Conan Confronts Christ

What hath Cimmeria to do with Jerusalem?  

This is a weird one, I’m going to have to ask you to just go along with this…meditation?

I say meditation because I’m not sure it’s a complete thought. I’m certainly not going to stake anything on it, or consider it some great piece of theology. It’s just a meditation. A splinter in the mind, something I want to wiggle out.

I keep a Florilegium, or a commonplace book. I started keeping it in May of 2022. Among the petals are various quotes, sayings, snatches of poetry—anything and everything—that sticks out to me. I’ve got scripture, jokes, historical facts, bits of advice, bits and bobs of fiction I enjoy.

Part of the exercise of keeping a Florilegium is memorization. Its far easier to memorize something that’s been deliberately hand written than it is simply try to recall it.

It also gives some form to my life, like a journal. I know that during the years of 2022 – 2024, I was deeply engrossed in studying the Bible leading up to my Baptism in 2023. So my first volume is mostly scriptural passages intermixed with quotes from GK Chesterton, Bishop Robert Barron, Dorothy Sayers, and the Spiritual Combat.

Towards the end of the book, as 2024 begins, you see more Frank Herbert, Frank Sneed, C.S Lewis, and Robert Howard’s Conan of Cimmeria.  

Robert Howard was a poet—a deeply passionate, visceral poet. He was a master of alliteration, especially in his Conan stories.

“The dead are dead, and what has passed is done!”

“…savored too strongly of sorcery for comfort.”

Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing.”

When Conan speaks, he has the cadence of rolling thunder or a beating drum, while Howard’s narrative sometimes has the soft silky ‘s’ that cry out to be read aloud. My appreciation for Howard’s character is one of poetry. Conan is resoundingly full of life—pagan life, to be sure, but he springs forth like the poetry of the Iliad or the Odyssey.     

There is an eternal, although I suspect, perfectly settled question about the place of Pagan literature in the life of the Christian. Should we indulge in the flights and fancies of the Pagans? The Iliad is akin to a sort of Greek Scriptures, does it have anything of value for the Christ-Follower?   

Tertullian, although speaking of Greek Philosophy, said “what hath Athens to do with Jerusalem?”

“Let me live deep while I can; let me know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultations of battle when the blue blades flame and crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and priests and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is an illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and I am content.” – Robert Howard, the Queen of the Black Coast

“… let me know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate…” for the past several months, when I receive Eucharist, and cross myself and kneel in absolute thanksgiving for this body, given for me, that I may have eternal life, and have it abundantly, this quote keeps coming unbidden to my mind.

Stinging wine on my palate, I muse, as the Blood of Christ, under the species of wine, lingers on my tongue.

The entirety of the quote is pure pagan speculation. Conan is in a discourse about the afterlife with his lover, the Pirate Queen, Bêlit. Conan’s people, the Cimmerians, do not believe in a comforting afterlife. Bêlit does, especially in the various afterlifes offered by the Gods of the Shemites.

Mostly, Bêlit believes:

“There is life beyond death, I know, and I know this too, Conan of Cimmeria…my love is stronger than death! I have lain in your arms, panting with the violence of our love; you have held and crushed and conquered me, drawing my soul to your lips with the fierceness of your bruising kisses. My heart is welded to your heart, my soul is part of your soul! Were I still in death and you fighting for life, I would come back from the abyss to aid you—aye, whether my soul floated with the purple sails on the crystal sea of paradise, or writhed in the molten flames of hell! I am yours, and all the gods and all their eternities shall never sever us!”  – Robert Howard, the Queen of the Black Coast

Bêlit speaks with the eroticism of the Song of Solomon: “set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death,” Song 8: 6RVS2CE.

If the Song of Solomon is about the Eternal Bridegroom and His Bride, longing for each other, then perhaps, Bêlit is no so far off the mark as she may seem. C.S Lewis spoke of the pagan’s “good dreams.”

Perhaps Conan dwells in the same “good dreams” as those of Odysseus and Hector?

Maybe even the Christian is meant to dwell in a world of high adventure in the time before the oceans drank Atlantis.

Perhaps Conan puts before me, as Tolkien says: “the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament…There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves on earth.”

I receive Christ in the Eucharist, and while I am on earth, I am extolled to live deep, to know the rich juices of red meat and stinging wine on my palate, to one day embrace a husband and dwell together as an icon of the Trinity; to fight in the mad exultations of the spiritual battle where the blades flash blue and crimson, until the earthly pilgrimage is done, and be content.

That’s the romance, that’s the adventure! The glory of God, Saint Irenaeus says, is a human being, fully alive. And who is not fully alive, but a man who declares: “I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and I am content.”   

Final Thoughts

I am not saying Conan is a Christian hero-type, nor am I sneaking any incoherent “universalism” into my religious thought, (I am resolutely orthodox). I am, however, making use of Justin Martyr’s conviction that all well said things rightly belong to us Christians.

Robert Howard, by all accounts, was not particularly religious, and even if he were I can only doubt that he would be Catholic. He was much in love with his native Texas and the Southwest in general, and I suspect that would incline him towards the Protestant viewpoint of his native land.

