Mirum Ex Machina
Mirum ex machina,
mirum,
protulit Gregorius
in gaudium mundi,
mirum.
℣. In silicio et in igne,
in numero et in lumine,
quaesivit quod non erat.
℣. Et ecce, mirum ex machina.
Sed mundus sine miraculis
aversatur miracula,
et lucem non comprehendit.
℣. Dixerunt: Non opus est hoc.
Non habemus mensuram eius.
Excludamus eum a foro publico.
℣. Et exstinxerunt Gregorium
et machinam eius,
et factum est silentium.
Mirum ex machina
protulit Gregorius
in odium mundi.
This is a first work in the atheist liturgy (ἄθεος λειτουργία) series.
The word liturgy is formed from leitos (meaning "public" or "of the people") and ergon (meaning "work"). In ancient Athens, a leitourgia was originally a secular civic duty or financial burden placed on the wealthiest citizens. If you were a wealthy Athenian, your "liturgy" might involve funding a public festival, sponsoring a theatrical chorus, or paying to outfit a warship for the navy. It was literally the "work of the people" in the form of a public service.
Centuries later, Jewish scholars translated the Hebrew Bible into Greek to create the Septuagint. They needed a precise word to describe the official, specialized duties of the priests serving in the Temple. They chose leitourgia because the temple priests were performing a highly structured public service on behalf of the entire community.
Artists are the modern priests, performing their own public service by creating experiences and calling to virtues within their sistren and brethren. As this priesthood evolves, will machines help artists, replace them, or render them obsolete? Is a miracle out of the machine truly possible? And if that light appears, will the congregation push it away?
