Reflections on the Gulag Archipelago

Life is filled with suffering, and suffering is magnified and multiplied by the endless stream of malevolence. I am discovering this first hand as my mother lies in a hospital bed beside me, a victim of a violent assault. It's the act of evil committed upon the innocent that shatters us the most. No one is immune. The arbitrary nature of evil cannot be denied. It is self evident as there is no shortage of examples. Having acknowledged this fact, the question that each and everyone of us should ask ourselves is: how should one walk in the face of such evil?

While I sat beside my unconscious mother, I read Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's 'The Gulag Archipelago,' a mammoth Nobel prize-winning book written by a Russian dissident who suffered at the hands of a brutal Communist regime. Solzhenitsyn was a soldier who had served in the Second World War. While fighting against the German army, he witnessed first hand the atrocities committed by the Red Army against German and east European civilians. The looting and raping of civilians by his comrades were the first cracks in Solzhenitsyn's long held illusion about the rulers of his motherland. Very soon he would be sent to a series of labor camps. He was convicted for his criticism of Stalin in a private letter to a classmate; the sentence was eleven years. For eleven years he would suffer like the lowest form of animal, working away like a beast without limits, and scratching away at every crumb he received whilst barely able to keep himself warm in the coldest hell on earth.

Solzhenitsyn had every reason to hate his captors. He had every reason to feel victimized and plot revenge. After all, he was an innocent man wrongly convicted for speaking the truth. But he did something that would go beyond victimism and scapegoating. He looked within himself. He searched his life and looked for how he might have contributed to the creation of such a regime that had imprisoned him.

It took him time spent inside a series of labor camps to realize that the degradation of the society and state goes hand in hand with the degradation of the individual. When the Russian revolution erupted, many innocent lives were lost at the hands of furious mobs acting at the behest of the 'oppressed' people. This coincided with the massive loss of lives on the battlefields of the first World War. Before the revolution, and before the hypnotic frenzy of the crowd, Russia had been a flawed but thoroughly devout and traditional country. She was soon to be fed from Europe an overwhelming amount of socialist and utopian ideas. The import of radical socialist ideology came after a combination of liberalism and nihilism supplanted the traditional axiom of Orthodoxy that had held the country together. Fyodor Dostoevsky would write about this era of nihilistic movements in its embryonic form in his novel 'Demons.'

Dostoevsky argued that for a morally upright society, or a society striving for moral uprightness, to sustain itself must have a foundation that is not only firm but also transcendent; and by transcendent, meaning that even Kings and Queens must subject themselves to it. For Dostoevsky, that foundation had to be God. Once that foundation is removed, the ground becomes ripe for artificial religion, i.e. hateful ideologies, to grow and spread like wildfire. Man is an innately religious animal, and he must have an axiom by which to live and exist, either devouringly or fruitfully.

That is why Solzhenitsyn echoed Dostoevsky when he said the following:
"...But if I were asked today to formulate as concisely as possible the main cause of the ruinous revolution that swallowed up some 60 million of our people, I could not put it more accurately than to repeat: "Men have forgotten God; that's why all this has happened."

What does it mean to not forget God? What does it mean to follow God? That is an interesting question, and it is closely tied to the first question about walking in the face of evil. The recognition of evil, the discovery that malevolence is when one subjects another to his/her version of an inferior man-made existence, is closely tied to what Jesus unraveled on the cross. And this unraveling of evil on the cross gives birth to conduct that treats the other, not as a piano key or spoke of a wheel, but as a worthy individual capable of having autonomy--a unique individual created in God's own image. Ideology does not provide this way of conduct, it gives us the reverse. Ideology dismisses the individual's true stature as an expression of divinity, and attempts to squeeze the individual into its utopian vision, with or without consent. This collective, coercive way of the world leads to tyranny. It leads to the Soviet Union and its Gulag system.

