What do you think is the purpose of sex?
Romans #4
13 years ago
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Turning on Your Desire
When I was a sophomore in High School (1996) I went through an American right-of-passage. That was the year I turned 16, and as one of the older members of my class, I was very excited to drive my friends around in my new car. Well, it was new to me, anyway. It was a 1984 Toyota Starlet. Once you click on that link and see this car of wonders (we had the “60 Series”), you will want one right away. It’s pretty much a babe magnet. But, alas, the Starlet was so popular that Toyota couldn’t keep up with consumer demand, so they had to discontinue production in 1999.
We had the car in our family for 5 years before it became mine. I waited in anticipation for my 16th birthday, when I knew Toyota’s version of the Rolls Royce would be given to me. Its beauty only intensified when my older brother took it out for a joy ride. Oops! After the accident, mom decided we had to hold onto this magnificent car, so she went looking to replace the right fender. The only fender she could find was yellow. The car was white. (Chicks dig multi-colored cars, btw.) So, on my 16th birthday, I took my new car out for a joy ride. As I left, my mom reminded me to take corners very slowly, otherwise the battery would fall out of its holder. (I kid you not. That battery fell multiple times, hanging on by two slim chords.)
The Starlet soon acquired the very affectionate name “The Pooptie.”
C’mon. I know you want a Pooptie too. Just hearing the description turns you on.
Wait. Can a car really “turn you on?” That’s what Cadillac promises women in this recent commercial. As the commercial suggests, who really cares about a 40 gig hard drive, a sun roof, and pop-up-nav-screens? No, the real question is “When you turn your car on, does it return the favor?” Does your car get you noticed by the “boy’s club?” You should want a Cadillac CTS, because then the boys will like you. Oh. For the boys to like you, it will cost somewhere between $38,880 and $59,025.
On the other hand, I’ve got a Pooptie I can sell you.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The Simpsons and the Raven
When I was growing up, there was one television show my parents did not allow me to watch: The Simpsons. And, as you can guess, there was one television show I wanted to watch more than any other: The Simpsons. I can remember the day I convinced my parents to illegally split our cable and put a 10 inch television in my bedroom. As an 11 year old, I was too young at the time to understand the irony when I watched the episode Homer vs. Lisa and the Eighth Commandment, when Homer steals cable, leading the morally perceptive Lisa into the difficult ethical decision of confronting her father.
Now that I’m a parent, I can understand my own parents’ trepidation with the cartoon. Gratuitous violence, questionable language, and irreverent religious humor make The Simpsons a cartoon that deviates from the norm.
But, The Simpsons have been around for a long time. Its 19 year run makes it the longest running cartoon ever. The show has become part of our culture. One reason for its longevity is its good writing that explores our everyday ethical dilemmas with humor. (For example, stealing cable.)
Take a look at this clip from the first Tree House of Horror, a series shown every year during the week of Halloween. The clip begins with a parody of another great television show, the original 1950s version of The Munsters. The Munsters were a very odd family, but they were harmless. The parents loved each other and loved their children. They were harmless citizens of their community. The only problem was that they looked different than everyone else, which led to them being misunderstood. I don’t remember if any of their neighbors turned violent in the original show, but The Simpsons parody shows what can happen to people who are misunderstood by their community. People who are misunderstood often become scapegoats. The scapegoat effect leads to unity within a community and violence against a scapegoat. The community becomes an irrational mob and unites in uncontrolled violence against a relatively innocent victim, the scapegoat.
Near the end of the episode we are treated to James Earl Jones’ rendition of Poe’s classic poem The Raven. This poem has had a large impact on our culture. Most of us (mis)understand the raven to be an evil creature, whose only role is to pester humans, causing us to become insane. It is true that ike many other birds, ravens are scavengers, but they are also extremely loyal to their family members. In reality, ravens are not much different than any other bird, and they are not the evil creature we have made them out to be.
In the clip, Homer plays the role of the main character in The Raven. He is overcome by irrational fear. Bart asks a great question to Lisa, “Do you know what would have been scarier than nothing? . . . ANYTHING!” After Homer is encountered by something, a harmless raven, he tries to attack it, but the raven outwits Homer. Homer lies destitute on his chamber floor. He lost his soul to a harmless raven, all because of his irrational fear.
Isn’t that the way fear works in real life? If we are not careful, fear and misunderstanding of another person can easily unite us against a relatively innocent victim. This happens in high school cliques, in business situations, and in politics. The Simpsons is popular because it is a reflection of our culture, and the writers seem to ask, “Is there a better way?”
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Pac-Man: The Movie
“A twisted tale of four ghosts trapped in a maze while being stalked by a giant yellow monster.”
Such is the description for the best video I’ve seen on youtube.
Apparently, others agree. Pac-Man: The Movie has been receiving about 10,000 views a day. It just broke a million views.
This video has it all. It’s entertaining, funny, creative, and suspenseful. But it’s also courageous. I mean, it tells the story few of us want to hear: the story of our enemies.
The amazing thing about this movie is that it tells the story of the ghosts – and that is a story that I don’t want to hear. If there is one thing I have never questioned about the Pac-Man legend, it is the goodness of Pac-Man and the evil of the monsters.
But, after seeing this video, I have to question that assumption. Like one of the commentators on youtube wrote, “My view of pac-man has completely changed because of this video.”
So, what happens when we take the tale about the ghosts seriously? What happens when we listened to the story of our enemies? What if, when we listen to our enemies, we discovered they were just as weak, confused, and scared as these ghosts? What if we are actually like Pac-Man, irrationally believing in the justification of our violence because of misplaced belief that violence can be good? And what if, as the end of the movie suggests, we continue to use violence and we all end up dead?
Indeed, my view of the world has changed because of others who have had the courage to listen to the stories our “enemies.” What’s the solution to the violence in our world? The creators of this movie have given us a good start in finding the answer to that question. Hopefully the millions who have viewed this movie will be influenced by it to listen to the voice of their enemies.
One more question. Who is another “bad guy” or “villain” from a video game, movie, television show, or book that needs his or her story told?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
9/11 and the Power of Listening
This morning I went through, what has become, my usual routine. I woke up at 5:30 to the cry of my 4 month old son. After about a half hour of hoping it was a dream and letting my wife try to calm him, I got up, walked to the basinet, picked him up, and walked downstairs to our basement – where we keep the greatest invention young parents can buy: a magical swing that lulls babies to sleep in a matter of seconds. No kidding. For $49.99 you too can purchase this supernatural swing that oscillates in a perfect rhythmic motion. I’m convinced that no young parent should be without this device. After he was sound asleep and buckled in, I walked up to the kitchen, seized a cup of coffee, came back down, and turned on the television.
That’s what has become my morning routine – and I love it.
But, when I turned on the television, I was reminded of another morning when my routine was shattered. It was seven years ago on September 11, 2001. I was just starting my senior year at Linfield College, in McMinnville, Oregon. I was living in one of the new dorms on the new Keck Campus with three of my buddies. One of my roommates was already up, in our living room, watching the Today Show. I knew something was up, because this was not part of our morning routine. “Hey Matt,” I said. He didn’t look up; he just sat on our couch, silent, glued to the television. I took my place on the chair, and soon our two other roommates came to our living room. We sat that morning, together, in silence.
I remember that day with a clarity I rarely possess. On my way to class, I walked into our school’s small coffee house that was clearly over-populated with students, staff, and faculty. College administrators rolled a flat screen television inside so we could watch what was happening together, and, more importantly, we could mourn together. I remember very little talking in the coffee house that day.
The class I was going to was a Senior Seminar in Religious Studies. I picked that major after a personal tragedy, my mother’s death. I hoped that studying religions would provide answers to ultimate questions – specifically, the answer to suffering.
Seven years later, I’m still looking for the answers. In the face of suffering, all answers, whether religious or secular, seem trite, stale, and insipid. All except for one. It’s an answer that can’t be verbalized. It’s so much better than a verbal answer. The answer has two steps. The first step is seen in the Jewish tradition of Shiva. Shiva is a time of mourning after the death of a loved one, where people come together and sit shiva with each other. No words are needed; in fact, it’s a time when we acknowledge that words, that verbal answers, fail us. Unbeknownst to us at Linfield College, our community was practicing Shiva on that horrific September day.
At some point, Shiva ends, but the questions about suffering remain, and we grasp for part two of the answer. The wrong step here is unfortunately the easy step to make: Violence. The belief that violence can redeem the world is a myth that must die. The myth of redemptive violence is the wrong answer because it confuses justice with revenge in an effort to justify wars that only add to the misery of our world.
The right answer to the second part is summed up in a short book called, Where was God on September 11? Like the practice of Shiva, it requires participation. Reflecting on 9/11, Frank Geer suggests we live the answer to suffering by being, “a compassionate listener. Listen to somebody when they want to tell their story about where they were, what they felt, who they were with on September 11. Listen in a way that indicates compassion and understanding. The great thing about doing that is that if I do that to you, you’re probably going to do that to me.”
Geer proposes that compassionate listening has a contagious power that spreads compassion. Unfortunately many don’t want to believe in its power. Many think compassion is a sign of weakness, but, in fact, compassionate listening should be the starting point in confronting terrorism. Many think it’s foolish to listen to the cry of our “enemies,” and we follow our old routines of dropping smart bombs in an illogical effort to end terrorism, all while children cry out as their parents are ripped from their lives. We need to break from our routines of dropping “smart bombs,” and become “foolishly compassionate listeners.”
And we continue to ask, “Where is God?” Maybe God is asking, “Where are you?”
That’s what has become my morning routine – and I love it.
But, when I turned on the television, I was reminded of another morning when my routine was shattered. It was seven years ago on September 11, 2001. I was just starting my senior year at Linfield College, in McMinnville, Oregon. I was living in one of the new dorms on the new Keck Campus with three of my buddies. One of my roommates was already up, in our living room, watching the Today Show. I knew something was up, because this was not part of our morning routine. “Hey Matt,” I said. He didn’t look up; he just sat on our couch, silent, glued to the television. I took my place on the chair, and soon our two other roommates came to our living room. We sat that morning, together, in silence.
I remember that day with a clarity I rarely possess. On my way to class, I walked into our school’s small coffee house that was clearly over-populated with students, staff, and faculty. College administrators rolled a flat screen television inside so we could watch what was happening together, and, more importantly, we could mourn together. I remember very little talking in the coffee house that day.
The class I was going to was a Senior Seminar in Religious Studies. I picked that major after a personal tragedy, my mother’s death. I hoped that studying religions would provide answers to ultimate questions – specifically, the answer to suffering.
Seven years later, I’m still looking for the answers. In the face of suffering, all answers, whether religious or secular, seem trite, stale, and insipid. All except for one. It’s an answer that can’t be verbalized. It’s so much better than a verbal answer. The answer has two steps. The first step is seen in the Jewish tradition of Shiva. Shiva is a time of mourning after the death of a loved one, where people come together and sit shiva with each other. No words are needed; in fact, it’s a time when we acknowledge that words, that verbal answers, fail us. Unbeknownst to us at Linfield College, our community was practicing Shiva on that horrific September day.
At some point, Shiva ends, but the questions about suffering remain, and we grasp for part two of the answer. The wrong step here is unfortunately the easy step to make: Violence. The belief that violence can redeem the world is a myth that must die. The myth of redemptive violence is the wrong answer because it confuses justice with revenge in an effort to justify wars that only add to the misery of our world.
The right answer to the second part is summed up in a short book called, Where was God on September 11? Like the practice of Shiva, it requires participation. Reflecting on 9/11, Frank Geer suggests we live the answer to suffering by being, “a compassionate listener. Listen to somebody when they want to tell their story about where they were, what they felt, who they were with on September 11. Listen in a way that indicates compassion and understanding. The great thing about doing that is that if I do that to you, you’re probably going to do that to me.”
Geer proposes that compassionate listening has a contagious power that spreads compassion. Unfortunately many don’t want to believe in its power. Many think compassion is a sign of weakness, but, in fact, compassionate listening should be the starting point in confronting terrorism. Many think it’s foolish to listen to the cry of our “enemies,” and we follow our old routines of dropping smart bombs in an illogical effort to end terrorism, all while children cry out as their parents are ripped from their lives. We need to break from our routines of dropping “smart bombs,” and become “foolishly compassionate listeners.”
And we continue to ask, “Where is God?” Maybe God is asking, “Where are you?”
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The NBA Finals
I love basketball. It’s my favorite sport. I loved watching the finals. The Boston Celtics and the Los Angeles Lakers competed for the ultimate dream of a basketball player: Winning the NBA Championship.
But how did they get that dream?
Two players, Lebron James (Cleveland Cavaliers) and Kevin Garnett (Boston Celtics), tell us how in this NBA playoffs commercial:
"I’ve dreamed about winning it all since I was probably 9 years old. I remember seeing Jordan/Bird win it all. I made up my mind right then, that was gonna be me. That I was going to be part of that. Some dreams fade over time. But not this one."
For nearly their whole lives, these two players have been consumed with a dream of winning a championship. Why? Because they saw someone else win – Michael Jordan and Larry Bird. Their desire to win the championship, to be the best at their profession, was sparked by someone else. This happens to all of us - our dreams and desires are mediated by the dreams and desires of others.
The influence of desire shown in this commercial is what is known as mimetic desire. Observing someone else wanting something generates a similar desire in us to want the same thing. We mimic the desires of others. This mimetic nature of desire is good. It is how we learn to desire, in this case, an NBA Championship.
But mimetic desire can easily turn into mimetic rivalry. Lebron James and Kevin Garnett will never come into rivalry with Michael Jordan or Larry Bird. Who will they come into rivalry with? Each other. The commercial does an amazing job showing that the desires of the two individuals have become one desire, which leads them into rivalry. While one tries to achieve his dreams, he must also prevent the other from achieving his dreams. The commercial states the dark side of basketball, “There can be only one.” One winner and multiple losers. One team will experience the great thrill of victory; the other teams will experience the tragic agony of defeat.
It is unlikely that the rivalry between the Boston Celtics and the Los Angeles Lakers will lead to violence. But, quite often on a personal and national level, mimetic rivalry does lead to violence. How might we settle our conflicts and rivalries without using violence?
But how did they get that dream?
Two players, Lebron James (Cleveland Cavaliers) and Kevin Garnett (Boston Celtics), tell us how in this NBA playoffs commercial:
"I’ve dreamed about winning it all since I was probably 9 years old. I remember seeing Jordan/Bird win it all. I made up my mind right then, that was gonna be me. That I was going to be part of that. Some dreams fade over time. But not this one."
For nearly their whole lives, these two players have been consumed with a dream of winning a championship. Why? Because they saw someone else win – Michael Jordan and Larry Bird. Their desire to win the championship, to be the best at their profession, was sparked by someone else. This happens to all of us - our dreams and desires are mediated by the dreams and desires of others.
The influence of desire shown in this commercial is what is known as mimetic desire. Observing someone else wanting something generates a similar desire in us to want the same thing. We mimic the desires of others. This mimetic nature of desire is good. It is how we learn to desire, in this case, an NBA Championship.
But mimetic desire can easily turn into mimetic rivalry. Lebron James and Kevin Garnett will never come into rivalry with Michael Jordan or Larry Bird. Who will they come into rivalry with? Each other. The commercial does an amazing job showing that the desires of the two individuals have become one desire, which leads them into rivalry. While one tries to achieve his dreams, he must also prevent the other from achieving his dreams. The commercial states the dark side of basketball, “There can be only one.” One winner and multiple losers. One team will experience the great thrill of victory; the other teams will experience the tragic agony of defeat.
It is unlikely that the rivalry between the Boston Celtics and the Los Angeles Lakers will lead to violence. But, quite often on a personal and national level, mimetic rivalry does lead to violence. How might we settle our conflicts and rivalries without using violence?
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
The Magic of Macy's
Good advertisers know how to drum up desire. That’s the magic of this commercial.
I never heard of Gabriel Aubrey before I researched this commercial, but now I want to be him. I want to be the guy who makes Martha Stewart drop her plate (has Martha ever dropped a plate before?) and stare at my . . . umm, backside . . . as I walk away. I want to be the guy who makes Mariah Carey say, “Ohhhh my.” I want to be the guy who makes women turn their heads as I walk by. Yea. That’s who I want to be. And I can be that guy if I look like Gabriel and buy a $699 Calvin Klein suit from Macy’s.
Can I be that guy?
What is the problem with this commercial? How is it “shallow,” as Trump ironically comments? The Magic of Macy’s is that if I buy a Calvin Klein suit, poof!, I’ll look like Gabriel Aubrey. But, if I look like Gabriel, he and I will end up competing for the affection of women. Gabriel really doesn’t want me to look like him. He wants me to desire to look like him, but if I look too much like him we’ll be in competition for the affection of women, and for his modeling job. “Look like me,” says Gabriel. “But don’t look too much like me.” It’s a nasty double bind.
What this commercial is really promoting is a dead end in relationships. That’s the trap of the double bind. If I should live my life imitating Gabriel’s desire to be the undisputed desire of women’s affections, the inevitable outcome will be conflict with Gabriel for those affections and neither of us will be happy. But I wonder what would happen if we had a cultural shift in desire. What if we no longer had a selfish desire to be the idol of others, but an altruistic desire to offer affirmation to others?
I never heard of Gabriel Aubrey before I researched this commercial, but now I want to be him. I want to be the guy who makes Martha Stewart drop her plate (has Martha ever dropped a plate before?) and stare at my . . . umm, backside . . . as I walk away. I want to be the guy who makes Mariah Carey say, “Ohhhh my.” I want to be the guy who makes women turn their heads as I walk by. Yea. That’s who I want to be. And I can be that guy if I look like Gabriel and buy a $699 Calvin Klein suit from Macy’s.
Can I be that guy?
What is the problem with this commercial? How is it “shallow,” as Trump ironically comments? The Magic of Macy’s is that if I buy a Calvin Klein suit, poof!, I’ll look like Gabriel Aubrey. But, if I look like Gabriel, he and I will end up competing for the affection of women. Gabriel really doesn’t want me to look like him. He wants me to desire to look like him, but if I look too much like him we’ll be in competition for the affection of women, and for his modeling job. “Look like me,” says Gabriel. “But don’t look too much like me.” It’s a nasty double bind.
What this commercial is really promoting is a dead end in relationships. That’s the trap of the double bind. If I should live my life imitating Gabriel’s desire to be the undisputed desire of women’s affections, the inevitable outcome will be conflict with Gabriel for those affections and neither of us will be happy. But I wonder what would happen if we had a cultural shift in desire. What if we no longer had a selfish desire to be the idol of others, but an altruistic desire to offer affirmation to others?
Friday, May 16, 2008
President Bush on Foreign Policy
President Bush gave a controversial speech yesterday while celebrating the 60th anniversary of Israel. The President used the speech as an opportunity to condemn those who would negotiate with “terrorists and radicals.” After linking Iran’s President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to Osama Bin Laden, President Bush stated:
Some seem to believe we should negotiate with terrorist and radicals, as if some ingenious argument will persuade them they have been wrong all along. We have heard this foolish delusion before. As Nazi tanks rolled across Poland in 1939 an American senator declared: ‘Lord, if only I could have talked to Hitler, all of this might have been avoided.’ We have an obligation to call this what it is – the false comfort of appeasement, which has been repeatedly discredited by history.
A few questions have been asked about this part of the speech. Was Bush directing this comment at Presidential candidate Barack Obama? Also, what is the difference between “negotiations” and “appeasement”? Many pundits have discussed these issues; I don’t need to add to that discussion here. Instead, I’d like to explore the historical misunderstanding of the President’s statement.
Hitler’s horrific rise to power in the 1930s was made possible by the poor foreign policy of the 1919 Treaty of Versailles. After World War I, the victorious Allied powers wanted to make sure that a similar war would never happen again. At the “peace” Treaty of Versailles, American President Woodrow Wilson called for the treaty to include open diplomacy “that shall always proceed frankly and in the public view” with Germany and other Axis powers. He didn’t want to punish Germany for the war; instead, he wanted to help rebuild Europe, including Germany. Wilson stood alone on this view. Other Allies wanted to punish Germany for the war, making an example out of Germany for any nation that had ideas of war. Germany signed the “peace” treaty under protest. The treaty had disastrous consequences for the Germans: they were punished for the war; they had to give up large portions of their wealth, crippling the German economy; and Germany had to give up large portions of its country to other nations. Without open diplomacy and because other nations united in blaming German for the evils of the war, there was little hope for Germans – until Hitler came along. The seeds for the evil policies of Hitler were sown by Allies blaming and isolation of Germany.
So, why hold open diplomacy with our enemies?
Foreign relations is a tricky business with no easy answers, but the rise of Nazi Germany shows that when we isolate our enemies and punish them for the evils of the world, we sow the seeds of war. Maybe if the world had followed President Wilson’s advice and not punished Germany and had kept open relations with our enemies, maybe the most disastrous war ever could have been avoided.
Some seem to believe we should negotiate with terrorist and radicals, as if some ingenious argument will persuade them they have been wrong all along. We have heard this foolish delusion before. As Nazi tanks rolled across Poland in 1939 an American senator declared: ‘Lord, if only I could have talked to Hitler, all of this might have been avoided.’ We have an obligation to call this what it is – the false comfort of appeasement, which has been repeatedly discredited by history.
A few questions have been asked about this part of the speech. Was Bush directing this comment at Presidential candidate Barack Obama? Also, what is the difference between “negotiations” and “appeasement”? Many pundits have discussed these issues; I don’t need to add to that discussion here. Instead, I’d like to explore the historical misunderstanding of the President’s statement.
Hitler’s horrific rise to power in the 1930s was made possible by the poor foreign policy of the 1919 Treaty of Versailles. After World War I, the victorious Allied powers wanted to make sure that a similar war would never happen again. At the “peace” Treaty of Versailles, American President Woodrow Wilson called for the treaty to include open diplomacy “that shall always proceed frankly and in the public view” with Germany and other Axis powers. He didn’t want to punish Germany for the war; instead, he wanted to help rebuild Europe, including Germany. Wilson stood alone on this view. Other Allies wanted to punish Germany for the war, making an example out of Germany for any nation that had ideas of war. Germany signed the “peace” treaty under protest. The treaty had disastrous consequences for the Germans: they were punished for the war; they had to give up large portions of their wealth, crippling the German economy; and Germany had to give up large portions of its country to other nations. Without open diplomacy and because other nations united in blaming German for the evils of the war, there was little hope for Germans – until Hitler came along. The seeds for the evil policies of Hitler were sown by Allies blaming and isolation of Germany.
So, why hold open diplomacy with our enemies?
Foreign relations is a tricky business with no easy answers, but the rise of Nazi Germany shows that when we isolate our enemies and punish them for the evils of the world, we sow the seeds of war. Maybe if the world had followed President Wilson’s advice and not punished Germany and had kept open relations with our enemies, maybe the most disastrous war ever could have been avoided.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Hello! Welcome to the Raven Foundation!
The Raven Foundation is a not for profit educational organization that seeks to foster a greater understanding of human nature and, hence, the origins of human conflict, through the lens of Rene Girard's exploration of mimetic theory.
Humans are naturally social creatures, so we influence and learn from one another in a variety of ways, including what to desire. We mimic, or imitate, the desires of others. This is known as “mimetic desire.” Mimetic desire is natural to humans. It opens us up to the lives of others; we learn everything by observing others. We learn how to be devoted to the well being of others, indeed, we learn how to love others, through this imitative process.
Mimetic desire can go terribly wrong. When we learn what objects to desire from others, we develop a competition for the object of desire. Unfortunately, this competition resulting from borrowed desire of an object is universal – no one can avoid it. The object of desire can be material goods or a person, such as clothes, the latest iphone or video game system, or another person’s significant other. The object can also be transcendent, such as power or prestige. It can be as simple as children battling over toys, or a battle for power in board rooms or in politics. No matter what it is, the object really doesn’t matter; what matters is that someone else has the object, and I want it, precisely because someone else has it. We become consumed with selfish desire for the object the other has. This leads to jealousy and envy. Soon, the object ceases to matter. What matters now is winning the personal rivalry against the other.
It is easy to see how this unavoidable process can lead to frustration, and how an outlet is needed. That outlet usually comes in the form of violence. The people competing over the same object are often friends, or at least have some respect for one another, so they take their frustrations out on someone else – a scapegoat. The scapegoat is a relatively innocent member of society and is someone who lacks another to defend him or her. We blame the scapegoat using gossip and accusations. We are so good at scapegoating another that we convince ourselves of the scapegoats supreme guilt, and sometimes we also convince the relatively innocent scapegoat of his or her ultimate guilt. This hides the innocence of the scapegoated victim so that no one, not even the scapegoat, can see his or her innocence.
