What Makes a Story True

Tuesday evening (14 May 2013), I attended a forum on faith and science. The panel and discussion leader were all creationists, and I won’t go into the debates that we had on scientific questions. What interests me for the moment was the question of whether the events described in the Bible (or in any other religious text) have to be historically true to make a claim on our belief. Now I am a philosophical pagan, so the doctrines of Christianity are to me a matter of abstract speculation, but if the fundamentalist version of that religion is true, I ignore it at my peril. (I’ll discuss Pascal’s wager later.)

To summarize, the literalist claim of Christianity is that human beings fell into sin–call it an ontological transformation, one category into another–and require a savior to be restored. The demand of this doctrine is that the two events were real not just in the narrative of the book, but also in history.

This strikes me as an unfortunate choice in its limitation of perspective. Consider the following from Aristotle’s Poetics:

It is, moreover, evident from what has been said, that it is not the function of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may happen- what is possible according to the law of probability or necessity. The poet and the historian differ not by writing in verse or in prose. The work of Herodotus might be put into verse, and it would still be a species of history, with meter no less than without it. The true difference is that one relates what has happened, the other what may happen. Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher thing than history: for poetry tends to express the universal, history the particular. By the universal I mean how a person of a certain type on occasion speak or act, according to the law of probability or necessity; and it is this universality at which poetry aims in the names she attaches to the personages. The particular is- for example- what Alcibiades did or suffered.

Let’s look at the Bible in these terms. Are human beings sinful? That depends on the definition of sin, but certainly, we can say that all of us have moral failings. Are we able to correct our condition on our own? I say yes, but it’s a valid interpretation of human nature to say no. Can belief in a story change our nature? Yes. The evidence of that is abundant.

Now there is a problem here in that our knowledge of the human condition is based on what we have observed, and history is one kind of observation. This takes us back to the debate over the necessity to assert that the events of the Fall and of Jesus’s life and death and resurrection are events that occurred outside of the books describing them.

The “sinful” nature of human beings can be observed continually. But the claim that one being became human and was sacrificed for us is an assertion about an event that if true, if unique. It is precisely a miracle, something that stands outside of the chain of cause and effect. Thus it does not qualify as data. Data is the plural of datum, one observation. Multiple observations are necessary to draw an inference. History is the accounting of events. We derive bigger ideas by looking at how one event makes another occur. The claim about Jesus is that his life is one event that affects everything.

Thus we are left with the question of whether one event is sufficient to change the way we are. My answer is yes, but in the sense that any story is sufficient. People who convert to Christianity and change their lives do so because they hear the story. But the same is true about many stories. Americans tell each other the stories of our Founders or of the Civil War, and these stories shape the way we understand our country today. The Tea Party in particular looks back to an idealized version of those Founders. (Note that I’m not saying anything is wrong about something being idealized.)

We have historical documents that demonstrate the existence of those people. But how many people review those documents and use the methods of history to verify the story? In fact, the typical reaction is to hear the narrative and to be absorbed (or not) into its world.

My point here is that the power of the story is what matters in narrative theology. Questions of the scientific or historical validity of a belief are of a different kind. It is necessary to keep clear which field of enquiry we’re operating in.

I started this with a mention of Pascal’s wager. The idea there is that a person has the choice to be a Christian or not. Pascal claimed that someone choosing to be a Christian loses nothing if he is wrong in that belief, while an atheist loses everything if he is wrong. The problem here is that Islam was known to Europeans at the time Pascal made his wager. That religion makes the same exclusive claim. My answer is that the wager itself is invalid. We have many choices about the nature of our lives. Will we be good or evil? Will we find fulfillment or not? Will we succeed at a purpose or not? To say that there is only one answer to all those questions–especially since so many stories provide meaning, stories that can contradict each other–is limiting to possibility. And possibility and the stories that we tell about it is the essence of life.

The Narrative Theology of Battlestar Galactica

Warning: Here there be spoilers. But if you haven’t watched the re-imagined version of Battlestar Galactica, what the frak is wrong with you?

There’s a scene in the final episode of Battlestar Galactica that never fails to fill me with awe:

As a reminder, for the last many episodes and, in fact, seasons, we’ve been wondering what the real nature of Kara Thrace (Starbuck) is, what her destiny is, and what all is wrapped up into the song, “All Along the Watchtower,” that keeps playing in surprising contexts. Here, at last, is the answer–or rather, one answer, since this series is a tapestry with many meanings woven into its fabric.

The song that identifies the Final Five human-form Cylons, the song that Kara’s father played when she was a child, the song that people many years later will play when they dream of escaping from whatever unhappiness they find themselves in, and Dave Matthews will use to close his concerts is also in musical form the jump coordinates for Earth.

Now why does this matter? It is, after all, just a television show, right? It matters because storytelling is how we humans form our fundamental understanding of our world. Some never do come to appreciate a mathematical formula. The arguments of science or philosophy or politics or even logic itself are lost on too many of us. But good stories reach everyone.

Why is this? What I’m illustrating here with this example from Battlestar Galactica is that narrative weaves meaning into events that would otherwise seem unconnected. Carl Jung called this synchronicity, as I wrote about earlier. And even when our lives have much in them that is random and meaningless, a good story unites all of its elements into a comprehensive whole.

I call this interpretation narrative theology. It explains the lasting appeal of religion and literature. Both are forms of storytelling that get integrated into our souls. A small act, what Gandalf says gets called a chance encounter in our Middle Earth, a butterfly flapping its wings all may or may not be merely random and without implication, but in the world of a story, everything can tie together.

As the greeting between Adama and Starbuck often goes:

Adama: What do you hear, Starbuck?
Thrace: Nothing but the rain, sir.

