Myth and Truth

In case you’ve stumbled across this post from a query for obscure song lyrics, I will explain that I am not an English major (you might figure that out by the end of the paragraph). I have never been a Professor of Black History, Wymyns’ Issues, or Queer Studies. I am a mostly white male, heterosexual, Christian, software engineer. Therefore, as should be obvious, I have nothing valid to say on any subject except possibly NASCAR or shotgun loads or how to Texas rig a plastic worm.

When someone says, in response to a story or statement, “That’s a myth,” what they mean is that it isn’t true. It is not “a fact”. I think that’s a misuse of the word “myth”. Nothing can be a myth that isn’t true. The myth may be fiction, but it’s true. The greatest literary works of the 20th Century were mythologies. A fictional example is, of course, The Lord of the Rings. A non-fiction mythology is T. E. Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom. True myths abound in history. I mentioned some battles a couple of posts back – Agincourt, Trafalgar, Rorke’s Drift, and the Alamo – as these really happened but they are mythical in their significance. There are many others from Thermopylae to Valley Forge to Little Round Top to Iwo Jima. The story of El Cid is a true myth, as is the story of Sergeant York and Audie Murphy, Too Tall and Old Snake in the Ia Drang Valley, and the firefighters who ran up the stairs of the twin towers.

Myth tells us something powerful about ourselves in a way that transcends the mere words and images used to convey them. The difference, perhaps, between myth and Scripture is that Scripture is revelation in the sense of an unveiling. Myth reveals as well, but it is not logos -- the truth it conveys remains veiled in some ways, yet is the more enlightening for it. I would classify much of the Old Testament as myth by this definition. In that way myth is somewhat similar to allegory, except that allegory is more intentional. Bunyan knew what each of his characters stood for in Pilgrim’s Progess or The Holy War, and I benefit from his work to the extent that I understand how he viewed them. Tolkien cannot be approached in the same way. Sometimes, indeed, Frodo seems a Christ-like figure, but so do Aragorn and Gandalf. No one exactly fits the mold because they are true and the story is a myth. You can find Christ in The Lord of the Rings but not in a single character.

There are negative elements to myths as well. I cannot stand Jane Fonda. I hated the Braves when she was married to Ted Turner – not that I was that crazy about Ted before anyway. I hate On Golden Pond because Jane Fonda is in it. It’s really nothing personal. I mean, I might even like the woman if I ever met her. Maybe Obama could arrange a beer summit for Jane and me – I’ll need at least a case. The trouble is Ms. Fonda created a myth that completely transcends her personality when she sat on the damn commie anti-aircraft gun. A few years ago she kinda-sorta apologized for some of the things she did. If she had renounced that picture, perhaps gone on some talk show and ripped up a copy of it publicly while proclaiming that what she did was treasonous and evil, we would have been willing to forgive her. But Jane Fonda is a leftist and is simply not bright enough to understand that. As it is, she will go to her grave hated by every true American who was alive at the time and old enough to understand the implications of her act.

I may continue this for a couple of days, and I want to start with a Biblical event before considering some historical events, and perhaps talk about some fictional works of literature or film that contain mythical elements.

The Bible contains much that is consistent with what we know of history; some have been more or less confirmed by archeology. I think it is quite likely that the story of David and Goliath (1 Samuel 17) is a reasonably reliable treatment of an episode of single champion combat between the military forces of the Philistines and those of Israel. A bold young man, not particularly well-schooled regarding the military equipment and tactics of the day, volunteered to face a much larger, better trained and equipped champion. He used the weapon with which he had become an expert during lonely, boring days following his family’s herd of sheep. There’s nothing outlandishly improbable about a lucky shot bringing down a much more experienced and accomplished fighter.

What is mythical about this encounter is that David’s courage comes from his understanding of God’s covenant and plan for Israel. The young man saw himself as an instrument of the Divine will in liberating the Lord’s chosen people from oppression. We see what I’ll call mythic principles in play here – ideas like the “the just cause”, “right makes might”, “God is on our side”, “the underdog”, “against the odds”, “amateurs versus professionals”. It is concepts such as these that we think of whenever we speak of a “David versus Goliath” situation. Mythical stories require big ideas and relevant ideas.

Another mark of the myth is that something great has to be at stake. In this case, it was not merely David’s life on the line. There was an understanding between the two sides that the whole nation of Israel would agree to serve the Philistines. Conversely, if the nearly unthinkable happened and their champion lost, the Philistines had agreed to serve the Israelites. This need for something important to be at issue, by the way, is the basis for Orson Scott Card’s argument (can’t find the link) that The Lord of the Rings is the greatest novel of the 1900’s rather than Joyce’s Ulysses. Obviously, Joyce is a genius and the better writer, but nothing in Ulysses is really that big a deal. The world will go on as usual – for everyone else – no matter what happens to Dedalus or the Blooms. I’m not sure I agree with that view, but Mr. Card is the one with degrees in literature.

