Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2004-01-10 02:43 am
azurelunatic) wrote2004-01-10 02:43 am
Grey Jedi
What is the point at which we let go? What is the point at which we decide, each of us, that someone is irredeemable, and let loose of them?
The classic example is Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker and his son.
Darth Vader is a terrible man who does terrible things. Nearly all of his influences are evil. Emperor Palpatine encourages him to embrace the darkest depths of his despair and anger and lash out with them against the world. He started out all right -- a little boy who loved his mother very, very much. Somewhere, though, it changed. He lashed out with anger, and somewhere along the line, the Jedi must have rejected him, one by one, or in one fell swoop.
Somewhere, he crossed the line, went over from forgiveable offenses to a place where each of the Jedi he didn't kill (or hadn't killed yet) had to say: "You are beyond my power to help. I can do no more," and leave him to stumble back to redemption -- or not.
Holding out hope for those who have passed beyond the point of no return is the definition of a saint, and a masochist. I suspect the difference between the two is slight, and depends on perspective, and how bad the injuries are.
And who defines the 'point of no return'? Yoda was convinced that Anakin was already edging beyond it even before he pulled his little stunt on Tatooine. I think Yoda gave up first. Odd -- I'm suddenly equating Yoda with Dumbledore, with all of Az's love and affection.
Diane Duane balanced it best, of the modern writers, I think. "Fairest and fallen: greeting and defiance." One does not snub the Lone Power when one meets It. Yes, evil. But no need for you, yourself, to become rude about that. I think that's where the Puritan-era Christians may have screwed it up. One does not cast the bathwater out because a little bit of the Devil got in. One acknowledges the presence of the le-matya in the living room, and goes about one's business taking the proper precautions, which may include removing the le-matya, sensibly -- and carrying a stunner when walking in le-matya country. Jesus hung out with hookers. Who are you, then, to doubt your faith so much as to cast out all those who don't conform to your way?
Everyone of the light repudiated Anakin Skywalker, before the last, and thus he became Darth Vader. He lost faith in himself, in his own will to be good -- perhaps in large part because no one believed he could. It was only when his son Luke told him that he still had good in him that he was obligated to try to prove Luke right.
Will I, someday, be Luke Skywalker to someone's Darth Vader? Will I be someone's last, best hope?
It's said that you can tell who your real friends are when you start having problems. Your real friends are the ones who will stick with you, and give you the hugs, the love, the sympathy, the harsh reality, and the boots in the ass, all as appropriate. They're the ones who will say, "Why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?" -- and you don't hurt them for it, because it was what you needed to hear right then.
And there are going to be people who see you turning towards things darker and darker -- not necessarily dangerous to others, as Anakin did, but dangerous to the self nonetheless -- and give you warning, and then when you slip further and further, lost and unable to find a way back towards love, they will leave you in disgust, because no one wants to get sucked down with a sinking ship.
They may have been your friends, or they could have been. It's always a temptation for the would-be saint to count those as failures, where the necessary deep connection needed to yank someone out of those depths wasn't made, couldn't be made.
Where do you draw the line? When is it right to say, "I've had enough of your bullshit. Call me if you ever figure out how to be human again."? When is it right to say, "I'll be here for you, no matter what," and follow through, in the worst of times? When does the friendship outweigh the darkness that comes up?
I heard an illustrative story, once, probably from FatherSir, about the differences in friendship, and what's called friendship. It was a conversation between a Russian and an American.
"I have two friends," the Russian said.
"Oh! So few friends!" the American exclaimed. "I have at least twenty!"
The American proceeded, after a while, to have the sort of problem that involves a crisis at three o'clock in the morning.
The Russian hears of it. "You should have called one of your friends," was the comment.
"Call one of them at three o'clock in the morning?" asks the American, bewildered. "That would not have done at all. That would not have been polite. They would not have understood."
"They are not your friends, then," the Russian says. "I am lucky. I have two friends. I can call at any hour if I need to, and they will understand, and I will understand when they call. Not everyone has even one friend."
That's the definition of friend that the saying talks about, with the wisdom that when one has a crisis, one finds out who one's real friends are.
And it's hard to be friends with someone who's demonstrating that they're not walking on the light side of the Force. It's hard to be friends, when someone has been listening to the Lone Power, and stops listening to reason...
... but what if you're their last, best hope?
The classic example is Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker and his son.
