Beowulf

Viking Christianity: A Study in Interdependence

At first glance, Christianity and the pre-Christian Nordic warrior code appear to be completely opposing value systems. Christianity preaches, “love thy enemy” while the warrior code states “it is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning” (p. 97, ll. 1384-1385). However, in Viking society, the two co-exist in a fundamental way. Purely violent interactions among and within the neighboring societies would devastate the population because everyone would kill everybody else. On the other hand, a morally idealistic society would be destroyed by nature because of an aversion to fighting. As a result of this, not only do Christianity and the pre-Christian Nordic Code coexist in Beowulf, one cannot survive without the other.
Christianity weaves a path in and out of Beowulf. The first pages begin with the lineage of the Geats (a parallel to Genesis – it also commenced with human lineage). Following this, God is frequently praised and thanked for victories, used as an explanation for trials, and dictates a many social norms. He is the root of authority, keeping at bay the carnage that would ensue without the influence of Christianity.
Even prior to Beowulf’s appearance, the presence of Christianity is strong. Grendel himself is described as “the Lord’s outcast” (p. 13, l. 169). In fact, in reaction to his appearance, the narrator goes into a description of how the Geats committed a nearly unforgivable sin by turning to heathen gods. “The Almighty Judge of good deeds and bad, the Lord God, Head of the Heavens and High King of the World, was unknown to them” (p. 15, ll. 180-183). The narrator is very clear: God is the ultimate judge of good and bad. He is an all-seeing omniscient judge, and the final word.
But God himself is not only all-seeing. In Beowulf, He becomes synonymous with the pre-existing Viking idea of fate. “The King of Glory… had posted a lookout who was a match for Grendel” (p. 45, ll. 665 – 667). God was the one who sent Beowulf. He, in His almighty wisdom was the being that chose to save the Geats from the horror that Grendel had inflicted upon them for years. And yet, when Beowulf describes his victory over the sea monsters, he states, “Often, for undaunted courage, fate spares the man it has not already marked” (p. 39, l. 572-573). For Geat society, fate has become interchangeable with God. Both decide the outcome of battles as well as who shall live and who shall die.
God is the superior being in Geat life. It is therefore imperative that He maintains the ability to control fate, and the actions and personalities of humans, or He loses the ability to contribute positively to society. God has become the source of morals for the Viking way of life. There is enough warring and fighting to protect the people from nature and hostile neighboring civilizations, but the morals are the counterbalance to a fundamentally violent people who would battle themselves, nature, and their neighbors to the point of extinction.
Despite its risks, violence does have a place. Donald Howard describes a warrior’s outlook as an “epic and fatalistic way of looking at things.” According to Chaucer (author of The Night’s Tale), Howard’s warrior outlook is “the way soldiers need to see life if they are to go on being soldiers” (“Beowulf and the Varieties of Choice”, p. 198). It is survival of the fittest. Those unable or unwilling to protect themselves would be destroyed.
Viking society is no different. As Beowulf himself points out, “It is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning” (p. 97, ll. 1385-1386). It is a very un-Christian sentiment, but typical of the Vikings. It was imperative that the people “bear up” (p. 97, l. 1395), and either leave the sorrow behind them, or go out and retaliate. Sorrow was weakness, weakness was exploited, and an exploited weakness was akin to death.
The warrior code was crucial to Viking survival. However, it was also in desperate need of a counterbalance. Unending violence was, in the end, more detrimental then the tiniest bit of compassion. While warning Beowulf of the temptations of power, Hrothgar describes King Heremod, who took his power too far, became overzealous in his need to rule, ignored his weakness, and was destroyed by it. According to Hrothgar, Heremod “suffered in the end for having plagued his people for so long: his life lost happiness” (p. 119, ll. 1720-1722). Hrothgar’s words were very clear: an excessive amount of violence, corruption, and power would inevitably lead to death.
This message was reiterated as the story progressed. Again and again the need for Christianity, for morals, for a central “peacekeeping” code becomes apparent. The narrator himself notes that, “pillage and slaughter [had] emptied the earth of entire peoples” (p. 155, ll. 2265-2266). Pillage and slaughter. Or, in other terms, unchecked pre-Christian Viking Warrior Code.
Christianity became the balance that the pre-Christian Nordic Code was desperate for. Without a moral system to keep the violence in check, the pillage and slaughter would continue to empty the earth until there was nothing left. Beowulf was the exemplification of this belief. According to the narrator, “Beowulf bore himself with valour; he was formidable in battle yet behaved with honor and took no advantage” (p. 149, ll. 2177-2179). Beowulf is a fierce warrior, as was demonstrated through his battles, but he is also an honorable man who sticks to his morals. He never fought unless it was necessary, and was careful not to take advantage of an opponent. He is able to typify the equilibrium that was eventually established between Christianity and the pre-Christian Nordic Code.
Despite this co-existence, Christianity and the pre-Christian Nordic Code do not always reside well together. There were times throughout the book where the two appear to completely contradict one another. Following Beowulf’s triumph over Grendel’s mother, Hrothgar declared, “I praise God in His heavenly glory that I lived to behold this head dripping with blood” (p. 123, ll. 1776-1780). It is difficult to imagine how the two statements can weave together at all, let alone seamlessly. Praising God for violence is as unchristian as the Vikings could be. However, should present day Americans look into the past, God, in His many forms, has been used time and time again as the basis for violence. God supports one side. God is all deciding. God has his favorites. In fact, it is not the sentiment, so much as the wording that humans find so incongruent. Blood and God are difficult to mesh, and yet when Beowulf praises God for aiding him in his victory over Grendel, there is no negative reaction to the wording, despite the fact that Beowulf is praising and thanking God for violence. The same principal can be applied to Hrothgar’s declaration.
Viking society was inherently violent. Nature demanded aggressive, formidable, and fearsome people. However, survival also demands a moral code, a counterbalance to the brutal way of life that was quintessentially Viking. The two came to depend upon one another for survival. Too much of one side will lead to nothing but destruction, but just the right amount of each results in an interesting harmony.

