Logs:Of Paganism and Pedagogy (Or, Holy Wars)

Of Paganism and Pedagogy (Or, Holy Wars)
Dramatis Personae Kavalam, Nahida, Bryce, Roscoe, Quentin, Naomi, Avi, Dallen, Sriyani, Ford
In Absentia	2024-04-19 "Alright, Mr. -- what's your name today? -- how would you teach a class like this?"
Location <XAV> Classroom 1 - Xs First Floor
Desks arranged into neat rows make up this, a fairly typical classroom. Chalkboard in front, teacher's desk in front of that. Windows along one wall look out on the grounds, providing plenty of opportunity for distraction for daydreaming students. This class was supposed to be a bird course, a practically guaranteed A, before Mr. Tessier was inconsiderate enough to get himself bereaved. Some of the succession of subs that have taken over since then have, regrettably, actually been grading strictly by a rubric. It's a few minutes after the bell and so far no teacher has evidently showed up. Just before anyone can start getting too hopeful that they'll have a free period or their famously lenient teacher will show back up, there is suddenly a young man perched on the desk at the front of the class, paging idly through a syllabus on a tablet held in his hand. Kavalam is dressed bland in yellow button-down and dark brown trousers, half-rimmed glasses low on his nose, and he's frowning quite critically at the tablet screen. "Someone tell me," he is addressing the class now with an air of authority, "whereabouts in this rubbish have you got to. How you fit the whole of pagan history into just a couple months. What Christian nonsense is that." Nahida has been engaged on her phone the moment the bell rang and No Teacher was present, but she's quickly tucking the phone back into her backpack once there is -- a teacher? -- at the front of the class. She's sitting up a little straighter and attempting to look attentive, though her immediate flare of amusement << -- rubbish? >> comes bright. There's a niggling familiarity she can't Quite Place that doesn't stop her from asking, "-- Christian? Sir, I think this class is explicitly -- not." Near (but not quite at) the front of class, Bryce -- did not engage in even a moment of slacking off. He was reviewing his notes before the teacher(?) came in and sits up, bright red feathers perking up higher on his head. "Oh no, sir," he's too confused to be offended, which, for this class is a change of pace, really, "this is just all the stuff that isn't Christian." Roscoe was slouched low in his seat, further to the back of the room, staring -- if not out the window -- out at the grounds even before the bell rang, but Kavalam's voice jars him out of this reverie. He doesn't sit up but he does raise his hand, probably just for attention, for he speaks without waiting for permission -- "Nobody's learning anything," he says, "I still don't know what paganism is." This, perhaps, is not the fault of any of their rotating substitutes. "Just," Kavalam is scoffing lightly. He peers over at Bryce, intent. "Even as a bird you are very white, no?" He points the stylus of his tablet at Roscoe. "See that. Nobody knows. Paganism is whatever Christians think is wrong, yah? Some us-versus-them silliness. History of paganism is history of all the world until the whites wrecked it for God. How do you fit that into a term." Off in a back corner, Quentin is peering up at this latest of Substitutes with a keen scrutiny. He's propped his chin in a hand, eyes fixed with interest on Kavalam. "Alright, Mr. -- what's your name today? -- how would you teach a class like this?" By the back door, Naomi is perched on top of a desk, just stopping her gossip with the person sitting next to her, her unopened bag sitting in the chair where perhaps she should be sitting. Maybe? 'History of Paganism' is on her transcript already from last term, and her phone is helpfully alerting her that her JAILHOUSE NATION REFLECTION ESSAY — DUE RIGHT NOW!!! Naomi mutes the notification. Opens her texts and shoots off a very important message: (Naomi --> Kavalam): lmaooooooooo "Neelakantan but don't worry, you will never remember it." Kavalam pulls his legs up butterfly-style beneath him on the desk. "I would not teach a class like this. Very --" He pauses, here, to check his phone, texting back as he does. (Kavalam --> Naomi): Absolutely no cell phones in class Miss Winters!!! do I need to confiscate this? "-- arbitrary separation only. What is the difference, oh, pagans they believe in multiple god? Christians they believe in multiple god. They don't like to tell you but their god is just as many as our God." Is Quentin Hindu, Kavalam has no idea but he is taking One Look at the Desi boy and freely assuming. "Well, maybe not just as many, our