Tuesday, 31 March 2015

The Problems of Pontius Pilate

     Now that Easter is coming up, perhaps we should spare a thought for Pontius Pilate. In 2006 I watched the Black Hills Passion Play, and it depicted Jesus being brought before Pilate while it was still dark. Suddenly, a lot of things clicked.

Tuesday, 24 March 2015

The Strange Story of Antechinus

 Or Why It Doesn't Always Pay to be Too Macho

    A few decades ago, when my mother was still alive, we both happened to take a short stroll through the rainforest at Mount Glorious, west of Brisbane, when suddenly we noticed an animal like a big mouse come scurrying up the trunk of a tree. Gazing at its pointed, foxy, most un-mouselike face, I suddenly exclaimed, "Good heavens! It's an antechinus! We are lucky to see such a thing during the daytime." A short time later, the penny dropped. We had been incredibly lucky, for we had arrived during the only two weeks of the year when it would have been active by day: the mating season. It had only been while I was at university that the remarkable life cycle of these mysterious creatures had begun to be unraveled - in fact, not far from where we had seen it.

Wednesday, 11 February 2015

Women's Ordination

     Of course, women should be ordained - as deacons! But as far as ordination to the priesthood is concerned, it comes up against a barrier. It has never been done before. It was unheard of for the first nineteen and a half centuries. It is contrary to the apostolic order. This fact is common ground on both sides. Therefore, the Eastern Orthodox must reject it because it violates the tradition they see as a seamless robe. Roman Catholics must reject it because the papacy and the magisterium have always rejected it. Protestants must reject it because it is contrary to the  principles of the Reformation. The aim of the Reformation, after all, was to get rid of all the extraneous doctrines which had accumulated over the centuries and return to the teachings of the early church. But at least it may be said that these innovations had been introduced by slow, hardly noticeable degrees, like a clock which gains a minute every day until it is striking twelve at dawn. They cannot now accept an innovation which everyone knows is contrary to the teachings of the apostolic church. The proponents are therefore forced into one of two positions, both heretical: either the universal church has been wrong since the time of the apostles, or its teachings were true only then, but not true for all time. They should be called out as to which position they take.

Saturday, 31 January 2015

Little Red Riding Hood and the Werewolf

     Little Red Riding Hood, as every schoolboy should know, but doesn't, was originally published by Charles Perrault - who, in point of fact, had much better style and flair than the anonymous writers who churn out the story in our modern children's books. But he didn't originate it. As a folk tale, many variations exist in Europe dating back hundreds of years. And it was bowdlerised even by the time he received it. Originally, it would have been a tale about an encounter with a werewolf.
     This should be obvious once you think about it. When Little Red Riding Hood first met the wolf in the forest, how was he able to talk to her? Why wasn't she scared stiff? Why didn't he eat her up then and there? I always used to wonder about this when I was a boy.
     Clearly, she met him in his natural, human form. Once she had told him her story, it set his evil mind at work. He repaired to somewhere private and performed whatever conjurations are necessary to transform into a wolf. (Montague Summers recorded such artifices as girding on an enchanted belt of wolf's fur, and then urinating around his clothes to turn them into a pile of stones until he returned.) As a wolf, he then ran all the way to Grandma's place, much faster than a human child could go, and polished off Grandma. Presumably, he then reverted to his human shape and, naked, crept into Grandma's bed, pulling the bedclothes up to his chin, and wrapping her bonnet tightly around his head as a disguise. When the unsuspecting grandchild said, "What a deep voice you have!" it was his masculine voice which nearly gave him away. When she said, "What big eyes ... big teeth etc you have!" he was busy turning into a wolf again.
    It's pretty simple when you look at it.

