Blurry Lines: Religion and the Paranormal

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was dark, anyway. And Halloween. Walking along the edge of a cornfield, I kept hearing vague, rustling sounds until a shadowy figure darted between two trees. My breath caught and my heart skipped a beat.

Years later, in the sparsely populated mountains of Idaho, I sat on a bench outside my family's summer rental, watching a beautiful sunset. A sparkling object caught my eye. It flickered slightly green, appeared to remain stationary, and then, after I'd turned away for a moment, disappeared. Again, my breath caught and my heart skipped a beat.

Whatever either of those things actually were, my response was the same: a mixture of fear, excitement, and awe, all based on the possibility that I was in the presence of something unearthly, or at least well outside my mundane experience. Reading and watching television programs about UFOs and mysterious creatures like Bigfoot has been a guilty pleasure since I was quite young, so I am familiar with the hushed tones supposed witnesses of such phenomena use to describe their purported encounters. (If you'd like some background, or would just enjoy reading Bigfoot and UFO stories, check out the site for the North American Bigfoot Search and the Mutual UFO Network.)

As a scholar of Religious Studies, the dedication with which some people have searched for proof of such phenomena, combined with their sometimes rather reverential language, has made me wonder something: can belief or experience in the paranormal classify as "religious"? Perhaps owing to my background in Philosophy, I have always been interested in how humans define and classify. (For example, in past Blog posts I've interrogated the concepts of "Great Books" and "World Wars.") Students in my "Introduction to World Religions" courses over the years became accustomed to this conversation, as we debated whether the "Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster" (aka, "Pastafarianism") or even the twenty-first century cult of celebrity worship (as argued in this article) could be considered religions alongside Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, and the other "usual suspects" one finds in mass produced textbooks. What about the Sasquatch? Could a person's supposed encounter with Bigfoot be considered a religious experience, and his or her subsequent devotion to finding more hairy bipeds count as a religious practice? Who could say "no" to a face like this?

Just about every scholar of Religious Studies is given Rudolf Otto's The Idea of the Holy as first year reading, and Otto's concept of the experience of the divine as mysterium tremendum et fascinans ("the mystery before which one trembles, in both fascination and fear") is a perfect description of classic textual descriptions of encounters with the divine. Think of Job from the Hebrew Bible, seeing God in the whirlwind (depicted by William Blake):

Or Arjuna before the Bharata War, seeing Krishna in his true shape as "Death, the Destroyer of worlds":

Though certainly he never intended it as such, couldn't Otto's mysterium tremendum apply to someone's experience of or belief in the paranormal? From a more skeptical angle, cognitive anthropologist Pascal Boyer lumps gods, ancestors, angels, and demons into the same category as aliens and Sasquatches, arguing in his book Religion Explained that concepts of divine beings and folkloric entities are all "parasitic" (his word) on the evolutionary process that gave homo sapiens the ability for abstract thought and language. In other words, our ability to picture a piece of fruit when we read the word "apple" leads us to imagine other things that aren't really there - like angels and Yetis. From the other side, Jeffrey Kripal of Rice University takes the paranormal as a very serious field of study within the realm of Religion, publishing several books (such as Authors of the Impossible and Mutants and Mystics) that trace how the paranormal partakes of the same structures and beliefs in human potential that characterize the traditions one normally finds in the textbooks. Last year he even coauthored a book with Whitley Streiber, a famous claimant of alien abduction.

Back in my graduate school days, I made the tentative assertion in a seminar on the concept of "Sacred Space" that perhaps one could define Roswell, New Mexico (long held by many to be the site of a UFO crash) or the Pacific Northwest (believed by others to be home to Sasquatch, North America's woodland ape), or even one's living room during an airing of Unsolved Mysteries as sacred space due to the blurriness of our categories for religion. Peter Williams, the professor for the course, responded in his characteristic fashion (which I still recall word-for-word): "Michael, I humbly suggest that you get a life." (Peter and I got along very well. It was actually his house and his dogs I was watching when I had my nerve-rattling experience reading Dracula.)

