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It was one of the most delightfully playful scenes in the last six years.

Desmond, in league with Hurley, exploiting Ana Lucia’s tendencies toward self-enrichment to stage a jail break for two most important players in the final moves on the grand Cuatro chessboard.  But Desmond is not moving pawns about the board.  Hurley is a rook–a mighty castle–serving his Island’s queen and her bishop-martyr.  Desmond is the great knight, of his own free will serving King and Island.  He and Hurley are neither puppets nor pawns, but free agents of conscience, collaborators in a noble and necessary cause, working con brio toward the final move.

The voyage toward the momentous events of the concert will require less than 150 minutes of our time.  We will see a woman in black acting as midwife to a most important birth.  And two men–one a musician and the other a former interrogator–martyrs whose bodies lie in deep-water tombs but whose spirits can never die–will act as final instigators of the enlightenment of those who will choose a destiny to safeguard the Light for eternity.

It is not a struggle of good versus evil.  It is not an argument about freedom versus fate.  It is the final battle for the fullness of who we are, for the breadth and depth and richness of our humanity.

Why We Fight

According to the Nürnberger Gesetze, which became German law in 1935, there was no “human race”.  German citizens were divided into three classes:  Aryans, semi-human Mischlings, and non-human Jews.  When the Nazis invaded Poland on September 1, 1939, Great Britain, France, and Canada and the other Commonwealth countries declared that a state of war existed with Germany.  They fought because if they did not, they would become slaves to the inhuman Nazi regime.   Only with the liberation of  Dachau and Bergen-Belsen and Auschwitz did the allies understand the depths of Nazi depravity.  Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, anyone with Down’s Syndrome–those not meeting the narrow ideals of the Aryan Oberherren–had been gassed and burned to ashes, or were in queue awaiting their fate.  Perhaps no war is  a “good war”, but the allies posed necessary and costly resistance to defeat and destroy the purest form of evil the world has ever witnessed.  The Nazis were not evil merely because they wished to enslave the rest of us.  They were evil because they desired above all to twist and bind and wring out of us the essentials of our humanity.

There are rare moments when, even in the face of ambiguity and mixed motives and insincerity, a line must be drawn.  The battle must be joined.  Not because evil must be destroyed, for the world will always contain evil.  Not because we must assert our free will over the exigencies of destiny or fate, for we are free only to the extent that we obey the dictates of conscience and assume the responsibilities inherent to civility.  There are moments when the evil inside us threatens to overwhelm everything precious and necessary to our existence as beings of the Light.  This is what they died for.  This is why we fight.

“We have to kill him, Jack.”

Jack’s expression doesn’t waver, and his voice is even and resolute.  “I know,” he says.   Even Sawyer, self-centred Sawyer, no longer seeks escape.  The stakes are too big even for a wretch like him.  Escape is not one of the permissible outcomes.  He is no longer Sawyer, no longer the confident coward.  He is James Ford, resistance fighter, here to offer his all:  “muscle, bone, blood, and the heart that pumps it”.  He’s with Jack to the end, come what may.  Hurley has Jack’s back.  And Kate, good and strong Kate, our own Jeanne d’Arc, is with Jack, has always been with Jack.  With Desmond, with the good and perfect examples of Charlie and Sayid, they will fight the good fight.

LOST is not a war of good versus evil.  It is about the good and evil qualities each of us finds in herself, and the need to assert every one of those good and noble qualities.  Jacob unleashed great evil on the world.  He bears evil in his heart, toward his twin brother, perhaps even toward the woman who killed his birth mother.  But he has chosen to assert the good in his heart, decided to believe above all that life is a progression, a road to our end, which is not death, but the profound and playful enjoyment of the rich and varied fruits of our humanity.

Our humanity finds no fulfillment in any Wagnerian Triumph des Willens.  We are not Randian robots, slaves to ill-obtained wealth, thinking ourselves clever and creative when we amass fortunes and enjoy the unclean fruits of what we perceive to be superior intellects and driven work ethic.  The fullness of humanity is expressed in a commitment to the Common Good, aux Droits de l’Homme et du Citoyen, to life, liberty, and love, to egalité et fraternité,  to the recognition and celebration of companionship, collaboration, and civilisation.  This is who we are.  This is what they died for.  This is why we fight.