Solzhenitsyn wrote the following about ideology,
"Macbeth's self-justifications were feeble – and his conscience devoured him. Yes, even Iago was a little lamb, too. The imagination and spiritual strength of Shakespeare's evildoers stopped short at a dozen corpses. Ideology—that is what gives evildoing its long-sought justification and gives the evildoer the necessary steadfastness and determination. That is the social theory which helps to make his acts seem good instead of bad in his own and others' eyes, so that he won't hear reproaches and curses but will receive praise and honors. That was how the agents of the Inquisition fortified their wills: by invoking Christianity; the conquerors of foreign lands, by extolling the grandeur of their Motherland; the colonizers, by civilization; the Nazis, by race; and the Jacobins (early and late), by equality, brotherhood, and the happiness of future generations.... Without evildoers there would have been no Archipelago."

To impose one's worldview on another is to forget God. For ages, men have tried to bring about good by evil, violent means. Thieves try to provide by theft. Murderers try to fulfill life by killing. Politicians try to solve by scapegoating. Generals try to bring peace through war. Jesus called this 'satan trying to cast out satan.' While it may have worked before during pagan times, it works no longer because of the crucifixion at Calvary. The memory that men had once lynched the innocent Son of God haunts us to ends of the earth. The face of Christ is etched on the countless men, women, and children we sacrifice in war, clinics, and prisons for the sustaining of fragile society.

But the question still remains: how must we conduct ourselves? It begins with the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus sets a precedent for us: resist not evil with evil. The act of turning the other cheek is a recognition of the autonomy of the other person. Not only that, it is also the recognition that the attacker is bitterly fighting a war within himself. The decision to not reciprocate violence with more violence urges the attacker to introspect and encourages him/her to find the Christ within.

Solzhenitsyn wrote,
"Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either -- but right through every human heart -- and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained. And even in the best of all hearts, there remains ... an unuprooted small corner of evil."

Solzhenitsyn also urged us to live not by lies. The greatest lie is the idea that we can bring about good from evil, that peace can come from violence. The Soviet Union believed this lie, and its leaders thought constantly and morbidly that they were only one execution away from utopia--one labor camp away from a worker's paradise. Likewise, the motto of the concentration camps in Nazi Germany was: 'Work will set you free.' The perversion of reality, that is the lie preached by authoritarian cults all around the world.

Solzhenitsyn summed this up perfectly:
"Violence can only be concealed by a lie, and the lie can only be maintained by violence... Any man, who has once proclaimed violence as his Method, is inevitably forced to take the lie as his principle."

After years of inhumane suffering in the camps, Solzhenitsyn was diagnosed with cancer. He fought and won this battle too. Years and years of living in the very depths of hell had transformed him. Earlier, he had already compared himself to the camp guards who ran the Gulags, and concluded that he was once, when serving in the Red Army, no different than them. But he could no longer keep living in a lie. He had to speak the truth. He began by jotting down his own account of time spent in the Gulags, and at the same time, he began collecting testimonies from hundreds of eye witnesses. He had already demonstrated a remarkable ability to memorize when he composed a poem comprising of thousands of verses whilst living in the Gulags.

In 1962, a novel called 'One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich' was published in the Novy Mir magazine. It detailed a single day of a Gulag inmate. The horrors of camp life became vivid in the eyes of readers across Russia. The book became enormously popular. It also earned Solzhenitsyn the wrathful eye of the totalitarian state watchdogs. Many attempts were made by the KGB to confiscate the manuscripts of his unpublished works, but by now the Gulag Archipelago had already been completed, translated, and distributed in the west. The party could no longer tolerate Solzhenitsyn; he became a non-person and was finally exiled from the country of his birth.

In 1970, he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. He lived in the United States, and returned to Russia in 1994 after the communist government had fallen.

Solzhenitsyn used the greatest weapon of all: Truth. The truth need not be accompanied by violence. It is powerful of its own accord. It has the strength to bring down empires. Solzhenitsyn wrote nothing but the truth about what his country was going through and what he was going through. He spoke truth about others, but most of all, he spoke truth to himself. In today's world of superficiality it is often the trend to lie to oneself. In the lies we tell ourselves, we claim that since we have only one life we should live for the moment. We drown in our own materialism and hedonism. We trap ourselves in the prison that calls itself pleasure island. We waste away without meaning, without purpose, and the best we can come up with is the wagging of fingers and waving of placards. Solzhenitsyn said otherwise. His message transcends the superficiality of our times. Against materialism, he argued for a Stoic approach to life and finding contentment. Against finger pointing and blaming others, he encouraged a life of continued death and rebirth, for before taking on the world one must first sort himself out.

