The last few years have seen a resurgence of interest in the Sherlock Holmes narrative, originally created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. There have been two feature films released recently with the lead played by Robert Downey Jr. and two television shows as well. The BBC is approaching its third season of Sherlock, while Elementary is in its first season on CBS.
I’m not an avid Sherlock Holmes fan, but I’ve seen some of these shows and I’m fascinated by some of what all three of these portrayals of this iconic character have in common. Holmes is portrayed as unequivocal genius….yet relationally estranged and essentially anti-social in nature. To differing degrees they all explore questions about the role and value of discernment, of exceptional perception of details, facts, or behavior. Despite the quirks and great dysfunction illustrated, Sherlock Holmes in contemporary portrayals is a seer, a discerning observer, one with vision that others do not have access too.
Sherlock Holmes is discerning. And yes – it depends on the nature of what he is looking for. The fun of the recent adaptations of Holmes is that the lead character is portrayed as completely superior in intellect and perception as it relates to facts and the meaning of various sets of information, yet he stands clueless and unaware of the emotional systems and contexts he finds himself. The Holmes characters in these versions are great illustrations of what can happen when sight and perception outpaces relational presence and emotional capacity.
This narrative is lived out in many places – pretty much in any area where one begins to develop an expertise as it relates to perceiving the why’s behind human behavior. Counselors, Psychologists, and even Human Resource specialists all can find themselves in situations where they have accumulated so many tools, so many ways of seeing and making sense of what people do and why compared to the average person. This is not bad – this is why people pay them to do their jobs, because people need help seeing and the blind cannot lead the blind more often than not. Yet it can be, and sometimes is for there is an ethics of discernment that not all have engaged.
Discernment is a function of, as well as a test of, one’s gifts of perception and ability to navigate relational and social pressures. And as in any social reality, there are two primary directions that discerners can take in reaction to crisis, demands, stresses, and anxiety. One can create distance between themselves and others, cutting off in order to experience more objectivity along with a more defined individuality. On the other hand, one can surrender to a minimalist vantage point in the interest of the status quo and develop great confidence that they are seeing the whole picture – all the whole their powers of observation are in bondage to their emotional interests and fears.
Sherlock Holmes, in recent portrayal, is the former. His genius is unquestioned, yet he’s alone. But alone does not quite capture it. It’s more of an estrangement, an isolation which his great knowledge likely has both resulted from as well as created. He places knowing above all else. And that leads to some awkward god complex fantasies of omniscience.
In Episode 3 titled “The Rat Race” in Season 1 of Elementary (perhaps you can catch it online still), there was a fascinating exchange between Sherlock Holmes and his counterpart Dr. Watson (in this version played by Lucy Liu).
Holmes: It has its costs.
Watson: What does?
Holmes: Learning to see the puzzle in everything. They’re everywhere. Once you start looking it’s impossible to stop.
It just so happens that people with all the deceits and delusions that inform everything that they do tend to be the most fascinating puzzles of all. Of course they don’t always appreciate being seen as such.
Watson: That seems like a lonely way to live.
Holmes: As I said. It has its costs.
People who have a talent for discernment, people who are seers – not in a mystical sense, but in the quest for perceiving the truth in community, have to negotiate the cost of seeing as well as the temptations that come with it. I hope to in future posts explore that more. But there’s a cost to seeing the puzzles – the dynamics that drive different individuals or contexts. But Holmes’ “cost” does not come from his ability to see as much as it does from his drive to “master” individuals. And perhaps this is where counselors, pastors, leaders, and educators can perhaps relate in some way. The insight, wisdom, and perception of behavior can take on a life of its own, tempting the seer to shift their focus from serving to something altogether darker in nature. Seeing is a form of power. And with that, there’s a wide difference between seeing to serve versus seeing to master.
Holmes’ motivation for solving the puzzles often comes from a desire to have a sense of knowing about another, rather than simply knowing another. His pride leads him to gain information to set himself above another, to reduce others to equations to be figured out and solved. His quest for mastery over the human puzzles in his life creates an estrangement that perpetuates the dysfunction. This would seem to be a clear example of what the Apostle Paul was pointing to when he wrote, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” People in the helping professions and ministry are vulnerable to this temptation because they in some ways all must be “people experts.”
Mastery of insight, of the truth of a person or situation can become a false substitute for connection. Perhaps this is part of why some who have developed such expertise in the interest of “helping others” end up frequently repelling others away because it’s quite evident to most of us as people when we have become a problem to be fixed or an equation to be solved. I like that the movies and television shows all show Holmes’ frustrating and maddening and painfully slow journey towards human connection.
Sherlock Holmes illustrates that seeing can in some ways become an addiction, yet at the same time it can be something one cannot simply shut off. He himself is a puzzle. And like many discerners, it’s easier to give into the temptation to figure out other people rather than face hard truths about one’s own self. Knowledge is a danger to the discerner, because instead of a tool for something greater it can become the object itself. And thus, knowledge becomes a form of idolatry in and of itself.
Most of us, if we have gifts or an aptitude for discerning are not in Sherolock Holmes’ category – in either his genius or his narcissistic and anti-social tendencies. But we share the same temptations – that as we gain knowledge and insight about people, about community, are we maintaining clarity about the end of such knowledge and insight? Will our knowledge become an opportunity for arrogance and control in relationships and to objectify people? Or will it lead us to serve?