But there’s something about Howard’s writing, especially in his Conan stories, that marks me as incarnational. His work is visceral, it feels fleshy, substantive. I first wrote down the “Let me live deep” quote because I was enchanted by the image of red beef and wine, so much so I thought I could almost taste it.

It was the Eucharist which drew me into Roman Catholicism. Once I had read the Bread of Life Discourse, I could not imagine myself in any other Church but the one that took Jesus literally. So it only makes sense that these two figures, Christ, and Conan, must confront each other in the corner of my thoughts.

I think I’ll keep taking Conan with me to the Eucharist.


Are you as interested in tales of high adventure as I am? I write my own, you can find them here.

You can also follow me on Twitter/X.

I’ve discussed Conan before, check it out here.

ABOVE: the cover of “Conan the Conqueror” (AKA: The Hour of the Dragon), by Robert E Howard. Art by Norman Saunders from 1953 for an ACE Double Novel.

The Archetypes of Scripture: The Sword Shall Not Depart

A Long but Necessary Introduction

From the beginning, my goal for the Archetypes of Scripture series has been to expand my (and my readers) understanding of tropes and archetypes while also exploring the various stories found in Sacred Scripture. While I’m not using this series to evangelize, I know that its impossible to speak about Christ without it coming off that way.

Further baggage is added when I expound upon my denomination. I consider myself ecumenical and I want this series to appeal to a wide variety of readers. So, while I’m not going to stop explaining the tenants of the Christian Faith, I hope that readers are willing to enter into the Scriptures as a story.      

Sometimes, I’m not always sure I know what I mean when I say “story,” especially in light of the Bible.

As I’ve said before, the Bible is really a library featuring poetry, history, prophecy, and even primitive creative fiction. But from the Christian position, all the stories, no matter how short and seemingly insignificant, point to a wider, over-arching narrative.

This narrative points upward, towards God and man’s struggle to reach Him. One of the main villains is man himself, who lives in the mucky waters of Original Sin and wrestles with God. The wrestling seems to have no end, until God throws the match and comes down to struggle with us. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Creation, He defeats death once and for all.

In that way, all the stories point to Christ. But to make that point, they sometimes point backwards—away from Christ.

When I think about the various linchpin tropes of Sacred Scripture, I think of Adam, Original Sin, and the New Adam.

Original Sin should not be confused with Total Depravity, which, I believe, is what most non-Christians believe all Christian believe. I’ve also seen that a lot of people believe that it has something to do with sex, which is wildly incorrect.

The original sin of Adam was disobedience to God. The Lord forbad Adam from eating the fruit of the tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Worse still, after directly disobeying God, Adam blames Eve for his faults—the first in humanity’s long and proud tradition of blaming each other for our personal short comings.

Its by the disobedience of Adam that sin enters the world and stains all his children [read: the human race]. This sin is the deprivation of the original holiness and justice intended for humanity. Human nature, states the Catechism of the Catholic Church, is “not totally corrupted: it is wounded” with an inclination to do evil. [CCC 405]. This sentiment is clearly stated by Saint Paul in Romans:

I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot do what is good. 19 For I do not do the good I desire; rather, it is the evil I do not desire that I end up doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not desire, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me.

[New Catholic Bible, Romans 7:18-20]

Long after the fall, in another garden, Jesus would ask his Father that the cup depart from him, but not if it meant disobeying his Father’s will. It is the Sin of Adam that brings—into sharp contrast—the Obedience of Jesus.

The sin of our father covered us, until the innocence of another washed it away. 

This 500-word preamble, was to introduce us to the trope: the sins of the father.

The Sword will not Depart

Of all the millions of misquotations and misunderstanding between Christian sects, non-Christians, and atheists, the sins of the father is probably high in the running. So, here is the original verse:

I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation[a] of those who love me and keep my commandments.

[New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition, NRSV-CE, Exodus 20:5-6]

In this verse, the Lord is speaking about idolatry, which is to love anything more than God. We all worship something—for most of us, that thing is the self.

For David, for one moment, that thing was his lust. David would throw himself at the feet of this idol and in a singular act of worship to it, subject his family to the consequences of sin.

It happened, late one afternoon, when David rose from his couch and was walking about on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful. David sent someone to inquire about the woman. It was reported, “This is Bathsheba daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite.” So David sent messengers to get her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she was purifying herself after her period.) Then she returned to her house. The woman conceived; and she sent and told David, “I am pregnant.”

[NRSV-CE, 2 Samuel 11:2-5]

I don’t need to expound upon the pain and anguish adultery causes in a family, in David’s case, his family won’t feel the effects until later. For Bathsheba and Uriah, the effects are immediate.

We get no word on the willingness or unwillingness of Bathsheba. On my part, I will not brand Bathsheba a temptress, nor will I call David a rapist. But when the king wants you, what are you to say to that? Denying him would insult him, maybe even risk your husband’s life. But to go along defiles you and your marriage vows. Or, perhaps the text is more subtle. Perhaps Bathsheba, having purified herself after her menstrual cycle, believed she would not conceive so soon after it, and went to David to further her husband’s career or even her own standing.

Regardless of Bathsheba’s desires, David is the key figure and he’s on a collision course with evil. David sends for Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah, who is fighting with Joab and David’s other servants, against the Ammonites. Uriah returns to Jerusalem and David tries to convince him to sleep with Bathsheba in order fleece Uriah into thinking the child is his.

