https://stephenrittenberg.substack.com/p/reality-jew-hatred-and-denial-of?utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&triedRedirect=true
“The irony of man’s condition is that the deepest need is to be free of the anxiety of death and annihilation; but it is life itself which awakens it, and so we must shrink from being fully alive.”
—Ernest Becker
The Garden of Eden myth is the mother of all Utopias. In that perfect creation there is no aggression- the lion lies down peacefully with the lamb-there is no fear, no anxiety, no sex, no shame and there is no death. Blissful ignorance, peace and plenty prevail. In this perfect world Adam made the terrible mistake of opening his ignorant eyes to reality. Giving in to physical desire he eats the fruit of the tree of knowledge and instantly becomes aware of sexuality and of his body. Shame at his nakedness is the first human emotion in response to this biological and physical reality. Fear is the next emotion producing the vain effort to escape from reality by hiding from God. Then in Genesis (3:23) “…the Lord God said, Behold the man is become as one of us to know good and evil, and now, lest he put forth his hand and take also of the tree of life and eat and live forever and therefore the Lord sent him forth from the Garden of Eden…” The expulsion occurs along with the death sentence: “you are dust and to dust you shall return.” Death appears as an inevitable, inescapable part of reality.
Death is probably the most difficult part of reality for mankind to accept. Fantasies of immortality have existed since the dawn of civilization. Gods in Greek, Roman, Egyptian and other mythologies live forever. Religions promise life in the hereafter to the right people, and ultimate resurrection to the just. The bitter realities of life—aggression, fear, anxiety, illness, aging and death—have been contested since the dawn of civilization. Utopian ideologies have come and gone, all of them challenging one or another element of reality. All those realities foreshadow the final one, death. As Philip Larkin wrote of death, “the anesthetic from which none come round” in his poem, Aubade: “Most things may never happen: this one will.”
Death’s grievous blow to our narcissism has generated many counter assaults.