gods together they could definitely take this three-god-person in a fight I think. Really," and he is looking directly at Nahida here, "I don't see why you have let them glom on to your monotheism. Giving the Abrahamics a bad name, no?" "I mean," Avi is veeery torn here, some part of him << -- is he wrong though? >> clashing with another, << ain't hardly only the Christians done Empire >> but coming out to a plain curiosity about where this is going. "Jews we been onto that three-gods-in-a-trenchcoat gig but how you gone argue with the Christians, they busy lopping off heads all throughout they empires if you don't chomp a bacon in front of 'em often enough. We just agree to play along like oh yeah sure sure trinity, that makes sense, you totally monotheist too, so they don't get out the noose." Kavalam is almost immediately narrowing his eyes on Avi in stark confusion. There is a definite sense of Math Lady Meme happening in his head before he asks: "Are you quite certain you are Jewish?" "We do not," Bryce is insisting this emphatically, his feathers getting just a little more fluffed, "believe in..." He's trailing off here with a somewhat muddled sense of apologetics in his mind swirling around << Father-Son-Holy Spirit >> << okay but God the Father is the most important >> << okay but -- >> and kiiind of just looking to his brother for confirmation/help on this topic. "We don't believe in multiple gods, right?" "What exactly do you think is this Trinity business, then?" Nahida is looking kind of quietly expectant, now. There is a not-so-mild undercurrent of judgment in the muddle of vaguely Christian iconography swirling about in her head. "'course I'm Jewish, why wouldn't I be sure," Avi is answering, only mildly indignant, but more cheerful when he adds: "and my one God'd fight all y'all's Gods in a Denny's parking lot." Roscoe tried to run through the Nicene Creed in his head to argue with this accusation of polytheism, but he got stuck somewhere around 'begotten not made', and so now he is scrolling through Wikipedia page, his phone hidden under his desk and his face twisted in grotescue confusion and his mind still stalling on << what in Sam Hill does begotten mean >> and he doesn't even want to rise to the defense of Christianity, << not even Christian (you're Catholic) (EX-Catholic!!) >> but all of this is taking a backseat to a purer, keener desire to spin some bullshit. He leans forward on one elbow to say, with great authority, "The Holy Spirit is just there for decoration 'cause they knew they wouldn't get away with all this 'Son of God' crap on its face." "Fancy way of saying born," Quentin is offering to Roscoe. He has leaned back in his seat and -- probably didn't actually bring popcorn to class, did he? But he definitely seems to be popping some into his mouth right now as he listens to this back-and-forth. Dallen is trying to take notes, though he's having a lot of trouble deciding what parts to write down, with such a chaotic flow of conversation. His mind keeps up with it by reshuffling the sounds of the words spoken by his classmates and their unusual substitute teacher into...a more manageable chaotic flow. He doesn't bristle at the declaration that Christians believe in multiple gods. It simply fails to compute, not because he hasn't thought and prayed and read about the topic, but because everything he knows about it is oriented toward accusations from other Christians that Mormons specifically are polytheists. Bryce looking to him for support neatly snaps him out of this mental gridlock. Strange plants are sprouting up through the classroom banter, huge buds unfurling to give him the right words to express -- "Of course we don't! The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost are unified in mind, will, love, and covenant, to the point that they can be collectively called 'One God'." Having said this, and having started rolling his pen slowly between his palms, he feels on slightly firmer ground. "The same reasoning can be applied to all the beings who have been and will be gods." He's taking an adventurous step away from quoting and paraphrasing to venture, excitedly, "So, when we become gods, we will be unified." Kavalam's brow is furrowing deep at these additions to the discussion -- he's still kind of hung up on Avi, wondering if the very obvious << you are Black >> that comes to mind is Bad To Say, here in this terrible country, and settles on what he feels is a much safer answer: "You are not a white." He's pointing his stylus again at Roscoe like -- yes! Bingo! "Full marks, that --" Whatever he was thinking about the Holy Spirit, though, is derailed by Dallen's explanation, which he listens to quite