# A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller, Jr



## Werthead

Six centuries ago, the world was destroyed in the Atomic Flame Deluge, leaving humanity scattered and broken and the world infested by radiation and mutations. One of the few surviving points of continuity to the old world is religion, with the Christian Faith surviving in the form of isolated monasteries and a 'new Rome' that has arisen in the east of North America. When a monk discovers relics dating back to before the nuclear war, a chain of events is set in motion that will reverberate down the centuries.

A Canticle for Leibowitz is a central text of the classic science fiction canon, originally published in 1960 and winning the 1961 Hugo Award as well as a slew of other awards down the years. Unusually for an SF novel, especially one published at that time, it has won significant acclaim from mainstream literary circles, impressed with its grappling of themes such as religion versus science and its assessment of the cyclical nature of humanity's ability and willingness to destroy itself. Whilst there has never been a filmed adaptation, the book's structure and some of its ideas directly inspired an episode of Babylon 5 called The Deconstruction of Fallen Stars which also addressed some of the same themes.

Leibowitz shares a common premise with Asimov's Foundation sequence, with its band of educated men seeking to preserve the knowledge and wisdom of a prior age through the barbarian dark ages of ignorance and fear until civilisation arises again, although the book lacks an analogue to Asimov's psychohistory. The monks of Leibowitz also have themselves little idea of the worth of the knowledge they are protecting, with complex technical schematics stored alongside shopping lists and betting slips. Still, the information they are guarding eventually gives humanity enough clues to begin its rise to technological greatness once again.

Leibowitz is a 'fix-up' novel assembled out of three short stories, set 600, 1,200 and 1,800 years in the future respectively, with corresponding shifts in cast and the technological levels of humanity. Each of the three sections addresses different but related ideas, such as faith and belief in the first part, the seductive nature of technology and power in the second and the clash between religious morality and common morality in the last part. For a novel written in the late 1950s, this book touches on many topics that remain contentious today, such as euthanasia, abortion and the relationship of Church and State. Miller supports no sides, but uses his characters to make compelling arguments on both sides that provides much to think about. The book also has deliberately, even powerfully ambiguous moments (particularly revolving around a recurring character and events involving a mutated woman near the book's end) that introduce huge potential for debate and multiple layers of interpretation to the book.

Leibowitz's literary qualities are founded in excellent writing, strong characterisation (with only 120 pages or so for each part, Miller gives us several memorable and impressive characters per section) and an excellent sense of humour (often very black indeed). Unlike some of its contemporaries, Leibowitz has not aged or dated itself at all, and like Non-Stop, The Stars My Destination and Lord of Light remains a compelling, essential read from this era of SF.

A Canticle for Leibowitz (*****) a rich, funny, dramatic, dark and thought-provoking novel. It is available now in the USA. There is no current British edition (for the time being anyway) but the book is easily available on import or second-hand in the UK. Walter M. Miller sadly took his own life in 1996, but a successor volume, Saint Leibowitz and the Wild Horse Woman, was completed and published with the help of Terry Bisson.


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## J-WO

_Leibowitz_ is a true masterpiece. Thanks for putting this up.


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## j d worthington

Indeed it is, J-WO; a piece which grows with each rereading, and a beautiful example of how science fiction can be both entertainment and art.....


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## Urien

I remember it as an intelligent and moving piece. And at the end I wanted to reach into the story and stop them. A rare and magical book.


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## Parson

I probably read this book from a different slant than most. I came to it very late. I only read it for the first time about a year ago, maybe less. It is certainly haunting and a good read. It is about as striking an indictment of humanity and our predilections as you will ever find. (The Calvinist in me wants to talk about total depravity.) 

But it was recommended to me as a SF book which took religion seriously. I cannot agree with that assessment. It took people who had religious impulses seriously, but not religion. The religion that the monks pursue is uninformed at best, a farce at worst. God is not a player in the book. This book could have been written by an atheist without any qualms. (I have no idea if it was.) 

Also I kept thinking about the popular work a few years ago: "How the Irish Saved the World."


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## j d worthington

Parson, I couldn't disagree with you more. Miller was in fact a convert to Catholicism, and the book is permeated with his struggles to make the two worlds match. The final section, with the old tomato-woman and Rachel bears a very important role on this level.

The entire thing is modeled, really, on the idea of a modern-day version of Biblical parable, which may be why even those who _are_ atheists tend to find this one well worth reading....


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## J-WO

I saw the climax as being the end of original sin, with the mutant lady being a new beginning. Whether that's what Miller intended I don't know.


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## Parson

j. d. worthington said:


> Parson, I couldn't disagree with you more. Miller was in fact a convert to Catholicism, and the book is permeated with his struggles to make the two worlds match. The final section, with the old tomato-woman and Rachel bears a very important role on this level.
> 
> The entire thing is modeled, really, on the idea of a modern-day version of Biblical parable, which may be why even those who _are_ atheists tend to find this one well worth reading....



J.D. 

It would have been interesting to know that this was a story of his struggles to put the world of science (?) and religion together. I also don't doubt that this could be read as a kind of parable. 

But I still stand by my evaluation that though the book took religious people seriously. It often showed how religious impulses could bring out the best of humanity. But God was not a player, or at least not in any overt sense. Perhaps you could see him behind the scenes pulling strings, as in the book of Esther, but never overt. 

[If Esther were not in the Bible the story itself would not immediately generate any thought of a God.]

Now if you want a novel where God is a player in a cracking good story, I would suggest "The Shack" by William Young.


(Always good to hear from you!)


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## Toby Frost

I agree with j.d. worthington. "Taking religion seriously" can be taken to my mind in two ways: firstly, it could mean accepting the claims of religion as literal and unquestionable truths or, secondly, it could mean discussing the claims of religion in an intelligent way, by showing flawed people trying to obey them. It does the latter, and I am glad it does so.

In fact, it doesn't really matter if the God of Leibowitz exists or not. Miller seems to be more interested in discussing the ways in which people - flawed, often ignorant, people but not fanatics or idiots - try to put religious principles into action. Since the existence of God can neither be proved nor disproved, surely it is more interesting and instructive to see how, for good and evil, people try to interpret and obey the word of God. Piety has given us both the Salem witch trials and Mozart's Requiem: I think Miller's skill lies in being aware of both extremes.


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## j d worthington

Thank you, Parson... good to once again be partaking of a thread you're involved in.

