Skip to main content

Covid gods and unity



Unity is invisible. You can't see the thing that unifies a group of people, be it a club, a class, a nation, or any other group. And yet, just as you cannot point to a physical number 2, the unifying principalities of groups exist. Spirits have always been understood to exist in this manner, except by materialists, and we win the prize for the best materialists who have ever existed.


In the ancient world, the unifying principles were explicitly described as gods. In our modern, disenchanted way of seeing the world, we don't see unifying principles as gods, but rather abstract concepts, perhaps expressed as manifestos or ideologies or constitutions. But, the gods still exist, and the old gods also had their rules. The principalities were perceived as divine because they had a spiritual nature, spreading their unifying presence across many people, transcending time and place. Those god-kings of the ancient world who ruled vast empires were also perceived as carriers of a god, because of the unity they achieved.


To unify a group, you have to sacrifice something of individual idiosyncrasies, things that don't fit with the group. You want to achieve communion between the members and harmony with the unifying principle. This was explicitly achieved by the sacrifice of food to the god, usually grain, and on other occasions, animal sacrifice, followed by a communal meal and celebration by the group members. This is seen in the Eucharist in Christianity: it is our primary unifying ritual. Processions were also a major part of the sacrificial ritual, since they are a public expression of the group's intension, a way of staking a claim in the world. We also see this in traditional Christianity, where processions inside and outside the church take place at various times of the year. In the modern world, our primary procession is Pride marches, followed by climate and anti-racism marches. These public ritual tell you what the unifying principles of the west currently are.


The sacrifices that a group needs to make to achieve unity sometimes involve removing people from a group. There is that disruptive person in the club: their membership is terminated and they no longer have access to the group. But in the context of wider public arenas, simply ending membership is not an option. You have to resort to all-out scapegoating: identifying individuals and/or groups that are disrupting the group and eliminating them, either by imprisoning them or murdering them. We see this in Nazi Germany, where the Jews, the weak, elderly and 'unfit' were eliminated so that the ideal of a perfect Third Reich could be achieved. Today, abortions are the sacrifice we pay to achieve the ideal of a careerist, technocratic, egalitarian society - similar, actually, to ancient Carthage. We also see this desire in the hate expressed towards those who will not perfectly comply with COVID restrictions and vaccinations: those people are the reason for the disunity of society and must be forcibly made to comply.


Sacraments are a way in which people achieve union with the divine to one degree or another. Therefore, any ritual act that allows you to participate in activities restricted to a particular group is a sacrament. Citizenship is the sacrament that allows you to participate in a nation's life. Baptism is of course the entry sacrament to the Church. We see forming around us the desire to make vaccinations the entry ritual or sacrament to society. 


All our modern rituals are implicit. We don't believe in gods, even most Christians. And yet, in this moment, it has become clearer that our beliefs are false. The way the world works is to some degree independent of all our modern, arbitrary opinions: the gods are still at work, ritual is inevitable, and we all long for the sacraments that give us access to the divine principalities, those things that connect us together.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Review of "The Language of Creation" by Matthieu Pageau

The problem we face today (and the problem that nearly all my reading, thinking and writing is centred on) is how to be the Church in the face of modernism. This was a really important book for me and I hope this essay goes some way to explaining why. I will say at the outset that I am simplifying here: pre-modern conceptions of the universe have persisted in the West, but nevertheless, the general trend has been towards abandoning such perspectives, and I am concerned with the overall downward trend, not exceptions. The general problem can be called scientism, that is, that matter is all there is, and thus the scientific method defines all there is to know. This is our basic outlook, and it manifests itself in many different ways, from ideologies as a concept, to consumerism and popular culture. In this way, all metaphysics, religion, spirituality and morality are seen as not based in material reality, and therefore not real, but rather imagined: they are social constructs, complet

My (current) map of reality

This is a highly condensed version of how my map of reality developed; much is left out, and clarity is sacrificed for a packed sentence. My journey began in a tradition that has a deep respect for scripture, especially interpreted 'materialistically' or 'literally'. While there's problems with this, it has the strength of honouring the word of God: I was never persuaded by liberalism, which thinks it knows better than the Bible. My thought has always been that if God has spoken to us through Scripture, perhaps he knows what it means and we don't always, and to hold something in contempt is to place yourself in a position where you cannot understand it. But before I get in really deep, I should explain the basic problem I had, which was essentially a feeling of cognitive dissonance with my experience of the world, knowledge of history, literature, art and science etc, and what the mainline reformed-evangelical protestant church (I will use the word '

The symbolic structure of 'At the Pike's Behest'

If you come across something strange enough, it will transform your identity.  Emelian the fool was a fool and lazy. He was given the chance to better himself by working, but only after some haranguing did he consent to work. His task was to carry water, but when he drew up the water he also drew up a pike. In exchange for not being eaten, the pike said he would grant any wish. And it was so: Emelian wished the buckets to carry themselves home, and they did. In this, we see the ability of a marginal character, the fool, being able to harness chaotic feminine potential, as there is a closeness between the fool and chaos. It is harder for chaos to get the better of the fool because he is too simple, contains too little higher meaning and thus cannot be easily questioned. And so Emelian becomes the identity that directs the potential whereever he desires, and the carrying of water is a perfect representation of this.  The choice to eat the fish is analogous to naming it, integrating it in