Forgiveness and the Rota Fortunae

frank

The Rota Fortunae (Wheel of Fortune) was a prominent medieval theme that signifies that opposed to being captains of our respective ships, we're at the mercy of fate. Though a person or nation may attribute success to native genius, it's more likely that the most significant cause is pure accident. Likewise, the one beaten and left for dead in a ditch is not experiencing the punishment he deserves no matter what kind of person he is. He's just suffering from the downward arc of the wheel as all of us will sooner or later.

What follows is a couple of personal reflections on this concept and what it has to do with forgiveness. Much of fortune's blessings and curses are events of nature. A person is born with perfect pitch or a hare lip. The Mississippi floods, or the native Ohio soil just happens to love corn. But then there's a whole other class of accidents: the heaven and hell that is other people.

One of the most glorious fates is to find that you've become St George, astride your white horse, skewering the demon. It's a wonderful feeling. And who doesn't have a friend who's always eager to tell their latest adventure of skewering evil demons, or stupid ones. The retelling is a way to hold on to that moment of being St George. To try to stop the wheel there or at least slow it down. Unfortunately the wheel doesn't slow down. As Boethius said:

Having entrusted yourself to Fortune's dominion, you must conform to your mistress's ways. What, are you trying to halt the motion of her whirling wheel? Dimmest of fools that you are, you must realize that if the wheel stops turning, it ceases to be the course of chance.

It's probably best to let go of self-righteousness because the prospect of turning out to be the demon is always on the horizon, and it hurts all the more to find this out if you thought you were a saint. Let it go and realize that if you're looking up at George from the filthy ground, it's just the turning of the wheel. It happens to us all without exception.

But strangely, just as the friend who relives glorious moments of righteousness by tale after tale, one can hold firm to that position of demonhood by refusing to forgive. How so? I know when we look at George and the demon objectively, we might think the demon deserves what he's getting. Of course the demon doesn't see it that way, but that's because he so evil and stupid. Just note for a second the other side of it. All the ignorance or anger that led the innocent child to demonhood was fate. It was just the turning of the wheel. In the same way, George's great victory is mostly accidental. Let's let the justifications fall away then and just look at the scene as a fixture of nature.

The big man on the horse attacks the little creature.

Stop thinking about who was right or wrong for a second and recognize that they're locked together by the turning of one wheel. If you find yourself identifying with the little creature, refusing to forgive the big man on the horse is a way of being stuck down on the ground getting skewered. Meanwhile the wheel continues to turn and your mind is shrouded in images from the past. A person like that is walking blindly through the world, unable to see anything of the present moment.

But it's the case that being unable to forgive is also a work of fate. All those who are able to forgive, do.

0 thru 9

Thank you for sharing this excellent post. Carl Jung would approve, methinks!

We as humans, as mammals, will always have preferences and balance points. We like the weather a certain way, and a particular food, and a firm foundation. We (usually) avoid pain and the extremes, and in the middle ground find a space to inhabit.

But finding deep peace, as opposed to seeking natural contentment, is probably proportional to the amount of equanimity one realizes. Equanimity, (an even spirit, an equal mind) might be the learned ability to simply not take every darn thing that happens to you, or near you, or to someone you may know, so absolutely personally. (Still working on that myself, imagine it will be for a lifetime). And equanimity should definitely not be confused with apathy.

We are in the circle of life on a spinning planet in a swirling galaxy. But if one holds their gaze on the unmoving center of the wheel of fortune for even a moment, the stillness experienced may be the foundation that was sought.

frank

↪0 thru 9

:)

unenlightened

that opposed to being captains of our respective ships, we're at the mercy of fate. — frank

Is it not that we are captains and at the mercy of fate? That there are storms is at least no reason to relinquish the steering entirely. Some captains are wiser than others, and some saints are less bloodthirsty than St George.

frank

Is it not that we are captains and at the mercy of fate? — unenlightened

Yes. This myth focuses on fate, though. Think of the Christian mythology where volition is actually a bad thing because it comes at the price of separation from God (or Nature). The more the active force in your life is the Divine, the less individual will there is, and the more goodness there is.

