I've just read yet another review of the Da Vinci Code, sort of. It wasn't about the movie, which the author (Daniel Henninger) hasn't yet seen, but about a trip to the bookstore to wonder why the book has sold 60 million copies. This is a highbrow review in the Wall Street Journal.
Many people are baffled at the success of the book, have taken offense from it and are actively trying to trash it and its author. This is a sign of reading way too much into a simple thing. I read Faulkner's 'The Sound and the Fury.' Twice. The second time right after the first. I had to. I didn't understand it the first time, as I'm told many people don't. But it was thoroughly enjoyable, profitable and enlightening, both times. Many people consider it a masterpiece, though I'm not qualified to issue such a bold statement. It was published in 1929 and still hasn't sold as much as the 'Code.'
The Da Vinci Code on the other hand was a breeze. I had bought it in large type for my Grandmother to read, but sadly it stayed on the shelf with the rest of the last of her unread books. One day while she was napping I picked it up and before I knew it I was done and wanting more. Who doesn't love a conspiracy? Who doesn't want to know if someone is secretly pulling the levers somewhere? I remember as a kid picking up pamphlets on the trilateral commission while at the Social Security office (waiting for my card so I could work).
My father was a Mason and he, as far as I could tell, wasn't either particularly religious or into anything more secret than hiding a bottle in the glove compartment, yet people are convinced that the Masons run the world. How much more intriguing is it that there is a 'Catholic' secret society? How much more intriguing that one of its former members was a government official that has been convicted of spying? The Catholic Church itself is largely a secret society that invites all the faithful to partake in certain secrets on an individual level. The above-mentioned spy was said to have confessed his crime/sin to his priest, yet that information remained secret for years, and the contents of that confession have never been divulged.
Current criticism calls to mind the Satanic Verses, another fictional story that people took as 'an insult' to different religion. The difference, it may be duly pointed out, is that people were murdered over the Satanic Verses. Yet, in another time and place, the vehemence that I've felt from the current critics would easily produce the same results. No one should forget the Spanish Inquisition (said like a Brit badly imitating a Spaniard).
The Gnostics, who are being trashed at this moment right along with the 'Code' (see the recent release of the 'Gospel of Judas') were said to have 'secret' knowledge about Jesus and his teachings. They were run out of town on a rail back in the day for heresy, which at heart is what our modern critics are charging. The Knights Templar, a very religious and faithful group that did some heavy lifting during the Crusades, were simply exterminated (with a backstabbing wink and a nudge from the church), the heresy charges made up to facilitate a land grab.
I'm not predicting an assassination attempt on Tom Hanks (though that whole Forest Gump thing has got me thinking that maybe he knows more than he's saying). Nor am I in any way excusing the 'death sentences' on current 'enemies of Islam.' No, I think they're throwbacks to a barbarous era that most civilized people thought we'd grown out of. Which is why the talk of heresy from modern folk bothers me (though to be sure, Henninger's dismissive column only jokingly refers to the text as "unholy," but google ["da vinci code" heresy] for a few thousand other hits).
In the end I would hope that we're all grown up enough to remember that this is a novel. A fiction. It's all made up, even if the 'idea' was culled from a 'serious' book purporting to have evidence that Jesus did actually have a kid. So what? Serious talk about this shaking the foundations of the Church is not only juvenile; it also lacks faith.
This incident just proves my long held belief that God has a sense of humor. Pride, according to tradition, is the first and foremost deadly sin from which all others arise. I choose to believe God has a plan, but I sure as Hell don't know what it is. If someone tells you he does—run and hide.
I don't know what happened and neither do you. Nor does the Catholic Church or any other religious organization. People have argued for centuries over whether James the Just was Jesus's brother, stepbrother or just one of the fellas that hung around JC. It's a good-faith best-guess scenario based on the available evidence. Very few serious people believe that Jesus did not exist as an historical figure, and that he probably said most of the things that were written about him. After that, speculation becomes rampant. This is where 'our' faith comes in, which is the thing that God requires.
And we've been bestowed with imaginations. We have fantasies. We make up things to make ourselves feel better. In times of stress, depression and pain, we occasionally fantasize to the point of delusion. Many think that fantasy and delusion is what religion is all about. I don't begrudge these people their opinions, as a certain train of logic can get you there quite easily. Yet, as this can only be speculation, what are they offering in its stead?
Another train of logic, and simple self-preservation, would have you decide to believe in God: just in case. If you do believe, and if at the end He's not there, you lose nothing. In fact, if you were just a meat puppet, you wouldn't even know. But if you don't believe and He's there with the fire and the brimstone, you might wish you had. Just sayin'.
As I choose to believe, I can also believe in a merciful God, and that all my non-believing or differently believing friends will be forgiven as I will be, sins and heresies forgotten, and we can all hang out. A fantasy perhaps, but a good one I think, as is the thriller story by Dan Brown. Politics, religion, sex, scandal, violence. All guilty ingredients that we enjoy, and should send us right to the confessional, where our conspiratorial Priest will let us keep our secret between him and God.