I mentioned the bit about Rachel and Mrs. Grales. I'd also like to bring in another figure whose presence (I would argue) makes it very clear that Miller does have God operating in the novel, and on a more direct (if also more subtle than is usually the case in such a scenario) level than what, for instance, you seem to see, Parson. That character, of course, is "Benjamin" -- the Wandering Jew. I think it is most likely significant, given that legendary character's fate, that he is _not_ present when Rachel awakes and bestows her benediction on Zerchi; for this is the very moment that he has waited for for thousands of years....

I think, though, that not having God be overtly visible in his actions here was a very good choice, as it kept a strong feeling of realism (or, if you prefer, relationship to our own experiences of everyday reality) to the book without in any way detracting from the conviction that there is such a deity. In doing that, I think, Miller gives more weight to his religious beliefs than would have been the case otherwise.

A wonderfully complex but also entertaining novel. Very layered, full of the sort of symbolism and scholastic allegory so beloved by many Catholic thinkers. While I have no patience with such when it comes to visions of reality itself, it often does (as in this case) make for great art, for it speaks to very deep emotions and parts of our being through mythic/religious terms.


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## clovis-man

I don't think I'm agreeing or disagreeing with anyone here, but I don't think God has to be overtly a part of a story in order to be a part of a story, if you catch my drift. Certainly not a character ala Marc Connelly's *Green Pastures* ("Stand back! I'm gonna pass a miracle!) To my mind, another example would be *Brother To Dragons* by Charles Sheffield. No overt godly influence, but imbued with an examination of principles which could certainly be conjectured to have a "guiding hand".


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## Parson

j. d. worthington said:


> Thank you, Parson... good to once again be partaking of a thread you're involved in.
> 
> I mentioned the bit about Rachel and Mrs. Grales. I'd also like to bring in another figure whose presence (I would argue) makes it very clear that Miller does have God operating in the novel, and on a more direct (if also more subtle than is usually the case in such a scenario) level than what, for instance, you seem to see, Parson. That character, of course, is "Benjamin" -- the Wandering Jew. I think it is most likely significant, given that legendary character's fate, that he is _not_ present when Rachel awakes and bestows her benediction on Zerchi; for this is the very moment that he has waited for for thousands of years....
> 
> I think, though, that not having God be overtly visible in his actions here was a very good choice, as it kept a strong feeling of realism (or, if you prefer, relationship to our own experiences of everyday reality) to the book without in any way detracting from the conviction that there is such a deity. In doing that, I think, Miller gives more weight to his religious beliefs than would have been the case otherwise.
> 
> A wonderfully complex but also entertaining novel. Very layered, full of the sort of symbolism and scholastic allegory so beloved by many Catholic thinkers. While I have no patience with such when it comes to visions of reality itself, it often does (as in this case) make for great art, for it speaks to very deep emotions and parts of our being through mythic/religious terms.



JD

Sorry to be slow to respond. I've been away at our denomination's national legislative meeting. (Once a decade or so my turn comes up.)

Ahh, Benjamin. You might have hit on someone there that fits the bill. In an allegoric sense he might be a Christ figure. I had high hopes for him in the story. But as you pointed out he was not there in the end. That his absence might have some deeper meaning never entered into my thinking. (My B- brain doesn't work in those realms unless someone is priming my pump.) Also I don't see the book as a book so much as a couple of interrelated stories. ---- (B- brain says.... "Sorta like the Bible?") -----  I was thinking of an author that had a couple of short stories and made a try for a novel, which much to his surprise was quite successful. 

*Clovis Man: *The religious impulse in humanity has certainly called out the best and the worst in us. I would contend that the more we try to shape ourselves according to imitate the Lord Jesus. And the worst comes when we allow humanity to set our own agenda in the name of God.


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## j d worthington

Parson said:


> Ahh, Benjamin. You might have hit on someone there that fits the bill. In an allegoric sense he might be a Christ figure. I had high hopes for him in the story. But as you pointed out he was not there in the end. That his absence might have some deeper meaning never entered into my thinking. (My B- brain doesn't work in those realms unless someone is priming my pump.) Also I don't see the book as a book so much as a couple of interrelated stories. ---- (B- brain says.... "Sorta like the Bible?") ----- I was thinking of an author that had a couple of short stories and made a try for a novel, which much to his surprise was quite successful.


 
No... Benjamin, if you'll recall, was always looking for some mysterious "Him" to appear, and was severely disappointed on the occasions he thought this might be the case and was not. Now, given that Miller was drawing many parallels between the mediaeval Church and his Church of the future, he also made use of some of the myths and legends of the middle ages, such as that of the Wandering Jew, to add to the allegorical aspects of his tale. It has been debated as to whether or not Rachel is meant to represent a form of "immaculate conception" or not, or whether she is meant to represent another related aspect, that of the truly unfallen innocent; or whether her "awakening" is the fulfilment of the idea of the "thief in the night" (coinciding as it does with the final destruction of the earth as a new heaven and new earth are, in essence, formed for humanity). I think (though I could be wrong) that Miller deliberately left this ambiguous, intending to increase the similarity to Biblical parable, but told within the framework of a modern scientific parable as well (much as Blish did with *A Case of Conscience*).

As for it being a "fix-up" novel... that is something that, I think, is rather complex. I do believe, if my memory serves, that it began as a single such parable, but then the idea seems to have truly taken hold of him, causing him to develop it at a much greater scope. (He also had a "prequel/sequel" of sorts, *Saint Leibowitz and the Wild Horse Woman*, which was left uncompleted at his death -- later completed by Terry Bisson -- which deals with many of the same themes. Sadly, I'm afraid that it can't hold a candle to this one, though there are some fine passages here and there.)

This is by no means an unusual occurrence, as many writers (Balzac, Lovecraft, Moorcock, Cabell, Tolkien, etc.) have had a particular vision, theme, or idea grow and branch out so that it went from a single shoot to a vast spreading tree of story. So, while I suppose it began with a short story, by the time he was putting things together as a novel (and the short story was itself revised for that... I've got a copy of the original around somewhere in storage), there really was a unifying vision behind the whole, and the original material was brought into line to reflect that shift in perspective.

By the way... I'm assuming you are familiar with Jung's comments on the concept of the  "Imitatio Christi"? If not, you may find them of some interest:



> We Protestants must sooner or later face this question: Are we to understand the "imitation of Christ" in the sense that we should copy his life and, if I may use the expression, ape his stigmata: or in gthe deeper sense that we are to live our own proper lives as truly as he lived his in all its implications? It is no easy matter to live a life that is modeled on Christ's, but it is unspeakably harder to live one's own life as truly as Christ lived his. Anyone who did this would [...] be misjudged, derided, tortured and crucified[....]