To a degree, I agree with Peter. What did I see near that cornfield? Almost certainly a deer, or maybe a raccoon. What did I see in the Idaho sky? Probably a plane from a strange angle. What these things really are or were is less important to me than the feeling of awe and wonder they generated and the sense that there was a vast, infinitely mysterious universe out there. To quote Hamlet: "There are more things in heaven and earth...than are dreamt of in your philosophy" (Act 1, Scene 5). For that reason, you won't blame me if I curl up on the couch tonight for a few episodes of Unsolved Mysteries.

For next time, I might write something about Zen and the healing properties of meditation. Until then, take care, and may all your trees hide Sasquatches.

My Favorite Books to Teach

In last week's blog, I discussed favorite chapter books to read with my children. Once in a while I'm asked which books are my favorites to teach, so I thought that would make a natural followup for this week's post. Those who follow my Facebook page know that I asked former students the same question, and at the end of this post those results are recorded. (There are some interesting surprises there!) As for my picks, it was tough to narrow the list to a manageable number, but as I thought about it, I came back to a group of books that reliably allowed us to consider, together, truly deep questions of human nature and the essence of life. Here, in ascending order (with the relevant course noted) are my top five.

5.) Beowulf ("Core 4 - The Christian Impact on Western Civilization")

With warrior codes, beastly creatures, ruminations on fate, and much, much more, this story has it all. It doesn't hurt that along with it was my favorite Core lecture of all time to deliver - "Heroes and Monsters." This story helps us ask the question, what is a "hero"? What is a "monster"? What is (as the characters ask) a "good death"? Those ideas have not been the same across time and culture. (Just make sure you read the actual book and skip the bizarre 2007 movie.)

4.) Buddhacarita, "Acts of the Buddha" ("Introduction to Buddhism" and "Evil in Myth and Literature")

As a mythic story of the life of Siddhartha Gautama, the man who became the Buddha, this book contains the classic episode in which Siddhartha, after being secluded in his palace, sees old age, sickness, and death for the first time. Shocked, he leaves to seek awakening. This allows us to ask, what metaphorical "palaces" do we use to anesthetize ourselves from the unpleasant parts of life? Should we also try to break free of them, or are they necessary to get through the day? Buddhacarita is also known for its chapter on Mara, the god-demon who tries to kill Siddhartha before he can achieve awakening.

3.) Gilgamesh ("Core 3 - The Roots of Western Civilization")

Possibly the oldest story of humanity is also one of the most evocative. A boorish, disaster of a person, Gilgamesh does not become a complete person until he makes a true friend, Enkidu. Does that mean that friendship "saves" us, makes us more human? Would Gilgamesh have avoided his various disasters through greater humility? When he faces his inevitable death, does his pattern of anger, despair, and acceptance mirror the journey we all take? Though composed perhaps four thousand years ago, it speaks to us across the gulf of time about the trials all humans face.

2.) Dracula - ("Evil in Myth and Literature")

Maybe because they are used to the terrible movies associated with it (really, there are almost no good film adaptations of this book or its title character, for instance see here and here.), this book tends to generate the most surprise when I mention it. There is genuine fear and suspense in this book, and it blends late Victorian psychoanalytic anxieties with Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern mythology. The first time I read it was in the summer of 2003 while house and dog-sitting for the chair of my Masters' department at Miami University. Imagine it: a lonely house in the woods at night, rain storms with lightning, and dogs spontaneously howling, all while I read of poor Jonathan Harker trapped in Dracula's castle in Transylvania. A situation like that will make...an impression.


Finally, my favorite book to teach....


1.) Tao Te Ching (also spelled "Dao De Ching") ("Eastern Thought")

Though of murky origin and authorship, this book has never failed to generate reactions in students, both for and against its deceptively simple way of looking at life. Example: "Do nothing, and nothing will be left undone." You can read it in an hour, but that would be like scarfing a delightful meal or chugging an exquisite wine: the thoughts and phrases demand savoring and slow consideration. I always advise students to sit in the shade under a tree, read one passage, put the book down, and just think. Imagine my delight when one day, walking through the College's Grotto, I came across a student doing just that.