San Domenico

Like most members of society, the person I see in the mirror every morning is far removed from the person I saw a year ago, a month ago, and even a week ago. Who I am is constantly growing and changing. I cannot tell every detail about who I will become as I progress through my life. What I can say with certainty is the person I am today is very different from the girl who transferred out of The Marin School her Freshman year, only to discover that it was exactly the place she needed to be. The journey was by no means easy – whose is? – but the discovery of who I was, who I needed to be, and what could make of myself was life-changing.
After experiencing a large, multicultural public middle school, I made the decision to explore a new educational experience. My freshman year of high school, I started at a unique school, very different from any education I had ever encountered. To say it was a culture shock would have been a huge understatement. Baffled by this new environment, I rebelled. I cut myself off from all of the enriching opportunities The Marin School could offer me and focused only on the perceived limitations. I wanted to leave as quickly as I could. I got my wish. At the beginning of my sophomore year, I found myself sitting down in new classrooms, dressed in uniform, and surrounded by girls I had never met before. I was positive everything would fall into place.
Unfortunately, I was quick to learn that San Domenico didn’t offer the academic experience I was looking for either. I was functioning in the typical high school setting depicted in a wide range of media outlets, but it wasn’t satisfying my craving for intellectual and social belonging. I wasn’t happy. It was becoming increasingly clear that the school that would be best for me was going to be the school that I threw myself into whole-heartedly. By the start of the next semester, I was again walking the halls of The Marin School, only this time with a new perspective. I dove in. I got involved in soccer, Student Counsel, and Yearbook. I took a Junior/Senior level creative writing class, and worked tirelessly to gain all the learning I could. For the first time in my life I wasn’t passively expecting the information to be drilled into me. I was going out to find it myself.
Rather than confining myself to the extra-curricular and educational opportunities already offered, I strived to expand The Marin School programs, and myself, to include new ideas and possibilities. I found myself thriving in a school I had once written off as too out-of-the-box for me. Throughout my time at The Marin School, I have taken almost all of the academic courses offered. I find myself taking assignments that intrigue me and putting in extra research to take them one step farther. When we covered Lewis and Clark in Modern Native American History, I found myself at home reading Undaunted Courage from cover to cover. I created a mentoring program for the K-8 school up the road from TMS, and helped organize countless Student Counsel fundraisers and events. I wanted to be able to look back at my high school career and say, “I did that. I created something. I learned.”
My journey through high school was not the simplest it could have been, and at time it was downright infuriating. It taught me to learn from my mistakes, to open myself to new ideas, and to reach out and take hold of my own destiny. I could create and guide my own life experiences, but I had to be willing to put in the time and the effort. I had to hold the reins.
It is this knowledge that I carry with me as I journey into the rest of my life. I remind myself constantly to be open to the new the creative, the unique. I shouldn’t ever be satisfied with the minimum offered, but I should take charge and pursue more. My misconceptions taught me that sometimes you have to work through the difficult hours to appreciate the good ones, and that most often, if you take off the blinders, the brilliance will find a way in.

