On Knots and Jam and The Two Lovers in The Village
Drawing by Franz Kafka
18/02/2023.
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It was in a village that it happened; two lovers got all tied in a knot, so that no matter how hard they tried to pull at each other, to free their limbs from the knot, their arms or their legs would get caught, like pulling on a shoelace you’ve tied wrong. It was also like when one carries a pair of earphones loose in a pocket, and later finds that the movements, forces, mechanisms of everyday life do much work on a pair of earphones – one finds later that the earphones have, gradually, between the body and the fabric and the fabric, and between the fabric and the outside world, become twisted – friction on plastic and cord around cord – so that each earbud, and I think the metaphor permits these to be understood as lovers, becomes wrap-by-wrap closer to the other, and, with gradual intensification of the twisting, twists around the twists like rope, closers in on itself, but always by this process becoming harder to unravel. Friction and proximity do that. If you rub jam into your skin it gets sticky. If you spread jam on two slices of bread and put one in each hand and rub your hands in anticipation for where this is going and then you keep doing that, then your two slices of bread would first come together, and then stick, and as the jam caught hold of the crumb it would tear away and the slices would break down, the structural integrity of the bread would be broken down, and the dry bread would absorb some of that stickiness from your hands, and what used to be the bread, broken down to its basic constituent unit (the solitary breadcrumb) and suspended in a sugary red pulp, would be an (almost) homogenous mess, that, upon being worked, would become a substance not-quite-bread, not-quite-jam, but that, between one’s palms, under the continual pressure and movement, would become a sphere. The two lovers were like the earphones here, like the bread, their limbs were like the earphones too, like their cords and like the jam, and with each touch and caress and pull-in-closer they’d become all tangled up, stuck to one another, so that certainly no-one in the village could figure out how to untangle them - you try putting crumbs back together into a tangible slice, you try scraping jam off of bread - and so they had to call for someone from the town.
Are the monks still praying? They all seem to be tweeting
Monasticism and technology
[ELVIS PRESLEY'S 'ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT' PLAYS]
HERZOG: The Skyline of Chicago. It looks devoid of its inhabitants. We have to assume that nearly everyone has left for a colony out there. The planetarium is the only point of contact. Inside, a monument for those who have levitated and left. Yes, things must be real good out there. But then we met some stragglers left behind.
[SHOT PANS TO BUDDHIST MONKS]
HERZOG: They’re all on their smartphones. Have the monks stopped meditating? Have they stopped praying? They all seem to be tweeting.
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The internet – indeed, digital technology in general – is not likely to be one’s immediate association with monasticism. In fact, most would consider the two to be antithetical to one another; the internet is worldly, modern, corrupting - everything a monk ought to reject. The monk, on the other hand, represents something archaic – a contemplative, traditional, spiritual life, seemingly unchanged for centuries, unaffected by the rapid changes brought on by modernity. That a group of monks would be on their phones is therefore to some extent shocking, to some extent absurd. Certainly, it is unexpected.
This view however is based on a false premise – that monasticism is something out-dated, of the ‘old world’. This is evidently false on account of the fact Herzog was able to include this scene in his film. Of course, monks, and religion generally, do not have the presence, nor the power, that they once had in society. However, they are still active members of religious communities, religious communities that, despite increasing secularism, are still influential and important for many people around the world. These religions, and the monastic way of life, are enduring presences in society, and derive much of their significance from the fact they have existed as they have for such a long time, in some cases for millennia.
The monk, as an ideal figure, serves as a link between the past and now. They are keepers of a tradition, and, for many, tradition demands to be preserved, like a specimen in a museum. Thus it is seen as a violation of their status as monks if they should use modern technology. However, monks are by no means restricted in this sense. Luther’s use of the printing press to propagate his bible attests to this – the technology looks different, but the ethos is the same. The spiritual meaning, the teachings of his bible were not (more specific theological and exegetical arguments aside) diminished by their technological means of propagation. On the contrary, Luther’s appropriation of modern technology for religious means increased, by orders of magnitude, the ability of Germans to engage with Christianity. Luther’s Protestantism was, of course, incredibly radical, at least against the institution of the catholic church. However, this radicalism aimed at its core to combat what he saw as an aberration of the Christian faith, a deviation from a more traditional, or at least ‘truer’ form of the religion. And so one must understand monks’ engagement with modern life, not as a betrayal of their traditional role, but a necessary act in order to ensure the continued existence of their faith. Tradition does not exist of its own accord – it is constantly being constructed in the present. Tradition is therefore always subject to the conditions of the present, and always at threat of being lost. So, where one may see a monk using a smartphone and balk, one may also see an engagement with the new in order to ensure the survival of something ancient. Who knows how many religions, belief systems, and philosophies have been lost to the sands of time, out of refusal to adapt? It is precisely that which allows things to continue on.
So, when one sees monks using the internet, though it may reflexively seem wrong, remember that they live a life that has seen the rise and the fall of kings, of empires, indeed of all the works of men. The digital revolution is not the first they have faced – it may well not be the last. Religion does not claim the same following as it used to – this does not mean the ideals that have served it so long have become insignificant by this fact. Religion must mean something for those in the monastic life today, and if these communities can survive even the death of God in society, then there must be something inviolable, perhaps eternal, in their teachings. It is this that ensures the survival of monasticism in the first instance, not necessarily adherence to a specific way of life, for the religion informs the lifestyle, not the other way around. So, when Herzog asks “have [the monks] stopped praying? They all seem to be tweeting”, the answer is: no, as these are not mutually exclusive, and it’s hard to believe in a monk who does not pray. If the monks are using Twitter to spread their faith, then this is only what they have been doing for centuries anyway.