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Sunday, 14 May 2017

Careful What You Wish For



“Happy is what happens when all your dreams come true. Well, isn’t it?”
Wicked (2003)

Last time I wrote a blog post about Wolfblood – CBBC’s award-winning drama featuring a bunch of teenagers with the ability to turn into wolves, and a few other superpowers to boot – I expressed my suspicions that the programme’s then-upcoming fifth series would entail a major decrease in its quality, on account of it having thoroughly demolished its original premise – the need to keep the wolfblood identity secret – in the dramatic final scene of Series Four.1 Well, all ten episodes of that latest series have now been broadcast,2 and I’m pleased to be able to say that my suspicions were not vindicated. Certainly the programme is no longer the same one it was when it launched, but it’s still very entertaining viewing. Indeed, much as I normally complain when TV programmes massively and superfluously expand the scale and scope of their plot complications (*ahem* Moffat’s Doctor Who *ahem*), in Wolfblood’s case, such expansion really worked – and, as an extra bonus, avoided locating the better part of the drama in interpersonal deceit and betrayal, which was what had made Series Two just ever so slightly tedious compared to the others.3
 
How nice to have a good excuse to adorn my blog with such a pretty picture of a wolf.
The tenth episode wasn’t my favourite one of Series Five, but it certainly incorporated such elements as one would hope to encounter in a series finale: the revelation of a startling truth behind a mystery hinted at in earlier episodes; more than one intense confrontation between protagonist and antagonist; heroes reunited; dastardly plots foiled; villains given their due comeuppance. One such villain – and here I’ll place a spoiler warning – was Madoc, a wild wolfblood who had been revealed in the previous episode to have been conspiring with the series’ primary (human) bad guy, Alex Hartington, to destroy any possibility of integration between humans and wolfbloods. Hartington’s plan was to offer wolfbloods a choice: be made human, or go and live in the wild, in a specially fenced-off chunk of countryside which he dryly codenamed Blydissiad after a legendary wolfblood paradise. Madoc, believing separation from humans to represent the best course of action for his pack, agreed to lead them to Hartington’s Blydissiad on the false premise that he had seen the real thing in a vision, but it didn’t take long after arriving there for his treachery to be revealed. He had lied to his pack, broken codes to which he had expected them to adhere, usurped their rightful alpha, and led them to a cage instead of the paradise he had promised, all because he was so set on achieving their separation from human society. And so the first matter on the agenda in the series finale was to settle on a suitable punishment for him.

The punishment settled on is indeed eminently suitable: Madoc is left alone in his false paradise while the entire rest of the pack heads off to save the day. The parting words of TJ, Madoc’s replacement as alpha, are as follows: “You wanted to live in Blydissiad? It’s all yours.” Madoc’s punishment was to get exactly what he had striven to get.

Which is a bit weird, really, isn’t it? Surely giving people exactly what they have been trying to get ought to represent a reward, not a punishment? But then again, what could confirm someone’s status as villain rather than hero more poignantly than the revelation that the thing he or she had been desiring and seeking after all this time was actually bad and wrong and undesirable enough that it really was a punishment rather than a reward? The punishment is to have to put up with the thing one was so wrong ever to want, and, in this way, the extent of one’s guilt is laid bare even as it is penalised: no sentence could be more apt.

We see God dispensing justice in this kind of way all over the Bible. A few examples at random (by which I mean, a few examples I could most easily think of and find):4

And all the people of Israel grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The whole congregation said to them, “Would that we had died in the land of Egypt! Or would that we had died in this wilderness!” … And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying, “How long shall this wicked congregation grumble against me? I have heard the grumblings of the people of Israel, which they grumble against me. Say to them, ‘As I live, declares the Lord, what you have said in my hearing I will do to you: your dead bodies shall fall in this wilderness, and of all your number, listed in the census from twenty years old and upwards, who have grumbled against me, not one shall come into the land where I swore that I would make you dwell, except Caleb the son of Jephunneh and Joshua the son of Nun.’” – from Numbers 14

