why don't those christians who are crazy learn to read???

I got myself into a little argument the other day. I was sitting outside talking with a friend, and within the confines of our conversation, I said "there's another of those goddamn Hummers" as one passed in front of us. This otherwise intelligent looking young dude comes over to me and asked why I took the "Lord's" name in vain. I responded that I was pissed off that people could pollute the earth with little or no consequence to themselves. That set him off.

"Isn't blasphemy pollution?" he asked.

I agreed that it was, but first of all, I don't believe that there is a god or gods in existence. Second, I asked him why he thought a word had the same power of blasphemy as, say, incest, theft, or murder. Or burning churches or something.

"It's one of the commandments, and we must follow god's law."

I asked if he believed that a god could speak through translation. After all, the "word of God" has come to us from many seperate translations of ancient texts that were lost, recopied, transliterated, mistranslated, or modified to suit the contemporary needs of the translator. Is it not then man's laws that we are talking about? Isn't it vain and overly proud to speak as though one knows "God's" intentions. After all, since this god of the christian tradition is supposed to be beyond human understanding -- hence the need for faith above reason -- then how can a single individual attempt to speak in its stead?

"The word of God is holy," and so he sat down beside us.

Ok, but what is the word of God? I asked. I thought that the word of God is creation, as evidenced by old testament scripture in Genesis. Consequently, to blaspheme is to do damage to creation, as in what the science tells us about the excessive oil consumption demonstrated by the Hummer.

So taking the earth's health in vain is to take the Lord's name in vain, under my reading of Christian doctrine. But hey, I'm no Christian.

"It's pretty clear to me. You can't swear, or it's a sin," he said.

So I asked if it was a greater sin to actually wreck the earth, rather than to utter a few frequencies that under a certain linguistic tradition can mean a reference to god (that my statement actually referred to the christian or any other god is itself questionable, but I don't want to get into semiotics here...). Would a being who had the power to create and destroy all of creation really be worried about a few words???

Scientific evidence tells me that our actions are more important in terms of damaging creation. While I certainly could have used any combination of words to parlay my disgust towards wasteful and ecologically damaging decisions that humans make, I still feel justified in damning the Hummer to a god's fury. After all, we do seem to be messing with the earth's biosphere pretty substantially, and in fact seem to be attempting to usurp the power of god or gods in that respect.

So this pious little Christian said he would pray for my soul, and walked away. In passing I asked if he could pick up a few pop cans that he passed and deposit them in the recycle bin at the end of the street. He ignored me.

Good works, Christian saviour. What would Jesus have done in a similar situation? Jesus would have picked up the fucking cans.

Gotta love superstitions, like how they stop people from actually thinking about things. That's great. Goddamn great, in fact.

Fear and liability in the Book of Job and The Trial

In comparing the thematic nature of the Book of Job and The Trial, one becomes aware that these two temporally disparate works share a central ideology. The protagonists in each of the two texts were the prime instigators of the crises contained within each narrative; the fear exhibited by each for circumstances that opposed their convictions resulted in the materialization of such occurrences. In this sense it can be seen that both Job and Joseph K. administered their own degeneration. The phrase that provides the most comprehensive synopsis of their respective dilemmas can be found in the Book of Job: “Truly the thing that I fear comes upon me, and what I dread befalls me” (Job 3:24-25). In each text, the paranoia inherent in both Job and Joseph K. literally surfaces as a higher authority imposing its condemnatory judgement. Yet what differentiates the two protagonists are their particular responses to the accusations brought against them.

As described in the Book of Job, the extent to which the protagonist recognizes his personal accountability in determining his fate is the crisis to be reconciled in the text. By conceding to his fears, which are centered upon his loss of control, Job actualizes his condemnation. He reasons that the authority that he publically displays over his family and his business affairs might be compromised by the actions of his children, who in his eyes act immorally. Yet such parental consideration is superficial: indeed Job worries about the state of his children not for their moral benefit, but for the maintenance of his own public image as “blameless and upright” (Job 1:1). Such an egotistical aesthetic is Job’s fundamental flaw and is destined to incur punishment from a more powerful source, which in this narrative is God. Thus the sacrifices that he performs in the stead of his children draw the attention of the Lord, who promptly casts judgement down upon him and dispossesses him of the personal and financial aspects of his power. Job becomes ostracized by his society, he becomes “a byword to them... [and] they do not hesitate to spit at the sight of [him]” (Job 30:9-10). Throughout his ordeal he proclaims his innocence vehemently and bemoans his miserable fate, and he questions the justice of God’s punishment: “does he not see my ways, and number all my steps?” (Job 31:4). By continually questioning the Lord’s judgment, Job merely furthers his vanity and thus increases his guilt in the eyes of the divine. Apparently Job has some grasp of his situation, yet he does not fully appreciate the consequences of his actions until the Lord speaks to him personally. Thereafter he realizes the consequences of his vanity and renounces his former ideology:

See, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand
on my mouth. I have spoken once, and I will not answer; twice, but
will proceed no further....therefore I despise myself, and repent in
dust and ashes. (Job 40:4-5, 42:6)

Job realizes that he must not fear the anger of the Lord else such wrath will befall him; he must exist knowing that every action performed by God is executed because it is just. Upon apprehending this truth--”I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you” (Job 42:5)--Job regains a prosperous life.