 
-- *Modern Man in Search of a Soul*​


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## Parson

j. d. worthington said:


> No... Benjamin, if you'll recall, was always looking for some mysterious "Him" to appear, and was severely disappointed on the occasions he thought this might be the case and was not. Now, given that Miller was drawing many parallels between the medieval Church and his Church of the future, he also made use of some of the myths and legends of the middle ages, such as that of the Wandering Jew, to add to the allegorical aspects of his tale. It has been debated as to whether or not Rachel is meant to represent a form of "immaculate conception" or not, or whether she is meant to represent another related aspect, that of the truly unfallen innocent; or whether her "awakening" is the fulfillment of the idea of the "thief in the night" (coinciding as it does with the final destruction of the earth as a new heaven and new earth are, in essence, formed for humanity). I think (though I could be wrong) that Miller deliberately left this ambiguous, intending to increase the similarity to Biblical parable, but told within the framework of a modern scientific parable as well (much as Blish did with *A Case of Conscience*).
> 
> As for it being a "fix-up" novel... that is something that, I think, is rather complex. I do believe, if my memory serves, that it began as a single such parable, but then the idea seems to have truly taken hold of him, causing him to develop it at a much greater scope. (He also had a "prequel/sequel" of sorts, *Saint Leibowitz and the Wild Horse Woman*, which was left uncompleted at his death -- later completed by Terry Bisson -- which deals with many of the same themes. Sadly, I'm afraid that it can't hold a candle to this one, though there are some fine passages here and there.)
> 
> This is by no means an unusual occurrence, as many writers (Balzac, Lovecraft, Moorcock, Cabell, Tolkien, etc.) have had a particular vision, theme, or idea grow and branch out so that it went from a single shoot to a vast spreading tree of story. So, while I suppose it began with a short story, by the time he was putting things together as a novel (and the short story was itself revised for that... I've got a copy of the original around somewhere in storage), there really was a unifying vision behind the whole, and the original material was brought into line to reflect that shift in perspective.
> 
> By the way... I'm assuming you are familiar with Jung's comments on the concept of the  "Imitatio Christi"?



JD, your reach of literature is always astounding! "The Wandering Jew," now I do remember (my B- brain being primed again) that medieval myth. So in context he was more "John the Baptist" looking for, but alas, never finding, his Messiah. His great age points at the miraculous, and by extension a god. But I think that Benjamin is a pattern for a heroic but tragic humanity. Without there truly being a divine hand, given enough time every hope dies and every fear materializes. 

This reminds me of the prophet Jeremiah who talks about a test from prophesy: [chapter 28]

8 From early times the  prophets who preceded you and me have prophesied war, disaster and  plague against many countries and great kingdoms. 9 But the prophet who prophesies peace will be  recognized as one truly sent by the LORD only if his prediction comes  true."

Humanity left to its own devices shows great promise but is tragically flawed with sin. Outside of divine intervention, given enough time, we will be the instruments of our own destruction. --- I think that is the deep truth of the Genesis account that is so often viewed as science rather than theology. 

As for Jung, I was not aware of that exact quote, but the idea of the "image of Christ" is ubiquitous among theological tomes. On the surface of it (not knowing the context) I would say that he is wrong. To follow Christ's pattern is to flow precisely against the flow of flawed humanity. This life pattern will certainly result in a literal and/or a figurative cross to bear. But to be true to yourself *might* just bring you fame and fortune.


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## j d worthington

Parson said:


> JD, your reach of literature is always astounding! "The Wandering Jew," now I do remember (my B- brain being primed again) that medieval myth. So in context he was more "John the Baptist" looking for, but alas, never finding, his Messiah. His great age points at the miraculous, and by extension a god. But I think that Benjamin is a pattern for a heroic but tragic humanity. Without there truly being a divine hand, given enough time every hope dies and every fear materializes.


 
I think, in a way, that Miller may have been playing with that concept here. After all, Benjamin is nowhere to be seen when the event he has awaited occurs... perhaps because he has finally given up his hard-earned faith, or perhaps for some other reason. Again, I think (though I could be wrong here) that this is a question Miller wanted to leave open, to emphasize the importance of faith. After all, it has often been noted that some of the passages in the New Testament referred to the return of Christ within the lifetime of those listening to the speaker; yet though this did not occur, faith became no less an important tenet of the Christian religion. In fact, I would argue it became even more so because of that very fact. I think Miller wished to address this without being flat-out didactic. While I think he was wrong-headed on the matter, I also think he did a beautiful job of it artistically.



> This reminds me of the prophet Jeremiah who talks about a test from prophesy: [chapter 28]
> 
> 8 From early times the prophets who preceded you and me have prophesied war, disaster and plague against many countries and great kingdoms. 9 But the prophet who prophesies peace will be recognized as one truly sent by the LORD only if his prediction comes true."
> 
> Humanity left to its own devices shows great promise but is tragically flawed with sin. Outside of divine intervention, given enough time, we will be the instruments of our own destruction. --- I think that is the deep truth of the Genesis account that is so often viewed as science rather than theology.


 
This is one of the areas where you and I most fundamentally disagree, I think. While I think we have the potential to be the means of our own destruction, I do not by any means think it inevitable; and in fact I would argue that faith without reason, and without serious questioning, is more likely to lead to that than a complete lack of faith in any supernatural, supernal, or supreme being. Skepticism is a very healthy thing, as long as it doesn't become outright negation of evidence which is there; and we do have a tendency, far too often, to view humanity as corrupt beyond comprehension. Coming from the evolutionary standpoint, I would argue that we have improved our lot -- albeit often only in tiny increments -- and I think that is backed by both the paleontological, archaeological, and historical records. This does not mean we are "redeemed", even in a strictly secular sense; but rather that we can go either way, and there is no less reason to believe we are not capable of realizing our potential, given time than there is to believe the opposite.

I suppose you could say that, despite my early upbringing and the inclinations that instilled in me, I have over time learned to have a good deal more faith in humanity and its ability to overcome these things, without becoming _entirely_ optimistic about the matter. However, Miller makes an emotionally powerful and intellectually stimulating argument for his lapsarian view; which is why I still think this is one of the true gems of science fiction. (Then again, I seem to be in the minority these days in having such a strong liking for Blish's *A Case of Conscience*....)



