Another Aphorism

Jesus tried to have it both ways: he tried to be both a god and a hero.  But he couldn’t be both; no one can be both —  a god is perfect, a hero flawed; a god cannot be flawed and a hero must be flawed, cannot be a hero otherwise.  

Most of us are merely flawed.  A hero’s flaws are heroic flaws, tragically fatal flaws. Everyone in Hamlet is deeply flawed.  Only Hamlet himself is heroic, only his flaws are heroic.  His flaw?  Despite a piercing aptitude for seeing through the pretense of others and into their flaws, he could not (would not?) see into the flaws of his father.  In everyone around him he sees only flaws.  In his father he sees none.

The present day celebrates a notion of heroism which degrades anything truly heroic by denying heroes their flaws.  These days we want happy heroes and tragic heroes must apply elsewhere.  We today, like Jesus, want to have it both ways.

An Aphorism

Gods are immortal: they do not die because they cannot die, and because they cannot die, their world is a comic world.  Humans are mortal: they die because they must die, and because they must die, their world is tragic.  Humans know the grave and gravity.  Gods do not.  Nothing godly is grave, nothing serious, all is jest.  Even when the Son of God declaims “Father, oh father, why hast Thou forsaken me?” he is only play-acting, delivering the final line in a play scripted specially for him.  Directional notes conclude the piece: He dies, or seems to die.  He is buried in a vault.  He waits a short while, until he’s alone, then gets up, dusts off his trousers, departs the vault and returns to heaven.  Humans wail and gnash their teeth while the gods roar in laughter.