There is a priest named Richard Rohr who has written a number of books about spirituality that not only are inspiring, but also, make intellectual sense to me. I have had personal experiences that are inexplicable in the reality that is familiar in everyday life, not often but several times in my near eighty years of life. They have not frightened me but rather left me in a state of peaceful awe. For that reason I find it normal to accept that there are realms outside our physical existence and to also accept that there is no need for me to understand the ground from which these experiences arose. I know what I know for myself and am content to exist without explanations.
On another level, the intellectual side of me constantly puzzles about what I observe in the world around me and what I read. The way I see things is that everything tends toward balance and a turbulent transition exists after any severe disturbance. The innocence that existed, metaphorically, before ‘the Apple’, exists still in the sense that the physical world cannot exist without both creation and destruction; but both are without the intention of good or evil. If lightening destroys my favorite tree it is just an occurrence in the turbulence of physical existence.
However, once I introduce my ego into the picture I interpret what happened as good or bad in relation to me. That is why I have never seen affliction as punishment from God. It is the price of physical existence.
However humans do have the ability to insert intention into our acts of creation and destruction. To me, we have the power to create evil but also the power to generate compassion. Both spring from the type of soul we have nurtured. Even in the midst of suffering we are capable, out of empathy, to have compassion for others. That is what binds us as a human family. And that is what causes us to see the reflection of the love of ‘God’ in the eyes of those to whom we extend our empathy.
Damir, I think you’re hitting on the concept of awe. In today’s language, it tends to take on a very positive tone. But in truth, awe/awesome is really a more complex state — one that combines a bit of fear/apprehension with any positive feelings too (fear at the awesome power of a storm, God, etc.). What we know from psychological research is that awe does three things when you feel it. First, it makes the self feel small, as in you’re facing forces that are beyond your control/comprehension/full understanding. Second, it makes people feel more connected, and leads to prosocial behaviors. And third, it also makes people more willing to believe in the idea of supernatural forces (or at least the idea that there is an unseen order in the universe). In other words, awe itself (whether from witnessing beauty or threat) is the perfect emotion to reinforce a sense of spirituality for those inclined that way, or to give a sense of wonder (and meaning) to those who aren’t.
I once read a quote from David Lynch, which I can’t fully remember, but the gist of it was that his characters experience anger and sorrow because that works well in a story, but they are poisonous to him as the artist. It seems like another paradox - that in order to make art or engage with it, you have to be absorbed, but at the same time detached. You know it’s some kind of representation of reality not reality itself. It strikes me that many spiritual and religious paths promote detachment and maybe artistic distance can be thought of as somewhat related. But it’s Lynch, so who knows. Re: the sublime, I’ve often wondered why these states occur. Someone well-versed in yoga philosophy (not me) might say something about having access to bliss, or higher states like the sublime, once you’ve relaxed and quieted the monkey mind. The rub there would be that the more you try to understand or analyze these states, the further you get from having access to experiencing them.
I guess I'm a little confused. You wrestle with the 'why' of wonder... which is a synonym for the sublime? But Audrey sees contradictions that are sublime as proof of the divine?
I guess we have some levels here - a sense of wonder (in defiance of evil, particularly, it is "sublime") and that defiance is proof of the Christian God?
But we also cling to wonder in the face of evil, which is itself a sublime act?
I don't think the Christian God is a safety blanket, and Christians do themselves a disservice by pretending he is (this is especially annoying in reformed/neo-reformed proclivities to act like they have all the answers...) I don't think Audrey is saying that, but I do sense in you a tendency to see lives of faith that way Damir... lives of faith should not be outcome based... that's antithetical to most of what living by faith looks like!
You're on to something though! I had a similar feeling watching the original Mad Max, it came to mind reading this. The antagonist gang in that movie seemed to me to be the definition of depravity.
I also hear echos of your treatment of religion in this article about the differences between the remake 'Speak No Evil' and its original “The Guests”
It's the perennial question of Christian faith, how do we understand a world of evil and good that is permitted by a good God... I think our culture of science and outcomes has us asking the wrong questions and asserting false truths...
