Mankind is often found guilty of overstepping his boundaries. He justifies arrogance, pride, and recklessness by associating these tragic character flaws with the heroism of adventurousness, authority, and courage. But not all men are bound by the same definition of immorality, or pride, or imprudence. Not all men are homogeneously identified with the same methods of wrongdoing. However, the story of Antigone illustrates the single most universal folly of all men and women, and that is mankind’s strong tendency towards the extremes.
We have Antigone, and we have Creon.
Antigone embodies the image of a strong-willed female unbound by the constraints of ancient Greece’s social mores—an individual so driven by a personal code of morality and integrity that she is able to consciously defy the word of ancient Greece’s highest royal order. Yet she is so strong in her convictions that she seems to give off an arrogant, “holier than thou” attitude. She not only criticizes but also rejects Ismene’s unwillingness to accompany her in her mission to bury Polyneices, even though Ismene agrees to keep her secret. This criticism illustrates a certain haughtiness about Antigone—one that denotes that if the level of your passionate morality and courageous defiance is not equal to that of Antigone, you are not truly moral, nor courageous, nor passionate, nor defiant. And that is where Antigone oversteps her boundaries as a mere mortal—she is in no position to be passing judgment upon the decisions of others, especially not those who are attempting to maintain a certain level of balance in their respect for both personal and social morals. One may even argue that Antigone’s foolish boldness and pretentiousness—her tragic character flaws—ultimately determined her grim fate.
Creon, on the other hand, embodies a rather polar image. Rather than signifying a man whose character and morality are based upon personal ethics, Creon chooses to uphold values that are more important in his eyes: authoritative power and the reputation of his country. His decision to deny Polyneices proper burial rights is immoral by not only religious values but also by intuitive ethics. Creon’s rejection of these values indicates that he is fearless as to the repercussions of his actions—he does not fear the wrath of the gods and goes so far as to accuse the oracle of being corrupt and rejecting his word as well. Creon is thus unable to find a definitive middle ground between the maintenance of a respectable/powerful rule and the maintenance of personal morality for its own sake. Of course, this conceitedness comes full circle, taking the lives of both his wife and his son.
A major theme of most ancient Greek literature is the concept of a Golden Mean, which is defined as the desirable middle of two extremes, one of excess and one of deficiency. Neither Antigone nor Creon is able to locate this Golden Mean, and I am forced to wonder whether or not that inability to find the Golden Mean was the single-most crucial factor that led to their respective downfalls.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Frivolous Life of Ivan Ilych
A frivolous life is one that lacks fulfillment; it is a life without profound human emotion, or insatiable curiosity, or risk. A meaningless life is one that is mediocre—average, dull, and routine. Such is a life of complacency and regret; such is the life of Ivan Ilych
The Death of Ivan Ilych addresses the oncoming death and genuine lack of life of the husband, the father, the statesman: Ivan Ilych. In his blinded human eyes, he believes he has it all: a steady job, a wife, a family, a game of bridge, and normalcy—bland, unexceptional normalcy. In all of his life, he felt nothing but mere contentedness. He dispensed no compassion or love, and in return he received none. So what is a life that is full of trivial pleasures and superficial happiness? What is a life that is filled with inordinate amounts of nothingness? It is selfish. It is empty. It is nothing.
With his three final days of life, Ivan Ilych began to drown in the realization that such was the life he had lead, and he suffered. He suffered for every ounce of intangible happiness and love that he chose to substitute with tangible goods and materialistic joys. He struggled and writhed with frustration as he searched for the purpose behind his life—a purpose that he was unable to find until his dying hours on earth. It was only in those hours that Ivan Ilych discovered the frivolousness of a life devoid of love, and it was in those final hours that Ivan’s pain and fear ceased to exist. In such, one must assume that with his realization of an overwhelming desire for compassion, pity, and love came the end of his pain. And honestly, I am forced to believe that had Ivan Ilych lived a life of profound purpose—of love and family and trust and consideration—he would have transitively been able to leave this world without kicking and screaming, without shouting and suffering, without pain and fear. Compassion was what he craved in his dying days; and yet he failed to dispense that compassion throughout his life. Forgiveness was what he needed with his last breathe; and yet he failed to dispense that forgiveness, that love, throughout his own life. Yet with this inner reconciliation and recognition that his life had not been one worth continuing to fight for—that his life had been wholly devoid of the divine gifts of love and human connection—he was able to leave this world peacefully. If only he had recognized this absence for his dying moments, Ivan Ilych may have been spared a terrible grief and torturous knowledge that he had lived a life of frivolous pleasures and superficiality.
The Death of Ivan Ilych addresses the oncoming death and genuine lack of life of the husband, the father, the statesman: Ivan Ilych. In his blinded human eyes, he believes he has it all: a steady job, a wife, a family, a game of bridge, and normalcy—bland, unexceptional normalcy. In all of his life, he felt nothing but mere contentedness. He dispensed no compassion or love, and in return he received none. So what is a life that is full of trivial pleasures and superficial happiness? What is a life that is filled with inordinate amounts of nothingness? It is selfish. It is empty. It is nothing.
With his three final days of life, Ivan Ilych began to drown in the realization that such was the life he had lead, and he suffered. He suffered for every ounce of intangible happiness and love that he chose to substitute with tangible goods and materialistic joys. He struggled and writhed with frustration as he searched for the purpose behind his life—a purpose that he was unable to find until his dying hours on earth. It was only in those hours that Ivan Ilych discovered the frivolousness of a life devoid of love, and it was in those final hours that Ivan’s pain and fear ceased to exist. In such, one must assume that with his realization of an overwhelming desire for compassion, pity, and love came the end of his pain. And honestly, I am forced to believe that had Ivan Ilych lived a life of profound purpose—of love and family and trust and consideration—he would have transitively been able to leave this world without kicking and screaming, without shouting and suffering, without pain and fear. Compassion was what he craved in his dying days; and yet he failed to dispense that compassion throughout his life. Forgiveness was what he needed with his last breathe; and yet he failed to dispense that forgiveness, that love, throughout his own life. Yet with this inner reconciliation and recognition that his life had not been one worth continuing to fight for—that his life had been wholly devoid of the divine gifts of love and human connection—he was able to leave this world peacefully. If only he had recognized this absence for his dying moments, Ivan Ilych may have been spared a terrible grief and torturous knowledge that he had lived a life of frivolous pleasures and superficiality.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)