‘You Always Get What You Deserve’: Another Blatant Bloody Lie?

Major religious groups (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Last week, I wrote a post titled, ‘Work Hard and You’ll Succeed: the Biggest Lie?’ Today, I want to explore, with you, another blatant lie.

We’re told, frequently and with much volume, that we get what we deserve. I think this is an attempt by some to encourage the first lie in the minds of those as yet unschooled in reality. It’s also, of course, a saying completely founded in the religious concepts that underpin the Abrahamic religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Their sacred texts explicitly tell followers that their rewards will follow from their actions.

But is it true? Do we, or indeed anyone else, get what we deserve?

Does the innocent child deserve to starve to death by an accident of geographical location? Does the winner of millions on a lottery actually deserve this piece of great fortune? Does the drug baron deserve a life of luxury and ease at the expense of those who suffer and die through his activities? Does the Chairman of a business empire deserve the exorbitant income he awards himself?

There are millions more examples of people receiving things they don’t deserve. In fact, I’d say that more people get what they don’t deserve than get what they do. In fact, I can think of very few people I know who have actually been given what they deserved.

I hear those of a religious mind-set yelling that we get our real rewards in heaven, paradise, or whatever other presumed afterlife they believe in. But such destinations are pure speculation. There’s no way of knowing whether they even exist except by taking that final step to enter them. By then it’s too late to discover that all your effort, good, bad or indifferent, has, in fact, resulted in you reaching the same end as all living things on death: i.e. the recycling of your components. If there is an afterlife, and it’s something we can never know since no one has ever returned with a reliable report, then surely the creator of such a splendid reward system would want us to be certain?

There’s little point in any deity permitting us to have doubts about such things, since these are supposed to be the very motivations that make us do the bidding of that deity. Yet the tales that are sold by the various religions are so different and contradictory. Surely any deity worthy of the name would at least remove the elements of doubt and dispute and provide a means whereby we could actually experience such rich rewards? Nothing else makes sense.

Of course, I understand that many are now yelling at me that I have to have faith. I’m sorry, but faith in something for which there is no evidence, let alone proof, strikes me as little short of imbecility. Does anybody seriously believe in fairies, a flat Earth, that Mars is inhabited by little green men or any one of thousands of such tales? We’ve dismissed the myths of ancient times, the tales of Zeus and his clan, Odin and his cohorts, Ra and his comrades, as early attempts to explain what was then inexplicable. A similar fate is already undermining current deities as reason and rational thought supersede superstition and folklore.

It isn’t that I deny absolutely the possibility of religious dogma having a basis in truth; it’s that I see such division in interpretation and I don’t believe it can be proven. The very existence of God is a matter we, as humans, will probably never be able to determine one way or another. If such a power actually exists, it must, by its very nature, be so far outside our experience and knowledge as to be incomprehensible. Any attempt to define such a power must inevitably diminish any reality it might possess. So, I take the only sane and reasonable attitude possible: I can’t know, which is why I style myself agnostic.

I’d like to say, ‘religious considerations aside’ and give examples of my argument on that basis but, unfortunately, the world in which we live is so deeply imbued in religious foundation that it’s impossible to escape its influence.  

But I will set a challenge.

Can anyone, without citing religious concepts, please provide more examples of people actually getting what they deserve than those who most clearly do not deserve what they get? I’m open-minded enough to be converted to a different view, if I can be given evidence that ‘just deserts’ is something more than a meaningless lie disguised as truth by those with vested interest in maintaining the status quo. Go ahead; change my mind.

Ancient Symbol Worship, by Westropp & Wake, Reviewed.

This is a modern version, not the one I read,
and may contain more information.

Subtitled, Influence of the Phallic Idea in the Religions of Antiquity, this book came my way as one of a small collection given me by my brother when he was sorting stuff out prior to a move to a new house with less space. He used to work in a book store and has a number of fairly unusual titles in his library. This was one he hadn't got round to reading, but the title and subtitle intrigued me.

This small volume, first published in 1875, sets out to examine the influence of the phallic, or male, component in ancient religion. But it takes this idea into modern religion, suggesting that the ancient beliefs, customs and rites have been absorbed and altered by modern celebrants in forms recognisable to those who wish to see.

