VERTIGO
I am a Christian. For me it would be impossible to be otherwise. I cannot separate myself from my upbringing. I do not think that I would if I could. My world view is conditioned by Christian thought forms and evaluations. However it has been many years since regular attendance at Sunday worship services. The last two Sundays, I found myself in church. The first was St Michaels Catholic church for a christening of our grand daughter. The second was a Weslyian Methodist church to meet an old friend who was visiting from France. Both experiences felt like a visit to a familiar country where I no longer lived. Understanding the language and customs well, yet I was cast as a “foreigner” observing from a distance. I struggled to translate the syntax of worship into the emotional texture of 21st century life, — relentless stimulation by 24×7 news cycle, and the accelerating social and economic change all around me.
I did draw some provisional conclusions, certain to be revised.
The Catholic service was conducted in a “sacred” space that reflected the historical link to the grand cathedrals of Europe, the center piece of which was a suffering Christ hanging from the cross, a crucifix. I am not Catholic, was not raised Catholic. But the crucifix metaphor always works for me. To be alive is to suffer. Birth itself, our advent into the external world involved great suffering for our mothers, and for each of us too, though we cannot recall our portion of the struggle. I understood very little the priest’s presentation during the baptism ritual. His accent combined with the poor acoustics interfered. No matter. The ritual was essentially several anointings to the forehead of the infant. The actions conveyed exactly the solicitude of acceptance of the child into the community. Of course she will remember nothing which transpired. Her family members will never forget.
The protestant service was reminiscent of my growing up years. Until I left home at eighteen, I 
attended services twice on Sunday and sometimes on Wednesday evening. This sanctuary was bare bones, rows of pews facing the elevated pulpit. The atmosphere was not unpleasant but there was no obvious architectural link with the past. The focal point of the sanctuary was a large cross, back-lit with florescent light, mounted up high. The cross was surreal, ahistorical. No suggestion of a slow death by blood loss and suffocation as was typical of Roman capital punishment. I doubt if this came to mind easily or often for those seated around me. The content of the service consisted of contemporary songs sung to accompaniment of a base guitar and a lead guitar followed by the sermon. The message derived from a passage in the New Testament was concluded with an appeal. The guarantee was if you’d “give your life to Jesus” that life would be much improved for you. At least I had a satisfying chat with my old friend.
I’m not going to leave you hanging, in this philosophical cul de sac. Seems to me that we are existentially suffocating, bereft of a metaphor, or perhaps a collection of metaphors that offer a basis for continued development of our humanity. Development is the name of the game. At least we no longer crucify recalcitrant individuals in public, in mass. But we have a very long way to go. And the old myth has been cloven. We are unsure of it’s meaning. It no longer offers a plan of action.
Globalization, is revealing the dark side of solid state technologies, light speed communication. Can we live with “robotics” as the arch metaphor for understanding reality, for the world we wish to create? A robot is a machine with the hood welded shut—no builder/mechanic, and not even a pilot. Light speed communication: the collapsing of space and time. The ability to be everywhere, instantly. The Robot, a technical object with divine attributes: ubiquity, instantaniety, immediacy.
Perhaps this line from Holderlin suggests a way forward: “And wherever danger is found, there also grows that which saves.” In other words the approach to danger, is also where you approach salvation. This is the paradox of our time.
Should you have interest in exploring these matters, I suggest books authored by Paul Virilio.
One thought on “VERTIGO”
Very powerful and well written.