Just to be clear, I am absolutely *not* saying that Audrey, or any other serious Christian, thinks of God as a simple safety blanket. I think what I was trying to do in the essay is to exactly move away from anything that easy. I was trying to convey that what may seem like mere succor — an attempt to not face the full horror of existence — can reveal itself to be something inherently "moving" and "honest". I think this could map to "good" and "true" for the faithful.
What I took away from the episode with Audrey and Sam is that there is a lot of intuitive overlap for serious secular people with, at minimum, the Christian tradition. This essay was an attempt to sketch out a bit more why I think that is.
Very nuanced and I missed it the first round. Thank you for Unpacking that! And I agree. It's funny. You qualify this as something for serious seculars, it's the same qualifier on my end, needing Serious Christians... much more in common than meets the eye.
Are you familiar with Kant's or Burke's descriptions of the sublime? Maybe the resident philosopher has mentioned them?
To try and condense Kant's longer ramblings—the sublime is an emotion that arises when the human mind encounters something vast/dark/overwhelming; that is, when it encounters an immense apparition of something that, at least initially, can't quite be glimpsed in its totality. The key moment is when "consciousness", that site of subjective awareness, suddenly vaults above the totality and seems to grasp the infinitude of the sublime object all at once from its own much smaller standpoint. It's a negative experience of overcoming one's finitude to grasp something much, much larger than oneself. In getting a new view, one can tame what previously seemed chaotic and that can be exhilarating.
Whether this new view is ultimately an illusion or a true insight is kind of beside the point. You don't need a "god" to explain this experience. To take a more mundane example, I often feel something akin to this when I first hit upon the "concept of a plan" which hints that it might explain or account for something puzzling, especially when that concept of a plan feels original and new. It's a rush, even exultation, in the feeling of breaking from constraints. Everything kind of slots into its new place, and the world seems a bit more tractable, even though its been enlarged at the same time. Sublimity requires both an enlargement and a sharpening of the perspective. Or to be more precise, it is the moment when the two intersect and give off a shower of sparks.
Oh yes, you mention both in the second essay, and say:
"I experience it most frequently as becoming excited at the recognition how insignificant you are compared to the infinite scope of something."
I think for Kant there is a bit more fight in the sublime. There is an overcoming of the sublime object, not a submission to it. You, a finite consciousness, somehow apprehends the infinite:
"The sublime can be described thus: it is an object (of nature) the presentation of which determines the mind to think of nature's inability to attain to an exhibition of ideas […] In this way we [feel] our superiority to nature within ourselves, and hence also to nature outside us insofar as it can influence our feeling of well-being." (CJ § 29:268-269)
Kant seems, in other words, to be anti-Romantic concerning sublimity. It's not so much dissolving into the universe as a recognition that even if the elements can batter the body, and even if the chaotic din of appearances can overwhelm us, we can resort to an AESTHETIC judgment/feeling (as opposed to a teleological, calculating, rational attitude that is comfortable in one's natural environment) that expands the mind by doing the impossible and perceiving some concept/reality/abstraction that underlies this sublime/infinite thing before us. The expansion comes as an intuition, an all-at-once encapsulation that is not algorithmic or even definable in words.
Whether or not you care for Kant's more specific definition, or the accompanying philosophical apparatus, it does differentiate itself somewhat from the more generic awe/amazement associated with submission to the divine. He in fact views religion as suppressing experiences of sublimity and encouraging passivity (§28:263, 29:275), though he was of course not an atheist.
I think you are right to point to something like the Banshees of Inisherin as capable of producing sublimity, as is Sam to point to his walks through Colorado's Rockies. But perhaps it is useful to differentiate sublimity with its afterglow of understanding (real or not) and awe with its suggestion of prostration and powerlessness.