There's some Latin, untranslated, and a colossal amount of reference to often obscure issues that were, presumably, well known to scholars of the time. But, for a modern reader, these references remain unexplained and would require a great deal of research to track down and more time than most people have these days for such esoteric issues. Whilst those who already have a deep interest in the symbolism employed in worship will undoubtedly understand the references, the rest of us will remain confused. However, much is clarified by context and, having an interest in many subjects, I was able to apprehend a lot of what the authors allude to, though other items consisted of listings of arcane information lacking any hook on which I could hang it.

That the book was written in the Victorian era, with its dreadful hypocrisy regarding all matters sexual, shows in the circumspection that rules the writing. Where, today, we would name the penis, testes, vulva and breasts without fear or embarrassment, the authors are constrained by the customs of their times and therefore have to express much of their ides in convoluted form or by the use of metaphor, much of which is couched in classical references that will be lost on many modern readers.

A second factor in preventing the authors expressing themselves frankly and with clarity is their sensitivity to the feelings of those who profess a faith. Again, today, such sensitivities can be dealt with more openly, showing respect rather than reverence. In the time the book was published however, such frankness, leading to real clarity, would have probably prevented publication.

So, an already difficult subject is made more obscure for reasons that are no longer valid. As the ideas and information explored are still valid and in need of wider publicity, I'd love to see some modern scholar produce a similar volume for today's reader with a much clearer text. Perhaps it's been done and I simply haven't come across the book.

As it is, this book can really only be read by the general reader as a partial glimpse into the subject. Those with a good knowledge of ancient history, religion and symbolism will glean a good deal more, however. Many of the ideas expressed as certainties have, of course, been placed in doubt or even refuted by more recent discoveries of texts from such sources as the Dead Sea Scrolls and other ancient records and parchments retrieved from many different sources by modern archaeologists.

Members of religious organisations will no doubt be outraged by suggestions that the roots of their current dogma and rites grew from ancient forms of worship that were definitely based in reproduction and sexuality, often in very explicit acts of devotion, sacrifice and propitiation to the early deities. But a dispassionate and disinterested examination of the rites, customs and beliefs of such groups quickly establishes their ancient links with many practices and myths no longer considered either right or sensible.

A demanding read, not for the faint-hearted.

The Challenge for Writers.

Allerthorpe Woods.

For those of us who like, want, need or are compelled to express ourselves in writing there are a number of challenges to be faced. These vary according to the nature of the writer and the type of writing pursued.

So, if you're a writer, what are your challenges?

I'll start you off with my own.

My most basic challenge is one I impose on myself by a quirk of personality: I feel strongly about many topics; passionate, even. But I used to allow this strong emotion to overwhelm my writing, so that I became a proselytising missionary, spreading my beliefs and opinions at the expense of readability.

I prefer to write fiction, being a natural teller of tales, rather than an essayist, but my need to teach and preach (I should point out here that I'm a committed agnostic who views all organised religion with suspicion - there I go again, you see?) overwhelmed my story telling and turned my work into thinly-disguised evangelical tracts on one subject or another. Of course, this isn't attractive to readers. Why would it be? I mean, who cares what I think? Readers are looking primarily for entertainment. If they want to be harangued or beaten about the brain with someone's opinion, they'll go the local debating society, attend a political rally, visit a church or join some society or other. What they want from novels is story.

So, what to do about this unattractive habit of mine? Well, I wondered if I might dilute the urge to put the world right by allowing myself the luxury of joining serious debates taking place elsewhere, thus allowing that part of my brain to feel it's had its say. That way, perhaps, I could then write instead of 'right', if you see what I mean. So, I've become a member of Digg, StumbleUpon, AllVoices and the Huffington Post sites. Here I can indulge my missionary self whenever I feel the urge to attack some injustice that heats my blood. And there are many, I can tell you. I've always loathed injustice in every form. I also hate hypocrisy, and lies, and conflict politics, and waste, and environmental denial, and religious dogma and brainwashing of children and… well, you see where I'm going with this, don't you? But, by joining these arenas for serious debate, I can get the frustration out of my system and leave my imagination free to tell stories without reference to the passion of that reforming zeal.