> As for Jung, I was not aware of that exact quote, but the idea of the "image of Christ" is ubiquitous among theological tomes. On the surface of it (not knowing the context) I would say that he is wrong. To follow Christ's pattern is to flow precisely against the flow of flawed humanity. This life pattern will certainly result in a literal and/or a figurative cross to bear. But to be true to yourself *might* just bring you fame and fortune.


 
It might... but I think not. For one thing, to truly live one's own life fully, without compromise, would tend to alienate too many people on too many levels, however worthy that life might itself be. We must needs make concessions to our fellows at cost of certain parts of ourselves simply in order to function within a society, as otherwise the very range of personality-types would simply not be able to comprehend, let alone cooperate with, each other. We may sacrifice as little as we can reasonably get by with, but some sacrifices in this realm must be made. Whether that is a good thing (part of growing up and becoming wiser) or not, is something well worth consideration....

Thank you, by the way, for the compliment. I've always found both the legend of The Wandering Jew and that of the Flying Dutchman to be powerful metaphors on many levels, and I have an especial liking for Baring-Gould's recounting of the first in his *Curious Myths of the Middle Ages*... something which I would, given the cast of the novel, almost be willing to wager that Miller had in mind....

And, again, thank you for a stimulating conversation....


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## The Judge

j. d. worthington said:


> (Then again, I seem to be in the minority these days in having such a strong liking for Blish's *A Case of Conscience*....)


I'm one of those who disliked it intensely, and was taken to task by you after my very short and very, very feeble critique in a worst-books-you-have-ever-read thread. o)   I don't know if it would be of interest to Parson, since it is a novel in which religion -- or, at least, a man of religion -- plays a major role, but I would certainly be interested in your thoughts on it, if you had time, though perhaps it will be too much off topic to post here?


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## j d worthington

The Judge said:


> I'm one of those who disliked it intensely, and was taken to task by you after my very short and very, very feeble critique in a worst-books-you-have-ever-read thread. o) I don't know if it would be of interest to Parson, since it is a novel in which religion -- or, at least, a man of religion -- plays a major role, but I would certainly be interested in your thoughts on it, if you had time, though perhaps it will be too much off topic to post here?


 
LOL... Sorry if I gave you a rough time. I do sometimes debate these matters with a rather forceful tone, even though I don't mean to offend. (Well, not generally, anyway.)

Yes, it would probably be too far OT as far as this thread is concerned, but I'll try to find time to get my thoughts together and send them to you. I had several posts on this a long while back, but I've been having trouble with the search function lately, which means I may not be able to track them down... necessitating my putting all that together again....


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## Quokka

I remember there was a thread on it in the Classic SF section.

Edit: Yep it's drifted down to page 4 by now but JD did stop in to say hi .


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## The Judge

Ah-ha.  Thanks, Quokka.  I've found it now (searching under the title, "conscience" separately and even "Blish" got me nothing, oddly enough).  I have to say, despite the praise given, this is not one I think I would change my mind about -- perhaps because I have no sympathy/empathy for the main character or any of his actions throughout.  

To get back on topic, I have enjoyed reading the different reactions to *A Canticle*, which isn't a work I've read.  So thank you, everyone, for that.


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## Parson

j. d. worthington said:


> This is one of the areas where you and I most fundamentally disagree, I think. While I think we have the potential to be the means of our own destruction, I do not by any means think it inevitable; and in fact I would argue that faith without reason, and without serious questioning, is more likely to lead to that than a complete lack of faith in any supernatural, supernal, or supreme being. Skepticism is a very healthy thing, as long as it doesn't become outright negation of evidence which is there; and we do have a tendency, far too often, to view humanity as corrupt beyond comprehension. Coming from the evolutionary standpoint, I would argue that we have improved our lot -- albeit often only in tiny increments -- and I think that is backed by both the paleontological, archaeological, and historical records. This does not mean we are "redeemed", even in a strictly secular sense; but rather that we can go either way, and there is no less reason to believe we are not capable of realizing our potential, given time than there is to believe the opposite.


 In the end JD it comes down to what you have "faith" in. Both of us are far too realistic to believe the plethora of easy answers the popular purveyors of culture and religion bring to the market place of ideas. They often have a handle on a truth, but fail to see the nuance and the balance that is a part of human interaction (to say nothing of a human divine interaction). 

I would agree with you that there has been slow (often painfully slow) progression in humankind's mores, but whereas you point to the bootstrap philosophy as the cause, I say things like "By the grace of God..." to direct a person to the architect of what is good and right about humanity. 



> I suppose you could say that, despite my early upbringing and the inclinations that instilled in me, I have over time learned to have a good deal more faith in humanity and its ability to overcome these things, without becoming _entirely_ optimistic about the matter. However, Miller makes an emotionally powerful and intellectually stimulating argument for his lapsarian view; which is why I still think this is one of the true gems of science fiction. (Then again, I seem to be in the minority these days in having such a strong liking for Blish's *A Case of Conscience*....)
> 
> 
> 
> It might... but I think not. For one thing, to truly live one's own life fully, without compromise, would tend to alienate too many people on too many levels, however worthy that life might itself be. We must needs make concessions to our fellows at cost of certain parts of ourselves simply in order to function within a society, as otherwise the very range of personality-types would simply not be able to comprehend, let alone cooperate with, each other. We may sacrifice as little as we can reasonably get by with, but some sacrifices in this realm must be made. Whether that is a good thing (part of growing up and becoming wiser) or not, is something well worth consideration....
> 
> Thank you, by the way, for the compliment. I've always found both the legend of The Wandering Jew and that of the Flying Dutchman to be powerful metaphors on many levels, and I have an especial liking for Baring-Gould's recounting of the first in his *Curious Myths of the Middle Ages*... something which I would, given the cast of the novel, almost be willing to wager that Miller had in mind....
> 
> And, again, thank you for a stimulating conversation....



I have not read Blish's *A Case of Conscience* --- Is this James Blish? The things I've remember reading of his tend to be aimed at young adults or perhaps even pre-teens. [I looked at his Wiki bio and I believe that it was *StarDwellers *and *Flight to the Heart Stars *that I read.]

I will look up *A Case of Conscience *and perhaps I will agree with you or perhaps with the Judge about its comparative worth. 

About *Canticle *I have not really changed my mind. A very good novel which takes people of faith seriously, but not God.

A pleasure to examine a intriguing book with you JD.


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## Toby Frost

On a rather lighter note, I note that the Archbishop of Newark once co-authored an SF novel.

Space Vulture - A Science Fiction Novel by Gary K. Wolf and Archbishop John J. Myers

I wonder if any other clergymen have turned their hand to science fiction?