The Decision

He is confused.  Desmond ignited something in him, some recognition of events imbedded in his soul.   But what is it?  Is it worth a bloody nose, black eye, and broken arm?  What is worth fighting for?

He cares for children.  No matter where he is, he takes risks for those unable to care for themselves.  He kidnapped Alex after Rousseau’s shipwreck on the Island, not because he wished to deprive Danielle of her baby, but because Charles Widmore would have killed both mother and child.  He took time to tutor and mentor sideways Alex not only to expand her understanding of European history, but to instill in her a sense of value and ability–to nurture confidence in herself.  Benjamin Linus, expert in human history, master manipulator, is above all one who places himself as surrogate parent, guardian, protector and teacher of the young and frail.

But he is flawed.  He sees in the mirror one who would prefer that good men suffer so that his unreasonable and unhealthy ambitions for educational administration might be realised.  He thinks his own ambitions laudable, for he tells himself he has only the children in mind, he acts only on their behalf.  But when he looks in the mirror, he sees shallowness, a man beaten and bloodied by his own drive for power.

Ben has a choice to make.  He has not yet put a choice into action and word.  When he pointed a rifle at Ilana several episodes ago, he gave a tearful confession.  But he was crying for himself.  No one else would have him–take him as he was–so he would leave Ilana’s camp and follow the Man in Black.  He did not repent, he merely expressed his failings and a willingness to belong.  “I’ll have you,” Ilana said, recognising his desire to rejoin humanity.  But he has not joined us again.  Not yet.  Fearful, aware of his mortality, he knows the knife Smokey wields is the least of the Monster’s weapons.  Is he scheming even now to bring down the Man in Black?  The answer is only as clear as the image of his battered body in the school nurse’s office mirror.  What will he decide?  In less than 150 minutes, we will know.

The Sacrifice

It is not an image in the mirror.  The wound on Jack’s neck is not an image at all, but a statement of reality:  Jack is wounded.   He is the Chosen.  But this means he has drunk from Jacob’s cup, and we know from Jacob’s example that the cup of communion is a sharing in not only leadership and life, but also a sharing in distress and death.  Like his mentor before him, John Locke, Jack must be willing to become the sacrifice the Island demands.  But the death of Locke’s disciple is never the final statement of a good life.  Boone Carlyle, first of Locke’s disciples, died so that Aaron Littleton could be born.  If Jack Shephard becomes  the last of the martyrs to the Light, his death will serve as harbinger to the most awaited and most necessary birth in the history of the Island.   A rebirth, really.  The reincarnation of the man destined to bring final balance to the Island.

I think Jack Shephard will die a few short hours from now.  The stakes are high, the symbolism is strong, and Jack has achieved perfection.   In the tradition of Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, Jack’s example will catalyse the survivors, unifying their resolve to an extent never before seen.

I am not as sure of Jack’s demise as I was when I first saw the wounds of stigmata on his neck.   A pivotal relationship remains unresolved, and full reconciliation may require that Jack live.  I am speaking of Jack’s relationship with his first mentor, Dr. Christian Shephard.

Whether he is dead or alive, I am convinced Christian Shephard has a unique connection to the Island.   Also, whether he lives body and mind or exists spirit and soul, I am convinced his dead body will never be found.   Jack has work to do, as Christian told Vincent, urging the dog to wake his unconscious son.  I believe that work includes one final moment of quality time between father and son.  Jack is perfect only in the sense that he is willing to sacrifice all.  Perhaps in reconciling with his father he will gain the insight or strength of purpose or spiritual completion required to face down and finally vanquish the Smoke Monster.  Perhaps in coming to truly love his father, in spite of the man’s imperfections, Jack will find the true road to eternal life on the Island.

I am not sure of Jack’s physical fate.  But I am sure of one thing.   In the end, whether dead or alive, Jack will enjoy full communion with the Island, and with the full depth of our common humanity.  In Jack’s struggle we have the perfect example for our own efforts to live as fully engaged human beings, neither women and men of science, nor women and men of faith, but women and men committed to the Common Good.

