Wolf in Flight
Wolff does not have to look back to know that they glower down upon him from afar. The tall towers of the Magistratum host nothing but hostile eyes in the upper reaches, for the last spark of kindness has been exiled from the heights. He remembers one of his last conversations, one of those which made it certain that he must leave.
The setting is the infamous Black Chamber, named after the evil altar that serves as a central table, not round, but rectangular – and shaped in an aspect ratio designed to disturb the rational mind.
Sir Wolff! What is this that you have been saying? We have heard that you have spoken out against the doctrine of holism!
Another one of these charges. False definition of terms, followed by accusations that the original doctrine is defamed. It happens again, and Wolff is weary to the death of it.
(wearily)
No, my lords, I have not. I have spoken against false holism, but never against true. For the Book tells us that we should make use of all that is given unto us.
And yet, we have word that you say we practise a false holism, and that the development of the young in all aspects is a sin against the Master!
My lords, you have my writings before you. I must speak to the point you make. Primus, holism is a good thing; it is good that the young are developed in all major aspects, from the gifts of the Spirit to all the other gifts they have been given. Secundus, holism is not completism, my lords; we cannot develop that which is not given by the Father through the Son and in the Spirit. Tertius, to assert that we develop all in human dimensions which are not balanced and founded by the temper of the Word is vanity, and I will have none of it.
They mutter amongst themselves. One says, what is it he accuses us of? Vanity? Arrogance? We are neither of these, surely. Another replies, surely we are neither. A third glares, silent.
Sir Wolff, you condemn yourself by your lack of understanding. You are a confused man who has lost his way. Do you think you are one of the Great come amongst us?
No, my lords. I have never thought that, though others like yourselves have said it many times. But I must say that as God gave wings to birds to fly, and we give wings of steel for men to fly, still it is not possible in this life for a man to be taught to flap his arms a thousand times a year and be able to fly like a bird using his arms alone. Neither is it possible, though we work hard at it, for us to make a student live in the water a hundred times a year and thus give him gills to breathe the stuff of life from a medium in which it is scarce.
Certainly, by dressing the young in robes of military appearance, one runs into the danger of offering them the kingdoms of the world in lieu of true leadership; by teaching them about bread, you make them think they have mastery over famine; by teaching them about wealth, you make them think they have dominion over poverty; by the making (and reading) of many books, you make them think they have monopoly over scholarship. I think this is wrong; it is all vanity, a weariness to the body, a pain in the spirit.
The Grand Inquisitor rises, his robes of scholarship billowing around him. He fumes, and the light of the smoking torches gleams within his eyes.
Are you saying, Wolff, that we are heretics ourselves, and that the truth is not in us? Are you saying that we harm the young placed in our care?
Grand Lord of the Magistratum, I do not say there is no truth in what you do, or that you seek to harm the young placed in our care. I merely look to the word of God as in the book of the prophet Ieremias, in which the Highest addresses exactly the three things you seek to instill in our young people. I have spoken on this before, and not against you. If I have given offence, so be it; I shall accept your punishment.
For a moment, in the silence, Wolff feels as if he has wings. There is lightness in his being. And he knows that the Master is saying, "Who is this who multiplies words without meaning? Know that even a wolf can fly." He is confounded, caught by the sovereignty of the Highest. But he is also sharply aware that so is the Magistratum.
=====
Note: The fictional adventures of Sir Wolff do provide much that is of interest. You can find them linked here. Just ignore the one about earwax. That was an accident.
The setting is the infamous Black Chamber, named after the evil altar that serves as a central table, not round, but rectangular – and shaped in an aspect ratio designed to disturb the rational mind.
Sir Wolff! What is this that you have been saying? We have heard that you have spoken out against the doctrine of holism!
Another one of these charges. False definition of terms, followed by accusations that the original doctrine is defamed. It happens again, and Wolff is weary to the death of it.
