Voldemort and the Myth of No Good or Evil

“He is with me wherever I go,” said Quirrell quietly. “I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it… Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me.” Quirrell shivered suddenly. “He does not forgive mistakes easily. (from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone)

Do you see the gaping hole in Voldemort’s world view?  There is no good or evil, he says and teaches his protege’, yet he is harsh and unforgiving when let down.  But what is the let down if not evil to Voldemort?  There is not such thing as a practical universalist.  If a person tells you they don’t believe in good or evil, go and let the air out of their car tire or trick them into giving you their pay check, then you’ll see they believe in evil.  No matter what we do all of us smuggle into our minds some standard against which we measure the world.  It is unavoidable.  It is the result of a created world, not a random one.3141025-hp-dh-part-2-lord-voldemort-26625098-1920-800

Can We Communicate or Can We Talk?

“M. Noirtier? But I thought you told me he had become entirely paralyzed, and that all his faculties were completely destroyed?
“Yes, his bodily faculties, for he can neither move nor speak, nevertheless he thinks, acts, and wills in the manner I have described. I left him about five minutes ago, and he is now occupied in dictating his will to two notaries.
“But to do this he must have spoken?”
“He has done better than that.  He has made himself understood.
(from The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexander Dumas)wrench-fig01_x005

If There Is No God, All Bets Are Only Bets

Olevskoy shouted, “No! Absolutely not!  I will not risk an ambush!”
“I swear to you,”  Greenwood shouted, “that there will be no ambush, and that you will have the freedom of the village afterward.”  Distant echoes, then calm again.
Olevskoy shouted, “Do you believe in God?”
Greenwood was flabbergasted.  After a moment he shouted, “No!”
“Then who are you to swear to anything?”
(from The Blue-eyed Shan by Stephen Becker)n318942

High and Mighty Empty Words

And at that, for no reason, Sample said, “Praise God.”  It reminded me of a cat yawning.  They do that all of a sudden for no good reason, either.  It left me even more uneasy.  I know there is nothing wrong with saying “Praise God,” and I certainly heard enough of that sort of thing firsthand, growing up in the South, but somehow it always seemed to me to be terribly bad manners, rather like kissing with your mouth open in public. (from Frank Deford’s, Everybody’s All-American)Arkansas_Rice

The Real God is not Afraid of Our Anger

“Stripped to a scream, undressed to a cry of pain, he sobbed his anger at God in hoarse words that hurt his throat. He asked for nothing now, nor did he wonder if he’d been bad or good. Such concepts were all part of the joke he’d just discovered. He cursed God directly for the savage joke that had been played on him. And in that cursing Mellas for the first time really talked with his God. Then he cried, tears and snot mixing together as they streamed down his face, but his cries were the rage and hurt of a newborn child, at last, however roughly, being taken from the womb.” (from Matterhorn: A Novel of the Vietnam War by Karl Marlantes)

A-MatterhornA friend emailed last week to ask about crying out to God.  She said I made it sound simple, but she felt intimidated by the prospect.  As I thought through this with her it occurred to me that many of us probably feel scared or awkward about crying out to God.  I wondered why this should be.  If God isn’t the great comforter then what is He?  If we can’t run to him in our sorrow, where can we go?  And then it struck me; we do run to him, we do cry out to him, we do expect him to comfort us, but we also expect him to keep us from needing comfort!  Isn’t he supposed to protect us???  Isn’t he supposed to stop the pain dead in its tracks???  How can we run to a God and cry to a God who didn’t keep us safe and didn’t guard our hearts?  If we let ourselves rest upon this idea for a moment I think we might discover that instead of crying out to God for comfort, what we’d really like to do is to cry at God in pain.  We’d like to ventilate our anger at not being protected.  And that is scary for a lot of reasons.  Is it ok to be angry at God?  Is our theology big enough to allow for this?  Is our morality in the way?  Religion leaves no room for God-anger, it only lets us account for self-anger or others-anger.  Either we messed up and we are getting what we deserve or someone else (the bad people) are doing what bad people do and God will get them eventually.  But we do not blame God for our mistakes or for bad people being bad.  God stays lilly white.  He stays above reproach.