Update

Hey guys,

Long time - no blogging. Sorry for the neglect. Things have been insanely busy, and I really haven't had the opportunity to write anything, let alone something profound and interesting. However, just in case you guys were wondering, I have been writing - yay for school and college applications. Just a warning - the next few posts will be essays (some more lax than others), so if the idea of reading polished and hopefully semi-academic writing doesn't appeal to you stay tuned and hopefully I will be able to post some more fun creations shortly.

Until then,
Melanie

Empty Chairs

Empty chairs line the walls like guards
They crave company
"See me!" They scream
Unaware that they block the entrance
The center is empty.
The chairs remain stoically by the doors.
They wait, patient, unmoving.
One day a banging is heard.
Someone wants to get in!
But the chairs have sat alone too long.
Dust weighs them down
Inertia is their greatest enemy.
They yell at each other to move, at the person to come in
But the walls hold firm
Soon footsteps can be heard retreating.
The chairs wait again.
Never realizing that the longer they stay,
The more people they turn away.

There Is Always A Bigger Fish

The water stretches out in all directions, flitting, glittering, and changing. It goes on, and on, and on. Its surface littered with the dots of otter head and birds, until it clashes with the incoming fog. The two battle, wave after wave pouring in, but the fog is relentless, calling to its fellows for reinforcements from over the hills. The mighty ocean stands no chance. The otters slowly disappear, searching for warmer waters. The birds fly away, circling high over the invading forces. The fish stop jumping, protected below the surface, hiding from the oncoming chill. But the fog has not won. Slowly, a new player enters the field, literally burning off the fog. At first there are only small cracks of brilliant light, but they grow larger and connect, and the fog crumbles to the power of the sun. However, its triumph lasts only so long. Sure as the tides the moon rises to the occasion, shoving the sun back after the fog to disappear behind the mountains, only to give way once more to the sea and the fog.

The Story Continued

Hey guys,

So I was informed by my very encouraging father that I have utterly failed at blogging. i.e. I have to write more, and post more in order to keep all of you interested in following something that started out as an easy way to stop Mom from asking me for different things that I had written to show to her friends. This was supposed to be easier, but I suppose, like most things in life, it is not what I expected. In attempting to create an escape from any obligation to the things I write, I have instead found myself caught in a net of continued service to the words bouncing around in my brain. And all of this sounds so much more dramatic and unlikable than it really is. I enjoy writing, so perhaps I should instead thank my loving mother for helping me to find an interesting, if common, way to release the letters.

So, with all of this in mind, I can inform all of you that I have, contrary to parental belief, continued to write. However, it has yet to be unleashed into cyberspace, and instead resides within the protective binding of my notebook (which most of you have probably seen me with at some point or another). I hereby promise to pull the less-confusing-and-sucky random pieces of writing and plop them into Melly Land to frolic and be happy, and for all of you to read and (hopefully) enjoy.

Hope all is well,
Mel

Running From Emotions

Have you ever driven down an empty country road at two in the morning? The windows are rolled all the way down, as if the wind itself could carry away the emotional pressure. With the turbulent all-consuming storm raging inside your body, you'd expect the music to be blasting: hater, anger, love, and sorrow thrown in with the bass to be blasted into eternity. It's not like that. Instead, the music remains low, a gentle hum to drown out the oppressive silence. Memories flit across the windshield. It's characters are ghostly, there for only a moment before they fade into the black, a part of the emotional well outside your mental box.
It can be a heady experience. Time, just every once in a while, slows down. It lulls. Sorrow can appear to stop the clock, in the same way happiness can sometimes race against time and win. Perhaps therein lies the reasoning behind sorrow. In a world where time runs rampant, tossing around humans like dandelions in the breeze, sorrow alone possesses the power to hamper the clock, pulling it back and reminding it that no matter how strong you are, there is always something out there that is stronger. More powerful. Look at our emotions. How powerful are they?