HALLOWEEN REDUX PART FIVE: A BRIEF INTERLUDE

You and I are sitting across from each other. I'm grinning. You're not. (You can see already that the cards are stacked in my favor. But it is my blog, and you, dear reader, as addressed in this Interlude are imaginary. Alas, I'm afraid all of my readers are imaginary ones)

Your pained expression betrays the fact that you're not sure whether you heard what you think you heard nor what it would mean if you did. "Is he serious? Is he sane?" you wonder. "If so,… is that "spooky God stuff" okay to say?"

You study my face. No reassurance there- same 'ole yahoo face. Should you respond? "Is there culpability in encouraging him" you question. You rub your face in exasperation. Then, you begin.

"Let me get this straight…um, we see God in creepy moments."

"That's right, or at least we were meant to"

"You're saying God is creepy, then? Is that what you're saying!?"

"I'm not sure. But I am suggesting that the unease we feel when we encounter spooky, eerie or uncanny places or things was God's idea. He put them there to teach us something about himself."

"That he's creepy? How can you say he's creepy"

"No, I didn't say that he was creepy. That would be like looking around for Divine feathers because Isaiah declared that God lifted him on eagle's wings. Eagles…and foreboding windy black nights point to God, but I don't believe he's a winged creature or a meteorological event."

"But an eagle speaks of strength. A comparison with an eagle says "God is strong." What does a comparison with a haunted house imply if not "Creepiness?"

"I see you're point. I'll try to answer it after I skillfully maneuver your conversation into the appropriate query- that way I'll look in control, but until I figure out how to do that, I'd say that a haunted house teaches not only that he's "Other" but what it might be like to be in the presence of "Otherness." Creepiness connotes creeping, loathsomeness or things foul. I'm not meaning to include them- at least not at this point. What I'm after is the fear of the unknown- the unknowable. I'm not sure what to call it precisely, but it's present in a haunted house. You're not scared because you believe you will be hurt, but rather because you are with something you do not understand, that doesn't belong there, but which you imagine could very easily work in unpleasant ways. It's the effect that unnatural things have on us."

"But unnatural…that's bad stuff. How can you say that God is unnatural?"

"It depends on what you mean by unnatural, doesn't it. If you mean "bad stuff or bad behavior", then certainly God is not unnatural. If you mean distinct from nature, he's certainly unnatural. I could say "supernatural," I guess; but that would create problems that we'd have to clear up later. What we think of as supernatural is really a large segment of creation or nature."

"But unnatural!"

"It seems to me that calling God unnatural is less problematic than calling him natural. What could that possibly mean? Anyway, I…"

"Tell me what I'm to learn of God from seeing my neighbor in a Freddy Krueger mask! It's horrific. Violent, even demonic- Freddy hurt people. Where's God in that?"

"Let me try again. I've been talking about eerie places or things- trying to argue for the positive value of this category as a category. That isn't to say that every individual example of creepiness is positive. I'm sure that sexual desire was first dreamed up by God, but that is a far cry from saying that I endorse everything that invokes sexual desire. Also, Creepy always involves fear. But there are other sources of fear, as well. Witnessing a violent car wreck ought to scare you, but that's a whole different thing. Don't you think?"

"But the whole Halloween monster thing implies violence. You can't have a monster without implied violence"

"Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I do understand that Halloween tangles many different themes into its celebration. I was meaning to start by looking at only one- the spooky, eerie aspect. I think you can distinguish the experiences of being on a lonely tree lined road, or in a windy autumn night, or hearing a wolf's baleful howl- I think you can distinguish those things from the grotesque. Maybe not. But for me that would most likely mean that the grotesque has something to teach us about our God, not that the grotesque should be totally avoided. Anyway, I've had nothing to say about the whole grotesque thing. Let's talk about it next. Right now its all more than I know"

HALLOWEEN REDUX PART FOUR- WHY SPOOKY MATTERS

I've a suspicion that the lessons of nature that go unlearned end up being...well, unlearnable…period.

Let me try again: Our knowledge is metaphorical and imaginary….