There is a priest named Richard Rohr who has written a number of books about spirituality that not only are inspiring, but also, make intellectual sense to me. I have had personal experiences that are inexplicable in the reality that is familiar in everyday life, not often but several times in my near eighty years of life. They have not frightened me but rather left me in a state of peaceful awe. For that reason I find it normal to accept that there are realms outside our physical existence and to also accept that there is no need for me to understand the ground from which these experiences arose. I know what I know for myself and am content to exist without explanations.
On another level, the intellectual side of me constantly puzzles about what I observe in the world around me and what I read. The way I see things is that everything tends toward balance and a turbulent transition exists after any severe disturbance. The innocence that existed, metaphorically, before ‘the Apple’, exists still in the sense that the physical world cannot exist without both creation and destruction; but both are without the intention of good or evil. If lightening destroys my favorite tree it is just an occurrence in the turbulence of physical existence.
However, once I introduce my ego into the picture I interpret what happened as good or bad in relation to me. That is why I have never seen affliction as punishment from God. It is the price of physical existence.
However humans do have the ability to insert intention into our acts of creation and destruction. To me, we have the power to create evil but also the power to generate compassion. Both spring from the type of soul we have nurtured. Even in the midst of suffering we are capable, out of empathy, to have compassion for others. That is what binds us as a human family. And that is what causes us to see the reflection of the love of ‘God’ in the eyes of those to whom we extend our empathy.
Damir, I think you’re hitting on the concept of awe. In today’s language, it tends to take on a very positive tone. But in truth, awe/awesome is really a more complex state — one that combines a bit of fear/apprehension with any positive feelings too (fear at the awesome power of a storm, God, etc.). What we know from psychological research is that awe does three things when you feel it. First, it makes the self feel small, as in you’re facing forces that are beyond your control/comprehension/full understanding. Second, it makes people feel more connected, and leads to prosocial behaviors. And third, it also makes people more willing to believe in the idea of supernatural forces (or at least the idea that there is an unseen order in the universe). In other words, awe itself (whether from witnessing beauty or threat) is the perfect emotion to reinforce a sense of spirituality for those inclined that way, or to give a sense of wonder (and meaning) to those who aren’t.
Thanks David, yes, that’s the word the essay needed! Thanks for bringing it in through the comments.
I once read a quote from David Lynch, which I can’t fully remember, but the gist of it was that his characters experience anger and sorrow because that works well in a story, but they are poisonous to him as the artist. It seems like another paradox - that in order to make art or engage with it, you have to be absorbed, but at the same time detached. You know it’s some kind of representation of reality not reality itself. It strikes me that many spiritual and religious paths promote detachment and maybe artistic distance can be thought of as somewhat related. But it’s Lynch, so who knows. Re: the sublime, I’ve often wondered why these states occur. Someone well-versed in yoga philosophy (not me) might say something about having access to bliss, or higher states like the sublime, once you’ve relaxed and quieted the monkey mind. The rub there would be that the more you try to understand or analyze these states, the further you get from having access to experiencing them.
I guess I'm a little confused. You wrestle with the 'why' of wonder... which is a synonym for the sublime? But Audrey sees contradictions that are sublime as proof of the divine?
I guess we have some levels here - a sense of wonder (in defiance of evil, particularly, it is "sublime") and that defiance is proof of the Christian God?
But we also cling to wonder in the face of evil, which is itself a sublime act?
I don't think the Christian God is a safety blanket, and Christians do themselves a disservice by pretending he is (this is especially annoying in reformed/neo-reformed proclivities to act like they have all the answers...) I don't think Audrey is saying that, but I do sense in you a tendency to see lives of faith that way Damir... lives of faith should not be outcome based... that's antithetical to most of what living by faith looks like!
You're on to something though! I had a similar feeling watching the original Mad Max, it came to mind reading this. The antagonist gang in that movie seemed to me to be the definition of depravity.
I also hear echos of your treatment of religion in this article about the differences between the remake 'Speak No Evil' and its original “The Guests”
https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/16/movies/speak-no-evil-james-mcavoy.html?searchResultPosition=1
It's the perennial question of Christian faith, how do we understand a world of evil and good that is permitted by a good God... I think our culture of science and outcomes has us asking the wrong questions and asserting false truths...