(wearily)
No, my lords, I have not. I have spoken against false holism, but never against true. For the Book tells us that we should make use of all that is given unto us.
And yet, we have word that you say we practise a false holism, and that the development of the young in all aspects is a sin against the Master!
My lords, you have my writings before you. I must speak to the point you make. Primus, holism is a good thing; it is good that the young are developed in all major aspects, from the gifts of the Spirit to all the other gifts they have been given. Secundus, holism is not completism, my lords; we cannot develop that which is not given by the Father through the Son and in the Spirit. Tertius, to assert that we develop all in human dimensions which are not balanced and founded by the temper of the Word is vanity, and I will have none of it.
They mutter amongst themselves. One says, what is it he accuses us of? Vanity? Arrogance? We are neither of these, surely. Another replies, surely we are neither. A third glares, silent.
Sir Wolff, you condemn yourself by your lack of understanding. You are a confused man who has lost his way. Do you think you are one of the Great come amongst us?
No, my lords. I have never thought that, though others like yourselves have said it many times. But I must say that as God gave wings to birds to fly, and we give wings of steel for men to fly, still it is not possible in this life for a man to be taught to flap his arms a thousand times a year and be able to fly like a bird using his arms alone. Neither is it possible, though we work hard at it, for us to make a student live in the water a hundred times a year and thus give him gills to breathe the stuff of life from a medium in which it is scarce.
Certainly, by dressing the young in robes of military appearance, one runs into the danger of offering them the kingdoms of the world in lieu of true leadership; by teaching them about bread, you make them think they have mastery over famine; by teaching them about wealth, you make them think they have dominion over poverty; by the making (and reading) of many books, you make them think they have monopoly over scholarship. I think this is wrong; it is all vanity, a weariness to the body, a pain in the spirit.
The Grand Inquisitor rises, his robes of scholarship billowing around him. He fumes, and the light of the smoking torches gleams within his eyes.
Are you saying, Wolff, that we are heretics ourselves, and that the truth is not in us? Are you saying that we harm the young placed in our care?
Grand Lord of the Magistratum, I do not say there is no truth in what you do, or that you seek to harm the young placed in our care. I merely look to the word of God as in the book of the prophet Ieremias, in which the Highest addresses exactly the three things you seek to instill in our young people. I have spoken on this before, and not against you. If I have given offence, so be it; I shall accept your punishment.
For a moment, in the silence, Wolff feels as if he has wings. There is lightness in his being. And he knows that the Master is saying, "Who is this who multiplies words without meaning? Know that even a wolf can fly." He is confounded, caught by the sovereignty of the Highest. But he is also sharply aware that so is the Magistratum.
=====
Note: The fictional adventures of Sir Wolff do provide much that is of interest. You can find them linked here. Just ignore the one about earwax. That was an accident.
Labels: Historical Fiction, Jeremiah, Lysenkoism, Wolff
etched with acid at 10:05:00 am
5 Comments:
Worth. Sharing. With.
Ah but whom (or who) should the Wolff share it with?
At least to all who want to breathe underwater? Sigh. "Another one of those charges"...
"Ah but whom (or who) should the Wolff share it with?"
To wolf pups, of course. You don't tell a legend where the wolf is the hero to kittens, do you?
Sir Wolff, you condemn yourself by your lack of understanding. You are a confused man who has lost his way. Do you think you are one of the Great come amongst us?
[...]
Are you saying, Wolff, that we are heretics ourselves, and that the truth is not in us? Are you saying that we harm the young placed in our care?
Heh. Compare with:
"'For certain purposes, of course, that is not true. When we navigate the ocean, or when we predict an eclipse, we often find it convenient to assume that the earth goes round the sun and that the stars are millions upon millions of kilometres away. But what of it? Do you suppose it is beyond us to produce a dual system of astronomy? The stars can be near or distant, according as we need them. Do you suppose our mathematicians are unequal to that? Have you forgotten doublethink?’"
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