by Rainn Wilson
Morality in the Baha’i Faith is a bit different from morality in other faith traditions. There’s no hell or sin in the traditional sense. Evil is merely the absence of good. Hell is remoteness from God, the divine presence. Sin is “missing the mark,” and one should simply try to learn and do better next time. (It should be noted that in the early Greek translation of the New Testament hamartia is the word that is used for sin. Hamartia is an archery term that literally means “missing the mark.” It has nothing to do with shameful evil. That came into play later.) Moral and ethical guidelines in the Baha’i system are given to us by a loving Creator as a protection and direction for us as individuals and for the betterment of our society as a whole.
Baha’u’llah writes:
“O ye peoples of the world! Know assuredly that My commandments are the lamps of My loving providence among My servants, and the keys of My mercy for My creatures.”
The key thing with any discussion of morality, especially from a religious perspective, is that any whiff of judgment, condescension, and arrogance needs to be completely taken out of the conversation. And hell. And damnation. And original sin. Ludicrous ideas.
I have made plenty of moral mistakes and had lapses in ethical judgment. (Trust me. I’m not just saying that to sound humble.) Most of us have. But the culturally taboo topic of morality I find fascinating.
But what do I know? I’m just a bassoonist.
* A note about happiness: In 2014 I did a talk at the University of Southern California about happiness. I’m not what you would call a joyful person, but I believe I have a few minor insights into what DOESN’T make you happy. One of those things? The myth that happiness is something to be pursued. “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness” is total bull balls. You can’t pursue happiness. What does that even mean?
What it really means, the pretty overt subtext to our national motto about that “unalienable right,” is that nothing should get in the way of a citizen’s trying to accrue things. In other words, I have the RIGHT to go out and get crap without neighbors or the government or institutions getting in my GD way. It should really read “LIFE, LIBERTY AND THE PURSUIT OF ACCRUING CRAP.” And implicit in that “right” to buy, stockpile, and obtain is that eventually, once you have the right home on the right plot of land, the right mate, the right family, the right job, the right savings, the right everything, THEN you will be happy. It’s an “if-then” proposition. And it just doesn’t work that way, I believe.
The ancient Greeks had a different word for happiness. They often used the term eudemonia, which translates best as “human flourishing.” That’s such a rich, complex, evocative term. Think about it: human flourishing. That includes art, service, contentment, connection, community, challenges, and endeavor!
What if our “right” in the Declaration of Independence was “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of HUMAN FLOURISHING”? That would create a much deeper and more varied dialogue on what human flourishing actually is. How can the individual and community BOTH flourish? How can we help one another to greater and greater flourishment? (I know, not a word.) How do we create a living society where growth, enlightenment, and peace are nurtured in all our political and cultural institutions?
But I digress. Happiness is not something “just around the corner” or “over the hill” or that can be enjoyed as soon as you have a certain level of material comfort. It’s a moment-to-moment choice. Joy and contentment come from daily, hourly, minutely, secondly decisions to be grateful for what you have. With every breath. Savoring every moment. Focusing on the good. On service to others. On the sacred, whatever that word means to you. Happy?
* This was something my friends and I would tackle when we started SoulPancake, the website and media company. We wanted to redefine words that had become so icky over time. Words like God and spirituality. Even philosophy, which was once a meaningful conversation about things that were relevant to one’s life and choices, has now become a useless, highfalutin, academic exercise that, to quote Baha’u’llah, “begins in words and ends in words.”
* A note about agnostics: I completely accept someone not knowing if there’s a Creator or not. Here’s my issue: In my experience people often use being an agnostic as a convenient, unevolved fallback position. For instance, they simply say, “I’m an agnostic,” and then don’t do any soul searching or spiritual questing. OR they say because you simply “can’t ever really know” that this excuses one from a committed examination. I know because I lived under both of those banners for many years.
For me the greatest proof of the existence of God is the existence of LOVE. Love, like God, can never be proven in a laboratory, on a chalkboard, or with a computer program, and yet we KNOW it exists. No behaviorist can ever tell me that the profound feelings I have for my son and wife, say, are simply a result of chemicals and electricity causing my brain to form a connection to my offspring to preserve my heredity and species. I know in my bones and heart that I love my family and that this crazy little thing called love (Queen!) is more than a feeling (Boston!) but rather a powerful force in life beyond the mere material (“Material Girl,” Madonna!). The same holds true for art, beauty, and music, by the way. Their incredible effect cannot be reduced to an electrochemical formula in the brain. Can anyone PROVE that there is a thing called love that is anything more than some impulses in the brain? I don’t need proof. I know it exists and that it is glorious, life-changing, transcendent, and spiritual.
