The Human Soul and the Frankenstein Effect

Movies are an amazing part of our culture. Each movie has a message through which directors, editors and producers take the art work of the actors, camera men, sound men, prop builders, makeup artists, etc and build out a (hopefully) coherent slant or idea. Sometimes it’s as base as revealing our crass natures to be compelled to watch vile trash. Sometimes it’s highly intellectual and perpetuates water cooler conversations about life’s mysteries.

One recurring theme in science fiction and horror movies is the Frankenstein base. This book poses two questions: At what point is the act of science crossing the boundary of playing God, and at what point does the human soul exist or not exist?

There are certainly other aspects to Mary Shelley’s story, and I don’t want to typecast her novel into just these two ideas, but they are core concepts that have riddled philosophers for ages.

It appears that the first question is loosely tied to another theme. When man uses science to overcome mortal fear, the result is something to be infinitely more feared. In conjunction with this, the outset of the creation can never exceed the creator. In other words, we can’t make humans better than they were created to be in the bounds of the natural laws and trying to do so creates a monster. Even in reality, medication has side-effects which include mortal danger. The balance and trade-offs that typify a “lesser of evils” concept is prevalent throughout nature. The question remains – where is that balance, and who are we to determine it?

In Robert Louis Stevenson’s book “Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde,” a scientist tries to separate the mortal sin from the soul. The problem is that sin dominates our lives so instead of an angelic and benevolent personality surfacing, he split out a psychotic and horrific personality fit for the city of Sodom.

Frankenstein is not much different. A scientist is looking for a path to immortality, but discovers that with an immortal body comes an eternal pain. The monster is never given an identity, leaving it soulless. Though the experiment is a success, its level of suffering significantly outweighs the level of elation, and readers are left to view meddling with nature in such a fashion as a failure to all humanity.

These themes have only become more modern with scientific discoveries. The 1958 version of “The Fly” takes a scientist who intends to defy the laws of creation to disintegrate and rebuild molecules of living animals in a God-like manner but finds himself a victim of carelessness. This leaves those around him struggling with the concepts of morality and the limits of the human soul.

At first, Andre the scientist is arrogant. He claims to know God’s purpose for humanity without acknowledging God’s limits: “God gives us intelligence to uncover the wonders of nature.” After catastrophic failure he denounces that statement: “There are things man should never experiment with. Now I must destroy everything, all evidence, even myself. No one must ever know what I discovered.” His wife tries to convince him not to follow through: “You can still reason, Andre… You’ve still got your intelligence… You’re still a man with a soul. You’ve no right to destroy yourself!”

“The Fly” equates intelligence and reason with having a soul. As long as the half-man-half-fly can reason and shows intelligence, the man-creature is considered to have a soul, and killing him/it is considered murder. In the movie, the truth is merely twisted to simplify the innocence of Helene, but even the Inspector, after squashing the fly in the web considered his act the same as murder. You can’t murder a thing, so it must have still had a human soul in context.

The newer version of the fly from 1986 was much more atheistic and followed more of a “using science to overcome fear results in something more feared” approach. There are some thoughtful punches about how cognitive and intelligent behavior separate man from beast, but references to a human soul were absent. The Brundle-Fly transformation showed more of a reverse evolution effect, and the duration of Seth’s transformation into a fly was prolonged only because it felt good rather than out of hope to return to a human state.

A new model of Frankenstein effect has come out recently under the context of zombies. Specifically, genetically altered humans. Movies such as “Resident Evil”, “28 Days Later” and “I Am Legend” have been hitting the theaters since 2002 where everything from military experiments to pharmaceutical greed to philanthropic science has been the seed to bring about deadly results.

What makes these so frightening is that, like other Frankenstein effects of their time, it involves a science that most people know little about – even the scientists who currently explore these new venues. Creating life from the genetic level is also known to be problematic because of genetic mutation. Life that can change function or resistance over a few generations of reproduction is unpredictable and thusly, frightening. Using a virus as a mechanism to inject the genetic instruction amplifies the mutation and unpredictability because of its short reproductive cycle and its massive growth rate in a short period of time.

Because as a collective race we know so little about genetic based medicine, it has become a modern-day equivalent to technologies of electricity and surgery back in Shelley’s time.

Nevertheless, the heart of the matter is the human soul. To be spoken of with any credibility or seriousness, zombie manifestation, like all apocalyptic events have to deeply coincide with faith and spirituality. If not from Biblical context (Revelation 9:6), it should at least be taken in the context by the merit of the soul.

If any one of us were to turn into a zombie, would we have a soul? What is a zombie? Could someone be both dead and alive at the same time? What is the essence of man and when does it leave the body and can the body survive without it?

Ghosts are easy – they’re disembodied spirits. But zombies hold the paradox. Not only does it question life after death, but like in the “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, it questions life-in-death. At what point, if any, is man reduced to a dumb animal? At what point is the human soul lost beyond redemption? If it can be redeemed, then what’s the price?

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold :
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man’s blood with cold.

-Rime of the Ancient Mariner

What’s written on the stones

In Deuteronomy 27, Moses commanded the people to keep all the commandments and when they get to the promise land to write them clearly on large white-washed stones from which an alter is made and burnt sacrifices are performed.

The account of the event was scribed in the book of Joshua (8:30-35). Half of Israel stand in front of Ebal, where the alter is made and towards where curses are announced while the other half stand in front of its twin mountain, Gerizim where the blessings are directed.