But Uriah, following the tenant of the law (1 Samuel 21:4-5), does not sleep with his wife while David’s kingdom is at war. Uriah says:

“The ark and Israel and Judah remain in booths [tents];[a] and my lord Joab and the servants of my lord are camping in the open field; shall I then go to my house, to eat and to drink, and to lie with my wife? As you live, and as your soul lives, I will not do such a thing.”

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 11:11]    

David then commands Uriah to stay with him another day. David feasts him, getting him drunk, but still, Uriah will not return to his house and sleep with Bathsheba.

Desperate, David compounds one sin with another and orders Joab, his commander, to place Uriah on the front lines and abandoned him, ensuring he is killed in the fighting.

15 In the letter he wrote, “Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, so that he may be struck down and die.” 16 As Joab was besieging the city, he assigned Uriah to the place where he knew there were valiant warriors. 17 The men of the city came out and fought with Joab; and some of the servants of David among the people fell. Uriah the Hittite was killed as well.

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 11:15-17]

Joab, decidedly uncertain about how David will react to the news of Uriah’s death, instructs his messenger to tell David everything about the battle and decern his mood before he tells of Uriah’s death.

In a piece of brilliant, delicious biblical foreshadowing, David tells the messenger: 

25 David said to the messenger, “Thus you shall say to Joab, ‘Do not let this matter trouble you, for the sword devours now one and now another; press your attack on the city, and overthrow it.’ And encourage him.”

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 11:25]

The sword, indeed, devours. Very soon, that sword will come for David’s house.

Bathsheba mourns her husband’s death and when that customary mourning period is over, David marries her and brings her into his household. But, “the thing David had done displeased the Lord.”

The Lord sends his prophet, Nathan. The Prophet tells David a story:

 “There were two men in a certain city, the one rich and the other poor. The rich man had very many flocks and herds; but the poor man had nothing but one little ewe lamb, which he had bought. He brought it up, and it grew up with him and with his children; it used to eat of his meager fare, and drink from his cup, and lie in his bosom, and it was like a daughter to him. Now there came a traveler to the rich man, and he was loath to take one of his own flock or herd to prepare for the wayfarer who had come to him, but he took the poor man’s lamb, and prepared that for the guest who had come to him.”

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 12:1-4]

David, a just and honorable king, is understandably horrified that such thievery is going on in his kingdom. He demands to know who has committed such an offense. Nathan, then, drops the mic: 

Nathan said to David, “You are the man! Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: I anointed you king over Israel, and I rescued you from the hand of Saul; I gave you your master’s house, and your master’s wives into your bosom, and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have added as much more. Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do what is evil in his sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and have taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of the Ammonites. 10 Now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house, for you have despised me, and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife. 

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 12:7-10]

The sins of the father shall be visited upon the children. David has sown chaos in his house and his family will reap this bitter harvest until the Stump of Jesse sprouts again.

To David’s credit, he repents immediately. The Lord puts away his sin, but the wheels of cause and effect are already turning. Evil is a consequence of sin. David sinned, and that insult was against God, but God is hardly the only victim. Uriah, Bathsheba, the unborn child, David’s other children—are all effected by David’s sin. 

The sword will not depart, Nathan said, and it doesn’t. Although the marriage to Bathsheba eventually produces Solomon, a wiser, but as equally flawed a king as David, proves that God can bring good out of evil. The real horror of David’s story begins when Amnon, his son by a different wife, rapes his half-sister, Tamar.

Tamar is Absolom’s sister, she is described as beautiful, and a virgin.

Amnon was so tormented that he made himself ill because of his sister Tamar, for she was a virgin and it seemed impossible to Amnon to do anything to her. 

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 13:2]

On the advice of his friend, Amnon uses trickery to bring Tamar close enough to misuse her. He pretends to be ill and asks his father to send Tamar to tend to him. Believing her brother is sick, Tamar makes food for him which Amnon refuses to eat, except from out of Tamar’s hands. He sends all his attendants, except Tamar, out of his chambers. Being a good sister, Tamar comes forward to Amnon’s bed.  

11 But when she brought them [the cakes] near him to eat, he took hold of her, and said to her, “Come, lie with me, my sister.” 12 She answered him, “No, my brother, do not force me; for such a thing is not done in Israel; do not do anything so vile! 13 As for me, where could I carry my shame? And as for you, you would be as one of the scoundrels in Israel. Now therefore, I beg you, speak to the king; for he will not withhold me from you.” 14 But he would not listen to her; and being stronger than she, he forced her and lay with her.

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 13:11-14]

And so, the sword devours another.

Like every sexual predator, Amnon wasn’t “in love” with Tamar, he was worshiping himself and his lust. Amnon, like David, made an idol of his desires. He took what he wanted for no other reason but he wanted to.

Amnon took Tamar, like an object, and used her. He was even “seized with a very great loathing for her; indeed, his loathing was even greater than the lust he had felt for her” and he throws her out of his house, refusing to make a wife of her after ruining her chances of finding a husband (2 Samuel 13:15).