Oddly, what I've found is that I now write free of the need to teach, but that my work is still influenced by my beliefs and concerns. However, this now forms themes rather than being the meat of the pieces. So, I'll write a story ostensibly concerning the relationship between two potential lovers but the perceptive reader will recognise the strand of gender inequality lurking under the surface. Or I'll write a futuristic piece apparently about the erotic adventures of a couple of 'eternals' but the reader who sees beneath the surface will detect the thread of debate on the poverty of relationships based entirely on the joys of sex and the danger inherent in allowing technology to develop unchecked by common sense. But the stories will be damn good reads without authorial intrusion. (Those who've read Breaking Faith and The Methuselah Strain may see parallels here).

There's some suggestion that our challenges as writers may be based in our challenges as human beings and I wonder how true that might be.

I left school early in life, due to a combination of external events over which I had little control (see my previous post on Motivating the Writer if you want more detail.) But I'd been brought up as a confirmed Christian and, following a crush I developed on the local curate, as a young man, I'd decided on the Church of England priesthood as my future role in life. Events soon knocked that out of me, however; events and a growing sense of the hypocrisy rampant in organised religion. But my need to 'preach', to 'evangelise' was clearly already deep-rooted even then. Later, when I re-examined my options and looked back at my life and varied career, it became clear that I might, as I'd often been told, have made a good teacher. It's clear that these aspects of my personality have come to the fore in my writing. So we can see where personal challenges become parallels of writing challenges.

As for injustice and my other long-held passions, I think they've developed alongside my self-taught awareness of the wider world. I've quite deliberately exposed myself to those issues that seem important, rather than dive under the covers of simple entertainment or drown myself in the froth and inconsequence of the celebrity culture that now engulfs so many adults.

I've always had what many have described as an unhealthy concern for truth and honesty, perhaps inherited from my extraordinary mother, who was a well-loved local confidante of more people than I realised at the time.

As for my interest in other subjects, my step-father was fascinated by butterflies and moths, by the night sky, by the tales of Ryder Haggard and the poetry of Omar Khayyam, whose work he could quote at length. So, I suppose I developed similar interests more or less inevitably. Though my own interests in science, natural history and fiction are far wider than those I was initially introduced to. But my step-father's passion did spill over and infect me.

So, it would seem there's some evidence to support the view that our personal challenges can become our writing challenges.

I've exposed mine here for you in the hope that such confession might be helpful for my readers and visitors. The refusal to accept or face those challenges that get in the way of good writing are often the cause of blocking of the creative channels. They must be faced and acknowledged before they can be defeated or at least diverted. If you want to write well, you need to discover what your personal challenges are before you can do anything to reduce their influence on your writing. So, whether you're afflicted with something as basic as a lack of grammatical discipline and knowledge or something in the way of a more complex psychological problem, the first step seems to be acknowledgement of the possibility. Once you reach recognition, acceptance is not far behind and it is then that strategies can be put in place to reduce the influence of these challenges on your output.

Up to you. You can either share your own challenges here or keep them private. Either way, a bit of work on them may well result in a more rounded and deeper development as you as a writer. I hope so, anyway. 

Silly and irrelevant question, just for the smile: Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but duck if you throw a revolver at him?

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 10.

If you've come this far, you don't need me blathering on with stuff you already know. Enjoy the read.

But, if you missed the start, here's the link to it: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html

Chapter 1 appeared on 13 January and following chapters appear each Friday. You can find them via the archive.

Read, enjoy, invite your friends.

Chapter 10

When she first came into my life, Faith was just a rather idiosyncratic young woman with only the cheapness of her labour and her excellent office skills to commend her. She was pretty in a waifish way but not the sort of woman I sought. But, then, there were those eyes and her baffling innocence.

Over the few weeks she’d worked for me, she’d learned rapidly and well. She quickly took all the finishing tasks out of my own and Merv’s hands. She organized the office and me so efficiently that I never missed an appointment or ran out of stock and, if I couldn’t find an item of equipment, she always knew where it was.

But there was more than work to Faith. Her curiosity, once beyond her father’s boundaries, was endless. She was so eager to learn about everything, it was like having a bright, attractive and well-behaved child about the house. She read voraciously; responding enthusiastically to my invitation to use the library, which Uncle Fred and I had spent much time, energy and money in stocking with a broad-based selection of books.