* Note: The kind of clowning we’re talking about here has nothing to do with circus clowns, big shoes, and face paint. It’s theatrical clowning: a cross between the zany characters that pop out in Cirque du Soleil, Pee-wee Herman, Borat, Inspector Clouseau, and Harpo Marx. Larger-than-life but strangely real characters that operate by their own bizarre theatrical rules. In a lot of ways Dwight was just such a clown: physically bold, truthful, pathetic, and bizarre.
* A test is where an actor’s weekly salary has been predetermined and you presign a seven-year contract. The five or six actors for each part gather and audition for the executives at the television studio, contracts in hand. If you then get the part, you have your deal points already in place. If you don’t, you try not to let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Because Hollywood doors are notoriously heavy, with well-oiled hinges, and the impact can cause serious ass damage.
* Television development executives are a hysterical bunch. They all have steno pads and appear to be very wise and take lots of notes all the time, but for the most part they really have no idea what they’re doing. Most of them have not actually made shows or movies or comedy, but rather started as interns, assistants, and script readers at the network level. They’ve never been artists or craftsmen, only corporate workers. Plus, the way television studios are structured there’s usually one person at the top who makes ALL the decisions and whose opinion is the only one that really matters. So all the underlings are simply lackey yes-men who are trying to look busy and important, all the while merely trying to please their boss and guess at their whims and tastes.
For instance, the head of a network or studio might say offhandedly at a meeting, “I used to love FRIENDS!” All of a sudden, the word goes out like wildfire through the development departments, agencies, and management companies throughout LA: “Bobby Sternboss LOVES Friends-like shows. Bring us shows with ensembles filled with attractive roomates, ASAP!”
The entire TV industry gets into high gear and all of a sudden hundreds of Friends–esque pitches are coming through the development offices. Fourteen different pilots, all with variations on the same premise, are shot, and Bobby Sternboss sees them and goes, “Why are all these stupid pilots exactly the same?” and fires his development executive. The second-in-command is promoted and the entire process is repeated.
* A note about reviews: Pretty much everything I have ever done, other than Juno, has gotte
n slammed in the reviews. I have been eviscerated by hundreds of film and TV critics for over a decade. I believe it is much easier to write a negative, snarky, contemptuous review than to write an evenhanded one. It also gets more reads. But the thing that gets me the most is comparisons. The Office was compared (unfavorably) to the British Office. The Rocker was compared (unfavorably) to School of Rock. Super was compared (unfavorably) to Kick-Ass. Backstrom was compared (unfavorably) to House M.D.
See a pattern here? There are a limited number of stories on the planet. Shakespeare told most of them. And The Sopranos and The Simpsons the rest. The easiest, laziest thing for a reviewer to do is to compare something to another work that is a classic and has some similarities. It’s a gross misuse of critical power and a disgusting waste of ink and time. Take The Rocker. There are similarities to the flawless classic School of Rock in that there is an older character who loves rock and roll and he’s interacting about said music form with younger people. But that’s where the comparison ends. One is a movie about an unemployed rocker who gets a job teaching at a prep school and charmingly and chaotically coaches his twelve-year-olds in a battle of the bands. The other film is about an old former metal drummer who accidentally becomes a YouTube sensation and goes out on the road with his eighteen-year-old nephew’s band. Yes, there is an older rocker character and younger characters, but past that the comparison just doesn’t hold water. And yet, every single review of The Rocker said it was trying to be School of Rock and wasn’t as good.
As for Backstrom, is every single show that has an antisocial, destructive, and brilliant lead character going to be compared to House until the end of time? When does that stop? Is it not a viable setup for a television show? The differences between Backstrom and House FAR outweigh the few similarities. (Not to mention the fact that the entire conceit of Backstrom is based on a series of Swedish books. Do the reviewers believe that the crime novelist Leif G. W. Persson based his books on the American TV show House?)
Now, is an occasional comparison warranted in a review? Yes. Occasionally. But for the most part it’s a lazy, easy, obvious way to review work. But let’s face it, for the most part reviewers have never created or made anything. They righteously pass judgment from their laptops on other people’s work and have simply never laid out their hearts and minds and souls to an audience attempting to entertain, uplift, and challenge. So suck it, critics.
* A poto mitan is the pillar/central post that holds up a traditional Haitian roundhouse. Women in Haiti are called the poto mitan.
* I may have gotten this quote wrong.
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