Let me try again: We cannot appreciate a concept unless we have had an experience from which we can image it. No, wait, wait, wait. This is what I mean, if I tell you that a Krag is a creature with wings like a Jorg and the teeth of a Mulph, how much have I told you? Maybe you've learned some new words, and if they're Latin ones, they might be useful in sounding intimidating in a smart sort of way. But beyond that, not a lot has happened- not much was learned. No communication took place. But if I say a Krag has the thin skinned wings of a bat (only these wings are enormous) and that its head resembles a lion's head, then you can begin to form some idea of what a Krag might be. Does that make sense? We cannot appreciate a concept unless we've had an experience from which we can image it.

When we are told by St. Paul that God's attributes are evident from nature's book, we should expect to find the creaturely finger that points to his power, beauty, justice etc. And they are very evident. Now, if I were to say that God is acertonastical. What does that mean? Maybe I'd add that it refers to an indefinable, completely and utterly unexperiencable state of acertonisty. "Oh" you say knowingly, "I see," but you're lying because there is nothing there to learn. If you've not experienced something analogous, there is nothing there to see.

How about the word holy? What does it mean? If Otto was right about The Numinous, then where do we go in our experience to fill up the meaning? More often than not we go to one of the other attributes- to things like power or justice. "Holiness is really one of these," we say. We end up making God's people speak in redundancies- "God is good and (good)." We might as well drop one of those "goods," and it really ought to be the one that isn't spelled g-o-o-d. Holiness disappears.

This is one of two possible outcomes, if what we are talking about is beyond our experience. Either the particular facet of God, to which the word Holiness is meant to refer becomes lost because mistaken for something else, or we are simply going around mouthing words that have no meaning at all. Either way, the practical molding influence that only an understanding of God's Holiness can provide is lost. Is that a big deal? It depends on how important God's holiness is. You tell me.

It seems to me (another suspicion) that there is more than coincidence involved in the fact that experiences of "Otherness" are "pooh-poohed" in both nature and in the worship of nature's God. A disregard for the transcendent seems to lie at the heart of the whole business. Or worse, it's the collapsing down of the transcendent into the mundane and immanent. Spooky moments are nothing but superstition and irrational fear. God is nothing more than Creation blown infinite. A lot of "Nothing mores" and "Nothing buts" going on there. But that is the great error of our time- "Nothingbutteryism."

Modernity knows (for dissection has established it to be a fact) that one place is no different than another. Any desire to lower your voice in a cathedral, a graveyard or darkened forest is "nothing but"…and should be out grown. God's holiness is nothing more than sheer power and majesty and so you should obey him simply because he can squish you like a bug if you resist. Just like Hitler or…wait. That can't be right. Why do we follow/worship God?

Practically, I believe that a disregard for the mysterious and disturbingly "other" experiences of our world is both a symptom and a cause of the loss of reverence. That's where the piper comes to be paid- in the loss of Reverence. We are taught that there is nothing in this world that is truly unnatural, uncanny…spooky- at least not for the educated. God is explicable in terms of human qualities- only ones blown up really big. And so we should approach him like we approach anyone else- only really loud. In our relationships there is no area, station or calling that can be considered "other." There is nothing sacrosanct. Not the umpire overseeing the game- "punch the blind bastard," not the King- "who does he think he is," nor a woman's honor.

The whole concept of Reverence seems as old fashioned and nonsensical in our culture as taking seriously a child's fear of the night. But that is the point.

Thomas Howard tells of a group of students taken by a learned cultural anthropologist into the depths of an unmapped jungle. They wander into a village just in time to see a scantily clad witch doctor slicing the head off of a chicken. Violently flinging the warm blood across the altar in front of him, the old man repeatedly bows towards the image. The scientist turns towards the students and says "Here we have a perfect example of the earliest stages of religious evolution and a clear manifestation of the myth of the fertility god's enacted death…" Obviously, the two men see something very different taking place.