Absolom, Tamar’s direct brother, brings her into his house. He tells her to keep her peace because Amnon is her brother. This is harsh by our modern sensibilities, but the next verse, I think, explains why Absolom told his sister to keep silent about the rape:

 21 When King David heard of all these things, he became very angry, but he would not punish his son Amnon, because he loved him, for he was his firstborn.[d] 

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 13:21]

I doubt Absolom has confidence in David’s sense of justice. After all, his father wasn’t above destroying Uriah’s family in order to gain Bathsheba. Like father, like son, right? 

Here we see the true consequence of David’s sin. He has been rendered ineffective. Absolom doesn’t believe David is a good and just king, and David proves that correct. Despite knowing the wrong that happened in his house, David does nothing against Amnon.

Denied official channels, Absolom takes matters into his own hands. He waits for two years before taking his vengeance. Absolom invites all his brothers to a party in the countryside and he orders his servants to watch Amnon. When Amnon is drunk, Absolom and his servant strike, killing Amnon and causing the other brothers to flee.

Word reaches David that Absolom has killed all his brother (David’s sons). David tears at his garments and weeps until the truth is learned that Amnon alone is dead. Still, Absolom flees to Talmai, in Geshur. He will stay there three years.

Although David misses Absolom, he does not call his son back from Talmai. David is still trying to hold onto that veneer of justice. Bringing his murder son back would show to all Israel that he has lost his way.

Enter Joab, the son of Zeruiah. As a character, he has the flavor of a political upstart and I can’t help imagine him scheming in the backrooms of the palace seeking ways to ingratiate himself into David’s good-graces.

Regardless, Joab perceives that David misses Absolom, so he goes out and finds a wisewoman to petition David:

When the woman of Tekoa came to the king, she fell on her face to the ground and did obeisance, and said, “Help, O king!” The king asked her, “What is your trouble?” She answered, “Alas, I am a widow; my husband is dead. Your servant had two sons, and they fought with one another in the field; there was no one to part them, and one struck the other and killed him. Now the whole family has risen against your servant. They say, ‘Give up the man who struck his brother, so that we may kill him for the life of his brother whom he murdered, even if we destroy the heir as well.’ Thus they would quench my one remaining ember, and leave to my husband neither name nor remnant on the face of the earth.”

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 14:4-7]

David tells the woman to return to her home, that no harm will come to her, and he will not allow anyone to harm one hair on the head of her son.

Like the story of Nathan above, David, again, convicts himself. The woman says as much:

13 The woman said, “Why then have you planned such a thing against the people of God? For in giving this decision the king convicts himself, inasmuch as the king does not bring his banished one home again. 14 We must all die; we are like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be gathered up. But God will not take away a life; he will devise plans so as not to keep an outcast banished forever from his presence.[a] 

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 14:13-14]

God forgives, and so David should forgive.

If we’re honest, we can admit that Absolom’s murder of Amnon is justifiable. Amnon’s offense was public knowledge as Amnon ordered his servants “put her [Tamar] out” and “bolt the door after her.” She then covered herself in ashes and went about weeping.

The fault lies with David, who, as a just and righteous king, should have dealt with Amnon accordingly. That failure wrecked his, albiet, not great, relationship with Absolom. 

Still trying to hold onto that veneer of justice and impartiality, David commands Joab to bring Absolom back to Jerusalem, but he will not allow Absolom back into his kingly presence. Perhaps, if David had welcomed Absolom back into his bosom, things could have been different.

David is a prefigure of Christ, but he is not the Christ. And this episode proves that simple fact, definitively. The king forgives Absolom, his subject, and lets him come home, but David does not forgive his son and does not let him come home.

A just king, David might be, but a just father? I have my doubts.

I desire to do good, said Saint Paul, but I can’t do good. Like many stories in the Old Testament, I feel that sentiment in the story of David and Absolom. Sin, miscommunication, misunderstandings, and partial forgiveness—all part of the tragedy of Original Sin, the sin of our first father.

Absolom lives in Jerusalem for two years without seeing his father. He sends for Joab, hoping to be let in to see the king, but Joab ignores him. He sends for a second time, and still gets no answer. Fed up, Absolom orders his servants to set Joab’s barley field on fire.

Roused at last, Joab goes to Absolom to ask why he set fire to his land.

32 Absalom answered Joab, “Look, I sent word to you: Come here, that I may send you to the king with the question, ‘Why have I come from Geshur? It would be better for me to be there still.’ Now let me go into the king’s presence; if there is guilt in me, let him kill me!” 33 Then Joab went to the king and told him; and he summoned Absalom. So he came to the king and prostrated himself with his face to the ground before the king; and the king kissed Absalom.

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 14:32-33]

Forgiveness, great! We may think, but two years is a long time to build resentment. And, let’s not forget the last time Absolom waited two years.

Back in his father’s good graces, Absolom hires a chariot and 50 servants, and he begins to rise early in the morning in order to stand by the gate and so that when a man came to petition justice from David, he could intercept them.

Absalom would call out and say, “From what city are you?” When the person said, “Your servant is of such and such a tribe in Israel,” Absalom would say, “See, your claims are good and right; but there is no one deputed by the king to hear you.” Absalom said moreover, “If only I were judge in the land! Then all who had a suit or cause might come to me, and I would give them justice.” Whenever people came near to do obeisance to him, he would put out his hand and take hold of them, and kiss them. Thus Absalom did to every Israelite who came to the king for judgment; so Absalom stole the hearts of the people of Israel.