It’s important to note that the Bible makes it clear these people included the elders, officers and judges. These are the people of political and social responsibility. Others of spiritual responsibility, the priests and the Levites with specific mention of those who bore the Ark of the Covenant, stood in the middle valley between them.

Here they gave a blessing and a curse. The curse was towards the mountain Ebal and the blessing towards the mountain Gerizim. Today Ebal stands bald and lifeless while Gerizim is green and lush[1].

There is so much more detail here, and the word picture is elaborate on many levels. But I’ll only address a few of these points and hope that it interests you enough to do more research.

First, the law was written on heavy white-washed stones. The stones are heavy and burdensome, but they can still be carried with you. They can be broken. They are solid and immalleable. These are all properties of the Law. Another thing – the people weren’t allowed to use hammers or chisels. These are laws that are unshapable by man.

As a sacrifice is made on top of these stones the blood drips down over all of them, covering the Law. An alter wasn’t built on the mountain that received the blessing, but specifically the mountain that received the curse. Righteousness requires no sacrificial penalty because it doesn’t get cursed, and thereby doesn’t require atonement.

Jesus sacrificed His life to cover the Law and all the nooks and crannies – the grey areas – between them. The Law is pure and clean, like the white-wash on the stones, but we aren’t perfect enough to keep them all the time. With sin comes the curse. God made the sacrifice available for this atonement. Many years after this event, His own blood covers that curse.

Second, there is a clear dividing line between blessings and curses; right and wrong are indisputable. One mountain demonstrates the richness of life while the other exists in barrenness. The mountains aren’t connected. They even have different physical demeanor to separate them.

These blessings and curses are real. Our actions have consequences – actions that are categorized as righteous or sinful. Obedience to God produces blessings while disobedience brings a curse.

Rabbi Riskin identifies the very existence of our choice of actions to be a blessing as well.

Undoubtedly built in within the very structure of free will is the possibility of one’s taking the wrong path and bringing about the curse of destruction. However, without free-will, the human being would be no different from a rat in a maze, a mere puppet or pawn; with free will – despite its concomitant dangers – the human being is a partner to the Divine. [2]

Third, the spiritual leaders are in the valley dividing the two mountains. For anyone to say “what feels right to me is accounted to righteousness and what feels right to you is also accounted to righteousness” is missing the whole meaning of righteousness. It isn’t what feels right or wrong, it is subject to a universal law. Relativism and basing truth on feelings only confuse the issue. God gives us His word (such as that represented in the Ark) and He provides spiritual leaders (such as the Levites) to identify that dividing line for us.

Lastly, the people celebrated during this event! It was an occasion of joy and feasting. When God identifies our purpose in life and gives us boundaries it isn’t an issue of what we aren’t allowed to do but an essence of being a part of His people. Boundaries protect and guide and work as a benchmark – this is true no matter what aspect you’re talking about. From database design to surgery to school playgrounds. Everything needs some type of boundary to excel and become beneficial for everyone.

[1] A Tale of Two Mountains By Yosef Y. Jacobson, http://www.algemeiner.com/generic.asp?print=true&id;=2292
[2] Shabbat Shalom: Parshat Re’eh (Deuteronomy 11:26-16:17) By Shlomo Riskin, http://www.ohrtorahstone.org.il/parsha/5764/reeh64.htm

Dismal

Sometimes I need a kick in the head … or at least in the pants. With middle age comes a more present awareness of our mortality.

Washington Irving was 36 years old when he published “The Sketch-Book”, including tales of old age (Rip Van Winkle) and death (The Legend of Sleepy Hollow). Although these were satire in nature, they were clearly aimed at the darker forces that envelop men even today. In these two stories he addresses pride and antisemitism under the guise of patriotism and covetous greed that’s fed under an heir of intellect and stature.

The first is an obvious snobbery that taunts and threatens every outcast to the point that outcasts wouldn’t exist without it. The second is more subtle and makes for a great study on literature. Even the smartest and most learned individual can fall into ignorance by the simplest and stupidest lack of moral character.

When these works were published they were touted by England as the first true sense of unique American literature in history. This is 30 years after the United States Constitution had been fully ratified and the government operations described therein realized. Our nation was still in its infancy.

Other works of literature that emphasized the dismal state of our mortality both physically and spiritually seem to have been developed at or past mid-life. Edgar Allen Poe wrote the Raven when he was 36, just four short years before his untimely demise. Dracula was written when Bram Stoker was 50. At 34 and 36, respectively, Stevenson wrote the Body-Snatcher and the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

The only strong literary works that I could find of similar gruesome content written by authors at younger ages involved the Year without a Summer. On July 1816, the inception of Frankenstein and The Vampyre occurred on a creative dare instigated by Lord Byron after reading Phantasmagoria. Mary Shelley was 19 and John Polidori was 21.

No man can know when his time is up. Luke 12:20 paints a dim picture of a rich man who swells with pride at his accomplishments, destined to die that night.

So in our mortal state, what do we do? Gravestones rot and break away. People are only remembered two or three generations at best, then forgotten. Each marker tells a story, but each story – like the fires that smoldered the great Alexandrian Library – are lost and unrecognizable.

My dad considered the brevity of life and suggested that our brief time on Earth is meaningless without good relationships. It won’t be an intelligent and powerful person who finds worth in your ability who will hire you when you lose a job, it will be the friend who see a friend in need. Getting along well with others is essential to life, and living life in isolation brings a cold demise … there will be enough isolation as we’re buried alone.