This story of David’s defeat of the giant has been recapitulated in the history of Israel, particularly since 1948. In that year, as again in 1967 and 1973, Israel was an underdog in wars that should have wiped it out, yet the nation emerged victorious. I think that may be another mark of myth – that it somehow shapes the soul, in this case, of a nation. The cultural myths of a people define what they are capable of overcoming and accomplishing.

We have national myths and personal myths. The myths we embrace and incorporate define who we are. Man is not the tool-maker or the laughing animal nearly as much as he is the myth-maker.

The Call of the Hunter

I recommend you click the link and read Uncle Orson's review of the movie Eagle Eye. Card begins by mentioning some films he has watched at home recently, and discusses the advantages of staying home versus going to the movie theater these days. You can skip the first section if you like but by all means read what he has to say about Eagle Eye, surveillance, and computers.

As a software engineer, with databases being my specialty, I've said more or less the same thing to people dozens of times, but Card gives a clear, non-technical, yet correct and compelling treatment of the question.

In a prior review, OSC recommended the books of the author writing under the pseudonym of K.J. Parker. I picked up Devices and Desires, Book One in Parker's Engineer Trilogy, last week and I've had time to read about a third of it. So far I'd say it is well-written and a welcome departure from the typical medieval-type fantasy. The characters and the setting have depth. The conflicts are complex. My complaint is there's a certain flatness of affect that I have been unable to shake -- but it could be a personal problem. None of the characters strike me as particularly likable at this point. I only mention it now because of the following quote:

The truth is, Valens realized, you can only hunt what you love. Chasing and killing what bores or disgusts you is just slaughter, because you don't want to understand, get in its mind.

You only hunt what you love.

No one loves the animal more than a real hunter. Sure, there are people who seem to only care about heads and butchery, but they aren't hunting deer or elk or moose, they are hunting bragging rights, prestige, or status. They are hunting to impress others with their prowess.

The true hunter is hunting for himself, to know himself by knowing and understanding the game he pursues, whatever it might be. Using Parker's definition it is easy to see hunting isn't limited to going after something with a gun, a bow, or a flyrod. The artist, the poet, and the musician are all hunters. They are trying to capture what they love. Inevitably, and necessarily, something is lost in the taking of the quarry. It exists only in that moment when the shot is made or the net enfolds. By its nature it is as transient as it is transcendent.

What is the saint doing except hunting God? As always, there must be loss.

But everything that was gain to me, I have considered to be a loss because of Christ. More than that, I consider everything to be a loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. Because of Him, I have suffered the loss of all things and consider them filth, so that I may gain Christ, and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own from the law, but one that is through faith in Christ -- the righteousness from God based on faith. My goal is to know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His suffering, being conformed to His death, assuming that I will somehow reach the resurrection from among the dead.

Not that I have already reached the goal or am already fully mature, but I make every effort to take hold of it because I have also been taken hold of by Christ Jesus. Brothers, I do not consider myself to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to what is ahead, I pursue as my goal the prize promised by God's heavenly call in Christ Jesus. -- Philippians 3:7-14

I'm on the hunt.

Orson Scott Card Must Read!

If you haven't seen this already, read it. Read it now. Read it to your friends.

Orson Scott Card on "America Unplugged".

Card says:

"Cap and trade" plans have already been tried, and they don't work -- they cost too much, and people find ways to get around them. But Obama promises us that he'll take that failed idea and be "as aggressive, if not more aggressive, than anybody else's" plan.

In other words, if it doesn't work, let's do more of it!

This is Obama the New Puritan. We've found his real religion: Political and Environmental Correctness.

It's more important to him to eliminate coal than to find practical solutions. Why? Because coal is "bad." Our groupthinking "intellectual" elite thinks they are post-religious -- but they believe in sin and hate the sinners.

OSC bitch-slaps the global warming fruitcakes:

Unfortunately, human-caused global warming exists only in the way Zeus exists -- in the imagination of believers who ignore obvious natural explanations.

After kicking Obama's ass and doing a take-down worthy of Hulk Hogan in his prime, Card grinds the One's face into the dirt:

Obama and his elitist friends think they're smart, but they don't live on planet Earth, they live in a playhouse where they can make huge messes with their stupid policies, and then pretend that the mess is someone else's fault while they hope for some invisible mommy to come and clean it up.

The invisible mommy so far has been the American people and the resilient economy that we create (along with the few remaining moral standards that have not yet been crushed).

But we can't clean up after Obama's plan if we're too broke to turn on the lights.

Read the whole thing. Send it to your friends.

Liberal Music Rant

As whiny-ass liberals go, I like Orson Scott Card. I have his “Uncle Orson Reviews Everything” site on my sidebar, and I recommend it. We would have some disagreements if we met in person. Mr. Card supports sensible gun control. I think gun control means being able to shoot like Josey Wales and Rooster Cogburn. I think an armed society is a polite society and if I am sometimes not wearing my handgun it’s because I don’t have to worry about my khukri running out of ammo. Mr. Card, though a Democrat, fully understands and supports our mission in Iraq and the overall war on terror – God bless him. I’d cut him a great deal of slack on that alone.