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## Parson

I would be shocked if there were not some but none come to mind. However some very famous Christian authors also wrote SF. Probably the most famous from the Christian point of view was C. S. Lewis who wrote the very solid "The Space Trilogy" and then in the Fantasy realm wrote one of the all time greats "The Chronicles of Narnia." Perhaps in the Christian world he is even better known for two other works: "Mere Christianity" and "Surprised by Joy." He was the very good friend and member of the same Christian small group "The Inklings," J. R. R. Tolkien author of the Fantasy Master Work "The Lord of the Rings."

C. S. Lewis was a household name for me, before I even knew about "The Space Trilogy" and "The Chronicles of Narnia."


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## Toby Frost

Good point. I enjoyed the space trilogy: they seemed so allegorical and removed from reality (or "hard" science fiction) as to seem almost like psychadelic fantasy. _That Hideous Strength_, although perhaps not a total success, is a really interesting book, seemingly influenced by Arthurian myth and Orwell and/or Huxley's thoughts on dictatorships and brainwashing as well as Christianity. I can't think of much like it.


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## Pedro Del Mar

Being honest I really did not enjoy this book. I had a spell recently of reading apocalyptic fiction and took from The Chrons a short list of recommended reads:

Earth Abides
I am Legend
The Stand
The Road
On The Beach
Alas, Babylon
Swan Song

Out of all of these the only one I didn't enjoy, and the one with the highest literary acclaim, is A Canticle for Leibowitz. I had to force myself to finish it. 

I honestly wondered what all the fuss was about.

Cheers
Crooksy


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## Parson

I think it is so well regarded because it is fairly unique in the SF world. It does not hold religious people up as Charlatans and in some way shows them as the hope of the world, while at the same time mocking organized religion with their holy writ being a grocery list. When it was written this was cutting edge stuff, and still holds our interest decades later. But on purely an apocalyptic basis I would hold it to be a marginal read.


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## j d worthington

I think one of the reasons why this one still holds the interest outside the sf community, is that is works on the level of a parable, as does much classic literature. There are various metaphorical and allegorical significances to it; it doesn't necessarily "spell everything out" as so much sf does (there is a passage from a letter by Brian Aldiss to a fan, quoted in Colin Greenland's *The Entropy Exhibition* where Aldiss criticizes said fan for having lost the ability to read more standard, demanding literature by having read too much sf, and thus having fallen into the habit of expecting things to be "diagrammed" for consumption -- there is a fair degree of justice to this charge, in my view), and it does explore these questions with a fair degree of respect.

I would, however, disagree about the view of the established church. Miller may have felt that there were serious problems with much of it, but there is nonetheless a strong element of doctrinal belief in the more fundamental issues -- e.g., the question of euthenasia in case of incurable conditions (such as the radiation poisoning in the novel). Being, as I recall, a recent convert to Catholicism, such a stance should not be surprising....


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## Fried Egg

Parson said:


> But it was recommended to me as a SF book which took religion seriously. I cannot agree with that assessment. It took people who had religious impulses seriously, but not religion. The religion that the monks pursue is uninformed at best, a farce at worst. God is not a player in the book. This book could have been written by an atheist without any qualms. (I have no idea if it was.)


I really can't understand your interpetation. Having just finished reading this (for the first time), I came away with the definite impression (even before I knew anything about the author) that it was written by someone who genuinely believed in God. 

And I don't know what you mean when you say "God is not a player in the book". Do you say this because it wasn't made clear in the story that the will of God (as espoused by the church) was the right one? No, the reader wasn't led to believe one view or another, rather they were left to make up their own mind. The moral dilemmas in the story were explored in an intellectually honest way, without (I feel) deliberately trying to bias the arguments or didactically convey the authors beliefs.

Religous people in the real world act on faith, without always find it easy to do what is right or having the miraculous to re-inforce their convictions. In this sense, God isn't a player in the world we know. Those who believe in him, who try to live their lives in accordance with his will, do so without any overt action on the part of God or any unquestionably acts of divine intervention. So, I think it's fair to say that Miller _did_ indeed take religion seriously, making God's presence felt as strongly as it is every day life.


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## clovis-man

Parson said:


> Perhaps in the Christian world he is even better known for two other works: "Mere Christianity" and "Surprised by Joy." He was the very good friend and member of the same Christian small group "The Inklings," J. R. R. Tolkien author of the Fantasy Master Work "The Lord of the Rings."


 
Are you forgetting *The Screwtape Letters*?


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## j d worthington

Fried Egg said:


> I really can't understand your interpetation. Having just finished reading this (for the first time), I came away with the definite impression (even before I knew anything about the author) that it was written by someone who genuinely believed in God.
> 
> And I don't know what you mean when you say "God is not a player in the book". Do you say this because it wasn't made clear in the story that the will of God (as espoused by the church) was the right one? No, the reader wasn't led to believe one view or another, rather they were left to make up their own mind. The moral dilemmas in the story were explored in an intellectually honest way, without (I feel) deliberately trying to bias the arguments or didactically convey the authors beliefs.
> 
> Religous people in the real world act on faith, without always find it easy to do what is right or having the miraculous to re-inforce their convictions. In this sense, God isn't a player in the world we know. Those who believe in him, who try to live their lives in accordance with his will, do so without any overt action on the part of God or any unquestionably acts of divine intervention. So, I think it's fair to say that Miller _did_ indeed take religion seriously, making God's presence felt as strongly as it is every day life.


 
I think the one place I would disagree strongly with you here is God's not "being a player in the world" -- at least, the world of the book. The presence of The Wandering Jew -- a figure the direct result of a curse by God (in the form of Christ) for rejecting him on the way to Calgary -- and Rachel (see below) makes it pretty clear that God is active in the world of the novel; just not in the "neon sign" manner which would indisputably say to the people of that world "Hello there; this is God speaking. Listen up!" This follows the entire line of argument which claims that God refrains from such direct, unmistakable intervention in our world in order to leave us free choice whether to believe or not (an argument to which I do not subscribe, but still one which is firmly supported by a large percentage of believers, and even many "on the fence"). He takes actions which certainly indicate the _possible_ presence of a divine mover, but leave open the possibility of natural causes.

It is interesting and appropriate that Miller chose The Wandering Jew, as this resonates with the sort of era from which that figure came, and which is deliberately evoked by the Church of his novel; that of the early Middle (or Dark) Ages through the present; as this figure emerged during the Middle Ages originally (see, for instance, Sabine Baring-Gould's chapter on this theme in his Curious Myths of the Middle Ages).