The Trial contains a much more obscure, and ultimately malicious, embodiment of the culpability of the protagonist. The world that Joseph K. created for himself revolves around meticulous order and a strict adherence to his established structure. Such an artificial construct ostensibly grants him control over the ‘outside’ world in which he lives, being in K.’s mind the realm of chaos. The nature of K.’s fear is akin to that of Job: he too is frightened by the prospect of losing control. As the Lord was attracted to Job, similarly the Court is to Joseph K, who is promptly condemned as a guilty man. However, no evident laws or structures are governing his conviction. Thus K. becomes extremely disillusioned as the anarchy and apparent lawlessness of the Court is forced into his reality. He immediately blames another for such an intrusion: “Someone must have been telling lies about [me], for without having done anything wrong [I] was arrested one fine morning” (Kafka, 1); analogous to Job he does not place blame upon himself. Thereafter, K. endeavors to prove his innocence and assuage the Court from its decision, yet his efforts continually escalate his guilty status. His efforts prove to actuate and intensify the proceedings in which he finds himself circumscribed. One such example occurs when K. is told to attend his trial, yet not having been given directions about the location or schedule of the offices he arrives only to find himself in contempt of the Examining Magistrate for his tardiness. Subsequently, K. ventures to determine an underlying structure and methodology to the Court in an attempt to accord it with his own rational system of thought. Yet the Court does not follow such a constitution--indeed it is the antithesis to K.’s analytic and logical ideology--and thus he cannot function within its framework.

The loss of his ability to function is another detail that greatly agitates Joseph K, a fear that increasingly emerges as reality. Escalating productivity that led to ascendency of the social and economic hierarchy marked his ‘normal’ life. Such was the structure to be found at the bank, an institution that was greatly synchronized to K.’s philosophy. It was ordered and compartmentalized for efficient production and allowed K. the optimal setting in which to function. K. himself states that in such a milieu he would have the mechanisms to deal with the confusion of the Court:

In the Bank for instance, I am always prepared, nothing of that
kind could possibly happen to me there....and above all, my mind
is always on my work and so kept on the alert, it would be an
actual pleasure to me if a situation like that cropped up in the
Bank. (Kafka, 20)

However, as K. pursues a model of order and efficiency in the apparent contradictions of the Court, he is clearly impotent to act against it. He cannot operate within the confines of the Court’s formalities and operation; this is confirmed when K. traverses the court offices only to find himself oppressed by the climate therein. Indeed his episode at the offices is a microcosm of his intercourse with the Court: as K. became increasingly ill in the offices--”the farther he went the worse it [became] for him” (Kafka, 68), correspondingly his physical condition worsens as the narrative continues. His impotence to act extends beyond the boundaries of the Court however, as he loses his ability to perform his responsibilities at the bank to such a degree that the Assistant Manager must conduct them in his place. While he greatly fears such intrusions into his professional life, especially by someone he considers a rival, he does not attempt to regain control for himself. Unlike Job, Joseph K. never acknowledges his impropriety, he never views himself as the instigator of his afflictions, and thus he never redeems himself in the eyes of the superior power. Truly he views himself blameless and remains insubordinate to the very end, yet remains inanimate and powerless against the Court: “He could not completely rise to the occasion...the responsibility for this last failure of his lay with him who had not left him the remnant of strength necessary for the deed” (Kafka, 228). Taken to its logical extreme, Joseph K. encountered that which he feared the most.

While the outcomes of the Book of Job and The Trial are vastly different, they are in accordance when viewed through the personal accountability of the protagonist. The beliefs, actions and anxieties of Job and Joseph K. precipitated their adversity. Yet each of the two reacted differently to the judgement cast upon them. Job, by sublimating himself to the higher authority, becomes reconciled with his situation and afterwards prospers. Conversely, Joseph K. never accedes to the Court--indeed he actively disregards its procedures, and is thus marked for execution. In such a context, each conviction concurs with the protagonists’ reactions to their judgement.

Bibliography

Book of Job. Holy Bible with the Apocrypha, New Revised Standard Version. New York:
Oxford University Press, 1989. 498-539.

Book of Job. The Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces. Gen. ed. Maynard Mack. 6th ed.
Vol. 1. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1992. 69-86.

Kafka, Franz. The Trial. Trans. Willa and Edwin Muir. New York: Schocken Books, 1995.