Ah, what a marvellous afternoon to explore the forest of history and poke fun at some bear… baffling beliefs. The kinds of beliefs that’ll leave us scratching our heads! Today, we’re going to discuss a particular strain of thought that’s as old as the (seven) hills and yet, somehow, persists. I’m talking about the notion that an institution can be mostly corrupted over the centuries, while its texts, those dusty tomes chained to pulpit desks or locked away in monasteries, remained pure and untainted, as divinely protected.

Now, let’s not mince words here. The idea that peasants should be kept in the dark about the sacred texts is as peculiar as it is illogical. Imagine a baker being forbidden from understanding the purpose of the ingredients in a recipe for his own bread! Would this be an independent “baker,” or a slave called a baker? Yet, this was the common practice: Latin was the language of the clergy with their supposedly incorruptible book, while the laity were left to chew on the crumbs of oral translation. (Though, really, how can you congregate in Christ with some man who demands that you cannot congregate with Christ outside of him? Not even Peter was that cool.)

This isn’t merely an academic point; it’s a moral conundrum that tickles the brain like a puzzle box. If an institution truly believed in the transformative power of its holy scriptures, why keep it all under lock and key for centuries until forced otherwise by the advance of technology? Why not unleash the words upon the masses and let the spiritual sparks fly? One might argue that ignorance was bliss for the powers that be, but such a stance smacks of convenience and fear rather than conviction and an interest in what was really going on.

The irony is palpable. Traditions and dogma were riddled with corruption of course, yet they entrusted the very same institutions to safeguard the texts. It’s like claiming the kitchen is filthy while insisting that the refrigerator must have remained spotless because it’s locked away from the mess! The logic defies comprehension, much like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube while wearing oven mitts… until you allow for the deceptive projects the lock and key act were covering.

Consider the practical implications of this mindset. The peasants, denied access to these supposed treasures, were left to navigate their spiritual lives with nothing but hearsay and homilies. Why would they have hidden away the knowledge? Of course they didn’t put it on display, nor make it accessible, with the argument always being that laity would simply misunderstand the texts. Certainly a twisted way of admitting the truth.

This brings us to another delightful paradox: the claims of texts from thousands of years ago remaining untouched by human hands. Yet, who decided which texts made the cut? Who penned the translations, that trickled down to the common folk? The very act of selection and translation is an interpretive dance, influenced by the whims and biases of those in power. Can not stored old ink be applied to unused old paper at a later date so as to confuse accuracy of any chemical or ‘scientific’ testing? The only mediating factor is availability, and ethics of course, or perhaps the number of soldiers you can send on crusade to burn anything or anyone stating otherwise.

Moreover, the idea that corruption seeped into every nook and cranny of an institution except for the dusty corners where the texts were stored begs a deeper question about human nature. If institutions are inherently corruptible, as many rightly argue of historical churches as remnants of Roman imperial authority, then surely the guardians of the texts weren’t immune to this universal malady. It’s a bit like claiming that a garden is overrun with weeds but at least the masonry and concrete were maintained. With an organisation overrun with corruptions, any sanity becomes more difficult, texts or otherwise. The walls and paths are easier to maintain with a garden in order.

Now, let’s not forget the sheer audacity of it all. The grandeur and pomp amid to preach the value and beauty of humility and virtuousness while hoarding knowledge and, eventually, demanding any leader be considered infallible or called “Father,” in place of the One true Father. It’s a contradiction that could make even the most stoic of philosophers chuckle. Testaments to human capacity for ignoring cognitive dissonance.