{"id":5990,"date":"2009-11-06T13:20:17","date_gmt":"2009-11-06T17:20:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=5990"},"modified":"2009-11-06T13:20:17","modified_gmt":"2009-11-06T17:20:17","slug":"losing-our-heads-over-modest-gods","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2009\/11\/losing-our-heads-over-modest-gods\/","title":{"rendered":"Losing Our Heads Over Modest Gods"},"content":{"rendered":"

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[Above, a set of miniature Egyptian canopic jars depicting, according to the retailer, “Anubis, Horus, Monkey God, Prince.”* Click image for original.]<\/em><\/p>\n

From whiskey river<\/em><\/a> (which this week celebrated eight years of bringing to the Web wisdom about things we generally know, but generally do not speak of):<\/p>\n

Shinto<\/strong><\/p>\n

When sorrow lays us low
\nfor a second we are saved
\nby humble windfalls
\nof the mindfulness or memory:
\nthe taste of a fruit, the taste of water,
\nthat face given back to us by a dream,
\nthe first jasmine of November,
\nthe endless yearning of the compass,
\na book we thought was lost,
\nthe throb of a hexameter,
\nthe slight key that opens a house to us,
\nthe smell of a library, or of sandalwood,
\nthe former name of a street,
\nthe colors of a map,
\nan unforeseen etymology,
\nthe smoothness of a filed fingernail,
\nthe date we were looking for,
\nthe twelve dark bell-strokes, tolling as we count,
\na sudden physical pain.<\/p>\n

Eight million Shinto deities **
\ntravel secretly throughout the earth.
\nThose modest gods touch us —
\ntouch us and move on.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Jorge Luis Borges)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Not from whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n

Where do gods come from? Where do they go?<\/p>\n

Some attempt to answer this was made by the religious philosopher Koomi of Smale in his book Ego-Video Liber Deorum<\/em>, which translates into the vernacular roughly as Gods: A Spotter’s Guide<\/em>.<\/p>\n

People said there had to be a Supreme Being because otherwise how could the universe exist, eh?<\/p>\n

And of course there clearly had to be, said Koomi, a Supreme Being. But since the universe was a bit of a mess, it was obvious that the Supreme Being hadn’t in fact made it. If he had made it he would, being Supreme, have made a much better job of it, with far better thought given, taking an example at random, to things like the design of the common nostril. Or, to put it another way, the existence of a badly put-together watch proved the existence of a blind watchmaker. You only had to look around to see that there was room for improvement practically everywhere.<\/p>\n

This suggested that the Universe had probably been put together in a bit of a rush by an underling while the Supreme Being wasn’t looking, in the same way that Boy Scouts’ Association minutes are done on office copiers all over the country.<\/p>\n

So, reasoned Koomi, it was not a good idea to address any prayers to a Supreme Being. It would only attract his attention and might cause trouble.<\/p>\n

And yet there seemed to be a lot of lesser gods around the place. Koomi’s theory was that gods come into being and grow and flourish because they are believed in<\/em>. Belief itself is the food of the gods. Initially, when mankind lived in small primitive tribes, there were probably millions of gods. Now there tended to be only a few very important ones — local gods of thunder and love, for example, tended to run together like pools of mercury as small primitive tribes joined up and became huge, powerful primitive tribes with more sophisticated weapons. But any god could join. Any god could start small. Any god could grow in stature as its believers increased. And dwindle as they decreased. It was like a great big game of ladders and snakes.<\/p>\n

Gods liked games, provided they were winning.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Terry Pratchett, writing, in Small Gods,<\/em> of theology as practiced on the Discworld)<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

The characters of the Iliad<\/em> do not sit down and think out what to do. They have no conscious minds such as we say we have, and certainly no introspections… The beginnings of action are not in conscious plans, reasons, and motives; they are in the actions and speeches of gods…<\/p>\n

Who then were these gods that pushed men about like robots and sang epics through their lips? They were voices whose speech and directions could be as distinctly heard by the Iliadic heroes as voices are heard today by certain epileptic and schizophrenic patients, or just as Joan of Arc heard her voices.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Julian Jaynes, The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind<\/em>)<\/p>\n

T<\/span>his has been an absolute lunatic week for me (the main reason why I’ve been more or less invisible on most of your blogs for the last few days). Nothing bad<\/em>, really. Just complicated as hell. (I always tell The Missus: I love complexity, but hate complication.) In fact, it has sort of made me stop and wonder if I might have blasphemed or committed some other sin for which the gods might be punishing me (while laughing up their sleeves).<\/p>\n

And that<\/em>, in turn, made me think if I haven’t crossed any of those invisible lines, then maybe — yes! — The Gods Must Be Crazy<\/em> after all… Below is the first fifteen minutes of the film. If you’ve seen it already and want to skip right to the key moment when the plot actually kicks in, it happens a little past eight minutes into the clip. If you haven’t<\/em> seen it already, at least watch it up to and including that event.<\/p>\n

Stylistically, the film begins like a fairly conventional documentary. Eventually it turns into comedy, and finally ends up as… something almost incapable of being categorized.<\/p>\n

<\/object><\/p>\n

Having seen that, if you want to have the whole thing spoiled for you, Wikipedia’s entry will do the trick. (Sorry, no link — I’ll make you work for your impatience. Ha.)
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* Canopic jars were small vessels in which the viscera of the ancient Egyptian dead were placed to accompany them in the afterlife. Wikipedia<\/a> disagrees with the retailer’s names for the gods depicted in the jars’ forms; per this modest god of Internet research:<\/p>\n