Oholah [that is, a female personification of the northern kingdom of Israel] played the whore while she was mine, and she lusted after her lovers the Assyrians … She bestowed her whoring upon them, the choicest men of Assyria all of them, and she defiled herself with all the idols of everyone after whom she lusted … Therefore I delivered her into the hands of her lovers, into the hands of the Assyrians, after whom she lusted. These uncovered her nakedness; they seized her sons and her daughters; and as for her, they killed her with the sword; and she became a byword among women, when judgement had been executed on her. – from Ezekiel 23

And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a debased mind to do what ought not to be done. – Romans 1:28

Often, then, God’s judgement on those who rebel against him isn’t so much to jump in and do some targeted smiting as simply to let the rebels have exactly what they want. You wanted to die in the desert? Wish granted. You wanted to subject yourselves to the Assyrians? Go right ahead. You wanted to live your life without knowing God? Be my guest. But a word of warning: you’re not going to like where you end up as a result. Thus the evil and the stupidity of rebelling against God are made blatant even as justice is served. And what justice it is – the punishment is, can only be, perfectly proportional to the offence, because it is entirely determined by it.

And so justice is done.
Really, I could tap out a short doxology on the perfection of God’s justice and end the post there. People getting their just deserts is praiseworthy enough all by itself. But there’s actually even more going on than that. Let’s briefly scoot back to Wolfblood and Madoc sitting alone in Blydissiad. Interestingly, he’s not actually trapped there: there’s a perfectly good hole under the fence through which the rest of the pack are able to leave. As they do so, one of them raises the question as to whether they ought to seal Madoc in behind them, but TJ says there’s no need. Madoc will stay where he is of his own accord: he was banking everything on living in Blydissiad and he now has nowhere else to go, however disappointing it has turned out to be. Still, the option to leave is left open, and later in the episode, we find out that he actually took it, and, having relinquished his false paradise, even helped to foil the latest twist in Hartington’s dastardly plans. The punishment Madoc brought on himself does more than cause him appropriate suffering: it offers him the chance to recognise that he was wrong to want this, and to change his mind and do something about it.

And when God passes totally apt judgement on people by letting them have the very thing they were rebelling against him by seeking, he is similarly offering them a chance to recognise that they were wrong to want this, and to change their minds and do something about it – the process known in Christianese as repentance. Take another look at the Ezekiel chapter I mentioned above: many more details are given of the punishment that Israel and Judah will receive for their spiritual infidelity, but the end of the chapter is quite startling: And they shall return your lewdness upon you, and you shall bear the penalty for your sinful idolatry, and you shall know that I am the Lord God. This, then, is the key consequence of the perfectly apt punishment – that the people will come to acknowledge who God is, instead of putting him aside in order to chase after idols. Being disappointed by everything they were banking on will provide them with the vital reality check that God is their only hope.

And so, in punishing people by letting them have exactly what they’re trying to get, God displays not only his perfect justice but his abundant mercy. The punished get the chance to recognise that the effects of seeking after wrong things are distinctly bad, to see their own depravity in wanting to seek those things, and so to turn to God for rescue from the slavery of that depravity. And this is happening now. The verse from Romans that I quoted above refers to all people. Humanity has declared its desire to live outside God’s rule, and God has passed judgement on that rebellion by letting us have what we want. But the paradise we have tried to build on our own terms has turned out to be nothing more than a cage, our very own false Blydissiad – and in Christ God offers us a way out of it and into the true freedom of relationship with him, if we are prepared to take it. Still, that opportunity is not going to be around forever. The end of the age is coming, when everyone will ultimately get what he or she wants – either to live under Christ’s perfect, everlasting kingship, or to remain outside it.

Getting what you want is a reward only if what you want lines up with what God, in his perfect wisdom and perfect love, wants; under any other circumstances, it’s a highly appropriate punishment. So God be praised that, if we are trusting in Jesus, he will not leave us in our wrong desires, but will teach us to want better things – and then, what’s more, will freely and graciously give us the better things we have learned to want.

