I've recently been reading about the Jesuit missions to England in the 16th and early 17th centuries, specifically, as they relate to the Gunpowder Plot. I find it interesting how the majority of the authors I've picked up seem so sympathetic toward the Jesuits, and critical of the Elizabethan/Jacobean governments.
Is it that we, as a society, tend to automatically vilify the dominant regime? To root, as it were, for the underdog? The Jesuits lost in England - not only did they not succeed in converting the nation back to Catholicism, they failed to assassinate Elizabeth and to blow up James (though to be fair, most of them weren't out to blow up anything). Underdogs. But... not really. The Catholic Church isn't much of an underdog. And yet it occupies a strangely liminal position between supremacy and oppression.
That particular role, it seems, centers around the concept of the martyr.
Martyrs are attractive. The notion of self-sacrifice for a cause, the willingness to give up even one's life in the pursuit of a noble idealism, is lauded, praised, and sanctified by our national and religious cultures. "So-and-so died for his/her beliefs/country" is the highest of praise.
I wonder. If our biological ancestors had been into self-sacrifice, our species very likely wouldn't exist (with the notable exceptions of dying to save one's young or the rest of one's pack).
In The Lion's Court, Derek Wilson suggests that “Martyrs are seldom made by events. There has to be something deep within a man’s soul to prepare him for, or impel him towards, the ultimate sacrifice... To welcome death in a righteous cause was the surest way to avoid the everlasting torments prepared for the worldly. There is always an element of selfishness about the martyr’s preoccupation with his own eternal well-being” (377-378). I find his point about selfishness to be particularly interesting.
As did the Jesuits. And - as I learned at a session at Kalamazoo this year - the missionaries to the Muslim East in medieval times. The latter were much disposed to going to the Middle East with the specific intention of getting killed. Sure-fire one-way ticket to heaven. How do we know this? Because as long as the missionaries in question didn't preach close to a mosque (in the instances recounted in the paper), they'd be left more or less alone. They chose to do so anyway. They were disemboweled, decapitated, etc. No surprise to anyone. The Papacy elected to stop canonizing them - and to discourage the praise of said individuals - to keep more people from going out and dying. Same deal in England with the Jesuit missions; they actively encouraged people NOT to go unless they felt that the priests in question were capable of deception and espionage.
But that never seems to stop people. People want to become martyrs. And why?
I have to say that here is one of those points at which my atheism leads to my incredulity. Perhaps if I believed in another, spiritual life, a reward, a heaven, martyrdom would make more sense. As it is, I just don't get it. Martyrdom seems such a waste. Why give your life for something when you could devote the time and energy of that life TO it?
6 comments:
Another way of thinking about martyrdom, or self-sacrifice in general, and one influenced no doubt by my immersion in Greek stuff (tm), is that martyrdom is one form of immortality in the face of certain mortality.
Achilles famously is given the choice in the "Iliad" between a short life that will lead to kleos aphthiton (i.e. undying glory, his being talked about in a positive way for ever) and a life in which he would grow old in obscurity. Achilles, being Achilles, goes for the glory. And was held up in Greek culture as a model.
Now, no doubt there are good reasons why societies might want to make their young men believe that self-sacrifice for some higher ideal would be good ("go kill the Spartans, we'll talk about you as the new Achilles") but it seems to me (and admittedly to many others) that there is good motivation for him to do so.
Normative Greek religion held that there was an afterlife. your soul existed, but it didn't really do much. You just sort of floated around all the time doing nothing. Neither heaven nor hell, simply mindless existence. But the Greeks' response to this idea was varied:
1.) Life's short so enjoy every last second of it.
2.) Life's short, 20 years isn't that different from 80 and when you're dead, you're dead. So if you want some sort of immortality, some sort of afterlife, you better do something worth people talking about.
Some poets wrote about #1. But writing poetry itself is often seen as a part of #2. But if you're not a poet, self-sacrifice is a way to get your name out there, to make sure people talk about you.
I grant you that societies certainly have a reason for encouraging martyrdom in time of war. There is even a point to it in war.
I also see the point about immortalizing oneself through literature... but you don't necessarily have to be a martyr for that to happen. Achilles was under the ageis of a prophecy. And he wasn't real.
Soldiers have a reason to promote martyrdom, which usually isn't actually martyrdom, but death-in-combat, which is different primarily because one usually isn't trying to get offed. One is trying to off everybody else and dies in the process. Society might make use of the martyrology trope to get them out there, but they aren't really "martyrs" in the traditional sense. Traditional martyrs usually don't fight against their demises.
I guess that's what I don't get. I get fighting and being willing to die in the process. I don't get offering oneself up for the chopping block without taking a few (or trying to take a few) out with you.
well, and I guess my point is that one reason for it can be a belief/realization that life is fleeting and that famous/infamous acts have a near-immortal potential. if you don't believe in an afterlife, then progeny, production, or fame are your only real choices I guess. We definitely know the names of some wonderful Christian people who sacrificed themselves to burn down pagan temples (for example, the Temple of Artemis at Ephesos, one of the wonders of the ancient world). Certainly a Christian, can believe that God will reward him, but the people who wrote about the guy who burned the temple didn't talk about his desire for sainthood, but rather his desire for fame.
((I insist on not using his name by the way, just to spite the bastard.))
There is a fine, fine line between martyrdom and fame. Said burner-of-temples probably crossed the line between piety and hubris. Then again, I tend to think of idiotic martyrs as anyone who wants to die to get into heaven. Not "wants-to-be-known-through-the-ages," but specifically, "is-buying-salvation-by-happily-dying." If that makes sense.
I think that the trick here might be that they don't really see themselves as dying to get into heaven- they think they are already going, this just speeds up the process. Psychologically, I think Rob has it pretty close with references to mythology, and I'm personally thinking Jung's archetype of the "Hero." The martyr taps into a desire to be known/remembered/convert through their example. They already see themselves as holy beings, so it isn't really about getting to their heaven. Its about getting extras- the 72 virgins, sainthood, glory, lament and song, etc. Twist will be different depending on the individual, but the overarching desire is a very human one- to be extraordinary.
I still say it's a fundamentally selfish desire: "If I do this, I get this." Not that human beings aren't selfish about all sorts of things - we are. But this is selfishness masquerading as selflessness, and I think that's what irks me the most. If you want to be immortal/famous/extraordinary, great. But don't pretend that you're doing it for somebody else.
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