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 15:2-6]

Absolom follows that old trope: revenge is a dish best served cold.

After four years of this, Absolom goes to David (who doesn’t appear to have any idea of what’s going on) and begs the King to let him go to Hebron to fulfil a vow he made to the Lord while in Geshur. David, of course, lets him go.

With his father’s permission to depart, Absolom then sends out secret messengers to the Tribes of Israel telling them that “at the sound of trumpets” they should shout “Absolom is king at Hebron” (2 Samuel 15:10).

The conspiracy grew under David’s nose. Until word reaches Jerusalem.

13 A messenger came to David, saying, “The hearts of the Israelites have gone after Absalom.” 14 Then David said to all his officials who were with him at Jerusalem, “Get up! Let us flee, or there will be no escape for us from Absalom. Hurry, or he will soon overtake us, and bring disaster down upon us, and attack the city with the edge of the sword.”

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 15:13-14]

David and his household flee Jerusalem. David leaves behind his concubines to look after his house. Confident in the Lord, he intends to return. He’s so confident, in fact, he tells the Levites to leave the Ark of the Covenant in Jerusalem, saying “If find favor in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me back and let me see both it and the place where it stays” (2 Samuel 15:25).

In the wilderness, at the ascent of the Mount of Olives, David prays to the Lord, asking him to turn the advice of the counselor, Ahithophel, who betrayed him, into foolishness.

David is reeling from this betrayal. The conspiracy is so widespread that David and his supporters are so outnumbered that defending Jerusalem becomes impossible and they must flee and roam the countryside. He sends a spy, Hushai, to Absolom’s court in Jerusalem, but David must ultimately rely on the Lord.

Even while on the road, David is cursed by his subjects. When his servants ask to slay those who speak ill of the king, David utters:

11 David said to Abishai and to all his servants, “My own son seeks my life; how much more now may this Benjaminite! Let him alone, and let him curse; for the Lord has bidden him. 12 It may be that the Lord will look on my distress,[c] and the Lord will repay me with good for this cursing of me today.”

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 16:11-12]

While David camps on the banks of the Jordan River, Absolom enters Jerusalem and seeks the guidance of his father’s former advisor, Ahithophel. 

20 Then Absalom said to Ahithophel, “Give us your counsel; what shall we do?” 21 Ahithophel said to Absalom, “Go in to your father’s concubines, the ones he has left to look after the house; and all Israel will hear that you have made yourself odious to your father, and the hands of all who are with you will be strengthened.” 22 So they pitched a tent for Absalom upon the roof; and Absalom went in to his father’s concubines in the sight of all Israel. 23 Now in those days the counsel that Ahithophel gave was as if one consulted the oracle[f] of God; so all the counsel of Ahithophel was esteemed, both by David and by Absalom.

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 16:20-23]

And there Nathan’s prophecy is fulfilled: “for you did it secretly; but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun.”

This is an absolute humiliation for David. Absolom is basically saying “I’ve replaced you utterly.” He has taken over David’s house, taken his women, used them as David would use them. The line is drawn, Absolom will take all that David has.

Absolom calls for further council and is convinced by Hushai, David’s spy, to pursue David personally. Hushai then sends word to David so that he might escape. David and his supporters cross the Jordan river and at daybreak, Absolom and his army follow.

David appoints commanders, but intends to go out and fight with his men. His commanders disapprove and tell the king that he worth ten-thousands men. Convinced by their words, David takes shelter in a nearby city, but he implores his commanders:

The king ordered Joab and Abishai and Ittai, saying, “Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.” And all the people heard when the king gave orders to all the commanders concerning Absalom.

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 18:5]

The battle commences, with David’s mighty men slaying the men of Israel.

So the army went out into the field against Israel; and the battle was fought in the forest of Ephraim. The men of Israel were defeated there by the servants of David, and the slaughter there was great on that day, twenty thousand men. The battle spread over the face of all the country; and the forest claimed more victims that day than the sword.

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 18:6-8]

But the sword David was warned of so long ago comes down again. Despite his pleas, Joab is fed up with the infighting. He sees Absolom, who’s long, beautiful hair has been caught in a tree, he is trapped and helpless.

Absalom happened to meet the servants of David. Absalom was riding on his mule, and the mule went under the thick branches of a great oak. His head caught fast in the oak, and he was left hanging[c] between heaven and earth, while the mule that was under him went on. 10 A man saw it, and told Joab, “I saw Absalom hanging in an oak.” 11 Joab said to the man who told him, “What, you saw him! Why then did you not strike him there to the ground? I would have been glad to give you ten pieces of silver and a belt.” 12 But the man said to Joab, “Even if I felt in my hand the weight of a thousand pieces of silver, I would not raise my hand against the king’s son; for in our hearing the king commanded you and Abishai and Ittai, saying: For my sake protect the young man Absalom! 13 On the other hand, if I had dealt treacherously against his life[d] (and there is nothing hidden from the king), then you yourself would have stood aloof.” 14 Joab said, “I will not waste time like this with you.” He took three spears in his hand, and thrust them into the heart of Absalom, while he was still alive in the oak. 15 And ten young men, Joab’s armor-bearers, surrounded Absalom and struck him, and killed him.