Honorable Mentions

Here are a few other books that almost made the list. The Bhagavad Gita was always a joy (though it had to be read slowly and we sometimes struggled) because of its central, unsolvable moral quandary: how can I do this hideous thing that I cannot avoid doing? Oedipus is classic because it asks, "If my fate is out of my hands, can I still choose it? Is choosing what I have no choice to choose actually the path to the greatest power?" But if I were to pick one book for you to read this summer (yes, I'll be that guy), I'd choose this one:

A Buddhist/Daoist adventure story, it's loaded with powerful symbolism, awesome fights, and just great characters. If you end up giving it a try, let me know. I'd love to hear what you think!

Student Choices

Well, what did students who responded to my Facebook post select? There were votes for House of the Spirits, The Glass Castle, The Stranger, Family, Outliers, and (from my "Evil in Myth and Literature" course) The Killing Joke. The top vote-getter though, came from Core 9:

For haunting, harrowing prose, this Holocaust memoir is one that will stick with you.

There you have it, two weeks and two book lists. Next time, I'll be doing something a little different. Perhaps because I've been spending my evenings lately watching Interlibrary-Loaned DVDs of the old television series Unsolved Mysteries, I believe I may delve into the relationship between Philosophy, Religion, and the paranormal.

Aha! When a Sasquatch pops up randomly, you know you've had a good idea. Until next time, take care.

Childhood Chapters - Favorite books with my sons

One of my favorite parts of parenting is reading books to my sons, especially before bedtime. Early on, because it was easier to split the duties, my wife put our youngest to bed and I started putting our oldest, Xander to sleep. The routine was established quickly: brush teeth, read books, tell stories with the lights off, then sleep. It's worked for years now.

Over that time, we've read many books, both modern and classic, such as the Warriors series (about cat societies living alongside the human world), Little House on the Prairie, and Rabbit Hill. In this post, though, I'm going to talk about four books that have really stood out to both of us, that we've returned to time and again, as well as think a little about why that might be. Perhaps some of what I'll say might resonate with those of you who've read to your children, or remember reading books growing up. Here they are, in no particular order:

1.) Watership Down, by Richard Adams

Even though it's for the movie version, I just like the picture above. Below is the actual cover of the edition we have.

I purchased this book for fifty cents at a library sale in Evanston, Illinois. It is an absolute epic (and I don't use that word lightly) of a story, worthy of inclusion in lists of Great Books if I have anything to say about it (for more on Great Books, check out my earlier post). It tells the story of a group of rabbits forced to abandon their warren and the trials and adventures they endure during the search for a new home. (You could say that it's a version of Virgil's Aeneid, just with rabbits.) The characters are incredibly well-defined, with positives and negatives to each, and they have to work together and pool their talents to survive. Most impressive to me, Adams creates parts of a rabbit language and a complex rabbit folklore surrounding their ancestor El Ahrairah, whose tales take up whole chapters and connect to the main plot in fascinating ways. When I recently talked to Xander and asked him why he liked it, he said that it was because of when we'd read it: we'd just moved from Wisconsin so I could start my job at Saint Joseph's College, and he identified with the rabbits having to move from a place they enjoyed to start a new life.

2.) The Martian Tales Trilogy, by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Admittedly, this is not an obvious choice for reading with your young child, but before you call the authorities, it has some points in its favor. First, Burroughs uses some very polished phrases of speech, so it's a good vocabulary builder. Besides, it's just plain fun, with armies and intrigues and monsters and battles. Telling the story of John Carter's adventures with the various societies of beings on Mars (or "Barsoom," as the populace calls it), it does also show its early 20th century context with some questionable gender stereotypes. Those are good opportunities for discussion with your children. Plus, since it was one of the influences on George Lucas, after reading it various aspects of Star Wars made much more sense.