As for Rachel and Mrs. Grales... I may have said this earlier, but it strikes me very strongly that this is a deliberate mirror image of Mary and the infant Jesus; there we had a mother who was either a virgin (as in common acceptance) or "a young woman" -- the argument having been frequently made that the idea of her being a virgin is due to a mistranslation of the word for "an unmarried daughter" in the original. (*Strong's Biblical Concordance*: "parthenos": "a maiden; by _implication_ an unmarried daughter"; emphasis mine.) Mrs. Grimes, obviously, is neither young nor a virgin. Christ was born, in the original tale, with considerable fanfare (announced by the angels; signaled by the brightest star in the firmament; traced by the Wise Men of the East; etc.), and as a male; here we have a second coming very much as "a thief in the night", coming unannounced and unheralded, and as a female through a woman who, by her own inner innocence and role as the sister/mother (look at how she treats Rachel; more as her child than her twin) is herself, the text would indicate, redeemed. The air of benediction in the final meeting of Rachel and Dom Zerchi, is itself something of a deliberate inversion of what happens between John the Baptist and Christ when the latter is baptized and the Holy Ghost appears; here there is no need even of a symbolic baptism, for the war has reached its end, and "there will be a new heaven and a new earth".

In all this, there is a strong reassertion of Biblical prophecy being fulfilled; of pseudo-Biblical characters, with their symbolic importance being reinforced (note that Benjamin is not present in the latter part of the novel -- his wanderings, his punishment, has also reached its end with the second coming); of an air just short of obvious miracles in favor of implied miracles... in other words, very much the air of a Deity active in the world, but who does work "in mysterious ways", rather than simply announcing his presence by open fiat.


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## Parson

Fried Egg said:


> I really can't understand your interpetation. Having just finished reading this (for the first time), I came away with the definite impression (even before I knew anything about the author) that it was written by someone who genuinely believed in God.
> 
> And I don't know what you mean when you say "God is not a player in the book". Do you say this because it wasn't made clear in the story that the will of God (as espoused by the church) was the right one? No, the reader wasn't led to believe one view or another, rather they were left to make up their own mind. The moral dilemmas in the story were explored in an intellectually honest way, without (I feel) deliberately trying to bias the arguments or didactically convey the authors beliefs.
> 
> Religous people in the real world act on faith, without always find it easy to do what is right or having the miraculous to re-inforce their convictions. In this sense, God isn't a player in the world we know. Those who believe in him, who try to live their lives in accordance with his will, do so without any overt action on the part of God or any unquestionably acts of divine intervention. So, I think it's fair to say that Miller _did_ indeed take religion seriously, making God's presence felt as strongly as it is every day life.



I would agree with your assessment from the point of view of the people in the book. Their situation is much like ours, God seldom acts in our world in unequivocal ways. I know of no instance that a dedicated skeptic could not find another answer for the action that a person of faith, like myself, would take for the work of God in our world. 

My point was rather in that we were in on the "secret" about who Leibowitz was, and the whole religious scene was in fact a sham. Leibowitz was in no sense a god, let alone God. Therefore I maintain that the book took religious people seriously. They are portrayed in a quite positive manner, but the religion they were following was nothing more than a tragic mistake. Was there a God involved? Quite possibly, but not the God they were worshiping. 

*J.D.* points to some significant correspondence to Christian and Jewish mythology which might indicate that God is present, but in an extremely veiled way. I suppose that might be the point, but if it is, it is far to subtle for my liking.


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## j d worthington

Parson said:


> My point was rather in that we were in on the "secret" about who Leibowitz was, and the whole religious scene was in fact a sham. Leibowitz was in no sense a god, let alone God. Therefore I maintain that the book took religious people seriously. They are portrayed in a quite positive manner, but the religion they were following was nothing more than a tragic mistake. Was there a God involved? Quite possibly, but not the God they were worshiping.


 
Where, in the novel, is it indicated they see Leibowitz as a god of any sort? He begins as a "Beatus" and is eventually given status as "Sanctus", a saint, an intercessor between the common parishioners and God, much the same as any other saint in the Canon. As for his biography... no secret is made of this, certainly not in the Church nor, as far as I remember, with the flock either. And, of course, he is hardly the first (and is unlikely to be the last) saint to have a more than slightly tarnished life. (See, for instance, Saint Augustine.)

With this aspect, I think Miller is very much saying that, despite the human errors -- cf. one of the abbots' musings on the variety of previous abbots of the monastery, from superb examples to ninnies -- which inevitably creep into a structure as large as the Church, the truth of the religion itself is so large and so important that these become, at most, minor blemishes, if even that. Even such a faulted and flawed person as Leibowitz serves a divine purpose in the end, and his conversion and (at least) apparent redemption later in life is an example of how even the evil that went before serves to promote the good which follows after.



> *J.D.* points to some significant correspondence to Christian and Jewish mythology which might indicate that God is present, but in an extremely veiled way. I suppose that might be the point, but if it is, it is far to subtle for my liking.


 
If you're referring to The Wandering Jew as part of Jewish mythology, you'd be seriously off there. This is very much a Christian tradition, and would be anathema to Jews. It was evolved during some of the most anti-Semitic periods in Christian history, hence has fallen rather out of favor today despite its powerful symbolic importance to the stories of refusal and redemption. Nor do I see God's presence in the novel as at all veiled. It really is a case of a rather realistic handling of religion as a working belief system with a basis in divine truth in a fallen world, and therefore it cannot have something as blunt as, e.g., what we have with Adam and Eve hearing God walking in the Garden. In the context of the novel, that _would_ completely rob the various situations of any value, either dramatically or metaphysically. There would be no heroism, nor any need for faith, were such to be the case. Zerchi's act of faith in the justice of God, and the reason for his allowing the suffering of the child -- the eternal question of the problem of evil -- and the penalties he suffers due to this faith, is very much at one with the numerous tales of the martyrs who suffered for their beliefs in the face of an unbelieving, even if _generally_ humane, world. Such a realistic "distancing" effect (I'm using the literary, not literal, term here, given that I believe that the presence of God is by no means distant in the novel itself, it is only, at most, _apparently_ so) is what allows for the poignancy and genuine tragedy, yet at the same time the hope, of the novel (e.g., the scene with Rachel and Zerchi; the mission to the other planets -- the "new heaven and new earth").