Here is a very tightly-written character with several  spiritual debts, multiple motivations, a number of paths he might follow to achieve the completion of his journey.  The writers crafted a multi-dimensional character with such a high degree of complexity that even ninety-eight percent of the way through this series, and after reading several thousand pages of analysis, I cannot discern the most logical outcome of Jack Shephard’s arc.  I like to believe I have written interesting protagonists, antagonists, and supporting character into my novels, but I have created no character anywhere near as compelling as Dr. Jack Shephard.  Kudos to Darlton and the writing team.

Fellowship of the Ash

They are the four who remain, the chosen ones, preparing for final battle.  But they are not alone.  Desmond is with them, and Richard, too.  We saw Frank Lapidus fall, but we did not see him die.  He may be back.  More likely than not, Benjamin Linus will join them.   There will be at least seven, perhaps more.  But even these seven are not alone.  Through Hurley, Isabella has made her presence felt and Michael Dawson led them to confront the Man in Black.  The whispers in the jungle are the hopes and prayers and words of wisdom not only of Michael and Isabella, but of the hundreds who died in their own attempts to serve and preserve the Island.   Whether or not they are somehow able to provide material support, their presence seems likely to figure into the final battle in some critical way.

For the first time in the long and complex six years, everyone is united, mind, body, and soul, driven by a single purpose:  To kill the Smoke Monster.

RIP Charles and Zoe… well, RIP Zoe, at least…

I will confess I do not understand the importance or value of this scene.  Was it a Nikki and Paolo moment?  Fans don’ like Zoe, so writing staff decides to give her a quick and almost painless death?  Did Charles Widmore exist only so that he might bring Desmond one last time to the Island?  Perhaps if, like other fans of the show, I didn’t like Zoe or Sheila Kelley, I might not mourn her passing or attach much significance or have questions about what might have been.   But I do like Zoe.  With her knowledge of geophysics, I thought she would turn out to be a key player in the Smoke Monster’s demise.  I am sad to see her go.  I’m not sad for Charles Widmore.  He claims Jacob visited him, that the visit changed his life, made him see the Light.  Fat chance.  Widmore killed babies, enjoyed killing babies.  I’m glad to see him go.

Happily Ever After

It must have been the onions.

It is said that Ben’s request for a glass of milk in Season Two ensured Michael Emerson’s long run as the ambiguous Benjamin Linus.  I think it may be Ben’s claim that the onions caused the tears in his eyes that will cement him ever in our memories as one of the most beloved characters of the show.  If Benjamin Linus can end in this way, how could the series not end on a positive note?

I originally titled this article “Vivace con fuoco”, but recalling all the stupid jokes about Joey Buttafuoco and recognising the potential for American Idol viewers and beer keg philosophers to twist good Italian to nefarious ends, I changed the title.  The original title expressed my concept of this week’s episode.  It was serious (that’s the “fuoco” part), but it was lively (“vivace”) and playful, too.  The Ben/Danielle scenes were fast and cheerful, like the Desmond scenes.  These were little vignettes, tiny tastes of what is to come.  The characters who live through this are going to find redemption, peace, and happiness.  The characters who die will be remembered as martyrs, heroes, and models of humanity.  All’s well that ends well.  The tragedy, pain, suffering, and death required to safeguard the Island and uphold the value of humanity will give way to one very merry concert at the end of the show.   And probably two men sitting on the shore of an island.  “Do you know how badly I want to… beat your ass in backgammon?”  They will be friends, not mortal enemies.  Predictions will not matter anymore after tomorrow.  But it seems likely the two men taking in the waves will be Ben and Locke or Jack and Locke, or perhaps Ben and Jack.  In less than twenty-four hours, we will know.

I send sincere apologies for the tardiness of this very brief article.  The demands in the laboratory I serve were extraordinarily high this week, and I had few hours even for sleep.  The finale is important, and many weeks ago, before the demands for my time were nigh to the breaking point, I scheduled two days of vacation, next Monday and Tuesday.  I will complete a first summary of the entire six years of the series less than twenty-four hours after the finale.  Next week at this time I will offer a somewhat more detailed analysis of what I consider the major themes of the show.  And this summer?  I’ve begun a fourth novel.  And I have three novels yet to sell.  So much to do, I could almost cry.  If I do, though, I’ll be sure to blame it on the onions.

PM

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3. Risk: A Cultural Thesis for LOST 6.03 “What Kate Does” by Pearson Moore

Tags: Episode 6.16, LOST Theories, Pearson Moore, recaps&reviews, Season 6