If you had to choose, who would you side with? Are you with the Scientist or the Witch Doctor? Seems a clear choice to me: The witch doctor knows many things the Scientist does not- that there are some things before which we must bow, that sacrifice is required and that it must be made in blood, that there is more to reality than can be seen, etc, etc

The battle is decided when one side concedes the bedrock contention of the other. It seems to me that we need to be careful whose weapons we are using and what we are aiming at.

If there is "more than" to God, if he is truly "other," then that otherness finds expression in the image of his creation. Those innocent, profound and radically molding places, times and encounters should be recognized and treasured- brought captive to the King to whom they rightfully belong. This is simply seeing them for what they are- facets of our God's great glory. Since the garden, this has been man's challenge- to properly name God's creation. It's always been that way. Modern men and women have the distinction of adding an additional challenge- they have set out to feel shame at the awareness of certain creatures (Spookiness wasn't the first) or to deny that they exist at all. That's a tough row to hoe...because they do.

One night you'll be alone. The moon will be full, but ducking behind the gray stretched clouds, as if afraid to watch. A solitary dog will bark in the distance and a cold blast of air will send the dead leaves past your face and swirling upwards. A thought occurs to you. Not a thought really, more of an awareness; and you respond by glancing over your shoulder at the woods that lay behind. You're looking for something in the almost perfect blackness that lies between the trees. Not sure what, just …something. You shudder and gather up the groceries as quickly as you can; trying to tell yourself that nothing is going on.

Is there? Anything going on, I mean. I hope you answer, "Yes, Indeed" and offer thanks for the visitation.

HALLOWEEN REDUX PART THREE- SPOOKY CONT.

When my kids were small we taught them that "God is a spirit: infinite, eternal and unchangeable in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness and truth." I regret it now- not because I think any of that stuff is wrong, but rather because taken together I think it gives the wrong impression. It's too impersonal. Too…well, precise. I wouldn't define any of my children in that way. Maybe a tractor or a college course- but not a person. Instead I'd say "that one is charmed when it comes to animals. Why once she…" or "That one is too much like me; she…" You see, I'd tell them a story.

Moderns (and I'm sure you know that's not a category I want any of you to fall into) subscribe to the whole reductionistic definition thing. They believe we understand something best when we've taken it apart and labeled all the innards. The problem with that is you loose the thing you're trying to get to know and the sort of knowledge you end up with is of a rather limited kind. If I were to gut your mother and analyze precisely her chemical makeup, I wouldn't learn half as much about her as a trip to the beach would reveal…and I'd get to take her home afterwards, too. You can see the advantage. The definition of God up there can (I didn't say must) give the impression that our God is a substance of some sort (maybe a giant glowing silly putty like blob of "BEING") or simply the sum total of his various attributes. If it's not possible to define your mother in that way, it's surely not possible with your God.

You can see that there's something else there- something beyond all the parts. Rudolph Otto has written the classic work on that "something." His book is called The Idea of the Holy. C.S. Lewis listed it as one of the ten most important books in his life. In it Mr. Otto claims that the "something" is really the heart of our concept of the Divine. It, not the attributes listed above, is common to all the religions of man. He calls it the Numinous. I like that word. Numinous. Anyway, it refers to the mysterious, indefinable and overwhelming sense of power, inapproachability and raw energy of God. He is similar in some respects to his creation, because she was created to be so; but there is an unbridgeable chasm between the Creator and his creation. He is "Other". He alone is God. People know they are in the presence of the Numinous by the effect it has on them. This effect has been called the mysterium tremendum . That's a mouthful, so people have tried awe, dread and similar words to describe it. But they don't quite do the trick either. When you're in the presence of the Numinous you're struck dumb in amazement because it is so different from what you expected to encounter, you shudder as this Absolute begins to touch the deepest points of your feelings, and there is a profound awareness of your creatureliness, our dependence, our vulnerability and sheer contingency before this Totally Other.

