The Song and the Flame

Karl Kerenyi, “The Spirit”, Apollo: The Wind, the Spirit, and the God: Four Studies, speaking of Vergil’s description of Apollo possessing the Sibyl at Delos:

In Delos it is Apollo who arrives… And he is at the same time the object of the spiritual experience and of observation by the few who, already chosen for their own worth, are able to have or are worthy of having this experience.

I realize, in transcribing this, that Kerenyi is not saying what I initially thought he was. Initially, I read that as referring to the worth of the Sibyl herself; I think, now, that it was instead intended to refer to those gathered to hear her answers. The thought it provokes is the same either way.

In a community that contains a number of people who feel themselves to be called or chosen by various deities, and also contains a number who do not feel so called or chosen, there is inevitably The Question. “Why?” Why are some called, and some left to find their own way without the intervention of the Gods? Why are some chosen and others left without guidance? What sets us apart? What makes us more desirable to the deities that call us? Are we tools suited to their tasks? Are we favorite playthings, collector’s items? Do they choose followers as we choose friends, according to personal attraction and mutual interests?

All possible. All probable, separately or together. But, reading the above passage, another idea occurred to me.

It occurred because I immediately rejected the idea of “worth” as a determinant. I don’t like that. I suppose it’s not PC enough for me — not that I’m usually all that worried about being politically correct, but it makes me feel uncomfortable to say that I am called because I am better than someone who isn’t called. It feels arrogant. I don’t like arrogance. I don’t believe it, either; I don’t believe I’m more of a special snowflake than Jane Doe over there who hasn’t been personally thwacked upside the head with the spiritual equivalent of a rolled-up newspaper.

So I honed in on the option: able to have…this experience. My gut reaction there was, “Able? No, that’s not the right word.” It’s closer than “worthy”, but it’s still not right. I don’t have a special brainwave, or a hidden organ, or whatever, that makes me able to exerience contact with a deity. “Willing”, perhaps, is more of it. Not that we sit down and decide we’re willing — nothing so conscious as that. If it were so simple, fewer people would have crises of faith, no? Just decide you’re willing and you get tapped; easy, no problem, we’ll put you on His schedule. How’s 3pm next Wednesday work for you? Besides that, I know I’ve heard stories of people trying unsuccessfully to run and hide from such an experience; if it were as simple as giving consent, again, this wouldn’t happen. “Not interested? Oh, OK. Next!”

There’s “I’m willing to do this”, though, and then there’s “my psyche is willing to process this experience”. Which is where it starts to verge on “able”, but I don’t like that word because it seems to imply that some people have no potential for it. I think everyone’s got that potential, but a lot of people quite sensibly put up subconscious resistance to it. Because direct deity experience is a damned scary thing at times. It requires letting yourself go out on a limb, perch on the edge of the rooftop, stand on a bare hilltop in the pouring rain and reach for the lightning in the clouds. Kerenyi, in this essay, shows us through Vergil’s work and through the Christian Bible that experiencing the Spirit appears to be something like being caught in a hurricane. He’s not wrong.

Some people thrive on that, some shrink from it, and as with anything there’s a whole spectrum of responses in the middle. And none of those responses is inherently better than the others, but some will be more conducive to a direct relationship with a deity than others. Those chosen aren’t more worthy than those who are not, just as a water main isn’t more “worthy” than a kitchen tap. Which is to say: Worthy of what? You have a greater capacity, you do more work on this particular task. You have a lower capacity, you do something else that you do have a greater capacity for. OK, I talk to Apollo. I can’t write hymns for shit, I have a fuzzy grasp of theology at best, I have difficulty communicating my experiences and beliefs to others (one reason, perhaps, why this blog is so slow). I crave structure but have trouble putting it in place; I am overwhelmed by instinct and it’s sometimes difficult to translate that into anything more than a feeling. These things are important too. Divine experience is not the end-all, be-all of religion, nor is it a magic cure for any religious issues one might have. If anything, it just creates more issues.

I got tapped because my brain has less of a danger-avoidance mechanism regarding spiritual matters. Doesn’t sound so sexy anymore, does it? Which is just fine by me.