Darth Vader is a terrible man who does terrible things. Nearly all of his influences are evil. Emperor Palpatine encourages him to embrace the darkest depths of his despair and anger and lash out with them against the world. He started out all right -- a little boy who loved his mother very, very much. Somewhere, though, it changed. He lashed out with anger, and somewhere along the line, the Jedi must have rejected him, one by one, or in one fell swoop.
Somewhere, he crossed the line, went over from forgiveable offenses to a place where each of the Jedi he didn't kill (or hadn't killed yet) had to say: "You are beyond my power to help. I can do no more," and leave him to stumble back to redemption -- or not.
Holding out hope for those who have passed beyond the point of no return is the definition of a saint, and a masochist. I suspect the difference between the two is slight, and depends on perspective, and how bad the injuries are.
And who defines the 'point of no return'? Yoda was convinced that Anakin was already edging beyond it even before he pulled his little stunt on Tatooine. I think Yoda gave up first. Odd -- I'm suddenly equating Yoda with Dumbledore, with all of Az's love and affection.
Diane Duane balanced it best, of the modern writers, I think. "Fairest and fallen: greeting and defiance." One does not snub the Lone Power when one meets It. Yes, evil. But no need for you, yourself, to become rude about that. I think that's where the Puritan-era Christians may have screwed it up. One does not cast the bathwater out because a little bit of the Devil got in. One acknowledges the presence of the le-matya in the living room, and goes about one's business taking the proper precautions, which may include removing the le-matya, sensibly -- and carrying a stunner when walking in le-matya country. Jesus hung out with hookers. Who are you, then, to doubt your faith so much as to cast out all those who don't conform to your way?
Everyone of the light repudiated Anakin Skywalker, before the last, and thus he became Darth Vader. He lost faith in himself, in his own will to be good -- perhaps in large part because no one believed he could. It was only when his son Luke told him that he still had good in him that he was obligated to try to prove Luke right.
Will I, someday, be Luke Skywalker to someone's Darth Vader? Will I be someone's last, best hope?
It's said that you can tell who your real friends are when you start having problems. Your real friends are the ones who will stick with you, and give you the hugs, the love, the sympathy, the harsh reality, and the boots in the ass, all as appropriate. They're the ones who will say, "Why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?" -- and you don't hurt them for it, because it was what you needed to hear right then.
And there are going to be people who see you turning towards things darker and darker -- not necessarily dangerous to others, as Anakin did, but dangerous to the self nonetheless -- and give you warning, and then when you slip further and further, lost and unable to find a way back towards love, they will leave you in disgust, because no one wants to get sucked down with a sinking ship.
They may have been your friends, or they could have been. It's always a temptation for the would-be saint to count those as failures, where the necessary deep connection needed to yank someone out of those depths wasn't made, couldn't be made.
Where do you draw the line? When is it right to say, "I've had enough of your bullshit. Call me if you ever figure out how to be human again."? When is it right to say, "I'll be here for you, no matter what," and follow through, in the worst of times? When does the friendship outweigh the darkness that comes up?
I heard an illustrative story, once, probably from FatherSir, about the differences in friendship, and what's called friendship. It was a conversation between a Russian and an American.
"I have two friends," the Russian said.
"Oh! So few friends!" the American exclaimed. "I have at least twenty!"
The American proceeded, after a while, to have the sort of problem that involves a crisis at three o'clock in the morning.
The Russian hears of it. "You should have called one of your friends," was the comment.
"Call one of them at three o'clock in the morning?" asks the American, bewildered. "That would not have done at all. That would not have been polite. They would not have understood."
"They are not your friends, then," the Russian says. "I am lucky. I have two friends. I can call at any hour if I need to, and they will understand, and I will understand when they call. Not everyone has even one friend."
That's the definition of friend that the saying talks about, with the wisdom that when one has a crisis, one finds out who one's real friends are.
And it's hard to be friends with someone who's demonstrating that they're not walking on the light side of the Force. It's hard to be friends, when someone has been listening to the Lone Power, and stops listening to reason...
... but what if you're their last, best hope?
The last, best hope
To your examples, I would add the Companions who repudiated their Chosen (I can think of only one example) in Lackey's Valdemar series and - as a study in contrast - the Pernese dragons who were "dissatisfied" with their Riders. Sometimes, as in the case of the Tree in the Elfstones of Shannara, the Choice and the Test are irrevocable.
The Test is also there in the avatars of multi-aspect (esp. dual and triune incarnate) divinities, but that is another story.