This is not Christianity.  Christianity is a God who gets dirty.  The gospel is a God who, while remaining fully God, allows himself to become reproachable; who, while remaining shaking-fistcompletely faultless, accepts the blame for every fault.  If we look upon the cross long enough we will not find the answer to our suffering.  We will not see why our tears fall, or why we were not protected.  But we will see this – we will see that the real God did not run away from our anger or the anger of God the Father.  We will see that the wrath of men and God were not great enough to destroy Jesus Christ.  And we will see that the one thing we know about suffering is that God willingly participates in it with us.  He doesn’t stay lilly white.  He becomes darkness itself.  Jesus was not protected.  Jesus was not comforted.  Jesus cried out and was unanswered.  My heart can sometimes not contain itself when I look on this, even in my own suffering.  I know I cannot accuse my God, the real God, of apathy toward my low estate.  The cross contradicts me.  Perhaps we do not begin to speak with God until we cry in pain and anger at him.  Surely he is not afraid of it, just as I was not afraid to hear my children cry themselves to sleep when they were infants, knowing I’d provided all they needed and that they were safe and secure in my house only needing the crying in order to sleep well.

Sacrifice Demands Respect (and use)

“You see sir,” he said, addressing Bus, “we’ve lost a lot of men [building] this (air)strip.  Every foot has been paid for.  It’s not to be misused lightly.” (from James Michener’s South Pacific)

Sacrifice demands respect,  The higher the sacrifice, the higher the respect.  But it also is worthless unless it is put to use.  The sacrifice of Christ demands the highest respect because it was the highest sacrifice, but we must make use of it.  We must not hesitate to land our planes upon it or act as if using it to gain access to God is some unusual thing.  It is the exact thing for which he suffered and died.pacific

Risk and Leadership

“Caligula or Nero, those treasure-seekers, those desirers of the impossible, would have accorded to the poor wretch, in exchange for his wealth, the liberty he so earnestly prayed for. But the kings of modern times, restrained by the limits of mere probability, have neither courage nor desire. They fear the ear that hears their orders, and the eye that scrutinizes their actions.”  (from The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexander Dumas – on the Abbe Faria’s offer of his treasure for his freedom)

The is no leadership without risk.  Sad to say it is often the evil men; the Caligula’s and the Nero’s who are worse men and better leaders than “good” men because their lust for wealth or power drives them to attempt the impossible.  They do not fear the eyes that scrutinize or the ears that hear their plans.  They risk all.  It takes more than good character and good intentions and even good beliefs to be a good leader.  It takes faith.  It takes 225px-Louis_Français-Dantès_sur_son_rocherwillingness to risk all in pursuit of those good things, and to take whatever may come.  It would be insanity to risk our reputation on the crazy old Abbe Faria’s treasure.  Much safer to keep him and our reputation locked up safe and sound in the Château d’If.  But leaders don’t lead by protecting themselves or their reputations; leaders always lead at the risk of their reputations.  This is why the greatest leader ever took the greatest risk when he gave up his good name to rescue us from our prison, and in the process gained the Name that is above all names.

Writing that Makes Me Want to Give Thanks

One of my best friends died 5 months after I was born.  He has made me laugh, entertained me for hours upon hours with his stories, and opened my eyes to mysteries in ways that are marvelous to me.  Every time I think of him I am thankful that he shared his thoughts with me, and none more than these thoughts that inspire me and fill me with hope:

“And this brings me to the other sense of glory—glory as brightness, splendour, luminosity. We are to shine as the sun, we are to be given the Morning Star. I think I begin to see what it means. In one way, of course, God has given us the Morning Star already: you can go and enjoy the gift on many fine mornings if you get up early enough. What more, you may ask, do we want? Ah, but we want so much more—something the books on aesthetics take little notice of. But the poets and the mythologies know all about it. We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. That is why we have Door_Knobpeopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses and nymphs and elves that, though we cannot, yet these projections can, enjoy in themselves that beauty grace, and power of which Nature is the image. That is why the poets tell us such lovely falsehoods. They talk as if the west wind could really sweep into a human soul; but it can’t. They tell us that “beauty born of murmuring sound” will pass into a human face; but it won’t. Or not yet. For if we take the imagery of Scripture seriously, if we believe that God will one day give us the Morning Star and cause us to put on the splendour of the sun, then we may surmise that both the ancient myths and the modern poetry, so false as history, may be very near the truth as prophecy. At present we are on the outside of the world,
the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in. When human souls have become as perfect in voluntary obedience as the inanimate creation is in its lifeless obedience, then they will put on its glory, or rather that greater glory of which Nature is only the first sketch. For you must not think that I am putting forward any heathen fancy of being absorbed into Nature. Nature is mortal; we shall outlive her. When all the suns and nebulae have passed away, each one of you will still be alive. Nature is only the image, the symbol; but it is the symbol Scripture invites me to use. We are summoned to pass in through Nature, beyond her, into that splendour which she fitfully reflects.” – C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory