Steppenwolf: For Madmen Only

Clearly I am mad. Even after reading the warning, I entered Herman Hesse's magic theater. The one for madmen only. I can certainly tell you, it is not for everyone.

In 1929 Herman Hesse (author of Siddhartha) published a book called Steppenwolf, or the Wolf of the Steppes (a German word for grasslands, savannas or a shrubland). The Steppenwolf is a person born with two natures, that of a man and that of a wolf. But one could easily read this novel and see the wolf personality as that voice of guilt we all hear, all too often in our minds.

Hesse has been quoted as saying that people didn't understand the novel. Many find it depressing and hopeless, when in fact it is the opposite. It is simply amazing that this was first published in 1929, a book with numerous references to sex (all kinds) and even drugs. It could have very well have been written today.

The following is a list of quotes taken from this novel. I could write an essay on each and everyone, but instead, I will simply let the quotes speak for themselves. If you intend on reading the book, I wouldn't go any further as these quotes may spoil the experience for you.

I would remind you once again, however, that this is for madmen only. Not for everybody.

(all page references are for the 1990 Owl Book edition)

From the LANDLORD’S SON:

“I suspected that the man was ailing, ailing in the spirit in some way, or in his temperament or character, and I shrank from him with the instinct of the healthy. This shrinking was in course of time replaced by a sympathy inspired by pity for one who had suffered so long and deeply, and whose loneliness and inward death I witnessed. In course of time I was more and more conscious, too, that this affliction was not due to any defects of nature, but rather to a profusion of gifts and powers which had not attained to harmony. I saw that [he] was a genius of suffering and that in the meaning of many sayings of Nietzshce he had created within himself with positive genius a boundless and frightful capacity for pain. I saw the same time that the root of his pessimism was not world-contempt but self-contempt; for however mercilessly he might annihilate institutions and persons in his talk he never spared himself. It was always at himself first and foremost that he aimed the shaft, himself first and foremost whom he hated and despised.”
- pg .10-11

“He was much too strong and hardy, too proud and spirited. Instead of destroying his personality [his teachers] succeeded only in teaching him to hate himself.”
- pg. 11

“Most men will not swim before they are able to…they are born for the solid earth, not for the water. And naturally they won’t think. They are made for life, not for thought. Yes, and he who thinks, what’s more, he who makes thought his business, he may go far in it, but he has bartered the solid earth for the water all the same, and one day he will drown.”
- pg. 16

“A wolf of the Steppes that had lost its way and strayed into the towns and the life of the herd, a more striking image could not be found for his shy loneliness, his savagery, his restlessness, his homesickness, his homelessness.”
- pg. 17

“…for [his] sickness of the soul…is not the eccentricity of a single individual, but the sickness of the times themselves, the neurosis of that generation to which [he] belongs, a sickness, it seems, that by no means attacks the weak and worthless only, but rather, precisely those who are strongest in spirit and richest in gifts.”
- pg. 21

“[He] belongs to those who have been caught between two ages, who are outside of all security and simple acquiescence. He belongs to those whose fate it is to live the whole riddle of human destiny heightened to the pitch of a personal torture, a personal hell.”
- pg. 22

From the TREATISE ON THE STEPPENWOLF:

“There once was a man….called the Steppenwolf. He went on two legs, wore clothes and was a human being, but nevertheless he was in reality a wolf of the Steppes. He had learned a good deal of all that people of a good intelligence can, and was a fairly clever fellow. What he had not learned, however, was this: to find contentment in himself and his own life…And so the Steppenwolf had two natures, a human and a wolfish one…In him the man and the wolf did not go the same way together, but were in continual and deadly enmity. One existed and solely to harm the other, and when there are two in one blood and in one soul who are at deadly enmity, then life fares ill…when he was a wolf, the man in him lay in ambush, ever on the watch to interfere and condemn, while at those times that he was man the wolf did just the same…if [he] has a beautiful thought, felt a fin and noble emotion, or performed a so-called good act, then the wolf bared his teeth at him and laughed and showed him bitter scorn how laughable this whole pantomime was in th eyes of the beast…Then, wolfishly seen, all human activities became horribly absurd and misplaced, stupid and vain. But it was exactly the same when [he] felt and behaved as a wolf and showed other his teeth and felt hatred and enmity against all human beings and their lying and degenerate manners and customs. For then the human part of him lay in ambush and watched the wolf, and called him brute and beast, and spoiled and embittered for him all pleasure in his simple and healthy and wild wolf’s being….For all who got to love him, saw always only the one side in him. Many loved him as a refined and clever and interesting man, and were horrified and disappointed when they had come upon the wolf in him…and so it was that the Steppenwolf brought his own dual nature into the destinies of others…With this was bound up his need for loneliness and independence. There was never a man with a deeper more passionate craving for independence than he…[he] had thrown away a hundred times what in the world‘s eyes was his advantage and happiness in order to safeguard his liberty. No prospect was more hateful and distasteful to him than that he should have to go to an office and conform to daily and yearly routine and obey others…he contrived, often at great sacrifice, to avoid all such predicaments. It was here that his strength and his virtue rested. On this point he could neither be bent nor bribed. Here his character was firm and indeflectable.”
- pg. 41-46

“He would like either to overcome the wolf and become wholly man or to renounce mankind and at last to live wholly a wolf’s life.”
- pg. 63

“You will, instead, embark on the longer and wearier and harder road of life. You will have to multiply many times your tow-fold being and complicate your complexities still further. Instead of narrowing your world and simplifying your soul, you will have to absorb more and more of the world and at last take all of it up in your painfully expanded soul, if you are ever to find peace…the reunion with God means the expansion of the soul.”
- pg. 64

From the STEPPENWOLF:

“Alas! this transition was no unknown to me. I had already experienced it several time, and always in periods of utmost despair. On each occasion of this terribly uprooting experience, my self, as it then was, was shattered to fragments…each time there had followed the loss of a cherished and particularly beloved part of my life that was true to me no more…I had built up the ideal of a new life, inspired by the asceticism of the intellect. I had attained a certain serenity and elevation of life once more, submitting myself to the practice of abstract thought and to a rule of austere mediation. But this mold, too, was broken and lost at one blow all its exalted and noble intent…And every occasion when a mask was torn off, an ideal broken, was preceded by this hateful vacancy and stillness, this deathly constriction and loneliness and unrelatedness, this waste and empty hell of lovelessness and despair, such as I had now to pass through once more.”
- pg. 67-68

“No, in all conscience, there was no power in the world that could prevail with me to go through the mortal terror of another encounter with myself, to face another reorganisation, a new incarnation, when at the end of the road there was no peace or quiet - but forever destroying the self, in order to renew the self.”
- pg. 69

“…it’s a poor fellow who can’t take his pleasure without asking other people’s permission.”
- pg. 112










“Animals are sad as a rule…and when man is sad…because he sees…he always looks a little like an animal. He looks not only sad, but more right and more beautiful than usual. That’s how it is, and that’s how you looked, Steppenwolf, when I saw you for the first time.”
- pg. 114

“Before all else I learned that these playthings were not mere idle trifles invented by manufacturers and dealers for the purposes of gain. They were…giving life to the dead world around us.”
- pg. 143

“I want to tell you something today, something that I have known for a long while, and you know it too; but perhaps you have never said it to yourself. I am going to tell you now what it is that I know about you and me and our fate. You…have been an artist and a thinker, a man full of joy and faith, always on the track of what is great and eternal, never content with the trivial and petty. But the more life has awakened you and brought you back to yourself, the greater has your need been and the deeper the sufferings and dread and despair that have overtaken you, till you were up to your neck in them. And all that you once knew and loved and revered as beautiful and sacred, all the belief you once had in mankind and our high destiny, has been of no avail and has lost its worth and gone to pieces. Your faith found no more air to breathe. And suffocation is a hard death.”
- pg. 149

“And I knew that my dreams had been right a thousand times over, just as yours had been. It was life and reality that were wrong.”
- pg. 150

“Do you think I can’t understand your horror of the fox trot, your dislike of bars and dancing floors, your loathing of jazz and the rest of it?…You are right, Steppenwolf, right a thousand times over, and yet you must go to the wall. You are much too exacting and hungry for this simple, easygoing and easily contented world of today. You have a dimension too many.”
- pg. 151

“And perhaps it has always been the same -”
“Always as it is today? Always a world only for politicians, profiteers, waiters and pleasure-seekers, and not a breath of air for men?”
- pg. 151-152

“It is the kingdom on the other side of time and appearances. It is there we belong. This is our home. It is that which our heart strives for. And for that reason, Steppenwolf, we long for death…Ah…we have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach our home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness.”
- pg. 153.

“I was not a modern man, nor an old-fashioned one either. I had escaped time altogether.”
- pg. 159

“…instead of this dismal pretence of dying by inches that we go in for today. Yes indeed!”
- pg. 162

“TONIGHT AT THE MAGIC THEATER
FOR MADMEN ONLY
PRICE OF ADMITTANCE YOUR MIND.
NOT FOR EVERYBODY.”
- pg. 164

“You have often been sorely weary of your life. You were striving, were you not, for escape?…It is the world of your own soul that you seek.”
- pg. 175

“…and I saw, through indistinctly and cloudily, the reflection of an uneasy self-tormented, inwardly labouring and seething being - myself…And within him again I saw the Steppenwolf, a shy, beautiful, dazed wolf with frightened eyes that smouldered now with anger, now with sadness…In bitter strife, each tried to devour the other so that his shape might prevail. How unutterably sad was the look this fluid inchoate figure of the wolf threw from his beautiful shy eyes.”
- pg. 175

“You would be checked and blinded at every turn by what your are pleased to call your personality….your longing, means simply the wish to be relieved of your so-called personality. That is the prison where you lie.”
- pg. 176

“You will now erase this superfluous reflection, my dear friend…true humour begins when a man ceases to take himself seriously.”
- pg. 177

“You will learn to laugh like the immortals yet.”
- pg. 178.

“In so far as a mother bore me, I am guilty. I am condemned to live.”
- pg. 186

“…war is childishness on a gigantic scale. In time, mankind will learn to keep its numbers in check by rational means.”
- pg. 188

“Yes…what we are doing is probably mad, and probably it is good and necessary all the same. It is not a good thing when man overstrains his reason and tries to reduce to rational order matters that are not susceptible of rational treatment.”
- pg. 188

“The mistaken and unhappy notion that a man is an enduring unity is known to you. It is also known to you that man consists of a multitude of souls, of numerous selves. This separation of unity of the personality into these numerous pieces passes for madness.”
- pg. 192

“It was agony to witness the fantastic extent to which the wolf had learned to belie his nature; and I stood there with my hair on end.”
- pg. 195

“And it astonished me to find how rich my life - the seemingly so poor and loveless life of the Steppenwolf - had been in the opportunities and allurements of love. I had missed them. I had fled before them. I had stumbled on over them. I had made haste to forget them.”
- pg. 202

“But that is frightful.”
“Certainly. Life is always frightful. We cannot help it and we are responsible all the same.”
- pg. 206

“Even those with average gifts, given a few hundred years, come to maturity.”
- pg. 208

“It little becomes people like you to be critics of radio or of life either…Or is it that you have done better yourself, more nobly and fitly and with better taste? Oh, no…, you have not. You have made a frightful history of disease out of your life, and a misfortune of your gifts.”
- pg. 213

“My God, everything is so false, so hellishly stupid and wrong! I am a beast…a stupid, angry beast, sick and rotten.”
- pg. 213-214

“You are willing to die, you coward, but not to live.”
- pg. 216

“You are to live and to learn to laugh. You are to learn to listen to the cursed radio music of life and…to laugh at its distortions.”
- pg. 216

“I was determined to begin the game afresh. I would sample its tortures once more and shudder again at its senselessness. I would traverse not once more, but often, the hell of my inner being.”
- pg. 217-218

Parenting 101

A harsh send up to parents everywhere. Not for the overly-sensitive parent:

http://beenokevorkian.blogspot.com/2010/09/parenting-101.html

U2 Live at the Rose Bow(E)L

“Don't check
Just balance on the fence
Don't answer
Don't ask
Don't try and make sense”

This lyric from U2’s song Numb, sums up quite perfectly the bands video releases. Now don’t get me wrong, I am a huge fan of the Irish rock band U2. Musical geniuses. Bigger than the Beatles. It is, however, a love-hate relationship. I love their live performances, better than the studio versions because this is a band that really discovers their songs during a performance. The hate comes in with their concert video releases.

Under a Blood Red Sky (1983), their first major live release can be forgiven simply because it was the first. The only thing it really suffers from is the use of the wrong filters for the lighting (which causes streaks across the screen every time the camera pans).

From there I feel like Alex, slowly descending into hell for a bottle of milk.

There’s no denying the success of these concert videos and that whatever formula the marketing department, producers, etc. they follow hasn’t hurt their success. However, I would argue it has hurt their integrity.


Everyone is aware of the disastrous Rattle and Hum movie (1988). Directed by Phil Joanou, he actually suggested they hire Martin Scorsese or Jonathan Demme to direct the film. Why didn’t they? Apparently it was the band that chose to film in black and white as well. I understand that the Joshua Tree had a black and white theme to it, but this band is just so colorful. If you want to be arty and avant-garde, then film all the little bits in black and white. Keep the concert footage in color. And the few songs they did film in color – what a laugh. As soon as the camera pans away from the red background of Where the Streets Have No Name, the so-called color portions of the concert look like they were filmed in blue and white. It’s as though they used search lights from police helicopters to light the damn stage. And what happened when it was finally released on DVD? Were there any extras? Nooooo. Why would fans want to see Trip Through Your Wires live, One Tree Hill or Mothers of the Disappeared? Why would fans want to see anything from the Unforgettable Fire album (other than Bad and Pride).

Let me guess. They were worried about the quality of such tracks. They just could not bring themselves to put on these tracks that would undoubtedly have been of lower quality since they were not planned to be filmed. Yes that’s right. Poor quality. I would at this point refer you back to my criticism of the color portions of the concert: ‘It’s as though they used search lights from police helicopters to light the damn stage.’

“Everything You Know is Wrong.”

Zoo TV – Live in Sydney (1993) appeared to have been a bright shining star. A complete revamp of the band and a far cry from Joanou’s Trabant wreck. This is the very first time we actually get to experience the band. The film is magnificent. The DVD extra’s is where the real disappointment begins.

All tracks played on that night appeared on the video, with the exception of Tryin' to Throw Your Arms Around the World. Yes that’s right. You heard me correctly. Let’s just decide to drop a) one of the best songs on the album and b) one of the songs we won’t hear again. And why was it dropped? According to producer Ned O'Hanlon the concert was too long and needed to be cut for the video release. Really? Four minutes more? Was videotape that expensive? You could have ran the credits over the last song if that were the case. Perhaps it was too expensive, but now with the digital age, why not add it to the DVD release? Or why not cut Pride, New Years Day, Sunday Bloody Sunday? It’s not that I dislike these songs, its just that we’ve been seeing/hearing them live since 1983/1984.

Because of the nature of the Zoo TV Tour, there were cameras all over the stage capturing the action at EVERY SINGLE SHOW. Granted, when you film a concert, you actually have to use different lighting than what the show is using, so footage from other concerts would not look the same. But honestly, would fans rather see the Fan Confessional Booth, or the History of the Trabant car over Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses, So Cruel and Ultraviolet (Light My Way)?

Flash-forward (fast forward?) to Mexico and the Popmart Tour (1997). This is the only U2 home video to date to contain a concert's complete setlist. Amazing! The producers finally got it right. So what do we get for extras? Seven alternate live versions of songs that appear in the main concert.

Of course they don’t add Do You Feel Loved, If God Would Send His Angels or Miami.

“I’m Sick of All of This Hanging Around.”

The Dark Years. Hamish Hamilton and beyond. If you enjoy things out of focus (and I don’t. If I did, I would simply remove my glasses), and you enjoy shots of things not easily recognized (is that a leg or a guitar neck?), then Hamish Hamilton is the director for you!

The DVD extra’s of the Elevation Tour’s live in Boston (2001) hits an all-time low. There are alternate camera feeds from a small recorder in Bono's trademark glasses, showing unique footage from the band while on and off stage. Unique. Nice choice of words. Do you know what happens when you jump around with a video camera? The image skips. So imagine a tiny device on someone’s glasses. And this someone is known for bouncing all over the stage. And the device isn’t even used throughout the entire concert. It just sounds cooler than it actually is.

And this release actually has bonus live tracks! What will they be? Peace on Earth? Wild Honey? When I Look at the World? Grace? Sweetest thing? Nope. Actually three songs we see in this concert filmed at other locations. Beautiful Day, Elevation, and Stuck in a Moment. If you’ve seen these songs once….

Did I say an all-time low with the last release? I take that back. Consider the venue in Chicago for the Vertigo Tour (2005).

"Party Girl" was performed both nights this concert was recorded; however it wasn’t included on the DVD. WHY? A song, a silly song, not played since their first concert video? Yeah, who needs it?

And here is why this DVD hits the absolute low: the extra’s come with Surveillance Cuts of 4 of the songs already in the concert. Or as U2.com describes: startling 'surveillance cuts' of the Chicago show. Filmed using four remotely controlled black and white infra-red surveillance cameras, the footage offers a totally different perspective on the show.

I mean, seriously? Who the hell thought this was cool? Who the hell cares? It is because of this stupid addition that blows my theory out of the water that they don’t want to release sub-quality material. Once again, you can’t release One Step Closer? Or the rare track Fast Cars?

Surveillance Cuts. I still can’t believe or even get over this. Who the hell is making these decisions? And who the hell is agreeing to them? And who the hell actually got excited with the idea? I can just picture the DVD Extras Meeting.

Producer: Anyone have any ideas?
Hamish Hamilton sits silently continuously removing prescription glasses that are far too powerful for his eyes, watching the entire meeting in focus / out of focus / in focus / out of focus.
Producer: Nothing? We’ve got to give them something. We have to make it look like we’re making an attempt here.
Producer’s Wife: Darling, you’re the producer, don’t you have any ideas?
Producer (exasperated): I’m the producer for chrissakes.
Neighbor’s Kid Visiting For Lunch: My dad caught an employee stealing by watching his video cameras.
Producer (eyes open wide, he is short of breath): Yes that’s perfect! Surveillance Cameras.
Neighbor’s Kid Visiting For Lunch: You could use random shots throughout the concert as an added camera….
Producer (has stopped listening and is on his cell phone): Paul? I got it. It just came to me. We’ll have entire songs filmed with the Surveillance cameras. That should be easy and cost us nothing.
Hamish: in focus / out of focus / in focus / out of focus.

“The Future Needs a Big Kiss” (The Band Needs a Swift Kick…)

U2 Live at the Rose Bow(E)L (2010). This still to be released concert, that has previously aired on the internet is already making me shake my fist. The entire Tour has begun with the song Breathe. This particular concert begins with Breathe (I know, I saw it with my own eyes!). The DVD will not. In fact, you will have to purchase the Blue Ray package in order to get the “Bonus” track Breathe.

Early in this tour I felt my heart take flight as I saw such rare songs appear in their setlist:
My Blue Room, Party Girl, Electrical Storm, among others. Do you think any of these will make it to the DVD as bonus features? And what’s with playing a REMIXED version of I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight?

Imagine being a fan and purchasing their next concert video and to their utter amazement, Disc 2 is actually an entire concert from 1989’s Lovetown Tour. It can be done. They have the footage - it actually aired on satellite way back when. Now that would be a bonus!

The price of U2’s concert tickets require a small loan in order to purchase. They are that expensive. Their show is always impressive, as well as their set. You simply can’t be bored at a U2 concert. Their reason for charging so much? They tour without the aid of corporate sponsorship. U2 claims to be afraid that once corporate sponsors get their hands on them, they will be dictated to what songs to perform and they will no longer have control.

U2, I beg thee, go the corporate sponsor route. Really, could it be worse?
U2, I beg thee, take a chapter out of Bruce Springsteen’s Tour book – take out those rare songs. Have the guts to play a song like Kitty’ Back (from Springsteen's 2nd album way back in 1973) on a Late Night Television show. Have the guts to play entire studio albums and rare B-sides. Have your fans not made it clear enough that they love your B-sides? Who wouldn’t kill to hear Hallelujah, Here She Comes, Lady With the Spinning Head or Red Hill Mining Town (I know, that’s a studio track)? Pull out A Sort of Homecoming.

Dear DVD Marketers/producers, etc. We don’t want to see other versions of the SAME song. We want to see surprising material. Songs that aren’t always played.

I am excited to be going to see the band play live on this tour in the upcoming months. And yes, at some point I will end up buying the dang Rose Bow(E)L DVD. You really can’t go wrong with U2, but even near perfection is still not perfect. It’s like admiring the Mona Lisa, but without that smirk. If it didn’t have that smirk, you could still appreciate the art, but you would walk away always feeling like something is missing.

Belief and Doubt

To believe is to be happy; to doubt is to be wretched. To believe is to be strong. Doubt cramps energy. Belief is power. Only so far as a man believe strongly, mightily, can he act cheerfully, or do anything that is worth the doing.

- Frederick William Robertson

Frederick William Robertson was an English Divine from the 1800’s and enthusiastically evangelical in his teachings. Clearly this quote was meant for Christian thinking - in other words he meant to believe in Jesus is to be happy. To doubt him as your saviour is to be altogether wretched. Yet when I first read this I had no background information and something completely different crystallized in my mind that I am certain would make Frederick rattle his tombstone.

Belief is what an individual holds to be true. I of course would add to this, what a person holds to be true ‘from a certain point of view’. So the question I pose is this: does belief in something, anything, make one happy?

Obviously belief is better than doubt. Consider the lottery. People hope to win the lottery, believing their life will be better. Does not this mere belief bring happiness to the individual, regardless of the reality of it? The thought of a better life, the dreams of what they would do with that money? Consider then, the harsh reality of the flip-side of this equation. How many people tell themselves “the odds of me winning the lottery are astronomical. I will never win.” This is the moment of doubt, which ‘cramps energy’. This doubt brings happiness to a grinding halt. Belief and doubt cannot exist in the same moment.


Little children believe in Santa Claus and each year presents magically appear beneath the Christmas tree. They live in awe and wonder at this marvellous idea. It is only after the dreadful reveal that Christmas loses some of its lustre. That is to say, when they stop believing.

Who is happier?
The child who wishes to fly?
Or the adult who knows they can’t?

Does this mean people should be delusional in their thinking? That believing in the Easter Bunny will bring happiness? Should people live in blissful ignorance? I think somewhere along the way we have mistaken maturation with pessimism. When we stop believing in things (and often not only is it inevitable but necessary), when we have no new beliefs or hopes to focus on, despair sets in, the way the cold seeps in and makes arthritic joints ache.


Does believing in God bring more happiness than not believing in God? Probably not. Suffering exists regardless of your beliefs. But either side of that debate brings its own hope for the future. If you are Religious, you cling to the hope of God taking away your pain. If you are not Religious, then medical Science becomes your saviour. And if you are Spiritual, you believe that there is something you can do to achieve a cure from within.

Is any one way better than the other? Certainly the Religious way takes a more passive role than say the Scientific or Spiritual way. But does taking a more pro-active role make it the better choice?

In recent experience I have noted that Christians are no different than Atheists. Although their belief systems appear to be diametrically opposed to one another, their convictions and attitudes are very similar. Both systems believe they are right and the other side are all fools. Both wish to prove that the other is wrong and will argue at great lengths over it. Atheists accuse Christians of causing the most bloodshed in the name of God. Christians accuse science for causing the most bloodshed in the name of progress.

Telling religious people, people who believe in a higher power that there is no God is just as bad as Christians condemning people to hell for not believing. And let’s face it, we only argue when we doubt our own beliefs. We argue that there is a God because we are not entirely sure. We argue that there isn’t for the very same reason. No one argues that the sun is hot.

Who is happier? The person who believes there is good in the world? Or that the world is full of evil?

A child creates simply for creation’s sake. Adults are the ones who worry about how good or bad something is. And even if it is good, or even great, their critical eye will still find fault, however small.


Children’s drawings are often nonsensical and it is difficult to immediately recognize what it is that they’re trying to communicate. I am not suggesting that the inexperience of childhood should be a model in which the world should live, what I am talking about is the sheer untainted, unencumbered joy of creating. The joy is in the act of creation. People’s perceptions (including our own judgements) on this creation are wholly separate and unattached to the act itself.


When we are young we are always asked the question: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And children love to imagine the future. They always have an immediate response - a vet, a teacher, even a rock star. And those answers will change monthly into something else, whenever a new idea is freshly introduced; something they were ignorant of beforehand. And the new possibility excites them. When asked this same question in High School, to prepare for College or University, how many of us answer with the same enthusiasm? Instead of honestly answering the question, we have mistaken what we want to be with what we should be. What is job is the most feasible? How much money will it provide? Is there room for growth? Are there going to be jobs available in this field? All very good questions, but none of it answers the original question. What do you want to be?

Who is happier?
The person who has hope for the future?
Or the person who believes we are in the end times?

Some could argue that it is foolishness to have false hope in the world, because of the endless disappointment they are setting themselves up with. Yet I would contend that the problem here isn’t having hope, the problem is allowing the world to make you doubt the possibilities. It is the doubt that brings down a person. When you are believing and hopeful, therein lies joy.

Marley's Ghost - A Short Story

“It is required of every man,’ the Ghost returned, ‘that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world-oh, woe is me!-and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness.’

- Jacob Marley

‘Business!’ cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. ‘Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!’ It held up its chain at arm’s length, as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.

- Jacob Marley

The story of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol

The tale of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol begins on Christmas Eve seven years after the death of Ebenezer Scrooge's business partner Jacob Marley. That night, the ghost of Jacob Marley appears before Scrooge. He is chained by steel cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds and heavy purses. He wears a bandage of sorts around his chin and tied on top of his head. Marley warns Scrooge that his soul will bear heavier chains for eternity if he does not change his greedy ways, and also predicts that a series of other ghosts will follow. The Ghost floats back out to the bleak dark night, a night that is filled with restless, wailing phantoms and this is the last we see of him.


Three Christmas ghosts visit Scrooge during the course of the night, fulfilling Marley's prophecy. The first, the Ghost of Christmas Past, takes Scrooge to the scenes of his boyhood and youth which stir the old skinflint's gentle and tender side. The second spirit, the Ghost of Christmas Present, takes Scrooge to the home of his nephew Fred to observe his game of Yes and No and to the humble dwelling of his clerk Bob Cratchit to observe his Christmas dinner. Here it is clear to Scrooge that Bob’s youngest child, the crippled Tiny Tim is not doing well at all. The third spirit, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, harrows Scrooge with dire visions of the future if he does not learn and act upon what he has witnessed. Among the visions is the death of Tiny Tim, and Scrooge’s own lonely death.


When Scrooge wakes up on Christmas morning he is a changed man. Tiny Tim does not die as the ghost foretold. Scrooge goes about treating his fellow men with kindness, generosity, and compassion, and gains a reputation as a man who embodies the spirit of Christmas.

MARLEY’S GHOST
by
Doug Macphisto

arley wept.

He found himself walking past the old counting house, dragging his chains of steel cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds and heavy purses. Were he still alive, his muscles would have strengthened, thus making the load he carried more manageable. But Jacob Marley was not alive. And such was the nature of this realm that the burden never lessened. The poor Ghost walked for eternity, a silent witness, in a world of tenderness that he himself denied in life.

Often he would thrash about waving and swinging his chains and locks about, whilst witnessing even the smallest acts of kindness. A man opening a door for a stranger; a tip of a gentleman’s hat to a passing lady. Yes, Marley would scream through his bandaged-closed mouth for hours at such a sight.

Once, not so long ago (that is if such a thing as time existed), he was witness to a man and woman holding a newborn child, swaddled in blankets. It had seemed to Marley that the mother’s kisses were ever so tender and the father’s hand, resting on the babe’s head, was ever-so-light. Over this he screamed for what have been weeks to you or I.

And then he returned to his wandering, back down the streets of London, back to the counting house where his partner and only friend in life, Ebenezer Scrooge, had their business. The business of forging chains.

It seemed to Marley at that moment he had not seen Ebenezer in quite some time. No, he had not been at his home, neither was he at his regular melancholy tavern nor anywhere else that Marley could see. Now, why does that seem so strange? The old Ghost thought.

Marley gathered his chains once more and once gathered, he took a step forward.

And was stopped cold.

His chains clinked softly. With vacant, unseeing eyes, Marley gathered his chains again and marched forth.

Once more he was stopped without taking a single step.

A third attempt was just as fruitless.

He tried again and again. And after that he tried a dozen more times. It was as though it had only ever happened a single time. At some point, Marley finally looked behind him, down the winding length of chain to a single cash-box wrapped around a warmly glowing lamp post at waist height. It is fair to say that this post was the only warm looking thing in all of this dark and dismal land of shadow.

This was the sight that brought Marley to his present state of weeping. A tiny crushed mouse sounded less pitiful than his cries.

Marley had passed through buildings and people without a single reaction. Why now should his burden be wound around this particular post? But that was the very nature of this world, was it not? There were no rules in such a place, a place of torment. In fact, Marley had already convinced himself that if anything at all could make his misery more…well, miserable, it was sure to happen.

Still weeping, the ghost gathered his chains and gave them what we would call a meaningful tug. He shook them and rattled them, he pulled with all of his will (which admittedly, was very little). Exhausted, Marley threw down his chains and howled through his tightly-clamped mouth.

Passing spirits joined in, like a gaggle of lunatics. Some screamed at him for disturbing them, others screamed just to drown him out. Other’s screamed because no pain or frustration could possibly be greater than their own, or so they thought. Those were the loudest of the bunch.

“Leave me be,” Marley cried through clenched teeth. “Bother me no more.”

To which the surrounded crowd of ghosts replied: “Leave me be. Bother me no more.”

Every curse and every moan from Marley’s dead lips were mimicked in kind by the horde. Marley stood there and continued to weep. Simply stood there. The poor fellow didn’t even have the good sense to lie down and rest a moment. Eventually the ghosts wandered away, one by one, leaving Marley alone again silent and as still as a dead wind.

A giggle made him stir. A soft giggle and a voice that said:

“Jacob Marley, why do you linger here so?”

At first it sounded like the giggle of a very small child, but then, to Marley at least, it also sounded like his own laugh. When he was alive, it was an extremely rare moment to catch Jacob Marley laughing. And if he did it was usually over seeing an old woman topple over on the sidewalk, or after racking his cane on the hindquarters of some young child racing by. A cruel laugh to be sure, but this giggle sounded like his own had it known to laugh without being at another’s expense.

Laughter, the ghost thought. He had not thought of his own laughter, not once, since he had passed away. Oh, he was witness to much laughter wandering these lost streets of lost souls. Children playing, adults making merry at a Christmas party; never able to join in. But his own laughter? No, there had been only wailing and thrashing about.

Christmas, he wondered. Now what did that remind him of?

“I know that laugh,” he moaned, “Ebenezer.”

Turning he saw his old partner, Ebenezer Scrooge standing beneath the lamp post, the very lamp his chain was inexplicably wrapped around, tethered and drifting in the darkness. Of course the post was the very post that sat just outside of the old Scrooge and Marley counting house.

“Ebenezer,” Marley whispered through clenched teeth, blank eyes twitching. “I have searched for you these many days.” A confused look came over his face. “Why have I not seen you?”

“Why do you weep?” came a voice from Ebenezer that clearly did not belong to him. Marley did not recognize the voice, and he suspected now that he did not recognize this apparition.

“I weep for what I have lost. For what I had never gained, nor reached for in life.”

“Will you not come closer, Jacob?” said the apparition who no longer looked like Mr. Scrooge. As it spoke its features changed like melting wax. For a moment Marley could see spectacles resting on a forehead, and then it seemed he could see a small child. But mostly it was a shimmering form of light. Not the same light coming from the post, but a whiteness that was often hard to look at directly.

“Will you not come closer, Jacob?” the spirit repeated.

“I shall,” mumbled Marley gathering his chain and shuffling forward. When Marley stopped, it was just outside of the circle of light and the spirit giggled again.

“Come, remove your kerchief and speak freely.”

Marley stood and stared with his chains gathered in his arms. “It is not permitted.”

A ghost passed by just then and thinking Marley had spoken to him said: “You don‘t own this walkway. Leave me be. Leave me be.” Marley did not meet the passer-by’s eyes. The ghost peered at Marley, and then at the lamp post. Seeing nothing at all of interest in both locations, the ghost continued along his sad way, mumbling to himself.

When they were quite alone again, the voice said with a smile: “Not permitted? You did so once before.”

This struck Marley with such a force, his body and chains quivered at the mere thought of it. “Before?”

The chains lightly chimed and then drew still.

“You haven’t forgotten have you? You did it once before. Do you not recollect?”

“I…I…yes…I…once. No. No! I do not recall.”

“Do you remember his bedroom Jacob? That special night? Who was it you spoke to?”

For a moment the specter looked like Ebenezer Scrooge again.

“Yes, yes, you do remember, don’t you?”

“Ebenezer I have searched for you these many days. Why have I not seen you?”

The specter floated forward, completely featureless now. Marley gasped at the spirit’s approach. The soft warm beauty of the spirit, squeezed a single tear from Marley’s eyes. This spirit was the only warmth Marley had ever experienced since passing away. It was like the first ray of spring sunlight that brings about the end of a snowy winter.

The glow of the spirit pressed against Marley’s features.

“Won’t you undo your kerchief?”

Lips trembling, milky-white eyes frantically searching to focus on something other than the light, Marley spoke through his clenched teeth: “It is not…permitted.”

“Who governs this rule?”

“Penance governs over me and my kind. Penance and her sisters Justice and Truth.”

Like a wickless flame, the spirit retreated away from Marley, back under the lamp. “You have already done your Penance Jacob. Surely you have not failed to remember this as well?”

Marley stammered.

“Yes, you remember this place.”

The ghost and the spirit now stood apart from each other in a bedchamber that had two sitting chairs facing each other in front of a fireplace.

“Ebenezer? Where are you?” Marley looked about the room and then turned back to the spirit. “Where has my old friend vanished to?”

The spirit floated over to the door that was double-locked. “It was not his custom to lock his bedchamber’s door. Yet he did so on that night. He was not keeping the world locked outside. Ebenezer kept his heart locked away from himself. You entered through here, do you not recall?”

Marley shifted his feet to look at the door, dragging his chains to the very spot he spoke with Ebenezer.

“Undo your kerchief, Jacob, so we can speak more openly to each other.”

Marley’s mouth quivered. “Do you command this thing of me?”

The spirit answered with a soft giggle.

With great care, the old ghost reached above his head and undid the knotted kerchief. On the other side, in life, these kerchiefs were used on corpses to keep their mouths from suddenly and quite unexpectedly popping open. Marley’s mouth opened with an audible pop.

The spirit came forth, shining on the side of Marley’s face.

“Come and sit with me,” the light glided across the room and came to rest on the chair furthest away. Marley did not move.

“Can you sit down?” the voice asked.

“I can.”

Still Marley did not move.

“Why do you still stand there, my friend?”

“It is too late for me. I forged these chains in life and in death I am bound to them. This is my Penance and I willingly carry this burden as Justice demands.”

The bedchamber quickly melted away at that and the ghost found himself once again tethered to the post, still at the edge of darkness.

“That does not sound very just to me,” giggled the spirit.

“That is not for me to judge. Justice is impartial, as was my attitude toward my fellow man. Justice is fair. If it is seemingly unfair, it is because one is deserving of it.”

“Who was it that sent you to your friend Ebenezer that night, so very long ago?”

Marley’s milky-white eyes searched. “I was sent as part of my penance.”

“Yes Jacob Marley, so have you said.” The spirit floated around, closer to the edge of darkness. “Who was it that sent you?”

Panicked, searching, sightless eyes. The links of chains clinked with struggle. Frustration at having no answer.

“I was sent as part of my penance.”

“My, you are a stubborn one Jacob Marley. Very stubborn indeed.”

Marley raised his right arm showing a particularly heavy box of metal. “Stubbornness,” he said and lowered his arm. His left he raised raising a heavy padlock with it and said: “Indifference.” Lowering it Marley kicked at a ledger resting at his feet. “Cruelty. There are so many more.”

“Do you know how it was you came to him that night?”

Marley shook his head, ever so slowly, chains crinkling. “I do not. I was sent as…”

The spirit waived a hand of dismissal. “Yes, yes, as part of your Penance. I have grown quite weary of that refrain.” It said this with a bright smile and not as snide as you would immediately think. Nor was there anything reproachful about it.

“Tell me of that night Jacob. What thoughts played in your mind?”

Marley turned to the sign of the counting house as his thoughts turned back to that night. His mouth moved fish-like without a sound. He stammered and gripped his chains.

“I observed Ebenezer from the hour of his awakening through his daily dealings. His shameful treatment of Cratchit. Yet in his manner I saw only myself and it seemed to me my chains were heavier on that day. Yes, my heart was as heavy as steel. Yet my burden seemed light compared to this man who was my partner in life. Ebenezer had been an eager student and I was his teacher.”

Marley howled and thrashed about his accessories with great vigor. “His own chains, chains he himself could not see, were like the gong of a bell tower in my ears. It was the din of his tragic orchestra that called to me.”

The spirit came closer, pushing away a little of the shadow on Marley’s face so that now only his back was to the dark. “So you were not sent after all?”

The old ghost took no heed, lost in the torment of his memories.

“Those chains called to me and I was filled with pity. I could not turn myself away. Poor, old and alone and miserly Ebenezer. Wholly unaware of his burden. I fear he was quite terrified when I entered his chambers. Yes, I recall now. It was the three ghosts who sent me. The Trinity of Past, Present and Yet to Come. They bade me speak to this wretched creature.”

The spirit whispered around to Marley’s back. “It is said that man has three faces, Jacob. Mind, Body and Spirit. The Body is always concerned with the past. Its bruises and cuts. The Mind always frets about the future, about what may or may not be. Oh, shall I ever have enough? And the Spirit is ever present. Ever-now.”

Marley’s eyes widened in fear. “Spirit? Where have you gone? I cannot see you.”

With another giggle, the spirit came around and gave color to Marley’s face.

“It was Ebenezer who called for me and I answered.”

“Mayhap there is a third possibility, Jacob.”

“My time was short,” continued Marley, “and in my rage I demanded from him whether he believed in me or not. The Three Ghosts whispered to me, passing along their chance and hope. Daresay, I was glad for their words. Alas, my Fate does not allow such gladness for long.”

Something in the distance caught Marley’s eye and he reached out with a hand and walked in its direction, chains dragging behind him.

“Ebenezer I have searched for you these many days, why have I not seen you?”
The slack of his chain came tight and still tethered to the lamp post, it yanked Marley backwards. Whatever he thought he saw in that moment disappeared altogether.

He stood now on the opposite side of the circle of light. Away from the spirit and peering into darkness. The spirit floated closer, only a hands length away. The darkness between, however, could have been just a sliver, yet still it would make for an unfathomable abyss between them.

“What happened next, Jacob?”

The old Ghost looked this way and that, hearing, but not seeing. Marley took hold of each end of his bandage and brought it beneath his chin.

“The time given to me has expired.”

The two ends of the kerchief were brought together atop his head.

“I bid thee farewell.”

“Jacob, no, you must not…” the spirit reached out shining its light on Marley‘s back, but it did not touch Marley.

The old Ghost hesitated and then roped one end of the wrapper over the other.

“Jacob…”

Once more he hesitated, looking around with his blank eyes. At last he tightened the two ends and his mouth clamped together with a snap.

“Jacob…”

Marley took a step to return to his endless wanderings. The chain snagged and he stumbled back two steps so that now his back was in the glow of the lamp light.

“Jacob Marley? Why do you linger here so?”

And Marley mumbled as if well-rehearsed: “It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness.”

“Required? Required by whom?” said the spirit, gliding in closer and spiralling around Marley’s form.

“The one who shackled me and gave me the means to forge these chains. It is enough to know that it is required. Fare thee well spirit.”

Marley went to walk again and felt that all-too familiar tug. He turned and walked in a different direction this time, dragging his chains along until it snagged again.

“Why Jacob? Why do you linger here? What holds you so?”

The old Ghost raised the single chain that is wrapped around the post and shakes it violently. “My burden has become ensnared around that lamp.”

Leaving Marley for the moment, the spirit went over to the post and studied it very carefully.

“I am very sorry to say I see nothing here that shackles you dear Jacob.”

“Notwithstanding, I remain ensnared.” He rattled his chain to prove his point.

“I see nothing here at the light.”

Grim-faced, Marley pulls on his chain to show the tension in the links.

“How is it that you speak so freely now?”

The kerchief that he himself had tied only a moment ago, indeed had somehow come undone without poor Marley realizing.

“I…I…”

“Will you not come and see for yourself there is nothing here, Jacob?”

A loud screech filled the air, another damned soul passing over. Marley’s hands jerked at the sound of it, his face frozen in terror. As if to escape the howling, wailing voice, the old Ghost shuffled forward. Standing beneath the post, he still hears that terrible wailing.

“I know those cries all too well.”

“Be not afraid, my friend. Here, come see.”

Marley looked and saw just what he had always seen.

“It is as I expected. The chain is fastened to the post.” A pitiful cry escaped his lips. “Why do you torment me, spirit?”

Marley gave the chain a yank and then heaved a sigh. “I am not even free to wander.” What little freedom he had roaming these streets had just been taken away from him. The old Ghost could see that he was doomed to stand in this one spot for the rest of eternity; at the mercy of any passing ghost.

“Is that all you see poor, poor Jacob?”

Marley gave the spirit a slow, somber kind of a nod. For a while Marley’s eyes did not leave the spot where his chain was neatly tied.

Without the need for clocks and time and such things in that world, it would be difficult to say just how long they stood there staring at the chain. Seemingly it would have felt like months to you or I, so it would suffice to say a great moment of silence ensued.

“Who are you spirit?” Marley asked.

The spirit flashed a bright and gay smile and gave what not even Marley could argue as a good natured laugh.

The hand of the spirit gently touched Marley on the arm. The old ghost reacted as though stung. An image flashed before his tired eyes. It was not a chain at all that was tied to the post, but a gnarled talon, gripping with all of its might. Marley was convinced the hand belonged to a daemon. And that hand was his doom.

“Look again, dear friend.”

“Forgive me Ebenezer. I dare not.”

“Ebenezer has been gone these many years, dear Jacob. Come, look again my good fellow.”

The daemon’s hand flashed before his vision once again sending Marley into a howling fit. He nearly dropped to his knees at the sight such was his terror. His chin he buried into his chest.
The spirit’s glowing hand reached under Marley’s chin and gently lifted his chin up. “Look…” it whispered.

It was no daemon’s claw keeping him tethered, but his own Ghostly hand. It was his own arm that slightly bent at the elbow Marley had mistaken as a loosely hanging chain.

“Look…” the spirit pointed to Marley’s chest.

The chains that once criss-crossed over his chest were now gone. In their place were arms of light, holding him softly.

Marley slowly lifted his arms, feeling for the first time the weightlessness of them, or rather not feeling anything at all which is far better than those dreadful steel boxes. Tears filled his eyes yet again.

“They were never chains Jacob.”

“Who are you spirit? If you are not Ebenezer, I know naught who you might be.”

“Look…”

Jacob Marley wept.

And there, standing before him was his own self. He looked just the way he did the day he died. Spectacles resting on his brow, his usual waistcoat, tights and boots. There was no ghostly white about him. This was Marley with true color to his cheeks. And he was smiling. It was then that Marley discovered his face, when smiling, was quite beautiful.

Marley went over to the vision of his own self, arms open for an embrace and just like that the vision and the spirit was gone. He stood alone now. For a moment, a frightfully terrifying moment, Marley thought he had been tricked and this was just another cruel torment he was forced to bear. But when old Marley looked at his own outstretched hands, he saw the warmth in them, the color that had been lacking for so long. He looked himself over and was overjoyed to see that the chains were still gone. His ghostly hue but a terrible memory.

It had been himself all along. It was his arm and hand that had clamped down on the lamp post. The chains across his chest were his very own arms (and if this seems quite impossible to be holding your own self from behind, just remember what Ebenezer Scrooge once said: They (the spirits that is) can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they can.)

Marley laughed heartily at this. And his eyes were full of happy tears.

“Nay,” he said to himself, “Tears are never happy. ‘Tis joy and love that pushes out the sadness and bitterness of life. Like a pocket of air rising in the water.”


The light of the lamp post grew wider and wider, until finally it shone across every building and every thoroughfare. Marley was still surrounded by other ghosts, but they too were warm in color and not at all bothered by his laughter. In fact, passer-by’s would good-naturedly join in with him.

And Jacob Marley wept no more.







AUTHOR’S NOTE:

When the idea for this story came to me, I pictured Jacob Marley wandering through the streets of Charles Dickens’ London for centuries. But it is just as possible that this story takes place immediately after the events of A Christmas Carol.

Each time I have encountered the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, no matter in what form, I am always struck by how completely unfair it is to poor Jacob Marley to never be free of his torment. The idea of being condemned for all eternity (clearly a Christian concept) just doesn’t hold water with me since it is lacking completely in compassion. I always felt terribly sad for poor Marley who was instrumental in Scrooge‘s salvation. As I said, it was unfair that he was not rewarded for stepping in when he did.

And so my mind would always wander out the window of Ebenezer’s bedroom, in pursuit of Jacob Marley. Where was he? What was he up to now? And what if this story picks up sometime after Ebenezer Scrooge has finally passed away and would presumably be in heaven and therefore out of reach to Marley?

To my surprise I found him still wandering the streets of 1800 London completely alone with not even Scrooge to follow about. It seemed to me that redemption as told in all of the great mythical stories (including the Bible) is available only by turning inward. It is not a place that is separate from here and now. It is available here and now and available to everyone. It was not God’s judgement that sentenced Marley to Purgatory, it was Marley who condemned himself and thereby acted as his own savior.

Everybody loves the story of Ebenezer Scrooge’s redemption. It is up there with George Bailey and Anakin Skywalker! But I would ask that you spare a thought for poor old Jacob Marley this season for he would tell you that God does not judge and does not condemn man for his ‘sins’. Those are inventions of man.

Merry Christmas!

Poor, Poor Judas

Poor, Poor Judas

“In the garden I was playing the tart
I kissed your lips and broke your heart
You, you were acting like it was the end of the world.”

- U2 “Until the End of the World”
( a song written from the point of view of Judas)



Poor, poor Judas. Christians often talk about how sad Jesus is at the state of the world. How he weeps because of the pain and suffering that makes up this physical realm. Let us ignore the fact (for the purpose of this blog) that this reveals more about how Christians view the world, than Jesus would view the world. And yet despite this great sadness, I can think of one who must be filled with greater sadness.

Poor, poor Judas.

Imagine being the one to betray the Messiah. The one who filled with guilt over his deed, did not even keep the thirty pieces of silver, committed suicide. And imagine that for all history your name would be cursed and hated. Imagine the weight of this guilt. Imagine the sadness heaped upon the shoulders of this one poor soul. Now consider this, if you were that man, this essential character in this Divine Tragedy, could you find forgiveness for your own self? Can you imagine anyone more sad than Judas Iscariot?

Has anyone, with the exception of perhaps Lucifer (see my last blog), in the history of mankind been judged so harshly? Is there anyone out there that feels any sympathy for this man? Why is it, that he sacrificed himself (and died hanging on a tree just like the man he betrayed) to be viewed by most people as most assuredly to be burning in hell?

What most people miss is the fact that without Judas, there would be no Saviour. Just like you cannot have heat without cold. I suppose that if it wasn’t Judas it would have been someone else, but the fact remains that it was Judas. Judas was instrumental in Jesus’ final message, a message that not only required his death, but his resurrection (again we will ignore the fact that I see the death and resurrection as a metaphor and not historical fact). Without Judas, there would have been no death or resurrection. No message at all. And one must wonder, what would have become of Jesus had he not died the way he did? His story would certainly not have become as important as it has become. He would have been another obscure prophet in a long line of wise men. Forgotten by history, by time.

It was the betrayal that brought the message into sharp focus, making the rest of the story possible. Quite the large responsibility, don’t you think? Would you have been capable of such a thing?


Prior to the infamous kiss of betrayal, Jesus is reported to have been praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. As the story goes, Jesus appears to have foreknowledge of the horrors that await him. Although willing to go through with it Jesus does ask that this task be taken away from him. This suggests that even Jesus felt fear. Perhaps doubt. And if the responsibility lay completely on his shoulders to complete this task, would he have been able to do it without Judas?

It is far too easy to yank on the rope that Judas put around his neck and keep him tied down and burning in the bowels of hell. One must consider some very interesting points in the entire arc of the story of Jesus. Jesus chose disciples and given his uncanny ability to know things beforehand, you must ask why he chose such a man? Was he chosen to fulfill the very role he ended up playing? It is suggested in the gospels that Judas had a weakness for money, and was also responsible for holding the disciples’ money bag. It also states in the Gospel of Luke that Satan entered Judas. Ah yes, the Adversary. And let us not forget that another name for Satan, is Lucifer, meaning “light-bringer”. Without darkness you cannot have light.

Jesus even calls Judas out during the Last Supper: "One of you will betray me". So why did Jesus trust this man, knowing he was the one to betray him? One interpretation of the events is that Jesus may have asked Judas to betray him. This idea is explored in Nikos Kazantzakis’ novel ‘The Last Temptation of Christ‘. Which I think is a more realistic approach to the story. That the man, Jesus, did not have the strength to follow through with his duty and chose someone who could force him to do it. Someone with more strength and courage than any man.

The Gospel of John tells a story of a woman who anoints Jesus with expensive perfume and washed his feet with her tears. Judas protests arguing that the money spent on the perfume could have been given to the poor. It would seem that Judas’ heart is in the right place. But Judas is rebuked and by stark contrast, he accepts thirty pieces of silver for turning over Jesus to the High Priests.

Judas is a story of weakness to be sure. The debate is over who truly was the weak one? He symbolizes every person, what people do when faced with temptation. He is a symbolic prostitute, accepting money for physical acts. Does he not center out Jesus with a kiss (an intimate act)? He shows us just how hard we are on our own selves. How quickly we move to judge and condemnation - not of others, but of ourselves.

Poor, poor Judas.

If you are to hate Judas, then you are to hate all dichotomies. To deny Judas, is to deny the message of the resurrection. To hate death, denies life.

There is an old Taoist proverb that describes perfectly this relationship of Judas and Jesus.

"It is the space between the bars that holds the tiger in.”

You see a cage is not made only of the physical aspects - the floor, the ceiling, the bars. It is also made of the spaces between those bars. If you had no spaces, they would not be bars, but walls. Without the spaces, the cage is transformed into something entirely different. It is no longer a cage.

Without Judas, Jesus is no longer a hero.

Have Some Sympathy

Have Some Sympathy

“Pleased to meet you Hope you guessed my name,
But what’s confusing you
Is just the nature of my game
Just as every cop is a criminal
And all the sinners saints
As heads is tails
Just call me Lucifer
Cause I'm in need of some restraint
So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy,
and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I'll lay your soul to waste…”

- Rolling Stones, “Sympathy for the Devil”

When thinking of the Fall of Satan most people immediately quote the story that is actually from Milton’s Paradise Lost. And the story of his fall doesn’t even occur in the bible. Most people don’t know this. Revelation makes inference to it, as do other books of the bible, but there is not one book that recounts this story. They do know that Satan was an archangel full of pride who would not do what God commanded (which was to bow down to man). But this story is actually from the Qur’an and in fact Iblis (as he is called) is not an angel, but a Jinn. A creature made with free will, like man. According to legend, angels do not have free will. Sounds to me like God has surrounded himself with yes men like some insecure egomaniac and anyone who doesn’t agree with him (yes sir!) is thrown into some lake of fire (or worse, Earth).

I admit, I do laugh when Christians recite this story, not realizing it isn’t even in their book, but what they are telling is a hybrid between a work of literary fiction and part of one of their most hated enemies’ sacred text.


But enough religion bashing. There is a point to all of this.



I find it interesting that Lucifer means “light-bearer” or “light-bringer”. Strange name for evil is it not? And yet the name Satan means “The Accuser” or “The Adversary”. It seems to me that any adversary plays an essential role in anyone’s life. Is not growth a painful experience? Do we not refer to it as growing pains? Especially Spiritual Growth. You cannot fully appreciate Spring without Winter. Do not seeds fight against the cold to grow again? Is not the hibernation period just as important as the period of bloom?

If everything was painted the same colour, let’s say green, nothing would have any meaning. If your clothes were all green, and your skin all the same shade of green on a backdrop of green, where then is the contrast?

If you’ve read my earlier blogs, Original Sin and More Original Sin, you will understand that the name Lucifer fits right in with the idea of the Serpent in Genesis as the hero of the story. This “light-bringer” is the one who introduced us to knowledge. To growth. To dichotomies. God made it all, but it was the serpent who pointed it out.

As for the story of Satan’s fall, God made Adam the first human. God then commanded all of the angels to bow down before man. And Iblis, full of “hubris and jealousy” refused to obey God’s command seeing Adam as being inferior in creation as he was made from clay and Iblis was made of fire. (Fire is always an interesting symbol - it gives off warmth and pushes back the shadow). And the punishment for disobeying? That his punishment will be delayed until the Day of Judgement. And in the meantime, Iblis has made it his personal vendetta to divert as many of Adam’s descendants away from God.

Sounds like a jilted lover to me. ("Hell hath no fury....")

But the real question here is: who is the jilted lover?

Forget Satan’s so-called pride and hubris, let us look at the real reason Satan would not bow down before man. Is not one of the ten commandments, “Do not have any other gods before me”? And somehow, Lucifer is condemned to Hell for obeying this law? For not idolizing man before God? Oh sure, as man we think we ARE superior, so of course we’ve made Lucifer the bad guy. Our ego’s simply can not handle anything else.

But think for a moment, how strong was Satan’s love for God? To not only disobey, but to risk eternal damnation. To be without his one true love? To be punished so severely, as he would never be with God again. Tell me, would you risk hellfire, for your love of something?

Does this mean I’m a Satanist? That I’m all for the ritual sacrifice of babies? Pentagrams and burning candles (there’s that fire and light again!)? The Macphisto in me says yes I am. Did God not ritually sacrifice his own son? Do we not light candles during mass? I’ve heard a lot of Christians talk about evil and to be ever on guard and so on. I remember asking one of these people, is God capable of forgiving Satan? They answered yes, but Satan has to be willing to be forgiven. I replied: “Really? And what about Grace? Undeserved kindness?” Answer: Silence.

Perhaps it is God who should apologize. “What? God apologize? Are you crazy?” Perhaps. But I am not talking about God per se, but people’s perception of Him. Here is the definition of hubris: overweening pride, haughtiness, or arrogance. In ancient Greece, hubris referred to actions which, intentionally or not, shamed and humiliated the victim. Who is the victim in this story? God? I don’t think so, God cannot be anyone’s victim. According to the story and this definition, it is Satan who is the victim. And was he not shamed and humiliated through his being forced out of heaven? Who could be so arrogant as to condemn someone forever? This is pride and the definition of pride is: "the love of one's own excellence." Who loves his own excellence more than God? Is this not the opposite of humility?

So let’s not be so hard on poor old Lucifer, the jilted lover. Instead of letting our fears chain him down to the underworld, let’s show him some grace.

After all, that which we condemn in others, we condemn in ourselves.