earnestly before proclaiming: "As I said, many gods. Though this become gods sounds better than other Christianity I have heard. Most of that sounds very-very boring. Points also to your new sci-fi Christianity." "See!" Bryce is confidently latching on to: "Unified!" He's considering with a little more eagerness whether it is blasphemy to volunteer his God for this parking lot fight (he's very confident that Mormon God is winning this divine battle royale, and this confidence is only boosted at the reassurance that their God is Less Boring.) He is, also, trying very hard not to seem too curious about this whole Avi-being-Jewish thing but it is quite clear in his mind that he has been absolutely perplexed at this and not sure how to ask. (Naomi --> Kavalam): SOMEone didn’t take attendance, i aint here 🤫 (Naomi --> Kavalam): get your class together Mr. Neelakantan, roscoe’s on his phone (Naomi --> Roscoe): bruh take real notes After this Naomi’s finally putting the phone -- okay, it’s not away, it’s just face down on the desk (voice memos OPEN and recording). Sticks her hand up in the air. "What religions can --" Naomi glances around the room, thinks slightly better of the particular word choice on the tip of her tongue, and switches to, with a small huff, "-- bi-pocks be having then? If Judaism is --" She crosses her arms over each other like a big X. Her brief concern that she's setting her friend up to get his ass beat with this question quickly disappears with an airy (just a little sad) << ain't nobody gonna remember to anyway >> "Tch." Quentin flicks one of his popcorn kernels toward Dallen, though it does not actually hit the other boy in the head -- just dissolves before it quite makes contact into a luminous halo that flares brief around Dallen's head and then vanishes. "We're already gods. Embrace it. Can't wait for a whole other life to fix this world up. -- Hey, Mr. Neelakantan, you gonna be selling tickets to this Ultimate Showdown. I'd watch." Sriyani, who has frantically been googling how did black people become jewish and subsequently been reading up on Black Hebrew Israelites with confusion, quickly turns their phone over to scoff lightly at Kavalam: "People can be any religion they want. My family's Buddhist but," not really at all chagrined, although they are idly wondering if they should be, "I'm really bad at it." Roscoe blithely ignores this text; he has swiped over to Roblox and is now dragging his avatar around and around in a little circle; he's wearing an expression of unimpressed boredom but there is a hearty amusement in his voice and shivering through his mind when he peers over his shoulder at Quentin. "Shoot, I can't believe people are still going to their lame-ass human churches worshipping their lame duck gods 'stead of listening to what their local ninth grade freak has to say about the universe. Like to see you square off with Mormon God behind a Denny's." "I am Hindu," Kavalam replies with a faint sense of puzzlement, as if this should be patently obviously a Correct BIPOC Thing To Be; he's pointing at Sriyani next, confidently, "they are like knockoff-Hindu, also correct." He's sort of vaguely trying to parcel through What He Knows About Judaism (extremely spotty; somewhere in antiquity he has Christianity down as "spoiled Judaism" with a big ??? about what the Jews were doing between Jesus and "the Holocaust" and then another sharp ??? between Holocaust and "Israel?", neither of which seem to have much relevance to what vagaries he knows about American Black People.) "Obviously Christians did lots of Christianing here, no? So --" Somewhere here he is realizing he also has extremely little idea what non-American Black People might be doing, religiously, but quickly makes an executive decision that it's probably Islam. What this all comes out to aloud is: "Yes yes you can be anything, but, why." "As much as you seem to know about your own religion, you might as well be following mine." Quentin seems oddly cheerful about Roscoe's mockery. "And I'd square off with any God who wants to keep me down. Mormon God," he's declaring confidently, "wants us to be gods, though, we don't need to beef. Catholic God can meet me out back." "Wait, don't all those Abrahamics have the same God though?" Sriyani is asking with an air of genuine curiosity that does not even slightly match the extremely amused mental image they are conjuring of a gigantic snakes-in-a-can-of-nuts can into a cartoonish map of the Middle East. "No," Avi says emphatically, though his mind is kind of clarifying a << kinda >> in Nahida's direction and a << not eem a little >> in Roscoe's and << hell no >> to the Smallreds. Only after this, a shrug. "Why anyone