Footnotes

1 The post in question is ‘Marks of Honour’, under ‘2016’, then ‘November’ in the box on the right.

2 And indeed, all ten are currently available on iPlayer: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episodes/b03b5gpv.

3 Although, on a totally different note, the theme tune of the first three series was undoubtedly superior: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RKO18ZVJOg.

4 Do check this stuff out, otherwise you don’t know whether the ellipsis I’ve included in my chosen extracts conceals stuff with major implications for their meaning. Here’s the Numbers, https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=numbers+14&version=ESVUK, the Ezekiel (which you might want to keep open), https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ezekiel+23&version=ESVUK, and the Romans, https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=romans+1&version=ESVUK.

Monday, 8 May 2017

The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Oblivious



“Super-ladies, they’re always trying to tell you their secret identity. Think it’ll strengthen the relationship or something like that. I said, ‘Girl, I don’t want to know about your mild-mannered alter-ego or anything like that. I mean, you tell me you’re a super-mega-ultra-lightning-babe, that’s all right with me. I’m good. I’m good.’”
The Incredibles (2004)1
 
See, I tend to be oblivious of my surroundings when reading even if the book is not directly in front of my face. Thanks to stockimages at freedigitialphotos.net.
Who would you be as a superhero?

Sometimes I think everyone should have a daft pretend superhuman alter-ego. I call mine Captain Oblivious,2 because my ability to remain completely ignorant of things that are right in front of me and that any ordinary person would undoubtedly notice really is quite uncanny. How I gained my powers is a mystery, but their existence and extent is regularly made manifest in my everyday life. I could provide endless examples of my ability to tune out any ongoing noises within earshot if I’m getting on with something at least a bit interesting; of the frustration other people meet with when trying to garner my attention (particularly, as anyone who’s ever lived with me will testify, when I have my headphones on3); of my accidental blanking of people I know well who attempt to greet me in public while I pootle along on autopilot thinking about something else, or perhaps absorbed in a conversation with another friend (who is usually good enough to enlighten me of my unintentional rudeness so that I can do something to rectify it). Still, the most amusing of Captain Oblivious’ adventures are surely found in my total failure to recognise the nature of comments which I am later informed were obviously intended romantically. The details of the following conversation are heavily fictionalised (for my ease and your entertainment), but I would consider the overall substance and gist of it an accurate representation of some real conversations that I’ve had to this effect; I hope they prove vaguely amusing while you consider the nature of the silly secret identity to which your own traits might most readily lend themselves.