The tyranny of compulsion still exists today. Society still goes by the principle of might makes right. The lie of sacrificial violence is well and alive, but it is loosing its stranglehold on humanity thanks to the revelation of the cross. As Christians, we would do well to further the demon of state tyranny on its way to hell. We would do well to demotivate the culture of violence in society by being shining lights of peace ourselves. We can start following Solzhenitsyn's example. We can stop telling lies and start telling the truth whilst carrying the burden of existence.

"You can resolve to live your life with integrity. Let your credo be this: Let the lie come into the world, let it even triumph. But not through me."

As I wait in the hospital for my mother to regain consciousness, I decide to start small. There is no point in revenge; nothing becomes better by doing that. I have to be a better son than I was before, and I have to find meaning through responsibility. Start small, like taking care of your loved ones, and healing those nearby who are in great pain. Truth and beauty goes hand in hand. Together, they provide meaning by which we can weather the storm, and in all of this, there is an abundance of freedom as only God can provide. 

Identity Politics or Pesonal Action

Image copyright: Prager University

Question: Should we consider the king's judgment in Matthew 25 an example of "identity politics"? The Human One [Christ] seems to identify whom we should serve solely by victimary identity: the hungry, thirsty, sick, naked, imprisoned, and stranger, i.e., the typical losers in human politics.


My Response:

This is what I call reading scripture through a conflict theory lens. There is a difference between serving the marginalized of the society and forcing others at gunpoint through the state to 'serve' a state/culture-designated marginalized class. Also notice here that Jesus speaks about actual victims with inflictions that go beyond race, gender, religion, nationality, etc--inflictions that are universal to all corners of the world regardless of 'identities.'

Also notice the emphasis on personal action in the actual text in Matthew 25.

"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."

Nowhere does Jesus speak about enforcing these actions through the power of the Roman empire or through Herod. He speaks about 'giving something to eat/drink,' 'inviting in,' 'clothing,' and (even more strikingly) 'visiting the prisoner in his/her cell.' All personal actions, i.e. taking full responsibility and being in close proximity to the one you're supposed to help. One could object that here Jesus addresses the 'nations,' but that still does not make it okay to 'help' the marginalized through the use of state coercion. An identity-political reading, as implied by the question above, would indicate that Jesus would punish any person if he were to not support the right policies designed by sacrificial institutions.

On the other hand, a girardian reading of the text would indicate that the otherized scapegoats of society are not to be expelled but instead included into the family of God and treated with dignity. This is also why Jesus' parable of the Samaritan neighbor is masterfully designed to eradicate the identity of the other that existed in Judean culture at that time. Christ presented the Samaritan as a human being closer to God, not because the Samaritan has a racial/ethnic identity that belongs (or deserves to belong) higher up in the ladder, but because the Samaritan has transcended the racial boundary. The Samaritan chooses to 'be his brother's keeper,' not through recognition of identity but through recognition of the universal human identity--a fellow-image bearer of God.

Jesus explicitly stated that his kingdom is not of the world, and that his band of followers are a government unto themselves, who brings peace as God gives it and not as the world gives it. Christ's intention was and is always to impact the world from the bottom up and not top down. This is not about individual pursuit, as some would mistake, but rather, it is the proper way to change the world. The kingdom of God is a contagion of love that builds up from the micro aspect of society through imitation of Christ. Wouldn't one agree that conversion first starts with the individual, with the realization that each and every one of us is at least a potential persecutor? If one claims collective guilt of any kind and of any group, one risks falling into the trap of man-made sacrificial Christianity.

It is obviously desirable to band together and help fellow human beings. What's certainty undesirable, as I've already pointed out, is to band together and force others at gunpoint to 'do good.' Christ does not do that, and neither should we.

Jordan Peterson and the Devouring Mother

In one of my recent facebook posts, I pointed out that we as a society are failing our youths and we are failing drastically. When I had posted this sad observation, I expected a serious discussion on how we can help our young neighbors, but instead I got drawn into a petty argument about laws. This modern day insistense that we must have an excess of institutional supervision creates nothing but a rule of the devouring mother, and sadly it has given birth to a lot of angry and directionless boys.

