Heroes, gods and dogs
Watching an episode of Heroes, an opinion my mother held crossed my mind. We were talking about comic books (I was a kid). She said that Americans keep inventing superheroes because they cling to the idea that someone will save them. She didn't use these terms, because I was only ten, even if I did understand her general thesis, but she meant that they dream of salvation by external intervention. They want absolution too. They want someone else to take responsibility for their sins and their weakness. They want someone else redeem them, and to clean up the mess they've created.
This is the story of Superman. It's also the story of Batman. It is also (and here is my thesis) the story of Jesus: absolution and salvation by a third party with magical powers.
Batman considers also the issue of dealing with the monster within. It is far from the only work of literature to deal with this topic, but in the comic book medium it is the first to make it a central theme.
It is a mark of profound immaturity that an entire culture should have a manifest wish for external absolution and salvation. Absolution is an absurdity. Your acts are your own. Live with them. Even if you get away with acts you know to be bad or even evil, there's no point in punishing yourself. If you really think it was the wrong thing to do then don't do it again... and stop whining. And stop fixating. It's spilt milk. Get over it.
I really am like this. My girlfriend finds it astonishing that I really have no remorse over, well, anything. There are some things I wish I hadn't done. Possibly it might be better if I did dwell on them a little longer, if only so I remember them better for the purpose of avoiding repeating my errors. On the whole, though, I lead a life untroubled by conscience.
Every now and then I wish I'd spent more time with my loyal and loving dog, who suicided under a cattle truck after prolonged neglect when new friends and interests at university took me away from him. Dogs are different, though. They give themselves to you completely, and they depend on you utterly for everything. It's a bondage and discipline arrangement, but it isn't just some weekend fun, it's full-time and it's for real. I walked out on him and he needed me. I feel remorse over that to this day. I won't own another dog till I can meet that commitment for the term of his natural life.
I miss him. Every five years or so I dream about him. Sometimes he saves me from some dream peril. Other times he just leans against my side in the warm morning sun.
I used to feel vaguely sorry for Americans that they should feel a need for such an emotional crutch, but now that it has occurred to me that religions are manifestations of the same immaturity I have to extend this to almost the entire world. Pathetic.