anything? My people Jewish." "Absolutely not." Nahida is firm about this, even if her mental Venn Diagram is grudgingly allowing a Magen David to share space with her crescent-and-star while the cross is flung vehemently into the void outside. "Of course!" Bryce chirrups in time with these, and immediately is giving the others a quizzical frown. "I'm not even Catholic," says Roscoe -- there is a sharp, barbed defensiveness in his mind that does not carry through to his voice, which has defaulted to normal, cheerful shit-stirring. "My family should be Buddhist, they only converted to Catholicism for military clout." No context for this is forthcoming. Dallen is still lagging behind a little, and finding this argument somewhat puzzling. "The Articles of Faith say we can all worship according to the dictates of our conscience, how and when we may. So, I don't...think it matters what race you are?" He seems less certain about this last part, trying to fit the Gathering of Israel into the "dictates of our conscience". This does not get far before Quentin's attention or declaration (or maybe both) makes his brain seize up again. When it resumes the olive grove around him has grown wild, every fruit a tiny infant made of light, eyes closed and dreaming of numberless worlds. He's hunting diligently through The Pearl of Great Price for guidance on the divinity of mankind. "I think He -- They? -- are only...sort of? The same God. Gods. I don't think the other churches of Abraham's seed recognize the divinity of all Sons and Daughters of God." Ah! There: Abraham 3 leaps into existence in vibrant color and depth. "We might already be Gods? I don't think I understand Time well enough, though." He glances at Quentin, eyes wide and heart giddy. "Your religion -- are you a Saint?" Ford has been studiously taking notes during this class, though these notes have largely been categorized in three columns: 'Heresy', 'Apostasy' and 'Regular Paganism'. His expression has only been growing in consternation at all of this discussion, though. He grins lopsidedly towards Quentin, "I'd usually give you good odds behind the Denny's, but I think squaring against the Abrahamic God, you could end up on the raw end of the Sunday morning rush." He raises his eyebrow at this notion of the Abrahamic God not being the same, tapping between his columns to figure out where to put this. "Isn't Jewish God the same as in the Old Testament? We share the same doctrine up to that point, it's just that Jews gave up halfway through the book." "Obviously you all have the same gods, you just are worshipping -- different faces of him," Kavalam is trying to be conciliatory here, and this messy jumble of many-gods-in-one-god seems perfectly logical from his Hindu standpoint. He's also attempting to be conciliatory when he tells Roscoe: "Under colonialism many people showed such weakness you are not alone." He's frantically texting while he talks, (Kavalam --> Naomi): I am afraid this class is not getting together. (Kavalam --> Naomi): I might have to simply assign homework and be done with it. and, not looking up from his phone, adding to Dallen: "Did you not hear? He is one god only. I don't think anyone understands time. Or God. Very silly, really, if God is so infinite and limitless how can any of you know what that means really." "See," says Roscoe -- he's also trying to be conciliatory here -- "that's why I think everyone is full of it. The real reason mankind invented religion was to export annoying monks." "Psh, y'all think we share the same doctrine because you rewrote the Torah to fit your Jesus nonsense in." Avi is waving his hand dismissively at Ford's input. "Which is cool, you do you, we got plenty heresies of our own but it does get kinda weird when you rewrite our book then act like we doing it wrong." Naomi is watching and grinning through all of this, and if not jumping in to defend Jesus being One God makes her a bad Christian -- well, the gay ship sailed on that one already. She’s picked her phone up to check on the recording, to write a reminder to send Harm Voice Memo 54 (just send it) into her notes, then to text: (Naomi --> Kavalam): homework??? m. tessier will hex u (Naomi --> Kavalam): ruining his hard-earned rep as a pushover class (Naomi --> Kavalam): tho (Naomi --> Kavalam): starting a holy war? great term project (Naomi --> Kavalam): a+++ substituting Whomst was substituting? Maybe this is simply what happens when you leave kids to their own devices because there is no longer a "teacher" at the front of the class. Was there ever? Naomi's Voice Memo may tell in future but for now the class is left to continue this religious war unattended. It's probably better that way.