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 18:9-15]

In a sad, but perhaps fitting, twist of fate, Absolom had no sons. His only achievement was a monument he built, now called Absolom’s Monument. All of his vengeance-seeking was in vain, it left no lasting mark, except for his father’s cry of anguish: my son, my son!

32 The king said to the Cushite, “Is it well with the young man Absalom?” The Cushite answered, “May the enemies of my lord the king, and all who rise up to do you harm, be like that young man.”

33 [g] The king was deeply moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept; and as he went, he said, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!”

[NRSV-CE 2 Samuel 18:32-33]

There will be more blood and sorrow for David. His old age will be a time of war. The sins of the father are visited upon the son; all that war will make a time of peace and plenty for the reign of his son, Solomon.

Cause and Effect

Throughout this long essay I’ve been using the saying “the sins of the father” but perhaps a more contemporary way to put it is the simple phrase: cause and effect of narrative. Character A does action x, which sets off a reaction in Character B, who does y in return. These actions radiate outward, swallowing up more characters and actions pushing and pulling the story onward.

Conflict is the meat and potatoes of narrative. One may even say that there is no story without conflict.  

These episodes in David’s life are sometimes seen as separate events, but I think I’ve made it clear that the story of David and Bathsheba is merely the first act in a three-act story that culminates in Absolom’s usurpation.

It is commonly misunderstood that God punishes the children for the sins of their parents, this blood-curse is misguided. God did not punish Absolom, he punished David. Or rather, David’s actions—which cannot be put away—rippled through his family like a stone into a still pond.

This does not free Absolom from his actions. I understand his resentment, I think we all do, but he could have accepted his father’s forgiveness, however late it came.

Perhaps when we think of our character’s actions, we ought to think how those actions radiate outward and cause conflict and chaos among the other characters. These are the sins of the father, visited upon the sons.    

Above: David flees Jerusalem after Absalom’s conspiracy. A scene from the Maciejowski Bible, Leaf 45. Also called the Morgan Bible or Crusader Bible, a picture Bible from 13th Century. It was commissioned by Saint King Louis IX of France. Note the Benjaminite stone-thrower and the use of 13th century clothing. There are 46 surviving folios, 43 folios are housed in the Morgan Museum and Library, New York City, New York; 2 folios are housed in the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris, France; 1 folio at the J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, California; 2 folios are lost to time.

The Archetypes of Scripture: Jonah, Reluctant Hero

A General Introduction to the Series.

It’s cliché to say that the Bible is not so much a book as it is a library in a single volume. It contains works of history, law, poetry, prophecy, and even (if you have a Catholic Bible), works like Book of Tobit (Tobias) that has a structure similar to that of a novel. Genre, of course, is a modern invention; the Ancient Hebrews and the original Christians would not have “split” works into neat little categories. And truth be told, the books don’t always fit, like the aforementioned Tobit.

But genre is neither here nor there. My concerns here is the story. And, paradoxically, I lied above. The Bible is a single book in the same way it’s a library. Okay, so perhaps “I lied” isn’t entirely correct either. A better way, I think, to categorize the Bible is with the word Epic. It’s an epic in the same way the Lord of the Rings is epic. Threads from the books before are woven through the entire story, leading up to the epic conclusion of Christ Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection.

In other words, it’s a Grand Narrative. The stories within the Story are themselves part of the Story. The Story ceases to make sense without these smaller stories. The Grand Narrative is the Word and the Word is the Grand Narrative.     

There are many who would disagree with me. Some because I’m thinking to much about it instead of living it. Others because they don’t believe in the Grand Narrative at all. Some will take issue with my choice of Bible, others will discount me entirely because I’m Catholic. Others, because I’m a woman.

All of that is irrelevant. When I peel apart an archetype in Scripture, it isn’t my intention to convert or to undermine or blaspheme. It’s my intention to understand the Story. I want to explore the Library that makes up the bedrock of the Western literary tradition. I want to find the archetypes that prototyped our modern archetypes.

Knowing these archetypes will help us become better writers. Understanding the foundation of Western literature will make us better readers, which in turn, makes us better writers. For those of us who believe, I hope it makes us better believers. For those who don’t believe, I hope it helps you understand why some of us do. Ultimately, this line of thought states that believing in the power of story improves our abilities to read and write.

For my Archetypes of Scripture Series, I will be using multiple Bible translations, mainly the Revised Standard Version: Second Catholic Edition (RSV-2ce); the Revised Standard Version: Catholic Edition (RSV-c); and the Douay-Rheims Version (DRV). I will use them interchangeably, depending on how I feel about the specific translation. Some are prettier than others or use more accurate language or better express what I’m getting at. I will always try to cite my translation. 

Jonah, Reluctant Hero

As stated above, the Bible is an epic, meaning that the books make reference to each other, or characters may appear in more than one book. Jonah is first referenced in 2 Kings 14:25. But let’s leave that aside for the moment and focus on the text of the Book of Jonah.

Jonah begins with the Call to Adventure.

Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah the son of Amit′tai, saying, “Arise, go to Nin′eveh, that great city, and cry against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.” 

[RSV-c Jonah 1:1-2]

Hearing this, Jonah immediately flees.

