Psychoanalysis seems to say that we are fated to be enjoyed by our unconscious desire. That the desire “of the other” imprinted on us before we had the weapons of language sets in motion a kind of repetition compulsion that Freud thought bespoke of Thanatos, the death drive. This complex caused Lacan to doubt, at times, the possibility of “cure.” At his better moments, though, he comes forth with what I would call I kind of Christian view of language. It is a view that says, yes, we are determined by the language bestowed on us by our parents — even our first parents. Original sin, in this context, is the bad habits of perverted desires, forged into the manacles of language. We are born into a language, and it is a language that veers us away from loving God and neighbor, curving us inward to a love of self, and of things that prop up that self. Let us accept that our unconscious is determined in this manner by a language that existed before us, will outlast us, and is up to no good. God’s saving work can be viewed as a kind of divine pun, for as Lacan pointed out, while the signifiers are lodged in our unconscious, the signifieds are not necessarily fated in their linkages. The signifieds have a tendency to slide, due, in part, to the equivocity of language. May one not, like Samson, take the chains that one is given, and put them to a different purpose. “I am a slave doing jigs for the Philistines, but rest my hands on these pillars, and let out a call for the last dance. . . . . . ” I’m not sure how many puns we can attribute to Jesus, but one seems important, that of Peter as the rock. Anyone who has ever read the Gospels knows that Peter was anything but that. And yet, there could be no better man upon which to build this certain kind of community known as the church than one who’s name comes to signify, not what he was, but what God could make of him.
Originally published March 6, 2010.
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