE INTERPRETATION OF CULTURES, the peculiar power of religious symbols comes from their ability to link "is" and "ought" at the most basic level (to say that, because this is the way the universe REALLY IS at the level of ultimate reality, this is how we OUGHT to behave while we live in it), then it is possible that every time we create a mythology or even recycle the mythologies of previous generations or other cultures, if that fictional mythology rings true to us and draws us in, then it also implants within us some of its ethical content, . . . some of its sense that, beyond what my five senses can tell me of my everyday world, there is an order or purpose which says that doing good unto others, even if they don't always do good unto you, is still a really good idea.