But Jonah rose to flee to Tarshish from the presence of the Lord. He went down to Joppa and found a ship going to Tarshish; so he paid the fare, and went on board, to go with them to Tarshish, away from the presence of the Lord.

[RSV-c Jonah 1:3]

There’s an economy of language common to Scripture and other ancient texts. The action is immediate, there is no time to breath between the Call to Adventure and the Refusal of the Call. The story begins it’s climb and it only has a few stops before it comes to the climax. Likewise, the denouement is as equally swift and in the case of the Book of Jonah, painfully brief.

Let’s take a quick detour to explain what I mean when I use these terms.

The Call to Adventure was coined by Joseph Campbell, likewise was the Refusal to the Call. These phrases are the first and second parts of the Hero’s Journey as outlined in his work The Hero with a Thousand Faces.

The Chosen One is the hero, the protagonist, the one called to the adventure, the one who will complete the quest. The Hero’s Journey can take on multiple forms, usually called Masculine and Feminine. Masculine/Feminine in this context has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the type of journey; the Masculine is outer, usually marked by self-sacrifice, while the feminine is inner, marked by self-discovery. All good stories incorporate elements of both archetypal journeys.

In the Book of Jonah, Jonah is the Chosen One, he hears the call and he refuses it, choosing to flee to Tarshish instead of going to Nineveh. But why—the reader may ask—does Jonah choose the flee?

The Book of Jonah doesn’t really provide any detail. Like all ancient texts, we must do a little assuming. Often, ancient writers left out details because they assumed their audiences already knew why something was the way it was. Without reading the rest of the Bible, we may be a little confused.

Nineveh was an ancient Assyrian city now located in Mosul of modern-day Iraq. The Book of Jonah takes place in the Eighth Century BC but it was probably written after the Babylonian Captivity (or Exilic Period). This tells us that it probably isn’t meant to be taken historically, although Jonah is a historic figure. The point of this story is to tell a story. It tells the truth in the way all good stories tell the truth.

All this is to say that the Assyrians were more than just Gentiles to the ancient Hebrews, they were their captors and oppressors. Jonah, an Israelite, rightly sees them as the enemies of the Lord. Why would he go to Nineveh to preach repentance? They might actually repent and then Jonah’s enemies will be spared destruction.

So, returning to the narrative, Jonah is on a ship for Tarshish.

But the Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea, and there was a mighty tempest on the sea, so that the ship threatened to break up.

[RSV-c Jonah 1:4]

The sailors begin to panic and pray to their various gods. But Jonah, who knows why the storm is happening, doesn’t panic at all. In fact, he’s asleep in the hold, utterly unbothered by the danger. Jonah is exhibiting the main theme of the Book of Jonah, trust in the Lord. The Captain, angrily, says to Jonah: “What do you mean, you sleeper? Arise, call upon your god! Perhaps the god will give a thought to us, that we do not perish.” [RSV-2ce Jonah 1:6]

Lots are cast in order to figure out who’s to blame for the storm. Cleromancy, or the casting of lots has the Greek origin of klêros meaning “lot,” “inheritance,” or even “that which is assigned.” Cleromancy is used 47 times in the Bible, especially as a way to discern the Will of God.

The lot falls upon Jonah and the sailors interrogate him, demanding to know where he’s from and what god he worships. Jonah tells them that he is a Hebrew and that the Lord is his god. He then gives them some advice: “Take me up and throw me into the sea.” [RSV-2ce Jonah 1:12] The sailors hesitate. They don’t want Jonah’s blood on their hands. They try to bring the ship back to land but the storm just gets stronger, ultimately indicating that the Lord wants Jonah as a sacrifice.  

14 Therefore they cried to the Lord, “We beseech thee, O Lord, let us not perish for this man’s life, and lay not on us innocent blood; for thou, O Lord, hast done as it pleased thee.” 15 So they took up Jonah and threw him into the sea; and the sea ceased from its raging. 16 Then the men feared the Lord exceedingly, and they offered a sacrifice to the Lord and made vows.

[RSV-c Jonah 1:14-16]

Thus is the inheritance of the Chosen One. For the hero, destiny can be ridiculed, it can be ignored, even fled for a time. But in the end, it will swallow you whole.

In Jonah’s case, he is literally swallowed up by his destiny.

The Lord appoints a fish to swallow Jonah. Famously, Jonah remains in the belly of the fish for three days and three nights, foreshadowing the perfected hero archetype of Jesus Christ.

While in the belly of the fish, Jonah prays to the Lord in a beautiful piece of poetry sometimes called the Psalm of Thanksgiving or Jonah’s Prayer of Deliverance. “But I with the voice of thanksgiving will sacrifice to you; what I have vowed I will pay. Deliverance belongs to the Lord!” [RSV-2ce Jonah 2:9]  

Jonah, now having vowed to do as he’s been called to do, is unceremoniously vomited up onto dry land.

This is the lynchpin of the Reluctant Hero’s arc. After fleeing the adventure, the hero is always caught up by it. The way the snare is set is how great stories differentiate and become varied. Perhaps a loved one is killed? or an unrefusable offer is made? or the character simply makes the choice to stop ignoring the call? Regardless of method, the Reluctant Hero is made to finally embrace their destiny and, most importantly, they embrace the consequences of that destiny.   