“You know, everybody seems to have stories about awful guys who have approached her in the club and tried to get with her, but that’s never happened to me.”
“Never?”
“Well, it probably helps that I don’t go clubbing very often at all. I mean, I think about three or four guys came up to me in the club on graduation night, but they were all wanting to congratulate me on having won the department prize, so…”
“Well, that’s quite nice.”
“Yeah, it was really nice actually. I think the only time a guy I didn’t know at all has come up and spoken to me in the club, he was asking me what drink I was getting at the bar. Which was a bit weird – I mean, why did he care?”
“…”
“What?”
“He asked what drink you were getting at the bar?”
“Yeah – weird, right?”
“Anne, he clearly wanted to buy you a drink. That’s why he was asking what you were getting, so he could offer to pay for it.”
What? Seriously?”
“Um. Yes. Most definitely.”
“Well, how the kerfluffle was I supposed to know that?”
“Oh no … what did you say?”
“Well, I was getting water, because that’s always what I’m getting when I’m in the club…”
“Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear.”
“So, you know, I said, ‘water’. And he said, ‘well, that’s a bit boring’.”
“And you said…”
“I said, ‘yeah, but, you know, yay hydration!’”
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“Oh my goodness, I am experiencing so much secondhand cringe right now. ‘Yay hydration’?!”
“Hydration is great. Hydration is always a big concern of mine when I’m clubbing.”
“So you brutally rejected this guy with the incredibly smooth line ‘yay hydration’?”
“Hey, I didn’t know I was brutally rejecting him!”
“Well, he doesn’t know you didn’t know. You might have destroyed his confidence for life.”
“Look, if he wanted to buy me a drink, why didn’t he just say so?”
“Anne, he basically did. Only you could possibly have failed to recognise that.”
“Oops.”
“Oops indeed. Still, I suppose you can always console yourself with your lovely department prize.”
“Yeah, I was quite proud of winning the department prize actually. I mean, yeah, the fact that there was no consistent capping policy for language exams did massively inflate my overall grade, but it still feels pretty gratifying to have done that well considering I started without the requisite Latin A-level.4 Like, I hadn’t even done any prose comp5 before I came to uni. Which, come to think of it, makes it rather strange…”
“What?”
“Well, there was this guy in my halls in first year who also did Classics and used to come by my room to borrow my Latin prose comps, but, what with me being such a beginner, I can’t imagine they were particularly better than his.”
“…”
“What?”
“Anne, did the possibility not even cross your oh-so-brilliant mind that this guy might have been asking to borrow your admittedly mediocre prose comps just as an excuse to stop by your room?”
“What? No – why on earth would he do that?”
“Um, maybe because he was interested in you?”
“Ha, yeah, I don’t think so. Although…”
“Although what?”
“Well, it occurs to me that there was one time when he was giving a prose comp back that he said he owed me a drink at the next Classics Society social.”6
“And it still didn’t cross your mind?!”
“Well. No.”
“Are you kidding me?! What did you say?”
“Well, I actually hadn’t got particularly involved with the Classics Society yet, so, I, er, told him that I actually hadn’t got particularly involved with the Classics Society yet.”
“You did not!”
“I did. I mean, it was only fair to let him know that he’d probably have some trouble making good his promise, right?”
“So you brutally rejected him too!”
“But I didn’t even know I was doing it! That entire communication took place on a whole different plane of which I had no awareness!”
“That doesn’t make any difference, Anne. It still happened.”

Although actually, even now, I’m not altogether convinced it did. Maybe this guy wasn’t interested in me at all. Maybe he was just really bad at Latin prose comp. In any case, the moral of the story is that the only reliable way to make one’s true intentions clear to Captain Oblivious is to state them explicitly – having first made certain that I’m actually paying attention, of course.

Well, hopefully that little anecdote has given you some time to ponder your own remarkable abilities, O Undoubtedly Remarkable Reader, and the consequent nature and name of your own daft pretend superhuman alter-ego. Do leave a comment if you’ve come up with a good one…

Footnotes

1 Thanks to BaD_BURN for posting the film transcript here: http://www.imsdb.com/scripts/Incredibles,-The.html.

2 A housemate of mine remarked that this name works particularly well on the grounds that it sounds a bit like ‘Captain Oblivion’, which one could imagine being the name of an actual, not-daft superhero. Interestingly, both ‘oblivious’ and ‘oblivion’ derive from the Latin obliuiscor, meaning to forget: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/morph?l=obliuiscor&la=la.

3 I’m sure I’ve recommended my lovely, sustainably-produced, possessing-fabulously-good-noise-cancelling headphones in another post, but since they’re currently on sale on the manufacturer’s website, http://www.thehouseofmarley.co.uk/headphones/on-ear-headphones/positive-vibration-on-ear-headphones-dubwise.html, it seemed opportune to do so again.

4 Strictly speaking, I was on the Classical Studies course, for which no previous study of Latin or Greek was required, but had chosen to take, as one of my optional modules, Latin at the level intended for those who did have an A-level, and I subsequently transferred onto the straight Classics course for which a Latin or Greek A-level would indeed have been requisite – as, indeed, it still is, although I was sure I’d heard to the contrary: http://www.exeter.ac.uk/undergraduate/degrees/classics/classics/. Still, that was all a bit complicated to explain in the main text, and what, after all, are footnotes for?

5 That is, prose composition, a term which for all practical purposes refers to translation into the target language.

6 My university has so many societies. Check it out: https://www.exeterguild.org/societies/.