3.) The Hobbit / The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

We read these books early, largely because I wanted to make sure my sons had the chance to form their own mental images of the scenery and characters before seeing the films. It was very interesting to hear how differently they had pictured certain things! Xander said he liked most the magic and mystery of the stories, how the littlest people (the Hobbits) make the biggest difference, and that even if the good is at the greatest disadvantage, it can still overcome.

4.) Redwall, by Brian Jacques

Brian Jacques wrote almost two dozen of these books about Redwall Abbey, its Mossflower wood, and the surrounding lands populated by talking, civilized mice, otters, squirrels, and other animals. (If you are interested in more about Jacques and a list of his books, there's a website detailing all those things.) Invariably, these good animals are imperiled by "bad" animals, who represent those creatures often labeled so by humans (rats, weasels, foxes, etc.). Jacques is good at creating characters you can root for, though, and just about every book has a riddle to solve that takes some thought to unravel. Xander's explanation for why he liked it was simple enough: "It combines my two favorite things - animals and fighting!"

Thinking it over, there are some interesting commonalities between the four books, and I wonder if that is partly why we've enjoyed them particularly. First, they are all set in very detailed but also purely imaginative worlds rather than realistic places or situations. This fosters a level of escapism that can actually help you work through your real-life worries, as Xander seemed to intimate with Watership Down.

Second, in all these books, the heroes have to work together in order to succeed. There is no one character who does it all on his/her own. Whether it's the rabbit group of Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, and others in Watership Down, or the Fellowship in the Lord of The Rings, or John Carter and Tars Tarkas in The Martian Tales, or Matthias, Skipper, Candace, and others in Redwall, each book is very good at showing characters using their unique, individual talents to help the group. Though they don't always get along, at the end of the day, each of these groups looks out for one another and no one is left alienated. Everyone has something they can contribute just based on who they are.

Finally, on that same point, good does not overcome evil in these four tales because it is necessarily stronger; in fact, the forces of good are numerically and martially weaker in each book. Evil fails because those forces work against each other and seem incapable of the cooperation of the good characters. Sauron and Saruman don't exactly coordinate well and Orcs are constantly killing each other to move up in the world. Similarly, stoats and weasels and rats kill almost as many of each other as mice when they besiege Redwall Abbey. Good is good because it embraces an attitude of "Let's work together" rather than "I'm better than you."

So, there you have it, our top four chapter books...so far. But I'd be remiss if I left out the very, very first book I read as a father:

If you can look at the picture below, of a big round bear conversing with a tiny mole, and remain unmoved, I worry for the state of your humanity.

Next time, perhaps a different list of books: my favorite books to teach to students as a professor. Until then, take care!

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine

Originally, at the end of my last post, I said I would write next about my favorite children's books to read with my sons. However, intervening events have given me cause to postpone that topic until next time. Namely, yesterday I saw Wonder Woman with my boys, this past week I happened to rent the first season of CW's Supergirl from the public library, and in November I am presenting on Buffy the Vampire Slayer at the American Academy of Religion. (Yes, I know: I get to have all the fun.) The coincidence of all these things made me realize that this was the topic I should write about today.

First, Wonder Woman.

In regards to content, I found the first third of the movie on Themyscira (the secret Amazon island) to be the most interesting. Production-wise, Patty Jenkins (the director) avoids making the star's attractiveness the center of the film, a temptation to which other directors might certainly have succumbed. Though the plot has some holes in it and the climactic action seen was CGI-cluttered, it was good to see a powerful, world-shaking female character in a superhero film. That is something sadly lacking.

There are have been a number of reviews of Wonder Woman from this kind of feminist angle, such as this very insightful piece by Zoe Williams. As I watched the Supergirl television show, I found it also attempting to strike some of the same chords. (To be honest, the show is not very good. What I've seen hasn't been terrible, but it's also quite soap-opera-ish, if that's a word. Fair warning!) The pilot episode finds Kara Zor-El (Kal-El, or "Superman's" cousin) having chosen to hide her powers so as not to attract attention. She's initially happy to stay in her male cousin's shadow. The resistance she first gets from friends and family when events draw her out into the superheroine role could speak to the pressures in society for women to stay quiet, not rock the boat, and defer to men. Otherwise, there are several playful debates on her title: why is it Supergirl and not Superwoman?