What is the way out of this trap? The answers are found in our religious traditions. The beauty of these traditions is that they help us break the cycle of conflict, rivalry, and violence by switching the focus from our own selfish desires to the needs of others. They influence us to love and forgive others, to seek the best for the other, even those we perceive to be our enemies. Here are a few examples:
Should you come across your enemy’s ox or donkey straying, you must take it back to him. Should you see the donkey of someone who hates you lying helpless under its load, however unwilling you may be to help, you must lend a hand with it.
Judaism. Exodus 23:4-5
But what I tell you is this: Love your enemies and pray for your persecutors. Christianity.
Christianity. Matthew 5:44
The good deed and the evil deed are not alike. Repel the evil deed with one that is better.
Islam. Qur’an 41:34
Do good to him who has done you an injury.
Taoism. Tao Te Ching 63
Conquer anger by love. Conquer evil by good. Conquer the stingy with giving. Conquer the liar by truth.
Buddhism. Dhammapada 223
Confucius said, "He whose heart is in the smallest degree set upon Goodness will dislike no one."
Confucianism. Analects 4:4
The Raven Foundation is a not for profit educational organization that seeks to foster a greater understanding of human nature and, hence, the origins of human conflict, through the lens of Rene Girard's exploration of mimetic theory.
Humans are naturally social creatures, so we influence and learn from one another in a variety of ways, including what to desire. We mimic, or imitate, the desires of others. This is known as “mimetic desire.” Mimetic desire is natural to humans. It opens us up to the lives of others; we learn everything by observing others. We learn how to be devoted to the well being of others, indeed, we learn how to love others, through this imitative process.
Mimetic desire can go terribly wrong. When we learn what objects to desire from others, we develop a competition for the object of desire. Unfortunately, this competition resulting from borrowed desire of an object is universal – no one can avoid it. The object of desire can be material goods or a person, such as clothes, the latest iphone or video game system, or another person’s significant other. The object can also be transcendent, such as power or prestige. It can be as simple as children battling over toys, or a battle for power in board rooms or in politics. No matter what it is, the object really doesn’t matter; what matters is that someone else has the object, and I want it, precisely because someone else has it. We become consumed with selfish desire for the object the other has. This leads to jealousy and envy. Soon, the object ceases to matter. What matters now is winning the personal rivalry against the other.
It is easy to see how this unavoidable process can lead to frustration, and how an outlet is needed. That outlet usually comes in the form of violence. The people competing over the same object are often friends, or at least have some respect for one another, so they take their frustrations out on someone else – a scapegoat. The scapegoat is a relatively innocent member of society and is someone who lacks another to defend him or her. We blame the scapegoat using gossip and accusations. We are so good at scapegoating another that we convince ourselves of the scapegoats supreme guilt, and sometimes we also convince the relatively innocent scapegoat of his or her ultimate guilt. This hides the innocence of the scapegoated victim so that no one, not even the scapegoat, can see his or her innocence.
What is the way out of this trap? The answers are found in our religious traditions. The beauty of these traditions is that they help us break the cycle of conflict, rivalry, and violence by switching the focus from our own selfish desires to the needs of others. They influence us to love and forgive others, to seek the best for the other, even those we perceive to be our enemies. Here are a few examples:
Should you come across your enemy’s ox or donkey straying, you must take it back to him. Should you see the donkey of someone who hates you lying helpless under its load, however unwilling you may be to help, you must lend a hand with it.
Judaism. Exodus 23:4-5
But what I tell you is this: Love your enemies and pray for your persecutors. Christianity.
Christianity. Matthew 5:44
The good deed and the evil deed are not alike. Repel the evil deed with one that is better.
Islam. Qur’an 41:34
Do good to him who has done you an injury.
Taoism. Tao Te Ching 63
Conquer anger by love. Conquer evil by good. Conquer the stingy with giving. Conquer the liar by truth.
Buddhism. Dhammapada 223
Confucius said, "He whose heart is in the smallest degree set upon Goodness will dislike no one."
Confucianism. Analects 4:4
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