John, thanks for the comment.
Just to be clear, I am absolutely *not* saying that Audrey, or any other serious Christian, thinks of God as a simple safety blanket. I think what I was trying to do in the essay is to exactly move away from anything that easy. I was trying to convey that what may seem like mere succor — an attempt to not face the full horror of existence — can reveal itself to be something inherently "moving" and "honest". I think this could map to "good" and "true" for the faithful.
What I took away from the episode with Audrey and Sam is that there is a lot of intuitive overlap for serious secular people with, at minimum, the Christian tradition. This essay was an attempt to sketch out a bit more why I think that is.
Very nuanced and I missed it the first round. Thank you for Unpacking that! And I agree. It's funny. You qualify this as something for serious seculars, it's the same qualifier on my end, needing Serious Christians... much more in common than meets the eye.
Are you familiar with Kant's or Burke's descriptions of the sublime? Maybe the resident philosopher has mentioned them?
To try and condense Kant's longer ramblings—the sublime is an emotion that arises when the human mind encounters something vast/dark/overwhelming; that is, when it encounters an immense apparition of something that, at least initially, can't quite be glimpsed in its totality. The key moment is when "consciousness", that site of subjective awareness, suddenly vaults above the totality and seems to grasp the infinitude of the sublime object all at once from its own much smaller standpoint. It's a negative experience of overcoming one's finitude to grasp something much, much larger than oneself. In getting a new view, one can tame what previously seemed chaotic and that can be exhilarating.
Whether this new view is ultimately an illusion or a true insight is kind of beside the point. You don't need a "god" to explain this experience. To take a more mundane example, I often feel something akin to this when I first hit upon the "concept of a plan" which hints that it might explain or account for something puzzling, especially when that concept of a plan feels original and new. It's a rush, even exultation, in the feeling of breaking from constraints. Everything kind of slots into its new place, and the world seems a bit more tractable, even though its been enlarged at the same time. Sublimity requires both an enlargement and a sharpening of the perspective. Or to be more precise, it is the moment when the two intersect and give off a shower of sparks.
Wrote about Kant a bit in passing here: https://wisdomofcrowds.live/p/faith-spirituality-and-the-beauty
Burke too: https://wisdomofcrowds.live/p/a-series-of-moments-frozen-in-time
Really like the shower of sparks metaphor.
Oh yes, you mention both in the second essay, and say:
"I experience it most frequently as becoming excited at the recognition how insignificant you are compared to the infinite scope of something."
I think for Kant there is a bit more fight in the sublime. There is an overcoming of the sublime object, not a submission to it. You, a finite consciousness, somehow apprehends the infinite:
"The sublime can be described thus: it is an object (of nature) the presentation of which determines the mind to think of nature's inability to attain to an exhibition of ideas […] In this way we [feel] our superiority to nature within ourselves, and hence also to nature outside us insofar as it can influence our feeling of well-being." (CJ § 29:268-269)
Kant seems, in other words, to be anti-Romantic concerning sublimity. It's not so much dissolving into the universe as a recognition that even if the elements can batter the body, and even if the chaotic din of appearances can overwhelm us, we can resort to an AESTHETIC judgment/feeling (as opposed to a teleological, calculating, rational attitude that is comfortable in one's natural environment) that expands the mind by doing the impossible and perceiving some concept/reality/abstraction that underlies this sublime/infinite thing before us. The expansion comes as an intuition, an all-at-once encapsulation that is not algorithmic or even definable in words.
Whether or not you care for Kant's more specific definition, or the accompanying philosophical apparatus, it does differentiate itself somewhat from the more generic awe/amazement associated with submission to the divine. He in fact views religion as suppressing experiences of sublimity and encouraging passivity (§28:263, 29:275), though he was of course not an atheist.
I think you are right to point to something like the Banshees of Inisherin as capable of producing sublimity, as is Sam to point to his walks through Colorado's Rockies. But perhaps it is useful to differentiate sublimity with its afterglow of understanding (real or not) and awe with its suggestion of prostration and powerlessness.