Imagine a person like Dred Scott (a black man in 19th Century America.) I think Boethius would have told him that we all walk onto the world stage wearing masks that we can't take off. Some masks depict monsters and some depict saints, but the actors behind the masks are all the same. All just the same. I think that's what the Wheel of Fortune means. Does that make sense?

unenlightened

↪frank

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

One myth is not enough, I need three.

I may be playing George or the dragon, but it matters how I play it.

frank

I may be playing George or the dragon, but it matters how I play it. — unenlightened

We could say that someone who doesn't realize that is either evil or dull, but maybe they're just unlucky.

TimeLine

It's probably best to let go of self-righteousness because the prospect of turning out to be the demon is always on the horizon, and it hurts all the more to find this out if you thought you were a saint. — frank

That is a risk that you need to take when it comes to fighting for justice and for righteousness and it needn't be with a sword. I was once having a conversation with a woman who changed her studies from international relations to design and her reasoning behind that was religious, afraid that if she were to make public decisions that she may inadvertently cause people suffering and she did not want to be a part of that. I found that to be truly selfish and paradoxical, considering that her fears only enable bad people to do exactly what she was afraid of committing. If you care about the complex whole or the wheel - that you are a part of - then you need to find the courage to improve enough to understand what it is to be righteous and take care of that whole. Righteousness has been the impetus to every decision I have made in my life, beyond what I want or desire, because I am a part of the wheel. Human rights is universal.

Cavacava

↪frank

You might enjoy reading a brief article on the iconic renderings of St. George slaying the Dragon. The article was written by Dr. Samantha Riches is author of St George; Hero, Martyr and Myth (Sutton, 2000)

It points out that the majority of the depictions of the dragon are female, and of course St. George on the white horse being the symbol chasteness and male superiority. St. George's saving the princess then becomes chastity saving purity (the Princess as the blessed virgin Mary) from the evil female.

TimeLine

It points out that the majority of the depictions of the dragon are female, and of course St. George on the white horse being the symbol chasteness and male superiority. St. George's saving the princess then becomes chastity saving purity (the Princess as the blessed virgin Mary) from the evil female. — Cavacava

This is interesting. Is there any semblance with the white horse of death in the Book of Revelations and the wife of the lamb? The 'death' itself is the death of the beast and the 'harlot' who was in control of or riding the beast, choosing to marry the pure woman.

Cavacava

↪TimeLine

Yes, I think so. The rider of the White Horse in Book of Revelations is Christ according to

"Irenaeus, an influential Christian theologian of the 2nd century, was among the first to interpret this Horseman as Christ himself, his white horse representing the successful spread of the gospel." Wikipedia.

The myth of St. George seems to fit pretty well into this description.

frank

↪TimeLine

:up:

frank

St George; Hero, Martyr and Myth (Sutton, 2000 — Cavacava

I just ordered this. Thanks!

TimeLine

↪Cavacava

I think there is a schism between the representations in BoR where actual people parallel the mythical. If we re-imagine it to simply be some fantastic dream that John had, the beast could in fact be the lamb and therefore the rider of the white horse and the 'death' itself is really the death of his attachment to evil as represented by the Harlot (the beast 'kills' the harlot in the end, despite her being able to control and manipulate him initially), because if you read the first part of the book, it talks about all the wrongs committed by the lamb and mentioned a woman 'Jezabel' that he tolerates and who parallels the whore of Babylon.This death is therefore a death of evil, in that sense, and his move to marry the 'New Jerusalem' or the good woman involves building a new tabernacle which I don't think is the 'sucessfull spread of the gospel' in any institutional sense, but rather the spreading of what the gospel itself really intended, that chasteness and superiority as you say.

Cavacava

↪TimeLine

I defer to your interpretation, I have not read BoR in a long time and I have never studied it in detail.

frank

'The moralist says: "You're bad." The humanist says: "You're human."'

Can't remember who said that, but it's pretty close to Boethius' view.

Forgiveness and the Rota Fortunae

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