The root of the problem lies deep, like ancient bones underneath enormous layers of earth. That is what many of our laws are; they are sacrificial, drawn out of the scapegoats of our ancestors. When we cling on to laws with demands that a few be sacrificed instead of the whole nation, we get kids like the Columbine and Parkland shooters.

The detached culture which we live in transforms a large portion of the youth within a society into bitter, resentful, and alienated human beings. Is it any wonder that we see murders committed in schools or playgrounds? And we look for quick fixes from institutions, where none exists at all. Even worse! We are willing to turn away from the dark alleys, where state laws have sacrificed a good portion of the population so that those who are not sacrificed can live in safety.

But enough about worldly laws, and onto the main concern. A friend of mine asked me how we can guide our young neighbors out of the cages of misery. I suggested to him that every individual in society must voluntarily help those young people who are close to them. There are many out there who are neglected in a variety of unbelievable ways. Here I will give a vivid illustration on how we can help the youngsters around us. The following is from a book that I'm currently reading.

I saw a four-year old boy allowed to go hungry on a regular basis. His nanny had been injured, and he was being cycled through the neighbours for temporary care. When his mother dropped him off at our house, she indicated that he wouldn’t eat at all, all day. “That’s OK,” she said. It wasn’t OK (in case that’s not obvious). This was the same four-year-old boy who clung to my wife for hours in absolute desperation and total commitment, when she tenaciously, persistently and mercifully managed to feed him an entire lunch-time meal, rewarding him throughout for his cooperation, and refusing to let him fail. He started out with a closed mouth, sitting with all of us at the dining room table, my wife and I, our two kids, and two neighbourhood kids we looked after during the day. She put the spoon in front of him, waiting patiently, persistently, while he moved his head back and forth, refusing it entry, using defensive methods typical of a recalcitrant and none-too-well-attended two-year old.

She didn’t let him fail. She patted him on the head every time he managed a mouthful, telling him sincerely that he was a “good boy” when he did so. She did think he was a good boy. He was a cute, damaged kid. Ten not-too-painful minutes later he finished his meal. We were all watching intently. It was a drama of life and death.

“Look,” she said, holding up his bowl. “You finished all of it.” This boy, who was standing in the corner, voluntarily and unhappily, when I first saw him; who wouldn’t interact with the other kids, who frowned chronically, who wouldn’t respond to me when I tickled and prodded him, trying to get him to play—this boy broke immediately into a wide, radiant smile. It brought joy to everyone at the table. Twenty years later, writing it down today, it still brings me to tears. Afterward, he followed my wife around like a puppy for the rest of the day, refusing to let her out of his sight. When she sat down, he jumped in her lap, cuddling in, opening himself back up to the world, searching desperately for the love he had been continually denied. Later in the day, but far too soon, his mother reappeared. She came down the stairs into the room we all occupied. “Oh, SuperMom,” she uttered, resentfully, seeing her son curled up in my wife’s lap. Then she departed, black, murderous heart unchanged, doomed child in hand. She was a psychologist. The things you can see, with even a single open eye. It’s no wonder that people want to stay blind.
--Jordan Peterson, '12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos'

It is this closeness that transforms and saves lives. It involves the 'soiling of one's own hands,' as my friend Andrea Romano says. Dostoevsky depicts this beautifully in 'Crime and Punishment' through the character of Sonya who helps and redeems a murderer with nothing but love, humility, and genuine concern.

I do not speak of a coming utopia. A utopia is not the same as the kingdom of God, for the ushering in of a utopia needs violent revolution and sacrifices of scapegoats. To say that we need more scapegoats until we are ready for Christ is to say that we're one execution away from utopia. Those who says that we are one scapegoat away from the kingdom of God are the real dreamers of utopia.