She’d grown in confidence and this was reflected in the way she now held herself. No longer the round shoulders and stooping walk, no longer the shuffle of shame. She was upright and open. Her face had taken on a semi-permanent half smile, as if she was pleased with everything she saw. And this smile lightened her face and brought a sparkle to those glorious eyes that were so deep I feared I might drown in them. She’d started to put on weight now she was no longer walking miles every day. And the new flesh was distributing itself with real promise. She was on the way to becoming a very attractive woman.

Her dowdy clothes I now knew she wore not from choice but the meanness of Heacham. The trip to York gave me an excuse to do something about that by introducing her to the pleasures of buying and wearing fashionable clothes.

As we left the car park and set off down the broad path beside the river, she was alive with interest, keen to notice everything about her. I wanted to take her hand, to be in contact with this strange, captivating young woman. It just seemed right. She would reject such intimacy, regardless of how innocent it might be. The irony amused me: I’d shared much greater intimacy with so many women without fear of rejection.

‘Why the smile?’

‘I’d like to hold your hand and I was wondering why I find it so difficult to ask you, when I’ve touched every naked inch of so many women.’

‘Why?’

No reference to my inexplicable difficulty, no argument or condemnation regarding the other women. Just a simple demand to know my reason for wanting to hold her hand; the very aspect of the situation I found most difficult to understand myself.

‘I don’t know. It seems the natural thing to do with you.’

‘You’re being remarkably honest, Leigh.’

‘Perhaps you’re rubbing off on me.’

‘Careful. Honesty can be dangerous.’

‘Now you’re teasing me.’

‘I’m not sure about the hands. It sounds harmless enough and I expect I’d enjoy it. Let me see if I can tell what that sort of contact means in society.’

‘Are you always so analytical before you make contact? It’d be hard bloody work making love with you if you are.’ I’d said it without thinking, without knowing I thought it. That I spoke in terms of making love rather than having sex was disturbing.

‘If analysis will save me from your rapacious intent, Leighton Longshaw, I’ll use it for the foreseeable future.’

There was no malice, no blame in her response, but she meant it and I knew I’d blown my chance for now.

We reached Lendall Bridge and climbed the flagged slope to reach the road. I took her to a café I’d visited previously and chose a window seat so she could watch the people go by. The waitress was new, from the uni, but one of my previous conquests tipped her off and she smiled a welcome as she brought the menu. I gave her the benefit of an encouraging smile before turning my attention to Faith and the list of items on the printed card.

We ordered my cappuccino and Faith’s Yorkshire tea and, after my reminder that she had agreed to be treated, a cream cake each. The waitress was positively coquettish as she took the order, her gentian eyes finding mine and remaining locked there. I watched her glide across the floor on shapely pins encased in sheer black nylon and automatically assessed her potential as a model.

Faith was absorbed in the doings of the various people both inside and outside the café and was unaware of the exchange between the waitress and me. She was happy observing the activity and I felt slightly put out by her lack of attention to me.

We drank and ate in companionable silence, Faith’s only comment that the tea was good and the cream cake delicious. Another first for her; one of many that day.

When the waitress brought the bill, she was so intent on me, she failed to notice the slip of paper drifting from her saucer. It floated to the floor where Faith picked it up. Before I could stop her, she’d unfolded it.

‘This can’t be right! That’s far too much for two drinks and two cakes!’

The waitress was startled out of her reverie and detached herself from my eyes to glare at Faith. My hand hid the smile as I gently took the bill. I topped the cash on the saucer with one of my special business cards bearing a brief message inviting contact, if desired, as I felt the recipient had potential for modelling. She glanced at the card and nodded. As I steered Faith from the café, the other diners followed our exit with faces full of surprise or scorn.

‘My fault, Faith. I forget just how little you know about society and shopping. The price was fine. We could’ve gone somewhere cheaper but the tea and coffee would’ve been poor and the cakes wouldn’t have been half as nice.’

‘I bet the waitresses wouldn’t be so pretty or liberated either. You could see their breasts through their blouses.’

‘Could you? I never noticed…’

‘Of course you didn’t, Leigh.’

