The Sibyl

Lagerkvist has given us a tale of two tormented, direct experiences with the divine: Ahasuerus (the Wandering Jew) who had a brief unhappy encounter with Jesus and the Sibyl who became a famous Oracle of Delphi for many years spouting messages from Apollo.

Lagerkvist made an intriguing story pairing these two traditions, the meeting taking place at the crossroads of history when there was a changing of the guards of god, so to speak. And yet age-old questions remained, like how to endure the whims of god, and then how to endure the absence of god.

Ahasuerus was neither good nor bad, but a rather ordinary man living an ordinary happy life who, in one unwitting moment was unkind to Jesus as he was on his way to crucifixion, then was cursed show more by god's son to roam the earth for eternity, alone, unblessed. He was seeking the Sibyl to tell him his future -- hoping, I'm sure, to see some end to his suffering.

The Sibyl, who as a young country girl felt a vague lacking, was transformed when she was chosen to be a Pythia for Apollo. She gave it her all, accepted being a vessel to be used, and became one of the best ever Oracles, all without reward. In her 30s (the age when most priestesses were replaced but she was not because she was too profitable for the temple), she committed a crime against god by falling in mortal love with a one-armed man. Her punishment was the death of her lover, being violently raped by Apollo via a goat, and conceiving a half-witted, half-god (and half-goat!) son.

This is clearly not the experience one seeks when wanting to be closer to god. And is the sobering reminder of god's inscrutable and, from a human perspective, fickle nature.

The Sibyl had observed others, including her own parents, living quite peaceably and sincerely with god, and observed others living peaceably (and profitably) without god. There didn't seem to be a clear-cut right way or wrong way to garner a peaceful mortal life. Her hard-earned wisdom was whether god blesses, curses, or ignores, we are all under an erratic god. (And she experienced all three.) Thus she ultimately answers Ahasuerus,

"Perhaps one day he will bless you instead of cursing you. I don't know. Perhaps one day you will let him lean his head against your house. Perhaps you won't. I know nothing about that. But whatever you may do, your fate will be forever bound up with god, your soul forever filled with god."

I'm not sure that will be a comfort to Ahasuerus. But it is the Sibyl's advice that acceptance is the only course for humans whether living under Olympian or Heavenly rule. show less

The Sibyl, a complex and poetic parable by Lagerkvist, examines the "inhuman" and "capricious" aspects of the divine. The 1951 Nobel Prize winner's novel is renowned for its stark yet poetic language and its unnerving analogy between pagan and Christian conceptions of God.

The narrative centers on an elderly Sibyl (a former Pythia of Delphi) who lives in shame in the mountains and Ahasuerus (the Wandering Jew), who is condemned by Jesus to eternal life without rest. In contrast to conventional depictions of a kind god, the characters in Lagerkvist's God are characterized as "wild as lightning," "alien," and "repellent." According to the Sibyl, serving Apollo was a kind of "ecstasy" that ultimately amounted to a "betrayal" of her show more humanity.

One of the main and most enigmatic characters is the Sibyl's son, a mentally challenged mute man who always has a "enigmatic smile." He is frequently described in reviews as a "meaningless" yet "divine" reflection of God, a paradoxical entity that possesses both "matter" and "consciousness." The story's "heightened, surging lyricism" and "lucid simplicity" appealed to me and seemed appropriate for the parable-like tale.

Some people find the book "scathing" or "depressing" because it suggests that "fate will be forever bound up with god" regardless of one's actions, rejecting the notion of a consoling faith. However, I did not feel that way about the story. Because of its emphasis on loneliness, guilt, and the "futility of life without loyalty to God," it is frequently grouped with Lagerkvist's other "god-struck" books, such as Barabbas and my personal favorite, Dwarf. show less

It strikes me that both The Sibyl and Lagerkvist's The Dwarf are about the divine that resides deep inside all of us -- but much closer to the surface in some. This divine is amoral -- it doesn't follow the rules of good or evil -- it's much more like the divine power in the Book of Job. Unknowable.

The Dwarf is an allegory set in Renaissance Italy. I don't think the Dwarf is actually even a character in the novel despite that he is the narrator. He's the impulse to power, to avenge, to destroy, that lurks in humanity. When it's unleashed, all hell breaks loose. At the end of the novel, he's chained to an underground cell, but he knows that he'll be freed at some point, because he is needed.