I speak of action and full participation. I speak of taking up responsibility. This way is harder. This way is the imitation of Christ. I'm speaking of the carrying of crosses and bearing the burden of suffering; this is hardly utopian. This Christ-like love which was illustrated in Dr. Peterson's book, not the love (at gunpoint) of the world, is what we need, and we need it urgently, before the cycle of vengeance comes full circle yet again. We can either behave like the black-hearted mother in Dr. Peterson's story, or we can become like Dostoevsky's Sonya. The choice is yours.

The violent birth of Dionysus

Many sceptics dismiss the Gospel accounts as mere fiction due to their similarities to prior mythology. There is a popular belief in circulation today that Christ himself was an imagined archtypal hero in the same vein as Zeus or Archilles. According to the adherents of this belief, the Christian God is Zeus retold, minus the virtue of strength and will to power. This was certainly similar to the view held by Nietzsche. According to René Girard, this line of reasoning shamelessly misses the point and, therefore, fails to see the real uniqueness of the gospel stories, a uniqueness wherein lies the salvation of mankind.

Take for instance the similarities of the divine birth narratives. In the ancient mythological stories, there are many instances of the gods copulating with mortal women in order to give birth to hybrid divine heroes. The birth of Dionysus comes to mind. Zeus, the chiefest of all gods, becomes the father of Dionysus through a mortal woman by the name of Semele. Similarly, the gospels also speak of a divine being, the Holy Spirit, conceiving Jesus inside the mortal Mary. Here the sceptic will go, "Aha! Do you see the origin of your 'divinely inspired' nativity story now?" In saying this, the sceptic misses the point. There is a world of a difference between the two in one key aspect: the issue of force, namely violence. Girard explains this in his book, 'Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World':

"Stories of this kind always involve more than a hint of violence. Zeus bears down on Semele, the mother of Dionysus, like a beast of prey upon its victim, and in effect strikes her with lightning. The birth of the gods is always a kind of rape...These monstrous couplings between men, gods and beasts are in close correspondence with the phenomenon of reciprocal violence and its method of working itself out. The orgasm that appeases the god is a metaphor for collective violence."

Compare this story to the nativity accounts, where Mary's status, unlike Semele's, is elevated by God to that of nobility. In the gospel of Luke, the angel Gabriel greets Mary by saying, "Hail, O favored one, the Lord is with you!" God makes known to Mary that she will bring forth his son, to which Mary replies, "Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word." There is a complete absence of violence and coercion in the virgin birth story. There is no element of force whatsoever. This is no coincidence, neither is it a proclamation of harmlessness as Nietzsche would have it.

For centuries, humanity has drawn a particular image of God that uses coercion combined with sheer might in order to impose divine will on creation. This human depiction of God is okay with, and even demands, ritual sacrifice. Our modern day society, despite the lack of extravagant mythologies, still operates under this same principle. We often think that for justice to prevail there has to be scapegoating, and for good to come about there has to be coercion. Our societies operate under this false precedent that good comes out from using evil against evil. This kind of idea, when put into practice, gives rise to war, rape, abortion, homicide, domestic abuse, and countless other malevolent acts. We can observe this phenomenon acting out vividly when the state, the religious priesthood of our time, sanctions theft against its own citizens and throws non-violent dissenters into cages like wild animals.

In the myth of Dionysus, Semele, under the might of coercion, becomes nothing more than a means to an end. She is glorified in her utter humiliation. This is what pagan sacrificial culture leads to, and what our modern day pseudo-pagan culture continues to enforce. Through the rape of a fragile mortal woman, heroes and deities are born, and order is brought forth. On the other hand, the God of the Bible brings order through non-violence. The mortal and vulnerable is proclaimed to be the image bearer of God. Mary is honored and praised by the angel Gabriel, and later her dignity is defended by God. From the elevation of Mary comes the true hero Jesus.

Jesus is the perfection, redefinition, and embodiment of true heroism. The hero of the Bible does not act out the carnal, coercive nature of fallen man, but, rather, exhibits bravery and determination in perfect combination with gentleness and compassion. There is no weakness in him because the powers and principalities of the world holds no power over him. In him resides the perfect balance of the cosmos. He is able to triumph over evil, not with the parasitical force of Satan, but through the reversal of the Satanic contagion itself.

