Fall of the gods

I used to think Alan Greenspan was practically a god. I'm not the only one, evidently, as many considered him the greatest central banker ever when he retired as Federal Reserve chairman in 2006. He had the look of a man who knew all things, and who could afford to speak them without shouting, knowing that all would lean forward to listen.

Last week before the House Oversight Committee in a four-hour raking over the coals, Greenspan looked very much a man. We love our gods, and we do not want to hear one of them say that a financial crisis has "found a flaw" in his Olympian intellect:

"I made a mistake in presuming that the self-interest of organizations, specifically banks and others, was such that they were best capable of protecting their own shareholders."

This terrifies. Our mouths are agape. No one wants the Wizard of Oz to be shrunk down to the size of "the man behind the curtain." Let him be terrible, or let him be good, but let him not be shrunken.

Revelation captures the devastating sense of betrayal: "The merchants of the earth will weep and mourn. … When they see the dust of her [the economy's] burning, they will exclaim, 'Was there ever a city like this great city?'" (18:11,18).

It's not just Wall Street that "does the numbers"; Scripture is interested in numerology, too. Here is a quiz for chiasm lovers: What is the middle verse of the Bible? Answer: Psalm 118:8:

"It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man."