Before Fat Tuesday became the festivity and party scene that it is today, it signaled the beginning of Lent on Ash Wednesday. I could not have guessed that it had any connection to a liturgical origin. During this period, we are meant to pray, practice abstinence, and give alms. However, many of the well-intentioned observations are lost now. In the biblical stories, Jesus fasted for forty days in the desert to endure the temptations of Satan. This is a noble act as well as a cautionary tale that persuades us to avoid falling into our eternal ruins. This sanctifying grace evolved into the crucial prayers of “lead us not into temptation” and “deliver us from evil”. Nonetheless, this humble and trusting petition does not seem to apply to New Orleans. Walking across Canal Street, you would most definitely think that Christ’s victorious help does not protect the city.
In modern times, we don’t discuss the significance of repentance for sins, simple living, and mortifying the flesh. Instead, most atheist and agnostic people associate these traditions with their larger, overwhelmingly negative impression of Christianity, regardless of denominations. Especially given the current political climate, we become bogged down by arguments regarding the separation of state and church. Religion becomes a scapegoat for those who had malicious intent to begin with. What used to be words of wisdom from the higher powers are not exploited and taken out of context, used to hurt vulnerable people whom Christ once swore to protect. It’s a shame that Christianity in the South turned against itself, forcing people to retreat into rigid roles and abandoning the essence of redemption.
Surprisingly, just when I thought people had forgotten about the importance of spirituality and faith, I came across Binx and his search for meaning. Though we live in an abundance of excess and a desert of divinity, there are still individuals who are wondrous like Binx, aiming towards redemption. We are not debating Walker Percy’s affiliation and whether he would conform to a particular denomination. Instead, we examine how his fictional world reflects his thoughts on the crisis of modernity. Because we are uncertain of Percy’s real intentions behind incorporating the language of salvation, everything is interpreted with some room for ambiguity.
According to Thomas Aquinas, humans may not be able to interpret the interior of Jesus’ mind: “He showed Him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them,' we are not to understand that He saw the very kingdoms, with the cities and inhabitants, their gold and silver: but that the devil pointed out the quarters in which each kingdom or city lay, and set forth to Him in words their glory and estate.”
Binx’s ethereal undertaking does not comply with an organized religion. He achieves harmony with his inner desires in ways that I would not be able to do without the help of the priest, the deacon, and other fellow churchgoers. I’ve always believed that no man is an island, and “praying” alone is rather isolating. Hence, whenever I visit a new city, I look forward to attending the local baptism and other ceremonial events to understand the characteristics of the churchgoers in the town. However, Binx achieves his transcendence in a fragmented world that is vastly different from my community back at home.
In New Orleans, even the typical sites of pilgrimages are converted to town squares full of solicitors and mass-produced gimmicks. The St. Louis Cathedral is no longer as sacred as it once was, and you will not be able to find a silent moment with God, let alone come to some sort of epiphany. We are all responsible for these changes and the erasure of these virtues. Locals and tourists alike, we forego our discipline and stop looking inward for divine presence.
The carnival is a loud distraction from Binx’s search. The genteel veneer upholds Southern pageantry, tradition, and social hierarchy, but beneath the music and masks lies a society still rooted in denial. Amidst the outburst of purple, green, gold, and orange, Binx seems invisible. His unconventional personality makes him too radical to be excluded, but this is not the typical type of socio-economic exclusions that take place in the South.
Compared to most of the other existential novels I have read, Binx’s exploration for meanings is constant yet casual. Despite the characters being placed in a post-war context, transitioning from one era to the next, and losing their loved ones, there is always an underlying tone of patiently discovering new meanings. For those of us who are stuck with the “everydayness” of our lives, we are unable to identify the wonders because we are caught up in the repetitiveness of our routine. However, we can call Binx out for being somewhat delusional with his perceptions of life. Quite the opposite may just be the most acutely aware person out there. He is wise to recognize the boredom and disenchantment while others are still living in pretenses. This is a type of pretense supported by carnival practices, consumption of red meat, and exaggerated costumes. Mardi Gras masks the sadness with its colorful beads and gold-embroidered crowns.
In Audubon Park, we discussed Binx’s experiences with the decline of traditions while sitting under the age-old pavilions. Here, the clamor of parades and crowded cafés gives way to the quiet rhythm of footsteps on crushed shells. The ducks line up like a mini-battalion, waiting for the pedestrians to clear before they can cross the road. Not far from the walking path, the lakes are filled with lily pads and birds I could not name who are waiting for their prey to emerge from the water. This is undoubtedly a perfect spot for National Audubon Society members to observe their beloved birds and other creatures. The long-legged herons stand in meditation, watching closely for the signs of ripples. My gaze is now also locked on the lagoons.
We ran into a group of painters who show up on weekends with full artists’ gear. With a canvas and a couple of pencils, they draw the fountains with lively charms. The Tree of Life spreads its “hair” across the air, all draped with Spanish moss and declaring its uncompromised “king” status among the other live oaks. Sunlight flickers through the dense canopy, dappling the grass with light that moves like stained glass.
In the suburban neighborhood of Gentilly, Binx’s solitude comes more easily than being in the French Quarter. In the predominantly middle-class and racially diverse area, he is less distracted by the merchants and voodoo practitioners, instead simply being with other earnest, hard-working men and women. Witnessing the million-dollar mansions with my own eyes, I can see how these antique buildings can create a false sense of prosperity for their residents. Who wouldn’t want this white “country club” type of life, where you could be at peace with outrageous injustice in society by simply neglecting to see it?
This is my take on Binx’s vague yet urgent quest. He is aware of the benign society that allows its sensual consumerism and dull routine to overshadow authentic living. We can eat beignets, drag our boats through the bayous, or linger in the cemeteries all we want, but these actions are surface-level entertainment in their nature. Reality hides between the seemingly good-looking facades.
The White South provided Binx with a comfortable and contented life. I once thought that could be my home as well, living with good-mannered neighbors, predictable holidays, and hearty meals. But Walker Percy's subtlely criticizes this ease with satire and movies as metaphors. Unlike most of the other protagonists we encountered, who are constantly troubled by various societal challenges, Binx is only disturbed by his boredom. While some people are coping with poverty and racial discrimination, Binx is simply suffocating in his stability and privileges. Therefore, he stages this quiet but resolute rebellion. The final purpose always goes back to his search as he strives to reject the status quo of the “homey, hospitable” South.