The gospel revelation encourages us to be imitators of this mighty yet gentle Christ. Through the imitation of Jesus, we are unable to extort goodness from our neighbor. We cannot rape anymore Semeles. We cannot scapegoat those vulnerable than ourselves. We cannot demonize or lynch our enemies. The catharsis from all these ungodly acts are wearing thin. We are instead called to universal chivalry for our fellow human beings. We are left with no choice but to infect the world with the love of Christ through the love of our neighbor.

Ramayana and the birth of 'high morality'

The study of ancient literature, particularly the great mythologies, helps us understand the origin of culture and society. Within each heroic and magical tale, and beneath each culture that springs from that tale is the story of a lynch mob and a sacrificed victim.

Take for example, the great poem of Ramayana. This epic poem tells us the story of a banished prince who lives in exhile as a hunter along with his wife. The name of this prince is Ram and his wife Sita. One day, a wicked king named Ravana deceives and kidnaps Sita; he takes her and imprisons her within his fortified kingdom of Lanka. Ram, the archetypal hero, must now undertake a hazardous journey out of his home and into the wild in order to save his wife. He raises an army and invades Lanka. After a fierce battle, he slays Ravana and thus saves his wife.

A Jungian analysis of this story reveals the archetypal hero's journey. Much like St. George, Ram ventures out into the unknown, confronts the dragon, and saves the virgin. But a Girardian examination reveals a deeper truth--a truth that is more real and grittier than that of an extravagant fable with moral truths.

The text of Ramayana alludes to past struggles that may have occurred in circa. 1500 BC between armies from Persia/Central Asia and Dravidian natives. In those days, it was not uncommon for scribes to romanticize the feats of their beloved patron kings. In the light of this knowledge, the Ramayana can be interpreted as a war between two kings, or maybe it is the sacrifice of a defeated king. In traditional artistic depictions, Ravana is usually painted or carved out as a powerful man with dark skin and features similar to that of Dravidians. Also, his kingdom of Lanka is thought to be situated somewhere around or within modern-day Sri Lanka.

Once Ram has defeated Ravana, he establishes a period of 'Ram Rajya'--a culture/state of high morality. This is reminiscent of Cain's feat after he murders his brother. Like Ram, Cain founds the first civilized society. And civilization, culture, society, and even language are all the result of violence, specifically the sacrifice of a single victim, who is later deified because of the catharsis that comes from his demise.

I have personally found Jung's study of the unconscious mind fascinating, but I think Girard was right when he said Jung didn't go deep enough. Had Jung gone deep enough in his study of mythological symbols, not only would he have been able to uncover the lynches, but he would have also recognized the reverse mythology of the gospels that internalizes the sacrificing within the realm of the person.

When Christ saves the adulterous woman from getting stoned to death, he challenges each person to look within themselves, and in the process, he breaks the hypnotic frenzy of the crowd. The individual recognition that each of us has within us an inner persecutor, who is ready to burst out at any moment, is probably the most potent weapon against collectivism. It is this weapon that causes us to transform and start imitating Christ.

Today, we need not adhere to groupthink, and we need not sacrifice a scapegoat to keep our societies functioning. The ancient stories of good vs evil, retold countless times today, were subtle cover-ups for violent scapegoating. The only real battle is within our hearts; any external battle is false and based on a lie. Once we realize that we are each potential persecutors, we create within us the heart of Christ. We develop a heart that naturally comes to love our neighbor, whether they be victims or oppressors. This was Paul's Damascus experience, and it should be ours as well.

The Hostile Brothers

The fascinating stories of sibling relationships found within the book of Genesis tells us a lot about the journey of the human species. It tells us about man's relationship with his brother, and how that relationship developed from envy and hostility to forgiveness and reconciliation.

In the story of Cain and Abel, we see the rise of sibling rivalry and the eventual first murder. Out of the two brothers, Abel is the one who pleases God the most. This does not make Cain happy; in fact, he grows bitter and envious towards his brother. Cain's anger and frustration in trying to live up to this model/obstacle version of brotherhood ends with the murder of Abel. This speaks volumes about the artificial brotherhood of the world, one based entirely on stepping over the other and acquiring a desirable object.