As a particular example from my faith: Your point about Jesus Christ is especially salient, IMHO. It's likely the prayer Christ offered at Gethsemane - though it seemed a one-way conversation at the time - was the point of commitment in the Test. I often think the faith we seek to emulate boils down to trust: not expecting repudiation or abandonment. And yet, it's reassuring to know that even your ideals (and role models) come to uncertainty.
Last but not least: I think we would all do well to suppose that in certain cases, we are the last, best hope, and there is not another.
Gosh, now you've got me talking in SF cliches, too! ;-)
(Must... find... mainstream... "A friend in need is a friend indeed"! "A stitch in time saves nine"! "There but for the grace of God go I"!)
--
Banazir
Re: The last, best hope
SF and fantasy is the place where a lot of philosophy and social commentary hangs out, because it can get a wide audience without drawing fire for being too politically insensitive. I mean, take classic Trek's The Day of the Dove, if I recall the episode title correctly. Back then, someone proposing that we make peace with the Russians would not really get a warm reception. Science fiction can say a lot of things without actually getting in trouble for it.
And the whole Darth Vader thing. Only philosophy, ethics, and religion geeks are likely to attend a six-movie cycle of two-hour movies on anger, badness, and redemption. When it's science fiction and space opera, it winds up popular.
There are some things I find scary, and one of them is when there's a Last, Best Hope situation, and the attachment is unequal. Had Anakin no particular desire to see his son succeed, had Luke no love for a father he'd never known, what would have happened? As clergy, one of my worst memories, worst failures, was when there was someone busily engaged in pushing away all possible sources of help and hope, and I was among the last -- and I allowed myself to be pushed away. There were other priorities that I had before that person, and they continuously indicated that while they were in desperate need of help, they did not want to be helped.
friendsfriends
Joan of Arcadia this Friday discussed 'the ripples one leaves behind' as in what happens when you die, who do you affect, how did you affect them, is there joy in the bittersweet of your passing ?
I think it's a similar thing to when someone loses themself in darkness. Is there grief in what light is left in them totally succumbing, becoming this isolated island ?
And it has to be there, doesn't it ? Simply because it existed at all ? And if you remember that light, can you truely let go completely ? You might seperate yourself enough that you don't get hurt or harmed, but that's not the same thing as not wanting to know if they live or die, or reach out for help becase they want something to change.
My ex met me when I was so numb I felt crazy. I knew I was just going through my days because home was a place I didn't want to go to if I wanted to survive. So I had to stay in shcool, because I was supposed to want to live.
She became a light for me. A light *for* me. As in I didn't end up following that light to a place she chose, but it was a beacon none the less.
I think people get overwhelmed at the concept of how much support needs to be given to help someone out of that despair. Maybe it's easier for them to give up and say 'lost cause'. Maybe it's easier than looking inward to see your own lack, or acknowledge that as much as you want to help, the strength needed is beyond you and that help's needed.Maybe at that point a you don't know who to turn to and the feeling of failure makes you hate the person you wanted to reach out to in the first place - makes you step back and go 'not worth it.' Maybe it all has to do with your own personal pain quotient.
Maybe it's simply in how a person individually defines committmant.
To use your Luke/Annakin analogy - Here was this boy who was willing to watch for that hand extended for change. Luke had committed himself to the father he never knew, and the discovery of who that person now was didn't destroy the memory of the 'spark'. I've often felt he was desperate to show DV that the family he thought he'd lost with the Jedi was now here in the form of his children and who knows who else. Luke had seen the shades of grey in quite a few people by then. Han Solo for one, who needed someone to believe in him.
There's this repeated phrase in Farscape Fandom (which I'm only now diving into) in reference to the female lead character, Aeryn Soong. 'You can be more'
Maybe it's all about being able to look at someone and say 'You can still be more' More than they are in that moment, more than they thought they could ever be, more than how others percieve them, more than how they percieve themsleves, more even, than how much they've lied to /surpressed / grown disgusted in themsleves.
And now I'm thinking Scarlet O'Hara 'Tomorrow is another day'
But I guess I've raised more questions than I answered, but good thought continues with questions in my book.
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I think fen in general may have more friends that meet this specification than many people - I can think of two or three people off-hand that I would be willing to call at 3AM, and could probably think of several more with some time.
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But then, two or three of those four are fellow clergy.
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Right now, I don't think there's anyone whose last hope I am, just best.