In The Sibyl, the Wandering Jew, cursed with show more eternal life because he refused to let Jesus, on his way to be crucified, rest his head against his wall, has come to Delphi to seek wisdom from the Oracle. As an alien, he is driven away from the temple, but he discovers an ancient sybil high in the hills who recounts her tale of divine possession to him. She does not understand the divine possession that had taken hold of her, but she has borne the son of the god -- a mute idiot. Her life has been spent ostracized from the common life of humanity, except for a brief passionate love.

One interesting grace note that the novels share is that enigmatic smile -- the one that the painter Bernardo (Da Vinci) gives to his portrait of the Princess in The Dwarf and that an ancient statue of the god bears in The Sibyl:

"Suddenly he knew of what that perpetual smile reminded him. It was the image of a god which he had seen yesterday, down in the temple at Delphi: an ancient image standing somewhat apart as if to make room for newer, finer images. It had the same smile, enigmatic and remote, at once meaningless and inscrutable. A smile neither good nor evil, yet for that very reason frightening."

The characters in Lagerkvist's novels seem to be god-struck -- at once inspired and scapegoats for the common run of humanity (I couldn't help but to think of Ursula LeGuin's story, "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas").

Lagerkvist's other two famous novels, Barrabas about the thief who is freed by Pontius Pilate in exchange for Jesus, and The Death of Ahasuerus, who is the wandering Jew, undoubtedly deal with a similar theme. show less

"Não odeias o deus que te tratou dessa maneira, que te fez tudo isso? Não odeias esse ser tão absurdamente cruel?
A velha esperou um pouco antes de responder: parecia refletir. Depois, disse:
Não sei quem ele é. Como poderia, assim, odiá-lo? Ou Amá-lo? Em verdade, parece-me que não o odeio, e que não o amo.
Pensando bem, acho que tais palavras não têm sentido quando se trata dele. Não é como nós e não podemos compreendê-lo. É incompreensível, insondável. É deus."

This is an amazing book, provocative and challenging. Two characters, both outcasts cursed by God, come together to share their experiences. In both of their stories, there is the struggle of trying to determine who or what God *is,* who could be so purportedly loving and yet inflict so much suffering on His world. These two, alienated by society for their experience with the divine, agree that "there is no joy in seeing God."

It's a very challenging and depressing book theologically. God is emphatically not loving or kind in his treatment of the characters - he is distant and capricious, a numinous force but not a comforting one in the least. Still, if God is as magnificent and other as He is depicted, how could he not be terrifying? show more

I'm not sure where Lagerkvist's intentions lay in writing this book. It's really rather scathing - but is it meant to be scathing against God, against religion, or against a corrupt church? Maybe all three. In any case, it made me depressed and doubtful about turning to faith for comfort or guidance. Very provocative work, not one that I think I *like* very much, but I was really impressed and moved by. show less

This book tells the stories of two people touched by the divine: a man who would not let Christ rest his head against his home while he was being led to the cross, and a woman who spent many years as a pythia. They meet in a lonely mountain cabin and exchange their stories of being touched by a force which Lagerkvist characgterizes as jealous, overwhelming, brutal and passionate, and ultimately incomprehensible to humanity.

Beautifully written, but may not appeal to those who believe in the endless compassion and succor of their god(s).

In "The Sybil," Par Lagerkvist deals with divine punishment. The book is simply written and short, as is Lagerkvist's style, but it is also deep and meditative.

In the book, an old man asks a former Greek oracle to predict his future. The man has been cursed with immortality because he refused to let Jesus Christ rest on his was to the cross. The oracle begins to tell the story of her life. She was born to poor formers and given to a temple early in life. While at the temple, she is constantly drugged and forced to make prophecies. During a visit home after a particularly grueling divination session, the young woman - the "Sybil" of the title - has a trist with a young man. When she returns to the temple, she is punished by the Greek show more god for the trist since she has pledged her virginity and life to this god. God rapes her, she is kicked out of the temple, and gives birth alone to god's son, a child with severe intellectual and motor disabilities who is fully dependent on his mother even as an adult.

Thus, the entire book is a discussion of two people who have supposedly done "wrong" by the divine and are punished.

Lagerkvist's writing is simple and unique. It is easy and quick to read. I have read and enjoyed his other works and "The Sybil" stands with them. It is insightful, contemplative, and quite philosophical. show less