One of the best episodes I've seen, though, shows Kara battling the android Red Tornado and having difficulty overcoming it because she's afraid to get angry. This leads to a fascinating conversation between Kara and a mentor about the costs involved when women show anger in the workplace: for men, it's seen as assertiveness, while for women, it's seen as threatening and disruptive. Kara needs to overcome that socialization. From the picture below, I'll let you decide if she succeeded.

My favorite feminist superhero has to be Buffy, though.

While the Wonder Woman character and movie has traditionally drawn on Greek mythology, I always saw powerful currents of Hindu goddess figures in Buffy's role as slayer "(i.e., "death-bringer") to demonic forces. In Hindu mythology, the goddesses Durga and Kali come into existence for the express purpose of purging the earth of evil figures. In some cases, the iconography is uncannily similar. Here for instance is a popular devotional image of Kali in her role as destroyer:

Compare to Buffy, at her most merciless:

I particularly enjoyed the series Buffy for its satisfying character arcs - nothing ever felt forced on that show. Perhaps due to nostalgia, it's always been the standard-bearer for my vision of a female hero. Now I've come to realize how problematic that is. A few years ago, right after The Force Awakens came out, a friend confided to me how refreshing it was to see a female protagonist (Rey) who was more than a "damsel in distress" (see Megan Garber's piece on that point). My knee-jerk reaction was, "Oh, Buffy did that twenty years ago." I am now deeply sorry for that response. Why? That was twenty years ago. In that time, how many potential superhero role models have I had as a white male? (Answer: A LOT.) Superheroines over the same period? Hmmmmm. Gosh, not as many. We need to do better at showing the cultural diversity and range of the superhero figure. (Along those same lines, I concur with the buzz of excitement for the first Black Panther trailer.)

It's for that reason that the most poignant and important moment in Wonder Woman for me came long before Gal Gadot ever came onto the screen. It was the scene of eight or nine year old Diana Prince running off to watch the warriors and mime combat moves with them. It seemed like a powerfully self-aware moment when the film acknowledged its intent to provide a role model for a portion of the audience such movies have not done well reflecting. As a boy (hell, as a grown man) I watched these movies to imagine myself as a hero. Everyone should have the goose-bump experience of watching someone do something fantastic on the silver screen and think, "Wow! That could be me." Hopefully, we're a little closer to that goal now.

Next time, when we explore my favorite children's literature, we'll see how mice, Hobbits, rabbits, and Martians all get along well together. Until then, take care.

Aristotle and I Scientifically Rank Superhero Movies

As many people know, I love superheroes, so the last decade or so has been something of a golden age with an almost constant stream of adaptations of superheroes on the silver screen. The most recent, of course, is Wonder Woman, which opened this past weekend to largely positive reviews and impressive ticket sales. I haven't seen the film yet, but hope to soon. In honor of Wonder Woman's arrival in theaters, I'm going to spend this post ranking the superhero films I have seen, and to do so I've called in a little help: none other than Aristotle, the person regarded by many as the greatest philosopher of all time. (Cue the obligatory marble bust photo.)

Now, you might ask, "what did Aristotle ever write about superheroes?" Well, Aristotle wrote about almost everything, including rhetoric, ethics, physics, zoology, theater, poetry, etc. His concept of arete ("excellence") most definitely applies to the role superheroes play in our society, as they are often mirrors for the values and morals we admire or wish to uphold. Since I am considering superhero films in this post, though, the most appropriate work by Aristotle is the Poetics, which deals technically with the genre of tragedy, but can be applied to other works of art. In that work, he gave six elements by which to judge the piece in question: plot, character, thought, diction, song, and spectacle. Here's how I am adapting/combining those elements to rank the movies.

Plot - Three qualities are important to me for a plot: strength and originality of story, whether it is coherent (without holes), and whether things have changed from the beginning to the end (arc).