C.S Lewis illustrated it in the introduction to his Problem of Pain, "Suppose you were told that there was a tiger in the next room: you would know that you were in danger and would probably feel fear. But if you were told "There is a ghost in the next room," and believed it, you would feel, indeed, what is often called fear, but of a different kind. It would not be based on the knowledge of danger, for no one is primarily afraid of what a ghost may do to him, but of the mere fact that it is a ghost. It is "uncanny" rather than dangerous, and the special kind of fear it excites may be called Dread. With the Uncanny one has reached the fringes of the Numinous. Now suppose that you were told simply "There is a might spirit in the room" and believed it. Your feelings would then be even less like the mere fear of danger: but the disturbance would be profound. You would feel wonder and a certain shrinking–described as awe, and the object which excites it is the Numinous."

Along with the mysterium tremendum comes an almost irresistible attraction. Otto called this the mysterium fascinosum. Here's an observable distinction between animalistic fear and the mysterium tremendum. We long to get away from what we fear. We are drawn to that which fills our heart with terrifying awe.The traditional word for all of this is holiness. It's not first and foremost about right behavior. Rather it's about the "Otherness" that lies at the heart of our God. To be in the presence of the Holy is to be struck dumb, trembling and on our face. Witness St. John in his Revelation- the same John who laid his head on the Savior before- falling down speechless at the Holiness' manifestation. It is terrifying to behold…and yet ecstatically beautiful and attractive. With sin, certainly, a new experience of fear began. But the mysterium tremendum is part of the Creator's and his Creation's relationship. It never depended on sin for its kindling. "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom." This was as true of unstained Adam as it was of David untold ages later.

If it's true that Creation was meant to point towards it creator, if it's true that we see his power in the sea, his care in a mother's look, his beauty in a flower and taste his goodness in a nibble of stinky cheese, then where do we find creaturely images of his Numinance? This seems to me to be a very important question.

Lewis hinted towards my view in his comment about ghosts in the quote above. There are dark corridors that frighten and draw us, shadowy, solitary stands of trees that touch us to the point of shuddering as we contemplate passing through them. There's Luna's bright roundness flirting out the wolf's lonely howl. We stop to look. We stop to listen and shiver at the thought. Could it be that certain creatures have been gifted with this particular "telling." Is it coincidence that both Egyptian and Celt shuddered at the passing of a black cat? Or are there places and things that were "painted" just so to remind us that He is frightening because…well, like the face in the window He doesn't belong- not to this world.

Creepy, Eerie, Uncanny, Disturbing, Awesome. Holy…Spooky. Amidst our overly familiar Christianity centered on a God who is little more than a "buddy from out of town" don't we need a better understanding of his untouchable otherness. "You think that was something" we should say to our friends as we're leaving this year's most unsettling haunted house. "Wait till you meet my God."

HALLOWEEN REDUX PART TWO- SPOOKY, A START

He could have put us on a great, flat ping-pong table. God, I mean.

If simply "being" was the point, then a ping-pong table would have been just the thing. Of course it would have needed to be big, really big…but "the world as table" is imaginable. He could have painted it all white, too. Nothing fancy. He could have done without the whole beautiful, rolling, landscape thing. No poofy dandelions. No "wet" water. No sunsets or peacock feathers. He could have, but he didn't. Do you ever wonder why?

Jesus' people have always answered that a big white table wouldn't, or couldn't, serve God's end. You know, like sleeping in a wet bed or taking your sister to the prom just doesn't cut it. It's imaginable, but not worth the trouble. There was more to food than fuel, more to legs than movement, more to love than reproduction. More! And that more was wrapped up in all the unnecessary, impractical and seemingly superfluous stuff. The big white table isn't sufficient, because our God envisioned creation as having something to say. Something to declare. And a big white table just wasn't up to saying it.