Frankly, I think it is one of the best, most moving, and most challenging of religious novels I've read, because it doesn't pull its punches. It doesn't present any easy answers to the troubling questions concerning religion, but nonetheless (in artistic terms at least, if not philosophically) deals with the entire issue with great compassion and seriousness, without being devoid of the leavening of humor.

So no, I don't think the religion presented here is at all a "tragic mistake" -- at least, no more so than I think is the case with all religion in the final analysis. (But even given that view, there is much of beauty and genuine human pathos and compassion which can, and has, emerge(d) from religion.) I would argue that Miller simply paints it as honestly as possible, given the milieu of the novel... which is, after all, based very much on the history of religious movements (good and bad) in our own world.


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## Fried Egg

J.D. said:
			
		

> I think the one place I would disagree strongly with you here is God's not "being a player in the world" -- at least, the world of the book. The presence of The Wandering Jew -- a figure the direct result of a curse by God (in the form of Christ) for rejecting him on the way to Calgary -- and Rachel (see below) makes it pretty clear that God is active in the world of the novel; just not in the "neon sign" manner which would indisputably say to the people of that world "Hello there; this is God speaking. Listen up!"


I guess that's what I mean really; the miraculous nature of the wanderer was made clear to the reader but not to any of the characters he interacted with (they disbelieved his references to longevity as mad ramblings) or the world at large.


			
				Parson said:
			
		

> J.D. points to some significant correspondence to Christian and Jewish mythology which might indicate that God is present, but in an extremely veiled way. I suppose that might be the point, but if it is, it is far to subtle for my liking.


Fair enough, but I think that if it had been too overt, less veiled, it wouldn't have reached as wide an audience, appealing to both believers and athiests alike.


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## Parson

j. d. worthington said:


> Where, in the novel, is it indicated they see Leibowitz as a god of any sort? He begins as a "Beatus" and is eventually given status as "Sanctus", a saint, an intercessor between the common parishioners and God, much the same as any other saint in the Canon. As for his biography... no secret is made of this, certainly not in the Church nor, as far as I remember, with the flock either. And, of course, he is hardly the first (and is unlikely to be the last) saint to have a more than slightly tarnished life. (See, for instance, Saint Augustine.)
> 
> With this aspect, I think Miller is very much saying that, despite the  human errors -- cf. one of the abbots' musings on the variety of  previous abbots of the monastery, from superb examples to ninnies --  which inevitably creep into a structure as large as the Church, the  truth of the religion itself is so large and so important that these  become, at most, minor blemishes, if even that. Even such a faulted and  flawed person as Leibowitz serves a divine purpose in the end, and his  conversion and (at least) apparent redemption later in life is an  example of how even the evil that went before serves to promote the good  which follows after.


 I was operating under the assumption that it was the grocery list that Leibowitz left which constituted their Scripture. I do not recall the Bible or any other holy book mentioned. I was more than a little aggravated from the moment I started reading the story that everything in the story was a sham in terms of the fact that they "monks" were living their lives and sometimes making sacrifices and other noble choices with them in the service of a man who was a normal human being long since dead and gone. --- As my memory of these things never equals yours you have me wondering if I lost a key part. --- I've been known to do this before. When I read the Hobbit I understood "Middle earth" to be a place, which I just couldn't buy, and one of the posters here said that he was sure that the line went "in the time of Middle Earth" which would have helped me buy the story immensely. 





> If you're referring to The Wandering Jew as part of Jewish mythology, you'd be seriously off there. This is very much a Christian tradition, and would be anathema to Jews. It was evolved during some of the most anti-Semitic periods in Christian history, hence has fallen rather out of favor today despite its powerful symbolic importance to the stories of refusal and redemption. Nor do I see God's presence in the novel as at all veiled. It really is a case of a rather realistic handling of religion as a working belief system with a basis in divine truth in a fallen world, and therefore it cannot have something as blunt as, e.g., what we have with Adam and Eve hearing God walking in the Garden. In the context of the novel, that _would_ completely rob the various situations of any value, either dramatically or metaphysically. There would be no heroism, nor any need for faith, were such to be the case. Zerchi's act of faith in the justice of God, and the reason for his allowing the suffering of the child -- the eternal question of the problem of evil -- and the penalties he suffers due to this faith, is very much at one with the numerous tales of the martyrs who suffered for their beliefs in the face of an unbelieving, even if _generally_ humane, world. Such a realistic "distancing" effect (I'm using the literary, not literal, term here, given that I believe that the presence of God is by no means distant in the novel itself, it is only, at most, _apparently_ so) is what allows for the poignancy and genuine tragedy, yet at the same time the hope, of the novel (e.g., the scene with Rachel and Zerchi; the mission to the other planets -- the "new heaven and new earth").
> 
> Frankly, I think it is one of the best, most moving, and most challenging of religious novels I've read, because it doesn't pull its punches. It doesn't present any easy answers to the troubling questions concerning religion, but nonetheless (in artistic terms at least, if not philosophically) deals with the entire issue with great compassion and seriousness, without being devoid of the leavening of humor.
> 
> So no, I don't think the religion presented here is at all a "tragic mistake" -- at least, no more so than I think is the case with all religion in the final analysis. (But even given that view, there is much of beauty and genuine human pathos and compassion which can, and has, emerge(d) from religion.) I would argue that Miller simply paints it as honestly as possible, given the milieu of the novel... which is, after all, based very much on the history of religious movements (good and bad) in our own world.



I was referring to the "Wandering Jew." Outside of this discussion I've never heard of this mythology and therefore assumed it must have it's origins in the Jewish mythology. 

I remember continuing to slog through the book being frustrated that the whole thing was a send up of the roots of religion which sometimes led people to do the right thing, but only out of their own resources in the service of grocery list. I felt that the book was one of the most subtle and damaging shots anyone had ever taken at people of faith. "People of faith might occasionally do heroic and even sacrificial things, but there core beliefs are just a muddle of stupidity." 

I would have had no problem with the lack of tangible action by God, this is almost always the way he works, but when there was no hope of God's work in the world, I couldn't buy the book as book that treated religion seriously.


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## j d worthington

The grocery list -- just as the schematic plan -- were considered sacred relics (or at least potentially sacred) of a blessed man, one who was being considered for canonization; and the grocery list itself was especially so, since it was (iirc) the only existing example of this soon-to-be-saint's handwriting (much as, until her decanonization, any relic of Jean d'Arc would also have been seen). But it didn't form scripture; simply a saintly relic. It has been a while, but as I recall, there were distinct biblical references and certainly allusions; the Church here is simply the Catholic Church, having been one of the very few institutions which survived the nuclear holocaust, and which is slowly going back through the cycle, repeating the developments (or analogous developments) it went through from its early establishment to the present.

