Ignacio de Ries: Saint Michael the Archangel (1640s)
"I intended better than I will likely receive."

Everyone carries one act on their shoulders forever, one irrevocable fart they innocently let which pretty much misdefines their legacy forever. For our widely-esteemed sixteenth President Abraham Lincoln, I suspect that his act invoking "better angels" into his first inaugural speech might justifiably forever generate his remorse for having brought that phrase prominence, though he apparently swiped it from Shakespeare's Othello. I imagine him blushing whenever it's invoked, wherever he is. Note that he made this comment innocently. He could not have been aware in that moment that he'd just birthed his legacy, forever after remembered. He'd, you'll no doubt recall, surreptitiously sneaked into Washington to deliver that speech, dogged by threats of assassination from angry southern white supremacists, the Proud Boys of his time. His losing opponent was one of those self-promotive personalities prone to do little in office who had aligned himself with a party too distracted by self destruction to garner a majority in the election. Since, venomous politicians have invoked Lincoln to encourage their political foes to find reason and come over to their dark side, often appending mumbles referencing "malice toward none" and likewise. The phrase "better angels" has become a not very subtle tell of some worser angels working overtime behind the scene, an invocation meaning pretty much the opposite of what it seems, more taunt than invitation.

I'm uncertain if I subscribe to the whole medieval notion of better and worser angels. Tradition seems to strongly support this notion, with Archangel Michael supposedly every other angel's superior, especially when compared to Lucifer, whom Michael apparently vanquished once, but Lucifer, still being an angel and all, retained his living forever superpower, though he had to thereafter sublet in a poorer neighborhood and exclusively associate with mortal sinners, who also apparently inherit a limited living forever superpower, but only so that Lucifer can torture them forever and ever, Amen. I believe that my father's ancestors were coerced Catholics, which resulted in a faith exceeding vehemence. As is often the case with anyone coerced into acceptance, they embraced with greater passion than those who'd chosen to convert. Eric Hoffer speculated that this might be evidence of an attempt to erase shame and guilt associated with the inherent humiliation forced conscription induces. Better or worse angels at work?

In the history of the world so far, more people seem to have been converted into religions on the edge of swords than by persuasive words, not so much invited into faith, but presented with an authentic devils bargain: your fealty or your life. Of course each coercive religion offers opportunities and mechanisms for atoning for such originating sins and I'm in no position to cast any well-placed stones. Political parties pull similar stunts, promoting themselves as the obvious choice and their opponents as beset by troublingly worse angels. I have no doubt that those who stalked Lincoln as he made his way toward Washington to give that fateful speech believed that they were guided by better angels, too. It's slippery on every side of that slope. One must take great care over whatever they invoke.

I think it a considerable stretch to consider that my nature might be visited or even inhabited by angels, better or worse. I experience urges, but have learned to more or less control them. I never sense the intervention of angels when I'm tempted or even when I'm virtuous. I sense no winged Jiminy Cricket on my shoulder, and no devil there, either. I never have experienced an urge to torture small mammals, though my first wife might characterize my behavior as having sometimes bordered on emotionally torturous. Breakups are difficult but hardly defining. Sometimes emotions get the better of any of us, but I don't blame my shortcomings on angels any more than I blame my successes on them. I'm "just" a man, but not diminished by that designation. I remain capable of great works and also really crappy ones. I might well be remembered, after I'm gone, by one juicy raspberry fart that slipped out during an unfortunate quiet moment in church. I might alternatively be remembered by a single word or phrase I just as innocently let, but which somehow reverberated around the world to be misquoted there. I intended better than I will likely receive.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
For better or worse, Friday seems to have come again. I experienced this week as the second dog week in a row, last week featuring that riot at the capitol and this one, a second successful impeachment. I was glued to the damned TV on Wednesday, feeling compelled to listen to curious speeches, most of them lasting a reassuring thirty-seconds. Few of the longer ones sparked much empathy for anyone, defenders lame and prosecutors innate. The defendant was obviously guilty as charged and his defenders offered little excuse. We'll be well rid of him and his ilk along with their "better angels."

I began the week wondering when RIOT became the dominant phrase in patRIOT, concluding that "One can inevitably only ever pretend to be an actual patriot."

I then slipped into considering The Distractions in TheSoaps, part confession and part renunciation, my most popular posting of the period. I concluded that " sanity might only exist in strict isolation."

I next ascribed to This Damned Pandemic the apparent death of SmallTalk, the glue holding together civil society. I proposed that "our selves only seem to shine through when we're engaging on a much smaller scale."

I reflected upon a certain aspect of life I expect to find waiting for me after I'm finished HeadingHomeward in Rumurmuring. "I carry a raft of pre-existing conditions with me, some vicious rumors about my provenance and past performances, ones I can never even distantly hope to ever outdistance." Welcome home, indeed!

I next attempted to champion the blessed benefit of doubt in TrueBeliefers, true belief having become the primary means by which Big Lies proliferate. " …the actual content of a belief does not matter, firm belief in either Christianity and Communism tends to produce the same behavior pattern, one convinced of a certain unquestionable—dare I suggest absolute?—rightness of perspective."

I then pleaded against setting expectations of experiencing any great coming together following the recent election in LongDivision. Our divisions stretch longer than our aspirations. I concluded that, "Rather than speaking of coming together, our well-being might more depend upon how well we divide."

I ended this week's writing with Wending, an appreciation for how we seem to plot our curving future with straightedges. I concluded that, "Only after the planning proves wanting do we seem to accept the necessity of dead reckoning, and its inevitability, and rediscover our hidden mastery of it again. Then we become human."

Next week promises to bring ever-deepening irresolution. I expect the plot to have considerably thickened by this time next week, for better or worse, and I expect no angels to intervene, though even I might deign to ascribe any good fortune to angelic intervention. I head onward hoping for better. I can't seem to find any better way to live. Thank you for following along. I know the way has been for better and worse, wending.

©2021 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #HeadingHomeward, #PureSchmaltz