I gave her my wounded look but she saw through that so I grinned and shrugged. ‘A word of advice, though. It’s not English to complain loudly in public. We don’t do it. We call this cowardice “reserve” and the rest of the world expects it of us, which is why we are so surprising overseas, where we complain loudly about everything and nothing. So, for today, I’d prefer you not to voice your opinions on cost, and any other contentious matters, until we’ve left the shop. Okay?’

‘I’m your willing and obedient servant, Leighton Longshaw.’

‘That’ll be the day. Come on, little Miss Outspoken, let’s find that typewriter. Then I’m going to do some serious spoiling.’

‘Aren’t things that are spoilt, ruined?’

‘You need spoiling. Time you had a bit of unbridled pleasure and fun.’ I made the comment in jest, of course, but Faith considered it with real seriousness.

‘Perhaps you’re right, Leigh. Perhaps I ought to indulge a little, if only so I’ve a better idea of what I’m talking about when I criticize it in others.’

I cupped her elbow and steered her into the office supplies shop without a word. For all that I understood how she could say such a thing, I couldn’t trust myself to reply generously to a comment like that.

###

You've come this far, so it's unlikely you'll stop now. But, just in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book.

Web site: http://stuartaken.co.uk
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Stuarts' Daily Word Spot: Daft/Sane

Image via Wikipedia

Daft/Sane

Daft: adjective - silly; lacking intelligence; stupid; wild or reckless; unsound of mind; crazy.

Sane: adjective - sound of mind, not mad; sensible and rational; moderate; free from misguiding prejudices.

'It is often said that those who believe in any form of scripture must be daft. And this may be so. But such a stance takes account only of rational intelligence. It makes no allowance for emotional intelligence, where the subject recognises their need for some moral or heroic leader to guide them through life and therefore chooses to give credence to some doctrine that cannot be true on a reasoning level.'

'The only really sane stance on religious matters is to recognise that any form of organised religionis the product of man and has little or nothing to do with God. The sane person understands that we are incapable, as a species, of fully comprehending any power capable of designing, manufacturing and installing what we understand as the known universe. Science can sometimes appear adamant that God doesn't exist, but this is to take on the same dogmatic stance as religion: it requires faith in an absolute that cannot be demonstrated to exist.'

On a lighter note, more fitting to the season, perhaps:

'Sally was daft enough to follow Jack's urging and donned the ridiculous Santa outfit that displayed her ample cleavage and left her long legs exposed almost to the point of his desire.'

'Jane was sane enough to understand that skating on the frozen pond was not a good idea and refused to join David as he skidded over the cracked surface and finally broke through it so he was plunged into icy water to a level that cooled his ardour rather rapidly.'

1 - The first Christmas, according to calendar-maker Dionysus Exiguus. But the evidence, such as it is, suggests Jesus was probably born in either January or July somewhere around 4-6BC. But people will inevitably believe what they choose to, since it has long been shown that belief has little or nothing to do with either fact or evidence and much to do with a mixture of nurture and personal preference.

1818 - The first known Christmas carol Silent Night, Holy Nightwas sung in Austria, sparking one of the more attractive and seductive elements that make up the spiritual Christian festival today.

Are Traditions and Customs Really Worth Keeping?

Image via Wikipedia

Such a question will inevitably promote discussion, debate and perhaps some outrage at the mere suggestion. But, before I say my piece and invite your comments and contributions, perhaps I should define the terms, so that we all know what we're discussing:

Tradition is defined as belief, custom, etc., passed along from generation to generation by non-written means; those beliefs, collectively; established and accepted practice or custom; principles held and generally followed by a branch of the arts, adopted from and handed down through experience and practice; doctrine regarded as possessing divine authority with no written evidence; the spoken messages of Christ and the apostles, passed on by word of mouth through generations; words and actions of Muhammad not incorporated in the Qur'an but transmitted orally before being recorded.

Custom is held to be habitual or common practice; a usual way of behaving; usage, fashion or habit; established usage which, because it has continued for a long time, has taken on the force of a law or right.

The world is overrun with examples of custom and tradition; many are religious in origin, others stem from early ignorance of certain realities, yet others have developed as responses to threats from outside the boundaries set by those groups practicing them. We, mostly, take such things for granted and promote their continuance without much thought for either their origins or their real social effects. So, is any harm done by such continuation? Is it possible that some customs and traditions are not good things?