Each of those drops of water flow together to a vast sea of meaning that stories create.

Encore!

Yesterday (28 April 2013), I went to a performance of Jesus Christ Superstar. I won’t comment on the production, other than to say that it was distinctly dreadful, but I did leave with a question:

If the audience claps long enough at the end, will the cast perform The Book of Mormon as an encore?

The Value of Wikipedia

Wikipedia’s problems are well known. It can be edited by anyone with an account, and the articles aren’t written by people who are expected to be qualified in the subject at hand. The name is also misspelled. (Wikipædia) I don’t let students use it as a source, but that’s not mere prejudice. No encyclopædia is an acceptable source. The word, encyclopædia, means “general education.” Academic papers require primary or secondary sources, not something that is only general knowledge. But I do read articles there when I want a quick overview of something. As a crutch for a memory that has a lot on its mind, Wikipedia can be helpful.

There is one other use, one that’s relevant to authors. The pictures on Wikipedia are in the public domain. If you’re looking for something to add to a blog article or a book cover, look for a picture on the often maligned, but open-to-anyone site.

With that in mind, here’s an ilustration:

It’s a nudibranch, a creature whose existence I came across on Twitter (@GregCampNC) today. Cue Bart Simpson to show the humor in the wee beastie’s name…

Dirk Gently and Synchronicity

Fans of Douglas Adams will remember his character, Dirk Gently, a private detective who believes in the fundamental interconnectedness of all things and thereby justifies a vacation to a tropical beach as necessary to find a lost pet. This notion comes from a variety of sources. Here in the Western world, Carl Jung’s idea of synchronicity comes to mind.

I point this out because of just such a moment happening to me today (24 April 2013). This afternoon, I’ll discuss the play, Antigone with my Composition II students. The title character wants to bury her dead brother, but because he died attacking his home city, Creon, the king, refuses to allow her to do this. The themes are family loyalty, duty to the state, duty to ritual, and stubbornness despite warnings from the gods.

While reviewing my notes, a tweet came up in my Twitter feed, informing me that a mosque in Boston is refusing religious burial for Suspect #1in the marathon bombings. You can read the story here.

What conclusion are we to draw from this? Vengence is justified, even to the point of killing the attacker when that is the only way to stop the attack. But once a man is dead, it is vindictiveness alone that carries on punishing him. Shakespeare had Mark Antony tell us that “the evil that men do lives after them,” but surely we who live on are in part to blame for continuing that evil.

The Long Road of Short Stories

My advice to new writers is to write short stories. This teaches building a scene with concentrated conflict and concise action leading to a point. Novels are like undeveloped land in the South–temptations for schemers to sprawl. Of course, said tyros should also be reading such stories, but if I have to tell you that reading is a good idea, you’re probably not meant to be a writer.

Still, we do have to be clear on the purpose of the exercise:

1. You will be writing for practice. You will be writing for enjoyment. You will be writing to keep yourself writing while you’re learning the craft.

2. You will also be writing to put your name and voice out in public. Short story markets are few and far between, and even fewer last more than a handful of issues. If you write westerns, by the way, one that’s shown its intention to remain is Frontiertales.com. Check the authors page for some of my writing, by the way. Understand that when you write short stories, the public purpose is to connect your name to something that people enjoy reading. You’re building a fan base. (All your reader are belong to us–you want this.)

3. But there’s something you need to know before you start. You won’t get paid for short stories. Paying markets are just about dead. There was a time when new writers could get a foothold and make a living by writing science fiction or westerns or even literary stories. No more. No matter what The New Yorker claims, new writers don’t have a chance. Apparently, not even good ones. You don’t write short stories to make money. You write them for the first two reasons.

4. Alas, there’s a fourth lesson. Sometimes, a magazine will dangle the promise of actual money, only to pull a fast one. And thus I must tell my own tale.

In 2008, I submitted a short story to something called Astonishing Adventures Magazine. (I’d give you a link, but I can’t, and you’ll see why soon.) Said outfit claimed to be looking for pulp stories–translation, lots of plot, plenty of action, and none of the high-brow or raised-eyebrow stuff that gets published in the, um, New Yorker. Well, thought I, this is something I can provide. I had written a perfectly atrocious science fiction novel in the mid 90s–yes, sometimes, I have to learn through experience. But some of the chapters were good, so I pulled them out and polished them into a worthy short piece and submitted it. The editor said he liked what I wrote. Big smile. The editor said he wanted to publish it. Happy dance. Life is good, right?

Hold on there, hoss. A short while later, he wrote back to say that the magazine was folding due to lack of funds This happens a lot in the business, as you’ll come to find out if you submit stories. So the years go by, and in the fullness of time, I turned the story into a short e-book for sale on Amazon. Why not? It’s a good story. (You should buy it, he whispers)

Then one day, I was wandering about the aforementioned on-line book seller’s site when to my surprise, I came across this, my story, for sale, in Astonishing Adventures Magazine: Issue 4.

¿Como que huh?

There’s my story being sold without anyone having told me about it. After stomping about my home and scaring my cat, I talked to a few friends who told me to keep calm and carry on. This is life.

Indeed it is, regardless of how unfair it may seem. The lesson here that I have had to learn, the lesson that I’m now trying to teach you, Dear Reader, is that having my name attached to a good story in a place where people can see it is a good thing. Clicking on my name in the list of authors takes you to my own page. Truth be told, I’d rather you buy the story from me directly, but I’d also rather you read it, no matter how you do it.

Yup, keep calm, carry on, and some day, publishers will look at your novel. Until then, write.

What’s a Twitterer To Be Called?

I see the word, Tweeps, used to refer to users of Twitter. Twitterati sounds so much better.