As we enter the Christmas season, many Americans are counting
the days, not till Christmas, but until the release of the movie Star Wars:
The Force Awakens. And just
as it is helpful to be ready to answer the question, “Is there a Santa Claus?” in a gentle, sensitive, and honest way that points to
Christ, it might be helpful to address the question, “What can we learn from Star Wars?”. I don’t know that worthwhile lessons can be learned from the coming movie, since I
have not yet seen it, but there might be some things to consider –
food for thought, so to speak – in earlier Star
Wars movies, games, and comic books.
"Sith" in Ezekiel 35:6. |
By the other Daniel Wallace. |
I would
caution against expecting a strong affirmation of Christian values from a
franchise that consistently promotes a fictitious sort of Eastern mysticism. Nevertheless some aspects of the
teachings of the fictitious Jedi overlap some aspects of Christian
ethics. Perhaps there is no better illustration
of this resemblance than in the Jedi Code.
Taken at face value, the Jedi Code appears to encourage a
level of stoicism that is foreign to the actions and attitudes of the Jedi in
all the Star Wars movies. Unless one is willing to conclude that the
Jedi do not understand their own code, one must look beyond the literal
level to understand these words.
Odan-Urr was from the planet Draethos, and a theory about a quirk in the
ancient Draethos language may help one see through the code’s otherwise opaque and
puzzling sentences. The theory goes as follows: in the language of
Draethos, as it was spoken when Odan-Urr standardized the code, when something was
in motion, and someone asked, “Where is it?”, the answer would be that it was
going toward its destination, rather than that it was at whatever location it
happened to be. Thus if one were to ask
a Draethos, “How old are you?” the answer would not be, “I am 850,” – the
Draethos have great longevity – but rather, “I am becoming 851,” except at the
very moment when the birthday and birth-time occurred. Similarly, if you asked an apprentice-carpenter
about his vocation, he would not say, “I am a carpenter’s apprentice” but
rather, “I am becoming a carpenter.”
According to this theory, transient things, or things in transition, were described as if they
did not exist, but were coming into existence; stability, permanence, and
existence were almost synonymous. With
this in mind we undertake the interpretation of the Jedi Code.
There is no emotion,
there is peace. This does not endorse stoicism, but teaches, instead, that emotions are reactions to circumstances,
which are always changing. One’s actions
should be based on one’s character, and character should not vary as
circumstances change, but remain consistent with the pursuit of the peace that
comes through the fulfillment of one’s purpose.
An emotion should be considered desirable or undesirable depending on
whether it contributes to or distracts from one’s purpose.
There is no
ignorance, there is knowledge. It is
inevitable that a Jedi will encounter puzzling situations that he does not know
how to resolve, and which may even seem impossible. However, the knowledge that one does not know
something is the first step toward knowing it.
A Jedi should acknowledge his ignorance but rather than embrace it as a
permanent state, he should regard it as an invitation to acquire knowledge, to make
discoveries, and to satisfy his curiosity, within the limits of wisdom. When this attitude is a regimen of the mind,
ignorance is the herald of knowledge.
There is no passion,
there is serenity. Of all emotions, those
which involve attachment are among the most dangerous to a Jedi, for they lead
to self-assertion, which leads to obsessive passion. Attachment would be good, were it not an
obstacle to what is best. To say of
anyone or anything that it belongs to oneself is to challenge the nature of
things, for nothing in the physical universe remains with us, as we do not
remain with it. A Jedi is a steward, or
a guardian, but not an owner, and should seek to value all beings and all
things to the degree proper to their nature, rather than according to how he
may be benefited by their service to him.
His ambition should be to serve, rather than to be served. When a Jedi is undistracted by selfish
attachment and passion, he will approach all tasks with serenity, knowing that
whatever the outcome, he has lost nothing, for nothing belongs to him. [Even so, try not to lose your lightsaber.]
There is no chaos,
there is harmony. [Some early MSS do not include this line.] It is not unusual
for a Jedi to experience losses which later appear to have been preventable,
and to know others who have experienced such losses. Similarly one may have beneficial or
profitable experiences which one did not design, and which also seem, in
retrospect, to have been avoidable. The
outcome of a battle and the rise or fall of empires may pivot upon the smallest
of details. When a Jedi contemplates any
experience that appears to be a matter of chance, whether initially harmful or
beneficial, the experience should be considered to have a purpose which is not
yet perceived. A Jedi who truly acknowledges
this will either be able to discover harmony and purpose in any circumstance,
or be content that such harmony and purpose will ultimately be revealed.
There is no death,
there is the Force. Each Jedi is a
luminous being, and rather than consisting of his physical body is a steward of it. The Jedi do not deny the reality of death; yet
many masters, strong in the Force, have affirmed that even the departure from
this plane of existence should be regarded as a continuing journey rather than
a destination. And, from a certain point
of view, we will never be totally unbound from those we leave behind. The purposes for which we were entrusted with
our tangible lives, and given our bond with the Force – to secure peace, to
share knowledge, to pursue wisdom – continue to be fulfilled in the lives of
those in whom our lives have been invested.
If this interpretation is accurate, then some elements of the Jedi Code interlock very well with
Christian theology – and others, not so much. I hope that as Star Wars:
The Force Awakens entertains cinema-goers by the millions this month, it will include some worthwhile lessons. Let’s try to find the good in everything –
rejecting whatever is evil, and keeping what is good. I wish you all a merry Christmas season, and
may the Lord be with you.
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