Let's look at some of the most popular and widespread. Christmas is almost on us. This celebration of the birth of a notable prophet, a figure responsible for the formation of one of the world's great religions, is touted as a demonstration of love, generosity and general goodwill to all men. Peace and harmony are tied into the very meaning of this tradition. So, can it be seen in any way as other than a good thing?

Well, the timing of the ceremony, as most people are aware, is way off if it is an actual commemoration of the prophet's birth, since it's believed he was actually born in the summer months. So, the first aspect I question is the lack of honesty in the dating. Of course, it's well known that the old Pagan ceremony that was traditionally held at the mid-winter point long before Christianity came on the scene, was hijacked by the church in order to allow the celebrants to more readily accept the new religion. So, the timing of the celebration immediately takes on the nature of a con-trick, something devised to make more palatable a set of beliefs that were at variance with those of the people it was invented to convert. Such trickery is hardly the way to promote a doctrine that purports to have truth at its heart, I think.

In Islam, the position of the woman is traditionally that of subordinate; traditionally, though not according to the holy book of the faith. The Qur'an states quite clearly that men and women are of equal value and worth. However, the later commentaries, supposedly recorded as the words and actions of the prophet, Mohammed, are open to interpretation that women are rightly considered subordinate to men. Such downgrading of the gender would fit in well with the beliefs of a man brought up in a brothel, of course. And they fit in well with the traditions of a culture which has regarded women as goods and chattels since the beginning of recorded history. One has only to look at the ethnic communities where Islam first developed and note the custom of awarding their leaders numerous wives and concubines to see that the male attitude to the position of women in such societies was less than generous. The Islamic belief that men who are martyred in the cause (whatever that cause may be determined to be) will be rewarded by an eternity in paradise served by anything up to 72 virgin maidens, indicates that women are seen as the playthings and servants of men. No such reward awaits those women who sacrifice themselves to the cause, however. And, clearly, the fate of the 72 virgin maidens is hardly something to be relished. So, I question the custom and tradition held so dear by the sects of this religion in this regard.

The tradition of regarding pork as unclean, elevated to quasi-legal status in certain communities, stems from early observations that pig meat can cause many illnesses. Of course, with modern farming techniques and the knowledge that such meat must be well-cooked to avoid the problems, the risk has been reduced to similar proportions as those of eating any other meat. But it's noteworthy that the ban on eating pork remains. It's been enshrined into the culture of those communities and is upheld as something positive simply on the grounds that it is customary, traditional. Another example of the religious authorities being unwilling to accept that the basis for their laws might actually be questionable.

In certain parts of the Middle East and Africa it's customary for young women to be circumcised. This, of course, is a euphemism for brutal damage to the victims genitalia. The custom, carried out without anaesthetic, involves the removal of the clitoris and, frequently, the stitching together of the labia minor to prevent penetration. This tradition, often continued and encouraged by the mothers of the victims, is designed entirely to serve the men of the communities. The thought behind it is that women will not 'stray' if there is little pleasure for them in the sex act. The victim's stitched labia are cut open once the woman marries so that her husband may penetrate her, regardless of any pain she may suffer. This custom is defended by those within the community on the grounds that it is a long held tradition. And, of course, it the combination of the status of tradition with subliminal brain-washing that allows the mothers to continue to perpetrate this violence on their daughters.

I could go on. There are many examples of similar customs and traditions: wife burning at the death of a husband, the disfiguring of women who refuse a suitor's advances, the killing of daughters who 'dishonour' a family by refusing to marry the chosen husband. All, of course, with serious consequences for those affected. There are also lesser customs and traditions that do more subtle harm. The custom of the Abrahamic religions in their elevation of commerce to the level of some sort of divinely inspired activity, for example, has allowed business to proceed without any real concern about its effects on those who are less well off. And the custom of giving at Christmas, whilst producing some very real generosity of spirit as well as actual charity, has caused many millions to put themselves into debt in order to avoid being thought either mean or too poor to give as much as their neighbours.

So, to return to my question: is it possible that some customs and traditions are not good things? I think you'll know my answer, but I'm interested to learn yours. Are you willing to get involved in the discussion here? It's easy enough to make a comment below.