This is an interesting start because the story of Cain and Abel bears a striking resemblance to the ancient mythologies of the hostile brothers. The tale of Romulus and Remus is one example of a story similar to that of Cain and Abel. But a distinction is placed between the two--one that separates the romantic lie from reality. Abel is innocent, and Cain, though guilty, is protected by God. The deconstruction of mythology has just begun.

The competitive/rivalry-based relationship of Cain and Abel continues to define the modern 'secular' world which we inhabit. The ultimate aim of this kind of relationship is to please false gods, whether that be the ego, a third person, a certain status, or a collective entity. There is no option for failure, i.e. the conceding of the desirable object. As a result, according to Dostoevsky, the rich die from dissatisfaction, and the poor kill each other. Is there any surprise why this kind of relationship is most likely to end in hostility and violence?

We see the same theme of rivalry continuing in the story of Jacob and Esau. This story, however, does not end in violence, but, rather, it ends in realization of error. Jacob deceives Esau and steals his brother's birthright and blessing. He flees when Esau is enraged, and for a short while, it appears as if he would get away with it. But it is not long before Jacob himself is tricked into extra labor and duped into marrying someone whom he does not love. Jacob learns of the wrongness of deception. He is finally able to look from his brother's perspective, and is ultimately moved towards a mutual understading with Esau.

Finally, in Joseph's story, we see the foreshadowing of Christ. Joseph is envied by his brothers because of his predicted dominant status; he would rule not only his entire family but also the entire region. He is beaten, thrown into a pit, and sold into slavery. And just when he climbs out of one pit, he is thrown into another. He is accused of rape by his master's wife and thrown into prison. Despite all these betrayals and deception, Joseph does not rebel. He maintains his integrity, and at the same time makes no effort to 'compete' against his persecutors. His is the model of a relationship grounded in non-violence--a relationship not of coercion but of persuasion through the imitation of the divine.

Joseph's innocence is eventually restored, thanks to his ability to interpret dreams. Not only is he restored, but he is also elevated to a position of authority. It is during his reign as a man of power when he comes face to face with his brothers who had sold him into slavery. The former persecutors approach Joseph; they are in need and, though they are unable to recognize him, they must depend entirely on his mercy. The power positions are now reversed.

If this were some story written with an ideological pen, Joseph would have been perfectly in the right to give his brothers a taste of their own medicine. After all, according to Nietzsche, might is meant to be exercised, and weakness must be discouraged. The übermensch does not conform to the slave-morality of the Judeo-Christian God. The übermensch belongs to aristocracy and not to slaves. But, as if God knew beforehand about Nietzsche, it is the Christ-man who is of the aristocratic minority, and the persecutors are slaves to the power of the crowd.

When Joseph sees his brothers, he immediately recognizes them and puts them to a test--a unique test designed in such a way that they may realize the wrongness of what they had done to their brother years ago (see Genesis 42-44). The brothers are dismayed by their failure to get away scot-free. Finally they realize the full depth of the violence that had been committed towards Joseph. It is right then when a teary-eyed Joseph reveals himself to his brothers. The brothers are finally reconciled. Jacob, Joseph's father, learns of this episode and travels with his entire family to Egypt so that he can live with his son once again.

Joseph, twice a victim of persecution, and now a ruler, does not exact vengeance upon his brothers. He makes it known to them that he has the power to kill them, but he does not take revenge. He sheaths his sword and chooses mercy, similar to what Christ does in Gethsemane and Golgotha. What prompts Joseph to choose mercy? We have to recognize that Joseph was a precursor to the coming Messiah. Joseph understood that even the harshest of men were made in the image of God. This simple understanding is pivotal in man's relationship with his fellow man, and only in the Bible is this made known.

It is fitting that this particular story is the redemptive ending to the book of Genesis. Joseph concedes the rivalry, recognizes the image of God in his persecutors, and embraces them as his own. This is the familial image of Christ dying on the cross whilst praying, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.' This is God, not punishing, but embracing his persecutors. Joseph becomes a Christ figure to his brothers. He imitates the coming Messiah and saves his brothers from mimetic rivalry whilst giving them hope of a better home. He becomes the precursor to the true human being in Christ Jesus, and therefore, he points out the true human relationship grounded in Christ mimesis.