Sunday, 18 January 2015

Wini, the Wild White Man of Badu

     It must have been about 1958 or 1959 that Ion Idriess' book, Isles of Despair was republished, and it created a stir. One of my teachers at primary school told us about it. There was an article about it in The Woman's Day. A few years later I was able to read the book myself: the well-written, gripping true story of Barbara Thompson, who had been adopted by a tribe of Torres Strait headhunters. Equally intriguing, the book described how she met, and narrowly evaded Wongai, a ruthless escaped convict, who had been accepted on another island as a chief, and the incarnation of a god.
     A few years later, another of the same author's books was republished: The Wild White Man of Badu. Here we were presented with the gripping account of this same character. It told how, on escaping from Norfolk Island in an open boat, the convict killed and ate his companions and then, fortuitously negotiating the reefs of the Coral Sea, landed on Badu Island at the most opportune time. The natives were celebrating the wongai, or wild plum, totem when he arrived at the same time as the lightning flashed behind him. Shouting "Wongai!" which he had heard the natives shout, and which he assumed was a war cry, he slew the first warrior who attacked him. Thus, the natives concluded he was their god in human form, and so commenced his climb to power.
     Of course, when I was a boy I assumed that anything on the printed page was the truth. Fifty years later, I have developed some critical faculties, but all that time I have been wanting to learn the full story of this enigmatic character who once dominated the western islands of Torres Strait for a quarter of a century. I don't suppose I ever will.

Friday, 26 December 2014

Why Columbus Didn't Write Italian

     Although it is as well established as anything can be that Christopher Columbus was born in Genoa, there has been a lot of foolish speculation about his nationality, particularly by those hoping to claim him for their own. In this debate, the question is often raised: why didn't he ever write anything in Italian?
     Well, for a start, most of his most important correspondence was when he was resident in Spain, and writing to people who spoke Spanish. However, one commentator has pointed out something that would have been as obvious to his contemporaries as it is forgotten today: his native language was not Italian; it was Genoese! Genoese is not a dialect of Italian; it is a dialect of Ligurian. It is as different from Italian as Occitan/Proven├žal is from French.
     Over the last few centuries the centralisation of political power has also meant the centralisation of national languages, leaving the regional languages to wither on the vine. However, they were still very much alive five centuries ago. Indeed, Italy itself did not exist then as a political entity. Genoa in those days was one of many independent republics which patterned northern Italy at the time like a big jigsaw puzzle.
     Genoese is not dead yet, but it is withering on the vine. In a couple of centuries it will be forgotten, and people will still be asking why Columbus never wrote in Italian.

Reference: Paolo Emilio Taviani, Cristoforo Colombo, Genius of the Sea (2nd edition, 1991)

Monday, 22 December 2014

Do We All Have a Double Somewhere?

     The Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope (1894) is, of course, the classic novel about a protagonist who closely resembles a stranger. The genre has been done to death; I don't know how many stories I've read or watched with this as the theme. But could it happen in real life? There are people who make a living impersonating celebrities. Mostly, the resemblance is very close, but not perfect. However, one of those doubles, Janet Brown was the splitting image of Margaret Thatcher, so much so that she was able to take part in an elaborate practical joke in which Joan Rivers thought she was meeting the British Prime Minister. Logically, the variety of human facial features is not infinite; duplicates must turn up at times. Do we all have a double somewhere?

Thursday, 18 December 2014

Of Course There Is Such a Thing as Race!

     In my younger days I enrolled myself in the bone marrow registry, as a part of which I was asked to state my race, or ethnicity. An impertinence! you may say, so they provided a reason. Matching marrow types is much more complicated than matching blood groups, and the various types are not spread randomly throughout the human race. If a patient requires a marrow donation, a search will first be made among members of those races where the required match is more common; it might not be the patient's own race.
     The major races of mankind are as obvious as different breeds of dogs. So why do so many people insist that there is no such thing as race, that it is merely a "social construct"?

Saturday, 13 December 2014

What You Didn't Know About Shaving

     There are so many things we just take for granted, but never question: like men shaving themselves. We've always done it, haven't we? Well, at least since we decided we didn't like our beards? Not exactly. In ancient Rome, men didn't shave themselves; they went to the local barber (from barba, a beard), who wielded his razor at a streetside stall while the crowds jostled around. They also went only every second day, which meant that most males sported a five o'clock shadow - something Hollywood never cottoned on to. So why didn't they shave themselves?

Friday, 28 November 2014

Why I Didn't Wear a White Ribbon

     I see that another special day and another good cause has come and gone: the United Nations' White Ribbon Day, 25 November. People were encouraged to wear white ribbons to protest violence against women. T-shirts bearing slogans like "Stop Violence Against Women" were worn at demonstrations. Groups of men were encouraged to get up and swear never to offer violence to women, and to speak out if they ever heard of it from others. The statistics quoted were quite frightening: 52 women murdered per year - one a week - by a current or previous partner, amounting to three-quarters of those women who had died by homicide, with one in three women a victim of violence in their lifetimes. I myself know women close to me who have suffered horrifying violence from their husbands. This is obviously a very good cause. So why do I refuse to get involved?