Creation was meant to state, "God is like this. God is like that." He's a rock, a father, an ocean and a lion. Not those things exactly. They're creatures. He's Creator. But each has something to say about him. Each declares his glory. The whole creation, all of it, pulls on our sleeve and points upward to her source when we give her our attention. The whole earth is full of the glory of God. That was the idea, anyway. Since men and women began mistaking the advertisement for the real thing, Creation has gone wrong. But she keeps on declaring, none the less. While the naked bodies of husband and wife have something wonderfully important to say about the God who first dreamed up such a thing, the bleating terror of the baby wildebeest being flayed by lion's claws shows the reality of the same thing when love is removed. We're surrounded by images. Some of them "were from the beginning". Others came with the fall. Everything pulls at our sleeve.

I want you to think about a particular creature. Tell me if she was present in Eden before the damned serpent caused our parents to question the Fatherhood of their God. I'm speaking of Spookiness. Did she exist when our God declared all things good, or did she arrive only when the situation had changed and the new fallen reality required new ugly images? I believe she was always there. I think she will still be there at the very end, because she has something to say about God that needs saying. Finding what that might mean will require that we take a more direct look at our God. I hope to do that next.

HALLOWEEN REDUX

I’ve a little project that will require a good deal of time over the next month. I won’t have much oppurtunity to post my undercooked thoughts. This is a shame because the next great feast day is All Saint’s Day. Of all my half-baked thoughts, none have been accused of being as thoroughly half-baked as the ones I’ve pondered regarding Hallowe’en.

In the spirit of the diabolical season, It seems appropriate (and time saving) to put up some musings I began last year regarding the topic.

Here’s the first one:

Thoughts on Hallowe’en

"You ask me why we don't celebrate Halloween, Timmy? Because we're superstitious, reactionary, gullible, and we refuse to check things out for ourselves. Now, let me finish signing this petition so we can stop Madalyn Murray O'Hair from taking "Touched By an Angel" off the air. Why don't you take your mind off the fact that your friends are out having fun by reading one of your Left Behind: The Kids books?"

Funny stuff, that!

But I wouldn't have always appreciated the humor. It wasn't so long ago that I was judgmentally prideful…er, grateful for our congregation's informed Reformation Day party- thankful that my children weren't like those unsuspecting "devil's night" revelers quickly scurrying past my darkened porch- their poofy Wal-Mart fairy princess wands calling out to the nether world like stinky chicken liver to a catfish.

The point being that I understand 'em. With a testimony similar to this, I can feel the strength of the objections. I know that they are sincerely held. I know they grow out of fear, and I've been held by the kind of fear that can make you blind (totally-never-occurred-to-me blind) to how horribly unloving and unneighborly it must appear to darken your home on the one night that our communities take on any appearance of…well, community. The irony of being the only foreboding, unwelcoming and darkened home in a sea of friendly, lighted and self-consciously welcoming front doors- all in the name of being a "beacon of love", was lost on me. Of course there was that other house, but everyone knew he was a mean bastard and you'd better stay out of his yard- even on Halloween, but you see that just makes my point.

In my vitriolic and reactionary "Hallowe'en- God's gift to an uptight, rationalistic, judgmental, gullible, uninformed…and worst of all, modernistic evangelical yahoo" response, I worry about giving my children the impression that there aren't lines to be drawn or that this some how doesn't matter. Of course it does, but not for the reason's usually given. It matters because I suspect that The Spooky is a gift of our God and must be returned in blessing- like all of our fellow creatures who look to our priestly service. It matters because it ought to, not because it ought not.

Anyway, I figure this is as good a place to start as any. I want to embarrass all who know me by thinkin' on the meaning of Spookiness, take a brief digression down the whole "edifying nature of the grotesque" thing, fumble through the "universal needs that even a pagan understood" bag, and finally explain my understanding of the actual historical pedigree of the Christian feast day itself. (Yes, I said Christian Feast day. It's my blog. You need one of your own to worry about.)

That's the plan. We'll see how it goes.

Incidentally, I suspect that there may be a reason that I've never run across this sort of thing before- most people know better. So discretion (of which I have less than the average allotment) compels me to point out that this is half-baked and loosely held. I have no doubt that the epiphany will occur somewhere in the midst of my posting and I'll have to repent. That being said, I do think I'm on to something. Anyway, keep all of this in mind as you read. Read with discretion. Help me think it through.