The Tower and the Mountain

 

Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian. And he led the flock to the back of the desert, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. And the Angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire from the midst of a bush. So he looked, and behold, the bush was burning with fire, but the bush was not consumed. Then Moses said, “I will now turn aside and see this great sight, why the bush does not burn.” So when the Lord saw that he turned aside to look, God called to him from the midst of the bush and said, “Moses, Moses!”

And he said, “Here I am.”

Exodus 3:1-4, NKJV

 

    I was assigned to present on chapters seven and eight of The Ecology of Eden. The chapters are called "The Mountain of the Gods" and "The Tower of Babel," respectively. These chapters begin to probe for the mythic content which informs the way we connect to the world around us. Two models for what Evan Eisenberg calls a 'world-pole' (I prefer the term 'cosmic heart,' and will use that through out the post) are offered: the mountain and the tower. In the former case, mountains in the wilderness of Canaan act as the heart of the cosmos, whereas in the latter, the man-made Ziggurats of Mesopotamia do. But what does it mean to be the heart of the cosmos? Eisenberg says of the 'world-pole' that "If a man or woman--a shaman, a hero, a prophet--would ascend to the heavens or descend to the underworld, here is the stair-well. Here the adept can powwow with gods and animals, even merge with them, as all of used to do at the beginning of time" (Eisenberg 1998, 71). The description is beautiful and evokes a number of themes we have seen in our class discussions and some of the themes in my earlier posts; I think of the aboriginal 'Dreamtime' as well as the Lion-human sculpture I wrote about in my first post for this class. But I am not writing this to point out similarities. I am writing a lament. Why would I do that? 

    The dichotomy Eisenberg introduces is worth a teardrop or two. On the one hand, humans are a part of 'wilderness,' for we as much as any species belong to this planet and its economy of life. On the other, only humans a few select 'allies' belong to the world of the tower. But what does the tower ultimately represent? We could see it, as Eisenberg seems to, as the representation of humans placing themselves and their deeds in the place of the cosmic heart. I don't think Eisenberg is wrong. The tower is the cosmic heart shows human domination, not cooperation, with the land they live on. Have we done open heart surgery on our cosmos and placed an idol where flesh should be? But this is not painfully sad merely because the tower seems to draw the life out of the land, funneling it into human abstractions like 'wealth' and 'power.' No, it is not this alone. The tower shows that humans can create and work together to achieve awesome things, but that we choose to use the capacity to build enormous sand castles. What has man built that will not turn to dust? And how can man, being dust, do anything but create something like him? 

    It gets worse, at least to me. For, how can mankind do anything but create, innovate, and grow? Why is it that the wilderness and our capacity to create seem to destroy one another? Will the city of man forever be separate from the city of God? Looking back to the verses from the book of Exodus which I opened with, I recall that Moses is wandering in the wilderness because he fled Egypt--the tower--for a killing he committed. Why did he kill? Because his people were slaves, and one was being beaten by an Egyptian. So he killed. Eisenberg writes that "the city thrives on division" (Eisenberg 1998, 84). The cities of Egypt, in the Biblical story, divided between master and slave, often to build 'great monuments,' i.e., sand castles. The city and the tower divide between man and beast, wilderness and civilization, us and them. Where is the city of which all are citizens? Where is the city in which monuments are built by brothers and sisters, not slaves? 

    I am glad to be thinking about these things, for they do matter. Life is too beautiful to ignore these concerns for the sake of things which do not satisfy and do not last, e.g., money, fame, and other temporary pleasures. Again, life is too beautiful to hoard it and keep it from the wilderness; the plants and animals we share the world with. Life, splendid life, what a great beautiful gem you are! And, you wilds, you plants, you animals, and all those we should have cared for all these years, forgive our neglect!