This archetype, I believe, is most easily seen in the Lord of the Rings. Hobbits are not the adventurous type, but when fate comes asking questions in the Shire, Frodo is forced to flee where he is quickly caught up in events much larger than himself. He eventually accepts his fate, and to contrast with Jonah, he makes the choice to take the Ring, not to please anyone, but because it is the right thing to do. He knows the journey will be fraught with difficultly and that he may lose a part of himself, or even loose his life. But Frodo is the Ringbearer. In a series about reluctant Chosen Ones, Frodo is preeminent.

Now back on dry land, the Lord tells Jonah a second time, “go to Nineveh.” This time, Jonah goes. Nineveh is a great city, according to the Book of Jonah, it’s “three day’s journey in breadth.” Jonah walks one day’s journey into the city and cries, saying, in forty days’ time, Nineveh will be overthrown.

Miraculously, the people of Nineveh believe him. They proclaim a fast and put on sackcloth. The message makes its way to the king of the city, who rises from his throne, puts on sackcloth and sits in ashes. He decrees that all men and their animals will fast, taking neither food or water. He orders them to wear sackcloth and to cry out to God and turn from their evil ways.

Take a moment to imagine how funny sheep, cows, chickens, and other animal would look in sackcloth. This image, I believe, is purposefully amusing and marks a deliberate choice of the author to plant his tongue in is cheek.

The Lord sees that people of Nineveh (and their animals) repent, and “God repented of the evil which he had said he would do to them; and he did not do it.” [RSV-2ce Jonah 3:10]

The fourth and final chapter of Jonah speeds towards the end just as swiftly as the first sped to the action. Jonah, angry because the Ninevites repented and were spared destruction, prays to the Lord: “I pray thee, Lord, is not this what I said when I was yet in my country? That is why I made haste to flee to Tarshish; for I knew that thou art a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and repentest of evil. Therefore now, O Lord, take my life from me, I beseech thee, for it is better for me to die than to live.” [RVS-c Jonah 4:2-3]

Jonah is quite the stubborn fool and, in a sense, like a teenager. Angry that his enemies have been spared, he declares that he’d rather be dead. “I’d rather be dead than have a father like you!” the Lord answers in trademark laconicism; “Do you do well to be angry?” [RSV-2ce 4:4]

Still mad, Jonah leaves Nineveh and pitches a tent east of the city in order to watch Nineveh. There is nothing that betrays Jonah’s thoughts, but perhaps he hopes that the Ninevites were just putting it on for his benefit and they’ll be destroyed not just for being idolatrous oppressors, but because they’re liars too.

Instead, the Lord makes a plant grow over Jonah so that he has some shade from the heat of the sun. This makes Jonah happy, despite his attitude, despite his unwillingness to attend properly to the call, the Lord still cares for Jonah. But, like any good parent, this is a teaching moment. The next day, the Lord sends a worm to wither the plant. The Lord then makes a hot wind and makes the sun beat upon Jonah.

Disappointed, and now, hot and tired, Jonah again declares that it would better to be dead.

But God said to Jonah, “Do you do well to be angry for the plant?”[d] And he said, “I do well to be angry, angry enough to die.” 10 And the Lord said, “You pity the plant,[e] for which you did not labor, nor did you make it grow, which came into being in a night, and perished in a night. 11 And should not I pity Nin′eveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle?”

[RSV-c Jonah 4:9-11]

And that’s how the Book of Jonah ends. Of course, there’s still plenty to break down here. For one, the journey almost doesn’t seem complete. Is Jonah a better person? Does he understand what the Lord was trying to do?

I think the best way to examine this ending is to see it as an imperfect blend of both the masculine and feminine journey. We aren’t told that a profound inner change came upon Jonah, its barely even implied. But, assuming that he was changed, Jonah has undergone the feminine journey which is characterized by a deep, inner expansion of the self. Jonah has learned something about his god. A facete of the Lord is revealed to Jonah, a piece, that frankly, isn’t always easy to find in the Old Testament.

“Should I not pity Nineveh?” God asks and for the Christian this is clearly the voice of God the Son.

Knowing this, we can see how Jonah is also participating in the masculine journey. He has learned something new that will aide his people in the future. More so, he has confirmed a piece of ancient knowledge already known but forgotten in the turmoil of the Exilic Period.

As I said above, the Book of Jonah was probably written after the Babylonian Captivity. The Hebrews needed to relearn the mercy of the Lord. Yes, that’s right. I’m arguing that the text itself is the secret knowledge found at the center of the masculine journey. That means that every reader (at every time, anywhere, etc) is participating in the Hero’s Journey.

Writing and reading are participatory. You should read like you’ve heard the call to adventure and you should write like you’re calling the reader to adventure.

Never underestimate the power of these tropes. That word has been getting a lot of bad press lately, but there’s a reason why these foundational stories are so powerful. Breaking them down or imploding them can be useful for a time, but ultimately, when embraced, these tropes underline the journey of the human soul, from life to death and maybe even beyond.   

Above: Jonah and the Whale, a fraction of the Verdun Altar at the Klosterneuburg Monastery in Austria. Nicholas of Verdun (1130 – 1205). Enamel on metalwork (Champlevé). Housed in the Chapel of St. Leopold, Klosterneuburg Monastery, Austria.  

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