Character - In terms of character, Aristotle meant whether the people in the drama behaved consistently and whether there was a moral message (i.e., people of character). If we take it more literally, this category has three elements for me: am I attached to the hero(es), is the villain(s) charismatic, and is there a moral message?

Thought/Diction - I am combining these into the larger category of quality writing and whether the film can balance between evoking poetic thoughts of gravitas and lighter wit.

Song/Spectacle - I'm also combining these elements. Does the film have a score that sweeps you away? Are the action scenes inventive and engaging, even full of surprises?

With five points for each sub-element within each category, I sat down and scored all the superhero movies I've seen since 2005. Here's how it broke down, with my top five as the example.

	Plot	Character	Writing	Spectacle	Total (out of 50)
	Story  Coherence  Arc	Hero    Villain   Moral	Gravity             Wit	Music     Action
Avengers (2012)	5               4             5	5              5            5	5                   5	5                5	49
The Dark Knight (2008	5               3             5	5              5            5	5                   5	5                4	47
Captain America (2011)	5               4             5	5             5             5	4                   4	5               4	46
Captain America 2 (2014)	5               4             5	5             5             5	4                   4	4               4	45
X-Men: First Class (2011)	5              4             5	5             5             5	4                  5	4              3	45

As you can see, with its great screenplay, fun story, and engaging action, Avengers stands out from the rest. The Dark Knight is also a favorite (the portrayal of the Batman/Joker dynamic alone is golden), though some of the plot twists are a little hard to grasp. The next three were a genuine surprise! I knew I liked those films, but I didn't expect them to score so well on this rubric. Chris Evans' portrayal of Cap has always inspired me, and both films have good messages, while X-Men: First Class has Michael Fassbender and James McAvoy. (I can honestly say Magneto's revenge against Sebastian Shaw surprised me with its cathartic brutality.)

For the record, here is the full ranking:
1.) Avengers - 49
2.) The Dark Knight - 47
3.) Captain America - 46
4.) Captain America 2 - 45
5.) X-Men: First Class - 45
6.) Batman Begins - 44
7.) Avengers 2 - 43
8.) Thor - 42
9.) Iron Man - 40
10.) Captain America 3 - 39
11.) The Dark Knight Rises - 39
12.) Guardians of the Galaxy- 37
13.) Iron Man 3 - 31
14.) Ant Man - 28
15.) Man of Steel - 27
16.) Batman vs. Superman - 26
17.) Incredible Hulk - 25
18.) Iron Man 2 - 22
19.) Thor 2 - 15
20.) Doctor Strange - 9
21.) Suicide Squad - 2

Is this ranking scientifically accurate? Does it provide a definitive way to assess future movies for now and forever? The answer to both questions, and I feel I can safely speak for both myself and Aristotle, is yes.

Joking aside, this was a fascinating exercise for me as it brought into words the unspoken qualities I've always looked for not just in superhero movies, but films altogether. Plus, we get to see in a representative scale just how atrocious Suicide Squad really was.

Mixing numbers with art is always a fraught, perilous, and contentious exercise - how can you quantitatively measure a film's worth? It's that very interdisciplinary blending that I find so fun, though. As a Humanities person academically, I've still been known to play around with quantitative reasoning as a way of thinking about the arts. So, now that I've generated these numbers, what can we do with them? How about charting the quality of Marvel and DC films, respectively? Have they gone up or down in quality over time?

From this, we can see that Marvel movies are a roller-coaster of quality, with some streaks of excellence, but also valleys, which we seem to be in right now. What about DC?

Here the picture is different: After the Nolan Batman trilogy, it is a steady decline into the abyss. (Perhaps Wonder Woman has changed that.) What if we compare the two?

The comparison shows us that DC got a good head start with the Nolan Batman movies, but around 2011, Marvel caught them and, despite a few fluctuations in quality, has consistently maintained the edge ever since.

So there you have it: fun with superheroes, charts, and, of course, Aristotle. Next time, I delve into another ranking of sorts when I discuss the favorite children's literature I've read with my sons. Until then, take care.