Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Octavia Butler (1947-2006) and the Parables (part 1)

Octavia Butler (1947-2006)

The author Octavia Butler wrote two science fiction works that incorporated Jesus's parables into their titles and stories: Parable of the Sower (1993) and Parable of the Talents (1998). Butler also started a third book in the series (Parable of the Trickster) but abandoned that project. 

I am grateful to my friend and colleague Adriane Ivey for suggesting that I include these two works in my book. The first draft about them is almost 8000 words, so only 25% of that will make it into the final manuscript. That means that most of what I include here will not be incorporated into the book.


First, some background about Butler, most of which is found in Butler's own words (from pieces collected in Conseula Francis, Conversations with Octavia Butler). 

At the young age of twelve, Octavia Butler saw the science fiction film, Devil Girl from Mars, thought it to be a “silly movie,” and was convinced that she could write a better story (Francis 2010: 82). The film inspired her to embark on what would become a prolific writing career before her untimely death in 2006: her books and short stories won numerous awards, including two Hugo awards and two Nebula awards—science fiction’s most prestigious prizes—as well as a James Tiptree award. She also won a MacArthur “genius grant” in 1995.

Butler’s father, who shined shoes for a living, died when she was a baby, and Butler and her mother survived on what her mother earned as a maid. Painfully shy, Butler coped with her difficult childhood by daydreaming, reading, and writing. As she noted in a 1993 interview: “I’m black. I’m solitary. I’ve always been an outsider” (Francis 2010: 38). She read her way through the children’s section of the Pasadena Public Library and, since she could not be admitted to the adult section of the library before the age of fourteen, started reading science fiction magazines. It was love at first sight. She started sending stories to publishers at age 13, and, in 1969, Butler was admitted to the Screen Writers Guild Open Door program, where she studied with the science fiction writer, Harlan Ellison. He suggested that she enroll in the Clarion Science Fiction Writers’ Workshop. This six-week program was in effect a “science fiction boot camp” for aspiring writers. Butler actually sold two stories while attending the workshop, but she did not have another piece accepted for publication for the next five years. While she worked at various jobs to support herself, such as sweeping floors and washing dishes, she arose at two or three in the morning to write. Finally, her novel, Patternmaster, was published by Doubleday in 1976, the first of her ten novels and the first of five novels in her Patternmaster series (Francis 2010: 40).

Butler’s works include the challenges involved with issues of the use and abuse of power, the care and destruction of the earth’s resources and environment, and different ways of being human and humane, including gender, race, ethnicity, and class differences. In addition, in a 1995 autobiographical essay, Butler defended both the importance of science fiction writing in general and in particular its efficacy for representing the type of struggles associated with African American history. The specific question she addressed was, “What Good is Science Fiction to Black People?” Some of the points she makes could also apply to parables:


What good is any form of literature to Black people? What good is science fiction’s thinking about the present, the future, and the past? What good is its tendency to warn or to consider alternative ways of thinking of doing? What good is its examination of the possible effects of science and technology, or social organization and political direction? At its best, science fiction stimulates imagination and creativity. It gets reader and writer off the beaten track, off the narrow, narrow footpath of what “everyone” is saying, doing, thinking—whoever “everyone” happens to be this year. And what good is all this to Black people? (Francis 2010: 99).


Monday, June 22, 2015

James Weldon Johnson and The Prodigal Son

I have been away for a family obligation for a few days but now have returned home and will start working in earnest on a chapter for a book on characterization in the Gospel of Luke and the Book of Acts. The volume, Characters and Characterization in Luke-Acts, is edited by Frank Dicken and Julia Snyder and will be published by in their Library of New Testament Studies series.

My chapter is entitled: "The Characterization of the Two Brothers in the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32): Their Function and Afterlives." It builds on the foundation of work on characterization in Luke-Acts that I did in the late 1980s, especially the conclusions reached in my 1991 book, Host, Guest, Enemy, and Friend: Portraits of the Pharisees in Luke and Acts. The chapter will start there but go on to examine some receptions of the two sons that depend/build upon their characterization in Luke.

The afterlives of the two sons are especially interesting. A poem by James Weldon Johnson, for example, illustrates how people tend to identify or be identified as one of those two sons.  

James Weldon Johnson, The Prodigal Son:

Young man—

Young man—

Your arm's too short to box with God.

But Jesus spake in a parable, and he said:
A certain man had two sons.
Jesus didn't give this man a name,
But his name is God Almighty.
And Jesus didn't call these sons by name,
But ev'ry young man,
Ev'rywhere,
Is one of these two sons.

Go read the rest of the poem. A friend and colleague, Kipton Jensen, sent me a copy of it recently.




Monday, June 15, 2015

Chaucer and the Parables (part 4)

The Parson

The Parsons Tale is the longest and last of the tales, and it differs significantly from the other tales included in the work. It can be described as a sermon on penitence—drawn from two thirteenth-century Dominican sources—and it is the most biblically rich of all the stories. Some scholars postulate that it is a later addition from another hand, but others speculate that Chaucer wrote The Parsons Tale in his old age, when he realized he would not be able to finish the entire work as he had planned (Chaucer 2008: 463).

The Parsons Tale begins by noting the essential nature of penitence and sets out the case for learning what penitence is, how it functions, the kinds of penitence, and how to perform it. The tale then discusses items inherent to penitence, such as the six reasons that lead people to repent (e.g., “fear of the day of doom and of the horrible pains of Hell”), the nature of the sacrament of Confession, and a lengthy discussion of the seven deadly sins. They are the “mortal” or “principal” sins because they are the “trunk” from which all other sins “branch out.” The root of the seven sins is pride, and each of the seven “principal sins has its branches and its twigs” that the rest of the tale seeks to delineate.
           
In this sermon on penitence, Chaucer utilizes the parable of the Prodigal Son to discuss the sin of acedia (sloth) in a way similar to how John Gower uses the Rich Man and Lazarus parable to illustrate gluttony. Sloth begets despair, because a person becomes “too sad and hindered to be able to do anything good.” People who enter this stage believe that they have committed so many sins that repentance is futile and therefore they continue to multiply their sins. This slothful despair and descent into deeper sin is what Augustine calls “sinning in the Holy Ghost” and is the “sin most displeasing to Christ, and the most hateful.” The parables of Luke 15, however, demonstrate that such despair should never occur, because God is willing and able to forgive:

Truly he that grows so desperate is like the cowardly and recreant combatant that yields before he is beaten, and when there is no need. Alas, alas! Needlessly is he recreant and needlessly in despair. Certainly the mercy of God is always available to every penitent, and this is the greatest of all God's works. Alas! Cannot a man bethink him of the gospel of Saint Luke, 15, wherein Christ says: "Joy shall be in Heaven over one sinner that repenteth more than over ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance." Behold further, in the same gospel, the joy of and the feast given by the good man who had lost his son, when his son, repentant, returned to his father.


This use of the parable of the Prodigal Son as a prime example of penitence is common for many interpreters in the Middle Ages: Sins committed by humans may be destroyed through proper penitence, fasting, and giving alms, because of the death and resurrection of Jesus. No one should despair, because the love and mercy of God are freely available and abundant, and Chaucer concludes his work with a discussion of how one can receive atonement for one’s sins.

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