I have a copy of Ender’s Game, and I think Mr. Card is a very fine writer.

But now he has done something to irritate me, having gone too far in his devotion to Janis Ian (see his review of Ian's autobiography here). OSC and I are about the same age. We both heard Janis Ian sing “At Seventeen” on the radio in the top-40 rotation. He went out and bought the album. To be honest, as a teenager, I battled depression and self-loathing. Nevertheless, on my darkest, most self-hating day I would not have actually paid money to have a Janis Ian record, not even the buck for a 45 (note to younger readers – a “45” does not in this case refer to the caliber of my Colt nor Billy Dee Williams’ brand of malt liquor – it was an analog recording of a single song on each side pressed onto vinyl played at 45 rpm’s rather than 33 and 1/3).

Now I am quite sure, as Mr. Card claims, that Janis Ian is a very nice, even likeable person. The two of them have become friends. I am glad for them. I will even go so far as to suspect that somewhere in Ms. Ian’s repertoire there might be a song I like. OSC mentioned a song of hers called “Boots Like Emmylou’s”. (This gives me the cherished opportunity to say, “Emmylou, I love you.”) Still, there are those hurdles to listening to Janis Ian that I simply cannot overcome – “At Seventeen” and “Society’s Child”.

This was called folk music – I think – because no one really wanted to take responsibility for it – it was just “folk”. Ms. Ian’s songs were humorless, self-absorbed, self-important and self-pitying. Her perspective was that of an ugly, unpopular seventeen year old girl who is not going to get asked to go to the prom with the quarterback. In response she points out that the homecoming queens and cheerleaders will get old. Mr. Card finds this insightful and powerful. For some reason, the phrase “sour grapes” came to mind when I heard the same song. And it was so damned whiny! About 30 seconds into a Janis Ian song and I was ready to stick a white hot poker in my ear to sear the eardrum.

You just knew that if this little drama-queen wannabe were somehow suddenly transformed into a slender, acne-free teen angel she would immediately dump the soulful, angst-y worldview into the koi pond and be at the mall shopping for a prom dress with matching shoes and bag.

All that said, at least songs like “At Seventeen” are so depressing and unmusical that they never become earworms like the worst song ever recorded: “Seasons in the Sun”. If that guy is still alive, he should be dressed up for a San Francisco gay pride parade and air-dropped over Taliban headquarters.

Janis Ian music is liberal music, and, I suspect that Ms. Ian is a leftist. Liberals pine for the fjords – I mean, for equality. They do not want equality of opportunity. They want equality of outcome. Now the truth is the protagonist of “At Seventeen” was not in some communist labor camp. She was an intelligent, artistic person living in freedom in the greatest country on earth. She had the opportunity to be happy, as much as the little blonde, brain-dead cheerleader she so envied and hated. Instead, she chose to be miserable, to wallow in self-pity and make her world far darker than it really was.

She whined about “the valentines that never came.” Hey, did you ever try sending one to somebody? Don’t tell me there weren’t any geek boys in the chess club you could have dated? How about making the best of your life like the rest of us have to do? How about getting over yourself? Having once been a boy, I can say that your existential angst and perpetual whining is a real turn-off.

OK, perhaps I am much shallower than Orson Scott Card. I will concede that. But with all the darkness and evil in the world, is it too much to ask that music be, like, not so dark? And it’s not that I am opposed to sad music. One of the traditional themes of bluegrass music is something like: boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, boy kills girl and goes to prison. It is not, however, self-pitying. No where in any song on my MP3 player is there expressed an idea as narcissistic as “I learned the truth at seventeen that love was meant for beauty queens.” No, it’s just wrong. It is not a universal truth. It is just that you didn’t think you could get a date with the point guard on the basketball team or the centerfielder.

Honestly, the most popular girl in my class had a face that belonged on the cover of MAD magazine. We liked her because she had a sense of humor and did not take herself SO seriously.

The leftists sometimes refer to those who are “winners in life’s lottery”. Like Janis Ian they think that beauty, or intelligence, talent, initiative, drive, etc. means that you have rolled a seven and that ugly people rolled snake eyes. Actually, I think I dated the girl that rolled snake eyes, but that’s another story. The protagonist of Ian’s song said that since she couldn’t be “popular” by her narrow definition then the “truth” was that people with blemishes and imperfections were not meant to be loved. Get real. Leftists, of all people, should know better than this. You could have a rear-end by Clydesdale and legs by Steinway and Bill Clinton would hit on you.

If we let other people define us by our appearance, abilities, whatever, then we will be miserable. If, instead, we accept our lives as gifts from God and opportunities to embrace the grace, we will be happy. And, while I’m at it, God bless Bill Monroe.