As for Benjamin (or Ahaseurus, or Joseph, or... depending on the variant one is dealing with), here's a brief look at this historic and influential legend:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wandering_Jew

I would strongly suggest reading Baring-Gould's chapter on the figure, especially as he was also a man of faith (yes, this is the same man who wrote the Christian hymn, "Onward, Christian Soldiers"). The entire book (which is quite a fascinating read) can be found at the Internet Archive:

http://www.archive.org/details/curiousmythsofmi00bariuoft

Baring-Gould was a very well-noted student of folklore, and his writings on such things are both entertaining and informative, and give a lot of insight into the beliefs of the times when these beliefs evolved.


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## Fried Egg

Parson said:
			
		

> I remember continuing to slog through the book being frustrated that the whole thing was a send up of the roots of religion which sometimes led people to do the right thing, but only out of their own resources in the service of grocery list. I felt that the book was one of the most subtle and damaging shots anyone had ever taken at people of faith. "People of faith might occasionally do heroic and even sacrificial things, but there core beliefs are just a muddle of stupidity."


Indeed, to build upon what J.D. said, the veracity and authenticity of many of the documents they had salvaged and preserved at the abbey were established by Thon Taddeo in the second part of the book when he visited the abbey and had a chance to apply the "rigours" of the scientific method to them. And by the end of that section the reader was left with the impression that it was actually the monks who were better able to extrapolate facts from history than the secular scientsts after Thon Taddeo appeared all too ready to jump to conclusions in accepting an interpretation that suggested they were not actually the true descendents of pre-holocaust civilization.


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## Toby Frost

My own view on C for L is that it discusses faith in general as well as Medieval Catholicism, and the two can be seen pretty much separately. The whole business of the illuminated manuscript in the first third seems to relate to religion at one particular time, and of one branch. 

The other thing is that the church in C for L is vital to humanity. Even with all the errors and mindless repetition (ie the ignorance of the middle ages), it is clearly the best thing that mankind has until Thon Taddeo in the second part - and Thon Taddeo works for a ruthless king (Leonardo under the Borgias vs the Pope!). 

I don't see this book as an assault on the church. Although Miller pokes fun at the superstition of the early church, he recognises the importance of such a permanent institution in people's lives and in the recovery of mankind. It is clear that the power of the church as a nation in itself is eclipsed later on in the novel, but the sensitive way in which Miller presents the religious arguments, especially in Fiat Voluntas Tua, suggest to me that he is at least giving religion a fair degree of respect - unlike many SF authors, who seem to regard it as something mankind has to grow out of.


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## Parson

j. d. worthington said:


> The grocery list -- just as the schematic plan -- were considered sacred relics (or at least potentially sacred) of a blessed man, one who was being considered for canonization; and the grocery list itself was especially so, since it was (iirc) the only existing example of this soon-to-be-saint's handwriting (much as, until her decanonization, any relic of Jean d'Arc would also have been seen). But it didn't form scripture; simply a saintly relic. It has been a while, but as I recall, there were distinct biblical references and certainly allusions; the Church here is simply the Catholic Church, having been one of the very few institutions which survived the nuclear holocaust, and which is slowly going back through the cycle, repeating the developments (or analogous developments) it went through from its early establishment to the present.
> 
> As for Benjamin (or Ahaseurus, or Joseph, or... depending on the variant one is dealing with), here's a brief look at this historic and influential legend:
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wandering_Jew
> 
> I would strongly suggest reading Baring-Gould's chapter on the figure, especially as he was also a man of faith (yes, this is the same man who wrote the Christian hymn, "Onward, Christian Soldiers"). The entire book (which is quite a fascinating read) can be found at the Internet Archive:
> 
> http://www.archive.org/details/curiousmythsofmi00bariuoft
> 
> Baring-Gould was a very well-noted student of folklore, and his writings on such things are both entertaining and informative, and give a lot of insight into the beliefs of the times when these beliefs evolved.



Let me first apologize for the egregious spelling and grammatical errors in last night's post. I was dead tired and headed for bed. I'm afraid that shows in my using the wrong homonym and completely forgetting words. 

The wandering Jew is a fascinating myth. It seems to be straight out of the folklore of ancient Christianity and a reminder of what people can dream up and take for sacred truth. This dreaming up truth has not stopped in our own day. As an example I would point to the "Health and Wealth" preachers of our own day. 

*Toby Frost* is right that Miller does give religion a fair hearing. In that the people of faith are seen as often devout and practicing a fair amount of  the best ideas of the human race. It is a definite point in his favor that Miller does not see religion as something which is dying or must be defeated for the progress of the human race. 

However, in my final accounting, I would say, that although the book is a true SF classic and cannot be forgotten once read, it has to be viewed at best as a left handed compliment to religion in general and Christianity in particular. The people are genuine, but the faith is farcical.


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## Fried Egg

Parson said:


> However, in my final accounting, I would say, that although the book is a true SF classic and cannot be forgotten once read, it has to be viewed at best as a left handed compliment to religion in general and Christianity in particular. The people are genuine, but the faith is farcical.


Are they not proper Catholics? What is it that they do or believe that makes their faith farcical?


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## Parson

I would hope that a proper Catholic would speak clearly, at least rarely, about the hope they had in Jesus. I would hope that that they would speak clearly, at least rarely, about the biblical witness (if all the Bibles were destroyed in the nuclear holocaust, which if people survived seems unlikely in the extreme, there surely would have been some oral tradition.). 

But at some level I have to admit that I come from the low church and fundamentalist roots. And so I probably don't have quite the understanding of how a "proper" Catholic would act. My Catholic friends would fit my above expectation.


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## Rodders

Another bump. This is another novel that's on my "to read" list and one that certainly seems to spark lively debate. 

I'll try and read this later in the year.


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## Stephen Palmer

It's unique!


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## paeng

I read it a few years ago, and although I found the plot and themes remarkable I found the work dry. For some reason I kept comparing it with _Name of the Rose_.


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## Danny McG

As I've commented about other so-called "great works", IMO it was cack


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## BAYLOR

Rodders said:


> Another bump. This is another novel that's on my "to read" list and one that certainly seems to spark lively debate.
> 
> I'll try and read this later in the year.



Read it years a go .  Babylon 5 did a homage to it 

Miller did write a sequel to it.


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## alexvss

I just bought this on a Amazon sale. Maybe it'll help for one of my WIPs.


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