Brotherless and Fatherless

In the old world of the Wyverns, we were all brothers. We kept our differences private and we were united by the common flag, the common emblems, the common ideas. We were all very different people and very proud of it, but there were some depths to which we would not descend.

No longer, it seems. Just tonight I was listening to a man who sat on the interview panels of the College of Physicians. He told me that he was interviewing a young Wyvern who was seeking admission to the College as a trainee. This Wyvern (if you can still call him that) was asked, "Why should we admit you, and not your brothers?"

At which point, the degenerate replied, "Because I am smarter and better." He then proceeded to run down his brothers in no uncertain terms. The interviewer was aghast. He asked me tonight, "How is it that such an attitude could ever be cultivated among Wyverns? They have always been closely knit."

It was another man who replied, "The Wyverns nest in a place where the ruling principality himself displays such traits of unseemly competition between brothers. He is known to make public statements denigrating his own mentors, his peers and fellow principalities, and even the other nests of the Wyverns."

And there you have it. Where there is no true father-figure, and no allegiance to the Father either, brotherhood will fail, and so will the Brotherhood.

Family Opinion

My family's opinion has always been very valuable to me. It's sometimes a problem though, when the entire body of family opinion is focused like a meson cannon upon a few key principles and doesn't bother with the rest. For some time now, I've actually thought of how the mending of a man's heart should be a moment for rejoicing regardless of context. The main problem is that not everyone thinks so. That's painful.

I think we should all be generous of spirit, regardless. People who have suffered a lot sometimes counter this argument by raising more and more outrageous examples (which sadly, are often true). Witness the intense and widespread suffering of the Jews during the Holocaust, for example. But most situations are not so dire, and that means that apart from extremes, we should honour the general principles of the human spirit: waste not, want not, weary not, wound not.

Sometimes, as is the case between the sons of Ishmael (firstborn of Abraham, in case people forget) and the sons of Isaac (the second, who was almost sacrificed), the divide is too deep to be bridged. The original situation was made untenable, and the foundations dissolved long ago. The only thing to do is to start afresh, not build from foundations which have crumbled. But the enmity between the bloodlines has become a meme, and those are difficult to erase as long as the collective heart of a people (or the collective hearts of two peoples, in this case) choose to actively remember and renew these things.

And who is to say that this is not the natural way of the world? Or that, sadly, we should ever be able to overcome it?

Tidying

The problem with living with an archivist is that everything is kept and nothing is thrown away. Anything with text on it is piled in archaeological layers which one is afraid to disturb or otherwise disrupt. And one fears that the removal of a single item will bring about catastrophe.

Today we removed 20 kg of what we thought was likely to be disposable fissile material: disposable in the sense that it could be bagged and thrown away, fissile in the sense that it was likely to spread in some sort of proliferative manner by falling apart spontaneously, material in the sense that it was only too tangible.

After that, brother and I looked at each other with a strong sense of 'mission accomplished'. Yes, another satisfying male-bonding sibling moment. Heh.

Psalm 133: Peace In Our Time?

Peace is a useful illusion; it is just like the present, that evanescent moment between past and future. Peace is that balance point between conflict and confusion, between chaos that can be contended against and chaos that has not yet been grappled with. But the 133rd Psalm in all its brevity has an important point: unity is also a weapon against chaos, and it will do in place of peace.

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!
It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments;
As the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion: for there the LORD commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.

It is salutary to note that Jesus said, "I came not to bring peace, but a sword." He knew that religion, which by its nature is a lifestyle choice, has the potential to divide; as with any human potential, that potential is sure to be achieved somewhere by someone. But the lesson of this psalm is simple; a blessed life is the reward for living together in harmony. A sword may be present, but it need not always be used to divide.

Brotherhood

Tomorrow, my baby brother turns 37. It will be one of those rare years that both our ages are prime numbers, but that's beside the point. The point is that he's grown up, but he's still my younger brother, and I feel an abiding affection for him. I don't feel responsible for him, but I feel proud of him, happy that he's around, grateful for 37 years of sibling rivalry and togetherness.

Sometimes, it isn't so. Brother does turn against brother, although this is not one of the three fractious relationships that Jesus mentions. But the blessings of a dynamic and happy brotherhood are significant. In Psalm 133, unity in brotherhood is linked to eternal life.

I'm always sad when I see brothers who don't get along. Behind such an unhappy state, you will find ambition, greed, inadequacy, and the other myriad human failings, just as in any other relationship. Being brothers doesn't protect you from such things. There were periods of time as long as 5 years when my brother and I were happy not to be anywhere near each other. Those days are gone, and I am glad for that. Happy birthday, my brother!

Seven

Over the last seven weeks, I have been thinking about this year and the number seven. No, this is not a paean to numerology or some sort of alchemical code. But I have been thinking about an eternal city founded on seven hills, seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, and seven brothers who bicker but who each have a power that will help the rest.

It was last year that the head of my order in the Family said that we were seven brothers, seven scholae, seven pillars of an ancient mission in a dark and weary land. He intimated that the pillars should bear an equal burden, that no one pillar, no matter how central, should act as if the rest were less worthy. There are always main pillars, but no single pillar can bear the burden alone.

It put me in mind of an old Chinese tale, as usual set in that semi-mythical age of Qin Shi Huang, the mighty unifier and autocrat of China. The tale I refer to is that of a number of brothers, commonly five, sometimes seven. The theme of seven brothers can be found in Finland, Britain, Eastern Europe, Africa, and other places far afield. Each brother has a special ability, a superhuman power such as the capacity to drink up the sea or to be as hard as iron. The powers vary from place to place, but the story often revolves around a threat which attempts to eliminate the 'weaker brothers'. The strongest brother feels immune to this threat, and this makes him remain aloof while the rest get into difficulties. Fortunately, he himself gets into trouble, and it is only a combined effort by the rest, with the proper use of his own considerable power, which saves the whole bunch.

Such stories inspire me. There are some people who do not care for myth, for the power of symbol and the real working-out of symbolic forces in the world. They do not see beyond the limited walls and horizons of the immediate and quotidian. But these symbols and the forces they represent are real and potent. It is our duty to use them, to wield them, to demand the truth from them. As an article in today's newspapers pointed out, if you do not define yourself in all the dimensions of the world, the world will define you.

Yes, it will. And it will also force you to conform to its pattern, against the call of the higher things. By the time you realise that you have been twisted into its image, you will be playing its game as if it is the only one you can play. How, then, are the mighty fallen! Like Nebuchadnezzar, who lost his mind but retained his crown for a while, we must be careful about the gilded symbols that we elevate in stature, in favour with our gods and our men, but of specious value in all our life hereafter.