Saturday, July 7, 2007

07.07.07

I just finished Middlemarch for the 3rd time today. I remember Professor Glajzer from my undergrad college, who said it was one of the greatest novels ever written, in his opinion for its plot intricacies. We didn't read it in his class, but I read it for the first time after he recommended it because surely, I couldn't miss out on "one of the greatest novels ever written." (Such is the guilt of all lit. students).

Indeed, I am amazed by Eliot's ability to weave in and out of several layers of narrative. She was an immense genius, and I don't use that word lightly. Of course, not everyone enjoys Middlemarch; many don't have the patience for 19th century prose in general, and even less for George Eliot in particular. But I love her. I don't just love her for her immense brain... and I do mean that in the slightly monstrous image it implies... I love her vision of humanity and her heart. "What do we live for if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?" (712). What indeed? That's my credo; that's what's ultimately important to me. Life is the collection of people that we've given hope, friendship, and love. There is an immense morality there as well. It's our job to make the world less difficult "to" each other. It's the Buddhist dictate to "do no harm" along with the Christian invitation to "Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep" (Romans 12:15) and a connection to the thought of Martin Buber, the Jewish theologian, who wrote that ultimately "everything is gathered up in relation" to both the divine and the human (The Eternal Thou, 246). It's an incredibly impossible morality to achieve constantly, but it's the most ethical that I know.

For Eliot saw another truth about religion, the narrow, harmful effect it can have if it does not constantly check itself against the plight of fellow human beings: "There is no general doctrine which is not capable of eating out our morality if unchecked by the deep-seated habit of direct fellow-feeling with individual fellow-men" (601). Extremism in any form is focused on thinking of the "self" in relationship to "god," never thinking about the relationship to fellow suffering mortals (unless it's formulated in a vision of converting, commanding, or controlling them). It's easy to abstract "god," to whatever reflection of oneself is most desired. But it's much less easy to believe something absolutely when we must consult the suffering of others outside our narrow perspectives. If we really thought about our constant impact on others, the world would be a far less painful place.

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